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zepskies · 7 months

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Talk to Me

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Summary: Ben had a vivid nightmare last night. You know how he is about his “man feelings.” But you try to get him to open up anyway, before you both lose your tempers.

AN: This was requested by my lovely friend @deans-spinster-witch. It's set in the Break Me Down-verse and is a sequel to the SB imagine below:

See this imagine for context: Ben loses you.

Word Count: 1,600 Tags/Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Imagine: You confront Ben about his fears.

“What the fuck is wrong with this cocksucking coffee maker?” Ben snarked.

He bumped the top of it with his hand, so hard you thought he was going to break it.

Your brows furrowed as you shot him a look. It was too early for all that.

“Nothing?” you said. “Worked just fine for me.”

He sported an even grumpier face as the coffee finally poured into his mug.

Something’s wrong, you thought.

Ben was usually quiet in the morning. Relaxed and slow until he’d had his coffee and started his routine, with his newspaper at his favorite lounge chair, then breakfast in the kitchen with you.

You were making pancakes on a griddle, but you were also watching your boyfriend. He wasn’t just quiet. He was downright grouchy and taciturn.

What crawled up his ass? you thought. Though you had your suspicions...

“Breakfast is done,” you called to him.

He eventually joined you, sitting down at the breakfast bar. You served him a mildly enormous stack, and just two pancakes for yourself. In most respects, Ben was still a bottomless pit.

However, after eating the first couple of pancakes in silence, he pushed away from his plate and leaned back in his seat. You held your coffee mug between both hands and eyed him.

“You okay, baby?” you asked, repeating the very words you’d asked him last night.

He glanced at you through surly brows. “Yeah. You can stop asking me that.”

Right, you thought. He’d been twitching in his sleep, muttering, making sounds that had worried you enough to wake him with a gentle hand on his dewy arm. His response had worried you too—that haze of disoriented shock, followed by relief when he recognized your face.

You’d comforted him the best you could after his nightmare, but he hadn’t wanted to talk about it. You knew he wouldn’t now, either. That didn’t stop you from trying.

You set down your mug and soothed a hand up his arm, until your fingers disappeared under his shirt sleeve.

“What’s got you all sunshine and rainbows then, Mr. Grouch?” you lightly teased. “I even made you pancakes. Still waiting on my thank you.”

Ben didn’t want to answer, though he briefly glanced at you. He slurped at his coffee.

You sighed. A tick of annoyance at your brow.

“Okay," you said. "Well, since we had breakfast here, I figured we could go out for lunch later when we get to the city. There’s this amazing deli I could take you to—”

“We’re not going,” Ben said.

You blinked in surprise. Your hand fell away from his shoulder. “What?”

“I’ve got things to do,” he said. And without looking at you, he grabbed his half-full plate and got up to bring it over by the sink. He speared a few pancakes back onto the plate you’d served them up in before dumping his plate into the sink.

At least he was learning something about living with you. Now, if he really wanted to impress you, he'd wash that damn dish.

But for now, you wanted answers more than you wanted clean plates. You slowly got up out of your chair and went to him. You tried your best not to be accusatory when you asked your next questions.

“What do you mean? What do you have to do?”

He didn’t seem to want to answer you. Or maybe, he didn’t have a good answer, because he was fucking lying.

You laid a hand on his arm. “Ben. I need you to talk to me right now, because this is our first day off together in weeks. You know this was supposed to be our day. So you’d better have a damn good reason.”

He frowned angrily down at you. “We’re not going because I fucking said so. That’s all you need to know.”

You glared back at him, standing your ground.

You raised a brow. “That’s not good enough with me, and you know it. But if that’s how you’re going to be about it, I’ll call Annie and make it a girls’ day.”

You turned on your heel to walk away, but an iron hand grabbed your wrist. Holding back a wince, you frowned at Ben over your shoulder. His face was tight with irritation.

“You’re not going any-damn-where,” he snapped.

“You better let me go, right now,” your temper snapped right back.

This man was protective, but he had never been this bad. Not even after you got out of the hospital after Vought Tower collapsed. Granted, you’d been fully healed. He’d never outright tried to forbid you from leaving the house though.

“What the hell is your problem?” you said.

He didn’t want to let you go, but after a beat, he released you. His frown deepened when you had to rub the ache out of your wrist.

He hadn’t meant to grip you that hard. Part of him relented…but then it firmed back up, when he remembered last night. The images were still filtering through his mind on a loop.

The alley, the blood slipping through his fingers, your pale, cold cheek, and lifeless eyes staring up at him.

“There’s something we need to discuss,” he said gruffly.

You tilted your head at him. Your face was tight and angry now, but you still followed him into the living room. You sat down together on the couch, and with crossed arms, you waited for him to speak.

His elbow rested on his knee while his hand swept over his mouth and beard. Then his gaze slid over to yours.

“You need to take Compound V,” he said.

To say that shocked you was an understatement. Your eyes widened, and your body went rigid.

“Excuse me?” you said lowly.

“There’s no way around it,” he said. Grit was laced in his voice, but you didn’t care.

“I’ve made myself very clear—”

“And you also said we’d revisit this little chat, so here we are,” Ben retorted. “You need to live in fucking reality. I can’t be with you 24/7. I don’t trust those CIA fucks to wipe their own ass, let alone keep an eye on you. Especially when I’m in the field.”

You just managed to lasso in your temper when you finally realized where this was coming from. You inhaled a couple of calming breaths. Your fingers tapped your knees. You sat up straighter before you turned to him more fully.

Your hand reached out to cover his on his thigh.

“Ben,” you started. Soft and even. “What did you dream last night?”

His face tightened further, his lips pressed into a line. It took him a moment, but eventually he answered.

“Nothing. Doesn’t fucking matter.”

“We both know that it does,” you chided.

When he just maintained his stoic façade, you slid closer to him on the couch. You curled a hand around his bicep and pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

You looked up at him.

He didn’t want to break.

You just waited until the green of his eyes met yours.

“Hey. It’s just me,” you said softly. “Talk to me.”

His brows knit together, slightly. His jaw clenched and twitched under his skin.

“I lost you,” he said.

Admitting to that was like admitting that his uniform was a lie; that he had no fear. That he was invulnerable. That he was a god in human form.

But you had become the last human part of him. To lose that would be to lose everything again, worse than 1984.

Somehow, you’d become his reason…for most things. He didn’t think you realized it, nor would he allow himself to tell you.

His eyes closed when you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. You let your fingers sift through his hair, brushing it back and away from his forehead.

“Do you know why I want to stay normal?” you asked. "Albeit fragile and breakable."

He didn’t answer, but his eyes silently asked for one.

“Because I want to stay myself,” you said. “Power corrupts, and there’s a big chance I wouldn’t be the woman you loved anymore if I injected that shit into my veins.”

Ben frowned. He hadn’t considered that…but he still felt it was a price worth paying.

You moved off the couch and into his lap. He welcomed you with an arm curling around your waist and another moving up your thigh.

Your arms twined around his neck, and you kissed him properly, nice and slow. He tasted like coffee and maple syrup. His hair was soft between your curling fingers.

You parted from him after a while, just to press another comforting kiss to his temple.

“I know what I’m asking of you, and I’m sorry,” you whispered against his skin. “But we’ll figure something else out.”

“How?” he scoffed, his brows furrowing again. “In a few decades—”

“I thought you didn’t mind a few wrinkles,” you teased.

A smirk flickered across his lips. “You know what the fuck I mean.”

“I know,” you nodded. “But we have time. I promise, we’ll figure this out.”

Ben didn’t totally believe you. There was going to come a time where you were going to have to make a choice: between him and your principles.

It wasn’t fair, but that was the reality. Life wasn’t fucking fair.

Until then, maybe he could make one concession.

“If you want…” he said. You leaned back enough to see his face.

He met your gaze. “We can go to dinner later. In the city.”

A slow smile spread across your face.

“But we’re getting a private room,” he warned, squeezing your hips. “And we’re driving there and back. That’s it.”

Your smile warmed further, and kissed the corner of his mouth. You were sure you could convince him to go a Broadway show afterwards, if you plied him in a few key ways...

“I like the idea of a private room,” you said.

His fingers crept up your pajama pants, drifting down between your thighs. His thumb started to stroke warmth through your panties. It had you smiling, sighing, subtly pressing into his hand.

His smirk deepened.

“You do, don’t you?” he said.

You let out a breathy laugh at the change in him. It didn’t take much to get him worked up. So you hugged him close and spoke into his ear all the things you had planned for him tonight.

Before, and after dinner.

AN: Lol I love writing this lovable asshole. 💚 Especially in the BMD-verse.

I have more Dean imagines coming soon! Including a requested sequel to "You are Dean's one exception," in which Sam "crosses the line"... 🫣

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

BMD Tag List (Part 1):

@this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26 @spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@xoxovienna @katherineann814 @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28 @nancymcl @ashbatz @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022 @emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @karnellius @kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun @lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl2

@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420 @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @kazsrm67

#Talk to Me #reader request #soldier boy #Imagine Ben losing you sequel #You confront Ben about his fears #hurt/comfort #Soldier Boy imagine #BMD verse #the boys #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x you #Break Me Down verse #zepskies answers

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jouxlskaard · 1 month

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Strap in, fuckers. This is a long one.

I've seen a lot of discourse and discussion recently about why TMAGP isn't resonating with listeners as much as TMA did, with a lot of people pointing towards the infrequent structure of each episode and the lack of subtlety that TMA had once excelled in. And while both of these are true, I think the main culprit that has caused these problems for listeners is one thing: the pacing.

TMAGP is only going to be 60 (Edit: 90) episodes long, compared with TMA's absolute behemoth of 200. When I'd found out about this, I'd assumed that it meant TMAGP would have a much smaller story - not having to establish as much information as TMA did, and allowing the story to have lower stakes as a result. This certainly wasn't a bad thing, as many sequels that have tried to one-up their predecessors have gone disastrously wrong, but I knew that the structure would be different to TMA as a result.

However, from the 12 episodes that we've seen so far, it appears that TMAGP is going to have similar levels of stakes to TMA - not the same stakes, of course, but they'll likely be on close to equal footing. This means that TMAGP has to establish the same amount of information to listeners with significantly less time to do it in, and the pacing has to speed up to adhere to that. In the first 12 episodes of TMA, we had established one possible recurring statement character (Gerry), a disturbing worm woman (Prentiss), and the fact that Jon doesn't like his assistant and refuses to believe any of the statements. In the first 12 episodes of TMAGP, we've established every important protagonist and what they sound like, two recurring statement characters (Bonzo and Ink5oul) with one that has already physically appeared, much of Sam's backstory and his ties to the Magnus Institute and the fact that something is deeply wrong with their workplace. That is a big difference.

This difference in pacing is what I believe is turning listeners away from what they'd originally enjoyed about TMA, because there's no longer that warm, comforting atmosphere when you listen to it. Its sound isn't designed to come from a tape recorder and a tape recorder only anymore; it's no longer a sit-down and listen to the Archivist tell you spooky stories for 20 minutes anymore; and, like I mentioned earlier, the structure is no longer the same throughout each episode. The horror anthology aspect, whilst still being there, has now taken a back-burner to the metanarrative because so much has to be established in so little time. To many, that's a bad thing. They listened to the original because they liked the statements, and the little things connecting them hinted to a much larger story at play. When this story was revealed, we got to see Jonny Sims and his brilliant prose at its best, because there was no longer anything to hide and the statements were in their purest forms - no longer having to establish information to the audience, and simply basking in the fear.

I'm sure we'll get to see the same thing in TMAGP once the narrative reaches that point, but the current pacing has uprooted a lot of listeners' expectations for the show. I'm going to listen to the entire thing, personally; yeah, it's different, and it doesn't deliver the same vibes and comfort as TMA did, and I probably won't be able to fall asleep whilst relistening to the more obscure episodes like I could before, but in a frankly disturbing way, I'm still fascinated with what Jonny, Alex and the other writers have created. This type of horror is the only kind that I genuinely enjoy, and I'm excited to see what direction Protocol goes in.

Edit: I feel like I should clarify that I don't see this comparison as something that takes away from TMAGP. Alex has said that it's going to be different from the get-go, and I do think that comparing it to TMA is an exercise in futility to an extent. I just wanted to talk about the shows together because I feel like they complement one another, and the narrative beats that I've talked about are less to do with TMA on its own and more to do with general narrative structure. We have buildup, payoff and pacing no matter what show it is, because that's what makes a story. I think TMAGP could be taken a little bit like Deltarune in terms of its relation to the original source material: separate entities with some overlap in character and themes. At the end of the day, it's still early days for the show and this entire spiel could just end up gathering dust - I just think it's a cool thing to think about, and it gives me an excuse to infodump about how pacing can affect a narrative and the audience's response to it.

I wrote this while my cat was laying on me. Have a picture as a reward for reading this whole thing.

#the magnus protocol #tmagp #writing #tmagp theory #tmagp spoilers #tmagp vague #tma #the magnus archives #magnus archives #magnus pod #the magnus universe #the magnus institute #this isn't my usual post but i write fantasy and horror in my free time #i'm certainly not qualified enough for this to be considered the one and only take #but i've been thinking about it and i think it's kind of interesting #this pacing is actually pretty conventional for horror podcasts #but because we're used to tma levels of pacing it feels contrived #i'm just an aspiring writer guys don't take this too seriously

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kaciebello · 2 months

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Pigeon ball invitation

Masterlist Badger express ★ Blaise Zabini x Hufflepuff! reader (fem) Summary: Teaching Hufflepuff how to dance was not on Blasies to-do list Warnings: no use of y/n, Authors note: Haiya! This is a sequel series to the whole delivery one. This one is gonna focus on the boys separately! hope you enjoy it! English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes beforehand. Proofread by me and me only (Ｔ▽Ｔ) word count: 1.1k Song: Box - NCT Dream

Blaise comes from a rich family. Yes, he knows their wealth comes from his mother's multiple husbands. But he was not going to spoil her fun. What was spoiling his however was attending all these balls and events. And one thing he despised even more was dancing. That's why he was frustrated as we watched the Hufflepuff girl glide on the floor. His head hung low as he watched her trip over her own feet.

Why he even agreed to teach her is beyond him. Maybe she batted her eyelashes at him or promised him a free delivery service. He can't remember.

“How are you this bad? I've seen you balance on a flying broom.” He says rubbing his temples. The girl stops and looks at him with a pout.

“That's easier.” She argues back.

“ How is balancing on a moving stick easier than moving around a solid ground.” She shrugs unable to answer him.

Right now, she was contemplating her choice of a teacher. She could have asked any of the boys really, she just wasn't sure anyone could teach her ballroom dancing but Blaise.

“Okay, one more time. And please, try to remember the steps.” He says and waves his wand so that the music plays. The girl just sings and makes her to the dummy that has been her dancing partner for the past 30 minutes.

The first few steps are now engraved in her memory and she has no problem dancing that part. It's the twist that comes after, somehow she always manages to twist her feet together. Just as she did now, in panic she even managed to trip the dummy, making it fall. When Blaise heard the thud he did not even need to turn around.

The girl looks at him with an awkward smile. He wants to say something and express his frustration, but she cuts him off.

“Maybe if I was dancing with a human!” She hurls out before thinking. That stops him in his tracks, she's not wrong. Maybe if he has her dancing with someone she will be less likely to trip them and make them face the floor. Yes, it was like 99% she would, but not 100.

“Nobody is willing to risk their feet-”

“You could.”

“EH?” He stops in his tracks. Once again, she is right. It's starting to get on his nerves. He sighs and makes his way to her.

“Fine. But only once.” He says and the girl nods. He grabs one hand to his and places the other one on her waist. She smiles up at him, making it obvious she finally got what she wanted. Blaise just huffs.

“Don't look at your feet too much.” She looks up at him to argue but just nods when she sees his serious face. With a simple wave of his wrist, the music starts to play and they start to dance. As always the first few steps are done correctly and with no problem.

He could see the girl was more nervous with every second they got closer to the twist. They got into positions and he listed his arms so she could twirl around. Her skirt flowed a bit. At the last second her feet tangled a bit, but Blaise was prepared. Not wanting to embrace her, and frankly not wanting to dance anymore he quickly stabled her by her waist and continued to dance. Giving her a mere second to comprehend what was happening before she had to follow his lead.

When he looked down he could see her smiling seemingly proud of herself. That prompted a smile on his face too. They continued dancing and when the song was nearing the end, he knew what he had to do.

on the last note, he stopped in his tracks and pulled her closer to her body. She did not even have time to react before he dipped her. Wide eyes met his leisurely smile.

“This was not in the original dance.” She says holding on to him for her dear life. She may be a witch but she is not immune to bruises. He just shrugs. Their faces were so close he could feel her talking before he heard it.

“I guess not.” With that, he straightens them up, but not letting her go just yet. She just looks at him as he swings them in this makeshift hug.

“That was hard.” She whispers just enough for him to hear. He lets out a laugh that rings throughout the whole ballroom.

“Wait till you have to do in a dress and heels.” He says and takes a few steps away from her. She lets out a whine at his words. He once again laughs. Holding his hand out for her to take. He was well aware he said only once, but he hoped she did not register that and he could impress her more. She takes it, getting into positions again.

A coo is heard throughout the ballroom making them stop in their tracks. Suddenly from one of the open windows, a dove comes down with a little paper wrapped around his leg.

“A pigeon?” he asks and the girl gives him a dirty look, before reaching into her pocket and giving the dove a treat while taking the note.

“A dove, I use them when someone can't reach me. Or when I need to deliver outside of school.” She explains making him look at her weirdly.

“We have owls?” He says and she just mumbles about it not being her style. An idea popped up in his head. He runs to his bag and quickly scribbles something on a piece of paper. He runs back and hands it to the girl. She looks at him confused and she just flashes his smile.

“I do have a free delivery, no?” he asks and she just sighs and nods taking the note from him. She goes to put it in her pocket but he stops her.

“I need it to reach my mom,” he says and her eyes just widen. Before she can ask he shooks his head and answers her.

“You have about the same foot size, she might have some shoes that would feel nice while dancing.” He says and her eyes widen again.

“How do you know this stuff?” She asks but ties the note to the dove before letting it fly away.

“God forbid man express an ounce of girlish whimsy.” He says rolling his eyes. Before extending his hand to her for another dance. She hesitates but takes it nonetheless.

“With no dipping?”

“With all the dipping honey.”

Taglist: @daisiesformylove , @klimovatereza-blog , @lafrone ,@enfppuff , @rafegfs , @frogtape , @lovelyygirl8 , @catiwinky, @anyam444 , @leeleecats , @ghostgardn , @reverse-soe , @ultramarinetovelvet , @iwishigotswallowed , @jazz-berry , @justatadbonkers , @partnerincrime0 , @schaebickel , @bunnyhopsstuff , @deluluassapocalypse

#slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys #blaise zabini headcannon #blaise zabini x reader #blaise zabini #blaise zabini imagine #harry potter #harry potter fanfic #slytherin #slytherin boys imagine #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #slytherin boys x you #hogwarts au #blaise x reader #fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #slytherin x reader #harry potter imagine

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flowersforchoso · 7 months

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Making up with bi-han

this is the sequel to breaking up with bi han, which can be found here

even after he beseeched for another chance, you remained resolute in your decision. unwavering

though the rejection bruised his ego and badly, he was not going to act crazy over it. if you were expecting him to grovel, then forget it because he won't do that

however, his hurt this time directed inwards. he feels it deeply, marinates in it. the pain is immersive. like ripping the bandages of fresh wounds and dousing it with salt.

what he feels is defeat. which manifests as a sinister detachment. the shift in his behaviour is almost imperceptible but its hyper visible, to a keen eye. he would still lash out from time to time, albeit with less vigor. he's become much more... subdued. in mannerism. almost as if the lin kuei grandmaster was replaced by a clone.

as a man who hates showing emotions, he keeps to himself, unbeknownst that it was instead, a riveting display of it

and all because of a woman's rejection no less. not just any woman, but a woman whom he loves. someone he opened his heart for, a rare occurrence.

its at this point that kuai liang intervenes because something was amiss. and since nobody knows his brother better than him, he could tell he was hurting despite trying to mask it, or failing to do so.

so he comes to you acting as a mediator of sorts. a bridge connecting distant worlds. proposing you consider his brother's affections towards you.

the encounter shocks you to say the least, and you express your disbelief in bi han having to resort to cheap tricks such as this—sending others to beg on his behalf

to which kuai liang corrects, by telling you that this was out of his own volition. his brother had nothing to do with it and this concerns you for bi han was haughty. you never could've imagined you, of all people, got to him this way.

you think it through and decide that maybe, a change was due

so you took initiative and requested to see him. with kuai liang being the messenger, that puts hermes to shame, and to bi han's consternation. he didn't ask neither did he appreciate the meddling

you arrived at madame bo's. when it was sparse and dark. beyond closed hours. you felt this was too serious and solemn of a meeting as you entered the establishment. and she, madame bo herself, playfully scolded you for being such a heartbreaker. wait. how did she know this?

you stood in a corner. then began pacing, rehearsing all the things you wanted to say to him as the restaurant emptied out

few minutes later, there was an addition. bi han appeared and you heard your heart beat loudly. a tumultuous sound capable of rupturing your eardrums

he approached you. bore the familiar scowl that etched across his features. you imagined he thought the occasion ridiculous and juvenile. a tangle reserved for the school-aged

"you wanted to see me" he grinds out causing your eyes to dart upwards to meet his. searching for... only heaven knows, as you drew in shaky breaths. the air loathing you in the moment.

then you willed yourself into speaking, allowing the hurt and pain take over by pouring your heart out; telling the ways he hurt you, and how he maintained he had done no wrong, justifying himself. invalidating your feelings

you couldn't prevent the tears from falling as you recount those memories. letting out mournful sobs when you told him you loved him then, and still do now

bi han is taken aback by all of this. seeing you crestfallen, a side he had never seen, and being the reason was gut-wrenching. which propels him to envelope you in an embrace

he then apologizes, a first for him, killing the ugly need to defend himself. there's so much he wants to say, but lacks the linguistic flexibility to convey the emotions that welled from within him, with you, in the dark about his internal struggles

when you finally steadied yourself, you sniffed, "thank you. that's all i wanted to hear"

#bi han x reader #bi han x you #subzero mk1 #mk1 bi han #sub zero x you #mk1 sub zero x reader #subzero x reader #bi han sub zero #mortal kombat 1

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mrsshabana · 7 months

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“𝐈’𝐦 𝐬𝐨 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐝 𝐈 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐲”

𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟔: 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲

꒦꒷‧₊ Summary The first day you met Gyutaro he told you he was going to put a baby in you, and he did just that. Now, 7 months later, he can't wait to breed you again. ꒦꒷‧₊ Content Gyutaro x female!reader, 18+ MDNI, pregnant reader, breeding kink, vaginal sex, overstimulation, squirting, creampie. ꒦꒷‧₊ Note 1.3k words. This is a sequel to Day 6: Breeding

✧:･ﾟ→ Kinktober Masterlist ✧:･ﾟ→ Part one

It has been about 7 months since you first met Gyutaro. Things have changed a lot since then, especially your body. When he said he was going to put a baby in you, he wasn’t kidding. Having gotten you pregnant that first night you met.

At first, Gyutaro was very aggressive with you, only becoming docile when he was needy to be inside of you. Despite having already gotten the job done, he still wanted you more than ever. And his attachment towards you grew along with the baby he put inside of you.

Gyutaro would never let you leave, always insisting that you need your rest and must stay in bed - even if you felt perfectly fine. However, he makes up for his controlling behavior by spoiling you. He caters to your every whim, always making sure you are comfortable and even bringing you whatever food you’re craving that day. And at night he’ll snuggle up to you in bed and run his hands over your stomach. Whispering how much he loves you and the baby.

Of course, you aren’t just growing any baby inside of you. This baby is a demon - causing some strange side effects for you. Most days you’re left feeling completely drained and can barely make it out of bed. While on rare occasions you’ll have a burst of strength similar to that of a demon. You often crave raw meat too.

Carrying a demon’s baby hasn’t been easy on your frail human body, but having Gyutaro by your side has gotten you through it.

And tonight is no different. Gyutaro had just finished giving you a bath. He holds you in his arms and carries you back to the futon, gently setting you down.

“Thanks darling,” you give him a loving smile, trailing your hand along his bicep.

He blushes, “Anything for you.” He sits beside you and squirts some lotion on his hands, rubbing his palms together.

You lay back and relax as he rubs the lotion all over your belly. This has become a ritual for him to do for you, it makes him feel close to you and the baby.

His eyes trail up and down your naked form, and he can’t help but get turned on by the sight of you. Sure your body has changed a lot since you first met, but that isn’t a bad thing. It’s changed because of him . And something about that fact makes him feel proud of the ways you’ve changed. Your pregnant belly and swollen breasts, he loves it all.

You feel large warm hands caress your stomach, gently massaging the lotion into you. His touch is gentle as his hands make their way up your stomach and to your breasts.

“Gyu…” you whimper as his hands fondle your sensitive breasts. Not only have they gotten bigger since you got pregnant, but they have gotten much more sensitive too. Even the slightest touch makes you wet. And Gyutaro knows this.

With a smirk he goes back to massaging your belly, then slowly makes his way to your hips. Grabbing them gently, and rubbing his thumbs along your inner thigh - inching closer to your core.

You squirm beneath him, blushing and looking away shyly. It’s obvious what he wants from you, and you are incredibly horny too, but you can’t help but feel self-conscious.

“What’s wrong?” he says, stopping his movements and looking up at you.

“I um,” you mutter, “My body isn’t the same as before…” Your smile turns into a frown and you suddenly feel emotional.

Gyutaro lays beside you and holds you in his arms, “Darling, your body changed to nurture our baby. Every time I look at you I feel so proud.” He softly kisses you.

“G-Gyutaro…” Your heart swells up in your chest and you feel so in love with him in this moment - wanting him more than ever “I-I want you.”

“I want you too,” he whispers and his hand makes its way down to your swollen clit, “Every time I see you I think of when I put that baby in you, and I just wanna do it again and again.”

A moan escapes your lips as he glides his fingers up and down your puffy slit - collecting your slick on his fingers.

“Always so wet for me,” he groans as he picks you up and places you in his lap, with your back pressed against his chest. “You always wanna be bred even when you’re already pregnant,” he smirks and pulls down the front of his pants, his erection now pressing against your ass. “Don’t worry, I’ll put another baby in you as soon as you have this one.”

You’re glad he can’t see your face right now because you’re blushing like crazy, knowing that his words are one hundred percent true. You can’t wait for him to breed you again, so much so that your cunt is already sopping.

He gently lifts you, and lowers you onto his cock. Sliding in slowly to make sure you’re comfortable, especially since you’ve become so sensitive. The long drag of his length entering you is enough to make you scream his name.

“Let me know if it’s too much, ok?” he whispers as he softly kisses your neck.

“N-not too much,” you pant, “Please-please fuck me.”

His lips curl into a smirk, he loves hearing how much you want him. And he won’t make you wait either. He holds onto your hips and begins thrusting up into you, keeping a slow and steady pace. But it’s enough to make you see stars. Each thrust causes a wave of pleasure to shoot through your body like electricity. Centered at your pussy and traveling to the rest of your body. Your mind begins to feel fuzzy as you endure it all.

“That’s it darling,” he groans, picking up the pace.

You’re too fucked stupid to even attempt to respond to him, all you can manage is incoherent moans and whimpers. Your walls feel so swollen as he thrusts into you, squeezing him impossibly tight. He barely even started fucking you but you feel like you’re already reaching your peak.

“C’mon darling, you can do it,” he moans, nuzzling into your neck, “You want my cum don’t you? Then you’ll have to milk me real good.”

Tears flood your vision as you feel a throbbing in your core, it gets so strong that you feel like you don’t have control over your body anymore. Your legs begin to quiver and it hits you like a tidal wave.

“ Ahhhhh!!! G-Gyu t-t-taroo! ” You scream as you feel an overwhelming pleasure envelop your body. Your walls tighten and twitch around his length as you squirt all over the bed sheets and all over him. The blankets are left soaked and his thighs are dripping with your essence.

“That’s it baby, ahhh that’s it,” he moans and begins thrusting into you again. He tries to be gentle, but you feel too damn good. His thrusts prolong your orgasm and you’re left shaking uncontrollably in his arms. Finally he’s spilling into you, moaning your name and holding you tightly as he fills you with his cum. His cock twitches as he shoots rope after rope, filling you so much that it seeps out of you, combining with your release on the sheets.

Even after he slides out of you, you’re a mess. Shaking, gasping, and clinging onto him like your life depends on it. He loves seeing you like this. So clingy and vulnerable, needy for him to take care of you.

“You did so well darling,” he whispers as he cleans you up.

He gets up to find some new sheets, but you whine at his absence. He returns quickly and changes the sheets so he can tuck you in, getting under the covers with you and snuggling up to you.

Nothing brings you comfort like being in Gyutaro’s embrace, especially when you’re feeling so vulnerable. Having his muscular arms wrapped around you makes you feel so safe. You instantly nuzzle into him, a content sigh leaving your lips as you close your eyes.

Gyutaro looks down at you and smiles, kissing the top of your forehead. “I’m so glad I made you a mommy.”

#gyutaro #gyutaro shabana #gyutaro x reader #gyutaro x y/n #gyuutarou #gyuutarou x reader #gyutaro smut #kny smut #demon slayer smut #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #kinktober #kinktober 2023

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graciereadshannigram · 2 months

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hey fam, welcome to the March roundup of the best hannigram fics i've read this past month! i read close to 60 fics total, and these were the cream of the crop.

as a reminder: the ingredients for a five star rating typically (but not always!!) include some combination of a.) believable characterizations of both Hannibal and Will, b.) compelling plot and/or character arcs, and c.) high quality smut.

that being said, my judgment of the aforementioned ingredients is powered almost exclusively by vibes and as such, is incredibly subjective.

and if you have any recs of your own for me, PLEASE SHARE.

(Inaugural roundup can be found here)

anyway, in no particular order, let's go!

Title: Bones of My Bones (& Flesh of My Flesh) by everyday_forever Word Count: 15,759 Summary: When Will & Hannibal reunite in Italy at last, Will doesn't fear becoming Hannibal. He knows he already is Hannibal. However, Will feels as if he's a derivative of Hannibal, made in Hannibal's image, from Hannibal's own raw material. He doesn't feel like he's Hannibal's natural equal. Will thinks the only way he can forgive Hannibal is by claiming a piece of Hannibal in return, and choosing to make it a part of himself. He has to eat him. And Hannibal is all to happy to let him.

As far as I'm concerned, this IS canon. Truly some of the best canon-compliant characterizations of them that I've read. This is absolutely what would have happened if Will hadn't tried to kill Hannibal after leaving the Uffizi Gallery. It was perfect. And so them. And obviously, mutual cannibalism. *chefs kiss*

Title: Do you feel the hunger, does it howl inside? by merrythoughts and ReallyMissCoffee Word Count: 261,929 Summary: It's been weeks since the Fall. Since Will had leaned against him, the wild scent of blood thick and cloying on the air, and had taken them from the top of the cliffs. And for every second of every day since, Hannibal has been calmly dealing with the fallout of his decision that night: Life over death. Will had intended them to die, had allowed himself a moment of weakness, of desperation. Perhaps the last act of an exhausted soul. Yet Hannibal had denied him.

I am being dead serious when I say that this fic changed my brain chemistry and managed to do something that several years of therapy had not. I wanted this to go on forever (there IS a sequel!) and did my very best to savor it instead of plowing through the entire thing in a single day. Check the author notes if you're unfamiliar with these two writers–the format took me a couple chapters to get used to, but clearly it wasn't a big deal for me.

Title: Sensational by bigfootghostdick Word Count: 39,607 Summary: Franklyn’s obsession with Hannibal Lecter truly knows no bounds. His obsession only grows worse after being fired as Dr.Lecter’s patient. Feeling slighted by Hannibal's rejection, Franklyn follows him home one evening only to stumble upon something that he never expected to see. Who’s that dark-haired man locking lips with Hannibal right outside his front door? Overcome with jealousy, Franklyn decides to seek revenge on his tenth psychiatrist. How? By selling the photos he took of them to Freddie Lounds.

Listen. I love a good jealous!Franklyn, especially when Hanni and Will firmly put him in his place. Sue me.

Title: The Stress-Sex Connection by shotgun_sinner Word Count: 48,090 Summary: When Will gets out of the BSHCI, he resumes therapy with Hannibal Lecter. His stress levels are through the roof, and Hannibal makes an offer that Will doesn't turn down. Hannibal assumes he's going to take Will to bed and make love to a fragile man, shy and delicate. Will enjoys taking Hannibal to bed, and proving him wrong. OR the story where Hannibal is shocked to find out that Will is a profiler in the streets, but a demon in the sheets.

I was sold on the last line of the summary, "Will is a profiler in the streets, but a demon in the sheets" because it actually got a good cackle out of me, and then who would have guessed! Essentially porn with feelings, but I loved.

Title: hold me, kiss me, rip out my tongue by multifandom_fanfic_writer Word Count: 18,005 Summary: Will notices things. He notices a lot of things, can’t turn it off. Some of these things are about Doctor Hannibal Lecter. He watches Hannibal watching him eat. He watches the touch on his elbow lingering, possessive. He watches Hannibal's eyes darken when Will pulls his hair and fucks his throat hard.

Okay, so I'm realizing that a lot of my five star fics this month were pretty smutty, but I make no apologies. That being said, I did find the characterizations of both Will and Hannibal to be very compelling, and it had the added bonus of Will getting to rub it in Alana's face that Hannibal chose him not her.

Title: Ligare by InfiniteCrisis Word Count: 8,280 Summary: Will's never gone down on a man before and is feeling nervous about it. His solution: tie Hannibal up first. Hannibal has no complaints.

Initially shied away from this one because Will essentially drugs Hannibal to knock him out and fuck him for the first time, but I PROMISE Hannibal knew exactly what Will was doing and allowed it. However, if that isn't your thing, this won't be for you.

THAT BEING SAID, my honest reaction after this was, "fuck fuck fuck, dom!Will might be my new favorite." Bonus points for it being the first in a series, and the rest is equally good!

Title: Oboedire, Implorare, Vovere by InfiniteCrisis Word Count: 18,715 Summary: At the end of Ligare, Hannibal said Will should "test" his willingness to submit to him. Will takes him up on that, and the results are more than either of them expected.

As I said, the rest of the series was SO GOOD. This was basically off the charts hot.

Title: To the Devil His Due (His Due is You) by everyday_forever Word Count: 26,3319 Summary: Will Graham is in the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, courtesy of one Hannibal Lecter. And Will wants payback. He threatens Hannibal with a reckoning. And then Will has a terrible and wonderful idea- he opts to get back at Hannibal and make him jealous by pursuing a sexual relationship with Dr. Frederick Chilton. Feeling emboldened, Chilton sends the audio recordings of him and Will together to Hannibal to boast of the new development in Will's 'therapy.' Hannibal knows at once Will is the mastermind behind it all. Hannibal is most displeased with his manipulative albeit cunning boy. Chaos ensues. Will continues to manipulate both Chilton and Hannibal in order to make Hannibal jealous. Will has entered into a dance with the Devil after poking Hannibal's beast and Hannibal is eager to teach Will a lesson and remind him who he belongs to...

HEAR ME OUT. Prior to this fic, I had never considered Will/Chilton. Ever. Let alone reading a fic where most of the on paper smut is ChilWill. And yet here we are. Hannibal was just so present through it all, given that Will was only screwing Chilton to get at Hannibal (although, I liked that there was some genuine affection between Chilton and Will, it wasn't completely callous), and it just all combined to be an excellent fic. Sue me.

Title: Trope: Fake Date (Hannigram AU) by TigerPrawn Word Count: 4,207 Summary: Will's possible promotion is relying on his superiors thinking better of him. One way to do that is to take his omega to the upcoming cocktail party. Only problem is, he doesn't have one, having to rely on one sent by an agency. He wasn't quite expecting Doctor Hannibal Lecter.

Fluffy first meeting AU, nothing more nothing less. I just love seeing them happy!! (sometimes, lmao)

And that's a wrap on this month! See ya next time!!!

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randomlifex · 5 months

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Love isn’t a timely feeling

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Jang Hyunho x fem!reader

Plot:when the world collapses on your shoulders you’re scared you won’t get up again. Luckily there’s someone there to hold you anytime your legs shake…but at what price?

Warnings:death, bad language, sad content

Please notice:for writing purposes I had to add a random character made by me:say hi to Bora

Read the sequel here:Invisible string

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ‘♡’- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Another alarm went off, another day trying to survive, but this time you were on your own since your best friend had been executed the night before. She wasn’t a mafia, you didn’t even understand how your classmates could vote for her since you had proved them that she was a citizen, however things went as they had to go.

You looked around, as Junhee had asked the night before, everyone was surely on their way to gather in the hall, but you didn’t move. You stayed still, sat in the bathroom where you spent the night hiding, or at least that was what you had pretended to do.

You didn’t care about living no more, without your friend it didn’t make sense, so if you died you would’ve been happy. You were still alive tho.

You rested your head against the wall, closing your eyes in hope to sleep a little more and let your mind rest, but someone knocked at the door of your cabin.

You sighed, opening it just to see Hyunho’s face:

“What’s up?” you asked, in a breath of sound

“We’re supposed to gather in the hall,haven’t you read Junhee’s text?” he talked softly

“I have, I’m just ignoring it. Please, leave” you closed the door again, but Hyunho blocked it with his hand

“You’ve got no time to give up” he said

“I’ve already given up. That’s why I’m here -you tried to close the door again, but the boy didn’t let you do so- now, I’ll ask you one more time:please,leave”

“You were close to Bora, weren’t you?”

“Do we have to talk about it? -holding back your tears had never been that hard- she wa-…she’s my best friend” you explained.

Hyunho sighed, kneeling down at your height:his left hand rested on your leg while the other gently caressed your cheek:

“She wouldn’t be happy to see you like this. Now you need to go through the game for her as well”. his voice was sweet and warm. It sounded like an embrace, but it didn’t help you feeling better in any way; otherwise you burst into tears.

Hyunho lead your head to his shoulder, while your hands grabbed his shirt. Your grip was desperate, you were using so much strength that your fingers turned red:

“I can’t do this without her. I can’t. I’m sorry, I’m sorry Bora”

“Why are you apologising? -the boy caressed your head- you’re still alive, you’re still on time to get up and live for the both of you” his words came out in a whisper. Why was he comforting you like that? You had never been friends in the first place; the two of you had barely talked before that moment. Was he so sweet? Or was he just trying to make more friends than enemies?

You wondered that through the whole chat you had in the bathroom, but, at the end of the day, he was able to help you feel better and get out of there. He was so sweet and so delicate that no one could’ve rejected his help; you didn’t remember the last time you felt so safe in someone’s presence. But there you were.

Without even realising how, you found yourself sticking to Hyunho all the time. Just like Bora, he became your rock.

If something was wrong, he was there to make it better.

If you were tired, he was there to cover your shoulders.

If you were scared, he was there to hold you.

If you were hurt, he was there to heal you.

It happened once:you were exploring the centre when you ended in its darkest dungeons; you had almost got lost for a moment, but you had found your way back to the hall. However, while doing so, you stumbled and ended up cutting your hand.

Once you had gotten back to your classmates you were a mess of pain and blood, but Hyunho was the first one running to you. He lead you to the infirmary, he took care of your wound and, then, of your mind as well.

You weren’t good at that game, it was draining you more and more everyday, but Hyunho was there all the time. You wondered how that could be possible since you knew you were a burden, but he seemed to not care; otherwise he was trying his best to make things easier for you.

“Are you okay now?” he asked, moving a strand of your hair behind your ear.

After having lunch you had a few quiet hours; so he took you to the rooftop with a bunch of blankets. Your head was resting on his lap, cheeks wet as you had another one of your stupid breakdowns, but there, with him, the world seemed to go silent.

“I’m doing better. I’m sorry” you said, closing your eyes

“You don’t have to apologise” he talked, caressing your back. His hand went up and down, drawing creases on your shirt. His touch was the only thing able to relax your nerves.

Rright there, in that moment, with the breeze on your face and his presence reassuring you, you really believed that you could’ve made it through it if he would’ve stayed by your side.

“But I should. You’ve been taking care of me all the time”

“This is what friends are made for” he said, wrapping your body in a blanket

“I own you a million favours” you turned around, meeting his eyes, but he shook his head:

“You don’t own me anything -he ruffled your hair- let’s get out of here safely”

“That’s a big goal” you joked

“We can do that, don’t worry” his smile was as sweet as always, but his voice was serious. You knew he meant it for real. Your heart flattered thinking about a future with him: could’ve that been possible? Would have you been friends? Or something more? The second option sounded good…you’d loved that.

Suddenly, a bunch of random thoughts came to your mind:you could picture him in his everyday life, by your side, having dates every week, exchanging cute gifts, wearing matching clothes, kissing and…your cheeks turned as red as tomatoes.

“Is everything okay?” Hyunho blinked confused at the sight, but you covered your face with the blanket:

“Yes. Nothing’s wrong. I was just thinking”

“About what?” he giggled

“About how my life would be after this game”

“Oh…- Hyunho stayed silent for a second, then he dropped the bomb- am I in it?” he asked, uncovering your face

“Oh…hum…of course”

“In what role?” he leaned closer with an annoying smirk on his lips. He knew what he was doing. You didn’t answer as you got paralysed. Luckily the boy let it be and just laughed, leaving a fast kiss on the tip of your nose.

You didn’t know what happened there, the only thing you were sure about was that, in that moment, your heart had started beating for Jang Hyunho…and you couldn’t do anything about it. You were already far too gone, which wasn’t good, not in a survival game, not after you were still recovering from Bora’s death.

You tried to get away with it, to forget about Hyunho and see him only as a friend again, but you couldn’t, nor he could. The two of you kept looking for one another all the time, naturally.

The first thing he asked himself in the morning was if you were still alive; the last one, during the night, was if you would’ve made it through it again. The more time went by, the more players died; so everyone was automatically more and more exposed, which sent Hyunho crazy. He knew time was getting shorter, and he knew he had something big to confess you,that was why, one night, he just went for it.

“Shall we hide here?” he asked, checking the door of a forgotten room

“We always split our ways at night, are you sure about that?” you demanded

“I don’t think you’re the mafia, and surely I’m not, so I don’t mind it” he smiled.

Hyunho collected a few blankets and snacks, then he locked the entrance

“I think we’re good” he talked, sitting next to you. Your eyes met his, shining at how pretty he was in the dim light. He smiled, caressing your check before sliding his body closer. Your breath got stuck in your throat, your heart started racing in your chest:he was too close, really too close for you to hold back any kind of reaction and look like a friend.

“I need to tell you something before it’s too late” Hyunho talked, holding your hand

“W-what is it?” you pretended you didn’t know, but the only thing you were unaware of was how to react once the truth would’ve been out. You indeed liked him, but you were too scared to lose him to forget about what was happening and rush into a love story.

Hyunho giggled, scratching the back of his neck:

“We both know -he paused, then, with a sigh, he dropped the bomb- I love you yn. I can’t do anything about it. I tried, because I know that a love story is the last thing we need now, but I can’t control my feelings. You’re always in my mind, the whole time, I don’t wanna lose you…and I don’t want it to happen without telling you the truth”

You didn’t know what to answer, you froze on the spot, holding his hand for dear life. What an awful situation!

“I…don’t think we should have this conversation” you mumbled

“We should, because if anything happens I can’t let go without doing this”

“Doing what- “ you had no time to finish the sentence that Hyunho’s lips met yours.

Everything seems so strange for a second, but you were so attracted to him that you ended up going with the flow.

The boy’s hand rested on your cheek (you were now sure it was his favourite spot) as he leaned even closer. Your fingers interwove in his hair while your nostrils got filled with his scent:you didn’t know how to describe it, it was delicate and soft. So good. So calming. You had no idea how a person could affect both your body and mind in the way he did, but there you were. Love was indeed real…and was,indeed, not a timely feeling.

Hyunho was the first one letting go, but only because he was out of breath. His lips were pinky as they were now stained with your gloss:he looked so cute.

You giggled, checking the time on your phone:

“This round is almost finished…” you sighed. The boy nodded, lying down:

“Come” he said, his arms were wide open to welcome you, so you just rested your head on his shoulder

“I hope everything’s gonna be alright” you whispered

“It will be” he replied, placing a kiss on your forehead.

Hyunho was right, the next day both of you were completely fine…but things were meant to go downhill anyway.

More players got executed and even a few mafias died.

There were only three left:Jungwon, Dabum…and you.

However, you weren’t scared to die as your thoughts were focused on two things:stopping anyone who would’ve proposed to kill Hyunho; and don’t let him find out about your role. You didn’t want him to think you had been lying to him, especially if you wouldn’t have been able to protect him. Seeing him passing in such pain would’ve destroyed you.

You tried, and tried and tried…but sadly one of the worst scenarios turned into reality as Junhee and Yoonseo found out you were their rival.

The night they spilled the truth Hyunho immediately got pale. You could see he was holding back a whole breakdown:his eyes were shining, it didn’t matter if he was trying to hold his tears back, and his hands were shaking in anger.

“I can explain…” on the edge of tears, you turned to the boy who simply looked at you with a disgusted face

“I don’t wanna hear a single word coming from your fucking mouth” he replied, running away.

“Kim Junhee has voted for yn yln”

“Lee Yoonseo has voted for yn yln”

“Ji Dabum has voted for yn yln”

“Oh Jungwon has voted for yn yln”

You gave a look to your phone, then to your classmates, then you wiped your tears away and ran to Hyunho. You had thirty minutes left before dying and he was the only thing that mattered in that moment

“Hyunho!” you called him as soon as he had reached the rooftop:

“Go away! Fucking liar!” he yelled, but you ran to him, grabbing his arms

“Listen to me, please, I have no time left”

“I don’t wanna hear your bullshit” he tried to push you away, but you held onto him until the both of you fell to the ground.

The boy’s tears were wetting his shirt, while yours were pouring down your cheeks like the rain pours down from the clouds during a storm

“I’ve never lied to you Hyunho! I never did! I swear! Everything that happened between us was real!”

“You just fooled me! And you know that!” he growled, you had never seem him so desperate.

You shook your head, holding his hands:

“No,no I didn’t. Please, please Hyunho I can’t die knowing that you hate me. Please listen. I didn’t want to be a mafia, nor I tried to fool you in any way! Otherwise I’ve been doing my best to protect you! I loved you Hyunho, and I’m so happy that I could spend time with you. I’ll never forget how you made me feel and how you helped me through everything”

“Have you killed Bora?” he suddenly asked

“No! No I didn’t! I’ve never killed anyone, I swear on Bora’s soul! I would never be able to hurt my classmates, and you know that! Also…do you -you sobbed, coughing for a moment- do you remember when… when I got hurt exploring?” you demanded, Hyunho nodded

“That was the only time I lied. I-I didn’t hurt myself, I had a fight with another mafia. He was mad at me because I wasn’t helping”

“He? Who was that?” Hyunho grabbed your shoulders, dragging you closer

“I can’t tell you, but you know it. Just…just please don’t hate me…I’m begging you Hyunho”

The boy hugged you tightly. Your chin rested on his shoulder, while your hands grabbed the back of his shirt. Probably there were ten minutes left, but you didn’t have the strength to say goodbye to your loved one.

“I could never hate you yn. Never. Even if I tried -his face sank in your soft hair- I love you, I love you so much, and I know you didn’t want to do it. No one wanted” his eyes met yours while his fingers put a few strands of your hair behind your hear

“Get the other mafias out, okay?” you talked, choking on your own words. Hyunho sobbed, nodding.

“Have you… have you voted?” you then asked, caressing his face

“I haven’t yet…”

“Do it…there’s no time left. Vote for me”

The boy grabbed his phone

“Jang Hyunho has voted for yn yln”

“I’m…I’m so sorry” he cried, throwing the object away

“It’s okay. That’s how things were supposed to go. As long as you’re safe, I’m happy -you smiled through the tears, kissing his forehead- now go. Please, go”

Hyunho shook his head, holding onto you. His grip was firm on your arms. He was shaking like a leaf falling down from a tree.

“I can’t…”

“Please…”

“I can’t yn…”

“Please go, I don’t want you to see it -you gulped- I’m begging you”

“Fuck, it’s not fair -Hyunho swore, his jaw clenched- I love you. I’ll always do” he said again, placing one last kiss on your lips before running away.

You looked at him, meeting his teary eyes one last time; then, when midnight struck, your body took his last flight, becoming one with the sky.

“Yn yln has been executed. Yn yln was a mafia”

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Author’s notes:EVERYBODY DON’T COME AT ME!! I’m a sucker for the desolated lovers trope or whatever this is called, but I swear:on the next story my boy will finally get an happy ending!

Hope you enjoyed this story💕

#night has come #night has come kdrama #kdrama #night has come x reader #night has come hyunho #jang hyunho #hong mingi #night has come kyung jun #go kyung jun #cha woomin x reader #cha woo min #lee jaein #kim wooseok

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callsign-dexter · 8 months

Text

Learning to Love Again

Request: Hiiiiiiii 😍

Okay what would you think of a sequel to Fight for Freedom where you got even closer with Jake and Javy and Jake always gets into protective brother mode when it comes to you. But it happens that You also got closer to Bradley, really close as you both fell for each other and Jake finds out about that. He acts stern but he gives in as he knows Bradley is the best guy for you ?

Pairings: Dagger Squad x Reader, Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Warnings: mentions of abuse, cursing, angst, fluff

Masterlist

First Installment: Fight For Freedom

Second Installmet: Learning to Love Again

Third Installment: Tangled Hearts

It had been 6 months since your ex had been sent to jail and as far as you knew he was still in there. You had tried to get back into the dating scene but each time you would freak out and cancel. Jake and Javy had always been there for you and they were there when you called crying in the middle of the night. There was one person however you had been becoming closer to as time went on. Who is that person? It’s none other than Bradley Bradshaw.

Bradley was the most protective of you that night and when you come into The Hard Deck that night and you went quiet, he knew something was wrong. He wasn’t going to lie, when you took your hoodie and the makeup smeared, he saw red. When they grabbed him and took him outside, he was furious. When Javy threw the first punch, he was glad but he needed to let his anger out and he was the one throwing more punches out of all of them. Since Bradley first laid eyes on you, you had caught his attention and he couldn’t help but become protected of you. Originally when he found you were friends with Jake, he thought it would be a great way to get under Jake’s skin but once he got to you know he had abandoned that idea and wanted to get to know you and eventually become a couple.

When you saw Bradley for the first time, you didn’t know what to think sure he was attractive and you wanted to know him more but you were too scared to due to dating Tony. Bradley was so sweet to you and you wanted nothing more to break up with your no good, now, ex-boyfriend and get with him but you stopped yourself and buried it. When they came back in from the fight and being questioned by the police you saw how his knuckles were the most bruised and roughed up. Jake and Javy’s were too but not like Bradley’s.

Ever since the event at The Hard Deck, Bradley had been more attentive to you and doing things for you even if you didn’t know you need it. It started out with simple things like him letting you borrow one of his pens during class when yours had suddenly run out of ink. He had also started to sit closer to you during lectures or walked you to your jet when you had to go up with him. He had also come over to your house with Jake and Javy to install a security system and alarms on the windows as well as changing the locks out. Bradley had also been checking up on you since the incident and it had gotten to the point where you were expecting and looking forward to hearing his voice or seeing his name pop up on your phone.

Whenever nightmares would arise you had been dialing his number and crying on the phone and then he would be over there comforting you. Jake would be called to but you would just tell him that Bradley was over but you wanted to let him know that you were ok. Jake didn’t know how to feel about you two becoming closer with each other. He knew Bradley wouldn’t hurt you but that didn’t stop him from worrying and becoming a big brother that he had titled himself one night at the academy, you were ok with that having been the only child and your parents weren’t the greatest it was nice to turn to someone you trusted. One night it was particularly bad. You had woken up in a panic thinking that Tony was back and out for revenge. You had woken in a cold sweat and labored breathing; you blindly grabbed your phone and called the only other number that you had memorized besides Jake’s and Javy’s.

“Bradley?” You asked in a shaky voice when the call went through.

“Y/N/N? What’s wrong?” Bradley asked taking in your shaky voice and it sounded like you woke him up.

“I woke you up. I’m sorry. Go back to sleep.” You said and were about to end the call but he stopped you.

“No, it’s ok. I would drop anything for you. What’s going on?” He asked and you could hear rustling as he sat up in bed.

“It was really bad. He came back.” Is all you said to him panic started to return to you.

“Who came back?” He asked and you started to sniffle and it was concerning Bradley “Storm?” He asked using your callsign.

“Tony.” Is all you said and he sighed and what you couldn’t see was him close his eyes and jaw clench. Your ex had you so scared that nightmares were forming.

“I’ll be over in a few.” He said and you shook your head.

“No, you don’t have to. Go back to sleep.” You said feeling guilty for waking him up.

“Storm, I’m coming over. I don’t want you alone right now.” He said and you nodded.

“Ok.” You said “Thank you.” You added you wanted to say ‘I love you’ but stopped yourself. You thought that nobody would love you after what you had been through but you were so wrong.

“You’re welcome, Storm. I’m always going to look out for you. I’ll see you in a few.” He said and then hung up the phone.

True to his word. Bradley was knocking on your door and you very eagerly went downstairs and opening the door and into his arms pressing your face into his chest, which he wrapped his arms around you and hugged you back and pressing his face into your hair. “It’s ok. I got you.” He said and you just melted into his touch. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asked and he felt you shake your head. “Do you want to go back to bed and cuddle?” He asked and felt you nod your head. You pulled away and led the way and when you reached your room you actually took in his appearance and he was in sweatpants and a t-shirt and his hair looked like he just rolled out of bed, which he did.

You climbed into bed and he followed suit. You both didn’t say word you scooted back into him and he wrapped his arms around and you slowly drifted off to sleep. He stayed awake until he felt your breathing even out. He loved you he really did “I love you.” He said once he knew you were asleep and kissed the back of your head and drifted off to sleep himself. It was the best night’s sleep you had gotten and you actually got to feel the loved touch of a man and not the harshness.

——————————————————————

The next morning you woke up early, too early to be getting up, to a warm comforting weight around you. You heard slight snoring and was about to freak out but then remembered what had happened and relaxed. You fell back to sleep until your alarm was going off. The weight was gone and you wondered why until the smell of pancakes and bacon rose up to your bedroom. You lazily got up and walked down to see Bradley in the kitchen cooking breakfast you smiled and walked over to him and hugged him from behind and he smiled. “Good morning. I thought that I would make you some breakfast before heading to the beach with the rest of The Daggers.” He said as he turned the stove off and then turned around and took you in his arms.

“That sounds amazing.” He said and then you did something that shocked both of you. You leaned up and kissed him and again to both of your surprise he kissed back. You both only pulled away when air was needed. “I’m sorry.” You said and began to pull away but he pulled you back and crashed his lips into yours. You both pulled way again for air.

“You don’t have to apologize. I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.” He said looking at you.

“I have too. I just never had the guts. Tony-“ He stopped you.

“Tony is in jail and can’t hurt you. He’s an asshole and can rot in jail. I’m here now. We can take this as slow as you want. I’m gonna teach you how a man is supposed to treat a woman and I’m gonna teach you to love again.” He said and your eyes welled up with tears and you hugged him tightly.

“Thank you so much.” You said and he just hugged you tighter. Breakfast was eaten and small talk was made. Then you were getting ready for the beach and then heading to his house for him to get ready. Once all that was done you headed to the beach. When you got there you both got out and he grabbed your hand and looked down at you smiling and you smiled back, this is what you had wanted all along.

——————————————————————

Jake had heard the Bronco pull up and looked up and saw Bradley and then looked over in the passenger side seat and saw you sitting there, he didn’t know how to feel about that but deep down he knew that Bradley would take care of you unlike that shitting ex of yours. He watched you walk hand in hand over to the group. You both greeted everyone and then Natasha was stealing you away because she too had noticed the hand holding and had a smirk on her face and you could see her trying not to squeal. Everyone had decided to play dog fight football and the others had gone over to the two of you but Jake held Bradley back.

“Don’t hurt her.” He told Bradley sternly and he looked at Jake.

“I would never do that.” Bradley said

“I’ve been with her from the beginning of everything especially Tony. I’ve seen the emotional and physical damage to her. She’s fragile.” Jake said and Bradley could see on his face that he was not playing around.

“Jake, I know she’s like a sister to you and Javy. I’ve seen the shit that Tony put her through. I love her so much. I was ready to kill Tony for her, my career be damned if it meant that it would protect her. I’m not letting her go or down. My mom and dad would kill me if I ever laid a threating hand on her. Mom didn’t raise me that way.” Bradley said and Jake nodded his head.

“I know which is why I trust you to be with her. If you dare lay a hand on her or break her heart. If she comes crying to me or tells me you did, and she will. I will make your life a living hell.” Jake said looking Bradley directly in the eye.

“You can count on me Jake. I’m not letting anything happen to her. I love her too much.” He said and Jake nodded again “We better get over there.” He added and began walking over to the rest. Jake watched him and when Bradley got there, he grabbed your face and kissed you and you wrapped you arms around his torso. Jake knew right then and there that Bradley was going to take care of you and help you learn to love again. Javy looked back at Jake and nodded and Jake nodded back both of them having a silent agreement that Bradley was the right person for you. They hadn’t seen you happy in a long time until you met Bradley.

Bradley was teaching you to love again and you were ok with it especially if it was from him. With him, everything was perfect and nothing could harm you and if something did Bradley was there taking care of you. You had a feeling this was going to be the relationship that was going to last and you were looking forward to it.

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granolawriting · 8 months

Text

"To make you forget."ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

pairing: no breakout!Joel x fem reader

Summary: The day after having your long term boyfriend put an end to your relationship, you find yourself in a complicated relationship with Joel, a friends family friend. He invites you out for a drink after a shotty first impression, and the rest is history. sequel to a change in fate

Content warning: 18+ NSFW, age gap, you're 21 and Joel is mid 30s to early 40s. Enemies to lovers, unprotected piv, praise kink, strong Joel carries you multiple places, pet names (princess, darling, doll, sweetheart), oral (f!receiving), fucking in his clothes, drinking, drunk secret kisses, sleepy kisses, aftercare, spooning.

word count: 5.2k

A/N: Thank you for all the love on the last one <33 please send me requests if you have any idea for what I could write next! enjoy ;)

“No. Fucking. Way.”

… … …

You sit across from your friend once more at the same table that held a much more, comfortable conversation the night prior. Eyes catch hers, and an agape mouth is what greets the information just relayed to her over morning coffee.

“No, no okay I must be thinking of the wrong one.”

“Your dad only has one friend named Joel I thin-”

“I KNOW!!!”

…

“It’s just. I’ve known him since I was a little girl. It's just a little, crazy, is all, that you’re now going on a date with him.”

“It's not a date-”

“It so is.”

You scoff at her implication.

“You know, there's a thing called ‘southern hospitality’. And he's not wrong about me needing a drink after everything I’ve been through. Maybe he's just good at reading people, trying to get back on how he treated me the other night now that I’m someone he has to be nice to.”

Your friend purses her lips, trying to think of a counter but coming up short. You were right, there wasn't anything inherently odd about going out for drinks with someone. Especially when you’ve earned it.

“Though I can't deny, he is kind of cute. For an old guy.”

And the tower comes crumbling down.

At the sound of your confession your friend goes into a fit, a groan followed by very exaggerated, nonexistent tears that whine into the floor that her head now faces along the lines of complaint of his age, and the jeans that predate your birth.

your hand touches her hair, stroking it as to try and ease her out of some melodramatic stupor, telling her that it'dve been bound to happen the moment she tried to push her old guy agenda on you. Kindly telling her that perhaps, she's just a little upset you got one before her. In the process however, admitting that a part of you feels as if you’ve got him-- but pay that no mind of course. It's purely for the joke, to antagonize her. There's no means for you to feel as though you’ve won anything out of a simple night out with a guy who, in the right clothes and lighting, looks kind of okay.

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

A clock glares at you at a 6:30 timestamp as you stand in your bathroom. There's an array of clothing sprawled across the counter as the attempt to multitask becomes futile in the face of your absolute cluelessness on how to dress to get drinks with a 40 year old man. Was he 40? Who knows, maybe it's stress. Regardless, jeans of all cut from short shorts to flairs stare back at you, and patterns of all sizes leave you helpless. You spit out a bit of toothpaste in your mouth, and as you feel stumped looking at the clothes before you, you can't help but be slightly grateful that your hair and makeup were finished before you had to get dressed. Otherwise, you wouldn't make it out the door til 8. At least.

Though as you look upon your options an idea sticks to you; some odd desire to dress, a little western. Perhaps not the full hat and spurs, but what could a little plaid hurt? And as you piece together an outfit consisting of low-cut frayed shorts, some simple boots, and a front-tied plaid button-up, you felt ready to perhaps line dance. I mean, who fucking cares anymore. Otherwise, you’d still be stuck in limbo. Better this than nothing.

Putting on your first earring, a clock now showing 6:43, you hear a knock at the door, followed by said knock being answered by none other than your friend. Curious and afraid of who it may be, but unable to really go down and check as you hinged on being late as is, your questions are solemnly answered at the shrill “UNCLE JOEL!!!!” bounce upon the walls of the house as though she hadn't just seen him the day before.

The indistinct conversation is held downstairs as you feel horrifically embarrassed to not remember that most gentlemen, arrive 10-15 minutes early. And you, haven't experienced anything but a 10 after honk outside your house your entire life.

As you hurry to dress, the low pitch of his voice, the drawl of his words that you can barely discern from the distance between you two but is still everpresent leaves you with a pit in your stomach of unprecedented anxiety. You had been trying so hard to convince yourself that this was normal, casual, to you, but internally you knew it was nothing but that to you. And that scared you shitless. You've failed to go on a date with anyone else since maybe, 8th grade? The graduation dance? Your whole life you remember one man, and now another seems to blow him out of the water, with unbelievable ease. You worried you wouldn't impress him, that this was your only opportunity to seemingly get something good, that he secretly still has disdain for you after what happened to you two the night before, that he-

“HEYY!!!!!!!!! ARE YOU COMING DOWN OR WHAT! DON'T KEEP HIM WAITING!!!!”

You witch.

Secondhand embarrassment overwhelms any other emotion you had at that moment as a means to get you out the door, as soon as possible. Hurried steps fall down the stairs as you finish putting on your jewelry on the go, holding some within your pocket to finish up in Joel’s car.

“Hi- oh, I'm sorry I didn't think you’d be here early uh,”

Eyes lock on a vase of flowers new to the living room, that had not been there when you had last descended the stairs.

“Well, I didn't want ta’ show up empty-handed. Though it nice ta’ get somethin small for the pretty ladies.”

A shy smile creeps on his face as he explains the origin of the plants in the house, and a ring of surprise leaves you speechless for a moment. your friend pipes up;

“Isn't that so nice? Well, y'all better have a good time tonight. And don't bring her home too drunk Joel, then she’ll start telling me all her secrets, and I definitely don't want to hear that.”

A smile and nudge hits him as she finishes her statement.

Does she always have to be so corny?

You look him up and down. He wore a faded blue button-up top, with the top few trailing down his chest being unbuttoned. What fell on top of that was a faded brown jacket, a darkened collar, and a sturdy material as its makeup. Jeans that seemed omnipresent on his body, but instead of working boots did he wear what seemed to be brown boots underneath the cuff of his jeans. You could tell he tried a bit with his appearance, seeing traces of gel lining his hair that fell aside his face, and a scent of cologne softly present but still enough to put on an air of intention to impress.

Joel leads you to his truck, and as you enter it you realize just how much it smells like him. You smell sawdust and gas, with hints of his cologne. It was an old car, but with those scents combined it makes perfect sense to you. You took in the small things as he drove, anticipation welling in your body made everything seem so much more noticeable and intense, every sense in your body heightened at the sight of an unsuspecting Joel sitting to the left of you.

You notice as he bites his fingernails as though it's a habit, a strain upon his fingers down to the very skin of them that coats every finger on both of his hands.

Both hands fall upon the wheel as he turns into the bar.

“Finally here. Feelsa lot longer than it did when I was younger, funny thinkin of cause’ when I was ‘bout your age, you couldn’t pull me outta this place.”

Hahaha when I was about your age. Damn you old man.

“That mean I’m gonna have to pull you out of here tonight?”

You look at him with a little smile, but he seems to begin getting out of the car before you can give him a direct look in the eyes. However when he goes around to your side to open your door, as you step out of it with a small jump onto the loose gravel of the parking lot, his eyes trace your body with noticeable intent. He looks at you for just a moment though, and as his eyes turn to meet your own, he just smiles and says;

“Don't worry sweetheart, I can take my liquor nowadays. ‘Spose that cant be said fer you though, your little friend told me ‘bout yer habits when you drink.”

A satisfied chuckle leaves him that lands you in a pit of fear. What did she tell him.

Story upon story of less-than-elegant scenes of your drunken stupor flash within your mind before the need to shake them off is immanent as he follows up;

“Now no sense lookin like that hon, she aint tell me nothin too bad. Should she have? ‘Spose they’ve got virgin drinks now that this place got all prettied up since I last saw it. Just don't want ya pukin in my truck alright?”

“Oh don't worry, I’ll be fine. I doubt I'll drink all too much anyways.”

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

“ I doubt I'll drink all too much anyways “

That's all that's able to ring through your head as you demand another shot at the counter. Sure, you drank but,

"you hold it well!"

Or so you thought. But you never really noticed until now how badly you were hurt by what happened to you in the past few days. And when you lose someone you’ve known for 3 years, the inclination to drink past your limit grows ever stronger with every downing of liquor that's not on your tab. And as that realization becomes tucked into the back of your mind with every glass, more does an unfamiliar part of you comes out. One of loud unruliness, in the face of a man you otherwise strived to impress to the greatest degree.

At this point in the night, he’s had what, 2 beers? The first already probably already having worn off. He was a smart drinker, and you could tell he stayed under the threshold where he couldn't drive anymore, as a means to stay safe for you. And as the drinks poured you made it evident to him how much you appreciated that. Many many times. He wasn't like any man you’d ever been out with anymore. He didn't judge you, or make fun of you. He endorsed whatever made you happy.

Until, of course, a woman comes out of the bathroom to inform him the lady he came with has been nauseous near the toilet bearing on ten minutes.

“Alright doll, we’ve got to get you home.”

Drunken slurs of disapproval at that notion dispel from you in the way of elongated “no’s” and “please’s” fill the bar as Joel felt within himself the karma of every man who had needed to do this to him, now having to do this for you.

“C’mon you know fightin me wont work, I'm much stronger than you darlin’.”

And with flailed arms still being swung in the general direction of him, he finds this means to deal with you the old-fashioned way.

That being, just picking you up and taking you home that way. And thus, with one fail swoop of an arm and shoulder, you were slung over him in a fireman's carry. Too flushed and furious for a reason you can't quite discern, you throw weak jabs into his back as he takes you out of the bar as though you were nothing but a small child; treating you as though you were no weight at all upon a back hardened by muscle and grit. But even as he brings you to his truck, he lowers you into its passenger seat with nothing less than utter precaution. As though you were a porcelain doll that could break at any sight of rough handling.

“Alright princess, in you go.”

Is what’s mumbled under the breath of this gruff and barely buzzed man, now taking care of you as though you were a princess. At least you felt like it, as his arms wrapped around you with ease to shift you into a bridal carry that was a better means of getting you inside with.

All you can do is say indiscernible things towards him as he says that to you. Not being able to process, at least in the moment, how softly he treated you. And as he closed the door on your side, and opened his own side to drive, you found yourself slowly drifting into a sleep wedged between the truck door and its window. Quite a comfortable situation for the moment, it seemed.

What awoke you briefly was the feeling of his warm body against yours as he carried you out of his truck once more. This time taking you inside somewhere comfortably warm, inside home. He lays you on a couch that finds much greater comfort than the previous sleeping arrangement. As you lay down there, more than ready for rest he comes by once more to lift your head, a pillow to meet your head as you lay back down. And a blanket to cover you evermore, he made sure your body was tilted sideways. With that, you drift into sleep once more.

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

You wake up, checking a phone clock that shines at you 3:04am against the darkness of the house. Looking around, you quickly notice that, this isn't your house. This is absolutely unfamiliar, from the kitchen to the furniture to especially, the man who slept across from you in a cushioned chair. With strained eyes and a brief flash of your flashlight, it becomes evident that it's Joel. hands crossed across his chest and a slight snore leaving his person with every breath, a pang to your head reminds you of the night you allowed go to waste in the face of drowning your problems. Cursing to yourself the lost potential of a night like this, you also thank whomever above that he chose to take you to his home instead.

However, the liquor still seemed to have a hold on you as you looked across the living room at the dimly illuminated face of Joel through the moonlight that shone through the window.

You approached him, slowly. A wobble in every step that when paired with unfamiliar territory meant a lot of close calls on your part, but nonetheless you walked the few feet with no major issue. And there you stood, just inches away from him. His chest rises up and down to the rhythm of his body and the peaceful eyes of a man whose body soaks in any moment of rest it can muster. His mouth was slightly open as he slept, you studied it. Slightly parted were two brightly colored lips that were covered on its top by the growth of his mustache, and its bottom being overgrown by a quarter-inch beard that coats the lower half of his face.

You lean in closer, something overtaking you that can only be explained by drunken lust. So close in fact, that you can feel the heat of his breath upon yours. It's intoxicating. You haven't felt this kind of feeling in your heart for years, this desire to do something you didn't know the consequences of. The excitement of something new overtook you. Without any more thought, you close the gap. Feeling his lips against yours as he’s non the wiser, all but a simple kiss against his lips is all you needed to satiate this urge you’d had bubbled within yourself since you first heard his voice downstairs while you got ready.

At least, you thought. But as you tasted the liquor on his lips and smelled the remnants of cologne on his neck you couldn't help yourself. One kiss became two, to three, to fo-

A mumble stopped you in your tracks. You shot up what seemed like 10 feet, stumbling far enough away to absolve suspicion from your highly odd acts, to say the least.

His eyes slowly flutter open, followed by a groan and a stretch of his arms and legs wakes him up enough to address you. With fingers rubbing his eyes, he asks;

“Hey, are’ya finally up?”

Groggy, raspy, deep, whatever the fuck you want to say. It was everything. A just woken Texan man with the rasp and the drawl all together could finish you off right then and there.

You search for words, excuses, anything to respond to him with. Panicked, you say the first thing that comes to your mind.

“Oh yeah, I uh. I wanted to ask if I could take a shower maybe? Soak off the rest of this drunk. Is that, would that be alright?”

You look for his eyes in the dark of night, and as they meet yours he forms a reply,

“Course ya’ can. It's uh, just down there to the left. In my room.”

“Thank you”

Making your way down the dark corridors you find his room, and an entrance envelopes you in a part of his life. You see the things that he values enough to keep within his room, the set of sheets he sleeps on every night. The mementos that make his life fleshed out before you. And of course, the guitars. Of course, he plays the guitar, I mean what the hell else is he supposed to do.

You stumble into the bathroom, impressively kept for only housing a single man. Within there do you mindlessly strip your clothes, opting to shower as soon as possible just to not make him any more suspicious of the things you’re doing in his own home.

---------

Stepping out, however, having used his shampoo and body wash in an oddly exciting experience of smelling exactly like him, do you grapple with the uncomfortable realization you have no clothes to wear after you do all of this. You step out of the water, turning it off, and grabbing a towel to wrap around you a few things pass through your mind. Whether you go, and ask him for clothes. Or, if you just take them for yourself. Both have quite interesting endings to them, however, the latter seems to be more enticing. And you begin to realize perhaps it isn't the liquor that’s making you act like this, it's pure unadulterated lust.

Walking into his room once more do you rummage through drawers and closets looking for something wearable. And within it do you find an insanely dated rock shirt, and a pair of his boxers to suit your desired amount of cover.

You walk into the living room once more, a new wardrobe adorning you, you notice that the light is now turned on; he’s stayed awake. With a bit more caution in your step you watch as you round the corner of the living room he’s stood in the kitchen, cooking some sort of tea. Wearing little else than a pair of plaid pants to sleep in.

“Ah he-”

Turning to face you does he stop in his tracks as he observes you. Smelling like him, dressed in his attire, you realize that there's no man alive who could properly see that and act normal about that. Even the southern gentleman stood before you. He places the container of honey he held for his recipe down on the counter and approaches you slightly;

“I see you’ve found some clothes then? Was thinkin a’ bringin some of Sarah's stuff in fer ya, but I’ve got to say that this is a bit better of a sight.”

A smirk grows on his lips as he looks at you, a sense of desire that he had previously covered came to the surface as he saw you within his clothes. Assuming that was the only reason as to why.

Walking towards you does he move a stray piece of hair from your face to the back of your ears, looking at you from above he speaks again in a deeper, more domineering voice;

“Now I won't play stupid with you sweetheart. I felt all that stuff you were doing ta’ me, didn't think it’d be the first thing you’d do wakin up in a stranger's house. But can't say I'm all too mad at it.”

He cups your face with his palms and lifts your chin to look up at him.

“And now yer standing here in all my clothes, covered in me. Wasn't plannin on saying anything ‘bout it til you walked in here lookin like that. Now I don't think I can rightly resist darlin’.”

Before you can let out a word edgewise, he takes you into a kiss of his own, making sure to taste every part of you as you did him, down to the back of your neck where his tongue quickly traveled where traces of your night still burned your taste buds.

You let a moan escape, purely out of shock are you so vocal. Closing your eyes, you let the brush of his beard on your face, and the rough kiss of his lips guide you to wherever he’d want you to go.

After a few more moments of this, he lets up. For breath, but also to talk to you for a moment. His hands still cupped to your face, some of his fingers tracing their steps from the roots of your hair he had been grabbing just a moment prior.

“You wear all that pretty getup, and then you get all drunk on me. Spewin ‘bout how great I am, how kind I am. How you’ve never been shown anything like me. But let me tell you, sweetheart, I’ll make sure to show ya how a real man treats a woman like you.”

He grabs you by your thighs, lifting you up in the air to wrap your legs around his waist. He walks you over to the room you’d just left moments prior and doesn't fail to kiss you every moment he can in the small walk to his bedroom. Kicking open the door cracked open, he’s finally able to dump you onto his bed as he crawls on top of you.

“Spread yer fuckin’ legs, baby”

You listen intently. Doing just what he asks, do they fall to the side of you with as far apart as you can make them. Feeling his calloused hands as they trace your waist from beneath his shirt, until he slowly teases the waistband of his boxers. Pulling them down slowly reveals only your naked body beneath them.

“Such a pretty sight aren't ya? And so much for me already, what a good girl.”

He wastes no time to dip his face within your heat. Sopping up every drip that seeped from you from the moment you’d first kissed him. Feeling his tongue venture to every crevice, every fold inside of you makes your hands grip onto his sheets as a means to hold yourself down at the feeling of his tongue all around you.

Moaning filled his room as he pleased you, an empty house allowing the echo of your sound to make the neediness of his tongue on you to sound even greater.

He grips onto your thighs a bit harder as he lets up for a moment.

“Now listen, I'm gonna need ya’ to stay still alright darlin’? I'm gonna change it up a bit for ya.”

Going back in, you feel his tongue enter you entirely. Inside of you, up and down did he hit every part of you that made you weak and spazzed under his grip. The shake of your legs was only stopped by the iron grip he kept on them to make sure they stayed open no matter how badly you wanted them closed instinctively. The feeling of him inside of you sent shocks like lightning across your body at every flick of his tongue, at every hum to your clit while he relished in your stomach growing concave and your breath hitching and whining at every slight moment he made towards you.

“Joel- fuck. Fuck I feel like I'm going to cum.”

You plead for him not to stop. To never stop to please you to climax.

And he does exactly that. He toys with you and fucks you until you’re nothing but a screaming mess with him inside of you. Grabbing onto his hair, to the sheets, everything you can as your body convulses entirely by the work of his mouth alone.

He slowly lets up, not forgetting to tease your sensitive clit for a moment longer before going to look at you. A face coated in your juices, he looks upon you with a toothy grin and a sense of satisfaction upon his face.

“Been a while since I've done all that. Glad ta know I’ve still got it in me, sweetheart.”

He stands up, and what greets you is a bulge that comes purely from his adoration for being able to please you as he just did. He loved watching you like that, losing yourself at his touch, being able to do nothing but scream his name until your brain went numb to anything but the thought of him.

Out of breath with beads of sweat covering your face, you sit yourself up to better face his heat. Palming it with his hands before he could say another word, you watch his head buck up to reveal a neck and shoulders coated with tense muscle at the feeling of your hand on him.

“Fuck darlin;. Been a while since I’ve felt any a’ that either”

A voice interrupted by the pitch shifts of a man insanely desperate for your touch makes you well aware of what you need more than anything else.

You continued to paw at his bulge, feeling out how big he was just by the crease of his pants beneath your hand as you toyed with it, up and down. Slowly stroking it and toying with its base. His head, and watching as each motion elicited a harsh breath to escape him as he bucked his knees ever so slightly as you continued.

He looks down at you, and as he watches your eyes look up at him from his waist, he takes you into his arms once more. Lifting you to turn you on your back, does he lay right on top of you as your stomach lays on the bed and his body atop of yours.

You feel his bulge between your ass, and ass he makes quick of removing all other layers, you feel how solid he is right against your back. Heavy breath met in your ear before he did anything else.

“I’m going to make you forget feelin’ any other kind of way. The only thing you’re ever gonna remember after tonight is my cock, alright princess?”

He takes that as a means to move it to right between your thighs, right outside your entrance do a few strokes to feel how wet you are, giving way to his tip right on your clit, up and down. That alone could finish you for a second time, but as his cock entered you you saw as his eyes rolled in the back of his eyes at the feeling of being inside of you.

He was big, almost too big. You felt as though he was almost ripping you apart, in the best way possible. It felt so fucking good to have him slowly go into you. Feeling as with every inch closer to completely inside of you it got harder and harder for him to keep a steady pace with how badly he wanted to fuck you.

“Fuck you don't know how badly I’ve wanted this darlin’. Can’t have even imagined how tight you’d be. You’re perfect for me.”

As he got completely inside of you, you felt him curl over you and use one of his arms to grip your upper body as a means of support. When he went in and out of you, curling you upwards to arch your back and feel completely every thrust he put into you.

He couldn't control himself anymore. The kind gentleman you had let open the door for you when you entered the car now dripped beads of sweat upon your naked body as he fucked you like a toy. Grunts and moans fill the room to complement the incessant moans that you scream at the feeling of him inside of you. Using you and fucking wrecking you. You felt yourself getting close again at the feeling of his cock inside of you, until you felt his free hand make its way down to your clit to please you even while he fucked you.

“I want to make you cum again. Feel how tight you fuckin get on my cock. Think you can do that for me baby?”

That was more than enough for you. Only after a few strokes were you a shaking mess on top of his cock, just like he commanded of you. At the feeling of your climax wrapped around his cock, he quickened his pace until he pulled out just in time to cum all over your back. Feeling it drip down every crevice of your body as the feeling of his cum shooting on you seemed to go on forever.

Jagged breath from both you and him is all that fills the silence of the room as you two were both too tired to even speak for a moment.

“‘Supose I’ll go clean ya up. Least I can do darlin’. You just stay right there, and I’ll get you all cleaned up.”

And there he goes, into his bathroom. And so you let yourself lay there for a moment, dripping in your own cum as well as his. As you hear him come out from the bathroom you feel the grist of a towel meet your backside as he makes sure to take care of every spot that has him on it with much care as to not leave you uncomfortable. The doting, loving Joel came back the moment it was all over. You could feel it in the soft stroke of the towel upon your bare skin, and the quick tonal shift in his voice as he offered to get that for you in the first place.

“Sure you need these too.”

He hands you his boxers, and as you put them on he continues.

"You can sleep in my bed fer tonight, think that’ll be alright. Though, might have’ta join ya, the chair aint all that comfortable. If, ‘course that's alright with you.”

He just fucked you and is asking if it’s okay to sleep in the same bed. …

All you can muster is a pat on the side of the bed next to you, at which he greatly obliged and meets you beneath the greeting sheets upon his bed.

And as you drift into sleep once more, mumbling compliments and thanks within his ear as you grow conscious enough again to speak, he greets you in kind with sweet kisses over your face, and eventually, a big spoon to hold you until night's end.

…

Epilouge ?

#joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal #x reader #joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #pedro x reader #joel tlou #tlou #joel x reader #joel smut #joel tlou x reader

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criticallyacclaimedstranger · 8 months

Text

The Artist and the Builder [a Joel x reader fic]

Read on Ao3

Sequel: All The Fear and the Fire of the End of the World

Fandom: The Last of Us

Ship: Joel Miller x you/artist!reader who is his age and has arthritis and allergies.

Tags/warnings: Bit of pining, Joel is sweet and settling in, reader has joint pain and allergies, kissing, pretty tame foreplay, a little fumbling, teasing, insertion of objects into vagina that probably shouldn't be there but it's the apocalypse there ain't no dildos, vaginal orgasm, Joel is Too Big and also has Bad Knees, piv sex, cuddling, artist stuff listen I don't know how to do this anymore.

Summary: Gruff contractor Joel Miller has been in Jackson for a while and up until now, you thought he didn't like you because you're an artist and who the hell needs art in the post-apocaypse? But you are wrong.

Words: 7,139

A/N: Listen I know absolutely nothing about being an artist, sorry about that. I also don't have allergies or arthritis (although I suspect I am going down that road but let's cross that bridge when we get there). I just want Joel to be soft with someone his age whose body is falling apart. Many many thanks to @pazizz and @rambling-in-purple who helped me with this one. It started as one thing but ended something else. I really appreciate the help along the way <3

My masterlist

The ache protrudes harshly into your dreams and tears you away from sleep way before it’s time to get up. It grows stronger as you come to, and you carefully try to open your hands. Each joint is like a rusty hinge that creaks and whines when moved, and you sigh deeply as you hide your hands in opposite armpits in an attempt to warm them up. Your mother had arthritis and would tell you in a bland voice that you’d probably get it, too. She had it, her mother had it, and so on. But that seemed so far away, you had your whole life ahead of you, and you had just settled down and started to live after your crazy twenties when the outbreak happened, and survival became your only goal. Despite it all, you managed to live for twenty more years, and then got slapped with the family curse.

Closing your hands around a mug of hot tea, you walk around the living-room of your small house and inspect your various half-finished projects: paper made of plants, clay paint, painted mugs. The whole house smells like a compost, so you open a window to let in a cool breeze. You immediately feel it in your aching hands but do your best to ignore it.

Sitting down at your drawing table, you pick up the charcoal and sketch a couple of lines to the profile you’re working on. It doesn’t feel right, however, so you put down the charcoal again. Restless, you sip some tea, your foot tapping against the floor.

Eventually, you have to go to the infirmary, where Robert, Jackson’s doctor, already is treating his first patient of the day.

You like Robert, like being of use, but being a nurse isn’t what you wanted. You trained to be one, yes, and worked as one for years because it felt like a good, honest profession, and your parents insisted. At nearly 30, however, you quit, and went back to school to pursue your true calling: art. You had almost finished your education when the world went to shit, and your passion no longer counted for anything. For the past twenty years, you’ve thrown yourself after art supplies like other people after food, but even paper is becoming harder to come by. Hence your experiments using plants.

“Your hands bothering you?” Robert asks around lunch, and you nod silently. You haven’t said anything, but he notices.

“Take the rest of the day off.”

“I’m good.”

“Just go, okay? I can’t give you anything for the pain, but I can give you the day off.”

You accept gratefully, and as you change into your normal clothes, you decide to go check at the latest construction site if there’s any sawdust to be had.

You hear the promising sound of a saw working its way through wood as you get closer to the latest house being erected, and when you reach it, Joel Miller looks up from the sawhorse and straightens his back. You think you see a grimace flash across his face, but then he carefully rearranges his features into the usual scowl.

Joel’s been in Jackson for a while now. You don’t really know much about him, except for what you’ve heard from others: that he walked across the country from Boston with the girl in search of his brother, and when the place where he was supposed to drop off the girl was destroyed, they both came back here. He seems to have settled well, and he’s handy, so he’s a welcome addition. He doesn’t really seem to understand your needs, though: when you first asked him if he could save some sawdust for your papermaking, he scoffed when he learned that you needed the paper for art. You bit back on an acid remark. Art wasn’t valued very highly in this world, but it’s what made you happy, and you didn’t care what someone like Joel fucking Miller thought.

“Hi,” you say, stopping in front of the sawhorse. “You got something for me?”

He wipes his forehead on his sleeve and nods towards the wall of the house he’s building. There are three buckets by it, and you see that two of them are filled with yellow sawdust, the third one with nettle leaves. Puzzled, you look over at him. You can’t really figure him out.

“What’s this?”

“Ellie said you were looking for nettles in the vegetable patches,” he mutters. “Passed by a bunch of them on patrol yesterday.”

You chew on your lower lip as you process the unexpected kindness.

“Thank you,” you eventually say. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem.” Joel picks up the saw again and goes back to working on shortening the board propped on the sawhorse. The woodsy scent of sawdust fills your nostrils, and you catch a whiff of sweat from Joel, despite the cool weather.

The buckets are proving difficult to pick up. Your fingers refuse to curl around the handles, and even if the weight is more than manageable, your hands are just not having it today. You swallow hard, embarrassed by your frailty, when Joel steps up behind you.

“I’ll take those.”

Big hands close around the handles of the sawdust buckets. You pick up the nettle bucket and start to walk towards your house. Joel walks alongside you, silent and avoiding looking at you just as you are stubbornly staring in any direction but his.

“I have arthritis,” you finally tell him, naming your disease with disgust dripping from your tongue. “My hands don’t work so well some days.”

“That’s rough,” he offers. “I used to have a neighbor who had that. Sorry.”

You finally venture a glance at him. His features offer nothing of what’s going on behind those dark brown eyes.

You arrive at your house, and Joel carries in the buckets for you. You see from how his nostrils flare that he wasn’t prepared for the earthy smell of your home.

“Just put them down there,” you ask him, gesturing to him. Joel does that and is left standing in the doorway to your living-room. He looks around at your various half-finished projects, the pictures on the walls, all your attempts at creating art with whatever materials you've been able to get your aching hands on.

You pretend to busy yourself with washing your hands, but you're really watching him. You've seen this before: people who don't care about art seeing art in a whole new way for the first time. They're always slammed in the face with it, and it's a very delicate moment that shouldn't be disturbed. So you busy yourself at the sink, rinse out your cup despite it being close to clean already, warm up your hands some more with water, open the cupboards and rearrange things. Joel disappears into the living-room, his heavy, unfamiliar boots causing the floorboards to complain about every step he takes. You hear him walk around slowly, and your curiosity gets the better of you. Quietly, you walk over to the doorway to sneak a peek at him.

He's standing by your desk, holding up a paper with a half-finished sketch. To your horror, the picture is of him, the one that you just can't get right because you can't figure him out, can't combine his threatening glower with the warm smile he reserves for his close ones.

You almost dash across the floor and snatch the paper from his hands before throwing it down on the desk, picture down.

"That's not finished, I mean, it's not... you weren't supposed to see it."

"It's good," Joel states simply. You glance at him as you mindlessly rearrange the sketches on your desk.

"Thanks."

His stare is piercing and hard to meet, so you cast down your eyes to a sketch of Ellie right in front of you. Joel follows your gaze and sees it.

"Can I see that?"

You bite your lower lip, pick up the sketch and hand it to him. You're happier with this one: Ellie's face is open, honest. She talks, questions, comments. You've barely heard ten words in all from Joel, and he's been around for months.

"You really captured her," he admires you. "Did she pose for this?"

"No," you shake your head, "but I've worked together with her occasionally. It's easier to draw someone when you know how they move and talk and such."

He hums in agreement as he studies the picture.

"Is that why you haven't finished my picture?" he eventually asks, catching you off guard. "Because you haven't spent time with me?"

"Probably," you shrug, and hold up your hand for him to relinquish the picture back to you. He does, and the line between his brows seems to melt away when he asks you if you'd want to finish his portrait.

"I can come by tonight after work."

You meet his soft gaze and nod.

"Yeah, okay."

///

You're in the middle of dipping your paper molds into a tub of pulp and putting them to dry when there's a knock on the door. You call out a "come in" as you wash your hands under water as hot as you can manage. Not good at staying passive, you've strained your hands all day continuing with your experiments.

Joel steps in, eyeing the room immediately before settling his nut-brown gaze on you.

"How are your hands?" he wants to know. You shrug.

"The same."

You reach for your jacket, and Joel grunts questioningly. You raise a brow at him.

"Are we going out?"

"I need fresh air."

"It does smell in here." A grin flashes by his face, almost shocking you. Was that a joke?

"Sorry," he immediately apologizes, taking your silence for chagrin. You smile wryly.

"Don't worry. It really is smelly, I just don't notice anymore."

You leave your house together and start walking slowly down the street. The evening is cold in a refreshing way, and you hide your gloved hands in your pockets, both to keep them warm and to keep them occupied. Keeping your eyes trained on some invisible spot in the distance, you try to figure out something to say. It doesn't feel like you and Joel have a lot in common, and all those old icebreakers of "where are you from" and "do you have a family" can be sensitive in this world. You opt for something you do know about him.

"Did you build houses before?"

He takes a second to answer, but finally tells you that he was indeed a contractor.

"Always good to know how to build things," you comment. Joel hums in agreement before clearing his throat.

"And you? You usually work in the infirmary."

"I was a nurse, but I didn't like it much," you tell him. "I went back to school to study art, but the breakout happened before I finished. And nobody needs art to survive. So I work as a nurse."

Joel doesn't say anything, but nods to a passer-by.

"Do you like being a contractor?" you ask. Once again, he takes a little time before presenting his answer.

"I do."

"Good, honest work, huh?"

"Something like that. And..." He hesitates, gaze flickering when you turn your head to look at him.

"It's nice to build something instead of destroying it," he finally mutters. You nod slowly.

"Yes. Yes, it is."

Without hurry, you walk around Jackson three times while talking. Joel is a man of few words, but the words he does utter are well chosen and sometimes heavy with information. He talks about his former construction work but doesn't utter one word about his personal life, possible family, likely loss. His voice is warm when he talks about Ellie, the teenager he delivered across the country, only to find that the people who were supposed to take care of her were already dead and buried. There is a momentary crack in his facade when he talks about his failed mission to bring Ellie to Salt Lake City, but he quickly gathers himself, and states that that's how both ended up in Jackson. He seems happy enough with those turns of events.

You tell him about your art education, about how you ever since you were a young child have seemed to notice how light falls on objects, faces, your surroundings, and the deep-seated urge to draw the light, paint it, trace is with a brush in futile attempts to replicate the magic. The light changes everything, how the world is viewed, and you're constantly trying to capture those moments when the light renders a common kitchen utensil magical, just because the first rays of morning sunshine catch the curves and angles of it. You're not sure he understands, but he does listen.

Eventually, you stop outside your house, facing each other. Darkness has fallen and you didn't leave the porch light on, so you struggle to see his face in what little light there is to be had from the moon, and the glow from the windows of the neighboring houses.

"It was nice talking to you," you say sincerely.

"You too."

You hide your hands in the opposite armpits in an attempt to keep them warm. The cold is getting to them, even with gloves.

"Will I see you tomorrow?"

Joel blinks.

"You're not going to draw me?"

"It's too dark."

"Ah." You hear from his tone that he just realized that you've been talking about light this whole time. His head shifts on top of that long, strong neck, his face turns a little to the side and you catch the profile of his aquiline nose against the faint light coming from the neighbor's house.

And you know you have to try to draw him like this, half cloaked in darkness, the bridge of his nose sharp against soft light, maybe from a fire, the shadows painting dark valleys on his face with his frown, the glint of grey in his beard, a lock of hair curling by his ear.

"Maybe not," you correct yourself and step past his towards your porch. "Come on in."

You load up the fireplace, your hands only trembling slightly from the weight of the wood. Joel kneels next to you by the fireplace and takes the matches from you. A protest rests on the tip of your tongue, but the brief touch of his warm, callused hand makes you swallow it. You stand up and watch him light the fire, breathe life into the kindling, and carefully place smaller twigs on the first, small flames before rocking back to watch the fire grow. You move your weight from one foot to the other, tuck your hands into your pockets. Joel glances up at your fidgeting.

"Your hands hurtin'?"

"It's the cold," you shrug. "But it's fine, it's not that bad."

You take a step back, towards the kitchen.

"Want a cup of tea?"

"Sure. Thanks."

When you return with two mugs of steaming tea, the fire is crackling merrily. Joel rises, joints popping, and accepts one mug from you with one hand, the other suddenly taking a gentle hold of your wrist. You twitch, the tea spills over a little, but you don't pull back your hand. Slowly, Joel covers it with his big, broad palm, so much warmer than yours, and you almost instantly feel the heat spread into your aching joints.

When you search his averted gaze, he releases your hand, and clears his throat.

"Thanks for the tea," he murmurs, and you nod quickly.

"You're welcome."

You busy yourself with emptying the run-down armchair from various knick-knacks and tools, and indicate the seat for him. Carefully, as if afraid to break it, Joel sits down. You pull up the desk chair and take a piece of charcoal and a paper, propping it on your lap with a sheet of cardboard under.

"You're not going to continue with the half-finished picture?" Joel asks, sipping his tea.

"No," you shake your head. "It's not how I want to draw you."

"Waste of paper."

"I'll use it to make more. It's okay."

He grunts, and you hide your smile without knowing why you're even smiling in the first place.

"Turn your head a little towards the fireplace," you instruct, and Joel squares his shoulders, as if he's unhappy about being told what to do. However, he does as he's asked, and follows the rest of your directions easily. When you're happy with his angles, you put coal to paper, and start to sketch.

For a long time, the only sound heard is that of the fire, and the soft scratch of the coal against the coarse paper. Your sharp eyes note every hair, pore, and line on Joel's face, but you're finding it hard to transfer them to paper. After a long day, your hands are hurting bad, and the pain keeps shifting your focus away from the task at hand. Finally, you sigh deeply and turn the paper upside down.

"I'm done."

"It's finished?" Joel asks, shifting like he's sitting back and leaning forward at the same time. One brow is quirked inquisitively, while his tight jawline lets you know that he doesn't really want to see the result - but he's curious.

"No," you specify as you get up, "it's not finished. I have to start over, but it's getting late."

Your fingers can barely let go of the coal when you set it down together with the paper. You hide your knuckle in the palm of your other hand and rub it discreetly.

"You won't show me?" Joel rises from the armchair and comes up to you, putting away the cup of tea. Standing right in front of you he seems almost impossibly broad.

"Your hands hurtin'?" he asks in a low voice that vibrates along your spine. You swallow quickly.

"Just need to warm them up, it's okay, I'm used to it."

Your breath gets caught in your throat when he takes both your hands and presses them to his chest. You feel his heart beat quickly against your palm and realize that some of his body heat actually comes from him being just as nervous as you are.

Feebly, you try to pull back your hands.

"I'm getting coal on your shirt..."

"Don't care."

You bite into your lower lip, speechless as if you were fourteen and standing in front of your crush, instead of a middle-aged woman talking to...

Who is Joel to you, anyway?

"Why are you doing this?" you ask hoarsely. Joel frowns, his hands slowly letting go of yours. You keep your palms on his chest for a second longer before letting go. Bereft of the warmth, your joints feel even worse.

He doesn't seem to have an answer to give you, but his lips move like he's trying to say something to break the silence. When nothing comes out, you get impatient.

"Joel?" you prompt.

"No one's ever looked at me like you look at me," he lets out, his dark gaze locking in on you. "It's like you're staring right through my clothes. It makes me nervous. I haven't been nervous in... a very long time."

"Nervous how?" you hear yourself ask, even if your armpits have grown damp, and your heart is beating so hard he surely must hear it.

"Nervous in that way." You hear exactly what he means, all the possibilities and threats and risks summarized in that. There's something so awkwardly boyish in it that you find yourself smiling. His frown deepens when he sees it, but his lips soften.

"Joel," you ask, softly touching your aching hand to his, "do you want to kiss me?"

He immediately grabs your wrist and touches his lips to yours in a kiss that doesn't really know what it's supposed to do but wants to do it anyway. He forgot to draw breath, and instead of inhaling against your skin, he pulls back quickly when he has to breathe.

"Fuck," he mutters, "that was a shitty kiss. I'm sorry."

Your cheeks flush violently when you pull at his hand.

"You can try again?"

The offer makes him smile, finally, and he displays that dimple that you found absolutely impossible to put to paper. His closes his hand around the back of your neck, and his lips press onto yours, and he remembers how it's done, and kisses you until you're not sure your legs will carry you anymore.

///

The picture of Joel becomes secondary to your meetings. Joel, you realize very soon, courts you, like some southern Gone With the Wind-type of gentleman. He brings you whatever materials he can find when he goes on patrol - you're excused from that task due to your horse allergy - and quietly offers you his thick gloves when you're out walking together, and your hands hurt. He continues to not talk much, but you start to recognize the little things: acts of service, the way he looks out for you, how his eyes light up when he sees you. His kisses when you part.

There is only kissing. He hasn't touched you in any other way, and you haven't taken initiative to anything further. There is only a rather chaste, yet warm, kiss when he leaves your house, where you usually meet up. He drinks tea and watches you draw, or paint when you're not asking him to pose for you. You know exactly how you want to capture him but so far, your hands haven't been skilled enough, and for every hour you spend with Joel, you lay another piece of the puzzle that is Joel, and you become unsure of how to draw him.

One evening, a couple of months after that first kiss, you're enjoying the warm fire in your living-room when there is a knock on the door. Joel stands on your porch, eyes scanning you quickly as soon as you open the door.

"You weren't at the movies," he says, referring to the event that nearly everyone in Jackson went to tonight. You hear the question in the statement: Are you okay?

"It's cold," you shrug. "Not my thing. Wanna come in?"

He enters your house, and you take his coat and hang it by the door.

"How are the hands?" he asks. You rub your palms together.

"Not bad today, actually. How's your knees?"

He grins a little, knowing that you saw him carry furniture up porch steps earlier.

"Creaky, but they still carry me."

"Tea?"

"I don't want to disturb, if you wanted to be alone."

You lead the way into the living-room, and move some things away from one armchair, pulling it closer to the fireplace, next to the one you were sitting in.

"You're not disturbing, do sit down. I could work some more on your portrait."

Busying yourself with picking at pieces of charcoal, you don't pay him any attention until his footsteps bring him right behind you. One warm hand touches your waist gently, startling you into turning around to meet his sheepish face.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay." His warm body is so close to yours, and his smell of wood, sweat, and snow invades your nose. You inhale deeply, pretending to sigh just to get the opportunity to soak in this intoxicating, masculine smell of his.

"I got something for you." Joel holds up something wrapped in cloth, and it takes you a few moments to gather yourself.

"For me?" Carefully, you take the little package from him. "Whatever for?"

He shrugs. “Thought you might need it. It’s probably your birthday at some point, or Christmas, or whatever.”

You never were good at receiving gifts, and it's even harder now. When was the last time you even got one?

He shifts his weight; a show of nerves that doesn't match up with his calm, deep voice. You decide to put him out of his misery and unfold the cloth.

It's four paintbrushes, hand carved with thick, curved handles, and tidily shaped heads.

"Oh. Joel, these are... these are gorgeous."

You hear him exhale, like he had been holding his breath.

"You think they're any good?"

"I'm sure they are, the hairs look amazing. Where did you get these?"

"I made them."

Now you tear your eyes from the brushes. "You made them?"

"Carved them, they should be comfortable to hold, I asked the doc what's suitable for someone with arthritis... The hairs are horsehair, bound together with sheep hairs."

He has really listened to you talking about all the art supplies you miss, and your ideas of making your own.

"The hairs are washed, so hopefully they won't give you allergies," he adds quickly.

"Joel... thank you. I don't know what to say."

He chuckles a little. "Try them first. What I know about making paintbrushes can fit onto the head of a nail. You may wanna return them."

"Unlikely."

You lean forward, the brushes still in your hands between the two of you, and touch your lips to Joel's. His hands rise to gently cup your elbows as he accepts your kiss. Only when your lips grow more insistent, does his hold tighten as well, and all you can think of is him holding your tits in the same manner.

Your hands, still holding the brushes, come to his chest, and you start undoing the buttons of his flannel. Joel's lips leave yours, and when he looks at you with eyes steeped in hot molten lava, you know that it didn't come easily.

"What are you doin'?"

"What does it look like?" you smile a little shakily. Is this the beginning of a refusal? Have you misunderstood his interest in you altogether?

"I don't want you to do it just because I gave you somethin'."

"It's not because you gave me something, it's because you never took anything away."

He cups your cheek now, strokes his big thumb over your lips.

"You're beautiful. I haven't done this in a long time, and never with anyone as beautiful."

"How old do you think I am?" you laugh, amused and touched at the same time. His ever-present frown changes slightly, turning quizzical.

"I don't need to hear that I'm beautiful," you specify, hands still on his chest. "I don't care about that."

"Then what do you wanna hear?" His voice is impossibly low. Your pussy clenches, grows moist and hot.

"I want to hear you want me."

"Oh, darlin'..." he sighs, closing his eyes momentarily. "I want you like crazy. I have wanted you for a long time, but I wanted for you to decide when you'd have me."

You didn't know how much you had longed for someone who saw you as a sexual being, a woman with desires and a will of her own.

"Joel," you whisper, and he swallows the rest of your words when he crashes his lips to yours. The brushes fall from your hand when you throw your arms around his neck to bring him closer, and Joel's big arms go around your waist. He hums into your mouth when your entire front is pressed against him; a satisfied hum, like he's happy to have you here. You answer with a hum of your own and feel his lips curve in a smile.

Slowly, his hands begin to know your body, sliding over curves and dips, fingers dipping into flesh, palms caressing over your clothes. Your approach is more direct: you pull at his flannel, wanting it off him.

"There's no hurry," he admonishes you between kisses. "Unless you got somewhere you need t'be?"

You exhale in something in between a scoff and a chuckle.

"In your pants?"

"Bedroom, then?"

"It's warmer in here, where the fire is."

"Hold on."

He releases you, seemingly unwillingly, and disappears into your small bedroom, re-emerging momentarily later with your bedding. You move the armchairs away to allow for him to put everything down in front of the fireplace. Groaning, he lays down on the makeshift bed, taking your hand and pulling you down next to him. You giggle a little as you plop down, immediately receiving more kisses.

"This better?" he wants to know. Your skin knots over when his hand finds its way underneath your shirt.

"Much better."

He rolls half on top of you, hand finding your breast for a light squeeze as his knee pushes between your thighs to separate them. His cock is stiff against your hip, and you move against it, smiling into the kiss when he grunts and grabs your breast harder. You put your hand on his, pressing it down, feeling his hand disappear into your soft flesh almost painfully. Your moan gears him up, and he starts to pull your shirt upwards. Squirming out of it, you reach for his belt, huffing in annoyance when Joel sits up to take his own shirt off. You sit up as well for a better reach, and your forehead connects with his chin just as he dives back to you.

"Ouch!"

"Fuck!"

You smile sheepishly at each other, both of you more startled than hurt, and Joel gently pushes you back down.

"Maybe we should take it slow?"

"I need you, I'm done waiting."

"I know, sweetheart, but I don't want you to break my jaw."

You scoff, but his kisses make you docile. Your clothes come off, along with his, and when you're both finally naked, skin against skin, you discover that you're happy with going slow as well. In the light of the fire, you trace your hand along his strong muscles and soft flesh, kiss his scars from past struggles, and the newer bruises from recent altercations with logs or whatever he has attempted to lift on his own. You close your fingers around the girth of his cock - Jesus, 20-year-old you would've giggled like a maniac at the sight of it - and enjoy the sounds of surrender that you can conjure out of him.

"God, your hands feel good on me," he hisses as you slowly, while trying to remember how to do this, stroke him with both hands. You smile, suddenly struck with nerves, when you pass your thumb softly over the glistening head of his thick cock. The precum catches the flickering light from the fire, and you get lost in how light and shadow play over Joel's skin; the dark dip of his navel, the hills of his soft pecs and stomach illuminated, his cock rising proudly from a thicket of dark hairs towards the light, the fuzz of his thighs. The embossed skin of a scar reflecting the warm light. The way his skin rises in goosebumps at your touch...

"Darlin'?"

You blink, and meet his wry, amused smirk.

"You with me?"

"Yeah, sorry. I just... was looking at the light."

"How you'd paint it?" Joel seems to catch on immediately, having listened to you rambling on about The Light several evenings. Yod nod and run one finger along the length of his cock before continuing up his happy trail, swerving around his navel.

"There's so much to see on the human body, if one just knows how to look."

"Lemme try that."

Joel pulls you down and rolls you onto your back, propping himself up on one arm next to you. You blush a little as he inspects you, his hand following the dancing shadows on your chest and stomach.

"Yeah," he murmurs, "I can see it alright."

"Yeah?"

"M-hmm. Hold on."

He rolls to the other side, looking in the dusky room for something. When he returns to your side, he's holding one of the brushes he made. With a feathery touch, he touches the brush to your ribcage, right underneath one breast.

"Here's light," he mumbles, carefully tracing the brush along a rib. "Right next to the shadow of your breast."

You exhale in a soft moan as his knuckles brush up against your breast, knotting the nipple. Joel's tongue slips out to lick his lower lip before he goes on tracing the lines that only he can see on your skin.

"What are you painting, Picasso?" you ask hoarsely.

"Hush," Joel tells you curtly yet not unkindly. You smile and close your eyes, shifting a little so that you can drape your arm around his shoulder. His hot breath is on your breast, his whiskers tickle you before something warm and wet disturbing your nipple tells you he's licked it. A shiver runs through you, and you push your chest out, asking him wordlessly to do it again.

He latches on and suckles steadily, but your shout of surprised pleasure has barely died down before he releases you and continues down your stomach with the brush.

"Joel," you whine, blinking up at him, but the focus in his eyes is so intense that you don't say anything more. Instead, you watch him figure out the fundamentals of visual art: how the light changes everything, how to handle the brush, how to angle the hand. His brush may not have any paint on it, but he paints your pleasure with sounds from you: gasps, hums, a hiss when he passes over a ticklish spot. With the brush trailing through the thicket of your pubes, your legs fall open and your lower lip catches between your teeth. Your pelvis rises to meet the soft hairs, and you moan when Joel dips the brush through your slick folds. He moves the brush to your nipple, circles it to wetten it with your arousal, then ducks down to suck it into his mouth. Your back arches, your inner thighs are wet, your heartbeats echo in your pussy, and you need him to understand just how desperately you need him.

"Fuck me," you keen, "Joel, I need you to fuck me."

He hesitates, coming up to slot his mouth over yours and steal your breath away. You rub yourself against him, find his cock and tease it, make him moan just as needily as you.

"I take it you ain't a pregnancy risk?" You hear from his tight voice how close he is to snapping. Fuck, but that's hot.

"STDs are our only concern," you try to joke, but it's not funny. Before coming to Jackson, you spent years in a quarantine zone as a nurse, and the common sexually transmitted infections ran rampant. Without proper testing equipment, it was hard to tell the scale of it.

"I should be clean," he tells you, and you're too far gone to doubt him.

"Me too."

He kisses you again as he rolls on top of you, his width and weight blocking out everything else as he plunges his tongue into your mouth. Your hips rise to meet him when he leads his cock against your entrance, and you almost bite him when he starts to push into you. Your nails press into his shoulders, the fit is impossible, and Joel stops.

"Fuck," he mutters. "You okay?"

"It's big, it's been a while."

He growls and pulls out, cupping your cheek when you whine.

"Don't wanna hurt you."

"Just get me wet, Joel."

"You're plenty wet already."

"And you're hung like a goddamn moose, so get me wetter," you snap, and Joel chuckles.

"Relax, darlin'."

"I'm trying."

He kisses you again, hand between your legs, two fingers slipping through your folds and drawing out the slick to a slow circle around your clit. Sparks run up your spine and you bury your fingers in his thick, greying hair.

"You always try to cram it in before finding a girl's clit?" you mutter, but your smile shines through. Joel slips a finger inside you.

"I told you, it's been a while." He trails kisses down your neck and moves his finger inside you, seeking the right, spongy spot. You mewl and writhe, needing more but not getting it. One finger is not enough. An idea forms in your head.

"Take the brush," you ask him breathlessly. Joel stills, finger slipping out as he studies your face. You roll your eyes.

"It's not a commentary on your skills. Get over yourself."

"You were the one who were in such a such a hurry a minute ago," he teases before looking around for the brush. Finding it, he brings it to your tits, but you shake your head.

"No, use it on me."

His brow rises quizzically. You push his hand down.

"Fuck me with it, Joel."

You expect an objection, or at the very least surprise, but all you get is a strangled sound and a searing kiss. The handle, so smoothly polished, is thick and curved in a way that bears resemblance to a dildo - not that you've used one in twenty years, but the thought is there now and you have to try this out.

The handle slides in easily, filling you better than his finger but without the intensity of his cock.

"Fuck," you keen, directing your hand down to rub your clit as Joel slowly pulls out the handle before pushing it back in. "There, fuck, Joel, that's good..."

He's breathing audibly now but you don't look at him anymore, you close your eyes and let him help you find all those buttons and spots that you had almost forgotten that you had anymore. When your toes start to curl, and you moan "Faster, Joel, faster!" he complies, rough whiskers scratching the sensitive skin of your tits as he fucks you with the paintbrush that he carved with his own split-knuckle hands to spare you your aching ones.

You barely know what an orgasm feels like anymore, but there's no mistaking this one. The rise and the tightening of muscles, the holding of breath before releasing it in a choked moan, the loosening of limbs, the pounding heat of your pussy.

"Jesus, but that's beautiful," Joel sighs, gently sliding out the brush and putting it to the side before kissing your flushed forehead. "Darlin', you're killin' me."

You chuckle huskily and pass your hands over your face.

"I think it takes a lot more to kill you, Joel Miller."

"I wouldn't bet on it."

The bedding underneath you may keep the draft of the floor at bay, but offers no suspension, so when he edges into you a second time and bottoms out, it's like being split in two between a rock and a hard place. But you can take him, and you cling to his broad shoulders with breaths coming out as hissing.

"Relax," he murmurs, petting your hair as if you were a skittish animal while slowly moving in you. "Sweetheart, you can take it, you're doing it already, you're doing it so well, it feels so good..."

You keen as he spears you again, slowly but steadily, his muscles trembling from the effort of keeping himself from crushing you. Your legs wrap around his thighs, arms around his shoulders and you pull him down, you want to be crushed, you need him like this, steady like a train and sharp like a razor, his breathless kisses on your neck, the groans that may come from pleasure or discomfort from being on the floor, you have no idea, but you need him just like this.

"Come, Joel, come," you gasp into his ear, the good one, and he endures, unwavering in his effort as he digs into you, deep, thorough, devastating.

His climax is a relief and a sadness. You don't want it to end, but you also couldn't bear one more second of it.

Joel slumps to the side, gathering you into his arms as he draws a deep, shaky breath. In the faint light of the embers that are left in the fireplace, you trace the scar on his right cheek and watch his eyelids press shut more firmly before he turns his head to kiss your fingers.

The temperature in the room seems to drop as the heat dies down, and you carefully untangle yourself from Joel's firm hold to put another log on the embers. When it flares up, you return to Joel's side, now finding him watching you.

"You okay?" he asks when you pull a blanket over both of you. Making yourself comfortable, you nod with a little smile and a kiss to his lips.

"Perfect."

"That thing with the brush was... interesting."

You blush. "I don't know what happened."

"Glad it did."

"Joel, I... haven't had sex like that... at all... in decades," you blurt out. "And this was... perfect."

He hums, glances down, and to you it's glaringly obvious that he is conflicted. Your heart sinks just as he speaks up.

"It really was perfect."

"But?" You can't help yourself: there's a slight edge to your tone. Joel leans his head back a little to take a good look at you, the usual disapproving frown back on his face.

"But there was someone," he starts, "for years. And we never had this. Time and place wasn't right."

You exhale in relief. History and baggage are easy to deal with, rejection is not.

"I'm sorry."

He shrugs with a little sound, forehead smoothed out.

"Was she... Ellie's mom?" you dare. Joel shakes his head, and his hand slowly passes over your back, fingers strumming the bump of your spine.

"I didn't know Ellie until a few months ago. This was... someone else. A partner. She took Ellie on, really. I was against it. And she... didn't make it."

You don't want to say that you're sorry again, but don't know what else to say, either. So you kiss him, because you want to, because you think he needs it, because there are no words. Your hand is splayed open on his cheek, his lips and mouth are dry and so are yours, but the kiss is sweet and gentle, and the things you can't find words for are carefully passed on to him. He exhales in a soft sigh onto your cheek, then tilts his chin up to kiss your forehead before burrowing his nose against your hair. It's clear to you that he wants to sleep, but you're buzzing with unexpected energy. Carefully, you slide away from his arms, smiling at his frown, and get up to tip-toe to the desk, where you pick up paper and coal. A faint blush colors your cheekbones when you feel his cum seep out of you, and you hurry back to the makeshift bed, sitting down by Joel's feet.

"C'mere," he barks, but you shake your head.

"Just stay still."

He complies with that frown of his, and you settle down, putting the piece of coal to the paper.

You know how you want to draw him now.

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfic #my fic

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werewolfetone · 9 months

Note

Hi! So this is gonna sound weird, but I’ve kinda been learning about Irish history backwards? Like, I started with the Troubles (bc of family involvement), then back to the 1916 rising which got me more interested in the people involved which took me further back and etc etc. I know I’ve been doing it “wrong” but I’m just starting to come up to the 1798. Do you happen to have any recommended readings or particular persons of interest to read? Any collections of primary sources would be more than welcome!

Secondary sources I would recommend:

The Year of Liberty by Thomas Pakenham - about the rebellion in general

The People's Rising by Daniel Gahan - about the rebellion in Wexford

The Summer Soldiers by ATQ Stewart - about the rebellion in Ulster

Wolfe Tone: Prophet of Irish Independence by Marianne Elliott - about Wolfe Tone

The Life and Times of Mary Ann McCracken by Mary McNeill - technically this is just about Mary Ann but I think it's pretty good for Henry Joy McCracken too because there aren't many biographies of him

Orangeism in Ireland and Britain 1795 - 1836 by Hereward Senior - obviously exercise caution on whether or not you think you can mentally handle this subject but book about loyalism during 1798

Castlereagh: War, Enlightenment, and Tyranny by John Bew - about Lord Castlereagh

2 things that I would also recommend reading about for context are the French Revolution and the British radical movement of the late 18th century. for the French Revolution 1 book I would say is good is Liberty or Death by Peter McPhee and for the British radical movement... the book The English Jacobins by Carl B Cone does a good enough job

Primary sources:

The Memoirs of Theobald Wolfe Tone by Theobald Wolfe Tone - title is pretty self explanatory. It's Tone's account of his own life + his diary

The United Irishmen, Their Lives and Times by RR Madden - this is considered to be the 1st history of the rising & was written with the help of many people who lived through it, so it includes a lot of first hand accounts. HOWEVER. beware that Madden was your archetypical mid 19th century Catholic Irish nationalist and the bias created due to that shows through in every single part of these books

Memoirs of the different Rebellions in Ireland by Sir Richard Musgrave - this is another very early history of the rising, also written with the help of people who lived through, also including a lot of first hand accounts. HOWEVER. Musgrave is like Madden's Orange counterpart in that this book is also wildly biased and should also be read with a degree of caution

Personal Narrative of the "Irish Rebellion" of 1798, Sequel to Personal Narrative of the "Irish Rebellion" of 1798, and History and Consequences of the Battle of the Diamond by Charles Hamilton Teeling - 3 accounts of politics in Ireland in the 1790s written by someone who as a young man led the Catholic paramilitary the Defenders

The Drennan letters (a collection of letters that Belfast doctor William Drennan and his sister, Martha McTier, wrote to each other between the 1770s and 1820s), if you can find them, are another great primary source on both the United Irishmen & on what life was like back then in general, as are the McCracken letters, which I know are available free online somewhere I just can't remember where exactly I got the pdf from

There are a lot of them but if you're interested in primary sources you might also read some of the political pamphlets/books that were going around back then -- the most famous that come to mind in this context are Wolfe Tone's Argument on Behalf of the Catholics in Ireland, Thomas Paine's The Rights of Man, and Edmund Burke's Reflections on the Revolution in France but there are wayyy more than that and at least some of them are on the internet archive

#1798 rebellion #united irishmen #asks #anon #irish history #jory.txt

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mountttmase · 10 months

Text

A Mountain To Climb: The Sequel

Chapter Three

Note - chapter three already 😭 I can’t believe we’re here. Also if you want to be included in the tag list just let me know. I know I had one for the last series but I forgot to ask for this one 😂 but let me know what you think of this chapter 🩷

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 3.1k

Warnings - series will contain fluff, smut and angst

Masterlist

‘So he hasn’t given you any details? Like at all?’

‘Nope, not a thing. Hence why I’m not sure what to wear’

It was the day of your date and you we’re currently on FaceTime to Freya so she could help you pick an outfit, however due to Masons lack of information about what was happening you were struggling.

‘What about jeans and a nice top? Can’t go wrong with jeans and a nice top’

‘I’ve never really understood what that means’ you told her, flicking through your wardrobe. ‘Like what’s constitutes a nice top? And are jeans not too casual?’

‘Honey, I wish I knew. You best be prepared for when I find my man cause I’m gonna be a mess I can feel it’

‘What do you mean? You’re the most sensible head I know’

‘Well yeah, when it comes to you I am cause I know what’s best for you. I quite clearly don’t know what’s best for me or I’d have my own brown eyed beauty’

‘Don’t talk about my man like that’ you laughed in mock offence, knowing she was joking but it made you a little smug knowing she thought Mason was attractive.

‘Well does he not have a friend for me? What about that one with the Prince Charming hair? Ben is it?’

‘That’s Ben, yes’ you laughed ‘but he’s got blue eyes’

‘Brown, blue, practically the same thing’ she waved you off but you geared yourself up as were about to break her heart.

‘Hate to break it to you, Frey. But Ben has a girlfriend now’

‘Of course he does. Just my luck’ she sighed, covering her face in her hands as she pretended to cry.

In the end you decided on some leather trousers and a short top. Heels felt a bit too dressy so you settled on trainers and with a final spin Freya gave you her nod of approval.

‘I’m loving the all black, it’s classy. And I think you fit the smart casual brief. How long till he’s here?’

‘Like 15 minutes’ you told her, a tidal wave of nerves settling in your tummy as the realisation hit you.

‘Please don’t tell me your nervous’ Freya laughed, watching you panic from the other side of the phone but you couldn’t respond as you were starting to freak out. ‘Come on love, it’s Mason. There’s nothing to be nervous about he adores you. You could be sat there all night with food stuck in your teeth and he’d still worship the ground you walked on’

‘That’s the thing though, it’s Mason. I haven’t felt like this about anyone else. Haven’t been on a proper grown up adult date ever like this is all a lot’

‘I bet as soon as you see him you’ll be fine, just stop getting worked up. You’ll ruin your makeup’

‘Just let me freak out a bit’ you laughed as you made sure you had everything in your bag until you heard a knock on the door. ‘That’s probably him. I should go’

‘So he comes to the door rather than texts you from the car? Old school, I like it’ she winked and you laughed as you picked up your phone and made your way to the door. ‘Have the best time, yeah? And wear protection!’ She shouted and you flipped her off before hanging up. After a few quick breaths you answered the door with a smile and the sight you were met with caused your heart to flutter.

There was Mason, dressed in the most adorable green jumper and black jeans and you smiled at the fact you didn’t feel too overdressed. But it was the way he was looking at you that made your head spin.

‘Hey, you all ready to go?’ He smiled and you nodded at him before locking the door up behind you and following him to the car. He opened up the door for you to get in but just before you had the chance he pulled you to him and brushed a little bit of hair out of your face. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah, why?’

‘Cause you haven’t looked at me in the eyes yet’ he laughed before cupping your jaw so you’d look at him. ‘Nervous?’

‘A little bit’ you laughed which caused him to look at you lovingly. ‘I’ve never been on a date like this before. It just feels massive for me after everything you know?’ you confessed and he gave you a gentle nod before kissing your nose and then gently kissing your lips and you felt yourself relax instantly.

‘You’re in safe hands with me. I promise’ he whispered, reassuring you a little bit before you got into his car.

‘So where are we going?

‘It’s a secret’ he winked and you shook your head playfully at him.

‘So you’ve been saying’ you laughed ‘I’ve been having a breakdown for days about what to wear’

‘Well you didn’t need to. You could of worn a rubbish bag and I wouldn’t of cared’ he told you before reaching for your hand and kissing the back of it. ‘But you look beautiful’ he murmured and you felt yourself go hot all over.

‘Well you don’t look too bad yourself’ you chuckled which caused him to laugh, his smile warning your heart in a way no one else’s could.

You were driving for about twenty minutes when he finally pulled into a random underground car park and you still had no idea where you were but the smile on Masons face reassured you everything was fine so you took his extended hand and followed him up and out onto the street.

‘So I thought long and hard about where to take you tonight. I didn’t wanna take you somewhere random so I’m taking you to a place that’s pretty special to me’ he told you, squeezing your hand lightly as you stopped in front of a cute Italian restaurant. ‘I come here all the time with my family, they sort of know us in here but I’ve never bought a girl before’ he laughed, looking down at you with a nervous smile. ‘We come here for birthdays and anniversaries. Wins, losses, you name it. I hope this is okay’

‘It’s perfect’ you smiled, reaching up to kiss the side of his nose gently to let him know he had nothing to worry about. If anything you loved that he was taking you somewhere that meant something rather somewhere generic.

‘Mason! Teddy said you’d be here, it’s so good to see you’ the hostess smiled as the pair of you walked in. She looked genuinely happy to see him and he kept hold of your hand as he lent over to give her a small hug.

‘Hi Dee. Yeah he said he’d sort me table out’

‘Of course. Although I was surprised when he told me it was for two’ she laughed, her kind eyes landing on you. ‘You must be y/n?’

‘Oh, yeah that’s me’ you told her, reaching out for her extended hand but you had no idea how she knew your name until you looked up to Masons pink cheeks.

‘Teddy made him tell us who you were. He never books a table for two’ she winked up at him before reaching for a couple of menus. ‘Come one then, I’ve got you the best table in the house’ she exclaimed before leading you through the restaurant, making small talk with Mason about his family and when she would see them next.

It was fairly unassuming from the outside but the inside was a whole other story. A huge skylight in the centre of the room with a massive chandelier hanging low enough that you could probably reach it. The decor felt classy but homely at the same time and the huge trees covered in fairy lights dotted around the place made it even more magical.

Dee took you over to table near the back, a round booth that Mason shuffled all the way over in so you were sat next to each other and you smiled up at him when you felt him place his hand on your thigh.

‘Is this alright?’ He whispered and you couldn’t help but lightly peck him on the lips.

‘It’s perfect, I love it’

You’d had your drink orders taken and you were just opening the food menu when you heard Masons name being shouted across the room. He quickly shuffled out from the table and you watched as a man in chefs whites approached and pulled Mason into a quick hug.

‘Hey Teddy, thanks for sorting this’

‘Don’t be silly, I told you anytime’ he laughed before his eyes landed on you. ‘So I take it this is y/n?’

‘Oh shit, yeah’ Mason laughed, the pair turning to look at you. ‘This is y/n. Y/n this is Teddy, he owns the place’

‘Nice to meet you’ you told him with a small wave as you watched as Teddy hit Mason on the back lightly almost as if he was congratulating him.

‘The pleasure is all mine. I always told Mason as soon as he meets his girl he needs to bring her here’

‘Well here she is’ Mason laughed and you felt yourself blush at his words.

‘Listen I need to get back, but let me know when you’re leaving yeah?’ He told Mason and they shared a quick goodbye before he was sliding in next to you.

‘So what do you fancy?’ He asked, opening your menu up so you could look together but the only thing that was jumping out to you were the prices. He caught on straight away and squeezed your thigh so you would look up at him and his kind eyes relaxed you. ‘I asked you out, so it’s my treat yeah?’

‘But you paid for McDonald’s’

‘And I’m paying for this’ he laughed, nodding his head back to the menu. ‘So pick what you want’

‘Will you help me?’ You asked and when the waitress came over he ended up ordering for you. You were happy he had because whenever he’d picked was delicious and you almost lost it when he fed you some of his, keeping up his eye contact as you took a bite off his fork.

‘Now I know you probably want dessert but i actually have somewhere else for us to go so we’ll have to skip it’ he told you once you were finished and you pouted up at him as he knew you liked to end your meals on something sweet. ‘Don’t worry, the night is still young’ he reassured you and once everything had been paid for and you’d said goodbye to Teddy and Dee, Mason started walking you down the road in the opposite direction of the car. You didn’t ask where you were going as you knew he wouldn’t tell you so you just walked with him until he stopped outside where you needed to be.

‘The cinema?’ You laughed as he led you in but it didn’t look like any one you’d ever been in before and when he took you into the screen your heart gave a thump. The seats you were used to in most cinemas had been replaced with comfy looking sofas and arm chairs and you were pleased to find he’d reserved you a sofa to share. Popcorn, chocolate buttons and a blue raspberry ice blast already sat waiting for you and you lent up to kiss him gently to thank him. ‘This is so cute Mase, thank you’ you laughed as you plonked down next to him, his arm making its way around you shoulders as he pulled you closer.

‘Well you said you’ve never been on a proper date so I thought I’d bring it back to basics. You can never go wrong with dinner and a movie’

‘Maybe after we could share a milkshake’ you teased with a wink and he shook his head whilst laughing.

‘You feeling better now?’

‘A bit yeah’

‘I can tell’ he whispered, bumping his nose against the side of your head before kissing your temple. ‘I love it when you get sassy’

‘Well you normally make me too nervous to be sassy’ you laughed, finally looking up into his smiling face. ‘But I’m having a really nice time’

‘I am too’ he whispered before dipping his head to kiss you gently. You wanted to kiss him deeper but you were aware of where you were and who you were with so you took what he gave you knowing you could hopefully get more from him later.

Thankfully there weren’t too many others in there with you and you took great pleasure in watching all the adverts and telling him what films you wanted him to take you to see next. You were so caught up you hadn’t even checked what film you were actually seeing, hoping he hadn’t picked something scary even though the thought of hiding in him was appealing. It looked like it was a mushy romcom though and you relaxed into him as he lightly kissed your neck.

He kept teasing you the whole way through, kissing any part of your skin he could reach and stroking his hands over your thighs and waist to the point you had to smack his hands away and tell him to concentrate on the movie as he was missing the best part. You also didn’t know how much more you could handle of him touching you without doing something about it.

He behaved for the rest of what was left, and you waited until everyone had gone until you made your way out so you could remain as inconspicuous as possible. The car park was pretty much empty when you got back and when he pushed you up against the door so he could kiss you properly you didn’t stop him this time.

You hadn’t really kissed him properly like this since that night at Bens, getting by on soft touches and pecks as you got comfortable with each other again but you’d been craving him like this for a while. His hands were in your hair as you gripped at his jumper, dragging him as close to you as possible before you felt his hands move over your waist and hips so he could grip your bum and as much as you wanted him you knew you shouldn’t be doing this here so you reluctantly pulled away. His forehead resting on yours as you both got your breath back before he looked at you a little shyly.

‘Sorry’ he laughed, kissing your nose as he ran his thumb under your bottom lip. ‘Got a bit carried away there. You ready to go?’

‘I suppose’ you huffed, not ready to leave him yet but you knew it was getting late and he had training in the morning so you slid into the seat when he opened the door for you. You weren’t far from home when he pulled into the McDonalds drive through he’d taken you in the week prior and you turned to him confused.

‘What? Thought you wanted to share a milkshake’ he winked at you before ordering one whilst you laughed besides him. He let you drink most of it on the way back to your flat but you made sure to let him have some too, holding the straw to his mouth so he could take a few sips but you told him you were too full for the rest and you left it for him to finish. He walked you up to your flat just like always and you turned to face him as soon as you got to the door.

‘Would you like to come in?’ You asked, and you watched the cheeky smirk take over his face as he nodded shyly.

‘I guess five minutes won’t hurt’ he told you before following you inside. ‘I’ve only ever really been in here once I think’

‘Oh yeah, you came to pick your charger up when I was hanging out my arse’

‘Seem like a lifetime ago’ he told you, perching on the arm of your sofa before you slipped yourself in between his legs, your hands resting on his shoulders as his rested on your waist so he could caress the skin of your tummy that was slightly on show. ‘I’m glad I’m here under different circumstances now’

‘Me too’ you laughed as you placed your lips to the bridge of his nose which caused him to scrunch it up adorably. ‘Thank you for tonight, I had a really nice time’

‘I did too’ he told you honestly, smiling up at you lovingly before you reached down to kiss him again. This time you were in the driving seat as you were a tiny bit taller than him since he was sitting down as you kissed him with as much feeling as you could before the pair of you were gasping for air. ‘I think it’s best I go’

‘Oh’ you breathed, trying not to let him see how disappointed you were but he could see right through you and how your mood had shifted instantly.

‘It’s not that I don’t want to, you know… I just don’t wanna rush things’ he explained, kissing your arm gently. ‘And I know if I stay here any longer I’ll never make it to training in the morning’ he laughed which made you smile a bit. ‘Ah there we go, that’s my favourite smile’ he teased which only caused you to laugh more as he pulled you into a hug. ‘We’ll see each other soon though yeah?’

‘Okay’ you nodded stepping back so he could stand before cupping your jaw so he could kiss you again and even though you were disappointed he wouldn’t be staying any longer you reminded yourself that this was technically your first date and you had all the time in the world. ‘Text me when you get home?’

‘Of course’ he whispered kissing you again before you walked him to the door. Once he was finally gone you made your way over to the window so you could wave him off like you always did and when he blew you a kiss you felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

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