#the word eye has lost all meaning to me in the making of this post

[tabieeee]

How many eyes does titan speakerman have??

this has been bothering me. which is the popular view

[saetoru]

AGE IS NOTHING BUT A NUMBER — GETO SUGURU.

kinktober day two — overstimulation ; find masterlist here

synopsis. befriending nanako and mimiko has its perks—like fucking their father, for example. suguru might have aged over the years, but that doesn't mean he's lost his touch. don't believe him? that's okay—he can always just show you instead

length. 5.3k words (bro this fic was agonizing)

contents. minors do not interact, fem! reader, dilf! suguru, college au (reader is a student), age gaps (20+ difference), jealous suguru, teasing, cunnilingus, fingering, edging, nipple play, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, creampie, pet names (baby, sweetheart, princess, angel)

notes. this took me so long bc i hate it so im posting it and running away to play genshin to slave away for primos

most people can tell their best friends everything. not you, though—you have a secret. a dirty, shameful, horrible little secret, in fact.

no one knows that every chance you get, every small little moment you can possibly squeeze in, you fuck your two best friends’ father—and it’s going to stay that way, unknown and forever hidden. suguru is young as far as parents go, just barely in his twenties when he’s found himself a single father of two, but that doesn’t mean he’s not too old for you. and it especially doesn’t mean that it’s not inappropriate to fuck the man that raised your two closest friends.

you meet nanako and mimiko during your freshman year of college—the rest is history. the first time you spend the night at their place, suguru (he insists you call him that on your first meeting) is overjoyed that his girls have someone as lovely as you.

who wouldn’t be? you’re smart, well-mannered, respectable, and incredibly studious. what a perfect role model for his girls—after all, every father’s worst nightmare is his sweet, precious daughters venturing off to the real world. men are dogs—suguru should know. they’re sleazy and prey on young women who are naive and unsuspecting, taking advantage of their hopefulness before completely destroying their innocence. suguru can’t bear the idea of his perfect little girls becoming victims of such sinister behavior—but that’s all quelled when he meets you.

but he never thought, not even for one second, that he’d become one of those men.

those older men who fuck girls half their age—the girls that are barely in their twenties and still don’t even really understand how taxes work. the girls that have just started to learn how to hold their alcohol and can only recently buy it legally. the girls who don’t realize how complicated adulthood can be, just barely spreading their wings and learning what it’s like to be free.

suguru has always found those men deplorable. they’re the awful, disgusting, untamed vermin of society—women must be protected from them at all costs.

but now? well….now he’s one of them—and he finds, even as disgusted with himself as he is from time to time, he has little regrets.

not when you’re sprawled under him, hands tracing over his bare chest, feeling the soft skin under your palms in wonder. suguru, though he’s not let himself go by any means, is past his prime—he still frequents the gym, and he has more time to go now that the girls are gone most of the day, but he’s not immune to the effects of aging.

his hair has more than a few strands of white sprinkled in now; nanako makes sure to remind him not to pull them out unless he wants more. he’s still managed to keep the abs he was once so proud of in his youth, but they’re still not as hard—layered over a slight belly that he can’t seem to get rid of no matter what he tries. his skin is a bit looser, and his eyes have slight wrinkles in the corners of them, but despite it all, suguru still looks as handsome as ever.

he’s aged well, still looks remarkably young for men his age, and still looks like that dashing young man he once was who stole hearts. in fact, he still hears about his looks, especially from nanako and mimiko’s friends—he’s always chuckled to himself and shook his head in amusement.

that’s your dad? god, he’s so hot.

what? he’s single? oh my gosh, do you need a mom?

i can’t believe he’s never been married—women in his generation don’t deserve him. i’ll take him off their hands.

wait, do you have pictures of him when he was younger?

oh my god, he’s so fine. are you sure he’s in his forties?

nanako and mimiko, bless their hearts, have always crinkled their noses at the…less than proper comments they’ve had to witness about their father. in fact, they’ve watched teachers practically throw themselves onto suguru at parent-teacher conferences. it’s bothersome—a little disturbing to hear their friends talk about all the things they’d let their dad, of all people, do to them.

but you? you don’t make unhinged comments. they appreciate that.

but if only they knew…

if only they knew that sometimes, like right now, when you’re spending the night, you don’t actually sleep—instead, you sneak off to their father’s room, lay on his mattress under his body, and feel his touch. you can feel him, hard and throbbing in his sweats as his clothed cock presses against your thigh—but he takes his time with you, and doesn’t do anything about the clear arousal pooling between your legs just yet. 

instead, he focuses on remembering your body—it’s been a while, after all. he hasn’t felt your hips, hasn’t tasted your skin, hasn’t heard your voice. 

“missed you,” suguru breathes, hovering over you as you hum, nipping at your skin as his nose brushes along your neck. your hand is playing with his hair, twisting long, black and white strands along your fingers. “haven’t seen you in a bit, angel.”

“i’ve had midterms,” you murmur.

suguru knows—nanako and mimiko have been studying for them themselves. he’s more than a little disappointed that you haven’t come over to study with them yet. but then, just the other night, mimiko mentions you’ve been spending your time with a boy at the library, sharing a table as you lean over his shoulder to look at his laptop. nanako giggles that you might have finally gotten yourself a boyfriend. mimiko hums and nods as she murmurs it’s about time.

suguru swallows down every bite of dinner with an aftertaste of bile that night.

a boy—a boy? you’ve been skipping coming over to study with the girls (and, by default, seeing him) just to study with some boy? what’s got your attention on the guy so badly? why would you break the routine you’ve had for the last few semesters for someone you just recently met? have you finally started to realize that this is a mistake? is suguru a mistake?

he thinks maybe not, now that you’re back in his bed—but he still has too many unanswered questions. 

“so i’ve heard,” he says lowly, “i’ve also heard there’s a certain boy on your radar.” he smiles bitterly, pulling away from your neck to stare at you with those dark, sharp eyes of his. “a much younger, and fitting match for you, i suppose.”

you roll your eyes, snorting.

“is that what nanako and mimiko have told you? honestly, those two,” you huff fondly, “i told them already. he’s just my partner for a presentation. we’re practicing.”

“oh?” suguru raises a brow—and then he shivers lightly when you lean up and kiss his jaw, eyes fluttering shut at your touch.

“yes,” you giggle, “no need to be jealous of someone half your age, you know.”

“that’s exactly why i’m jealous,” he breathes, leaning in to kiss you softly.

your lips taste like honey—probably sweeter, in fact. they drip with that decadent, saccharine taste of youth. he feels twenty again every time he kisses you, feels not a day older than his glory days.

“oh, you poor thing,” you grin, cupping his face as you scatter kisses along his cheeks and nose, thumb tracing the skin. fuck, is this what it feels like to be in love? it makes him feel so young, so free, and hopeful for the future. when was the last time he felt this way? “have you been losing sleep over my nonexistent college boyfriend?”

“well, kids your age fool around quite a bit,” he says in that father tone that he uses on nanako and mimiko, “what was i supposed to think?”

you’ve heard that tone so many times before; the one where he talks like he knows better, like he’s wiser, like he’s aware of something you’re not. 

girls, make sure you share your location with me—i need to find you in case anything happens. it’s for your own safety, end of discussion.

make sure you watch over your drinks, okay? men these days take every chance they get to spike them when you’re not looking. mimiko, i was your age once, too. i’ve seen this happen plenty.

don’t walk alone in the streets at night. call me. i’ll pick you up—no, nanako, it’s not lame. the streets are dangerous at night. there are creeps, you know.

don’t get into any boy’s cars, girls. you never know what’ll happen; one mistake is all it takes to ruin your life—hey, don’t roll your eyes at me. one day, you’ll understand i’m right.

“i’m not a kid,” you pout, and then, smugly this time, you wiggle your brows. “did’ya lose sleep over my imaginary boyfriend? you need plenty of sleep at your age, y’know.”

“no, you’re not a kid,” suguru agrees, “you’re a brat.” and then he’s back to pressing those hot, open-mouthed, hungry kisses along your jaw, humming in delight when you angle your head to give him better access. 

sometimes, it’s fun to get under suguru’s skin—it’s fun to break that carefully built, mature patience of his, pulling a twitch of his eye and a furrow of his brow from him. so, you grin widely as you murmur, “who knows? maybe he’d fuck better—more stamina, y’know?”

it’s supposed to just tease him, to make him glare at you unimpressed so you can giggle and kiss between his brows—but suguru stills at that, painfully stiff for a moment before he bites at your skin. hard. 

“oh yeah?” he hisses, his voice low and dangerous as he pulls away to glare down at you, “you think so? what, you think an old man like me can’t fuck you long enough?”

you don’t get a chance to reply—not before he pulls your pants down your waist to reveal your soaked panties, pulling a hum from him as he grins at the damp patch of fabric. his fingers circle over your clit for a moment, right over the cloth, making your breath hitch as you buck into his touch. 

“suguru—”

“look at that,” he chuckles, “wearing my favorite one, huh? can’t fuck you that bad if you try your best to impress me. isn’t that what you wanted? is that what you were thinking when you put these on before coming over? how precious,” he murmurs—he speaks so condescending, so knowingly, as if he’s read your mind just by looking at the red lace covering your dripping cunt. you cover your face in humiliation, but he grabs your wrists and pins them over your head, clicking his teeth in disapproval. 

part of you knows you should quit while you can—the other part? well…it wants to test the limits a bit longer. suguru has never been so easy to rile up, you want to indulge in it for just a bit longer if you can help it. 

“well,” you huff, “what’re you waiting for, then? don’t tell me the age has slowed you down—”

“you really don’t know when to quit, do you?” he says in a low snarl, “fine, you want me to hurry up? you got it, princess.”

it all happens before you can even register—one moment, you’re grinning at him with mischief in your eyes; the next second, he has you in nothing but your bra, bare in his bed as he pulls your legs apart and leans close to your pussy.

“you know the thing about guys your age,” he hums, toying with your clit lazily as you gasp with a twitch, “is that they really don’t know how to take care of anyone but themselves. guess they just don’t have enough experience to really figure it out.”

his lips latch onto your clit, sucking before he rolls his tongue over the sensitive bud as his fingers sink into your core, pushing past your folds and stretching you open. it’s slow—deliberately so, in fact. it makes your head spin, and your fingers curl into the bed sheets as you pant. 

“suguru, m-more—”

“don’t worry,” he coos, pulling away from you to grin up at your glossy eyes, “you’ll get plenty, baby. we’ll see if you’ve got the stamina. y’know, since you’re so young.”

his lips are back to wrap around your clit, fingers sinking and curling exactly where you’re most sensitive—suguru finds your sweet spots instantly the first time he has you sprawled under him. didn’t even take a moment of trial, just knew where to touch and kiss to have you unravel in his hold. that much still hasn’t changed—his fingertips press against the sensitive spot in the back of your walls, pulling pretty little whines from you as his tongue flicks over your clit. 

it’s always been a blessing that nanako and mimiko’s room is across the house—had they been closer, they might hear the mewl you let out as his fingers bully into you faster, unforgiving as they brush against your walls and build the ache up between your legs until it’s about to burst. 

“s-suguru, ‘m close, so, so close—”

“already?” he gasps, chuckling as he presses a kiss to your clit with a sly grin, “thought you had more in you than that, baby. so youthful—figured you’d last a bit longer.”

he’s mean about it—rubs it in your face some more that you’re so close so fast before he pulls his fingers away and doesn’t even give you the satisfaction of falling apart on his digits. it makes you sob, hips bucking up to chase the friction of his fingers, but he’s already gone, leaving your walls empty and fluttering around nothing.

“no,” your voice breaks, “n-no, so close, please. i want—”

“that’s what he would’ve done,” suguru hums, “pulled out before you even finished. that’s what guys your age always do—they don’t know how to make girls finish. you ever had that problem with me?”

“no,” you say quickly, shaking your head. you’re a pretty little thing, he thinks—pouty, wobbly lips and those glossy eyes as you sniffle. “no, you always make me cum—please, i wanna cum, sugu.”

“yeah?” he pouts with faux sympathy, “didn’t feel good, huh? feels better when i take care of you, doesn’t it?”

“uh huh,” you nod—you’re still panting through the aftershocks of having your orgasm ripped from you, chest rising and falling harsh enough that it fills him with pride he can pull such drastic reactions from you. no one knows your body like suguru—he’s too good at giving it what it wants for anyone else to compare. 

“think that boy—” he spits the last word like it’s poison on his tongue, “—can take care of you?”

“no,” you whimper, “no, he can’t. not like you, never like you.”

“that’s a good girl,” he nods approvingly, rubbing his slick-coated finger over your clit, toying with it teasingly as you writhe, whining for more. “you know something else about men your age? they don’t care to please a woman—don’t bother to appreciate them enough to make them feel good. you think that boy would be here—” he pauses to motion between your legs, where he’s currently situated, “—willingly? taste you willingly? let you cum on his tongue willingly?”

“i-i don’t…i never asked someone to—”

“did you ever ask me?” he interrupts, raising a brow at you, “you ever have to ask me? i just do it. wanna know why? because i know what i’m doing—know how to treat you right, how to give you what you need. isn’t that right?” 

“yes, yes—you always give me what i want—”

“what you need,” he corrects, “and you know what i think you need right now? this.”

his tongue licks a stripe along your entrances before you can say anything else, pulling a gasp out of you as your hands find his hair and tug—suguru groans at that, feels his pants get impossibly tighter as the aching erection he sports throbs between his legs at the way you pull at the strands so desperately, so needy. for him. only ever him. 

his tongue fucks into you, messy with the way he devours you, the slick arousal pooling from your cunt coating his lips, his cheeks, his chin. you moan—and really, it’s almost a squeal—when his fingers are sinking back into you, tongue flicking away at your clit mercilessly as he thrusts his digits in and out of your pussy. you’re close, painfully so, the pressure steadily building and building until you just can’t hold it back anymore. 

“sugu—’m c-cumming. god ‘s so good—feels good,” you babble, thighs closing around his head as his fingers curl into your sweet spot over and over again, not stopping for even a second as he helps you ride out your high. your walls spasm around his fingers, tight as they flutter around him and make him groan at the thought of being inside you. 

he watches, hungry and in awe, as your back arches off the mattress and your mouth parts, broken little wails of his name rolling off your tongue in a sweet melody. 

“i bet he’s never seen someone look like this,” suguru murmurs, watching the way the ecstasy takes over your features as your face falls slack from pleasure, “so pretty when falling apart. bet he’d never even get close to making you look so fucked from just his tongue.”

your orgasm ripples through you—it’s not new, the way he makes you feel so good, but it’s definitely nothing to get used to either. your body slumps back onto the mattress as you finish, panting harshly while he climbs up to hover over you once again. 

“that felt good?” he asks, nosing at your cheek as you nod breathlessly.

“yeah,” you breathe, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“hope you’re not tired out just yet,” he says smugly, eyeing the way sweat clings to your forehead and huffs of air exhale from your lungs with each labored breath, “because we’re nowhere near done, baby. not even close.”

just like that, your bra is unclasped and pulled off, freeing your tits for his mouth to latch onto a nipple, sucking and lightly grazing his teeth along the bud while his fingers tease at the other, pinching and rubbing over it with his thumb. you whine, eyes squeezing shut as your hand cups the back of his head and keeps him in place. 

“bet i could make you cum just from this,” he says with a laugh, “i don’t even need to fuck you.”

“please,” you dig your nails into his shoulder, moaning as he switches to wrap his lips around the other nipple, “please, sugu—n-need more.”

“be more specific,” he says lowly, looking up at you in amusement, “gonna need more than that, princess. you gotta help me out here—i’m afraid i don’t know what i’m doing.”

suguru is doing everything he can to drag this out—if you’d known one small comment would have him riled up like this…well, truthfully, you can’t say you wouldn’t have made it anyway. it’s exciting in its own right when he’s so determined to show you why you need him, why no one else but him is meant to see you like this, make you fall apart like this, have you sprawled under them like this. 

no one can know about you and suguru—not nanako and mimiko, not your other friends, not your family. you know what they’d say, how they’d feel. 

disgust—shame, even. he’s far too old for you, you know they’d say; he’s a red flag for getting with someone so young. no one can know that you come here, dead in the middle of the night when your friends are asleep, and fuck their father. not only that—lay with their father, talk about your hopes and dreams for the future with their father, giggle as you gossip with their father, fall in love with their father. 

something tells you the feeling is not unreciprocated—that suguru feels the same, that he loves holding you in his arms just as much as you love laying in them. maybe it wasn’t a joke, what you’d said. not to him, at least—maybe deep down, it stung; maybe he had something to prove. that boy might be closer to you in age, but he’ll never, ever treat you the way suguru does—no one will, for that matter. perhaps he has to show it so you really know. 

so you look him in the eye, pull him closer until his forehead is pressed against yours and you can press a delicate kiss to his lips before you murmur against them, “fuck me, suguru. please—need you.”

he groans at that, closes his eyes before his hips move to press the thick tip of his cock against your folds, dragging it along your entrance as he coats his head with your slick. it’s flushed a deep pink—it’s been neglected for so long that he shudders at the way it aches, at the way even the slightest friction along the sensitive tip pulls a soft gasp from him. 

for a moment, he wonders if he really will last long enough to fuck you properly—he might not, with the way your walls always squeeze around him, always have him ready to fuck his load into you just as soon as he’s inside you. the thought alone almost makes his cock twitch—but suguru is a man of patience, so he slowly pushes into you, inch by inch, looking down and watching as his girth disappears inside you. 

“look at that,” he coos, grinning wide as he looks back up at you, “took me so easily. ‘s cause when you do it right, it doesn’t take much, does it?”

“f-fuck—” your head presses back against the pillow, mouth hung open as you breathe heavily, trying to squirm and get even the slightest bit of friction from him as he stays painfully still. “move, suguru—please, c-can’t wait anymore. jus’ wanna feel you.”

“i know,” he chuckles, “patience is a virtue, sweetheart.”

despite it all, suguru is not feeling very patient anymore—it’s been long enough. his hips roll slowly at first, a shallow thrust of his hips that makes you both moan lowly before he all but pulls out and slams back in, hard. you can feel the burning stretch of his girth practically splitting you open, every thick vein dragging along your cunt and every brush of his tip against the back of your walls. it’s loud—the sound of skin slapping against skin, the sound of his deep groans and your breathless whines, the sound of the headboard hitting the wall as he fucks you into his mattress. 

“god—fuck, suguru—th-there,” you mewl as he slams into you right where you need him. 

you’ve lost count of how many times suguru has fucked you like you’re his. in his bed at night, in his shower in the mornings, on the couch when you drop by when the girls aren’t home, in his car that one time he drove you home when it rained, in your apartment that one time he dropped off your laptop because you forgot it. there’s one common denominator—the way he makes you feel, not just from the way his cock ruts into you, but from the way his fingers tangle with yours, from the way his mouth finds your jaw to kiss, from the way his forehead presses into your shoulder with warmth. 

it’s exciting, maybe. at first, it’s scandalous and a little thrilling in its own right. by now, it’s something much more than that—you don’t think anyone could make you feel the way he does, fuck you like he does, even if they tried. even if they knew where to touch and where to kiss. even if they knew what you liked and what you didn’t. 

they couldn’t be suguru—would never be suguru. 

“there, huh?” he pants, moaning softly as he feels your walls flutter around him tightly, “i know. i know how to fuck this pussy—my pussy. you think some boy you hardly know would know? think he’d care to learn? think he’d even try?”

“no,” you gasp, shaking your head as your hips buck up to meet his sharp thrusts, “no. no one would make me feel this good. make me feel so good, sugu.”

“ngh—sh-shit,” he hisses at your words, cock almost swelling harder at the way you praise him, at the way your words are almost slurred with no real thought behind him. it’s a little pride-inducing, the way you’re still able to sing his praises without having to really think about it first. he can hear it, the way you’re lost in the drag of his cock, drunk in the haze of pleasure, unfocused on everything else besides the way he bullies his thick girth into your abused cunt.

it’s a mess, it’s filthy the way there’s a mix of pre cum and your slick at the base of his cock, along your inner thighs, coating your skin as the squelching sound of him nudging past your folds fills the room.

it’s good, the way he makes you feel—he can hear it in your voice as you wail his name.

“s-suguru—oh.”

“what, you gettin’ all fucked out on me? ‘m not even close yet, princess,” he hums, leaning down to kiss your neck as he sucks softly into your sweet spot. you throw your head back, rasping out a cry of his name again as his balls slap against your ass with a harsh roll of his hips. 

and then his hand makes its way between your bodies, thumb attaching itself to your clit before rubbing punishing circles into the bundle of nerves—you sob at that, back arching up as your chest presses against his, nipples hard as they brush along his skin.

“s-sugu—close, ‘m gonna cum a-again—so close,” you pant brokenly, every sentence cut off with a sharp gasp as he thrusts into you. 

you’re close—you can’t fight back the way the coil in your belly snaps as he teases your clit. it’s still sensitive from the last orgasm, every nerve still burning up from before as he gives you more, gives you too much, almost. you cum harder this time—your second high creeping up on you when you least expect it. 

it makes your eyes roll back, makes your thighs quiver, and tears stream down your cheeks as you chant his name over and over. suguru, ‘s so good. suguru, ‘m cumming. suguru, ‘s all for you.

every sentence makes his cock drill into you faster, sloppier in rhythm, maybe, but faster. needier. bordering on desperate. 

“f-fuck, baby,” he grunts, “squeezin’ me so tight—such a tight fuckin’ cunt. you think just anyone deserves this? think you can just walk around and let anyone fuck this? ‘s bullshit—ngh.”

you don’t answer—can’t answer, in fact. it’s all teary eyes and soft sniffles as you mewl with every thrust, voice breaking between every pretty little sound you make. he’s still fucking into you, still dragging his cock against those sensitive walls, still bumping against your clit with his navel, still nudging against your sweet spot with his thick, swollen tip. it’s almost too much—it is too much, making you writhe under his body as you try to form the words. 

“‘s t-too much, sugu—c-can’t anymore,” you try, “can’t.”

“what?” he gasps, furrowing his brows in mock confusion, “you’re tappin’ out on me already? but ‘m not even done yet, sweetheart. haven’t even finished yet—don’t tell me you’re already spent. how will you keep up with your little boyfriend’s stamina if you can’t even take an old man like me?”

“c-can’t take anyone but you,” you sob, “jus’ you—only you. promise.”

“yeah? you swear?”

“uh huh. jus’ you, sugu—don’ want anyone else. won’t fuck me the same.”

“atta girl,” he coos, chuckling as he leans down to kiss your jaw, trailing soft pecks until he meets your lips, “that’s what i thought. make sure you don’t forget, okay?”

“fuck, suguru—’m…g-gonna…”

“gonna what? cum? you’re cumming again?” you nod at that—he grins wide, pride settling into the crinkles of his eyes before his thumb rubs harsh circles into your swollen clit once more. he looks pretty like that—hair framing his face, the mix of black and white strands sticking to the damp skin of his forehead. his skin is flushed, abs flexing as he pants over you. sometimes you feel guilty that half of why you come over to visit nanako and mimiko is to fuck suguru—the guilt is quickly extinguished when you see him like this, bottom lip caught between his teeth as his arms barely hold him over you, eyes shut tight as he groans. 

“i-i’m—fuck, fuck, fuck,” you can’t form sentences anymore as you cum—again. not that you really could before that, but now all you can offer is croaked half-syllables and shaky sobs. your walls squeeze around him, tight as they hug around his throbbing cock. 

it takes one, two, three more sloppy rolls of his hips before he lets out at a low, “baby, fuck—’m gonna fill you up. want that? want me to cum in you? make you mine? always been mine, haven’t you?”

“yes, yes—yours, sugu. yours, yours, yours,” you babble, words slurred between breathy moans and broken sobs. “wanna be yours.”

you can feel him—feel the way his cock twitches in you, the way he grinds into you to ride out his high, the way sticky, hot ropes of cum fill your walls, the way he fucks his load deeper into you with every sloppy thrust of his hips. his arms quiver as he holds himself over you—just barely, though. you can hear the way his voice cracks as he gasps your name over and over, as he mutters lowly about how you’re his, how you’ll always only be his. 

“mine,” he grits, “you’re fuckin’ mine—see how you’re suckin’ me in? see how i fit in this pussy like it was made for me? ‘s cause you’re mine.”

his body slumps onto yours as he finishes, head pressed into the crook of your neck as he kisses the skin while you both catch your breaths. you whimper, still sensitive, as he pulls out of you, a soft chuckle falling past his lips as he pulls his head up to look at you and press a kiss to your cheek. 

“so,” he starts, eyes laced with amusement as he takes in the fucked out look on your face, the tears still drying your cheeks, the swollen flush of your bottom lip, “still think you need someone with more stamina? someone who’ll fuck you better—”

“god,” you groan, slapping his shoulder, “will you drop it already? you got what you wanted, didn’t you?”

“no,” he murmurs, pecking your lips, “still wanna hear it some more.”

“your ego needs a reality check,” you huff as you brush a strand of hair from his forehead, “think i’ve fed it plenty all night.”

“actually, i think you crushed it,” he pouts theatrically, “talking about some asshole who doesn’t care about you right in front of me. after i take such good care of you, too. the girls already think you should date him,” he adds the last part with a slightly bitter roll of his eyes, pulling a giggle out of you.

“they think i don’t know how to talk to men,” you snort, “imagine they knew i was talking to men old enough to be my father.”

“hey,” he clicks his teeth, falling onto the mattress beside you—he pulls you into his chest, letting your cheek rest on his bare skin. it’s so wrong���lying in bed with the father of your best friends. but somehow, suguru feels like the only thing you’ve ever done right. “age is nothing but a number, sweetheart.”

if i have to see the word cock one more time im going to eradicate all humans that have them

do not comment about a part 2 !!!!!!!!!!

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Coveted.

Pairing: Yandere!Geto x Reader (+Yandere!Gojo) [JJK].

Word Count: 1.1k.

TW: Set Two or Three Years Post KFC Break-Up, Intimidation, Prolonged Stalking, Future Dub/Con, Mentions of Non/Con, and Unbalanced Power Dynamics.

[Part Two]

“You’re Satoru’s date, right?”

The voice was masculine, deep and as rough as it could be without crossing the line into gravelly. You stiffened, squaring your shoulders and burrowing your nails into your palm as your eyes darted across the table – where a man with dark hair and an off-putting smile was currently sliding into the unoccupied side of your booth. He reached out, clearly planning to shake your hand, but when you failed to move, he only let out an airy chuckle, propping his chin on his fist as he went on. “I’m a friend of his – Geto Suguru. You can call me Suguru-chan, though. Has he already told you about me?”

He was dressed like he’d just rolled out of bed – his attire limited to a form-fitting black shirt and a pair of loose sweatpants in the same color, his hair pulled into a loose bun. His tone was friendly, light. You returned it with a dead-pan stare, hoping it conveyed the weight of your exhaustion. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Is that what he told you to say?” Another laugh, somehow more blood-chilling than the first. Your attention shifted outward, to the late-night diner where Gojo had asked you to meet him. There were only a few other customers, the skeleton of a proper staff, but single other person would’ve been one too many. You didn’t need to make a scene, not again, not after last time. “That sounds like him. He’s always been a stingy bastard.”

With a pressed frown, you pushed yourself to your feet, but Geto’s grin only broadened. He snapped his fingers and as if it’d only been waiting for a queue, a shape manifested at the end of your bench. You couldn’t bring yourself to look directly at it, but you saw enough out of the corner of your eye; a bulbous torso, shrunken arms, too many eyes to resemble any living thing. Instantly, what little courage you still had was replaced with a knot of dread, a bolt of pure anxiety. You half-expected it to lunge, to bite, to attack, but it didn’t move, only standing guard at the foot of your table.

It didn’t move, but it didn’t have to. In a moment, you’d fallen back into your seat and shoved yourself against the wall, fighting not to shake. It was a sight Geto seemed to take a particular joy in, letting his head lull to the side as he watched you curl into yourself. “You can see them. I was starting to think I had the wrong person.” A pause, a glance towards his summoned monster before his narrowed gaze skirted back to you. “Don’t be shy, now. How much did he tell you?”

It took you a moment to find your tongue, another to swallow back the tremor in your voice. "He said he could protect me.” It was harder to admit than you’d expected – not so much that you needed protection, but that there was something you needed protection from. You’d spent so long writing off your monsters as hallucinations that it was still a struggle to act like they were anything more. But, for as unwilling as you were to confront your little monsters, the resounding ache in your right leg where that thing had dug its claws into you was impossible to ignore. “He… he didn’t mention anyone else, but we’ve only spoken once. He was supposed to explain—” You gestured to the monster. “—all of this today.”

A slight hum, a look of genuine surprise. “So, he’s got some self-restraint after all! I thought he would’ve cracked months ago, considering how long he’s been following you around like a lost puppy.” He must’ve seen your expression fall, your posture slacken, because he didn’t wait for a response before going on. “I mean, you must’ve known that, at least. Did you think he’d play knight-in-shining-armor for just anyone?”

“I…” You trailed off quickly, shaking your head. “I don’t care. As long as he can protect me, I don’t care why he’s doing it.”

“That’s a dangerous thing to say. You wouldn’t want to make Satoru feel so replaceable, now, would you?”  

At that, you met his stare. “What do you want?”

His eyes skirted towards the monster, who took an obedient step back. For a second, you considered running, trying to slip away before the man in front of you or your newly-realized stalker could make you regret ever showing up at all, but Geto was quick to cut off your escape route, filling the empty space beside you before you could so much as pick which door you would barrel through on the way out. “Well, now that we’re on the same page,” Unlike his monster, he didn’t give you the option of leaving him in your peripheral; settling close enough for his leg to press into yours. At this proximity, you could pick up the smoke on his breath, the scent of stale gore clinging to him like a second skin. As if he’d just stepped out of a blood bath. “I’d like to make you an alternative offer.”

“You’d protect me?”

“Oh, I’d do more than just that.” His hand fell to your thigh. “I’d have everything you’ve ever been afraid of bowing to you by the end of the night.”

You swallowed dryly. “You didn’t answer my first question. What do you get out of helping me?”

His answer was nonverbal, but clear enough. With that same idle grin, he nodded toward the streaked window, to the building across the street. Your heart fell into your stomach. It was one of those sleazy, by-the-hour hotels – the sign missing more than a few letters and the parking lot as empty as the diner. It was the kind of place that you only went to for one thing, and you had a feeling Geto hadn’t found some miraculous second reason to want to be alone with you in one of those bug-infested rooms.

You weren’t sure why you said it. Maybe to buy yourself time. Maybe because you couldn’t stand the idea of being left in silence as what was left of your rational mind screamed at you to get out of there. “I don’t have any money.”

“It’ll be my treat.”

“What happens I refuse?”

“I kill everyone here,” His nails bit into exposed skin. “And then fuck you on this table while their bodies attract flies.”

You might’ve cried, if you hadn’t been so tired.

You might’ve done anything, if you could bring yourself to care about anything but keeping those awful creatures at a distance.

Stiffly, with your eyes shut and your teeth grit, you forced yourself to nod. Geto rewarded you with an impossibly wide grin, a breath of a laugh. “Smart little thing.”

This time, he didn’t pretend it was an option; reaching out, taking your trembling hand in his own, and squeezing so softly, you could almost convince yourself he was being gentle.

“It’s only a shame Satoru isn’t here to join us.”

[dcxdpdabbles]

you’ve inspired me so here’s a thing you can do whatever with cause I got a migraine and lost my train of thought

so Danny’s working the bar at the iceberg lounge and notices more people are stress drinking, even the Big Names and asks what’s up only to find it’s ✨Tax Season✨

Danny: oh I always forget about that

someone: (aghast) you don’t pay your taxes

Danny: *shrugs* I’m not allowed to pay taxes

wtf does that mean, is he exempt, someone asks but no Danny explains that the first and only time he tried to pay his taxes he received a full refund and a cease and desist order

word gets around and not even the joker want to mess with Danny because what kind of a monster can scare the irs

(This is actually an inherited problem from his parents)

"What did you just say?" Danny looks up from where he is mixing drinks. Across from him is a purple suit-wearing clown- he hates clowns, so he was attempting not to make eye contact- whose whole white face is twitching slightly.

Danny blinks slowly, using every ounce of self-control to not give in to the urge to reach across the bar and slap him. After a moment, he answered, "I always forget tax season."

"You're crazy enough to take on the IRS?" The clown's jaw drops. "I mean Batman, sure, I understand that, but the IRS?"

Danny frowns. "I don't take them on. I don't have to do my taxes."

"How?" A man in a suit covered in question marks demands from further down the bar.

He shrugs his shoulders a little. "I tried it once, but they sent me a full refund and a cease and desist order. They only remind me that I cannot file taxes now."

"Prove it," A man covered in scales hisses.

Danny grabs a rag, using it to clean off the lemon juice. He reaches into his apron pocket, pulling out a folded-up letter. He could have left it in his locker, but stuff always went missing there. Best to keep his stuff on his person while working. "Sure. Here I have it now. I went to the post office before my shift-hey!"

The lade covered in leaves yanks the letter out of his hand, unfolding it and reading the words as though it wasn't a federal crime. Her voice wavers when she gets to the reminder that the United States of America Internal Revenue Service would not stand another attempt at Daniel Fenton's taxes.

"This can't be real," She scoffs, but there is an underline of worry in her voice that she can't entirely hide.

She turns to a man in a strange white and black suit- like it's evenly split down the middle strange. It matches his face, though; one side is gorgeous, and the other is deformed. "This isn't real, is it Two-Face?"

Two-face takes the paper from her hand, carefully reading the words before pulling out his phone and typing away. After a few seconds, he pauses, then gasps. "It's real. My boys just confirmed the Tax ID number. He is not legally allowed to do taxes."

"Holly Molly, you're insane," the clown gasped, backing out of the seat while pointing at Danny as though he was the devil. "Stay away from me you lunitic! I'm not messing with the IRS's boogie man!"

He turned tail and ran, leaving behind a stunned Danny, wondering what he could have said to earn that reaction. His parents back home were also ordered to not do their taxes. It's common.

He turns to his other customers, ready to take their order, but they all pale and quickly duck away from him as well.

Strange.

Then, Danny notices the silence that has fallen upon the Iceberg Lounge. Even the music has been cut off as everyone stares at him in disbelief.

He shifts, a little uncomfortable with the stares. Danny has never grown used to attention, no matter how much he craved it as a teenager. He always wanted to be in the It Crowd and be given an official membership to the A-listers, but he grew to understand that the only way they liked seeing him was in pain.

So Danny learned to avoid attention as he could, which wasn't complex as the part of the town's freaks, but the very few mintues someone did pay attention to him something terrible ended up happening.

Dash stuffed him into a locker while classmates laughed and cheered the bully on.

A teacher calling on him just to make him feel stupid.

His parents realized he was slipping in his grades and reminded him that he was a failure to the family's intelligence.

Or some random GIW agent that "banished" him from his Earth, flinging Danny straight across the universe to whatever hellhole Gotham crawled out of.

He barely got this bartending job only a few weeks ago- lying about his age which he thinks his boss doesn't care about- and using a shade of an old bartender to coach him in mixology.

Shades were different from ghosts. For one thing, they were weaker and unable to be seen by regular people. They could not interact with the world and often didn't even know they were dead. If Danny had been able to see them before the portal, he would have known they were the cause of what is commonly known as a "ghost."

They were the myths.

Jeff Ricci is Shade, one who is aware he died. He was killed in a gang shoot-out a few years after he and his sister ran away from an abusive home. They traveled through three states, dodging police and CPS, before they disappeared among Gotham's homeless population.

The pair of siblings survived for a while doing odd jobs for local gangs- things like drug runs or helping them move guns- which is why Jeff was out there the night the fight broke out.

It was an imperfect stroke of luck, the wrong place and time. The two had been doing so well, too. They had both gotten jobs at the Iceberg Lounge, lying about their ages, where Jeff was a dishwasher, and Lucia was a housekeeper.

After hours, Jeff was taught by his coworkers how to properly mix drinks, waiting for Lucia to finish her job. When the two turned eighteen, Lucia became a waitress, and Jeff joined the bar- though if anyone asked or checked their employee records, both were twenty-one.

With better pay and hours, they could rent an apartment, finally gaining a home after three years of homelessness. Jeff had lived in that home for only a month when he accepted a job to buy Lucia some migraine medication and had perished.

Lucia lived on without her twin, broken far more than before, but she still had the apartment and job at the Iceberg Lounge. She was unaware her brother still followed her around, watching her actaully turn twenty-one while he remained eighteen.

That's how Danny met him, a somewhat see-through man casually following one of the prettiest waitresses. He had assumed he was being a creep, but Jeff had been delighted that someone could not only see him but was willing to protect his sister by threatening him away from her.

In exchange for lessons on proper mixing, Jeff asked Danny to keep an eye on his sister. Help her when he could not. It was a fair trade from one younger brother to another.

The shade is currently leaning against the counter beside Danny, staring at him as though Danny was a god. "You scare the Joker. Shit, Danny, I knew you were some kind of Rouge in the making, but to take out heavy hitters like this before your debut!? That's just terrifying! Would you be willing to pay my sister to be your secretary or something? She's a great typer!"

What a strange place Gotham is.

[lovebugism]

Smut request idea: Eddie worshipping reader's tits, who is insecure about their small size (lol totally not projecting 😅)

ty for requesting :D — eddie 'heart eyes' munson sees your boobs for the first time (cw for nudity, but no real smut, 18+ mdni, 1.1k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

On a rainy, post-show night, in the back of Eddie Munson’s van, you decide to be brave.

Buzzing with alcohol, adrenaline, and adoration — a wild concoction rushing like fire through your veins — you take your shirt off for the very first time in front of him. Mostly because your sweater was getting itchy, so you’re not entirely sure how brave that makes you. But your skin burns still, empty like a blank sky, yearning for a warmer touch to fall over you like stars.

In the simplest, most human way, you need Eddie to touch you like you need to breathe air. 

So, when you tugged the fuzzy sweater up and over your head, you hadn’t thought much about doing it. You were too full of need, too unthinking. Head clouded with longing until you developed something short of tunnel vision for the boy underneath you.

It wasn’t that big a deal, right? Isn’t this what girlfriends do with boyfriends?

Eddie’s silence is not reassuring. It feels more like a knife lodged in the very center of your sternum.

You lay the sweater beside you and cross your arms slowly over yourself. Equal parts to hide what you’d just revealed to him and to shield your bleeding, stinging heart.

Eddie’s face twists, pained features swirling like a hurt puppy. “Wait— What are you doing?” he asks in an unabashed whine. His less-than-subtle pout deepens as his chocolate-button eyes flit up to yours.

You keep curling in on yourself, but from where you straddle his thighs, he’s impossible to run away from. “Why aren’t you saying anything?” you wonder in a tiny voice, distantly fearful of the answer. 

You don’t have the kind of chest people put on magazines. Maybe you should’ve just kept the shirt on.

Eddie’s ringed fingers smooth around your bare waist. He realizes he’s holding you there for the very first time without any fabric covering you. His chest starts to sparkle. His thumbs rub gently at your ribcage, just below the arms still concealing yourself.

“‘Cause I’m too busy enjoying the view, honey,” he answers with a plush pink and crooked smile. His words are slightly slurred, weighed down by fatigue and desire. “How am I supposed to think when I’m looking at you, huh?”

You make a faint, grumbly noise, features scrunching in disdain at his compliment.

He smiles wider and curls his fingers around the wrists you hold over yourself. There is little force behind his touch, no eagerness to tug your hands away. Instead he just holds you, in a distinctly quiet embrace, telling you silently that you can let your guard down whenever you’re ready.

“So you don’t think they’re weird?”

He answers with an immediate scoff. “No, I don’t think they’re weird— I think they’re beautiful! I think every part of you is beautiful.”

You grow less and less tense in his hold. Your hands start to slip. You let them. 

Bare again in front of him, the boyish glimmer in Eddie’s dark eyes returns. 

The wild cadence of rain on the rusted tin roof resembles the rapid patter of his pounding heart as he ogles at you. And, with his back propped against the driver’s seat, he has the most perfect view of you.

The pale hands along your ribcage slowly start to rise. His warm touch leaves sparkling goosebumps in its wake. He doesn’t stop until his thumbs are settled neatly beneath your breasts.

“I mean— I always knew they’d be pretty, you know?” he mumbles, getting lost in you all over again. You don’t know if he’s talking to you, or if he even knows he’s rambling. “‘Cause when you’d let me feel you up, you know, over the shirt— I always imagined what you’d look like under it…”

He trails off then, forgets how to make words when his thumb rubs over your soft nipple. The gentle stimulation makes it stiffen beneath his touch. Eddie smiles to himself, all boyishly giddy.

“…But I couldn’t’ve, in my wildest imagination, expected this.”

Your chest warms with his affection. You scoff about it, anyway. “You’re such a boy,” you laugh.

“It’s not my fault you’re so pretty…” 

Still cupping your chest, Eddie leans down to kiss you there. A chaste, open-mouthed peck to your pebbled nipple. His heart swells when he hears you moan above him — your nose buried in the strands of his wild hair, fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck. 

Eddie licks his rosy lips when he pulls back from you. 

“See? You’re gonna kill me one day, doll— I swear,” he teases in a joking tone, but means every bit of it. He loves you so much it makes his chest ache. You’ll give him a goddamn heart attack one day if he’s not careful. “Can’t believe you’ve been hiding from me this whole time…”

You’re not sure either, now. 

“I was just scared that… I don’t know,” you stammer, clammy hands fidgetting with his intentionally tattered Corroded Coffin t-shirt. You’d helped him cut rips into the white fabric before the show. You distract yourself with the pink lipstick smudge you’d pressed along the neck of it, rubbing hopelessly at a stain that’ll never come off. 

“I was scared that you’d think I was less pretty or something. I don’t know.”

“No,” Eddie recoils immediately, face twisting in abhorrence of the thought. He shakes his wild head at you. “No way. That’s not possible. I think you’re fucking— perfect. And I think that…”

His eyes fall to your chest again. He loses the rest of his words.

A smile blossoms on your face. You don’t think you’ve ever felt prettier than you do right now.

“You think that what?” you tease, hands rising again to twist in his deep brown curls.

Eddie’s button eyes flit back up to you. His ringed hands lift to cup your breasts in his wide palms. They fit just perfect in his hands — like he was made to hold you there. The width of his beam rivals your own. 

“That I just found Corroded Coffin’s next album cover,” he answers.

The sound of your laughter fills the van. Sunshine compared to the rolling rain outside.

“No. No way. That’s not happening,” you refuse, still smiling, as Eddie leans into you again.

You wrap your arms around his neck when he puts his mouth on you. He buries his own laughter against the plush of your breast — along with so many little kisses. 

He doesn’t mind your light-hearted rejection. The only thing Eddie likes more than showing you off is keeping you totally to himself.

[janitorhutcherson]

olderbfyandere!mike schmidt

surprise, bitches!!! im giving yall a lil taste of some more writing. im not really on hiatus (obvi, i post every 5 minutes) but i've been sooooo busy that i haven't been able to post half as much. with that being said, here are some more in depth headcanons ab yandere!mike. :p could not have done this without @futturmand literally helping me (coming up w/) most of these. thank u bae.

warnings: drugging, violence, sex, daddy kink, abusive tendencies

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

olderbfyandere!mike schmidt was kinda an asshole. to his coworkers, random customers at the mall, anybody who came too close to you, and yes, even sometimes to you. he was the kind of guy who had a semi-permanent grimace on his face. the corners of his mouth would turn into smiles typically only when he was with abby or you two were alone and he could let his guard down. of course, even then, the moment you caught an attitude, that grimace would appear right back on his face. his demeanor was typically gruff. he was the kind of guy most people didn't want to mess with. this meant any male coworkers around you would be tested their fate to even glance at you the wrong way and god forbid mike saw one of them brush something off of your shoulder. that would truly be the end of them.

olderbfyandere!mike schmidt is very obsessive over safety. after losing garrett, he has this urge to do nothing but to protect. this means that mike is the type of guy to want your location at all times. not only that, but he wants to know what you're doing, who you're with, and what time you'll be home. he expects a text when you leave, a text when you get there, an hourly check-in, then a text on your way home. it brings him a sense of peace, knowing where you are. he watches life360 obsessively when you're not in his sight, watching your little bubble move through wherever you may be. he's constantly checking the speed of the car you're in, occasionally stalking your friend's instagram stories to see where you are. he's overprotective to the extent that it can be overbearing, but at the end of the day it's endearing knowing he cares that much.

olderbfyandere!mike schmidt uses the fact that you're younger than him to manipulate you. he's less about violence or anything physical and instead uses his words. he will constantly remind you how helpless you are without him, how he has so much more life experience than you. he'll point out randomly when you mention not knowing how to do something, saying something like, "see, babydoll, where would you be without me? that's right, nowhere. you need me to take care of you." he's also the kind of guy to eventually make you financially dependent on him if he could ever afford it. he would never put you in that spot until he was comfortable enough to do so, though, meaning it might be a loooong time before that ever happened.

olderbfyandere!mike schmidt treats you less like a partner and more like a little sibling, kinda like he treats abby. as strange as it is, he also feels a paternal instinct to protect you. it comes from his deep-rooted feelings of abandonment. he lost garrett, his mom, his dad, and sometimes he feels like abby hates him. he loves that you listen to him, that he can command you to do something and you'd be so good for him. he absolutely adores being able to control different aspects of your life, making you completely reliant on him. it makes him feel special and needed, which he hasn't felt in a very long time. he loves nothing more than when he gets to scold you almost like a parent, your eyes falling to the ground, that adorable wounded puppy look he loves so much taking over your face.

olderbfyandere!mike schmidt is incredibly clingy and touch starved. he wants to have a hand on you 24/7. forget having personal space, because you are not getting it with him. he'd follow you around, watching you everywhere you'd go. his hands would grip onto your hips so tightly sometimes it'd feel like they were glued to them. he'd always have his arms around you, kissing at your neck, nipping in a way you felt shouldn't be shown in public. mike didn't care, he wanted everyone to know you belonged to him in every single way. he controlled you, and if he wanted to embarrass you and turn your face red by leaving purple marks on your neck in the middle of a shopping plaza, then so be it. you would take it or be punished.

olderbfyandere!mike schmidt who of course uses his sleeping pills on you when you're being a little brat. he isn't violent with you for the most part except for the rare occasion when he will hold you down onto the bed until you'll listen, but otherwise he opts for something simpler. when you're being a little too frustrating for him, going against his every command or you're not feeling like being held, mike will simply crush up his sleeping pills, slip them into your water. he's careful with you once you doze off, never abusing you in any way. all he will do is tuck you into your shared bed and hold your body in his arms, whispering sweet nothings as you're off in your own sweetly drugged up world.

olderbfyandere!mike schmidt would most definitely have a thing for being called daddy. sorry guys, it had to be said. hot take, i guess. considering he did want to protect you so thoroughly, he loved when you'd call him daddy. it made him feel like your protector, like you knew he was the one that did everything for you. it was so crazy how such a simple word could change his whole day. he loved hearing it fall out of your lips as he'd brush through your hair or wash your body off in the shower. "thank you, daddy," you'd hum and he'd grin ear to ear. "you're welcome, babydoll," he'd always say, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

[halsteadlover]

𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬

• Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader.

• Summary: just a compilation of Charles’ ig posts showing how much he’s obsessed and in love with you and his baby.

• Warnings: none just pure fluff.

• A/N: I know I know… I’m a sucker for dad fics I just can’t help it 😭😭 this is my first time posting a smau so please be kind with me I know it’s bad 😭 let me know what I can do to do it better and what you think ❤️ love you all xx

Tagged: yourusername

Liked by yourusername, arthur_leclerc, carlossainz55 and other 1.718.661

charles_leclerc You have never been more beautiful than you are now mon amour. Watching you grow our baby is one of the most beautiful things I have ever witnessed 🖤

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user1 Charles whipped Leclerc is back in town!

charlos123 screaming, crying throwing up 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

landonorris find yourself someone who loves you like Charles loves his wife (I'm 5'10 girls)

oscarpiastri Shut up no you’re not

user88 💀💀💀

yourusername Je t'aime plus que la lune et les étoiles mon amour ❤️ We’re both so lucky to have you (I love you more than the moon and the stars)

charles_leclerc Je t'aime beaucoup plus bébé❤️ (I love you so much more baby)

versclerc the way he just answers her comments 😭

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Liked by leclerc_pascale, yourusername, joris__trouche, carlossainz55 and other 2.054.101

charles_leclerc For you mon amour.

For you, who looks in the mirror and doesn’t like what you see but is truly the most breathtaking woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.

For you, who every single day gives me one more reason to love you even more, something I didn’t even believe was possible. Feeling something so strong for someone that the word ‘love’ isn’t enough to describe it.

For you, who taught me the meaning of true love and what’s really important in life.

For you, who are so beautiful that it still surprise me even after so many years being together how you manage to give me butterflies in my stomach.

For you for whom just one look is enough to make my heart race and my hands sweat.

For you who are the most beautiful thing life has ever given me.

For you, who can brighten my darkest day, who can make me the happiest that I’ve ever been.

For you, who gave me the most beautiful gift I could have ever asked for.

We can’t wait to hold you mon petit, please hurry up 🙏🏻❤️

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user24 GOOD FUCKING BYE

user98 Dragging my teeth on the concrete

mstleclerc CHARLESJSJSIDJSOSKSNSJ OMFGGGGGG 😭😭😭

carlossainz55 you’re making me want one of those little shits

Liked by charles_leclerc and yourusername

landonorris I almost shed a tear not gonna lie

Liked by charles_leclerc

arthur_leclerc I’m so happy for you brother I can’t wait to spoil my nephew ❤️

Liked by charles_leclerc and yourusername

charles_leclerc By the way my wife just bursted out crying seeing this post and I was about to make a video but she literally threatened to kill me if I did ❤️ God I love her 😍

f1fun_12 This is such a Y/n thing to do 😭

sainzzzzzzzzzzzz As she should!

yourusername I can’t put into words how much I’m grateful for you and for everything you do for our little family. Our son is so lucky to have you as a father and I couldn’t have chosen a better husband. I’d be so lost without you baby, I love you more than my life ❤️ ps: stop making me cry for fucks sake I don’t have any more tears in my body thanks

charles_leclerc Can you please unlock the bedroom darling?

yourusername Nope, that’s what you get for trying to filming me

yourusername UNLESS……. You bring me a ketchup sandwich

charles_leclerc it’s already on the way my queen 👸🏻 your wish is my command

user7612 A KETCHUP SANDWICH??? What???

yourusername @user7612 it’s not my fault okay?

monof1 the fact Charles is so used to her cravings that he’s not even questioning them anymore 😭

charles_leclerc @monof1 fun fact: never NEVER argue with a pregnant woman especially if that pregnant woman is Y/n

monof1 @/charles_leclerc OMG CHARLES HI I LOVE YOU

charles_leclerc posted on his story

Viewed by yourusername and 99251 others

yourusername

What did I do to deserve you?

landonorris answered your story:

You’re so whipped mate

charles_leclerc can you blame me? Have you seen my wife and THAT baby bump?

carlossainz55 answered your story:

Yeah ok we get you’re in love and bla bla bla

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Liked by pierregasly, landonorris, lewishamilton and other 1.524.793

charles_leclerc There are only a few days left until our baby arrives and I’m scared and impatient at the same time. My wife is sleeping next to me now breathtakingly beautiful and I’ve taken some time to reflect on how these 9 months have flown by and I can’t believe it, it seems like it was just yesterday that we found out we were expecting a baby. I can no longer remember what my life was like before knowing your existence, little one.

I can't help but imagine and think about you in everything I do and every step I make, thinking about how beautiful it’ll be to see you take your first steps, to see you run around the house, dirty everything, to see you measure my helmets, to see you trying my race suits, to see you go to school, to see you grow in the beautiful and amazing person you’re going to be.

We’ll probably argue sometimes, although I’ll make sure that never happens, but whatever happens, just know that I loved you more than my life from the first moment since I saw that positive pregnancy test and I hope you’ll never forget it even if we have any argument.

Mommy and I are so eager to finally hold you in our arms, hear you cry and take your first breath in this new life. It hasn’t always been easy, I’ll be honest, and it won’t be easy but I wouldn’t change anything. I love you mon petit ange. 🖤

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user90 CHARLES 😭😭😭😭😭

maxlecsainz I swear it’s not that I don’t want a baby it’s just men are not like Charles Leclerc

y/nmommy1 who wants to take a quick bath with a toaster?

user65 I’m on my way sis

y/ncharles82772 wait for me I’m taking a nap on a highway right now

norrizzzzz528 I know it’s the bare minimum but seeing the way Charles loves his family makes my heart so happy 😭😭😭

lewishamilton I’ve never thought there would be a day where I’d be jealous of Charles Leclerc but here we are… Jokes aside I’m so happy for you mate 🖤

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user209 you’re so real Lew

landonorris when will the child see his fav uncle?

arthur_leclerc EXCUSE ME?

lorenzotl you’re so delusional

carlossainz55 Yeah. Clearly I AM already his favourite one

pierregasly you’re all so wrong @/yourusername said he’ll like me the most 💁🏻‍♂️

charles_leclerc @/pierregasly she literally never said that?

pierregasly @/charles_leclerc oh shut up you know it’s true

user42 what is going on in this comment section??? 💀

daddylec16 the way they can’t never leave Charles in peace even in his comment section 😭

maxverstappen1 Once I saw Charles crying his eyes out because Y/n sent him an audio with the baby’s heartbeat since he couldn’t make it for the ultrasound

user66 OH MY GOD!!!!!!! 😭😭

maxalonso1995 STOPPPPP GIVE US MORE MAX

charles_leclerc THAT’S NOT TRUE I was just having an allergic reaction to dust

maxverstappen1 @charles_leclerc oh c’mon Charlie

user66 CHARLIEHSJSJDJJS FUCK OFF

charles_leclerc @/maxverstappen1 it only happened ONCE

leclercfan12 every day Charles comes on this app and has to fight for his life poor baby

Tagged: yourusername

Liked by yourusername, landonorris, lorenzotl and other 2.631.966

charles_leclerc Our little boy Jules Hervé Leclerc is finally here.

I can’t even put into words how over the moon we are right now, I feel like my life just started all over again. Watching my wife give birth to my son is an experience I’ll never forget, you’re a force of nature baby I can’t thank you enough for everything you do for me.

And to my little Jules I love you more than the air I breathe I can’t way to start this new life with you ❤️

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yourusername Don’t let him fool you guys he went to sleep after I GAVE BIRTH

charles_leclerc OMFG THAT’S NOT TRUE DON’T LISTEN TO HER

yourusername hehe 😆 just kidding guys he’s the best. I love you so much Cha, Jules and I are so lucky to have you ❤️

user765 STOP THE WAY CHARLES IS CRYING IN THE FIRST PIC

user22 WHEN WILL IT BE MY TURN

mclarengirllll112 JULES HERVÉ LECLERC DO YOU HEAR ME FUCKING CRYING

norrizzzzz528 WHAT IF I JUST KILLED MYSELF

user976 OUR PRINCE IS HERE EVERYBODY MOVE

daddylec16 I know I’ll find someone who loves me like Charles loves his family. I just know it

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Charles Leclerc tag list: @softicecr3eam, @halsteadbrasil, @bwormie, @ssprayberrythings, @mynameisangeloflife

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[wileys-russo]

put a ring on it II l.williamson x reader

lil LW6 fic based on this request put a ring on it II l.williamson x reader

"here she is!" you sung out as you launched yourself onto your friends back, alessia stumbling slightly but finding her footing with a laugh. "player of the match! player of the match!" you continued to cheer as alessia hoisted you up properly carrying you round on her back as you did your laps.

"the penalty was perfect less, see i told you they weren't cursed!" you grinned, pulling her into a tight hug as she placed you back down on your feet. "doesn't mean i'll be putting my hand up to take anymore!" the blonde shook her head, though neither of you were unable to keep the smile off her face with a 4-1 win over chelsea.

"i see now why the two of you are so perfect for each other." the taller girl laughed as you both clapped and waved to the fans, nodding toward your girlfriend who was getting a piggyback of her own off manu.

"leah's got an excuse though you're just lazy!" alessia teased, often having you demanding she piggyback you around on national duty and now you played for the same club team.

"you're one to talk! who carries all the bags when we go shopping?" you laughed shoving her, waving at a small group of girls who called out your name. "who buys the most and therefore has the most bags to carry!" the blonde countered bumping her shoulder into yours.

"thats definitely you babe, because its me who carries all the bag when we go shopping!" suddenly your girlfriend appeared, wedging her way in between the two of you with her arms slung over both yours and alessia's shoulders.

"i earn and spend my money the way i want, why all this hate!" you tutted with a playful roll of your eyes, the three of you falling into conversation as you continued on your lap round the emirates.

"heard you've got some competition for your girls hand leah!" kyra zoomed past with a cheeky grin, leah frowning in confusion but unable to ask for any further context as kyra sprinted off chased by vic.

"i didn't know your relationship was open williamson. can i have a crack?" katie was next, playfully kissing your cheek with a wink as now both you and leah looked on in confusion.

your relationship with leah could be described as private but not secret. for years now you'd posted pictures with and of one another, but paid no mind to the spamming of comments asking if you were together.

you lost no sleep to the rumours of what you two were and made no move to placate or deny them, rather just happily existing together and focusing your energy on your relationship rather than what people thought about it or assumed it to be.

however it was most certainly not open.

"what the hell is everyone on about?" leah huffed, annoyance replacing confusion as you squeezed her bicep to try and gain her attention seeing she was becoming upset. "um, i might have an idea." alessia chuckled beside you, clearly trying to cover up her amusement but failing miserably.

nudging the two of you she tried to subtly point something out in the crowd, and it didn't take very long for leah to follow along. "oh you are taking the piss mate." came the scoff and grumble as you tried to catch on, alessia rolling her eyes and moving your head so you finally spotted it.

"ohh." you sighed in realisation, your girlfriends mumblings beside you and closed off body language now making a lot more sense. "do they think thats going to work?" you laughed, which was cleary the wrong thing to say as leah scoffed again and stormed off before you could say another word.

"will you be saying i do then?" you grunted as the tables turned and kyra reappeared, jumping onto your back and wrapping her legs around your waist, vic and teyah not far behind her.

the teasing in question was all due to a large sign reading 'marry me y/n?' held up by a grinning girl who definitely looked too young for you whose eye contact you avoided as you turned away from the sign.

"someone will be sleeping with the dogs tonight!" vic roared with laughter as leah shot you a look over her shoulder and followed into the tunnel after beth.

"i didn't even do anything! this is all of your faults for pointing out that stupid sign and winding her up." you huffed and promptly dropped kyra, who swore after you as teyah helped her up and you hurried off toward where your girlfriend had dissapeared.

though before you could go after her there was a small group of fans calling your name and you diverted, spending a little while alongside laia and alessia signing and chatting things before finally breaking away and heading inside.

returning to the change rooms everyone seemed to be in good spirits and celebrations were in full swing. music was pumping and you couldn't help but laugh at some of your friends and team mates dance moves which were more than questionable.

"having fun wally?" you grinned at the poor swiss woman who was desperately trying to count heads for how many people to include in a dinner booking at one of the teams favorite pubs later tonight, with very little success.

"lee and i will be there." you laughed at her pleading eyes, kissing her cheek and searching the room for the blonde in question. "hey have you seen leah?" you asked beth who finally sat down to take her boots off and stopped singing (yelling) for five seconds at vivs pleading.

"maybe that way somewhere." beth jerked her thumb over her shoulder toward the rest of the team as you rolled your eyes. "yeah thanks beffy." you chuckled, quickly changing out of your socks and boots, a twenty minute warning given for the bus leaving you scrambled toward the showers just beating stina into the last free one.

knowing there was a line of inpatient girls waiting their turn who were only growing rowdier now someone had popped a bottle of champagne, you were fast with your shower and the way you changed into clean dry clothes in record time.

you'd think with the way the team was carrying on you'd all won the conti cup again though amusing as the celebrations were a frown was very much present on your face seeing leah was still nowhere to be seen.

you tried calling her as you grabbed your bag and filed out of the change rooms but huffed as it rang out and went to voicemail. "she's probably driving, she drove herself and laura right?" alessia tried to reassure you as your eyes roamed the carpark, leahs car nowhere in sight at all.

"yeah maybe." you mumbled, following the taller girl up and into the bus, loading your bags and settling into your seat. "ah ah no anti social behaviour we're celebrating!" you groaned as beth snatched your headphones from your hands, hanging them around her neck with a wink as jen ruffled your hair and steph smiled apologetically.

much as you did worry about leah a half hour later you couldn't help but laugh and try not to let your overthinking consume your mind too much as karaoke was in full swing and you'd almost arrived back to colney.

"macca please, give our ears a break!" alessia groaned playfully beside you, her head falling to your shoulder as the two of you plugged your ears and the older girl scoffed, making a point to saunter over closer and yell mr brightside even louder, vic belting it out from the other end of the bus.

you continued to check your phone, having still tried to call around to leah and sending her a few messages all of which had gone unanswered. "hey, get out of your head." alessia tapped at your forehead sensing the worried nervous energy pouring out of you.

"why would she be mad at you? you didn't make that sign, you didn't interact with the fan who made it, you didn't encourage anything." the girl rubbed your back comfortingly as she drew you in for a hug and the bus parked up, everyone hurrying off and agreeing to meet for dinner at seven sharp.

"text me yeah?" alessia encouraged as you nodded and sent her a grateful smile before slipping into your car and flicking through your playlists, needing the right sort of music to try and pull yourself from your thoughts as you drove home.

a small sense of relief flooded through you seeing leahs car was indeed in the driveway once you arrived, meaning at least she was home. quickly parking and shutting off your engine you grabbed your bag from the back and headed toward the front door.

though before you could even get a hand on the door it swung open taking you off guard, though the state of your girlfriend caught you even more so by surprise. "why are you-" you started, your girlfriend dressed up in a beige two piece suit with her hair done and light makeup apparent on her features.

"we're going out." leah announced, ushering you inside and grabbing your bag for you. "for dinner with the girls? i didn't think we were meeting until seven and we were just going to the local." you wandered in with a confused frown as leah shook her head.

"no, just you and i. i already called lia and let her know!" your girlfriend answered the question before you could even ask it. "but-" you started cut off by a shake of the blondes head.

"no more questions. our reservations at five and i already laid out something for you to wear. go change please darling!" leahs hands landed on your shoulders, turning and gently pushing you toward your shared bedroom. "you're being very weird williamson." you stated glancing at her over your shoulder as she waved you off and started to unpack your bag for you.

~

"come on babe it's nearly five!" leah groaned, still refusing to answer any of your questions as you finished doing your hair, nodding happily with the final product and grabbing your bag.

"hey thats not the bag i chose or the shoes!" leah huffed with a frown at your changes. "as sweet as it is that you wanted to dress me love, i get final say." you smiled pecking her lips and silencing any further protests.

"isn't it nearly five?" you reminded as she attempted to argue again, the blonde nodding and taking your hand, locking up after you and hurrying to open your door as you slid inside. "such a gentlewoman." you teased, the defender grinning and stealing a kiss before shutting your door and rushing around to her own side.

"will you tell me where we're going now?" you asked as leah pulled out of the driveway with a shake of her head, nodding for you to select some music. "you're an incredibly frustrating individual sometimes i leah catherine." you sighed but grabbed her phone none the less since it connected first.

"you still love me but." leah smirked teasingly, eyes focused on the road as she tapped her fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music. "lee. why did you run off today?" you questioned after a comfortable silence had fallen between you, unable to ignore the topic any longer.

"i didn't, just had to drop laura home." leah shrugged it off as you gave up trying to work out where you were going as she turned the opposite way that you expected her to.

"right. only after we saw that silly sign you seemed-" you continuned softly, cut off as leah turned up the current song and started to loudly sing along, wordlessly sending the message she didn't want to answer.

dropping it for now not wanting to spoil the blondes seemingly improved mood before a meal together you sang along with her as she drove. "oh we've not been here before." you perked up as leah finally turned in and parked, not recognizing where you were.

"some of the girls recommended it awhile back, i think dean took steph here for their anniversary if my memory serves correct?" leah commented, parking up and clicking her tongue at you as you went to open your door.

"you really are something else." you smiled as she appeared in front of you swinging the door open. "i will open doors any day for you my pretty lady." leah bowed as you smacked her shoulder and the defender stood up straight with a grin, grabbing your hand and placing a gentle kiss to your interlocked fingers.

the two of you fell into step as another comfortable silence fell between you, the sun starting to set bathing you in a warm golden glow, the dark clouds from earlier today now long gone.

"williamson." leah spoke with a smile to the hostess at the front who nodded, grabbing two menus and leading the two of you through the resteraunt. "its beautiful in here lee." you squeezed your girlfriends hand with an awestruck smile at the interior.

floor to roof there were old stone pillars, painted to look washed out as plants hung from the tops and vines spiraled around them, gold edged finishing on the dark mid century wooden furniture.

"wait till you see outside." leah murmered, kissing your cheek with a smile as the two of you were lead outside, your eyes lighting up seeing a small fire pit. "here?" you asked as the waitress gestured for the two of you to take a seat, the semi circle bench with an in built table a little sunk into the ground creating a cosy but private atmosphere.

there was a live band playing on a small stage and the soft chatter from your fellow diners just added to the cosy atmosphere as you thanked the hostess and sat down, leah making sure you were comfortable before taking a seat herself.

"like it?" leah raised an eyebrow but curiously and a little nervously, the two of you were creatures of habit and seldom tried new places, rather preferring the guaranteed satisfaction of what you knew wouldn't disappoint you.

"it's perfect leah. but why?" you laughed quietly, leaning in to kiss her properly and pulling away, neither of you overly large fans of pda given your shared 'famous' status and the risk of prying eyes or phone cameras.

"do i now need a reason to take my beautiful wonderful gorgeous girlfriend out for a nice meal?" leah smiled charmingly, resting her chin on her hand. "mm no but its much less suspicious when you do have one." you retorted, knocking your knee against hers as someone arrived to take your order.

not even having glanced at the menu yet you both smiled apologetically and ordered drinks, busying yourselves deciding what to eat and ordering food once your drinks arrived.

"so this lovely spontaneous meal would have nothing to do with that sign today then would it love?" you asked with a quirk of your eyebrow, sipping on your drink as leah rolled her eyes.

"no it would not!" "you do realise i've known you for years now williamson and you are a terrible liar."

"alright maybe the sign had me a little tiny teeny weeny bit jealous. but mostly i realised we'd not had a proper date night in far too long!" she grinned at the last part of her answer, hoping you'd skip over the first bit.

"jealous i might marry a wee stranger with a sign were we? thats a bit rom com cliche for me my love." you chuckled as your girlfriend playfully smacked your leg and finished her drink, setting the empty glass down as within seconds it was whisked away by someone.

"dunno i bet if i turned up outside your window with a big speaker and confessed my undying love for you you'd be swooning quite hard darling." leah smiled, eyes ablaze with nothing but sheer adoration for you.

"that would have certainly been much more romantic." you teased, leahs cheeks flushing pink at the memory. "stop! i was young and nervous and....sweaty." the defender cringed, having practically cornered you in the showers sweating bullets with nerves and practically yelling at you to go on a date with her.

"now babe how did it go again?" you pondered as leah groaned and hid her face in her hands. "go on a date with me tomorrow!" you mocked her accent and hummed. "no that wasn't it." you stroked your chin thoughtfully as your girlfriend groaned louder and smacked your knee, hiding her face in her hands.

"date tomorrow me please really like you!" you again mocked her accent and nervous stutter with a wolfish grin as the blonde was saved any further embarrassment as your food arrived.

the two of you grew up together on the football pitch in your teen years, both growing quite close through the arsenal academy leah made her senior team debut just a season before you and you couldn't be prouder.

though the distance between you now as you stayed training with the b team meant she realised she wanted to be more than friends and harboured quite unfriendly feelings.

feelings she made the mistake of confessing to her new teammates who'd at first teased her relentlessly and then came the ongoing pushing to tell you how she felt.

leah finally cracked once you signed your own contract and were finally training by her side again, the teasing growing worse for a very clearly flustered leah, a side you weren't used to having known her to be occasionally over confident.

you'd chalked it down to nerves for the talks of her impending senior national team call up, everyone else chalked it up to her being disgustingly head over heels for you and surprisingly too scared to let you know.

this meant six agonisingly slow months passed where leah continued to be given shit for the pining looks sent your way when you weren't looking, until one day something snapped and she decided no more would she hide the truth away.

it may have coincidentally also been the day she heard rumours of you allegedly being dragged along speed dating later that night with some of the other older girls 'for a laugh'.

so swallowing every single doubt which screamed at her this was a terrible idea leah had tried time and time again that day to speak with you, but something or someone seemed to pop up and get in the way every time.

which had been what lead to the abrupt and incredibly awkward shower room incident, though really as much as leah was horrifically mortified you'd found it endearingly cute.

given you still teased her for it this day and the two of you had been dating for years and years now as leah got older the regret of how she'd gone about asking you out had begun to melt away.

"ready to go baby girl?" leah asked as your plates were cleared, the two of you practically now sitting on top of one another as you relished in the welcome warmth both from the fire pit and one anothers bodies.

"did you want one more drink?" you turned your head to question, quite comfortable in your current position. "nah, one of us has to be sober enough to drive home." leah teased, ducking her head to press her lips to yours, pulling away far sooner than you'd have liked as she squeezed your hips indicating you stand up.

making your way hand in hand through the restaurant, now both well fed and a tiny bit tipsy in your case you both cared less about the displays of affection, having been papped together many times over the years anyway but just never directly addressing anything.

thanking the hostess leah was quick to grab the door for you, your cheeks flushing bright red as she lightly patted your bum as she walked out after you, causing you to shoot her a playful glare over your shoulder.

the blonde was even quicker to pull off her suit jacket, draping it over your bare shoulders and silencing your protests that now she would be cold with several kisses, mumbling about how she was warming herself up with them causing you to laugh against her lips.

many sweet kisses and cheesy compliments exchanged during the walk back to the car you shrugged off leahs arm and darted to her door, pulling it open for her for once as she raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"must be the jacket." you teased as she rolled her eyes but slid into the car, making a point to lean over the console to push open your own door for you anyway.

finally pulling into your driveway with a firm look from your girlfriend you waited patiently for her to make her own way to your door, gasping in mock surprise as she pulled it open and once again bowed.

"sap!" you teased shoving her as you grabbed her hand and stood, leah closing the door and locking her car up after you. "okay before we go inside." your girlfriend started halting you in your tracks by the front door, causing a suspicious frown to grow on your face.

"i need you to trust me please." the taller girl took your hands in hers with a gentle squeeze as you slowly nodded. "i do."

"okay good. now please put this on then, no questions." leah reached into the pocket of her trousers and pulled out a blindfold as you raised an eyebrow but begrudgingly did as she asked, flinching as her hands fell to your shoulders once you'd heard her unlock the front door.

"i got you." she chuckled, pressing a kiss to your shoulder and carefully guiding you inside, murmering when steps were coming or there was obstacles.

you heard the back door sliding open and felt your girlfriend carefully help you down the back steps as she asked you kick off your shoes and your feet sunk into the soft grass of the backyard.

eventually you felt yourself step onto something rougher causing your eyebrows to furrow curiously as leahs hands fell from your body and you heard some shuffling around but you knew there wasn't a point to you asking anything as she would just not answer.

"okay, you can take it off now love."

it took a few moments for your eyes to adjust once you'd pulled off the cloth blindfold but once they did your hand flew to your mouth and your body locked up, your reaction clearly amusing the blonde knelt down in front of you.

the roughness beneath you was a large aztec blanket, with two beanbags and cushions scattered all around as lanterns and fairy lights hung from the trees and on each corner of the blanket around you illuminating your backyard in a soft golden glow.

"leah..." you trailed off, shaking your head unable to find words as she sent you a soft smile and held up her hand to silence you.

"now you know why i was so pissed off with that stupid bloody sign today. i've had this planned out for weeks and of course the day i choose to do it, which i promise was long pre planned, some other randoms got a sign asking for your hand and making me look like some jealous numpty whose concocted a last minute proposal just to spite some teenage fangirl!" leah scoffed with a shake of her head making you let out a half laugh half sob as her features softened.

"you're such an idiot." you managed to get out making her grin and shuffle forward a little, reaching into her other trouser pocket as your heart rate accelerated even faster if that was humanely possible.

"jesus christ." you exhaled shakily as she pulled out a small velvet box and popped it open, the ring inside glinting back at you. "not my name love but i'll take it." leah grinned boyishly as you again let out a laugh, hand still covering your mouth in shock.

"my beautiful girl. i've loved you for as long as i've known you and though it took me a little bit to realise i think i might've been in love with you that entire time too." leah started as your knees felt like buckling.

"you are the most warm, caring, kind, attentive, empathetic, passionate and selfless person i've ever had the utter pleasure of having in my life let alone the absolute honor of calling my partner in life. you've always been the one whose better with words between us but i'm going to do my very best to remember all of-" as excitement shot through your body you couldn't help but interrupt.

"yes!" you cried out suddenly, taking leah off guard as she faltered mid speech and your face blushed bright red. "yes?" leah asked wide eyed as you nodded furiously. "yes, yes, yes, a million times yes." you laughed as another sob wracked your body.

the blonde was up and on her feet within seconds and hoisting you off the ground, spinning you around as tears of joy spilt over from her own eyes and you wasted no time smashing your lips to hers.

"i had a whole lovely long heartfelt speech planned out about how much i love and adore you dickhead. i've proposed to laura, lia and beth about three thousand times now for practice!" leah laughed against your lips as she carefully settled you back down on your feet and pressed her forehead to yours.

"save it for your vows?" you smiled guiltily, biting down on your bottom lip as leah let out a pelt of laughter, letting go of you to wipe away her tears before very gently wiping away your own with the pad of her thumb, tugging you into yet another kiss.

"wait! at least let me-" she pulled away and dropped down onto one knee again, carefully pulling out the ring and placing the box down by her side.

"may i please be your wife?" leah asked, eyes once more welling up with tears as you nodded and she grabbed your hand, sliding the ring onto your finger as you pulled her up to her feet.

"you know i also had this to get to, you really are so inpatient!" leah threw her head back with a laugh, stepping back and lifting one of the beanbags pulling out a bundle of red.

as she dropped it open you let out a laugh of your own, seeing it was an arsenal jersey with williamson on the back but with your own number, clearly an indicator of the future to come.

"mm mrs williamson has such a perfect ring to it my girl, i can't wait to be your wife." "i love you so so very much, fiance." "i bet that girl is gonna feel proper stupid now." "leah!" "what? she beat me to the punch but i got the final knockout." "you're forever and always the winner in my eyes baby."

[shotoh]

— in which they slowly find themselves enamored by the natural charms of their interviewer

feat. itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, itoshi sae

cw + tw. nothing much just fluff, fem!reader, interviewer/reporter!reader, aged-up!characters, characters are professional athletes and continue playing in their teams from the neo egoist league (except sae)

notes. first time posting blue lock so apologies if anyone’s ooc, either way i might make a follow-up of this (that might be more uh ya know) and/or add characters

ITOSHI RIN

the sound that follows the harsh slam of his locker is a frustrating sigh that has been simmering in rin’s chest since the end of today’s match. the match in which he had lost—and at the hands of isagi’s team which makes the defeat all the more bitter and disgusting on his tongue. it didn’t help that during the game, he was butting heads with his supposed teammate, shidou. once the coach had decided to sub the eccentric player in, their styles began mixing like oil and water. as a result, their win was swooped up from under them.

pxg has been called to host a post-sport interview to review the match with reporters, but rin couldn’t care less to participate. instead, he’s the very last person to leave the locker rooms. his duffle bag is slung over his shoulder, steps ambling down the hallway.

whether he wins or loses, rin never bothers to attend these post-game interviews. he doesn’t need to sit there and have brash reporters shoot the same questions at him, expecting him to “thank his coach and teammates,” “praise his opponents for a great game today,” and say he’ll “continue to work hard to win next time.” gross. he’d rather be caught dead than have any of those words leave his mouth.

as rin navigates through the hallways of the stadium, he’s hoping to be done with the day and think over the turn of events on his own. but when he rounds the corner, he crosses eyes with someone so obviously lost in the facility—a mistake which punishes him as you immediately approach him with doe, bewildered eyes.

“sorry, i don’t mean to bother you, but i was wondering where the conference for pxg was being held,” you ask. a pad of notes are cradled in your arms, pen clipped to the breast pocket of your blazer. it’s clear you’re another reporter.

before he can point you in the right direction to get you out of his hair, you squint. you’re taking a long, hard look at him until your face suddenly glows. “wait, you’re itoshi rin, the striker for pxg!” you practically blurt. with the volume of your voice, rin’s instincts take hold, and he’s pulling you away from the open space of the hallway.

“quiet. you want everyone to hear?” rin chastises.

“whoops. i got a little excited! i-i’ve been wanting to interview pxg’s top player and well…” you could say the opportunity presented itself, but rin makes it clear he’s not interested.

“if you’re here just to hear me mope over my loss, then go home,” the striker affirms to what he thinks will be the last of this exchange until you tug on the sleeve of his jersey before he starts walking away. turning his head back to glance at you, his brow quirks.

“no, of course not! i thought it was incredible how you were able to keep control of the ball from your opponents and even score the first two points of the game all by yourself!” you exclaim, face lifting as it’s teeming with admiration. surprisingly, he can’t help but be a bit amused by the determined expression etched over the perplexed look that was originally on your features.

you swipe your pen hanging off your pocket, prompting it open with a click of your thumb. “and i’m sure a lot of your fans would love to hear from you!”

the athlete cocks his head. “you’re acting like a fan yourself, miss reporter.”

you blink in surprise. the enthusiasm in your words tones down, but you fail to mask it completely. “what? no, i’m just here to get the exclusive on the best athletes of our country!” if your plan is to butter him up to get a word out of him, it may almost work. you send him another fawning look as if to say “can you blame me though?” and that stirs a low chuckle from his throat.

his face lowers until it’s slightly more leveled with your own, and from this angle, you’re amazed to find you can distinguish every distinct eyelash on his pretty face. and you’re even more enamored by the intense color of his teal eyes. at the proximity, however, your face bathes in the heat of the blood rushing to your cheeks. thankfully, the striker breaks eye contact in favor of taking the notepad from your arms, along with your pen which he uses to scribble something down.

“tell you what,” he says as he continues writing, “come to the next pxg match and i’ll give you an exclusive interview, right after i score at least four goals and decimate the other team.”

his declaration leaves you in awe, and your fascination persists when he hands your pen and pad back for you to see a ten digit number, followed by call my manager written next to it.

NAGI SEISHIRO

back when he was in school, nagi was never great at first impressions. and apparently that’s still the case even later on in his career as a professional striker.

he doesn’t even notice you enter the room as he’s preoccupied with tapping the controls for the first person shooter on his phone. as such, he’s woefully unprepared to hear the reluctant, but soft voice that vies for his attention.

“um, excuse me. if you don’t mind, i’d like to get started with the interview.”

taking a slow glimpse above his screen, he sees the refreshing sight of you—his interviewer—sitting across from him in your neat attire and a clipboard on your lap. surprised by the modest smile that greets him, he automatically straightens up and casts his phone to the side.

it’s a big contrast to what he was expecting. usually, scruffy men who claim they’re adept and knowledgeable in the sport would be shoving their mics in his face. when in reality those people are just washed up high school coaches or analysts who act all high and mighty by asking a bunch of nonsense questions. saying this and that about how they would have done it differently had they been in the game instead of him. regardless, they’re such a pain and nagi would rather be napping in his cloud mattress than go through another talk session with those wannabes. however, his encounter with you just might break this boring streak.

he rubs the back of his head sheepishly, playing off the crass first impression. “right. start whenever you want.”

once he gives you the go ahead, you flip through a few pages to your questions.

as time goes on, the sentiment nagi initially held about how the interview might have been a pain and a waste of his time in his already packed schedule begins to sway. throughout the inquiries, he finds himself fixated on you. like the flattering nude color touched up on your plush lips. or how you have a habit of playing with strands of your hair when contemplating on what question to ask next. or the cute laugh you let out that was pleasant to his ears when he gave a much more aloof answer than you were expecting.

well, he can’t change the fact that he doesn’t need to think much when it comes to football. that’s just how naturally talented he is—the sport is second nature to him. honestly, he’s a bit bummed out that he can’t give a competent interviewer like you better responses.

what catches the snowy haired striker slightly off-guard is your next topic of questions about his e-sport endorsements. he wasn’t expecting you to delve into his hobbies. most interviews always glossed over that area in favor of asking something along the lines of “what was going through your head when you made that winning goal,” to which he could only say he was too caught up in the moment to really convey the feelings into words.

but with this opportunity, nagi goes on a mild tangent about the new first person shooter he’s been playing. even if his tone sounds indifferent on the surface, you don’t miss the hidden enthusiasm under the brighter twinkle of his eyes. you giggle which makes nagi pause.

“did i say something weird?” he asks back. you swear you detect a tonal whine in his voice, another endearing trait you didn’t know a 190 cm striker could possess.

“no.. just find it cute how much you can talk about your favorite games like that.”

nagi can’t tell whether the grin on your pretty lips is there to tease him or that you find his boyish charms endearing. either way, his cheeks puff and that only serves to make him more adorable in your eyes.

“well don’t let me stop you! i’d like to hear more about what things interest you other than soccer.” the look on your face fascinates him. you��re not even looking at your clipboard anymore, but right at him. it’s the tell-tale sign of someone who genuinely wants to know him not as the star player of manshine city, but just as regular nagi seishiro. he’s not used to that sort of treatment and as a result, he can’t meet your eyes, not realizing he flushes a lovely shade of pink that reaches the tips of his ears.

nagi pouts, glancing down at his phone that’s been laying near his thigh, untouched for a record of what must be ages, but that honestly doesn’t feel long enough to him. “no fair… you’re just teasing me…” he murmurs, but his fingers are already itching to ask his manager if he can extend the interview to spend more time with you.

ITOSHI SAE

the first opportunity you get to interview the itoshi sae is unconventional, to say the least.

“excuse me! please let me through–!”

“miss, you can’t be here– hey!”

the setting is chaotic, to the point where sae can make out the commotion in the background as he’s walking toward his rest area with his manager and bodyguard following beside him. when he glimpses at what all the fuss is about, he witnesses security personnel wrangle with a stray reporter.

spotting the reddish haired athlete, you find an opportunity to call out to him. “itoshi sae, please, may i have a word with you?”

to your dismay, security persistently blocks your view of the midfielder. despite being obstructed by a pair of burly men almost twice your size, you give them more of a struggle as you thrash around, even reprimanding them to “keep their hands to themselves if they know what’s good for them.” sae can’t help but be amused. a part of him finds your efforts admirable—watching you scrunch up your uniform and crease your notes at just a chance to speak with him.

“mister itoshi is far too busy to entertain any more of you today. please make your way to the exit–”

“it’s fine,” sae interjects to everyone’s surprise—mostly to the utter astonishment of you and his manager. the latter’s eyes widen scrupulously before he cups his hand next to the pro athlete’s ear.

“sir, i believe we’ll be running late to your next scheduled event if you decide to do a last minute interview,” the manager warns warily. “besides, haven’t you talked to enough of the media today? i mean look at her, she doesn’t even seem worth your time–”

“push everything back thirty minutes if you have to.”

his manager gawks. “but..?!”

one side-eye of sae’s piercing ocean eyes is enough for the man to retract his statement and mumble his apologies. that said and done, the security guards withdraw to let you through. you’re astonished by how much the situation can flip with the cooperation of a renown professional.

sae’s staff lead you into his spacious break room, preparing a set of chairs and leaving glasses of water on the coffee table before you start. having already taken his seat, he watches you run your hands through the wrinkled material of your blouse and pencil skirt. after finally fixing your stray hairs in place, you sit in front of him in all your pristine as if the whole conflict from earlier never happened. he wants to give you another point for professionalism.

“once again, thank you so much for granting me the opportunity to speak to you today,” you beam, mocking his manager hovering in the background with your unbeknownst-to-sae sly little smile.

sae grins, charmed. you arrange your notes one last time before moving onto your questions.

during the interview, sae comes to know your professionalism isn’t merely for show. you’ve done your research, analyzed his plays—his techniques, and as a result, ask him the most intriguing inquiries he’s sure no reporters asked him before. and he’s had his fair share of interviews throughout his developing career as a child prodigy. it’s evident you weren’t planning to waste his time and he’s appreciative of that fact.

there’s also an air of zeal you possess that allures him. he can’t exactly pinpoint what it is. your ingenuity? your liveliness? either way, he can’t imagine this to be his last interaction with you, and he makes sure that won’t be the case.

at just a simple snap of his finger, his manager is at his side. you have to hold in a snicker at how the man scurries over to the midfielder like a dog.

the two exchange a few words you don’t catch, only deciphering the dumbfounded look on the manager’s face which clashes with the stoic expression on sae’s. whatever the conversation was about, the former knows it’s a losing battle. at his loss, he pulls out a lanyard from the compartment attached to his clipboard. he gives it to sae, who takes it and leans across the space between you two to place it in your awaiting hands, as if you already knew from the manager’s defeated mannerisms that it was meant to be yours.

“this is..?” you begin inquiring as you eye the card on the lanyard methodically.

sae beats you to your discovery of that answer. “an exclusive press pass, which you can use to reach out to me again following any matches i’ve played in.”

mouth hanging open, you switch back and forth between the pass and sae’s marine eyes which don’t hold a shred of doubt.

he puts it simply.

“i’d like to continue this interview with you again.”

copyright 2023 shotoh, all rights reserved. i do not allow my creations to be published or translated anywhere else so please do not repost this or share my content on tiktok.

[norrizzandpia]

I JUST READ You Were Never What I Wanted AND NOW I DONT KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH MY LIFE

IT WAS SO GOOD

IM SO EXCITED FOR THE NEXT PART (if u decide to post it)

YOURE WRITING IS AMAZING <333

Yall ask and yall shall receive! Part 1 link if you need it <3

But I Need You Now (You Were Never What I Wanted, Part 2) (LN4)

Summary: In the aftermath of Lando and Y/n, Lando makes it his personal mission to show Y/n that it wasn’t fake. Their PR stunt might’ve started out as a lie, but it was love for him and he knows it was for her too.

Warnings: language, angsty, FLUFF AT THE END BITCHES AS AN APOLOGY FOR THE HELL I PUT YOU THROUGH WITH THESE TWO-PARTERS, sexual conversations

Note: see what I did with the title… 😏 You were never what I wanted, but I need you now 🤭 also i made this less angsty as an apology again 👹

Y/n goes home for a few days.

The news spreads throughout the paddock like a virus, being whispered in every person’s ear. When it gets back to Lando, he stands in the midst of the chaos in McLaren’s garage.

Jon leaves his hand on Lando’s shoulder in a comforting manner, knowing something happened between them, but not knowing the specific details.

“She left?” He says lowly, voice wavering as he tries to gain control of it.

Jon nods, “I’m afraid so.”

“What about the race?” He asks, hands clenching at his sides.

“She’s having the reserve driver take her place. You know that.” Jon gives him a confused look.

Lando shakes his head, “No, I get that, but how could she just give up on it?”

Jon sighs and Lando can tell his trainer doesn’t want to tell him the next bit of information. He does anyway, “I heard she was pretty distraught after that gala a week ago. Apparently, she was sobbing and the valet had to help her call a cab. She was a mess, I gather, no one knows why.”

I do, he thinks. I know why, Lando thinks.

Lando abandons the conversation, not wanting to hear anymore about the girl he loves.

She plagues his dreams, his nightmares, his delusions, his thoughts, he doesn’t need her to infiltrate his life anymore.

🏎️

“What’s the problem?” He asks an hour later when Jon treats him like he’s about to have a mental breakdown at any moment.

His trainer eyes him suspiciously, gently, “Nothing,”

Lando groans, arms flying out beside him before smacking down back at his sides, “Jon, cut the bullshit. You’ve been treating me like I’m a fucking baby all day. Why?”

Jon sighs, turning to look at him before grabbing his arm and pulling them out of the garage. Jon forces them into a random hallway always away from the commotion and publicity, looking at Lando softly, “What happened between you and Y/n?”

Suddenly, Lando’s defensive. The mention of her name makes his skin crawl and his heart clench, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You two were dating.”

Lando rolls his eyes, “We were not dating. We were a PR stunt. You know that, Jon.”

Jon stares him down, “You two were dating.”

The meaning of his words hits Lando, what Jon truly is trying to address. He’s drowning in the mistakes of his own actions and the love he developed for her, no way to explain his way out of the situation with Jon looking at him knowingly.

He folds his arms over his chest, “Maybe in the end.”

Jon’s face scrunches up in confusion, “In the end? Of course, you were. Did you sleep together?”

“Fuck, no!” Lando yelps, astonishment at Jon’s bluntness, a trait the man has never had when it came to his romantic relationships.

Jon shakes his head, confusion deepening, “Then how the fuck did you two end up where you are? How did you end up in this mess? Which you still have not told me about.”

He sighs, head falling to stare at his shoes, “I fell in love with her. She fell in love with me. Well, at least I think.”

Jon, the man so incredibly lost, looks blankly at Lando, “You fell in love. With Y/n. Y/l/n. The woman you used to absolutely detest. The woman who used to hate your guts. You two fell in love with each other?”

Lando nods, “I know how it sounds, but it happened.”

Jon’s head tilts to the side, “Okay, and what happened the night of the gala?”

Jon sees the shift of Lando’s demeanor, his entire body running cold with images of her walking out on him. The boy’s body running cold, he tries to get through the night that ruined it all, “Everything was fine in the beginning. We were just talking to a bunch of donors. You know, we got so many that night. Anyways, we were at the bar and being stupid as always, getting drunk, when Lu showed up.”

“Lu as is your ex?” Jon clarifies.

Lando nods, “Yeah, so she came up to us and we just got to talking. She mentioned the fact that we still talk.”

Jon’s mouth falls open, “You and Lu still talk?!”

“Not anymore, not after the gala. She basically cut off contact with me because she ‘hated the way it made her feel when she saw the look on Y/n’s face’. But, at that time, we had been. I should’ve told Y/n when we started getting serious, but I didn’t and that came back to bite me in the ass because she was so betrayed, Jon.”

“So, she walked out of the gala because she was angry about you and Lu?”

“Yeah, she basically told me I didn’t care about her in the way she thought I had, which wasn’t true. I told her I loved her and then shit just went completely downhill after that.”

Jon’s hand squeezes Lando’s arm, “You told her you loved her?”

There’s a flash of sadness in Lando’s eyes and Jon knows it’s because of the painful rejection. He’s learning that Y/n might’ve started out as one of the people Lando cared about the least, but she had quickly become the center of his entire world.

“Of course, I did. But, she didn’t believe me. I don’t blame her too! The start of our relationship was built specifically on hatred. We never wanted anything to do with each other and then, all of a sudden, we were kissing and it was feeling like something more.”

A silence passes before Lando whispers, “Sometimes I wish I never would’ve met her.”

Jon chuckles, “You’ve said that before.”

Lando scoffs, “Yeah, but that was because I hated her. This is because I can’t deal with the fact that she left me.”

“Have you tried to talk to her?” Jon inquires, eyes roaming Lando’s face in search of an answer.

“No,” Lando responds, grief and remorse soaking his tone.

“Well, maybe that’s where you need to start.” Jon smiles.

“In order to do what?” Lando’s lost on the insinuation.

“In order to get her back.”

It’s heartbreaking the way Lando stares up at Jon as if he’d just single-handedly restored all senses of hope and happiness into his body, “You think I can do that?”

“I think that you and her loved each other too much to let it go to waste this way.”

Maybe you’re right, he thinks. Maybe I need to find out for myself, he thinks.

—

Y/n, the girl he hated so much for the love she made him feel, was locked up in her room of her childhood home, information Lando gained from her mother who he had called quietly. It was the first time they had spoken, but it wasn’t the first time she had heard of him. Her daughter had shown up in the middle of the night, sobbing to her over a boy and berating herself for allowing a man to hurt her in the way he had.

However, with the undying kindness Y/n shared, she had patiently heard Lando out as he explained to her the feelings he harbored for her daughter. Strong words of love had persuaded her into giving Lando their address and giving him permission to come. After all, she saw the way her daughter’s Lock Screen lit up with a loving picture of them every time Y/n got a notification. She clocked the picture as the room where Y/n had been hospitalized after her crash, Lando laying on the bed beside her with his arm wrapped safely around her shoulders, a kiss to her cheek as she smiled at the camera.

Bags packed and in hand, Lando stands in front of her house, hood pulled over his head with sunglasses shoved over his eyes. He takes two steps at a time, bypassing multiple steps in the process as he reaches the front door in no time.

Knocking on the wood, Lando waits patiently before the lock is turning and her mother is appearing before him. Dressed in jeans and a sweater, she smiles softly at him, a smile resembling the one Y/n had adorned him with before he made her feel less than the most important person in his life.

“Hi, Ms. Y/l/n. Thank you for this.” He says quietly, not wanting Y/n to hear him and get scared.

She nods at him, opening the door and letting him step in, “As much as you hurt my daughter, I think this space is effecting her worse.”

He lingers in the doorway, nerves getting to him as he stares at the steps in front of him, steps he assumes would lead him to her.

Her mother notices his eyes, “She’s up there if you want to go.”

He takes a step toward them, but takes on back and looks at her with tension in his face, “Do you think she’ll want to see me?”

Her mother’s head moves side to side, “I think, at first, she’ll be mad, but she’ll warm up. I know she still loves you, that’s still there.”

He nods, “What should I say?”

His words relay quietly and her mother lays a hesitant hand on his arm, “Why are you here? Why are you fighting for her?”

His answer comes easily, “Because I love her. Because, after years of hating each other, I realize that I never truly, fully hated her. I hated that she was better than me and the fact that she was winning races more than I was, but I never hated her. I never gave her a chance to show me who she was and it took someone forcing us to be together for me to see how amazing she is. I’m remorseful for that, of course, but I’m happy it happened. If it hadn’t, I wouldn’t have realized the happiness that was standing in front of me all along.”

Her mother smiles brightly at him, “Tell her that.”

🏎️

The door creaks as Lando pushes it open, head poking in to see her laying with her back to him.

“Mom, can I just have some time alone right now?” Her broken voice whispers, curling further into herself as Lando steps in and closes the door.

He doesn’t say anything, opting to walk over to her bed and sit down. The mattress is larger, putting space between them so he’s not touching her.

“I can hear you breathing. Please leave.” She says again, this time pleading desperately.

Lando exhales before lifting his hand and laying it on her hip, his thumb rubbing soft circles lovingly. He feels her body tense, her head looking down to inspect the fingers wrapped around her skin.

She pulls away quickly, sitting up and whipping her head around to meet his eyes.

“What the fuck are you doing here?! You should be at the race!” She yells at him, shifting farther away from him.

He hates how tired she looks, how puffy her eye bags are from a mixture of exhaustion and tears. His body turns to completely face hers, his leg being pulled onto the bed, “Your mom gave me the address and I got the reserve driver to cover for me.”

Y/n scoffs, “Okay, why would my mother do that?”

“Because she knows I love you.”

Y/n’s eyes glaze over, iciness translating in her every move, “How would she know that?”

“I called her.” He states simply, watching her eyebrows stitch together.

Her head tilts, “How did you get her number?”

“From Nick.”

Y/n body rears back, “My trainer?! You coerced my trainer into giving you my mother’s phone number?! Are you fucking crazy?!”

“For you, yes.” He smiles softly. His comment earns an eye roll.

“Y/n, just listen to me.” He begins, but Y/n raises her hands in objection.

“No, Lando. Leave me alone. I appreciate the effort, but leave.” Her hands push his arms, doing nothing to move him.

He gently takes her hands in his and shifts closer to her, “No. I’m not leaving until you hear what I have to say.”

Knowing how stubborn he is, Y/n sits back and gestures for him to continue.

“When I first met you, I hated the success you had.” He starts.

Y/n laughs, “What a great start!”

“Let me finish.” He states, “I hated the success you had and I was dumb enough, young enough to think that meant I hated you too. So, I spent years resenting everything that had to do with you. I never gave myself one moment to reflect on the reasoning for my dislike of you. If I had, we wouldn’t be here right now. Part of me hates that, hates that I spent so much time treating you in a way you never deserved, but another part of me, the part that has fallen so hard for you, is happy it didn’t. If I had realized that I was just jealous of the race wins you were claiming, I would’ve been cordial with you, never getting close enough to get to know who you are out of the envy I held against you. If it had gone down that way, I would’ve never gotten to meet you. And I mean the person you really are, underneath all the PR trained, guarded skin. I would’ve never fallen in love with you, never experienced you and the happiness you have provided me with. It took us so long to get here, through hurtful insults and screaming matches, I can’t let you slip through my fingers, your love with it, because of my stupid mistakes. I won’t let that happen.”

Y/n stays quiet after he completes his last sentence, staring at him as she decides what she wants to do next.

Softly, she says, “Why didn’t you tell me about Lu?”

He sighs disappointedly, “I don’t know. Truthfully, I didn’t think it meant that much. In my head, I didn’t love her. I was just ending a relationship on good terms. I didn’t think far enough to get to you. I’m sorry for that. If I could go back and sit you down, explain to you what Lu and I were doing, the fact that it meant nothing compared to what I feel towards you, I would. You deserve that conversation. I don’t know if that means anything to you, but I hope it does. She was never going to mean the same thing to me as she had before after I first kissed you. Truthfully, she never did mean the same thing to me as you do. I’ve never felt this way for anyone before.”

Y/n nods slowly, gathering her thoughts, “When did you start loving me? When did it stop being hate? Because that night at the gala, at the end of our conversation, you hated me again.”

Lando shakes his head, “First of all, I didn’t hate you that night. I was just hurt and it translated to something ugly, which I can’t apologize enough for. Second of all, I don’t know when I genuinely started loving you, but I know I realized it when you crashed. When I was running throughout the paddock, I could not get away from the heavy pit in my stomach that only pointed toward one thing, I knew that. I tried to push it away, tried to forget about it, but when I saw you laying there, bandaged and alive, it just hit me. I loved that you were still there, I loved the relief that spread through me, I loved the happiness I felt when I saw you breathing, and, then, I just loved you. It built exactly like that. I was just listing the things, in my head, I adored about the moment in order to get away from the severity of it, and then it was just you. You, you, you, you.”

Y/n’s small smile graces his eyes and he moves closer to her, sitting with his legs folded on the bed and his hands over her thighs. The two of them breathe each other in before Y/n is shuffling closer to him. His arms immediately move from her legs to snake around her torso, folding open his legs and pulling her into him. She lays her shoulder against his chest, her head falling to the side to nuzzle in his neck as her legs spread in front of her, lying over his thigh. She plays with the hem of his hoodie as he kisses her temple, laying his head on top of hers.

“You know, I love you too.” She says into his neck. A warmth spreads through Lando, happiness buzzing all the way down to his toes at her confession.

It’s all he’s ever wanted to hear, “I had an inkling.”

She lightly smacks his stomach, giggling, “Don’t be a smart ass.”

Just as he’s about to rebuttal, his phone begins vibrating harshly in his back pocket. His arm reaches around to pull it out, Jon’s face illuminating the screen.

Y/n laughs, “Can I answer it?”

The idea makes him shine with pride, knowing Jon will be proud to hear Lando’s gotten his girl back. So, he plops the phone in her lap with a smile.

Clicking the green button, Y/n puts it on speaker.

“Lando? Did you get there okay? Have you spoken to her yet?” Jon’s rushed voice says quickly.

Y/n gives Lando a playful look before answering, “He got here okay.”

There’s a silence before Jon is cackling, “AHA! IS HE THERE?! LANDO, I TOLD YOU!”

The couple laughs at his antics, Lando moving closer to the speaker to say, “I’m here and I’m starting to think I should listen to you more.”

There’s shuffling on the other end of the phone before they hear Jon screaming to, what they assume is, the entire McLaren garage, “LANDO AND Y/N, GUYS!”

Again, silence, murmuring even, before the entire room erupts in cheers. Lando can hear it’s just his crew, the group of men knowing how much it stressed Lando out to have her mad at him, the reason she was, they didn’t know.

Y/n and Lando break into tears over their laughter at the men on the other end of the phone. It’s therapeutic to see her laughing in his arms again, a sight Lando didn’t think he would see again.

She’s leaning into him as the men continue to cheer, holding him as her body racks with laughter and all he can do is hold her closer, tighter.

He holds her like she’ll leave him again if he lets go, a thought he knows is so preposterous. Because she’s got her eyes closed, blissed out in his presence and he can see the lines of tension wither away.

She’s safe with him, she shows that through the way she hugs him and softly kisses the side of his neck when he ends the call.

When the noise stops and quietness envelopes them, the couple is left with just each other. He lays them down, her body relaxing into him as she murmurs how much sleep she’s lost over their dispute.

He whispers back, “Go to sleep, then, love. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He watches her eyes flutter close, her head falling further into the crook of his neck when she crosses the line between consciousness and unconsciousness.

Lando’s not tired, however, only laying down with her because he’s not ready to let her go yet. His eyes wander around her childhood room, pictures of a toddler Y/n winning karting races and different championships. Her toothy grin is a charming sight, a look she hasn’t lost in the years of her growth since then.

After inspecting and finding nothing, but more things to love about her, Lando’s eyes avert back to her sleeping form. He brushes the hair out of her face lightly, pressing a kiss to her forehead before whispering against it, “At first, you weren’t what I wanted, but I absolutely need you now.”

Tags (i forgot to put these lol): @toasttt11 @megumilovesme @the-untamed-soul @evieepepi08 @igotnorrrizz @im-an-overthinker @cxrlha @ssrcsm @landoslover @minkyungseokie @luvrrish @louvpdf @weasleyreidstyles @ushygushybaby @theycallmeahugger @sainzluvrr @itsjustaninchident @gavisuntiedboot @gracielukey @formula1mount @cjjydes282clo @ssararuffoni @aexitizen

[flowerrose14]

.

[lecsainz]

HOME SWEET HOME

pairings: charles leclerc x girlfriend!reader

summary: you're charles' girl, and he catches you groovin' solo in the crib you both share.

authors note: It was in my drafts for ages, so I thought, why not post it?

✩. . . masterlist !

Y/N was having a blast in the living room of Charle’s house, dancing and singing along to Taylor Swift's latest hit.

She was so caught up in the moment that she didn't even hear Charles come in. He had just arrived home after a weekend of racing, still on a phone call that he was intermittently ending and leaning against the wall to observe his girlfriend.

He leaned against the wall, watching Y/N dance and sing at the top of her lungs. She was wearing nothing but one of his shirts and her panties, and Charles couldn't help but smile at how cute and silly she looked.

"Bonsoir, mon amour,*" he said in a teasing tone, using one of his favorite terms of endearment. "What's with all the noise?"

* Good evening, my love

Y/N immediately stopped dancing and turned bright red. "Oh my god, Charles!" she exclaimed, covering herself with a pillow. "I didn't know you were home."

Charles chuckled and walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "I'm sorry for interrupting your private concert," he said, pressing a kiss to her temple. "But I couldn't resist watching you for a moment."

Y/N couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous she must have looked. "I can't believe you saw me like this," she said, burying her face in his chest.

Charles pulled back to look at her. "Why? You look beautiful," he said sincerely. "And you always know how to put a smile on my face, even after a tough weekend of racing."

Y/N blushed at his words and smiled back at him. "Well, Taylor Swift has always been our go-to for dancing and singing," she replied, moving closer to him. "And I needed to lift my spirits after hearing about your tough weekend."

Charles chuckled and wrapped his arms around her waist.

As the song lover by Taylor Swift started playing, Charles pulled Y/N even closer and began swaying to the rhythm. Y/N rested her head on his chest, feeling the warmth of his embrace, and breathed in his familiar scent.

As they danced, Charles couldn't help but think about how lucky he was to have Y/N in his life. She was his rock, his support system, and his biggest cheerleader, both on and off the track. He felt a surge of love and gratitude for her, and he knew that he needed to show her just how much he appreciated her.

"Y/N," he said, breaking the comfortable silence between them. "I just want you to know how much you mean to me. You make every day brighter and better just by being in it, and I can't imagine my life without you."

Y/N looked up at him with wide eyes, touched by his words. "Charles, you don't have to say that-"

"No, I do," he interrupted, cupping her face in his hands. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Y/N. I love you more than anything."

Y/N's heart swelled with emotion, and she leaned in to kiss him. It was a gentle, sweet kiss, full of all the love and tenderness they shared.

As they pulled away, Charles grinned at her. "Now, let's keep dancing," he said, pulling her closer once again. "I could dance with you forever."

They stayed like that for a while, lost in their own world, until they finally pulled away, their foreheads still touching.

[vminizzle]

Sweet lips

pairing : fuckboy!jungkook x shy nerd!f.reader

genre : SMUT, FLUFF, angst

warnings : CRINGE ASF, soft dom!jk, sub!reader, shy!reader, tattooed!jk, biker!jk, flirting, possessiveness, jealousy, pet names, teasing, making out, biting, marking, praising, corruption kink, masturbation, fingering, cybersex, sexting, penetration, unprotected sex, creampie, riding (first time), missionary, college party party yea, mention of consuming alcohol, mention of smoking, tipsy!jk, mention of throwing up, mention of period cramps

words count : 13k

A/N : Hi lovely people, I hope you've been doing good. Well, I'm finally posting. I took so much time but I had to do my best to make this as good as possible. I tried my best with that, I wish It will be good. I really wanted to add more but I wanted to post asap,, I couldn't wait anymore so yup. You ain't ready :) Enjoy. REMINDER : poor English,, I wanna apologise in advance like you guys already know English is not my first language so please don't mind the mistake. Love you guys &lt;;3 - sunny

you can part 1 HERE

FEEDBACKS ARE WELCOMED 🥀

M RATED

You sighed loudly as you sat on the passenger seat making Jimin looked over at you.

“What is it?” he asked making you shake your head.

“I repeat my question. What is it?”

“Nothing.” you said looking outside.

“It’s that Jungkook dude, right?” you gulped denying again.

“Oh c’mon, after seeing him you were literally lost. You weren’t focused on the movie. Usually when I’m ogling over my favorite actor you would glare at me with a disgusted face and make fun of me, but tonight, you just nodded silently and kept on sighing. What happened? Did he say something that ruined your mood? Tell me.”

Jimin said putting his hand on yours gently.

“No no no, not at all. He didn’t do anything.”

“You were with him earlier, before I came to pick you up, weren’t you?” he stared at you, already knowing the answer.

“hm, no?” you pursed your lips, still looking outside.

“Oh c’mon bro! You really thought I wouldn’t notice that big ass hickey on your neck? That man literally devoured your throat.”

“Jimin!” you gasped, finally facing him making the man huffed.

“I already told you to stay away from him.” you looked down to your lap defeated.

You were about to speak when you noticed a group of friends exiting the cinema, they were saying their goodbyes as they parted away.

You easily spotted him-

“bruh, isn’t that mister muscle?”

You heard Jimin said making you gulp.

“wait for me.” he said calmly as he open his car door.

“Jimin! Stop it!” you pulled on his wrist, pulling him back inside, the door closing in the process.

“Don’t, please.” you pleaded making him scoff.

“I was just about to tell him to stay away from my best friend.”

“I told you already... I know what I’m doing.. I will just... well-” looking back toward Jungkook, you furrowed your eyebrows as you noticed the girl from earlier.

“who’s that?” Jimin whispered.

“I don’t know.” you whispered back.

“why are we whispering?”

“I don’t know, I mean since we spying on him.” he joked.

“ha. ha. ha.” you rolled your eyes.

Jungkook was leaning back on his bike, the girl standing just before him. They were too close for your liking.

Your heart picked up the pace as she approached him, her hand raised on his shoulder. You stopped breathing when she tilted her head to the side, her lips getting way too close to his face.

You panicked as you suddenly press on the honk.

Jimin bent down abruptly to hide himself, you doing the same.

“and now why the fuck did you do that?” he whisper-yelled.

“sorry, I just, just panicked.”

“girl..” Jimin started before shaking his head slightly.

You peeked up slowly, staying careful to stay discreet as you heard the whirring of the bike.

“shit!”

“what is it?” Jimin asked curiously.

“they left... together.”

You just watched as he drove away, her arms wrapped around his body as she sat on the back.

—

You finished drying your body, putting your underwear as you stared at yourself in the foggy mirror of your bathroom.

“What an idiot?” you groaned frustrated, being mad at yourself.

“I hate him!” you exited your bathroom, stomping to your wardrobe.

“hate who?” you heard a deep voice startling you as you turn around only to notice Jungkook sitting on your bed, back leaned against the bed head.

“you look good.” he smirked.

The words making you tripped over your feet, landing on your ass.

“Jungkook?! What are you doing here?”

“your windows were opened, I took it as an invitation for me to come here.” he explained nonchalantly, pushing his black hair back, revealing his eyebrows piercing.

“I know you did it on purpose.” he licked his lips before you gave him a -what do you mean- look.

“you missed me, huh?” his eyes wandering over your half naked body as you finally stood up.

“no... I mean yes? Well, you.. you ... what are you doing here Jungkook?” you looked toward the open windows, putting your arms in front of your chest to cover you a bit.

“you forgot your glasses at home.” he pointed to the glasses he left on the bedside table.

“oh! You could have give it back to me next week. It wasn’t that important for you come here this late.” you smiled at him, feeling soft at the gesture.

“but thank you, I appreciate it.”

“wanted to see you before sleeping.” he added shrugging making your heart skipped a beat.

You stood there silent, not knowing what to do or what to say.

“come here.” he patted his thigh making you gulp.

“let me just grab my pajamas first-”

“no need, c’mere.” he extended his hand for you.

“If you’re cold, I’ll warm you up.”he said with a stupid smirk plastered on his face.

You walked to him slowly, his eyes not leaving you as you approach the bed.

Taking your hand in his gently, he made you sit on his lap facing him.

“how was your movie?” he started, laying his cold hand on your thigh, goosebumps raising all over your skin.

You hated the way your body reacted to his touches, reacted to him.

Wait, did you really hate it?

“The movie was...”

Oh, you didn’t even watched it, you weren’t focused at all.

How was you supposed to reply to his question when you spent the whole time thinking about him.

“well, it was good.” you cleared your voice making him nod.

You stared at him, wondering if he meant what he said earlier – he wanted to see me? You furrowed your eyebrows confused.

“You’re not gonna ask me how was mine?” he raised an eyebrow making your thoughts came to a stop.

“ah yea yea... how was your movie?” you let a breathy laugh passed by your lips.

“good! I liked it. My friends were scared. It was funny. One of them almost jumped on me and had to hold my arm the whole movie.” he laughed making you smile.

You loved his laugh, he was just so cute. The way he scrunches his nose when laughing made your heart melt.

But- who was he referencing to? Was it the girl you saw him with at the cinema.

“we should definitely go watch a horror movie together. I want to see you scared and hold my hand.” he grinned making you roll your eyes.

“by the way, you looked good with my jacket tonight.” he said, one of his hand caressing your side.

You looked down, playing with your fingers nervously.

“thank you.” you whispered timidly.

“I should let you borrow my clothes more often.”

Gosh, why is he like that? You screamed internally, his words making you want to jump around happily.

Jungkook sat up, his face now closer as he did so. 

“Look at me.” he demanded.

“C’mon, what is it?”

“huh? Nothing?”

“you seem off.”

“no no I’m fine.”

“sure?”

“yes.” you smiled at making him hum.

“cool then.”

“are you tired?” he asked biting on his bottom lip.

“not really?” you replied hesitantly.

Jungkook’s lips were ghosting over yours, his hands sliding down your hips.

“your lips smell like.. cherry? You used it again, the same lip balm?” he asked whispering, his minty breath hitting your face.

You were about to reply when he connected his lips with yours, surprising you.

He sucked on your bottom lip making you moan into the kiss.

Parting away, he pursed his lips “taste good.” he grinned as you look away from him.

“you should use that lip balm everyday.” his thumb sliding over your lips as he speak.

“I like it.” he murmured.

“a lot.”

You were feeling hot, even if you could feel the light breeze from the windows caressing your skin, his presence was enough to make you feel weak and ready to suffocate.

You just wanted to kiss him, feel him again.

“you know, I find you so quiet tonight. If you don’t say anything, I’ll try to find a way to make you talk.” his fingers ghosted over your panties waistband.

“still silent? I’ll start thinking you don’t want me to be here.” he started kissing on your neck.

“no, no it’s not that.. I mean, I don’t know what to say y’know.” you closed your eyes, enjoying the softness of his lips against your warm skin, kissing the hickeys he painted earlier.

You shivered when he bite on the sensitive skin.

“Jungkook.” you whimpered, his hand traveling down between your legs.

“tell me princess, did you miss me?” he licked the abused skin, your hands sliding up his broad shoulders.

Jungkook laid you on your back, hovering above your body.

“did you think about me?” he pressed two of his fingers on your lightly covered core earning a moan from you.

“If you’re not replying I will have to stop. Is that what you want, angel-”

“no no please.” you whined as he rubbed on your clit painfully slowly.

Your bottom lip was caught between your teeth as Jungkook bite on your collarbones.

“so? Did you miss me?”

You nodded, your hands flying to his hair as you pulled on them when he started moving faster.

“Jungkook I-”

“Tell me.”

“I missed you, I missed you!” one of your hand gripping on the soft sheet under you.

“are you close baby?” he asked against your skin.

“y-yes, Jungkook.”

“do you want to cum?” you nodded throwing your head back as he went faster.

“Come, come for me baby.”

He captured your lips in a sloppy kiss as you came in your panties, hips bucking against his palm.

You breathed heavily, closing your eyes as you felt a small droplet of sweat sliding down your temple.

“I hope you will sleep well tonight.” he pinched your cheek making you open your eyes again.

After helping you get dressed with your pajamas, Jungkook stretched his arms a loud yawn escaping his mouth.

“well, I think I gotta go now.” you watched as he walk to the windows.

“shut the windows after me.”

“well, just shut your windows when you’re alone, at night or whatever. You don’t want to get robbed or kidnapped? Aren’t you afraid one day I come kidnap you when you’re sleeping?” he joked, a smirk decorating his pretty pink lips.

He turned around one last time tilting his head to the side making you raised your eyebrows curiously.

“I stole these while you were showering.”

He grabbed something from his back pocket making you open your mouth speechless as he showed you-

“my panties?! But why-”

“For me. Personal use.” he said burying it back into his pocket.

“Well, good night, i’ll get going. Don’t think too much about me, or I won’t be able to sleep tonight*” he said before disappearing.

(*well, here, people saying that sometimes when you can’t sleep it’s because someone is thinking about you.)

“you could have just exited by the front door...” you trailed out quietly.

You let your body fell back on your mattress, sighing loudly.

“what do you want from me, Jeon Jeongguk.” you whispered defeated.

_

[ monday – lunch time ]

“ah I love eating lunch with you.” you smiled as you sat next to Jimin at the wooden table outside the college.

“me too.” he smiled cutely.

“I’m glad your boyfriend is not the jealous type and don’t keep you away from me.” you joked before biting on your sandwich.

“I have the best boyfriend, that’s simple.” he pushed his hair back.

Jimin was gossiping and telling you about that girl he has a beef with in his science class when he suddenly stop making you confused.

“are you okay? What is it?” you put your drink down on the table, waving your hand in front of his face.

“isn’t that the girl we saw at the cinema Friday night?” he pointed behind you making you turn around curiously.

“ah... yea that’s her.” you started at the tall girl, the wind pushing her long brown hair behind, revealing more of her face, her dress showing off her long legs..

“she is so pretty.” you muttered..

“not prettier than you girl.” Jimin said before snatching your drink between your hand to sip a big gulp of it.

“argh stop lying.” you huffed throwing your head back as you felt a slap on your shoulder.

“I’m not lying bro.” he shrugged making you pout.

“thanks chim.”

“y’welcome.” he grinned.

“hm.. but quick question, what is she doing here?” your best friend spoke again.

“I’ve never seen her around.” he added making you think about it.

“yea you right... do you perhaps think she is a new student?” you suggested - not wanting it to be true.

“I don’t think so.” Jimin pursed his plump lips unsure.

“I mean, where’s her bag?” he kept munching on his sandwich.

“maybe she left it somewhere with some friends?”

“yea maybe.”

Sitting in the empty amphitheater, you jumped when someone snatched your phone away from your hands.

“hey!” Jungkook laughed.

“I finally found you.” he pinched your cheek making you sigh in relief.

“did I scared you?” he grinned making you shake your head.

“No, not at all. I was ready to kick you in the face.” you said turning to the side to face him.

“oh I see.” he sat on the table looking down at you.

“you were reading to pick up a fight with a boxer.” he teased making you gulp.

“yea, everything for my precious phone.” you replied confidently making him laugh.

“well, speaking of it. I noticed you were really focused on that screen.” he pointed out.

“what were you doing?” he asked curiously.

“nothing.. I was just... just reading.” you said too nervously for your liking.

“reading what?” he asked again, as he looked at the foreign application on your phone.

“an article!” you grabbed your phone back panicked between the hands of the man.

It was silent for a short moment before Jungkook started talking again.

“what are you doing here?” he tilted his head to the side.

“what do you mean? We have a course here.” you rested your head on your arm as you laid it on the table.

“oh darling.” Jungkook chuckled as he caressed your hair.

“I see no one told you.”

“told me what?” you furrowed your eyebrows looking up at him unsure.

“Mr Kang is not here today. He postponed his course for next week since he is sick.” he explained.

“so you’re telling me I’ve been sitting here for about an hour waiting for his course and no one told me he wasn’t here today?”

“Basically, I just did.” he pursed his lips ready to laugh but try not to as you sighed. 

“Didn’t you wonder why no one was here?”

“no, since I usually come before everyone so I can rest a bit in silence before the course start.” you huffed irritated, letting your head fall back onto the table. 

Jungkook just stared at you silently, hands still on your hair, mindlessly playing with them. 

“you hungry?” 

You lifted your head up to look at the man getting off the table.

“a bit.” 

“what do you wanna eat?”

You were about to reply when he continued talking.

“If it’s me that you wanna eat, sorry to disappoint but we will have to eat a real meal first since I’m starving cause I didn’t eat lunch earlier” he sighed, pushing his hair behind his ear.

“But you can have me for your dessert darling.” he smirked putting his hands in his pockets.

You covered your flustered face with your hands not knowing what to say at his burst. 

“argh you’re stupid.” you laughed standing up from your seat, grabbing your bag from the floor.

“stupid?” he raised his eyebrows laughing too.

“yea.” you pushed him on his shoulder playfully, passing by him before he suddenly grab on your wrist pulling you to his strong body.

You gasped when you collide against his chest, looking up at him, his eyes staring deeply into yours.

“say it again.” he bent down, face closer to yours.

You gulped, heart picking up the pace as he place his other hand on your waist. 

You shook your head slowly before letting a breathy laugh pass by your lips.

“I was joking.” you waved your hand in front of you, making him grinned knowing you were feeling awkward now.

“Well whatever. Let’s just go eat something.” you grabbed on his hand pulling him with you as you walk before him, the unusual gesture surprising him.

Oh, little did he know that you were surprised too. The simple action was considered bold for you.

_

“gosh I’m full.” Jungkook stretched his body, leaning back on his chair, throwing his head back. 

You were reading the book you’ve borrowed from the library last week, the attractive man sitting at the opposite seat of you was long forgotten as you focus on the ending of the book.

Jungkook stared at you, trying to get your attention as he tap his fingers on the table.

The café was pretty empty today. You were sat at the table at the back, a group of students were sat chatting and working at some tables away.

“you’re cute when you’re reading.” he stole the book between your hands surprising you.

“what?” you asked confused, glasses resting at the bridge of your nose making him smile as he shake his head slightly.

“nothing.” he pushed the glasses back up, your eyes widening a little when his thumb swipe over your cheek softly.

“there was a little something on your cheek.” 

“oh.. thanks.” you felt your cheeks heat up at the gesture.

“you’ve been reading that shit for awhile now, let’s go eat something sweet.” he suggested, closing the book as he sat more comfortably on the chair.

“what do you wanna eat?” 

“you.” he smirked, before biting on his pierced-lip.

You looked around you panicked as he say it loud enough for the whole area to hear.

“Why are you talking so loud?” you whisper-yelled embarrassed earning a cute laugh from the man.

“C’mon let’s go eat some ice cream. I know you like that.” he stood up, putting his cap back on his head.

“weren’t you full?” you arched an eyebrow teasingly as you pack up your things.

“Oh so you heard me? And you didn’t even react?” he gasped in a playful way acting offended.

“so?” you stood up facing him.

“are we gonna eat that ice cream?” you smiled cutely making him nod.

Walking next to you, Jungkook was about to pinch your cheek when his phone suddenly ring making him huff annoyed, his sweet little time with you being ruined by whatever idiot that disturbed him.

“Sorry.” he apologized looking at the screen checking the id.

“I have to take that call.”

You just nodded acknowledging his words as he picked up the phone. He furrowed his eyebrows listening to the other line, nodding silently as he stopped in his track. You stayed in place, observing him, his facial expression changed. He didn’t look nor excited nor annoyed.

“fine, see you.” you heard him speak.

“hey!” he approached you, putting his hands on your shoulders.

“mmh, so I can’t huh, for the ice cream right now. I have to go. I promise next time, I will make it up, and we will grab ice cream together.” he said calmly hands sliding down to his sides again.

“oh… it’s ok, don’t worry.” you forced a smile feeling a bit disappointed about the sudden canceling.

“I will give you some money so you can buy one.” he started searching in his jacket’s pocket but you grab on his arm stopping him.

“no no no worries! I…changed my mind! I don’t wanna eat ice cream anymore.. I was hesitating because it was getting cold and I don’t.. well yea.” you gulped, feeling weird for lying like that, you knew you were a bad liar so you really hoped that he would believe.

“are you sure?” 

“yea yea no worries.” you nodded immediately, your slightly shaky hands playing with the strings of your hoodie. 

“cool then, see ya’!” he patted your head with a smile, before rushing away.

You watched as he exited the park, your heart beating slowly as you felt sad? It was weird… you hated that feeling - you hated feeling that way for such a thing…and especially - because of him.

“y/n?!” you heard someone call loudly from behind making you turn around.

“Jimin? what are you doing here?” you smiled.

“I can ask you the same, girl.” he put his hand on his hips.

“are you alone?” he asked looking around, searching for someone he probably know that could hang out with you.

“I can ask you the same, bro.” you imitated your best friend, putting your hands on your hips aswell.

“I was with my boyfriend. Since I was near the park I wanted to come buy ice cream. I’m hungry.” he crossed his arms over his chest sassily.

“Really!?”

“Yea why?”

“I came to buy ice cream too!” you said smiling a bit.

“let’s eat together then.”

_

[ later ,, monday evening ]

“fuck it!” you yelled out loud annoyed.

You threw your body on your bed, a large pillow placed under your lower stomach as you try to find the best position to get comfortable because of the cramps.

“are you ok?” your best friend entered your bedroom with a glass of cold water.

You grabbed on your sheet tightly the pain getting unbearable as you shake your head tears in your eyes.

“I hate being on my period.” you whined rolling on your back, closing your eyes.

“yea I see that. Here take that.” Jimin handed you the fresh liquid as you sit up.

 “that was sudden.” he sighed.

“what do you mean?”

“your period. Like we were having a good time and then you got nauseous out of nowhere.”

“oh man, if only we could get a “notification” before having this shit.” 

“I think feeling nauseous was the notification.” he shrugged before dropping on your desk chair.

“yea but days earlier would have been better.” you huffed before gulping the water.

“I feel like throwing up.. right now.” you put the glass on the floor trying to get off the bed, head spinning,

“now?” Jimin jumped out the chair abruptly.

“right now.” you nodded putting your hand over your mouth.

You ran to your bathroom dropping in front of the toilet as Jimin turn on the light for you, staring with a disgusted face waiting for you to get everything out.

“Is everything alright?” he asked approaching you a little hesitantly.

Don’t get him wrong. It’s not that he didn’t want to help you but he didn’t really handle seeing someone throw up or he will throw up too. He is a really sensitive boy.

“I can’t throw up… I mean I can’t get it out.” you whined irritated.

“Should I do something to help? You want me to.. hm tap on your back? or… argh I don’t know.” he furrowed his eyebrows feeling lost.

“no no it’s ok.” you sighed, getting up slowly feeling dizzy.

“Let me help you to bed, you need to rest.”

Jimin covered you with the soft blanket, pushing your hair back from your sweaty forehead.

“be right back.” he went downstairs to search for painkillers and a bottle of water to leave on your bed side table.

Coming back to you, your best friend realized that you were already sleeping, curling into the blanket, discomfort painted all over your face even in your sleep.

“good night love.” Jimin whispered before leaving a soft peck on your temple.

_

[ Tuesday  ] 

You weren’t feeling too good to go to your classes today. You didn’t like missing courses but you couldn’t risk fainting or throwing up in front of everyone.

Early in the morning you noticed a little note Jimin left for you, explaining that he had to go home last night and couldn’t stay. You also noticed the painkillers and water he put on your desk making you smile a little. 

After your bath, you decided to stay in bed all day to rest.

You woke up time to time to go to the bathroom, feeling uncomfortable - always having that feeling of being stained by blood or whatever. 

It was around 3 when you decided to take a very little nap. (lie.)

You sighed pleasantly, the warm sensation on your neck making you hummed. You started feeling hot, chest raising up and down as warm air caress your cheek. 

You imagined Jungkook close to you, hands caressing your hair, making you furrowed your eyebrows not wanting to open your eyes - you didn’t want to wake up from -what you defined as a- dream.

“J-Jungkook.” you moaned softly.

“I’m glad I’m the one you’re thinking about when sleeping.” you heard a deep voice making you open your eyes only to see Jungkook sat on your bed next to you.

“what are you doing here?” you sat up abruptly, a grimace making its way on your face.

The man narrowed his eyes at you before pointing to the open windows.

“I told you to close your windows.”

“sorry, I was feeling hot earlier… so yea, I opened them.” you explained.

You pushed your hair back, rubbing your eyes a yawn escaping your mouth.

“you look dead. Did you sleep all day?” he asked as he made himself confortable on your bed, laying down on his back. 

“I tried reaching you, when I couldn’t find you in the campus and noticed your friend alone.” he continued.

“oh sorry I didn’t check my phone.” you apologized as you grabbed your phone.

“6?!” you gasped when you saw the time.

“yup m’aam it’s 6 and you spent your day in bed doing nothing while I was busy studying.” he acted tired making you scoff.

NOTIFICATIONS

[ 9 new messages ]

[ 5 missed calls ] 

                   || 🐥 dramaboy  || 

[ 10:18 am ] dramaboy : hello, are you awake?

[ 10:56 am ] dramaboy : well, I guess you’re resting. Take care bub. 

[ 12:07 pm ] dramaboy : bro eat something when you wake up. You still sleeping?

[ 2:05 pm] dramaboy : damn girl, you better be awake now. Stay hydrated!! I’ll call you later I have a course in a few minutes xoxo

                   || 🐰 jungkook  ||

[ 1:07 pm ] jungkook : hi, you good? you’re not coming today? 

[ 4:37 pm ] jungkook : you’re ignoring me?

jungkook  (4) missed calls

[ 5:38 pm ]jungkook : y/n, are you ok?

jungkook  (1) missed calls

[ 5:43 pm ]jungkook : I’m kinda worried you’re not answering. You’re at your house? 

[ 5:43 pm ]jungkook : i’m coming.

“oh… wow, I’m sorry for not answering. I was so exhausted today I wanted to rest-“

“wait!” he sat up again.

“are you on your girl bloody days?”

“yea-“

“oh, that’s why!” he exclaimed.

“are you feeling better now?”

“did you drink some water today? If you need anything just let me know.” he spoke making you feel so confused and soft inside. And also weird because-

“I’m feeling dizzy.” you blurted out.

“Huh? Is it because of what I said? I know I’m a nice guy you k-“

“no no I meant it ! I don’t feel good!” you threw the blanket aside, falling off the bed on the carpeted floor when you tried to get off.

“oh shit!” Jungkook rushed to you helping you getting up.

“you alright? Let me help you.” he slid his arm behind your back to hold you close, walking to your bathroom.

You dropped on your knees in front of the toilet, finally releasing everything you wanted to let out since last night.

Jungkook kneeled behind you, holding your hair for you as you started crying.

“It’s ok angel.” he rubbed your back gently, looking down.

After a few minutes, you flushed the toilet before washing your face.

“please don’t look at me, I’m horrible.” you sniffed looking down when Jungkook approached you.

You heard him clicked his tongue “what the fuck you saying now?”

You felt him stand behind you, his hand rubbing your arm reassuring you.

“y’know what, just take a warm shower. You’ll relax and I’ll just go find something for you to eat since I’m sure you didn’t today.” he stared at you in the mirror as you keep looking down. 

“You have to eat something. I don’t want you to faint or whatever. Call me if you don’t feel good and I’ll come right away, ‘kay?” 

You nodded silently before feeling his lips on your skin. Leaving a gentle kiss on your shoulder, you watch as he exited the bathroom closing the door behind him.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, your mind going crazy.

why are you like that Jungkook? Why are you doing this? What do you want from me? 

Going downstairs you met Jungkook in the kitchen, this one filling a glass with lemon water. 

Sitting at the kitchen counter, you rest your head on your arm laying on the table. 

“hey, you here? how you feeling?”

“much better.” you replied making him hummed.

“well, I did a little research and found out that noodles are anti- nausea, did you know?” he looked up at you with big eyes the information fascinating him a bit too much. 

You chuckled shaking your head.

“Well, so I made noodles. Let’s eat now.”

_

Jungkook admired you from your desk chair as you speak with Jimin on FaceTime.

🐥 : bro I’m so sorry for not coming. I’m such a bad best f-

“Oh c’mon shut up.” you laughed making Jimin laugh too.

🐥 : I’ll come visit you tomorrow, I promise.

“fine! I’ll wait for you then.”

🐥 : I’ll bring ice cream. 

“you’re good at apologizing.” you joked.

As you were saying your goodbyes to your bestfriend, Jungkook sat on the edge of the bed.

“hey.” you started.

“I wanted to thank you for everything. I’m so sorry for worrying you. And I’m sorry for disturbing you too. I mean you stayed here with me and it’s so late already.” you sat on your knees facing him. 

“don’t apologize. I decided to do it.” he smiled playing with the silver ring adorning his middle finger.

“well, I’ll let you rest then. Like you said, it’s late. I don’t want to disturb-“

“oh you’re never disturbing!” you blurted out without thinking twice.

“I mean, I.. well, good night!” you cleared your voice - you just wanted to throw your body on the floor. 

Why are you always so embarrassing y/n? you yelled internally.

“Good night darling.” he got off the bed ready to leave but you grab on his wrist.

You just wanted to kiss him before he leave.

You just wanted to hug him before he leave.

You just wanted to feel him before he leave.

You just wanted to tell him that you felt touched for everything he did for you tonight.

You wanted to let him know that you always feel happy when you’re with him. 

Jungkook looked down at you, raising an eyebrow as you open your mouth, no words coming out.

y/n, what the fuck! do something! 

You were about to panicked, why the fuck did I do that?! you whined internally.

“what is it?” 

“I want to… to hm well, I wanted to know… ah! No no I wanted to give your jacket back.” You let go of his wrist abruptly. 

“Ah, well it’s ok I’ll get it another day.” he smiled as you nod.

He was about to walk out the room when he stop turning around.

“for tomorrow, let’s just cancel.”

“what?” you tilted your head to the side.

“tutoring, we will do it another time, just rest. See ya’” he waved before leaving.

“See you…” you trailed out.

_

[ Wednesday ]

Today, you luckily didn’t have any courses. Your cramps were still bothering you but less than yesterday.

Early in the afternoon, Jimin visited you without forgetting ice cream like he promised.

Jimin was such a great friend, you considered him like a brother. The big brother everyone dream to have. He was always there for you, supporting you with whatever you’re doing. He reprimanded you when needed to. You didn’t seem like it but you’re really silly sometimes. Jimin meant so much for you, and the same goes for him, you meant a lot to him.

You laid on your couch, scrolling on your phone mindlessly. Everything was boring today. Even outside, the sky wasn’t as blue as usual. 

A pout made its way on your dried lips, forgetting to hydrate them today. You couldn’t stop thinking him. You couldn’t stop thinking about what he did last night.

Why all of this? It was so unnecessary? well it was really kind, way too kind. He acted so like a…

“boyfriend?” you said aloud making you stare at the ceiling.

Why do I keep feeling so bubbly when I’m with him? 

“Do I have feelings for him?” you talked to yourself.

“No, no not at all!” you kept on talking, voice resonating in the empty room.

“I can’t!” you put your hands over your face trying to calm down, the thought of liking him killing you inside.

You knew you couldn’t. 

You knew what type of guy he was.

But the way he was acting with you was so, seemed so natural?

You whined kicking your feet in the air.

You felt so affected by today’s canceling. It was weird not being to deal with him today.

You’re so used to him now…

_

[ Thursday ]

You courses unexpectedly went pretty fast today. Your day was going good, even if you were bleeding like you’ve been stabbed in the lower stomach.

For once, Jungkook wasn’t the one searching for you but you.

You were the one looking for him.

You didn’t even realize it as you keep on walking around the campus, earphones buried in your ears, the music accompanying you everywhere as you hoped to come across the man.

You arrived home later in the afternoon, smile pretty absent on your face the whole day.

You didn’t even get to see him today. Not even from afar.

No messages. 

Nothing.

It was so weird - you hated it.

You kind of miss him. You tried your best to ignore every single thoughts travelling through your mind.

_

[ Friday ] 

You were on the phone with Jimin debating about what you were about to do tonight.

“Friday night, movie night is an option today. Because hell nah we ain’t going to watch any of the movies at the theatre, they all seem bad.” Jimin huffed annoyed making you chuckled.

“So what do you wanna do tonight? Sleepover? Movie night at home? Gaming night?” you suggested earning a sarcastic laugh from your best friend.

“I’m not in the mood to be stay-at-home tonight.” he replied making you roll your eyes.

“What about a nice dinner at this restaurant we went last month. It was good!” he exclaimed.

“you fine with it?”

“good for me.”

.

“Hello?!” you heard Jimin gasped.

“I see you girl.” he smiled widely, eyes travelling up and down your body.

“you look so good, I’m speechless.” he kept on complimenting you.

“Shut up.” you laughed when he took your hand to guide you to his car.

“you know I’m a taken man, right?” he joked making you roll your eyes.

“If you’re trynna seduce me it won’t work. I love my man.” he started the engin as you slap his arm playfully.

“Stop it, you look good too Park.” you flattered him smiling.

“I know.” he smirked pushing his hair back, making you purse your lips.

“Let’s go.”

“Allons-y Madame.”

“Oh the French accent ?!” you gasped amazed. 

“My boyfriend studies french, what did you except?” he smiled proudly.

_

“oh man, I love this restaurant.” 

“Let me guess, he take you there often?” you raised an eyebrow teasingly.

“Well, yea but not totally, cause the dishes are so good here.” his eyes focused on the menu. 

“Good evening, I’ll be your waiter for tonight.” 

Both Jimin and you turned to the young man standing before you.

“Can I start off with something to drink?” he asked politely.

“Yes, I’ll have a red wine and for my friend..” he looked to you waiting for your choice.

“hm, for me it will be iced tea please, peach iced tea.” 

“Good, are you ready to order or do you need a few minutes?”

After ordering, the waiter disappeared making you glare at Jimin.

“what?”

“red wine?” you crossed your arms over your chest.

“Oh c’mon it’s Friday night, let’s relax a bit.”

“yea yea whatever.” you sighed.

_

Jimin moaned loudly as he chewed on the grilled meat making you widen your eyes.

“damn that’s so fucking delicious.” he hummed as you agree.

“so what were you saying?” you kept munching on your food.

“Ah, yea he invited me to go with him in Paris for holiday!” he said excited.

“no way! that’s so cool!” you exclaimed before sipping on your fresh drink.

“I know.” he nodded happily.

“and guess what?”

You wait for him to continue.

“About that girl in my class, I stole her pencil and throw it in the bin when she went out to the bathroom.” he said feeling proud of himself.

“aren’t you ashamed?” you bursted out laughing taken aback.

“She stole my answer and said it loudly in class. And you want me to forgive that?” he watched you in disbelief.

“And she really d- oh hell nah, he really everywhere I’m done.” Jimin grabbed his glass gulping the fourth wine he ordered annoyed.

Turning around you noticed Jungkook standing at the bar, probably waiting for a drink. He looked so good. Seeing him after so long ( two days ) made your heart beat faster.

“I will start thinking he is following us every Friday.” he stated as you turn to him again.

“We met him only twice what do you mean ‘every Friday’” you chuckled at his words.

Jimin sighed heavily before grabbing his phone checking his messages, a smile appearing on his plump lips.

“It’s him huh?” you smirked kicking his leg under the table to tease him.

“oh shut up.” He put his hand over his mouth, putting his phone in his pocket.

“Okay, now let’s get out of here. He spoiled my evening.” he stood up grabbing his jacket.

“Oh c’mon bro, he didn’t even do anything.”

“His face is enough to annoy me.” he admitted dramatically.

“We will get dessert somewhere else.” 

Jimin and you walked to the front of the restaurant to pay.

“what!? I only had four glasses!” he gasped loudly.

“why are you making me pay for six?!” 

“Sir, the waiter reported s-“

“What? I don’t care what he reported! Let me talk to your manager!” he kept on fighting making you sigh.

“Jimin let me just pay, so we can go.”

“Hell no! I won’t allow that.” he shook his head pushing your hand away as you took your credit card out of your bag.

“Let me take care of that, go outside and wait for me.” he pushed you away, handing you his car keys.

You watched as he followed the person he was arguing with, at the back of the place.

“ah gosh.” you groaned tiredly.

You jumped when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“Good evening, pretty girl.” you hear a deep voice whispering behind you.

Jungkook walked in front of you, a smile plastered on his face.

“You’re so beautiful tonight angel.” he complimented, eyes travelling all over your body. 

You found yourself wordless. Not knowing what to say as you gulp.

“are you on a date?” 

“no! I’m not !” you finally spoked denying immediately.

“I’m with Jimin. We came to eat dinner together. We’re friends! He is taken so it’s not a date? Well, we just ate and yea.” you cried internally, cursing yourself.

You’re sure you were born to be the most embarrassing person on earth.

“I know he’s your best friend, y/n.” Jungkook laughed.

Oh, the way your name dropped from his mouth made your knees buckled slightly. And his laugh, gosh just pin me against the wall and- 

“Where is he?” 

“He really left his pretty best friend alone without worrying someone might steal her.” his hand coming up to arrange the strap of your black velvet dress.   

You wanted to fall down on your knees, melting under his feet. The man knew how to make you weak.

“He… he is coming back. He has to take care of something before we leave.” you explained playing with your necklace nervously making him nod.

Jungkook approached you, his body getting really close to yours. You stopped breathing when he bent down to whisper in your ear.

“I would had really loved to fuck you right here, right now, if you could. You look really exquise tonight princess.” he bit on your earlobe, a soft moan begging to pass by your lips.

“Jungkook I-“

“Enjoy your night pretty girl.” he laid a soft kiss on your neck, a smirk decorating his tempting lips as he moved away.

Your body was on fire. You were really about to fall if you don’t freshen up a bit.

You pushed the restroom’s door open, entering the -too elegant - place for a restroom.

You splashed water slightly on your burning cheeks, breathing in and out slowly trying to stay cool.

“he’s such an idiot.” you breathed out smiling like an idiot yourself.

“are you talking about Jungkook?” you heard a unfamiliar feminine voice from behind you tearing you up from your thoughts.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” you spoke before turning around facing the girl Jimin and you saw at the cinema last week.

You stayed silent when you recognize her. 

She was prettier closer.

“I’m warning you, stay away from him.” she said before exiting the restroom leaving you speechless.

“And what the fuck is her problem?” you furrowed your eyebrows in shock.

“and where the hell were you?” you noticed a worried Jimin near the car.

“restroom, sorry.”

“I tried to call you, it’s ok.” 

“about the dessert?”

“let’s go home, I have ice cream and cookies. I bought them this morning.” you replied 

“I saw her.” you blurted out making Jimin look down at you curiously from the couch.

“the girl at the cinema.”

“where?”

“at the restaurant earlier.”

“Oh, Jungkook was there too. Do you think they went together?” Jimin supposed making you pushed your plate further on the table as you laid on the carpet defeated.

“Please don’t say that.” you groaned.

“She talked to me.” you spoke again.

“What did she say?” Jimin sat down next to you on the carpet.

“She told me stay away from him…”

“She said that?”

You hummed pouting when Jimin think for a moment.

“I agree with her.”

You slapped his thigh making him shrugged.

“But why?” he asked seriously this time.

“I don’t know.”

“Maybe she’s one of his bitches.” Jimin yawned unbothered.

“I’m one of his bitches too.” you sighed.

“I’m sure you are thee bitch.” he pinched your tummy making you sigh.

“You still fucking with him huh?” he rolled his eyes knowing the answer.

“nah because I’m telling you again baby, take your distance. He’s not a good guy. I mean he’s not a guy for you. You deserve better than this, you deserve the best.” he flicked your forehead making you glare at him.

“Jimin..” you started quietly after a long silence.

“Yea?”

“I think I appreciate him.”

“bruh, I think we all already knew that.”

“nah but I mean… a lot. More than I should.”

“damn bro… I’m sorry for you then.” 

“I’m serious Chim.” you looked into his eyes as he make the -oh - face.

“y/n…” he noticed the tears building in your eyes.

“aw no don’t cry, come here.” he took you into his embrace, patting your back.

“I’m bleeding.” you sniffed.

“It’s normal to feel like your heart bleeding when you're feeling a bit down.” he caressed your head.

“no I mean it. I’m bleeding.”

“Girl you serious.” he laughed making you laugh too.

“Don’t make me laugh bro, it’s getting worst.” you exclaimed making the man part away.

__

[ Tuesday ]

                || 🐥 dramaboy || 

y/n : guess what!

🐥 : ??

y/n : my period is over!!

🐥 : …

🐥 : I mean … why the need to tell me that?

y/n : sharing my happiness with my best friend is a crime now?? ☹️

🐥 : ahhh well, good for you I guess.

y/n : what are you doing?

🐥 : I’m still at college. I’m waiting for him 😩

y/n : it’s so late dude

🐥 : I know !! His French classes end up so late but I really wanted to wait for him.

y/n : aw what a sweetheart 🤭

🐥 : shut up!

[ Thursday ] 

A notification from your phone was what disturbed you from your - night personal - reading.

You groaned as you got up to grab your phone, checking which idiot disturbed you. You really thought you put it on not disturb mode.

You almost fell on your knees when you opened the message.

                     || 🐰 Jungkook ||

🐰 : you looked so fucking good today. I can’t stop thinking about you. 

🐰 : couldn’t stop thinking about how great you would feel on my dick.

🐰 : couldn’t stop thinking about the way I’d fuck u on Mr. Choi’s desk in front of everyone.

🐰 : u made me so hard.

🐰 : [ attachment ] 

It was the last straw. You really did fell on your knees, hand over your mouth when you  clicked on the attachment.

fuck was the only word coming out of your mouth.

He is insane.

Oh the way your felt your inside twitch when you stare at the picture he just sent you.

The -oh so - familiar feeling between your legs making you whine.

Jungkook sent a picture of himself, pants unbuttoned, hand resting on the bulge over his black Calvin Klein boxer.

🐰 : [ attachment ] 

🐰 : baby I need you so bad right now.

You threw your phone away when your phone indicated the incoming FaceTime.

“no way!” you gasped panicked.

“What do I do? Oh my gosh!” you bit on your fingers.

Taking a deep breath you clicked on the green button, heart skipping a beat when you saw his face.

He was so… attractive, it’s sick.

“hey darling.” his deep voice turning you on even more.

“hi Jungkook.” you forced a smile as you notice he was in his bed… shirtless, a smirk decorating his pretty lips.

Your eyes were glued on the screen as you stare at him silently, his smirk growing up.

“like the view baby?” he teased making you avoid his eyes.

“I… hi! how are you!?” you cleared your voice feeling embarrassed.

“I’m horny.” he admitted right away.

You were speechless.

The man was so bold, it’s insane. The way he was always so direct, always spitting everything out so easily.

What should I say?

“You were pretty today. Just wanted to let you know.” he said before you could talk. watching as you got shy.

“thanks.” you smiled seeing him shift, sitting up, back leaned back on the bedhead.

“I also wanted to let you know that you were so damn pretty that I had to walk around the campus with a big boner.” he continued, eyes getting darker.

“I suffered all day because of you.” 

“But.. I didn’t even do anything.” you protested shocked at his words.

“those pretty lips around that fucking lollipop was enough to turn me on.” he groaned also desperately.

“I thought about the way they would look around my cock.” he sighed.

“Jungkook.” his name leaving your mouth with a soft and quiet moan as your body started heating up.

Oh you were about to lose it if he kept on talking like that.

“angel.” he started again catching your attention again.

“can you do something for me?”

“anything.” You whispered with a nod.

“I m-mean what?” you tried to save a bit of your dignity.

The “anything” leaving your mouth so swiftly was enough to make his cock twitch.

“touch yourself for me.” 

You choked on your own saliva not expecting that.

“I’m not forcing you, if you’re not confortable doll.”

“no no, it’s not that but I’ve never.. y’know done it like that.” you pointed between you and the phone.

“I don’t know how I should do or.. well, I don’t know at all.” you admitted with a sigh.

Jungkook just chuckled, loving the fact that you’re so foreign with the phone sex.

He always loved to be your first times at every single new activities of yours.

“gosh you’re so…” he sucked on his bottom lip, the little rings disappear into his mouth as he do so.

“I’m more than glad to help you with that then.” he said voice laced with lust.

You were feeling so nervous when you see him move, setting his phone on his bedside table.

You watched as he got off the bed, standing just before his phone.

What is he doing?

You gasped when he started sliding his jeans down his legs, revealing his muscular thighs.

“What are you doing!?” you turned your face away giving him some kind of privacy making him laugh loudly.

“Don’t act like you’ve never seen me naked before baby.”

“I know you like it.” 

“no no it’s not that!” you looked back at the screen, your jaw ready to drop on the floor.

Here he was, standing proudly naked for your eyes.

“close that pretty mouth princess, you trynna catch flies?” he bent down, grabbing his phone back sitting on his bed again.

“your turn now kitten.” he put an arm behind his head waiting for you to do something,

“me? my turn?” you panicked, legs bouncing anxiously.

“undress yourself.”

“right now?”

Can someone save me please, I wanna throw myself away, the embarrassment is so high right now.

“yea, right now.” he waited.

Your head was about to explode with all the thoughts running through your mind at the same time. Were you really ready to try this?  Maybe. Were you willing to try it? Hell yea. But what’s blocking you right now is shyness. Undressing yourself in front of him was already a big thing you, but imagining doing it from afar is weirdly difficult for you.

Jungkook noticed your hesitation as he spoke.

“Angel, if you’re not comfortable it’s ok, don’t do it. I don’t want to pressure you or whatever.”

You shook your head denying his words.

“no don’t worry, I’m just.. just thinking where I should put my phone.” 

Stepping closer to your bed, you decide to mimic Jungkook.

You placed your phone on your bedside table, walking backward until your whole body was visible for him to see.

Your hands went down to the hem of your shirt, pulling it up to your head revealing your bare chest.

Jungkook sat up, watching attentively as you strip yourself for him, only him.

Just that thought made his cock throb.

If only you knew how excited you got him. 

Looking down to your feet, your hands nervously travelled down to the waistband of your pajamas short.

Jungkook’s heart started beating faster in excitement. Oh knowing all of this was your first time and he was the one making you experience this was enough to satisfy his ego for a whole week.

It was a boost for him.

Corruption.

He loved corrupting you.

You took a deep breath, sliding the soft cotton material down your beautiful legs, panties falling with it at your ankles.

You were left in nothing, and Jungkook, him, was left in amazement.

He’s used of seeing you naked for him, but tonight hit differently. There is something exciting but he couldn’t really know what.

Your thighs looked so smooth, your legs enough to make him go crazy. Your body was just a masterpiece for me.

“you’re so fucking pretty kitten.” he complimented making you get your phone back, sitting on your bed awkwardly.

You thanked him, staying still not knowing what you should say, what you should do.

“and now?” you asked hesitantly.

“and now, you’re gonna show me how you touch yourself when you’re thinking about me.” he looked into your eyes through the screen, his words making you feel hot.

It was like your body was set on fire.

“w-what?” you couldn’t think straight.

How should your start? How should you do it? Should you lower your phone a bit?

Gosh why did I put myself in this situation?

“do you think about me when pleasuring yourself angel?” he asked lowly.

You bit on your tongue, this man definitely don’t have filter because how the hell can your say such a thing so straight? No shame at all. He is really a thing.

“I don’t… d-“

“you don’t?” he raised an eyebrow surprised.

“no! It’s not that, I meant that… I don’t do.. that.. hmm I don’t do that by myself.” you confessed feeling embarrassed.

“you’ve never pleasured yourself? Like you've never masturbated?” he furrowed his eyebrows not expecting this answer.

You shook your head, a tiny pout making its way on your lips without realizing it.

Jungkook‘s eyes darkened, the new piece of information exciting him even more.

“Oh my dear y/n.” he smirked.

“what an innocence girl.” he tilted his head, eyes glued on your flustered face. 

“I will help you then.” he continued.

“you still good with that?” he made sure you were down with it, not wanted you to do something you don’t want to do.

“yes, I’m still good.”

“good. let’s start then.”

“Let’s go easy. Set your phone against something, so it doesn’t move and I can see you. Both your hands would be free and it’ll be comfortable for you.”

You did as he say, resting the back of the phone against a large pillow, your body on full display for him to admire. 

“lay down.” 

You followed every steps he tell you to do.

“you good?” you nodded as you look toward the screen seeing the shirtless man shifting.

"make yourself comfortable."

He was too attractive, it was hard to not look at him but hard to keep eye contact.

“let’s start slowly angel.”

“Caress your body gently.”

Jungkook’s eyes lingered on you, paying close attention at every of your movements.

Teasing yourself, you just slid your fingertips on the soft skin of your stomach, goosebumps raising after the soft touch of yours.

Your fingers went up your front, up along your cleavage.

“Cup your breast, stay soft and flick your nipple with your thumb.” 

“Do it like I always do baby.”

Jungkook watched as your played with your hardened bud, fingers pinching on your sensitive nipple.

Soft moans passing by your lips, as you rub your thighs together.

The pleasurable sensation throughout your body when you tug on the erected bud made your head spin as you close your eyes trying to focus on everything going on.

“Take your time.” you heard him say.

“Jungkook, I need you.” you whispered.

“Oh darling, unfortunately not tonight, but I’ll try my best to help you.” he sighed as bothered as you.

“Slide your hand delicately down your body slowly.” 

You couldn’t helped but imagine his hand on your skin, the soft feeling of his fingertips dancing down your skin. Gosh you wanted him so bad.

“Open your legs for me baby, I wanna see you.” he demanded.

Spreading your legs for him without a second thought, your hand went to massage your clit slowly, bottom lip caught between your teeth as your pointer and middle fingers slide up and down between your glistening lips.

The slow rhythm made you feel good as you forget everything around you.

“are you wet enough darling?” his deep voice waking you up. 

“Put a finger inside if you think it’s good, do it slowly.”

Sliding a finger in like he said, you furrowed your eyebrows at the feeling.

“Put another one.” he bit on his bottom lip waiting for you to execute his words. 

“Imagine your fingers are mine. Remember the way mine are buried deep inside you, fucking you slowly when I’m with you.”

“d-doesn’t feel the same.” you whined making him chuckle.

“Twist your wrist baby, keep going in and out.”

The way your fingers moved inside you fascinated him. He couldn’t just stay still and watch. You were just so hot for him.

“I’m going to stroke myself while imagining I’m fucking you deeply.” he breathed out making you let out a soft moan at his words.

Jungkook grabbed on his erection, the warmth of his hand enveloping around it.

“yea just like that darling.”

Jungkook groaned when you increase the speed, hand moving faster.

“fuck.” 

“you’re doing so well.” he praised breathlessly as he started moving his fist faster too, trying to catch up with your pace.

“you’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you?” 

You applied a heavy pressure on your bud of nerves with your palm as you felt the sparkling feeling in your lower stomach.

“tell me baby.”

“are you a good girl for me? Only for me, right?” he tightened his grip around his cock.

“Yes, only for you.” 

“I’m so close Jungkook.” you whimpered.

Jungkook’s hand stroked faster as his eyes followed your hand sliding up your breast, fingers playing with your nipple, your other hand still working on hitting on your g-spot. His thumb sliding over the head of his cock, trying to push him over the edge.

You closed your eyes as you felt your orgasm coming.

Moaning his name loudly, you came on your fingers, thighs shaking slightly, the wave of pleasure exhausting you.

Jungkook cummed after a few strokes, cursing as let his head fall back on his pillow.

“fuck look what you did.” you heard Jungkook said as you open your eyes to grab your phone.

He licked his lips before lowering his phone showing you the white ribbons covering his lower stomach making you swallow hard, cheeks warming up as you look away.

“you did so well.” he said with a soft smile.

[ later that night ] 

                 || 🐰 jungkook  ||

[ 11:47 pm ] jungkook : you sleeping?

[ 11:48 pm  ] y/n  : not yet

[ 11:48 pm ] y/n : you ok?

[ 11:49 pm  ] jungkook : yup. Just wanted to ask you if you’re coming to tomorrow’s party?

[ 11:49 pm ] y/n : ngl I didn’t know there is a party tomorrow.

[ 11:50 pm  ] jungkook : you should come

[ 11:50 pm ] y/n : I’m not into parties sorry

[ 11:50 pm  ] jungkook : oh c’mon, it’s gonna be fun! And it’s Friday, you need to get this week’s stress off.

[ 11:51 pm ] y/n : I’m busy on Fridays

[ 11:51 pm  ] jungkook : oh c’mon, let’s change a bit. It is your besties night thingy? Or I don’t know what shit?

[ 11:51 pm ] y/n : hey! Don’t say it like that! And yes it’s my special time with my best friend.

[ 11:52 pm  ] jungkook : Park will understand. C’mon come. My friend Jay said I can invite who I want, so you’re my guest.

[ 11:53 pm  ] jungkook : Tell Park to come with you. He will be your guest.

[ 11:53 pm ] jungkook : please pretty please.

[ 11:56 pm  ] y/n : I��ll think about it.

[ 11:56 pm  ] jungkook : I take that as a yes. See you tomorrow.

_

[ Friday ]  

After mentioning about the party with Jimin during one of your classes in the morning, you found out his boyfriend also invited him. Funny thing, both you and him didn’t want to go to the event but wanted to accept the invitations to be nice.

Later in the afternoon, you found yourself struggling in front of your wardrobe.

"What should I even wear? "

Jimin turned around on his stomach on your bed, looking up at you from his phone.

"Just go like that." he struggled playfully.

"Ah ah ah, you’re so funny." you rolled your eyes, as you tightened the knot of the white comfy robe wrapped around your body. 

"Just put whatever your want.”

“You’re not helping.” you sat on the edge of the bed defeated making Jimin get off of it.

“ok let me see what you have in there.” he hummed as he analyzed your wardrobe.

“what about that pretty skirt you got there?” he grabbed the black skirt that was hidden behind all your hoodies.

“and you put this low cut shirt, with a black jacket over it. Taadaaa.” he grinned with both hands on his hips feeling proud of himself.

[ Friday end of the afternoon ] 

“C’mon dadd-“

“bruh, I told you not to call me like that.” Jungkook grimaced as he buttoned his pants.

“where are you going?”

“I gotta go.”

“where?”

“my friend throwing a party and I’m invited.” he replied annoyed, buckling his belt rapidly as he looked down at his watch checking the time.

“It’s a party, there is no exact time to get there. Why do you seem in hurry?“

“I don’t have to give you explanations. Bye, have a  good ev-“

“you seeing her, huh?”

Jungkook stopped in his track, before turning around curiously.

“what?”

“y/n. You seeing that chick tonight right?” 

“none of your business.” he said after a few seconds, walking out of the room, slamming the door behind him annoyed.

_

“gosh I don’t like parties.. I feel weird.” you muttered grumpily, as you held onto Jimin’s arm near his parked car, the cold air hitting your legs.

“me too. I feel unwelcome.” he sighed agreeing with you. 

“Same but y’know I don’t have nothing against parties.. but there are too much people.” you groaned.

“yea I get it.”

“what if we go back home? or we can just going out just the two of us?” you said making Jimin shake his head, denying the ideas.

“We already said yes to come here. My boyfriend is already waiting for me inside or I don’t know.”

“Wait! You letting me alone?” You gasped. 

“Jungkook was the one who invited you. So I guess, you staying with him.” Jimin smirked teasing you.

“Jimin! No please! He just told me to come if I want with who I want. And it’s you! Jungkook will probably be with his friends.” you grabbed on his hand panicked.

“I’m playing, of course we staying together. Like just imagine if he let me alone, girl. And you know I don’t like when you’re with that man but I fear he might steal you from me tonight.” Jimin sighed as you both started walking to the big house reluctantly.

Gulping, you walked through the ocean of sweaty people grinding against each other, half-empty red cups in their hands.

You tightened your grip on Jimin waist as you both tried to find a less crowded place.

“gosh it smells! Can’t they put some perfume or deodorant before coming there!” you heard a disgusted Jimin yelled.

You laughed, slapping his arm.

Standing in the corner of the room, Jimin texted his boyfriend, letting him know that he was there.

After a few minutes, your best friend was with his boyfriend - you decided to give them some time together as you went to sit outside alone, even if both of them insisted for you to stay with them. 

You kept on checking your phone, perhaps hoping to get a message from the one that invited you. 

Looking around, you noticed Jungkook sat with a group of friends all around a table full of alcohol and other things you didn’t even know the name of.

They were smoking, laughing together.

Not only, you disliked him smoking but the girls sitting at each sides of him being too close for your liking. Especially the way their hands were on his thighs made your blood boiled. You hated that feeling. 

You looked down at the ground, feeling a bit insecure. You didn’t even know why you were feeling like that way so suddenly. It was definitely not the best place to be. You weren’t having fun, you didn’t even know anyone here. It was such a bad idea to come here.

“fuck what am I even doing here?” you groaned standing up, before grabbing your phone to send a text to Jimin letting him know you were going back home. 

As you started walking away, you heard a voice from behind you.

"Leaving already?"

Turning around, you were met with the person you hoped to see tonight, the only reason why you came. 

"Jungkook."

"I really thought you wouldn’t come."

"Well, there is a first at everything." You looked up at him. 

The man nodded approvingly.

"Are you gonna stand there all night? Come with me." He grabbed your hand as he guided you to where he was sat.

You didn’t know what to say, what to do as you forced a smile greeting his friends - one of them offering you an adorable gummy smile.

You stood next to him awkwardly not knowing where to sit since there was no place left. No one making a move to make some place for you to sit. Before you could do anything, Jungkook grabbed your waist pulling you down to sit on his lap making you widen your eyes in utter shock.

In front of everyone? you panicked internally as you stayed still. 

"Confortable?" he asked earning a small nod from you. 

You could feel eyes on you and let’s say, you didn’t enjoy it a lot. 

"Who is she? Is she in our college?" The girl sat on your left asked, looking you up and down. 

"My friend." He replied as he took a long puff of - what seemed like - a  cigarette.

Perhaps, Is that weed? It smelt so much different from cigarettes?

Gosh, you’ve never felt more uncomfortable. 

Jungkook laid his back against the couch as he started chatting with his friends again, but something didn’t go unnoticed by him as he pulled you closer to his chest. He didn’t appreciate the way one of a boy sat on the opposite couch look at you. He didn’t like the way his eyes were going up and down your legs, or the way he stared down toward your skirt that ride up your thighs when Jungkook shifted a bit when he started feeling you pressed harder on his lap. His tattooed hand slid to rest on top of your thigh, fingers sliding just a little down to rest on the inside of your thigh catching the man’s attention. Locking eyes with Jungkook, he knew he was fucked up. 

"Gimme that pretty?" He pointed to the plate placed before you on the table.

"I didn’t know you like brownies." You smiled cutely handing him one of the little cakes. 

"Oh darling. You’re so cute." He laughed, his dark eyes, quite red, staring deep into yours. 

"That’s not brownies." He took a very tiny bite of it making you furrow your eyebrows. 

"Space cakes." He muttered against your neck, goosebumps raising after the warm air caressing your skin. 

Turning around more, you give him a confused look as a smirk made its way on his pretty lips.

"Angel, when eating one of these.. you just.. boom! You’re traveling into another galaxy."

"It tastes so good." 

"Wanna try?" He cupped your cheek softly making you shake your head hesitantly.

"Pot brownies." You heard the guy with the pretty gummy smile say as he gulped his beer. 

"Brownies made with butter that has been infused with cannabis." He explained making you raise your eyebrows at the new piece of information. 

"Oh, I didn’t know about these." You replied making him smile.

Moving forward, Jungkook’s hand went to grab one goblet full of vodka. You watched as he gulped the liquid, his tattooed hand still resting on your bare thigh. 

"Want some?" He asked tilting his head to the side as you deny again. 

"I don’t drink." You pursed your lips innocently.

"C’mon, just a bit."

"Just for tonight." He stroked your thigh gently.

"Like you said, there is a first at everything."

You hesitated for a strong minute debating on what to do.

What if something happen to you?

What if you pass out?

“You’re with me, so don’t worry too much.” he kept on persuading you.

Even though his red eyes definitely show off how high he was, you wanted to try it.

You have one life, right? You nodded giving him the green light.

Lifting the red cup to your lips, you sip a little bit of it. The strong liquid burning your throat as you gulp it down.

"Fuck." You coughed putting your hand over your mouth as Jungkook grinned. 

Jimin will definitely beat your ass when he’ll know you had your first ever drink without him. He’s been asking, more like begging- about drinking alcohol with him so many times. 

He will especially break your hand when he will found out your first drink was with Jeon Jungkook.

Sending a quick text to Jimin, you turn your phone off with a sigh.

|| y/n : I fell like I’m gonna do something stupid tonight.

Jungkook was a really touchy guy. He loved physical contact.

And when he wasn’t sober or high, his hands couldn’t help but get more daring. 

You started feeling him pulling you closer to him, his arms snaking around your front, holding you tight. 

One thing about him, he hated sharing. What his, is his. And let’s say he didn’t get over how the guy sat at your opposite was ogling at you. He hated when other men look at you the same way he looks at you when you’re together alone. 

He snuggled his face into the crook of your neck, making you feel hot, body warming up as you felt his soft lips against your skin. 

"Jungkook, what- what are you doing?" You whispered feeling timid and uneasy at the fact that you weren’t alone.   

"Nothing." he hummed lowly, the tip of your ears burning as you sensed a little wet kiss being placed on your neck. 

"I want you." He whispered into your ears after a few seconds, your body heating up even more as he stood up, hands on both of your sides. 

"Right now." He looked at you with hooded eyes. 

"you leaving?" one of his friends ask with a knowing smirk.

"yea, see ya later." he grabbed on your wrist gently walking back inside the loud and crowded house.

Walking upstairs, he walked through the corridor leading you to the - luckily empty - bedroom at the end of it.

Pushing the door open, he locked it immediately after shutting it.

"Now, I have you all to myself." he tilted his head to the side, approaching your frozen body in the middle of the low enlightened room.

He was way too attractive right now, the small amount of alcohol in your system enough to make you feel lightheaded at the combination.  You could felt that little boost of confidence when you pulled him closer to you by the collar of his shirt, lips mere centimeters away.

"I need you so bad." you whined quietly biting on your bottom lip earning a "fuck" from him. 

"You’re so sexy." He muttered with a wide smile on his face.

Closing the distance between you two, you envelope his lips in a heated kiss, sucking on his bottom lip making him smirk.

Your hands slid down his covered chest tugging on the hem of it, a silent request for him to get rid of it.

Undressing each other's impatiently, Jungkook couldn't help but to enjoy this side of you. He kind of liked this side of you, trying to make the first move.

He sat on the edge of the bed admiring your naked figure standing timidly just before him, between his spreaded legs.

"do you want me baby?" he teased leaning back on his elbows.

You nodded playing with your fingers nervously, guess the bit of alcohol you consumed wasn't enough for you to not be shy around him tho.

"words baby." he wanted you to say it again.

"Jungkook, I need you." you obeyed shamelessly right away making him lick his lips.

"Let's try something new tonight, hm?" he pursed his lips noticing you gulp not expecting that.

"what?" you asked hesitantly.

"oh my princess." he started, the words "my" affecting you a bit too much, you felt like your heart did a backflip.

"don't be nervous." he pulling you to sit on his lap, thighs at each sides of him.

He pushed your hair back behind your ear, before decreasing the space between your faces as he went to whisper into your ear.

"I want you to ride me." he bit on your earlobe, erupting goosebumps all over your body.

"ride you?" you repeated trying to process his words, you've never done that, what if you couldn't-

"don't worry too much, I'll guide you." his hands came down to rest on top of your thighs.

You felt like your body was set on fire. Your body was so reactive to him, to his words, to his touches.

Taking a deep breath, you raised your hips, Jungkook's hands on your hips helping positioning yourself above his hard cock, precum already leaking from it.

Your heart started pounding inside your rib cage as you lower down on his erection.

"ah shit." Jungkook cursed as your walls slowly swallowed his cock in, the warmth engulfing around him making him bite on his bottom lip, the plump flesh turning white.

"Jungkook." you whimpered when you feel his cock buried so deep into you, you could feel him all.

You started rolling your hips slowly, as he guided you like he told you.

Your hand flew up to hold on his broad shoulders for support, your other hand traveling up to tangled up in his hair.

He enjoyed the way you would pull on his hair when he thrust his hips up to meet yours.

You groaned when you feel his teeth nibbling on the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving pretty marks there.

He loved marking you. It's like he wanted to show everyone that you were already with someone even though it wasn't the case.

He always ignored this weird feeling of jealousy he felt when he see a man near you, interacting with you or even for looking at you a bit too long.

"you're mine." he licked on the fresh reddish spot on your skin making you shiver at the friction.

He often said that to you. Especially during the intimate session you have.

Why? He didn't even realise it.

"look at me baby." you heard him breath out, hand coming up to your chin lifting your face so he could see you.

"say that you're mine."

"I'm yours, Jungkook." you whined, when he grabbed on your thigh roughly thrusting up into your hips, your sweaty body falling on his strong one, your face resting in the crook of his neck.

"only yours." you whispered with a soft whimper into his ear, earning a low moan from him aswell.

"move faster darling." he demanded as you raised up before slamming down on his cock again, the head of it hitting directly on that spot that could make you pass out.

You felt him so deep inside you, it was unbelievable.

"it feels so good." you blabbed against his skin making him chucked.

"ah yea?" he asked making you hummed, your hand pawed on his back when you try moving faster, thighs burning from all the efforts.

You couldn't help but whimpered, the feeling of your hard sensitive nipples rubbing on his muscular chest.

Jungkook let breathy grunts pass by his lips, when he felt your nails buried into the flesh of his back, scratching the skin leaving a pleasant burning sensation.

You felt the knot in your stomach tightened when he kissed you, tongue entering your mouth, before sucking on yours.

"I can't." you cried out, as your movements slowed down, muscles aching.

"c'mon darling, keep going." he grabbed on your hips, helping you as you shake your head, a tear sliding down your cheek.

"keep going, I know you can." you were about to whine when he spoke again.

"look at me."

You furrowed your eyebrows, looking into his eyes, still red from his little puff session, you noticed his gaze softened as he take in your exhausted face.

"fuck!" he groaned before switching position, flipping you on your back as he hover above your weak body.

He stayed inside you as he started thrusting into you in a way more faster way than you.

"oh god! don't stop please don't stop!" you cried out, legs trembling slightly as you hold on his bicep.

"you did so good for a first time, baby." he said between breaths looking straight into your eyes.

“you’re always doing so good for me.” he praised, his hand coming to gripped on the headbed for support as he picked up the pace, hips slamming into yours roughly.

You moaned loudly as you felt it coming. You were so close to cum and he knew it.

“c’mon darling, cream my cock.” his lips ghosting over yours, his dirty talk making you close your eyes.

Bending down, he enveloped his lips around one of the hardened bud ripping a loud moan from you as he suck on it, your chest lifting up from the mattress.

“Gosh I’m about to-“

“Come for me princess.” he muttered against the skin of your chest.

His words were the last thing needed for you to orgasm. You closed your eyes shut tight, mouth ajar as a trail of curse words escaped from it.

You felt that adrenaline running through your veins when one of your hand gripped on the sheet, legs trembling.

Jungkook could only cursed when he felt the warm essence coating his cock, dripping down between your legs.

You looked like a mess, body covered with a thin layer of sweat, hair covering your forehead a bit, chest heaving up and down as you breath heavily, but on top of that - the pretty hickeys he painted on your skin was the last push for him to cum.

“please come inside me.” you pulled him down to you by his neck, your words making him twitch inside you.

“shit! you’re so fucking hot.” he said panting as he rest his sticky forehead on yours.

Your tightness was literally suffocating his cock as he groaned, shooting his warm cum inside you, filling you up to the brim, painting your walls with white ribbons.

Jungkook took a deep breath with closed eyes, before placing a little peck on your nose.

Pulling out of you, he watched as his cum was oozing out of you, slowly down on the sheet in awe before pushing it back inside making you whimper from how sensitive you were.

He rolled on his side with a small grin displayed on his face knowing he was the one that made you look like this - your so fucked out face satisfying him way too much.

You opened your eyes, noticing Jungkook already looking at you.

"you're so pretty."

Was he still high? you wondered, heart pounding at the compliment words that came out of his mouth.

"you're so pretty like that." his hand came to caress on your throat, fingers tracing over the fresh hickeys, his red rimmed eyes showing off how proud he looked of his "art".

Dressing yourself up back, you started feeling shy rethinking about what you just did earlier. You knew a part of your mind was still disconnected, alcohol definitely the cause of it - you really should drink water or something else to try to get rid of that boost drink out of your body, you thought.

You walked to a already dressed Jungkook on the balcony, this one holding a red cup - of you didn't even know what it contained - as you stood next him catching his attention.

You both stared at the stars decorating the dark sky, the fresh air of the balcony caressing your skin gently. You felt different, there was something that you felt like doing. Saying it or not, you're not losing anything, right? It was the opportunity for you to finally confess your feelings out. Perhaps, hoping he might feel the same about you.

You cleared your voice getting the man’s attention. 

"I have to tell you something." You gulped, feeling nervous, hands getting clampsy. 

"Tell me princess."

You took a deep breath before talking. 

"Jungkook, I like you." You finally said making him smile cutely. 

"Aw kitten, I like you too." He pinched your cheek playfully. 

"No no, I mean I like you… a lot." You started playing with your fingers getting a bit anxious. 

"Me too, I really like your company and all." He started, hands on your shoulders.

"You’re one of the friends I like the most." He giggled. 

You shaked your head making him tilted his head to the side confused. You had to say it. Right now or never, you can’t back down now. 

"Jungkook, I think…"

"I’m in love with you." You whispered looking into his eyes. 

__

A/N : well, that was it 🤭 I honestly wanted to add so much things, add angst to get more jealous!jungkook, but I wanted to post this second part asap and I couldn't keep making you guys wait, sorry sorry - so I decided to post it like that. I really hope I didn't disappoint because I took so much time writing this and made you guys wait for a long time. I apologise for the lack of vocabulary again ; I will try to get better in the future! I really want to thank you all for reading this, really hoping you enjoyed! have a nice day and take care of yourself! love y'all &lt;3

TAGLIST : @starstruckfangirls @jeonblisq @rebloginfics @nibi-chibi-blog @lunaiiree @jmscaffeine @kookieees-stuff @idaterosie @nostopshit @jkslaugh97 @musicisme333. @kenqki @cbugs13 @junecat18 @jeonjungukkk @starsinsky1999 @fxirytaetae @fizzaaaabs @saintsugar @lvrjjoyyy @uzispidey @thiccthighs19 @rkivemaar @cherrygukkie @burnahtsw @gyukookswhore @olimpiiaa @elmariajinn

[familyvideostevie]

the meaning of it all

joel miller x reader

summary: Joel Miller, of all people, teaches you to ask for help. 

word count: 13.6k

warnings: jackson au, post part i, joel and ellie worked it out! joel is soft! language, violence, fluff, learning to accept help and love.

a/n: this fic is a soft joel (think part ii joel but make it two years into jackson because he and ellie resolved everything <3) and a reader who is much more me than i've written before. i hope you like it! thank you again to @strangerfreaks who held my hand through this, i owe you my life.

___

Luck. God damned old-fashioned thank-fuck-for-that luck has kept you alive since the world ended. Deep festering rage and a near-constant state of fear have helped. But every bullet you've found, every undamaged can of food, every shot that landed in the right place so you were the last one standing -- that's all luck. Or a curse, depending on the day. Depending on how you're feeling about it all.

And Jackson? That's the biggest stroke of luck you've had in twenty years. A single woman on her own with plenty of working years left and no obvious red flags was probably a no-brainer for the community to take in but you feel like you've finally made it. After two decades of violence and horror and pain, you fucking made it somewhere safe.

You spend as much time as you can making sure everyone knows how grateful you are. You don't have any special skills, not really. You can shoot well enough, cook well enough, clean well enough. Young enough when all the shit went down that you don't have a trade or any work experience, you just go wherever they need someone in town.

Keeping busy means you're bone-tired most nights. Exhausted sleep means fewer nightmares, less time to wander the halls of your very nice but much too-big-for-you-home and miss everything you've lost. But picking up shifts wherever you can also means you don't meet many people beyond hellos and exchanging names. Farming is easy and you get to work with a lot of the kids in town, daycare much the same. You're lousy with power tools but you're able to carry materials wherever they're needed. Cooking is easy when it's stew for hundreds of people and doing dishes is even fun when someone turns on the radio. You're making it work.

Patrol is...patrol. You're able, so you're on the roster. It's not that you hate it, not exactly. Going outside the walls makes you feel like you're someone else. You slip back into the mask of fear and anger, the one that kept you alive for so long. And the worst part is it's comfortable. 

You've done the training runs, the group patrols for three months. Infected still freak you out a little but you're smart enough to be more scared of people. All of the senior patrol members have cleared you for paired patrols and today is your first one.

Tommy meets you at the stables to check-in.

You don't really have any friends, though everyone is perfectly nice to you, but Tommy and Maria are probably as close as it gets.  You figure they take a shine to newcomers like you, ones who come in alone, maybe to keep an eye on them as much as anything else. But they've both got a smile and kind word for you whenever you see them, always asking if you need anything. You always tell them no, you're fine, thank you.

"You ready?" Tommy says. "I've had them pull Apollo for you." You pat yourself one more time to make sure you have everything. Pistol on your thigh, knife at your hip, pack secure on your back. Hat and gloves tucked into your jacket pocket to account for the wind on the trails.

"I think so," you tell him. You blow a raspberry at your horse and he blows back, nudging your shoulder with his nose.

"After this, pretty sure you'll have done every job there is to do in this town. Pullin' crops, plantin' crops, cookin' crops. Kids, the library, cleanin', buildin' that ramp at Lenore's last month. You've been here, what, six months? And you've done it all."

It should make you feel good that he's noticed. It does, but only a little. You still feel like you could work every day for the rest of your life and not repay what he and this town have given you. To make up for the things you've done on the road.

"I'm the best floater in Jackson," you joke instead. Smiling makes people like you. You haven't had much cause to smile in recent years so you're still getting used to the urge. Tommy scoffs. "I don't do important council stuff like you and Maria, though."

He ignores that. "Y'know, pretty sure they call that a jack-of-all-trades. A real Ren-ai-ssance woman." You try to come up with a retort, eyes wandering to the patrol assignment board. Your name is under ELK CREEK and under it is --

"Quit harassin' her."  Tommy rolls his eyes and flips off whoever comes up behind you. You turn around and see a man you know of but have never actually met.

"Joel," Tommy says. "I believe this is called havin' a conversation. You ever tried it?"

"Funny," Joel replies. He nods at you. "You my partner today?"

"Seems so." You introduce yourself, Apollo's warm breath at your back.

"Joel Miller," he says back.

You're a little intimidated, truth be told. You know him by reputation mostly. Tommy's big brother who came to town a few years ago with a little girl. They're both pretty much everywhere. Joel fixing houses and talking to kids in the street, going on patrols and always bringing back extra for whoever needs it. Ellie galloping around town with other teenagers and bringing home the biggest game. You've handed her books a few times at the library, too, seen her bright eyes and infectious energy underneath teenage angst that transcends even an apocalypse. And you've seen them together, heads down in the dining hall or pressed closed walking down the street -- heard rumors about why they came here, how they came here, too -- and one thing is clear to you: the Millers are beloved. By this town and by each other.

It's a miracle all its own in this fucked up world.

"You two ain't met yet?" Tommy says, pointing at the space between you. You snap out of your thoughts. "You've been here long enough to have met everyone by now."

"Guess not," you say with a wry smile. The younger Miller is too polite to call you out for not having a single friend in that time period, either.

"Well, here we are," Joel says. "Gonna keep us here forever, Tommy? Or can we do our job?"

Tommy claps him on the shoulder and winks at you. "Tone down the asshole for her first paired patrol, yeah?"

Joel snorts. He grabs a horse that was already tacked for him and leads it out of the stable. You follow with Apollo. The patrol coordinator hands out rifles and reminds everyone of the rules.

You hop on your horse. "You ready?" Joel asks, startling you a bit. "We'll gallop to the mouth of the river and then start patrollin'."

Something in you relaxes a bit at his clear confidence in you to handle yourself. You know you're with him for a reason -- he's one of the best. That, or maybe he just doesn't give a shit. Somehow you think it's the former.

You follow him up the hill outside the gates and through the tree line. The noise of the Outside is different than that of Jackson. Birdsong, snapping branches and dry brush under your horse, the wind rippling down the hill. You take a deep breath through your nose and feel a part of you come alive. It's funny how a world so beautiful can be so deadly.

Joel gallops a little ahead of you, strong and steady. You watch him, think about what you know. He's older than you, that much is obvious. Greying hair curling around his ears, lines on his face from more than just a stressful life. But he's strong, good at what he does. Those rumors come back to the front of your mind. How he and Ellie showed up, half-starved and bloody. How he and Tommy are the most famed patrol duo for Infected kills and otherwise. It makes you feel safe. It makes you want to learn from him. It makes you want to know more.

And he's got kind eyes. Somehow, he's got kind eyes.

"Alright," Joel calls back to you. "Route starts here." He slows his horse and you pull up beside him. He shifts in his saddle and turns his face to you. "Now, I know this is your first pair," he says. "I won't order you around or nothin' but my main piece of advice is that everyone has a different patrol style. Know how to adapt."

You dig your gloves out of your pockets and wiggle them on. Joel watches before his eyes snap back to yours. "Noted." You honestly didn't think he'd talk this much. "And let me guess. Yours is patrol in silence?" You punctuate the nervous quip with a smile.

Joel snorts. "Nah," he says. "Unless you're Max. Can't stand that fucker."

It startles a laugh out of you and any ice you'd imagined breaks for good. Max is one of the middle-aged men who probably would have been a lawyer or a politician based on the way he likes the sound of his own voice.

"Now," Joel says. "You done this route before?" His knuckles are a little red but he doesn't put on any gloves.

"Twice, I think. First log book in that old station, right?" Joel nods. "Second in the town?" He nods again.

"Color me impressed." His mouth tugs up at the corner into something you might call a smile. You try not to look too pleased with yourself. "Some of the dipshits on the roster don't even remember that much."

It feels like you've passed a test. His praise makes you feel nice. Noticed. Not something you often seek but you know yourself well enough to admit that you'd like a little more of it. Even if it's from a man you just met.

"Not that hard," you say softly. Joel looks at you for a moment longer before clicking his teeth. His horse starts to walk. You signal to Apollo to follow.

The patrol goes off without a hitch. Joel signs the log book in the station and you sign it in the tower. He lets you snipe two runners that he spots and doesn't scold you when you take three tries on the second one.

"Settlin' in okay?" he asks once you've rounded the town one last time and started back towards Jackson. "Six months, Tommy said?"

Despite his earlier words, you haven't chatted much this patrol. While you'd like to know more about him, want to get him to smile at you again, you're really just enjoying being out here with someone else, knowing that you're safe. That you've got somewhere to go back to.

"It's nice," you sigh. "I never imagined I'd find a place like this."

You really should pick up the pace to get back to town but he doesn't seem to be in any hurry.

"I know the feelin'," he murmurs. "Ellie'n me slept on the floor for a good two weeks at the start. Been two years and some nights I don't take my boots off."

"What a fucking life, huh?" That earns you a wry smile. "Having a house is...strange. All of the hinges squeak and I --"

"The hinges squeak?" You look over at him and Joel's brows are furrowed.

"Oh, I mean, it's no big deal --" You stumble over apologies. You don't want him to think you're complaining about a home his brother gave you when he sure as shit didn't have to.

Joel taps his thumb on the pommel of his saddle. "Can get that fixed, y'know."

You didn't know, actually. "Really?"

Now he looks at you like you're a little stupid. "Ain't you the one hauling shit to people's houses when they need a hand?"

He has a point and you hate it. It never occurred to you to ask for someone to come fix your hinges. They're just hinges, for fuck's sake. Other people have holes in their floorboards or leaks or need new rooms for family members. You're just...you.

Joel sighs. It feels like you've disappointed him and it swirls in your gut. "I'll take a look at it this week."

Your neck cracks audibly with how quickly you look up at him. "What? No, Joel, you don't have to --"

He says your name in a tone that you know means no arguing. "I know I don't have to. I offered."

"You don't even know me!" The words fly from your mouth before you can stop them.

He brings his horse to a full stop so quick you almost run into him.

"Look," he says. His gaze holds yours. Wow, he really can be intimidating when he wants to be. You can only imagine the things he's done, the things he's capable of. Anyone who has made it this long has blood on their hands. You've washed it from your own skin plenty of times. And yet, you feel completely safe. And you know that you'll probably do whatever he tells you. "I know how it can be."

Your gut swirls. "You don't know what I've been through," you say softly. It's not a jibe, it's just the truth. No one knows because you've told no one because it doesn't matter. You're here now.

"I've been alive for a while longer than you," he continues. "I've seen the world, just as you have. I've been out here. I was out here for a long, long time." He runs a hand through his beard, fiddles with his broken watch in what looks like reflex. "I know how hard it is to ask. To get back to something that makes any damn sense. But you can if you try."

The words linger in the chill around you. He's right, obviously. He's so fucking right that you want to be mad. You haven't asked for anything because you don't want to fracture the good thing you've got. Don't want to be too much, to be a burden they can't support, to make people think you don't deserve to be in Jackson. All things that don't make any fucking sense, not really, but you can't stop them. It's just how you're wired.

"So I'm comin' over this week to fix those hinges. Alright?"

"Alright." Something in Joel softens when you agree.

"Good," he says. "Good."

You finish the patrol in comfortable silence. All told it's been nice. To talk to someone, to feel like they give a shit about you even for just a few hours. You have no doubt Joel will be over to fix your hinges but you figure it'll fizzle out after that -- it always does. You don't know how to ask someone to stick around, anyway. But even this little bit of him will have been worth it.

Something both loosens and tightens in your chest when you get back to Jackson and through the gates. Goodbye beautiful, horrible outside world, hello safety, community, home. It's a trade-off. You and Joel hop off your horses and return your rifles. You're about to hand Apollo off to be brushed and returned to the stables when you feel a hand on your shoulder.

Joel says your name and you turn around.

"Good job today," he says softly. "Not too excitin' of a patrol, but you're good out there."

You blink owlishly. "I-- thanks," you manage. "Maybe we'll get to go out again as a pair." You're showing your hand but you can't help it. You want more of whatever this was.

Joel's mouth pulls up at one corner. "Maybe."

___

Two days later you drag yourself out of the house for community breakfast. Most mornings you're out the door and at your work detail for the day before you can pop over but you don't have anything assigned today. It's a rare respite and it has you antsy. You don't remember how to be idle, aren't any good at it. Sitting in your empty house means your mind might wander to the thoughts you try very hard to keep at bay. The loneliness, the regret, the fear. The loss. It's always there and you've gotten better at dealing with it after so many years but some days you really just wish you could talk about it to someone, could just bitch and moan about how fucking awful this life can be.

But everyone is carrying their own shit and you don't need to add to it. You don't want anyone to have to carry yours, too.

Breakfast is quiet this morning. You settle at a table with your toast and your eggs and your potatoes and smile back at anyone who smiles at you but no one sits with you. If they did you don't know what you'd say.

But then the air changes. Your neck feels a little hot and you slowly look around until you see what's caused it -- Joel and Ellie are here. He's already looking at you when you meet his eyes and he smiles a little, a half-moon curve of his mouth, and nods. You wave.

Ellie waves back, which you don't expect. She says something to Joel and he frowns, rolls his eyes. She punches him in the arm and he flips her off and grabs two plates, starts to fill them. You smile down at your own food.

"Man, are the potatoes that fucking good today?"

You look up and find Ellie in front of you. You're pretty sure she's 16 or thereabouts, still growing into herself based on the way she shifts on her feet. Her right forearm has the outline of something floral. She notices you looking at it and crosses her arms, looking unimpressed. Ah, teenagers.

"Pretty okay," you tell her. "I don't know if we've met yet --"

"We kinda have," she interrupts. "I know your name and you know mine, so. And you're at the library sometimes when I check shit out."

This still does not explain why she's over here talking to you. You can see Joel in the breakfast line still, glancing over his shoulder every so often to see if she's still in the room. You try not to catch his gaze because you're a little afraid of what Ellie might read in it.

"Can I do something for you, Ellie?" you ask, not unkindly. She scrunches up her nose and then sighs.

"Joel told me not to bother you but I wanted to ask if you could look out for a book for me. At the library." Her words get faster as she reaches the end of her sentence. She takes a look at you, sees that you're not telling her to fuck off, or something, and keeps talking. Some book about the history of comics or something.

"Oh," you say. You feel a rush of affection for her and the fact that she can hold the record for headshots on a group patrol and still want to read about something she loves in her free time. "Yeah, I'll look for you. I don't have a library shift until tomorrow but I'll look and put it aside if I find it for you."

Ellie tugs on her fingers. "Don't you need to write it down or something?"

You smile at her. "No, I'll remember." You recite the title and author she just told you back to her and it seems to satisfy her. It's like a switch is flipped -- her earnest expression morphs into something you can only call mischief.

"So Joel's coming over to fix your doors, or whatever," she says. "How'd you crack him?"

"I--what?"

"You patrol with him once and he's coming over to your house," she says. "It took him like, weeks to laugh at one of my jokes. And I'm fucking funny!"

You have no idea what to say to that. Patrol with Joel was your first time talking to him and while he's a bit intimidating, sure, he never came off as anything other than...good. But you'd bet he wasn't always that way in this world. Maybe this girl in front of you had something to do with it.

And honestly, you're sure he just feels a little bad for you. He's nice enough to worry, to make sure everyone in town can do their part and you'll take what you can get even if it's temporary attention.

Part of you knows Ellie is just giving you a hard time because she's a teenager and you're kind of connected to the guy who looks after her so you're fair game, too. But she's talking to you like she wants to which is throwing you for a loop. And you're realizing it's been a long time since you actually wanted someone to like you. Well, Joel aside.

"You want to tell me one?" you ask. She looks surprised and then delighted.

"Oh, fuck yeah. Okay, let me think." You take another bite of your breakfast. "Okay, okay, I got it. What did the mermaid wear to her math class?"

You give it a few seconds before you shrug. Ellie grins. "An algae-bra."

Your laugh makes her grin bigger. "See? Fucking hilarious." She holds out her hand for a high five and you oblige. "Anyway, Joel's gonna come over tomorrow, I think. Seriously, dude, I don't know how you did it. He never used to be this nice!" She looks over her shoulder at the man in question. He's sitting down at another table. "He's getting soft."

Her voice is fond and you're pretty sure she doesn't notice. "You should go eat your breakfast, Ellie," you tell her.

She sighs like the weight of the world is on her shoulders. "Yeah, I'm fucking hungry. Let me know if you find that book!"

"I will," you call after her. You can't help but watch as she barrels back to her table with Joel and immediately makes an attempt at his bacon. He fends her off with his fork before surrendering a piece with a scowl.

He looks up and catches your eye again. You stand with your tray and nod at him, turning around before you can see his expression. Stupid, so stupid to be caught looking like that. But you can't help it -- looking at the love still alive in this shitty world and wondering what it feels like.

___

You run into Joel on your walk home from the next day's shift at the library. You spent probably far too much of it looking for the book Ellie wanted but it was worth it because you've got it tucked under your arm. It feels like a small miracle but you're not one to question it.

Maybe it's the good mood you're in, but when you see Joel from behind you call out his name. He doesn't stop walking but turns his head like he heard something. When he spots you he does stop, waiting for you to catch up.

"Hi," you say, suddenly a little less brave.

"Howdy," he replies, amused. "I'm headed your way."

"You --" He lifts a toolbox you now realize he's carrying. "Oh, right. Hinges."

"I can come by another day if it's not a good time."

Joel could knock on your door in the middle of the night and it would be a good time. "No, ah. Now's good." He motions for you to lead the way even though he clearly knew where he was going. He must have asked Tommy.

It seems like everyone waves as you two head for your street. They call out Joel's name and he knows pretty much everyone. You feel a little self-conscious being seen with him like this -- you, pretty much a nobody in town through your own doing and Joel, beloved by all.

It doesn't stop until you're almost at your door. "You're popular," you say, trying to make it sound teasing. Instead, it sounds awed.

Joel runs his free hand through his beard. "Don't remind me," he grumbles. "Can't go for a walk without a damn conversation."

You pull out your keys and unlock the front door. There are plenty of people in Jackson who don't lock their doors but you can't shake the need. "Sounds difficult."

He chuckles and you feel it zing up your spine. It's nice to make him laugh. "Yeah, yeah. S'pose it's nice." The front door opens with a creak and you look at him sheepishly. His eyebrows touch his hairline. "They all like that?"

You nod. Joel whistles. "Christ," he says. "Alright." He follows you into the house. You try not to think about what he sees. You've tried to make it your own, just a little. Posters you traded for, books you've collected. You cleaned the whole thing top to bottom when you moved in but somehow it still looks a little un-lived in. You're working on it.

"Don't let me bother you," Joel says, getting on one knee with a grunt and prying open his box. "Probably need 'bout an hour to get 'em all. I'll holler when I'm done."

That's your cue to busy yourself with something, anything, but you don't want to. You want to talk to him, to watch him do whatever he's going to do, to soak up this time with Joel before he walks out the door and you go back to being acquaintances.

"What are you going to use?" you ask. He looks up, a little surprised, before pulling out a spray bottle and a rag. He shakes it at you.

"It's some sorta homemade shit one of the younger guys cooked up," Joel says. Somehow he manages to sound self-deprecating, like he thinks he should've thought of it first. "I think it's...soap? And cleanin' stuff? Fuck, I don't know." He huffs a laugh. "I know it works, though. Back in the day we'd use shit you could buy on the shelf." He stands with a grunt. "You old enough to know that?"

That gets you to laugh. "Yeah, Joel," you say. "I'm old enough to remember the hardware store."

His gaze feels a little different than before, like he's allowing himself to look. "Hmm," is all he says. "I'll just --"

You don't know how to justify shadowing him as he oils your hinges -- there's a joke there's somewhere -- so you don't. You grab a book from the shelf and settle on your couch and try your best to read but your mind wanders.

It's pretty clear that you have a crush on Joel. You've spent one patrol with the guy but somehow he's gotten under your skin. It's inconvenient but also...nice? A crush at the end of the world. The fact that you can still feel something so sweet, so juvenile after all you've seen and all you've done is almost laughable. And it's not like it's going to go anywhere -- you're sure Joel thinks you're too young for him, too green, and he's probably tripping over admirers in town. But you can let it be something to keep your days interesting until it fades.

It was hard enough to love yourself before the world ended for reasons anyone could understand. Societal pressures, stupid comparisons, things that don't matter at all now. Who has time to think about being loved when you're constantly faced with death? Feeling desired, feeling loved, feeling looked after isn't exactly top of mind. You're not even sure you remember how. You put one foot in front of the other and that's enough.

But wouldn't it be nice to be on the receiving end of affection from a man like Joel?

"All finished." You startle and realize you haven't turned a single page of your book. If Joel notices he doesn't say. He wipes his hands on a rag and eyes you. "Pretty sure I got all the doors."

You hop up from the couch and try to find your words. "I -- that's -- you're --"

"Thank you will do just fine," he says with a smirk. He tucks the rag in his back pocket and crosses his arms, leaning against the wall.

"Let me cook for you," you blurt out instead. "In exchange." You can make a few things fairly decently and making him something is another excuse to talk to him like this, to be on the receiving end of those eyes. "I can make chili. Does Ellie like chili?"

"Don't have to do that," he says kindly. "Helpin' you ain't a business deal. S'what people do here." He stands straight and heads for your front door, picking up his toolbox on the way.

"Joel," you say, snagging his sleeve with your fingers. You pull them back quickly and grab the book you brought home, holding it out for him. "Ellie asked me to look for this. Could you give it to her?"

He looks at the book the same way he looks at his kid. It's tenderness so raw you look away. "I will," he says softly. He tucks the book under his arm like precious cargo. "Thank you for findin' it for her." He clears his throat and looks at you, smirk back in place. "Wasn't so bad, was it?" he asks. You don't follow. "Havin' someone help you," he adds.

Your face feels hot. "I'll still cook for you," you say, opening the door. He shakes his head.

"You let me know if you need anythin' else, alright?" A quick smile and he's down the steps and back into the street, strolling back to his own home.

"I will." You say it to yourself and almost mean it.

___

You patrol a few more times over the next month but never get paired up with Joel. If you were a little braver you'd ask Tommy or the kid he's training to take over the schedule to put you two together but you don't. Instead, you wave at Ellie when you see her, nod at Joel from the other side of rooms where he's always talking to someone else. You let yourself enjoy the way your heart picks up at the sight of him and the thrill you feel after he smiles at you. It's a nice change to the boring, lonely routine you had before.

The doors in your house open and close silently.

Being outside is fine. You don't like it any more or any less, it just is what it is. Life at the end of the world continues on.

Until you have a bad patrol.

It's no one's fault and no one gets bit. You and your partner, Astrid, are tailing a buck that's wandering along your route. If you can shoot it you can load it on one of your horses and ride back together on the other. Winter is on its way and any extra meat helps.

You follow protocol. You're lining the deer up through the scope while she keeps watch. Just as you prepare to pull the trigger you feel it -- the pull of your gut telling you something isn't right. That feeling has kept you alive all these years so you lower the rifle and turn to Astrid just in time to see a stalker lunge out of the brush.

Its broken and jagged nails catch your shoulders and you go down hard enough to bruise. You can't hear anything over its snarls and the blood pounding in your ears but you do your fucking best. You wedge your forearm under its chin and try like hell to keep its mouth away from you. Your other hand somehow makes it to your belt and unsheathes your hunting knife and in one swift movement, you shove it into the soft jaw of the infected. Hot blood spurts over your face and you keep your mouth closed, shoving the corpse off you.

A gunshot has you whirling around and scooping up the rifle. You've got it ready to fire but you only find Astrid standing over a stalker corpse of her own, forehead bleeding and revolver smoking.

"You clean?" you ask her, eyes on her forehead. She nods.

"Shoved me into some thorns. You?"

"Yeah. Can we go home now?"

Your hands don't shake until you get back to Jackson. They tremble when you wash the blood from your face, your hair. You wish for just a second that you had someone to hold them, someone to tell you it's alright. Someone to talk to about how shitty your day was and how scared you were and how sometimes this life is so fucking exhausting and just when you think you're safe you're reminded that no one is safe anymore.

Maybe this is the kind of thing Joel was talking about. Asking for help.

The thought fades quickly. You can deal with this. You're just out of practice. You just got comfortable.

You go to bed as early as you can bear, closing your eyes and hoping for dreamless sleep.

You could only be so lucky.

You're no stranger to nightmares. Hell, who isn't? Usually, it's the same old shit -- people you've lost, fucked up things you've done, horrors you've seen. You know how to deal with it.

But this is the first time in a while you've got new nightmare fuel. The hot, rancid breath of the stalker and the agonizing sound of its moans. Your own choked gasps as you try with all of your strength to keep its rotting teeth away from you. Unlike reality, your dreams don't allow you to grab a hold of your knife and instead, you feel it take a chunk out of your neck, hot blood splattering your face and you have to just lie there as it bites and bites and bites --

You jolt upright with a small gasp. Necessity has taught you to wake silently.

"Fuck," you say to the empty room. No way you're going back to sleep after that. You swing your legs over the side of your bed and put your head in your hands. "Breathe. Breathe."

The sky is black through your windows. You have no idea what time it is but you stand before the lingering panic can take hold and make things worse. Fresh air will get the iron smell out of your nose. You dress in the dark in more layers than necessary but you want to stop shaking.

Jackson at night is quiet but there are always a few people around, always someone else who can't sleep. The sky is clear and the moon is bright and it smells like woodsmoke and the unique earthy feel of the valley. This is your home. So long as you have this you can get through it.

Your feet take you through the streets of houses, most of the windows dark. Just another lap around town and then you'll go home, try to sleep again.

Then you hear something. The gentle strum of an acoustic guitar weaving with the night air like a dream. A song from before, a song you recognize but don't know the name of, don't know the words. You wrap your arms around yourself and follow the sound down Rancher Street. If you find whoever is playing it you'll wave and walk slowly home.

Your breath catches in your throat when you see whose house it is. Joel is on the porch, rocking slowly and head leaning back, eyes closed as he strums. How did you not know he played guitar? It only makes sense that the hands that are capable of such violence can also make something beautiful. He can ruffle Ellie's hair and pull the trigger and fix your doors and do this.

Something in your chest tightens.

Joel's eyes open and land on you immediately. You realize how it looks -- you standing in front of his house in the middle of the night, watching him. But he stops his playing and calls out your name.

"Hey, you alright?" he says. You hover between taking a step forward and a step back.

"Couldn't sleep."

He shakes his head. "Can't hear ya," he says. "C'mere."

Step forward it is. Up the stairs and onto the porch that creaks a little under your boots. There's only one chair and a small table with a lantern on it. Wind chimes dangle over the railing and you drag your hand through them on instinct like a child with a toy.

"Sorry," you say softly.

"Only got one chair," Joel says. He's got one boot resting on his knee, guitar slung across his lap. He looks tired. "I'll go get another --"

You wave him off. "No, please," you say. "I'll stand. I'm too antsy to sit, anyway." If you sit down in a chair next to Joel Miller you might never get up.

He frowns but settles back into his seat. "You alright?" he asks again.

His gaze is a little too much. You feel silly all of a sudden, not sure how you got here. A fucking nightmare? God, you're ridiculous. You cross your arms and lean back on the railing and look anywhere but him.

"Couldn't sleep." Joel hums.

"Heard that one before."

He strums some more and you relax again despite yourself. "Sounds nice. Do you play a lot?"

"Sometimes," he says. "Old habit."

"It's a nice one. Better than walking the streets in the dark." Your tone is harsher than you mean it to be and Joel frowns.

"It's safe to," he says, as though your wellbeing is his personal concern. "Bit cold, though."

"Why are you out here then?" You're frustrated with yourself and taking it out on him just a little bit. The smell of blood fills your nostrils again and you press your fingertips into your crossed arms, hard, and close your eyes. Your breath stutters in your chest.

"Nightmares," Joel says wryly. There's some shifting, the scrape of wood on wood and you open your eyes. His are fixated on your fingers and you stop squeezing. The guitar is now leaning up against the house and he's got his elbows on his knees like he's about to ask you a serious question. The lantern light makes his hair look darker, less silver, but it also makes the lines on his face look deeper. You wonder what kind of shit he's seen. What things he has nightmares about.

"Had this conversation with Ellie a million times," he huffs, rubs his hand through his beard in what you now consider a familiar gesture. "You don't need to talk if you don't want to. But can't hurt."

Is he asking you to talk about your nightmare? Does he actually want to know? Do you know how to talk about it?

"I take it you're a fountain of emotional sharing, huh?" Again, the misplaced frustration. You don't know how to turn it off.

His eyes flash but he just leans back in his chair and shrugs. "Depends on the day."

The low-level hum of your infatuation with him flares and your traitorous brain bats it down right away. You want to see all sides that he can offer you, want to make him frustrated and angry just to see if that'll make him sick of you.

You run your hand through the wind chimes again, watching your fingers move through the air. You remember what the knife felt like in your hand, the way the blood was hot as it dripped down your wrist and onto your face.

"Tough patrol," you say. "Messiest since I got here." Joel says nothing and you don't look at him. "I...it was fine. We got jumped by some stalkers and it was fine but...close. And I -- I didn't realize how badly I wanted to come back here until then. How badly I wanted to go home at the end of it. Does that make sense?"

You finally look up and Joel's knuckles are white on the arms of his chair. When he sees you looking he crosses his arms. "Sure," he says, clears his throat.

The urge to try to explain more is overwhelming. "I mean, we've all done fucked up shit. I've been up to my elbows in infected guts and still come out on top and slept like a rock the night after. And all of a sudden I can't fucking handle a stalker getting in my face. It's like I've never had to get my hands dirty before and what if it means I'm going to fuck up next time --"

"Hey," Joel says firmly. You feel a hand on your forearm and realize you've been pacing, arms flailing as you rambled. He gives it a squeeze and then releases you. "Feel like I gotta say fuck now to catch up with you."

A wet chuckle works its way out of you. Where did that come from? Are you about to cry? On the porch of the man you have a stupid, stupid crush on? This is embarrassing. And his touch. People touch you all the time, all things considered. A tap on patrol indicating silence, a hand on your arm to get your attention, to brace you as you lift something. Children in town who don't know the horrors outside the walls give affection freely. Hell, Joel touched your shoulder after your patrol. You're not touch starved but you feel like no one has touched you with tenderness and meant it in years.

"Sorry."

Joel tuts. "C'mon," he says. "I asked."

"I don't think I feel any better."

He stands and grunts as he does so. He's so much closer than before, so close you can smell what you can only describe as Joel: wood shavings and gunpowder, laundry soap and leather. It's a little dizzying. He leans on the railing next to you.

"Bet when you go back to bed you won't dream," he says. "Usually what happens."

"Here you are again," you sigh. "Helping me out. I promise I get on just fine on my own."

"I know," he says. His eyes are warm and so, so deep. "Don't have to, though."

Joel, for all his kindness and popularity in town, is a man just like any other. A person who has seen and done shit that no one should have to see and do. You know he's got his fair share of secrets, of things he won't talk about. You all do. You know he can be unflinching and maybe even cruel, dangerous and deadly. Whatever is happening here -- this openness, this desire of his to help you out -- is hard won. You think about what Ellie said and let yourself have a dangerous thought: maybe he's this way with you because he wants to be.

You sway into him just a little before catching yourself and standing up straight. "I should go try that dreamless sleep," you say softly. "And you should, too." It does not escape your notice that you haven't talked about Joel's nightmares, whatever they are. You don't think he'd be that open. A piece of you imagines a world where you ask and he answers.

"I might," he says. Neither of you move.

That small piece of you would stay here all night. That small piece of you tries for the next best thing.

"Will you let me cook for you now?" you ask. It sounds a little desperate to your own ears. "Please?"

"Persistent, ain't you?" He taps his closed fist on the railing once, twice. "Well, if it's that important to you. Chili, you said?"

"I can have it done by sundown tomorrow. I'm on greenhouses but we always finish early. You can come by and get it. I'll do enough for you and Ellie for a few days." You're rambling but finally he's going to let you do something for him. Hinges, nightmares, it's too much. Maybe you can somehow cook out this affection for him, get rid of it with your own hands if you try hard enough.

"Alright," Joel says. He puts his hand on your shoulder lightly and squeezes once. You feel it all the way down to your toes. "Now get outta this damn cold."

He doesn't offer to walk you home. You'd say no if he did. You need the time to sort out the mess in your mind. You give him the most earnest smile you can manage and he watches from his porch until you turn out of sight.

__

Joel is on your mind all day. More so than usual, which is saying a lot. The crush has turned into something...more. Something that makes you hope and that something is dangerous. It's just setting yourself up to be hurt through no fault of Joel's when it goes nowhere. Because why would he be thinking about you?

"You're smiley today," Dina says. She's a sweet girl and you're paired together on greenhouse shift today. She's always got a story to tell about plants she and her sister saw in New Mexico or some weird mushroom she found on group patrol. You love how positive she is and you try to absorb some.

"Am I?" you say lightly.

She tugs on one more cucumber, putting it in your shared basket before wiping her face. She gets dirt on her nose. It makes her look young. "Got big plans?"

Your face feels hot. "Just cooking for a...friend." It's the first time you've said that out loud. It's probably true, right? Acquaintance, at least. Joel is important to you and it's taken an alarmingly short amount of time for it to solidify. That's just how the world works these days -- you never know how much time you have so everything moves faster. You care harder despite years of proof that nothing good comes of it. You can't help it. You were made to leak love like an open wound.

"A friend," Dina teases. Teenagers. You remember that she's friends with Ellie and it's very possible she knows exactly what you're talking about but she's too kind to say anything more.

"Yep," you say, popping the p. "Do I have to start teasing you about Jesse or are you going to cut me some slack?"

"Well, hey," she laughs. "I think it's nice to be excited about something. You're so serious all the time."

"Am not," you mutter.

Something you appreciate about Dina is that despite her age she knows when to leave it. "Whatever you say," she says primly.

Once work is over and you're back home the cooking goes quick. You focus just enough considering you want this to actually be good and for Joel and Ellie to like it. It's thank you chili, it's you are important to me chili, it's I want to see you every day for the rest of my life chili.

Well. It's thank you at the very least.

And food, especially in this world, means something extra. There's enough to go around in Jackson, more than enough, but anyone taking the time to fix something with their own hands means more. You know how different a meal can taste when someone makes it with care.

And to say you care is a bit of an understatement.

The chili is simmering and you're about to start on the dishes when there's a knock on the door.

"Shit," you say. You wipe your hands on a towel and pad down the hall in socked feet. When you open it you find Joel bathed in the golden light of the sunset. His hands are tucked in his pockets, the collar of his coat turned up to protect his neck from the chill that's settled in for the season. His face softens at the sight of you but his shoulders are still tight. Is he...nervous? No, you're projecting.

Here he is on your doorstep again. If you're not careful you'll get used to him being there.

"Sorry for bein' a bit early," he says at the same time you say, "I was just thinking about you ."

The tension melts out of him and he smirks like a man with a secret. "That so?"

Your eyes are wide as you find your words. Hopefully ones that aren't embarrassing. "Come in," you say. "I'm letting the heat out."

He follows you to the kitchen. "Smells good," he says.

"It's not quite done yet but that's a good sign, I guess." You stir the pot before rolling up your sleeves and taking your spot in front of the sink. "Sorry it's a bit of a mess, I was about to start on this --"

"Now I know you ain't about to do all that yourself," Joel drawls. It's a syrupy tone you haven't heard from him, not really. Is he...flirting with you?

"I...what?"

"Scoot," Joel says. He steps beside you in front of the sink and gently bumps your hip with his. "Seriously."

"Joel--"

"Does it look like I'm kiddin'?"

He keeps his eyes on yours as he shrugs off his jacket, tosses it on this island, and rolls his shirtsleeves up to his elbow. You look away from him so you can watch.

"This is getting ridiculous," you tell him even as you hop up to sit on the counter closest to the sink so you can see his face. He turns on the tap and starts on the various things in the sink even though some of them are clearly not from cooking tonight. "You'll be sick of this chili before I can pay you back."

"I told you it ain't like that," he scolds. "So quit it."

There's no real bite to his tone but you do as he says all the same. You kick your feet out a few times and do your best not to stare but fail miserably. The fall sunlight seems to have followed him into your house, pinkish-golden beams falling across his face. You can see a triangle of chest at the top of his shirt, a few dark curls teasing the hair on him. The scar on the bridge of his nose is much harsher up close, much deeper than the countless other ones that dot his forehead, his temples. He doesn't look as tired today. Maybe he got some sleep after all.

So did you. You didn't dream.

"How was your day?" you ask. Joel's eyes flick up to yours for just a breath before he looks back down at his task. His mouth pulls up at the corner.

"Fine," he says. "Had to fix the water heater at Ellie's place."

A piece of hair falls in his face and you shove your palms under your thighs so you don't brush it back.

You tap his denim-clad thigh with your socked foot, almost like a compromise with yourself when it comes to touching him. "And that took all day?" Damn, are you the one flirting now?

Joel seems amused in a grumpy way. "Well, no," he says. The faucet is on so he speaks a little louder. "Did some house chores. Worked on a guitar. Took a nap."

The image of Joel sprawled out on a couch is clear as day. You bet he looks relaxed in his sleep, the lines on his face not as pronounced, his breathing steady and even.

"Busy day," you say softly. He's about to say more, lips parted to ask about your day, maybe, but you're not about to admit that you spent all day thinking about him so you keep talking before he can. "Does Ellie like living in the garage?"

"Think so," he says. "She spends a night in the house every so often but I think she likes havin' her own space. S'important to me to give her that."

This is uncharted territory. You desperately don't want to step in shit, to somehow make him bring his walls back up. Everyone is protective of the things they love in this world and for good reason and you're pretty sure there is nothing and no one Joel loves more than Ellie.

"She's a good kid," you offer. "Everyone in town loves her."

Joel smiles down at his hands, that soft, raw smile you've seen a few times when talking about her. It makes your chest ache. "She is," he admits. "Pain in my ass, too."

You want so badly to ask him the details. How did they meet? How did they get here? How did they become so devoted to one another? And what happened in the last twenty years to get him to right now, washing dishes in your kitchen?

But you haven't earned that stuff yet. Maybe you never will.

"Does she like Jackson?" You remember what he said about them settling in, sleeping in the living room with their shoes on. You imagine he kept watch for weeks, maybe months, before deciding it was safe.

He nods. "S'good for her to have friends. And havin' school is good for her. She's real smart." He clears his throat. "And you? D'you like it?"

"Well, I like it much better now that my hinges don't squeak."

Joel laughs. "I'll bet you do." He's almost done, everything from your chili-making washed and set aside to dry. He's doing your dishes from breakfast but shows no signs of stopping."Do you cook like this a lot?

Your brows furrow. "I-- no, actually," you admit. "It's just me, so. Not worth putting in the effort that often."

He turns off the tap and grabs a towel and starts to dry. You should offer to help but you feel frozen to the counter. If you get any closer to him you might snap. His jaw is tight.

"When Ellie and I --" he stops, takes a moment to focus on the bowl in his hands. Joel, you've noticed, doesn't tend to say things he doesn't mean, at least not to you. It's like he knows that every word counts in a life as unpredictable as this. "We had a bit of a rough patch last year and we didn't talk for a while. I was damn near eatin' canned veggies on days Tommy didn't drag me to the community meals." He sighs and sets the bowl on the counter ever so gently. Violence and tenderness go hand in hand with him. "Just didn't have it in myself to try cookin' if she wasn't there to eat it."

It's the most vulnerable thing he's said. He keeps doing this -- offering you pieces of himself that you want to hold close, that make you think maybe he wants you to know him.

"Joel--"

"I guess what I'm sayin' is it's easier to take care of yourself when you're also takin' care of people who matter to you. That make sense?"

"Yeah," you breathe. "It does."

The whole scene is so...domestic that your chest aches. Joel in your kitchen doing your dishes. He's helping you yet again but this feels different. It feels like he wants to be here, talking to you. It feels real.

He finishes his task and dries his hands on a faded towel. You hop down from the counter to check the chili. "Should be done," you say. "Do you want to try it? Make sure it's worth it?"

"Oh, it's worth it," he mutters. You work to keep your face neutral. What does that mean? "Sure."

You pull a spoon from the drawer and while it would make more sense to just hand it to him you don't. Instead, you dip it into the steaming liquid and hold it out for him, your other hand cupped underneath to catch any spill. Joel stares at your offering for a few seconds and you wonder if he can hear your heart beating.

Then Joel reaches out slowly like he's afraid you'll bolt if he goes too fast, and lightly wraps his hand around your wrist. It's the first time he's touched you skin to skin and you know immediately that it's a mistake.

You'll never stop wanting him now.

His palm is warm, callused fingertips pressing gently into your skin and he tugs, bringing the spoon -- and you -- closer to his mouth. Everything moves in slow motion for a few moments and it's like you are the only two people in the world. Your kitchen fades and it's just Joel. His lips part and he slides the spoon into his mouth at the same time as his thumb strokes the inside skin of your wrist.

It's very possible that you gasp a little.

He closes his eyes and you're torn between watching his face and his throat as he swallows. You could look at him forever, you think, and never get enough. The set of his brow, the hard line of his jaw. Lines around his eyes and mouth from years of terror and violence but also from laughter and smiles. You want to learn every inch of him if he'll let you.

"Christ," Joel says. His eyes fly open and find yours. "That's good. That's real good."

"You're just saying that," you say weakly. He hasn't let go of your wrist and his thumb strokes once again. You wonder if you realize he's doing it.

Something in his face changes, something so small that you only notice because you're watching. It feels like he has decided something and you wish you knew him well enough to say what. You dare to hope it has to do with you.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm a good liar but I ain't just sayin' that."

Sweetheart. It echoes in your ears, burrows its way into your chest and takes root.

You're so fucked.

But there's something in Joel's gaze, in the brush of his thumb across your skin, in the fact he's just done all of your dishes and talked to you like he wants to be here that gives your traitorous heart some ground to stand on.

You send him home with as many glass containers of chili as he'll take. He argues that you won't have enough for yourself and manages to convince you to keep a few. You don't tell him that what you really want is to sit next to him at a table and eat it, knees bumping under the wood and his smile making your empty house feel warm.

"Tell Ellie I say hi," you say once he's out your door and on the porch. "And let me know if she likes it."

"Will do," Joel says. You hug your arms around yourself against the chill. He frowns slightly.

You wonder if he'd touch you if his hands weren't full.

"And thank you for--"

He shakes his head. "Not acceptin' thanks," he chides. "Not from you."

You don't know what to say to that. Joel seems to realize he's rendered you speechless, not for the first time, and nods his head before heading home.

"See you around, Joel," you call after him. It sounds half like a question and half like a wish.

He turns. "Countin' on it."

___

You do see him around but not as much as you'd like. Things pick up around town before the seasons can change and send Wyoming into winter. You find yourself in the kitchen most days helping seal jars for the community food stores, hands chapped from the hot water and heart light when you think about Joel. He nods at you from across the dining hall, opens the door of the library when you're going in and he's coming out, and tells Ellie to tell you how good the chili was when you share a shift at the stables.

"Fucking amazing," she says.

You sleep fairly well, going to bed each night with a little bit of lightness in your heart that you allow because why not? There's no way out short of Joel telling you to fuck off and you don't think that'll happen. If only you could get over yourself a little more and actually do something about it.

As much as you want to keep telling yourself that this -- glances across rooms, smiles from a distance, memories of his hand on your skin -- is enough, you're not sure that it is. The force of your want is destabilizing considering the most that's happened is maybe a little bit of flirting. But maybe this is you taking his direction to ask for...no help, not exactly, but to ask for something. To ask for him.

Today you're going on patrol. You decide as you mount your horse that you're going to ask Joel if he wants to get a drink when you get back. You want to talk to him again, let him under your skin a little more. Maybe tell him some things about yourself. Sometimes he's milling around the gate or on wall duty but you don't see him as you and your partner -- a fairly new kid in his twenties -- take your rifles and head out. You're on an easy route today, just clearing out the town over the hill and the highway exits near Jackson. Shouldn't take you more than a few hours.

It goes to shit fairly quickly.

The kid -- Conner? Charlie? You can't remember -- is rambling about the infected he's killed for some reason when you realize something isn't quite right. You can't hear any birds. Apollo snorts and it sounds panicked. You motion for the kid to stop talking but he either ignores you or doesn't see.

He sure shuts up when the clicker bursts out of a house to your left. Apollo startles and rears at the moment you reach for your gun and you can't grab hold in time.

You go flying, bouncing off a rusted-out car and landing hard on the broken pavement of the street with a popping sound. There is a pain in your shoulder so intense your vision whites out. The kid is shouting, the clicker is making that awful sound, but then you hear two gunshots and nothing else.

"Holy fuck," he says, rushing over to you. "Fuck, are you okay?"

Well, for a talker, this kid a good shot.

"Get the -- horse --" You roll onto your back with a groan and he grabs Apollo and settles him.

"What happened?"

You stare up at the sky, blue turning purple. It'll be sunset soon and you very well might be fucked if this is what you think it is.

"I think my shoulder popped out," you say through gritted teeth. Your head doesn't hurt like you smacked it and your side is only a little sore. Maybe some bruised ribs. Your hands are scraped, blood beading on the heels of your palms. "Help me up."

"Holy shit." He helps you sit up and then stand, your left arm hanging limp at your side. You hiss through your teeth as it gets jostled and lean heavily on the car. "You don't look so good," he says. "Can you ride? We should only be a half hour out of town."

"I...don't think so." You're pretty sure you'll pass out from the pain and this kid doesn't look like he can handle that. You don't want to fuck up the joint any more than you have to. "You're going to have to go back and bring someone to set it for me, okay?"

"But the rules say --"

"I know what the fucking rules say," you snap. Don't let your partner out of your sight. Your shoulder is throbbing and you might cry but not until this kid is on his way back to town. "That's why you're going to go as fast as you can, alright?"

"We should at least clear a building first so you can --"

"No time," you say, looking at the sky. "If we want to be back before nightfall you need to go now. I'll handle myself."

You really should know his name. He sets his jaw in a move that reminds you of Joel which causes a pang in your chest so intense you want to rub it away. "I'll clear that garage, okay?" He points behind you and before you can stop him he runs towards it with his gun out.

Lucky for both of you it's clear. You take Apollo inside and slump against the wall, pistol in your hand. The kid closes the garage door behind him and you hear the clop of his horse as he gallops away.

"Fuck," you say into the empty room. It's dusty and full of cobwebs and not much else. Empty metal shelves, a rusted-out lawn mower, some tarps so ratted they're useless. Apollo snorts. "Not your fault, buddy."

Death has been nipping at your heels for twenty years now. You've always expected it. And you're fairly certain you won't die out here. Maybe end up spending a night on this floor, having to walk yourself back to Jackson tomorrow morning. But you can't help the fear that rises in your throat. You know how an injury like this means so much more in this world. You won't be able to work for weeks. You won't be able to patrol, to pull your weight.

You're going to need a lot of help.

You close your eyes against the stinging tears and thud your head against the wall.

The pain dulls the embarrassment you feel when you catch yourself thinking of Joel. You wish he was here. If you'd been on patrol together this wouldn't have happened. You wonder what he's going to think of this.

What you'd really like is for him to hold you and tell you it'll be alright.

A few tears slip down your nose. Apollo noses at your knee.

There are no windows so you don't know how much time has passed. You start to question if this was the right call. Maybe you could have made it back on horseback, or at the very least slung across the back of Apollo like a sack of flour, arm be damned.

Your traitorous brain is about to remind you of all the things that go bump in the night out here when you hear something. 

Someone is calling your name. Yelling it.

"Here!" you scream. Apollo whinnies. "I'm here!" You have no idea if they can hear you. You press your good shoulder into the wall behind you and try to push yourself to your feet but just as you do the garage door is hauled open and there stands --

Joel.

A sob bursts from your throat and you will yourself to pull it together. Behind him the sky is much more orange than it was when you first sat down.

Joel's eyes look you up and down once before cataloging the space and locking on some milk crates. He stacks two of them.

"Sit," he says. His voice is tight.

"Joel --"

"Sit."

You do as he says. He kneels at your feet and rummages around in his bag. His horse stands munching on some overgrown grass on the driveway. Did he come alone?

"How are you here --"

Joel cuts you off with a glare. His eyes are blazing, jaw grinding as he holds out a length of bandage.

"Hold this." He stands and his knees crack. "Kid said it's your shoulder. Anything else?"

The throb is still deep, still intense, but his arrival almost made you forget all about it. You shake your head.

"Didn't hit your head? Crack ribs? Nothin' like that?"

"No, I don't think so --"

"Need you to sit up straight," he says. There's no warmth in his tone but it's a little softer now that he's taken stock of the situation. "I ain't gonna lie to you, this is going to hurt like hell." He digs in his pocket for something and pulls out a square of leather. "Need you to bite down on this."

He squats so that you're just about face to face and holds out the leather. It feels like being in your kitchen, you holding out the spoon and fighting your desire to touch him. Except this time he won't look you in the eye. You open your mouth and he gently places it between your teeth, thumb catching the corner of your lips and trailing along the edge of your chin before he pulls away and stands up.

"I'm going to reset it on three, alright? Bite down hard on that." He finally meets your gaze and you nod and close your eyes. He puts one hand on your shoulder and the other on your wrist and you wince even though you feel incredibly safe in his hands. "Alright. One...two --"

Joel jerks your arm up and around before he hits three and you barely hear it pop back into place because, as he said, it hurts like hell. You bite down hard on the leather which also serves to muffle your scream.

Someone is talking to you."I know, baby, I know. Good job, you did a good job."

You open your eyes and wipe away a few tears with one hand and pull the leather from your teeth. Joel looks pained but his face snaps back to neutral when he sees you watching. His eyes narrow.

"Where did that come from?" He gently grabs your wrist and looks at your palm and you both find it bloody. "Got it on your face."

"Scraped my hands when I fell," you say hoarsely. He clicks his tongue.

"Give me that bandage." You don't even get a chance to hand it to him because he plucks it from your lap. "Gonna make this into a sling for this arm. Try not to move it much. Then we'll clean those hands and head home. Get you to the clinic for some meds." He gently positions your arm, which hurts a lot less than before but is still throbbing, and ties a sling so it's bent close to your chest. You can feel his breath on your neck as he does the knot.

And then he's back crouching in front of you.

Joel Miller on his knees for you so many times in one day makes you a little dizzy. Or maybe that's the adrenaline.

"Are you angry with me?" you ask softly as he wipes clean your palms and cheek with firm touches. The muscle in his jaw twitches again and his hands freeze for a split second.

"No," he says. "I ain't mad at you. I just can't believe the fuckin' kid left you here."

"I told him to."

"Can't believe that either. You know better."

"It's fine, Joel," you say. "It doesn't matter. I would have just walked back in the morning if no one came --"

He pulls his hands away and tosses the rag to the floor. "Damnit, it does matter," he curses. "'Course it fuckin' matters. Cut that shit out."

Now you're confused. It sure seems like he's angry with you. "Joel, I don't understand --"

His hands cradle your face and the protest dies in your throat. "You matter to me," he says thickly. His eyes are wide but his stare is steady. "Ain't it fuckin' obvious?" Anger and desperation are dripping from his words. "It matters."

For one long second you think he's going to kiss you. Now that might kill you.

You wrap one hand around his wrist and lean into his palm. A thousand thoughts swirl in your head but you focus on one. Joel is here which means you're safe. Joel is here which means he's going to take care of you. Joel is here. Joel is here. Joel is here.

"Oh," you breathe. You turn your face in his palm and press your lips to the center of it. His breath hitches and it feels like something big between you shifts, slots into place. "Okay," you say against his skin.

He pulls his hands away and stands. He works his jaw a few times before shouldering his pack and holding out his hand. "Let's go home," he says.

You stand with his help. "I think you'll need to help me get on my horse."

"Not a fuckin' chance," he growls but you can still see tenderness in his eyes. "Can't hold on well enough with one arm. We're ridin' together."

This Joel is one you haven't seen. But this is what you wanted, right? You want to see every part of him. Something molten and heavy sits in your stomach at how tense he is, how his hands remain gentle despite his harsh words. How he just told you that you matter to him. Maybe this is all a dream.

He helps you on his horse and then gets on behind you, tying Apollo's reigns to his so you won't lose him. He wraps one arm right around your stomach, mindful of your arm.

"Ain't gonna be comfortable," he says in your ear. "But it'll be over quick."

You lean back into him. Hell, it's all on the table now. If your arm is going to hurt you might as well enjoy your time pressed against him.

"Oh, I don't know," you say. "This isn't so bad." He snorts and snaps the reigns.

He talks low and steady in your ears as you gallop, his palm firm on your abdomen to keep you as still as possible though it's a hopeless venture. Your shoulder aches, sends sharp tendrils of pain through your entire arm with every stride.

He tells you that he was on the wall when your partner came back alone. That he knew something was wrong with you as soon as the kid came into view. He'd seen the patrol assignments and knew you were paired together. Kid didn't know what flag to use to signal his approach because you're not supposed to leave behind your partner.

Joel tells you how he hopped down from the wall and asked the kid where exactly he left you. Demanded to know how hurt you were, if you'd been bit. He was on a horse before anyone else could get their shit together, told them to get Tommy and have the clinic ready for you. Started hollering your name as soon as he got to the street, rifle ready for any infected to show up.

"Damn miracle when you yelled back," he says just as Jackson comes into view. You're sweating and dizzy from the pain, practically all of your weight slumped back into his chest. "Almost there, sweetheart. Doin' real good."

The rest of it is a blur. Joel takes you to the clinic where he becomes increasingly agitated that he set your shoulder wrong until one of the staff says he did it just fine. They give you a real sling and one painkiller to take if you hurt really bad, despite some harsh words from Joel in an attempt to get you more.

"Don't move it above your head for two weeks. Keep the sling on for that time, too. Ice it today, start moving it back and forth a few times in a few days. You got someone to help you for a bit?"

Before you can open her mouth Joel answer for you.

"Yes." The nurse hides her amusement well. She lets you go. Joel keeps his hand on your back as he walks you to your house.

You stop him when you get to your front door. "Joel --"

"If you're about to argue with me, so help me God, I'll --"

"I was going to ask if you need to go check on Ellie." You pull out your keys and after a second hold them out for him. Maybe letting Joel help you is helping him, too. You can handle that. You think.

"Told Tommy to when I left. I'll go home once we get you settled."

We.

"Okay," you say softly. He unlocks the door and motions for you to go in. You sit gingerly on the couch and Joel brings you a glass of water.

And then he paces. He looks at the books on your shelf without seeing them and rubs his thumb against his first two fingers over and over. And all of a sudden he won't look at you.

"Joel, sit down or something," you grumble. "You're making me nervous."

He stops. "Fine." His tone has a bit of bite to it that makes you close your eyes. There's an armchair in the room but he sits next to you instead. He presses his knee to yours, almost in apology.

The adrenaline has faded by now and all you feel is the ache of your shoulder and ribs and rawness of your palms and heart. The shoulder hurts like hell but in a way all of this hurts deeper, harder than that. In the way you know love, or the beginning of it, can hurt.

You sniffle.

Truth is you're overwhelmed. By what happened, by Joel coming to get you and saying all that shit. By him touching you, by him being here, by your own heart beating so quickly at his nearness. Even though you dared hope he felt something close to your affection for him it's a shock to realize he cares about you because you're you, not just because he's a good man. You've always wanted love that came from a place of purpose, which feels selfish on the best of days. You should just accept whatever kindness comes your way in this cruel world.

But, fuck, you've always wanted to feel chosen. Like you matter.

And you do. Right here, you do. From his own lips he's said you do.

You don't even realize you're crying until Joel curses softly and one wide, warm palm is on your face again.

"What's wrong? You hurtin'?" His thumb swipes at your tears. "Talk to me."

"I'm fine." You press your face into his shoulder and he holds you, hand soft on the back of your head. "I'm just -- I'm just really glad you're here, Joel."

"Course I'm here," he says into your hair. "C'mere."

There's nowhere for you to go considering you're already pressed against him. But his arms come around you fully, mindful of your shoulder, and your fingers fist in his shirt.

You should be embarrassed. On the scale of fucked up shit that's happened to you, today is remarkably low. But you let yourself have this. You breathe him in and let him hold you.

"I was going to ask you to get a drink tonight," you mumble. His chest vibrates with laughter.

"That so?" he says. His hand rubs up and down your spine. "Reckon I'd say yes."

You pull back just enough to see his face. This close you can see how his eyes have a bit of gold in them. "Really?" Even with proof of his affection right in front of you it's a little hard to believe.

"Am I readin' this wrong?" he asks. "It's okay if I am--"

"No," you say quickly. "No, you're not."

"Thought so." His lips pull up at the corner just a bit. "But, still. You've had a real rough day, and --"

"Joel," you breathe. You free your good arm from your embrace and put your hand on his jaw. He's touched you plenty today and you want to give it a try yourself. His face is warm, his beard gently rubbing against your skin. His eyes flutter close for a breath before he opens them wide and leans into your hand just a little.

"Alright," he says softly. Then he says your name, just once, ever so tenderly. It sounds like a prayer.

Joel Miller kisses you in the middle of your living room. Despite the affection you've been nursing for him over the last little while you never allowed yourself to imagine what it would be like to kiss him.

It's like this: the first press of his lips is soft like he thinks you'll pull away. When you don't he takes your lower lip between his and presses a little harder. Your hand slides into his hair and he palms your hip with one of his and cups your face with the other. His tongue traces the seam of your lips and you open for him, let him lick into your mouth. You sigh into it and tug on his hair just a little. Joel makes a sound deep in his throat and then pulls away.

You're both breathing heavier than before, both smiling. Joel presses his lips to your forehead, your temple. He holds you against him and you breathe against the skin of his neck.

"Will you let me take care of you?" he says into your hair.

"For my sake or yours?"

You think he'll laugh but he just breathes. "Both," he says. "Hell, you know what's goin' on here. I showed my hand. Been showin' it." He pulls away so you can see the honesty in his face. "I told you in as many damn words as I know how."

He did. He did and you make yourself believe it. Love in this life is worth holding on with both hands. Whatever this is, whatever this is going to become, you want it. You want to let this man continue to teach you to ask for help. You want to learn from him, maybe teach him a few things of your own.

You want to love him. You think you could sooner rather than later.

You trace the line of his brow, run your fingertip over the scar on the bridge of his nose.

"Can you kiss me again?" you ask.

"What a fuckin' question," he says. "C'mere."

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

[eldritchravens]

Welcome Home - The Homewarming Update : A compilation of the secrets I could find

⚠️SPOILERS AHEAD!⚠️

This post is simply a compilation of all the things I could find during my exploration of the website. I'm not going to delve too much into theories. Enjoy the read!

1- Statics

Every background is now filled with statics. I tried zooming out but I couldn't find anything. Not really a secret, but still interesting to note.

2- It's a dog! Oh, and a pea!

Found in the "Official Welcome Home Cook Book" in the merchandise page. I am... A little worried about Barnaby. For those who are aware, the pea is foreshadowing for a much bigger secret.

3- Audio distortion

Surprisingly, I was only able to find one instance where the audio distorts. In the "Homewarming Storybook Record", when Wally speaks here (timestamp is 18:16), the audio gets distorted. Please let me know if you found more audio glitches on the main website!

4- The page is breathing

I was able to capture something that made my skin crawl. Look very closely at this illustration. It's... breathing. I'm unsure if any other image in the website does that too. Very troubling.

5- Lost track of time

Uh-oh! Looks like our beloved writer is losing their perception of time itself. An effect of the black substance maybe? You can find this on the News page.

6- Pixels? Smudges? Oh, and a new friend!

In The Neighboorhood page, Home now has little white pixels around him? I'm unsure if this was intentional or not. Interestingly, the secret link under Home dissapeared along with every other traces of Wally.

The logo on certain pages looks... dirty? Look closely, there are brownish stains on some letters. This doesn't appear everywhere.

And! New friend! Hello new friend!

7- Symbols!

Okay, now onto the main course. Something I think we've all noticed straight away! There's a ton of tiny little doodles splattered around the website. The doodles are all named after a letter. Here is every letter translated from their respective symbol you can find on the website :

Home : M I O A Merchandise : P Y E R Media : Y G About us : A R Stickers : E News : T Neighboorhood : S F N E Wally : W Exhibition : N Ghestbook : W W W Transcript : Y

"www" huh? Interesting, like a web link. At first, all of this doesn't really mean anything, until we stumble upon this!

Fascinating, it's a code! Eddie here is giving us the translation to every single doodle. Next, if we solve the question here "What does Home wear at parties?", it gives us the next clue we need. The answer is "ADDRESS". Address? Now, remember the "www" thing? That's right! We need to assemble the letters we found to make a link!

8- Away from Prying Eyes

After assembling a link, you will be able to visit a secret page. In it is by far the biggest secret in this update : https://www.awayfrompryingeyes.net/

When I tell you I lost my marbles when I discovered this. There is a lot to say here! Firstly, one thing to note is that unlike any other secrets we had found in previous updates, Wally didn't put this here. Instead, it was this mysterious "W". Go read the whole thing! It's PACKED with information!

"W" purposely put this here for US to find. W is in distress, confused and scared; this looks like a call for help.

Might or might not be important, but the word "Paranoid" here starts with a capital. It did catch my eye, so maybe it is noteworthy.

This entire phone call is absolutely fascinating and gives us answers about the lore. I highly recommend people to give it a listen : https://www.awayfrompryingeyes.net/phone

AND THIS??? OH MY GOODNESS!!! Clown is spoiling us with gifts for this Homewarming! Truly, thank you Clown and the whole WH team, you're doing such a marvelous job. Watch the whole thing here : https://www.awayfrompryingeyes.net/commercials

And what's this hidden among the commercials? Eddie! Remember how I said the pea was foreshadowing? Eddie can hear Home's heartbeat. Well, our dearest mailman doesn't look too well :( Thankfully Frank seems to be looking out for him!

_________________________

Important things to note: This update is almost completely void of any trace of Wally infesting the website. The symbols were placed by the website manager here. Wally is not there anymore. Also, Eddie is purposely left out of the main update, only to be the center of attention in the commercial compilation.

Well! That's all I managed to find for now! Please let me know in the replies if I've missed anything. Thank you for reading, and Happy Homewarming! <3

Edit : Added some new things I just noticed!

[kiwisbell]

helen ; chapter one

dear joel

Si vis pacem, para bellum. Or, the inciting incident.

series masterlist | my masterlist pairing: joel miller x f!reader tags/warnings: 18+ (MDNI), john wick AU, (retired) hitman!joel, husband!joel, graphic violence, established relationship, artist!reader, love as worship (and blasphemy), blood + injuries, murder, cars, joel lifts reader once, reader has hair, oral sex (f receiving - aka munch!joel returns), married fluff, angst, threats of rape/SA, home invasion, disgusting awful men, childhood/religious trauma, the typical alcohol + smoking + profanity, erotic paintings, dividers by @/saradika word count: ~ 8.2k a/n: so i'm posting this and sprinting away because i'm terrified. that being said, this story means more to me than words can say and i sincerely hope you enjoy what i have to offer. thank you so much for reading, and please let me know what you think!! gigantic thanks to @cavillscurls for beta reading this chapter and being generally incredible throughout this whole process. i couldn't have done it without ya baby ❤️ next

PREFACE

“Love is my mover, source of all I say.”

— The Divine Comedy: Inferno, Canto II.

The blood is tangy, near-sweet, as he swipes his forearm over his mouth and smears crimson on his shirtsleeve. It tingles faintly on his lips and crackles, warm as the melt from a late-winter snow. He feels it settle in the grooves of his palms, the hairs of his beard. He’s drowning in it. 

Joel Miller grins as the punch rocks his jaw. 

His opponent hits hard, but he’s slow. He’ll take five punches in the time it takes to wind up for one. Joel brings his arm up to block the next and delivers a blow to the sternum with his knee as his opponent’s guard drops. Wide open, the man stumbles a few steps back, choking down the telltale wheeze of being winded. Joel marches forward, relentless in his crusade, grasping him by the scruff of his neck, teeth bared like a mad wild dog, and bears his skull down on the side of the railing. Around them, the wind howls and lashes at his clothes, but he still hears the pained scream as if it were poured into his ears. 

The man drops to his knees, and Joel grabs him again, bashing his head repeatedly against the steel bar, the lapel of an Italian leather coat bunching between his fingers, tainted by rainwater and the fist of the man who's about to take his life. 

And fuck, Joel wants to make it last. 

But there's a knife in his opponent’s hand, conjured from the darkness of his coat pocket, and Joel must release him to avoid the lethal slash of the blade. Blinking blood and lashing rain from his eyes, the man lunges with a snarl, and Joel recovers from his lost victory, stopping him with his fingers curled around his opponent’s wrist. He brings his hand to the crook of the man’s elbow and uses his leverage to snap the bone.

Yowling, the man drops to his haunches, the knife clattering to the ground. Joel, chest heaving, stands over him, flexing his fingers as he readies his fist for the killing blow.

His name leaves the man’s bloodied mouth, accompanied by a mouthful of crimson-tainted saliva spat on the ground at Joel’s feet. 

“Joel…” He lifts his head, cradling his own broken arm, and sneers. There’s a chilling glow of satisfaction in it. “Did you get your perfect life, Joel? Do you really think you’ve won? It won’t ever stop. Not after you’ve killed me, not after you’ve killed all of them. Is that what you’re going to do? Kill them all?”

Joel staggers backward to pick up the knife, clamping his hand over the curve of his opponent’s shoulder, and drives the blade down into his neck.

“Yeah.”

He leaves him slumped against the railing, choking on his own blood, and limps his way to one of the beaten-up Range Rovers whose front right bumper was totaled in the crash. Joel groans as he settles into the front seat, gnashing his teeth together as he lifts the hem of his dress shirt to inspect the damage. 

The bullet has pierced the soft flesh of his stomach. Blood blossoms bright through the white fabric and spirals outward. Joel blinks away rainwater and pulls his phone from his pocket, the screen smeared with blood. He doesn’t know if it belongs to him.

He grits his teeth and makes a call. 

In the back of his head, Joel vaguely recalls an old song of prayer. He used to watch others sing it while he lingered in the shadows at the back of the cathedral. He would memorise the shape of the words leaving their mouths and wonder how a benevolent God, who had shaped man—perfection—from red clay, could have made him. 

He would lower his head as if swept up in a tide of repentance, examining the bones beneath his hands. The flickering of tendons. The bulge of veins as he delicately folded his fingers into a fist.

Red clay. Blood. The old dance of serpent and man.

He was fourteen when he escaped.

Joel looks down at his bloodied hands. They’ve grown since then. They’re stronger, thicker, scarred. There are no pictures of him as a young boy, but if he saw one, he knows he would not recognise himself. Not his eyes nor his hands nor the set of his jaw. God makes man makes boy. He is destined for Hell.

The call goes to voicemail. 

Joel curls his hand into a fist and whispers a prayer.

Something cool and wet collides with Joel’s forehead as he stalks into the airport. It’s begun to rain. 

His target gate is close, and he's early. The press of bodies begins to crowd him. Prickling body spray and sickly-sweet perfume and sunburned skin from Spring Break return flights. Joel shoves through them, unseen, unnoticed amid the rowdy din of reunions. The collar of his shirt sticks to the nape of his neck. It’s the sensation of being strangled, clammy palms slick against his own skin. He adjusts his jacket and tightens his grip on the black fabric dangling from his hand. 

Joel waits by the gate, his eyes flitting between its apex and the people milling about him, reuniting with partners and parents and children. Nobody seems suspicious, but his fingers still dance upon the blade hidden in the inner lining of his leather jacket. Those performing wide berths around the scowling man try not to make eye contact. Most don't notice his presence at all. 

He waits, flicking his sleeve up every couple minutes to check the time on the inside of his wrist. Every tick of the thin hand registers in the pulse of his heart against his ribs. 

He hears the suitcase before he sees it—and it’s hard to miss. One wheel is wonky, and the case stutters in its path along the polished floor. It’s huge, pink, hideous. 

His hand dropping from the blade in his pocket, Joel makes his move. 

You see him approaching and drop the lopsided suitcase, shrieking as he takes you up in his arms. 

He swings you around twice, holding you firm against him, your fingers grabbing desperately at the locks of his curly, brown-grey hair. Joel nestles his face in your throat and breathes in: vanilla and shampoo and the unmistakable scent of a you he can never shake. Home.

You shudder into him, your feet barely scraping the floor as he holds you around the waist, one hand cradling the back of your head. Joel lets his eyes close. 

Daisies made of diamonds dangle from your wrist, connected by a fine golden chain. He can feel the faux petals dig into the back of his neck, etching their shape into the phantom pain of the ink peeking out from his collar. Sometimes, his skin would pull back with the needle, briefly protruding from his body like a tent made of flesh, as if grasping feebly onto some innocent time before the black hands of Dürer were permanently his. His to remember. His to loathe. 

There is a slight in the way his gift to you, wrapped snugly around your wrist since the first anniversary, kisses the old wound, the tip of the cross, and all he feels is the echo of agony. He holds you tighter.

“Can’t breathe, honey,” you croak, shoulders shaking with laughter. 

Joel mutters an apology, loosening his grip on you just enough to pull away and cup your face in his hands. His thumb traces the curve of your jaw, and you beam up at him, smoothing back the hair you’d tousled with your fingers. A curl swoops back down over his forehead.

“Hi,” you say softly. 

“Hi,” says Joel, already on his way to kissing you, his mouth slanting over yours. 

He tastes of mint and smells of his dark cologne, pine, Joel. Your Joel. And you kiss him like it—your hand cupping the nape of his neck, the other sliding up his strong, broad back, your lips meeting in a consuming kiss that knocks you off-kilter. He bends slightly over you, keeping you upright with a large hand on your lower back. 

“Never leave again,” mumbles Joel, grinning against your mouth, his hand sliding down your arm to your left hand, where two glimmering bands rest on your third finger. Your hands intertwine, and he bumps his nose into yours. 

You give him another short kiss. “Get me out of here.”

Joel slides your raincoat over your shoulders and you slip your arms through. He presses his lips to your forehead and closes his eyes, letting himself linger briefly in your space before he scoops up the handle to your affront of a suitcase and escorts you out back to the car. 

He opens the passenger-side door to let you slide into your seat, securing your case in the back, and makes his way around the vehicle. You reach for the collar of his jacket and pull him toward you for a kiss, grasping his jaw between your thumb and forefinger. He grins crookedly when you pull away, bushing the pad of his thumb across your cheekbone. 

“Missed you,” he says.

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip. “Yeah? How much?”

He reaches across the console and kisses you deeply, making you gasp into him as his hand slips underneath your silky little blouse and fits his fingers in the grooves between your ribs. Your skin prickles with goosebumps under his touch as his exploration migrates to your belly, sliding south, ever lower, his hand playing at the waistband of your panties—

“Okay,” you laugh, smacking his hand away. “Okay. You’re paying for parking, Miller.”

“I’ve got money,” he says plainly, dipping his head to kiss you again, his pupils fattening as he tries to gorge on all of you at once. You place a hand on his chest, enjoying the strong pulse of his heartbeat where you typically rest your head, and gently push him back. 

“Take me home,” you coo, your gaze sweeping fondly over the face that hasn’t changed, that you cannot forget, “and show me how much you missed me.”

His wedding band coolly kisses your cheek as he retracts his hand, reluctantly turning his key in the ignition. “Yes, ma’am.”

He’s always been a meticulous driver, expert in the way he flattens his palm on the wheel, his other on the back of your headrest, turns the car out of the spot, and merges onto the freeway. When he no longer needs his other hand, he gives it to you, and you bring his long-scarred knuckles to your lips. 

His hands are marked by years of use, of abuse, speckled with little white scars, freckles, divots, curves. You already know the lines in his palms, have traced them and painted them and put them under sensitive study with your body. But you turn his hand over nonetheless, your own fingertips careful in their examination, following their contours as if searching for a change. But they’re the same—he’s the same—and so you tuck your fingers between his and bring your palms together in a warm, awaited kiss.

It’s only been a month, but you study his profile as if years have passed. He’s still Joel, still surly, plush lips curved into a permanent pout, the space between his brows marked by a ponderous gash, the vein in his throat fluttering in silence when a driver cuts him off or he spots a car following too closely. He’s a good study, practised in his stoicism. 

His nose is artful. Its convex slope, pronounced, strong, curves deliciously into his upper lip, the soft greying hairs in between a space of waiting. His mouth, soft, learned, often languageless, is what you know best of him. You know it like your own—can trace its shape in the dark, hands behind your back. The strong jawline, the slight wrinkles beside his eyes, ones he never had before you met him, the patches of skin disrupting the fullness of his beard: they’re the picture of the man you married, and there’s always something you’re disappointed in discovering you’ve missed. A something you’ve never noticed, a something you wish you could go back and add to all your canvases. 

When you left him at the airport, it was a freckle just beneath the hollow of his throat. Now, it’s the frayed hairs just behind his ears, crimping in frizzy patterns that don’t match the languorous curls on the rest of his head. They look singed, as if he’d put a match to himself. 

Maybe it’s making up for lost time, for all the days you’d missed being away from your Joel. But there’s a second, smaller something: the little round scar beneath those wild hairs. You lift your hand to it, and before your thumb can make a pass over the white, puckered skin, he speaks. 

“It’s a burn.” Merging off the freeway, he pulls into a gas station. His fuel ticker is tapping gently at the E. “From a cigarette.”

Your heart tips off the edge of a yawning chasm, and your hand pulls back in a wary twitch of your fingers. Throat tightening, you feel a distinct pressure behind the T of your nose and forehead. “From the people who raised you?”

A muscle in his jaw spasms, and he lifts your joined hands to his mouth. “None of that,” he says softly, meeting your eyes that well with unshed tears. 

No tears for me, he once said to you. Not until I’ve earned ‘em.

You sniffle, watching him nuzzle his cheek against the soft flesh of your wrist, his lips finding your vein and following it halfway up your forearm. 

“Tell me about your show.” 

You let him tuck your tears away in the grooves between his joints and smile. “Successful, but lonely. So many people knew my name, and I’m pretty sure I knew about a quarter of theirs. Made me feel like some snobbish pig.”

“Nah, that’s my job,” says Joel. “Everybody loves you, baby.”

You roll your eyes. “Either way, the gallery was a hit. The triptych sold for the highest at the auction.”

Joel smirks. “The nude ones?”

“Yeah, dirtbag. The nude ones.” Your smile is dry, still somehow saccharine. 

“I liked those,” says Joel, fingers playing upon your upper thigh. 

“Perv.”

He playfully smacks your thigh. “Goddamn right.”

“It was good. It was. But I missed you.” Your voice breaks, and Joel squeezes your fingers in response. “Could hardly sleep without you there.”

He nods like he knows. And you know he does; he barely sleeps, even if you’re on top of him. “I know everybody loves you,” he says, “but next time you go away, remember I love you most.”

You blink away the shimmer of tears so you can see him clearly. “Casanova.”

“That's right,” he says, nosing his way into another kiss. “Don't ever leave me again, baby. My heart can't take it.”

You shake your head, laughing into his mouth as your tears slip onto your tongue. “Never again,” you whisper, “unless the hotel food is good.”

He nods. “I’ll make an exception, long as I can go.”

You grin. “You know… if I’m at home all the time…”

“We’re not getting a puppy.”

“Joel—”

“No.”

“Don't you want to make your wife happy?”

He faux-snaps at you like a dog, catching his teeth around your earlobe. “As a goddamn clam.”

You gasp as you feel his mouth suckle gently at the sensitive spot beneath your ear. “I… I want… We should at least talk about…”

“Hmm?” 

He’s playing with the hem of your blouse, deft fingers leaving warm imprints on the soft skin of your belly, fingers enveloping your precious heart when he places his hand on your upper back. The organ pounds under his touch, pouring its blood into his palms. 

You haven’t felt his touch in so long.

“I want…”

Joel hums again, prompting, his pinky finger dipping under the strap of your bra and pulling back, snapping it against your skin. 

“What was I talking about?”

He chuckles, bringing his lips back to yours. You grasp for him greedily, trying to fix him to you this time, your fingers bunching the fabric of his T-shirt. But he’s pulling back, his forehead falling against yours. 

“I’ll consider it,” he says, “if you can convince me.”

Giddily, perhaps stupidly, you smile. “I’m very prepared to convince you.”

“Uh-huh. I don't doubt you, baby. How ‘bout you let me fill up the car first?”

The throbbing bass of house music Dopplers as another car approaches the gas station. Three men exit the vehicle, one of them already lighting a cigarette while the other two make for the convenience store. One is wearing a backwards cap and the other a pressed suit. 

Nice move, you think, sinking back in your seat a little as Joel slides out of the car, smoking by a gas pump.

“Nice ride,” says the man at the opposite pump, puffing at his cigarette. 

“Thanks,” says Joel with a polite smile, locking the nozzle in the fuel tank and folding his arms over his chest. He’s hovering by the passenger door, halfway to blocking you from view.

The man surveys the hood, his fingers gently tracing the cool silver. “Boss Mustang 429. She a ‘70?”

“‘69,” says Joel.

“Very nice,” muses the man, drumming his hands on the hood. You feel the crude vibrations in your spine and straighten in your seat. This man—this kid, all his puffing and grinning and loud music—is bad news. Your stomach coils taut when his gaze shifts from Joel to you, staring hard through the windshield. 

“How much?” he asks Joel. 

You notice the minute stiffening of the muscles in Joel’s shoulders. “What?”

“How much for the car?” 

Joel pushes off the car and dislodges the pump, brushing the kid aside on his way back to the driver’s side. “It’s not for sale.”

The kid wanders to the passenger-side door before Joel can turn on the car and roll up the window. He leans his elbows just inside, his face mere inches from yours, and you can smell the sickly, cloying smoke of his cigarette as he blows it in your direction. 

He says something to Joel in Spanish that makes your husband’s hand still on the wheel.

And your Joel, your courteous Joel, your never-the-shit-stirrer Joel, narrows his eyes at the kid and says something in kind, his voice a low scrape that shudders through you.

It’s too fast for you to hear, and you never learned Spanish, and you were under the assumption (until right fucking now) that Joel never did, either. But he starts the car and rolls up the window, and you’re peeling away from the gas station before the kid can reply. 

“That was…” You cast around for the words and instead rest your eyes on Joel, whose jaw looks ready to snap. “Joel, honey, when did you learn Spanish?”

He’s silent for a long while, and you would assume that he didn’t hear you—if you didn't know that he has stellar hearing. When he pulls onto the long stretch of road, signalling your first firm tug away from the stifling noise of civilization, he finally speaks. 

“Picked it up in the Marines.” 

“What did he say to you?”

Joel’s skin is stretched taut over his knuckles. “Somethin’ stupid.”

You hum, letting him linger in silence for the remainder of the trip. Scenery, green and grey sky and the drizzle of rain, swoops by the window, and you're going home. It isn't much different from what you found in Vancouver, but it's familiar. It’s the smell of the air after the rain and the way your shared home comes into view the same way it always has. 

It isn’t a modest home. You and Joel had it built before the wedding, both eager to get away from the city and exist in relative peace when your job allowed it. It sits low and broad, geometric pillars framing the front porch, sleek modern lines in black and white. Your compromise: he assumed responsibility for the exterior, and you took everything within. Joel pulls into the garage, next to your beige SUV, and helps you and your hot-pink luggage out of the car. 

The walls are littered with canvases. Mostly, there are paintings of Joel. The first time you brought him to your studio, a few weeks into the relationship, he’d sat stone-still for hours. You don't recall even a twitch of a finger. He’s in shades of blue, red, green, grey. He’s sitting, standing, lounging, sleeping. His lashes lie in repose over his cheeks, eyes closed, sometimes open, often averted. You’ve captured him in bed, by the pool, in the kitchen, in your studio. Like a spider, you’ve ensnared his shyness, his care, his devotion, weaving it into a tapestry of oil, watercolour, pastel. 

You’ve never sold a single one. This Joel—whose eyes are sometimes closed, sometimes open, often averted—is for your eyes only. 

The curls at the nape of his neck are creeping under the collar of his jacket. Winding your finger around a rich brown lock, you give him a tug. “You haven't been taking good care of yourself.”

Joel brings your hand to his mouth, kissing the rings on your finger that bind you to him. “You told me you liked it long.”

“You told me it itches.” You shrug his jacket off his shoulders and trail your hands up his muscled arms. “It's not about me, honey.”

Joel hums, cradling the crown of your head in his palm and pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “When will you learn”—another hand around your hip, tugging you forward by the small of your back—“that everything is about you?”

You narrow your eyes at him. “That's a good answer, Mr. Miller.”

He grins crookedly, backing you against the kitchen counter. “Yeah?”

You scratch his scalp and feel his mouth descend on your jaw. “Mhm. You’ve been practising.”

“Didn't have much else to do,” he grumbles, fisting the fabric of your blouse and untucking it from the waistband of the old jeans sitting low on your hips. “My wife was gone.”

“You're getting whiny,” you chide, smacking his hand away from your fly. 

“Is it working?”

“You really wanna make your wife happy?”

“Yeah, baby. Yeah.” He looks down at you like he's close to pleading. 

“Then you'll let me cut your hair,” you purr. 

His pout lasts as long as it takes for you to get his hair soapy and your fingers in his curls, massaging slow and sweet. You take your time ridding him of the excess length, chopping carefully, your hands assured of their strength. You tell him to tilt up and look down and to the side, honey, and he obeys because it's your hands, and your voice, and he's pliable as molten glass. 

You get lost in the musical shhhick of the scissors cutting through hair, humming a tune that does not match, and he's reminded of ballet. Watching you in the mirror is like seeing the dance through a glass he cannot permeate. You may be touching him, but most times he's struggling to grasp you in your entirety. 

He sees an angel in his sleep, reaching out with a hand made of gold to guide him up from hell. 

You tell him more about the gallery. You tell him about whale-watching and being too seasick to take photos for him like he'd requested. Joel wants to shake his head but he stays still and tells you it’s okay, baby, all I wanted was to know you were happy. 

And you tell him I was happy. But it would've been better with you.

And he's joking, telling you I’d be throwin' up on the other side of the boat, but his body feels cold when you set down the scissors and leave his side. 

“How’s Tommy?” you ask, rubbing gel between your palms. This, he knows, is your favourite part: styling him up all pretty like your personal doll. 

It’s his favourite part, too. He holds you around the waist while you work. “He’s panicking.”

“Oh, come on,” you laugh. “He's read every book on the shelves. And your brother doesn't read.”

“Books can't prepare you for the real thing,” says Joel. “‘Least, that's what Maria told him.”

“Maria’s probably right.” You thread your fingers through his locks and watch with a smile as he closes his eyes, his forehead dropping to your belly. “But that doesn't take away from the fact that Tommy will make a great dad.”

Joel hums, pressing a kiss to your belly. “He’s been askin’ after you to paint their nursery. Want me to tell him to fuck off?”

You're beaming, curling one lock of hair around your finger and dangling it teasingly over his forehead. “Tell Tommy I'd be delighted. Maria shouldn't be doing any of that, pregnant as she is. You should smack some sense into your brother.”

“I tried every day when we were little. Didn't take.”

You give his styled hair a finalistic tug and brush it back from his ears. “Such a good model for me,” you coo, dropping into his lap, “just like always.”

“And what do I get?” he says, watching his own hand cup your breast, thumb ghosting over the soft swell, obscured by layers of fabric. 

Your wicked eyes feel heavy on his skin. “What you always get.” 

You take his hand in yours and lead him to the bedroom. You’ve done this a thousand times, it seems, this methodical undressing, made new with every hour spent apart. The dance replenishes in the sunlight, coming alive as spring blossoms, never stale, never withered. There is something new to discover each time. 

Joel kisses you, staggering backward until he’s sitting on the edge of the bed. You climb onto his lap without breaking the kiss, your arms winding around his neck as he tucks you into him. His cock is a hard, heavy weight between your thighs, accustomed to the touch of his hand alone in the month you've been apart. 

The revitalising warmth of skin-on-skin strikes him true, blooming like blood from his heart. He clutches you so close that your heartbeat skitters from your chest to his, your mouths exchanging breaths, your bodies sharing heat. He knows nothing but the shape, smell, sound of you. 

He trails his knuckles up and down your spine and wonders if he can make certain that he will die like this. He doesn't want to know an afterlife. It will spoil the memory of his very last moment, when he brings you in close and kisses your soft cheek and lets the darkness gently pull him down. 

The sisters at the orphanage would tell him things. You will never know peace until you know Him. You cannot know a person’s love until you know His. You will never understand, child, what it is to breathe, until every breath you take is in His name. Joel drags his open mouth up the column of your sternum, its golden pillar, his tongue dipping to taste the nectar that pools in the hollow of your throat. He tastes you instead, and he feels he has not cheated God. 

You gasp his name as he licks molten salt from your skin, and he feels the golden hand curl around his heart. His lids grow heavy with every taste. Intoxicated, he seeks more, putting his mouth to the crook of your neck. Your back arches, your chest flush with his own, melting and moulding together. Every second of time spent apart withers and dies. 

You have taken Joel to bed and felt him angry, happy, morose, insatiable—but the Joel you’re feeling now is tired. A drowning man finally cresting the surface, he touches you like he never will again. Your skin bunches and folds under his too-eager hands, rubbing you raw. Your muscles pull taut as you try to accommodate his frantic mouth. He bites you and your lips part in a silent scream. He pulls your hair and you gush, your chest hot, prickling with friction and sweat and heat. 

There is anguish in the way he holds you. It feels deep as a wound, old enough to still ache when it rains, old enough that you were never around to know him when it was cut into his body. You want to rescue him from the wordless pain, the agony that has no name. 

You want to know what has made him this way. Because there are times when you see your husband and it strikes you suddenly that a different person exists in the black of his eyes. Because there are parts he keeps hidden, for your sake or his. Because there is a little boy in his chest who's been hurt and you do not know how to save that sliver of him. 

Leftover hairs from his trim sting as your bodies slide together. Your scalp prickles at the desperate way he holds you at the crown of your head. You whisper his name and he looks up at you in the darkness, and there is water brimming beneath his irises. 

“Tell me what you need,” you say. 

He brings his hand between your thighs and touches the wet, warm place he seeks. You nod, letting him roll you onto your back, his mouth trailing kisses down your navel. When you squirm, he pins you by your belly, his palm flat to your skin. When you mewl his name, your chest heaving, he nods his head in reply, dipping his head and sliding his hot tongue through your slit. 

Joel is the prayer you chant. He kneels at the edge of the bed, bringing your thighs around his ears, closing his lips around your clit. You cry out, your hand flying to his hair, tugging him closer, eliciting a groan from his chest. It rumbles through you, his face buried in your pussy, his hands fastened around your thighs. He places searing kisses between your legs, lighting you ablaze, leaving scorch marks wherever his lips touch you. 

“Tell me you're mine,” he says, and the fractured sound of his voice cuts into your skin. He's watching you, his pupils puffy and seeking, hands squeezing, desperate. “Please.”

You whimper at the sight of the kiss he places on your clit. “I’m yours,” you tell him, reaching for his hand and threading your fingers through his. “I’m your wife, Joel. I’m not going anywhere. I’m yours and I love you.” 

He lowers his head, an apostate seeking redemption, and his tongue slides heavily over your clit. At the suction of his mouth around the slick pearl, you gasp, “Oh, God,” your head thrown back, your spine arching into his palm. The cut of the diamond on your finger is sharp against his skin. 

Joel relishes the cool bite of the gem as he licks through your folds and his saliva mingles with your wetness. He kneels with fervour, presses his mouth to you as if whispering his confessions through the lattice, and makes you his. 

The flat of his tongue is scalding, his palm a brand. He licks and sucks until you’re quivering, suffocating his hand in yours, and he wants to bare the imprint of your sigh forever. He should be the one submitting to you, and here you are, lending him your body to please, if only for another moment. Joel flicks his tongue over your clit, takes it into his mouth, and makes you sob his name. 

I’m yours. 

Yours. 

And it sounds so permanent that, for a second, he believes it himself.

You come with your back curving and your hips grinding and your nails in his skin. Joel doesn’t stop until you’re begging him to, until you push yourself onto your elbows and tell him to come here.

You swing your leg over him and bring your mouth down to his. Joel squeezes his eyes shut and kisses you so deeply that it bruises him somewhere he cannot reach. His hands cupping your face. His cock heavy between your bodies. The sun lowering, casting you in bronze. He loses his grip on the world.

“Now,” you whisper in the growing dark, “it’s your turn to tell me.”

You lift yourself onto his cock and bring yourself down, and Joel’s fist opens against your back. “I’ve been yours since the restaurant,” he rasps. 

You beam at him, and dusk ends.

There is a thumping beyond your bedroom door.

Joel hears it before you. In a flash, he hooks his leg under your knee and rolls you over, pinning you under his body. He reaches for the nightstand on his side, throws open the drawer, and pulls a gun. 

You grasp his shoulders, nails digging into flesh. Eyes meet in the slippery darkness. Wide, careful. Words wordlessly exchanged. 

Your fluttering heartbeat begins to pound in your ears. The noise migrates down the hall. 

Footsteps. 

In the kitchen, glass shatters, and your stomach swoops, down and back up, lodging in your throat. 

“Joel,” you whisper, your own voice trembling out of you. He shakes his head, his finger coming to his lips. Your body begins to tremble. The chill digs a pick into each knob of your spine as it climbs up to your brain stem. 

Your home begins to pound with its very own heartbeat. You can hear its tightly-wound tension in the walls. Nobody breathes except for your husband, slow and steady, hovering over you with a gun in his hand. 

You hadn’t known he owned a gun.

His hips ground you against the bed and his fingers intertwine with yours, bringing your hand to his chest. His heart pounds strongly into your palm, his eyes narrowed, fixed to you. But you know his focus is split down the middle, divided between keeping you safe and listening. 

Your breathing peters out until it’s silent as the breeze outside the window. A man’s voice carries from the kitchen, and another answers. Joel shifts slowly off the bed and brings you with him, handing you his T-shirt and boxers. He tucks himself into his jeans and pulls another shirt over his head while you silently dress. The fabric slips from your hand as your trembling fingers struggle for a purchase. Once you’re dressed, Joel pulls you into him, pressing his lips to your forehead. 

“Under the bed,” he whispers. 

Oh, fuck that.

“You want to go out there and confront them by yourself? Are you fucking crazy?”

He shuts you up by lowering his mouth to yours in a scorching kiss. “Do not fuckin’ argue with me,” he rasps, his teeth scraping against yours. You open your mouth to do exactly that, but another glass shatters, and you flinch away. 

“Under. The. Bed.”

And he’s gone, leaving you alone, helpless, the predatory prowl of his gait something unfamiliar to you. It’s learned, utterly silent, the curve of his elbow guiding your gaze to the gun held behind his back. His head juts out before him, peeking around corners.

There are dust bunnies underneath the bed. You’re a better cleaner than Joel, but he makes an effort. He gets lost in it sometimes, sweeping his way through the house as if there’s a grid on the floor, precise in his methods. He doesn’t attend to the details, like the corners of the trim or the grooves in the floorboards. And yet, your floors are polished. Your plants are watered. He cares for you in quiet ways, when words fail. 

Your heart thuds against the hardwood through the thin fabric of his T-shirt. It smells of rain and him. There are no more noises coming from the kitchen.

You drop your head into your folded arms and will yourself to breathe. The claustrophobic space between the bed frame and the floor edges in on you. The only light disrupting the vignette is the small lamp. You’re alone. 

When you lift your head again, a pair of heavy black boots stares you right in the face. 

You bite down on your scream as your heart swoops down into your stomach, pressed hard against the cold floor. Though you do not breathe, the thrum of your heart echoes in your throat as the sputtering of an engine in the dead of winter. The boots leave scuff marks on your floors, the boards groaning under the weight. The owner is heavyset, likely male from the size of his feet. And he's calling for you. 

“Here, pretty kitty.” He pitches his octave high as he taunts you. “Come on out, sweet girl. Don't make me mad.”

You watch the path of his boots across the floor as he approaches the nightstand, throwing open the drawer and rummaging through your belongings. 

Objects roll under the bed with you as he periodically drops them, careless in his vandalism. Your journal lands next to your head with a thunk, and you hear the low buzz of your vibrator in his hand. “Hmm, kitty likes to play.” And it lands on the floor, rolling to a cool stop in the groove between two boards. 

Petrified, you can only watch him stalk across the room, his heavy footfalls thundering in your ears. He whistles a tune you don't recognise, and you wonder what's taking your husband so fucking long. 

Joel, cries your heart as the man halts in his tracks, lowering himself to the ground, taking a knee. JoelJoelJoelplease—

And there's a spark of recognition when your eyes meet in the dark, like you've been acquainted with their black depths, before you're scrambling out from under the bed and kicking him square in the face with the heel of your foot. 

He grunts, holding his nose, free hand grasping for you like wisps of smoke. You crawl to your feet and begin to run, only for him to wrap one cold hand around your ankle and pull. 

You crumple back down to the floor with him, barely saving your own skull from cracking on the hardwood as you throw your hands in front of your eyes. The impact to your elbows radiates up to your neck, and you scream your throat raw, kicking out at your assailant, your blood roaring, weeping. 

With a firm kick to his throat, you force him to let go, his hand flying instinctively to his windpipe. He wheezes something crude, probably, but you’re running—limping, mostly, slamming the bedroom door behind you with a shattering thud that quakes the frame.

“Joel!” you cry, turning the corner in the hall, feeling the walls as you go as if your own home has become foreign to you. What if he’s dead? What if you’re about to stumble over his body in the dark—the only body you’ve ever been able to know as something more than a vessel for art, for a painstaking study? That body, the body you could trace in the black with fingertips, not brushes, does not make itself known. 

“JOEL—!”

A hand comes to rest on your cheek. It is not Joel’s hand. It is no hand at all, but the edge of a blade, a cool stinging thing that nicks the tender skin beneath your eye. 

Blood from his nose drips down his mouth, staining his teeth red. You feel a small thrill of victory. 

Joel is on the kitchen floor in a heap, vaguely stirring from the impact of a baseball bat to his ribs. The bat which a second intruder now uses to smash the framed pictures on your wall. Glass rains down on him. Shards have cut Joel’s soft belly, shredded the fabric of his shirt. Your captor holds you by the hair.

A third man smokes a cigarette, sitting on your countertop, swinging his feet back and forth, and it strikes you that he’s really only a kid. Twenty-five at most. You know young hands, young eyes. Your pencils and paper know them better. 

“Nice of you to join us,” says the man from the gas station, making shapes of the cigarette smoke. You watch the way it curls around the low-hanging light. 

“Joel,” you whisper, the salt of your tears stinging in the wound on your face. “Baby, please… get up…”

“He’s fine, chiquita,” says the kid. “Don’t waste your energy.”

Joel’s eyes peel open, his hands blindly grasping for something he does not have. He’s curled in on himself to protect himself from the inevitable next swing of the bat. You wonder if he’s been struck in the head, and you can feel pieces of your heart slowly wilting as petals untended.

His gun, you realise, your eyes dropping to the belt of the man who holds you hostage. It’s tucked into his waistband, but you cannot reach it with your arms trapped in front of you. His arm is a heavy band around your chest, glueing you to him, helpless. You’re fucking helpless and you cannot get to him and he will die.

Your Joel will die and he will know pain in the way you want him to know love. 

“Let him go, please. You hurt him.”

The kid sniffs, tossing his cigarette to the floor beside Joel and jumping down from the counter to stomp it out with an expensive sneaker. “He disrespected me,” says the kid, leering down at your half-conscious husband like a speck of dirt on a polished glass. “But he doesn’t matter.”

You choke on your sobs, writhing in your captor’s grasp in a futile effort to feel not-so-suffocated, not-so-stuck. “You can have anything you want. Please, take anything. We have money, we have cars, we have paintings. They’re worth something, I promise you. Just—just look up my name. They’re worth a lot, please, just take them and leave us alone, please—”

The anger explodes through the gash in his face where he’d put the cigarette, that yawning maw eager to swallow blood and pain. “I don’t want your fucking paintings!” he screams, stalking toward you and yanking you free of the other man’s grasp. 

Your stomach swoops as he shoves you, hard, to the floor. This time, your arms do not take the blow. It is your temple that absorbs the impact, striking hard on a floor already flecked with blood. Black seeps through paper. Your eyes darken. A man—you do not know which—is speaking.

“Go on, Emil, have some fun with the bitch,” he says. “We can put her up in the kennel when we’re done with them both.”

You hear the rustling of a belt as the man above you flicks open his fly, laughing all the while. 

You're still blinking hard to clear the fog when you hear a growl rumble in your husband’s chest, the faraway noise of a fist meeting flesh, the scuffle of feet across your freshly-washed floors, the first gunshot. 

Your cheek meets cool hardwood as you succumb, the shape of your Joel’s rage etched into your eyelids. 

There’s a painting on the wall depicting two bodies in orgasm. Curved spines, feverish hands, dimples where fingers meet flesh. There is a hole in the canvas where the woman’s heart should be. A splatter of blood taints the image where the man drags his open palm down her back. 

His face is obscured, but his mouth is on her throat, exposing the cut of his jaw. The scruff of his beard. Careful strokes of oil paint join their bodies in harmony. It’s knocked askew on the wall. 

He’s rusty. 

He can feel it in the taut pull of his shoulder as he brings his arm back for the death blow. The blade comes up against the rough skin beneath the man’s chin, slicing him open just beneath the scruff of his beard. Blood bruises the hardwood floors, and although the man is already dead, Joel grasps him by the hair at the crown of his head and brings him down against the wall. 

His shoulder aches. His finger joints crackle. His knuckles are already bruised, his abdomen sore. He spits out pinkish saliva and turns his attention to his next job. 

His gun now back in his hand and its thief dead, Joel puts a bullet between the eyes of the third man, and another in his chest. The baseball bat clatters to the floor.

He thinks of the first time he wanted to kill for you and couldn’t. 

A man at the bar had groped you while you were out with friends. A little tipsy, you told Joel as he tucked you gently into the passenger’s seat, wrapped in a pretty black dress, and fell promptly asleep. He remembers the cool flutter of your hair from the air vent. He remembers the way your lashes spread like spider legs on your cheeks at every red light, the way the street lamps turned you golden. 

He remembers the man’s name. His face. His address. Some of the little wrinkles in his brain still hold echoes of information he'll never need again. But he keeps it tucked up there anyway. Maybe it reminds him of what he could never do, now that he had you. 

It seems the rules have been bent. 

Glass crunches underfoot behind him. Joel turns just in time to see the retreating figure, the fucking coward, sprinting for the door. He fires a shot that chips a piece of drywall and goes nowhere significant. Cursing himself, Joel hears the roar of his Mustang come to life as the kid leaves with his fucking car. 

Everything has a price, he'd said, blowing smoke in your face. Including your bitch. 

Joel curls his hand around the hilt of the knife. Blood begins to crust along the edge. Some of the blood, he realises, has been stolen from your sacred body. There is a cut on your cheek. 

And does your bitch have a price? Joel had replied, glancing behind the kid at the lackey he'd brought along. He seems to like you. 

You teeter on your way to standing, and Joel rushes to catch you before you can hit the floor. He flicks on the safety and sets his gun aside, cupping your face in his bloodied hands. 

Your eyes, blurred with tears, struggle to meet his. They're fixed to the man in a heap over Joel’s shoulder—the man who'd cut you. 

“Baby,” he says. 

Trancelike, you shake your head. 

“Baby, I gotta see you're still with me. Don't look at him; he ain't important right now. You’re important. Hear me?”

His voice is gentle, guiding, his thumbs hooked just behind your ears, hard eyes flickering between each of yours. 

“You killed them.”

“Yeah,” says Joel as the pad of his thumb traces the soft skin beneath the cut on your cheek. Your fingers curl around his wrists as if you’re trying to strangle him, temper him. 

“You’re hurt.” Your soft cry inverts his ribs, sits heavy and wrong in his chest. When your glassy eyes slide to meet his at last, Joel remembers the second time he wanted to kill someone and couldn’t. 

A man from your past had visited your apartment and told you he wanted to try again. You'd politely escorted him out and laughed it off. Terrible in bed, you’d joked. 

Joel remembers kneeling in the cathedral, surrounded by the lick of a thousand votives coaxing sweat from his glands, as he tried and tried to find faith and only felt the agonising scrape of the floor against his kneecaps. 

He remembers the first time devotion meant something to him. In the name of your second gallery showing. Paintings lined the walls depicting couples in embrace. “Which one is us?” he asked. 

“I don't sell those,” you’d replied. 

“Why not?”

“Because you're only for me,” you told him. “But I’ll tell you a secret.”

He’d ached to hear it. Even leaned in, a co-conspirator. 

“There isn't any devotion in these paintings. They're all hired models.”

“Then why bother at all?” he'd asked. “Why call it that?”

“Because I like showing people that there’s love in the world. And because devotion means something to me now.” You’d looked up at him and tucked your hand in his and he knew what all those nights spent kneeling meant. 

Faith, he thinks now, glaring at the shallow cut on your cheek, is knowing your purpose. 

The wound is his purpose. 

“I’m not hurt, baby girl. We need to pack a bag, okay? I have somewhere for us to stay.”

“Are they—are they coming back?” you ask, your bottom lip wobbling. 

Joel swallows bile and a bit of blood. “No. No, they won't be comin’ back. But we need a safe place while I take care of things.”

“Take care of things.” 

Your echo is ominous in his ears, and when your eyes leave him again to watch the way the blood trickles into the grooves between the floorboards, Joel knows what you will say next. 

“Who are you?”