bi-writes · 3 months ago
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hiiiii I'm new to your page but i would like to ask you what would've happened if simon mail-ordered a bride?
mail-order bride
you stare down at the address on the card, blinking as you reread the house number and look back up at the cottage in front of you. the numbers match, but you just need a few more minutes before you knock on the door.
you're not holding too many things. you have one suitcase with the entirety of your belongings at one side, the cat carrier sitting on top of it. on the other side, you hold a bundle of papers. your immigration papers, all shiny and new, your birth certificate, and your new british passport.
when you look back down, you swallow as you read over your name. it's odd, to see something new in the section labeled SURNAME.
Riley.
you've never met him. this isn't legal, it can't be, to have all of these things. he must be someone important. someone they value. or maybe, they are just too afraid to say no to him.
the front door opens, and you freeze on the spot as you see someone duck their head to step outside. they're wearing a mask, covering their entire face except for their dark eyes, but it's hitched up over his nose as he holds an unlit cigarette between his lips.
he stares as he sees you at the end of the steps. he frowns, looking you up and down.
"weren't supposed ta be 'ere for a few weeks."
your eyes water a little, but you only manage a shrug.
"i-i..." you meet his eyes. "i-i couldn't stay there any longer. i didn't have anywhere else to go."
he tucks the cigarette back behind his ear, slipping the mask off. it reveals a tousled mess of short blonde hair and a terribly scarred face. his eyes dart to the little carrier sitting next to you when he hears a soft meow coming from it.
"said no pets."
your lip trembles.
"please," you whisper, and his lip twitches as he fights off a scowl. you imagine he must not have much practice in hiding his emotions. he comes down the steps anyways, coming closer, and you pick up the carrier as he snatches the suitcase off the pavement, making his way back inside. you follow him, naturally.
when you close the door behind you, you're surprised at how quaint it all is. nice brick fireplace, a soft carpet (no shoes allowed is what he snapped at you), and wonderfully furnished to make the place cozy, warm, lived-in. there's throw blankets and accent pillows. there's pictures on the walls, paintings, yellow corner lights to give everything a soft glow. the kitchen is beautiful, with lovely colored tile and wooden cutting boards, a drip-coffee setup in the corner and worn cookbooks stacked neatly by a stainless steel toaster. there's herbs growing in little pots sitting on the windowsill above the sink, and there's a cast iron pot decoratively resting on the stove.
it's spick-span clean. there's no specks of dust or splatters left over from bacon grease. there's papers pinned to the fridge, lists to remind him to buy whole milk and sliced bread and call about the internet bill being charged twice again.
you set the carrier down on the couch, unzipping the top. a little curious black head pokes out of it, and you reach in and pick the cat up under its belly and drop it onto the floor. immediately, the cat spreads its front paws, claws sticking out as they begin to knead the carpet and use it as a personal scratcher, the prick, prick, prick sound enough to draw the giant man out of the bedroom with a hard frown on his face.
he points at the thing and shakes his head.
"keep tha' thing off the fawkin' counter," he snaps at you. he purses his lips when he sees you still standing there, afraid to even move. he comes closer, the cat scurrying off, and he yanks your coat and scarf off, going to the hang them up by the door. "can unpack tomorrow. need t'make somethin' ta eat."
you move immediately towards the kitchen, hoping he keeps a stocked fridge, but he puts out a big hand and stops you, stepping in front of you.
"the fuck are y'doin'?" he asks, and you blink up at him.
"you said to make dinner...s-sir?"
he tilts his head to the side, narrowing his eyes.
"y'listen t'this," he murmurs. "women don't lift a fuckin' finger in this house, y'hear?"
you nod, and he reaches up and palms your throat, cupping your jaw.
"and my wife doesn't call me sir," he mutters. "it's simon."
you soften a little. "i-i'm sorry, simon."
"don't apologize," he grits his teeth. "did nothin' wrong."
when a fresh set of tears comes down your face, he wipes them away with ease, calloused thumb swiping over your cheeks and quieting you. he puts something into your hands, a velvet box that he must've gotten when he went to put your suitcase away.
"y'r a riley now, yeah?" he murmurs, and you tilt your head at an angle, and your foreheads brush together when he bends low to speak to you. "act like it."
you lean up on your toes (he's so fucking tall), and you kiss him softly beside his mouth. when he moves his head, your lips brush against each other, but he pulls back to make his way to the kitchen. you hear the gas stove light up, and a few minutes later, there's a familiar smell of onions hitting hot olive oil.
you take a seat on the couch, smiling to yourself, wiping your eyes as you curl up there. you flip open the box, sighing shakily when you see the rectangular diamond and matching gold wedding band. when simon comes back in to give you a mug of tea, you take it with your left hand, and his eyes flicker when he notices the new jewelry there, so pretty, so new.
mine.
when he pads back into the kitchen, the cat blinks up at him slowly, green eyes bright as they sit on the counter.
simon walks past it, saying nothing at all.
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yawnderu · 8 months ago
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Task Force 141 Dick Headcanons
John Price:
Price isn't a fan of shaving— it's often not even an option, too busy with his duty as a Captain, hence the trail of dark hair that starts from above his bellybutton, down to his meaty, veiny shaft. 18cms long, circumcised and with a light pink tip that seems to get darker whenever you make him too hard.
Simon ''Ghost'' Riley:
Much less hairy than Price, Simon has a thin happy trail and a pair of balls that hang heavy. 20cms of pure thick meat, veins bulging out along the shaft, his skin paler than usual, only making every single intricate detail stand out even more. Light discoloration a few centimeters near the tip, fading into a soft pink, leaking plenty of precum to actually use as lube whenever he wanks.
Kyle ''Gaz'' Garrick:
Prettiest dick in the entire 141. 17cms long, a small beauty mark underneath his dark shaft. He has a thick vein bulging out of his thick cock, going along the top of his shaft, ending nearing the tip. His leaking tip is lighter than the rest of his dick, a light pink color contrasting with the rest. Very clean and always makes sure to shave, not the biggest fan of being hairy due to sweat building up easier.
John ''Soap'' MacTavish:
Not as long as the rest, though he compensates for it in pure thickness and eagerness, getting hard within seconds even if you're not doing anything particularly sexual. Seeing you in his shirts with nothing underneath makes him harder than ever, his cock standing tall and proud at 16cms, thick veins running along his shaft. Circumcised, his pink tip always leaking like a broken faucet. Like Price, he's not the biggest fan of shaving and prefers not doing it at all unless it bothers you, letting the bush of dark hair cover his pelvis.
Bonus:
König:
Absolute monster cock. Too big for his own good, scared off the few women who tried sleeping with him before he met you, and is secretly self-conscious about it. Not only his dick is long, it's also thick. 22cms, uncircumcised and naturally not that hairy, a little trail of light blond hair pooling on his pelvis. His tip is a very light pink, getting darker whenever he's hard.
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bbbbbbbbatman · 8 months ago
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Once Batman has revealed his identity to the JL, and after some strong encouragement from Superman and Wonder Woman, Bruce decides to try to start being a bit more "personable" with the rest of league. They've been colleagues for a decade and he trusts them all, and according to Clark and Diana this means there's no need for his whole mysterious "shadow of the night" bit, so he invites the league to dinner at the manor.
It is raining heavily, and even though it's not that late, it's nearly pitch dark but for the frequent lightning strikes. The league arrives together at Wayne Manor and the wrought iron gates stretch upward before them, ending in spikes at the top with ivy overgrown across them. They stand there, uncomfortable, wet, a bit weirded out, wondering how they're supposed to get passed the gates.
"This is creepy, right?" Hal says. "It's not just me?"
A voice. "Hello." As the league turns to the sound, thunder claps loud enough to startle everyone as lightning strikes, illuminating a small child standing on the other side of the gates that was definitely not there a second ago. He stands motionless under an umbrella, seemingly unbothered by the rain, expression vaguely irritated, and his eyes seem to flash green in the light. "I have been instructed to escort you inside."
The child doesn't move in any way but the gates slowly swing open, the creaking sounds sound straight out of a horror movie. Once they are fully opened, the boy turns and starts walking down the path without a word.
The league, some members quite freaked out at this point, follow him after exchanging some looks. They round a bend in the path and the manor comes into view. It is a massive dark structure, rising from the ground. Another lightning strike illuminates pointed spires, jagged edges, and it's gloomy, gothic nature. The sound of bats shrieking can be heard in the distance over the rain.
The league finally arrives at the front door, cold, wet, and thoroughly discomfited. An old man, a butler, looking out of time, opens the door, the child disappears inside. The butler welcomes everyone inside graciously but with a distant politeness. Despite the appearance of the exterior, the inside is well lit with warm light and seems inviting, though ostentatious. The league is relieved.
Until another massive lightning strike and thunder clap cuts the power off and the room is pitch black.
"Oh, you're here," a deep voice says from somewhere up above. No sooner are the words out than another lightning strike illuminates a dark, hulking figure on the staircase that was also definitely not there a second ago. At least two people scream.
Bruce is wildly confused as to why his guests are screaming, he didn't think any of them were afraid of the dark? The back up generator kicks on and the lights come back on and everybody seems to calm down. The rest of the dinner seems to go well (as well as a dinner can with the justice league and all of Bruce's kids) but strangely, to Bruce's confusion, it somehow only made his "spooky" reputation worse. He's not really sure why the whole league seems to think he lives in a haunted house.
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princessbrunette · 4 months ago
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hiii princess i hope you can find inspiration in this one :)
bunny!reader getting all wet and horny after she gets all cocky and can think she can arm wrestle him. him winning so easily is hot and he notices she likes it and starts teasing her and fucks her
-👛
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the best time to get silly with rafe would be after he smokes, which is why he has no problem stubbing out his joint with a smirk when you scooch up infront of him all giggly asking “rafey can we arm wrestle?”
“you really think that’s wise?” the smirk carries into his tone of voice as he adjusts himself in his seat, spreading his legs a little wider, arms folded casually over himself.
“i just think i can beat you.” you tilt your head mischievously, suppressing your laugh as he stares you down.
“oh really? alright…” he sits forward, seemingly going with the joke in good nature. rafe licks his lips, and positions his elbow on the small table between you, lightly slapping his bicep twice in gesture. “lets uh… let’s see it then.”
you feel all girlish and shy when you place your smaller, manicured hand into his larger, manlier one. he gets to adjusting the stance of your elbow, muttering something about not wanting to ‘break your damn arm’, before gripping your hand readily.
“‘kay, three two one, go.” you sing, grinning before putting all of your strength into trying to pin his arm down. unsurprisingly, his arm doesn’t move.
“are you actually trying?” he drawls, cocky as ever. you grit your teeth, throwing your weight more into your arm as you struggle in your seat. he’s not making any effort to pin you down, but not making any effort to hold you back either.
“s’not fair.” you strain, and he huffs out a quiet laugh before gently bringing your arm down— beating you. “lemme use my other arm.”
after three solid attempts, you’re pouting and your arm is sore — but you can’t help but feel effected by his casual display of strength. as you stare him down, all sulky and needy — he’s reclining in his seat, satisfied.
“you finished?” he sarks, not particularly expecting an answer. gently you scooch over, hand resting on his belt — and no words are needed once you look up at him. “yeah? it’s want want want with you, huh?” he complains, but slowly, he begins to undo his belt with one hand. the nonchalant skilfulness has you tightening your thighs together. “so what do you want? specifically?” he tries to sound bored, but you can already tell he’s hardening in his boxers.
“wanna suck it.” you mewl quietly, no louder than needed for him to hear you. he scoffs, standing above you to pull his belt from its loops all together.
“alright well uh— i’ll do you one better. why don’t you run along and grab that plug you’re so obsessed with and bend over for me. i got time today, so you’re getting double stuffed.”
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evilgwrl · 2 months ago
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Neighbour!Simon Riley x Reader
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Girl Next Door (Four)
CW: Titty sucking (MY FAVE), horny asf Simon and reader, some pussy touching, Simon gets domestic for you xoxoxo
Previous Chapter, Next Chapter
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The sun was a bold ray of amber, slicing through every shard of glass with unbroken certainty, speckles of rainbows planting themselves among the eggshell walls, the only bit of colour throughout the bland room. Simon had awoken early, his brain working as a natural alarm clock as he took in the snuggled site of your slumbered frame, your hair falling against the bone of your cheek, lips parted and lashes dipping.
You were a pretty sight, even asleep and the Lieutenant had to find himself walking away, rubbing brown eyes with desperation as he hunched towards the kitchen, his frame skulking as he contemplated whether to cook for the both of you or just leave it.
He gripped his teacup, his coffee a sickening black, not even a subtle hint of sugar to drench away the bitter taste. He didn’t mind it though. Calloused fingers gripped the kitchen bench, his fingernails rugged and in desperate need of some care that, unfortunately, they would never receive.
Simon’s mind was littered with the flickering of gruesome images, depicting past scenes that have cast upon him. The silent images of bombs, the static in his ear ringing out the screams that seem to catch up to him every now and then. He watches as the residue of the coffee splashes down the drain, brown disappearing into the crevice of his pipe as he sauntered off to his bedroom, taking in the sight of an empty bed.
Your hands graced the doorknob, bones burying into your skin as you jumped at the intimidating frame of your neighbour standing outside, inches away from the door.
“Jesus,” you squeaked, voice timid, “you scared me half to death, Simon.”
Your hand rested upon your chest, soft skin flush with a morning hue, breasts strained against the skimpy fabric as you cleared your throat, the obvious undertone of sleep running through every note.
“’M sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. Y’ want some breakfast?”
You raised an eyebrow, slightly shocked at him still wanting you over. Though he never made you feel unwanted (from the minimal times you had been in his presence), he was a quiet man, almost nurturing the environment of being alone.
“Don’t want me out of your hair?” You were half joking, a cheeky smile on your face as you stepped closer to him. His face never spoke, the most you had gotten from him being a subtle raise of a curled lip, his eyes gently jutting over you. For the most part, the only sign of communication you could read were the words that left his mouth, wet tongue occasionally darting out to coat his lips with the slop of his saliva, teeth teasing the dried skin.
“’M a gentleman. Could never let a lady sleep in my bed and not make ‘er breakfast.”
His voice was course like it was coated in leather and tobacco, his words strung with a sultry arrogance that only added to the arousal of the butch man. Heat settled in your cheeks; the apples were decorated with a light hue that was catered for by the words he let slip.
You nodded, slightly anxious, yet more horny at the way he stood so bold and tall above you, massive frame filling out the shirt that you were sure wouldn’t be as tight on anyone else. It was almost porn itself, watching the way he had to duck slightly to fit himself under door frames, the way his shoulders would nearly collide with the wallpaper as she shifted between rooms. His skin was littered with tattoos and scars, and his nose was slightly crooked (which you assumed was from it being broken).
Veins bulged through his hands and forearms, skin slightly peeling near his nail beds as he worked a knife through a tomato, sultry juices seeping onto the wooden chopping board. His eyes would occasionally dart to you, following your line of sight as he felt a proud hum purr gently through his chest, almost satisfied that you were taking in the sight of him. The air was filled with silence, the thickness of the words unsaid, instead spoken by stolen glances.
“Do you enjoy your work?” Your voice was quiet, almost like it was trying to find lost confidence.
Simon was quick to answer, turning around to look at you as he cracked an egg into a frying pan, oil splashing out amongst the quickly cooking liquid. “Don’t think enjoy is the right word, but ‘m good at it, I suppose.”
“So... you’re a soldier?”
His laugh was dry. “’M a lieutenant.”
You nodded, not fully understanding the hierarchy of chain in the military but you assumed it was a hard-working position, the sheer size of him and the residue that stained his body adding to the unneeded certainty that Simon was good at his job.
“Do you want me to help with anything?”
“You can set the table,” Simon nodded, motioning towards a draw. You grabbed at two knives and forks as you plodded over to the dining table, your feet skidding against the wooden floorboards. The hem of your nightgown raised as you bent slightly, placing cups down next to the cutlery. Simon sucked in a harsh breath, cock straining against the hem of his trousers as he looked away, focusing on the splutter of eggs and bacon in the pan. He stacked up your plate before handing it to you, a soft ‘thank you’ leaving your lips as you sat down.
You were surprised that he was a good cook, even if it was as simple as eggs, bacon and grilled tomatoes. The only memory you have of a man working in a task force, being your Uncle in the Navy who couldn’t cook for shit. You let out a satisfied half-moan, almost muffled by the food in your mouth.
Simon heard it. The painful gripping of his fork barely justifies his reaction to the completely innocent sound you made.
“You’re a good cook,” you say, reading his face that was focused on his plate, his knuckles white and straining against the metal his fingers were snaked around.
“Thank you,” he replied, offering you a small smirk of gratitude.
You spoke a bit more, growing to understand your mysterious neighbour and who he was as a person. You looked down at your empty plates, offering to wash up to which he quickly refused and hushed you down to him just being a friendly Samaritan. Your knees wobbled as you stood up, the spaghetti strap of your nightgown sliding down your shoulder as it hung lowly on your bicep, cleavage pooling at the v-line of your dress.
Carob orbs lapped in the sight, pupil widening at the further display of skin, which you didn’t rush to fix. You were almost testing the waters, breaking the surface as you, both simmered in the atmosphere clouded with both desperation and demand. Thickened digits brushed against your other shoulder, resting there for a moment as you locked gazes, your lashes dipping slightly as you licked your lips, your mouth suddenly dry at the heat that radiated against your skin. The heat he was causing.
You felt the other strap fall from your shoulder, as you watched his gaze drop to your chest, his chest practically heaving as he took in the sight of your exposed breasts, nipples breaching through the fabric that had pooled at your waist.
His reaction was immediate, a rough hand groping at your right breast as he pushed you onto the table, your ass flush against the wooden surface as you gasped at his other hand coiling around your neck, chapped lips wrapping around your hardened bud as your fingers found a tight grip in his dusty hair, tugging at the roots.
Teeth grazed as your sensitive nipples, feverishly sucking as his fingers tweaked at the other, working against your chest with a burning fervour. A low moan left your lips as he switched over, a string of spit following his eager mouth as the pressure around your throat tightened.
The hem of your nightgown raised against your bucking movements, hips eager to please both you and him as the plush flesh of your thighs caught his attention.
The hand that wrapped around your throat quickly gathered at your legs, gripping them with demand as he almost growled against your breast.
“Lay back,” he demanded. You followed in suit, the clatter of cutlery behind you as you adjusted yourself against the table. Sticky thighs held themselves together as you looked up at him from your laid position.
“Such a good girl, hm? Spread your thighs for me baby.”
This almost didn’t feel real. Your neighbour who you had barely interacted with for years was standing above you, praising you. You sucked in a deep breath, achy thighs working themselves open as Simon lapped up the sight of your panties, darkened with your arousal as a thumb pressed against the fabric, admiring the way you bucked your hips.
You raised them as he slid your drenched underwear off before he bent down, sucking in a breath at the sight of your exposed cunt, wetness smeared against your pussy lips as two fingers reached out to pull them apart, webs of slick pooling against your heat.
“Gonna let me eat your pretty cunt, love?”
You’ve never said yes so fast.
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inknopewetrust · 3 months ago
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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐰 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐬
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Summary: In the volatile nature of tornado hunting, you crossed paths with Scott on more than one occasion–each time resulting in a piece of yourself being left behind with the man larger than the storms you chased. [Scott x Fem!Reader; Twisters] [wc: 15.7k]
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, pinv, oral (f receiving), angsty-romance, Scott is… a complicated asshole who reader can totally fix… right? Right!?
Quick Links: Masterlist
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You weren’t sure where it ended or began, but you could feel it coming in your bones. Not the whirring of a drone or the rumbles of thunder—the fast, blistering speed of tires rolling toward the funnel that made your heart beat twice as fast as it did before.
It was tornado season after all… it never surprised you.
The skies of Oklahoma rose into a gloomy beige on a Friday afternoon. Heat lingered in the air, heavy and unyielding. It was dense outside of the small gas station that sat alongside the fork in the road.
Everyone could smell it: the anticipation of a storm. They broke earlier every year and this season appeared to be no different at first glance. The radios were filled with the familiar constant chatter, the computer screens you shared with Dexter in the lot were running the same radar’s the morning predicted.
Not everyday was as exciting as the next, however.
“Shit,” Dexter mumbled, running a hand over his eyes in frustration as the storms weren’t breaking that evening. His glasses perched on his fingers before he brought his hand back down to his computer.
It was just rain. In an era of record tornados, tonight would be quiet sans the few sparks of lightning and the thunder that followed.
“Nothin’” he flicked the laptop screen closed before him, knocking you on the shoulder as your own screen took all your attention.
Your eyes were entranced by the Doppler's movements. The back and forth of the projections coming and going in shades of green and yellow but no red. No purples or the darkest blues to send the lot of you running toward danger.
Dexter bumped you again with a focused effort.
“What?” You mumbled, clicking the refresh button on the radar’s program. Nothing changed.
“I think we’re done for the day.”
“It’s like six-thirty, Dex” you shrugged, turning to face him with a squint as the half-set sun was in your line of vision. “Somethin’ might pop up.”
“Omega says not,” he put a finger on his closed computer. “It dissipates before it can get out of bed.”
“Yeah,” you sighed as he did before. “Shit.”
Breathing in deeply, you could still smell it. Those storms were on the horizon and just waiting for the perfect moment to grow but you all have waited around these parts of Oklahoma begging for something that was not going to appear a hundred times.
Today was just one of those days.
You shut your own computer with the thud. Rolling your shoulders, Dexter clapped a hand on your back and chuckled at the prospect of another day without a tornado.
“Tomorrow’s chances are just as good,” he reassured.
“I know,” you nodded. The buzzing of Lily’s drone overhead swished by slowly as it came to land.
“Why don’t you go tell ‘em and I’ll clean up before we move out, hm? Get dinner and relax.”
Dexter didn’t allow the chance for you to argue back and made for the computers immediately. You groaned, standing up from the milk crate Boone scoured from the side of the road for “portable seating.” They were a bitch to your back and after sitting and watching the screen for what felt like hours, your body was screaming for help.
You stretched your arms high above your shoulders to rest them interlocked on your head and closed your eyes.
Maybe it was a sign. No storms, good sleep, and a hot meal from a wayside diner in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere. It was comfort, it was home and it was a relief for an instant that the skies were tame. No one would die from nature tonight in the vicinity of your chasing—an adjustment from the last month.
So you envisioned in your closed eyes the peace the evening would bring. How the sheets of the motel’s bed would feel against your legs; the sound of air conditioning fanning and sending you into a deep slumber.
The imagination of an evening molded into scenes under your eyelids.
Like the thunder everyone wished to hear, you could practically feel the rumblings of his fingertips as you imagined them on your skin. A lingering hope of days gone by without seeing him and his team of assholes started to stir in your mind every time it had a second to not think of the weather.
You hated the way it made you feel.
Like a goddamn school girl who couldn’t control a crush but it was more than that. It wasn’t a fatal fantasy you’d imagined every time your paths crossed but one cemented in your memory to hold you off until the next time he caught you in the same place.
And you saw him in your idea of a decent night.
In the distance, Dani and Lily called your name from outside of the RV. You cracked an eye open to see the two of them waving, pointing toward the diner attached to the station.
Your arms fell, turning to Dexter who passed it off.
“Go,” he shook his head, “I’ll join you when I’m done.”
You’d be lying if the sound of food didn’t sound wonderful that very second. The day had been nothing but driving and sitting. Every bit of food was junk besides the apple Boone threw your way at noon. He had been the first one to run into the diner an hour before with Tyler hot on his tail.
They were gluttons for greasy homemade meals.
“Come on!” Dani yelled as she held open the door and you broke off from Dexter to join the two for dinner.
The diner was like any other hole in the wall establishment in middle America. Sparse hangings on the wall, chairs and booths made from cheap leather that had burns and slashes through them, and menus that haven’t been updated for twenty years.
They were the best places. They were what made the small towns in between the big ones staples. No one could pinpoint this town on a map but the second the tea is sipped and the spuds are downed, it’s something you couldn’t forget.
“We’re gonna shack up in Perry tonight,” Dani spoke with her mouth half full. “‘Bout a half hour from here.”
“Tyler alright with that?” Lily asked, glancing out the diner window. “I thought he wanted to stay ahead of them?”
Them.
You sipped on your iced tea casually.
“We will be heading in that direction anyway.”
“Ain’t there a lake down in Perry?” Lily inquired, racking her mind in hopes she could remember. Dani nodded and picked up her own glass.
“Mhm,” she hummed. “And I do plan on jumpin’ in it before we leave tomorrow.”
Lily smiled as she turned her attention to you. She wasn’t oblivious to your absence from the conversation. You were quiet and reserved. Maybe it was that time of the month or you had a bad day—but it was strange and she furrowed her brows, kicking at your foot with hers from under the table.
“Don’t got anything to say?” She asked, causing Dani to look over the glass at you.
“No,” you dismissed. “Just tired, that’s all.”
“I’ve got Advil if you need it,” Lily went to dig in her bag but you stopped her.
“No, no,” you shook your head. “Really. Just feels like a long day is all. Finding nothin' is frustrating and this heat..."
“I get you,” Dani scoffed and put her cup down. “This heat is awful. I think Boone’s music is starting to get to me.”
You laughed knowingly. “It’s better than listening to him scream into the camera for twenty minutes."
The two snickered at the thought. Anything was better than the sound of his screeching. You pushed around the remnants of your meal around your plate when the waitress came back to fill up the glasses, leaving the check. A chorus of 'thank you's' were followed by the bell ringing above the diner's rickety door.
"Oh Lord," Lily muttered and went back to looking out the window. She crossed her arms like a pouting child. Out the window, Boone was yelling inaudible jests at the white shirts making their way into the establishment.
"What?" You asked her, turning over in your seat to see the crew of Storm Par filing in one by one.
In their uniforms of slacks and white shirts, they gave their most polite smiles to the staff that ate out of the palms of their hands. Dani let out a groan of frustration. Rich men, educated men. Men.
"Just the fraternity, Doc," Dani replied as though your eyes couldn't see that. You shot her a judgmental scowl before glancing at the group again.
"I thought I told you not to call me that."
It was the PhD in physics that earned you the affectionate, but infuriating title.
"Eh," Dani popped a piece of ice between her teeth. "You ain't like them though. They're all assholes and you're only an asshole when we can't get the signal to work and you wanna watch Love Island."
You laughed, chucking your napkin across the table which she dodged gracefully.
"Don't act like you're not obsessed with it too," Dani narrowed her eyes in faux offense.
The check at the end of the table blew in the wind generated by a few of Storm Par's team walking past. None of them spared a glance in the direction of the three of you. Out of spite or hatred, you wouldn't know but it was always the same way with most of them. It wasn't unwarranted, however. Your squad from Arkansas were known to give them as much grief as they gave you all.
You reached out to slap the check back down on the table. A glance up toward the retreating Storm Par members told you that their leaders hadn't joined the bunch at the table. You hadn't seen him enter the diner when you looked before.
But you knew the second the bell rang above the door again that it was him and likely Javi beside him. You could feel it in the air just as you did the storms. Everything shifted. The pace of your heart, the rigidness of your back, and you had done all you could in your power to keep it as quiet as possible.
You painted yourself a fake in front of the friends you adored because of Scott. He didn't ask you to, yet there was nothing more solid than agreeing to never speak of what you'd do for a second alone with him.
And you weren't sure what they'd say if they knew you were sleeping with the enemy.
With the check in your hands, you grabbed your bag from the seat and dismissed Lily and Dani's movements to split the check.
"I've got this one," you assured them. "My treat."
Lily protested and continued to shuffle through her bag. "At least lemme get the tip. How much?" Her wallet was filled with receipts and loose change.
"No," you shook your head. "Go on to the truck and I'll pay and we can head out."
Dani crunched the ice loudly. "You sure?"
"Positive," you nodded, giving them both a smile that could have read tense. You didn't mean it to be but it did. "Go on," you tipped your head. “Dex didn’t eat so I’ll order and run out when it’s ready.”
Dani eyed you as Lily put away her wallet. "I don't want to leave you alone with them in here," she knocked her head in the direction of Scott and Javi who settled along the lunch counter beside the register.
Dani watched them carefully whenever it was only the three of you. She trusted the men on your team like brothers but the others, Storm Par or any of the other groups that followed in the same direction, she held at a distance. Not only had they been somewhat competitors in the field, they were jerks and Dani could not help but be repulsed by it.
Scott looked in the direction of the small booth you all sat in, making contact with Dani's harsh stare. His face was blank—as Dani had come to realize was its factory setting. He was stoic, a wooden board of a man who was a head taller than his companion even as they sat. Dani always thought he looked miserable.
In her eyes, he was generically handsome with dimples on the sides of his cheeks. She saw other storm chasers give him eyes but he never entertained it. He was boring, a dud.
Not one person could make that man crack a smile or have an ounce of joy weep from him—but she supposed it was perfect for the work they conducted.
"I can handle myself, Dani–besides, there are other people in here."
She shook her head, souring her face. "You know I don't like 'em."
"Neither do I," you laughed. Liar. "I got this. It’s okay."
Dani trusted your word and exited the diner with Lily while you made your way to the register.
Scott had taken his baseball cap off his head, sliding it into the back pocket of his pants and pushing his sunglasses into his hair. Javi made niceties with the same waitress that had assisted you upon your approach. You saddled up to lean on the counter in the empty space between Scott and the register that broke apart the counter from the other patrons. It wasn't crowded as a restaurant in the middle of a city would be. It was filed with locals that made it feel welcoming.
"I'll be with you in one second, ma'am," the woman who served, in a name-tag labeled 'Kathy', called over to you as she jotted down Javi's order.
You took the bag from your shoulder to place it on the counter in front of you. The base of it brushed Scott's shoulder, nudging him purposefully.
"Sorry," you said quietly as Javi finished up beside him. Scott looked over at you–his stormy blues baring into you and sending you into a spiral of blind faith.
“Not out wrangling tornados tonight?” He questioned in a condescending tone. His brow quirked in a challenge: play along. You could never be civil in public.
“Maybe if you were good at reading radar you’d know that already.”
He scoffed. “Wh—“
“And for you sir?” Kathy, the waitress, cut him off with a tap of her pen. Javi stifled a laugh as Scott faced her with a half-baked expression of annoyance. You turned to thumbing through your bag for your wallet.
“Ah,” Scott stuttered as he looked over the menu. “A coffee—“
“Cream or Sugar?” Kathy drawled. She must have been in her sixties but she was giving Scott the best impression of a flirt at the moment.
“Black, please.”
“Of course, honey.”
Javi turned his head away from Scott to chuckle like a little boy. You smiled to yourself as the contents of your bag were suddenly so very interesting.
“And a… turkey sandwich with fries.”
Kathy gave Scott a cheeky, wide smile with painted red lips. The thinning drugstore paint was wearing thin beyond the lining and her hay bale, yellow as corn hair was doing nothing for her.
“That’ll be right up for you boys, okay?” She gave them a wink and tore the order from her pad. “Don’t forget to order somethin’ sweet before you go—on the house.”
Kathy walked away with a sway of her hips which only worsened Javi’s laughter. The laughs spilled from his mouth without remorse as his friend tried to not turn an ugly shade of red.
“Holy,” Javi dragged out the syllables in exasperation. “You got yourself a cougar, Scott!”
You slipped your wallet to the side of your bag and looked upright waiting for her return.
“I didn’t know Mr. Storm Par had it in him,” you said, which drove Javi even deeper in laughter. Scott sighed heavily, shaking his head in disbelief. “She’ll give a napkin with a lipstick kiss… just watch.”
“Ooh man,” Javi crooned. “I ain’t missin’ that!” He got up from his stool.
“See you out there,” Javi said your name kindly—a rarity in these parts. He surely didn’t know about you and Scott but he treated you decently all the same.
He rushed off to the small hallway labeled ‘bathroom’. Small mercies for a second alone.
“Did you have to say that?” Scott commented the moment Javi was out of an earshot. He turned back to look at you so you turned to look at him with your hip digging into the counter. His legs spread wide as if to accommodate you.
“It was too good not to,” you admitted with a grin. “The old ladies love you.”
“Yeah,” he mumbled, gazing at your face as his eyes darted to take you in. They trailed from your eyes to lips to chin to chest to… everywhere.
“It’s been a minute.”
“Two weeks,” you agreed.
“You been counting?”
“No,” you said quickly. “I just—“
“I was joking,” he clarified with a sly, cunning smirk.
“Ha,” you panned. “You should think about going into another career after this. I hear they’re looking for comedians.”
“Maybe I will,” he suggested. “I can mention the skeleton that tried to get with me in a diner. Though,” he thought on it, “her lipstick might find me in nightmares so probably not.”
You laughed and he smiled—also a rarity in these parts.
“Where are you off to?” He asked.
“Perry for the night. Headin’ in that direction afterwards.”
Scott hummed, tapping one of his hands on the counter as the other rested on his knee. Your eyes moved down his body in the same way he did yours.
“You?” You asked him.
“I think we’ll be makin’ our way there too.”
“Hm,” you thrummed. Kathy caught your vision as she gathered Javi’s glass and Scott’s mug in her hands. “Then I should be expecting you?”
Scott nodded his head. “Motel?”
“Right off the highway. Easy on and off.”
Scott made a noise of agreement. Kathy placed their beverages in front of them with a sweet smile. Scott glanced at the mug but returned his attention to you which she frowned at—you found it amusing. There couldn’t have been many attractive men waltzing through the diner on a weekly basis. Scott was a treat.
“Anything I can get you, hun?”
Scott shook his head. Kathy held out her hand for you to hand over the check. She wasn’t as wordy with you.
You glanced over his shoulder to the table of his crew in the back who were minding their own business. Javi had to return and put the window, your team of misfits were packing up the vehicles.
You took a chance and lifted a hand to his shirt’s collar. Taking the fabric between your fingertips, you putzed as he looked at you with a gleam in his eyes that made your stomach do summersaults.
It’s the kind of look that made your heart sink when he was so rude on the road.
“Text me when you get there, okay?” You asked him. You adjusted his collar before dropping your hand at the sight of Javi leaving the restroom.
Scott caught your eyes change and turned back around in his seat.
Kathy laid the receipt for you to sign on the counter with a bang.
“Sign, please.”
You were quick to sign and exit the space before Javi could even sit down, forgetting Dexter's order. Kathy took the receipt and while stapling it to the order, she tipped her head in the direction of you.
“She’s pretty,” was all Kathy said and left as Javi returned.
“Did she give you her number?” Javi prompted Scott who passed a confused face to his friend.
“What?”
“The waitress,” Javi chuckled. “You get ‘er number or what?”
Scott closed his eyes and swallowed the nerves that built rapidly. He thought Javi was talking about you. He may have been an ace at MIT and a dependable guy on the battlefield, but Scott nearly jumped out of the diner at the thought of Javi or anyone else finding out about his escapades with you.
It was a good secret. A great one, if he let himself think about it too long. But he’d be damned to throw everything away for the sake of a lay in the middle of Oklahoma.
And if he told himself that enough, he’d fathomed he would start believing it.
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The motel was what you had dreamed about.
Soft sheets, working air conditioning, and a lovely continental breakfast in the mornings with boxes of cereal and packaged muffins. It wasn’t a five-star resort but they did the job. It was perfectly imperfect for what you were used to on the daily.
It was so much better than the floor of the RV and so unusual for the types of places Dani and Lily often chose.
When you arrived at the motel, Scott was receiving a napkin with a kiss and a number on it that went straight in the trash. Javi kept rolling with laughter and for the time being, it was something he would not live down.
But both of your minds were preoccupied with what would hold true as the sun finally set on that day.
Just like the storms, you weren’t sure where this ended or it began. You had established a routine without realizing it was happening and this game of chances was slowly evolving into a feeling difficult to hold on to.
Maybe it was everything in between the nights that made it more difficult than it needed to be.
You ached for them nonetheless.
The jolt of anticipation hit you about an hour after arriving. Showered and clean, you sat around while the news played lifelessly in the background waiting for your phone to ding but it never did. It sat there mocking you every minute that passed.
Seconds turned into minutes that turned into hours that turned into two.
You half thought about going to bed before a knock sounded at your door. Neglecting to view the visitor through the peephole, you were taken aback by the entrance.
Scott made quick work of pushing you backwards and shutting the door closed with a thud. A backpack landed in the space between the door and chair. His hands were on you immediately, immodestly cupping your face and the back of your head with a force as he kissed you—hard.
You wrapped your arms around his forearms in support of your uneasy feet. A thrill ran down your spine at the feel of his hands on you.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled between frantic kisses that took your breath away. “They,” kiss, “wouldn’t,” kiss, “stop fucking talking.”
You ran your hands down his forearms gently. “It’s okay,” you reassured him. Ignoring your doubts would manifest itself another day.
Scott nodded, his nose knocking yours before leaning back in and kissing you slowly. His mouth captured your lips softly, gently as if there was no worry of time at all. His hands trailed themselves along the sides of your neck, to your shoulders, letting yours fall from his arms in the process.
You tilted your head upwards at an angle to open up to him. His mouth moved unhurried as the sound of your heart rushed to your ears.
He broke the kiss at the feel of your hands inching toward the buckle of his jeans.
“Woah,” he chuckled lowly but didn’t pull away and didn’t tell you no. “I don’t think my old lady would appreciate you havin’ your hands all over me.”
He let you lift the tails of his dress shirt out of his pants. At a quick pace you undid the buttons.
“She was tellin’ me all about this great peach pie,” Scott kept on and on as he peppered kisses on your face. “And then,” he whispered and shrugged off his shirt. “Then she left me this nice farewell note with a kiss on it.”
Your hands stilled on his abdomen. Head pulling away rapidly with glittering amusement in your eyes, you scoffed.
“No shit… really?”
“Oh yes, really,” Scott confirmed. He stepped away from you and stripped himself of the undershirt he had on. He moved over to the bed to work on his shoes.
“Can’t go to that diner again I gather.”
Scott smiled which made his dimples stand out. He looked tired but present, and that was all you could ask for at that moment.
“Not unless I want to be scorned for never callin’ her back.”
“Eh,” you picked up the remote on the bedside table and turned up the sound. “Give it ten years.”
Scott looked over his shoulder at you as a boot dropped on the floor.
“That’s brutal.”
“Well,” you said, dropping onto the duvet. “What can I say?”
You crawled over to him and got on your knees behind him. Scott leaned his head backwards against your chest as you wrapped your arms around him. You could smell the earth in his hair. The darkness of it couldn’t shield the way a day's work remained.
Underneath your fingertips his shoulders eased up. He relaxed in your touch.
“I was counting,” you admitted. The days between.
“Yeah,” he breathed out. “Me too.”
You kept one hand wrapped around his shoulders but moved the other to turn his face to the side. You planted a light kiss on his cheek, resting your forehead on the spot after. You savored the small, delicate moments that were few and far on the road.
Scott patted your arm when the quiet became too much.
“Lay down,” he instructed.
You untangled yourself from him and fell backwards on the bed. Splayed on the mattress with your knees bent, he slipped his socks off and turned around with one leg perched on the bed and the other on the floor. Scott’s hand traced the lines on your bent knees formed by the lighting of the room. He watched you adjust your body for comfort in his observance.
He’d be a fool to say you weren’t igniting a fire in him.
There were nights where he’d find you angry at him, the fuck that followed heated and he’d mark you with bruising kisses to remind you of it. There were some hurried and frantic—usually following a close encounter by either of you but the ones where it was slow… they were rare.
And looked down at you with adoration he couldn’t express. His eyes were telling yet he never said words that reaffirmed he cared for you more than he looked forward to your next meeting or that he thought about you—in the shower or in passing, Scott never clarified.
Scott pushed open your legs to accommodate him. He took in the oversized tourist tee that helped cover the pair of sleep shorts of his next conquest. Without hesitation, he grabbed at the waistband of the shorts and pulled them down your legs quickly.
He ticked at you at the sight of you bare before him.
“Were you expecting someone?” He chastised jokingly. “That’s a little presumptuous.”
“Maybe,” you cooed. He grasped you by the back of your knees and pulled you down the bed before getting on his own.
“There’s always a some guy followin’ us around in these parts. Sometimes I’ll let him in.”
“Oh?” His breath was hot on your thigh. A kiss laid as he maneuvered himself to your center and you tossed your head back to stare at the ceiling.
“Mhm,” you hummed. You bit your lip to fight a smile when his familiar lips kissed at the crux of your leg and groin.
“Handsome with this cute smile no one ever sees.”
You felt your breath stagger as he moved to the most wanton part of you and licked a line through you. His eyes watched you intently; the slow rise and fall of your chest, the way your hands begged for something to grasp on. His nose bumped your clit as he got comfortable with a rhythm. Scott savored the way his tongue gathered your wetness, pushing against your plush walls.
You were trying so hard to be quiet. The walls of hotels were thin—you weren’t an idiot. It was a miracle that the man you fucked wasn’t a talker most of the time.
Scott’s tongue was warm against you. Lapping in a way that made you lose the breath inside. He was slow, soft in his movements that made you want to squirm.
You could feel your heart beating rapidly against your ribcage. Head pressing harshly against the comforter of the bed, your body hooked itself into an arch at his ministrations. A lewd, antagonizing sound of your pleasure being had by a man whose eyes bore deep into the way your body moved at his will sent you spinning.
Scott shifted himself on the bed. His feet propelled him upwards but he never let go, his hands nor mouth. He pushed you upwards on the bed and wrapped an arm around your leg to rest on your lower abdomen.
The change caught the words in your mouth.
Scott, occupied, still watched you unravel like putty. His eyes watched you focus on anything but his face and in an attempt to get your attention, his hand on your stomach moved to fiddle with your shirt that had not made it to the floor.
Your hand was quick to fold over his, squeezing tightly. His fingers flexed back.
“Oh,” you keened. In an effort to stay quiet, your other hands fingers pressed against your lips. The fire within you grew hotter.
Moving his hand from yours, he shifted to spread open your lips and gather the wetness on his tongue. Scott titled his head upwards and sucked on your clit that had you spinning. Your free hand went straight to his head and settled in his brown locks.
“F-fuck,” you stuttered as your toes curled and your hips rutted against his face unabashedly.
Scott’s other hand was long missing from your body as the one focused on you was hard at work with your satisfaction. He palmed at himself in his pants the best he could. The angle wasn’t working and soon, he’d need a reprieve.
The muscles in your body tensed. They began to shake not from a release, but an anticipation of one growing. The more you moved, the more Scott wanted to let go and slip inside of you.
He slowed his tongue to small, sensual flicks reminiscent of him bringing you back from a high you hadn’t yet reached. Pulling back on you, his lips caught with a trail of your slick and his spit. Scott ran his tongue over his lips—taking with him the taste of you.
“Move up,” he instructed, voice hoarse.
You sat up on your elbows and moved upwards on the bed as he stood up. He walked back to the chair beside the door where his belongings had ended up when he first burst through the door.
If you were attempting to be sly, your eyes navigated his body on display. Scott fully undid his belt and chucked his phone on the chair beside it. He shuffled out of his pants and briefs—pausing when the screen on his phone lit up with a text.
You couldn’t read it from the distance between you but he left it unread, turning back to you as your focus narrowed to his dick freely standing.
“My eyes are up here,” he rolled his eyes.
“I’m admiring,” you drawled. You ran a hand up your body and bent it behind your head on the pillows. “Can’t a girl admire? I mean…”
“She can,” he nodded in implying you can.
Scott took himself in his hands, pumping as he approached the bed again. He didn’t need to ask the ways in which to make both of you happy. He could read the room and the days and knew that what you both needed was something simple.
But sometimes, something simple was enough.
He joined you on the bed, tapping on your leg that blocked his goal.
“Come on,” his words were cut and dry and quiet.
You moved your leg back down as you sat up to meet him. Him, on his knees before you with his length in his hand and you, splayed before him wet and wanting. You reached to replace his hand with yours but he shook his head, knocking his chin at your shirt with a disapproving shake.
The worn Ole Miss letters standing stark amidst the nakedness of the room. Doc.
Huffing, you were quick to lose the shirt.
“Better?” You asked him. Reaching back toward to replace his hand, he removed his and let you take him.
“Perfect,” he groaned at the feel of your hand.
He was heavy and warm in your palm; watching with an intensity that only beckoned you to go further—sliding your hand along him delicately and squeezing just enough at the base for him to emit a grunt of satisfaction. Scott’s hands caressed the sides of your thighs as his mind went blank.
“Scott,” you purred. Sitting up on your knees and never letting him go. Your other hand wrapped around his shoulders as you pressed your chest against his. His hands were hot on your hips and ass.
You lazily drew your lips along his jaw to ear.
“I want you to fuck me,” you whispered. His heart was beating so fast. “I want you to fuck me into this mattress and make me think about it for days.”
Scott’s eyes were closed. His breathing unsteady and head pushing into yours. He gripped your body tightly.
“Baby—“ the pet name slipped out before he had a chance to take it back. Too personal? He wasn’t sure. But he couldn’t think straight. With your hand on his dick, all he could think about was how fast he could get inside of you.
“I thought we said—“
“We’ll be quiet,” you reassured him. “I didn’t say hard.”
Oh. You wanted to be fucked softly.
The kind of sex that left a heavy haze in the air. The one that drew everything out of a person and left it there, lingering, as if the pieces of them were nothing more than particles in space.
It was the sex you couldn’t turn back from.
You were too far gone.
You had been for quite some time yet never slipped up. You enjoyed what small, unreliable fling you had no matter how it grew inside of you. Scott wasn’t a man you’d dream about as a teen thinking of your future. He was a certified asshole with an ego as big as the fucking ocean but it slithered past defenses and ended up knocking at your gate.
But you loved the sinful way it made you feel.
“Do you wanna fuck me?” You cooed. You careened in his touch, pitching upwards as he cupped your ass roughly and relished the feel of your breasts on his chest. Everything about you was so soft.
“You know I do,” he panted. You stroked him still.
“Then what are you waiting for?”
You positioned your head in front of his, kissing him gently on the lips before lowering back down onto the bed with your knees parted. You let him go and his cock bobbed.
And he did as you asked.
When Scott fucked you, the heavens blushed from above. He took his dick in his hand again, positioning himself to be in front of your pussy that was still shining with the wetness he left. He rubbed his tip up and down, gathering the wetness he could. Each motion threatening to push him in faster than either of you wanted.
This could be hours or forever and you’d never want it to end.
He stopped at your entrance to look in your wanton eyes. They begged him, they wanted him without a word. He guided his cock into you slowly. Your cunt, warm and inviting, welcomed him smoothly. Pressing your head deep into the pillows, you let out weak gasps at his intrusion.
Your head was swirling. You were full of him.
Each touch and each thrust was sending you toward a tether that was breaking string by string.
Scott was calculated but not over aware. He listened to your calls—the shallow, meek whimpers at the virility of his drives. He let you get lost; finding the stars in your eyes as he peered down at you until it became too much and Scott needed to feel you again.
Scott leaned down, taking your neck in both of your hands and kissing you deeply. Your hands glued themselves to the sides of his torso. His lips were a pillow in hot breaths; tongue sloppy when his hips ground into you faster than before.
His cock was splitting you. Thrust after thrust he gained the momentum of chasing a high. He never let you go; holding onto you whether delicate on your neck or grasping at your body, Scott palmed as you grew in want.
“Come on, come on,” he gritted through his teeth as you clenched around him. You weren’t registering the sounds of the headboard hitting the wall behind you. It was only you, Scott, and the sounds of your pleasure.
He picked up the rapid movements as best he could. It was so easy to lose himself in you. He, the most rigid man in both word and action, came alive at the opportunity to simply let go. Those words were strange—to let go—but he had found it in your meetings.
Scott Miller was many things, yet fucking you unbeknownst to the world was his greatest secret in his cruelty.
He watched you wither or waver, hands shifting to hold his face close to yours. You kept muttering nonsensical deliverances at your hips jutting up to join his. It was growing fierce—your end. The orgasm eating away at your resolve. Scott’s eyes were battering down on your own, nodding his head with eager anticipation of the rush of your finish.
He nodded, chin bumping yours as your mouths declined to collide in a spectacle. Your breaths beat at the rapid nature of your heart; panting for respite in the low light of the hotel’s table lamp and glow of the television.
“That’s it,” Scott coaxed. His silence in the efforts of his body ceasing. “Come on.” His teeth bit at his words.
“F-fuck,” you stuttered out. The wave was approaching. It tingled in your toes and laid heavy in your core. “Shit,” you gasped quietly. “Oh!”
Your mouth fell open and he took the opportunity to kiss you, tugging on your bottom lip as he pulled away and the curl of your toes became too real. You kept squeezing him, emboldening him to come with you.
Scott felt your muscles contract before it was nothing but a shake of your legs. You arched your back into him, allowing him to draw you close as he pounded into your finish to race to his own.
There was nothing in your eyes except the stars you couldn’t see. It was fuzzy, exhilarating as the pulses rushed through you in a couple, disjointed and erratic bursts. You couldn’t help but shake; it was overstimulating as Scott continued to push against your walls.
You swallowed his grunts, clinging onto his shoulders and cupping his face as he drew his arms under your back and repositioned you. He was close, so close. The beads of sweat on his forehead called him to end—a sure sign of his stamina along the sheen that covered you.
His hips snapped in and out with a fury. The softness of his earlier actions were thrown out the window. He did as he believed, fucked you into a state where you’d remember it for days.
And then his tether broke too.
Scott held your hips against him tightly. He kissed your lips as he finished inside of you before deepening it.
Suddenly you weren’t going to remember the sex.
You were going to recall the way he kissed you after he made sure you both came. How he wouldn’t let you feel anything but his lips, his tongue, his teeth, until he was soft inside of you.
Scott left your lips with a faint, nearly absent smile.
“How’s that for remembering?”
He wasn’t one for validation. He didn’t seek your approval but it slipped out of him with the words he shouldn’t say.
You ran your tongue over your lips to wet them. “Mm,” you thought. “I might forget what it feels like to be kissed?”
Scott scoffed as you ran your fingers through his hair. He dipped his head again to kiss your shoulder, peppering kisses to your lips as he made a trail. He nuzzled his nose into the side of your face and could tell when your face broke out into a smile. Taking the chance, he tucked his forehead into the crux of your neck and shoulder. You squirmed with laughter but his hands held you steady.
“I’ll be heading to The City for a few days,” he grumbled into your neck. “We got a new truck.”
“The gang ain’t enough anymore? You’re gonna outnumber us.”
Scott shook his head and began to unravel. He lifted up from you, slipping out as the cold met wet in the air. You could not help but draw your brows together at the discomfort—Scott’s thumb rubbed soothing circles on your thigh.
He started off the bed and into the bathroom attached to help clean you up. Tossing your worn shirt back on the bed before shuffling into his briefs and pants again. You sat up in confusion.
“Aren’t you stayin’?” You asked. “I thought we’d have a few hours.”
Maybe it had been dangerous to voice hope.
To voice and acknowledge the misery of missing him when it hurt to do so.
He shook his head again and went to his phone. “I gotta get that truck before she flies in.”
She. “Who?” You questioned with concern. You weren’t exclusive, you weren’t supposed to be jealous.
“Some girl Javi invited out for a few days,” he dismissed. Scott’s eyes were glued to the phone in his hand. “She works for NWS.”
“To help you?”
“Why else?” He sounded disgruntled at the fact. But he ignored your tone too. “Said she was a friend from college.”
“What’s the NWS got to do with your work?”
“She’s just helpin’ us find the tornados, not anything else. We don’t need help in what we do.”
You weren’t oblivious to Storm Par—you’d be a fucking fool not to be. It was something you detested, despised, about him and if you thought about it too long, you felt even the slightest but guilty of letting your thoughts wander to him when you were set on doing good.
He took from people in pain for what? His own personal gain? The money he raked in on the side of allowing a maniac of a man to fund his projects?
You knew there was a piece of him that strung you along not for sex or the fondness of it, but out of necessity to follow.
His team of storm chasers wouldn’t have the opportunities if they didn’t follow Tyler and the crew.
You were just collateral for the course. A “get love quick scheme” in the center of a raging cyclone of fucked up felonies and a YouTube channel of misfits.
Scott let his fingers move briskly over the keyboard of his phone.
“When is she coming?” You feigned to ponder instead.
“Monday.”
“So that means you have to leave now?”
Oh Lord Almighty. You sounded pathetic. Knees pulled up to your chest, holding the pieces of you together as you became forgotten.
You may have done things that made your momma blush but you cowering under the idea that a man is gonna leave you cold after a good roll in the sheets would set her aflame.
“Have to,” he tossed his phone back on the chair and took a new shirt out from his backpack. “For business on Sunday with Riggs before we head out. We agreed to…” he went back to his phone to check the time. “A two o’clock departure time.”
It wasn’t even fucking twelve thirty but hey, he couldn’t be seen, right?
“Bullshit,” you let fall out.
“What?” Scott picked it up. His head snapped to you.
“I said it’s bullshit,” you said a bit louder for him to hear. “I don’t get it, I don’t.”
“What don’t you ‘get’?” He had a lacing of judgment in his voice. It could have been the MIT superiority in him that festered with the ever mounting praise of his colleagues.
“I just don’t know when it will be enough for all of you,” you scoffed. “You pour money down drains for machines and tech and then you stockpile tragedies we can’t even keep up with. And now you’ve got the NWS on your side? The ones who are supposed to care about keeping us safe?”
“It’s freelance,” he pointed out while tucking in his shirt. He did up the belt in a flash. “And these people don’t need what’s left for them after it’s all gone. You know how hard it is for them to rebuild.”
“But those are their homes, Scott. What if it was your home or my home or your parents?”
“I’d figure we’d all end up in different places anyway,” he tucked his phone in his back pocket.
You shook your head at him, looking away to focus on the TV. Muttering an “unbelievable” under your breath, you began to wonder the reasons why he even bothered to show up.
They drove an entire team to Perry to sleep in a run of the mill hotel or perhaps that was second to Scott getting his fill. He just needed one good fuck to send him off and running to his next paycheck.
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Scott concluded dispassionately. That stone cold, humorless man replaced whoever burst through the door.
“We both have jobs to do. Just stay in your lane and I’ll be in mine.”
Oh Christ he made you fume.
“You can be a real jackass, you know that?” You narrowed your eyes at him.
“You aren’t tellin’ me anything I ain’t heard before, honey.”
“Oh fuck off!” You shouted a bit too loudly. He slung his cap back on his head. “You’re such a piece of shit.”
“Then why tell me you were gonna be here?” He hummed an ask, approaching the bed with intent. You looked up at him as he settled in the spot next to you with his feet on the floor and arm outstretched to hold onto the headboard.
“Why ask me to sleep with you or stay or kiss you or whatever else just to hate me after it’s all done?”
“I didn’t ask to hate you.”
“You don’t hate me,” he clarified. “You just hate the way you feel about me.”
“You’re selfish,” you settled on.
“You’re entitled,” Scott countered. The Ole Miss on your shirt burned.
“You don’t care about anyone except yourself.”
And that pained you.
“You care about everyone else far too much,” he pulled his head toward you. His eyes flicked between your lips and eyes and you wanted to punch him and kiss it away.
All you wanted was to have a good night. To be worshiped in a quiet space and he gave you that, even if brief.
“Sometimes I don’t know why we even try.”
He was taken aback by it. You both were two people on very different ends of a string that snapped you together. It wasn’t perfect but it worked for the most part.
“Then why do we?” He shouldn’t have said it yet he did.
“You can’t even bear to stay,” you whispered. For a second, you thought you saw clarity in those cloudy eyes. “You can’t even fucking hold me after what we did.”
“I have to leave. I can’t stay.”
“You don’t get it do you?”
Scott breathed in deeply, declining the sentiment with a toss of his head.
“I gotta go,” he said quietly instead. He took your chin in his hand, knocking it gently to the side.
“I don’t know how you do it,” was all you could muster.
And then he left without another word.
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In Boone’s mind, it did not matter if the sky was at its darkest, a joint never waited to be smoked when necessary.
He had woken about an hour before as Storm Par’s slamming of car doors rustled him from slumber. The RV wasn’t the most perfect place to reside while traversing wild weather but he loved it all the same. He rolled off the bunk without notice of Dexter who would have surely scolded him for partaking at such a late hour.
So, he snuck into the truck and lit up in the quiet solitude of night without interruption.
It wasn’t until an hour later when the drowsy feel of his tingles began to wear into sleep that he began to see things he’d question.
Boone rubbed the tired from his eyes the same time a door opened up to his right. He ducked into the front seat as though what he was doing was far from normal and spied the invasion of the public space.
Down to the right, Scott exited the room with a scowl on his face Boone could see in the dark. A backpack slung over his shoulder, he looked frustrated compared to the blasé he was used to. Scott walked past Boone without noticing and hopped into one of Storm Par’s trucks.
Boone remained ducked as he thought back to the room. Scott settled in the passenger seat before reclining it back to sleep. He disappeared from Boone’s view and the latter looked to the motel rooms again.
Even in his foggy memory, he recalled Lily sticking a crumpled piece of paper in the cup holder for Tyler to use. It had the address of the motel and the room numbers reserved. He scouted the cup holders until his fingers grasped the paper’s corner.
“34221 Sli-“ he rumbled off as he read the note. His eyes traveled down to the rooms.
Lily room nine.
Tyler room thirteen.
Dani room twenty-one.
And then his eyes widened in curiosity at your name finely written and a twenty-two carved next to it. Those same numbers were lightly illuminated by the light above the door.
“No shit,” Boone chuckled in disbelief.
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The next few days were nothing but a blur.
The sky was like that too. Cloudy and gray. It seemed to reflect whatever was left inside of you to stir and gather into something larger as your memories of Scott overplayed in your mind with poor restraint.
God, how you wished it would just rain and swallow you whole.
It was absurd—feigning such disappointment over a man who was not your significant other but did everything in solitude to appear that way. He loved on you and left you cold with nothing to warm the thoughts of what it would be like when you saw him again.
And when you did, it was disappointing.
The woman they had brought on to help was far too good to be mixed in with a crowd of degenerate Ivy pricks but she stayed with them longer than she should have. In their paths, it felt like they crossed yours even more than before.
You were struck trying to avoid Scott’s entire being when his truck passed or when they stopped at the same station or motel or place as you and yours.
It started to eat at you, the avoidance.
On an early Tuesday morning, you felt the winds begin to change again. Tyler blew a tire the night before and broke his jack trying to fix it. The lot of you ended up in the parking lot of a rundown gas station as the sun began to rise when the white trucks came barreling down the road and straight into the parking lot.
Dani booed them from the stairs of the RV.
“Can’t your just leave us the hell alone?” Lily complained. It had been four days straight of interactions with them and it had caused nothing but trouble. You tried your best to stay normal but Boone kept sitting by you as if he wanted to hold your hand.
It peeved you to think he knew something was wrong.
“They just love us too much,” Dani joked as she waved at the group exiting their trucks. Kate, their newest addition, smiled in the distance.
“Ain’t that the truth,” Boone acknowledged from beside you.
“Hey Storm Par!” Dani shouted. “Go find your own fucking tornados!”
Beside their trucks, Javi scoffed and shook his head.
“What?” Kate inquired, her eyes curious as they had been the last week. “They’re just jokin’ I’m sure.”
“Nah,” Javi replied. “They don’t like us the same as we don’t like them. I thought you’d pick up on that now.”
“Well sure,” Kate laughed at the ridiculousness of it. “But there’s more to this than that.”
There’s more to chasing than a fight.
“Yeah well, tell that to them.”
“They’re just shitheads,” Scott piped up on his approach. “Think they’re better than the rest of us because they’ve got a camera in their face.”
“They’ve been fine to me,” Kate defended. She watched as the so-called tornado wranglers bounced up from their seats and headed in her direction. The man with the bandana tried to coax you to join but you refused physically.
“It’s just all of you that rub them the wrong way.”
“Well it’s a two-way street.”
You go your way, and I’ll go mine.
Kate observed the carefree way in which everyone interacted with one another. The two other girls tugged on your arms to bring you to your feet against your will. She felt Scott shift on his feet beside her but didn’t dwell on it.
“They still got that reporter with ‘em,” she noted. “Must be an interesting bunch to write a story about.”
“When you put together people from seven different walks of life, you’re bound to get something good,” Javi agreed with her.
Scott shifted again and Kate looked up at him. He wore his sunglasses, therefore it was hard to see his eyes. But his face was set and jaw tight. His hands were dug into his pockets but the distaste rolled off of him in waves. She looked back into the direction of all of you.
Boone was running circles around the three girls as their arms were wrapped around each other. Friends. It reminded Kate too much of the ones she lost.
“Alright everyone,” Scott called out. “Five minutes and then we’re back on the road.”
The inside of the station was no different than any other. Five rows of food with a wall of freezers in the back, a broken counter with a tower of cigs and vapes waiting to be sold. Kate was reading the back of a SunChips bag when you all came in. The bell above the door sounding with a jingle, Dani and Lily’s laughter filled the space compared to the nonexistent chatter of Storm Par’s presence.
You held the door open for Tyler who gave a wink and a thanks that didn’t phase you as it would her. He was handsome, charming if a little obnoxious. He smiled at Kate and a part of her felt like running, the other falling.
You didn’t have the same spunk the others did. After they left your vicinity the smile on your face dropped and the shoulders were heavy. You passed Kate, giving her a small hello, before walking down the aisle. She peaked her head to the side of the stand.
“Find anything good?” Kate called out kindly. Her light Oklahoma twang cut through.
You glanced at her. “If you count fruit flavored Doritos good, then maybe we have different tastes.”
She chuckled and took it as a sign to approach.
You didn’t know much about Kate other than what Boone had dug up and what Scott had mentioned before she arrived. She was smart as a whip, a talented chaser, and one who made mistakes too.
“I don’t think those would be good in any situation.”
“We can agree there,” you mumbled. You picked up a small bag of Veggie Straws.
“So where are y’all chasing today?” Kate inquired.
“Why?” You countered. “So you can follow us around?”
“No,” she shook her head, feeling as though she offended you. “No… we can find our own. I was just wonderin’ if y’all wanted to go to this bar tonight.”
You furrowed your brows. Under the static lighting of the gas station mart, you were falling into confusion.
“Y’all as in… us?”
“Yeah,” she laughed. Kate was intrigued by what you did. The way you all risked so much for entertainment or maybe, for some of you, there was still an inch of science to be discovered.
The day after you all converged and she had a panic attack at the sight of the tornado, Kate spent the morning watching the videos posted from your channel. She was amazed by the thrill of what feelings Tyler and Boone could ooze out of the screen.
But she took a liking to the science you broke down for the average viewer. The way you taught amidst the chaos of wrangling tornadoes or shooting fireworks up the funnel.
“I thought we could all use a break,” she shrugged. “Javi and I have known each other for a long time and we used to stop there for line dancing on Thursdays.”
Well it just so happened to be a Thursday.
“And these fellas are more wound up than a goddamn toy,” she said under her breath. “I think a pitcher of beer and some good ol’ fashion Oklahoma hospitality would do us well.”
“Oh,” you replied softly. “Um, well… Ty makes a lot of those decisions so many you could ask him?”
Her eyes went bright. “Sure! I mean, I just thought I’d ask. They all talk about you so much… I think they’re all a little jealous.”
The thought of what Scott or any of the other Storm Par guys said about you and your friends bristled you. Scott’s face met you in dreams to remind you that he was never too far away and whatever strife you had with him and his work was always going to get in the way.
“Do they?” You commented. You could hear Javi in the aisle over talking to Scott about equipment.
“Mhm.”
“How charming,” you moved down the aisle to the other products but Kate didn’t follow. She looked in your direction but behind you.
Javi and Scott were at the end of the aisle beside you, the former shuffling behind you with a small ‘excuse me’ while the other stood there for a brief moment. You looked over your shoulder at him and his glasses were now gone, meeting your gaze for seconds too long.
“I was just inviting them to come with us,” Kate informed Javi who turned, eyeing you as your attention was distracted.
“Well I hope they can dance,” Javi .
Kate said your name which brought your attention back. You could feel Scott lingering, his stance imposing on your small aisle of snacks. You could always feel him around—a curse from caring about everyone too much. He wasn’t a small man or one who could hide in the shadows; he towered over the short shelves.
And that caught Tyler’s attention when the conversation became too loud to go unnoticed. He appeared out of thin air at the other end of the aisle by the door.
You wanted the bags of chips to swallow you whole. It was bad enough that you were stuck between the word you loved and the man who made it more complicated. It was bad enough that Tyler would certainly say yes to Kate’s proposal because he had been sneaking glances at her for a week.
He had shit-eating grin on his face as he walked closer to the group of you. His curious eyes monitoring the way Scott’s body was a little too close to yours.
A part of him believed they were cornering you for something. He wouldn’t put it past them for their sordid work in the hellish treatment of victims but hey, who was he to assume? You clutched the bag in your hands hard enough it could pop.
“We all good over here?” Tyler questioned Scott specifically. It was the only other guy he could size up to and play out a macho-man persona. “I don’t think I need to tell y’all that my team is my team, off limits to your work.”
Scott laughed, truly laughed at Tyler. Javi and Kate’s heads whipped around to Scott who rested an arm bent on the shelves beside him. Tyler focused on Scott in a labored calculation. He might have been the one they all liked the least.
“Did I say somethin’ funny?”
“Yeah,” Scott replied. His voice flat as always. “You did.”
Tyler looked around at Kate, Javi, and yourself who frowned.
“Care to explain what?”
Scott held back an amused smile as his eyes creased at the edges. You looked up at him with a warning. To your surprise, Scott looked back.
“No,” he responded curtly while looking at you. Off limits.
Kate sensed it. She did. There was something there—the air heavy like a storm.
“We’re gonna go to a dance bar in Enid tonight. I was just askin’ if all y’all would like to join us,” Kate pitched in to Tyler who slowly removed his gaze from Scott to her. His eyes let up softly.
“Dance bar? I don’t take any of these fellas for the dancing kind.”
“Don’t you know we’re all from here?” Javi asked him and he didn’t. You did but Tyler didn’t know much about any of them except their high degrees of achievement and late-stage superior fraternity behavior.
“So you’re tellin’ me that Mr. Stick-up-his-ass here can two step like it’s his birthday?”
“Oh you ain’t never see Scott dance,” Javi laughed loudly and gathered the rest of the wranglers to the aisle. “We can dance you into next week.”
“Alright,” Tyler nodded his head. One night wouldn’t hurt. “I’m good with it as long as it’s fine with Doc.”
Shit. They all gazed at you with bated breath. You could feel their beady eyes piercing; Scott's blistering eyes on the side of your head prompting you to try.
The last time you attempted to have a good evening it left you reeling. That was six days ago and you still replayed Scott’s words through your mind. Over and over and over and over again.
You’re entitled.
Stay in your lane.
You cared about everyone else too much.
Yet your lanes always converged. And you had the right to be entitled as the name suggested. Doc. You were overly qualified to be there and whatever flew your way, you deserved it.
And fuck, if you didn’t care about everyone else, you’d be a shell of a human. So hollow that your world would collapse.
By the laws of physics, you’d stay in motion. You’d keep going even if he pulled you backwards a million times.
You looked at Tyler, tossing your bag of chips in his direction.
“I’d love to go dancin’.”
Boone screeched a happy whistle and yelled to save him a dance. Scott seethed at those words as if he had a claim otherwise. It was an agreement to keep it quiet for the sake of your jobs, your sanity. But he was a covetous in his belongings and for whatever belief he had, you were his in all but name.
His actions made it difficult to fully manifest into reality. When you keep a locked door locked, you don’t deserve to enjoy it for free. It ate away at him differently than the anxiety of hurt ate at you.
He wanted to freely give himself to you–to be the man you'd see on dark nights in the solace of a bedroom or wherever you could find respite.
It was tough to be the person you thought you were.
It was much easier to be a coward.
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The dance bar was packed full of locals and tourists alike. You couldn’t place the pull Enid had on people who weren’t from there but it was alive the moment you walked through the door.
Boone whistled at the sight of everything.
“I gotta hand it to ‘em. They sure can pick a place.”
“Have you never been dancin’ before?” You questioned, linking your arm in the space offered by him. He gave a cheeky smile and tipped his cowboy hat with a free finger.
“Oh, don’t underestimate me, Doc. Just cause you ain’t seen these moves don’t mean I ain’t got them.”
“Maybe I’ve been blessed. If it’s the same way you hold a camera, I can’t imagine your feet.”
“Uh huh,” he egged you on. “Keep it comin’. I have a whole night to prove you wrong.”
You scrunched your nose at him. At the moment, a series of rapid clicks sounded behind you. You and Boone peaked behind you at Ben, the reporter, snapping a photo.
“Sorry,” he apologized bashfully. “I haven’t been able to capture much of you.” He spoke to you, not Boone. “I want to feature more than just the storms.”
“Well you’re gonna get a whole lot more than storms tonight, Ben!” Boone cheered as Dani joined him on his other side.
You got the sudden sense of deja vu to your college days. Those undergraduate nights where your friends would drag you to the bar and everything was far too loud and over exciting. It was beer and booze and feet that fumbled. There was nothing over exhilarating about going out on a weekday but now, past those prime days, you felt a simmer of that feeling come alive inside of you.
Against your better judgment, the idea that Scott and you were crossing paths in a public setting beyond your professions was exciting. It sent thrills down you when it shouldn’t.
He had done nothing to remedy what he said—nor you for that matter. You kept your distance by sitting in the truck while stopping or sleeping in the RV with Dexter and Boone instead of a motel. Every time in the last week that your lines had met, you kept them parallel.
Tonight would be the hardest to not intersect.
“Can I buy you all a round?” Ben offered kindly. His mannerisms were foreign in the West. “For an exciting week, I suppose.”
“Who are we to say no, Ben?” Tyler slung an arm around his shoulder. Dexter and Lily flanked him at his sides.
Your group settled at a table in the back of the bar by the darts and pool table. Dexter challenged Dani to a rematch of a game they had settled a couple of weeks ago, and the rest of you nursed or chugged the beer that Ben had bought. You were the former. Sticking your attention on the foam at the top as it slowly made its way down the glass to become nonexistent.
“So,” Boone cleared his throat beside you as Dani, Tyler, and Ben looked over the photos the journalist had taken thus far.
“Is there a reason your attitude has been shit lately?”
You peered into the glass. Fingers tapping the sides of it.
“I was editing the last video and if anyone wanted a tornado to actually kill them, viewers might be convinced it’d be you.”
“Oh come on,” you scoffed. “I am sure my bad day didn’t ruin the video.”
“I didn’t say ruin, only tainted it. But what’s goin’ on?” He pointed and probed at your temple invasively. “The wheels are turning. I can hear them.”
“It’s nothin’, Boone. Just… girl stuff.”
“My favorite!” He bellowed like a King. Dani transitioned from her conversation to yours.
“What’s your favorite?”
“Girl stuff,” he mimicked. “Just askin’ about little miss sad is all.”
Dani nodded, taking a sip of her beer.
“Is it about your tinder date?”
“My what?” You showed deep confusion. “What date?”
“Last week,” she said casually. “I could hear your headboard against my wall. Jesus,” Dani laughed. “I didn’t know you had it in you Doc.”
Ben and Tyler’s conversation ended and they eavesdropped from the end of the table. At the other end of the bar, Storm Par, in casual clothing, entered.
You blanched at her words. You didn’t even realize.
“Oh-ho!” She pounded a fist on the table. “It was a tinder guy! Ha!”
Boone went suspiciously quiet beside you as she kept on.
“I didn’t want to say anything then but it makes sense. You’ve been on edge ever since. Maybe you should call him—“
“No,” you shook your head at her. Your hands left the glass and settled in your lap.
“He wasn’t good? Oh—“
“No!” You defended too fast and awkwardly. Boone glanced at Tyler who became far too interested in his co-pilot’s silence.
Dani lowered her voice with concern. “Was it too, you know, rough? Did he hurt you?”
“Oh my God!” You exclaimed at the invasion of privacy. “Can you not?”
“Sorry!” She held up her hands. “I didn’t hear anything else if that’s what you’re worried about. I don’t want to know your kinks.”
“Oh fuck me,” you wailed. “Dani, can you please stop?”
“Ok, ok!” She backed off and sat in her seat. “I’m just trying to help!”
“I know,” you breathed in. Tyler took a large sip of his beer before putting it back on down the table.
“We know him?” He questioned, eying Boone move uncomfortably in his seat. You looked at him and gaped for a millisecond before shaking your head.
“No. No, I don’t think so.”
Boone glanced at Tyler again and he knew you lied. He didn’t think it was Boone—that would be a nonstarter because you weren’t his type. It wasn’t Dexter because he was married and Ben was not interested in women.
He knew you didn’t swing for Dani or Lily so it was someone else. Dani already deduced it was a man so any other woman was out of the question.
“Well maybe you just need to find someone else to take your mind off of it?” Dani suggested.
“Yeah. Maybe.” You bit at the inside of your cheek.
“A lot of fuss over a one night stand,” Tyler put an arm over the back on Ben’s seat. “Must’ve been somethin’ if you’re down and out about it.”
You downed the beer before you in a flash.
“Must’ve,” Dani agreed with a hum.
“Anyone want another?” You asked, shifting out of your seat. The heels of your boots clacked onto the floor with a bounce.
Everyone shook their heads no and let you leave the table.
The music was pumping through the speakers loudly and the bar was full. You spotted Kate with a couple of the Storm Par guys doing a shot—all of them looking like regular Joe’s in their tees and flannels. Not far from the edge of the bar Scott and Javi waited for pitchers to be filled.
It was rare you saw him out of his “uniform.” Clad in a dark blue tee and his own flannel, the only thing that separated him from the rest was the way he looked. When he tried, Scott was movie-star handsome. The kind of person that’d be having girls write their numbers on his hand at the end of the night.
His presence was unfair to the other men around—except for Tyler on the occasion. It was a shame he was an asshole.
Instead of going toward Scott and Javi as you might have a week ago, you took an empty spot beside Kate who cheerfully greeted you. She waved down the bartender, asking for another shot and to refill your glass.
Tyler watched you walk away. He couldn’t see the decision making in your eyes or hear the thoughts in your mind, yet he had his own to make assumptions.
“Boone,” he called to his friend who sat quietly. Tyler watched you stand next to Kate and Ben’s gaze followed.
“Yeah?”
“Why you bein’ so quiet?”
“I’m n-not,” he tripped over his words. “I’m not.”
“You sure we don’t know him?”
Tyler clocked each of the Storm Par men. None of them looked immediately taken by you standing there, itching to get their hands on you but then he let himself wander to the end of the bar.
And he locked in.
“I don’t know him,” Boone choked a laugh. “How would I know? She’d tell Dani before me.”
“I didn’t say she told you.”
“Well I’m just implying.”
Tyler turned to Ben who was trying to copy Tyler’s movements.
“Ben,” Tyler tipped his head toward you. “Tell me what you see.”
Ben cleared his throat like he was being interrogated. “Well they just got a second round of shots and the bartender said it’s on the house. She must recognize us.”
“Ok,” Tyler pointed. “And down there? What can we conclude, Mr. London.”
“Oh, well… it seems not everyone is out for a good time.” It was Scott’s frown that told him that.
“You sure?” Tyler watched as Dani blanked. Her eyes suddenly went wide and worrisome at the thought.
“No!” She objected. “No fucking way. Not on my watch, Tyler. Nope!”
“What?” Ben asked frantically. “What’s wrong?”
“Tyler thinks it’s one of them,” Dani pointed to Javi and Scott.
“It is one of them,” as though there were options. “It’s the fucking stick in the mud.”
Dani scowled and physically rejected the idea. Ben watched what Tyler did as Scott, the taller of the two men and the one facing your direction at the bar, couldn’t keep his eyes off you as you laughed at whatever Kate said.
You started to leave and he averted his gaze until your back was to him. You didn’t even look at him when you passed him and Javi.
“Shit,” Dani muttered as you got closer. Boone closed his eyes with a sigh before nodding at the rest of the table.
“It is him,” he admitted and Dani slapped a hand on her face. “I saw him.”
“You saw them?”
“No, him. Leaving her motel room last week.”
“Oh Lord,” Dani nearly wailed. “She’s been sad over him?”
“He is quite attractive,” Ben defended. Dani slapped his arm harshly.
“Dammit don’t say that!”
Tyler sat in contemplation. He had been your friend for years now and knew when things got rough, it could be difficult to overcome them. Everyone had gone through countless breakups and one night stands and situationships that didn’t work out and after a bit, you’d be ok.
Yet he knew it was different somehow.
Even though he despised Storm Par and had nothing but horrible interactions with Scott, there must have been something there for you to cling on to.
And anger had a distant cousin: jealousy.
When you came back to the table, everyone was quiet and observing.
“What?” You questioned each of them.
“Nothin’” Dani said quickly.
“Oh really?”
“Do you wanna dance?” Tyler asked you abruptly. You could see on his face that there was another thought lingering below the surface but didn’t prove.
“Right now?”
“Yeah,” he hopped off his stool and motioned toward the group of people dancing to the rhythms of the music. Most were couples, a few spattering of friend groups around.
Tyler held out his hand to you.
“Don’t tell me a PhD can’t dance, Doc.”
You rolled your eyes, taking his hand in yours. It wasn’t Scott’s, but it would do for now.
“Of course I can, hillbilly. I just do it a bit more sophisticated than you.”
Dani and Boone howled in laughter as you let Tyler take you to the dance floor, spinning you around twice before settling to the score. You danced sweetly with one another as the others looked on from their seats.
Tyler Owens always looked proud to be in the company of his friends. Each plucked from their own little obscure corner of the world: a YouTube daredevil, an amateur late-age scientist, an ex-pr firm reject, a tech fair winner, and you—the science bros internet girlfriend who was a professor of physics.
He adored each of you in a special way that made everyday worth living.
It hurt him that you couldn’t be honest about an action so natural. If Scott had been a one time thing or a many time thing, he would learn to accept it if it meant you would be happy.
He’d want the same in return should a situation arise.
“You know,” he cleared his throat as the song sped up in tempo but came back down. “We don’t really keep secrets from each other here.”
You sighed, looking away from Tyler. Everyone was at peace on the door before the real dancing began and you tried not to peak at the table as Storm Par settled at the table beside your friends.
“I’m not keeping secrets. I’m not revealing information.”
“Ah!” Tyler chuckled. “Ok, fine… but if I said that even if you didn’t tell us and kept whatever you have with whoever it is going, that we would all be ok with it, that wouldn’t matter?”
“It doesn’t matter,” you said frankly. “I think—“
“That he’s staring at us right now.”
Tyler met your eyes with purity. There was no cruelty or hatred in them for you to think he was being a jerk about it.
You opened your mouth to speak but he denied you the chance.
“There’s a lot of things I could say about it, Doc. A lot. You could’ve picked a nicer dude, not a leech to our operations, someone who cares about people…” he trailed off when he saw your demeanor fall far from his jokes.
“Boone saw him,” he clarified. “He put the pieces together but didn’t want to say anything. Not his place, I guess.”
“No,” you said in soft resignation.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
“How long?”
“Not long after we met them,” you confessed. About a year ago. Tyler whistled, his hand inched a bit lower on your back but it was still respectful, you didn’t mind.
“And something he did, said, isn’t sitting right?”
“No.”
“Do you want my advice?”
You stayed silent as he continued on. He let the music play out as you swayed. Javi and Kate joined on the floor and their giggles were noticeable from the short distance between you.
“Guys like him… they’re complicated. And I get it if you don’t want to hear it but I’ve been around guys like him my whole life. They can be selfish and unnerving and stupid. It’s like they’re trying to prove to the world that they’re fit to be in it.”
You couldn’t disagree.
“When they find a place that accepts them, they’ll rise to the top of it and not know what it’s like to be at the bottom anymore. They forget about people like us.”
“I think I changed my mind—“ you started to pull away but he tugged you back.
“I’m not telling you to let him go. He just hasn’t been put in a place of uncertainty in a long, long time.”
“He said I was entitled.”
“He’s a prick and I will beat his ass if you want me to.”
You smiled. “No. It’s ok.”
“I will do it, don’t underestimate me,” he smirked. “And by the way he watches you, that uncertainty is you.”
“What do you mean by it?”
“I think you might scare him a little, Doc.”
You did.
Scott’s heart rate rose significantly from the time he entered the bar, saw you, and had to watch you dance with Tyler. Those same words that replayed in your mind the last week surfaced as soon as he sat in the truck and the door was shut.
He was an ass. It was a part of him that he couldn’t escape from no matter how he tried. His memories delicately held onto the hours you shared where he felt he could be someone else.
Tyler kept glancing in the direction in which Scott sat as though to rub salt in the wound.
“Can we try not to frown today?” Kate saddled up in the seat beside him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile.”
“Normal people don’t walk around grinning.”
“No,” she kicked her feet. “But they do allow themselves to have fun.”
“I am.”
She blew raspberries as Javi poured the beer into their glasses. “You are a tough nut.”
“Never not one,” Javi agreed. “Just loosen up, man. The world is bigger than what we do.”
Scott breathed in a frustrated sigh. “I’m fine,” he pressed.
“Not since I’ve met you,” Kate suggested. She looked out into the sea of people. “Maybe we can just all take it easy tonight. Drink some beer, dance, and then find you someone to take home.”
Scott’s voice was muffled by the beer he drank but he shook off her suggestion. He didn’t even really know this girl who appeared to be a phenom of weather patterns. All she had done this week was disrupt their workings and fall on his irritation scale.
“I like the sound of that!” Javi encouraged. “When’s the last time you been laid, huh? 2015?”
Scott didn’t entertain it. He looked out onto the dance floor and saw you swaying with Tyler—a mix of concern and thankfulness levied on your face.
“Ok, ok… blink once if before or twice if after,” Javi continued at Kate’s amusement. “I’m serious, man. We’re gonna hook you up, alright? Kate’s got a six sense for pickin’ the right ones.”
Javi took his turn but the song changed to a favorite of Kate’s and his eyes lit up at the same time hers did. Call it a sign from the heavens, but Scott had been saved from the humiliation of his friend.
Kate dragged Javi to the floor not far from you and Tyler and it gave him protection to keep looking.
Tyler spun you close to Javi and Kate.
“We all have to face our fears,” Tyler told you. “If we don’t, they’re gonna prevent us from what we need in our lives.”
“Did anyone ever tell you that a book deal might be in your future? Words of Wisdom by everyone’s favorite tornado wrangler.” You emphasized with the sparkle of your fingers.
“That ain’t a half bad idea.”
“I’m full of great ideas.”
“Then start thinkin’ of one to remedy this. I love ya, I do. But if you let his shell break you, it will be a hell of a lot harder to handle the road.”
“Thank you, Tyler,” you said earnestly. “I wasn’t sure what any of you would say about it.”
“Well,” he racked his brain for the thought. “You remember that girl Dani was seein’ from Kansas? She might not have been the most perfect but she was perfect for Dani when she needed her. And maybe that’s Scott for you.”
The sound ended abruptly and the speakers let out a deafening tone. A bartender came onto the surround sound to kick off the line dancing that only Tyler could hype up more. Kate and Javi found themselves beside you both and everyone that could fit on the wooden floor ascended.
Tyler clapped his hands together as he stationed himself near the first line. You weren’t too confident in yourself even if you had been doing this since you could walk, so you settled in the spot behind him. Kate was jovial to stand next to Tyler. Her eyes twinkled and you thought back on his words.
Perfect for what was needed.
“OoO, my man!” Javi clapped Scott’s back in surprise as he joined on the floor.
Dani, Boone, and Lily ran to stand next to you, so Javi and Scott took the positions behind you. Dexter cheered everyone on from the table with Ben. The latter took his camera out with his finger on the shutter.
“Don’t step on our shoes now, you hear me?” Lily screeched over her shoulder to Javi and Scott. Feeling emboldened by the two glasses of beer he downed in a record time, Scott ran a hand through his hair.
“Don’t worry about it!” He shouted back.
“Ok Mr. MIT, come to show us how it’s done!” Lily drawled. She tugged on your arm—having missed the conversation prior. Dani’s smile dropped off her face fast.
“I say we place a bet!” She yelled over the music that was getting so loud. Your ears rung as the lights began to spin in different colors. Javi heard the bet and drew closer to Lily.
She pulled your arm with her, sticking you beside Scott. He put his hands on his hips and his elbow knocked your other arm.
“Twenty that he’ll fall on his face,” she suggested.
Javi looked at Scott and contemplated the idea. Scott was distracted by you standing there. He just stared, like a fish out of water in a town not far from one he visited as a kid.
You made him feel like a fish out of water.
“Deal!” You heard Javi agree and before Lily could shake his hand in a deal, you piped up.
“I bet with Javi!” She peeped at you surprised. “Forty says he can!”
Scott never had someone put trust in him like that. It was a damn good thing his mother taught him more than just math and science.
“Ok!” She yelled back, shaking both Javi and your hand.
Before you turned to take your spot as the music started, you took Scott in.
“Don’t disappoint me!” You shouted.
After the last few days, he couldn’t will himself to.
He shook his head, letting a smile grow to his eyes. Dani had never seen it before.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, baby!”
And Scott danced his fucking ass off.
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You weren’t sure where it ended or began, but you could feel it coming in your bones.
Not the sounds of laughter in a confined space or the blaring of music—the rapid, unpredictable nature of dedication a person could not admit. It was a funnel cloud below the truck; a spiraling tire on the side of the road blasting its radius toward you.
The cool air at night hit your body like a bucket of water. The squealing of the door to the bar rattled at the force you used to push but it didn’t slam closed as you expected.
Two minutes ago, you were breathing heavily on the dance floor. The stomping rhythm of boots on wood turning your mind blank with every kick and turn. You had found the peace within the steps and let it drive you to a foundation.
Scott had gladly proved them all wrong—enjoying the surprised excitement that emitted from both his and your own team at the way he was able to, standing above six feet, move the way he did. He caught your smile more than once, a resurgence of hope filled him.
At the break of the song, you hung onto Lily’s arm, pointing to the door.
“I need some air,” you nearly heaved.
So you went for the door and he debated on whether to follow but in the business you took up, there was always the possibility of never having another moment.
And if he didn’t strike his fear now, he’d never do it.
“Hey,” he called out to you as the music started up again but you were too far gone. Already halfway to the door by the time he had made a decision. He tried calling out to you again, except his track was cut off by a sweaty Boone.
“Ex-“
“Don’t fucking hurt her,” Boone panted. His eyes pleaded for his friend, for you. “Don’t do it. Please.”
“I’m not—“
“You say you’re not but I’m sure you’ve said it before. But think about it, dude…” Boone got up in Scott’s personal space. “If a tornado hit this building right now and you were the only one left, would you be ok with how this ends?”
Scott saw the earnest plea in Boone’s call. He placed a hard, firm hand on Boone’s shoulder.
“I appreciate it, man.”
It was the first time Scott was decent to him.
Scott left him standing there near the entrance as he caught the door before it slammed closed. Outside, you stood in a cool down position in the orange-yellow glow of the parking lot.
His heart was beating out of his chest. It hadn’t felt that way in a week.
He wasn’t sure if you knew he had followed you. You didn’t turn around and didn’t acknowledge him as the silence overtook. Crickets strung their chords and cars whirled by on the road.
Scott leaned against the brick building under the neon lights with a knee bent.
“Do I scare you?”
You broke the silence after minutes had passed. You kept your back to him but he looked up, folding his arms across his broad chest.
If you turned around, you feared you wouldn’t be able to keep it together.
“Don’t lie to me,” you tried not to sound like a beggar. “Do I scare you?”
“Yeah,” he stated frankly. “Yeah you do.”
“Why?”
You could hear him breathe out. You imagined him looking around for an answer.
“There’s a million reasons why.”
“You can’t name one?” You took the chance to glance at him. His face was half illuminated by a moody blue glow of the neon sign.
“I can name plenty,” he reassured. “I just don’t know what’s too personal to say.”
“There’s no such thing.”
“Fine,” his fingers tapped on his bicep. “You scare me because this game we play doesn’t always feel like a game to me.”
The sex. The getting together in the middle of the night to whisper sweet nothings and cherish a deep connection to feel like it’s nothing the next day.
“You scare me because you’re smart and know what you’re doing when we’re just getting our heads straight.”
Your head tilted to the side at his honesty.
“You scare me because I feel something that maybe I shouldn’t. Because by some stupid chance I can’t have you, someone else will and I can’t imagine seeing them with you.”
Your chest tightened.
“I’m selfish to think that way,” he nodded. “You’re right about that.”
“I was talking about your work,” you confessed. “I think what you do is selfish.”
He didn’t say anything to that because he knew it was also true. Everything he sold to people was a fat lie to make money for a man who already had enough.
“You care about people too much,” he repeated. “And I don’t have enough people to put the care that I have into them.”
“You’re an asshole,” you told him and he nodded again.
“I’d have to agree.”
“You made me feel like shit.”
“I can’t take it back.”
“I don’t want you to.”
“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “For what I said and didn’t do. I was an asshole and you didn’t deserve it.”
His moody blues were turning the sky sad. A raindrop hit the ground between you.
“I don’t think I deserve your forgiveness,” he continued. “I’ve never been nice to your friends, or you, when we’re on the road. I dislike the way Tyler danced with you—made me want to knock his fucking teeth out but I figured you’d hate me more if I did.”
“He did that on purpose, you know.”
He shook his head, looking off into the grassland beyond the bar. You felt like you were being laid onto an altar for a choice. One that seemed easy but was hard, and one that was hard but the devil claimed it was easy.
“Figures,” he mumbled. “But I deserved it.”
“We’d have to agree there too.”
He looked up at you again. Arms still crossed, he undid them and extended a hand to you as an offering. Scott was not shocked by the hesitation in your steps.
“I think you have a lot of work to do, Scott.”
“I do.”
“And I don’t want to think this is all grandstanding to get into my bed.”
“It’s not.”
“I’m not one to give second chances,” you told him and he dropped his hand in his lap. “But I don’t think what we were doing constitutes as a first chance either.”
You walked toward him at your own volition. The gravel harsh under your heels, you settled with your toes at his. And you fiddled with the edges of the opening to his flannel no different than the collar in the diner.
“This is the only chance I’ll give you.”
Another raindrop fell.
“I don’t intend on wasting it.” Scott’s eyes flicked between your lips and eyes.
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In the laws of physics, there is one to triumph above the rest.
The gravitational law states that if a particle exists, it will attract others to them unwillingly—it is simply the natural state of existence.
The pull is magnetic; impossible to pass by the will of your mind, body, or soul. It tugged at the heartstrings roughly. A bridge that connected people from everywhere to be in one singular place at the right time.
Scott’s gravitational pull was too powerful to withstand. It pulled every bit of you into him without remorse—it was blue, red, and the colors of the world within to bloom into spectacles you’d only see when your eyes were closed.
Scott’s hands found purchase on your waist, drawing you into his pull. One of your hands remained on his chest. His erratic heart beat no differently than your own and the other hand grasped his forearm.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered in the night. “I’m sorry.”
You rested your forehead on his. “I know.”
The strength of his pull was strong. Yet it was not strong enough for you to pull your head back.
“Don’t prove I’m right,” you wanted him. He nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat.
“Can I be selfish one more time?” He inquired with a gleam in his eyes. Scott ran his tongue over his lips expectantly.
“Oh,” you feigned innocence. “Well, I don’t know if that would—“
He cut you off as he brought his lips to yours, kissing you sweetly. His lips were warm and smelt of a faint cheap beer. Another raindrop fell and this time it hit your face. You ignored it.
You gripped onto his shirt with a fist as he deepened the kiss. Taking one of his hands from you, he cupped the side of your neck to position you as he pleased.
It started to rain in Enid.
In the rain, the laws of physics didn’t defy themselves. The rain soaked into your clothes and into his dark locks to drip onto his face more so than yours. The blue of the neon sign growing hot instead of cold.
You broke away from him, tracing the lines of his face.
“Don’t prove I’m right,” you repeated.
And he didn’t.
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A/N: thanks for reading! As always comments, reblog, and likes are always appreciated. I love hearing from all of you and your reactions motivate us greatly!
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No Nut November; How long are they lasting?
Self explanatory. How long are these horny ass men lasting in No Nut November (sure as hell longer than me, heh)
Content: Sexual themes. MDNI. Fem!reader. Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Choso, Toji. Not proofread.
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Gojo
A Day. I'm giving this man at least a day, mostly because he'd be so stubborn about it. He wants so badly to prove to you that he can do it. Could even beat you in the challenge. You didn't even really make it a challenge, you simply mentioned it and he took off with it. But you had to admit, it was pretty funny to watch him try. Gojo is touchy by nature so he's always grabbing your waist, your ass, your tits. Everything. So ultimately, he ends up teasing himself so much that he fails the next morning. Which means, you fail too.
Getou
A week or two. He has more self restraint than our white haired man above. And unlike Gojo, he wasn't necessarily too interested in it until you mentioned it. And how you really wanted to try it, just to see what happens. He humored you and didn't touch you (sexually) for a whole week (or more.) In the end, you were the one who couldn't stand it. Which is how he found you, naked on your shared bed, knuckle deep in your pussy moaning for him to just fuck you. He lost then.
Nanami
Three days. Don't ask me why it's so specific, it just feels like he could last for a little. Again, he'd humor you when you talked about the challenge. But you didn't make it easy. Wearing those skirts you knew he liked, resting your hand on his inner thigh when you'd cuddle. Accidentally bumping your ass against his crotch when you moved passed to get food from the fridge. Three days of this and he lost his patience, bending you directly over that counter you so shamelessly pressed yourself against.
Chosou
Hour. Oh honey, I don't see him lasting more than an hour. In fact, he even asked you about it. Having heard some others talk and he wanted to try it. You already had an inkling that he wouldn't last long, especially since he brought this up while you were getting ready to go for bed. Dressed in your cute little night clothes as you slipped into bed, your ass pressed against his front as you made him wrap his arms around you. He laid there for all of 45 minutes, dick already straining against his pants before he softly whimpered by your ear. Begging you to let him touch you, to make him cum. Of course you agreed, you never really agreed much about the challenge anyway.
Toji
Whole Time/None. I feel like he could go either way. Either lasting the entirety of the month or simply pulling you to bed, fucking you as soon as you asked about the challenge. Toji really isn't one to ignore his desires, unless, he gets to watch you squirm from it. If the mere thought of his big dick, hard in his pants, leaking but he makes no moves to touch it gets you all horny and excited? He'd last all month. But best believe when the months over, he's pumping all your holes full of his cum. And if he decides to say "fuck the game/challenge," he'll just fuck you right then and there.
A/N: What a naughty post for a challenge such as this. I lost already anyways♡
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swordsandholly · 6 months ago
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Fancy
Ch 1: Here’s Your One Chance | Next | Ao3
MDNI
Vampire! Poly! 141 x Plus size! Fem! Reader
Word Count: 3.6k
Summary: A permanent darkness rests over the city. You’ve lived here your whole life - in the slums, just another human to be pushed and pulled at the whims of the vampires that run it. Another human made to bleed and crawl their way through a meager life.
Maybe, just maybe, a meeting by happenstance will change your fate for the better.
A permanent darkness rests over the city. Cold, too. Despite living here your whole life you’ve never quite adjusted to the artificial nature of it - to the shadow hanging above the miles and miles of city and the constant chill on your skin.
Really, you aren’t meant to be here. This place isn’t built for humans despite the mass that live within the confines of the city’s dome. It’s made for creatures - beings of the night that stalk and rule. The air has become rotten in the lower neighborhoods over a century due to pollution and overpopulation. It will turn your lungs black before the age of five without the proper protection.
Apartment buildings are crowded and decent living conditions are hard to come by. Many have a waitlist longer than the human lifespan. Most operate on a dorm system - at least one person per room. Randomly assigned of course, based entirely on who can pay the rent. You’ve lucked out enough to earn a shitty studio to yourself. It’s cracked and crumbling but the locks are tight and it has a window - even if the view is just a building across the alleyway.
You squeeze into a black mini dress, tying your hair up to show off the double string of pearls on your neck. They’re the nicest thing you own - the only thing worthy of this club. The only thing that can project the image needed to get proper tips. Red lipstick as a final touch. It’s corny, you know, but the vampire clients are always suckers for it. Pun intended.
This job is important. There can’t be a hair out of place. This is your chance. Your one chance to make enough money to get out of the slums. To at least make it to the middle city. You can practically hear the grime on the sidewalk as you make your way toward the metro station. Dirt and debris so caked into the very air down here that you have to wear a respirator as you go. It’ll leave marks when you first take it off, but they usually disappear by the time you’ve made it from the depot to the club.
You don’t bother with sitting on the train. Hell will freeze over before you chance catching whatever new disease has grown in that Petri dish. Instead you join the rest of the patrons in awkwardly standing in the center of the cart, damn near falling over when the train lurches to begin its journey from the slums to the upper city. There are actual names for the two areas, but nobody uses them anymore.
The respirator makes a hissing sound as you remove it after stepping out of the train. The cool, clean air of the upper city fills your lungs. It’s satisfying in a way its sticky, filtered sister could never be. The faux fur of your cropped coat tickles a bit as you walk, blown by that strange breeze that never seems to stop in the upper city. The one that blows all the grime and smog downhill.
The club sits square in central downtown - the bottom level of a historical hotel. It’s an elegant building. Red with curled metal accents over the windows and doors. Modeled after the ancient art nouveau movement. It sparkles underneath the artificial LEDs of the city - all signs and glowing windows. You can always tell where the humans are, catching glimpses of that unmistakable glow only a UV light gives off.
You duck down the alley behind the hotel. Grimy and dark, the complete opposite of the front entrance. Your heels clack on the concrete loudly - echoing off the hard walls of the building surrounding you.
It’s easy enough to slip into the routine of your job. Going back and forth to the bartender, carrying various drinks and placating the egos of cowardly men and the vampires they lie to themselves about being equal to. You can see the hunger in their eyes when you tilt your head, exposing more of your neck to the light. When your wrists just pass their noses as you set down their glasses.
It’s hard work. Long hours and more days of the week than you would like, but it pays enough for you to afford your little apartment and save some for your future.
“Hey! New girl!” The owner barks at you as you gently set your tray back into the stack to be washed.
You whirl on your heel. Shit, did you fuck up? Ruin everything? Your mind runs through every interaction over the course of the night - every comment, every stilted moment. “Y-yes, sir?”
“Need you as a Companion.” He stands in front of you, the pinstripes of his suit warping over his massive crossed arms. The wrinkle in his nose makes his mustache twitch.
“C-companion!” You squeak. “I’m not-“
“We had a call out. Need you to take the private booth in the back.”
Your eyes are saucers - heart beating so hard you almost can’t hear his words. You don’t know what to make of this. His words are harsh and cut right though you, but the prospect they hold…
“You paying attention?” He grunts.
Your voice shakes. “Just… why me?”
“You match their preference.” Its blunt. Uncaring. Not that you would ever expect much sympathy from the owner of a place like this - feeding girls to vampires and their kin.
Generally, you’re not the type to be preferred - too big and soft for most. It’s what kept you as a server exclusively, you’re sure. Companion is such a major step up, too. You haven’t had any training. You never thought you’d get there - only a few girls make it from Server to Companion. To have it by happenstance…
With a deep breath you remind yourself that this is temporary. Just for tonight. You are acting as a replacement, nothing more. If you pull this off maybe you’ll get enough tips to finally replace the air filtration in your apartment. Maybe you can even get an overhead UV light. Oh, wouldn’t that be lovely!
Another tray is shoved into your hands. Is this… actual gold? Ornate designs line the outer rim - all weaving in and out of each other inlaid with iridescent mother of pearl. It’s cold on your hands and so shiny you catch your reflection in it before the bartender sets a bottle of wine and four glasses on it. You’re fairly certain between the wine and the tray you are holding upwards of four thousand dollars a in your hands. It takes everything to keep your hands from trembling.
You slowly head for the back booth - just beyond the main floor of the bar. It’s far more quiet here. The music from the floor muffled by distance. There are only a few private booths and they are only ever occupied by the city’s elite. The top of the top. You pause at the heavy, velvet burgundy curtain separating you and your clients for tonight. They could be anyone.
You hope they aren’t the type to get rough.
Balancing the tray on one hand, you use the other the push the heavy curtain to the side - entire body alert and tense as your eyes land on the four men sitting around the rounded booth. Their eyes meet yours, and you freeze. A shiver runs down your spine.
They’re beautiful in that way only vampires can be. Untouchable. Marble-esque. Eyes clear and bright even in the low light of the booth - that sheen of night vision apparent. Lions staring down their prey and you, who walked into the den willingly.
“Good evening.” It takes everything to keep your voice steady. To slip back into that comfortable customer service headspace you’ve curated over the years. “I’ll be your Companion tonight.”
“What happened t’ Cherry?” The man on the outer right side of the booth asks. His arm is slung carelessly over the back of the booth, body slack and comfortable.
“She was unfortunately unable to come in tonight.” You say softly, carefully sliding the tray onto the table. “If I’m not to your standards-“
“Well, now, none of us said that.” A man with an imperial beard smiles. It softens his face - makes him look less like stone. “What’s your name, dove?”
“Fancy.” You murmur. It’s your chosen work name - based on a song your mother used to play from a century ago. One of your earliest memories is her lifting you into her arms and spinning around to the song. All the workers names are single words. Easy to remember. Easy to request for returning quests.
“Fittin’.” The man to your left grins, bright blue eyes sparkling. His fangs catch the light - your hands tremble for a brief moment.
“Do you know who we are?” The masked man beside him asks. His voice rumbles through your nerves, all the way into your bones. You can hardly look at him - the skull covering the top half of his face makes your gut churn.
Should you know them? Oh, fuck, you probably should. Vampires live forever - their names and legacies travel across centuries. Millenia. It’s going to give you away. You’re just a low class human from the slums. You don’t know Vampires from the uppers.
The illusion of luxury only goes so far.
“It’s not a trick question.” The man to your right smiles gently, tilting his head to the side.
“No, sir.”
“Well,” The one with the beard sits a little straighter. “I’m John Price and these are my… confidants. Cohorts. Kyle Garrick, Johnny MacTavish and Simon Riley.” He gestures to each as he goes.
John Price… John Price… Nothing comes to mind. Nothing about any of them, for that matter.
“Lovely to meet you.” You smile pleasantly, slipping back into the script. Swallowing roughly and steadying yourself, you reach for the bottle and slowly pouring a tester amount into the four glasses. “Tonight we have a vintage red from 2089.”
John hums, swirling the glass before taking a sip. His eyes glow in the low bar light. “You remember the 80’s, Simon?”
“Which one?” The makes you pause. How many 80’s could there be?
John laughs, whole and hearty. Little crows feet appear in the corners of his eyes. “Which d’you think?”
“I remember the blood.” The masked man mutters. He doesn’t look at John - dark eyes locked on you. You keep up the well trained smile. Neutral, comfortable.
“Och, ye would.” Johnny scoffs, taking his own glass after John gives you a nod to fill the four properly. “Cannae ever remember the good.”
“Well what’s your finest memory then Johnny?”
“There’s was this lass… think her name was Cassandra. Had the biggest tits and-“
“Enough of that. Theres a lady present.” John waves his hand. To your surprise, Johnny actually listens despite looking muffed about it. You can’t help but snort. Lady. As if.
How old are they, anyway? They look young - especially Johnny and Kyle. Definitely below thirty when they were turned. John obviously leads but that doesn’t necessarily mean he turned the rest of them. They could have just come together over the years. Vampire covens vary heavily as to why they came together. Sometimes friendship, sometimes relation, sometimes just convenience.
Simon is still staring you down, hooking a thumb under his mask to raise it just over the end of his nose. Scarred lips sip from his glass.
“Come sit, luv.” Kyle pats the booth beside him.
You snap out of your thoughts at the prompt - moving to sit in the empty spot beside Kyle. The next thing you know hands are on your hips, passing you over until you’re sat square in the middle as if you weigh nothing. You know vampires are strong - you’ve gotten thrown around by your fair share in the slums, whether a mugging or fucking - but it still startles you. They could crush you with barely a flick of the wrist.
Fingers brush over your shoulders, tracing the shape of them before lowering to rest between your exposed shoulder blades. They’re cold and leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake.
“Tell us about yourself, hm?” John prompts.
“Oh, not much to tell.” You shrug and smile. “I’m from the city. Started here about a year ago-“
“How have we never seen ye then?” Johnny interrupts, eyes locked on your chest. “A bonnie thing like ye…”
“Well…” You raise your hand to your mouth like you would when whispering a secret. “I’m not supposed to tell but I’m actually a server, normally.”
“Oh, really?” Kyle leans his chin on his palm. “In a dress like that?”
“What’s wrong with my dress?” You huff, letting the pliant facade slip just enough to make yourself seem real. Just a little less doll like before you return to the script.
“Absolutely nothin’.” Simon hums beside you, eyes near black under the shadow of his mask.
Your face heats. Client compliments never get to you and you’re not sure what about his feels so different. All of their attention is so intense. It dives under your skin and burrows deep in your marrow.
“So, seeing as you implied I should know who you are-“ You tilt your head and meeting John’s eye, “who are you?”
John chuckles, leaning close. “Oh, no one important. Contractors. Independently employed.”
“Ah, so, criminals.” You laugh.
“If you say so.”
“I can’t exactly judge.” You lean in as well, shoulder pressing against his broad chest. The material of his suit is soft and thick. High quality. “I mean, look where I am, hm?”
“Are ye a criminal, lassie?” Johnny grins at you, tilting his head. How he makes a mo-hawk cute is beyond you.
“Shh.” You press a finger to your lips.
It’s easy enough to look sultry, to play the part, to mindlessly flirt. Easy enough to fall into the simple back and forth. Scripted. Basic. Nothing out of the ordinary. They’re just clients at the end of the day, even if they have more money and power than your usual crowd.
You carefully refill each of their glasses. You can feel their eyes on you - boring through your very being. It takes more concentration than you’d like to keep your breath from hitching when John’s hand rests on your upper thigh. You lean forward, pushing each glass back to their respective owners.
Johnny takes your hand before you can retract it, placing gentle kisses from your palm to your wrist. He sighs shakily, teeth catching your skin ever so slightly.
“Johnny.” The masked man rumbles in warning.
“Not gonnae bite, LT… she just smells incredible.” Johnny murmurs against your wrist.
“Have you ever been bitten, dove?” John asks, eyes half lidded as he stares you down. That feeling comes back.
Prey. You’re just prey.
“N-no…” You shake your head, voice smaller than you’d like. You’re not supposed to. Clients aren’t allowed to bite the girls here - it’s not one of those clubs - but in reality you’re at your mercy. To book one of these rooms they surely have the money to pay whoever necessary to do whatever they might want with you.
“Donnae look so afraid.” Johnny chuckles.
“We’re not goin’ t’bite.” Kyle leans forward. “Just curious.”
“Oh…” You whisper. Johnny drops your wrist and you pray that they don’t notice how quickly you retract it.
“Alright boys, time for business.” John sighs. He suddenly grabs your chin, turning you to face him. It’s a light touch, not too rough but solid. His pupils dilate and yours with them. “You’ll forget everything we say from now until I snap my fingers.”
The next thing you know you’re blinking blearily, sitting in John’s lap with your legs across Kyle’s. The younger man’s hand rests on your leg, thumb gently stroking your ankle as you come back to sentience.
It’s like coming up from the undertow and getting your first gasp of air.
“There she is.” Johnny murmurs, smiling softly.
You were compelled - you know that much. It’s disorienting. You rub the corner of your eye, purposefully evening your breath. At least your clothes are all still in place. You don’t feel… touched. Not bitten either. A choked sigh escapes you against your will, hands trembling in your lap.
“You’re alright, dove.” John coos, cold breath puffing against your neck. A shiver runs down your spine. How much time has passed? When… what… “Can be hard t’come out of it, hm?”
“I’m okay...” You whisper.
“Have some water.” Kyle pushes a glass toward you. The concern on his face feels foreign.
A large, empty decanter of scotch sits in the center of the table accompanied by several empty glasses. That’s the closest hint you have to how long you’ve been here. You take the glass of water shakily and sip, leaving an imprint of red lipstick on the rim.
John continues to coo and soothe down your hair. His other hand travels down to rest on your hip, holding you in place against him. It’s strange… this feeling. You’ve been compelled before briefly but it wasn’t like this. John has to be strong. Old. He’s been around a while to have that kind of power - for it to be this difficult for you to come out of the haze. It’s taking more concentration to keep from crying than you’d like.
Stranger, though, is the way they watch you. The way John works you back to reality. Most vampires would have been inappropriate while you were gone, wouldn’t bother with the borderline aftercare needed when coming out from under their spell. Most would have left you slumped in the booth - drained of blood and pleasure - laughing as they went.
You clear your throat, sitting up a little straighter and gathering your wits. “Can I get you gentleman anything else?”
They share a look, one that you can’t quite interpret.
“You’re sure you’re alright?” John asks, voice low.
You look up at him with big eyes. Childlike, almost, staring up in wonder. It’s so strange how vampires aren’t quite white - they just lack the redness of life. The pink under the skin that signifies a beating heart and limited life span.
“I’m sure.”
John presses closer, breath caressing the shell of your ear. “Thank you for being so gracious f’us, tonight.
“Always…” There’s an honestly behind the word that startles you. A craving deep in your bones to prove yourself worthy of him and his men.
Strange.
“We best be on our way.” Simon rumbles, prompting Johnny to let him out of the booth.
John’s eyes flick between yours briefly before he moves you off of his lap with the gentle touch one might use when handling fine china. As much as you want to stay there, dazed and still coming down, you have work to do. So, you stand after them and begin slowly gathering the empty glasses on the tray. They feel heavier in your hand the normal.
A cold touch runs up your back and you freeze. Fingers trace the curve of your spine. You straighten, turning slowly only to meet those soft blue eyes again. John takes your hand, eyes alight with something you don’t understand. “I’ll tell the owner he’s wasting you as a servin’ girl. You’re made for more.”
Before you can even possibly decide how to respond, he’s gone. Disappeared through the curtain and into the forever night. Something crinkles in your hand. When you look down, slowly opening your fingers, the contents make your heart jump into your throat.
Cash. A massive roll of neatly banded cash.
How much is this? A thousand? More?
With frightened eyes and slippery hands you tuck the cash into the secret pocket of your coat. Having that much cash on your person is so out of your wheelhouse - out of the realm of possibility- you don’t know how to react.
You didn’t even get to say thank you.
Your mind whirls as you finish up your shift, eyes glazed over while slipping on your coat. The other girls look off put. A few whisper and stare.
What do they think you did?
Then again, you think as you brace yourself for the lurching and squealing of the metro, there isn’t any way to know what happened. Not unless one of the vampires tells you, and good luck prying any information out of one of them. Even if they tell you, they can just make you forget all over again.
How did you behave? Were you the same as always? Were you an entirely different person?
Some people forget themselves when under compulsion - every inhibition thrown to the wind carelessly. You need your inhibitions. They keep your job secure and yourself safe. You can’t afford carelessness.
The walk back home is tense. That small bulk in your pocket burns a hole though you as your mind runs with every possibility of what might have happened. What you might have done to earn such a massive tip. It can’t have been dignified, could it?
There’s no way they just like you. That’s not how vampires are.
It takes everything to motivate yourself to actually take off your clothing and jewelry before falling into bed. However long they had you, it drained you. Left you tired and shaky as you crawl under the thick bundle of quilts that make up for the lack of heating in your home.
Your eyes meet the wad of cash that barely fit in the inner pocket of your coat. It feels like a threat. Use me well or lose me forever! Make me count because you’ll never see me again!
For now, at least, you can bask in it.
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rileyslibrary · 1 year ago
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A/N: *leans into the microphone* anybody ordered some non-verbal taunting communication, courtesy of the lieutenant?
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You have all gathered in the tent for a quick briefing by the captain. Today’s drill is supposed to begin before dawn, and without the sun to keep you warm, the breeze shamelessly seeps through the tent’s openings. You sit around the table with the rest of the team and wrap your arms around yourself, trying to focus on Price’s orders.
Ghost stands next to the captain, examining each team member from across the table. He stands with his legs spread, holding his hands behind his back. His eyes move slowly, taking in every expression, every posture, and every movement.
You scan him from his head down to his waist. He’s in full gear all the damn time; mask, scarf, uniform, jacket, tactical vest. Sometimes, you wonder if he sleeps with everything on so that he can be ready to go. Perhaps he hangs his clothes on a chair the night before and puts them on one by one in the morning. If that’s the case, it must take him forever to get ready. You wonder if it’s the layering that makes him look so big or if he’s naturally built that way.
You try to suppress the image of your lieutenant naked and redirect your attention to the captain’s briefing. You look at Price, who is pointing at something on the map, and notice Ghost staring at you from the corner of your eye. His eyes move slowly, from your face down to your arms, and he narrows his eyes at the sight. He unclasps his hands from behind his back, brings them to the front and wraps them around himself, mimicking your stance. He looks back up at you, tilts his head and raises one of his eyebrows.
You immediately drop your arms to your sides and mouth an apology at him. He shakes his head at you and returns to his original position with his hands behind his back. He closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, they are already fixed on the person sitting next to you.
Price continues the briefing, and you try to absorb the information while battling the chill that creeps through your uniform. You struggle to keep your arms to your sides but, your efforts go in vain since you shiver whenever the wind blows in the tent.
The lieutenant, on the other hand, doesn’t let you off that easy. He picks up on every move you make like a fucking sensor. Your shoulders hunch forward, and he throws quick glimpses at you, signalling you to sit up straight. Sometimes, you place your hands in your pockets, and he widens his eyes at the sight, forcing you to put them back on the table. You absentmindedly slip your hands under your thighs one last time, and you see him taking a few steps back and beginning to walk around the table.
You stiffen up. As if the cold morning breeze wasn’t persecuting enough, now you have another—much worse—threat to fear. You follow Ghost with your peripheral vision while trying to focus on Price, but he disappears behind you.
You hear him fiddling with something—the soldiers across from you throw peeks above your head and then at each other. You try to pick up on their expressions. Unfortunately, you aren’t as good at decoding faces as he is.
There’s a hand brushing your chair, tucking something on its backrest. The same gloved hand nudges your shoulder once and points at the back.
You look over your shoulder.
It’s a cloth. You turn your upper body and take a closer look.
It’s a scarf; his scarf.
You turn to look at him, and he gestures for you to drape it over your shoulders as he walks back to the captain. You obey and lift it from the chair. It’s still warm to the touch. You throw it on your shoulders and wrap it tighter around yourself. His residual body heat is still trapped in the garment. It feels like a hug, and you fight the urge to bury your nose in and smell it. You forget the morning breeze, the upcoming drill, and his non-verbal taunting.
Because the morning breeze was there yesterday, and it will be here tomorrow. It is you who pitched a tent in its path.
Because the upcoming drill will eventually end, and you will get to rest. You just need to endure it first.
Because it wasn’t taunting on his part; it was his way of showing concern. And a teeny tiny bit of care.
You turn around and see Ghost taking back his position next to the captain. He doesn’t look at you again for the rest of the briefing. You wish he would. His scarf looks great on you.
———————————————————————
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ozzgin · 3 months ago
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Due to a rather embarrassing bureaucratic mistake, you - a mere human - have been appointed as the new Death of the Monster Realm. The monster souls are confused (and unexpectedly aroused) to find a small, frail creature as their guide through the Underworld. Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, collab with Kafka
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“Who the hell are you?”
Before you stands a Beast. Your body is frozen in sheer terror, crumbling under his all-knowing stare. You feel like you’re facing God Himself. Could it be? Have you died? God certainly looked a little more merciful in those Christian depictions.
You swallow dryly and open your mouth, words rolling out clumsily.
“I-…it’s (Y/N). I’ve been told to come in.”
The creature continues to glare at you incredulously before abruptly turning and speeding towards an enormous desk, a sudden realization occurring to him. He throws papers around, as if searching for something, occasionally releasing a thundering curse. Aha! There it is.
He collapses into a chair, head resting in his clawed hands.
“There has been a mistake. You're not supposed to be here", he growls, defeated. "And yet, it can't be fixed."
He scans your features briefly, taking his time and searching for the words.
"Listen, kid. I don't know how to tell you this any better: you're going to be guiding souls into their Afterlife. Monster souls."
You blink.
"Alright. Is there some training for it?"
The Beast is a little taken aback by your nonchalance. Given the extraordinary circumstances, he expected you to cry, beg and scream. Perhaps you won't be such a terrible fit, after all.
"You will learn from me. I am the previously appointed Death, and have been here for the past millennium."
Formalities finally aside, he takes you through the colossal, arched halls, explaining your job through words shrouded in mystery and cosmic terror. You nod and scribble obediently in your little notebook.
Thus begins your task as the new Death of the Monster Realm. A never-before-seen peculiarity: the ferocious, departed creatures are greeted by the small frame of a...human. Their eyes widen in disbelief.
In Monster culture, Death has always been described as the creature above all creatures. A blasphemy of gargantuan dimensions, with many eyes and horns, a pitch-black blight of dread. Even the highest-ranked Monsters shudder upon his arrival.
You wave your hand dismissively. It's the hundredth time today you've received this reaction of utter shock. Let's move on, shall we, you think to yourself sarcastically.
The path to the Gate feels like an eternity. Without exception, the monsters will ask you too many questions. Not about their situation, mind you, about yourself. Are you truly a human? How did you come to be the legendary guidance of souls? What was your life like before this? Surely you must have some interesting stories from your life as a mere mortal.
The former Death stands up from his seat.
"What do you mean, there's an increase in lost souls? Is that damn human not doing their job?" he demands, turning to the servant who'd come to announce the latest statistics.
"They are, Sir. It's just...Well..." the beast is visibly tense. "It's the monsters who don't want to leave."
"And? We've had plenty of those before. Why're they refusing to pass this time?"
The answer is clearly of a sensitive nature. The short, stocky butler fidgets and stumbles, then finally confesses meekly:
"They claim to have fallen in love with the human."
In all his eternity working as the Soul Collector, he'd never imagined such ridiculousness. He'd always been feared and well-respected, performing his task swiftly and without issue. It never occurred to him that he'd have to include as a guidance step "how to handle the monster souls flirting with you." He grabs his scythe and marches outside with an exasperated sigh.
Somehow, he doubts his retirement will come anytime soon.
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[More Monsters]
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rvp32 · 3 months ago
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The Extents We Reach for Friendship
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This is super messy. I honestly wrote this in between writing another series that I will upload soon but I really hope the person who put in an ask for this enjoys it. Sorry for the delay. As always any and all feedback is appreciated! No trigger warnings it is pretty chill.
You're in the dimly lit living room of your Seoul apartment, the soft glow of the cityscape through the window casting shadows on the walls. Sana sits next to you on the couch, her eyes fixed on the TV screen but her mind clearly elsewhere. Her hand rests gently on her lap, fingers occasionally tapping nervously.
"Honey," she begins softly, breaking the silence that had settled between you, "I've been thinking a lot about what we talked about last week."
Your heart skips a beat as you turn to face her, knowing exactly what she's referring to. The conversation was about starting a family, her inability to conceive, and the difficult decisions that followed. You nod, encouraging her to continue, your voice cautious when you reply, "I know, Sana. It's a lot to process."
She sighs, her shoulders slumping slightly, "I just... I want this so much, you know? A part of me feels like it's all slipping away, and I don't know how to hold onto it."
Reaching out, you take her hand in yours, squeezing gently, "We'll find a way, Sana. We always do."
Her gaze shifts towards the door, where a soft knock interrupts the moment. You both glance at each other, confusion etched on your faces before Sana stands up, smoothing out her dress as she walks towards the entrance. She opens the door to reveal Miyeon, her best friend, standing there with a hesitant smile.
"Hey, guys," Miyeon says, her voice soft as she steps inside, closing the door behind her. "Sana, you texted me earlier?"
Sana nods, her expression serious as she leads Miyeon to the couch, sitting down beside you again. "Yeah, I did. There's something important we need to talk about."
Miyeon's eyebrows furrow in concern, "What's going on?"
Taking a deep breath, Sana looks directly at Miyeon, her voice steady despite the weight of the topic, "It's about our situation. About us wanting a child, and... well, my doctor said it's nearly impossible for me to conceive naturally."
Miyeon's eyes widen, her hand flying to her mouth in surprise. "Oh, Sana, I had no idea. That's... that's really tough."
Sana nods, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, "It is. But there's another option we've been considering. Something... unconventional."
You watch as Miyeon processes this information, her gaze flickering between you and Sana, uncertainty clear in her expression. "What are you thinking?"
Sana takes another deep breath, her voice barely above a whisper, "We were wondering if... if you'd be willing to help us. To carry our baby."
The room falls silent, the weight of Sana's proposal hanging heavily in the air. Miyeon looks stunned, her lips parted as she struggles to find words. After what feels like an eternity, she finally speaks, her voice trembling, "You mean... like, surrogacy?"
Sana shakes her head, her eyes pleading, "No, not exactly. More like... well, we were thinking if you'd be open to... to being impregnated by Y/N. To have our baby together."
Miyeon gasps, her hand covering her mouth as she stares at Sana, then at you, her mind racing. "I... I don't know what to say. This is... it's a lot to take in."
Sana reaches out, taking Miyeon's hand in hers, "I know it is. And it's okay if you need time to think about it. But please, just consider it. For us, for the family, we want so badly."
Miyeon looks down, her fingers intertwining with Sana's as she contemplates the offer. The room is thick with tension, each second stretching out as they wait for her response. Finally, Miyeon lifts her head, her eyes meeting Sana's, "I... I need to think about this. Can I give you an answer later?"
Sana nods, relief washing over her features, "Of course, take all the time you need. Just... let us know when you're ready."
Miyeon stands up, her movements slow as she gathers her things. "I'll call you soon, okay? I just... I need some space right now."
You and Sana nod, watching as Miyeon heads towards the door, her footsteps heavy with contemplation. As the door closes behind her, Sana turns to you, her eyes filled with a mix of hope and anxiety.
"Do you think she'll agree?" she asks softly, her voice tinged with desperation.
You pull her into your arms, holding her close, "I don't know, love. But whatever happens, we'll face it together."
As you hold each other, the weight of the decision looms large, the future uncertain but hopeful. The night stretches on, each second filled with thoughts of what might come next, of the possibilities that lie ahead.
*****
The following day, the sun filters through the blinds of your apartment, casting a warm glow across the room. You're in the kitchen preparing breakfast when the doorbell rings. Sana, who's still in bed, sends you a sleepy glance as you head to the door. Opening it, you find Miyeon standing there, her expression a mix of determination and nervousness.
"Hey," she says softly, stepping inside. "Can we talk?"
You nod, leading her to the living room where Sana joins you a few minutes later, her hair tousled from sleep. The three of you sit down, the air thick with anticipation.
Miyeon clears her throat, meeting both of your eyes before speaking, "I've thought about what you asked, and... I want to help."
Sana's face lights up, her eyes glistening with tears of gratitude. "Are you sure? It's a big decision."
Miyeon nods, her voice firm, "I am. I care about both of you and if this is what you want, then I'm willing to do this for us."
You reach out, taking Miyeon's hand in yours, squeezing gently. "Thank you, Miyeon. We don't know how to thank you enough."
She smiles, her cheeks flushing slightly, "Let's just say it's for the sake of our friendship and creating something beautiful together."
The conversation shifts to practicalities, discussing medical procedures and timelines. But as the discussion winds down, the atmosphere changes, becoming charged with a different kind of energy. Sana looks at you and Miyeon, her eyes filled with a mix of desire and tenderness.
"Maybe... maybe we should start now?" she suggests, her voice barely above a whisper.
Miyeon glances at you, her eyes questioning, "Is that what you want?"
You nod, feeling your heart race as you stand up, extending your hand to Miyeon. She takes it, standing up as well, her body brushing against yours. Sana stands too, her hands reaching out to cup your faces, pulling you into a soft kiss.
The kiss deepens, fueled by the emotions swirling around the room. You wrap your arms around Sana, feeling Miyeon's hands on your back, her touch electric. The three of you move as one, heading towards the bedroom, each step a promise of shared intimacy.
In the bedroom, the lights are dimmed, casting shadows that dance along the walls. You lie down on the bed, Sana beside you, Miyeon between you. Her fingers trace patterns on your chest, her eyes locked onto yours. Sana kisses your neck, her tongue flicking lightly, sending shivers down your spine.
Miyeon leans in, her lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss. Her tongue explores your mouth, the taste of her sweet and intoxicating. You feel Sana's hands on your thighs, slowly moving upward, her touch gentle yet insistent.
You break the kiss with Miyeon, turning to Sana, and capturing her lips in another fiery exchange. Miyeon moves down, her hands sliding under your shirt, her fingertips grazing your skin. You gasp, the sensation overwhelming, your body responding to their combined touches.
Sana pulls away, her eyes dark with desire, "Take off your clothes, all of you."
You obey, shedding your clothes quickly, revealing your arousal. Sana and Miyeon follow suit, their bodies exposed, each curve highlighted by the soft light. You stare, your breath catching in your throat, the sight of them together more erotic than anything you've imagined.
Sana lies down, pulling Miyeon with her, their bodies intertwining. You kneel beside them, your hand reaching out to stroke Miyeon's thigh. She moans, arching into your touch, her eyes closing briefly in pleasure.
"Touch me," she whispers, her voice husky.
You do, your fingers finding her sensitive spots, eliciting gasps and moans from her. Sana watches, her hand moving between her own legs, her breathing quickening as she pleasures herself. The sounds of their breaths and moans fill the room, the air thick with the scent of their arousal.
Miyeon turns, her back to you, her hands reaching behind to guide you inside her. You enter her slowly, watching her face contort with pleasure. Sana moves closer, her lips meeting Miyeon's in a deep kiss, her hand stroking your arm, encouraging you.
You thrust deeper, the rhythm building and each movement met with a sigh or a moan from Miyeon. Sana reaches between you, her fingers finding Miyeon's clit, rubbing in circles. Miyeon cries out, her body tensing, her orgasm hitting her hard.
You continue, your pace increasing, the heat between you intense. Sana moves, kneeling behind you, her hands on your shoulders, her mouth on your neck. She bites gently, the sensation driving you wild, pushing you closer to your own release.
Miyeon recovers, her hands guiding you to change positions. You lie down, Sana straddling your face, her wetness right above you. You lick, tasting her, the flavor is intense. Miyeon lowers herself onto you, her warmth enveloping you completely.
The room fills with the sounds of your moans and sighs, the intensity building with each passing moment. Sana grinds against your face, her movements synced with Miyeon's on top of you. You feel the pressure coiling inside you, the climax approaching fast.
Miyeon senses it, her movements becoming erratic, her body trembling. Sana reaches down, her fingers joining your efforts, pleasuring herself faster. The sensations overwhelm you, your release hitting you like a wave, Miyeon following soon after, her body shuddering with her orgasm.
Exhausted, you lie there, the three of you entangled, the air still heavy with passion. Sana kisses your forehead, her voice soft, "Thank you, both of you."
Miyeon smiles, her eyes sleepy, "No, thank you. For everything."
You pull them closer, the night wrapping around you like a blanket, each heartbeat slowing down to match the other's. The future might be uncertain, but for now, in this moment, you're complete, surrounded by the ones you love, the possibilities are endless.
*******
As the morning light filters through the curtains, Miyeon wakes up with a start, she feels sick, she immediately goes to the washroom and pukes. After which she takes a pregnancy test. Her eyes scan the kit, her heart pounding in her chest as she reads the result of the pregnancy test. A smile slowly spreads across her face, her relief and joy palpable. She turns to you and Sana, who is still asleep, and gently shakes you both awake.
"I'm pregnant," she screams, her voice trembling with emotion.
You sit up immediately, your eyes wide with excitement, while Sana lets out a soft cry, tears of happiness streaming down her cheeks. You pull Miyeon into a tight hug, the three of you embracing each other in a moment of pure joy.
Over breakfast, the conversation turns to celebration plans. "We should go somewhere special, just the three of us," Sana suggests, her eyes bright with anticipation.
"How about a weekend getaway? Somewhere secluded where we can relax and enjoy each other's company without any distractions?" you propose.
Miyeon nods enthusiastically, "I know just the place. It's a cabin by the lake, very private. We can even stargaze at night."
The plan is set, and within the week, you find yourselves driving along a winding road that leads to the secluded cabin. The air is crisp, filled with the scent of pine trees, and the silence is only broken by the occasional chirp of birds.
Upon arrival, the cabin exceeds your expectations—cozy, rustic, and perfectly equipped for a weekend of relaxation. The interior is warm and inviting, with a large window overlooking the serene lake.
As evening approaches, you prepare a simple yet delicious meal—grilled fish, fresh vegetables, and a bottle of wine. The dining area becomes a hub of laughter and storytelling, each memory shared deepening your bond.
After dinner, you decide to take a walk by the lake. The moon casts a silvery glow over the water, and the stars twinkle above like tiny beacons in the sky. Sana takes your hand, and Miyeon links arms with you, the three of you walking in comfortable silence, savoring the peacefulness of the night.
Back at the cabin, you build a fire in the outdoor fireplace, the flames dancing merrily as they chase away the chill. You settle onto a blanket spread on the ground, Sana nestled between you and Miyeon. The night sky stretches endlessly above you, a canvas of glittering stars.
Miyeon points out constellations, her voice soft and soothing in the quiet night. As she talks, you feel Sana's hand tracing small circles on your thigh, her touch sending shivers up your spine. You glance at her, catching her eye, and see the desire burning brightly in her gaze.
You shift closer to Sana, your lips meeting hers in a gentle kiss. The taste of her, sweet and familiar, sends a wave of heat through your body. Miyeon watches you, her eyes dark with passion, and leans in to join the kiss, her lips brushing against yours.
The world around you fades into insignificance as the three of you explore each other's mouths, the kisses growing deeper, more urgent. You reach out, your hands finding the hem of Miyeon's shirt, lifting it over her head. She helps you remove your clothes, the cool night air a stark contrast to the warmth of your skin.
Sana follows suit, her movements languid and sensual, her nakedness revealed under the starlight. Her body is a masterpiece, every curve highlighted by the flickering firelight. You admire her, your fingers trailing down her sides, eliciting a soft moan from her.
You lie down, the blanket beneath you soft and comforting. Sana lies between you and Miyeon, her back to you, your front pressed against her. Miyeon kneels beside you, her eyes locked onto yours, her hand reaching out to stroke your cheek.
"Make love to me," she whispers, her voice thick with desire.
You nod, your heart pounding as you position yourself above her. She guides you inside her, her warmth enveloping you completely. You move slowly at first, watching her face for signs of discomfort or pleasure. Her eyes close, her mouth forming a silent 'O', her hands gripping your arms tightly.
Sana turns, her lips finding Miyeon's in a deep kiss, her hand reaching between you to stroke Miyeon's clit. The sensation is overwhelming, Miyeon's moans filling the air, her body arching into your thrusts.
You increase your pace, the rhythm building, each movement met with a sigh or a moan from Miyeon. Sana reaches between you, her fingers finding Miyeon's sensitive spots, rubbing in circles. Miyeon cries out, her body tensing, her orgasm hitting her hard.
You continue, your pace increasing, the heat between you intense. Sana moves, kneeling behind you, her hands on your shoulders, her mouth on your neck. She bites gently, the sensation driving you wild, pushing you closer to your own release.
Miyeon recovers, her hands guiding you to change positions. You lie down, Sana straddling your face, her wetness right above you. You lick, tasting her, the flavor is intense. Miyeon lowers herself onto you, her warmth enveloping you completely.
The room fills with the sounds of your moans and sighs, the intensity building with each passing moment. Sana grinds against your face, her movements synced with Miyeon's on top of you. You feel the pressure coiling inside you, the climax approaching fast.
Miyeon senses it, her movements becoming erratic, her body trembling. Sana reaches down, her fingers joining your efforts, pleasuring herself faster. The sensations overwhelm you, your release hitting you like a wave, Miyeon following soon after, her body shuddering with her orgasm.
******
As the sun rises over the lake, casting a golden glow through the bedroom window, you awaken to the soft sounds of gentle moans and whispered words. Blinking away sleep, you see Sana and Miyeon entangled in each other's arms, their bodies moving together in a slow, sensual rhythm that fills the room with an erotic symphony.
Miyeon is on her back, her hair spread out like a dark halo on the pillow, while Sana hovers above her, her breasts swaying gently with each movement. Their eyes are locked, filled with a depth of emotion that speaks of shared secrets and unspoken desires. The air is thick with the scent of their arousal, a heady mix that mingles with the faint pine aroma from outside.
You watch, transfixed, as Sana lowers her head to kiss Miyeon, their lips meeting in a tender yet passionate exchange. The sound of their breathing, slightly ragged, fills your ears, stirring a deep longing within you. You reach out, your hand brushing against Sana's thigh, feeling the warmth of her skin under your touch.
Sana shifts slightly, making space for you, her eyes inviting you to join them. You move closer, your body fitting perfectly between Sana's legs as you lean in to kiss Miyeon, your tongue exploring her mouth with eager strokes. The taste of her, sweet and intoxicating, sends a surge of desire coursing through your veins.
Your hands roam over Miyeon's body, tracing the curves of her hips, the softness of her breasts, and the smoothness of her skin. Each touch elicits a soft moan from her, her fingers digging into the sheets beneath her. Sana watches you both, her hand moving down to stroke herself, her gaze hot with desire.
Encouraged by her response, you deepen the kiss, your tongue dancing with Miyeon's in a rhythm that mirrors the movements of your bodies. You feel the heat building between you, the tension coiling tighter with each passing moment.
Sana leans forward, her lips trailing down Miyeon's neck, leaving a trail of kisses that make Miyeon arch her back, her breath coming in short gasps. You take advantage of her momentary distraction, positioning yourself between her legs, your hardness pressing against her entrance.
Miyeon gasps as you enter her, her body welcoming you with a warmth that makes you shudder. You begin to move, slowly at first, watching her face for any sign of discomfort or pleasure. Her eyes close, her mouth forming a silent 'O', her hands gripping your arms tightly.
Sana moves around, her lips finding Miyeon's once more in a deep kiss, her hand reaching between you to stroke Miyeon's clit. The sensation is overwhelming, Miyeon's moans filling the air, her body arching into your thrusts.
You increase your pace, the rhythm building, each movement met with a sigh or a moan from Miyeon. Sana reaches between you, her fingers finding Miyeon's sensitive spots, rubbing in circles. Miyeon cries out, her body tensing, her orgasm hitting her hard.
You continue, your pace increasing, the heat between you intense. Sana moves, kneeling behind you, her hands on your shoulders, her mouth on your neck. She bites gently, the sensation driving you wild, pushing you closer to your own release.
Miyeon recovers, her hands guiding you to change positions. You lie down, Sana straddling your face, her wetness right above you. You lick, tasting her, the flavor is intense. Miyeon lowers herself onto you, her warmth enveloping you completely.
The room fills with the sounds of your moans and sighs, the intensity building with each passing moment. Sana grinds against your face, her movements synced with Miyeon's on top of you. You feel the pressure coiling inside you, the climax approaching fast.
Miyeon senses it, her movements becoming erratic, her body trembling. Sana reaches down, her fingers joining your efforts, pleasuring herself faster. The sensations overwhelm you, your release hitting you like a wave, Miyeon following soon after, her body shuddering with her orgasm.
Exhausted but content, you lay there, the three of you tangled in each other's arms, the afterglow of your passion wrapping around you like a warm blanket. The morning light filters through the window, illuminating your sweat-slick bodies, the room still filled with the echoes of your shared ecstasy.
"I love you both," Miyeon whispers, her voice hoarse with emotion.
"Forever," Sana adds, her fingers intertwining with yours.
You nod, unable to speak past the lump in your throat. The bond between you feels stronger than ever, a connection forged not just in passion but in love and trust. As you drift back to sleep, the world outside fades away, leaving only the three of you in your private paradise.
Sana's idea of filming this relationship sparks a mix of excitement and nervousness within you as she sets up the camera on a tripod near the bed. The room is bathed in the soft, natural light that filters through the curtains, creating a warm, intimate atmosphere. Miyeon watches her with a playful smile, her eyes twinkling with anticipation.
"Ready for this?" Sana asks, her voice a seductive whisper as she checks the camera angle.
You nod, your heart pounding in your chest, while Miyeon bites her lip, her hands moving to adjust the straps of her lingerie. The click of the camera starting up echoes softly in the room, capturing the moment.
Sana joins you on the bed, her fingers gently brushing against your skin as she leans in to kiss you. The taste of her lips is electric, sending shivers down your spine. You wrap your arms around her, pulling her closer, your bodies melding together seamlessly.
Miyeon watches the two of you, her gaze heated, before she crawls towards you, her hands gliding over your thighs. You shift slightly, making space for her between you and Sana, the warmth of her body pressing against yours. She kisses your neck, her tongue flicking out to tease the sensitive skin there, causing you to gasp.
The camera captures every detail—the way Sana's hair falls across her face, the flush on Miyeon's cheeks, the intensity in your eyes. It's both voyeuristic and deeply personal, a private glimpse into your shared world.
Sana breaks the kiss, her breath hot against your ear as she whispers, "Let's make this unforgettable."
Her hands move down, undoing the buttons of your shirt, revealing your bare chest to the cool air. You shrug it off, letting it fall to the floor as Miyeon's hands take over, her fingertips tracing patterns on your skin that ignite a fire within you.
You reach for Sana, your hands cupping her breasts, thumbs teasing her nipples until they harden under your touch. She moans, low and deep, her head tilting back as Miyeon continues her assault on your senses, her mouth now trailing down your chest, leaving a path of heat in its wake.
The camera records the scene, the lens capturing the flicker of desire in your eyes, the flush of arousal on Sana's skin, and the concentration in Miyeon's expression. It's raw, real, and incredibly erotic.
Miyeon looks up at you, her eyes dark with passion, and whispers, "I want you inside me."
Her words send a surge of urgency through you. You nod, shifting positions so that you're hovering above her, your hardness pressed against her entrance. She guides you in, her body welcoming you with a tight, hot embrace that makes you groan.
Sana moves to kneel beside Miyeon, her hand reaching out to stroke Miyeon's hair, her eyes locked on the scene unfolding before her. The camera pans, capturing the intimacy, the connection between the three of you.
You begin to move, slowly at first, watching Miyeon's face for any sign of discomfort or pleasure. Her eyes close, her mouth forming a silent 'O', her hands gripping your arms tightly. The sensation of being inside her, surrounded by her warmth, is overwhelming, each thrust met with a sigh or a moan from Miyeon.
Sana leans in, her lips finding Miyeon's once more in a deep kiss, her hand reaching between you to stroke Miyeon's clit. The added stimulation pushes Miyeon closer to the edge, her body arching into your thrusts.
You increase your pace, the rhythm building, each movement met with a sigh or a moan from Miyeon. The sound fills the room, mingling with the soft hum of the camera, creating a soundtrack to your passion.
Sana reaches between you, her fingers finding Miyeon's sensitive spots, rubbing in circles. Miyeon cries out, her body tensing, her orgasm hitting her hard. The sight of her climax sends you over the edge, your release hitting you like a wave, intense and all-consuming.
Exhausted but content, you lay there, the three of you tangled in each other's arms, the afterglow of your passion wrapping around you like a warm blanket. The camera continues to record, capturing the moment, and preserving the memory of this intense, intimate encounter.
Sana looks at the camera, a satisfied smile playing on her lips, and whispers, "Cut," her voice hoarse with emotion.
You turn to Miyeon, her eyes still closed, a serene smile on her face. You brush a strand of hair away from her face, your fingers lingering on her cheek. She opens her eyes, meeting your gaze, her smile widening.
"That was... incredible," she murmurs, her voice soft and dreamy.
Sana nods, her hand intertwining with yours, "A moment we'll never forget."
You agree silently, the weight of the experience settling over you. The camera, now silent, stands as a witness to your shared ecstasy, a testament to the bond between you. As you drift into a peaceful slumber, the room filled with the echoes of your shared passion, you know that this memory will stay with you forever, a cherished part of your journey together.
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your-averagewriter · 11 months ago
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“Hearts for a sweetheart.”
Summary: Bumping into a sweet chocolatier evolves into something even sweeter (Timothée Chalamet!Willy Wonka x fem!reader)
Word count: 1.9K
Warnings: Kissing, swearing (once I think).
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Walking along the street, I’m interrupted by a sea of cheers as a man in an elaborate get-up passes around chocolates and sweets with a strong smile. As he walks through the crowd, people push forward, reaching for the chocolates forcing me forward, almost causing me to fall to the ground.
After nearly tripping over from the force of the crowd, I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn to look at the person, steadying myself.
“Are you alright, miss?” The extravagant man asks.
Looking over him I can’t help but smile a little at his top hat and jacket, finding it endearing combined with his gentle nature.
“I’m okay.” I say as he helps me stabilise myself.
“Would you like a chocolate?” He asks with a new kind of smile, a toothy grin as he extends his arm, a tray of chocolates decorating the plate.
“Thank you but I can’t afford your fancy chocolates.” I deny, looking down a little ashamed as the crowds of people still surround us although they’ve quietened down a bit now.
“They’re free. No price for you, or anyone.” He pauses after saying ‘you’, seemingly forgetting the rest of his sentence.
“Really?” He nods and I reach to take one gently. “Thank you, mister…” I pause, not knowing his name.
“Mr Wonka, chocolatier.” He grins as he tips his hat towards me with a smile.
“Thank you Mr Wonka, the chocolatier.” I smile before seeing him disappear back into the crowds.
I only see him a couple more times as he looks back at me with a smile plastered on his face, his top hat sticking out above the crowds making me chuckle before putting the small chocolate into my mouth, resting it delicately on my tongue.
Closing my mouth, I start to chew the chocolate, truly surprised by the delicious treat. It’s like nothing I’ve ever tasted before. I try to savour it but it’s gone too soon, making me wish it would last forever.
Mr Wonka, a name I would not soon forget, in fact I couldn’t stop thinking about the man: his chocolates, his fashion and most of all his endearing, sweet nature. Walking through the streets, making my way home I ponder whether I would see him again or how. He must have a shop or a stall or something similar, maybe with the other chocolate stores? It doesn’t seem like he’d fit in with those pretentious sellers who seem to have no love for the art of food, let alone chocolate.
After a couple of weeks I had saved up some coins, not enough to get me more than one chocolate I doubt, but it'd be worth it both for the delicious chocolate and to see him again. With my coins in my pocket, I wander through the town centre, keeping my eyes out for the chocolatier but I don’t spot him.
Making it to the palace of chocolate stores I begin to feel the cold nipping at my skin, regretting not bringing my jacket. I walk through the doors, feeling very fancy as I do so, looking at the patterned floors and incredible glass dome roof.
Feeling a slight shiver I hurry along, looking to the stores and suddenly seeing a new store: Wonka. Upon seeing the name I make my way towards the store, taking in the beautiful design and calligraphy.
Walking in I’m instantly taken aback by the extraordinary interior, colourful candy delights disguised as nature causing me to gasp. Frozen, I stand in the door probably looking quite shocked as after a few seconds I feel a tap on my shoulder causing me to turn around, eyes going a little wide at the slight shock.
“Hello miss.” I turn around to see Mr Wonka smiling. “I wasn’t sure if I was going to see you again.”
“You remember me?” I ask, tilting my head slightly confused.
“Of course I do, I only regret that I didn’t ask your name last time we met.”
“(y/n), Mr Wonka.”
“Ah, call me Willy, last names are too formal for me.” He chuckles and I nod before looking around.
“Your store is incredible.” I say, looking around awe-struck.
“Why thank you, would you like a tour?” 
“You’ve probably got more important things to do…” I say quietly with a soft smile.
“Nonsense! What could be more important than showing a woman as lovely as yourself around?” He asks with a charming smile. “Now, what kind of chocolate do you like?”
I think about it for a second, realising how long it’s been since I’ve had chocolate, excluding the last time I bumped into Willy. “The normal kind of chocolate?” I say, unsure.
“Normal kind?” He raises an eyebrow playfully. “Milk chocolate?” I nod.
“I think so, the chocolate you gave me last time was delicious, the best I’ve ever tasted.” I smile.
“Thank you, that means more than you realise.” He says softly, a tone of sincerity. “I’ll make you something special.” He grins. “Do you want to look around for a minute? I won’t keep you waiting too long.” He smiles, I nod before he seems to disappear before I even realise.
I walk towards the river watching as the boat goes round and round, the mechanisms seem incredible. Crouching down by the river I reach for a flower, inspecting the treat before taking a tentative bite from the petal. I let out a sigh, the treat tasting even better than I thought it would. Standing back up I take the flower with me, nibbling on the petals as I walk around the store, in awe at all the beautiful decorations.
A few seconds later, Willy pops up from out of nowhere, startling me slightly but with a small box in his hand.
“I didn’t mean to startle you.” He offers a small smile. He removes the lid from the box revealing a set of three chocolate hearts with delicate piping on top.
“Wow, these are beautiful.” I say, staring at the artwork.
“Hearts for a sweetheart,” He grins, flustering me a little.
“Thank you… How much do these cost?” I ask, trying not to be awkward but failing.
“Nothing, well except that I get to see your reaction, I think you’ll like them. I based them off of the chocolate you had a couple of weeks ago but made them better.”
“Are you sure? I have some coins.” I reach into my pocket, pulling out some coins but fumbling them leading multiple to fall to the ground. “Shit, sorry…” I say quietly before crouching down and reaching for the coins.
Willy does the same helping me pick up the coins as his hand accidentally brushes against mine. We both look up at each other before I look away embarrassed. He holds my hand, turning it over and placing the coins in my hand before folding my hand, covering the coins. He brings my hand up to his face, pressing his lips against my wrist with a small smile.
“Thank you…”
“Don’t worry about it.” He says as we both stand up again, I slide my coins back into my pocket.
He offers me the box and I take one of the three heart chocolates and place it in my mouth. 
“Oh my god, you’re a genius.” I sigh, enjoying the chocolate. “These are incredible.”
“Thank you.” He grins, a proud expression on his face. “Would you like anything else? A buttercup? Cotton candy cloud? Cherries? Gummy bears?” He shoots off options one after the other at a quick speed.
“What would you recommend?” I ask, tentatively.
“Please follow me.” He smiles, leading me around the store to a patch of flowers. Crouching down, he plucks a few flowers, matching them by colour and tying them to make a chocolate bouquet before passing it to me.
“It’s beautiful.” I smile. He pulls out one more flower and tucks it behind my ear.
“Don’t worry, that’s a real flower.” He reassures me with a soft smile.
“Thank you.” I say softly. 
“They’re chocolate, one’s white, dark and the other milk so you can work out what you like.” He says gently arranging the flowers. “Then you can come back and I can make you some more.” He chuckles. “The more information you can give me, the better the chocolate will taste!” 
“Thank you, Willy, but I should get going now, I didn’t realise it had gotten so dark…” I say quietly as I look outside.
“Time flies when you’re having fun.” He shrugs as we walk towards the door and I start to feel the cold breeze against my skin. “Are you cold?” He asks, tilting his head slightly.
“A little, I should’ve brought my jacket.” I dismiss with a small smile. “I’ll see you around, Willy.” I say, stepping out of the door and walking away.
About a second later, I hear him speak again. “(y/n) wait!” He says and I turn around as he walks towards me, pulling off his long magenta jacket and sliding over my shoulder.
“Now you’ll get cold.” I chuckle, pulling the coat around me a little tighter.
“I’m okay, I was getting a bit warm anyway.” He smiles before looking behind me into the night. “Can I walk you home?” He asks, sweetly. 
“You want to walk me home? I don’t live very close to your store…”
“Even more reason for me to walk with you.”
“Okay, if you’d like to, I won't stop you.” I smile brightly as he walks next to me.
“You know, you look really beautiful when you smile.” He says which only makes me smile more.
“Stop.” I chuckle. 
“But it’s true.” He smiles. “You’re truly the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on.” He says in a gentle but more serious tone.
“Thank you.” I whisper looking up to him before resting my head on his shoulder as we walk. “You’re really an incredible guy.”
“Ah, I just make chocolate.” He chuckles.
“Really good chocolate.” I smile. “And you make it look really pretty and your shop is incredible. I’ll have to come by more often.”
“I’d like that.” He pauses “May I hold your hand?” He asks gently after a short pause and I reach my hand out to his
Once we reach my home, I turn around to face him.
“This is me.” I smile. “I’m sorry you had to walk so far.”
“It was worth it.” He brings my hand to his face, pressing his lips against my hand again.
“Here, let me get your coat.” I say, beginning to slide the coat off of my shoulders but he stops me.
“Keep it, it gives you a reason to come back and see me again.” He says with a small smirk.
“Sneaky, very sneaky.” I chuckle, letting the jacket rest on my shoulders. “Get home safe.” I smile, as he begins to walk away. 
It takes me a few seconds to fight my thoughts off before I call for him.
“Willy?” He turns around to face me, standing about eight steps away.
I walk quickly towards him, pressing my lips against his briefly before pulling away. “I’ll see you in a few days.” I whisper with a soft smile.
“You’re not gonna see me for a few days after pulling that stunt?” He asks with a playful expression causing me to chuckle and nod. “Well, I look forward to seeing you again.” He smiles brightly.
“I won’t keep you waiting too long.” I smile before going inside my house, shutting the door after he walks out of sight. I let out a breath as I have to fight a smile, excited to see the chocolatier again.
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AN: I love this movie with my whole heart!
Hope you enjoyed reading!
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enha-stars · 5 months ago
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✧ eyes on me ; s.j
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pairing: bf!jake x f!reader (mdni)
synopsis: jake was greedy; he was soft and loving and a bit silly, but he was greedy for you, for your attention, for anything you’d give him
warnings: lots of fluff, down bad jake, mentions of religion, death, hell [romantic], shy/sub jake (sorta), sort of dom reader (if you squint), attention whore jake (affectionate), boob play, jake loves titties, suggestive, no smut, kissing, hair pulling
a/n: idk what this is but i'm having so many jake thoughts it's insane. what i would give to pull his hair once.
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the smell of butter wafted through the air as you fluffed the pillows on your sofa, humming a soft melody that jake had strummed into your subconscious.
jake watched you from the kitchen as he poured the popcorn into a large bowl and grabbed two cans of pop before he walked towards you, a soft smile on his lips.
he loved friday evenings because he got to spend them with you; your arms wrapped tightly around him as you mumbled about your day, he spent better half of the night finding a way to crawl into your skin and build a home.
he wanted to be as close to you as humanly possible, and then some. sometimes —and he always thought he was being slick but you knew— he would listen to your heartbeat and will his own heart to beat in synch with yours.
it always did.
jake watched as you fell onto the sofa, a soft groan escaping your lips when your back dug into the armrest. his eyes twinkled and he set down the popcorn on the little table you had pulled.
“don’t wanna lay on me, baby?”
you shuffled a bit downwards before you smiled up at him, eyes a bit droopier than you would have liked. he looked so pretty, standing above you with his hair brushed back and his skin glowy.
“mm, i wanna hold you.” jake naturally bit his bottom lip as his eyes crinkled in adoration. it didn’t matter how many years you two had been together; jake sim would always have that shy lover boy inside him.
jake waited patiently as you got comfortable and moved to lay on you once you nodded at him, giving him the go ahead. you prepared for jake's full weight on you and tensed up your body but he gently laid himself in between your legs.
he slotted himself between your legs and smiled against your chest when your legs wrapped around his lower half, your arms following in suit and wrapping around his shoulders.
his arms wrapped around your waist and he breathed you in; tucking his face in your neck. it had been a long week for the both of you and he had been looking forward to this every second of the week.
you shivered when his warm hands slid under your shirt and rested on your back, his nails lightly awakening all the cells in your body. you dug your heel in his shin and he nipped the skin of your neck.
"you smell good," he whispered. his eyes were squeezed shut and when you pulled back to see his face, he looked immensely content; like this is exactly where he belonged, exactly where he would stay.
"i smell like you," you smiled down at him, a twinkle in your eyes. he wanted to kiss it, to brush it and feed it; keep it ignited forever like his own personal lighthouse.
"exactly," he replied. "and i smell like you. just how God intended."
instead of answering, you crinkled your nose at him and he felt his heart rate pick up at the sight.
you slid one hand down his shirt through the collar and your other hand pressed 'play' on the tv before it slid into his hair. you felt him shiver under your touch and you pressed a kiss to his forehead.
right then and there, if jake had died, he would have been okay with it. he would have hated leaving you all alone, but if he had to go, he wanted it to be in your arms.
he was sure that even if dante himself had pulled him through hell, a second in your arms was enough to make it all worth it.
the familiar blues and fishes graced your tv and jake hummed in content as he pressed his ear against your heart, listening to the melody of the mermaids and your heart synch into the most beautiful song jake had ever heard.
your eyes never strayed from the tv as you watched the film you had been thinking about for a few days. you couldn't pinpoint why the little mermaid had been swimming through your thoughts until you began running your fingers through jake's locks.
jake focused on the tv for a bit but the feeling of your hand pressing down on his back, the coldness of your palm against his burning skill had him dizzy. his eyes fluttered shut when your fingers scraped his skull.
"you remind me of prince eric," you whispered, tugging on jake's hair. you tilted his head upwards to catch his eye and your throat bobbed at his expression; the way his eyes burned with a simmering heat and the small hitch in his breath didn't escape you.
"yeah?" his throat was dry as he looked up at you, a familiar heat bubbling in his stomach. "what about him?" jake didn't care about the movie. he didn't care about ariel's dilemma or sebastian's lectures. he cared about you; he wanted you, he wanted your attention.
all of it.
you shuffled under him, lips getting closer as your fingers ran through the ends of his hair. you slid your hand from the nape of his neck to the front and grazed his skin until you could brush the hair out of his eyes.
jake stared up at you with shiny eyes and pink lips. he had been biting on his bottom lip for a bit and you brushed your thumb against the pulled lip, enticing him to release it.
his body was yours, after all.
"you kind of look like him," you responded. your fingers traced the lines of his face, the dips and plush of his flesh until he was sure that you could mold him from any clay. he rested his chin in between your breasts, putty in your arms.
"your hair," you mumbled. jake watched carefully as you ran both your hands through his hair, tugging at the ends. his eyes shut and he barely held on to the whimper that almost escaped him. "it looks like his. especially since you've grown it out."
"what else?" jake wanted your eyes on him. he couldn't really handle them, but he loved the way his body felt alive under your gaze.
"your personalities are similar," you mused. your eyes glanced at the tv and jake slid his hand from your back to your stomach. the rough calluses on his hand tickled your skin and you glanced down at him, a smile tugging on your lips at the desperation in his eyes.
"he's charming, optimistic, adventurous," you listed. jake listened carefully, letting your voice settle deep within his bones until he was sure he'd hear you even after death. you smiled brightly at him and jake felt the air in his lungs leave him. "he's sensitive and a bit shy."
"sounds like me," jake grinned.
"it does," you laughed. "i fell in love with you long before i even met you."
you turned back to the tv so you didn't see the look of pure astonishment on jake's face. he felt his cheeks warm and he pressed his face against your chest, grinning to himself when you laughed at his shyness. you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and his hand slid up your stomach.
he wasn't full yet; he was still starving for your attention. he wanted to bask under your stare until it overwhelmed him. he let his hand travel further upwards until his fingers brushed the skin right under your breasts.
he was so glad you weren't wearing a bra.
you tried really hard to keep you attention on the tv. you knew jake was up to something, but you weren't ready for his wet tongue to press against your nipple through your thin shirt.
you naturally arched your back in response and jake took that as a sign to continue. your nails dug into his scalp as his tongue continued to poke and lick at one of your nipples while he pulled and pinched the other with his hand.
he loved your boobs. he could have spent the rest of his life like this, simply laying in between your legs with his tongue on your skin and he would have happily thanked whoever was responsible.
your head fell back and your eyes shut on their own accord at the pleasure. noticing the lack of attention, jake bit down on your skin and smiled against your wet shirt when your eyes fell on his.
"eyes on me, baby."
jake stared into your eyes as he sucked on your other nipple, his hand squeezed and kneading the other breast. your breathing had deepened and jake buzzed under your stare, sucking and nibbling like he had a point to prove it.
you swallowed a moan but jake felt it in the way your body squirmed underneath his. he released your hardened, perked nipple and raised his head, eyes shiny with lust and love.
"please," he begged against your skin. his breath brushed your face and you had never seen anything prettier. his hair fell across his forehead so prettily, and his eyes shone with so much love it almost choked you.
you smiled softly at him before your hands travelled from his hair to his cheeks. you cupped his chiseled jaw and pulled him towards you, lips crashing against his. you swallowed his little gasp and tipped your head further down, lips moving his passionately.
jake felt his entire core shake as his lips moved against yours, teeth and tongue all clashing as every unsaid whisper speaks itself into existence.
you pulled jake's hair, breaking the kiss to catch your breath. a string of saliva connects your bruised, plump lips and jake breaks it wirh his tongue. your eyes hungrily follow his movements and he knows he has all your attention now.
he knows he's always had it, but now you can't think about anything except him. exactly how he can't think about anything other than you.
"what do you want, baby?"
you pressed a chaste kiss to his lips and smiled against his lips when his eyelashes brushed your skin. you pulled away and tucked a piece of hair behind his ear.
"you, jake. i always only ever want you."
he grinned at the look in your eyes and the breathiness of your voice and pressed his pelvis against yours, swallowing your moan.
"i always only ever want you too."
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luminnara · 8 months ago
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Unheavenly Creatures | Feyd Rautha/reader (NSFW 18+)
Summary: Feyd Rautha has taken a liking to you, a handmaiden accompanying your mistress on a diplomatic visit to Giedi Prime. He decides it's time to add another darling to his collection.
Warnings: knife stuff, blood stuff, mentions of murder, sex, a lil cannibalism, sex sex sex, dubcon-ish tones? lots of biting, it's feyd rautha it's not gonna be all sunshine, but he is also not as terrible as canon entirely so idk
Word count: 6k
Check out my feyd rautha playlist!
Tags: @austinswhitewolf @aeilani @maneater17 @serrendiipty
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The Harkonnen palace was a cold place, not in the sense that the air was crisp and you could see your own breath, but rather that the austerity of its halls and monochromatic decor felt positively frigid. As if even the buildings weren’t meant to harbor life on this toxic, forsaken rock anymore. Everything you had seen of Giedi Prime so far had felt the same—stark, brutal, inhospitable. A barren wasteland with blinding white skies and dark acid rain.
And yet, House Harkonnen seemed to thrive beneath the black sun, growing numerous and powerful and rich. Before arriving, you had heard horror stories, rumors of what Baron Vladimir and his nephews were like, none of them pretty. When you had been informed you’d been chosen to accompany your own House’s leaders on a diplomatic trip to the Harkonnen homeworld, you’d considered pretending to be sick to get out of it. Faking your own death had seemed like a valid option at that point.
But with little choice of your own, you were forced to follow along as a handmaiden, and from the moment you set foot on Giedi Prime, you were determined to keep your head down and hope that the meetings went smoothly so that you could return to your own planet as quickly as possible. As you walked dutifully behind your Lady, hands folded and eyes trained on your feet, you couldn’t help but wrinkle your nose at the putrid, chemical air, unaware of the dark eyes watching you.
“My nephew, na-Baron Feyd Rautha,” Baron Harkonnen rasped, his voice like dry gravel. His words had you glancing up to finally look at what the Harkonnens considered royalty, and what was supposed to be a quick peek turned into a curious stare. The Baron himself was a large man, and he was levitating, wearing a long black robe that touched the ground even while he was so high above it. Tubes connected him to what you could only assume was some sort of breathing apparatus, a dark, spherical thing floating behind him. Standing behind him to his right was a much younger man, dressed in black and staring directly at you.
You felt a chill fly up your spine.
Feyd Rautha tore his eyes away from you and inclined his head in acknowledgement, looking to your Lord and Lady as formal pleasantries were exchanged. You kept your eyes down once more as you finally moved indoors, where the air was fresh and stale at the same time, and the walls were imposing and cold.
You followed along as your Lady was given the grand tour, a journey that ended at the guest wing. You were shown to your room and all but locked inside, left alone to inspect your temporary lodgings. If the rest of the palace was bleak, this was entirely featureless—a single boring bed sat in the center, a small table off to the side. There were no windows, not a shred of natural light despite how high the ceiling was. How anyone could willingly design such a place was beyond you, and you counted yourself lucky to only have to endure it for a short time.
Dinner was served that evening, hosted by the Baron and his nephew. You were permitted to join, dressed in a plain white gown as you sat in silence, doing your best to disappear. You could feel Feyd Rautha’s eyes upon you as you ate and tried to ignore him, cutting into what must have been meat and realizing it was rare at best, perhaps an organ from some large beast. Nonetheless you ate it, finding it adequate and perhaps even tasty, eating in the calm and measured manner expected of you back home.
Suddenly, Feyd barked a laugh. “A pet at the dinner table?”
You glanced up at him and found yourself fascinated once more. His pale skin, nearly white, was completely smooth; you had yet to see a Harkonnen with hair, though you did not know whether they removed it or simply never had it in the first place. His blue eyes were so dark they appeared black in contrast, and as he grinned at you, all you saw were black teeth, and it was somehow beautiful in that brutal, gruesome way of Giedi Prime.
“Do your pets always dine with you?” He rasped, his tone mocking.
“Na-Baron, she is not a pet,” your Lady said sternly, and you felt safe knowing that she would defend you. You were loyal to your House for a reason, after all; you knew your leaders would bring you home safe and sound. “She is my attendant.”
“You must forgive my dear nephew,” the Baron said. “Your customs are not ours.”
You expected a rebuttal, but none came, and Feyd Rautha’s eyes remained glued to you as you ate.
-0-
The negotiations seemed to stretch on.
After dinner, you had helped your Lady retire for the night and then returned to your chamber, laying in bed as you stared at the distant ceiling. All the stories you had heard of the Harkonnens swirled in your mind, and you thought of their recent extermination of House Atreides and shuddered. Your House was desperate to stay in their good graces, you knew, and who could blame them? No one wanted to end up slaughtered like the Atreides.
You told yourself that you were safe. Even if the Harkonnens had lured your Lord and Lady to Giedi Prime under false pretenses, you were only a servant; there was no reason to kill you as well. Aside from Feyd Rautha’s comments at dinner and the stark discomfort of the palace, nothing had happened to make you believe you were a target, and though you knew it was borderline blasphemous, you took some solace in the knowledge that it was more worth their while to kill your masters than you.
When you finally relaxed enough to close your eyes, however, sleep came surprisingly easily, and your dreams were simple and comfortable.
In the morning, you prepared the Lady for the day, and then she and the Lord entered their meeting with the Baron, leaving you alone. There was nothing to do but wander the guest wing, though that only occupied you for a short time as there was absolutely nothing to look at. Nothing in the way of art decorated the walls, and the architecture was so smooth and so plain you quickly grew bored of it. You doubted you would be permitted to participate in anything that even semi-resembled entertainment, and as minutes stretched into hours, you realized your feet had taken you out of the guest wing and into a corridor you had no memory of.
You turned in a circle, seeing nothing and no one familiar, and made the decision to continue on. Surely someone would have informed you of any off-limits areas upon your arrival, and with absolutely no guards in sight, it couldn’t be that bad for you to wander this area as well.
Your steps echoed around you, breaking the oppressive silence of the hall. The architecture was bafflingly different compared to that of your home, where wood and warm stone blended together to create buildings that felt welcoming. On Giedi Prime, everything was harsh and inhospitable—including the people and their homes.
Though your interactions with the Harkonnens had been brief thus far, you could confidently say that they weren’t winning any popularity contests, except perhaps amongst themselves. Nearly everything you’d ever heard about them was bad, and so far, you mostly found them strange; the Baron was fearsome in the way a sick, desperate animal was, with those eyes that followed people as if he were wondering what it would be like to crush their necks in his hands just because he could.
His nephew, on the other hand, was fearsome in the way a predator was. His movements were smooth and confident at dinner the night before, his eyes calculating as if counting how many moves it would take him to press a knife into your gut. You had heard of Feyd Rautha, the pretty boy of Giedi Prime, but you had never seen him before yesterday, and quite frankly, you had expected something else…but then again, what had you even expected at all? The na-Baron was surely cruel just as his uncle was, but he seemed…different.
The clang of metal followed by the sound of a muffled thud startled you out of your thoughts of Feyd, and with a start, you realized you were standing outside a closed door. It was the first noise you’d heard that wasn’t your own all day, and your heart pounded as you quickly stepped back. Perhaps you should run, lest you be caught outside the guest wing. Perhaps it wouldn’t matter at all, as no one has explicitly ordered you to remain in your chamber. And, above all else, perhaps you were curious about what lay on the other side of the door, and you took a step forward again.
It was only a heartbeat later that it opened, revealing Feyd Rautha.
“Well, well,” he said, voice rough, “what do we have here?”
He was dressed in all black, in what you assumed were casual clothes for the Harkonnen royalty.
“Apologies, Feyd Rautha,” you said quickly. “I was passing by and heard a sound.”
You could feel his eyes raking over you as he listened. Then, a smirk crept across his lips, and he help up a bloody dagger.
He did so slowly, and you knew it to be an attempt at intimidation. He wanted you scared. He wanted to shock and disgust the outsider who came from another great house, who had surely never encountered anything like him before.
But you were tougher than that. You may have been a handmaiden for a spoiled aristocrat, but on your planet, hunting was common. You’d had your fair share of field dressing game, and you weren’t one to shy away from a knife.
You eyed the dark blood dripping from the blade, then focused on his face once more. “I apologize if I have caused an interruption.”
“Not at all,” he said, brow twitching as he tilted his head slightly. “Though you are to address me as na-Baron. Only my darlings may use my name.”
“Of course, na-Baron. My apologies.”
“Why are you not in the guest wing, little pet?”
“I have nothing to do, na-Baron.” You shrugged.
This time, he grinned, baring black teeth. If he expected you to cringe away, he would be surprised to find that you seemed almost unimpressed with the display. “So you walk freely, as though you own this palace. I could kill you for the insolence.”
You looked at him boredly.
“I could gut you.” He took a step towards you. “Stick this knife into you. Right. Here.”
He was standing before you, the tip of the blade poking your belly, still grinning. At your lack of reaction, however, the grin faded slightly, nearly faltering.
“Not there,” you replied, a bit amused by his lack of skill.
“What?”
“If you aim to gut me, that’s a terrible place to start.” You wrapped a hand around his and moved the knife over slightly. “This is better.”
He watched your face. “You’re a Bene Gesserit witch.”
“No,” your lip quirked in a small smile. “No, I’m experienced in the ways of hunting and traditional field dressing. Our House is known for them.”
“You’re a hunter? A weak, little thing like you?” He pressed the blade against your dress and laughed.
You considered stepping back, away from the na-Baron and his knife, but you recognized the growing fervor in his eyes. He wanted to hunt, to pursue, to drive the blade forward until he could feel your blood on his skin. Feyd was like a hunting hound, eager to follow the scent of his prey, easily triggered by the chase. So you stood still, studying his pale, smooth face.
“The Lord and Lady enjoy hunting on the estate.” You finally answered. “I often assist in dressing the game after.”
“But have you killed?”
“My uncle took me hunting when I was young. I learned much about the ways of nature and the hunt.”
“You speak so formally,” he taunted, leaning in.
“I do, na-Baron,” you replied curtly. “I do not wish to offend.”
With a sick smirk, he leaned into you even further, lips brushing your ear. “Have you killed a human?”
You watched him from the corner of your eye, and he watched you.
“Na-Baron, I fear I’m lost. I’ll return to the guest wing promptly if you’ll point me in the right direction—“
“Don’t change the subject, pet.” He drew back. “Lying to me is unwise.”
You swallowed hard. “Why do you wish to know?”
“You’ve caught my eye, little one,” he withdrew the blade, leaving the smallest stain on your dress. “And you’ve already told me all I need to know.”
You felt a chill, the back of your neck tingling as you watched him raise the bloody knife and lick it clean. Feyd Rautha was dangerous. More dangerous than you knew.
“Return to the guest wing,” he rasped. “I must attend to my darlings. They grow lonely without me.”
You stared, perplexed, as he strode away, an uneasy feeling washing over you as you turned and hurried back the way you had come. The sooner you could leave Giedi Prime and its unnerving House, the better.
-0-
“What?”
“Hush.” Your mistress scolded you, but you barely heard her.
Your head was too busy spinning.
“You are to remain here,” your Lord repeated. “In the employ of the na-Baron Feyd Rautha.”
Your heart dropped in a sickening way.
“You’ve been so very good to me,” the Lady said. “You’ll serve House Harkonnen very well, I am certain of it.”
“But I-I—I’m…” you paused, trying to catch your breath and quell the panic tightening your chest. “I’m loyal to our House, milady. And I want to return home, to the palace, and serve you.”
“Baron Harkonnen was insistent,” your Lord said flippantly. “It seems Feyd Rautha approached him sometime after our meeting yesterday, and this morning as we finalized the agreements, it was decided you’d be included in the negotiations. Imagine that, a fresh alliance with House Harkonnen and a fine sum for a handmaiden!”
“You…sold me?” You asked, your voice sounding incredibly small.
“Now, I’m sure you’re nervous, but really, these Harkonnens are nothing to worry about. Those nasty rumors back home are simply that, and I’m sure you’ll be well taken care of. Now, we must depart at once, and you are to be shown to the na-Baron’s chambers.”
“Ta ta, dear one!”
And just like that, your entire world was shattered.
As you followed a Harkonnen servant through the corridors, you kept your head down. You felt furious and lost, anger twisting in your gut. So much for loyalty—never before had you been made to feel so easily replaced, and yet they had given you away so willingly you could hardly believe it. Whatever negotiations had been made, whatever new deals struck, you had been deemed unimportant enough to your House to simply be left in the care of a dangerous man, and now you felt your very life was suddenly in grave danger.
“We have arrived, milady,” your guide said timidly, hunching her shoulders and clasping her hands tightly as you turned to look at her.
“Thank you,” you replied, brow furrowed slightly in confusion. “Am I to…enter?”
“Yes, milady,” she seemed to bite the words, not angrily, but in an effort to get them out quickly.
“Is Feyd Rautha inside?”
“Yes.” Came the whispered affirmative.
The bald woman was nearly trembling, and you felt as though perhaps you should be, as well. Feyd Rautha had been intimidating every time you interacted with him, and now that he had made the baffling decision to demand you remain on his planet, you were beginning to think you ought to fear him.
But he was only a man, you reminded yourself as you faced the door. Not a god. Not some supernatural being. The na-Baron was flesh and blood.
With a deep breath, you opened the door.
“You enter unannounced?” A familiar voice rasped.
Feyd Rautha was indeed inside what appeared to be living quarters, and the room seemed lavish by Harkonnen standards. A large bed with black sheets sat against the far wall, before which was a simple sitting area featuring oddly shaped sofas, all black as well. A mirror was mounted on the wall near the bed, and you chose not to wonder about its placement. You spied two doors on either side of the room, and in its center, stood the na-Baron.
“I was told to come here,” you said, voice tinged with irritation.
“And so you have,” he smirked, twirling a dagger in his hand as he approached you. "Obedient."
When he reached you, invading your space and nearly brushing against your chest with his, he caught the way your nostrils flared angrily and grinned. His black teeth, previously so fascinating, brought only annoyance now, much like the rest of him.
“May I ask what exactly is going on, na-Baron?”
“Oh, I simply couldn’t let you leave,” you felt his blade as the flat of it pressed up against your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “I had to have you, pet.”
“I am not a pet,” you spat, unable to contain yourself any longer. “And I demand to know exactly why I’ve been sold as one.”
The knife was pulled away as Feyd circled you. In the mirror near the bed, you could see him looking you up and down, appraising you freely now that the two of you were hidden from the rest of the galaxy.
“Your masters gave you away easily,” he said, stopping behind you. “They did not realize your true potential.”
“My potential?” You hissed, head jerking to the side to watch him from the corner of your eye. “And what might that be, na-Baron?”
In a blink, he had leaned in, rough hands suddenly gripping your sides as he brought his lips to your ear. “Call me Feyd.”
His too-hot breath on your neck and the tone of his voice caused your anger to stutter. “I-I thought only your darlings called you by your name?”
“Oh, it’s a clever pet,” he taunted, nipping your earlobe sharply. When he saw that you stayed still and didn’t flinch, he seemed pleased. “What do you know of my darlings?”
“N-nothing, I don’t even know what that means,” you answered truthfully.
“My darlings,” he began, a hand moving up to brush through your hair, short in the style of your position—former position—within your—former—house. “Are the most beautiful creatures. They are very special to me.”
You were in danger.
You knew it.
“I want you.” He said simply, pressing his lips to the back of your neck, and you knew he meant in every way. “Give yourself freely.”
“Why me?” You asked, mustering your courage to speak above a whisper.
He chuckled at that, running his tongue up your spine to the base of your skull. “You are just right, the perfect addition. You are unafraid. You have a taste for meat. And you have killed.”
You were silent for a moment, jaw squared. “I never told you that.”
His hands were creeping over your hips now, across the front of your dress. When he spoke, his voice was low and heady. “Who was it?”
Another long pause came as you wrestled with yourself, your tongue feeling too big for your mouth as you finally tried to speak.
“My father.”
As Feyd Rautha let out a guttural groan at your admittance, you stared at yourself in the mirror, and nearly didn’t recognize the person you saw.
“You and I are alike, pet,” his hands squeezed at you harshly while his nose pressed into your hair. “I killed my mother.”
A part of you felt sick at the suggestion that you were anything like the monster that was Feyd Rautha Harkonnen. Another part of you felt a strange comfort in the knowledge that you weren’t the only one in the room who had committed parricide.
“I haven’t shared that in a long time,” you admitted.
“Did he fight it?”
You could feel his arousal as he pushed his hips against you, the sensation bringing an unexpected fire to your core.
“Yes.”
“Did he deserve it?”
You stared at yourself in the mirror and saw an unexpected harshness in your eyes, the polite handmaiden now completely absent, replaced by what you had feared you truly were ever since the day of your father’s death; a killer.
“Yes.”
But if you had feared that you were bad for it, that you deserved punishment, Feyd Rautha seemed determined to prove otherwise. He turned you in his arms, never letting go, and brought his lips to yours in a greedy kiss.
“I need you now,” he breathed, almost sounding vulnerable for a moment.
“Take me,” you said against his lips, determined not to stop and think about what exactly you were doing.
If you were going to be kept and tortured by a Harkonnen prince, you may as well enjoy your last moments, right?
Feyd Rautha guided you to his bed in a way that was somehow both smooth and rough, gentle and demanding. He didn’t want to break you, but he wanted to see how far he could bend you before you snapped. He wanted to test you.
Your dress was quickly thrown to the wayside, torn by his dagger, his clothing following suit. As you lay on your back, fully bared to him, he crept over you, eyes taking over your body as he continued his earlier appraisal.
“So strange,” he muttered as he brushed his fingers over the soft hair between your legs.
“Are you…truly hairless?” You asked, eyeing his smooth groin. “You don’t…remove it?”
“Hair is…barbaric.”
You could have laughed at the irony of him of all people calling you a barbarian.
“I do not hate it on you,” he decided after careful consideration. “Perhaps you will keep this, for now.”
You had the odd feeling that you should feel grateful for the honor.
“It will set you apart from my other darlings,” his body moved over yours, eclipsing you as his hand reached between your legs.
He stroked you there, rubbing in a way that wasn’t gentle, wasn’t harsh, and wasn’t patient, all at once. When his lips captured yours once more, your mind spun—but it was a decidedly more pleasant spin than that short while ago when your entire world came crashing down. Feyd Rautha, while somewhat terrifying, was exhilarating, and as his fingers plunged inside of you and his kisses turned into demanding bites, you thought that perhaps this wasn’t so bad.
“That’s it,” he breathed, voice husky. “I want to hear you.”
Your whines and moans filled the heavy air. Feyd Rautha sought to conquer you, you realized; as you came, it wasn’t so much a favor to you as it was an ego boost for him. Either way, you benefited, and as he sheathed himself within you and his hips began rocking back and forth, you were glad for the warm up.
“F-Feyd,” you panted, nails digging into his back as you wrapped yourself around him.
He answered you with a low moan, face hidden in your neck. The na-Baron was merciless, driving into you over and over…but the heat that bloomed inside of you, that feeling that stemmed from your belly and ran all the way to your fingertips…was exhilarating.
He leaned back, one hand gripping your hip harshly, no doubt leaving bruises. The other found your throat and his fingers wrapped around it, squeezing, reminding you who he was. The heir to the Harkonnen throne. The pride of Giedi Prime.
Feyd Rautha.
Your face tingled as he held you, eyes seeking out his. The blue was nearly black, his pupils huge, like a big cat hunting in the dark. He was watching you, frenzied, feral in his ministrations, as if you were his prey and he had finally caught you. Just as your vision began to tunnel he let go and you gasped, gulping in air as he suddenly pulled out of you and rolled onto his back, manhandling you easily as you sank down onto him once more.
His hands were like a vice, pulling your hips down as he pushed up into you, still fucking you mercilessly even in this new position. You would never have expected this from him; you felt too powerful on top of him, too in control of someone who gave you every reason to assume that he wanted to be. That he would be the one weighing down on you, that he would forever and always be hovering over you as he made harsh demands. He was, truly, not as harsh as expected...not that you had ever, for a second, expected to be there with him.
He watched your tits bouncing above him, so much flesh laid bare for him to enjoy, and he soon pulled you down. When you expected him to return to your swollen lips, however, he instead moved his mouth to your chest, greedily sucking and biting your soft skin. He sank his teeth into you, reveling in your sharp gasp, answering it with a beastly groan that was so low and so loud you half imagined it must have shook the walls. The sound had your stomach twisting delightfully, your head fuzzy as Feyd Rautha pulled you closer, closer, closer, until you hardly knew where you ended and where he began. Half-formed thoughts swam in your head, none of them coherent, all of them about him as you desperately clawed at the arms that held you so tightly. He had wanted you, and now he had you, completely, all of you, in every sense of the word.
In that moment, you didn't hate it, or him, or that place; you wanted more. You wanted more of him. As your orgasm mounted, breaths coming in gasps, eyes glued to the pale man below you, you felt happy. Later, you would try to reason with yourself, tell yourself that it was simply chemicals in your brain that brought this on, but in that moment, you wanted nothing more than to do this over and over and over again with him.
"Yes," he rasped, voice muffled by your breasts. You felt the wet heat of his tongue in your cleavage, followed by the sharp bite of his teeth as he pulled you down onto himself. "Take it."
"Feyd," you gasped, eyes squeezed shut as your fingernails dug into his scalp. "Feyd!"
It came out as a half-scream as you felt the sting of his teeth, and it was enough to push you over the edge, plunging down into the abyss that was Feyd Rautha's love. His breath stuttered as his hips drove up against you, a growl sounding from deep within his chest as he came inside of you.
You felt his heart pounding as he held you, a sheen of sweat covering his smooth, pale body. You slumped over him, arms falling onto his shoulders limply. You thought you heard him laugh lightly.
"Good," he said, more to himself than to you.
He moved you easily, rolling you off of him and onto the bed as he pulled himself out. You felt slick and thoroughly used, not in a bad way, but in the way you imagined lovemaking should feel. You had never expected to feel such passion from Feyd Rautha, of all people. From a Harkonnen.
"Come." he stood and slipped his arms under you, scooping you up. Your arms immediately hooked around his neck, and as he carried you to one of the adjoining rooms, you wondered at how natural it felt to be with him now.
The door opened to reveal a steamy, dark bathing room, a large basin filled with dark liquid positioned in the floor. Feyd Rautha sank down into it and as you leaned your head against his shoulder, you heaved a sigh. The liquid was thicker than water but thinner than mud, like nothing you had ever felt before, and it was warm, soothing your bitemarks and sore muscles.
"What is this?" you managed to ask after several minutes of silence.
"Hmph." Feyd Rautha laughed, his whole body moving with the sound. "Oil and blood."
He paused, waiting for your reaction.
"...Ah." you said, wrinkling your nose for a moment as you looked down at the bubbling goo. "...It's nice."
His lips spread into a wide grin. "You don't find it disgusting, my darling?"
"It feels too nice to be disgusting right now."
Feyd Rautha moved a large hand to the side of your head and held you against him, pressing a kiss to your temple in a way that was almost tender. "Rest now. You will need it."
Too tired to ask why, you simply nodded, sinking into him as the blood bath steamed around you. If this was to be your fate now, you didn't mind it; and if he killed you tomorrow, at least your final day had turned out somewhat enjoyable.
-0-
"Do you like it?'
The question was simple, only four words, and yet it was never one you had expected to hear Feyd Rautha ask.
You had been living in his chambers for a week, sleeping next to him, eating with him, wearing what he chose and accompanying him wherever he went. You saw more of the Harkonnen palace--the training room was a frequent haunt, and you realized that it was the room you had wandered to on the day of your first conversation with him. You saw more of Feyd Rautha, as well, and you noticed how quickly he often decided to kill those around him.
But not you.
Never you.
He had yet to do anything worse than bite or scratch, occasionally bending your limbs too far when he tested your physical capabilities in his bed but always letting you go just before any real injury occurred. You often felt the smooth metal of his blades, but they never cut deep; he mentioned once that perhaps he would mark you with one soon, leave a scar that only he would ever be allowed to see, but he had yet to enact that fantasy. You weren't sure if that was good or bad.
Now, you stood before him, wearing a simple black dress that clung to your body and shone as if it were always wet, and your head felt too cold.
"I...don't hate it," you decided as you looked at your reflection.
"Good." he ran a hand over your smooth scalp.
"Will it grow back?"
"At first." he said in his accent that was growing more and more familiar to hear. "Eventually it will stop."
"And the rest...?"
He smirked, turning you to face him. "I told you, that will set you apart from my other darlings."
At the mention of their collective name, a hiss sounded from across the room.
You twisted your head to the side, spying the two women you had been introduced to three days earlier. One--who you had learned had been Feyd's the longest--sported a thick black line down her forehead today, but they were otherwise identical. They watched you curiously, bald heads tilted as they looked at you with big, black eyes. Their dresses were similar to yours, and as you glanced back at the mirror, you realized how you really didn't recognize yourself anymore.
Your teeth had been stained black already, your hair and eyebrows shaved and then the skin treated with something that the servants had explained would keep the hair away. You had already undergone one strange Harkonnen beauty treatment in what you had come to learn was a medical spa, and it was the only one that had frightened you--a strange machine had bared down upon you and done something to your eyes, injecting something that changed them and yet didn't change them, causing them to become big and black like Feyd's other darlings. You actually thought your eyesight was better now, somehow.
You matched them now, you realized, like a member of a set. Feyd Rautha's third concubine.
It was an upgrade from your last job, you supposed.
"It suits you." he pressed his lips to the base of your neck. "My darling."
"Thank you, Feyd," you said, growing more and more used to calling him by his name with every time you said it.
You felt him smirk against your skin. He was no doubt very pleased with himself, having managed to completely transform a murderous handmaiden into a sinister harpy in the course of only one week. Granted, Giedi Prime's days were significantly longer than on your home planet, but it was still a commendable haste.
"Come." he rasped in that gravelly voice you were beginning to love. "All of us. It is time for the arena."
He set off towards the door and you waited for the others before falling in behind them, moving as if the three of you had always belonged together.
"Will there be food?" one of them asked in a harsh, hissing voice.
"Yes," Feyd said gleefully.
"Hearts and lungs?" the other asked hopefully.
"Only the best for my darlings."
"Human?" she demanded clarification.
Feyd looked back over his shoulder, his eyes finding you even though he knew you had not asked the question. "Of course."
You stared back at him, swallowing hard. Human?
He grinned, and the others looked at each other excitedly. They both glanced to you and you gave the best black-toothed grin you could, not wanting to give any of them any reason to be displeased with you. Not after you had done so well all week.
Feyd Rautha led the way to the arena you had learned he loved to fight captured Atreides soldiers in, and after a short preparation (during which he killed at least two servants), a guard led him away while you and the others were taken up to a viewing room.
When you stepped inside you saw that a feast had already been laid out, platters of rare meat covering a short buffet table. As sunlight--or a lack thereof? Giedi Prime's sun continued to baffle you--light the room in that strange, black and white, infrared way, you stared at the food. You recognized it. Despite its human origins, you had no reason to be disgusted by it--because you had already eaten it, on that very first night, when Feyd Rautha had watched you cutting into your meal and commented on your presence at the dinner table.
As the others approached, picking out their favorites--lungs for one, a heart for the other--a grin found its way onto your face. Yes. Perhaps this was exactly where you belonged.
The crowd outside erupted in a roar of cheers as Feyd stalked into the sandy arena, and as you settled in next to the others to watch, you smiled to yourself. There was nowhere else you'd rather be in that moment than on Giedi Prime, eagerly awaiting the moment you could return to Feyd Rautha's chambers and celebrate his victory.
PART TWO
1K notes · View notes
psychedelic-ink · 4 months ago
Text
ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐒
ㅤㅤjoel miller x f!reader
genre: smut, jakcson era, mutual pining, strangers to lovers, minors dni
word count: 15k
summary: joel saves you and brings you to jackson, after healing you become the local librarian of the community.
warnings: some angst with happy ending, mutual pining, female masturbation, slow burn, reader's name is Ash + bisexual, oral (both receiving), heavy petting, piv, dirty talk, soft dom!joel, submissive!reader, reader enjoys bands and books, blood mention, canon typical violence, some spoilers for part 2 (for ellie)
a/n: this was commissioned by @ashleyfilm 💜 thank you so much for being patient with me and supporting me!
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The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the rugged terrain of Wyoming. Joel rode slowly, his horse's hooves crunching softly on the gravel path. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and earth, a refreshing change from the stale, musty confines of Jackson’s walls. Tall trees bordered the path, their leaves rustling gently in the mild breeze, creating a soothing symphony that mingled with the distant calls of birds. The sky stretched wide above, a brilliant canvas of blues and pinks, with streaks of orange signaling the approach of dusk.
In the distance, the snow-capped peaks of the mountains loomed majestically, their silent, steadfast presence a reminder of nature's unyielding power. The grass swayed gently in the wind, patches of wildflowers adding bursts of color to the verdant landscape. Joel could hear the faint trickle of a stream nearby, its clear waters winding through the forest, a lifeline in this vast, untamed wilderness. The tranquility of the scene was deceptive, masking the dangers that lurked just beyond the tree line.
Joel’s eyes scanned the surroundings with practiced precision, taking in every detail. The gnarled bark of ancient trees, the glint of sunlight on the surface of the stream, the fleeting shadows cast by birds overhead – everything was noted, cataloged, filed away in his mind. The world outside Jackson was a place of both breathtaking beauty and constant peril, and Joel knew better than to let his guard down. Still, in moments like this, it was hard not to appreciate the raw, untouched splendor of the land around him.
Joel dismounted from his horse, the reins held loosely in his hand as he walked the rest of the way on foot. He preferred the quiet that walking afforded, the ability to move silently through the underbrush, alert to every rustle and crack in the woods around him. The air was filled with the scent of pine and damp earth, and the fading light painted long shadows across the forest floor.
As he moved deeper into the trees, a noise caught his attention – the low murmur of voices, urgent and panicked. Joel’s instincts kicked in, and he crouched low, moving stealthily toward the source of the commotion. Each step was measured, his boots barely making a sound on the soft ground. The voices grew louder, more distinct, and he could make out the gruff tones of men in distress.
Joel reached the edge of a small clearing and paused, hidden behind a thick oak tree. He peered around the trunk, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene before him. Three men stood in a loose circle, their backs to him, all focused on something on the ground. Their postures were tense, movements agitated. Joel’s gaze shifted, and he saw what held their attention – a woman, unconscious and sprawled in the grass, her dark hair matted with blood.
Nearby, the bodies of two raiders lay crumpled, their lifeless forms testament to a recent struggle. Blood stained the ground around them, dark and viscous. The men standing over her seemed distraught, their faces pale and drawn. One of them knelt beside her, checking for a pulse, while the others scanned the perimeter, their eyes darting nervously.
Joel crept closer, using the trees and underbrush for cover. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat a reminder of the danger that could erupt at any moment. He could hear the men speaking now, their words sharp and anxious.
"Fucking bitch went feral," one of them hissed, his voice trembling.
"Yeah, these types are the worst," the man kneeling beside the girl replied. "They’ll do anything to survive, even when they’re outnumbered."
"Well, it’ll be easier to make use of her now," another said, his voice filled with anger and fear. "But look at them. She took them out, or at least put up one hell of a fight."
Joel's eyes lingered on the unconscious woman. She was small, curvy even in her battered state, and dressed in dark clothing. Despite the blood and grime, there was a fierceness about her that spoke of resilience and strength. He felt a pang of something – concern, perhaps, or admiration for her courage. But then he noticed something else: one of the men standing over her had drawn a knife.
"Let’s not take a chance and kill her now," the man with the knife said, his voice hard. "Then we can make use of her."
Joel’s jaw tightened. He knew these types – survivors who looked out for themselves first, willing to abandon those in need if it meant their own safety. Normally, he might have looked the other way, rationalizing it as the harsh reality of their world. But something about the girl struck a chord deep within him, a fierce need to protect her that he couldn’t explain.
Without another thought, Joel acted. He slipped his revolver from its holster, the weight familiar and comforting in his hand. Taking a deep breath, he stepped out from his hiding place, weapon raised. "Put the knife down," he commanded, his voice cold and authoritative.
The men spun around, eyes wide with shock and fear. The one with the knife hesitated, then lunged at Joel. In a swift, practiced motion, Joel fired, the shot echoing through the trees. The man fell, clutching his chest, his knife clattering to the ground.
The other two men reacted, one drawing a gun while the other tried to grab the girl. Joel moved quickly, taking aim and firing again. The second man dropped, blood blooming on his shirt. The last man, realizing the fight was lost, turned and fled into the woods.
Joel lowered his gun, breathing heavily, and approached the girl. She was still unconscious, her pulse weak and erratic. He felt that strange pull again, a fierce need to protect her. He quickly checked her for any serious injuries, then lifted her gently in his arms. 
He carried her back to his horse, securing her in front of him. With a final glance at the clearing, he urged his horse forward, heading back towards Jackson. The girl’s head lolled against his chest, and he could feel the faint rise and fall of her breath. He didn’t know who she was or what had happened to her, but he was determined to get her to safety. As the forest closed in around them, Joel’s thoughts were a swirl of concern, determination, and a growing sense of responsibility for the woman in his arms.
Joel rode through the thickening twilight, the girl's limp body held securely in his arms. The rhythmic motion of the horse and the steady beat of her faint pulse against his chest did little to calm his racing thoughts. He found himself plagued by a storm of emotions he couldn’t quite name. Usually, the sight of another person in peril would elicit a practiced detachment, a necessary survival mechanism in this brutal world. But this time, something was different.
As they neared Jackson, Joel’s mind kept returning to the clearing – the dead raiders, the unconscious girl, the inexplicable urge to save her. He shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts, but they clung to him, persistent and unyielding. His grip on the reins tightened as he urged his horse faster, the town’s gates coming into view, the welcoming lights a stark contrast to the darkness encroaching on the forest.
The gates creaked open as he approached, familiar faces of the night guards registering surprise at the sight of Joel carrying an injured woman. He gave them a brief nod, too focused on his task to engage in any explanations. He directed his horse towards the infirmary, the only place in Jackson equipped to handle such emergencies.
"Doc! Get the doc!" he shouted as he dismounted, carefully cradling the girl in his arms. A flurry of movement followed as people rushed to help. The infirmary door swung open, and Joel stepped inside, the warm, sterile smell a sharp contrast to the cold, earthy scent of the woods.
"Over here!" Dr. Allen called, clearing a space on one of the cots. Joel laid the girl down gently, stepping back as the medical team sprang into action. His hands, now free, trembled slightly. He clenched them into fists, trying to steady himself.
Dr. Allen, a middle-aged woman with keen eyes and a calm demeanor, began her examination immediately. She worked with swift precision, checking the girl’s vitals, assessing her injuries. Joel watched from a distance, every muscle in his body taut with worry.
"She’s stable, but barely," Dr. Allen said, glancing up at Joel. "What happened out there?"
Joel exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Found her out near the old logging road. Raiders got to her, but she fought back. Took down a couple of them before I got there."
Dr. Allen nodded, focusing back on her patient. "She’s got a strong will to survive. That’s good. She’s going to need it."
Joel hovered near the doorway, his eyes never leaving the girl. He felt an intense, inexplicable need to ensure she was safe, to see her through this. The room buzzed with activity as the medical team cleaned her wounds, administered fluids, and worked to stabilize her condition. Joel’s worry gnawed at him, an unfamiliar sensation that left him feeling exposed and raw.
Hours seemed to feel like days as he waited, the minutes ticking by with agonizing slowness. Tommy appeared at some point, a concerned look on his face as he approached Joel.
"Hey," Tommy said softly, placing a hand on Joel’s shoulder. "You okay?"
Joel nodded stiffly. "Yeah, just… worried about her."
Tommy glanced at the girl, then back at Joel. "You don’t even know her."
"I know," Joel replied, his voice low. "But I couldn’t just leave her there."
Tommy gave him a knowing look, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You did the right thing. She’s in good hands now."
The night wore on, the medical team’s efforts began to show results. The girl’s breathing steadied, her pulse grew stronger. Dr. Allen finally stepped back, wiping her brow.
"She’s going to make it," she announced, and the tension in the room visibly lessened. Joel let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, relief washing over him.
"Thank you," he said, his voice thick with emotion.
Dr. Allen nodded. "She’ll need rest and care, but she’s a fighter. She’ll pull through."
Joel settled into a chair by her bedside, watching over her as she slept. The worry that had plagued him since he found her eased slightly, replaced by a determined resolve. He didn’t understand why he felt such a connection to this stranger, but he knew one thing for certain: he would be there for her, whatever it took.
As dawn broke over Jackson, casting a soft glow through the infirmary windows, Joel remained by her side, haunted by thoughts he couldn’t quite comprehend but resolute in his newfound purpose.
He remained by her side, his eyes heavy with exhaustion but unwilling to leave her alone. The infirmary had quieted down, the initial rush of activity giving way to a more subdued atmosphere. 
When the first light of dawn seeped through the windows, casting long shadows across the room, Joel's thoughts drifted to the moments before he found her. He replayed the scene over and over in his mind: the woman lying unconscious, the dead raiders around her, the way she had fought so fiercely to survive. There was something about her, a strength and determination that resonated with him deeply.
Tommy returned, bringing a steaming cup of coffee. He handed it to Joel, who accepted it gratefully. "How's she doing?" Tommy asked, his voice hushed.
"Better," Joel replied, his eyes never leaving the girl. "Dr. Allen said she’s going to make it, but she needs rest."
Tommy nodded, pulling up a chair next to Joel. "You should get some rest too, brother. You’ve been up all night."
Joel shook his head. "I’ll rest when I know she’s out of the woods. Until then, I’m staying right here."
Tommy sighed but didn’t argue. He knew better than to try and change Joel’s mind once it was made up. Instead, he settled into his chair, offering silent support. The two brothers sat in companionable silence, the weight of the night’s events hanging heavily between them.
A while later, the infirmary door opened again, and Maria walked in, her face a mix of concern and curiosity. "Heard you had quite the night," she said, her gaze shifting from Joel to the woman on the bed.
"Yeah," Joel replied, taking a sip of his coffee. "Found her just in time. She’s a fighter, though."
Maria smiled softly and approached the bedside, looking at the unconscious girl. "Seems like she’ll fit right in around here. We could use more fighters."
Joel nodded, a sense of agreement settling over him. He didn’t know what lay ahead for her, but he was certain she had a place in Jackson. Maria turned to Joel, her eyes searching his face.
"You’ve been here all night?" she asked gently.
"Yeah," Joel admitted, his voice low. "Couldn’t leave her alone."
Maria exchanged a glance with Tommy, a silent understanding passing between them. "You’ve done enough for now, Joel. Let us take over for a bit. You need some rest."
Joel hesitated, his eyes lingering. "I can’t. Not yet."
Maria sighed, but there was no frustration in her expression, only compassion. "Alright, but at least sit down. We’ll stay with you."
Joel nodded and He settled back into his chair, his eyes never straying far from her face. Tommy and Maria took seats nearby, their presence a comforting reminder that he wasn’t alone in this.
At one point, Maria leaned over to Tommy and whispered, "I’ve never seen Joel this concerned about a stranger before."
Tommy nodded, his eyes on Joel. "Yeah, it’s unusual. But I think she means something to him, even if he doesn’t fully realize it yet."
Maria glanced at the girl, then back at Joel. "Maybe she’s what he needs. Someone to remind him that there’s still good worth fighting for."
Tommy squeezed Maria’s hand, his expression thoughtful. "Maybe. Let’s just hope she pulls through."
As evening approached, she began to stir, her eyelids fluttering as she fought to wake up. Joel leaned forward, his heart pounding in his chest.
Slowly, her eyes opened, dark and filled with confusion. She blinked several times, trying to focus on her surroundings. When her gaze finally landed on Joel, there was a flicker of recognition, followed by a mix of relief and apprehension.
"Hey there," Joel said softly, his voice gentle. "You’re safe now. You’re in Jackson."
She tried to speak, but her voice came out as a hoarse whisper. "Who…?"
"My name’s Joel," he replied. "I found you out there. Brought you back here to get some help. You’re going to be okay."
She nodded weakly, her eyes drifting shut again. She was still exhausted, her body demanding more rest. Joel felt a sense of relief wash over him. She was awake, and she knew she was safe.
Tommy and Maria watched the exchange with quiet interest, noting the tenderness in Joel’s voice and the protective way he watched over the girl.
"Looks like she’s in good hands," Maria said softly, her eyes meeting Joel’s. "You did good, Joel."
Joel nodded, his expression resolute. "Just want to make sure she’s okay."
As night fell, Joel remained, his thoughts a swirl of concern, determination, and a growing sense of responsibility for the woman in his care. Tommy and Maria eventually left, their reassurances lingering in the air.
Joel knew that whatever the future held, he was committed to seeing this through. He didn’t fully understand the connection he felt to this stranger, but he knew one thing for certain: he would protect her, no matter what.
***
You drifted in and out of consciousness, your mind a haze of pain and confusion. Each time you woke, the world around you shifted in and out of focus, as if you were seeing it through frosted glass. Your body ached with a deep, relentless throb that seemed to come from every part of you.
Voices echoed around you, muffled and distant, as though they were coming from underwater. You could barely make out the words, but you remembered men shouting, the sharp crack of gunfire, and the sickening thud of bodies hitting the ground. The memories came in fragments, each one more disjointed than the last.
Amidst the chaos, there was a moment of clarity, a fleeting glimpse of a man with a hard, weathered face, his eyes filled with a mix of determination and something else—concern, maybe? His face blurred as your vision faded, and you slipped back into the darkness.
The next time you woke, it was to a different sensation. You were being carried, held tightly against a warm chest. The rhythmic motion of walking jostled you gently, and you could hear the steady beat of a heart beneath your ear. The scent of sweat, leather, and something comforting enveloped you, grounding you in the moment.
You tried to open your eyes, to see who was carrying you, but your eyelids felt like they were made of lead. All you could do was rest your head against the warmth, feeling a strange sense of safety despite the pain that racked your body.
The world shifted again, and you found yourself lying on something soft—a bed, maybe? There were more voices now, urgent but less panicked than before. Hands touched you, checking your injuries, and you flinched at the pain. You heard someone speaking close by, their voice low and soothing, but the words were lost to you.
***
You slipped in and out of consciousness, each time catching fleeting glimpses of your surroundings. The room was dimly lit, shadows dancing on the walls. Sometimes, you saw the man from before, sitting close by, his eyes never leaving you. Other times, you saw different faces—concerned, caring, but always strangers.
Pain flared up again, pulling you under, and you felt yourself drifting away once more. The last thing you remembered before the darkness claimed you was the feeling of a rough hand gently brushing your hair back, the touch surprisingly tender.
***
As the days passed, those glimpses began to clear. The man was always there, watching over you, his presence a constant in your fractured reality. You didn’t know who he was, but in your moments of lucidity, you felt a strange connection to him, as if he were a lifeline pulling you back from the brink.
Eventually, the pain started to recede, replaced by a heavy exhaustion that clung to your bones. You were still weak, but the moments of consciousness grew longer, and the world around you began to make more sense. You could hear conversations now, snippets of words that pieced together a picture of where you were and what had happened.
"... found her just in time," someone said.
"She’s a fighter," another voice replied, filled with a warmth that made your chest tighten.
You opened your eyes fully for the first time in what felt like an eternity, and the man’s face came into focus. He was sitting beside your bed, his expression a mixture of relief and weariness.
"Hey there," he said softly, his voice gentle. "You’re safe now. You’re in Jackson."
You tried to speak, but your voice came out as a hoarse whisper. "Who...?"
"My name’s Joel," he replied. "I found you out there. Brought you back here to get some help. You’re gonna be okay."
You nodded weakly, your eyes drifting shut again. You were still exhausted, your body demanding more rest. But for the first time since the attack, you felt a flicker of hope. You were safe, and someone was looking out for you.
And as you slipped back into sleep, you held onto that thought, letting it anchor you against the darkness.
***
The faces of Tommy, Maria, and Ellie became familiar presences around you. Each time you woke, they were there, offering quiet reassurances and gentle smiles that helped ease the lingering fear in your chest. They treated you with a kindness that felt foreign yet comforting, their presence a stark contrast to the violence and chaos you vaguely remembered.
Tommy, with his calm demeanor and steady voice, sat by your bedside, occasionally sharing stories about life in Jackson and cracking jokes that brought fleeting smiles to your lips. Maria, whose warmth and strength seemed to radiate from her, checked on you with a motherly concern, ensuring you had everything you needed. And Ellie, vibrant and spirited, chattered away about books, movies, and the world beyond Jackson, her enthusiasm infectious.
Their support made you feel less like an outsider and more like a welcomed part of their community. They didn’t pry into your past or demand answers to questions you weren’t ready to answer. Instead, they simply offered their friendship and a sense of belonging that you hadn’t realized you were searching for.
One afternoon, as you were well enough to sit up in bed, Joel walked in carrying a stack of books he found in the makeshift library of Jackson. He placed the books on the bedside table and offered you a small, reassuring smile.
"Thought you might like these," he said, his voice gentle yet tinged with a hint of concern. "Heard you were into movies and books."
You nodded gratefully. "Thank you, Joel. It means a lot."
He nodded in return, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. "Just wanted to make sure you were comfortable while you were healin’."
You appreciated his care, sensing there was more behind his actions than mere kindness. But before you could dwell on it further, Joel began to explain what happened, piecing together the fragments of your memory with the events he witnessed.
"You were out there, near the outskirts," Joel began, his voice steady. "A group of raiders attacked you. They... they were about to... but I showed up just in time."
You swallowed hard, the pieces starting to fit together in your mind. The shouts, the gunfire, the overwhelming sense of fear—all of it began to make sense now, though the details were still murky.
"You saved my life," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. The weight of his actions settled heavily on your shoulders, mixing gratitude with a profound sense of vulnerability.
Joel shook his head, a hint of discomfort crossing his features. "Just did what anyone would have done."
But you knew better. Not everyone would have risked their own safety to intervene, especially in a world where survival often meant turning a blind eye. Joel chose differently, and his decision brought you here, to safety and healing.
As Joel stood there, his presence a reassuring anchor in the storm of your thoughts, you felt a surge of gratitude and something else—a growing connection that went beyond words. It was as if fate had brought you together, intertwining your lives in ways neither of you fully understood.
***
Slowly regaining strength each day, Joel’s visits became a steady rhythm in your recovery. It started with small gestures—him checking in on you, bringing fresh bandages or a cup of tea. But it was the mornings that stood out the most.
Every morning without fail, Joel arrived with a small bouquet of wildflowers he had gathered from the outskirts of Jackson. He placed them in a makeshift vase by the window, the delicate blooms adding a splash of color to the sterile hospital room. The gesture was simple yet meaningful, a reminder of life and beauty amidst the harshness of your world.
You watched him silently as he arranged the flowers with care, his hands gentle yet purposeful. There was a quiet intensity about him in those moments, a vulnerability he rarely showed to others. And as he turned to you with a soft smile, you felt a flutter of something deeper than gratitude—an unspoken connection that grew stronger with each passing day.
You began to talk more during his visits, sharing stories and snippets of your pasts. Joel spoke sparingly about Sarah, his daughter, and the pain of losing her. You listened attentively, offering words of comfort when the memories threatened to overwhelm him. In turn, you shared glimpses of your own life before the outbreak—memories of family, friends, and a world that now seemed like a distant dream.
Your conversations flowed easily, punctuated by moments of shared laughter and quiet understanding. There was a comfort in Joel’s presence, a familiarity that eased the ache of loneliness you had carried for so long. And in those stolen moments between nurse visits and medical checks, you began to see Joel not just as a protector, but as someone who had quietly slipped into the spaces of your heart.
One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and cast a golden glow across the room, Joel lingered by your bedside longer than usual. The air between you seemed charged with unspoken words, a tension that crackled beneath the surface.
"You know," Joel began, his voice low and rough with emotion, "I’ve never been one for… for flowers."
You looked up at him, meeting his gaze with a gentle smile. "I’ve noticed," you replied softly, your heart beating a little faster in your chest.
"Guess I’m makin’ an exception for you."
The admission hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. You reached out tentatively, placing your hand over his where it rested on the edge of the bed. His fingers curled around yours, warm and solid, sending a jolt of electricity through you.
"I’m glad you did," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.
Joel’s expression softened, his thumb brushing gently over the back of your hand. "Me too."
In that moment, the distance between you dissolved, replaced by an undeniable pull that drew you closer together. It was as if you had been circling each other, hesitating on the edge of something profound. And now, with your hands intertwined and your hearts laid bare, there was no turning back.
***
One evening, as you sat together in the fading light, Joel’s hand found yours once more. His touch was electric, sending a shiver down your spine. You turned to him, your heart pounding in your chest, and found him already looking at you with an intensity that stole your breath away.
"Joel," you whispered, the word a prayer on your lips.
He didn’t speak, but his eyes held yours captive, searching for any hesitation or doubt. And when he leaned in, closing the distance between you, you thought the world would finally fall away, leaving only the warmth of his lips.
But what you expected never happened. Instead, he stilled, his eyes dropping to your lips and then back to meet your eyes over and over. He pulled away, swallowed thickly, and got up from his seat. He left without saying another word.
But, through it all, Joel continued to bring you flowers every morning—a silent reminder of the love and hope that had blossomed between you amidst the ruins of your world.
***
Several months passed in Jackson, and with each day of recovery, you found yourself drawn more deeply into the rhythm of life within the fortified walls. The once unfamiliar faces of Tommy, Maria, Ellie, and Joel became your steadfast companions, their presence weaving a tapestry of belonging that you hadn't felt since before the outbreak.
As you regained your strength, you sought out ways to contribute to the community that had welcomed you with open arms. It was during one of Joel's visits that he suggested you spend time at the local library, knowing your love for books and movies from your earlier conversations. The idea resonated deeply with you, igniting a spark of excitement and purpose.
The library itself was a refuge—a haven of knowledge and imagination nestled within the sturdy walls of Jackson. Its shelves were lined with dusty books of every genre imaginable, their spines worn and weathered from years of use. The air was infused with the comforting scent of paper and ink, a familiar aroma that brought back memories of lazy afternoons spent lost in fictional worlds.
Occasionally, patrons would wander in, seeking recommendations or browsing the latest arrivals. You greeted them warmly, offering assistance with finding books or answering questions about library programs. Some were regular visitors, their faces becoming familiar over time, while others were newcomers, drawn in by the promise of a quiet corner and a good book.
During breaks, you would steal moments for yourself—a cup of tea, a brief pause to admire the view from the library windows. The town of Jackson spread out before you, a patchwork of rooftops and winding streets, framed by the majestic peaks of the surrounding mountains.
Joel's visits were a highlight of your day, his footsteps echoing softly on the library floor as he approached. Sometimes, he would linger near the front desk, watching you with a quiet intensity that sent a flutter of warmth through you. Other times, he would join you in the stacks, his presence a steady comfort as you exchanged snippets of conversation between the rows of books.
As you meticulously arranged a display of newly arrived mystery novels near the entrance of the library, the familiar sound of footsteps approached from behind you. You turned to see Joel entering with Ellie at his side, their presence instantly brightening the quiet atmosphere of the library.
"Hey," Joel greeted with a warm smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that made your heart skip a beat. "How's the day treatin’ you?"
You returned his smile, feeling a rush of warmth at his presence. "It's going well. Just getting things in order here."
Ellie darted off towards the fiction section, her eyes scanning the shelves with eager anticipation. "I'm looking for that new sci-fi book Tommy mentioned," she called back over her shoulder, her voice echoing softly through the library.
Joel chuckled fondly, his gaze lingering on Ellie for a moment before returning to you. "She's been itchin’ to read that one for weeks now."
"She's got great taste."
Joel moved closer, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. "You know, Ellie's been talking about you," he admitted, his voice low and intimate. "Says you've been a lifesaver with those book recommendations."
"Well, I'm glad I could help."
"You do more than just help, you know." 
Before you could say anything his gaze, usually steady and composed, softened as he noticed the small cut on your wrist. Without a word, he gently took your hand in his, his touch warm and reassuring against your skin.
You held your breath, feeling a rush of warmth spread through you at his proximity. His fingers traced the delicate line of the cut, his touch gentle yet firm as he inspected it. "What happened?" he asked quietly, concern etched in the lines of his face.
You swallowed, trying to steady your voice. "I... I got a splinter earlier," you managed to explain, your words coming out in a breathless rush. "It's nothing, really. I took it out, but..."
Ignoring you, he continued to examine your palm, his brow furrowed in concentration. His thumb brushed lightly over the area where you had removed the splinter, and then he paused, his expression changing subtly.
"There's still a small piece in there." 
"I thought I got it all out," you admitted, a hint of frustration coloring your tone.
Joel met your eyes, his gaze steady and reassuring. "It happens," he murmured, his focus shifting back to your hand. "Let me take care of it."
With practiced ease, Joel reached into his pocket and withdrew a small pair of tweezers. He positioned himself beside you, his touch careful and precise as he gently extracted the remaining splinter from your palm. You held your breath, watching as Joel worked with steady hands and unwavering focus. The sensation was more comforting than painful.
"There," Joel said softly, finally withdrawing the tweezers and inspecting his handiwork. "All done."
You exhaled a sigh of relief, "Thank you," you murmured.
Joel nodded, his gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary. "Anytime," he replied quietly, his voice rough with unspoken emotions.
Then, without a word, he leaned in and pressed his warm lips against the throbbing patch of skin. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart beating a mile per minute. It didn’t last. It felt like a drizzle of rain, leaving your skin as soon as it touched it. He let go of your hand and took a quick step back, he looked remorseful like he regretted his action almost immediately. 
His look made you feel guilty. Your heart aching even though you knew you’d done nothing wrong. 
***
In the weeks and months that followed, you and Joel found yourselves drawn closer together, your bond deepening with each shared moment and whispered conversation. The library remained a sanctuary where your friendship blossomed amidst the pages of beloved stories and the quiet hum of everyday life in Jackson.
With Joel heading out on patrol, the library felt unusually quiet that day. Ellie had arrived earlier, her energy and curiosity filling the space as she browsed through the shelves with a voracious appetite for new stories.
You greeted her with a warm smile as she approached the front desk, her arms already filled with a diverse stack of books ranging from graphic novels to classic literature. 
"Hey, Ellie," you greeted cheerfully, taking note of her eclectic choices. "Finding everything okay?"
"Definitely! You've got so many cool books here," she exclaimed, carefully setting down her stack on the counter. "Mind if I borrow these?"
"Of course not," you replied with a chuckle, scanning the books one by one and checking them out for her. "I'm glad you're enjoying the selection. Anything specific you're in the mood for?"
As Ellie launched into animated descriptions of her favorite genres and characters, you found yourself drawn into her infectious enthusiasm. You bonded over shared interests—sci-fi novels that explored distant galaxies, fantasy epics filled with magic and adventure, and even a few graphic novels that blurred the lines between reality and imagination.
In between discussions about your favorite books, Ellie shared stories of her experiences growing up in the post-outbreak world. You reciprocated by opening up about your own journey—memories of a life before the outbreak, your love for books and movies, and the challenges of finding a new sense of normalcy in Jackson.
The hours slipped by unnoticed as you lost yourselves in conversation and exploration, your laughter echoing through the library aisles. It was easy to forget the outside world for a while, immersed in the camaraderie and shared passion for storytelling that bound you together.
As the afternoon sun began to cast long shadows through the library windows, Ellie glanced at the clock with a playful grin. "I should probably head back before Joel starts worrying," she teased, gathering up her books and preparing to leave.
You nodded in understanding, grateful for the unexpected bond that had formed between you in Joel's absence. "Thanks for keeping me company, Ellie," you said sincerely, touched by her presence and the genuine connection you had forged.
Ellie flashed you a bright smile, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Anytime, Ash," she replied, using Joel's nickname for you with a knowing glint in her eye. "You're pretty cool, you know?"
Before you could respond, she was already halfway out the door, her laughter trailing behind her. You watched her go with a fond smile, feeling a warmth in your heart that lingered long after she had gone.
In that quiet moment, surrounded by the comforting embrace of books and stories, you reflected on the unexpected friendships that had blossomed in the wake of devastation. Joel's departure had brought you and Ellie closer together, reminding you once again of the resilience and strength that could be found in the bonds you forged and the stories you shared.
***
You lay on your bed, the soft sheets cradling your body as you closed your eyes. Your mind wandered to him, your crush, Joel. The mere thought of his name sent a shiver down your spine and a warm sensation between your legs.
You couldn't help but imagine his hands on you, his gentle touch igniting a fire within you. You pictured him hovering over you, his lips inches away from yours, his breath hot against your skin. Your fingers instinctively began to trail down your body, following the curves and dips, imagining it was his hands exploring every inch of you.
The thought of his strong, calloused hands caressing your skin made you shiver. You remembered the way his eyes lit up when he smiled, the depth in them that always seemed to draw you in. You could almost feel the weight of his gaze, intense and burning, as he looked at you with a desire that mirrored your own.
As your hand found its way between your thighs, you could almost feel his touch. Your body responded eagerly, your hips arching off the bed. You let out a soft gasp, imagining it was Joel's name tumbling from your lips. The fantasy deepened, and you could see his face more clearly now, his features etched in your mind with perfect clarity.
Your mind played out various scenarios, each one more intense and intimate than the last. You imagined him leaning in to kiss you, his lips soft and insistent against yours. The kiss deepened, his tongue exploring your mouth with a slow, tantalizing rhythm that left you breathless. His hands were everywhere, tracing patterns on your skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake.
You pictured his lips on your neck, his soft whispers in your ear, his strong arms holding you close. His voice was low and husky, filled with a need that matched your own. He told you how much he wanted you, how he couldn't stop thinking about you, and every word sent a jolt of pleasure through your body.
The pleasure built and built, and you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. You imagined him whispering your name, his breath hot against your ear, his hands guiding you, teasing you, bringing you to the brink of ecstasy.
As you reached your peak, you allowed yourself to fully indulge in the fantasy of Joel. Every touch, every kiss, every whisper, it was all in your head but it felt so real. You could almost hear his voice, feel the warmth of his body against yours, the weight of him pressing down on you, grounding you in the moment.
The waves of pleasure crashed over you, and you cried out, your body trembling with the force of your release. For a few blissful moments, everything else faded away, and it was just you and Joel, lost in the throes of passion.
And as you came down from the high, you couldn’t help but wish that it was more than just a fantasy. That one day, Joel would make all your desires and daydreams a reality. You imagined the two of you together, sharing moments of intimacy and connection, building a relationship that went beyond your wildest dreams.
But for now, you settled for this moment of sensual bliss, enjoying every second of it. You lay there, your body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure, your mind filled with thoughts of Joel. You let yourself linger in the fantasy a little longer, savoring the feeling of being close to him, even if it was just in your imagination. And as you drifted off to sleep, you carried the hope that one day, your fantasies would become a reality.
Feeling sticky and aching, you slowly peeled yourself off the bed and headed for a quick shower. The cool water cascaded over your skin, washing away the remnants of your fantasy and providing a refreshing contrast to the heat that had consumed you moments ago. As the water soothed your body, your mind remained restless, thoughts of Joel still swirling in your head.
You felt a bittersweet twinge in your chest as you thought about him. The warmth and intensity of your fantasies clashed with the cold reality that nothing would ever happen between you and Joel. Despite how often he was around, how his presence always seemed to light up the room, he never took that next step. He never crossed the line from friendship into something more.
You replayed your interactions with him, searching for signs, any indication that he might feel the same way. There were moments that made your heart flutter—a lingering glance, a touch that felt too intimate to be merely friendly, words that seemed to carry a hidden meaning. But just as quickly, doubts crept in, and you reminded yourself that it was probably just your wishful thinking, seeing what you wanted to see.
The ache in your heart deepened as you accepted this reality. You knew that despite your longing, Joel remained just out of reach, a constant presence in your life but never quite yours. The shower water mingled with your tears as you silently mourned the unfulfilled dreams and desires that seemed destined to remain in your imagination.
As you stepped out of the shower, you wrapped yourself in a towel, feeling the softness against your skin. You took a deep breath, trying to shake off the melancholy that had settled over you. You reminded yourself that life went on, and you couldn’t stay lost in your fantasies forever.
Instead of getting dressed, you find yourself drawn back to your bed. The sheets were cool now, a stark contrast to the heat of your earlier thoughts. You climbed back in, pulling the covers around you, seeking comfort in their familiar embrace.
Your mind drifted back to Joel, to his warm brown eyes that always seemed to hold a thousand unspoken words. You pictured his smile, the way it lit up his entire face, and the sound of his laugh, so genuine and infectious. You couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have him here with you, to feel his arms around you, to share these quiet moments together.
You lay there, your heart heavy with longing, and allowed yourself to imagine just a little longer. Even though you knew it was just a fantasy, it brought a small measure of comfort. His presence in your thoughts was a bittersweet solace, a reminder of what you yearned for but also what you could not have.
Eventually, your eyes grew heavy, and you let the thoughts of Joel lull you into a dream-filled sleep. You knew that reality awaited you when you woke, but for now, you let yourself drift, holding onto the image of his warm brown eyes and the hope that one day, you would find the love you deserved.
***
Joel sat on his horse, patrolling the outskirts of Jackson with a heavy heart. The familiar landscape, with its rugged terrain and dense forests, usually offered a sense of solace and routine. Today, however, his thoughts were far from the patrol at hand. They kept drifting back to the library, to the warmth of her smile and the depth of her eyes.
He'd felt an inexplicable pull towards her since the moment he found her. Her tenacity and spirit had captivated him. She fought like hell to survive, just like he had so many times before. It was more than just attraction—it was a connection he didn't fully understand and certainly didn't know how to handle.
"Get your head in the game, Joel," he muttered to himself, trying to shake off the distraction. But the more he tried to focus on the patrol, the more his mind wandered back to her. He remembered how her breath had caught when he held her hand to inspect her cut. There was something about her that drew him in, despite every instinct telling him to keep his distance.
Back in Jackson, she was sucesfully becoming a part of the community. Tommy and Maria had taken to her quickly. Tommy often spoke highly of her, appreciating her wit and the way she didn't suffer fools. Maria admired her resilience and found in her a kindred spirit. Ellie was perhaps the closest to her, their shared love for books and movies creating a bond that seemed to grow stronger by the day.
Joel watched from the sidelines, a mix of pride and something else he couldn't quite name filling his chest. Seeing her interact with Tommy and Maria, laughing at Ellie's jokes, and bringing a new light to the community was both heartwarming and painful. He wanted to be closer to her, to let down his guard and allow himself to feel. But the fear of loss, the weight of his past, kept him from stepping into the light she offered.
One evening, Joel found himself standing outside the library, watching through the window as she and Ellie animatedly discussed a book. Her laughter rang out, clear and joyous, and it struck him deeply. He turned away, the internal struggle gnawing at him. He wanted to protect her, to be there for her, but he didn't think he deserved that kind of happiness.
Every interaction was charged with a mix of emotions—hope, fear, desire, and self-doubt. When he brought her fresh flowers each morning, her eyes would light up with a gratitude that made his heartache. Yet, he always found an excuse to leave quickly, afraid that lingering too long would reveal too much.
They found themselves alone in the library more often than not. She would be shelving books, and he would walk in, their eyes meeting across the room. Words felt inadequate, and yet the silence between them spoke volumes. She began to notice his frequent visits, the way he seemed to hover just on the edge of their interactions, always present but never fully engaging.
One afternoon, Joel found her struggling with a particularly heavy stack of books. Without thinking, he moved to help, their hands brushing as they both reached for the top book. The contact sent a jolt through him, and he saw the same spark in her eyes. She bit her lip, a small, nervous habit he'd come to recognize, and his resolve wavered.
"You don't have to do this alone," he said softly, his voice rough with emotion. She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face for answers he wasn't ready to give.
"Neither do you," she replied, her voice equally soft but filled with a strength that shook him.
They stood there, the library fading into the background as the weight of their unspoken words hung between them. Joel's heart pounded in his chest, the magnetic pull towards her stronger than ever. He wanted to reach out, to close the distance and let her in, but the fear of losing her, of not being enough, held him back.
Finally, he stepped away, the moment broken by his retreat. She watched him go, a mix of sadness and understanding in her eyes. Joel walked out of the library, the internal battle raging on. He didn't know how long he could keep this up, but for now, he would protect her the only way he knew how—by keeping his distance, even if it tore him apart inside.
***
The library was your sanctuary, a place where you could lose yourself in the comforting embrace of books and the soothing rhythm of routine. You were deep in thought, rearranging a shelf of classic novels when you heard the door creak open. Turning, you saw Ellie standing there, her usual bright energy replaced by a troubled expression.
"Hey, Ellie," you greeted her warmly, trying to read her mood. "What's up?"
Ellie hesitated at the entrance, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. She looked around the empty library as if making sure you were alone. "Hey, Ash," she said softly, her voice lacking its usual spark. "Can we talk?"
"Of course," you replied, setting the book you were holding aside and walking over to her. "What's on your mind?"
Ellie bit her lip, her eyes downcast. "It's... kind of personal," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
You nodded, your heart going out to her. "Let's sit down," you suggested, guiding her to a cozy corner of the library where a couple of armchairs were nestled by a large window. The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the room, creating a safe, intimate space for your conversation.
You settled into the chairs, and you waited patiently, giving Ellie the time she needed to gather her thoughts. She looked at her hands, her fingers nervously tracing patterns on the armrest.
"I've been feeling really confused lately," Ellie began. "There's this girl... Dina. She's amazing. Funny, smart, and just... so cool. I think I have a crush on her."
"Dina sounds wonderful," you said encouragingly. "It's okay to have feelings for someone."
Ellie looked up at you, her eyes filled with uncertainty. "But... it's more than that. I think... I know I'm not into guys. I like girls. And it scares me. I don't know how people will react, especially Joel."
Her vulnerability tugged at your heartstrings. You reached out and placed a reassuring hand on hers. "Ellie, thank you for sharing this with me," you said softly. "It's a big step, and I want you to know that it's perfectly okay to feel the way you do."
Ellie swallowed hard, her eyes searching yours for any hint of judgment. "You really think so?" she asked, her voice fragile.
"I know so," you replied firmly. "And you're not alone in this. I'm bisexual."
Ellie's eyes widened in surprise. "Really?"
You nodded, offering her a comforting smile. "Yes. I've been where you are, feeling scared and unsure. But the important thing to remember is that your feelings are valid. Who you love doesn't define your worth; it's just a part of who you are."
Ellie took a deep breath, her eyes fixed on the floor as if the words she was about to say were too heavy to lift. "I'm really scared to tell Joel," she confessed, her voice trembling. "What if he doesn't accept me? What if he thinks less of me?"
You leaned forward, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "Ellie, I know Joel can be a bit... gruff and guarded, but he cares about you more than anything. You mean the world to him. He's been through a lot, and he's seen more than most. If there's one thing I know about Joel, it's that he values the people he loves for who they are."
Ellie's eyes flicked up to meet yours, a glimmer of hope in their depths. "You really think so?"
"I know so," you said with conviction. "I've seen the way he looks at you, the way he worries about you. He might have his rough edges, but his heart is in the right place. And if you need someone to be there with you when you tell him, I'll be right by your side."
Ellie bit her lip, her expression softening as she considered your words. "It's just... he's been like a father to me. I don't want to disappoint him."
"You won't," you assured her. "Joel loves you unconditionally. He might be surprised at first, but that won't change how much he cares about you. He'll want you to be happy, and being true to yourself is a big part of that."
Ellie nodded slowly, the fear in her eyes giving way to a cautious optimism. "I hope you're right. I just don't want to lose him."
"You won't lose him," you repeated gently. "Joel's been through too much to let something like this come between you. He'll need time to process, but he'll come around. And remember, you have a whole community here who supports you, including me."
"Thanks, Ash. It means a lot to hear that."
"Anytime, Ellie," you said, giving her a reassuring smile. "You're not alone in this. We'll face it together."
Ellie took a deep breath, nodding as if steeling herself for the conversation ahead. "Okay. I'll tell him. But... can you really be there with me when I do?"
"Of course," you replied without hesitation. "I'll be right there with you, every step of the way."
You sat in silence for a few moments, the weight of the conversation settling between you. The sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the library. It felt like a moment of quiet reflection, a brief respite before the next step in Ellie's journey.
Finally, Ellie broke the silence, her voice stronger and more determined. "I've got to tell Dina too. I think she might feel the same way, but I've been too scared to say anything."
You smiled, proud of her courage. "That's a good idea. Being honest with her will help you both figure out where you stand."
Ellie nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Yeah, I think so too. Thanks, Ash. For everything."
"You're welcome," you said warmly. "Remember, I'm always here if you need to talk or just need a friend."
Ellie stood up, her shoulders a little straighter than before. "I'll see you later, Ash. And... thanks again."
As she walked out of the library, you watched her go with a sense of pride and hope. Ellie was on the brink of a significant moment in her life, and you were honored to be a part of it. The bond you had forged in that quiet corner of the library was a testament to the power of empathy, understanding, and unconditional support.
And as you returned to your work, you felt a renewed sense of purpose. Helping Ellie find her way was just the beginning. In a world filled with uncertainty and hardship, moments like these remind you of the strength and resilience that lay within each of us. You were not alone, and together, you could face whatever challenges came your way.
***
You were on patrol, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows through the dense forest as you walked. The air was crisp, the smell of pine and earth strong around you. Normally, you would have found the setting peaceful, but today there was an uncomfortable silence hanging between Joel and you. No matter how hard you tried to make conversation, he remained stoically quiet, his eyes scanning the surroundings with a focused intensity.
"So, Joel," you started for what felt like the tenth time, trying to break through the barrier of silence. "How's Ellie doing with all those books she borrowed? She mentioned she really liked the one about the ancient Greek heroes."
Joel grunted in response, his gaze never leaving the path ahead. "She liked it," he said shortly.
You bit your lip, feeling the awkwardness grow. It wasn't like Joel to be this distant, especially after everything you had been through. You wondered if something had happened, if he was angry or upset with you. You tried again, your voice a bit more tentative this time. "I hope she's doing okay. She's really taken a liking to the library."
"She's fine," Joel replied, his tone clipped.
A heavy silence fell over you once more. You could hear the crunch of leaves beneath your boots, the distant chirping of birds, and the occasional rustle of a small animal scurrying through the underbrush. It was a stark contrast to the usual camaraderie you shared, and it was unsettling.
Finally, you couldn't take it anymore. You stopped walking, forcing Joel to stop as well. "Joel, what's going on?" you asked, your voice firmer than you felt. "You've been quiet all day, and it's making me feel like I did something wrong."
Joel turned to look at you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, he said nothing, just stared at you with those intense, deep-set eyes. Then he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture of frustration. "It's not you," he finally said, his voice softer. "It's me. I've got a lot on my mind."
"Do you want to talk about it?" you asked, taking a step closer to him.
He shook his head, his gaze dropping to the ground. "It's complicated," he muttered. "I just... I don't want to mess things up."
You frowned, not understanding. "Mess what up? Joel, you've been a good friend to me. If there's something bothering you, you can tell me. Maybe I can help."
He looked up at you then, his eyes filled with turmoil that took your breath away. "That's just it," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "I don't know how to handle what I'm feelin’. I've been trying to keep my distance because I don't want to hurt you. But seein’ you, bein’ near you... it's drivin’ me crazy."
Your heart pounded in your chest as his words sank in. "Joel," you whispered, taking another step closer until you were almost touching. "You don't have to protect me from yourself. Whatever it is, we can face it together."
He shook his head again, more forcefully this time. "You don't understand, Ash. I've done things, terrible things. I don't deserve... this. You. I don't deserve you."
You reached out, placing a hand on his arm. "Joel, we all have our pasts. We all have things we're not proud of. But that doesn't mean we don't deserve happiness, or love. You've been there for me when I needed it most. Let me be there for you."
He looked down at your hand, then back up at you, his eyes filled with a mix of pain and longing. "I want to believe that," he said quietly. "I really do."
"Then believe it," you urged, your voice soft but insistent. "We can take it one step at a time. You don't have to face everything alone."
For a long moment, Joel didn't move. Then, slowly, he reached up and covered your hand with his, his grip strong and reassuring. You stood there, the forest around you silent and still, a world away from the chaos and danger that usually surrounded you. At that moment, it was just the two of you, facing your fears and uncertainties together. He didn’t say a word, then, slowly, he let you go and pressed forward. 
The atmosphere between Joel and you remained tense as you continued your patrol. The silence was thick, each step through the forest feeling heavier than the last. Your thoughts were a whirlwind, circling around the complexities of your unspoken emotions. You couldn't help but imagine how it would feel to be embraced by him, to feel his strong arms around you, offering comfort and security.
You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t see the tree root protruding from the ground. Your foot caught on it, and before you knew it, you were falling. You landed hard, a sharp pain shooting through your arm as you scraped it against a jagged rock.
"Damn it," you muttered, wincing as you cradled your arm. Blood seeped from a cut just below your elbow, the wound stinging in the cool air.
Joel was at your side in an instant, his expression shifting from distant to concerned. "You alright?" he asked, his voice gruff but laced with worry.
"I'm fine," you snapped, though your voice was tight with pain. "Just a cut."
Joel ignored your words, gently taking your arm to inspect the wound. His touch was surprisingly tender, and despite the pain, you felt a shiver run down your spine. His brow furrowed as he examined the cut, his fingers carefully avoiding the worst of it.
"We need to clean this up," he said, his voice authoritative. "You got any water left?"
"Don't," you interrupted, pulling your arm away from him and trying to push him back. "Why do you even care? You've been distant all day."
Joel looked taken aback, his hand frozen in mid-air. "I'm just tryin’ to help." 
"Yeah, well, it’s a little too late for that," you muttered, your back against a tree as you tried to compose yourself. The pain in your arm was nothing compared to the frustration bubbling inside you.
Joel knelt in front of you, his brows tightly drawn together. "I know I’ve been an ass but. . .” 
You looked away, trying to ignore the sting of tears in your eyes. "Whatever. Just go away, Joel. It hurts more when you show softness only to take it away."
For a moment, he didn't move, his gaze searching your face for something. Then, with a sigh, he sat back on his heels, clearly conflicted. 
Joel’s hand shot out and caught your wrist as you tried to push him away again. His grip was like iron, firm yet not painful. You struggled against him, frustration mounting, but he didn’t let go. His eyes bored into yours.
"Joel, let go," you demanded, your voice shaky.
He didn't budge, his grip unwavering. "Not until you listen," he said, his tone firm.
You tried to pull away, but it was futile. "Listen to what? More silence?"
His eyes flashed with something you couldn't quite decipher. "Listen to this," he said quietly before leaning in.
You barely had time to register his words before his lips were on yours. The kiss was unexpected, a collision of emotions that took your breath away. You stiffened, caught off guard, but Joel’s hand moved to the back of your neck, holding you gently but securely as his fingers worked the muscles.
For a moment, you were frozen, your mind reeling from the sudden intimacy. Then, slowly, you began to respond, your resistance melting away. The kiss deepened, a raw and desperate exchange of everything you had been holding back. Your free hand found its way to his shoulder, gripping tightly as if anchoring yourself in the storm of emotions.
When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing hard. Joel’s forehead rested against yours, his eyes closed as he whispered, "I'm sorry. I didn’t know how else to show you how much you mean to me."
You swallowed, your heart pounding. "Joel, you can’t just... kiss me to make everything better," you said, though your voice lacked conviction.
"I know," he replied softly, his grip on your wrist loosening but not releasing you entirely. "But I had to do somethin’. I can’t keep pushin’ you away. Not when I feel this way."
"Then stop pushing me away," you whispered, your voice trembling. "We can figure this out together."
Joel nodded, his thumb gently brushing over your wrist. "Together," he agreed, his voice resolute.
Joel's touch shifted from your wrist to the cut on your arm, his movements careful and precise. His fingers traced the edges of the wound, assessing the damage with a quiet intensity that belied his usual stoicism. You watched him closely, feeling the warmth of his hands against your skin, a stark contrast to the coolness of the forest around you.
Using the water from your bottle, Joel cleaned the cut gently, his touch light yet firm. The sting of the water made you flinch, but he continued his ministrations without hesitation. His focus was solely on you, his brow furrowed in concentration as he worked to ensure the wound was thoroughly cleansed.
Once satisfied that the wound was clean, Joel reached into his pack and retrieved a small first aid kit. With practiced movements, he carefully applied antiseptic ointment to the cut, his touch gentle despite the efficiency of his actions. You winced again at the sting of the ointment, but Joel's reassuring presence kept you grounded.
Next, he unfolded a sterile bandage from the kit and began to wrap it around your arm, securing it in place with medical tape. His hands moved with a steady rhythm, his focus unwavering as he ensured the bandage was snug but not constricting. Each touch sent a wave of comfort through you, a silent reassurance that he was there, taking care of you.
As he finished securing the bandage, Joel looked up at you, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of relief and concern. "There," he said softly. "That should do for now."
"Thank you, Joel," you murmured.
He gave a slight nod in acknowledgment, his gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer before he slowly withdrew, giving you space. 
You sat there for a while longer, the forest around you settling into an evening hush. As you made your way back from your patrol, the tension that had gripped both of you seemed to ease with every step. The forest was bathed in the warm hues of the setting sun, casting long shadows on the familiar path to Jackson. Joel walked beside you, his presence a silent comfort.
You stole glances at him from the corner of your eye, unsure of what to say after everything. His hand, rough and calloused from years of survival, brushed against yours as you walked, a fleeting touch that sent a shiver down your spine. To your surprise, Joel’s fingers interlaced with yours, his grip firm yet gentle, as if afraid you might slip away.
Finally reaching the outskirts of Jackson, you hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. Joel slowed his pace slightly, as if sensing your uncertainty. As you approached your house, you turned to him, your heart pounding in your chest.
"Joel," you began, your voice barely above a whisper, "would you like to come in?"
His gaze met yours, searching for something in the depths of your eyes. After a moment's hesitation, he nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I'd like that." 
You led him inside, the familiar warmth of home enveloping both of you as you stepped through the door. Joel followed you into the living room, his presence filling the space.
As you settled on the couch, Joel’s hand found yours once more, his touch grounding and reassuring. The weight of everything you had shared that day hung in the air, a fragile bridge between friendship and something more. His thumb brushed against the bandage, the wound still stinging underneath. He leaned closer, lips brushing your temple, you leaned in and as you did, you slowly turned your face, meeting his lips with your own. 
He tasted sweet like a gentle summer breeze, that subtle wind that feels like a caress from the sun. You were bolder than him, parting your lips with a greed you thought you didn’t have anymore. He parted his lips with a groan, the deep sound made you tremble. Suddenly you were on top of him, your legs parted over his lap as you placed soft, rushed kisses all across his face. You felt him smile and it made your lips curl up, your heart skipping a beat. 
His hips jerked up as he parted away, his breath warm when he spoke, “Your arm, darlin’. . .” 
You felt yourself leaning in, wanting more—needing more. Joel’s lips softly brushed against yours, causing electricity to surge through your body. His hand trails up your arm, gently caressing the bandage where he had tended to your wound earlier.
"My arm feels...better now," you managed to say, trying to keep your voice steady as Joel’s hand lingers on your skin.
He leans in closer, his lips now only a fraction of an inch away from yours. "Good," he muttered, his voice low and husky. "I'm glad."
Slowly, almost hesitantly, your lips brushed against his. The sensation was electric, igniting a fire within you. You felt the warmth of Joel’s breath against your face as he deepened the kiss, his hand now cupping your cheek tenderly.
Lost in the moment, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. It felt like time had stopped and you never wanted this moment to end. As your lips parted, your foreheads rested against each other, both of you breathing heavily.
"I've wanted to do that for a long time," Joel said.
"Me too," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.
Joel leaned in for another kiss, but this time it was slow. His tongue explored your mouth, tasting you, moaning whenever you tease him with a flick of your own.  
You felt a rush of excitement as Joel’s hands explored your body, his touch igniting a burning desire within you. You let out a small gasp as he removed your shirt, revealing your now bare chest.
Joel’s eyes roamed over your body, his gaze dark as the bark of the oldest tree in Jackson.  
His lips trailed down your neck, sending shivers down your spine. You ran your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer to you. 
“Impatient one, aren’t you?” he rasped. “Gonna have to teach you some patience while we’re at it.” 
Without breaking the kiss, Joel’s hands moved to your bra, unclasping it with practiced ease. You felt a rush of excitement and nervousness as he removed it, leaving your chest exposed to him.
He pulls away slightly, now gazing at you in awe. "God, you're beautiful," 
His lips moved down to your breasts, his touch gentle and tender. You gasp as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, his other hand cupping your other breast. He twisted one nipple while pampering the other with his tongue, a soft whimper escaped your throat. You eagerly grind your hips down, feeling the hard outline of his cock. Sweat beaded at the curve of your spine, your body was blissfully being burned from the inside out. 
You buried your hand in Joel’s hair, the sensations he’s causing you almost overwhelming. As he continued to kiss and caress you, your body responded eagerly, your arousal building with each passing moment.
You moaned softly as Joel moved his hands lower, his fingers expertly teasing and exploring your most sensitive parts. You couldn’t believe how good he made you feel.
“You like that huh?” he muttered. “Can’t wait for me to devour that sweet pussy of yours?” 
You feel yourself getting lost in the moment, forgetting about everything else except for the two of you.
“Yes,” you breathed, your chest caving in on itself. “Please, Joel, you have no idea how long I’ve been thinking about this.” 
“And how long would that be, sweetheart?” 
“A damned long time,” you smiled. “Way too long.” 
You grabbed Joel’s hand and promptly stood up, leading him to the bedroom. You felt his hand grip yours tighter, letting you know that he was just as eager as you are.
When you entered the room, you turned to face Joel, your eyes locking with his. Without a word, you slowly started to undress him, your hands running over his defined chest and down his softened torso.
Once he’s completely naked, you step back and admire his body, feeling a surge of want course through you. 
“You brought me here just to ogle me?” he grinned. “That’s not very polite you know.” 
You took a step closer, your hand resting on his chest as you pressed against him, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. Your lips met in a passionate kiss, your bodies pressing closer together in unison. You felt the length of his cock, your hand wrapping around it without second thought. His chest rattled with a groan, cock twitching in your palm. You slowly brought him to the bed, allowing yourself to fall, you pulled him down with you. 
You felt his lips trailing down your neck, his tongue leaving a trail of wetness as he moved lower. Your breathing became heavier, your anticipation building with every passing second.
Joel’s mouth found its way to your most sensitive area, his tongue expertly teasing and flicking against your clit. You let out a gasp, your hands gripping the sheets as waves of pleasure coursed through you.
“Mine,” he groaned, pressing his mouth harder against you. “This pussy is all mine, say it or I’ll stop.” 
“Yours,” you replied almost immediately. “Every inch of me is yours, I belong to you, every bit of me.” 
He hummed his approval as he sucked your clit between his lips, teeth gently nibbling the sensitive flesh. Your upper body jolted, hands finding the back of his head. 
But you’re not content with just lying back and enjoying his touch. You wanted to reciprocate the pleasure, to make him feel just as good as he’s making you feel.
You pushed Joel onto his back and straddled him, your hands roaming over his chest as you kissed him. Your hips grind against his, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through you.
With an innate sense of what he likes, you took him in your hand, stroking him slowly but firmly. You felt him grow harder as precome slid down his throbbing cock, you moved lower, taking him into your mouth.
You used your tongue and lips to pleasure him, feeling him writhe beneath you. You couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. He tasted bittersweet, cock pulsing against your tongue. Your cunt throbbed as you took him deeper down your throat, he groaned, hips thrusting forward. When you choked, he pulled you off and touched the corner of your lips with the pad of his thumb. 
“Later,” he muttered, his eyes dropped down to witness your pouty lips, only to smile when he met your gaze again. “Don’t worry, we’ll have plenty of time to use that smart mouth.” 
With that he flipped you over onto your back, his eyes full of need as he positioned himself between your legs. You spread them eagerly, welcoming him into you.
With one swift movement, he slipped inside of you, both of you letting out a moan. He started to move, his hips thrusting against yours in a rhythm that became more and more intense. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you as your bodies moved together in perfect harmony. You felt yourself getting lost, your mind consumed by the pleasure each thrust brings.
Joel’s hands gripped your hips tightly, forcing your hips against him, you feel slick dripping down and staining the sheets.  Your entire body writhed against him, your eyes rolling all the way to the back of your skull as his cock stretched you over and over again. 
With one final push, you both reached your climax, your bodies trembling as waves of pleasure washed over you. You collapsed onto the bed, gasping and panting as you tried to catch your breath.
As you laid there, wrapped in each other’s arms, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for this moment. You’ve never felt so connected to someone before, and you know that you want to experience this feeling again and again with Joel by your side.
***
The next morning, sunlight filtered through the window, casting a gentle warmth across the room where you and Joel lay nestled close together. The quiet morning wrapped around both of you like a comforting blanket. As you stirred awake, you felt Joel's arm around you, his presence steady and reassuring.
"Mornin’," he murmured, his voice rough with sleep but filled with tenderness.
You shifted slightly, turning to face him with a soft smile. "Morning," you replied softly, feeling a rush of warmth at the closeness between you.
Joel brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle. "How's your arm feelin’?" he asked, his concern evident.
"It's better," you assured him, leaning into his touch. "Thank you for taking care of me yesterday."
His gaze softened, a flicker of something deeper in his eyes. "Always," he said quietly, his hand resting against yours.
You and Joel lingered in the soft embrace of the morning light, your whispered conversation carrying a weight of unspoken understanding. As you shared your thoughts, a mutual agreement emerged between you—a decision to keep your burgeoning relationship private, shielded from the complexities that often accompanied deeper connections in your fragile world.
"I think it's best if we keep this between us," Joel murmured, his voice low and earnest. "We've both been through enough already."
You nodded. "Yeah, it's just... I don't want anything to jeopardize what we have," you admitted quietly, your fingers tracing patterns on the blanket draped over you both.
Joel's gaze softened, his hand finding yours and intertwining your fingers. "Neither do I," he confessed, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "But being with you... it feels right."
A swell of warmth filled your chest at his words, a silent reassurance that echoed your own sentiments. Despite the uncertainties that lay ahead, you couldn't deny the growing connection between you, a bond forged through shared experiences and unspoken emotions.
You lingered a while longer in the quiet sanctuary of the morning, each moment steeped in the gentle intimacy of newfound understanding. As the world outside stirred with its own rhythms, you and Joel found solace in the simple promise of each other's company, silently vowing to protect what you had found amidst the uncertainties of your lives.
In that fleeting moment of shared vulnerability, you knew that your decision to keep your relationship a secret was not just a shield against potential complications—it was a testament to the fragile hope that had bloomed between you, a hope that dared to whisper of a future where you could navigate the challenges together, one quiet morning at a time.
***
“On your knees, sweetheart. Now.” 
Head completely empty, you did as you were told. The small shed at Tommy and Maria’s place was secluded enough for no one to see either of you. The leaves of a nearby tree blocked the window, the gentle scrapes making you feel safe. 
It had been a month since you and Joel started your relationship together. He was a tentative man, both in public and behind closed doors. He would remember what you told him and bring you small gifts from whenever he went on patrol. It warmed your heart and for the first time, you genuinely felt happy. 
You leaned into his touch, his palm cupping the side of your cheek. Smiling, you unzipped his pants and took him into your palm. He was hard already, eager to feel the warmth of your tongue on the sensitive skin. You gave the tip a soft kiss, smiling wider as he shuddered. His hand slid to the back of your head. He thrust forward, the length of his cock sliding against your lips. You parted them, tongue flat against the underside of his cock, you took him deep down your throat. 
“Fuck, just like that,” he groaned, head thrown back. “Show me how much you want me, darlin’.” You looked up and blinked rapidly. “I bet you're soaked right now. . . With all those people outside havin’ fun, aren’t you ashamed?” 
Your stomach bottomed out, excitement growing in your gut. You attempted to make a sound that would convey disagreement, but he only smiled, pushing himself further down. 
“Take it,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Take all of it.” 
Your eyes widened as he began to fuck your throat with earnest, precome coating your tongue. He was impatient, which was something he rarely was. Maybe it was because of the barbecue outside, or the fact that this was his baby brother’s shed—Whatever it was, you enjoyed it. 
You could barely breathe, saliva and spit dripping down the corners of your outstretched mouth. His balls laid heavy against your chin, smacking you every time he snapped his hips forward. Your eyes rolled, tears pricking the sides. You thought you heard him shushing you, a soothing sound, at least, that’s why you assumed he was shushing you. To soothe you. You had missed the fact that your moans had grown obscenely loud despite his cock sliding between your lips—
“Hey Joel, you guys good in—” Both of you stilled at the sound, the creak of the door, the familiar soft voice. Your cunt clenched, slick dripping between your thighs. You so badly wanted to touch yourself, to soothe the pain, but that seemed like an impossible thing to do. 
Joel cleared his throat, adam’s apple bobbing as he slowly pulled out his cock. It glistened with spit and precome, the sight of it making you whimper. Your head felt like it was floating, that none of this was really and all you could focus on was the throbbing between your legs. 
He prevented you from looking back towards Tommy. He held his hand firm on your neck, massaging it to keep you calm. 
“We’ll be out in a second,” he said, voice strained. “Sorry.” 
The younger Miller said nothing else, you only realized it was the two of you again when you heard the door closing. Joel let out a deep breath, “So much for keepin’ it a secret,” he muttered. “I won’t be hearin’ the end of it.” 
“Sorry,” you said, looking up, eyes teary. “I. . . I didn’t realize I was being so loud.” 
He promptly knelt down, holding your face between rough hands, he kissed your forehead and smiled. “Nothin’ to apologize for. I’m the one who got us into this mess, you don’t need to worry about nothin’. It ain’t the first time he caught me indecent. Now, let’s get you home.” 
“Okay,” you muttered, heart feeling light and head still feeling dizzy. “Let’s go home.” 
***
Joel sat in the dimly lit kitchen of Tommy’s and Maria’s home. The evening shadows danced across the walls, painting the room with muted hues of twilight.Tommy had walked in on them—caught them in a moment of vulnerability and intimacy.
Tommy's initial shock had given way to a steady calm as he sat across from Joel at the small wooden table, the lines of his face etched with doubt. Joel’s hands were clasped tightly in his lap, knuckles white with the strain. He stared at the worn surface of the table, struggling to find the right words.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Joel finally said, his voice rough with emotion. “It just... things got complicated. I know how it looks, Tommy. I know I’ve got no business...”
Tommy held up a hand, cutting him off. His gaze was steady, full of an unspoken empathy. “Joel, I’m not here to judge you,” he said firmly. “You’re my brother. And whatever’s going on between you and Ash, I support it. I’ve seen how she makes you feel. Hell, I’ve seen how you look at her. I want you to be happy.”
Joel’s eyes lifted to meet Tommy’s, a mixture of surprise and relief flickering across his features. “I know I don’t deserve her,” he said quietly, his voice cracking slightly. “I’ve done a lot of bad things, Tommy. I’m not the man I used to be. I don’t know why she’d want anything to do with me.”
Tommy shook his head, his expression one of deep, abiding concern. “Look, Joel, none of us are perfect. We all have our demons. But that doesn’t mean we don’t deserve a little happiness now and then. Ash’s been through her share of shit too. She’s not here because she thinks you’re some perfect hero. She’s here because she sees somethin’ in you that maybe you don’t see yourself.”
Joel’s gaze dropped again, the weight of Tommy’s words sinking in. “I just don’t want to mess it up,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m afraid that something’s gonna come along and ruin it.”
Tommy leaned forward, his voice low but firm. “You’re not alone in this, Joel. None of us are. You’ve got to trust that maybe you’re worthy of something good. Maybe you’re worthy of her. And if you’re worried about messin’ things up, then do somethin’ about it. Fight for it. But don’t keep it a secret from everyone who cares about you. It’s not a burden to bear alone.”
Joel nodded, the knot of tension in his chest loosening just a bit. “Thanks, Tommy. I appreciate it. I just... I needed to hear that.”
Tommy clapped Joel on the shoulder, a gesture of solidarity and support. “Anytime. Just remember, if you need anything, if you need to talk, I’m here. For both of you.”
***
In the weeks following the decision to make your relationship with Joel public, you found yourselves navigating a new reality in Jackson. The once familiar streets now felt charged with curiosity and speculation. You walked through the bustling market and communal areas of the town, your hands entwined, openly displaying your affection for each other.
The reactions from the community were varied. Some greeted your union with open arms, offering congratulations and warm smiles. Others were more reserved, their curiosity evident in their glances and whispered conversations. You and Joel faced these moments with a combination of resilience and humor. Your quick wit was particularly effective at easing the discomfort of those around you.
One sunny afternoon, while you were browsing through the market stalls, an elderly woman approached you both with a skeptical look. She raised an eyebrow, peering at you from beneath a wide-brimmed hat. “So, you two are an item now?” she asked, her tone a mix of curiosity and caution.
You turned to face her, a playful smile spreading across your face. “Yep, that’s right. Joel here is my favorite person to argue with,” you said, giving Joel a mischievous look.
Joel smirked, adding, “And she’s the one who keeps me grounded. Can’t have one without the other.”
The woman’s stern expression softened into a smile. “Well, that’s a refreshing way to look at things. Congratulations then,” She patted Joel on the shoulder and ambled away, leaving behind a sense of acceptance.
As your relationship grew, so did the depth of your connection. You and Joel became more attuned to each other’s needs and emotions. Your bond was tested and strengthened through shared experiences and mutual support. Each day brought new challenges, but facing them together made your partnership even more resilient.
One particularly trying day, after a demanding patrol that left Joel physically and emotionally drained, he returned home to find you waiting for him. The sight of you, with a warm meal and an understanding smile, was a balm to his weary spirit.
As you sat down to eat, Joel hesitated before speaking, his voice barely above a whisper. “Today was rough, Ash. I don’t know if I can keep doing this.”
Your eyes softened with concern. You reached across the table, your hand covering his. “You’re stronger than you think, Joel. We all have days that test us, but you’re not alone in this. I’m here with you, every step of the way.”
Joel met your gaze, the exhaustion in his eyes slowly giving way to a glimmer of relief. “I don’t know how I’d manage without you,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion.
You squeezed his hand, your expression resolute. “You don’t have to manage alone. We’ve got each other. That’s what matters.”
Your relationship was not all about serious moments; it was also filled with lightheartedness and affection. Your playful banter and shared humor brought a sense of normalcy and joy into your lives.
One morning, as you prepared breakfast together, the kitchen was filled with the usual clatter of pots and pans. You were juggling two eggs and a fresh stick of butter when, in a moment of clumsiness, you dropped the eggs across the floor. Joel, standing nearby, couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Well, looks like we’re having eggs for breakfast and a side of floor clean-up,” Joel said, his voice dripping with mock seriousness.
You rolled your eyes, picking up the scattered pieces with a smirk. “I’m just adding a bit of excitement to our otherwise boring mornings. Keeps things interesting, don’t you think?”
Joel leaned against the counter, shaking his head with an amused grin. “You and your ideas of excitement. I guess I should be grateful for the change.”
Later, as the day drew to a close and the sun dipped below the horizon, you and Joel found yourselves on the porch, enjoying the tranquility of the evening. You sat close together, the warmth of your bodies and the fading light creating a cozy atmosphere.
Joel wrapped an arm around you, pulling you gently against him. “You know,” he said quietly, “for all the chaos and challenges, I wouldn’t trade these moments with you for anythin’.”
You rested your head on his shoulder, your voice was soft and content. “Me neither. We’ve built something really special here. It’s worth fighting for, no matter what comes our way.”
As you sat together in the fading light, your bond felt stronger than ever. The shared laughter, mutual support, and tender moments of connection were the foundation of your relationship. In the midst of a world fraught with uncertainty, you and Joel had found a precious refuge in each other, a testament to the enduring power of love, humor, and unwavering support.
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captain-hawks · 2 months ago
Text
osamu miya x f!reader
“my mom asked me to return thi—” you cut yourself off abruptly as you’re met with the sudden, unexpected surprise of a familiar pair of gray eyes when the front door of the miya residence swings open. 
gray eyes that certainly don’t belong to the woman you intended to return the pie pan currently clutched in your hands to.
“osamu?” your voice comes out small, uncertain, a little fragile around the edges.
the corner of his mouth curves upward in a smile as he leans against the doorframe. “long time no see.”
the porch swing out back is as welcoming as it ever was, though the real estate to be found across its faded yellow cushions has waned as the two of you have grown. it was enormous to two seven-year-olds who spent long summer evenings on their backs across it, shoulder to shoulder with their little feet kicked up along the arm rests in opposite directions as they gazed up into the sky beyond the porch watching the fireflies come to life.
you can only imagine how ridiculous the two of you look now, heads parallel instead for lack of space and your legs thrown entirely over either edge at the knee, the swing shuddering with a precarious creak with each of your frequent outbursts of laughter.
for all that’s changed in the years since you graduated from inarizaki high and packed your bags—the new general store in town, your dad’s fancy electric car, the bright color of the shutters that adorn the front of the miya household, the dark shade of osamu’s hair, his muscles that have since generously filled out—
for all that’s changed, this still feels wholly the same: this easy rhythm the two of you slip into, the way it feels as natural as breathing to tell osamu everything—all the good and the bad and the wonderful and the terribly shitty things in your life that have happened between now and then.
(then, when you were eighteen standing outside of your mom’s old sedan on a sticky july morning, the trunk packed full with everything you held dear. everything but the gray-haired boy standing in front of you hugging you tightly goodbye.)
(then, when quietly realizing that you were in love with your best friend was the most terrifying feeling in the world.)
(now, with four years of university, two wasted years at a soulless corporate job, and the aftermath of a terrible relationship kicking up dust in the rearview.)
(now, when you know that for all the miles and the minutes, all this endless space that you’ve created—your heart will always be the steady pulse of a firefly cupped in osamu’s hands.)
it’s late beneath the glow of moonlight that pours across the porch when you finally ask, “how’s your girlfriend?”
osamu laughs, and you feel warm despite the cool night air that’s begun to nip at your bare legs. “don’t have one. tsumu’s probably got enough of ‘em for the both of us.”
it’s embarrassing, the thread of hope that slips between the careful grip of your fingers and begins to unspool in the defenseless gaps of your ribcage. “you mean to tell me there’s no mistress of onigiri miya? i find that hard to believe.”
he snorts this time, and a frog croaks somewhere off in the distance. “be nice, maybe i’ve got a broken heart over here.”
you shouldn’t be jealous, and yet—
“someone let you go? what was she thinking?”
osamu sighs, wistful. “never had her.”
your heart thumps as you turn your head, expecting to be met with osamu’s upside down side profile but instead finding yourself nose to nose with him.
“why not?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.
“didn’t think that was what she wanted.”
the sound of osamu’s breathing and the trembling in your chest drowns out the steady hum of the katydids that echoes across the backyard.
“and what if you were wrong?”
you’re met with a sharp, careful intake of breath that mirrors the tightness in your throat.
“s’a shame i’m not a time traveler then, i guess.”
this time, it’s your turn to laugh. “i hear she’s back in town.”
“yeah?” he says, a little breathless, a lot hopeful. 
“there’s still nobody else i’d rather count fireflies with, osamu,” you whisper.
and as osamu tilts your chin with a gentle hand to tentatively brush his mouth against yours—
as you find yourself on top of him, fingers tangled in his hair as he cups the back of your head and kisses you until you can hardly breathe—
as you begin to forget where you end and he begins—
(you’ve both changed and you’ve grown, but faint yellow lights still wink in and out of existence in the sky above, the southern breeze still carries the faint chill of the lake beyond the woods, and osamu still feels more like home than anything ever has.)
—the porch swing sways, and you can feel osamu's smile in every kiss—
you fit perfectly here atop these old cushions now, in a tangle of limbs and lips and patient hearts.
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