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mrsnancywheeler · 2 months

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i know places // finnick odair x f.reader

request: Hiii, for the celebration could you do a soulmate au with Finnnick? Maybe after reader has won her games? Fluff pls but I don't mind some angst sprinkled in too. Thank you and I love your writing <3

masterlist

3k words

warnings: soulmate au, matching scars, closed off and guarded!reader, nearly instant love, attempted fluff, some angst, hurt/comfort, self-destructive behavior, trust issues, lovesick finnick, cocky finnick, unreliable narrator reader, unedited, no use of y/n, no sight of a slowburn anywhere, mentions of blood/violence/death

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You didn't win with your charm. Before the games there was no popularity because of your interview with Caesar, the only semblance of any likeability was from your somewhat impressive training score, a 10. Regardless of what Panem wanted, your survival skills had come into clutch and brought you straight to the crown. A rare underdog winning the games. According to your mentor though the press had begun spinning you as meek when they'd realized you were in the top eight. You hadn't been the only tribute who tried it lone wolf and it conflicted with another story, so you were instead supposed to be quiet, gentle, and that's why you kept to yourself. Not because your district partner had attacked you night two, after claiming he would take watch, only for you to overtake him instead.

So now, post your victory they expected you to lean into the role, which didn't come naturally. Not when all you wanted to do was stop performing, scrub off your skin which still carried the weight of dirt and blood even if you'd taken plenty of showers since your return, and under the warm blankets of your bed. Maybe if you didn't feel so guilty and numb it would be easier to play at, but now everyone wanted a piece of you. You'd much rather they get bored of you.

Instead you'd been dragged out to a Capitol celebration before your return back home. The interview, the crowning, apparently hadn't been enough because no matter how they tried to make you seem, you were too guarded for them to get a good read on who you were. You didn't want them to know who you were, they'd already stolen you from your home, dolled you up, and forced you to fight to survive against the other dolls. Leaving your hands forever bloodstained and the screams ringing in your ears. Yet the dollhouse had not burned down when the cannon went off, they'd just deadbolted the doors. Who knew what other demented games they'd force you to play if they were given a chance to see inside your brain. So the walls stayed firmly up as you planted yourself firmly in a nook somewhere and the bustling of the party.

The dress was itchy, the shoes pinched at your feet, the way they'd styled your hair had every nerve on your scalp screaming for freedom, and the drink smelt too sickly sweet for one to even fathom sipping on. People would be looking to hound you, to find a reaction, and hopefully you could just disappear into the brick. Although fate seemed to have other plans.

“Mind if I join you?" You looked up, dreading having to talk to someone. What would you even say without revealing too much? Then of course you hadn't expected it to be the Capitol darling, Finnick Odair, himself.

He was an attention grabber. Too beloved, too shiny, wherever he went the moths were soon to follow. Which was the last thing you needed, curse Finnick Odair if he brought attention to you. “Yes, I do mind." ‘Leave. Let me see how long I can sit here until anyone approaches, let them be distracted by the wealth around them so they leave me be.’ Your brain, foot tapping the cobblestone.

He laughed, that swoon worthy smirk taking over his face. Warmth, an inviting aura radiated off of him, but you despised it at this moment. The audacity he had felt unmatched when he slid into the nook anyways. You'd met him less then a minute away and he was already being nothing less than cockily malicious. Although you shouldn't have been surprised, that's how people described him. Maybe the worst part was that some deep part of you said that it was okay, that it was right. Which was a ridiculous thought, it had barely been anytime at all.

“Do you scowl like that whenever people try to talk to you, honey?" Finnick took a bite out of whatever pastry he was holding, something extravagant, brushed with flakes of gold. He held it out, “You should try it, it's sweet like you're supposed to be."

You said nothing, if he was going to insist on being here then you certainly weren't going to reward his efforts. No, you weren't going to even look at him, your arms crossed as you kept tapping your foot. He'd get bored of you and leave eventually, if what they said was true he was bound to find someone sparklier to play with. Even if some part of you would've been okay being his shiny new toy, no that was ridiculous, however you could make the allowance that everyone had hormones so it was only natural to be feeling like this. Of course he'd be this way, the man who supposedly had no soulmate, who could play with as many hearts as he wanted because in the end there apparently was no one out there for him. What a sad existence. Thinking about it almost made you feel bad for him, but you couldn't feel that much pity when he was so close to leading the vultures right to you.

“They're gonna find you eventually, you can't hide out here forever." He was terrible, insufferable. You glowered at him and his smirk widened. “There's no point in being miserable when they're going to do this until the next games. Might as well make the most of it.” Then like he had the right to be the most entitled man in the world took the glass right out of your hand and took a drink. You hated it here, hated how people acted, that you had no one, and most of all hated the way it made you feel. Like he was the only person you should've ever paid attention to. “Didn't seem like you were gonna drink it, you can still have some if you change your mind." You didn't make a move to grab the glass, “Didn't think so." Damn him and his attitude, and his perfect teeth, and the way it made your soul feel fulfilled for some odd reason. Which was nothing less than outrageous since all he'd done in the past couple minutes was drive you up the wall. Then the voices of chatter outside got louder, ‘Shit, shit shit,’ you thought. His magnetism was going to guide them straight to you. He could seemingly tell that this put you on edge because he put a single finger on his lips, a ‘shhh.’ This only served to irk you more, of course you knew to be quiet, this was his fault.

Soon enough the voices began fading again and you were ever so grateful. “Get out." You muttered, burrowing yourself further into the corner.

“This is where I usually take my breathers, not my fault you found it too." He shrugged. How a person managed to look so perfect you'd never know and didn't want to if it made them act like him.

“You've taken more than enough breaths, so you can go now."

"Honey, being a victor is all about who you know. You need good connections or your reputation will eat you alive.”

You glared,"I'll make good connections when they finally find me, but not right now.”

He looked at you with pity, you despised that he felt the right to pity you, but it felt so nice for someone to finally look at you like you weren't in need of congratulations."It takes most of us a couple months to start hating the attention, the realization hit you quicker didn't it?” There was no way he expected you to open up to him, yes you wanted to, but you couldn't. Nobody could be trusted, that was the first lesson the arena really taught you. “Being standoffish isn't going to stop them, it'll only make them see you as a problem victor, and I promise you that's the last thing you want."

Your voice unintentionally softened,"What do you want?”

"To make sure you're gonna be okay, everyone needs someone backing their side in this arena.” This arena. A different, more social one, because you'd never be able to escape. For someone who ticked you off in every sense within a minute, just as fast he'd begun chipping away at your walls.

"You don't want to back my side.”

"Yeah, I do.” Your face was still stony, even if you felt like your stomach was less anxious about being caught and more butterflies. Of course the first man who gave you attention would make you nearly lose resolve. No, he had to want something, be playing some game.

"No one wants to bet on the losing dog.”

"Good thing you're not losing, honey. And believe it or not, maybe there's just something about you.”

"You don't know me.”

"I know and that's what's weird about it.” There was a crease forming on his furrowed brow. “Come on, you should go make an appearance."

There was no way to step back, but you tried. Heel pushing out of the shoe, but you made no move to push it back in. You were too defensive, as long as you could hide you would. “No." You shook your head.

He sighed, “You don't even have to be you, make up a persona, but you have to do something or things will get worse." No, you couldn't bear to let people peer into you, it was terrible that Finnick was even getting a taste of it. You'd only make them hate you more anyways, they'd only grow to realize it would've been better to have anyone but you. “I'll go with you, take the attention off." Maybe that would work, but then what might people think? That you were the type of person easily won over by charming looks and cocky smirks, maybe you were, but that wasn't the point.

However, you did let yourself contemplate it. You couldn't reasonably hide here all night, and his charisma could make up for what you lacked. Plus, even if you hated to admit it, if there was anyone you'd want to stick by you, to tell you everything would be alright, it would be him. It didn't make sense why you felt this way and you almost felt guilty for how crazy it made you sound. It was a miracle he even wanted to stick around when you were being so bitchy, but he was an ass, so it must have evened out.

“I don't need you to stick around me." You lied through your teeth, it was better than making him think that reliance was a vulnerability of yours. Even if it was. Even if it looked like he had the kind of arms you could cry into, you hadn't cried yet, but this was all so overwhelming it felt like you might.

Finnick looked a little wounded, but there was more pity. Like he knew you were biting to try and keep yourself safe, like you were still in survival mode. “I get it, if you change your mind, just look my way." Yet he stood still like he was waiting for you to move first, making sure you didn't just hide away the whole night. Which you would've, if it could become part of the wall you'd thank it for the opportunity. You stared back until finally the tension of the silence became so palpable that you forced yourself to move. Rather unceremoniously as you'd forgotten the way your heel was still sticking out of the shoe and tumbled right out of the rest of it.

“Fuck!" You quietly exclaimed and Finnick was quick to assist you. You wished he hadn't because the moment he touched you it was as if rays of sunlight were buzzing through your veins, like your soul was ascending.

“Oh, I got you!"

“I'm fine." You pushed him off, so the feeling would stop. It was awful, it was weird, there was no plausible reason you should feel like this. Unless…no that was ridiculous.

“Sorry." But sorry didn't make up for the residual waves of electricity, or the way your heart pounded. Or how terrible it was that you wanted to feel it again. "Here let me get your shoe.” Then his nice dress pants were on the dirty cobblestone and you felt bad thinking about how they could get ruined.

"It's okay-” But then he was pausing at your foot, and the sunlight in your blood was back even stronger as his fingers began tracing something on your foot.

"What's that?”

You tried to pull your foot away but his fingertips chased after it, "It's nothing, just the stupid soulmate scar." It wasn't stupid, never had been to you, but it was better to protect your feelings. Finnick laughed, “What?" You asked, finally pulling your foot completely away.

“Oh my god, I'm an idiot. Of course I wanted to talk to you." He kept laughing and then was abruptly pulling off his shoe.

“What are you doing?" He didn't respond as he finally pried the shoe off and the sock.

“Look, they're the same. Oh my god, I found you!" His laughter was certain to alert someone with the way it carried with the breeze, it should've annoyed you more than it did, but it was like music when it passed through your ears.

“What're you talking about?" He playfully rolled his eyes and then his hand was pulling you down on the ground with him. And despite the dirt that would get on your dress, the electric sunshine felt too good to pull away. So you sat in the pile of your dress on the ground and let him guide your feet together.

“Look at that, honey. Look at that." You would've asked what he wanted you to look at, but it quickly became obvious. Two scars, in the same place, the same size, you shared that scar with Finnick Odair. He, the Finnick Odair, who you'd just met and had already pushed you through an array of emotions, was your soulmate. The part of you that had been gnawing in the back of your brain was celebrating in ‘I told you so’s.’

“Oh.” You traced over them slowly, trying to let it sink in. Suddenly you had a soulmate, well you always had, but he was right there. Suddenly things would be alright, and maybe the universe wanted to spite you because you'd always imagined that was the person you'd finally have to open up to. Here he was, the man you'd been actively pushing away the help of.

"Is that a good, oh?” He asked and you felt bad for how you could feel a slight worry in his voice.

"I thought you didn't-”

"I lied, the nick on my foot was from swimming, and it helped the people who wanted to fawn over me. Almost convinced myself it was true though, but here you are.”

"What're you trying to do here?” You couldn't trust him, even if it felt right, even if he made your heart swell. No, this wasn't right, you were just you, and he was Finnick Odair.

Now though it was as if he could read you like a book, like all your guarded insecurities were on a display. It was a horrendous and gratifying experience to be known, to be perceived. "I'm not trying to do anything, honey, we're just meant to be. Not playing at anything, promise." So you sat there in the pile of fabric on the floor, cold stone giving you goosebumps as you stared at him. This was it, there was no need to be cautious because it was meant to be. Why would someone betray their own soulmate? He definitely didn't seem like the type.

“Okay." You finally exhaled and he smiled so wide that it made it worth it. Your walls have been somewhat successfully picked at because you let him embrace you. In fact, you let yourself relax in his arms.

“You're real, you're really real." He held you like you might slip away in a dream. “So pretty, so smart, and real!" He buried his head in your shoulder. It felt good to let someone care about you like this and it made you feel better about how instantly attracted you'd been. You'd probably look back and hate yourself for it, but you felt yourself crying. "Hey, hey, what's wrong, honey?”

You shook your head and he wiped one away, letting you hide in his chest. He was so warm, it felt so right, like the sunshine feeling would never go away. "You meant what you said earlier right? You'll stick by me?"

It felt so right when his hands traced up and down the back of your neck, “Of course, honey, won't leave your side. I got you."

God, this was embarrassing. "Sorry.” You pulled away and he shook his head.

"You're okay, don't worry, that's what this is for. We're here for each other.”

You nodded slowly, sinking into his deep eyes, you'd never seen the ocean, but you imagined that's what it would look like. "I should go make my appearance now.” Before you said another thing he had your shoe back on your foot and his on as well. Pulling you up to help you stand. "Promise to stay?" It felt pathetic, but also like he was the one you were supposed to turn to.

“Promise. I'll never leave your side, honey." Finnick squeezed your hand and maybe you could now face the world. The universe had gifted you, at your lowest point, your soulmate in a matter of minutes. Someone who could already seemingly read you like a book and made your heart beat like there was a racket happening, and you knew that you'd finally be able to just truly be you with someone. Through thick and thin, through the highest highs and lowest lows, suddenly you knew you had each other.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

thank you so much for reading, I tried to make this fluffy but honestly it's kind of a struggle so I hope it's up to standard. as always if you enjoyed feedback, comments, reblogs, likes, are all very, very appreciated. asks and requests are both open and I love you all 💋

@wowzabowza69

#wanda 💋#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x y/n #finnick odair #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair angst #finnick odair x reader fluff #finnick odair x you #finnick odair fanfic #finnick fanfic #finnick imagine #finnick x reader #finnick odair imagine #finnick x you #finnick x y/n

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the-modern-typewriter · 1 year

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Hey there! Do you mind writing a snippet about a captured hero in a I-have-you-now-my-pretty situation by a dominating seductive villain? And can you make it very dark please? Thank you so much and I absolutely love your writing!

"There now, isn't this much better?" the villain murmured, stroking their fingers through the hero's damp hair. "You're so pretty beneath all the grime and the blood."

"I prefer the grime and the blood."

"I might also prefer you nice and quiet. Consider that."

"Oh," the hero's eyes darkened, "no doubt. What's more attractive than your prey being forced docile, unable to fight back?"

The villain raised a brow, in the reflection of the mirror. "You. Trying to fight me. Failing."

The hero felt bile claw up their throat at that. They resisted the urge to swallow, to tense; it wouldn't do them any good, and it would probably only serve to delight the creep.

The villain seemed to catch it anyway, because they smiled.

"I do like your spirit," the villain mused. They continued to stroke through the hero's hair, carefully and diligently untangling every knots and snarl. "You're beautiful when you're angry. Defiant. You get this fiery, helpless look in your eyes. The blush is also very becoming. So, you see...it wouldn't be half as fun if you didn't try to fight back."

The hero studied them, trying to decide if that was reverse psychology. They might have preferred it if it was reverse psychology.

The villain laughed, softly, at whatever expression they saw on the hero's face.

The hero jerked their head away. It felt good for all of three seconds before the villain reeled them back in with a much harder yank, making the hero's breath catch. They pulled the hero's head back against the chair, baring their throat.

Perhaps as punishment for moving, or perhaps simply because they could, the villain leaned down over their shoulder to press a kiss to the hero's throat. It looked positively vampiric in the glass. The hero half expected teeth. They hated that they shivered. They hated that they couldn't look away, in the spirit of car crashes, natural disasters and other terrible fascinating things.

The villain's smile edged a fraction sharper, a fraction smugger. They held the hero's eyes as they trailed more kisses along the hero's neck, across their racing pulse, until the hero was taut.

"Go on," the villain whispered. "Tell me not to touch you again. Dealer's choice on if you try a threat, command or plea."

"I think I might prefer me nice and quiet."

"Mm." The villain straightened. They turned their attention to the hero's appearance again, considering. "I knew you liked me too."

"That's not - I don't -"

The villain's smile turned positively wolfish.

The hero snarled; too frustrated for words, too...well. Too many things. Frustrated was the best pick. Better than fear, sinking and entirely too helpless.

The annoying thing was that it did feel better to be clean, with their wounds tended. It simply didn't feel better to have had the villain force them into a bath and out of their own clothes. It was like having their identity, their resistance, scrubbed away alongside the dirt. Dressed in the villain's clothes, with the villain's scent clinging to their skin, it was impossible to forget where they were for even a moment.

It was impossible to forget who the villain thought they belonged to.

There were times when the villain could be charming, seductive. When they first met the hero had even been flattered. The problem was that, after the seduction and shiny polish of it all had worn off, it was perfectly obvious that the villain didn't actually care if the hero was seduced or not. It was a preference - not a requirement. The villain would do as they pleased regardless.

Hopefully, the hero's friends would get there soon.

(They had to get there soon, right?)

"So pretty," the villain murmured once more. "And all mine. Let's go show you off, shall we?"

"I'm not yours." The hero had to say it. Even when they knew it was a trap, even when their voice came out hoarse, they had to say.

The villain laughed again, and swivelled the chair around so that they were facing each other. They smoothed their hands down the hero's trembling thighs. Then, their expression turned cold, as absolute as an old black-and-white fairytale, as unstoppable a death. They leaned in.

"Oh, darling. By the time I'm done with you tonight, you will be."

#heroes and villains #villains and heroes #villains #heroes #writing #story #story snippet #writing snippet #creepy villain #creative writing #fic #ficlet #captured hero

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dragonmuse · 10 months

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How to be a Dirtbag Fic Writer

I got to do some talking about writing today and I couldn’t stop thinking about it so here are my full thoughts on the matter of being a dirtbag fic writer.

Being the disorganized thoughts of someone two and a half decades into the beautiful mess that is writing fanfic (and a few non-fanfic things too).

What is a dirtbag fic writer?

I am talking about someone who is not cleaning up anything. We show up filthy, fresh out of rooting around in the garden of our imaginations. We probably smell a little from work. We will hand you our hard grown fruits, but we have not washed them and we carried them in the bottom upturned parts of our t-shirts. The fruit is a little bruised. It’s not cut up or put in a bowl yet. But we got it in the house! It’s here. Someone can eat it.

Why dirtbag it? Because the fruit gets in the house. If you’re hemming and hawing, if the idea you want to do seems to be big or you want it perfect and shiny. If you’re imagining a ten thousand step process, so you’re not taking the first step? Dirtbag it.

How do I dirtbag?

That’s the best part. You just write. Sit down. One word after the other. No outline, no plan, no destination. No thought of editing. Just word vomit. Every word is a good word. It’a word that wasn’t there before. Grammar sucks? Who cares. Can’t think of the perfect word? Fuck it, put in the simplest version of what you mean.

Write the idea that you love. The one thing you want to say. Has it been done 3000000 times? WHO CARES human history is long, every idea has been done, probably more than twice. YOU have never written it before. It’s your grubby potato that you clawed out of the ground and guess what someone can still make it into delicious french fries.

Now here’s the critical part. Write as much as you can squeeze out of your brain. One word in front of the other.

And then I challenge you this: at most, read it over once and then put it into the world. Just as it is. AND THIS IS IMPORTANT: DO IT WITHOUT APOLOGY OR CAVEAT. I challenge you, beautiful dirtbag to not pre-emptively apologize. Do not make your work lesser. THAT IS YOUR POTATO! It has eyes and roots and dirt clinging to it because that is what happens. We are dirtbagging it today. Hell really confused people at do #dirtbagwriter on it.

Dirtbag writes id, base, lizard brain. Dig in the fertile garden of your imagination. What is the story you tell yourself before you fall asleep? What’s your anxiety this week? Your fantasy? What is going well? What do you wish things looked like? Who is the feral imaginary character you’ve been crafting to take your frustrations and joys out on?

But, VEE, I wish to have an editor and an outline, use a cool software like scrivener instead of retching up onto a google doc and making it look NICE and PRETTY!

COOL! DO THAT THEN! IF YOU’RE ACTUALLY DOING IT! You should have a process! That’s cool and healthy and necessary for sustainable writing. But if you’re not writing because all of that seems too much? THEN DON’T.

Did you know fic is free? That we do this from love? From sheer desire? For the love of the game? If you have a process, and the words are flowing, amazing, I love that for you, you don’t need this essay. If you don’t, let us continue.

What does dirtbag writing look like?

It’s messy. It’s a little raw and tatty around the edges sometimes. It’s weird. It’s someone else’s first draft. Maybe it winds up being your first draft, Idek, that’s your business.

It’s jokes that make YOU laugh. It’s drama that would make YOU cry if you read it. You are your first commenter. You are your first audience (and possibly continuing pleasure! If you don’t go back and reread your own work sometimes, you might be missing out on one of your favorite authors cause you wrote it for you! Wait until you’re not so close to it. Years sometimes. Then hey, maybe some of this is pretty dang good actually.)

It has mistakes.

Dirtbags make mistakes, but dirtbags have published pieces. They have things other people can read out there.

What if I don’t get good feedback?

Look, the most likely outcome of any new, untried fic writer (and even established writers trying something new-ish) is that you get no feedback. That’s real. Silence. It’s eerie, it’s terrible, it sucks. I don’t want to pretend it doesn’t. But nothing is not negative. It’s a big fic-y ocean out there and we are all wee itty-bitty-sometimes-with-titty fishes.

You should still do it all over again. And again. And again. You get better at writing by writing. You just do. Nothing else replaces it. If your well is dry? Fill it with new things. Go do something new, read a new kind of book, watch a new film, (libraries have so much good shit, you don’t even have to spend money for so many things if you have a library card), just go for a walk in a new direction. Stimulate yourself. Got a cup of something hot and eavesdrop on conversations. Refill yourself with newness.

And hey, speaking of, do you leave comments? Because you get what you give. You can build relationships with people by commenting and that builds community and community means places to get feedback in the end. Comments are gold. They are all we are paid in. Tip your writers with ‘extra kudos’ or ‘this made me laugh’. And hey, when you go back for a re-read so you can tell them your favorite part? Ask yourself how they made that favorite part? What do you like about it? Tone? Metaphor? The structure? Reading teaches us how to write too!

BUT, okay. Sometimes. Sometimes there is actual bad feedback and people suck.

You know the best part about being a dirtbag? Unrepentant block, delete, goodbye. You don’t own anyone with a shitty opinion any of your precious time on this earth. You did it for free, you gave them your dirty, but still delicious fruit and they went ‘ew, this is a dirty strawberry, how could you not make a clean tomato?” Because you didn’t plant fucking tomatoes, did you? Don’t fight, don’t engage. Block. Delete. Goodbye.

If someone in person, looked you in the eye when you brought them a plate of food to share at a party and they said “Why didn’t you bring me MY favorite? This isn’t cooked well at all.” You would probably write up a Reddit AiTA question about it just to hear five thousand people say they were an asshole. Fic is no different

And hey, when you dirtbag it? You know you did. It’s not your most cleaned up perfect version. So who cares what they think? You might make it more shiny and polished next time! You might NOT.

Ok, but what if I don’t finish it?

Fuck it, post it anyway.

What if it’s bad?

Fuck it, post it anyway.

What if it doesn’t make sense?

That’s ART, baby. Fuck it, post it anyway.

What if what I want to write doesn’t work with current fandom norms?

Then someone out there probably needs it! And what the hell is this? The western canon? FUCK IT POST IT ANYWAY*

*Basic human decency is not a ‘fandom norm’. Don’t be racist, sexist, ableist, fat shaming, classist or shitty about anyone's identity on main, okay? Dirtbag writers are KIND first and foremost. Someone saying you are stepping into shit about their identity is not the same as unsolicited crappy feedback about pairings. In the immortal words of Kurt Vonnegut: "God damn it, you've got to be kind.”

You’re being very flippant about something that’s scary.

I know. I know I am. I know it can be scary. But no risk, no reward and hell, you aren’t using your goddamn legal name on the internet are you? (please for the love of fuck do not be using your legal name to write fic) You’ve got on a mask. You’re a superhero. With dirt on your cape.

That niche thing that you think no one cares about? Guaranteed you will find someone else in the world who wants it. Maybe they won’t find it right away. Maybe they will be too shy to comment or even hit a button. But your dirty potato will stick with them. They will make french fries in their head.

You have an audience. But they can’t find you if you have nothing out there.

Go forth. Make.

You have some errors in this essay.

PROBABLY CAUSE I DIRTBAGGED IT. But I picked this strawberry for you out of my brain, so I hope you run it under some cold water and find the good bits and have a nice snack. Or throw it away. Or use it to plant more strawberries (I know that’s not how strawberries work, metaphors break when stretched).

#dirtbagwriter

Go forth and MAKE

#writing #i'm not an expert #I just have been doing this a long time #and these are my feels #please feel free to throw away this strawberry

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dev1lm4n · 8 months

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sinful reunion

masterlist | ko-fi (help me survive college :/)

pairing: engaged!joel miller x f!reader

summary: frustrated with how things were, you left joel and jackson for a whole year. today, you decide to give him a little visit and figure out that he's indeed engaged! joel trapped you in his bathroom to make you feel better

word count: 5k

warnings: explicit (18+), extreme dubcon, mean joel miller, fingering, infidelity, again.. joel miller is a mean, mean man.

note: do COMMENT and REBLOG if you enjoyed this :) i'm so exhausted from college i'm literally gonna pass out after i post this

Spring flew swiftly by, and summer came; and if the quaint city had been beautiful at first, it was now in the full glow and luxuriance of its richness. The great trees, which you remembered looking shrunken and bare when you left, had now burst into strong life and health. Branches doubled in length and girth, mantle of bright green draped over deep browns. Masses of white flowers brought memories of the late winter. A bubbling cloud of hot steam evaporated off your exposed forearm. The rolled sleeves settling right above your elbow was damp with sweat, same thing goes for below your arms and between your thighs. You sighed. The folded porno magazine you’ve been using as a shield above your forehead didn’t help much after all.

If it’s not for that old, obscene, grouch of a man, you wouldn’t have returned in the height of summer.

Things hadn’t changed much.

People are still as hopeful as ever. Their eyes shone with a renewed brightness, as if a full stomach and a roof over their head was simply enough to keep them satiated. They still bake apple pies, shovel their walkways, go to work (even if it's not to the infamous Wall Street), return home and share a familiar tequila with a friend or fiend. People are still people. And the pretend normalcy drove you insane. It’s confining and overall suffocating.

Being safe ailed you. You couldn’t be that lady in old commercials. Plaid apron over her chest, sandwiches on the table, husband and kid smiling at her happily. You couldn’t kiss your husband goodbye or craft lunch boxes for your kid. You couldn’t live if it wasn’t on the edge of death.

You tried. For Joel, you swore you’d try.

It’s been a full year since you fled. Maxine, your dear horse being the only witness to your escape. That and the night guard you threatened with a shotgun, an unloaded one you’d argue, but it’d still have you in big trouble if it was reported. With a few old friends or two, you managed to slip back in discreetly. You disguised yourself as a patrol unit. Practical jeans, some stitches torn apart from prolonged use, and a khaki button up. Boots that’s dipped in dust and dirt tight around your calves, a bold contrast to the neat wooden boards underneath. Your eyes landed on the welcome mat in front of his door. A shrilling memory invaded your head‒ how you picked it out for him, all smiles and giggles at the corny line printed atop.

You stepped on the mat, mocking it by grinding your dirty heel atop.

Then you knocked. Precisely three times.

Maybe you shouldn’t have come. It was shameless of you to return. Cruel, even.. disgusting for you to abandon someone who’s clearly dependent on you.

He lived for you. Every morning he made sure to wake you up with a gentle kiss on your lips, or your clit if he’s being kind. Every night he’d always tell you how much you meant to him, never an I love you, but always in the lines of dangerous situations and how he’d save you from it. You made a promise to stay. A promise to accept a ring around your pretty fingers when the time comes; doesn’t have to be shiny, you said, anything will do. But then you left. While he was out, keeping the city safe from any potential threats, you buckled up and tugged on your horse’s reins. Maybe you shouldn’t have come. Maybe you should just-

You jolted, even stumbled backwards when the large door swung open in one grand movement.

In panic, your eyes oscillated. His eyes were the same shade of brown you remembered him by, though this time it was much rounder, as if he’s truly surprised. Then it came to meet his hooked nose, the one you’d poke everytime you’re laid side by side post-coitus,. And his cracked lips, oh how you remembered kissing them better.

Joel Miller hadn’t changed one bit. It freaked you out, how he looked the same as he did when he practically proposed to you or when you promised to still love him even when he’s no longer young and strong. Your breath quickened. Your heart froze, cold sweat dribbled down your temple even when the air’s hot and balmy. You clutched onto the rolled magazine. The salacious pages of nude girls in cowboy hats creased at the strength of your bare hands. Is he going to say something? Anything? You’d rather have him furious than silent.

“Who is it, honey?”

The air thinned.

“The turkey’s cooked, but it’s kinda burnt.” The voice giggled. “Oh, who is this?”

You counted to ten to ground yourself.

One.. Two..

“Just.. just an old friend,” he muttered.

There was a girl. A pretty one at that, standing on her tippy toes as she attempted to look past Joel’s broad frame to observe you. Her tanned skin glowed like a newly polished silverware under the summer sun. A cascade of glossy, ebony hair framed her round face, falling in gentle waves which closely resembled swaying palm trees in coastal beaches. You noticed that it was adorned with delicate, ornate hairpins as well. One of flowers and the other of a classic shape. Was it from him? He used to do that for you, picking up small items to gift like a bird in need of mating. The thin gold strap around your neck was from him, a gift from when the two of you were still operating high-risk jobs around Boston. A proof that you’re mine, he spoke that time.

Joel made the conscious decision to move to the side. Now you could see her more. How she’s cladded in a loose shirt with short sleeves rolled to her shoulders, how her shorts fit perfectly around her smooth thighs, how her supple breasts spilled out of the neckline. In any way you’d think of it, she was the better option. A masterpiece in the Louvre museum, a best-selling New York Times book. She’d be a model if the world wasn’t infested with flesh-eating nuisance. Your head lowered (you’re staring too much!), opting to scrutinize the details of your boots’ mud yellow strings.

This was a bad decision. You shouldn’t have come. If only you weren’t curious of whether he’d get on his knees and beg for you to stay. If only you weren’t curious of whether he’d embrace you back in his large arms. If he’d fuck you ‘til your little brain stop working.

“Well then, what are you waiting for?” The feminine voice spoke up. “Invite your friend in, Joel.”

“No- haha, no it’s alright,” you panicked.

“No,” she reached for your hand. The free one, not the one with the porn magazine. “Com’on. I cooked a big dinner tonight! The more, the merrier.”

“I really shouldn’t,” you tried to convince her.

Her soft, greasy hands ‒ probably from stuffing the turkey she’s claimed to make ‒ led you through the entrance despite your many reasons. You found it a little funny that you still memorized the layout of Joel’s house like the back of your hand, like an old corny song you couldn’t quite get out of your head. The dining room was to the left, you remembered. It was just as you left it. An old, dull rectangular table sat in the middle. It used to be only filled with bread and fruits you pick up from the market. Sometimes you’re diligent enough to create a sweet jam, but there was never a fresh meal on the table. There’s no time for that. He would often times heat up a can of Chef Boyardee when you’re sick, or when he’s ruined your little hole so much that you’re pretty much bedridden, but that’s about it/

“Your name is?” you questioned, eyes still roaming around the room.

“Summer and yours?”

You mentioned your name half-mindedly as you sat down on one of the creaky chairs. You opted for the one on the left, your favorite one as it always gave you a five-star view of the lovely trees beyond. The room was much cleaner, curtains drawn and ceilings dusted. You’d even bet money that ‘Summer’ had also dusted all the compartments of the chandelier, wiped each and every window panel, and vacuumed the rotten patterned carpet underneath. The rounds of your pupils settled back on the sight unfolding ahead of you; how the Joel Miller, the same person who needed an entire year or two to be comfortable in expressing his feelings to you, led his new lover by the waist. He then proceeded to pull her chair back to aid her, a gentle smile on his face at all times.

He changed.

He looked exactly the same, but there was just.. something off about him. Was he a doppelganger by chance? Joel Miller is never warm. He’s naturally a tough lover. Reluctant, even mean at times, but right now he’s acting like the picture-perfect husband. A righteous man, which you knew he ain’t.

“So where’d y’all know each other from?”

Her lovely, cheery voice pulled you out of your dazed state. You raised your head slightly to flash a small smile her way. The chair creaked once more at Joel’s weight as he settled on your right, heavy frame and all extremely obvious from the corner of your eyes. A man, his lover, and his sort-of-ex having dinner in the late afternoon of a warm summer day‒ how ironic! You couldn’t even look at him, because sparing him a glance meant that you had to look at those manipulative eyes of his. Those browns that could impose a certain feeling deep in your chest, whether hatred, fear, or something close to love.

“Work,” he spoke up, “used to deliver packets.”

Half the truth. Packets? Sure, but not ordinary ones.

“Mhm. We arrived at Jackson together.”

As lovers, you’d like to add.

“Long time friends then?” Summer beamed a sweet smile your way.

Guilt pooled in your stomach almost instantly.

“Yup.”

“Oh well, me and Joel met last Winter. He’s fond of the horses and I work at the stables so things worked out,” she mentioned dreamily, “the winter festival’s our first date.”

An eerie tension stood between you and him. It was thick, as thick as blood and as nasty as pus on a wound left unattended.

He stood up after a moment or two to help slice open the thick turkey and only then did you dare to look at him. To ogle at his large forearms that’s tightly gift-wrapped in a thin breathable shirt, to dig deep into where his veins start and where it ends, to finally relish in the sight of his thick, bushy hair. It’s been awhile. A long time actually since you get to properly look at a man. You continued to watch as he sliced a chunk and placed it right on top of your empty plate, the knife he’s holding reflecting his tight-lipped smile your way. The winter festival’s supposed to be your thing. The two of you’s thing, where you’d gift each other a surprise and smoke a blunt or two and maybe fuck, but you left.

“That’s nice,” you replied, albeit a little dry.

“He’s a nice man,” Summer chimed in. “Kind, caring, a true Southern gentleman that is.”

You could argue on that.

“Is he now?”

“True thing that is. Swear on my life,” she continued. “Must be nice having him as a friend.”

“Well, don’t toot my horn too much, darlin’.”

There it was. That masculine drawl. That voice that’d have you begging on your knees if he asked you to. You’d commit the greatest crime‒ no, you’ve commit notable crimes just to have him stay right by your side. Just to have him acknowledge what you’re capable of, so he’d take you under his wings in the depth of Boston’s trenches, because protection from him meant a good life. Maybe that’s all you’ll ever be to him, a little bird to protect. And maybe that’s all he’ll ever be to you, a protector in times of need.

“It’s a little warm here in Jackson,” you chuckled. “A cold beer might help a lot.”

“Oh sorry, honey, we don’t drink alcohol ‘round here.” She sounded apologetic, but you swore her almond eyes were judging you for a second.

“You don’t?”

“Nope,” Summer leaned her head to the side. “Been going to church these days. Pastor said it’s better to pray than indulge in past addictions. Ain’t that right, Joel?”

“That’s right, honey,”

Joel Miller is a church-goer now? For the first time in forever, you had the courage to look him in the eye. He was looking right back at you when you looked, though he had one of those expressions you couldn’t quite decipher. His tired eyes were hooded, enough that the top and bottom curve of his dark pupils are nowhere to be seen, along with a much obvious glint of mischief. It was either morbid curiosity, rooted hatred, or desires of past addictions as Summer puts it. The strands on your brow bone twitched ever so slightly, as if in pure disbelief that a man like him would kneel for a God. It’s not that sinners couldn’t repent. It’s him that you knew could never change. You took a bite out of the supple meat, never leaving his eyes as you do so. Maybe.. just maybe he’d crack under pressure.

“You go to church too?” Summer questioned, mouth full of boiled asparagus.

“No, not really.” You chuckled awkwardly. “There’s not a lot of churches out in the wild.”

“Ah, that’s right,” she hummed. “Why don’t you go to church with us this Sunday? A lot of fun y'know.”

You plastered on a smile, before briefly scooping some of the stringy meat up your mouth.

“I’ll consider it.”

Joel was the first one to snip the ungodly attraction‒ his eyes torn away to meet Summer’s much brighter gaze. Your gut tightened, gag reflex emphasized even more at the sight. Joel Miller was yours, that’s all you could remember despite the extent you took to avoid him, and having him give his precious attention to someone other than you brought a sense of disdain. He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn't land his eyes on anyone other than you, weren’t you the best thing he ever had? It took awhile to school your expression to a level of believable nonchalance. You found the vintage canvas hung atop of the fireplace a great help in distracting yourself. It’s easy to get lost in every stroke, every clash of colors, instead of the green man squeezing himself between your heart chambers.

“Oh, when did you-” you paused mid sentence.

A ring.

“Ah.”

Your vision blurred, splotches of red and blue tearing at the edges.

“Engaged, huh?”

A solitary engagement ring encircled her long finger, miraculously preserved by time’s embrace. A relic at times like these. You watched as it glimmered under the orange hues, jaw propped up on your palm to stop it from gaping. A small, radiant stone set in tarnished silver‒ the object mocked you silently, a red flag in front of an agitated bull, it’s purposefully making you reel into the depth of your hatred. Where the you one year ago rested in peace, where the you you’ve been trying to erase off the planet’s surface hibernated, and everything’s starting to resurface all at once. The need. The desperation. The desire to be wanted by something.. someone you couldn’t acquire entirely. You laughed. A dry one at that. Might even sound condescending if it were a tad bit shorter.

He fucking proposed to her.

Of course he did.

Of course he had to change his ways after you.

You don’t deserve being treated right. She does.

“Oh, you noticed,” she giggled, the noise shrill in your ears. “Just last month actually. We were having dinner and I-”

“Sorry, I..”

You were suffocating, chest inflated twice the size.

“Feel a little sick. Gonna go to..” you held your hand over your lips, genuinely feeling like emptying your entire stomach. “To the bathroom.”

You stared at your own reflection, pitiful, glazed with a layer of disappointment and grief. The vision you had for this visit slowly crumbled. Every unfulfilled dream, every missed opportunity, and every question left unanswered converged into a heartache‒ dull yet throbbing, coursing through every inch of your skin and crawling much deeper. The laughter and conversations you had with him seemed so.. distant, as if they were mere echoes of what once existed a million lightyears ago. You held yourself, worn down fingers clinging on your forearms, nails digging down onto the warm skin underneath. What were you expecting? For him to mourn your exit for the rest of his life? Perhaps. Joel Miller was great at making you feel like shit, but today takes the cake.

Leaving was the only thing on your mind and so you gripped the rusty door handle. A quick exit, you knew you were good at that. Though instead of a brightly lighted hallway, your chest collided with a tough chest wrapped in a flannel shirt. A sandalwood, musky flannel shirt you might add and all those plans you had in mind dwindled down like a damp paper airplane. Plan A, B, and C were quickly crossed out on the chalkboard. Frozen, your lips trembled in fear. You stumbled backwards. Boots thudding against the old tiles, you’re afraid. Chest inflated with fear, you’re terrified!

“Move, Joel.”

Silence.

“Fucking move. Get out of my way.”

You threw quick, meaningless punches on the broad of his chest. It did nothing but made him get bolder with his actions. He took a step back, which you’re grateful for, but not when you realize that it was to lean back against the bathroom’s door. You’ve come a long way from how meek and helpless you were in the QZ, managing to survive the scary outside world for a whole year and keeping all your limbs attached, but you knew that you’d never manage to budge his weight. He was heavy. Used to be a massive ball of muscles, though now slightly worn down by his age. Joel threw you a look. A dirty, demeaning one that’s always been reserved for you. Only you.

“Fuckin' hell are you deaf?”

You bubbled up.

“Fuck you and your little play house. Going to church? Should repent the many souls you took yourself,” you seethed. “You’re just a big asshole on legs y’know that? Now fuck off. It’s a fucking mistake coming to see you.”

You stormed his way. Big mistake. He took you by the shoulder. Rough fingers dug deep into where your bone sits, his knee quick to slot itself between your legs. He was quick to switch the dynamic, to be the offensive one instead as he had you pinned on the wall. The frail wooden bathroom door creaked at the contact, its hinges banging against one another. You looked like one of those dead butterfly displays, spread out forcefully to show your entire potential. Was he going to murder you? Was he going to bang your head against the mirror and leave you there to bleed? He looked like it. With those blown out pupils, you're not even sure if he’s going to keep you alive or dead. If he's going to finally end your misery at last.

“You’re gonna kill me?” You tried to shove his chest back, but it’s no use. “Gonna choke me to death?”

“No!” The grip he had on your shoulder never once loosened, even at your viscous accusations. “You really think I’d kill you?”

“I don’t know.” Your eyebrows sunken in sorrow.

“You don’t know?””

“You’re not the man I once knew, Joel.”

“I’m-”

“I don’t know you anymore! You’re not the same.” Your feet tried to tackle his legs, a move he taught, but he stayed unbudged. “You’re kind, attentive.. you’re there, Joel. You’re present in time. You’re never present with me.”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh fuck off, Joel. You’re not gonna gaslight me.”

That had him briefly loosening the grip around your shoulders. You were quickly met with his cold finger tips, grazing the soft skin of your cheeks, only to settle on your cracked, bloody bottom lip. In a haze, you’re unprepared for the hand slithering its way onto your throat. It squeezed tight enough to impede your airway for a brief second or two, only to loosened when your eyes grew teary. You gasped for air immediately.

“You left!”

“You proposed to her!”

His expression toughened. The Joel Miller you knew was back. The cruel one with tendencies to abandon, to be hollow of true meaningful feelings, and he was inching closer. His soft scruff brushed against the tip of your ears. Warm puffs of air made you turn your head to the side, avoiding his serpent-like hold. He's quick to guide you by your jaw when you start straying off.

“Didn’t know if you’re alive or dead.”

“Oh I bet you’d be enthralled if I were dead,” you chuckled humorlessly. “You hated me, Joel.”

“I was worried,” he continued, ignoring your comments entirely.

He placed a gentle kiss on your temple, slow and steady as if you’d vanish into dust once more if he was too rough, and proceeded to smother sloppy kisses down your cheek and onto your neck. It glided like warm butter or sunscreen on a beach day. Joel never forgot the way in which you enjoyed getting those sweet spots below your jaw sucked, a mark to show his claim over you, to show his ownership even if you had to drape a shawl over it every time you had to shop for groceries or go on patrols. You weren’t as pretty and prim today though. You were untamed, always attempting to pull yourself away from him, to avoid his rough fingers and needle-like beard.

“Went on a search team every day for a whole month,” he hummed. “What if my sweetheart’s bleeding out in the midst of winter? Low visibility and endless snowstorms. What if you’re shot dead or worse, turned into one of those creatures?”

“But you’re a smart little minx, ain’t ya?” he huffed, his fingers gentle as it slowly popped the buttons to your shirt. His musky scent infiltrated your head. You’re drunk on him. “Threw a tantrum so big you disappeared on me.”

“No, Joel, we- we can’t,” you forced those words out, even when your soft breasts were spilled out of your chest. Those sensitive peaks were already stiff, you’d lie and say it’s simply because of the cold, but there’s no such thing. “Can’t- you’re en- engaged..”

He toyed with your nipples, squeezing and tugging on the right one before giving the same attention to the left. His eyes were dark, pupils dilated as he swirled around the sensitive skin with his coarse fingers. Your breath hitched and your chest spasmed. Every inch of morality left your headspace at the twinge of pleasure, your knees grew weak and he had to prop you up against his strong shoulders to aid you.

“You’re cheatin- oh fuck..”

“I am, huh?” he chuckled lowly. “You don’t want this then? Want me to leave?”

“No! No, please please,” you begged as his fingers carefully began to undo the stiff belt around your waist. He tugged on your zippers, tortuously, slowly unraveling the pretty skin he’s been missing so goddamn much. “I need you..”

“Needy minx,” he insulted teasingly. “Shameless, aren’t ya? Didn’t ya just say ya hate me?”

You whimpered. This shouldn’t be happening. This wasn’t in any of the plans you’ve concocted, it was just pure desire. He felt sinfully good. So warm and firm against your body, so strong and dependable. His shoulder proved to be the perfect place to bury your head into, muffling out the noises you’re prone to make when he shoved his entire palm down your panties. Joel Miller didn’t tolerate the misdemeanor. The hand he had around your neck tightened ever so slightly, before he abruptly pushed you back onto the wooden door. The hard material thudded against your back, resulting in a soft, breathless whine for more. He might be a mean, mean man for afflicting such things, but you’re even more insane for tolerating it.

“Ah, look at you,” he hummed, fingers tapping slow beats onto the hood of your clitoris. “No one fucked you good enough out there.”

You shook your head no. Annoyed, Joel slid his index and middle finger down onto your slit. He cumulated the slickness gathered around your pathetic little hole, before he slid it back up to tease. Up and down. Up and down. Then a full circle. The motion left you breathless, thighs bucking up against his hand, but he’d give you a light slap on the thigh if that happens.

“Oh.. you haven’t fucked anyone else out there?” he cocked his head arrogantly. “Dunno if I can believe a pretty girl like you. After all..”

He had the audacity to slip his finger in. A whole knuckle down your entrance, which is much more than you anticipated. Almost instantly, a sticky clear substance started dribbling out, gushing all around the foreign object infiltrating your cunt. It’s been so long, far too long that you kept yourself untouched. You could basically be categorized as a virgin again at this point. It wasn’t a deliberate decision, it’s just that no one turned you on this much. No one could shove their fingers inside you without getting their head blown off. No one but him.

“You’re not the girl I once knew.”

He turned your little insults right back at you. A single tear dribbled down your warm cheeks, hot and invasive, your fragile heart torn into two and stomped on the ground. Joel retaliated by pressing his lips right onto yours. Starting out soft and smooth, gentle and reverent, as if it was his way of apologizing and professing his undying love for you, but then it grew rougher and unrecognizable. A clash of teeth, a vicious fight for dominance. You had to put up a little fight, show him the kind of girl you’ve turned into, but when he eased a second finger down the tight rings of your cunt, it’s all over. You squirmed, desperately grinding down against his rough palm.

“Fuck me!”

“What was that?”

“Fuck me, Jo-”

A knock.

Your eyes blew wide open. The soft fluorescent lights flickered above, casting an eerie shadow that danced across Joel’s expression. You let out a soft whimper, eyes pressed into a crescent shape as you felt the need to cry out of fear and guilt, a sobering shot that made you realize how wrong this was. How disgusting this is. Immoral. Even when he was still three knuckles deep inside your pussy, even when you knew you couldn’t push him away. Your knuckles grew white as it clung onto the fabric of his flannel. He didn’t pay any mind to the interruption, instead, he continued to thrust his dripping fingers in, reaching around to find that squishy spot of yours. The one that’d send stars onto your vision.

“Are you okay in there? I didn’t know why you got sick..”

The muffled voice strengthened the guess you had in your head. It’s Summer, the girl with the engagement band around her fingers, the girl who’s supposed to have his two fingers deep inside her cunt. Your heart raced like a wild stallion, thunderous beats resonating in your ears. A small moan barged its way out your lips when he pressed on your clit once more with his thumb, he quickly guided your jaw back to face him with his free hand. Joel’s expression hardened, brows furrowed and lips pressed into a tight-line, then his mouth contorted into shapes. A wordless order to stay quiet and respond accordingly. You nodded, bottom lip slotted between your teeths.

“Was it the turkey I cooked? Oh god.. it’s my first time cookin’ in. I didn’t know that it’d be terrible. I’m so sorry, do you need some help in there? I can-”

“No.. oh! No.. no.. I’m fi- aaagh- fine.”

Your eyes darted around the small space, looking for any means to escape, but the solitary window was far too small to be of any use. Panic had seized you, but Joel’s fingers brought you back where he needed you to be. On the edge of an orgasm that you knew was going to melt your brain and make you go dumb.

“Really? You don’t sound too good.. I could maybe cook you up a remedy.. Oh, or we can go to the infirmary together? Just I don’t-”

“No.. ooh. Summer, I’m- shit- Summer, I’m fine.”

“Oh.. okay then. I’ll be waiting outside. Um, do you maybe know where Joel is? Kinda wanna see if he has some meds for you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you tried to navigate your way to release. The thumb he had on your clitoris started rubbing faster, tighter circles, leaving you on the very edge of a dangerous cliff.

“Dunno- oh fuck.”

He’s in there with you for fucks sake. Her fiancé’s here fingerfucking you!

“Gonna cum,” you muttered out a little too loud.

“What was that?”

“Gonna.. mmph.. Gonna come out so- sooghn.”

Your knees buckled, for once he allowed it, and you buried your face onto the crook of his neck. His fingers continued to thrust in the perfect rhythm, fucking back in the arousal that’s slowly dripping down. You weren’t shy in grinding back down onto his palm, neither were you shy when you came all over his fingers, the remnants left in an embarrassing pool down your trousers. His thumb tickled your clitoris, making sure the sensitive nub deserved all the pleasure it could get as he watched you crumble. Everything was just how you remembered it. Sinful, warm, and helpless.

“Okay.. I’ll go look for Joel in the backyard shed!”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller tlou #joel miller #tlou x reader #tlou fic #tw dubcon

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thecattishdragon · 3 months

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I'm just gonna... -dumps all of my N headcanons-

- Pansexual

- Adhd & Autism

- 20 years old

- Born/created on April 22nd

- Height: 6’6

- Ptsd, scared of loud noises

- Likes carrying Uzi around. Mostly does it when she’s tired or feeling sad.

- Knows a lot about many animals, not just dogs. Often randomly brings up facts about animals during conversation.

- Has dents and scratches from J and V. Most of them are covered by his coat, so nearly nobody knows.

- Collects random things he finds interesting. Stickers, Books, Rocks he finds cool, and various shiny things are some of the things he collects the most. He gives shiny things, cool rocks, etc. to Uzi :>

- Rubs his claws together and taps them on things to stim

- Curls his tail around himself holds it in his hands when uncomfortable/nervous/scared

- Launches self into the air like a cat whenever startled

- Pets Uzi’s tail like a dog whenever it’s around (It LOVES him for this)

- VERY fluffy and soft hair.

- likes headpats and scritchies ^^

- Sometimes chases tail when bored (Did this A LOT before the events of Episode One)

- Defensive of Uzi when J is around, Curls tail around her, pulls her closer, etc.

- Gets VERY flustered VERY easily. He can go from chill to a blushing mess just with a small kiss or a flirtatious remark

- His hair is just long enough to be pulled into a little ponytail. Uzi finds this absolutely adorable but TELLS NOBODY

- Often eats things he’s not supposed to. Chalk, wood, dirt, etc. His thought process is “I wonder what this tastes like.. Nothing bad will happen if I eat this, right?

Ehhh it’ll be fine” Most of the time it’s fine. *most*

- His voice can go veeerry deep.

- Just as oilthirsty as J and V are, he’s just most excited about the HUNT, not the killing itself. He has single-handedly contributed to around 2/4 of the corpse spire

due to him wanting to be seen as somewhat useful

- Does like most anime, even the violent and gory ones.

- Sometimes has flashback episodes or nightmares where he vividly relives all the traumatic stuff that’s happened to him. Completely silent most of the time, tail curled around himself, trembling, sometimes wings covering himself, eyes closed tightly or just staring into the void

- He loves reading. He can read BIG WORDS like DISCOMBOBULATE and ABOMINATION

- Freaks out whenever he’s near a cute animal. Which, to him, is EVERY animal. Tessa has had to stop him from petting a crocodile before.

- Gets spooked and hides under the nearest bed, table, chair, couch, blanket, pillow, etc. or behind Uzi like a dog whenever there’s fireworks or lightning. He does

think that fireworks are pretty when he doesn’t hear them

- Carries Uzi when she’s tired on long flights

- Separation anxiety

- Has the urge to touch EVERYTHING. Whether it be a cute animal or weird thing he found on the ground, he wants to touch it.

- You know this boi gives the best hugs and cuddles <3

- Clings to Uzi in his sleep and covers her with his wings. Most of the time he doesn’t even do it consciously, he just automatically does it.

- Frequent :3 :0 :D :) :( D: XD :3c etc. user

- Extremely skilled in making/preparing all kinds of drinks

- Was never really the same after the events of the show. He’s recovered well, but he’s not exactly the same. More easily saddened/angered, jumpier, anxiety levels higher, etc.

#murder drones headcanon #murder drones #biscuitbites #n x uzi #enzi #nuzi #N murder drones #Serial Designation N #CattishDragon posts

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wosowrites · 1 year

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I’ll Take Care of You (Leah Williamson x Reader)

Warnings: ⚠️homophobia⚠️

A/n: based off the song Take Care by Beach House. Also I know a few things aren’t accurate but just pretend. The words in itallics are the song lyrics :)

Prompt: Little moments of the reader and Leah taking care of each other, and just being in love.

Stand beside it, we can’t hide the way it makes us glow

You and Leah were standing in front of a yellow-ish back drop, both wearing fashionable outfits and getting ready to take pictures. You would be the first duo on the cover of the British GQ MOTY magazine, and you were ecstatic to be on the cover of a magazine, it was a first for you. You were both styled by the incredible Angelo Mitakos. Leah’s first outfit was a big baggy pair of jeans and a white tee shirt, along with a black captains armband and a pair of white sneakers. She looked amazing. You, however, we’re wearing a similar look but with beige trousers, and a white tee shirt, along with black mary janes and white socks. "Stand beside it! It makes you glow." Leah laughed as you stood directly under a bright light, squinting. Leah grabbed her phone and took a picture of you. She then walked to you and showed it. You looked adorable, your arms flopping at your side like an angry kid, your eyes small due to the squinting and your skin shiny from all the subtle makeup they had put on you.

It’s no good unless it grows, feel this burning love of mine, deep inside the ever spinning, tell me does it feel?

You and Leah were in the backyard of her childhood home, gardening. Her mother and father were inside, cooking away and laughing together, a happy old couple. You wished for that with Leah as you watched them, dancing around the kitchen and laughing. You soon felt a finger swipe your cheek and your head swivlled around to see Leah laughing at you her left hand covered in dirt. "Leah Williamson! I’ll tell your mother!" You threatened, wiping the dirt off your cheek but smiling at her wildly. "Focus on the carrots! If you plant them wrong then they won’t grow. They’re not good unless they grow!" Leah said, pointing at the carrot seeds you were supposed to be planting. You looked back at Leah and lunged on her, making her fall over into the grass. Leah shrieked but let you lie on top of her. "What are you doing?" She laughed. "My overalls are gonna be dirty." She said, looking at you. You placed your palms on both side of her body and looked down at her. You smiled and leaned down to pepper her face with kisses. Suddenly, you switched positions, grabbing her back and rolling so that she was over you. "Now my overalls are dirty too." You said, looking into her ocean blue eyes. "I hope you know how much I love you. How my heart… burns for you." Leah said to you, propping herself over you with her arms. You tilted your head slightly at her words. "I do know. I do, Lee."

It’s no good unless it’s real, hillsides burning, wild-eyed turning, till we’re running from it

You stood in a shoe store. Staring at a pair of supposedly vintage 1980 jordan’s. They were your dream shoes. But you wanted to know if they were real. If they were authentic. "Baby… I love shoes, and I love you. But you’ve been looking at those same shoes for thirty five minutes." Leah whined. You spun around to look at her. "I don’t want to ask him if there authentic. It’s rude." You said, looking at her with puppy dog eyes. "Then I’ll ask." Leah said, standing up and walking towards a man that worked there. She had a quick word with him and then walked back to you. "They’re authentic. He says you can check the tag in the shoe yourself." Leah said, walking behind you and placing her hands on your waist as you grabbed the shoe off the shelf. "Oh yeah… he’s right. It feels authentic." You smiled. "Why does it matter so much if it’s real or not?" Leah asked. "You’re joking! It’s no good unless it’s real, Leah." You said to her.

I’d take care of you, if you asked me to

"Yes. I promise. It’s all good. Serve yourself anything from the pantry, she won’t mind." You told Leah over the phone. You were staying at your sisters house while she was on vacation with her boyfriend. You and your sister both lived in London, but the heater in yours and leah’s apartment was broken so you were staying at your older sisters place. "I love you too, Leah-" you told her. "Yes! I’m sure! Leah just take something darling! I’ll be home in 20." You repeated, laughing and hanging up. You were in line at a coffee shop, your sister didn’t own a coffee machine and you and Leah were extremely coffee deprived. "It’s wrong you know." A voice said behind you. You turned around to look at a beefy looking man. "Excuse me?" You asked confused. "You’re a fucking dyke. God doesn’t forgive that." He said loudly. People were looking at the both of you now, but you chose to be the bigger person and you just turned to look in front of you, trying to hide the fact that your heart was beating stupid fast. "Fucking sinner. We should shoot you all in the fucking head." He yelled at you, pushing your back and sending you flying forwards, hitting your head against the counter and feeling warm blood trickle down your forehead. He left quickly after that and customers as well as baristas surrounded you and helping you up. A nice man gave you napkins and the barista gave you your order for free. But you walked the short walk home shaking. And when you got home, you broke down crying. "Baby, baby, what’s wrong?" Leah said, quickly coming up to you and taking the coffees from your hand. She put them on the counter and kneeled beside you as you had slipped down to the floor. You explained to her between hiccups what had happened. That night, you feel asleep with your bodies tangled, Leah holding you tightly, and her words of love in your ear. "I’ll take care of you. You’ll be okay."

In a year…

One year together. One year with Leah. How did you celebrate? Hiking. You both loved hiking. You rented a convertible, drove one hour to the best hiking spot in England, blasted music on the drive there and then climbed up the most breathtaking mountain. Once you got to the top, you installed a picnic and watched the sunset together. "You could?" Leah said to you. "No. I dont get cold." You lied, goose bumps on your arms. Leah trailed her fingers up your arm. "You sure about that?" It was a bit colder now that the sun had set, and you could only see Leah through a lamp you guys had brought. "Okay i’m a tad cold." You said. Leah pulled out her hoodie from her bag and handed it to you. You slipped it on and then both decided to get going back to the car. The hike back down was filled with laughter, teasing and kisses, and as you drove back home in the dark, the stars bright, the roof down, the air warm, you watched Leah sleep out of the corner of your eyes.

…or two,

Leah’s POV:

Two years with y/n. Two years with the girl that makes my world spin every day. Two years with the girl that makes my heart beat, and sometimes, my blood boil. But I wouldn’t trade her for the world. For our anniversary, we took a week off and went to spain. We visited Lucy and Keira and hung out with the Barcelona squad. We sightseed, hiked, and went to see the Barca men’s team play Real Madrid. It was a very exciting game. Eventually, we went out to eat supper on your last day. Eating late made y/n grumpy, but we didn’t really have a choice due to everything opening so late. When we had had a supper of tapas, i walked back, hand in hand with y/n, to our hotel and she fell asleep right away in your bed. I smiled at her tired figure, slipping off her shoes and socks and throwing a cover over her. I took a quick picture of her and gathered my favorite photographs of her to make an anniversary post. I looked down at her beautiful person, smiling at her slightly open mouth. I sat down beside her in bed, pulling the covers over us. I played with her scattered hair on her pillow, looking at her with nothing but love. "I love you. I love you so much. I love how you sleep, and how you play football. And I love how you smell and how you look disgusted when your confused. I. Love. You." I told her, before falling asleep.

You say swimming in the lake, we’ll come across a snake

Leah’s only secret from you was her fear of snakes. She hated them, but it was embarrassing to her, so she never told anyone. Most of the Arsenal girls had rented a big cottage together for a week they had off, it was chaotic, but amazing. The cottage had its own personal lake, and the girls were going to take advantage of it. You were sharing a room with Leah, Beth and Viv. It would not be a romantic holiday. But you didn’t mind, you were happy for this team bonding opportunity with the girls. In the washroom, you and Leah were taking your turn to change. Leah slipped on a black bikini that you tied in the back, you loved how they showed off her tattoos and her abs. You followed suite by putting on blue bikini with white flowers on them. You loved this bikini. "I can’t believe you didn’t bring the one I got you!" Leah whined as you both walked out of the room with jean shorts on. "Leah that bikini is for when our friends aren’t around." You laughed.

The lake was surprisingly warm, and some people swam and splashed around for a while, while other chose to just tan. Katie, Viv, you, Beth, Leah, Gio and Rafa were in the water the longest, playing with a ball, doing chicken fights and just messing around. But eventually you got tired. "I’m going out." You told the girls who whined. Leah grabbed your waist and spun you around as you tried to walk away, brining you in to a kiss as the girls cheered. "I’ll join you in a few minutes." Leah said. "Okay then." You smiled. You walked out of the water and onto the beach and lied down on your towel beside Lotte and Sabrina. You laid on your stomach, soaking in the sun when you heard a loud screech and splashing. You sat up to see Leah running out of the water and toward you. You stood up quickly and Leah took the opportunity to tackle you into a hug. You put your hands over her head, holding her steady. You knew it was nothing serious as you saw the girls in the water chuckle. "What is it baby?" You asked, laughing a bit. "It’s not funny! There was a snake in the water!" Leah said, still holding you tightly against her. "Water snakes aren’t poisonous. Not in this part of the world anyways." You whispered to her, gently strolling her wet hair. She eventually pulled away and looked at you with a frown. "I don’t like snakes. At all." She said. "I know." You answered. Leah looked at you suspiciously. "No you don’t. It’s my secret. I’ve never told anyone." Leah said. You smiled at her lovingly and tapped the towel beside you. She sat down beside you, resting her head on your shoulder. "You refuse to watch the second harry potter movie and when we watch any of the other movies you excuse yourself to the washroom, or to get more snacks every time Nagini is on screen. I was looking to get another tattoo and you were adamant on not letting me get a snake tattoo. I know you." You told her. Leah stayed silent for a while before lifting her head from your shoulder and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "I take care of you, Leah. You know that."

Feel it’s heartbeat, feel what you hear, far so fast it feels too late

Today had been a bad day. You were experiencing horrible period pain and all of training you were making mistake after mistake. It got so bad you took yourself off the pitch an hour in. You had asked Leah for a moment to yourself as she tried to follow you into the changing room and she respected that which you were thankful for. You were unhappy, in pain and angry. You had thrown your cleat against the wall and then doubled over from the cramps. Now, it was 9:00 pm and your head was lying on Leah’s chest. Your hand was over her heart, you liked feeling what you could hear, and her heart beating, knowing it was beating for you, that was the most comforting thing ever.

I’d take care of you, if you asked me too, in a year or two

Leceister v Arsenal. It was the 47th minute when a corner was taken for Arsenal. The ball was sent in and Leah made a run towards the front post, the ball hitting her head awkwardly. She didn’t go down but you jogged over to her, noticing the dazed and foggy look in her eyes. "You okay?" You told her, a hand on her back. "Yeah. Get back to your position." She said almost incomprehensibly. You nodded but made a point of walking close to her. She only made it to the outside of the box when she started falling to her knees, clearly having passed out. You were expecting that to happen, or at least, you were ready for it. you grabbed her under the arms and caught her fall. She leaned forward on her arms as medics came running over. Head injuries were taken very seriously. You stayed by her side the whole time as the woman too a look at Leah’s head. Eventually, she got back up and was okay to continue. You clapped her on the back and smiled at her, leaving your position. When the game ended and both teams made it to the tunnel, you found Leah and hugged her. "Shit. Don’t do that again." You told her, pulling away and cupping her face. "I’ll try." Leah laughed.

#woso fic #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso #arsenal fcw #katie mccabe #leah williamson #woso community #woso fanfics

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witchthewriter · 1 year

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𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐚 𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: you can take the relationship with the characters as romantic or platonic - completely up to you. Also I feel like this is a neurodivergent thing, where we pick something that looks shiny, cute or weird and gift it to someone we love. It’s the neurotypicals that usually think it’s weird...

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐲 (1000% neurodivergent. Most likely has AuDHD)

・Running to Lucy to told her to shut her eyes and hold our her hands

・Would undoubtedly take the rock excitedly

・Actually would be out in the woods looking at pretty rocks with you in the first place

“Ooh this one actually shines in the light!” She says as she holds it up to the sun. Without realising, she had found a citrine gemstone.

・There are many different rocks in Narnia, and because of the magic, there’s no ... logic, to what can be found

・It makes humans very interested

・Both of you returning back to the castle covered in dirt but with sacks full of rocks (Peter says you can only choose your favourite 3 and the rest have to be left outside)

・Is definitely a hobby for you and Lucy

・It’s what you bonded over in the beginning of your friendship

・Has a collection in her room that she’s specifically told the servants not to get rid of (because the majority of the collection are just plain rocks)

・Would have a smooth stone that she keeps in her pocket to rub - as a form of stimming

𝐄𝐝𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐝 (Is neurodivergent, but has masked for so long that he doesn’t know how to unmask)

・Is used to Lucy giving him trinkets, ribbons, rocks, shells etc when they were young

・So when you present him the rock that “reminded you of him,” he blushes a little and thanks you

・He absolutely loves when people tell him “oh this made me think of you,” and it’s a positive thing ??? It blows his mind

・Edmund has no judgement. He just thinks it’s normal. Unlike some people who think it’s just plain weird (idk why they think it’s weird. It’s so human to want to collect things.)

・Edmund actually has a momento of each place that he’s visited. Both in Narnia and the human world.

・At home he has snow globes, pins, train tickets, pens, pamphlets, etc in his room, to remind him of all the places his been. And that war won’t be forever. That the world has a lot to offer.

・However, Edmund can agree that the collectible items are much better in Narnia

・Everything feels alive with magic, especially when Aslan is near

𝐒𝐮𝐬𝐚𝐧 (I’m actually thinking a lil neurodivergent. Maybe even autistic??)

・Like Edmund, she’s used to when Lucy would bring her random objects

・Hence why you found it so easy to give her things you thought were cool

・This was a common occurance, and it was nearly a daily routine for Susan to empty out her pockets of a night and see random objects

・Sometimes when she’s too focused on something, you’ll just slip the things into her pockets; notes, reminders, things she’s forgotten to take with her, silly little presents etc.

・She always knows it’s you

・Not in a weird way - but she can smell you, so she isn’t startled by your presence ... like ever

・So when you gave her the rock, a glinting piece of labradorite, she held it up to the light and moved it about. Making it flash here and there.

・She was very impressed

“This will go great with the collection!”

𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 (is definitely neurotypical. One of the judgy ones as well, until you - who opens his mind.)

・The least ... chill about it.

・Thinks collecting things is a waste of time unless they serve a purpose

・Has made you angry a few times because of it

・Lucy had to tell him to be nicer because the way he was going about it ... god he was being so headstrong

・So now he goes about it a lot more gently (because he’s gotten to know you better as well. You’re an important person in his life and he doesn’t want to upset you)

・So when you show him, he nods his head and does a weird, “oh thanks,” with furrowed brows.

・He doesn’t understand that it’s a token of your love/feelings toward him

・Not until you scrunch your face up and explain that to him

・And then he’s like, “oh wow. Okay then, I love it! Thank you - please give it to me,” and he’s chasing you around the room.

𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐚𝐧 (Not neurodivergent but loves people who are different and think out of the box)

・You had found him in the training yard, sweaty and out of breath

・Although in an established relationship, you still take the time to explain why you do certain things and what certain things mean to you, why you do certain things etc.

・Even if the word neurodivergent doesn’t exist yet, the people do. And are known as the poets, writers, creators, the intelligent, the weird, the hermits.

・And Caspian has always had an open-mind. No matter what, he’s always gone into things thinking about different points of view

・So a lot of things happened naturally with Caspian. And explaining yourself was easy because he understood a lot of your concepts

・When you gave him the rock, you were incredibly nervous but still desperate to show Caspian because it was a part of your background - collecting things, and you wanted to share that with him

・In all truthfulness, Caspian was expecting something much weirder to happen by the way you were acting

・But when you gave him the rock, his response gave you butterflies

“Thank you, my love, I will cherish it always.”

・And he stayed true to his promise

・Somehow he got a blacksmith to turn it into a ring and he wore it always

𝐄𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐞 (I reckon he’s autistic tbh, so neurodivergent 10/10)

・Being amongst the Narnian people was like nothing you could have ever imagined

・But what goes significantly unnoticed is the landscape and what would be normal in our world is 10x more magical in Narnia

・So you and Eustace have absolute field days just spending hours looking through this new world

・When you stumble across this particular rock, it takes your breath away and you instantly have to show Eustace

・Getting his attention was a bit difficult though but once you had it, he was very excited

・When you place it in his hands, he examines it, to see if it’s a geode or something that can be cracked open

・His mind is an endless pit of scientific facts

・But you didn’t give it to him for scientific purposes

・You gave Eustace the stone because ... well it represented something

・Where Eustace is facts, you’re fiction - a poet, at times

・And you wanted him to know how unyielding your feelings for him are

・However, Eustace did crack it open. Even after your pleads not to, yet his suspicions were right. Because inside it was a glimmering mass of shimmering rock pieces

𝐀𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐧 (understands the way of the world and how people’s minds work so he is neither neurotypical or neurodivergent - he just ... is). Also like, you can see Aslan in a romantic way if you want, but I’m kinda writing him as this father figure

・You didn’t mean to interrupt the meeting but you were too excited to wait to show Aslan the cool rock you’d found

・It was jagged but had reflective, almost glittering elements when you moved it around

・It looked ... magical

・And you wanted to ask if it might be

・So when you ran into the map room, where Aslan and a few other guards were, you enthusiastically brandished it in front of him

“Look! Look what I found! For you-”

・Very gracious

・Thanked you immediately while the others around you look at you like you’re crazy

・If anyone says anything mean about you, he will call them out

・You think he just forgets about them but he actually keeps everything you give him

・He can tell exactly where you got the rock from; which woods, lake or ocean. He’s so intune with Narnia that every little thing is easy for him to identify

・Encourages you to find more

・And gives you tips on the best places to find more cool things

𝐌𝐫 𝐓𝐮𝐦𝐧𝐮𝐬 (Yes, neurodivergent. Kinda goblin brained, but likes his alone time and collecting of things)

・It was a bit of a down day and you could see his frown. Wanting to brighten his day you went on a stroll, trying to find a pretty flower or a nice bunch of herbs

・But you couldn’t find either of those things

・Instead, you came across a tree stump with such smooth round rocks at the base.

・They looked so ... satisfying

・A perfect egg-shaped stone, close to one you’d seen Lucy playing with from time to time

・Running back home, you called out for Tumnus, and as he stood in front of you, you told him to hold out his hands

“Hmm...,” he said with a suspicious look, but obeyed.

・When you put it in his hands he blushed immediately. Knowing that you know how much he loves knick knacks and collecting objects... it made his day a lot better

・I feel like this could be a Narnian custom in a way. Like...to show your affection for the one you love, you go out in nature and find something that reminds you of them???

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insanesanitysparks · 1 year

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So I'm just sitting here fantasizing over dragon Kiri courting...

Because he's a dragon, I see him gathering shiny little trinkets 'n' stuff to bring as little offerings to you. If he were a wild dragon, he might hunt and bring back his kills for you but because he's "civilized" he brings his kills home and convinces Bakugou to cook them to perfection (probably suggests that he can't handle it or something so Bakugou has to prove him wrong). He would fly over and around the city doing crazy stunts like barrels rolls or flying upside down, spinning in circles, etc. to impress you and to show off his brilliant red scales and fire power.

After bringing you a hoard of pretty things (that could never compare to your beauty), proving that he is capable of providing for you by hunting, and showcasing his skills and handsomeness-he would then prove his strength to you by sparring with a strong opponent. Obviously he wants it to be impressive so he choses the strongest warrior he knows, Bakugou Katsuki. Obviously, Bakugou knows what his shitty lizard friend is doing and being the little jerk we all know and love, he plays along up until Kiri almost beats him. Then he turns the tables, totally whips Kiri's ass, and leaves him for you to clean up.

As your wiping the dirt, sweat, and blood from Kiri's exhausted form you probably giggle a little at how foolish he's acting, all on your behalf. He's already half naked in front of you, so you give him a little encouraging peck on the cheek before disappearing into your bedroom with a beckoning flutter of your eyes. Kiri's a little shy and blushing but he's running to follow when he sees you toss your outfit out the bedroom door. Apparently, all his stupid little courting ideas actually work...

And Bakugou regrets his decision to help his friend out because now he gets to listen to two horny dragons keep him up all night.

#bnha #mha #I'm addicted #i want him so bad #fantasy #dragon kirishima #kirishima x reader #i need more sleep #i have too many ideas #someone help

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eddiemunsons80sbaby · 1 month

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Never Say Never

Chapter 15

Pairing: SingleDad!StevexReader

Summary: You are a 32 year old single mother, raising your seven year old son on your own. After being widowed at 30 and going out on awful dates with disgusting men for the past month, you have decided that you're giving up. You already had your great love. One person can't possibly get lucky enough to have two in their lifetime. But then your son starts playing baseball and the coach might just change your mind about that.

No posting schedule.

18+ only for eventual smut

Word Count: 8.5K

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Far later than she’d expected, you pulled into the driveway of your home. Dinner and coffee had turned into a stroll down the street to the local bar, The Stumble Inn, where the owner, Dan, loved a good play on words. A couple drinks, a lot of conversation, and quite a bit of laughter later, you'd all finally said your good nights, all of you heading off to your own vehicles for home.

The boys were probably already asleep considering it was pushing eleven. That was alright. The four of you were planning on a bike ride tomorrow afternoon so if Steve wanted, he could always just leave Jeremiah there. No point in waking the kid to drag him home simply to bring him back again.

Opening the front door, you stepped inside to find Steve on the couch, a rerun of Who’s the Boss playing on the tv. He turned to look over at you, his arms propped behind his head, giving you one of those glaringly bright smiles that made you feel like you needed to shield yourself, to bring a hand to your eyes to protect them.

“Hey.”

Dropping your purse on the table by the door, you made your way into the living room, smiling down at him. “Hey. Sorry I’m so late. We completely lost track of time.”

“That’s alright. I was expecting it. I told you that you were going to be later than you thought. Robin and Nancy love to talk. And with you being all shiny and new, they had endless things to ask you, I’m sure.”

Steve pushed himself up to sitting with his legs still out in front of him, opening his arms to you. You happily accepted his invite, your body liquefying into him when his arms came around you, pulling you into the warmth of his chest. Sighing contentedly, you wound your arms around his waist curling your legs underneath you, relieved that the awkwardness of earlier appeared to be forgotten.

“They should get jobs as interrogators. They definitely threw the book at me. I don’t know if there’s anything they don’t know about me at this point,” you joked, “including the unfortunately mortifying third grade talent show story.”

“Ohh, do tell. I’m intrigued now.”

“No. That one is better left unshared. Trust me. I don’t know why I even told them. I think your friends have some kind of superpower. I was running off at the mouth, story after story. I couldn’t seem to make myself stop. To be fair, they were shooting questions at me so fast I barely had time to stop and think. I’m stuck being friends with them forever now, you know. They have far too much dirt on me. Way too much they could blackmail me for. I fear I’ve made a grave mistake.”

Steve’s laugh rumbled beneath you, his fingers slipping into your hair, thumb pressing into your skin as it slid over the back of your neck. Your eyes slipped closed, your body practically humming under his touch. His other hand moved under your chin, lifting your face to his and a soft moan escaped you when his lips found yours, gently, tenderly.

You would never tire of his mouth, his touch, the way it set you aflame every single time. You wanted him in a way that was borderline dangerous. The way you wanted him was all consuming, like a fire raging through a forest, turning everything to ash in its wake. If it weren’t for the boys, you were certain you would lose your job because you would do nothing but spend hours in bed with this man.

But there were the boys to consider. It was hard to concentrate on that fact when Steve’s tongue was exploring your throat, his hand slipping under your shirt. Fingertips made rough from working with his hands teased your skin, his palms covering your breasts completely, kneading and squeezing until you were grinding helplessly against his thigh, gasping. But that little voice in the back of your head reminded you, brought you back to reality, the reality where you did not want either of your sons to walk in on this very blatant display in the middle of the living room.

“Steve…” you rasped, struggling through the haze of desire when his lips latched onto your throat, open mouthed kisses creating a path of destruction, obliterating everything that wasn’t him.

“Hmm?” he mumbled against your skin, rolling your nipples with his thumb and forefinger, the jolt of pleasure shooting straight to your core.

“We can’t.” It was a whimper, a whine because you didn’t want this to stop. You didn’t want to be the responsible mom right now. You wanted to take this man straight up to your bed, caution be damned. But you couldn’t. You knew you couldn’t. You couldn’t have him staying over, couldn’t have Eli knowing the two of you had shared a bed, not until you were certain this was something that was going to last. You couldn’t put your son through that kind of heartbreak, not after everything he’d already lost.

“Why not?” Now his hands were creeping up your skirt, each one gripping an ample amount of your ass, pressing your center right against the delicious friction of his firm thigh.

“The boys…we can’t…the boys…”

Fuck. It was so hard to form a thought, to fight through the pleasure coursing through your very veins. His mouth teasing your earlobe, the delicious pulsing in your pussy with every press of his leg against you. You felt like a teenager. What the hell was happening to you? Were you seriously about to come just from dry humping a guy’s leg?

“But we can,” he growled, hands gripping your hips, flipping you over so your back was pressed against his chest. “Did I forget to mention they’re not here?”

“Wha…huh?” His hands slid along the insides of your thighs, pressing them open as they went. “Where are they?”

“Well, Jonathan showed up a few hours ago,” he explained, fingers slipping along the edge of your panties. “He said that Nancy had instructed him to come and get them. Repayment for me being so kind to watch them so you could go out with the girls.” One finger slid under the material, slipping through your already damp folds to toy with your clit. “They’re keeping them for the whole night so we can have some time alone. Isn’t that nice?”

“I…oh…uh-huh…”

Your head rolled back against his shoulder, that rubber band that was already stretched so thin within you stretching even more, threatening to snap at any moment as he circled, pinched, and slid over the very center of your pleasure. A rumble fell from Steve’s lips, his nose slipping over your jaw and down your neck. You were not going to last long. Not like this, not when you were already on the brink of destruction.

“Come on beautiful,” he urged, his thumb taking over the work on your clit as he slipped one large finger inside of you. “Say my name for me. You know how much I love it when you say my name for me.”

“Steve…” The word came out choked, one simple syllable that threatened to strangle you as your muscles tensed under his touch, your body ready to shatter completely.

“That’s my girl…wanna hear you screaming it, baby. No need to be quiet tonight.”

Oh shit. Those words…his girl, words you didn’t even know you wanted but you did. You wanted to make him say it again. You wanted to be his girl more than you'd ever wanted anything else at this moment. Everything in your world completely disappeared, shadowed by this man and the way he made you feel.

He got what he wanted. Because as he slid a second finger inside of you, his thumb playing you like the most beautiful song ever written, his name fell from your lips over and over. A crescendo of sound that began as a gasp and rose to a scream when that band finally snapped, your body taut, shaking, before collapsing back into him in a puddle of satisfaction.

“Jesus Christ, Steve…” you mumbled. “How are you so goddamn good…no, scratch that. I don’t want to know.”

He chuckled, arms wrapping around you, face nuzzling your hair, “Don’t worry, gorgeous, because nobody that came before you matters. They were all just practice leading up to the main attraction.” He nipped at your earlobe. “I’ve never wanted to make a girl come over and over again like I do you. The sounds you make, how beautiful you look, the way you say my name, it’s like a goddamn drug, honey. I’m completely hooked on you.”

Turning your body, you straddled him, feeling just how much he was hooked on you pressing into you. The thin fabric of his sweats and the lace of your panties was not creating much of a barrier and you fought back the urge to yank them off him and ride him right here on the couch. But not yet. There was something else you'd been wanting to do first, something that had been on your mind ever since your first encounter in her kitchen.

“Well, if I’m a drug then so are you, Steve Harrington, because I am completely addicted to you.”

“Oh yeah?” His hands settled on your hips, a smirk on his lips. “Is this the part where you fulfill my fantasy? You’re already in the perfect position.” He bucked his hips up and you gasped, hands dropping to his chest.

“Oh, I have every intention of fulfilling that fantasy but not just yet." Leaning forward, you caught his mouth with your own, your tongue gliding over his bottom lip teasingly. Your hands slid under the cotton fabric of his shirt, nails scratching gently down his chest, over his stomach. That little knot wound up within you again at the feel of that coarse hair against your fingers, tapering to a line leading you right where she wanted. Gripping the hem of his shirt, you tugged it over his head, tossing it across the room where it landed on a chair.

Steve’s lower lip jutted out playfully, “This doesn’t seem fair. You still have a top on.” Acquiescing to his request, you pulled your top off, sending it the same way as his. His hands slid up your back, fingers popping open your bra expertly, slingshotting it. “Much better.” One hand gripping you between the shoulder blades, he sat up, his mouth descending on your breasts.

“Yes…” you sighed, cradling his head against you, your hips rocking against his length once again.

“You’re so damn beautiful…”

You smiled, pushing him back down on the couch, wiggling your body down. It was your turn to drive him crazy. Your lips moved over his jaw, down his neck, your tongue tracing a trail over the artery there before your teeth nipped at his shoulder. He grunted, hips bucking when you kept going on your journey south, mouth exploring his chest, teeth raking over his nipples. Hot, wet kisses over his stomach while your hands gathered the material of his sweats and boxers, dragging them over his thighs until his cock was free, bouncing back against his stomach.

Your tongue ran over your lips as you settled onto your stomach between his legs. Steve’s eyes went wide, watching when you took his cock in your hand, dragging the tip of it across your lips. As your tongue darted across the already weeping slit, he hissed, head dropping back to the arm of the sofa.

“Jesus Christ, honey.”

Bolstered by his reaction, you used your hand to raise him up, your tongue running along the vein underneath, from the base to the tip before taking him into your mouth, swirling your tongue teasingly. With a heavy grunt, his hips rose from the couch in an attempt to get more of himself in your mouth.

Grinning around him, you continued your slow torture, only keeping the tip of him in the warmth of your mouth as one hand moved down to cradle his heavy sack, rolling his balls in your palm.

“Fuck…oh my god…honey, please…need more…”

His hands fisted at his sides and deciding you'd tormented him enough, you took the rest of him, as much as you could, working the base of him with your hand as you slowly worked the rest of him with your mouth. The sounds he was making, the animalist grunts and groans, the curses falling from his lips, were goddamn intoxicating. You'd never felt so powerful in your life as you did knowing you could reduce this beautiful man to a mewling mess with just your mouth and hands.

Steve’s fingers slid in your hair, his palms cupping the back of your head as he lifted his hips to match the rhythm of your mouth. You relaxed your throat, gagging slightly as he thrust even further into your throat. He paused, as if uncertain if what he’d done was okay, but when you dug your nails into the flesh of his thigh, lowering your mouth over him again, he took the hint, thrusting once again until your nose was nuzzling the coarse hair at the base of him.

“Shit…honey, I’m…fuck, I’m so close…fuck, stop…I…don’t wanna…not in your mouth…”

Releasing him with an audible pop, you rose to your feet, offering him your hand. He tilted his head in confusion, the look so adorable your heart tugged. How could one man be both the sexiest thing you'd ever seen and the most adorable thing you'd ever laid eyes on at the same time?

“If I’m going to ride you, let’s do it properly…in my bed.”

“Oh…yeah, okay…”

He scrambled, pulling his pants back up as he took your hand, following your lead up the stairs. You'd barely made it into the room when you slammed your hands into his chest firmly, sending him onto his back on the bed. Wasting no time, you slipped your underwear and skirt off before dragging his sweats and boxers down off his legs and onto your floor.

The smile he gave you was so soft, so heart melting, his hands gently cupping your face when you crawled up his body, straddling his hips. He opened his mouth and your heart stuttered in your chest, terrified but also thrilled at what might come out. But just that fast he closed it again, pressing his eyes shut tight.

Brushing away that hope that had flared and dwindled so quickly, you gripped him in your hand, slowly lowering herself down over him. Your warmth wrapped around him like a glove, welcoming him as if he belonged there. You sucked in air, your fingers slipping through the hair on his chest, your teeth biting down on your lower lip.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Steve growled as you rocked against him, his fingertips digging into the flesh of your hips as he met each movement.

“Steve…Steve…Jesus Christ, Steve…”

“You look just as beautiful as I knew you would. Come on, honey. Take what you need. You can have whatever you want. Give you whatever you want, honey.”

“Touch me,” you gasped, whimpering when his thumb found your clit, teasing as you pressed your hands into the mattress, arching your back, your muscles clenching as you came down on his cock again and again. “Yes. Right there. Oh god…so good…”

Your hips rolled into a circle and he grunted, “Yes, baby. Keep doing that. Shit.” His other hand came to your breast, squeezing, pinching, teasing, touching you just like you wanted and you moaned his name again. “Gonna come for me, beautiful?”

“Yes…so close…don’t stop…”

“Oh, I won’t, honey. Don’t worry. Look at me, beautiful. Wanna see you.”

You struggled, working to keep pace as you pulled yourself straight, your hands gripping his shoulders for purchase. Opening your eyes, you looked down, that band in you stretching farther than should be possible as the heat in his gaze consumed you. His name ripped from your throat, so loudly you were sure the people in the next town could hear.

Your body turned to goo, wax from a hot candle sliding down the edges of you to pool on the mattress around you. You had nothing left, your legs shaking and Steve knew, taking over for you. His hands grabbed onto your hips as he plunged himself up and into you before holding her down against him, a roar emitted through gritted teeth, painting your insides with his own release before bringing you with him as you both collapsed.

Your cheek pressed against his sweat-slicked chest, the hair there tickling your skin softly. His fingers trailed over your back, your bodies heaving as you both struggled to catch your breath.

“Holy shit…” he muttered. “So much better than I imagined.”

“Yeah…I…Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t think I can walk.”

His rumbling laugh shook your bodies as his arms held you, rolling you so you were side by side, your body still cradled against his. His lips pressed against your forehead.

“Good thing you don’t have to. Honey, you’re so damn amazing. I…this…” He paused, his throat moving with a hard swallow, as if he were forcing down words he didn’t want to say to leave his mouth, banishing them to the darkness where they couldn’t see the light of day.

“Yeah?” you pressed hopefully, tilting your head back to look at him, wishing for him to say it. To say the words that had been torturing you for the last few hours, the words you were terrified to say until he did.

“I’m just so damn happy. I have never been this happy with anyone. I…” He stopped, eyes squeezing shut. “I like you a lot.”

Your heart squeezed tightly. No, of course he wasn’t going to say those words. Hadn’t you just thought how crazy it would be to say them so soon? Of course he wasn’t feeling any of that already.

“I like you a lot too.” You forced a smile, not wanting him to see the disappointment on your face as you nuzzled down into him, the top of your head tucked under his chin.

___________________________________________________________

Steve blinked against the harsh sunlight coming in through the window, one hand covering his eyes to ward off the glare. Last night came back to him in a burst of images that raced over the backs of his eyelids. The warmth of your mouth, the sight of you above him, your hair falling down your back, the gentle smile that curved your lips up on each side as you fell asleep nestled against his chest, your fingers toying with the coarse hair there as you hummed contentedly.

Rolling his head, he looked down to find you still there but at some point in the night you'd both moved. Now your back was nestled against him, your ass pressed deliciously against him, explaining why he’d woken up with an erection. Winding his arms around you tightly, his lips explored the curve of your shoulder, the hollow of your throat, delighted when you moaned softly, wiggling in his grasp.

“Good morning.” Your voice was husky, deep and raspy, choked with sleep first thing in the morning, just one more thing that Steve couldn’t help but enjoy about you. He would never tire of discovering new things about you. Each new thing only made him…

Love…that word was beginning to be a thorn in his side. The amount of times he’d had to bite his lip last night to keep from saying it was going to leave a bruise. The more time he spent with you, the more time he spent inside you, was making it harder and harder not to scream it out, consequences be damned.

“Good morning.” His nose nuzzled into your neck, lips tracing a line, following it over your shoulder. “I swear, this is the best damn thing to wake up to. You are the best damn thing to wake up to. So much better than a slobbery dog demanding breakfast.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” His fingers skimmed over your soft belly to the curve of your hip, squeezing the ample flesh there. “I could really get used to this, honey. You in my bed…”

“Well, technically this is my bed,” you teased, sighing when his hand dipped into the apex between your thighs.

“My bed, your bed…I really don’t care as long as I get to have you in a bed,” he growled, his lips wrapping around the skin at the hollow of your throat, sucking hard until you moaned deeply. “Jesus, I love the sounds you make. Wanna make you make them all the time.”

“Steve,” you protested, no real challenge in your voice. “Don’t we have to go get the boys?”

“We could push it just a bit.” Using his arm to push himself up, he pressed you onto your back into the mattress. Wiggling his eyebrows, he grinned. “I think Nance and Jonathan would understand if we waited just a couple more hours.”

“A couple hours, huh? You have big plans?”

“Oh honey, a couple hours is not nearly enough time for the plans I have for you.”

How about forever? It was on the tip of his tongue but he just couldn’t say it. He couldn’t risk it, not now, not when he was in so deep that he was drowning in you.

___________________________________________________________

An hour later, clad in only his boxer shorts, Steve was in the kitchen cooking eggs and toast while you took a shower. Unfortunately, human weakness reared its head and other biological needs needed to be met. They had made it known when your stomach had started loudly rumbling while he was buried deep inside you while he pinned your wrists down with his hands.

As much as he hadn’t wanted to pull himself away, he’d begrudgingly done so. The girl needed to eat. While he wanted nothing more than to lock the two of you in that room for the rest of the day, you were going to need your energy for the bike ride he had planned for everybody this afternoon. He couldn’t have you passing out on your bike from low blood sugar.

He slid the spatula under the perfectly cooked over-easy eggs, sliding them onto a plate. Grabbing the two pieces of toast that had just popped up, he added them and set the plate on the table. He added the butter, salt, and pepper and was just going to pour your coffee when there was a knock at the front door.

“Well shit,” muttered Steve, glancing down at his very bare chest. Grabbing his shirt from the chair in the living room where it had been tossed last night, he hastily pulled it over his head, figuring it would have to do if he wasn’t going to leave whoever was on the other side wondering if anyone was home.

Opening the door, he found a woman on the other side. Her blue eyes went wide as she took in the sight of him in the doorway, her hand running over her sleek gray bob. The flowy black pants and floral buttoned top she was wearing seemed like a strange choice for a Saturday, leaving him with the impression that she was a professional of some kind. But you hadn’t mentioned anyone dropping by.

“Hello,” he smiled pleasantly. “Can I help you?”

“I highly doubt it.” Her words were sharper than seemed necessary considering Steve had never seen this woman before in his life. “Is my daughter-in-law around?”

Shit. So that’s who this was. Justin’s mom and Steve had just answered the door wearing nothing but boxers and a t-shirt on a Saturday morning. That didn’t leave much doubt to what kind of situation this was and he wasn’t sure if this woman even knew about him. Had you told her about him? Or was she being blindsided, having the new guy that had replaced her dead son shoved in her face?

“You must be Mrs. Randall. I…uh…I’m Steve Harrington. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He stammered the words. He would have offered her his hand but his palms were suddenly very sweaty. How did one handle a situation like this?

“Oh, I know exactly who you are. Although why you’re standing in my son’s house in your underwear is quite a mystery to me.”

A nervous laugh rose up in him at her words, her eyes narrowing, head tilted as she studied him. He felt like a specimen under a microscope and judging from the way she was looking at him, he was not measuring up.

“Well, you see…I…well, Y/N and I…I’m guessing she hasn’t told you about me.”

“No. She didn’t but my grandson did. Imagine my surprise when I had to hear from a child that his mother has a new boyfriend.” She gave him a tight smile, the kind people usually displayed when they were trying to hide how they really felt, but this woman did not seem to be trying to hide anything. Disdain was rolling off her in waves so strongly it threatened to knock him off his feet. “You really think it’s appropriate for you to be spending the night this soon? Have you even bothered to consider Eli’s feelings in the matter? How it might make him feel that some man is sleeping in the bed that his mother and father used to share? That doesn’t seem a bit tacky to you?”

Steve opened his mouth, having no idea how he was going to respond but feeling like he needed to. The pressure of a thousand stares, like being on stage waiting to see if you’d nail it or fall flat on your face, was heavy on his chest. But he was saved when you came bouncing down the stairs.

“Something smells good. Did you cook break…” You came to an abrupt stop, hands gripping the towel you'd been drying your hair with when you saw the scene in front of you. Steve in his boxers, looking like a mouse staring down a cat. Judith, the cat, glaring at you both, with her hands on her hips, claws and teeth ready to slash and shred. “Judith…what are you doing here?”

“Well, after Eli dropped that particular very unpleasant and shocking bomb on me yesterday and you refused to talk to me, I decided we needed to have a conversation about this current situation.”

“You could have just called…” you began but Judith quickly cut you off.

“And what? Have you ignore my calls like you so often do? I don’t think so.” Judith stepped around Steve with a wave as if he were nothing but an annoying gnat she was wishing to swat. “No. I think not. I demand an explanation. I believe I am owed that. Precisely why did my grandson tell me that this man, who I don’t even know, who he barely even knows, is going to be his father soon?”

“Shit…” muttered Steve, earning a harsh glare from the woman that reminded him way too much of Mrs. Click from high school. He melted back against the wall, trying to make himself small and invisible to her unapproving gaze.

So this was why she came. She felt her son’s very memory was threatened by the presence of Steve. She thought that you and him were moving too fast. Of course she did if Eli was already talking about Steve being his dad. But it was just that, talk. The kid had been hoping for it before they’d even started dating.

“Mrs. Randall, I think this has just been a really big misunderstanding.”

“Well, I was rather hoping so until I showed up to find you here in your underwear, clearly having spent the night. I mean, really.” She sighed, tossing her arms in the air. “You find this kind of behavior appropriate with a child in the house?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Eli isn’t in the house,” you snapped.

“And where exactly is he?”

“He’s with my ex-wife and her husband,” Steve answered, folding his arms, his confidence returning now that he saw you weren't going to quaver under the glare of this lady.

“Strangers!” shrieked Judith. “You left my grandson with complete strangers?”

“They’re not strangers. I told you, Eli is best friends with Steve’s son, Jeremiah. I know Jeremiah’s mom and her husband. In fact, I was just out with her and some other women last night.”

“Oh! And where was my grandson while you were out living it up and having fun like some teenager with no responsibilities?”

“He was with me. I took care of the boys so she could actually enjoy a night off.” Steve’s sympathy for this woman was quickly waning each time she opened her mouth. “I made them dinner and we played some games and watched a movie. Then Jonathan showed up and offered to take the boys overnight so she and I could have some time alone. I have never slept over when he’s been here.”

“Really? Because according to Eli, you and his mother had a sleepover just last week.”

Your teeth clenched together. “The boys were having a sleepover. We were watching a movie and fell asleep on the couch. Nothing happened.” Your eyes caught Steve’s, the two of you clearly remembering what did happen, what almost happened before you were interrupted, but it was none of this woman’s business. “And whatever happened or didn’t happen isn’t really any of your concern. Eli is my son.”

“He’s my grandson! None of my concern? It’s none of my concern that you’re acting like some rampant whore around him? That you’re just choosing to leave him with strange people so you can run around with your friends and have a good time like you don’t even have a child?”

“Whoa! Hey!” Steve stepped into her, finger pointing at her face. “You have no right to come in here calling her names like that. She is a damn good mom. She’s done all of this herself for a long time and if occasionally she needs a night to herself, she’s more than earned it.”

If someone could actually explode, he was pretty certain this woman would be doing just that right now. Her nostrils flared, eyes blazing, mouth contorted into an ugly sneer as she stared him down.

“Just who in the hell do you think you are?”

“I think I’m her boyfriend. I think I’m her person. The person she’s chosen to have in her life right now. And I think I’m the person who’s not going to stand here and let you talk to her like this. I understand that it has to be hard for you to see her with someone else, to think about another guy being in your grandson’s life. But that’s not a choice you get to make. It’s hers. So unless you’re willing to have a civil conversation and listen then there’s the goddamn door.”

“I tried to help you. I offered to let you and Eli move in with me and you refused and now look at this mess you’ve created.”

“This isn’t a mess. This is my life.”

“And some life it is. I knew when Justin brought you home that he was making a mistake. You whispered all those lies about how much you loved him. I knew you never did.”

Your mouth dropped, a small gasp of pain escaping your lips, making Steve want to smack a woman for the first time in his life. Tears filled your eyes but you straightened your spine, refusing to allow Judith to make you fall apart.

“That was never a lie, Judith. I did love Justin. I still do.”

“You loved him so much that you’re so ready to just replace him and move on. To allow some other man in his house, in his bed, in his role as Eli’s father.”

“There has not been any talk of Steve being Eli’s father,” you argued. “We are dating. There’s not even been talk of moving in together. All of that is coming from Eli. He adores Steve and he’s a kid and he just wants what other kids have. Can’t you see that?”

“He already has a father,” Judith whimpered, quickly losing steam as her grief began to take the wheel from her anger.

“He does and I will never let him forget Justin. We talk about him every night before he goes to bed. I show him pictures and videos. I tell him stories. We order pizza every Friday because it’s what we used to do when Justin was home.” Those tears that had been lingering on your lash line now broke free, spilling down your cheeks as you held your hands out in front of you, begging Judith to understand. “We go to the apple orchard and the pumpkin farm every fall because it was a tradition we started with him. I show him his favorite movies and we listen to his favorite music. Eli knows all the words to The Most Beautiful Girl in the World by Prince and he knows how Justin used to sing it to me every time he’d return from deployment and we’d dance around the living room. Judith, Eli will never forget Justin because I can’t ever forget Justin. You think I don’t grieve for him still? Sometimes it hits me and the pain is so bad that I double over with it. But am I really sentenced to spend the rest of my life alone at thirty-two because the universe was cruel enough to take my happy ending away from me?”

Judith actually looked stunned. In the ten minutes Steve had known her, even he was shocked to find her speechless. This did not seem like a woman who ran out of words.

Then the two women were hugging and crying. He stood to the side, unsure of what to do. He had the equivalent of emotional whiplash. He’d been so angry, ready to storm the castle and defend you to the death if need be, and now it didn’t seem necessary. You clung to each other, sobs shaking your bodies.

“I’m sorry,” Judith sniffed, shaking her head, hands wrapped around your shoulders. “I’m sorry. I just…it’s so unfair that he got taken from us and then to know you’re with…” She jerked her head toward Steve. Well, alright. She might be apologizing but apparently she still wasn’t fond of him. “To know Eli may see someone else as his…I just couldn’t bear it. I fear I will be the only one to remember my son.”

“You won’t.” Your hands found Judith’s forearms, hanging on. “I could never forget him and I will never let Eli forget him. I promise you that. We…we don’t even know what this is yet.” Steve would be lying if he said that didn’t sting just a bit. “It’s so new. Who knows where it’s going but if it moves in that direction, Eli will still know who his dad is. And no matter what happens, you will always be his grandmother and you will always have a place in his life.”

Judith nodded slowly, her fist coming to her mouth. The woman appeared to at least be trying to accept it. Steve wasn’t sure what the history was here. He didn’t know what kind of relationship she and you had in the past but he hoped, if for nothing else than the sake of Eli, that she could.

“Can I…would it be okay if I came into town for his first game?”

“Of course. Eli would love it if you were there.”

Steve wasn’t sure he would. He wasn’t sure he wanted to spend any more time with this woman ever. But this wasn’t his decision. He knew when he started this thing that you came with some baggage. And if the heaviest load was some uptight ex mother-in-law, well, he’d just have to learn to heft it if he planned on sticking around.

“Okay. Well, then…I guess I’ll just go. It’s a long drive back. But maybe I could go pick him up and…”

You cut her off, “Steve and I are picking up the boys and taking them on a bike ride. They’ve been looking forward to it all week. So today isn’t a good day. If you would have called first I could have told you that. I could have told you all of this and saved you the drive.”

“Right. Next time I’ll call as long as you plan on answering.”

“I will answer as long as I’m not busy.”

Judith’s mouth pinched up again, the crying camaraderie apparently forgotten now. Wiping away any sign of weakness or vulnerability with her fingers under her eyes, she straightened her spine and turned for the door. It was disorienting how quickly she looked like she hadn’t just been falling apart, completely reserved once again.

“I will see you in a couple weeks then.”

“See you in a couple weeks.”

And then she was gone. You exhaled, your shoulders and head dropping forward, as if all the strength you'd held in to handle Judith had rushed from you in one breath. Your arms wrapped around your middle, reminding him of Eli after school just yesterday.

Steve stood still, unsure of what to do. Did you want him to comfort you? Did you want him to leave you alone? Should he offer to just head and get the boys and come back for you later so you could have some time to process everything that had just happened?

“I’m sorry.” The words were spoken so softly he almost didn’t catch them. “She loves to sneak up on me at the worst times. I should have seen this coming. She’s been itching to have it out with me ever since Eli told her you were my boyfriend.”

“It’s okay,” he mumbled, shrugging. It wasn’t, not really. He wasn’t sure how he felt after that whole exchange. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” you stated firmly. “I really don’t. Not right now anyway. Can we just eat?” Lifting your head, you pasted on a smile. “That coffee smells amazing and I could really use some right now.”

“Oh…uh…yeah…”

You breezed past him into the kitchen, leaving him standing there wondering what in the hell had just happened and what it meant that you didn’t know what this was between you.

____________________________________________________________

The boys were down on the sand, building a fortress from rocks and driftwood that they collected for their superheroes. It was still far too cold to even consider stepping foot in the water. The day was warm, the sun beating pleasantly down on their skin, but it would take months for the lake to absorb that heat, usually not pleasant enough for a swim until late June or even early July.

You sat on the blanket you'd brought with you to sit on while you enjoyed the picnic lunch that Steve had packed. Sandwich crusts, chip crumbs, and stray blueberries laid forgotten on plates as the boys declared themselves full in favor of running off to play. You took a sip of her iced tea, glancing over at Steve.

After Judith’s impromptu interruption, ruining what otherwise had been an absolutely perfect night and morning, he’d been rather quiet and awkward. He didn’t appear mad but disoriented, like a child who’d fallen off their bike after removing the training wheels and feared getting back on because they didn’t trust themselves. It was like he’d lost his footing and couldn’t find it again. And you knew it was your fault.

Judith just had such a negative impact on you and you were so exhausted from constantly trying to convince the woman that you w were doing a good job of raising Eli. Was it easy? No. Did you screw up a lot? Yes. But at the end of the day your son was happy, healthy, and loved. Wasn’t that what mattered? Why could that never be enough? Why did every decision you ever made have to come into question by a woman whose son joined the military just to get away from her?

“Steve…”

“Hmm?” His head turned toward you and you could see how hard he was working to keep an impassive look on his face, to not show how he was truly feeling. What was he feeling? Was he angry? He had every right to be after the way Judith had treated him, after you yourself had dismissed him, telling him you didn’t want to talk.

“About earlier…”

He cut you off, lifting his hand in front of him, “It’s fine. Really. You said you didn’t want to talk about it so you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s not fine.”

“It is. It’s obviously a tough situation for you that I don’t know anything about so…”

“But you should,” you stated firmly. Rising to your knees, you shifted until you were in front of him, taking both of his hands in your own. “You should. If we’re doing this…being an us, then you should know. Judith is difficult but she is a part of my life and she isn’t going anywhere. She’s Eli’s grandmother and that means that you’re going to have to deal with her sometimes so you should know our history. You should know exactly what you’re walking into.”

“But we don’t even know what this is, right? Isn’t that what you said? We’re not that serious so why do I need to know anything important about you?”

Ouch. His words hit their mark, exactly as he’d meant them to based on the tone he’d used. A missile he’d launched, his own hurt weaponized and aimed directly for you, successfully obliterating its target. You dropped down onto your heels as he pulled his hands back from you. His hand came to the back of his neck, rubbing, as if he could wipe away the tension that had appeared between them.

“Shit. Honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“Yes you did.”

“No. I didn’t.” His cheeks puffed up like a chipmunk with a frustrated exhale. “I want to know everything about you. I do. I want to know it all, the good, the bad, and everything in between. I just…when you said that…”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Is that how you feel? That you don’t know what we are? I mean, I guess I just need to know what this is. I thought we were on the same page but maybe we’re not. What do you want here, honey? Is this all just fun for you? Is this a casual thing? Are you serious about us or should I be preparing to have my heart stomped all over?”

Those beautiful eyes were begging you for an answer, for the answer he wanted. And he had it. He had all of you. He had every piece of you that you had to offer. But you didn’t know how much to say. He had no idea how completely gone for him you already were, how you dreamed of the future with him, what it would look like, the four of you together.

Your eyes drifted over to the boys, yelling and giggling as Lex Luthor and his henchmen tried to attack the Fortress of Solitude they’d built from whatever they could find on the beach. You could picture this, days, months, years of this…the two of you sitting back and enjoying your boys together. Watching them grow up, birthday parties and Christmases, Steve helping them with their ties for school dances, teaching them how to drive. Nights together watching movies and playing games. You could see it so clearly in your mind but you were terrified that if you shared all that with him he would leave a blazing path through this forest as he ran as far and as fast as he could.

“Honey?” he prompted when you'd been silent for so long.

“What do you want?” you asked, turning the tables on him, placing the ball in his court.

“What?”

“What do you want from this? Do you see this as something that has a future? Do you see us together six months from now? A year from now? Ten years from now? Or in three months will I be just another in a long line of heartbroken exes?”

Steve reared back as if you'd just slapped him across the face. And maybe it had been an insensitive question but you felt it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. Steve had been in numerous relationships throughout his life. Robin had shared that he latched on and fell fast because he was so desperate to be loved. Was that what this was?

You felt like he really liked you, like he truly cared about you. But was it just his past traumas causing him to act like that? Causing him to feel things that weren’t really there yet?

“Do you seriously not know?” he demanded. When you just looked at him, he groaned. “How do you not know how I feel about you? This isn’t even in the ballpark of casual for me. I told you I’ve never felt for anyone the way I feel for you.”

“But how can you be sure? Robin said…”

“Robin said what? That I love too quickly because of my messed up childhood bullshit? Because my parents didn’t love me enough, I’m always looking for it elsewhere?”

“I mean, she may have said something like that.”

“And she’s not wrong. I have in the past. I stayed with Nancy because I was desperate for a family, a real family. I was desperate to make it work, to be successful where my parents weren’t. But I’m not twenty anymore. I’m thirty-two and I am well aware of my faults. I didn’t even see what I was doing then but I do now. I know every relationship I’ve ever had wasn’t really love. It was…I don’t know. Me just settling, searching for something, anything that would make me feel whole. But I’ve never found it. I’ve never felt it until you. I think you’re what I’ve been searching for. I’ve spent my whole life waiting for someone like you.”

This was the second time he’d said that to you and it didn’t fail to rock you to your very core once again. It shook your very foundation to know that this beautiful, perfect man seemed to think that you were the thing he’d been missing in his life, that you were the missing piece to the puzzle that he’d been hopelessly searching for.

Your eyes roamed over his face, the flecks of gold in his eyes brought out by the sun, the freckles like angel kisses lovingly placed on his skin, those plump lips that girls would pay thousands of dollars to have. That word, that damn word, so simple, four letters, one syllable, was driving its way up your throat, desperate to be spoken.

Your hands slid over his jaw, softly, gently, as if you were holding delicate treasure that must be protected, because you were. His Adam’s apple bobbed, the muscles in his neck tensing, as he waited for you to reply to the truths he’d just laid before you.

“This isn’t casual for me either. I…I know my situation is different. I wasn’t searching all my life. I found…but he’s gone and when I lost Justin, I resigned myself to the fact that he was it. He had been my one shot at happiness and love and all that comes with it. But then here you came and you barreled through all of that doubt like a wrecking ball.” Your eyes slipped closed as you willed yourself to have the courage to jump off the edge, to soar through the air with nothing but hope that he would catch you instead of leaving you to hit the ground. “You snuck up on me and there is nothing just fun or casual about this because I…I love you.”

His eyebrows crept toward his forehead, every color in the spectrum dancing through his eyes that were now as wide as the moon and just as spectacular. You held your breath, your teeth worrying over your bottom lip. But then, as if in slow motion, his lips parted, curving into a slow smile that consumed his entire face, those little crinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes. His fingers slid into your hair, pulling you to him, his forehead pressing against yours as he whispered, “You do?”

“I do. I know it’s really soon. I wasn’t even sure I should say it. I realized it yesterday and it terrified me but it also…I don’t know. It just felt right, like something just shifting into the place it belonged all along. I told myself I wasn’t going to say it, that I was going to wait.” Your eyes squeezed shut nervously. “I was going to wait until you said it and I hope it doesn’t scare you. You don’t have to say it back. I don’t want you to say it because you think you have to. I just…I need you to know that I am all in. I am not going anywhere. I have already dove in way too deep. There’s no going back now.”

“I love you, too.”

“Don’t…please don’t say it just because I…”

“I’m not.” His fingers trailed down over your arms, linking his fingers with yours and bringing your interlocked hands to his chest. “I’m not. I’ve been trying not to say it too. I didn’t want to push you. I know this is hard for you. I know this is the first time you’ve been with anybody since your husband passed. I wanted to take things at your pace, follow your lead. I was waiting for you to say it first. But I do. I love you. I think I’ve loved you ever since that night I brought pizza over. And yeah, that’s crazy and it makes no sense because we barely knew each other but it’s true. I love everything I already know about you and I want to spend my life getting to know everything I don’t.”

“You…your life…?”

“Shit. Was that too much? I’m not about to pull out a ring or anything. I’m not asking you to promise the rest of your life to me. I just…I just meant…”

“Steve,” you laughed, pressing your lips against his to silence him. “No. It wasn’t too much. I know what you meant. I mean, we can’t really say we’re all in if we’re not expecting this to last forever, right?”

“Right.” He grinned, releasing your hands to wrap his arms around you and pull you in close. You sat between his legs, your back nestled into his chest, settling into place right where you belonged as the two of you watched your boys run down the sand.

Chapter 16

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atarathegreat · 4 months

Text

Sunrise Tetta Kisaki

because i'm still shit at answering things apparently. love at first sight/soulmates, fluffy smutty, requested by @stygianoir. I won't speak to how well it fits the request, I'm not great at AU's

Kisaki didn't have the chance to worry about being late for his morning shower or being late for work, not when he had an automatic alarm that woke him up every morning. A whiny, loud, and obstinate alarm that he wished would just go back to sleep when she tugged at his arm.

"Tetta!" He hated how she dragged his name out, the cute way her lips pursed when she tugged as hard as she could only to be met with him grabbing her wrist and yanking her back. She was many things to him, and, at 6:30 in the morning, annoying was at the top of the list. Interchangeable as the day went, of course. "Tetta! We have to get up!" It was as if she actually thought she was strong enough to fight against the way he held her down.

It was one of his few days off, she wasn't about to 'Tetta, please!' her way out of it either.

"Tetta! Please!" The sound she made was somewhere between a growl and a whine, the same sound she'd made that caught his attention the first time he ever saw her.

She'd been with some punk who couldn't even keep his pants on his ass, his belt haphazardly looped through only two of his belt loops and not even buckled. Kisaki had been disgusted at the sight, giving his own silent growl for his disdain. In all his years he would never embarrass himself with such a look, let alone with a girl like that on his arm. Even then, her extremely ratty clothes and dirt covered face, he'd found her beautiful. Her striking eyes that angrily begged the loser to go to the rooftops and see the sunrise.

How could such a rabid looking woman be so sweet in the face of such filth? Kisaki didn't know. Didn't care. Though he did wish she would've swung on him.

"We're not going to the damn roofs! You can see the sun at any point in the day!" The man raised his palm, the girl refused to flinch, but the tightening in her muscles showed Kisaki that he had scared her. Tetta Kisaki was, among many things, a devil. Yet even he'd be damned if he watched something like that and walked by. "Come." Was all he'd said to the strange, dirty female, choosing to ignore her ripped jeans.

His office building was nearby and was taller than the other buildings. Perfect for her to watch the sun come up. A fool could proclaim that she was hideous, dirty and unworthy of a second look from any man adorned in a suit. Kisaki found that his eyes refused to stray from her reflection in the elevator walls. Messy hair framing an all too perfect and dirt smudged face, maybe that was a bruise on her jaw. So what her legs could be seen, scratched up, through the equally nasty tears in her jeans? Something about her was simply...enthralling.

"The sunrise!" But that squealing would have to stop.

It was the same squeal she still had as she jumped out onto the terrace, eyes sparkling as the dark sky faded to amazing purples and pinks on the horizon. For a moment, Kisaki saw her as the street rat he'd picked up. Only for a moment.

Despite her disgusting appearance, Kisaki knew he wanted her. Wanted to spoil her and keep her in the silkiest clothes, watch her sit in a bubble bath for hours if she so pleased. The best, Kisaki knew she deserved only the best. It was the look on her face, the absolute joy he could see in her smile that made him trust his decision even more. Fancy shampoos and conditioners so her hair always looked shiny, the most expensive clothes so she always looked gorgeous, and the best version of him that Kisaki could give her. If that meant getting up at the ass crack of dawn to watch the sun rise over the city, he'd buy her a whole damn penthouse of nothing but glass walls.

Wind whipped around them, throwing her hair around, "It's so pretty!" As cliché as he felt, Kisaki thought the only pretty thing was her. Sun rays peeked easily over the city after a few moments, and he took it as his cue to grab her hips and kiss her head, "I'm going to go shower."

Though she didn't respond, Kisaki knew she heard him. Muscles flexed beneath the thin shirt he wore to bed as he stretched upwards, bending backwards enough to pop his back once, twice, and three times. Routine was important to him, keeping everything as tasks that he needed to complete was how he managed to survive with a woman who was so...compulsive? She wasn't organized and it bothered him. Whatever she wanted to do, she did without planning it or checking to be sure she had time for it. Really, how had she managed to get anything done without him?

Raining water sounded behind Kisaki and he looked to see her turning the shower on to the temperature she wanted. "I'll shower with you!" Fuck, that smile paired with the image of her naked made his body tingle. "Sounds good to me." Kisaki folded his glasses and set them on the sink.

A brief second passed where he wondered if she knew just how hard she made him when she pulled her shirt off. Had she been teasing him on purpose? She must be aware of the way he loved her hips in shorts, hell, he stared too much for her to not notice. And, gods, the way her chest bounced as she moved was hypnotizing. For a man who preferred to take his time, Kisaki was on her heels as she stepped into the walk in shower.

"Thank you for always getting up and watching the sunrise with me." Soft, gentle, Kisaki would never tire of the way she spoke to him as if he were a skittish animal, "A new day needs to be started with the people you love."

His lips twitched as he fought the feeling in his gut. She was being cute, he shouldn't want to press her against the wall and-

"It's not a problem." Kisaki wrapped his fingers around her waist, using his thumbs to rub small circles into her skin, soothing his tension a fraction. Sometimes she wanted to just be sweet and not have sexual tension locked in the middle, and Kisaki wanted to give her that but he just found her too damn alluring when she sounded so coddling. "C'mere." He whispered, his voice becoming raspy as the water touched her everywhere he wanted to. Such a good girl she was, listening without question when he beckoned her. 'Jump' and 'how high?' came to mind, but he didn't want to control her that way. "Wait for cleaning..." His lips felt hot, touching her neck and pulling away with a stupid sucking sound Kisaki could do without.

"Don't take those fuckin' hands off me." Kisaki let out a low growl, going with his nastiest fantasy and pulling her leg up, "If you don't want to do this, say so now." Because once I'm buried in you, I don't think I'll be able to stop.

Feeling her hands on his arms was almost too much for him to take, and she still asked what was happening like she didn't know. She was a bit of a dunce, if he was honest with himself, maybe she truly didn't know when he planned on ravaging her. The thought only served to spur him on.

"Do what?"

Laughter echoed around them as he slumped his head on her shoulder. It was too funny for him that she truly had no idea. "You're so damn clueless sometimes." Kisaki nipped at her jaw, dragging his hands all over her. It was more enjoyable when she was caught off guard anyway.

And, gods, the way she gasped when he pushed into her without warning. The way she clenched around his intrusion and her mouth made a perfect 'o' was nearly enough to make him lose his mind, if her eyes rolling back hadn't already done it. Kisaki loved to start slow, growling as his hardening cock dragged and pushed against her insides, slow and steady so he could feel every little bit of her. "Do you have any idea how good you feel?" Kisaki sucked the hot air from the shower through his teeth. He couldn't shake the thought that she was made for him, it was impossible that she was meant for anyone else, not when she fit him like a custom made glove.

Her fingernails left sweet crescents in his shoulders and it was only fair that she matched his bruising grip on her thigh. Whines spilled from her pouty lips, begging and pleading for him to just hold all of her against the darkly tiled wall. "I won't be able to stand if you keep it up like this!" Those eyes. Damn those eyes of hers. She could order any man to destroy the world with only a look and knit brows. Or it was just Kisaki, gods, he hoped it was only him. And her thighs! How they squished when she sat was only a way for her to tease him, a way for her to catch him more off guard whether she meant to or not. As if Kisaki hated her, as if all the rage he'd ever felt was her fault, he yanked her other thigh up and squeezed until he was sure he'd develop carpal tunnel. "Oh, shit." Kisaki drilled into her, feeling as far as she could take him. "Tetta!" It was the only time her squeals were tolerated by him, even if she was slapping his arms fervently, "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"Like Heaven." Kisaki jerked up into her, "I lose my damn mind every. Damn. Time."

"What a potty mouth." Kisaki tried to keep it together as her body tightened around him, "You never spoke like this before." It took all of his self control not to cum when she did. Inside her was his favorite place, even more so when she was pulsating and the sounds that came from the new mess only spurred Kisaki on. A shiver ran down his spine as she latched her lips to his neck. A way, he'd realized a little too late into their relationship, that she managed to soothe herself from the sensitivity that was forced on her. Hickeys weren't something Kisaki liked to have, rather he loved gifting them, but it was cute to him that she needed to do it.

"Almost done, baby, almost done." Kisaki grunted, moving his hands to grip her ass, "Hold on a little longer." A trooper, a real fucking trooper this girl was to whine her response as he borderline brutalized her cunt. The dark spot that he was earning was almost worth the time he would have to take to make sure she was okay and to get her showered.

Maybe having her so early in the morning wasn't his best move, but she was too irresistible when his dick was calling the shots. Which happened to be a majority of the time. He couldn't help it when she whimpered so prettily and dug her nails in once more when Kisaki slammed her back into the wall. Her body and the wall were the only things keeping him upright as he finally came, his whole body tingling as if all his nerves had been pinched in all the right places.

"Feet down." Kisaki moved to set her down. She only strengthened her grip around him, "No, please...just hold me a minute?"

Strange wasn't the word he would use to describe her, per se, but she definitely wasn't anything he'd had before. Not that he minded holding her as the shower beat down on them and the hot water reddened their skin.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #tokyo rev x reader #Tokyo Revengers x reader #kisaki smut #kisaki x reader #kisaki tetta #tokyo revengers kisaki #mdni #fluff to smut #requested #x reader #fanfiction #anime #manga

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libby-for-life · 19 days

Text

Back by popular demand. Adam gets sick. Part 2. Just some context before we continue. Adam reveals some...startling news about Lilith's true nature in Eden when he was sick with a fever. Onwards....

Lucifer could only stare at Adam's sleeping and exhausted form. Just two hours ago, Adam gave him startling news of Lilith. A huge part of the devil wanted to believe that Adam was lying. He had to be! Lilith, while not sweet, was not outright cruel to anyone in Eden.

But...Adam was in no state to lie. He had never seen the man cry before. Not since Eden. His fever left him unable to tell convincing lies...

Lucifer tugged at his hair. What was he supposed to believe?! A fever plagued Adam or his wife, estranged, for thousands of years? The choice was obvious. Lilith had never steered him wrong. Adam, while maybe not intentionally, was telling Lucifer lies brought on by his fever.

So why was there a nugget of doubt?

Suddenly, Lucifer got an idea. He hadn't used it in forever, but he was able to see memories with enough prodding. He can solve this and be completely sure about Adam's ramblings.

Breathing deeply, Lucifer's eyes glowed a deep red as he entered Adam's mind.

It was messy and cluttered. Exactly how he expected Adam's memories to be. Lucifer shifted through memories as quickly as he could, making sure to not look too deeply at things. Some memories were...graphic.

Finally, he saw a memory that made him stop. A familiar garden...Lucifer eagerly but carefully extracted the memory and watched through Adam's eyes.

'Adam woke up to a bright light. Everything was so colorful and new! He felt the dirt between his fingers, could smell ripe fruit, and saw tall beings with light coming out of them.'

Lucifer hummed. This was Adam's first memory. The day he was created. Sifting through more of Eden, he watched through Adam's eyes how excited he was to see Lucifer. The emotion was bright and held onto deeply. The former archangel blushed when he realized just how Adam thought of him in Eden.

Was this why Adam was always trying to feed him? Or give him flowers and shiny rocks? Lucifer indulged him but he didn't really see the point in them back then.

Moving forward, he came to Lilith's creation. She was made to be equal with him. Lucifer felt Adam's confusion when Sera told him that he must love, protect, and procreate with Lilith. Lucifer never realized just how firm Sera sounded when giving this order. It left no room for argument. No wonder Adam was so determined to have sex with Lilith. Sera made it sound like Adam would be committing a great sin if he didn't.

' "What is love?" Adam asked, gazing at Sera. The Seraphim looked surprised, as if not expecting questions. "Uh, it's when you want to spend the rest of your life together." Sera finally managed to say. Adam looked at the ground. Oh. He didn't want that with Lilith. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with Lucifer. He must be in love with him!'

Lucifer immediately backed away from that memory as fast as he could with a blushing face. That was far too personal. He felt like he just witnessed something that was trying to stay buried.

He needed to be quick with what he came for. Quickly, he found a memory of Eden with Lilith. They were sitting on a rock as Adam rambled on about how two salamanders raced each other. It was...endearing. Adam seemed so innocent back then. Since he was looking through Adam's eyes, he didn't notice the hand on his neck until Adam was already being choked.

Lucifer gasped as Adam's gaze turned to Lilith. She had an angry look to her. "Do you ever shut up!?" She yelled as she choked Adam.

The First Man tried to pry her hand off, but Lilith had always been strong. "I don't care about some dumb animals! Can't I have any peace from you?!" The memory went blurry and it took a moment for Lucifer to realize it was because Adam was crying.

"I'm sorry!" Adam choked out, his vision growing hazy with the lack of oxygen.

Lilith squeezed one more time before letting go. "Let that be a lesson. No one wants to hear your voice." And then she walked off, leaving him alone. Lucifer. I want Lucifer.

The devil's eyes widened. Adam must've been scared enough to be thinking of him. And why wouldn't he be? He was just choked for apparently talking too much.

He needed to know more.

He watched memory after memory of Lilith hurting Adam for some reason or other. One time, she had threatened to hang him from a tree if he continued trying to be with her. She would slap, kick, and comment terrible things about him. He was...abused. That was the only thing Lucifer could think of. Adam was abused by Lilith and no one seemed to care.

So, when Lucifer found a memory where Adam had found Lilith and him having sex in the garden, Lucifer wasn't surprised that Adam cried silently to himself, the image blurry because of his tears.

Why? Why are they doing that? I thought Lucifer was my friend!

Lucifer winced in guilt. From Adam's perspective, he could see how hurt and betrayed he was. And also the longing. A part of Adam wanted to be Lilith. To have Lucifer caress him and make love to him under the tree.

Lucifer didn't want to see it, but he had come this far and he knew he would be a coward if he didn't. He watched as Adam and his past self fought for the first time.

Lucifer had accused Adam of hurting Lilith, forcing himself on her. Adam was heartbroken at the accusations and glanced at Lilith who had a small smirk. She was playing Lucifer like a fiddle. Adam tried saying that she was lying but Lucifer wouldn't hear it. They left the garden and the devil watched as Adam held the pieces of his broken heart. He watched as bitterness and anger set in. His distrust of women that later turned into misogyny.

He had caused this. Lucifer was the one who made Adam who he was. All because he was too blind to see what was truly going on.

What has he done?

Lucifer came back into himself and he realized that he had been crying as well.

#hazbin hotel #adamsapple #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel lucifer #send asks #lilith #tw abuse #garden of eden

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fayes-fics · 2 years

Text

Honourable

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Anthony gets hurt and you tend to his injury.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors dni, vaginal sex, slight innocence kink, loss of virginity, proposal, angst, injury.

Word Count: 4.6k

Authors Note: Hey Nonny. Thank you and thanks for your ask. I went with Anthony for this one. I hope you enjoy this and there is enough angst - my muse decided this is the way it wanted to go lol. I am so sorry this is so late. Also as per usual, this is not a 500-word ficlet lol. This got away from me in a BIG way and ended up at over 4.5k eek!! Thank you to @iboopedyournose for all your help wrangling this one. You rock lovely <3

“Lord Bridgerton?” you call out, concerned, as you spy a worrying trail of what looks like blood droplets across the shiny wooden floors of Aubrey Hall.

“Here,” he responds, a little strained. You follow the sound of his voice and the trail which ends in his private bathroom. You probably shouldn't be in this room, but then he did respond to you. You find him at his vanity sink; bloody shirt pulled off one shoulder, an angry-looking gash on his left bicep.

“Oh my god, what happened?” you stutter, unable to take your eyes off the wound.

“It’s just a scratch, don’t worry, Miss y/l/n,” he downplays upon seeing your face, “I’ll be fine.”

“No, no,” your caretaking demeanour kicking in from years of tending to family members, “sit down right now, let me take a look.” You know he is probably physically strong, but you care for him a lot - probably more than you would like to admit to yourself, let alone him - and need to know he is okay.

“Honestly, I'm alright. Just a bandage, and I’ll be good as new,” he attempts to assure, hissing as he removes his shirt somewhat stiltedly.

Elsewhere you can now see he has minor scratches on his hands, neck, torso and the start of a bruise around his ribs. Nothing looks broken, but he looks beaten up, his movements hampered as if his body feels abused.

“Lord Bridgerton, sit down now or so help me….” you threaten, pulling yourself up to your full height and pointing emphatically at a nearby stool.

To your surprise, he obeys, and you draw closer, inspecting the damage. The cut looks quite deep and probably needs a doctor, but you already know he will dismiss that idea out of hand. There is a little dirt and what looks like splinters of wood in the wound.

You gently prod his arm above, checking for tenderness, and he hisses, putting on a brave face. A little more blood oozes, and you know you must get it cleaned up and bandaged as soon as possible.

“I need to get this cleaned up before it gets infected,” you explain, attempting for a calm bedside manner, despite the oily fear you feel in your stomach that he could be in worse shape than you entirely know how to handle.

“It’s not that bad,” he frowns.

“Lord Bridgerton, just let me help you,” you sigh, frustrated.

He purses his lips but finally relents with a short nod. So you cross the room finding supplies - a porcelain bowl that you fill with water, some tweezers and some muslin wash clothes. Finally, you swipe a whisky decanter on a trolley near the big copper bath - that will have to do.

“Is that for me?” he raises an eyebrow, “I wouldn't say no.”

“It's actually to clean the wound, but here,” you remove the stopper and place it in his good hand. “I’m sure it will help with the pain.”

He takes a large swig. “I can't believe you are going to use 25-year-aged single malt to clean a wound,” he grouses.

“Well, deal with it,” you respond sharply, feeling immediately remorseful for being short with him when he's obviously in pain. “What happened?” you ask again with a softer tone, wetting the muslin in the bowl and gently cleaning the blood and dirt from the wound. It seems to have stopped bleeding profusely, which you are grateful for.

He huffs a sigh and closes his eyes as if embarrassed. “I was in dispute with someone, and things got a little ugly. I lost my footing and ended up falling on a broken tree limb, and my left arm took the brunt.”

“A dispute with someone?” you parrot. “Is that a nice way of saying you were in a physical altercation? Because it sounds a lot like it to me,” your mouth a thin line of disapproval.

“I didn't like what they had to say about someone of great importance to me,” he shrugs with his good shoulder, seemingly unwilling to elaborate, taking another sizeable swig of whisky.

“Who?” you inquire, “and hold still.” You grab the tweezers, intent on removing the splinters of wood you can see. You kneel to his side and try not to look anywhere else but the wound. This is the first time you have seen him or any man you are not related to without a shirt. And, despite the gravity of the situation, it's doing some things to your insides you are unsure how to process or ignore.

“Not your concern,” he responds a little terse, flinching as you pull on a shard of wood.

“I said stop moving,” you grouse, grabbing his forearm with some force, forgetting momentarily who you are talking to. You look up suddenly contrite when you realise.

His eyes flash at you. “Yes, Ma’am,” he murmurs in a deep voice that makes the flutter inside your stomach turn into outright war, a somersaulting breathless feeling. You break the intense eye contact and take a deep breath before resuming the task.

He is now silent and still, the only noise your joint breathing. Slowly you remove all the splinters you can see, being careful not to miss any smaller ones. There is a silence in the room that feels both comforting and rippling with potential.

“I think that is the best I can do,” you say quietly, reaching for the whisky and pouring a little onto a clean piece of muslin. “This may sting a little,” you warn.

He hisses as you press the alcohol-soaked fabric against the wound. You do the best you can to sanitise the area. Now it's time to wrap the wound.

“How fond are you of that shirt, my Lord?” you question, eyeing the shirt he removed, crumpled on the floor.

“Why?”

“Because I need something to bandage the wound, and cotton is the best thing,” you clarify, reaching for it, “I can tear this and use the clean right arm to make a bandage.”

“Go ahead,” his voice tinged with bemusement. Then his face morphs into admiration and something darker as you expertly rip the shirt sleeve asunder. “Something tells me you are not the usual lady of good society,” he rumbles.

“I may be a Baron’s daughter, but I grew up mostly on our farm just like my brothers,” you offer by way of explanation.

You begin with looping the fabric around his arm, trying not to let your fingers linger on the toned muscle there. Instead, you try to concentrate on providing enough tautness to bind the wound. Eventually, you tuck the loose end back into the top side.

“There, all done. Ideally, we need a pin to hold this in place, but that should do for now. But beware, it’ll probably scar,” you conclude.

“I care not,” he responds quickly, “the person was more than worthy of my defence.”

“If you’re not going to tell me, I'm sure the person you defended would love to know.” Perhaps it’s a little out of place for you to say so, but you have just assisted him with his wound and think he will likely offer you the latitude of a frank opinion.

“It was you,” he utters on an exhale.

“Me? Why would you need to defend me?” Mostly your response is puzzlement.

“The man was…” he pauses, “casting aspersions on your honour. I could not stand for it,” he speaks fiercely.

You know your mouth has fallen open. He has been injured for you–defending you. You had no idea he felt that deeply for you. Your feelings for him are something you have tried to deny for a long time. It seemed like a pointless endeavour to want him when the attraction always seemed so frivolous between you. Yet here you stand. Tending to the wounds, he got, for you. The chivalry of the act makes you feel grateful and vulnerable and hopeful he returns your affections. It's an exotic cocktail.

“Y.. you defended me in a fight?” your voice is a whisper now. “You got injured because of me?” It’s the only thing you can think to say, even though your thoughts run much deeper.

“As I said,” he intones purposefully, “someone of great importance to me was being disrespected, and I would not stand for it.”

You meet his eye, and everything feels different to your previous somewhat flirtatious encounters. Your skin hums with something akin to when a storm rolls in. Your lips and fingers tingle, your breath feels shallow, and your mouth is dry. The flips in your stomach morph into something more sinful, a tingle that buzzes right between your legs as your gaze drops to his lips.

There's a growl, and your stockinged legs jostle against the wood as he suddenly pulls you bodily against him with his good arm and his lips descend onto yours. You may have secretly kissed a few boys almost innocently, but it was nothing like this. He deepens the kiss, and his tongue snakes into your mouth; you can't help but make little noises. The sensation is so overwhelming. Your hands wind around his neck, one venturing up into his hair, so thick and luscious. The tingle between your legs is no longer just that; something is happening you have never felt before, a slight ache that seems to grow with every second.

Suddenly he pulls away.

“Oh god. I’m so sorry; please forgive me,” he breathes heavily, “I didn’t mean to take advantage…. I’m so sorry,” he repeats. “I just…” he looks lost for words and so wild, his eyes ablaze, his lips wet from your kisses.

“Anthony,” your voice thready, “please, please don’t stop,” you plead.

He presses his forehead against yours, breathing the same air. “You don't know what you're asking for,” he warns, his voice dark.

“I know if my honour is to be ruined, I want you to be the one to do it,” you whisper urgently.

He groans at that. “Don't say these things to me. I will not take advantage. I am a gentleman.”

“And I'm a lady,” you murmur, “and I want you to ruin me,” you assert, knowing you want him to, more than anything.

His lips are back on yours insistently with a growl, cupping your face, drawing you further into him. You kiss back fervently, desperate to communicate just how much you want him.

“I suppose,” he begins, as he breaks the kiss, “you are only ruined if I don't do the honourable thing,” his voice silky and full of a promise that makes your skin shiver.

“Stop…?” you venture, hoping that is the last thing on his mind.

“Ask for your hand,” his tone almost casual, but there is a fire in his eyes.

It steals your breath, “Is that a proposal?” you stutter. Really the last place you expected to be proposed to was on a bathroom floor, but somehow you don't care as it's him, and he is looking at you like that.

“Is that a yes?” his expression is sincere but playful.

He stands suddenly, and with his good arm, he pulls you to your feet. “Come with me,” his whisper is seductive, slipping his hand into yours and backing from the bathroom into his adjoining bedroom.

“I'm not going to bed with you, Anthony Bridgerton,” you insist, “until you propose properly. Informing my family.”

He smirks, and his face lights up as if he has an idea he likes. “Wait there,” he says and walks to his bedside, ringing a bell. Within a few moments, there is a knock on the bedroom door. “Come in,” he calls, looking over at you.

His valet enters the room. “How can I help you, sir?”

“Kindly inform Baron and Baroness y/l/n of my intentions to propose marriage to their daughter,” he says, his gaze burning into yours. “I have been injured, as you can see, so I cannot be there at dinner tonight. But please inform them I had planned to propose at the dinner table. And I’m certain her answer will be….” he stops and looks at you expectantly.

Your heart is hammering in your chest. ��Yes,” you whisper.

His smile lights up. “Also, inform everyone I need to rest tonight,” his face turns sinful, his stare still holding yours, “under no circumstances should I be disturbed.”

“Certainly, sir,” he says. “Will that be all?”

“Bring up two plates of the dinner and a bottle of our finest champagne. Just leave it by the door.” Anthony finally looks away from you to nod at his valet. “Thank you, Jenkins.”

Jenkins closes the door behind him. All you can do is stare.

“Is that acceptable to you, y/n? I assume I can call you that now,” he is stalking slowly towards you, his voice like velvet, “seeing as we are soon to be wed.”

“Very acceptable,” you breathe as he pulls up right in front of you, still shirtless; you can smell his skin. You look into his eyes and hold his gaze as you add, “Anthony.”

He makes a noise in the back of his throat, and suddenly you are back in his arms. His kisses are insistent like before. He walks you slowly towards the bed, always his lips on yours.

“Or would you prefer I call you Viscountess already?” he asks, breaking away from your lips to kiss down the column of your neck.

“Anything,” you answer, a little breathless, as you feel the mattress press against the back of your legs.

“How about my love? Or my darling?” he offers, kissing across the top of your shoulder and gently pulling the neckline of your dress aside.

“Yes, all good”, you respond, eager for everything that could follow.

“Hmm, let me think a little more about what I want to call you most, my wife-to-be”, he hums as you feel his warm hands around your upper back, unbuttoning your dress.

“What should I call you?” you ask needily, “should I call you Anthony? My love? My darling?”

“All of them,” he shutters, and you feel a tug, then your dress falls to the floor in a heavy thump. You feel the warmth from his fireplace through your thin cotton chemise as his lips drag against your collarbone.

“Anthony, I….” you begin, suddenly nervous.

“Don't be nervous, my love,” he intuits, his voice soft and seductive against your skin. “I promise this will be pleasant for you.” his hands slide down over your back. “Take this off,” he murmurs, tugging on the chemise.

You do as asked, and he steps back to look at you. Instinctively your hands go to cover your underwear.

He grabs your hands and pulls them away to the sides. “Don't ever hide yourself from me, my love,” he urges, “you have nothing to hide; you look beautiful.”

He spins you around as if on the dancefloor but crowds against your back, kissing your shoulder. You feel his chest hair tickling your shoulder blades as his hands slide down your sides; everywhere he touches feels afire until he reaches your underwear, pulling on the string as they relent and fall to the floor. You are left in just your stockings and stays now.

The warm air swirls around your most intimate place, and your breathing becomes uneven as his hand moves from your hip, spidering across your belly, then questing lower.

Nothing in your twenty-one years on this earth has prepared you for the moment a man - this man, in particular - touches you between your legs. If this is what it's like, no wonder mothers keep their daughters in the dark about what happens between husband and wife. You would scarcely think of anything else. A loud moan escapes your lips.

“Oh darling, I want to hear you make that sound every day,” he utters into your ear. His fingers slowly press into your folds. “You are so wet for me, my love,” he adds with a tremor in his voice.

“What does that mean?” you ask, breathless and slightly out of your depth as he slowly moves his hand back and forth.

“You… you don't know?” he questions raggedly.

“No, I just know I have… duties I must perform for you in the bedroom,” you whisper, feeling almost drunk from what he is doing to you, moving rhythmically against his hand, almost swaying.

“No, no,” he says fiercely, “it is never a duty, my love. Does this,” his finger circles around a very sensitive part of your body, and you cry out at the heady sensation, “feel like a duty to you?” he asks, his tone a little smug.

“No, my lord,” you reply, and he groans into your ear, his finger moving faster.

“Oh god, yes, always call me that in bed”, he urges, his voice gravelly.

You grab onto his forearms to give yourself an anchor and keep pushing yourself against his hand.

“Does it feel good?” he asks silkily, his breath hot on your cheek.

“Yes, my lord,” your legs feel heavy, your breath coming out in pants, his fingers moving so fast against you as you feel yourself climbing an invisible ladder, your skin flushed, your brain switching off.

“Please don't stop,” you stutter as his lips suck on your neck, digging in his teeth a little as you feel ready to explode, a hot, heavy feeling all over. You can only sag against him, your legs spasming too much to stand.

“Yes, yes”, he growls against your neck, “let it go, my love”.

You feel something in you snap, and waves of pleasure pulse through your veins as you call out his name. You feel yourself flood against his hand.

“That's it, perfect,” he moans, pushing his body against you; you feel something warm and insistent against your lower back. He slows his hand and just holds you there as your breath slows, and you shudder gently. “How was that, my darling?” he busses against your cheek.

Words almost fail you. “That was…. wonderful,” you answer, enchanted.

“Good,” he says, “now it's my turn,” he adds a little darkly, one hand crawling up to your stays and plucking on the lace there.

After a few pulls, the material relents and falls away from your body. He spins you around, peels it off your body, and throws it away—his gaze heavy on you.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispers reverentially, moving to give you a deep kiss, his hands cupping your face gently. “Sit down on the bed”, he requests against your lips.

You do as asked, and he drops to his knees in front of you, taking a leg into his hands and sliding off your stocking slowly. One hand traces down your thigh as the other pulls off the material around your foot, and he does the same to your other leg. Now, you are entirely naked.

“Lay back”, he urges, and you shuffle nervously until your head is on a pillow. Looking over at him, he's back to standing next to the bed.

With a sinful smile, he starts to unbutton his trousers. You can't look away, and your hand falls to your breast on instinct, rubbing your finger gently against your nipple as he makes a show for you.

“Are you touching yourself as you watch me undress?” his tone hungry.

“Yes, my lord, is that alright?” you reply, suddenly nervous you may have somehow done the wrong thing.

“It's more than alright,” he stutters and stops his movements, opting to climb onto the bed with one side of his trousers still fastened.

He crawls over you, and your breath speeds up as you feel the warmth radiating off his skin against yours. Then his lips close around your nipple, and the surge of pleasure again makes you cry out his name. You watch as his arm, with the bandage you made, moves down to open his trousers. For some reason, worried about his wounds, you reach down and help him.

He looks up at your face in surprise, then slowly moves his hand away as you give him a little smile and take over.

“Is this alright?” you query again, knowing the answer this time.

“You know it is,” he smirks back at you, watching your face as your gaze falls to where your hand is releasing the last button. Your mouth falls open as you see now the source of insistence you felt against your back.

“What…?” it looks fascinating, tempting and a little intimidating.

“Do you know what this is?” he teases, moving his hand down to grasp himself.

“No…”

“I love how innocent you are,” he groans and squeezes himself. “Here this is my cock,” he grabs the hand you were undoing his trousers with and shows you. The skin is warm and silky, and as he wraps your hand around it, underneath, it's hard and steely. His hand encircles yours, and he moves up and down slowly; you feel every ridge and vein there. “Yes, like that,” he encourages, moving his hand away.

He moans as you continue the movements he demonstrated. You watch as a bead of moisture appears at the top, and without thinking, you swipe your thumb through it. It's tacky and warm; he groans even harder.

“Call me my lord again,” his voice is thready, watching what you are doing to him.

“My lord”, you whisper, your other hand splaying across his chest, burying into the hair.

He looks up at your face, and his expression is wild.

“You are so wonderful at this,” he murmurs, “but I'm going to need you to stop now if you want to take this further.” He brings his hand over yours and slows your movements until he pulls your hand away and kisses it.

“What further?” you query, eager to learn everything he has to teach you.

He slots a knee between yours.

“Open your legs,” he says duskily, “a little more,” he advises, as you push your knees apart.

He shuffles off his trousers, then settles between your legs, lowering himself over you. He is kissing you again, his tongue invading your mouth, teasing yours. As he does so, his hands ghost over your breasts, and you surge against him, chasing sensation.

“Are you ready to become a woman?” he queries, with a dangerous smile, his mouth open over yours.

“Yes, my lord,” you reply throatily, your tongue feeling heavy in your mouth.

“This may hurt a little, my love, but then afterwards, it will feel wonderful, just like when I touched you before,” he counsels as he rubs his cock over the place he touched you, causing your breath to catch and your hips to roll up slightly. “Ready?”

You nod and then feel an insistent press against your body. It feels hot and blunt and too large.

“Relax, my love,” he says, through gritted teeth, “let me in.”

You exhale slowly and feel your body relax, and he sinks further into you. You feel full and like something is pulled tight inside, ready to snap.

“Here, hold my hand,” he offers, and you lace fingers just as he surges forward. You feel a quick sharp pain inside, then just heat and invasion. He stops moving as his body meets yours between your legs.

He holds still as you get used to the sensation. It's so overwhelming, and unlike anything else you have ever experienced.

He brings the hand you are holding to his lips. “Are you ok, my love?” he asks, his voice laced with affectionate concern.

“Yes, my lord, it doesn't hurt anymore,” you affirm.

“That's wonderful,” he exhales, relieved, “I'm going to start moving now, and it should start to feel good soon,” he promises.

You nod, and he pulls back slightly, then surges forward into you. Your breath is a staccato as you catalogue all the sensations in your body: the heat, the pressure, the fullness.

“Wow, my lord, this feels so strange but nice,” your honest assessment makes him huff a gently laugh and kiss your nose, staring into your eyes as he moves slowly in and out of your body.

You glance down between your legs and watch, fascinated as he plunges into your body and pulls out. The sight causes you to tingle slightly between your legs, and you don't want to look away.

“Do you like what you see?” he purrs gently against your cheek, watching you closely.

“Yes,” you gasp.

“Good” he groans, moving an arm to hook under your knee, opening you further.

The change of angle causes a flood of something pleasurable to surge through you as he pushes in and you gasp loudly.

“There it is,” he gloats triumphant, “you feel that, don't you?”

“Yessss,” you hiss and close your eyes, grasping at him, wanting him to go harder, deeper. There is a spot you want him to hit over and over and over.

He speeds up his thrusts and pushes more forcefully as you start to gasp and moan and writhe under him, chasing after an intangible something you feel just beyond your grasp.

“Please don't stop,” you stutter, your hands now clasping his bum and encouraging his plunging movements.

“Look at you, showing me what you need. You are so perfect.”

“Please give me more, my lord,” you implore, chasing a kiss from his lips.

He growls and takes you harder, stronger. The bed makes noises under the assault of his movements.

You are climbing again like before when he touched you, your every breath now a moan. His brow glistening, dropping moisture into your hair. Then suddenly, the feeling snaps tightly, all of your muscles contract, and you scream as waves of pleasure hit you. Closing your eyes, pushing up against him, open-mouthed and panting, the pleasure concentrated most where he keeps hitting deep inside.

You hear him call your name and curse, but it's far away. Then you feel a strange warm bloom inside you as he shudders and collapses on top of you, heavy and breathless.

Your mind is blissfully blank; your body feels floating and tingly. It's such a mind-altering experience you scarcely feel able to do anything but lie back with a smile on your face.

“How do you feel now, my love?” he asks, his voice deep and rough, as he languidly kisses your neck.

“Oh god, Anthony, that was…. that was….” you don't even have the vocabulary to articulate it.

“Wonderful?” he provides, with a warm chuckle, as you feel him gently withdraw from your body.

“Yes,” you laugh lightly in response, “and so much more.”

“Well now, future Viscountess,” he teases, dropping kisses across your collarbone, “what do you say to a little dinner? Perhaps some champagne?”

“That sounds wonderful,” you breathe, pushing your hands through his hair and lightly scratching his scalp, loving the way he groans when you do so.

“How is your arm?” you ask, just remembering his injury and glancing at your makeshift bandage.

“Thanks to you, it is very well,” he assures against your skin.

“You should probably not put more weight on it,” you frown sagely.

“Thank you, my wonderfully attentive nurse,” he teases, surging up gently and capturing your lips.

“Perhaps if we do this again after dinner,” you say coyly, “I can find a way to be on top of you so that you can rest this arm? Is something like that even possible?” you hedge, starting up into his eyes.

“Oh god, yes it is,” his voice gruff, “I will show you exactly what to do.”

“I look forward to it, my lord,” you smile, knowing this is the start of a fantastic adventure.

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