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cleo-fox · 3 months

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Conquer

Part 1 of 5

Series Masterlist

Summary: The king intends to take a bride.

You just never thought it would be you.

(Soulmate AU where Loki won)

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Tag List: I don’t have a tag list for this fic, sorry! The best way to hear about updates is to follow me on Tumblr or subscribe to the fic on AO3.

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, enemies to lovers, dirty talk, praise kink, oral sex (fem receiving), teasing, p in v sex, vaginal fingering.

A/N: I’m kind of fascinated by the concept of a soulmate AU where Loki wins and this is just another take on that thought. If you've read my fic Surrender, this one is a different universe (an AU of an AU? Is that a thing?)

I am indebted to @infinitystoner, who was kind enough to talk me through some of my doubts about this fic. This one is for you, K. (Also, everyone should go read her work, it's fabulous).

The king intends to take a bride.

At first you think it’s just a stupid rumor, but with time, it becomes clear that it’s not merely a stupid rumor, but a true rumor about a stupid plan. He hasn’t found his soulmate; the speculation is that this is about producing an heir or something similar. Which is also stupid because he’s the one who took over your fucking planet. He can make new rules for succession if he wants to. He doesn’t have to make other people suffer.

You, like most people, still harbor a lot of anger and resentment toward Loki.

You don’t know who he’s going to rope into this plan, but you feel bad for her already. Imagine not only having to be married to that monster, but being in this weird second place to whoever is unfortunate enough to be his soulmate. Imagine having to fuck him, to try and have his kid, all the while knowing you’ll be discarded once he finds his soulmate. Imagine having to go along with all of this and never being able to say what you really think.

The only person you feel sorrier for is whoever turns out to be his soulmate.

Later, all of this will strike you as absurdly ironic.

But you don’t know any of that yet.

You took a job at the hotel because you needed a change of pace after Loki took over. It was just a front desk job—you checked people in and out, answered questions, and said “let me get my manager” whenever there was a serious problem with a guest. It wasn’t glamorous or fun, but it was straightforward and you never had to bring work home with you.

The one thing that you never really considered was whether you were inadvertently choosing a job that would bring you into closer proximity to the man you were trying so desperately hard to not think about at all.

You probably should have considered it—you knew when you took the job that he did a fair amount of travel. You never really understood why—he conquered the entire fucking planet, you think he’d be content to just chill in his palace or whatever. But no. He was constantly on the move, constantly showing up and demanding to be accommodated, and people put up with it because what else are they supposed to do? You can’t exactly persona non grata the guy that successfully took over your planet and made himself king. If that worked, he wouldn’t be here in the first place.

You kind of assumed that he wouldn’t show up to your hotel—it wasn’t conveniently located to anything useful and while it technically had a five star rating, you didn’t think it offered the same caliber of accommodations as the places he was known to stay.

As it turns out, you were wrong on all counts. Hilariously wrong. Because now his steward is here in your hotel lobby. Or his…emissary? You’re not sure what this guy’s official title is. You recognize him from the news—he can often be spotted in the entourage of guards and staff that accompany Loki everywhere, but you don’t know his name. He is rattling off a monologue of sorts—the king requires accommodations, only the finest rooms, and so on. You feel as though you are having an out of body experience as you click through the booking software and confirm that the penthouse is available. You breathe an inner sigh of relief—it would have been manageable to evict whichever rich person had booked it, but it would have fucked up the cleaning crew’s scheduling for at least the next week and you know that corporate is already up Marisol’s ass about your location’s overtime.

You don’t really expect him to show up during this transaction. If you had, you would have said “let me get my manager” and washed your hands of it—you don’t get paid nearly enough to deal with self-proclaimed kings. But as you are booking the room (who the fuck are you supposed to list as the guarantor on the invoice? This wasn’t covered in your training), Loki storms in, followed by a cadre of guards.

You’re not really prepared to see him in person—that’s partly why you freeze. He’s so tall and well…real. It sounds stupid, but it’s jarring seeing him in front of you instead of on a screen or in a picture. He’s not exactly more frightening, but looking at him makes your pulse quicken.

He’s scolding the steward (emissary?) about something—you’re so distracted that you miss exactly what it is that has him so annoyed.

And then you realize that the mark on your left wrist is burning.

You swallow hard. No. Not him.

Loki looks up and his eyes lock with yours.

Fucking hell.

The wedding is a spectacle, to say the least.

Your dress is fucking ridiculous. Instead of the traditional white, you are draped in yards of green fabric covered in thousands of emeralds and diamonds and painstakingly embroidered with thread made of real gold and silver. It is very much a statement about who you are and who you belong to. You don’t care for it, but you don’t really have a choice—the details of the ceremony have been largely left to other people to decide. Part of you thinks they must have been planning for this for years, based on the number of things that are already prepared. Or maybe having access to magic negates the need for planning ahead.

You are much too angry to actually ask Loki about any of this. Not that you see much of him before the ceremony anyway.

You go through the motions of the ceremony, trying to keep your cool. It’s only been a week since he found you at the hotel, so the fact that you haven’t consummated your soulbond is more akin to an annoying itch than anything more disruptive, but when he kisses you at the conclusion of the ceremony, it's…intense, to say the least. The mild ache that settled itself between your thighs last week seems to swell, sending a fresh wave of arousal to your core. When he slides his tongue past your lips, all you want to do is release a wanton moan directly into his mouth and rub yourself shamelessly against him. The fact that you’re standing on a platform while the entire world looks on is really the only thing that stops you.

The fact that this is your immediate reaction scares you a bit. You know it’s biology—soulbonds are meant to be consummated isn’t just a saying—but there’s part of you that feels like you should have a stronger handle on that impulse. You are mad at him, you remind yourself. He took over your entire planet, installed himself as king, and then had the audacity to be your soulmate. Focus. Be angry.

You wonder if your family and friends are watching. Your phone ran out of battery the night after he found you and you haven’t had the heart to charge it. You’re barely managing your own emotional reaction—you’re not ready to invite anyone else into it just yet.

The rest of your wedding day is a blur. You meet a bunch of important people and retain exactly none of their names or roles. There is an elaborate multi-course feast and you manage to eat without spilling food on your dress, which feels like a small miracle. You meet more important people and somehow retain even less information. You dance—a few dances with important people whose names you’ve forgotten, but mostly with Loki. The sun sets. They bring out an elaborate dessert course. You dance again. Loki’s hand on your waist fans the flames of desire that you’re trying so hard to ignore.

Finally, you’re whisked away to prepare for bed. It took three people to get you into your dress, and it takes just as many to get you out. They help you into a nightgown that you also didn’t get to pick out—and in fact, it’s the first time you’re seeing it at all. It’s almost too pretty to sleep in, though you suppose that’s the point—you’re supposed to fall asleep naked and sated in the arms of your new husband (god, it’s so weird that you have a husband). You’re not so sure that this is the specific fate that’s in your cards, but you anticipate the nightgown will be coming off at some point this evening. In the interim, you look stereotypically virginal in white lace and chiffon, a glittering emerald pendant resting in your cleavage.

You’ve been staying in a guest suite since he found you, but tonight, they bring you to his rooms. Your rooms, you suppose. Somehow, you doubt he’s the sort who believes that husbands and wives should sleep separately.

The lights are on, but it’s quiet. You wonder if he’s even here.

You approach the couch that sits in front of the floor to ceiling windows that overlook the city. You can see fireworks and twinkling lights of different celebrations and your stomach clenches like a fist. It’s supposed to be in honor of you. Earth’s new queen. A title that shouldn’t even exist, let alone belong to you.

You turn away from the window and sit down on the couch. You stare at the wall, hands twisting the delicate fabric of your nightgown in your lap.

You hear a sound in the other room—his study, you think—and your heart leaps to your throat, practically buzzing with an emotion that feels like the strange cousin of anxiety and anticipation.

You keep your eyes locked on the wall as you listen to his footsteps draw closer.

“It’s customary to announce yourself when you enter someone’s quarters, you know.”

You pause for a moment before letting your gaze trail to him. It’s a conscious, obnoxious power play on your part—you are trying to show him that you still have agency, that he has not yet won your respect or admiration.

You’re not even sure that it registers, which only serves to irritate you further.

He is still wearing most of his wedding clothes, though he’s taken off the fine surcoat from the ceremony, exposing the soft tunic he was wearing underneath. He is smirking—that seems to be his expression of choice, you’ve noticed.

“Aren’t these my rooms too?” you ask. “Is it customary to announce myself in my own space?”

You are trying to be rude, but it doesn’t seem to matter: he simply laughs.

“You are spirited,” he says, looking you over appreciatively, stirring a wild and burning need in your hips, slickness collecting in the lacy white underwear that had been chosen for you.

“And you intend to break me, is that it?” you snap with more venom than is perhaps wise.

“Of course not.” His answer surprises you, though you are determined to not let that show in your face. “Your will is part of your appeal. I’d no sooner crush a rose beneath my boot.”

You are skeptical of this claim given the amount of damage he did to New York City, but your traitorous cunt throbs at his words nonetheless.

“I’m not happy about any of this, you know,” you say, hoping that your anger will act like roiling floodwaters on the firestorm of lust that’s continuing to build in your hips.

It doesn’t, of course. What’s worse: he laughs. Again.

“I’d gathered,” he says. “You are wonderfully unsubtle when you’re angry.”

“I mean, are you surprised?” you say irritably. “I didn’t even get to pick out my own wedding dress, for fuck’s sake.”

“This is the burden of the office, I’m afraid,” he says. “Your wants and desires are often secondary to the needs of the crown.”

You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from screaming at him. “I think you’re missing the point.”

“I think you’ll find I’m not.”

You let out one long breath. “Are you trying to irritate me?”

Another smirk. “I’m afraid I simply have a gift for it.”

You finally give in and scowl. “Great. This is going about as well as I had expected.”

His eyes drift down the column of your throat to the emerald pendant resting in your cleavage and then to the bodice of your nightgown. “Perhaps it’s time we concern ourselves with activities that require less talking.” He licks his lips and brings his gaze back up to yours.

“I’m not entirely convinced anything would stop you from talking,” you say.

“I suspect letting me bury my tongue in your cunt might do the trick.”

For the first time today, you are entirely speechless. The fire burning low in your hips roars into an inferno, like someone has poured accelerant along your nerves and Loki has struck a match. You take in one shaky breath, your heart thrumming in your throat.

“That’s what I thought,” he says with a dark sort of smugness. “To bed, wife.”

You steadfastly ignore the way your stomach jumps when he calls you ‘wife.’ Why is that hot? It shouldn’t be hot.

You’re tempted to argue with him some more—you don’t like giving him even the vaguest impression that you’re following his orders or anything like that—but one smoldering look from him has your heart pounding and another wave of fresh arousal flooding between your legs. You follow him to the bed, trying to keep your expression neutral and indifferent.

He pulls you firmly against him and you wonder if he can feel your heart pounding in your chest. There’s no space between you—you can feel his stomach muscles expand and contract with every slow intake of breath, the press of his slowly hardening cock against your stomach.

He tilts your face up to his and claims your mouth in a devouring kiss, and this time, the moan that you’d held back during the ceremony slips from your lips almost immediately. He makes a low growling noise in return, his hands sliding to the row of small pearl buttons that hold up the back of your nightgown.

You suspect that beyond aesthetic and functional value, the purpose of these buttons is to facilitate a slow, sexy reveal; Loki undoes exactly two and a half buttons before roughly pulling the edges of the fabric apart, the remaining buttons snapping from their threads and pinging against the floor.

You pull away from him, immediately annoyed. “Do you make a habit of ruining other people’s things? What if I wanted to wear that again?”

He laughs, tugging the fabric off your shoulders. “Perhaps you forget the extraordinary powers I have at my command,” he says, staring greedily at your breasts as he tugs the nightgown down your waist, pulling it off your hips so it falls to the floor. “I could tear this gown off you every night and remake it every morning with no more than a click of my fingers.”

Fucking magic powers undercutting your goddamn fucking point.

“Yeah, well, you’re still a jackass,” you say sourly, unwilling to concede the point any further.

His smile is sharp in a way that makes you shiver and he slips his hand into your underwear, his smile growing as he feels how slick you are. “It doesn’t seem to bother you all that much, does it?”

You try to keep your expression stern, but his fingers find your clit and you can’t help the moan that falls from your lips.

“Your sweet cunt is so ready to come.” He slides a finger into you and you whimper. “It’s obscene how wet you are for me.”

You bite back a plea and kiss him instead. His mouth is rough on yours, teeth nipping at your lower lip, tongue plundering your mouth. He slides a second finger into you and you keen.

“Yes,” he groans against your mouth. “Take it like a good girl.”

You clench around his fingers and your hands seek purchase in his hair. You tug on it lightly and he growls with pleasure before he pulls away, his hands moving to the waistband of your underwear and tugging it off your hips.

“Get on the bed.” His tone brooks no arguments. “Now.”

It’s tempting to talk back, tempting to resist. You are still angry about every aspect of this relationship and this stupid fucking wedding. But you know you need this—the dull ache in your hips is only growing more pronounced with every passing moment and the brief feeling of his fingers on your clit was nothing short of heaven. Soulbonds are meant to be consummated and your body seems to be doing everything it can to propel you toward that end.

You kick your underwear the rest of the way off before sitting down on the bed and lying back on the pillows.

He pauses for a moment to look you over, his gaze trailing lazily over your bare skin, his hand absently moving to palm his cock through his trousers. “Spread your legs,” he says. You do and you catch a breath of a groan from him as he stares at you. Your cunt throbs in response and you bite your lip to keep yourself from whimpering.

He allows himself one moment before he crawls on the bed to join you. He kneels between your legs, staring greedily at your exposed cunt, running a thumb along the edge of your folds. Your hips rock upward involuntarily, chasing his hand, seeking friction.

“Such a pretty cunt,” he murmurs. “So soaking wet, so desperately needy for my touch.” He pauses again, licking his lips. “I think I might need a taste.”

Your breath stutters in your chest and he kisses the inside of your thigh, slowly licking and sucking his way upward in a tantalizing preview of what’s to come. You’re already soaking and you can feel yourself growing wetter as his sinful mouth draws closer and closer to your aching need.

You’re not entirely sure whether it’s a moan or a whine that passes your lips when he finally licks that first long, lazy stripe from your entrance all the way up to your clit. He groans low and wanting against your cunt, his tongue rolling over your clit once more before he catches it between his lips and slowly begins to suck.

There is no getting around it: Loki is a pro at eating pussy.

It would be easier if he wasn’t, you find yourself thinking somewhere in the haze between orgasms. If he were mediocre, it would make it so much easier to be angry at him, to resent your current situation. This is not to say that you’ve abandoned your anger at all—you are still mad. But your anger feels so much less effective when he’s spent a solid ninety minutes with his head between your legs and you’ve lost track of the number of times he’s made you come.

He is—predictably—infuriatingly smug about all of this.

Your first orgasm arrives so quickly that it seems to take you both by surprise. And indeed, he lifts his head moments later, already smirking.

“That was awfully quick, wife,” he says. The glint in his eye tells you that he absolutely noticed how you reacted to that name earlier and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from scowling.

“Maybe you’re out of practice,” you say. Even as you say it, it doesn’t sound convincing (it doesn’t even make sense when you think about it later) and Loki laughs outright.

“I think not,” he says, carefully sliding one long index finger inside of you. “I think your poor cunt has been sorely neglected, either by you or some subpar lover you took to ease the ache of missing me.” He adds a second finger and you bite your lip to keep in a moan. “I think you’ll be begging for me before the night is out.” His fingertips press teasingly against that spot inside you and you take in a sharp breath.

He starts lazily moving his fingers in and out of you and while it feels good, you know it’s not going to be enough to get you there. You suspect, from the way that he’s smirking, that he knows this, too.

“Do you want my mouth again? I don’t think you’re done.”

“You’re trying to be a jerk and I don’t like it,” you say.

He laughs and draws his thumb briefly over your clit. “Darling, I only want you to tell me what you want.”

Your eyes narrow. “Why?”

“I think you can understand the appeal of hearing a beautiful woman beg for your touch.”

His compliment immediately clashes with the suggestion that you begging for him is a possibility.

He smiles, catlike, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

“You need my mouth again,” he says, fingers curling inside you. “You need more. I can feel how wet you are, sweet thing.” His thumb presses against your clit and retreats as soon as your breath hitches.

“I could keep you like this for hours. Days, even,” he says, lazily stroking his fingers inside you. “I could keep you right on the edge, begging for your release. But I don’t think you want that. Even I don’t want that. I think you want to come again right now and I think you want my mouth.”

“I’m not begging you for it,” you say.

“I’ve only asked you to tell me what you want,” he says. “I’ve merely expressed that I find the idea of you begging very appealing.”

You want to smack him. With your luck, though, that would turn out to be one of his kinks and then you’ll really be in for it. Your fingers flex against the sheets.

“Do you want to come, darling? Do you want my mouth again?” he asks with a feigned innocence that suggests it’s not a loaded question, even as the glint in his eyes tells you it is.

You’re silent for a beat and then his thumb returns to your clit, pressing and stroking as his fingers curl inside of you. Your hips rock with his hand and you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from moaning aloud when he stops a few seconds later, his eyebrows raised like he’s expecting your answer.

This exchange repeats four more times. On the fifth, you finally break.

“Please,” you whimper. You sound more desperate than you would prefer, but your overwhelming need to come has quickly superseded whatever shreds of decency you have left.

“Please what?” he asks, radiating smugness.

You’re not quite so far gone that you can’t manage a scowl, which he only laughs at.

“I’m waiting…” he says, his fingers curling in a teasing way.

You know there’s no getting around this. “I need to come.”

He looks at you with a raised eyebrow, like he’s expecting more.

You resist the urge to sigh. “I need your mouth. Please.”

He barely spares a second for a wicked grin and a growl of praise that only elevates your need before he’s lowering his mouth again to your clit.

Your second orgasm is somehow even quicker than the first, only this time, you’re already whimpering for the next one as soon as you catch your breath.

Mercifully, he doesn’t lift his mouth from your cunt this time, though he does give you a wicked look that more or less says the same thing.

His fingers are wonderful, but you know they’re no substitute for his cock. And while he has made you come so many times already, the need to have him inside of you continues to grow, settling into a dull ache in your hips.

“I need you to fuck me,” you finally breathe as the aftershocks of your latest orgasm fade back to that ache.

He lifts his head for a minute. “I intend to, but I don’t think you’re done yet.”

Your eyes widen as he seals his lips back around your clit.

“I mean, I’ve just—fuck—I’ve just had more…c-consecutive orgasms than I’ve ever had before in my life, you’re—oh my god, yes—you’re not exactly leaving me wanting—oh fuck.”

He stays silent, but it’s because his tongue is working over your clit. You, on the other hand, are in the process of undercutting your own point. A few more strokes of his tongue and you are coming again, your hips jerking hard against his mouth.

He doesn’t stop after that, either—he draws more orgasms from you, groaning into your cunt when you pull on his hair.

Your pleas for him to fuck you become increasingly desperate with every orgasm, until he finally lifts his head.

“What was it that you wanted?” he asks with a smirk that tells you he needs absolutely no clarification whatsoever.

“Fuck me, please. I need to be fucked, I need your cock,” you say. You feel restless and desperate, the ache inside you growing with every passing second.

“Oh, darling, all you needed to do was ask,” he says, his tone overly cloying.

You’re not quite so far gone that you can’t manage a scowl. “I have been asking. Repeatedly.”

He laughs and begins to undress. You suspect he’s doing this to torture you—you know he could remove his clothes in one go if he wanted to.

He peels his shirt off first and your lips part involuntarily as you take in the firm expanse of muscle of his chest and abdomen, your fingertips itching with the need to touch him. You grip the sheets instead in the vain hope that it might make a difference (it doesn’t).

But even the enticing expanse of his chest is no match for what’s to come.

He removes his trousers with achingly precise slowness. You expect him to be hard; what you’re not expecting is the primal response that it invokes in you. His cock is long, thick, and hard, the head already slick with pre-come. It’s not just for you—it’s because of you.

You swallow hard as he turns to face you fully. You’re so distracted by his cock that you almost miss the smug smirk, which he makes no attempt to hide. He knows he’s hot, he knows he has a beautiful cock, and he knows that you are absolutely aching for him. It is profoundly irritating.

He wraps his hand around his cock, wetting his lips as he casually strokes himself once. “Do you want me?” he asks with the sort of tone and expression that tells you he absolutely knows the answer.

You could yell at him. The prospect is certainly tempting. But you’re not sure that it’s worth it, not with the way your cunt is throbbing with the need to be filled with his beautiful, thick cock.

“Loki, please.” It comes out as more of a whine than you’d like, but you decide that you can live with it.

You are treated to a particularly wolfish grin before he starts stalking towards you.

There’s a large part of you that expects him to flip you over and take you from behind, rough and fast and impersonal. But instead, he climbs on top of you and draws you into a kiss. It’s deep and slow and heightened by the heavy weight of his bare cock pressing against your belly, drops of pre-come smearing against your skin.

Your back arches and your right leg snakes around his waist, trying to pull him closer, urging him to finally ease the ache inside of you. But he takes his time, kissing you slowly, running his hands over your breasts and hips, rocking his cock against you, but not inside of you.

You don’t like begging—it feels too much like offering up a vulnerability—but it becomes increasingly difficult not to give into the urge the longer he stays on top of you like this.

“Loki,” you finally say when he starts peppering sharp, sucking kisses against your throat.

“What is it, my love?” he asks with a faux confusion that you can see through right away.

“You know what I want,” you say as evenly as you can manage.

“Mmm, let me hear you say it just once more,” he says.

“Please fuck me.”

You’re expecting another negotiation, another battle of wits, but instead, he gives you a rather sharp grin and adjusts his hips so he can rub the tip of his cock up and down the length of your cunt. And then, to your surprise, he lines his cock up at your entrance and slowly begins to ease inside of you.

There’s a part of you—a large part of you—that’s surprised by how careful he is. He’s gentle, slowly pressing into you, giving you time to adjust, his movements careful. He does this all in such a way that you might not notice if you didn’t think to look—he wants you to think that he’s not doing any of what he’s doing. He wants you to think he’s not thinking of you when he is, that the care and precision of his movements are merely a pleasant coincidence. You’re not sure how you know this, but you feel certain.

He waits to kiss you until he’s pressed fully inside you, and you realize this is another illusion, another cover so you don’t realize that he’s giving you another moment to adjust to him.

It’s oddly considerate—irritatingly so. The coals of your anger still burn bright in your heart, but they flicker for just a moment.

But then he begins to move and coherent thoughts flee your mind entirely.

He feels so good. You’re not sure if it’s the soulbond itself, the dopamine and serotonin, or if he just knows the perfect way to move, but the first thrust has your toes curling and that warm heat stirring in your belly. You’ve already come so many times tonight that it feels impossible that your body should be capable of more, but you know immediately that he’s going to bring you right back over the edge if he keeps moving the way he is.

And he’s showing no signs of stopping, either.

“Norns,” he breathes, pressing a kiss against your neck, “you feel perfect. So warm and tight.”

You shiver, your cunt clenching reflexively around his slowly stroking cock. He grins and presses his lips up against your ear.

“Do you like hearing how your snug little cunt fits me like a glove?”

You would prefer to be able to lie in this particular moment—instead, your body immediately betrays you and your legs tighten around his waist as your cunt shudders around him.

You can practically feel his sharp, hungry smile as he nips at your earlobe. “I can feel how much you do,” he murmurs. A devastating swivel of his hips has you uttering a gasping whine that you are not at all proud of.

“That’s it.” He’s swiveling his hips on every other thrust now and you know the moment he switches to that exclusively, it’s all over. “You’re so close,” he purrs with confidence that annoys you just a little, even in your pre-orgasmic stupor.

But then he swivels his hips again and you shudder before you can hide it and he notices…and does it again.

And again.

Fuck.

Your orgasm starts barreling toward you at an impossibly fast pace and his eyes glitter because he knows.

“You’re going to come for me.” It’s not even a command—it’s just a statement as he rolls his hips in those devastating thrusts.

You whimper, your back arching.

“Give into it. Let me feel you.”

One more push of his cock against that sweet spot inside you and you can’t fight it any more. Your muscles tense one last time and you cry out as you come hard on his cock.

“Oh, beautiful,” he groans, his eyes closing as he fucks you through it.

It seems to last a long time, drawn out every time the head of his cock drags against that sensitive spot that sent you over the edge in the first place. He pauses briefly to bring your legs up over his shoulders, which makes his cock hit a spot even deeper inside you that feels so good it pulls a strangled sob from your throat.

Loki groans, his pace increasing, one hand falling between your legs to rub at your clit. It’s so much, but it feels better than anything. You feel another orgasm rising in your hips and you whimper.

“Good girl, fucking take it,” he slurs. You can tell that he’s getting close from the way his thrusting is becoming more frantic, how he tips his head back and grips your hips even harder.

“Come for me,” he growls. “I’m going to fill your lovely cunt with my seed. Come for me.”

Your vision whites out and your back arches as you come. If you were capable of rational thought, you would be angry that your body simply obeyed this simple directive; as it is, it’s hard for you to process anything other than how good he feels inside of you.

You can tell he’s approaching his end and he’s utterly captivating to watch. His eyes are screwed shut, brow furrowed and lips parted as he lets out a low groan that makes your toes curl.

His eyes open in the final throes and he surges forward to kiss you. He moans softly into your mouth as he comes, his whole body shuddering.

You feel dreamy and sated as he slows to a halt, lowering his head to the crook of your neck. The restless ache inside you is finally quiet—at least for now.

You expect him to roll off you and fall asleep—the portrait of a cliche. Instead, he stays with you, the warm heat of his breath ghosting over your shoulder. You can feel his cock still throbbing inside of you.

You should push him away, reclaim the distance between you. You’re angry at him, after all.

But also…it feels nice.

It’s just the endorphins, you tell yourself. It’s hormones. It doesn’t mean anything.

You can feel the lie prickling at the edges of the thought, sharp and needling, like ground glass pressing against bare skin. It means a lot of things; you just wish it didn’t.

Be angry.

His lips brush against your shoulder. More of your muscles relax. It’s nice.

Be angry.

You’re tired though. It’s been a really long day and the bed is soft and the weight of Loki on top of you is oddly reassuring.

Maybe just for tonight. Maybe just this once you’ll allow yourself to fall asleep in his bed.

“I’m still mad at you,” you say. It feels too sharp, too strident. The lady doth protest too much, methinks. He doesn’t know you, though, not really, and so you can only hope that he misses the subtle catch in your voice, that little note of uncertainty.

“I’d expect nothing less.” His voice is slightly muffled against your shoulder.

Goddammit, why does this have to be so comfortable?

He shifts slightly, easing out of you. You feel the resulting mess vanish before it even hits your thigh. At least he’s considerate.

You scowl at the thought.

“Sleep,” he says after a moment. “You’ll need your strength to rage at me in the morning.”

“I can rage at you in my sleep,” you say as your eyes slide shut.

“I’m sure you can,” he says. “Sleep.”

And despite all your complicated feelings—your anger, the inherent feeling of ease you get from his embrace, your unease with your new title, your homesickness—you find that the pull of sleep is too tempting to resist and the world slowly fades away.

Next chapter

#loki smut #loki x reader smut #loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki x female reader smut #loki fanfiction #loki laufeyson smut

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therealmofamorus · 4 months

Note

Prompt

Original Male Crossover Stud AU

Shouto has a dream of Ren and himself doing it. She is being all sensual as she talks dirty while riding him. Calling him stuff while begging him to make her feel like a woman... his woman. Of course if we look outside the dream we can see Ren riding Shouto while he is sleeping and whispering all the things that her dream self is saying.

Wet Dream Meme

(2-Koma) (Moral Degradation)

"You cannot resist me, Shoto-kun~!" A low seductive voice cooed out in a sweet, velvet tone.

The Half-Cold Half-Hot Pro-Hero-in-Training let out a harsh guttural moan,, the sensual mysterious beauty rode him like a horse, moving up and down on his bulging manhood with the skills and passion of a succubus.

"You can come inside, Shoto-Kun," She whispered in a seductive voice. "You can fill my womb with your hot-and-cold cum into my fertile womb like the breeding stud you are~

"Make me a woman...."

X-xx-X

"...your woman~"

In the waking world, unknown to Shota, Ren let out a breathy moan from her soft, plump lips as she felt the half-hot-half-cold cum filling her womb, filling her up like a milk jug

The Leader of the Phantom Thief licked her lips as she sensually rubbed her cum-filled pussy, a bright smile of complete and utter satisfaction as she wiggled around Shota hot-and-cold, cum-covered cock.

"Hope you are not done yet. Because you and I are going to do it until I am certain I am pregnant."

#my hero academia #my hero academia smut #persona series #persona series smut #persona 5 #persona 5 smut #ren amamiya #fem!ren amamiya #fem!joker #2koma #moral degradation #😴💦#😴💦 meme #wet dream #wet dream meme #sleeping sex

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a-small-writer-in-a-big-world · 10 months

Text

So This Is Love

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

Warnings: angst, fake death, some fluff towards the end, inaccurate gun language (please be responsible when it comes to fire arms), dad jokes, smut mdni (18+), praise kink, some shower sex, oral (f!receiving), fingering, overstimluation, unprotected sex, creampie, make up sex?

Words: 11.4k

Synopsis: Simon is having a bad day...

Link to The Roommate Series Masterlist

You currently reading chapter 8 of The Roommate Series

“…I’m always here for you.”

The words replayed in his mind as often as most things in his life did. He wasn’t sure there was a point in his life where everything was quiet inside of him and he was sure that it would rip him to shreds if things calmed down within him. He thrived in the chaos, it was what kept him alive for so long despite the odds being put against him since he started his career, it’s what gave him the reputation he had currently.

Ghost. He lived up to the name in more ways than one, becoming a highly skilled soldier that seemed to be practically invincible when it came to a mission turned south. A silent, cold killer who made enemies and allies alike nervous of him when they heard his name being said. A persona with the face of the dead, an omen, a reminder, of what’s to come when he appears.

Ghost couldn’t help but like the reputation he had created for himself. He liked the way the recruits would straighten up at the sight of him for fear that he’ll lash out when his mind is a far different place. He likes when he sees someone get uncomfortable when they catch him staring at them as if he could read their minds.

In a sick and sadistic way he liked the fear in the eyes of his enemies when he came face to face with them, when they realize that they're in his sight and they’re not going to make it.

His reputation was the only thing that kept him safe.

The smell of iron and gunpowder filled his nose as he swept through the building of his current mission. He had a rifle in his hands tightly, eyes trained in front of him as he listened to the garbled mess of words that came through the comms. Behind him was a team, not the 141 but he was used to being put on missions with other sergeants or recruits he had never worked with before.

He gives out commands stern and straight to the point. He makes them clear, with no room for miscommunication because he’d rather not lose anyone due to his leadership skills.

The team sweeps through the building, splitting up into the rooms as gunfire fills the air. Ghost continued down the long hallway, executing any enemy that peeked out of the rooms on either side with an efficiency of that of a machine. He barely spared them a passing glance after their bodies fell on the ground, painting the cold concrete floors with dark red blood.

It was just another mission, a routine, another time for him to fall back into the persona and to forget about the man who died so many years ago.

Before long he was by himself. He gave the order to the rest of the team to clear out the remaining parts of the building behind him as he continued forward to find the best vantage point for setting up his sniping position. The sound of gunfire slowly disappeared behind him, becoming just white noise, static like a TV in his ears as he came to the end of the hallway and stood at the foot of the stairs.

He kept his gun at the ready as he took careful steps up the stairs. His mind was set on the mission, your voice had slowly been drowned out by the noise until he found the time to be by himself again.

Ghost made it to the top of the stairs and felt a chill run down his spine. Nothing was out of the ordinary for a building like this; concrete walls devoid of life and barely any light inside. The air was stuffier than downstairs and felt more compact, as if he had walked inside of a padded room.

His heart began to beat faster and he gripped his gun tighter as he felt that all too familiar suffocating feeling. The darkness didn’t help his mind as he remembered that coffin, his resting place, the one that still held his body and mind, and he swallowed hard.

He took a deep breath, fighting against the tightness in his throat as he suddenly felt pressure against his chest. Something was wrong, he knew it, and he kept his eyes wide as he scanned the empty hallway lined with lookalike doors.

The lack of sound around him made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he inched further down. The pit in his stomach grew larger and larger to the point where he was sure he might be sick. No matter how much he wanted to back down and turn away he didn’t, despite the sirens blaring in his mind.

Ghost heard a noise and stopped.

It was faint sobbing, for a moment he thought that maybe he had just imagined it, but the longer he stood there in complete stillness and listened past his heartbeat, he could hear it. He tried to think if the briefing about the mission mentioned hostages but he couldn’t remember anything about it.

He swallowed hard as he listened to the person cry, his chest constricting tightly as the sound rang in his ears. It sounded familiar, like the made up sounds his mind had created when he thought about his family. The terror in the person's voice sounded like how he thought his mother had cried for mercy before she was murdered.

He felt sick to his stomach and he started to shake, the urge to walk away strong but the urge to save whoever was in danger stronger.

The closer he got, the clearer the voice became as he listened to the begging, the pleading for mercy. Whoever it was could hardly speak through their sobs as they begged and begged to be let go.

Simon’s blood ran cold. His feet took him forward in a sprint, unable to think of anything else as he listened to your sobs grow louder, your begging grow louder.

He had to get to you, he had to save you.

Simon slammed open the door with his shoulder, gun at the ready before he heard a gunshot. He didn’t hesitate to shoot the faceless man in front of him with quick precision before he searched around the room for you.

His entire world shattered when he saw you laying on the floor with a pool of blood forming around you.

Simon screamed your name and threw his gun to the floor. The moment he made it to you, he pressed his hands firmly on your stomach as blood gushed through his fingers.

His hands shook, his entire body shook. Panic surged through him as he listened to you cry, unable to take his eyes off your face, your beautiful face that was littered with bruises, gashes and blood that seeped out of your mouth. The sight burned into his skull and he felt like throwing up as his stomach vanished to his feet.

You sobbed, a choked scream escaping your throat as you tried to pull his hands off you in a fit of blinding hot pain. You ripped at his sleeves as tears ran down your face, a look of pure fear in your eyes as you stared up at him like he was your saving grace.

“Gotta stop the bleeding.” He felt light headed. “You’ll be okay, you’ll be okay.”

“They…came-”

He shushed you, his eyes frantic as he placed your hands on the wound to try to stop your blood from pooling underneath you as he fumbled to get his medpack. He barked an order medevac into his comms but all he received was static. He cursed loudly to himself as he found that as his breathing picked up he felt suffocated by the cold air.

“You’re gonna be okay, sweetheart.” His voice shook as he spoke. “I’ll get you out of here.”

Simon tried to pick you up but you resisted. You shook your head, writhing in pain as you cried and gave him a pleading look that he knew all too well. The fleeting fear, the instinctual panic that flowed through someone when they knew this was their last moment. The desperation for the pain to stop and for someone to save them.

He couldn’t lose you not after everything, not like this, not in the cold building full of hostiles far away from your home. A place for violence and fear, somewhere where you didn’t belong in the slightest.

You’d been ripped from your home, you were brought here. You deserve to go back, to be safe, to be alive and uninjured. This was his life not yours, this was his fate, the one that he waited for every day yet it never came.

You shouldn’t be the one covered in blood, it should be him.

“Simon-” Your voice was weak as you clutched his vest when he tried to pick you up again.

You shrieked in pain and against his better judgment he stopped. He couldn’t hurt you more than you already were, he couldn't make himself listen to your cries even though he knew he needed to get you to a medic.

“I’m here.” He ripped his mask off so you could stare at his face. “M’gonna help you, gonna get you home, yeah sweetheart?”

Simon stared at your lifeless body and dug his fingers into your arm. He shook his head and your name fell from his mouth in a strained whisper. His voice was broken, thick with despair as his vision blurred with tears and he shook you gently.

When you didn’t stir he clutched your hand, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles as he began to rock you back and forth. He hoped it would wake you, that something would bring back the light that was in your eyes just moments ago.

He loved you. That had to mean something, you had to be alive because he loved you.

Right?

“Don’t do this.” He pressed his forehead against yours and hugged you closer to his chest. “Please, please don’t do this. .”

A sob ripped through his throat and he cradled your body. Tears ran down his face, streaking the black paint and melting away anything warm that had ever been Simon Riley. He cried louder than he had in years, the mission far from his mind as he held onto your dead body as it was the only thing keeping him present.

How did he let this happen? Why was it you and not him? How many more times did he have to lose someone he loved?

Simon’s eyes snapped open and in an instant he sat up in the bed. Hot tears ran down his face as he stared wildly through the darkness of the room, dull pain piercing him in his side. His breathing was frantic as he tried to figure out where he was while he searched for his gun in his nightstand.

When he couldn’t feel his nightstand or the gun, his eyes jumped around the room he was in, slowly recognising the items placed about inside and the pictures hung up on the walls. He felt so nauseous when he realized that this was your room that he nearly ran out if it weren’t for the need to see if you were truly gone.

He grabbed the blankets around him and ripped them off the bed in a frenzy.

You had to be here, you had to be alive. He couldn’t lose you, he couldn’t bear the thought of having someone else taken from him. He knew this would have to be the last time, he wouldn’t be able to handle losing someone he loved again. There was no way he could forgive himself for putting you in danger, no way that he could live with himself if you had been ripped from him, shot like an animal.

The blankets were thrown to the floor and you were revealed to him.

You laid comfortably with your back towards him. Your shoulders and chest rose with steady breaths as you were deep in sleep, completely unaware of the fact that Simon was staring intensely at you.

Simon blinked a few times, letting more tears roll down his face as he placed a hand on your arm, feeling the warmth radiate from your skin into his palm. He took a shaky breath and moved his fingers to your pulse where he felt your heartbeat.

You were still here, you were still alive.

Instead of relief, he found that the panic set in further as he stared at you and resisted the urge to pull you into his chest. He could hardly breathe as he stood up and grabbed the blankets, laying them back on top of you as he tucked you safely back into bed as if it would keep you safe from the outside world.

He left your room as silently as he could despite his stumbling. For a moment he had no idea where he was going, the layout of the flat unfamiliar to him as he hyperventilated.

He finally managed to find his room and when the door behind him shut, he couldn’t help but let out the pained noises that fought against his tight throat.

The darkness didn’t help and he struggled to find the lamp. He collapsed against his bed, sliding down to the floor as a sob ripped through him. The harder he tried to keep himself quiet, the harder his entire body shook and the faster his breathing became. It was to the point he was sure he’d pass out and he clutched his chest as a deep pain stabbed him there like a knife to the heart.

Tears flowed freely and he was stuck on the floor. No matter how many times he tried to tell himself you were alive, he had seen you himself, he couldn’t get the image of you dying in his arms out of his mind.

He was too slow, he was too dangerous, he got you killed, you couldn’t even defend yourself.

Simon cursed to himself between sobs and heavy breaths. There was nothing else on his mind as he remembered the bloody image of a fate he never wished to see again.

Why was he cursed to a life of torment? To lose the ones he loved? Awake he was tortured by thoughts of you dying and yet he couldn’t escape that even in his sleep. Deep down he knew that getting attached again would end his life but he had been too hopeful. He had been too ready to believe that maybe life would be kind to him for once and that made him a fool.

A fool that would surely get the one he loved more than anything killed.

You woke up to the room being slightly dimmed due to what you assumed was storm clouds outside. For a few moments you shifted further into the sheets, clutching the blankets close to your chest as you felt the dreary morning lull you comfortably back to sleep.

It was a perfect morning to stay in bed for just a few hours longer, something that you weren't opposed to especially if it meant you had someone to snuggle up to.

You searched for Simon behind you and that was when you noticed that his comforting weight around you was gone. You frowned with disappointment and rolled over, cracking your eyes open to see that his side of your bed was empty, and judging by the fact that the sheets were cold where he laid, he had been gone for some time.

It wasn’t entirely odd to you. Simon was an early riser and now that you knew it was because of his career, you couldn’t fault him for sticking with that routine. However, the past few mornings of waking up to his sleepy and warm touch had spoiled you into believing he’d lay in bed with you for a few moments longer.

If it wasn’t too late, you could try to convince him to come back for an hour or so…

You groaned softly, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you pushed yourself out of the bed and groggily made your way out of your room. You were prepared to use all of your charm to win him over, even giving him a few well placed kisses that he couldn’t resist.

You smiled to yourself and made your way into the kitchen where you heard him piddling about, feeling giddy about your plot to get him to be lazy for a morning, until you walked into the kitchen.

The smile fell from your face and you stopped in the doorway, your eyebrows knitting together with concern. Simon was already dressed and had completely covered himself head to toe as he cooked breakfast. Normally you wouldn’t be bothered by him already being dressed, but what worried you the most was the fact that he was wearing a face mask along with gloves.

Simon always covered up most of himself when he was having a horrible day. It was a habit you had noticed when he refused to let himself out of his room when he would get back from work and one that made your heart ache.

It had been a while since he had done it and you were surprised he was wearing just a face mask and not one of the balaclavas he had.

You’re not sure what had made him suddenly feel the urge to cover himself up and for a moment you debated on whether or not you wanted to ask him if he would like to talk about it.

“Why’re you just standing there?” He asked and you jumped from his sudden gruffness.

“Just admiring the view.” You teased, hoping to lighten the mood but when he didn’t reply or spare you a glance, you bit the inside of your lip. “I’m still waking up.”

“Then eat.”

You frowned, unsure of how to take his more aggressive grumpy attitude. You went to walk up to him to grab a plate and maybe find enough courage to place a soft hand on his arm to give him some sort of comfort, but he turned away from you abruptly.

Heat washed over you, shame maybe for the fact that he rejected you so quickly, and you watched him set a plate on the table. You didn’t know what else to do other than sit down and eat as Simon sat across from you without looking at you.

The silence was heavy as you began to eat and you watched him carefully, unsure of what happened to make him so cold towards you. You struggled to say something, the words stuck in your throat as Simon glanced at you, your eyes meeting for only a moment before he quickly looked away.

You pushed down the pit in your stomach, ignoring the way the food made your stomach churn and you put on a smile, trying your hardest to maybe get him to feel better.

“Did you already eat?” You hoped that he already had but you knew better, especially with the way he shifted in his seat.

He looked conflicted, as if there was a war inside of himself that raged on silently as he crossed his arms. He still refused to look at you like the very thought of you seeing you made him repulsed which hurt a lot more than you wanted it to. He took a deep breath and you watched his muscles tense before he spoke.

“I want to teach you how to shoot.”

You stopped eating and stared at him with an incredulous look. For a moment you wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the idea because he had to be joking. You shooting a gun? You had never held one before, hell you had never touched the knife he had let alone the handgun in his night stand because you didn’t need to.

You felt nauseous when you realized that he was serious and you pushed your plate away from you as you began to shake your head.

“Simon-“

“When someone attacks you, you should be ready.” He gave you a serious look, one that you had never seen before that nearly cut through you.

You felt small under his gaze and though you weren’t afraid, you weren’t necessarily the most comfortable. You wanted to hide away and get him to stop looking at you. Was this how people at work felt when he looked and talked to them? Was this the Simon who disappeared for months, the one that never spoke to you when he was gone? You weren’t sure but the complete switch made your head spin and you still had no idea what happened to make him so…cold.

“It’s not like someone is out there to get me.” You scoffed and watched his eyes narrow. “It’s extremely rare, you’re talking about what ifs.”

“Doesn’t matter. We’re leaving in an hour.” He got up and stalked back to his room, leaving you dumbfounded.

All you could do was sit there, mouth agape from the audacity Simon had. You couldn’t quite believe he had just spoken to you that way for the first time in the three years you had known him and after the past few days. Part of you couldn’t help but feel guilt as irritation rose up inside of you because you knew that something was wrong, but you also knew you deserved better than that.

Simon knew you deserved better than that.

You wanted to know what happened to him. He was hurting, that was the only explanation after knowing how sweet and kind he could be to you. For him to turn around and treat you like one of his coworkers it must’ve been bad but you weren’t sure how open he would be to telling you what happened. In fact, he didn’t seem that open to even talking to you at all.

You wanted to help but there was only so much you could do when he wasn’t physically hurt.

You thought about ditching him for the day, going over to a friend’s or anywhere else. It hurt to want to get away from him but you weren’t too keen on shooting a gun, in fact it made you feel queasy just thinking about it.

Simon wouldn’t let you get out even if you tried. If you left, you were sure he would say that you could do it tomorrow instead then. Once he had his mind set on something it was going to happen whether you wanted it to or not.

You clenched your jaw and huffed, unable to stomach the food in front of you anymore. Instead you stood up and threw the rest of it away, trying your hardest to not let your bad mood ruin the rest of the day as you rubbed your temple.

It was going to rain today and you needed a jacket.

Dead leaves crunched underneath your shoes as you followed closely behind Simon. The air was thick with the smell of rain and the dark clouds on the horizon didn’t bode well for either of you as you wandered down a beaten path within the secluded woods. You weren’t entirely sure where you were and if it was legal to practice shooting out here but you trusted your roommate enough to not get the both of you arrested.

Neither of you had said that many words to each other since breakfast. You were a little curious as to why he chose the woods instead of a firing range, to which he replied by saying he’d much rather be the one to teach than anyone else.

It was hard to talk to him through his stilted speech and cold demeanor. He didn’t seem like he wanted to speak or be spoken to all that much, which worried you as much as it made you upset. He dragged you out here, the least he could do was tell you why and to not be an asshole about it.

You watched him carefully, eyeing the bag he had strapped over his shoulder and felt yourself go sick again. The walk was only making it worse as anticipation settled in your stomach, your nerves fraying at the thought of having to practice shooting a weapon.

Simon stopped abruptly in a small clearing and dropped the bag off his shoulder. He didn’t say anything to you as he dug through it and you struggled to find your voice as you watched him.

A lump formed in your throat when he pulled out the pistol and you instinctively took a step back from him. You kept your hands in the pockets of your jacket, giving him an uncertain look when he turned towards you with the gun dwarfed in his hands.

He held the gun out for you to take and gave you an expectant look. When you didn’t move to take it, his eyes softened and he sighed as he stepped closer to you with the gun still held out for you.

“Safety’s on, there’s nothing in it.” He assured you in the soft voice you were used to and you bit your lip. “Just hold it for now.”

You hesitated for a moment, waiting for him to change his mind, before you grabbed it. Your eyes widened when you realized how heavy it was and you couldn’t help but marvel about the fact that he made it look so easy. You held it awkwardly away from you as if it were a dirty rag and you looked up at Simon for him to do something.

The soft look had disappeared from his eyes and he held you under a scrutinizing gaze that made you frown. Simon grunted and he grabbed your wrist with a cold grip. He moved your hands for you rather roughly and squeezed them tightly against the gun.

“Squeeze it hard and keep your finger off the trigger.” He told you and you did as he said. “Hold it up.”

“Ask me nicer.” You sent him a sharp look but he didn’t look at you as he patted your arm.

“Up.”

You huffed and did as he said, holding it up the best you could without any other kind of practice. You let him stand behind you and put you into the correct standing position, ignoring the way your body grew goosebumps from his touch and instead focused on the bubbling irritation inside of you.

He was nitpicking and if you were experienced perhaps you would’ve understood why but this was the first time you had ever had contact with a real gun and even though it wasn’t loaded you were still nervous to even hold it.

Maybe if he was being nicer you would've been fine with it. You weren’t exactly the type of person to take this kind of talk since you had never been to a bootcamp or ever intended to. In fact, you were far from the right person to ask to shoot a gun and yet he seemed to think you were.

The wind had started to pick up and the darker clouds had moved in above you. The rain couldn’t come quick enough and you ended up ignoring whatever Simon was saying in order to stare up at the sky.

“Keep your head down and look in the sights before you shoot.” He positioned your head for you and you suppressed an eyeroll.

“Simon there’s no point in this.” You groaned but he ignored you as he walked back towards his bag. “I’m more likely to get myself hurt than someone else hurting me.”

“Not if you pay attention to what I’m saying.”

“If you actually talk to me instead of boss me around maybe I would.”

“If you’d stop complaining I wouldn’t have to boss you around.”

You scoffed with disbelief, giving him an incredulous look as you watched him pull out the magazine to the gun. You shook your head when he turned around to hand it to you and stepped back with a serious look in your eyes.

“I’m not shooting it.” You said firmly, metaphorically putting your foot down on the matter.

Simon tense up and stared down at you with dark eyes. He gripped the magazine firmly in his hand as he breathed just a bit faster. You watched as a look of desperation flashed in his eyes before he held the magazine out for you again.

“You are.” He said, his voice full of enough authority to make your mouth dry “Now take it.”

“I’m not one of your soldiers so stop treating me like one!” You snapped, your voice echoing slightly off the trees.

Thunder rolled above you and you felt a few drops of rain hit your head as you glared at him. You glared at Simon, shaking with anger as you tried your hardest to calm yourself down. You had spent nearly the entire day being scrutinized, spoken down to, and disregarded. You had half the mind to walk away from him and leave him if it weren’t for the fact that he had the keys to the car.

You were frozen with anger, unable to move as you gave him the nastiest glare you could muster. You were done with this, done with him treating you this way. There was no way you were going to let him get away with this any longer and if he wanted to even think about sleeping in the same bed as you tonight he had better apologize.

“You need to learn this.” He demanded with a glare of his own as if he couldn’t believe you fed up with him. “You have to protect yourself.”

“From who? Who’s coming after me, Simon?” You demanded but he shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter who, just shoot the bloody gun!”

You tossed the empty gun on the ground in defiance and balled your fists. You tried your hardest to stop yourself from shaking but you failed miserably.

“Simon, you’re having a bad day and I will never fault you for that but there is no reason for you to take it out on me.” You began, keeping your voice as level as possible. “You’re acting like a dick and I won’t let you talk to me this way.”

There was a slight panicked look in his eyes behind the anger as he clenched his jaw.

“You don’t understand-“

“Then tell me!”

Simon tensed up and force. He didn’t say anything and you waited for him to give you some kind of explanation. You saw him open his mouth from behind the mask but nothing came out as his eyes bounced around your face in a frenzy. For a moment you wondered if he was shaking and he clenched his fists tightly before he looked away from you.

He fought with himself, you saw him debate it and you felt more raindrops hit your head.

You waited.

But he was silent.

You shook your head in disbelief as the rain began to pour. The more you watched him tense up and struggle to speak, the more your anger mixed with concern as you watched fear flash in his eyes. You could only guess what was wrong, what had made him so afraid to turn this cold because he refused to tell you.

He didn’t tell you he was in the military before and getting him to tell you that was hard but now he wouldn’t tell you what was wrong for whatever reason. Maybe someone was out to get you, maybe he was trying to make it so you wouldn’t be scared and failed miserably but you didn't know.

Was he scared of what you’d say? That you wouldn’t care even after what happened today? You had no idea and you felt stuck, frustrated that you hadn’t pushed him more earlier, frustrated that he closed himself off from you even though you were so willing to listen.

It made your heart ache and yet you were so hurt.

“What happened?” You were desperate. “Just tell me, let me help you.”

“We’re leaving.” He cleared his throat just loud enough for you to hear him over the rain before he went to pick up the gun.

You clenched your jaw tightly, your stomach dropping and churning into a mess before you made your way back to the car without waiting for him. The cold rain beat against you, soaking through your clothes and seeping into your bones, stealing away the fiery anger while leaving all of the hurt and frustration inside of you.

Tears burned in your eyes and your throat tightened, causing you to walk faster. You weren’t sure why, it wasn’t like you could hide in the car, not when it was the only way for you to get back to the apartment, not when Simon had to be in there with you.

You were thankful the doors were unlocked when you finally reached the car and you all but slammed the passenger side door as you jumped inside.

The sound of heaving rain hit the car and filled up the silence. You crossed your arms over you as you shivered slightly and felt rain water drip off your clothes onto the seat and floor below you. You fought against letting the tears and you kept yours glued to your wet shoes when you heard the trunk of the car open.

You couldn’t understand it, no matter how hard you tried to. There was no reason for any of this to happen, you had never felt unsafe since you moved in with him and yet he seemed to believe you were a walking target. He had told you he worked around dangerous people, that his line of work was dangerous, but he never told you anything else.

Did he truly think he was that dangerous? That you had to be extra careful and learn how to protect yourself because of him? You could’ve reassured him better since it was clear he was anxious about the topic, but he had been so closed off since the moment you spoke with him this morning. For a moment you couldn’t come up with a reason why he had put up a wall between the two of you until you remembered what he said the night he came back.

“You wouldn’t be safe around me.”

Your eyes widened and you watched him from the rearview mirror through tears.

Simon was trying to push you away. It was obvious but the reasoning behind it made it worse to come to terms with and you couldn’t help the few tears that rolled down your face as you bit back a sob.

He was pushing you away because he truly believed he was a danger to your safety. He was trying to make it easier for you to leave him because of that, you were sure of it, but the thought made your chest hurt and it had never crossed your mind.

Was he going to if you didn’t? A sob escaped you and you placed a hand over your mouth as more tears rolled down your cheeks.

Selfish.

It was harsh but that was the only thing you could think to call him inside your head as you shook in your seat. He was trying to make a decision for you and it made everything come crashing down harder, it made everything hurt worse as you thought about him leaving you over the false idea that he would eventually end up putting you in danger.

The driver side door opened and turned your head to look out the window. You sniffled and tried to wipe the tears away as the door shut, blocking out the rain once more, leaving you both in silence.

You couldn’t let him get away with it. You couldn’t let him leave, not when you loved him as much as you did.

“I meant it.” Your voice was shaky from trying to force the tears away as you refused to look at him, knowing you’d cry even more. “I’m here for you.”

Simon stayed quiet for a long time. You could hear his strained and heavy breathing from behind the mask, as if someone was choking him. His hands were in his lap as he balled them up into fists while he glared out the window at the rain that pelted off the windshield.

“I know.”

You sucked in a deep breath and tried to wipe the tears away. You swallowed hard and gathered the courage to look at him so you could change his mind, so you could break down his walls again.

You were surprised to see that he was already looking at you, dark eyes full of hurt and guilt that deepened when he saw the tear streaks on your cheeks. He clenched his fists tighter and he flinched as if he was going to touch you but stopped himself.

“Then why won’t you talk to me?”

“You don’t want to hear it.”

You groaned and wiped more tears away as you shook your head. Stubborn, always so stubborn and you wished he could see how much you loved him despite that.

“Don’t tell me what I want. I know what I want and it's for me to be with you, through all of it.”

Simon stared at you and for a moment you wondered if he was going to speak. He slipped off his mask and you watched him open his mouth as uncertainty flashed across his face. He looked stuck, as if the words physically wouldn’t come out of his mouth before he looked away from you and started the car.

Your face scrunched up and your lip quivered. You turned your entire body away from him and sniffled, trying your best to hold in any sounds while tears flowed freely down your face. You hugged yourself and instead watched the raindrops hit your window as everything became blurry.

The ride back to the apartment was painfully quiet, with the occasional sniffles and shaky breaths from you as you tried to calm yourself down to no avail. You didn’t dare to look over at him and you knew that he wouldn’t say a word regardless if you did or not.

It was as if there was a wall between you both, built by you being hurt and Simon choosing to not trust you enough to let you back in. He was determined to keep you out, to push you away in the name of keeping you safe from his burdens when you’d gladly carry them with him.

You were out of the car before it even stopped and you didn’t wait for Simon to follow. You were past caring about how soaked you were and how when you opened the front door you were most likely tracking mud in as well, all you wanted to do was be alone.

You rushed to the bathroom and nearly slammed the door, unable to keep the storm of tears that welled up as a new wave of emotions hit you now that you were in the safety of your apartment. A broken sob left your chest as you placed your hands over your face and crumpled to the floor, trying your hardest to keep your voice down but failing miserably to do so.

The floor was cold and it didn’t help that you were drenched but you couldn’t move from your spot right against the door. All you could do was hug your knees close to your chest and sob into them with the knowledge that Simon was most likely in the hallway listening to you the entire time.

You’re not sure how long you cried for. All of the emotions slowly fell out of you along with the tears and soon you were left sniffling, rubbing your nose and eyes raw as your breathing went back to normal. Enough time had passed that you weren’t dripping water onto the floor anymore but not enough to where the storm hadn’t stopped.

It took you a while to push yourself off the floor and when you did, you went straight for the shower.

You didn’t waste any time throwing your clothes on the floor, feeling a lot less uncomfortable now that they were off your skin, and turned the shower on. As soon as it was hot enough, you hopped in and let the water soothe your skin. You didn’t move to wash your body or your hair, all you did was stand there with absolutely no thoughts in your mind as you were too exhausted to even think.

That was until you heard a knock on the door.

For a split second you thought about ignoring him, but your heart ached at the thought and you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

No matter how mad you were, how hurt you were, you couldn’t push him away.

“Simon?” You croaked, your throat raw from crying.

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

You poked your head out from behind the shower curtain when he stepped inside. You watched him shut the door and his eyes widened when he saw that you were staring at him insteading of showering.

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, the silence not as tense as it was before as he stared at you with guilt and regret. You waited for him to speak as he held his hands awkwardly by his side before he glanced away from you.

“I’m…” He clenched his jaw and swallowed hard. “Can I join you?”

You didn’t hesitate to nod.

Maybe you should’ve, maybe you were being too lenient towards him after how he hurt your feelings but you didn’t want to fight. You were far past your anger, you just wanted to feel his arms around you, you wanted to comfort him and you wanted to work out whatever the both of you were feeling despite how you felt.

And you hoped that he felt the same.

You hid back behind the curtain once he started to get undressed. Your heart rate picked up as you realized that he was getting in the shower with you, that he was going to see you in your most vulnerable state you could be in. You almost scolded yourself. This wasn’t the time to act shy about him seeing you naked for the first time and yet you couldn’t make yourself turn around when you heard him step in behind you.

He stood awkwardly behind you and you stepped out of the way so some of the water would hit him. His knuckles gently brushed against your spine and you shivered before you stepped back towards him, craving more from his touch, more from him.

Simon hesitated to rest his hands on your hips, the warmth from his palms radiating onto your skin and causing goosebumps to form as you drew in a sharp breath while you felt your stomach flip.

“Is this okay?” He mumbled and you didn’t trust your voice so you only nodded.

You waited for him to pull you back into him or for him to move closer but he never did. Instead, you felt his forehead softly connect with the back of yours as his hands held onto your hips so gently you wondered if maybe he was even touching you.

His warm breath against the nape of your neck made you shiver again and for a few moments you both didn’t say a word to each other.

“I’m sorry I hurt you.” He said, his voice barely above a whisper as it broke between shaky breaths.

Your mind and emotions betrayed you as tears welled up in your eyes again. You took a shaky breath as you tried to blink them away. Those hurt feelings popped back up and gnawed against your chest but you also felt relief from his words.

He was being genuine. He was always genuine and you couldn’t mistake the guilt in his voice for anything else, especially as he swallowed hard. You didn’t have to turn around to know what he looked like; the pain in his beautiful dark brown eyes that was sure to stick there any time he looked at you, the crease in his brow that would never cease to exist, and the frown that was plastered on his face.

“You can’t push me away and expect me to be okay with it.” You said softly as a few tears rolled down your cheeks.

“I know.” He mumbled but you shook your head.

Did he know? Did he know that you were there for him no matter what? That you wanted him when he locked himself away in his room after coming home from wherever he went, or when he came home bleeding to death, or when he was anything but happy?

You weren’t sure if he did, if he truly knew just how much you loved him.

You pulled his hands off your hips as you turned around to face him, your heart breaking when you saw his bloodshot eyes and the deep regret within them. He looked exhausted, more than you had realized after seeing him all day today and you wondered if maybe he had slept last night.

When you cupped his cheek he flinched away from your touch for a split second. His eyes narrowed and you watched as more pain flashed through them when he leaned into your palm. He placed a hand on your hip again, gently digging his fingers into your flesh as your thumb traced the scar close to his eye as if the very touch of comfort made him tense.

You could tell he was resisting it without pulling away from you. He wasn’t able to hide the conflict in his eyes and it made you nearly sob.

“Why won’t you let me help you?” You wondered, desperate to understand why he could give so much without accepting what you wanted to give.

Simon swallowed hard and for a moment it looked like he was going to run away. You saw the same panicked look in his eyes he had from before and you held his face with both of your hands.

He shut his eyes tight as he was trying to hide his from you and placed his hands on top of yours. He drew in a shaky breath and clenched his jaw tight before he spoke.

“I’m afraid you’ll realize I’m not worth it.”

A few more tears rolled down your cheeks and you shook your head. How awful it was to have a mind tell lies like that, you couldn’t believe that he would think you’d find him unworthy of your support, of your love, that he’d thought you would see him that way.

“No.” Your voice cracked and he opened his eyes to look at you. “You are worth it to me because it’s you.”

Simon stared at you with uncertainty, his eyes searching deep within yours as if he were looking for the lie when you were being as truthful as you could ever be. He blinked and a tear escaped down his face before you quickly wiped it away, watching as his shoulders sagged before he leaned fully into you.

You locked him into a tender kiss that he hesitated to reciprocate until you made it clear you weren’t pulling away any time soon. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he held your waist, deepening the kiss as he desperately moved his lips against your own as if you’d disappear right in front of him.

His fingers dug into your skin and you gasped as he caged you to the shower wall. He moved his hands up and down your body, purposefully avoiding any of the places that burned for him as his calluses scratched your skin.

He broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against yours as he looked deep into your eyes. He was out of breath as he gave you a desperate look, a final plea for reassurance.

“Forgive me.”

“Please don’t push me away again.”

“Promise.”

Simon pressed another kiss to your lips slower but no less desperate as he cupped your jaw with his large hand. He stole your breath away and pressed his body against yours, rubbing his half hard cock against your inner thigh.

You gasped when you felt it and opened your legs for him to step as close as he could. Breathy moans escaped your mouth when he peppered kisses from your lips to your jaw and you gripped the back of his neck as he began to suck just underneath your ear.

He rolled his hips into yours and you whined when the length of his cock ran across your slit, causing you to dig your nails into his skin. He grunted and did it again, slowly dragging his cock back and forth to gather your slick across it while he attacked the sweet spots on your neck.

His movements and the steam from the shower made you dizzy. You clung onto him as pleasure built up inside you and you kept him as close to you as possible, wanting nothing more than for him to hold you, to be inside of you.

“Feel so good…” He breathed out as he nipped your flesh and ran his tongue over the spot when you whined.

Simon trailed hot, open kisses from your neck down to your chest. He was slow as he placed them across your skin, giving every part of your breasts attention while he massaged them. There wasn’t a spot that he didn’t pass over without giving you a kiss that burned into your skin, branding you with the heat of his affection as he continued to move further down.

He kissed your stomach, his hands running across your waist and down past your hips as he mapped out every part of your body that made you perfect.

Heat washed over you as he kneeled in front of you. You shivered under his touch as he ran his hands down your legs, he pressed soft kisses across your thighs while he rubbed his cheek against your skin.

He looked up at you, dark eyes full of desire and adoration as water ran down his muscles. Deep within his eyes there was a heated need, something only you could satiate as he made himself comfortable on the shower floor. He hummed as he laid a leg over his shoulder, cupping your ass and giving it a firm squeeze as he moved closer to you exposed cunt which ached painfully for him. However, he didn’t move any close as he placed slower kisses to your inner thighs, sucking small marks on them as you sighed with content.

“You’re beautiful.” His warm breath against your cunt made you whimper.

“Simon…” You were breathless as he continued to kiss your thighs. “Please.”

Simon swiped his tongue across your slit and you choked out a moan. He groaned against you, the vibrations sending shock waves up your spine as you watched his eyes flutter shut once he started to eat you out.

He lapped at you like a man starved, desperate to get more of you as the taste of you drove him over the edge. He stuffed his face into your cunt, his nose rubbing against your clit as he dove his tongue inside of you like you were his last meal. His hands gripped your legs tightly, keeping you in place as you writhed against his mouth while loud moans escaped you.

The shower barely hid any of the wet noises that came from your cunt as he pressed you against the wall. He groaned into you as well and barely opened his eyes to stare at you while he sucked on your clit.

“Fuck…” You moaned and threw your head back, your hand falling into his wet hair.

Pleasure was building up inside of you quickly. You gripped his blonde locks as you stared into his hazy eyes as he sucked and licked your cunt until you were dripping into his mouth. You couldn’t find any words to say as his eyes burned into yours before the band snapped.

You came and your head lulled back. Your body twitched and your legs shook as you struggled to keep your footing, Simon having to hold you up instead so you wouldn’t fall.

Simon leaned back as you came down from your orgasm, watching as your chest rose and fell with quick breaths, face covered in your arousal before he dove back in between your legs.

“W-Wait!” You gasped as you were still feeling aftershocks.

“You can take it.” He grunted into you. “Wanna taste you.”

He held onto you possessively, as if you had a chance to run away from him, while he unraveled you from the seams. He massaged his fingers into your plump flesh, squeezing and grabbing you anywhere he could while his grunts were muffled.

You moaned writhed under his hold. Pain from the overstimulation soon turned into blinding pleasure that had you holding onto his hair for dear life in an attempt to ground yourself.

“So good, fuck you’re so good, Simon.” You babbled out, your mouth moving before your mind could catch up.

Simon moaned and he sucked on your clit harder, causing you to throw your head back. His movements became more precise and he quickened his movements while making sure to watch your every move. You didn’t miss the way the desperate look came back into his eyes at the praise, almost as if he was addicted to it just as much as he was to your taste.

He slid a finger inside of you and a choked moan escaped your throat. He moved it at a steady pace, curling it up to hit that spot inside of you that had you seeing stars while he continued to suck on your clit.

The next orgasm came quickly and hard. Your eyes rolled back and your vision went out as your body jerked from the intense pleasure that made your toes curl. You moaned and squirmed, unable to catch your breath as Simon continued to finger and eat you out.

You tried to move your hips away from him, if only just for a second of relief as but he wouldn’t let you leave. Tears blurred your vision and you grabbed his shoulder, trying to push him away while also digging your fingernails into his skin in order to keep him where he was.

You were stuck on cloud nine with blinding pleasure coursing through your veins. Your body was so hot and you felt your third orgasm approaching rapidly, suddenly the world disappeared and all you could feel was Simon.

When your walls clenched around his fingers once more and he sent you over the edge, you shook violently as not a sound escaped you.

Your body went limp and if Simon wasn’t there, kissing your heated skin as he slid his fingers out of you, you would’ve fallen to the shower floor with him. It took you a moment to open your eyes as the pleasure left your exhausted body as he rubbed circles into your skin with his thumb.

He moved your leg off his shoulder and he held you up as he stood, supporting your weight against him as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

Simon pressed a kiss to the top of your head and then to your temple. He peppered more around your face until he kissed you on the lips and held you close to his chest.

You moaned when you tasted yourself from his tongue and he turned off the shower, causing you to open your eyes in a daze.

“Don’t want you to fall on your arse.” He teased and you lazily smiled. “Can you make it to the bedroom?”

You shook your head, unable to speak through the daze of the intense pleasure slowly leaving your body and saw the corners of his mouth twitch upwards.

You leaned forward and sloppily kissed his chest, listening to him sigh deeply before he hugged you.

A deep hum resonated from him as you kissed some of his scars, letting your hand cup his jaw as you moved to place a few kisses on his neck. You sucked on the spot that you knew made him fall apart and felt him melt in your touch, he picked you up and stepped out of the shower.

Neither of you cared about trailing water out of the bathroom as he carried you to his room. Your eyes never left one another, even as he gently placed you on his mattress as if you were made of glass despite the fact he had just devoured you moments before.

Simon climbed over top of you and he stared at you as if you were divine, like you were the one who had hung the stars in the sky and dictated when the sun would rise and fall. He brushed his fingertips across your cheek as he studied your face for the thousandth time, a loving look on his face.

You took his hand and kissed each of his knuckles while you stared at him with a warm chest. You studied the scars on his face and the way the water rolled down from his hair, going along the curve of his nose that you know has been broken many times before.

You were always captivated by his eyes, but now you couldn’t deny the fact that they were the most beautiful shade of brown you had ever seen.

“You’re beautiful.” You repeated back but you meant it with every fiber in your being.

A smile stretched across your face when you saw his cheeks flush and the tips of his ears turned red. You giggled and he bit his lip before he hid his face in the crook of your neck, stealing kisses that made you softly sigh and run your fingers through his hair.

“Never felt this way before you.” He admitted and you wrapped your arms around him.

“Is that a bad thing?” You wondered, slightly worried about what he meant until he leaned back enough that you could look into his eyes again.

“No. Never.”

You smiled and he did too. You couldn’t help the giddy feeling in your stomach as he leaned back down to kiss you on the lips, this time so much slower than the last as you both held each other. Just being in his arms made you feel safe and loved, especially as he left you in a daze from the tender kisses he left on your sore lips.

You squirmed underneath him as the kiss became heated again. You bit his bottom lip with need as you rolled your hips up into his, causing him to stifle a grunt that made you whine.

Simon kissed you a few more times before he positioned himself at your entrance, rubbing the tip of his cock against your puffy clit to make you whimper. He rutted against you until you felt him slowly sink inside your achy cunt with a soft groan.

Pain surged through you from the stretch, his large cock almost too big for you and you dug your fingernails into his shoulder blades. Tears pricked your eyes and you whimpered, causing him to stop moving.

“Doing so good, love.” He cooed softly and you moaned at the pet name.

He waited a few moments before he moved again and you let out moan from the pain and the pleasure that coursed through you until he stopped again. He wasn’t even half way in and you already felt so full even after he ate you out. You wondered if you would be able to take all of him as he stretched you out like no one had before.

Simon kissed your neck and behind your ear as he rubbed circles into your hip while you clung onto him, adjusting to his size as you fought the urge to force more of him inside of you when you weren’t ready.

“What did the cucumber say to the pickle?”

“...What?”

“You mean a great dill to me.”

You snorted loudly as you looked at Simon with confusion, unsure of why he decided now of all times to tell you a joke. You couldn’t help but laugh as he stared back at you with a twinkle in his eyes before he pushed himself further into you with ease, cutting off your laugh with a moan.

He bit back a groan as well as your face contorted with pleasure and pain as he bottomed out. Both of you were out of breath even though neither of you moved while you waited for you to adjust to his size.

Once you were adjusted you rolled your hips into his and you both moaned.

Simon started slow as he dragged his cock nearly all the way out before he pushed it back in, causing your head to fall back onto the mattress. The air was knocked out of your lungs as he began to thrust into you at a steady pace, quickly losing yourself in the feeling of him all the way in your stomach.

He leaned down and attacked your neck, quickening his pace which caused you to let out breathless moans. His hand traveled up to your breasts where he toyed with your nipples while he other hand grabbed your leg and pushed it up to your chest.

You moaned loudly and tugged on his hair as the new angle let him reach deep inside of you, hitting that spot inside of you that made you see stars.

“Fucking hell you feel so good.” He grunted and locked your lips in a kiss. “Like you were made for me.”

You whimpered, already feeling the pleasure building up within you again. It was only amplified when he pushed you down against the mattress to thrust as deep as he could. You were a moaning mess, any thoughts were gone from your mind as he bullied his cock inside of you without any chance to take a breather.

Simon kissed you anywhere he could. He didn’t spare a single spot, placing kisses on your neck, face and collarbone while he pressed his body against you impossibly close.

He stifled a whine when you ran your hand through his hair and down his neck, dragging your fingernails across his muscles as you held him.

You clenched around him, your walls tightening as he continued to hit that spot inside of you that had you crying out his name. You hooked your legs on his hips, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt yourself get closer and closer.

“No.” Simon grunted when he pushed himself up. He grabbed your jaw and gave you a firm squeeze to make you look at him. “Keep your eyes on me, pretty girl. Wanna see you cum again.”

All you could do was nod as he deepened his thrusts, dragging out a whine from you when you felt the tip of his cock kiss your cervix. You writhed underneath him, the all too familiar feeling of your orgasm approaching you fast as you struggled to keep your eyes open.

“That’s it.” He panted as he grabbed your hand and threaded his fingers between yours, squeezing it firmly. “Come on my cock.”

Your back arched off the bed as your orgasm hit you so fiercely you wondered if maybe you looked possessed. You couldn’t see anything as your entire body shook once more, your legs going limp while electricity surged through you. You couldn’t even moan as the air was knocked out of you when Simon quickened his pace.

He hid his face in the crook of your neck, kissing and sucking marks into your skin as he came inside you, filling you up and making you full. He lazily thrust himself into a few more times, sending shock waves through the both of you until he finally came to a stop.

Both of you were silent for a few moments as you caught your breath. Neither one of you moved from the other, keeping each other locked in a rather warm and sticky embrace from the sweat that had accumulated on your skin.

Simon still held your hand, his thumb rubbing into your skin while you squeezed it a few times.

After a moment of reprieve, he slowly slid out of you. The drag from his cock made you whimper and you were met with his lips pressing soft kisses to yours, causing your eyes to close.

“Clean you up.” He mumbled and you hummed, a small smile spreading across your face.

“Can you get water too?” You asked sweetly as if he’d say no to you.

“Anything else?”

You shook your head and reluctantly let him go after kissing him a few more times. You laid in his bed for a moment, a slight chill running across your skin as you fought back the urge to roll over and fall asleep in the scent of Simon.

Soon he came back and cleaned you up while you practically chugged the water he gave you. He scoffed and pressed a few chaste kisses on your leg before he tossed the dirty towel on the floor somewhere. Without another word, he climbed into bed with you, tugging you close to his chest before he threw the blankets on top of you both.

Your head rested against his chest and you listened to his steady heartbeat while he rubbed his thumb across your hairline. You didn’t say anything as you traced the scars that pepper his skin, smiling to yourself when he would shudder and when goosebumps with form soon after.

Your hand traveled further down and you very carefully ran your finger across the wound in his side, counting the stitches he had. You frowned when you counted at least nine of them and you nuzzled your head further into his chest as you tried to ignore the pit in your stomach.

“I have nightmares almost every night.” Simon whispered suddenly and your eyebrows knitted together. “It’s rare that I sleep.”

You bit your bottom lip, feeling a deep sadness crawl into your chest as you fought back the urge to tear up at his words. Instead, you continued to trace the scars you saw and took a deep breath.

“Did you have a nightmare that scared you?” You whispered back and he nodded. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Simon curled his arms around you protectively. He shook ever so slightly and you pressed comforting kisses to his chest as he stayed silent for a long while. He swallowed hard and his breathing became heavier while you waited patiently for him to continue or for him to tell you he didn’t want to talk about it.

“You died.” He exhaled sharply and you pressed yourself further into him. “I wasn’t there to protect you and you didn’t know how to.”

There was a beat and he let out a shaky breath. You turned your attention to him, looking up into his eyes to see a pain that made your heart shatter. He wasn’t going to tell you the details, but you gathered from the way there were tears in his eyes and from how scared he had been earlier today, that whatever had happened in the dream left him broken.

You rubbed comforting circles into his skin.

“I should’ve told you, I just…” He cleared his throat and shut his eyes tight. “Can’t lose you.”

You shushed him softly and pulled him into a hug, wrapping your arms around him comfortingly as he sniffled. You ran your hands through his hair as you tried to soothe him, feeling the fear he had held down since this morning ease into the air.

He held you back firmly and took a deep breath, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

“I’m here.” You reassured him and he sighed. “I know you’re scared but I’m safe because of you.”

Simon didn’t say anything as he squeezed you and you stayed quiet, mumbling soft reassurances in his ear.

Even if there was something that had to be done, neither of you were getting out of bed for the rest of the day.

Link to part 9

A/N: the long awaited chapter. Hope you guys like the smut, it was meant to be intimate and passionate but that might've gotten lost in the writing lol. Next one will have less arguments, more fun, but still angst cause unfortunately things can’t always be happy

The tag list is closed!! I am so happy that so many of you want to be tagged for this story but I will not be accepting anymore requests to tag people in this series since this list has gotten long and it's hard to keep track of how many I have to add! Sorry for the inconvenience!

Tags:

@kat-nee @alexwashere82 @suicidal-marshmellow @shuttlelauncher81 @poohkie90 @reiya-djarin @k4marina @mionacaped @igotmajordaddyissues @xxghostyx @pasta-m1lk @imstargazing @jacksonpleasestopkillingme @kgive @konig-is-bbygrl @lialacleaf @frazie99 @gremlin-ghuleh @spencerreidisbae123 @alastorhazbin @writingmysanity @lillianastuff @alastorhazbin @reid490 @lockleywife @sheepselecric @dead-noodles @marshmallowtraver @sinclairbrosbathmat @sofasoap @crazyfandomist @iwmtfm @oiiviagrande @genesis1363 @revyjerry @guttabutta00 @greenkiki @d4z01 @quietlyignoringyou @mysticalgalaxysalad @almightywdm @maviee @lycheedr3ams @multitargaryen @fruitymoonbeams-blog @lilpothoscuttings @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @adriennepoison

#the roommate series #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #cod ghost x reader #cod ghost x you #simon ghost riley #cod ghost #mw2 ghost #ghost mw2 #call of duty

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thot4ellie · 3 months

Text

oh sweetheart pt 4

pairing: boxer!ellie x f! jesses sister!reader

word count: 6.6k

rating: 18+ (smut will be coming in later parts)

warnings: boxer!ellie, fighting/boxing, flirting, blood, weed, alcohol, joel is dead in this :(, kissing, sexual interaction (almost im getting there pls!) talk of abusive relationships, cheating mentioned, smoking, talk of death, talk of mourning (lmk if im forgetting anything) ellie likes coffee lol, also i post w no specific character descriptions besides being female :)

summary: you and ellie spend the day together, your luck turns and you both realize you’re not alone anymore.

author notes: hi guys sorry this is later than expected! got a promotion at work and it’s kept me a bit busy, but reader talking ab her ex gf???? there’s no name yet for a reason (hint hint) and with that i just want to say that personas of a character im writing do not reflect back on the actual character and it’s just a plot twist i thought id throw in for later down the line! anyways pls forgive me for being late i pulled an all nighter and i finished this so i will go back and edit soon! thank you for reading! pls comment like reblog and follow!

part 1 | part 2 | part 2.5 | part 3

series masterlist | main masterlist

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸

READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS.

the sun beamed from the window in your bedroom, creating a pattern of light shining across your comforter. your eyes flutter open as you were took in the brightness covering your room. you cursed yourself in your head for not closing the curtains. you looked at the clock that was reading 8:48am,.

you realized you definitely drank too much last night and now you’re suffering the consequences. you take a little while to gather yourself before you went to get up from your bed, throwing the blankets over the top of you to sit up. all you wanted to do was think about last night as you were interrupted by the sight of her tattooed arm, resting over your waist holding you against her, you being unable to move as thoughts of last night played in your head as you try to ignoring the pounding.

ellie.

you guys outside smoking last night enjoying each others company. the way she got so close to your lips that you could feel her breath. ellie and you hanging out at the bar with dina and jesse. ellie walking you home and giving you her jacket. her agreeing to come up to your apartment, the tension that floated in the air every second you were each other. the way sweetheart rolled off her tongue when she talked you. getting high on your couch and kissing her as she pulled you on top of her. the way the she moved your hair out of your face before falling asleep. admitting to her that you liked her and that she felt the same way about you.

she liked you.

ellie stirred, arm around you as you were caught up in your thoughts. you heard her take breathe deep in her sleep as she pulled you even closer, your back pressing against her chest. you couldn’t believe this was happening. you and ellie fell asleep in your bed last night. kissing her and being with her has clouded your thoughts since you met her and now…. she has her arm around your waist fast asleep breathing you in.

the way your lips would connect with hers, if they would move perfectly in sync with each, fitting like two puzzle pieces together. how her heavy hands traced inches of your body, sliding her hands up and down your hips and thighs…

your eyes felt droopy as you got comfortable against ellie, drowning in the scent of her that took over your sheets and pillows. you cuddled into ellie’s strong chest that she held you against her. you moved your own arm to lay across hers as you fell back to sleep, now remembering everything that happened last night and what led to this moment of you waking up next to each other.

a couple hours, you stir around and wake yourself, only to find the bed empty. your heart drops realizing ellie was gone and didn’t say goodbye. did she not mean what she said last night? you told her you liked her and she left. overthinking was your specialty.

as you pulled the blankets over your head ready to sulk the entire day in end over what happened, you decided you were going to shower the night off before you spent the hours upset. you got up and headed into your bathroom, turned on the shower and got undressed. you took about thirty minutes washing your hair and body, despite not wanting to wash off the scent of ellie that you were wrapped in. you turned off the shower, got out and dried off as wrapped yourself in a huge fuzzy pink towel and as opened the door to your bedroom, you saw her.

ellie was there sitting on your bed facing the bathroom door, with two coffee mugs in her hand.

“good morning sweetheart,” she spoke softly.

“hi els,” you blushed, “i thought you left..” you told her shyly.

“i wouldn’t just leave after last night,” she responded, “i told you we’d talk sweetheart.”

“yes you did,” you utter, looking at her as you smiled sweetly and adjusted the towel around you.

“do you want to go to breakfast?” she asked, “theres this nice diner by my apartment if you wanted to walk.”

“yes that sounds perfect el!” you said, excited at the sound of food in your stomach.

you told ellie you’d get dressed and meet her in the living room. she left the room and you walked over to your dresser. your thoughts piled as your picked out your outfit.

she stayed. ellie stayed. your mood changed at the sight of her and you were so glad that last night meant something and you weren’t just drunk. flashes of ellie laying in your bed as she faced you and the way she touched you, the way her skin felt on yours. it was intoxicating.

you changed and left your bedroom to find ellie sitting on your couch. she was focused on avatar the last air-bender streaming over your large tv screen. (the animated series ofc!) she reached to get the coffee she made and handed it to you as you took a seat next to her.

“i love this show.” you spoke as you wrapped your hands around the cup and sipped on your still warm coffee.

“yeah toph is so badass- the best part of the show,” ellie laughed.

you guys finished the episode in comfortable silence until you spoke up and asked ellie if she still wanted to get breakfast. she said yes as she took her last sip, held her hand out motioning for your mug. you handed it to her as both got up. her putting them both in your kitchen sink and you grabbed your tote bag from your bedroom. ellie grabbed her bookbag from your living floor and threw it over her shoulder as she met you by your entry area. you both exited your apartment and you started the walk to the cafe, ellie leading you since she knew the way.

as you walked, ellie talked about jurassic park which she just watched the other day and how she loved the movie series which lead to her telling you about the time she went to a history museum for her birthday when she was 15, how exciting it was seeing the dinosaurs up close and she managed to spill at least 20 dinosaur facts in half the walk.

she told you about the space section they had and how fucking cool it was to sit in the space shuttle they had there. you laugh as she tells you that she’s gonna be the next person who goes to space. she points out the spaceship pin she has on her backpack, telling you its one of her favorite things she’s ever been gifted.

you loved hearing ellie talk about the things that she loves. she told you she collects superhero cards and reads comics, “like a nerd” she said. she tells you about her favorite songs to play on guitar. she told you she can’t wait to play for you sometime. ellie asked you about your favorite songs, mentally taking note of them because she will be teaching herself how to play one to impress you.

as you continue walking, you take in the scenery surrounding you on the street you walked. your eyes spotted the wire benches that were spaced out throughout the street, the flower stand on a far corner ahead, and the small gas station and convenience store up ahead. as you made it a bit further, you saw a bookstore coming up on the corner as you and ellie walked side by side. “oh my god ellie! do you mind if we go in?” you asked.

“yeah i love this place,” she responded as she opened the door for you to walk in. the bell chimed and you were amazed at the sight of the long book shelves that covered the walls and littered in columns down the center. there was a section of comfy chairs towards the back you could see peeking out behind a cart of books waiting to be unloaded. you see plants hanging from the ceiling in front of the tall windows towards the side of the bookshop.

“ellie! oh my gosh! how nice to see you!” you heard as you followed the sound of the voice. it was a short older lady probably around her 60s, with long grey hair and she walked with a cane. she made her way over and engulfed ellie in a hug. “oh my! how have you been?” the lady said as she pulled away, “and who’s this lovely lady?” as she grabbed your hand to shake.

ellie laughed as she said, “miss ashley, this is y/n.”

“oh you’re lovely!” the sweet old lady said towards you, “ellie doesn’t bring people around so its nice to see she has some friends, especially such pretty ones!” miss ashley laughed and gave you a warm smile.

ellie blushed, “ash please… don’t embarrass me,” she said jokingly putting face into her hands.

“oh nonsense! im just making conversation!” she exclaimed as she let go of your hands, “its so nice to meet you!”

“its nice to meet you too miss ashley!” you responded.

“oh please that makes me feel old, just call me ash! i insist please,” she laughed.

“okay ash,” you smiled, “i love this place, this is what i imagine heaven feels like.” you laughed.

“well you wouldn’t be happening to be looking for a job, would you?” she joked but your attention was caught as soon as she said those words.

“you’re hiring?” you said almost shocked. you didn’t want to get your hopes up but you’ve been looking for a job since you moved here and you’ve been having no luck. but this place… it was unbelievably beautiful and you could only imagine the peace you would feel working in a place like this.

“yes!” ash said to you, “since my husband passed, its getting hard to keep up with everything, i’ve been looking for the right person to help, ellie helps in her free time, but i cant make her do everything and theres no much i can without some help most days.” she said sounding a little defeated at the mention of her husband.

“well i’d love to come help! this would be great for both of us,” you said towards ash but your eyes met ellie as you spoke, hoping you didn’t cross a boundary with ellie.

“well think about it and get back to me!,” she said and then continued, “now go look around girls! i’ve got something something to do back in the office, but don’t leave without saying goodbye!” she said as she disappeared to a side room behind the cashier counter.

ellie looked at you and tried to apologize, for what miss ashley said and that she hoped she wasn’t too forward, but you just laughed and said that it was funny, and that you didn’t mind the sweet old lady who clearly loved her and meant no harm. curiosity got the best of you as you asked ellie how she knows the lady who might be the nicest person you’ve ever met.

“i actually live in the building next door,” she started as you guys made your way down an isle of fiction books but you stopped in your tracks and interrupted her, “you practically live above a bookstore that’s so cool el!”

“yeah i guess it is, i’ve known her since we moved, my dad was friends with her husband, so we used to come here all the time, it’s one of my favorite places.” ellie told you, “it would be cool for you to work here, i know you’re looking and i wish i could do more to help her but she seems to love you already.” she finished.

“are you sure that’s okay? you’ve just known her for so long and you live righ-“

she cut off your rambling off, “sweetheart it’s actually a great idea and i think you should take it.” she smiled at you as you both continued down the isles, you found a book you’ve had on your list and you picked it up to purchase. ellie and you came across the comic book section and she practically squealed in excitement as she held up a comic that read savage starlight. it was crazy seeing this badass boxer geeking out over comic books, space snd dinosaurs. you never would have thought it but it just makes you like her more.

“oh fuck yeah! i don’t have this one! this is my favorite series ever.” ellie told you smiling.

you guys made your way up to the counter and placed down the book and comic. ellie reached to hit the little bell since ash was in the back still. she made her way out of the back and her face lit up again when she saw you guys.

“hi ladies! is this all?” she spoke as she picked up the merchandise and clicked the price in her outdated sale system.

you opened your bag and grabbed your wallet. ellie tried to beat you to pulling out hers but you put her hand over hers and pushed it down, giving her a smile.

then you pulled out a 20 and handed it over. ash smiled as she finished the transaction, gave you the change and told you thank you.

“id actually like to take you up on the job offer, this place seems so cool!” you responded.

“oh yes! it would be a great help! you can come back on wednesday around 11 for your first shift! we’ll sort paperwork and stuff out then! thank you so much again!” the little lady said across the counter as she handed you your paper bag with ellies comic and your book.

“sounds perfect! i will see you then!” you said.

ellie said goodbye to her and she came around the counter to give you both a hug before you headed out of the store and continued the walk to the cafe.

“well it looks like im employed now, this is exciting” you said as you grabbed ellies hands in yours.

“it looks as so sweetheart, im excited for you!” she said as she squeezed her hand in yours, “now lets eat? and this time i’m paying, to celebrate!”

she then turned you around with a spin to see the cafe to the side of you. it was a cute retro diner that looked like it was straight out of the 90s. how does ellie know the best places? she’s unbelievable, you thought in your head, not being able to stop the smile growing on your face as you looked at her with your mouth dropped open in disbelief.

ellie laughed as she held the door for you as you both walked in and saw a seat yourself sign. you leaded the way across the checker print floor to the last booth in the corner of the right side of the diner, right next to the window.

ellie followed behind you and watched as you picked that booth. the red booth her and joel used to sit at every single they came here. the booth she spent years sitting at with the man who was gone forever. ellie felt her chest tighten as you took the side she always sat in, leaving ellie the spot that held so many images of her late father. she couldn’t blame you, its not like you were aware of the memories this particular booth held. but ellie couldn’t help that it hurt.

you noticed a sudden change in ellie when she didn’t respond to you as you asked if she had any idea what she wanted as you guys slid into the booth across each other.

“hey el?” you tried to get her attention but she was off in her own head.

you reached over and held her hand which is stopped her fidgeting with the other and she finally looked up at you.

“ellie are you okay?”

“yeah sweetheart… this is just- this booth holds a lot of memories.” she spoke to you with a hint of sadness behind what she said, “haven’t sat here since my dad died.”

“els, fuck, im sorry should we move over there-“

she has a habit of cutting off your rambling with a squeeze of your hand and saying to you, “hey no it’s okay, it’s nice to sit here again, it’s been so long but i’m glad you’re here with.”

you made sure ellie was okay with staying before you guys took a look at the menu when the waitress came around and introduced herself, telling you her name and she started you and ellie off with a round of hot coffee while you guys looked over the breakfast section.

“okay ellie… i have a serious question.” she looked up from the menu and made direct eye contact with you before you proceeded talking with the most serious look on your face, “waffles or pancakes?”

“not the biggest fan of pancakes, definitely fuck with waffles more,” ellie laughed but the sadness couldn’t help but show up again as she thought about joel again. he didn’t really like pancakes either. ellie thought about the last time her and joel were here, a couple days before he passed. she wished she remembered more of him.

interrupting her thoughts, the waitress came back for your order which for you was waffles with scambled eggs and bacon and ellie got the same thing as you too.

you talked about how nice it was to see parts of the town you didn’t even know existed and that you and ellie got to explore it together, you told her “thank you for bringing you to places that were special to her.”

ellie beamed, “im glad i got to show you sweetheart.”

about 10 minutes later, the waitress brought over your plates and you guys started to dig in to the so needed breakfast. you watched as ellie drowned her food enough that syrup was over her entire plate, laughing as you told her “theres not even any food left at this point, its allllll syrup.”

“hey leave me alone! this is the best part!” she said as she cut a bit and brought it to her mouth as the syrup dripping down her chip. you watched as she licked her lips as she swallowed looking you dead in the eye. all you could think about was kissing her again. the way her lips felt on yours, how her hands covered your body and the goosebumps she left. ellie noticed your eyes change as you thought about it and didn’t speak.

“whatcha thinking ‘bout sweetheart?” ellie finally asked with an innocent smile on her face but she was feeling the same way you did, she couldn’t help the thoughts of last night, staying wrapped around your warm body, the way your lips connected with hers and how you begged for her to kiss you again. she only wonders what would have happened if you guys didn’t stop.

“how good this fo- food tastes el duh,” you stuttered. ellie laughed and mumbled a “sureeee.”

you guys finished your food up and continued drinking the coffee that was refilled a couple minutes ago before you asked for the check. the waitress sat down the receipt and ellie slammed her hand down on to of it before you could snatch it up and treat her again.

“what did i tell you? tsk tsk tsk” she made the noise with her mouth, “i’m getting breakfast,” she said as she pulled her wallet from her back pocket and sat cash on the table. “done with the coffee sweetheart?” as soon as she asked you took your final sip before adding it to the table of empty dishes you piled up for the waitress to make it a little easier for her.

“now i am.” you gave her a smile. she returned it and stood up throwing her backpack over her shoulder, before holding out her hand for you to hold. you gripped her hand as she gently pulled you out of the booth and let you walk first. you walked the diner to the front door before you opened it before the both of you.

as you stepped out of the diner, you wondered if this was a date? you knew it wasn’t said but this would be a great first date if it was. bookshop and a diner with ellie. you’ve never just been out before like this.

in your last relationship, the one that sent you running from new york, you never left the house, she wouldn’t let you. you couldn’t go out with your friends, leading them to stop talking to you because “it was pointless” in being your friend anymore. it hurt but you couldn’t escape it, you knew it was bad being shut in like that but you didn’t want to face your ex girlfriend.

you spent 2 years in that abusive relationship and couldn’t be more happy to get away but the thought of her finding you was always a thought that never left the back of your head. when you threatened to leave before, she told you she’d always find you and that you would never be able to get away from her. you wonder if you ran far enough away from her. hopefully half a country away was enough.

as you both stood out on the sidewalk trying to figure out what your next plans were since it was only about 3pm, ellie asked if you wanted to head to her apartment. you told her yes and you started the walk back down the street you came. hand in hand, the bookstore came in view on the corner and you knew you were close. she brought you down the connecting street to the building next door to a green door with chipped paint. she pulled her keys from her front pocket and unlocked the door.

inside was a stairway to the second floor and a door at the other opposite side of the front door. it was nice entrance with a door mat and a nice table against the wall with some fake flowers and some little decorations.

“ash lives downstairs actually, this is all hers.” ellie told you as she saw you looking the trinkets.

“aw that’s so nice,” you said as she lead you up the stairs to a another green door. ellie unlocked her front door and she held it for you to walk inside. she flicked on the light as she pulled the door shut and locked it. you were taken back at how nice her apartment was. you stepped more into her apartment and took a deep look around.

she had a wall of vinyls next to a record player and stereo system and 2 guitars, one electric and another dark wood acoustic with a moth on the neck. she had a couple plants in her window and a few on the fireplace in the middle of the open living room, connected to her a bit outdated kitchen (but it added to the ambiance) she had a playstation connected to her large tv screen across from a long grey couch. the door to the bathroom was open so you can only assume the one that’s shut across the room is her bedroom. band posters littered her walls and picture frames sat around her living room. a bookshelf full of comic books and action figures along with a series of books on space.

she walked over to the couch and dropped her bag as you followed her and took a seat on the couch. it was so comfy, it was unbelievable. she grabbed the remote and handed it to you telling you to turn on whatever. you did as you watched from the side as ellie emptied the contents of her book bag which consisted of her jar of weed, her rainbow grinder and a pack of papers.

“hm sweetheart?”, ellie said getting your attention, “m gonna take a shower, mind rolling one for when im done?” she smiled at you.

“yeah sure els!” you said as you picked up the pack of papers. she smiled and walked into her bedroom. you heard the shower turn on you finished prepping a couple papers. you packed the grinder, then started stuffing each one them, licking them shut and placing them back on the table. once you finished, you were watching community as yours eyes darted around ellie’s living room and landed on a picture of her with dina and your brother.

you got up from the couch and walked over and picked it up, examining it. they almost look young in the photograph, you wonder what it would have been like if you were here with them at that time instead of now. how life would have been if you weren’t stuck in new york with her. you placed it back down on the table when another frame caught your eye. you made your way over to the bar area it sat on and held it in your hand.

this must be ellie and her dad.

it was a picture of them in a stable feeding a horse, she had to have been like only fifteen in the photo. “she was so cute,” you thought. you stared at the man who you assume was her dad. he had darker but greying hair, he seemed so young in the picture but it was only taken a couple years ago.

you jumped as you heard ellie speak behind you. you didn’t even hear the water turn off. “joel, that was his name.” she said, you turned around to see her standing right behind you, “our relationship was complicated but he was a good man, taught me most of what i know,” she took the frame from your hands and held it in her own, looking down at it, “but i miss him… you know i planned to ask him to watch a movie that night on the day he passed… but it never happened.” ellie said as her thumb brushed over him in the photo.

you held one of ellies hand over the photo and you gave her a small smile, “i wish i would have met him, he seems like he was a great dad els, i know he’d be proud of you.” she looked to meet your eyes, “thank you sweetheart… really thank you.” she smiles as she puts the picture back down. as soon as it was out of her hands, you couldn’t help but wrap your arms around her and squeeze. she returned your hug instantly and rested her chin on your shoulder and her hands made their way to your hips.

“aw sweetheart what was that for?” ellie joked as she pulled her face away but kept her hands on your waist. you swear you skin burned every time she touched you.

“els cmon,” you rolled your eyes jokingly at her, “you know why, now are you ready to smoke?” you wiggled your eyebrows at her and she moved you guys towards the couch.

you both got comfy as ellie lit up a joint and you switched on the movie stepbrothers. you got comfy when ellie grabbed a big blanket from a basket next to her couch and she put it over both of you, you scooted closer to her, putting her arm over the back of the couch behind your neck and you cuddled close to her chest, breathing in the wonderful scent of her. as you started the movie, ellie leaned forward grabbing a joint off the table, putting in her mouth and lit it with her free hand.

she took a big hit and blew the smoke out. you watched her as she took her next hit. ellie realized you were watching her and couldn’t help but smile. “you know its rude to stare sweetheart?” she spoke as she took her last hit and held it out to pass to you.

“oops!,” you shook your head and grinned towards her, grabbing the joint as you looked at ellie’s tattooed arm, then back up at her face. the freckles that painted her cheeks and could help yourself as the words left your mouth, “you’re so beautiful els sorry can’t help it.”

you saw the blush creep up on her cheeks as she told you, “so are you sweetheart.”

eventually you guys finished the movie and ellie picked the next one, superbad, one of her favorites she told you, but you guys paused before you started it. ellie stood up and went to the kitchen on the other side of the living room. she looked through the cabinets until she pulled out a bag of doritos and some sprite in a can back to the coffee table for you to snack on during the movie.

when she sat, ellie lit up another a joint and you and her got comfy on the couch as you hit play on your next movie. smoking and laughing over the film, you and ellie got caught up in talking. it felt like you’d known each other for years, the way the conversation flowed and the way you guys connected. you could talk about anything for hours and you know you’d never get bored.

cue to the movie credits and the bag of chips is empty and the soda is drank up, you were laying on ellie’s couch, your legs spread over the top of her lap as she sat up, her hand rubbed up and down your leg under the blanket you were sharing. it was calming but still sent butterflies through your whole body everytime her long fingers made another pass up and down.

your eyes fixated on ellie as she picked up the remote and started looking for something else to watch. she scrolled through a bit before she turned to ask what you were thinking you guys should watch, catching you staring at her yet again. you were nervous to speak but what you wanted to ask her had to be said.

“when i’m with you i don’t feel so… alone.” you admitted to her, “i really like you els, i’ve never felt this way about anyone, i mean there was just one time i thought i did, but it wasn’t like this… this is different.” you paused, looking at her, her face was soft as she listened to you admit this and you can see the grin growing on her face as you finished speaking, “and i know we haven’t known each other long but the last thing i expected when i moved here was to met someone as great as you. i want this els… if you do to of course.” as soon as she knew you were done speaking, it happened so fast.

ellie’s lips connected with yours. she leaned over you as her free hand reached up to your left side of face to pull you closer to her, her other hand had moved from your leg to your thigh now. chills ran down your body as your lips moved with hers slowly but filled with urgency. your hand moved to the back of ellie’s neck, your fingers tangled in her hair and she couldn’t help the moan that escape from her mouth. you took that to to your advantage and introduced your tongue into the already deep kiss. “oh sweetheart,” she mumbled against your lips before copying your actions before she moved on top of you faster than you could blink.

ellie could feel your heart start beating faster as one of her legs slid between both of yours. your lips were warm against hers, the way your fingers stayed gripped in her hair as you pulled on it when the kiss grew sloppy but it was still passionate as ever. ellie needed you, in every possible. she wanted to feel your lips all over her, she loved the way your body molded to hers as she was on top of you, how you fit perfectly under her. how you moaned so low and that it made her body ache for more of you.

ellie couldn’t help but break apart the kiss as she got overwhelmed by her thoughts and had to catch her breath. as much as she wanted to keep kissing you like the world was ending, she didn’t want to rush this yet, yes she can’t wait for it to happen but it was worth the wait, she knew it would be worth it. foreams holding her up, ellie’s forehead rested against yours as she opened her eyes to see you, underneath her, practically panting with your eyes still shut as you caught your breath too.

ellie couldn’t help but lift her head off yours and stare at you while you laid under her like this. your hair was sprawled out messily against the pillow your head was resting on, your shirt was twisted around your body, and your lips were slightly pink and swollen. she could get used to this, ellie thought in her head, seeing you look this gorgeous in a position like this.

you opened your eyes to see ellie staring at you and smiled towards you as she started speaking, “i want you sweetheart.” she said, “i want this to happen, so badly.” she stopped as she pulled her hands up to your face again, hands on either cheek as she brought her head down to kiss you softly, “‘m gonna take you out on a real date sweetheart, ‘m gonna show you how much i want all this, all of you.” she said giving you another kiss, this one lasted a few seconds longer.

“els, i want you too.” you spoke as you placed a kiss on the lips of the the girl who’s on top of you right now. when you pulled back, ellie couldn’t help but place another peck on your lips before she sat up, moving from laying between your legs, but she did move them right back on her lap, sitting closer to you now. you smiled at her as she grabbed your hands with hers, rubbing them with her thumb over the backside as she started talking.

“i feel less alone when i’m with you too,” she took a deep breath before continuing, “‘m gonna get serious for a second if that’s okay?” she questioned looking up at you, you gave her a nod with a smile on your face, before she looked back down at your hands in hers, “joel… when he passed, we were finally starting to build a relationship again. we weren’t very close before he died, dumb shit happened and i just couldn’t forgive him… and as soon as i did, he was gone … it wrecked me- fuck ‘m sorry- its still wrecking me- he taught me so much, he showed me so much… the only time i’m not thinking about him is when i’m with you sweetheart. i hate talking about him, i feel like once i start im not gonna be able to stop but- i just- i need you to know that i’m trying… because you make me want to enjoy my life again.” you hung on everything she spoke, watching the words fall from her lips as she played with your fingers in her hand, a habit you notice she does to her own hands when she’s nervous.

“ellie, you’re not alone in this, i’m sorry you never fully got the closure you needed, you do not ever say you’re sorry for opening up about how you’re feeling, i’m listening if you ever do want to talk about it.. no pressure els but i think it helps to open up to someone and get some things off your chest. im always here for you ellie. i’m still wrecked about some things myself so just know there’s never any jugdgement from me,” you squeezed her hands in yours, showing her you were serious about what you were saying. she lifted her head to look at you, “you make me happy els, i didn’t think i’d get to experience this again…” you paused nervously before she gave your hands a gentle squeeze, showing you that she’s listening and giving you the courage to tell her what happened.

“back in new york, i was in a relationship with this girl. i lived there for about 4 years and we met during my second year of college through a mutual friend… it was great at first, ya know? we connected so fast that within a couple months of being together she ended up moving in with me, that was the first mistake,” you laughed to yourself before continuing, “once we lived in the same place, it made it so much easier for her to control me… she wouldn’t let me leave the house unless it was for work, i couldn’t see my friends, she came home drunk and angry all the time and always accused me of things i would never do, she’s the reason i had to drop out of college while she stayed enrolled and became a lawyer… ” you took a deep breath trying to contain your emotions, you didn’t like talking about this, you didn’t want ellie to see you as a victim. you were so much stronger than even you thought and you hoped she saw that side of you before the other one.

“she made me feel horrible and insecure, …she was extremely manipulative, also i knew she was sleeping with someone else too, i saw messages from her coworker and they were more than slightly suggestive,” you chuckled, almost losing your train of thought as you caught and held your focus to ellie’s hand touching yours comfortingly. “the first time she hit me… it could have been worse, that sounds bad but i don’t know. by the last time she hit me, i dreamed it was the first time again so that it wouldn’t hurt that much.” you could feel the tears well in your eyes.

“the day after when she left for work, i packed as much of my stuff as i could into my car and just left. i didn’t leave a note, i changed my phone number and deleted my social media. it was the best decision i ever made. i don’t know if this was too much to share but i wanted you to know that you aren’t alone in not being okay els, we got this.” you gave her hand a final squeeze as you waited for her to respond.

it took her a minute to process everything you said again before she spoke up, “oh sweetheart… ‘m so sorry that happened to you.” she said disconnecting her hands from yours to move them to hold both sides of your face, looking straight into your eyes, “you’re the most beautiful girl i have ever seen, i’m sorry that she made you feel like that, you don’t deserve any bit of that, wish i knew you back then so all of that never would have happened to you but i promise sweetheart, you will be safe with me. you will always be safe.”

lmk if you want to be added to the taglist :) thank u sm for the support!!!!

@lookforthelight1 @ucannotcompare @diddiqueen @mikellie @vvitchesh3x @benthoee @bready101 @all-things-0dd @bunlikean-angel @mulan-but-gay @lovejuliettq

#the last of us #ellie williams #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader #tlou series #tlou game #ellie tlou #tlou2 #ellie williams fic #ellie williams fluff #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us

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tadpolesonalgae · 4 months

Text

They get turned on when you’re angry — headcanons

a/n: thank you 🩰 for this thought, and thank you anon for requesting it 🧡💛 (this is ever so slightly unserious, please accept my apologies)

warnings: starts out suggestive, derails into smut :)

Rhysand:

“You can’t keep insisting you’re the most handsome High Lord at the High Lord meetings, Rhys!”

You’ve got him sat on the edge of your bed as you scold him for his behaviour, Rhys waiting patiently as he watches you trying to ply the clips from your hair, your own patience wearing thin as frustration builds at their refusal to budge

“I mean really Rhys, I understand you’re no longer acting out a cruel persona, but a little tact, no? Just some discretion? Not cracking jokes left right and centre!”

You hiss as one of the clips snags on a strand of hair, cursing both him and the clip out under your breath

“Darling, will you please just allow me to—”

“Don’t you dare move, Rhysand.”

Colour warms the tan skin of his cheeks, eyes appreciatively running down the trail of your spine, heat gathering at the spankable curve of your hind. The tone you’d used…

“I know you think you’re charismatic and charming, but your arrogance is getting out of hand,” you continue, oblivious to the dark dip in his thoughts, “I suppose it’s inevitable when you have no one to keep you in check, but—”

“No one to keep me in check?”

You whirl on him, hair at last free and unbound, whipping over your shoulder as you turn to him

He’s undone the top most buttons of his shirt, leaned back on the bed, long legs parted—not at all ashamed of the reaction he’s having to the sharp, clipped tone you’d been using on him

“Rhysand!” You hiss, “I’m trying to…”

But he’s not hiding anything, arousal heating the glimmering bond that lies between you, skin tingling with awareness as warmth pools in your belly

“What was it you said again? That I have no one to keep me in check?” He muses, hand shifting over the muscle of his thigh to the obvious hardness between his legs. “No one to remind me of my place?”

“Rhysand,” you warn, “we have a dinner tonight, do not…” but you trail off when he palms himself through the fitted fabric of his trousers, a low groan coming from the back of his throat.

You pry your tongue from the roof of your mouth, delicately licking over dried lips, an action he marks eagerly. “I suppose you could serve being taught a lesson to two…”

Cassian:

“Cass, hurry up! We’re going to be late! Again!”

Really, you would have thought as a General he would have excellent time management skills and would never struggle with being late. And usually, that’s true. But something about going out to dinner to see his family just sends all of that training out the window

“Cassian?” You question, leaning over the banister to call up to your mate’s room. “Cassian, are you nearly ready?”

A series of knocks are landed to your front door, and you blanch, wondering if it’s another pair thinking of walking with you to the River House. But when you open it, you’re greeted with a proudly grinning Cassian, wings tucked in tight against the chill breeze

He must have flown out the window and round to the front again.

“Cassian!” You snap, “I was stressing! Why can’t you just please be on time and save me the anxiety?”

He opens his mouth, pride gleaming in his eyes at what he no doubt thinks is a clever trick, but the amusement has already seeped from your bones.

“For goodness sake,” you mutter, “you haven’t even—” You push up onto your tiptoes, leaning flush against him for support as you set straight a curled lock that was blown the wrong way, flopping to the wrong side of his head

You huff impatiently, settling back onto the flats of you feet, lightly smacking your hand over his chest as you reassess him. “Right. Good. Let’s go.”

“Sweetheart, don’t worry,” he tries, realising too late you’re genuinely bothered, agitation zinging down the bond. “They won’t even—”

“Cassian, I am not in the mood at the moment,” you snap sharply. “How many times have I told you. We need to be ready to leave half an hour before hand. You’re a General for crying out loud, put your knowledge to good use.”

You’ve never snapped like that before at him. He knows you get a little tightly wound when it comes to time management, but never anything like this. Maybe he shouldn’t have gotten your gears turning like that. But your arms have crossed over your chest, drawing his attention to the dip in the neckline, a little further than usual. The strict set of your brows, and the disapproving cut of your mouth…

He zones back in when you click your fingers in his face, “are you even listening to me? For Mother’s sake Cassian, will you at least pay attention when I’m talking to you?”

“I’m paying attention,” he manages, caught off guard by the arousal that’s stirring in his stomach at the terseness of your question. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t think—”

“No, you didn’t. Now hurry up and let’s—”

“Don’t cut me off like that,” he breathes lowly, pupils dilated as he stares down at you. The rise and fall of your chest as you glare impatiently…holding your ground…

“Cassian!” You inhale sharply as his large palm snakes around your waist, pulling you into his heat, nosing at your neckline, his scent wrapping around you, and— “Cassian…” you whisper, back curving with arousal

“Where’d that attitude go?” He asks breathlessly. “Bring it back for me. Won’t you do that, sweetheart?”

“Cass…we’re going to be late…” you manage to get out, knocked off your feet by the abrupt display of hunger

“We won’t,” he murmurs, pressing hot kisses to your throat as he works his way down. “Besides, what were those thirty minutes originally put in place for?”

You flush at the reminder—at how frequently things like this would happen so you would both agree to prepare in advance in the case of certain appetites arising

“Though if you want to keep using that tone on me…” his hips roll against yours, pressing the hard outline of his cock into your tummy, groaning at how it feels. “I don’t think I’d mind…”

Azriel:

“Azriel.” You hiss, gripping his hand by the wrist, tight. “Don’t even think about it.”

The shadows scuttle away from beneath your skirts, while the others peer up at the painting Helion’s currently showing off.

“You can’t just put your hands on me whenever you feel mildly compromised,” you whisper sharply, hoping the others won’t notice how you’re lagging behind.

“He just invited you to his bed,” Azriel growls lowly, pupils contracted as he stares razors into the High Lord of Day’s turned back. “And you hardly mustered up a refusal.”

“I was being polite. And of course the offer wasn’t serious,” you hiss back. “Besides, he’s invited you to bed plenty of times, and you never see me getting all territorial about it.”

“I wish you would,” he breathes, voice roughening as he flicks his wrist out of your grasp in favour of gripping your hip lightly, pulling you a little closer. “At least then he’d get the idea.”

“He’s doing this because you’re making it so apparent we’re recently mated,” you snap, “obviously he’s going to enjoy at last being able to get a rise out of you.”

“I need him to know that you’re mine.”

Heat flutters between your legs, suddenly feeling breathless. Your tongue flicks out over dry lips, and that familiar warmth zips down the bond, still so new and sensitive to every change, keyed to one another.

“You keep that sort of nonsense in the bedroom, Azriel,” you manage to hiss to him. “I do not belong to you. I am your mate.”

You can feel even on your side how overpowering, how dominating those instincts are, made worse by the unwelcome and incessant advances from another male. Can feel how he’s straining under the urge to claim you in a very obvious way.

“You belong to me, as I belong to you,” he growls lowly, darkness thickening at his back as those great wings flare menacingly.

“If you belong to me then I command you to be quiet and behave,” you hiss, the crackling tension between you having you snap, frustration simmering beneath your skin as you’re forced to keep your hands off each other until this bothersome tour comes to an end.

It seems to be the last straw for Azriel, however.

He releases a snarl that sounds mixed with a groan, starving lust barreling down the bond as he’s no longer able to keep his side entirely concealed, large palm shackling your wrist as he drags you away from the others, too hungry to wait

The command had been his breaking point, arousal burning through his blood at the sharpness you’d used

He hopes you’ll use it on him again, even once the initial frenzy has at last faded…

Eris:

“Either make me cum, or I’ll find someone else who will,” you hiss, nails scraping over his scalp, gripping the silky locks in your fist

“I wouldn’t recommend that, fawn,” he murmurs beside your ear, pressing his body tight to yours, so you’re trapped between him and the wall as his thigh is pushed flush with your heat. “Besides, you’re already dripping all over me. You think you’ll be able to find anyone else who’ll give you the intensity of one I can?”

“I don’t care at this point,” you counter. “Either give it to me or I’ll have to use something else.”

The impatience catches him off guard. You’re usually so sweet and docile—he wonders where the spark has come from. It seems rather fun to tamper with

“Like your fingers? Your pillow?” He asks, voice deepening as he presses his hips to yours, grinding into the softness of your tummy as you try to rub over his thigh, to get some kind of pleasure. “I’d love to see you try,” he whispers breathlessly

“Fuck you,” you hiss, heat fluttering between your legs, mind turning dizzy with hunger as your arms wrap tight over his broad shoulders, leg weaving round his to try and get him closer—

“Quit it,” you snap, flame blazing in your eyes as your lip curls when he pulls his thigh back, leaving you without stimulation. “You’re being a fucking pain,” you hiss, tugging on his hair

His eyes flutter, hips bucking against you with hunger as he dips down, attacking your neck with kisses and nips, arousal having him firmly within its grasp at that demand

You moan at the sensations, back arching up into him as you feel the pronounced outline of him against you, twitching as he grinds against you

“Fuck, Eris…” you pant, so near the verge of pleasure.

“Get on the bed,” you whisper, hands shakily pushing him away, so he’s stood to his full height, looming over you

When he doesn’t move, you snarl, too impatient to wait for his games. “I said get on the bed.”

The intensity of his arousal hits you then, practically knocking you clean off your feet, both of you seemingly taken aback at just how heavily affected he is

“You like this?” You breathe, pulse spiking as you peer up into his eyes, irises almost fully eclipsed by hunger

He doesn’t need to answer as your hand slips between the two of you, cupping him, feeling just how hard he is, how hungry he is… You curse lowly

“Oh you’re going to pay for every damn teasing thing you’ve ever done to me,” you whisper over his mouth, pushing for him to walk back until his legs come into contact with the bed

“And you’re going to pay tenfold.”

Lucien:

“I just don’t get it, Lu,” you sigh frustratedly, pacing back and forth as he watches you from the plush armchair. “I’ve tried so many different things, she just seems to have it out for me.”

“Are you sure you’re not overthinking this?” He suggests wryly. “We both know you have a habit of assuming the worst when it comes to how other people perceive you.”

“I’m not overthinking this one,” you snap. “She blatantly cut me off and turned her back on me during tea the other day. I don’t know what it is other than she just dislikes me.”

“And wouldn’t it simply be the end of the world if one female didn’t absolutely adore you,” he drawls, stretching out in his seat, long legs crossing at the ankle

“Don’t take that tone with me,” you say sharply, spinning around to face him, glaring

Lucien stiffens under the fire in your gaze, the anger simmering away as you stare him down, surprised by how hot his skin feels beneath that look

“I know for a fact I haven’t done anything wrong this time—and I’m certain of that,” you huff, beginning to pace back and forth, allowing him a moment to grapple with the reaction searing through his body

“Why is she trying to bring me down? I don’t understand it. I’ve never done anything, said anything that could harm her standing in some way, so why is she trying to bring me down?”

He listens to the harsh puff of breath, the sharp sighs coming from your lips, the clean cut of your steps as you spin at the end of a pace—pulse increasing as he slips a long finger beneath his collar

“We females are already at a disadvantage,” you go on, brow tightening now with anger, “can’t she understand that? We should stick together to help one another, not step on each other to further ourselves. It’s so backward! Why are you fighting against me when the problem is with the males in charge? Do you see what I mean? Lu? Lu—”

A hot flush warms your cheeks, thoughts instantly fading from your mind, replaced by the view before you

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, attempting to readjust the tightness of the already close-fitting riding trousers he wears. “Continue,” he manages thickly, “I’m listening.”

But you’re done with the conversation already. Done the second you looked at him, the outline of his arousal for you so clear and prominent

“I’m glad you are, but I’m certainly not,” you murmur, already walking over to him, putting yourself into his lap, straddling his hips as you pull your skirts up, feeling that delicious press between your legs

“I think I’m in need of a distraction anyway.”

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut @vickykazuya

#rhysand x reader #cassian x reader #azriel x reader #eris x reader #lucien x reader #acotar #drabble

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pedgito · 5 months

Text

MILLER'S GIRL ✎ SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter One: Teacher’s Pet

Chapter Summary: First day woes and a difficult semester ahead, you find solace in your caring, attentive creative writing professor who shows you just a little more attention than everyone else, or so you think. [5k]

[student/teacher relationship, age gap, no outbreak, power dynamic]

Chapter Warnings: fem!reader, professor!joel miller (his teacher persona is v different from outside of the classroom, so if he seems slightly ooc....close your eyes), dom!joel, sub!reader, reader is a little obsessed with joel (and delusional), mentions of infidelity (not by joel), sarah doesn't exist here, background tess x joel, inappropriate relationships/actions, talks of literature and lots of random writing topics, dream smut, gratuitous descriptions of mr. miller's body and personality.

note: thanks to @planet-marz1 for the last minute beta.

— AO3 | PLAYLIST | PINTEREST

↝ other fics | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec

There’s a deafening silence that surrounds you when you step into the lecture room, not nearly as big as your other main course classes, it’s intimate. Close. If you kicked a foot out from the chair you were sitting in you could touch the professor’s desk.

Part of you wonders if you were the only person taking this class, sitting for a few minutes alone, not another person in sight—until one files in, then another, until there’s about ten of you seated sparsely in the small space. It’s mostly bare aside from the few books shoved away on a nearby shelf, antiquey books that, no doubt, had a thick layer of dust.

The problem with the class was that you weren’t sure if it was ever going to be a real thing—applying you had the expectation of who your teacher would be, what you could expect from the coursework, and just how manageable it would be amongst the rest of your classes. But, there was little known now.

All you did know was that they had to find a replacement quick, which they did, and you were sure that a sign of their lacking punctuality was a great start, tucking your chin over the bag placed on your desk as you waited in silence amongst simmered voices, feeling starchly out of place.

You didn’t know this place—it was new, Austin. You moved clear across the country on a whim, wanting a new start in a place you’ve never seen before. You’d plucked a community college out of the bunch, not worried with the semantics of applying to some big, ivy league school. You wanted something manageable, something attainable. This seemed like the easiest option, unsuspecting and unknown, you could slink by and go about your life peacefully.

That is what you wanted, after all.

Until you meet Mr. Miller.

Joel could’ve pursued music, or carpentry, or about a billion other things he was skilled at—yet somehow, teaching seemed to be the easiest option. It gave him the familial feeling of caring and guiding that he did enjoy, molding young minds and helping them bloom. He worked at a local high school in Austin for years—fifteen good, long years.

But, he too needed a change. His life was slowly crumbling in on himself.

He sees the job opening on the last weekend of summer, still teetering with the option of returning to his teaching job at the high school—it isn’t as manageable as it used to be, finding that in his older age that dealing with the behavior and arguments with ill-managed kids was more of a hassle than it needed to be for the pay he was receiving.

So, fuck it. He applies.

He gets a call the following Monday and he’s officially added to the staff by the end of the week—and of course, he’s never stepped foot on the campus until his first day. So, he’s lost. Joel realizes how unprofessional it looks, scrambling with his bag as he throws it over his shoulder and haphazardly adjusts his tie, hoping that his hair wasn’t too askew and wild, despite the wind flying through his hair in the chilly bite of the autumn weather.

Things couldn’t have been off to a better start.

There’s the slightest trickling of a thought that you should leave, give up that this class might be an ultimate failure but then he’s walking through the door. You knew his name, but that was as far as your reach extended. Mr. Miller. J. Miller, to be specific.

James. Justin. Jonathan. It was all a mystery to you.

You find that his appearance is less than prepared, mostly disheveled and he seems breathless as he offers a subtle nod of awkward acknowledgement as he slings his bag onto the desk. Thankfully, he seems to understand that there was a tinge of urgency with him being late and he quickly reaches into his bag and pulls out a stack of papers.

Class syllabuses. He hands them off silently to the person on the farthest side of the room and hoping they would get the idea, pass them off until they reach the final person. It’s crisp, stark white paper covered in a boring black-inked text. Nothing seemed out of the norm—different methods of writing you would try over the course of the semester and specific assignments that would pop-up throughout. You enjoyed the predictability of it. Though, there is a significant surprise when your professor begins to speak, pulling your attention to the front of the room.

He’s gathered himself rather quickly, assuming he’s had his fair share of time in the field.

He writes his name out in clear, dignified letters on the board.

Mr. Miller, the screech of a solid drag as he underlines his name.

“I know I’m not who you all were suspecting.” He begins, placing the chalk down, hand wrapping around a balled fist as he cracked his knuckles, walking slowly until he can lean against the edge of his desk, soles of his shoes squeaking against the floor.

“And I’ll admit, I’m new to this,” He waves vaguely around the room, “I’m used to public school and the shittiness that comes with that—so I hope that if I can take this seriously, you all can extend that gesture too.”

You notice how comfortable he seems in group settings, relaxing his broad shoulders as he crosses his arm, glancing around the room casually, never lingering for too long.

“I won’t pester you too much today, given I already wasted some of your time,” Someone snickers softly toward the back of the room and Mr. Miller cracks a subtle smirk, seemingly embarrassed but not offering anything to pick at. “But, I’m willing to answer any questions you have while we have the time today.”

Questions flow in easily: what the semester would consist of, more elaboration outside of the syllabus, some of Mr. Miller’s favorite pieces of literature—part of you expects him to inject the usual ‘around the room introduction’ scheme, but he doesn’t. Instead, he leans into the more engaging questions asked, answering as freely and as interested as he can.

He loves Robert Frost, which makes sense. You’re not sure why, but it is predictable.

He is predictable. Sipping on a large mug of what you can only assume is coffee, the smell permeating toward you with where he’s resting against his desk, only a foot or so away. You haven’t managed to catch his gaze yet, which you’re partly thankful for. It allows you to study him, examine his expressions—admire…No.

And while he can continue his talk about favorite authors for days—the class draws to a close sooner than you expect, and you move lazily as most of the class disperses at the first opportunity with it being their final class of the day.

You’re throwing your bag over your shoulder when you hear his voice, addressing the only other person in the room.

You.

“Intimidating?” Your face screws up in confusion, head tilting his way as your eyes connect for the first time. “Oh, uh—sorry, I’ve just been doin’ this a while. I can tell when someone is anxious in class.”

And, while it wasn’t necessarily anxiety—it was more the idea of adjusting. This was new, this place wasn’t familiar and you were just trying to settle in. Mr. Miller seemed like the guy to have deep roots planted into these grounds, familiar with this town like he’s been here his entire life.

He has, but that wasn’t the point.

“No,” You answer indifferently, shrugging your shoulders, “I think your radar might be a little off.”

Joel chuckles softly, tapping his fingers against the leather cover of his bag as he leaned the tops of his thighs against the edge of his desk, “You know—you didn’t partake much in class discussion just now.”

You weren’t sure where he was driving his point, gradually stepping toward his desk, fingers wrapped around the straps of your bag, pulling against the tight material of your shirt as it stretched over your breasts, “And you were about—fifteen minutes late, too.”

Touche. He nods, lips pursed together.

“Just, fair warning—class discussion is a good chunk of your grade, participation and all that. I want you to feel comfortable enough to join in so…however I can help with that.”

Your eyebrows knit together, thoroughly thrown off by his forwardness—or well, so you assumed. He quickly realizes his misstep.

“No—not like…I mean, if there’s anything that you like or are interested in that you want covered over the semester, let me know. I don’t want it to be so focused on stuff that only appeases a few people. Alright?”

You think on his words, chewing at your bottom lip quietly.

He doesn’t know why he feels like he’s standing on the edge, waiting impatiently for your response—but when you do, it feels like he can breathe. Joel didn’t want to fuck this job up and he already felt like he’s stepped off on the wrong foot.

“Alright.” You confirm simply, nodding politely. “Thank you, Mr. Miller.”

He nods in response, the smallest twitch of a smile pulling at his lips.

“Have a good day.” He bids kindly, waving at you haphazardly as you left.

And now the day felt even weirder than when it started.

The first few weeks of class are actually…a delight. You find yourself looking forward to them as the weeks grow on and drag out, slowly making your way through the day and finding that Mr. Miller’s was the only class you could successfully relax in, not so pressure to participate because it was as equally engaging on both ends.

Mr. Miller liked to talk and argue just as animatedly as most students who had a point to prove—and you see why he must’ve been hired on a whim, the ability to charm and wit himself in and out of any scenario he wanted. It was…mesmerizing in a way that intoxicated you and infected your body and mind. He had you locked in every time he opened his mouth, finding your eyes dragging along the planes of his face and his well-kept appearance now that he arrived on time, sharp. Never early, never late.

He was as punctual as they come, slowly littering his classroom with more and more personalization. More literature books, smaller books of poems, packets of some of his favorite script writings and a few non-fiction pieces he thought to be intriguing.

But, the most interesting thing you notice is the small tan line around his ring finger. The advantage of the small classroom allowed for such details to be revealed, alongside knowing when he had taken a certain morning to do a fresh shave of his facial hair or spill a small spattering of coffee against his shirt, dull brown staining the white, crisp button-up he usually dawned alongside the occasional navy blue or black.

So, he was married—you assumed. He just didn’t wear his ring.

The more you indulged in him, the more complex he seemed. The ever mysterious J-something Miller, finding that no matter how hard you looked you couldn’t seem to find any information on him or an inkling of what his first name might be.

He must be a private person—no socials, no good deeds leading to news articles about him, or anything of tangible evidence to allow such information to seep out to the public. He was good at hiding, integrating himself in places he might not belong. He was a natural chameleon, much like yourself.

And you’d like to think you were good at writing considering you were attempting to pursue a career in it, mostly focusing on the aspect of screenwriting and film, not entirely sure what you were after but knowing that was where you wanted to go. You were great at convoluting things and empowering your far too creative imagination—often dangerous. You were never lacking in ideas, but your first assignment is a struggle.

It was something pertaining to non-fiction, a boring topic that Mr. Miller wanted to be intrigued by—he wanted something so mundane to be eye-catching and page-turning. Hanging on the edge of his seat, as he’d said so menacingly.

So, here you were, writing about the monogamous lives of certain breeds of penguins and they’re mates—whatever the fuck that was all about. It’s like he picked obscure topics for this very reason, the difficulty and the need for assistance. He wanted to help and you learned that quickly.

You could’ve been stuck with global warming, so it wasn’t all that bad.

Mr. Miller is leaning against an empty desk as he’s talking to a student a few desks away—yeah, the unlucky one who snagged the global warming topic. His expression is sour, tapping his pencil against the desk rapidly as Mr. Miller talks quietly, nothing that you can make out. He travels around the room gradually, eventually landing on you with a raised eyebrow, seeing that you had some, if not very little outlined.

He looks amused, knowing how you were pulling an absolute fat nothing over this topic. You could sit there and lay out the facts, but that’s not what he wanted. He wanted it to be explained in a way that held you close and dragged you along. It all came down to wording, at the end of the day, and as much as you wanted to prove you were a decent writer, you still had a lot to learn.

“This is so stupid,” You gripe, looking up at him briefly before you continue to stare daggers into the notebook you were scribbling in, “—pardon my language, but what the fuck is this topic?”

Mr. Miller chuckles deeply at that, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek.

“I’ll let that slide but try not to make it a habit,” He comments, acknowledging your foul language and understanding the frustration, “—it’s meant to challenge you. The obscurity of it. It’s not complicated, but you don’t want to just write a research paper.”

“Isn’t that…exactly how non-fiction works?” You ask curiously.

“You’ve read biographies, right? Auto-biograhpies and all that?”

You nod quietly.

“And I’m sure some of that caught your intention, right?” He asks and you respond with another nod, though meeker than before. “Non-fiction work is just as important as story-telling. Do some more research, explain why monogamy is sacred to them, explain their mating patterns, the behaviors—are you following?”

“Yeah—because some penguins mate for life, right?” You ask, feeling ridiculous asking him such an obscure question. “At least, I thought they did.”

“Most do.” Mr. Miller nods, “If you find yourself learning enough about the topic and actually finding some interest it won’t come out so…bland. Just look into it and write something you’d find intriguing to read, don’t stress over it that much. It’s just one assignment.”

It eases your worries slightly, but still, the frustration stuck.

“Okay,” You mumble, “Thank you.”

Mr. Miller offers a soft pat to your forearm as he nods silently in acknowledgment.

You were determined to make that assignment your bitch. Plain and simple.

Class discussion days are much easier. You switch between a certain selection of poems to snippets of scripts that Mr. Miller has pulled apart for the class to dissect and mince the words, learning how to write screenplays in a way that was both descriptive but directive and still managed to somehow keep the flow. Poems always seemed a little silly, but it was nice to debate the meanings and nuances of it all, always finding that you preferred to sit back and hear the thoughts of others until Mr. Miller decides he’s had enough one day—two months into the semester when he finally calls on you directly.

It was something he didn’t do often, but you find yourself going wide-eyed. He was always so polite to you, even when he’d catch you staring or lingering on his form for a moment too long, like he knew what you were thinking.

He was tall and—as was glaringly obvious, broad. His shoulders were immense and large as he extended his hands out and talked animatedly, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, slacks stretching over taut, tight muscle as he planted a foot in a nearby chair or stretched his stance out slightly as he stood—often finding it hard to stay still the longer class drew on.

You pull your attention to him, an innocent gaze glazing over your features.

“Why don’t you read the next poem?” He asks curiously.

“Oh—um,” Your eyes flick toward the poem book held tight in your grip, flitting to find the the place where the class last left off, so distracted you find yourself scrambling, but Mr. Miller is quick to lean over without much show or way of embarrassing you, pointing out the spot where the class last left of, blunt nail scratching against the paper as you follow the trail of his finger, you clear your throat and start:

“How should we like it were stars to burn

With a passion for us we could not return?

If equal affection cannot be,

Let the more loving one be me.”

The point was to interpret the words and form an explanation for why they were used, what they were trying to explain, but you lose any sense of thought when your eyes drag up to meet Mr. Miller and he’s staring right back, allowing you all the attention in the world.

Like no one else in the room existed. It was all a delusion in your own head, something you weren’t privy to then, but you believed whole-heartedly in the moment. He was just allowing you the floor and sharing you the same attention he had with everyone else.

At least, that’s what he tried to do.

Mr. Miller clears his throat to subtly bring you back down to earth when he notices your mind fleeing from your body, asking an easy, “So, what do we think about this one?”

No one answered, staunchly disinterested as they stared at you, waiting for a response as you were the only one who had avoided participating all day.

“Uh, it—it sounds like the love isn’t being returned,” You start slow, dissecting the words in your brain as Mr. Miller nods, “but that person is willing to show up and offer more to make up for it, maybe even to their own…undoing, I guess.”

“There’s really no right or wrong,” He addresses the class as a whole but pointedly acknowledges your observation, “and that’s the best thing—you’re allowed to think as individuals and come up with your own conclusions. Good job.”

The final part is directed at you. It makes you feel warm, gooey—like you were being given a star for good behavior or gentle praise under the guise of friendly language.

You despise how hard it is to stay focused some days with how often Mr. Miller likes to pick on you and point you out—but he sees potential there. Real potential. Not to say that it isn’t within the rest of the class, he just sees…more. And it intrigues him in a way that feels dangerous, but he wants to ensure that you are given the proper support needed, even if that means a little extra attention.

It was harmless, after all.

Your first big assignment comes three months into the semester.

It’s a simple writing assignment but tactful and heavy, given a week to complete it before you were due to turn it in for a final grade. A collection of self-written poems, the outline for a possible script idea for a scene, and a small creative writing assignment that must include some kind of supernatural element. You appreciate the Mr. Miller never allowed things to lay stagnant with his work, always giving you something to think about.

And everyone loved him, that much was blatantly obvious. He was, easily, one of the hottest professors at the college for someone his age—you could only assume he was somewhere in his late 40s. But, there remained the unknown of if he was married, something people debated often, but you examined in the privacy of your own mind.

There was no indication of another—no pictures lingering on his desk as his classroom continued to collect belongings, no screensaver on his phone or laptop (because yes, you were observant) that gave you any idea of what his partner looked like. And he never mentioned anything outside of his own interest in literature. The curiosity with no discovery was only slightly disappointing, because despite that, Mr. Miller showed his attention toward you like you were the only person in the room.

And maybe it was like that for everyone, but it felt special to you. There was always a little extra to give to you that he didn’t offer to everyone else.

You turn in your assignment a few minutes before it is due, well into the late hours of the night.

Mr. Miller, unbeknownst to you, smiles when he sees the notification on his computer as he sits in his office at home, scrolling down the deep troves of porn in the darkened space, quickly clicking away to another browser as he hears the door creak, his wife poking her head through the crack with a smile.

“Hey, it’s late—you comin’ to bed soon?” Tess asks, eyes ringed with a deep exhaustion.

Joel nods, scratching at the side of his face, blinking tiredly.

“Yeah. In a bit,” He excuses, “Just tryin’ to catch up on these assignments and then I’ll be done.”

It’s a lie, but she doesn’t need to know that.

Things had been rough since the affair—finding that Tess had been sleeping with her boss at her law firm for a few months, something she swore meant nothing, despite how long it dragged on in secret. Joel forgave her, mostly. They were managing, attempting the idea of marriage counseling, but he still couldn’t bring himself to put his wedding band back on, despite how proudly she wore hers still.

He had his own reservations on the matter and while he was trying to work things out, he wasn’t sure they could ever resume the same rhythm they had before, thinking that this was something he had for life, slowly crumbling and falling between his fingertips.

This was why he needed a change of pace, something different.

And maybe he was stupid for entertaining the obvious affection you showed toward him—he definitely was, but he does it anyways. It was playful, so meaningless and harmless that he didn’t even think twice about it. He could see you craved the attention and while he couldn’t be bothered to save that energy for Tess anymore, he could try to offer it to you.

Because you—you had so much potential. It was refreshing, seeing so much of his younger self in you, drive and dedication. The willingness to question stuff without fear.

He clicks on the email notification with your assignment, opening in a separate browser as he rises to lock his office door quietly, before returning to his other browser as he sat and unbuckled the thick leather belt around his waistband, a dignified zip that echoes throughout the confines of the office, reverberates and reminds him of his own loneliness.

And he shouldn’t picture your face as he finds himself aching and fucking deseprate into his fist, soft gunts muffled behind clenched teeth. But, he does. And he loves it.

He’s so fucked.

The comments on your assignment come a few days later, curled up in your bed in the small apartment you rented out, scrolling desperately to find out any further information on Mr. Miller but coming up with absolutely nothing. What a fucking ghost he was.

You’re curious, though—so you quickly switch to your emails to check his response and what your grade ended up being after how hard you worked to make sure it turned out perfect. Better than perfect actually. You hoped that with his obvious relationship woes he would appreciate the angst and underlying meanings in your poems, a bunch of bullshit you couldn’t relate to but hoped, on a whim, that he might.

‘Way to press on the idea of heartbreak, well done. Very expressive and real. Thank you for pouring those feelings into your work, though I hope no one has ever broken your heart that bad. Wonderful job.’

And he scores you a 90/100.

Which—whatever. You could accept it. Still, you wondered if those lingering ten points lied with him and his own bitter dealings. You’re fingers are curled around the laptop, ready to close when you get another notification blaring through your speakers.

You lift the laptop to stare at the screen, seeing an email come in from an unknown sender—though, the name grabs your attention immediately. First name, last name, followed by a series of number you can only assume is a birth year—not the school email Mr. Miller had previously sent you a response from.

You perk up, legs crossing over each other as you take a peek at the contents of the glaring email, seeing that it had links to a few books, followed by:

‘I hope you don’t mind my emailing you like this. But, I have a few pieces I think you may enjoy and would help with some of what you’re trying to convey in your writing. You have a beautiful way of expressing feeling and you should harness that. Let me know what you think. :)’

In hindsight, Joel should’ve never sent it. But, there was an urge there he couldn’t fight.

Maybe it was out of spite for his life and his wife betraying him, his urge to try and do some real good for someone, seeing that potential in you no matter how inappropriate it may be to go around school ruling and message you from his private email.

But, now you had a sliver of information. A peek into who Mr. Miller—Joel Miller, was.

It sends you down a spiral, searching and scouring for any information available online.

You find out that he’s 48…or 49, not entirely sure of his actual birthday. Only going off the year designated in his email. And that he’s a published author, but nothing of significance. He used to be a high school teacher and he was…or is, married. It’s all vague and unassuming, but it has your mind stirring. Wondering what was so interesting about him, what part of him had crawled into your mind and refused to get out.

And him messaging you on a private email—complimenting you with unnecessary eagerness, even when it wasn’t needed. You can’t be this delusional. There’s something there, even if neither of you have spoken on it explicitly.

The faint touches and smiles traded, the hard-gazed looks and glances over his shoulder as he does a sweep of the room, always spending just a smidgen of extra time over your desk when you ask for help.

It makes you feel special. And that’s exactly what you need.

You fall asleep that night with a wild idea in your head, wondering just how brave you could be in this situation. It burrows into your mind and seeps into your dreams:

You’re pressed against the edge of a desk in a dark office, the solid wood pressed flat against your cunt as you lean forward and capture the lips of the person in front of you, a shaky breath coming from their mouth.

“Want that pretty mouth ‘round my cock.” He says—your heart skips, nearly stops.

You don’t know why you’re surprised to hear Joel’s voice, but it clears your mind and his hazy face finally comes into view in all of it’s intricate detail, right down to the soft crinkle of skin around his eyes, eyebrows furrowed as he pulls away to look at you, lips puffed from the kissing and seeming so innocent as he spoke in such a depraved manner.

Delicate fingers drag along the shape of your lips, stopping at your cupid’s bow before he’s pressing two fingers inside, grabbing the hand relaxed at your side and pressing it over the front of his slacks, the hard line of his cock pressing against the zipper.

There’s no other word to offer than intimidating, his size morphing any idea that you might’ve had–which, you did. His slacks are well-tailored, form fitting, and if he stretched just the right way in class you could see the head or outline of his cock press against the fabric for a split second….and you observed. A lot.

“Wanna stuff your mouth, huh?” He asks, eyes rolling back as his fingers press down on your tongue, quickly pulling out as he grips your face, spit spreading across your cheek, gasping at the suddenness of his movement. “Think it’ll fit?”

He sounds so condescending, eyeline over you but downcast on your figure from where your perched against his desk, idle hand exploring the soft, plush skin of your thighs as he drags his fingers along the full expanse of your cunt and it sets your whole body on fire, like you’re feeling everything dialed to an impossible level, every nerve in your body coming to life.

You shake your head meekly, gasping when he yanks you forward suddenly.

“Guess we’ll have to train that filthy mouth then, won’t we?” His eyebrow quirks up salaciously, earning a less than subtle grin as he presses his fingers into the wet spot of your underwear, not breaking the barrier but allowing you to feel the pressure.

And just as you feel yourself grabbing onto something tangible, hands gripped in the lapel of his suit jacket, pulling him impossibly closer, you’re startling awake with a gasp.

You could feel your imagination mixing with reality, falling lazily back against your bed as your chest heaved hurried breaths, palms pressed over your chest in an effort to calm down, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. The room was hot, too hot to feel comfortable anymore.

Your lip pulls between your teeth, chewing thoughtfully at a bad idea.

You reach blindly for your laptop laid out near the end of your bed, opening the device with a swiftness, squinting at the blinding screen that burned at this time of night.

Nearly two in the morning—this was pointless.

But, you hit reply on his email anyways and slowly type out a response.

‘Thank you for noticing, Mr. Miller. It’s greatly appreciated and I will definitely look into those sources and give you a full, detailed review. :) I appreciate you thinking of me as someone so esteemed. I would love to talk more about literature, if that feels appropriate.’

The lines were already blurred. He’d blurred them. You were just smudging them a little more.

You never said that starting fresh meant you had to stay on your best behavior. Because really, there was nothing innocent about what game was developing between you both.

It was a game of chess and you felt a million moves ahead, nearing a checkmate—and you would do anything to have Joel Miller in the way you craved. Anything.

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #tlou fanfic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedrostories #professor!joel miller #miller's girl #my writing

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jimblejamblewritings · 1 month

Text

love letters and second sons | part 2.

Summary: The princess is finally ready to debut in society. But before she does, she decides to disguise herself and see the true faces of the ton.

Warnings for the Series: light sexism in line with the times, light classism in line with the times, mental health stigma, shitty doctor care, smut, suicide attempt (will get it's own warning when the time comes),

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x princess!reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Previous Part | Series Masterlist

Eloise left to go right across the street while you followed the rest of the family into the dining room. It had been so long since you had a formal sit down breakfast with your family. Your siblings just couldn’t be bothered to come from wherever they were — sometimes in the same house but they still didn’t show. Your father and mother couldn’t make it most of the time. The dining room table could be very lonely sometimes.

You thanked Colin as he pulled out a chair for you before sitting down. Pouring yourself a cup of coffee, you passed the decorated teapot to Daphne before reaching for the small jug of cream. The Bridgertons were very invested in palace life and wanted to know whatever you were allowed to tell them about. You looked up from your coffee when Eloise came back with Penelope Featherington.

Smiling at Penelope, you handed her the box so you wouldn’t forget before you left. Her face dropped.

“What is it?”

“Oh, I don’t want to burden the princess with frivolous matters. We have an addition to our house. My cousin, Marina Thompson has come to stay for the season. But no matter, she can wear my dress. I have plenty already.”

You shook your head. “No matter how frivolous they may be, your problems are the Crown’s problems. I will return tomorrow with another dress for Miss Thompson. Besides, each piece has been chosen specifically for each person. How could Miss Thompson possibly look good in a dress meant to make you look good?”

Penelope smiled. “Is it alright if I open it here?”

“Of course, Pen,” Anthony said.

She carefully placed the lid of the box on the ground and ruffled through the pieces until she found the dress with her name pinned on it. She pulled out a dress of emerald green, just emerald green. No patterns insight. The sleeves were flatter than the balloon sleeves normally worn but that was because they were sheer with beading on them.

“Wow. It is beautiful.”

“The princess will be glad to hear that you like it. Now, I am very sorry but I have to go now. A midmorning promenade cannot be missed.”

Everyone stood up when you did.

“Well, yes, of course,” Violet said. “Will you return for breakfast tomorrow? Or whenever is a good time for you?”

You weren’t stupid. Either the Dowager Viscountess wanted your fake persona to marry her son — probably the third son, Colin, since you were a valet. Or she wanted the princess to marry her son. In that case it must have been Anthony. You took your cloak from the footman it put it back on.

“I shall see if I can appear tomor— this weekend. Before the Danbury ball, the family wants to go to the countryside. I shall be back here then.”

“Lovely.”

You stepped outside, taking the alleyways back to the palace. Pandora let out a breath when the painting finally moved. You stepped inside.

“Have you been here the whole time?”

“Yes, I have. Was your time outside fun?”

“Absolutely, I will be doing it again later.”

“What? Princess, please.”

“Pandora, you don’t understand. It was amazing. One of the best times of my life.”

“Y/N. What if your illness st—”

“Then I shall deal with that when it happens. Oh, I met people. The houses in the ton are very nice.”

“You went to someone’s house?” Pandora’s voice rose three octaves as she tried to stay quiet.

“Just the Bridgertons. Their mother is very sweet. She invited me to a recurring breakfast whenever I have the time.”

“Really?”

“Yes, and the rumors about them are true. The daughters are all beautiful. Their youngest son seems very nice.”

“And the three eldest boys?”

“Absolutely handsome. Especially the eldest.”

The two of you giggled as you kept sharing what they looked like in person while you got ready for your promenade. The gardens were dreadfully boring but you felt better just thinking about going to the Bridgertons house next time. It could have been anyone but you were glad it was a large family and a family friend. Only your first day out and you already became acquainted with two families. That was a success in your book.

~~~

“Princess! Princess Y/N! Your Highness!”

You could hear the yelling down the hall. Looking over at your father, you smiled.

“Thank you for talking with me about the ball, Mr. Jupiter. I think I should let them know I am alive.”

“Go. I shall still be here.”

You shimmied out from under the bed, George laughing at you the entire time. The bed wasn’t your favorite place to be but it was your father’s favorite place. You preferred the wardrobe. Swinging open the door, you spotted Brimsley running down the hall.

“I’m right here!”

He turned with a quickness. “Oh thank God. The Queen and King are requesting you actually attend breakfast with them instead of in the kitchens or your room.”

“Father? How could he tell you? He’s right he—”

“Yes. He usually stays in his wing. He came down earlier this morning.”

You looked back at your bed. No one was there. George’s feet weren’t sticking out from the end of the bed. You bit your lip and didn’t say anything, choosing just to follow Brimsley to the dining room. If anyone found out you had a fit then there was no hope of your mother letting you go anywhere. It shouldn’t have been a surprise. Whenever you were anxious or stressed, a fit was bound to happen. Maybe you should have been taking your medicine. But it didn’t make you feel good at all. Tomorrow you’d ask for a change in medicine or doctor.

Your father looked better when you reached downstairs, actually cognizant, and your mother seemed happy. None of your other siblings were there. Pulling out your chair you sat down. The conversation went in one ear and out the other. You answered where necessary and that was about it. You needed to be perfect. When there was a lull in the talking, you found the perfect opportunity to speak.

“Mother, may I go to Lady Danbury’s ball?”

“No.”

“I promise I will be on my be—”

“No.”

“If I have a fit then I will go stra—”

“Y/N, do not make me repeat myself.”

“But I just want to know why? All of my brothers and sisters were allowed to introduce themselves well before this age. Why am I still waiting?”

“Dear, we’ve been over this.”

“But Edward and Sophia both have the same illness and they were all—”

“Because no one is as bad as yours!” Charlotte looked up from her plate when you grew silent. She sighed at the sight of your crestfallen face. “Y/N, dear, you know I didn’t mean it like that. I’m only talking about your illness, not you as a person… give me four months. Four months to prepare everything, then I will let you go, whether an incident happens or not. Just follow the rules and keep yourself safe.”

“Thank you, Mother. I do have one more question.”

“Yes?”

“May I stay at Kew?”

“Kew?” Both your mother and father said at the same time.

“I have incidents whether I am here or with Father or by myself. We don’t have strong evidence that anything makes it better or worse. Kew is far enough that I’m not tempted by the city but close enough that I will not miss it. And I can still speak to the people.”

In reality it’s because your parents never went to Kew. You wanted privacy and to not be under such a watchful eye. And if you could bring your court then absolutely no one would find out that you went into the city.

Charlotte gave George a look. “Yes, the people do seem to love your letters. Okay, alright. I will allow you to stay at Kew but your father and I and your physician will be coming every Sunday to check on you. Brimsley and Reynolds will be going with you.”

“Okay.”

Buckingham wasted no time packing your things and taking them to Kew after the Danbury ball. You flopped onto your bed, happy to be left alone finally. Only half of your court came with you to Kew. The others were “dismissed” for the season — you wouldn’t need them again until you introduced yourself to society. Really you just needed them to stay at Buckingham and report to you what was happening. Naturally, Pandora came to Kew.

The home looked just the same as when you were younger. The first thing you did was instruct every curtain to be open. The grounds were extensive and private. You weren’t in London but just outside of it. No one could see the place at all so there was no need to hide behind window decorations.

“I should like dinner outside,” you said as you sat down in the short grassy part of the front lawn.

“Outside?”

“Yes. It’s very nice today. I would like to sit outside and eat and plan my new schedule. You and Reynolds can go to the cottage on the grounds. Turn left and you’ll see a bunch of cottages across the stream. Go to the third one. It’s behind a smattering of trees but the hedges there cover everything. You can see people before they see you.”

“I’m sorry?” Brimsley’s eyes went wide.

“I’ve known since I was five. I don’t think you two believed that a five year old could be observant but I was.” You turned back to look at him. “Well, I do not care. Brimsley, you should know I couldn’t possibly care about anything like that. With my issues I could never judge someone. Not for what you look like, your class, whoever you choose to pray to which is really none of my business. I don't like to sit in church anyway and much prefer prayer alone in the gazebo. It also doesn't matter who you... share a cottage with."

“Your Highness.”

“I will keep your secret, Brimsley,” you reassured him. “Besides, when the time comes I will need for you to keep mine.”

“Secrets? You have secrets? I didn't know... What would I be keeping?”

“You’ll know it when it happens.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Brimsley!” you yelled before he could step inside the house to tell them what you wanted to eat. “About what I said just then.”

“It is no trouble at all, Your Highness.”

“No, not my secrets… I would never tell anyone. Whether you kept my secret or not. I promise you that.”

“Thank you.”

“I will find a way to make it better.”

Brimsley gave you a sad smile. “The effort alone is appreciated.”

You gave him a determined look before returning to making your schedule. You didn’t have a need for full time tutors anymore, having finished formal schooling years ago.

So you put all your special tutors to come on Tuesday and Wednesday, your parents visiting on Sunday, you’d write all your letters on Thursday, and then waste away on Monday, Friday, and Saturday. A schedule your parents greatly approved of as they stated that you needed plenty of days to rest and not overwork yourself before you make the illness worse. Of course you didn’t tell them that those days were for going into the city.

Monday morning you picked flowers to make a bouquet for the Featheringtons since you had only met one of them in person. Not that you needed it but you opened your book of flowers to see the meanings. You did hope that flower language would catch on more in a few years.

Taking your hand pruning shears, you started cutting both from the garden and the greenhouses. Basil for good wishes. White Carnations to wish a pure love. White Jasmine for amiability. Yellow lilies for happiness. Pink roses also for happiness. Bells of Ireland for good luck. You handed the first set of flowers to Brimsley before starting on individual bouquets for the four young women of the house.

For Prudence: daisies for innocence, dandelions for faithfulness and happiness, peonies for a happy life and a happy marriage. For Phillippa: dandelions for faithfulness and happiness, fern for sincerity, honeysuckle for bonds of love. For Penelope: lady’s mantle for comfort, lily of the valley for sweetness, wallflower for faithfulness in adversity. For Marina: camellias for affection, lavender roses for enchantment, daffodils for good fortune.

You also collected flowers for the Bridgertons, small individual bouquets. Only two types of flower in each bouquet. For Violet: acacia for friendship and violet for her name.

For Anthony: acalia for temperance and agrimonia for gratitude. For Benedict: balm gentle for pleasantry and bearded crepis for protection. For Colin: chamomile for energy in adversity and coriander for hidden worth. For Daphne: daphne for her name and dandelions for happiness.

For Eloise: elderflower for zealousness and elephant’s ear for good luck. For Francesca: fern leaves for fascination and flower-of-an-hour for delicate beauty. For Gregory: garden chervil for sincerity and geranium, scarlet color, for comfort. For Hyacinth: hawthorn for hope and hyacinth for her name.

“This should do.”

“Shall we send them now?”

“Oh, no, Brimsley. I shall take them with me.”

“With you?” he squeaked.

“Yes. I assume now would be a good time as ever to divulge my secret to you and Reynolds. Pandora already knows. I go out to see the ton. I have already done this a few times now.”

Reynolds and Brimsley looked like they were going to faint. You laughed as you took your cloak from Pandora. You had no concern with anyone finding out since the two men in front were still in the gardens instead of running back to Kew to pen a letter.

“Please ready the carriage. I’ve already missed breakfast as it is, I don’t want to be any later.”

The only two things that freaked out your valets even more were entirely your fault as well. Reynolds stuttered through confusion when you refused the mask he was about to hand you. Brimsley actually did faint when you got out of the carriage before reaching the Bridgerton house. You turned around when he came to again.

“The carriage is too recognizable. Until I get something more plain th—”

“Just say the princess gave it to you for business affairs!” Brimsely yelled so loudly that you were concerned someone would hear it.

For a moment you were ready to ignore his plea but then you realized he was right. Plus, you did already set up that poor women and rich women were treated equal in your court — something that was true but you only had three lower class women in your court to begin with. You got back into the carriage, knee bouncing the entire way.

Peering out the window, you spotted Marshall. He titled his head a bit as you turned around, seemingly scolding someone inside, tilting even more when you walked in the opposite direction of their house. An older woman greeted you at the door of the Featherington home. You repeated the same thing you told Marshall the first time you came to the Bridgerton family.

“Please come in. They’re in the drawing room, now… Ma’am, a visitor.”

You curtsied as you entered their drawing room, waving to Penelope. “Hello… Woah, there are a lot of men. I’m sorry I was unaware we had already begun calling.”

Lady Featherington put on her best smile. “Yes, what is it?”

“Right. I am the Young Princess’ lady in waiting. She has made bouquets for you all. Well, as well as bouquets for the Bridgertons but rest assured I know exactly which ones belong to you.”

The Featheringtons looked more than pleased to be receiving flowers after dresses, especially Lady Featherington. All the suitors were looking at them like winning prizes. To be favored by the princess is to have everyone’s hand in your lap and every name on your dance card. You read out what each flower meant and gave them a card that had them written down in case they were to forget.

“Thank you so much, Miss?”

“Keaton.”

“Miss Keaton. Please inform the princess that we are forever grateful for such a thoughtful gift. If it is no trouble would you like some biscuits or tea?”

You decided to stay for a few minutes. Besides, watching suitors fall over their feet to impress women seemed like a very entertaining morning. Thanking the old woman for the tea, you took a sip before setting down the cup when you noticed Colin. He waved to you before making a bored face.

Clearly, he hadn’t been the first one to arrive for calling. You supposed that was the issue with all four of your girls out at once. There was only one drawing room so all of their suitors would have to wait their turn even if they were there for a different girl, at least until Lord Featherington came home and then maybe he could chaperone outside in the garden. You now understood why the Bridgertons were okay with Eloise delaying her debut. Focusing on only one woman is plenty enough.

Daphne had written to you that she had received no callers but none of the other Bridgertons had spoken about calling or the marriage mart at all. You only looked up from the mess of suitors when Eloise arrived, pulling up a chair at the small table you and Penelope were sitting at. Pen tapped your shoulder.

You looked down at the overgrown rat in her arms. It was your turn to mind the dog that one of the gentlemen calling thought would be appropriate as a gift. Rolling your eyes, you took it anyway and began bouncing it like a child. At least it was a very calm dog.

Your two friends laughed as you jumped when another gentleman began reciting a poem very loudly. Everyone was starting to fall asleep. His performance was both bad and boring, a combination you were hoping couldn’t be accomplished today. The sound of Lady Featherington’s clapping was the only thing that woke everyone up. She all but pushed the men out, saying the girls had seen enough suitors today. You frowned at her telling the gentlemen to say goodbye to even Penelope. Even? They should just be saying goodbye because she was a lady and in the house. Colin came over to you guys.

“A most wretched sonnet indeed.”

You laughed before standing up to leave with him, trying not to eavesdrop on their conversation. The two of them had such a close bond. You were sure that they’d end up with each other. He was probably here for her, waiting for a chance when Marina’s suitors were done. Handing Colin his flowers, you abandoned him for the drawing room of his house — pausing in your tracks when you saw a man you didn’t recognize.

Violet jumped up along with Hyacinth and Francesca. “Oh, Y/N, hello. We weren’t expecting you after you missed breakfast.”

“Yes, I was preoccupied with the princess. I’m sorry am I intruding?”

“No.” Daphne all but ran to meet you. “What do you have with you?”

“The princess made bouquets.” You leaned in close. “I am very sorry about what Whistledown wrote. You didn’t deserve that. Perhaps flowers can cheer you up?”

“Thank you so much.”

“Where are the others? I shall give these to them then promptly return.”

“Yes, please do,” Daphne said before having to return to her caller.

Violet took her flowers from you. “Gregory is in the garden or with his brothers. More than likely his brothers. They are either in…”

“Yes?”

“Well they are in their rooms but I can’t just let you go in alo— It’s much too dangerous for a woman. The ton wo—”

“I don’t see why I cannot seeing as I am the princ—” you stopped yourself. “Uh, the princess’ valet. I’m on official business from her and where she can go, I can go.”

She still seemed unsure.

“Besides, I am not a lady.”

At that, Violet let you go upstairs but her face didn’t relax on any of the tension it held. You held onto the wooden railing as you skipped up the steps. You realized that you should have asked Violet which rooms were theirs. But it was too late now. Going back down would just be a matter of inconvenience and take longer in your return to Daphne’s aid. And not to mention, you were a princess. You didn’t need permission to enter anywhere, it was just polite to ask. Opening each door, you sighed in relief when one finally led to a bedchamber with people inside. Anthony looked up, setting down one of his many ledgers.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?”

At the sound of your name Gregory, who had been sitting on his older brother’s bed as he engrossed himself in some reading, looked up. “Y/N!”

You handed them both the bouquets. “Courtesy of the princess, not my doing.”

They chuckled as they took their bouquets from your arms. You heard the door creak behind you as it opened more. Turning, you came face to face with the second eldest Bridgerton. Benedict smiled.

“I knew I heard Gregory call for you.”

“Here. For you.”

“Thank you. How long will you be staying?”

“For dinner but then I must leave afterwards. So, what shall we do up here?”

“Up here?” Anthony raised his eyebrows. “Alone? Y/N, I do not think it… it is improper for us to be alone with you.”

You scoffed. “Impropriety.”

“It is true.”

“Firstly, I am not exactly bound by your rules of society. Second, we aren’t alone unless you are insinuating that anything would happen because you either can’t control yourself or are oddly content to share me with your brother.” You enjoyed watching them both stutter through a reply.

“But if someone were to see us.”

“Does this window face the front of the street?”

“No.”

“Can anyone see anything in the back?”

“No.”

“Then no one is to see anything. Especially when nothing is happening. And lastly, I am not unchaperoned.”

“You aren’t?”

You pointed to the youngest Bridgerton in the room. “Gregory is not a man but a child. Therefore someone who is not an available bachelor is watching and supervising us.”

He grinned, not even caring that he was called a child. “Yeah. I’m very good at watching.”

You could do nothing but laugh as you flopped over Anthony’s bed and asked Gregory to hand you a book he was finished with.

Benedict blinked. “I guess I cannot argue with that. I’ll go get my charcoals and come back.”

“Ah, right, but first let me eavesdrop on Daphne and Nigel. Almost forgot.”

“Lord Berbrooke?”

“Don’t make me laugh by giving him a title.”

When you returned, the boys had found their way into a comfortable silence. They barely acknowledged your presence when you sat down. Per Anthony’s request, the door didn’t just stay unlocked or ajar but completely open. Benedict looked away from his paper and at you.

“What do you mean you aren’t bound by rules of society?”

“I said your rules.”

He rolled his eyes. "Okay, then. Our rules."

“The rules of the upper class and the ton. I am bound by royal rules and royal rules only which you’d be surprised to find are very different from the rules of the ton… I should suggest to the princess that she must write about those rules.”

“And what are royal rules then?”

“The only one that pertains to you is that it isn’t a crime for a royal or a member of their court to be unchaperoned while around the opposite sex.”

Violet decided to go upstairs after seeing Lord Berbrooke out their front door, utterly exhausted. She just needed a few moments of rest before going back to Daphne. Passing by her son’s room, she paused. Anthony was at his desk working, Gregory was sitting at the head of the bed reading, you laid flopped across it with several things around you, and Benedict was sitting on the floor leaning against the side of the bed with his art supplies spread out all around. The sight could be considered improper but Violet refused to interrupt.

“Anthony, come look at Benedict’s work and tell him it is better than he gives himself credit for.”

Violet watched her son take his ledgers and come sit by Benedict, who had cleared enough of his supplies away for his brother, right underneath where you were laying. Not caring, you rested your chin on top of his head so you wouldn’t lose balance as you pointed to where you liked Benedict’s sketch. You couldn’t help but laugh as Anthony stiffened up for a moment.

“You’re worse than Brimsley. I already told you that I am not a lady. Calm yourself.”

“Brimsley?”

“The Queen’s temporarily former valet. He moved to Kew with us.”

“The family now stays at Kew?”

“No, just the princess. It was a gift of sorts as she’s the only child to live there. It is a chance to live alone and like a proper adult before her introduction to society.”

Gregory became interested once again. “We’ll get to see the princess soon? When?”

“Roughly four months if all goes well… You know, I must take you all to Kew one day.”

“That sounds lovely.”

Violet smiled as she continued heading to her destination. You and Anthony seemed to be headed towards friendship. If you really did take him to Kew then he would get to meet the princess alone.

(part 3)

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