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mermaidgirl30 · 7 months

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✨Dark Shades of Innocence Lost Part 1: Introductions✨

Club owner! Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist

A/N: Here is my new club owner Joel series! Thank you to the lovely @janaispunk for making me this beautiful mood board ❤️ Joel Miller is the biggest menace in this one. I wanted to somehow mix a little 50 Shades of Grey but also create something unique and super hot, so hope you enjoy 50 Shades of pleasure dom Joel! Comments and reblogs are most appreciated. Let me know your thoughts on this one! As always, I LOVE writing and hope you enjoy my stories as much as I love writing and sharing them with you 💕

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY MDNI)

Word Count: 9.7k

Tags: No outbreak au, thigh riding, Joel’s dirty mouth, flirting, pining, fingering

Summary: After your friends drag you out to Club Inferno on a Friday night, you meet an unexpected man with dark brown eyes. That man is Joel Miller, who turns out to be the owner of the club. The menace that will turn your life upside down. After not dating for a couple of years, Joel finds out and strikes up a proposition for you. Keep coming back and he’ll make sure you experience pleasure like you’ve never felt before.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

It’s Friday night and instead of sitting down with a cold glass of white wine and a book on the couch, you’re currently standing in a dress that’s too tight and heels so high you think you’ll fall over at any minute. The tight black dress clings to your body like a suction cup, and the slit in the side of your left thigh is almost showing too much skin the more you move around.

You spent the last hour sitting at your glowing vanity, curling your hair into long spirals and putting on smokey dark eyeshadow that makes your eyes stand out and deep red lipstick that sits matted against your lips. This isn’t your usual. You like to stay in after a long week at the library, not go clubbing till 2:00am. You’re not an extrovert like all your friends are, so this is a once in a while thing you even do.

You take one more look at yourself in the mirror and sigh heavily. This will be good for you. You need to socialize. You need to get back into the dating field, but that honestly just sounds like a nightmare right now. Dating in general just sucks. It’s like no man knows how to even properly treat a woman nowadays. Your last boyfriend was a complete nightmare. Tall, lanky, sports obsessed, demanded blowjobs without even offering to go down on you once. That’s how all the guys had been in the past, and you were honestly just over it. Fuck men.

Before you can get all worked up about past boyfriends, you head to your apartment door when you hear a sharp knock and giddy laughter on the other side. That meant the girls were here. Here goes nothing. When you open the door, Brianna and Taylor lose it when they see what you’re wearing.

“Oh my God, look at you!” Brianna screams as Taylor twirls you around to get a good look at you. Brianna’s soft brown eyes and long blonde curls look you over from head to toe. “You’re such a babe! And that dress? God, it makes your ass look so good and that slit in your dress?! You are definitely going to get laid tonight,” she shrieks as she gives you a quick hug hello.

“Bri, stop!” you laugh, shaking your head no. “I am not getting laid tonight. I’m so over guys,” you cringe as you roll your eyes.

“Oh, please. All the men are going to be looking at you tonight, you little slut!” Taylor smirks as her green eyes sparkle like emeralds when she looks at your short dress. Her pinned up red hair sits perfectly in a messy bun atop her head, her white heels digging into the wooden floor as she circles you.

“No, guys. Really, I don’t need to try to find someone tonight. I’m only going out because you’re forcing me to,” you complain with a huff.

“Sure, babe. That vibrator that sits in your nightstand isn’t gonna get you anywhere fast. You need to be laid properly. So we’re gonna find you a man tonight if it’s the last thing we do,” Brianna says with a beam of a bright smile.

“Whatever, let’s just go. I need a drink,” you whine as they pull you out of the comfort of your small apartment and whisk you out the door, shoving you inside the White Cadillac that sits idle on the corner of the curb.

You slump in the front passenger seat as soon as Brianna drives off, entering the busy traffic of Austin as the city lights flash brightly outside the window. You sigh and lean on the edge of the window as Taylor Swift’s “Karma” blasts through the speakers. Taylor and Brianna sing along loudly, but you sit mute with your arms crossed across your chest.

“Oh, cheer up, babe! You’re supposed to be having fun tonight, not brooding in the corner like a pent up prisoner,” Brianna laughs as she hits your arm lightly.

“I’d be in a better mood if I was curled up on my couch with a good book,” you groan as you stifle out another sigh.

Taylor leans over the back of the front seat and takes a good look at you. “Don’t be such a buzzkill. You will have fun tonight whether you like it or not! This club is to die for. I know it just opened last year, but seriously it’s the hottest club in Austin,” she says excitedly with a big grin zipped across her contoured face.

“What’s the name of this club again?” you ask with furrowed eyebrows.

“Club Inferno,” Taylor says with a smirk. “Inferno is right. It’s hot as fuck in there, and the men that go are super sexy,” she swoons as she sits back against her leather seat.

“Club Inferno, huh? Wonder how the owner came up with a name like that,” you ask curiously as you focus your sights on the busy sidewalks that are littered with dressed up couples and groups that look like they’re about to head to the club as well.

“I don’t know, babe. Maybe you can ask the owner yourself,” Brianna smirks in the front seat.

“Who’s the owner?” you ask, trying not to sound too intrigued.

“I don’t know. Doesn’t say online, but I hear rumors that he’s ridiculously hot. Like I’m talking about an 11/10 hot,” she smirks as she pulls into a parking spot a few feet from the lit up club.

“Sounds like someone I wouldn’t be interested in. He already sounds arrogant and like all the other men I’ve dated,” you spit out, a snarl hanging on your lips.

“Oh, just shut up and have some fun tonight, please. You’re killing my vibes,” she says as she rolls her eyes and puts the car in park.

“Sorry, sorry. I’ll try to have fun,” you sigh as you step out of the car onto the hard concrete, pulling your dress down so it doesn’t ride up and expose too much skin.

“Good, now let’s go drink and dance!” Brianna and Taylor scream together. You just laugh and follow them to the front of the club, stopping at the metallic black double doors as you get your IDs checked. Once they give them back, you step into the club and gasp at the sight.

The inside is absolutely gigantic. The club sits two stories high with a shimmering disco ball hanging in the middle of the crowded dance floor. The walls are pitch black with red glowing signs all around that say “Club Inferno”. The sign that sits behind the bar is also glowing red and says “Sinners Welcome”. The bar has a large mirror splayed across the wall with bottles of beer and liquor stacked high against it. The bar top has a sleek dark wooden hue to it and the bar stools are made of black leather material.

There’s dark booths all around that are marked off for VIP lounges, private parties, or reservations made prior. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling as they make shiny patterns on the dark hardwood floors. An open lounge area sits in the opposite corner of the bar where leather couches and small glass tables sit scattered around. You look away when you see a cozy couple making out in a corner of one of the couches and try not to roll your eyes.

When you turn towards the dance floor, you see the glow of fluorescent blue and red flashing lights mix in with the glittering disco ball as the Dj spins some tracks on a large display against the wall. The dance floor is crowded, maybe two-hundred people at the least stand grinding up on each other as Rhianna blasts through the speakers. Two platforms with poles attached to the center sit in the back corners of the room for anyone to use at their leisure.

Behind the bar sits two long, dark hallways with various rooms attached down the shadowed corners of the hallway. A spiral staircase sits next to the second hall and leads up to the second floor. From here you can’t see what all is upstairs, but it looks like another bar sits up there and maybe some pool tables from what you can see. This club wasn’t anything like you expected it to be. You thought it’d be small and maybe less crowded. Boy, were you wrong.

“Don’t you love it in here?!” Taylor asks excitedly as she twirls around in her short forest green strapless dress and pulls you to the dance floor.

“It’s a lot bigger than I imagined it to be,” you shout out loudly against the beat of the music. “Tay, we just got here. Can’t we sit down?” you whine as Brianna pulls you into the middle of the raging crowd.

“Not until after a couple of dances,” Taylor smiles as she pushes her back against a man in a suit that grinds up against his blonde girlfriend. You groan but go along with them.

“Loosen up, hun. The night’s just started. We’ll get some alcohol in you, and you’ll be just fine,” Brianna beams as she grabs a few Jell-O shots from the bartender that makes her away across the busy dance floor. “Drink up!” she yells as she hands you a container of red liquid.

“Fine,” you groan as you pop the shot into your mouth and instantly taste cherry and vodka mixed together. It slides down your throat easily, and you put the empty vial on the bartender’s tray. Taylor and Brianna both cheer after you take the shot and start grinding up against each other as the music switches over to a Beyoncé song.

You decide to try to enjoy yourself and sway your hips, getting into the song as the dance floor rocks back and forth. You keep your focus on the shimmering disco ball and watch the way the sparkling glass reflects off the walls. You keep your eyes from staying too much in the crowd and focus on your friends as they lift their arms and shimmy their hips to the beat.

After a couple of long songs, they agree to take a break and get some drinks. You and Taylor find an empty couch and sit down while Brianna goes up to the bar and orders a round of LITs for the table. After a few minutes, she returns with the glasses of alcohol and passes them out. You take a big gulp and feel the remnants of alcohol run down your throat with a slight burning sensation staying stagnant in your mouth.

“So, see any cute guys you might be interested in?” Taylor asks as she looks around the crowded club, focusing her eyes on a tall man with short blonde hair and sharp blue eyes. “What about that one, huh? He’s kinda cute,” she says with a flirtatious smile as she eyes him.

You scrunch your nose up and shake your head. “No, Taylor. Not that one. Maybe you can go talk to him. He looks like your type,” you laugh as you watch her eye him up and down. You take another sip of your drink and set it on the glass table as the condensation drips down the glass.

Brianna smirks at you and looks from the bar, back to you a few times. “Bri, what? I know that look. That’s a plotting face you always make when you’re up to no good.”

She just smiles wider. “You see that man at the bar? That one on the left corner with the white collared button-up shirt?” She points him out and you flick your eyes over in that direction nonchalantly.

The man she points out is sitting in one of the barstools and sips casually on a cold glass of what looks to be whiskey. You slowly drag your eyes over him, taking in the way his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows to expose thick veins that spider all the way down his arms to end in massive hands. His biceps bulge against the cotton material every time he flexes and moves to grab his cold glass of alcohol. His dark blue jeans press up against muscular thighs and a fancy black watch sits latched onto his left wrist. His hair is dark and streaked with grey lines as thick tousled curls sit wildly atop his head. A dark, patchy beard shadows his sculpted, sharp jawlines.

Your eyes move over his greying locks again slowly, taking in the way a couple curls fall against his forehead subtly. His curls look soft to the touch, you almost wonder what it’d be like to run your fingers through his hair or maybe drag your nails against that salt and pepper scruff…

You jolt out of your daydream as his eyes linger over to yours, calmly taking another drink of whiskey as his eyes stay locked on yours. You pull your eyes away and look back at Brianna. “What about him?” you ask with a shaky breath.

“The man hasn’t stopped looking at you since you walked into the club,” she giggles as you go wide-eyed.

“Oh, he has not. Please, he’s got to be looking at you or Taylor,” you reply as she looks back up at the bar.

“I don’t think so, honey,” Taylor laughs as she knocks you in the shoulder with her arm. “He’s looking straight at you.”

You look back up and freeze. His dark eyes find yours again as a small smirk appears on the edge of his mouth, curling into something that dares you to challenge his gaze. You suck in a breath and look back down, grabbing your drink as you try to calm your nerves down. Calm down, calm down. He’s just a guy. He’s probably not even interested in anything you have to say.

“You’re going to go talk to him,” Brianna smiles deviously as she narrows her eyes and smirks up at you.

“What?!” you choke out, the liquid flowing down your windpipes uncomfortably. “No, no way. I can’t.”

“Yes, you are,” Taylor encourages you. “He’s totally gorgeous. Like come on. He’s clearly at least in his upper forties. Older, probably has a lot of money, dresses nicely, and I see no wedding ring on him,” she smirks, eyes darkening as she gets up and pulls you along for the ride.

“No, Tay. Please, I can’t. I’m not…”

She cuts you off as Brianna joins in, pulling you towards the bar as your feet try to stay planted to the spot you’re in. “You’re not what? Look at you, you’re hot. Don’t waste it by being boring. Go talk to him,” she encourages as she pulls you further, halfway to the bar now as you see him in the corner of your vision eyeing you.

“No, guys. Come on. I’m too… I can’t…”

Brianna stops you from saying anything else. “Look, you're going to go talk to him, and he’s going to buy you a drink, and then me and Tay are going to go back out there and dance. And you’re going to go up there and flirt with him and twirl your hair and get his number,” she says seriously as she drags you to the edge of the bar.

“But I… he’s too… I can’t…” you stutter out.

“Go on, babe. You can do it.” Brianna and Taylor give you a hard push and shove you against the edge of the bar, only a few bar stools away from the man with the dark eyes. “Have fun,” Brianna whispers in your ear with a laugh as she grabs Taylor’s hand and leads her away from the bar, leaving you all alone with your heart pounding uncontrollably in your chest.

You take a seat on one of the empty black bar stools and rest your arms on the sleek bar top, looking over the menu nervously as you flip through the pages of drinks. You don’t look up, afraid that if you do you’ll lock eyes again with the handsome stranger. No more dating, no more dating, no more dating.

“Is this seat taken?” A deep Southern voice fills your ears as you look up and find the man with dark eyes looking down at you.

Fuck.

“Ummm no,” you answer shyly as you tuck a curl behind your ear, cursing your friends for pushing you into doing this.

“Mind if I sit?” he asks with a raised brow. You nod and he pushes back the empty bar stool, lightly brushing his leg against yours as a chill runs down your spine at the contact.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks as he looks you over slowly, making your eyes widen at the action.

“Oh, sure,” you respond meekly, putting the drink menu down before you rip it in half from the way you’re anxiously flipping through the pages.

“So, what’s your drink of choice?”

You muster up an ounce of courage and fire back a question without thinking. “What do you think my drink of choice is?” you ask flirtatiously, batting your eyelashes up at him as if to win him over. Your adrenaline spikes in your body, and it’s as if the alcohol turned you into another girl.

What the fuck is wrong with you? This isn’t like you. You don’t flirt with men at clubs, especially gorgeous men like him. But he’s so hot, you can’t resist. Fuck.

He chuckles at the question and drags his eyes nice and slow over your body, clenching his jaw up as he concentrates on you. You can see the calculations and assumptions he’s making swirl and tick in his mind. He’ll never guess right. He’s just like any other guy. They all get it wrong, always.

His eyes flick back up to your face as a gentle smile spreads over his mouth, forming dimples that press deep into his cheeks.

Fuck, he’s pretty.

“Hmmm, let me see,” he starts slow, his words slipping like melted butter off his tongue. “You don’t seem like the type to drink hard liquor. Fireball? Definitely not. Tequila? Can’t see it. But hmmm, let me guess…” He takes another good look at you and stares into your eyes. Those warm brown eyes searing through you as you melt into them.

God, those eyes. Those fucking brown doe eyes.

“Rum? Maybe. Vodka? Most likely. Whiskey… maybe a whiskey girl. But you…” He leans in closer, and you can smell the cologne dripping off his skin. Can practically taste the whiskey that encompasses his lips. Can almost feel how his mouth would taste with his tongue gliding against yours.

You focus on deep breaths as he rests his large hand right next to yours, barely brushing the tips of his fingers against yours as goosebumps start to crawl slowly up your arm. He laughs lightly as he forms a guess with a Southern drawl dripping off his tongue. “Malibu tonic? Guessin’ you’re a fruity cocktail kind of girl.”

“How did you know that’s one of my favorite drinks?” you ask with a wide-eyed stare.

“Just an assumption, sweetheart. I’m pretty good at readin’ people. Especially ones as pretty as yourself,” he smirks, turning toward the bar to call over one of the bartenders.

Sweetheart? Pretty? Oh fuck, you’re in trouble.

As soon as the blonde bartender comes over, he wastes no time and gives her your drink orders. “One Malibu tonic and one Jack Daniel’s Tennessee Whiskey on the rocks. Thanks, Hailey,” he smiles softly and nods as she smiles back and turns away, getting the drinks prepared in a flash.

Hailey? Of course he knows her by name. He probably knows every fucking girl in this obscene club by name.

You frown, a tinge of jealousy hitting the back of your closed up throat. But why are you jealous? You don’t care about this man, don’t care if he even buys you a drink. You don’t date, and there’s a reason you don’t anymore. But that’s a dark place you won’t go tonight or ever again.

He notices the shift in your mood as you sit up straighter and clench your jaw into place, focusing on not losing your temper over a simple thing as a name.

“Y’alright there? Look a little tense,” he asks, hovering his thick fingers closer to your hand as you pull away from him.

“I’m fine,” you bite back a little too harshly. He doesn’t respond, only nods. He knows you’re not fine, but he doesn’t press on it.

When the bartender comes over to drop off your drinks, you can’t help but notice the small silver name tag that’s latched on to the front of her black low-cut tank top. The name Hailey is in sparkly letters, and you feel shame instantly cover your face.

You’re a fucking idiot.

You take a sip of the fruity liquid and let it slide down the back of your throat, along with the bitterness and jealousy that was there seconds ago. You don’t even know his name, and you’re already acting jealous? Jesus. You’re in way over your head.

He takes a swig of his amber colored drink and swallows, a gentle smile returning to his handsome face. He sticks out his hand and you take it slowly, feeling the back of his calloused fingers as they burn into your hand, simmering like a hot fire as it runs through your veins. It’s firm, strong, powerful. And you know. You know you’re in trouble.

“The name’s Joel. What’s yours, sweetheart?” His hand lingers maybe a little too long in your hold, but you don’t shake him off. You just let him drop it when he’s ready, feeling the now cold hand as you flex your fingers into a fist in your lap, trying to remember exactly how his hand fit perfectly in yours.

You tell him your name, and it floats like a siren’s song off his lips, a trance like lull that sucks you in. “That’s a pretty name, darlin’. You come around here much? Haven’t seen you before. Think I would’ve remembered a pretty face like yours,” he says with a smirk, his coffee colored eyes focused on you. You have to work hard to find words before you lose all control of your voice.

Pretty? Oh, he’s laying it on thick.

“No, but sounds like you’re a usual here. You come here a lot or something?” you ask, eyes fixed on the way he holds his crystal glass with a strong grasp.

“Somethin’ like that,” he chuckles, a look like he knows something you don’t displaying on the lines of his forehead.

“Of course you do. Not me, this is my first time here,” you say as you shift uncomfortably in your bar stool.

“And? How d’you like it?” he asks with questions lingering in his bright eyes.

“Honestly? It’s okay. It’s a little loud for my taste, but it’s decent,” you say as you take another sip of your fruity concoction.

“Oh, just decent? Tell me more of your thoughts,” he says as he puts an elbow on the bar top and leans his cheek on his knuckles, waiting for you to answer.

You shake your head. “Nah, you don’t want to hear my thoughts. They’re… well, they’re…” You lose yours words to the blaring music that stirs across the crowded dance floor.

“Enlighten me,” he says with a husky voice while he stirs the amber liquid, eyes fixed intently on you.

You gulp at the sharp eyesight, your knees knocking against the smooth bar walls anxiously. “Well, there’s no food here for starters. I’d kill for some chicken strips right now,” you groan, salivating at the thought of food right now.

He laughs in response. “Sweetheart, this is a club. This ain’t a cheap bar with finger foods.”

You snap back at him. “Well, it’d be a hell of a lot better if the club had some.”

His eyebrows raise in defense, holding out a hand to calm you down. “Alright, calm down, tiger. Gonna start seeing claws in a second,” he laughs as you sigh and nod your head. “What else?” he asks.

“What else what?” you question as you swirl your drink around mindlessly.

“What else would you change about the club?” His eyebrows knit together like he’s concentrating on what you have to say.

When was the last time a guy ever listened to you? Whatever, he asked so you’ll tell him exactly what you think.

“The signs are all red. It’d look better if there were also pink ones. Gives some light contrast and a more subtle look,” you shrug, sipping on more of the tasty alcohol in your hands.

“Hmmm, might not be a bad idea. Anything else?” His gaze stays on you as he throws back a gulp of whiskey, sitting the crystal glass back on the edge of the flat bar top.

“Why do you care? I’m just rambling,” you say with a convicted tone.

“I might’ve talked to the owner a couple of times here and there. Might give him some suggestions next time I see him,�� he smirks, making you roll your eyes at his perfect dimples.

God, why does he have to be so pretty.

“Okay then,” you say with a smug look. “The alcohol menu could use some more options, other than tons of beers. Make it more friendly for cocktails and mixed drinks. And the VIP booths? Maybe save some for general guests to reserve when they get here. The Dj? He needs to mix up the tunes, these songs get old pretty quick. Throw some throwbacks in there, play some more upbeat rock songs. And for rooms? Maybe open up some private rooms for guests who want to chill in a quieter area where they can think. It’s fucking loud in here,” you say sternly as you cross your leg over your knee and give him a devious smirk, feeling like you just let him have it.

All he does is shake his head and let out a low whistle, a small chuckle rumbling from deep within his chest. “You’re a little firecracker, ain’t ya? Shit. You sure got a lot to pick apart. Don’t ya?”

You just shrug nonchalantly. “It’s just what I’d do differently. Not that my opinion matters.”

“Sure it does, sweetheart. I’ll be sure to give him the rundown when I see him.” He winks at you, and you feel a weird flutter in your stomach that you shouldn’t even be feeling. You chase it down with another drink of alcohol, letting the burn fill the void.

“This isn’t your scene I’m guessin’?” he asks carefully, honey eyes drawing back to yours again patiently.

“No, it’s really not,” you shake your head defeatedly. “My friends dragged me out tonight, said I needed to get out of the house and let loose. I had a really long week and I was looking forward to staying in with a glass of wine, but no. Just had to come out,” you say with a huff, your cheeks growing crimson with the sudden awareness of your bad attitude and complaining.

Christ. Just calm the fuck down. You’re going to scare him off.

“What is your scene then?” he asks, ignoring your whole meltdown about coming out in the first place.

“What?” you ask with wide eyes, surprised he wants to continue the conversation with your depressing ass.

“What’s your scene, angel?”

Angel. Oh.

“Oh, uh. I… I like more quiet environments. Like bookstores. There’s nothing more I like than strolling through a bookstore with an iced coffee in my hand, just smelling the fresh pages of the books,” you smile, thinking of the last time you went to the local bookstore and fawned over the latest edition of The Odyssey. Classics were some of your favorites.

“Books, huh? What’s your favorite?” he asks, general curiosity piqued as he continues staring at you, fixedly.

You eye him suspiciously but continue. “Pride and Prejudice,” you say quietly, eyes averting from his momentarily.

“Ahh, a classic. We are all fools in love,” he quotes almost perfectly, his Southern accent making every word sound like sweet poetry to your ears.

Your eyes grow wider, shock hitting your system. “You know Jane Austen?” you ask incredibly, your hand gripping your cup uncomfortably tight.

“Mhm. Read most of her books,” he says without a hint of surprise in his voice.

He reads classic books. Holy shit.

“Wow. That’s uh-” you lose your concentration, mouth gawking open at him. He reaches out and closes your jaw for you, his calloused fingers burning your skin the more he touches you.

“Don’t act too surprised. Some men like to read the classics too,” he smirks as he drops his hand, ending the contact way too soon. “What else?”

“Huh?” you ask, still shocked at his last words.

“What else do ya like?” His weight shifts just a tad and his knee skims yours as goosebumps form over your skin, the contact almost too much for you.

“Why?” you ask, almost self conscious of yourself. There’s way more interesting girls here than you, more up to his liking probably. You’re boring while all these other girls know how to party. You’re an introvert, you shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be talking to him.

“Why what?” he asks with furrowed eyebrows, the lines above his forehead wrinkling at the notion as one of his tousled curls fall into his face. You almost want to push it back for him, almost.

“Why the interest in me? I’m not... I’m…”

“You’re not what?” he almost barks out as his eyes get a shade darker. It’s a little intimidating and makes you sit up straighter, aware of all the sulking you’ve done this evening. You’re just making it worse for yourself. You’re going to scare him off.

“I’m not like all these other girls in here. I’m… I’m shy, reserved. I don’t even come close to some of these women in here. I’m…”

He cuts you off as he cups your chin with his large hand, syrupy eyes clouding your vision as he stares at you intently. It makes your heart speed up frantically as blood rushes through your ears uncontrollably.

“That’s the point, sweetheart. You’re not like the rest of them. You’re interesting. You caught my attention. And you’re stunning,” he says smoothly as his eyes drop down the length of you, taking in the large slit in your tight black dress and trailing back up to your eyes, a breath catching deep in your throat.

He drops his hand from your chin and turns back to his glass of whiskey, pouring another shot down his throat as he slides it back against the sleek bar top, running a hand through his wild curls.

God, you want to run your hands through those curls, want to feel just how soft and silky they really are…

A rough voice pulls you from your distant thoughts as a tall, bulky man dressed in all black slides up beside you in the next bar stool, ogling your body as he fans his eyes over you in a disgusting manner. You want to roll your eyes and ignore him already.

“Aren’t you a sexy thing? Let me buy you a drink. What’ll it be? Tequila, beer on tap?” he asks with a snide smirk on his face.

“I've got her well taken care of. Thanks for the offer, though. But she won’t be needing that drink,” he faintly growls under his breath, placing his large hand on your leg as he curls his calloused fingers around your inner thigh slowly. You about jump from the warm contact and how it instantly eases you in a weird way. You barely know the man, why did this feel… safe?

“Oh, sorry. Didn’t realize she was with anyone,” he huffs, eyeing Joel’s hand on your bare thigh as it burns through your skin like a scalding stove.

He’s just a man. He’s just a man. Get it together. You’re not doing this tonight.

“Think she’s in good hands,” Joel breathes, his voice deep and gruff as his eyes narrow at the man. He turns with a nod and walks in the opposite direction, going to find his next victim.

Joel keeps his thick fingers pressed to your thigh for a few more seconds then releases his hand, the same time you let go of the breath you were holding. “Uhh, thanks,” you say awkwardly, leaning against the bar top to look him in the eyes again. In those pretty brown doe eyes that light up tingling feelings that you want to keep at bay.

No hookups. None.

“No problem, sweetheart,” he says as he turns to look at you again, eyes lingering on more unanswered questions.

“So, you seein’ anyone?” he asks as he drags his thumb over the rim of his glass cup, slowly collecting condensation on the tip of his thumb. The sight makes you gulp.

“No,” you say quietly, shaking your head slowly.

“You’re tellin’ me that a girl as beautiful as you isn’t seein’ anyone?” he asks in disbelief, a small disbelieving laugh leaving his lips.

“Well, I’m not,” you shrug, eyes flicking back and forth between the thumb that languidly glides around the edge of the glass and his honey eyes that stay focused on you. It’s intimidating, to say the least.

“Why not?” he asks curiously, an eyebrow raising in question as he waits for your answer. You don’t really have a good one for him, not really wanting to go into the traumatic ex boyfriends you had been with before.

“I dunno. Just haven’t found the right one, I guess. Been busy. And besides, I’m not…” You stop mid sentence, staring at Joel’s scowl on his face. What was he so mad about now? What had you said?

“Don’t give me that answer. Sweetheart, the entire bar is staring at you.” You look behind you and gasp. He’s right. All the men gathered around the counter are trailing their eyes to you, eyes ogling you from a distance, hoping to get a chance to talk to you.

You swing your bar stool back around and stop as your knees lock with his, your eyes focusing on him. Only him. “As for me, I’ve had my eyes on you the minute you stepped through those doors. You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, sweetheart. A real angel, at best,” coffee eyes honing in on you like a hawk stalking its prey. Suddenly you can’t hear the noisy music, can’t hear the clicking of the glasses behind you. It’s just you and Joel, in your own little bubble as the words crash down on you like a siren’s song.

Gorgeous. Sweetheart. You’re in trouble.

“Oh,” is all you can gasp out. He’s charming, almost too charming. And you hate him for it. Hate him for how he’s making you feel. Like you’re special, like you mean something. It makes you sick, so fucking sick.

You take a slow drink of your alcohol, hoping the taste will cool you off from the heat he just gave you. “Tell me, angel. When’s the last time a man has gotten you off?”

You choke on your drink and spit it out, wiping the cloth napkin over your chin as you catch your breath. “Excuse me?” you ask in disbelief.

“You heard me. It’s a simple question. When’s the last time a man has gotten you off?” His jaw tics and his eyebrow rises, his eyes hounding you as he waits for your answer.

You’re speechless, not believing what you just heard. But the way he’s looking at you now tells you he won’t back off till he knows. So you amuse him. “It’s been a couple of years,” you answer quietly, your voice barely audible above the ringing music.

“A couple years?” Joel asks incredulously. “Christ. No wonder you’ve been uptight lately. Y’need somebody to make you feel good, ain’t that right?” he asks with a rough, gravelly voice as he inches closer to you, your hands digging into the material of your black dress as he comes closer, closer, closer.

“I… I’m fine,” you say nervously, but he keeps leaning in, body hovering over yours as his hand ghosts over your thigh, causing goosebumps to raise in his presence.

“You’re not fine, sweetheart. You’re trembling. Your legs are shaking,” he points out as he trails his fingers lightly over your thigh, his whiskey breath breathing down your neck as he runs his lips across the shell of your ear, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up on end.

“I could make you feel so good, sweetheart. Could make you feel things you’ve never felt before. You want it, don’t ya? I can almost smell how bad you want it,” he teases as he whispers into your ear, making your legs squeeze tighter together as you hold in a whine of need.

Fuck, stop. Not tonight, not with him. He’s too charming, too tempting, too hot for you.

The edge of his patchy salt and pepper scruff slides against your jaw, making you want to run your fingers profusely through it as you drag your nails over him. Imagining his mouth between your legs, his tongue on your clit as he makes meticulous circles over you.

Fuck.

You catch your breath and watch him pull back just the slightest, his honey eyes now darker in shade, more prominent as his pupils expand wider into dark circles. “Let me give it to ya, angel. Let me take care of you,” he says with bared teeth, a devilish grin taking form on his face as his body crowds yours against the bar stool, just hovering as his hands cover the sides of you, fingers barely grazing your hips that send a fire right through your lungs.

You catch your breath and say the most logical response. “I don’t need it. I don’t do this, I don’t…”

“You don’t what, darlin’? Don’t let a man make you feel good? Don’t let a man touch you where you need it most?” he purrs, calloused fingers finding your thigh as he runs his hand up your smooth skin, leaving burn marks with every place he touches. It’s hot, sadistic, evil.

“I… I…” You’re completely flustered from him, feeling warmth flood your cheeks. He’s so fucking charming and handsome and fuck. He’s trying to coax you, and he’s doing a damn good job at it, too.

“I can see how bad you want it,” he purrs. “The way your cheeks are flushed, and your breathing is erratic. The way you’re squeezing your thighs together as if to pretend that ache isn’t stirring in there for me. The way you keep sucking on your bottom lip and staring at me with those needy, pretty eyes,” he coaxes, leaning into you again as he runs his hot tongue over the shell of your ear.

And fuck, does it feel good.

“You want it, baby. Give in. Let me fix that throbbing ache in that pretty pussy of yours. Let me turn this good little angel into a bad little devil,” he growls, making a wave of slick run down your center as you choke on a moan. He only laughs at your needy response, your middle completely full of warmth now from his daring actions and smoldering words.

When he finally pulls back, you ask the one question that keeps ringing in your mind. “What’s in it for you?” you ask with the cock of your eyebrow, chin jutting out as you wait for an obnoxious answer that any other man would give you.

“Only the pleasure of knowing I took care of you,” he smirks, eyes glazing over at you with hunger in his deep voice.

“What? You’re not gonna make me get on my knees and give you a blowjob like any other guy would?” you ask with the taste of metallic in your throat, bitter and stale as you swallow it back down. That’s what any other man would do. No one’s ever asked what you wanted, only what they needed. Sick fucks.

“No,” he answers honestly.

“No?” you ask with bewildered eyes.

“No. I’m not other guys, sweetheart,” he states simply, the hunger still there in his dark eyes as his chest rises and falls in waves. He’s looking at you with so much intent in his eyes that it makes you dizzy.

“So, what do you say? Want me to make you feel good?” he asks as he licks his lower lip seductively. The sight about knocks you out of your chair.

“I-uh. I… need a moment. Where are the bathrooms?” you ask hurriedly as you stand up from the bar stool, pulling your short dress down over your thighs.

“Down that dark hall and first door on your left,” he says as he points in the direction of the bathrooms. You nod and race off, dodging a couple making out as you walk around them, eager to get to the bathroom.

You shove past some people dancing and walk as fast as your high heels can carry you. You make your way through the dim lit hallway and crash into the door, swinging it open as you step into the lavish, huge bathroom. You stop at the porcelain sink and look into the lit up mirror as you stare at your reflection.

You freeze when you see just how flushed you are. Your eyes are as wide as an owl’s and the veins in your neck are pulsing like crazy. Your lace panties are drenched, and you’re so turned on that you feel as if you’re about to explode. You need to cum, you need to stop the ache in between your thighs.

What the fuck is wrong with you? You don’t hook up with guys. This isn’t like you. But Joel… Joel is so devilishly handsome, so charming, a gentleman, a smooth talker. He practically got you off by just hovering over you and whispering dirty words into your ear. He was too much, this was too much. You should just go back home. But you want this. You want him.

You take one more long look at yourself in the mirror and sigh, hands digging into the sink as you give up completely. Fuck it. You want him, so you’ll have him.

When you open the door and leave the lit up bathroom, you about topple over as you hit something that feels like a thick brick wall. You look up and realize it’s Joel you crash into. You gawk at the way he leans up against the wall, clearly waiting for an answer from you.

“So, decide what you’re gonna do, angel?” he asks smoothly, his thick voice dripping like syrup all over you.

Fuck this. This man is a menace.

He takes a step forward and you take one back, a game of tag going on. But it’s not just any tag. No. He’s the hungry wolf, and he came to eat you alive.

“Not exactly…” you whisper, your voice caught in your throat.

He chuckles lightly as he takes another step forward and another, backing you up into the dark hallway that seems to go on for miles. “It’s simple, sweetheart. You can either leave or you can let me indulge you,” he purrs as he comes closer, chasing you like a game of cat and mouse.

“What if I don’t want to?” you ask out of breath, your voice getting choked up as you swallow down want and desire.

He clicks his tongue at you, coming in for the kill. “Now, now, sweetheart. Don’t be coy. I can smell the arousal already drippin’ from you. Can see how bad you want this with the way your eyes widen and lips part for me,” he says seductively, pupils blowing out as he takes a step forward and another one until he’s successfully backed you into the darkest corner of the hallway he can manage.

You knock into the cold black wall and gasp when he cages you in, letting his hands linger against your thighs as you feel the heat of his fingertips press into your hip bones. He leans over and presses his lips to the shell of your ear, whispering incantations into it as you fall into a dreamlike trance.

“Y’know, there’s more than one way to seduce a lady. I can teach you so many things, angel. Can make you cum in more ways than one, can make you feel things you’ve only dreamt about,” he whispers, letting one of his hands run up the side of your thigh, gradually lifting your dress as he teases you with his hot breath hitting your ear.

“Yeah?” you ask audibly, your own voice betraying you as you give in to his coaxing.

“Mmmm. Yeah, that’s right. Ya want it, angel? Want me to show you what I’m talkin’ about?” he asks as he blows gently in your ear, making slick pool in your center as a whine gets caught in your throat.

“Mhm,” you choke out while holding in a moan.

“Say it. Say it,” he purrs out, the soft lilt of his voice hitting the back of your spine as tingles start to pour down your body. “Pretty, pretty please. Need to hear you say it,” he whispers, his hot breath breathing down your neck like a sauna you want to jump head first into.

“Yes, yes. Want you to show me,” you plead, your voice needy with want.

“Gotta say please first,” he teases as he spreads your legs apart and places his leg in between yours, hiking his knee up to brush against your clothed folds. You whine at the action.

“Please, Joel. Pleaseeee,” you beg.

“Good girl,” he praises as he lifts the skirt of your dress, cupping his hand over your sex as you writhe in his grasp. He smirks at you and pushes the lace to the side, freeing your wet pussy as the cold air hits it, making you bite your lip in response.

He slides two calloused fingers through your wet folds, gliding down lower as he sinks them inside your dripping hole. You moan at the feeling.

“Christ. You’re so fuckin’ wet for me, angel,” he groans, hooking them up to that sweet spongy spot that makes you see stars. You choke on a moan as you clench around him.

“Ahh, there it is. There’s that sweet spot,” he purrs as he goes in knuckles deep into your wetness. He gently slides his digits out and drags his covered fingers up, up, up, as they find your clit and run slow, meticulous circles around your throbbing bundle of nerves.

“Fuck,” you moan out as you grab the front of his shirt and moan into his ear, digging your fingers into the cotton material as you hold on for dear life.

“That’s right, angel. Let me hear you, that’s a good girl,” he praises. He takes the two drenched fingers that were just inside you and pop them in his mouth, sucking off all the slick that covers his large digits. Your jaw drops at the sight.

“God, you taste so fuckin’ sweet,” he groans as he shifts his leg in between yours again, bending it just slightly as he cages you in again.

The room is hot, humid, loud, and you’re fully aware that anyone could walk down here and see you fully on display as Joel has his way with you. But you don’t care, don’t say anything about it. You just want him.

Him, him, him.

“Now, sweetheart. Gonna need you to do something for me. Call this lesson one on ways to get you off,” he instructs as he digs his hands into your hips and pulls you forward to where you’re level with his muscled thigh. “Want ya to ride me, angel,” he says, voice gravelly and hot in your ear.

“You want me to… ride you? How?” you ask with your brows knitted together.

“On my thigh, sweetheart. C’mon. Put that pretty pussy on my thigh. Want you to cover my jeans, baby. Don’t be shy, sweetheart,” he coaxes, dragging your hips forward until you’re resting your center on his clothed thigh.

“Oh,” you respond as he slowly grinds your hips into his jeans, showing you exactly what he wants you to do. He lets go and lets you set the pace, taking control as your clit drags against the rough material, catching on the most sensitive areas as you pull him closer and dig your nails into his shirt, stifling out a moan as you move up and down, up and down. Feeling the building pressure low in your stomach as you choke on another moan.

“There ya go, that’s a good girl. Ride me just like that, angel. Doin’ so good,” he praises as you feel just how turned on he’s getting. The bulge is tight around his zipper, and you can see just how big and thick he is underneath the dark denim.

Fuck. You want him, you want him so fucking bad but you’ll have to wait because right now you can’t focus on anything but your building orgasm. It’s so… it’s sooo. Oh.

You rub your aching clit against the curve of his large thigh, grinding into him as you hit that spot again and again as you rut down into him even more, gripping the edge of his shirt so tight that you swear you’re about to rip it off him.

“Joellll, it feels good,” you moan with ragged breaths as he leans down and licks the shell of your ear, whispering dirty thoughts as his hot breath runs down the base of your neck, making you sweat against his large form.

“Yeah? Just like that, angel. Bein’ such a fuckin’ good girl,” he praises with a low, gravelly voice as it consumes you whole, sending more slick down his jeans as you continuously ruin his denim.

You moan again at the praise. This is so hot, he’s so hot. And he’s so good with his words. He could sweet talk you all night long just like this if he wanted to.

“You like that, huh? Like bein’ told how good of a girl you’re bein’,” he smirks, dragging his lips over your jaw as you smell his woodsy, whiskey scent all over you. You want to taste it, drink it up till you’re drunk on him, suffocate on his intoxicating scent as it spirals you into a pit of warmth.

“Yes, yes,” you whine as he presses his thigh deeper into your center, feeling the wave of pleasure take over as you’re right there. So close, but not quite there. Almost, almost.

“C’mon, angel. Be a good girl and cum for me. Wanna see you coat my thigh with your sweet cum,” he growls, lowering his hands to your ass as he squeezes and presses your hips forward, rocking into his leg as you ride the pleasure out, feel that building release about to break.

He drops his plush lips against your neck and sucks just above your collarbone, right against the sensitive spot that drives you crazy as you moan against his lips on your skin. You feel the smirk grow on his lips as a low groan comes from his mouth as he bites down again, feeding your raw adrenaline that chases your pleasure.

The blaring music and chanting crowd disappears from the room, becoming muddled as you focus on what’s in front of you, the strong arms that grip you and clench you down to his thigh, the dark eyes that envelop you as you slide deeper and deeper into a dreamlike state. You can’t hear anything, can’t feel anything other than your ragged moans, Joel’s labored breathing, the feel of his denim against your throbbing bundle of nerves, the calloused fingers that tease the back of your thighs, the hot breath that blows down your neck as he crowds your space. It’s just you and Joel, nothing else matters. Nothing else but this. Whatever this may be.

You jar forward, catching your clit on a wrinkle as it tugs at you, screaming your name to let go. Let go, let go. You can feel the white hot heat take hold of you, feel it slowly sliding down your center as your insides flutter and clench around nothing. You’re about to cum, about to release your heat all over him. And he knows. He knows.

“Don’t be shy, angel. Let me have it. Cum for me,” he growls dominantly, wrapping his hands tight around your waist as he pushes you down deep against the denim covering his thighs, pressing your throbbing clit at just the right spot as you feel yourself let go.

You dig your fingers into the collar of his shirt and press your face against the crook of his neck as you cum hard, feeling the slick spill out of you as you tense up over his thigh, squeezing your fingers around him as you moan his name loudly into his ear, hearing your breath hitch as he hums in approval.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Say my name. Yeah, just like that. There ya go,” he praises as he rocks you gently against his thigh, making sure you get every ounce of cum out of your dripping pussy.

You take a minute to come back down to earth, back to where you don’t hear the ringing in your ears, where you don’t see the bright lights covering your vision anymore. He slowly lets his hands loosen around your waist, gently leaning you back against the wall as he slides you off his thigh, covering your soaked folds with your ruined panties as he sets them back in place against your center. You wince as his fingers brush up over your sensitive clit and let him pull your skirt back down over your thighs.

He takes a step back and brushes his fingers against the damp stain on his jeans, slowly bringing them up to his mouth as he sucks his thick digits into his mouth, lapping up your slick as he stares straight at you with blown out pupils, making you gawk at the sight.

“Taste so fuckin’ sweet, angel. Goddamn.” He curses again under his breath and drops them to his side as he sticks them deep in his pocket looking for something. Whatever he grabs, he covers it in the base of his palm, not letting you quite see what it is.

“Did you enjoy that… lesson?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow up as he stares at you with wild eyes, his tousled curls a mess as sweat beads at a few of the curls pressed against his forehead.

Lesson? Does this mean there would be more?

“Mhm,” you hum out, too fucked out to give a straight answer right now as you were still stuck on the fact that this man had just made you cum the hardest you ever had in your life. Not even your vibrator was a match for him. And he hadn't even put his mouth on you yet or put his cock in you. That was saying something.

He was dangerous, tempting, a bad habit you could get used to. He was trouble, a menace. But you didn’t care. You didn’t care. You wanted more, needed more from him. Just him.

It’s like he hears your thoughts, smirking up at you as he lifts your chin and brushes his calloused thumb against your bottom lip, his eyes trailing down to stare at them as if he was thinking of sinking his mouth down on you. You hold your breath, not ready for that yet. It was too soon, too intimate of a thing.

He drops his thumb from your lip and trails it against your jawline, dropping down a level so his eyes sink into yours.

Fuck, he’s hot.

“If you ever need anything and I mean anything, I’m just a phone call away.” He grabs your hand as he sticks a business card in your palm, closing your fingers over it as he brings your hand up to his mouth, brushing his lips against the back of your knuckles as you suck in a deep breath as his soft lips kiss your skin. It feels good. So good.

“Hope to see you soon, angel.” He drops your hand back to your side as he winks and smirks a devilish grin your way, turning back around as he makes his way back towards the rush of the crowd, entering the noise once more as you watch him disappear into a sea of people as his tousled curls get pulled into the bodies, leaving you standing in shock in the dark alone.

You uncurl your fingers and run them along the edge of the glossy white business card. You turn it over and read it once, twice, three times as your eyes widen. You read it once more to make sure your eyes don’t deceive you, but you only see the same thing sprawled across the card each time. It reads Joel Miller: Owner of Club Inferno. His number sits above the words, leaving you breathless as you realize just who you were talking to earlier. Who you were complaining to earlier.

Holy shit. Joel was the club owner?!

Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. You were in trouble. You were in so much fucking trouble. How would you show your face here again? You wouldn’t. Unless…. unless you decided to come back for more. And you wanted more with him.

You take a deep breath and lean against the cold wall, trying to get ahold of yourself as you rethink everything that had happened tonight. The drinks, the conversations, the flirting, the fucking part where he made you cum while he pressed you against his strong, muscular body.

As you close your eyes for a second and swallow down your orgasmic high from minutes ago, you slowly open them back up and come to terms with yourself. You can’t see yourself not coming back here and not letting him give you another lesson…

You need it, need him. You’d never had a man make you feel so bold, so sexy before in your life. And the way he was all about what felt good to you? Well it was… exhilarating. You wanted more, craved more. So you knew right then, you had to come back. For one more thrill, one more touch, one more orgasm. You’d come back… for him.

Joel Miller was going to be the fucking bane of your existence, you just knew it.

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bitin-and-barkin · 3 months

Text

Loving Someone

What would the healing process be like after your so-called death?

Warnings: Arthur Morgan x Reader, Gender neutral reader, mostly just filler and going into the mind of Arthur, he's so goddamned anxious, paranoid too, tw: talks of suicide, execution, death, and other bad stuff, no smut, mostly just arthur having a mental break, probably out of character, he's starting to go yandere, tw: yandere-esque behaviour

READ MORE UNDER THE CUT + Pt 3 to another story, Pt 1 here, Pt 2 here

__________________________

Arthur had lost people before.

When Eliza and Isaac had first died, he was only able to ever see their graves. Already buried, a cross put up. One moment they were there, and the next?

They were gone.

When he lost his Pa, he was young. Small and feeble. Sitting in the crowd, silently attending his own father's execution.

His Pa hanged him in front of him.

He wasn't sure how to react when it happened. Whenever someone was hanged there was always someone crying at the stands or nobody there who knew them well enough to weep for them.

But when he looked at his dad, there wasn't much of a father there to mourn. Just bits and pieces of one.

When his Mama died, he wasn't there to see it. Only the aftermath. Her throat leaking red, and her eyes glossed over. A certain shade of purple on her neck and face. The sun shone off her blood like something holy was done.

He was much younger at that time, so he didn't really understand what happened. Death, that is. Nobody had ever bothered to explain it to him. It had always been a part of his life.

In the wolves howling at night, mauling a buck, leaving its insides on its outsides and in the sunlight to rot.

In the knobby, motionless, dogs on the side of the streets and in the quiet, grey toned graveyard in town.

So he could tell that something was wrong. He just didn't have a name for it.

He could see it though.

That there was some sort of new emptiness inside of her.

He had always carried that emptiness with him. An unspoken thing, it was the burden he bore.

People had come and gone. As time passed, it grew bigger and bigger.

And so he filled it with money, and heists, and grand plans and demands from others.

Alcohol and blood, his own and others among other things.

As he got older whenever he thought back to his mother he wondered if she really birthed a baby boy and not just a hole that would never fill.

Always wanting more and more.

Always hungry, swallowing everything down. Every complaint and request, finishing them. Handing it to them on a silver platter.

Never spitting anything out, but always coming back when others' plates are full.

Nobody ever really said anything. It was convenient. Having a yes man, a loyal one, a Johnny on the spot.

You had realized this behavior a long time ago. He's always choking on his food but saying he could handle more.

But when you walked in, for once he was full.

For once he was loved.

And although he wasn't made for intimacy, nothing was able to take that away from him.

During the day he could feel your love underneath his fingernails and in the clothes that you sewed up for him and in the bird songs you'd always stop to listen to.

You were always a constant for him. He loved you like a fire loved its hearth. With enough love to make it home.

You gave him life.

And he knew he didn't deserve his.

He knew he wasn’t a good man.

There was always a hope that some way the bad inside of him would be able to serve the good inside of you.

And that maybe one day he could make himself worthy of being in love with you.

He always cared for you in the only way he knew how.

With bruised knuckles and busted lips,

Slow dancing into the night with you and the blood in his mouth.

Acting and your sweet darling and as your perfect killer and as your rotten soldier.

Doing it all if it all meant you would still smile at him in the mornings and nights.

Doing it all if it meant you would fill that void inside of him and stop it from swallowing him whole.

You had grown used to it.

He was protective, that was it.

He was the protector. Doing the sinned slaughter that would save the people.

And you couldn't say you didn't appreciate being prized by him.

Prized more than anything else in the world.

But this? This was something entirely new.

You didn't know much about loving others, your life hadn't afforded you it, and neither did Arthur.

But you knew this wasn't what love was supposed to be like.

Acting like a wild animal in a way. Backed into a corner by life itself.

1 week in and Arthur had practically snarled at Sean when he tried to drag him away from your bedside to a job.

2 weeks in and he had bashed a couple of Bill's teeth in for making a joke about you.

Commenting about how your love seemed to be one only made so you could lick each other's wounds.

He called it unsightly. The blood on his face afterwards wasn't too pretty either.

The way he was acting proved his point, though. Like everyone was your enemy and the entire world was too, too much.

He was finding his vices in you.

Only you.

Not in the normal way, the way a woman would look for her wife at the end of the day.

It wasn't in the sex or the looks or the meaningless chatter or even the comforting familiarity.

It was the edges of your fingertips, and in the rasp in your voice.

It seemed to be just you in its entirety.

Like a breath of fresh air.

The point is, a month had passed since you came back. You were healing. Arthur wasn't.

And now you had a problem.

You wanted to get back to jobs. Sure, it was a bit early. There was a odd ache in your arms here and there and when you bent over, you swear there would still be a phantom feeling of blood and Guarma Rum dripping down your back.

It was the O'Driscolls favorite after all.

But mostly, you were healed. Dutch had even cleared you for the smaller jobs. You knew, he knew, everybody in camp knew.

Except Arthur. Except him.

Approachable wasn't the way to describe him.

At least for anybody but you.

He had killed hundreds over the years in the name of Dutch's ideals.

But you were always so soft in his arms despite it all.

You trusted him.

But you're not sure if he trusted you.

With this, in specific. With your life.

You weren't sure how he'd react when you approached.

It was nearing 11 PM when you finally came.

Wolves howling at the moon miles away, people singing and swaying at the campfire after a long day.

Arthur was among them.

You told him you wanted to meet him there, that you needed to finish something up.

In reality you just needed a moment to think of a way to do something impossible.

To convince him that you were okay.

He was sitting there waiting for you.

You quietly walked over.

He was drinking at the campfire, his leg bouncing up and down. Trying to play it cool, but you could see through it. He was getting antsy.

Best not to keep him waiting.

Sitting next to him, he softly smiled the moment he saw you.

A quiet smile, one that only you could fish out of him.

Only you.

Placing his hand on and over yours.

Carving his fingers between yours.

He didn't say anything as he did. It was second nature.

"Arthur."

His eyes flicked towards yours, turning away from the campfire.

"Hm?"

You breathed out.

The smog from the campfire still dancing in the air.

"How are you?"

"I feel fine." He hummed. He seemed satisfied with you by his side.

You smiled.

"Good." He slung his arm over your shoulder, pulling you in just a little bit closer.

You guys talked for a little bit. About your days, what you did.

It was nothing exciting, but it meant the world to him.

His head was filled with honey. You words lazily coating his brain, sinking him into the ground as everything else faded into background noise.

Just you and him.

"I just wanted to tell you that I'm going on jobs again."

Now? His thoughts ran silent.

His lips pursed, cutting off his breath. He looked around camp.

It was such a quick difference, like lightning and thunder. A crackle through the air. Nervous electricity still coursing around.

Scanning the area with his eyes for he didn't know what. A reason, maybe.

Everybody was still laughing at little nothings, but it felt like they were jeering at him.

He turned his eyes back to you. He was nervous, that was to be expected. Just tell him you would be fine, and he would be fine too.

Except it wasn't that simple.

"Why?"

You raised your eyebrows at this. He kept talking, never meeting your gaze.

"You don't need to go out, especially not so early after you got back,"

He nervously chuckled.

"I mean, is Dutch really nagging you that much?"

You weren't sure how to tell him you brought it up to Dutch.

Stuttering over his words, he kept talking.

"Do we really need money that much?"

"I heard of this stagecoach up near Flatneck Station, from what I've seen it's always something expensive they're carrying. Could make an easy pretty penny for us, real easy."

"Just yesterday you were tellin' me that your back hurts, and we're still changin' out your bandages every single day."

"You really oughta just stay here. Really."

His head was turned away. He has stopped talking after he kept stumbling over his words. His voice changing into meaningless hums.

Thoughts running through his head like an electrical current. Or maybe more like a bullet in the barrel of a frictionless gun.

You placed your hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him.

At any other time he would've muttered something sweet but clever or placed his hand back on yours and pulled you forward into his arms.

But now his head shot back like it was an order.

Looking at you, his face was indescribable.

Wild eyed. Ashamed of something.

Afraid even.

You were scared. You were both scared.

Was something more or less scary if you were next to someone who was equally as afraid walking into it?

You couldn't imagine all the bad things that could happen. Having to walk into a town of Raiders and Outlaws.

You weren't fragile.

You were scared, but..

It was like an open wound for you at this point. Painful and gaping, but slowly healing.

You still suffered for it every day, an ache at the back of your head. But you were healing, making good, no great process.

You were talking and walking and had come so far from before.

He had pushed you to stay home while healing, tearing others a new one for trying to even just put you on guard. Looked like he was gonna have a heart attack when you were "straining your back" by just carrying hay.

Looking into his eyes now, there was something new in them. Confusion. Abandonment. Hurt.

He didn't understand why you were doing this.

You were moving past it.

You knew he loved you but,

Why did it still seem like the entire world to him?

You brushed your hands against his stock-still face as he stared far past your gaze.

Was he okay?

"Are you okay?"

He didn't say anything.

There was a certain ringing in his ears as you spoke. More like a flatline than anything.

He was silent. Didn't respond.

But what was he supposed to tell you?

He knew he was overreacting, that he was being dramatic and controlling but he couldn't shake the feeling that...

How was he supposed to tell a knife there was nothing funny about spilling blood?

He didn't see any blood but he could feel himself bleeding.

His grip on his pants tightened. He tried to drag the conversation away, simply saying you guys could talk about it in the morning. That you were both tired. That you could discuss it with a clear head later.

You seemed hesitant at best. You said there was nothing to talk about later. Almost seeming confused.

For 6 months he couldn't bear the idea of you being dead. And so many times he woke up he prayed this day would be the last. So many times he stared at the gun, the knife, the rope. Sitting by your tent waiting for you to show up like old times.

You were going to be fine. You were going to be fine on your own. Weren't you?

Were you?

It was irrational, really. Overdramatic, stupid, a million other labels. Primal, even.

He could not make you understand. He couldn't make anybody else understand what he was feeling whenever he saw you. He couldn't even understand it himself.

What was he supposed to say? That he never could've done anything he did without you? That he'd never forsake you? That he needed you to support him? That you were the only person in his entire life that loved him? That you were his only friend? That he only loved you? That he didn't know how to love you in a way that mattered? That he didn't know how to love you in a way that made sense? That he didn't love himself?

How was he supposed to say he never understood intimacy or lust until he met you? That he had never felt want like how he wanted your skin against his?

Like how he had never felt fear like he did now, now that you were pulling away from him?

What was he supposed to say to you?

It was stupid, only a fool, a real fool would feel like this.

But all his insecurities were swallowing him whole and it felt like you were proving every wrong thing about him right.

You were the dull blade that he twisted inside himself. Keeping a wound from closing but keeping it clogged at the same time.

The only thing stopping his guts from spilling onto the ground.

But his guts were already contained in that cabin where he found your finger, when you first went to that stupid parley, when he cried in Hosea's arms after you left him.

He didn't understand why he was so afraid. It was fear then anger then bared teeth at anybody who approached.

Like a body hitting the ground, like a rat running a maze.

It all had to end eventually. You were gonna leave him eventually.

All alone again, with a dying father and a killing leader and a lucky brother who he hated yet loved.

Alone again.

He knew time had to pass. That his time was long gone, that yours was going down with his soon.

Hand in hand.

So soon.

But why did it have to be so soon?

And why did it have to be you?

He sharply swallowed. He was looking at the floor now. He doesn't remember himself turning his head down.

Dipping down, almost as if to cry.

Your hand was still on his shoulder. You quietly repeated your question.

He silently nodded.

Patting him on the shoulder, you stood and walked away. Telling him to get some sleep.

As you stepped and staggered, he could see a limp in your walk.

He desperately wanted to get up. To tell you something, anything that'd get you to change your mind.

But he was frozen in place. People were still talking and laughing like the world hadn't just collapsed in on him.

Classical music wafted out of Dutch's tent. He turned his gaze to it. It was still lit up, the flaps still open.

He silently stood up and began walking towards it, almost as if in a trance.

You weren't going on any jobs.

You weren't well enough.

He knew that. And he was going to make sure Dutch knew of that too.

So the results on my last poll were pretty split down the middle, so I'm doing both of them. He'll run away with you soon, dw. Prolly kill Colm while he's at it. Sorry for taking so long, I was buzy🙏 rise and grind brothers

@photo1030

#rdr2 #rdr2 x reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #male yandere #rdr2 x you #gender neutral y/n #gender neutral reader #arthur morgan rdr2 #rdr2 arthur #arthur morgan x you #yandere arthur morgan #x reader #yandere x you #tw yandere #yandere x reader

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sylusjinwoon · 5 months

Text

{ 146 }

sands of time.

academy arc

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

{ the spell on me hasn’t been lifted | i want to use the sands of time | i want to be by your side }

you never liked the freshman student who entered the same high school as you.

the one who made all the boys become green with envy over-

the one who made all the girls practically fall to their knees for him-

sung jinwoo.

despite how all the girls went crazy over his dashing good looks and charming smile, you sadly never saw his appeal. for you personally, he looked just like any other guy. nothing about him stood out to you-

especially not his perfectly styled ebony locks of hair,

or the grey eyes that you swore sometimes glowed purple in some instances,

or the full lips that remained in a permanent smile whenever he met your gaze-

yeah, there was absolutely nothing appealing about him!

you suppose you should count yourself lucky on how you didn’t share the same class with him, being in a different homeroom as you simply saw him in passing within the hallways and heard stories about him from the gossiping girls who wished to date him.

as you trail your eyes away from your open textbook, the sounds of a certain commotion was heard as one of your classmates runs back into class. her friends were comforting her as angry tears fell down her face.

“what gives?! just what is up with that sung jinwoo guy! doesn’t he realize that i’m practically the most beautiful girl in school here!”

ah, ji-yeon was throwing another tantrum again, running her hands across her luscious, brown locks of hair with her blue eyes fuming after what you assumed was sung jinwoo’s rejection.

filled with amusement from witnessing the spectacle, you trail your eyes over to ji-yeon and her lackeys, ara and cho. “he kept telling me that he couldn’t possibly give me a chance; that he was already in love with someone else, yet refused to relinquish her identity to me!”

“ah, he probably didn’t want you to bully her, ji-yeon.”

“and come on, you shouldn’t feel so upset! you can do so much better than him!”

“but i don’t want anyone else…! i want him!”

you had to bite back your laughter the moment ji-yeon stomps her feet against the ground, “and that’s what pisses me off the most! who even is she, managing to steal jinwoo away from me like that?!”

you could no longer hold back your laughter, making a snort escape from your parted lips in response to ji-yeon’s anger. she hears you and turns to face you, tossing back her hair in response. “what’s this?”

she lets out a hiss of your name, “how dare a wallflower like you eavesdrop on my conversation.” the girl gains up on you with her two friends in tow.

“i didn’t eavesdrop. you were the one who kept airing out your business in class.”

she clicks her tongue in response to your words, “it’s lunch time, are you really that much of a loser, eating all alone in class like this?”

“no, i simply didn’t want to eat in the cafeteria and be bothered by idiots like you. but i guess even with my best efforts, i couldn’t escape you at all.”

your gaze was unflinching even as ji-yeon raised up her perfectly manicured nails to strike you, ready to take the hit when the sight of someone tall stops ji-yeon’s hand from making contact with your cheek.

your eyes go wide, seeing sung jinwoo himself hold ji-yeon’s hand in a vice grip. his eyes were glaring down at her, making you see that same familiar glow.

his voice was filled with authority when he lightly shoves ji-yeon away from you. “that’s enough.”

“sung, what are you doing here?” ji-yeon’s voice comes out as strained as ara and cho took a stance behind her, ready to support her even when they felt intimidated by jinwoo’s glare.

“i heard you throwing a tantrum and decided to intervene before you did something stupid.”

ji-yeon’s face became a vibrant shade of red, its scarlet hue depicting her embarrassment and shame at being scolded by the man she had a crush on. with a huff and a final flip of her hair, she walks away from him, hearing her high heeled shoes tap against the linoleum flooring of the school.

“hmph, i suppose you’re right, sung. that bitch isn’t worth getting expelled for.”

ara and cho follow from close behind her, yet you were the one that stopped jinwoo from following after them.

“it’s okay, just hearing her complaints was more than enough for me.” even if you didn’t like him (and no! you were not in denial!) you didn’t want him to do anything that would further jeopardize his education.

he was already under suspicion due to his shady past, disappearing for two years before returning unexpectedly-

despite how odd he was, you truly didn’t hate him enough to want to see him fail.

in the end, he relaxes his stance and looks down at you, eyes still glowing with that strange, purple hue. you swallow thickly, but did not look away from him, maintaining eye contact with jinwoo as you waited for his next words.

instead, he ends up shocking you when he places a hand against your cheek, caressing it softly while asking you, “are you alright?”

you give him a nod in response, all while trying to hide the heat from your cheeks. “yes, i’m fine.”

you shiver when he lets out a rich chuckle in response. “that’s good.”

looking away from him in hopes of calming down your rapidly beating heart, you ask him, “why did you come to my rescue?”

he remains silent for a few moments before gently giving your head a few pats.

“because i would hate to see a bruise blossoming on that pretty face of yours.”

his admission was enough to make you do a double take, looking up at him with wide eyes while catching his smile.

“do you have any club activities later today?”

your mouth was still dry, and because of this fact, you were afraid to speak. this was what prompted you to shake your head in response to his question, earning yet another smile from him.

“good. how about you keep me company and watch me do track on the bleachers?”

his question leaves you gaping in response, and jinwoo didn’t even bother waiting for your answer when the 5-minute bell rang, alerting you to the end of lunch as your classmates slowly filled the classroom once more. you wanted to call out to jinwoo and tell him how you had much better things to do than watch him running around in circles-

but his smile when he looks back at you while giving you a wave manages to make your heart flutter in response.

dammit to hell-

this boy had you wrapped around his fingers after all.

{ … }

the sun was slowly setting as you found yourself on the bleachers, watching jinwoo and his track team practice their endurance and speed for the next competition.

as you sipped at the bottle of water jinwoo had given you, you couldn’t deny that he was a beautiful runner.

he was graceful, while maintaining a good speed. he never once appeared to be out of breath, even when he was working up a sweat.

during his run, you notice the way the upperclassmen kept gesturing at you while talking to jinwoo. he gives the senior a smirk before telling him a few words, making them all smile at you in response.

you had a sneaking suspicion that they were talking about you, and the thought alone was enough to make you bristle in response. you were on edge when the track team finally finished their practice, with their coach commending them on their good work as he allowed them all to return home.

jinwoo makes his way back to you while extending his hand out to you. “water, please.”

you look down at your half empty bottle of water. “what- but… i already drank from this?”

“so?” jinwoo gives you a smirk before taking the bottle of water from your hand, uncapping it as he worked on drinking the rest of it. you were captivated by the movements of his lips, emptying the bottle with greedy gulps as you watch the droplets of water slide down his chin and onto his throat…

you immediately snap out of your reveries when jinwoo meets your gaze. as if sensing your thoughts, he tosses the empty water bottle into the bin with his smirk growing wider in response, “what are you looking at?”

“n-nothing!”

you ignore the heat felt against your cheeks and step out of the bleachers, feeling jinwoo place a steady hand against your waist and shoulder as he helped you back on the ground. he flashes you a wide grin before picking up his duffel bag.

“come on, i’ll take you home.”

he interlocks his fingertips together with yours, pulling you closer to him as he walked out of the school with you. by now, your heart was pounding within your chest, feeling deeply affected by his close proximity.

“jinwoo.”

you say his first name out loud, making jinwoo stiffen in response. feeling proud at being able to make him lose his cool, you proceed to ask him.

“what did you tell our seniors during practice? they kept looking at me, laughing while giving me winks each time they ran past me.”

you look up at jinwoo, seeing him scratch the tip of his nose as a light blush was settled against his cheeks. he remains silent for a few extra beats, as if carefully considering his words before confessing to you,

“i told them that you were my girlfriend.”

your brain seemed to short circuit in response to his answer, unable to fully comprehend what was going on as you sorted through your emotions.

you felt…

annoyed,

confused,

but perhaps above all else-

you felt happy.

“y-you, are you joking, sung jinwoo?”

your pout was evident when jinwoo looks back down at you, eyes glowing a faint purple once more before he leans down closer to your height.

“if you don’t believe me, how about i show you just how serious i am…?”

somehow understanding what he meant, you close your eyes in response, allowing jinwoo’s lips to perfectly slot against yours in a sweet kiss-

but little did you know, you were once jinwoo’s lover in another timeline; a timeline that he now spent years correcting as he made an oath to himself to bring you back to him, no matter what the cost may be.

a.n. - my jinwoo obsession will never stop, lmao, and i’m afraid i’m going to keep flooding everyone’s feed with stories of him 😭😭😭😭

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

#sung jinwoo x reader #jinwoo sung x reader #sung jinwoo x you #jinwoo sung x you #solo leveling x reader #jinwoo sung #sung jinwoo #.stories

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muzansfangs · 1 month

Text

Bloodstain.

Starring: Aizen Sosuke x f!reader; mention to Shuhei Hisagi, Shinji Hirako, Ichimaru Gin, Shunsui Kyoraku;

Format: multi-chapters story;

Warnings for this chapter: domestic dynamics, suggestive themes, language, fear of storms, denial, sexual tension, struggling with feelings, mention to unprotected sex, breeding, violence, injuries;

Plot: To ease off the tension between you two, you decide to take Sosuke out to buy himself clothes, a phone and anything else he may need during his permanence in the World of the livings. Visiting shops, you mark some lines and establish rules to make your forced cohabitation more pleasant. What a shame you keep on repeating yourself the umpteenth ‘kiss’ is just an accident not bound to happen again.

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS CHAPTER | TO THE NEXT CHAPTER

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𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐊𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐫𝐚.

After five hours spent in avoiding Sosuke, you had come to the conclusion you just had to put an end to this circus. The day had not started the way you had planned, but it was not too late to actually try to fix things. After all, your forced cohabitation had barely begun. If you did not confront him now, things would have decidedly degenerated in the near future. Before locking yourself up in your bedroom, you had caught a glimpse of him wandering through the living room and directing his attention to your library. At least, he was reading, not destroying your flat or the whole city. Still, you did not think he was still doing that. He was too quiet. Suspiciously quiet.

Therefore, stepping out of your nest, you made your way to the living room, only to be taken aback by the sight of him still sitting comfortably onto your sofa with his nose buried into a novel. You had definitely underestimated his capacity of maintaining a deep and constant concentration for hours. How stupid of you to forget he was built differently from common mortals. He was a self-proclaimed god, was he not? He had trascended reality, challenged the quintessence of the world.

Staring at him from the entrance to the living room, shoulder against the wall and arms against your chest, you also took notice that he had removed his eye-patch. Handsome, almost looking regal, he was already bewitching you again. You had almost forgotten how much his eyes had always affected you. His features, sharp yet gentle, made your stomach twist and turn for the war waging in your head between your morals and your lust for him. You had to keep your distance from him. It was not going to be easy, you were well-aware of that, but you had to try not to be stuck in the deadly web he was subtly sewing around you.

“Staring is rude. Hasn’t your father taught you that? Shame on me, I should not be surprised, if he has not. It’s Kurosaki Isshin, after all” Sosuke’s snarky remark brought back on Earth.

He was such a jerk at times.

You rolled your eyes, ambling towards the couch with an annoyed expression plastered over your face “As if I would waste my time staring at you. I was merely doing my job: checking on you. — you punctuated, the fact he had caught you red-handed upsetting you to no end — What are you reading, anyway?” you asked, plopping down onto the opposite side of your couch with a sigh. You had missed your forniture. As much as you loved the Soul Society, you had to admit the beds and sofas were not that comfortable.

“One of your books. I found it in the novels section, but I believe you misplaced it” Sosuke stated, flipping a page seemingly unbothered by your presence.

You quirked your eyebrows up, squinting to get a glimpse of the cover to read the title “Huh? That’s impossible, I personally make sure not a book is out of its genre. — you reasoned, scratching the back of your neck thoughtfully — What is it?” you asked then, only for your jaw to drop to the floor.

“It’s ‘Fifty shades of Grey’. That’s porn. Low quality porn, to be fair” Sosuke replied, before delicately closing the book and settling it down onto the coffee table in front of you.

Out of the vast collection of books you had, he had really picked up that one. You felt your cheeks boil, you eyes frantically averting from him to the volume under your nose, as you cleared your throat to utter out some excuses. Did you feel ashamed for owning something tagged as erotic? It was just a stupid book, a gift from Shinji to mess around with you.

“It was a gift and… It’s a novel, anyway. It’s just a little steamy” you stammed, avoiding his gaze at any cost.

“Oh, is that so? Interesting friends you have. Who was it from, if I may ask?” he inquired, propping his hand onto the palm of his hand, leaning forward to pull your gaze back on him. He did not even had to try to catch your attention. He always had it. As if you were strong enough to evade his magnetic gaze, though, you pretended not to be affected by those caramel eyes. Or his whole persona, to be fair.

“Why should I tell you?” you replied, grasping the book and standing back up to put it into its original place. You would have done anything in that very moment not to be forced to look at him.

“Oh, just to take note of who are your real friends and who merely wants to sleep in your bed” Sosuke cooed, causing you to flinch.

“Excuse me? None of my friends has such ambitions and, even if they did, this is not your business. I have already told you not to meddle into my life” you countered back, your voice taking a warning edge that seemed to amuse him.

Sosuke smiled, that subtle smile you viscerally hated “Are you so naive to believe men have pure intentions, when it comes down to a woman? — he questioned you, swiftly standing up as well and walking up to you slowly, the stately pace and elegance of a panther stalking down its prey — A friend doesn’t gift such scandalous books to a girl. Not unless he wants to send her a message” he explained his point of view, causing you to sigh in exasperation and clasp your hands together not to lash out at him. He apparently had no intention of dropping the topic and, above all, he was attempting to get you to talk. He wanted informations from you, this much was evident. But you were not going to tell him anything, especially given the altercations between him and Shinji. You did not really want your chaotic friend to go through more psychological trauma thanks to your new roomer.

“No, I’m not. — you started curtly, gaze hardening — In fact, I let you fuck me only because I agreed to sleep with you, not because I thought you were genuinely offering me a shoulder to cry on” you countered back, before glancing at the clock and realizing it was almost noon. Well, considering you had to help him settle down anyway, you could help yourself out of this conversation and tell him to follow you out of your flat.

As Sosuke stared down at you, seemingly resentful for your answer, you just walked towards the door and grasped your wallet and keys from the bowl at its left. You expected him to talk, say anything, but you were genuinely surprised when he silently followed you out of the door. It was irritating, so much that you had to be the one to break the ice after your snippy comment.

“Aren’t you even asking me where I am heading to and if you are allowed to come with me?” you asked him, locking the door behind you.

“Why should I bother questioning you? It’s not like I’m not going to follow you anywhere you go, love” he casually replied, unbuttoning the collar of his shirt absent-mindedly.

Love. Now he had started using nicknames. Where did it come from? Why was he burying the hatchet, even though you had just wounded his ego? You eyebrow twitched as you shoved your key into the pocket of your shorts, head whipping in his direction only to find him placidly smiling at you.

You sighed “Love? Really? Sosuke, cut the crap—“.

It happened too quickly for your brain to register it. One second you were staring daggers at him, the next one your back was flattened against the wall and his hand was clasped over your mouth to prevent you from talking. He was not upset, then again he did not seem to be irate. Reading him was hard, he was too imperturbable to be affected by human emotions. You looked at him wide-eyed, muffling noises of protests reverberating against his palm as he hushed you by raising the index of his free hand.

“Calm down. — he commenced, cocking his eyebrow up as he watched your features relax gradually, albeit your hands were still scrambling up in a pathetic attempt to tug his hand down and free your mouth — Did you forget what I have told your neighbour? We are supposed to act like a couple outside your flat. Can I remove my hand from your mouth, or are you going to keep up that stupid attitude of yours?” he asked you, watching your eyes grow round and then be reduced to two fissures.

He had a point. He always had a point and throwing hands in the corridor was not exactly a good idea, given your proximity to Mrs. Watanabe’s door. You were one hundred percent sure that hag was staring at you from the peephole, confident you were going to make a false step. Against your will, you nodded your head slowly and inhaled sharply before raising your hand to cup his cheek in your palm and sneering at him.

“Alright, we are on the same page about keeping a low profile. — you said lowly, through gritted teeth — But once we are back home, you will keep your hands for yourself” you clarified, before slowly and gently slipping out of his grasp.

Ignoring him never worked. Acting like a couple in public was probably the equivalent of letting the population of a small medieval town drag you to the village square and tie you up to a stick to burn you alive. Sosuke was going to be your excruciating death. The worst part of it was that you did not have the strength to run away from your feelings for too long. Not after chasing them away for years. You were tired.

But then, he made comments that got under your skin and you admonished yourself for having let yourself think he could have been a good match for you, if only he had not almost massacred your whole family and your friends.

“As you wish. — he replied, his presence looming over your frame from behind as you exited the building — Admittedly, I do not think you are going to last long without my attentions, darling”.

Yes, in times like that, you desired nothing more than kicking him twice in the guts and feed his genitalia to a crocodile at the zoo. Instead, though, you decided to keep your chin up and head towards the main shopping area of the city “Believe it or not, I have been living a relatively peaceful and satisfactory life until Shunsui appointed me to babysit you” you replied, an hint of pride in your voice as you hastily crossed the road not to be rolled over by a car you had failed to spot.

The driver’s insults pierced your ears as you did your best to ignore him and resumed your march. The man standing right at your left, however, was not going to let it go.

“Are you sure Shunsui appointed you to babysit me? Maybe you’re mistaken” he commented dryly, watching you roll your eyes and grasp him by his forearm roughly to pick up your paces and reach your destination faster. The less you spoke to him, the better. You had no time to bicker with him over such trivial matters, not when your stomach was protesting as well. You craved food and you knew a cheap place not too far from there, where you used to grab your lunch on your way back home from school.

Sosuke shot you a displeased glare, his hand gripping yours to stop you. His hooded brown chocolate eyes bored into yours, slender fingers slipping between your smaller ones to lock your hands and, factually, forcing you to halt. Your eyes met his once again, his lean frame making you feel so miserable once again as he tugged you closer to him, this time more carefully.

“Y/N” he spoke firmly, a warning for you to settle down and listen for once. In the middle of a crowded street, mere inches separating your bodies, you lost yourself into his gaze. It was not the first time it happened. You should have known better than trusting yourself around him.

Sosuke’s free hand skimmed over your arm, resting onto the top of your shoulder, goosebumps pattering your skin under his touch “I know no one respects me. Despite that, you once did. What did I do to be undeserving of your company?”.

You frowned, blinking to clear your own clouded mind “What? We live together now. Whether I like it or not, I’m stuck with you”.

“Don’t lie, Y/N. Your body is here, but your soul is desperately attempting to run away from me”.

His words rang in your head, a lump in your throat you could not swallow forming. You had not let your guard down, not since you had slept together, still he was capable of reading your mind. You clenched your jaw, sucking in deeper breath, as you shook your head.

“Get out of my head”.

“I don’t think I will. It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever had the pleasure to be in” he replied, a faint grin crossing his lips as he shook his head and dipped his head down.

You were unable to talk back, his lips a magnet pulling you in, hypnotizing you, as you tightened your grip on his hand. No, you had to resist, you had to push him back, to block him out of your head. But a kid passing by ruthlessly bumped onto your back, your balance failing you as Sosuke caught you promptly in his arms and stole a brief kiss from you. Lips pressing against your soft ones for a few seconds, yet causing a turmoil of emotions into your stomach. You scrunched up your nose, feet finding their place back onto the cobblestone as he tentatively let go of you.

The moment you stepped back, hand reaching up to your mouth, you stared up at Sosuke stupefied only to notice he was smiling almost imperceptibly. He licked his lips, his tongue swiping out to brush over his bottom lip and a guttural hum reverberated through his chest.

“You’ve changed your chapstick” he commented, before hinting at the road with his chin and ambling towards the busy street leisurely, silently awaiting for you to join him.

And you did, you followed him, with your fingers still lingering right where his sinful lips had met yours. You reprimended yourself for having enjoyed it, but you refrained from shouting at him he had blatantly ignored one of the first rules you had set. It had been just a casuality. He was standing too close, that kid had the same grace of an elephant and the politeness of an ogre. It was not even a real kiss. Insignificant touches did not count, right? You really wished you could explain that to your heart too.

You soon found out Sosuke had a classy taste for expensive fabrics and brands. His charm even helped to get a discount, at times, and you were seething in rage. With the amount of money he had, that man did not someone to deduct such generous amount of moneys from the price. Right, he was filthy rich. You had literally goggled your eyes, when Shunsui had given you the access to Sosuke’s accounts. The Soul Society had made sure to change the local currency into Yen. You were genuinely surprised he had saved so much money from his days as a Captain.

“I can’t believe it…” you muttered under your breath, as you entered into your last shop for the day. You needed to buy him some boxers, but he had pushed you right into an Armani shop because he was not going to wear ‘cheap boxers’.

“Still upset I’m not broke?” he replied amusedly, as you two wandered through the shelves to look for the lingerie section.

You huffed, rolling your eyes as you picked up a pair of black boxers and showed them to him “I’m just surprised, that’s all. I mean, Shunsui is the Captain Commander and he’s not that wealthy” you spoke your mind, watching Sosuke examine the fabric absent-mindedly before looking at the size.

“He’s constantly dissipating his savings in women and saké. — he replied monotonously, before glancing at a point at your back with a sly expression on his face — I never had to pay for sex and I’m not an alcoholic”.

With that he handed you the boxers you had chosen for him and gestured at you for purchasing a couple of other ones too. You scoffed, his words pulling out a bitter chortle from you, as you whipped your head around and rummaged through the different assortments of boxers on the shelf. He was such a bastard. You did not even spare him a glance to check at what he was doing, as you walked up to the cashier and told her you had to pay for some articles.

However, on your way out of the shop, Sosuke was quick to catch up to you. You noticed he was holding a bag in his hand, something that made you arch your eyebrows “What is it?” you asked.

“Curiosity killed the cat, huh?”.

“You know what? Nevermind. I don’t even care”.

”Not even if it’s a little something to apologize for having offended you earlier?” he hazardously tempted you, causing your ears to prick up rizzare. Did he really buy something for you? Did he think he could get on your right side so easily?

You sighed “Really now? Why spending your money for me? It’s not like you really yearn to earn my forgiveness or something. This is surely one of your bluffs”.

“Ouch, you hurt my feelings. — Sosuke defended himself, the sky turning gradually purple above you two as you headed back towards your home — You’re a broken record. I never lied to you, I think I have abundantly made myself clear”.

He had, that was true, but you wished you could trust him blindly. You wished he was not the user of a deceitful zanpakuto, you wished he was not the man you had fallen for and tormented yourself not to love anymore. But above all, you truly wanted to erase those intimate moments you spent in his bed. Sosuke was a snake, a wizard, a bewitcher.

“It’s a nice gesture, Sosuke. But I am pretty sure you know that a simple gift will not make it up for everything you’ve done. I don’t think I can accept anything coming from you” you replied, only to be feel his hand cup your hip and pull you closer to him.

With his lips grazing the shell of your ear, you felt your breath hitch in your throat “Then, forgive my language, why did you accept my cock so easily? Further more, why did you let me breed you?” he whispered darkly.

The sound of a thunder rolling in the distance was all you needed to shove him off of you and run all the way down to your home. The warmth coiling in your lower abdomen, the irriration and rage blinding you when he got under your skin were something you could not control and it was driving you insane.

You did not want to die young. You did not want to die by the sword of a Captain, or a Lieutenant. Despite being the oldest of the team, and obviously not the weakest, you were not confident enough to wander down the mazy streets of the Seireitei. You had miraculously entered the walls without your brother and the rest of the gang, after escaping a tremendous fight with a Captain. The same Captain that had sent chills down your spine for his easygoing nature, but cold homicidal rage.

The same Captain that had almost cut your arm off of your shoudler. Hand pressing onto the wound, you were jogging down the streets, hoping no one recognized you. Some shinigamis did not pay much attentions to you, your uniform clearly confusing them.

But a guy with a tattoo over his face had been following you around for quite a while now. You had not even had the guts to look him straight in the eye, someone referring to him as ‘Lieutenant Hisagi’ had scared you off. You needed a shelter, you needed a place to heal your wounds and look for Rukia.

Your vision was getting blurry, though. Your limbs hurt and you eventually slumped down against a wall with a pained expression and the certainty you were going to die. Your eyes closed, a whimper leaving your lips, as you hoped no one found you like that. But a powerful spiritual pressure squashed you down onto the ground. Your wary eyes snapped open, a familiar face blessing your vision as a man with glasses knelt down in front of you.

The white haori, that reiatsu. He was a Captain. You were dead!

Your hand gripped your zanpakuto, swinging it towards him, as you coiled like a squirrel when he reached his hand out to touch your cheek. But he stopped you.

“I don’t want to hurt you”.

Curled up in a ball on your bed, you flinched at the sound of the umpteenth thunder exploding outside, the rain pattering against the window of your bedroom. You had not even eaten in Sosuke’s company, barely talking to him if not to inform him you were going to sleep. This happened around midnight. It was two o’ clock and you were restless, nervous and … Scared of storms.

You did not want to tell him about your weakness. You had been made fun of for it in the past and you were in no mood to argue anymore for the day. Probably a glass of water could calm you down. Or this is what you told yourself, whilst you walked barefoot in the dark corridor to reach the kitchen.

The door of his room was closed, your feet making no sound on your way back to your room. But a sudden thunder caused your grip on the glass to loosen and you watched helplessly as it made contact with the hard floor. Splinters of glass and a puddle of water littered the tiles and you let out a screech that caught the attention of your housemate.

Door creaking open, Sosuke leaned against the doorframe. No shirt, grey pants on and his chiseled abs in full display, he narrowed his eyes at you and the scene unfolding before his droopy eyes. You had never really seen him like that, partially disheveled, more human. He was not faking his sleep, at least.

“Sorry. Go back to sleep, I will clean up” you fretted, looking for a rag to wipe away the water and collect the shattered glass.

“Turn the lights on, at least. You’ll cut your feet like that” he tiredly observed, finger switching the lights on.

You were about to snap at him, ranting about how you were not a toddler and how you could perfectly take care of yourself, when you squirmed out in fear again and the thunder gave Sosuke the hint of what was happening right before his eyes. Trembling like a leaf, you stared at him like a soaked, scared kitten, his lips parting in disbelief.

You feared being judged.

“It’s pathetic, I know” you blurted out in defeat.

He did not reply immediately, merely glancing at his room behind him before stepping aside “Come inside” he offered.

You furrowed your brows, his offer sounding strangely soothing and you searched for his eyes to find some further infos about his intentions.

The shinigami sighed, folding his arms across his chest “I don’t want to hurt you”.

Those words again. This promise of not harming you, the way you found yourself entering his room in search for protection felt like a deja-vu. However, as you sat onto the edge of his bed and he joined you, grasping a black t-shirt from the desk and wearing it, you could tell he had no intention to fool you in any way.

“If you don’t want to sleep alone, you can stay here” Sosuke said, before lying down onto his back.

You felt your cheeks heat up, foreteeth sinking onto your bottom lip “It’s inappropriate and… I don’t understand why you’re doing it anyway”.

“We’re far beyond the ‘appropriate’ etiquette, don’t you think? — he bantered, watching you shift onto your seat and slowly lying down next to him, rolling onto your side to face the wall — Also, I don’t mind you sleeping next to me”.

You mentally cursed yourself for having accepted, but when his arm snaked around you, pulling your back against his body to spoon you, you felt safe. Not a single thunder scared you anymore that night, not as you fell asleep in his arms.

As selfish as he was though, Sosuke had his reasons for wanting you there. Since you two had slept next to each other, he had learnt to appreciate the company of a warm body next to his one, your body.

Maybe feeling was not as detrimental as he had always thought. Maybe you were worth the shot. Probably, you were the cure to his solitude.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hi, there!

I honestly did not think so many people were going to be invested in this story. Thank you so much for showing appreciation to my work, it means a lot! Having said that, I have been looking forward to write this chapter. Whilst there will be other chapters in which Sosuke is going to be involved into mundane situations, shopping with his ‘so-called-girlfriend’ is something I really enjoyed picturing. Sorry for the late update! I promise you very spicy things in the next one. As for now, thank you so much for your feedback!

Love,

— Luce

TAGS: @pseudowho @seireiteihellbutterfly @onyxino @areyouflying @bakugosgirl01 @noirfan12 @velaenaa

#aizen sosuke x reader #sosuke aizen x reader #aizen x reader #aizen smut #bleach smut #bleach x reader #shunsui x reader #shuhei hisagi x reader #ichimaru gin x reader #shinji hirako x you

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talesofesther · 2 years

Text

love the way you love me

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Summary: You navigate through a relationship with Wednesday, slowly discovering the tenderness of her love.

A/N: This is a valentine's day special. It's not even valentine's day where I live but Tumblr got me in the mood for it, so I wrote one of the most heartfelt stories I've ever done I think. Soft!Wednesday because I said so. <3

Masterlist

"Wednesday," you gasp. It falls on deaf ears.

Your eyes are closed. You can feel surprisingly warm hands sneaking under your shirt, lightly clawing at the skin there.

"Wednesday," you try again, the words are muffled against burgundy lips.

Your hands can't help but bury themselves in silky black hair.

She's addictive. She'll be the death of you.

And she's going to love every minute of it.

"You talk too much," Wednesday whispers against your mouth, her lips brushing yours.

You kiss the words, causing your nose to bump into hers before you pull away, "Weems will have my head if I'm late again today because of you."

If you try to tell this secret to anyone, they won't believe you. In some sense, you love it. She feels yours to keep, only yours.

She pulls back, hazy dark eyes piercing into your soul. All lightly swollen lips and flushed cheeks. She's divine.

"A well-worth sacrifice, don't you think?" Wednesday ducks her head, partly hiding herself behind her bangs after she says it.

A year ago, when she first stepped foot in Nevermore, she promised she wouldn't get attached or fall in love.

For a little over two months, her growing feelings for you have been proving her wrong.

Hidden behind closed doors and dark corners, you managed to get her cold heart beating harder than ever.

She despises it, and at the same time, can't get enough of it.

You bring a hand up, your thumb brushing away the smudged lipstick on the corner of Wednesday's lips.

She leans the tiniest bit toward your touch against her own volition, her nails making half-moons on your skin.

"You're a bad influence on me, Addams."

You can feel the shape of her smirk under your fingertips.

"It's what I do best."

—

Once a year, Nevermore's hallways gain a burst of color to them. What usually is all dark wood and grey stones, takes on extra shades of pink and crimson red; paper hearts are stuck to the walls and roses cover the gardens of the school. All in time to strike a cupid's arrow through the student's hearts for valentine's day.

You walk beside Bianca on the quad, smiling softly at the pink ribbons that decorate the outside area.

"I think I already regret offering to help with the roses," Bianca complains with a huff, "valentine's day is only tomorrow and we already have more than one hundred of them to deliver."

Her frustration makes you chuckle, an 'I told you so' lingers on your tongue yet you refrain from saying it. "Look on the bright side, you're helping to spread the spirit of love," you tease.

The siren scoffs. She comes to a stop in front of a red table, 'Nevermore's roses' is written on the bulletin board just above it in cut-out pink letters.

It's a tradition as much as it is a popularity contest in the school. Every year, students would send their crushes a red rose; some are bold enough to write a note declaring their love, some prefer to remain anonymous.

Bianca received more than ten roses last year. You got one, but Enid's proud smile had let you know it was just her attempting to soothe your heart; not a secret admirer.

"When are you gonna tell me to deliver your rose?" It's Bianca's turn to tease you, a grin playing on her glossy lips.

"Not today, that's for sure," you cross your arms over your chest, gaze skimming over the quad until it lands on a certain Addams girl; she's glaring at the colorful ribbons that adorn the walls as if they just committed unspeakable crimes.

You find yourself unwillingly smiling just at the sight of her.

Bianca catches your staring, she leans in closer to your ear, "I bet she would swoon."

You push her away, giggles escaping your lips and heat coming to your cheeks, "shut up."

Bianca joins in on your laughter, both of you unaware of watchful dark eyes on you from the other side of the quad.

—

It's in times like these, that Wednesday realizes that you've softened her.

Her pinkie is hooked with yours. You gently swing your joined hands back and forth. Your eyes are mostly focused on the sky, on the trees of the park, or on the buildings you see as you walk through Jericho's streets.

You drag Wednesday with you when you bend down to pat a dog or walk a little quicker to point out a pretty bird. No matter what, you don't let go of her.

Wednesday should be annoyed. In the beginning, she wanted to be. But she's not, and as the days go by, she's made her peace with the fact that you have the power to soften her.

She has never craved someone's presence, until she had a taste of yours. It's something Wednesday will take to the grave with her, but she secretly cherishes these little moments.

You end up stopping at the Weathervane for coffee as a light drizzle starts falling outside.

You sit down at the booth first, and Wednesday hesitates for a beat before deciding to sit beside you and not in front of you.

She orders coffee. You order hot chocolate. It's peaceful.

After you take the first sip, Wednesday feels your pointer finger tapping her thigh, and maybe that's why you're her exception. You don't push, you don't force, you're willing to love her the way she likes to be loved.

And no one can love Wednesday the way that you do.

It's new, and her chest still tightens in anticipation; but Wednesday turns her hand anyway, palm up, telling you it's okay.

Your fingers thread between hers, intertwining your hands together in a tender grip. Your thumb brushes her skin, and you lift her hand to your lips, placing a feather-like kiss on her knuckles.

Wednesday feels the warmth of your breath.

She loves to be loved by you.

When Wednesday is just a sip away from finishing her coffee, she finally breaks the silence; "what were you and Bianca talking about earlier?"

"Hm?" You turn to look at her, not sure what she's referring to.

Wednesday gulps down the remains of the bitterness of coffee still on her tongue, feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable under your gaze. "Today in the quad, you were laughing."

"Oh," you recall with a faint smile, "it was nothing, we were just talking about the valentine's day tradition."

Right. Wednesday furrows her brows in thought, subconsciously squeezing your hand. That ridiculous tradition.

She never cared for it. Valentine's day was pathetic in her eyes and any traditions that came with it usually made her sick to her stomach.

But this year there's a break in the pattern. You.

"Do you care for it?" Wednesday finds herself asking.

"Valentine's day?" You purse your lips, shaking your head softly, "kinda? Not much. Bianca does though, and she thinks I should too."

Wednesday inhales sharply, you see her blinking a couple of times. Too many emotions swim behind her eyes for you to put a finger in any of them.

She can be fragile sometimes. It's rare, but it happens. She's been hurt once, the fear still lingers like a poorly healed scar. You think that's the reason why whatever you are to each other, doesn't have a name yet.

—

It's that look in Wednesday's eyes that makes you sneak out the night before valentine's day. You don't care about labels, but you do care that Wednesday knows what she means to you.

You find yourself going to the greenhouse, praying to every higher entity that no one sees you or Weems would never let you live this down. You rummage through the many rows of plants for the one that always reminds you of the raven-haired girl.

Next, you find Bianca, she opens her dorm room door for you with an annoyed tilt to her brows. She's in her pajamas and was clearly ready to go to bed. But this can't wait.

"Sorry," you utter quietly, sweaty hands tight around your flower, "but I think you were right."

Bianca's gaze shifts from you to the flower you're holding; Wednesday's name is tied around it with a black ribbon and hurried writing on paper so it doesn't get mixed up when the students go to deliver all the anonymous roses at the end of class. A knowing smirk comes to Bianca's lips as she rolls her eyes endearingly.

"Though, I think this one would be more fitting," you can feel heat coming up to your cheeks as you extend the flower to her.

It'll break the tradition, but she's worth it.

—

The next morning couldn't have dawned soon enough. It should be a day like any other, but you can't help the fluttery on your chest as you skip down the stairs of your dorm.

Wednesday is waiting for you just beside the doors that lead to the quad, in your own little private space, just shy of meeting the curious eyes of your peers. Her hands are buried in her pockets as she leans on the wall, her leather backpack resting by her feet. She straightens her posture when her eyes find yours.

You think she feels it too, the shift in the mood.

You stop in front of her, taking in her neatly made braids, the tie that's just a little loose around her neck, and her big doe eyes. Your fingers itch to hold her. "Hi Wednesday," you breathe in adoration.

The corner of Wednesday's lips tilt up in the ghost of a smile, her nimble fingers reach out to hold your jaw so she can press a gentle kiss to your lips.

Contrary to what others might think, her love is always tender. Your hands find her waist, tugging her body closer to yours in an embrace as you reciprocate her affection by pressing your lips firmly to hers; and you feel her melt against you.

And it's in the way that you are able to strip her of her defenses, that Wednesday sees her lingering piece of hesitance; the reason she avoids naming what you have together. Saying things out loud means making them real.

If she tells you just what you do to her, she's allowing you to break her if you ever leave.

But maybe you'll prove her wrong on that too, and she hates to admit that part of her longs for it.

—

It's after lunch that Wednesday seeks you out again, a bit of urgency tugging at her heartstrings quickens her steps.

She's able to hear her own heartbeat in her ears as she has a staring contest with the door that leads to your room. Her skin is hot and prickly under her clothes because of how fast she walked, or maybe it's because of what she's thinking about doing.

Three soft knocks sound on your door, and she waits with bated breath.

You turn the doorknob to see Wednesday on the other side, she has one hand behind her back and the other holds a Black Dahlia; the one you choose.

You bite back a smile.

"Bianca delivered this to me after class," Wednesday tells you, raising a brow, "told me to be nice."

Her tone gets you chuckling, "for the record, I didn't ask her to say that," you tell her.

Wednesday hesitates — she seems to do that a lot around you — her lips hovering before any words come out. The orange light of the hallway is casting a golden glow on her. "So it was you?"

You nod timidly, gesturing for her to come in. When she does, you close the door to your dorm, and the familiar bubble of intimacy finally settles around you.

"I know you don't care about today," you start, your hands already slick with perspiration. "But I wanted you to know how I feel anyway."

Wednesday catches the hidden words in the way you're looking at her; the 'you're it for me, it's you and no one else' that goes unsaid.

No one has ever looked at her the way that you do.

A beat passes, a beat where, for the first time, she hopes you can see what she doesn't say too. Because what Wednesday feels for you, she doesn't feel for anyone else.

She stiffly extends her hand to you — the one that's been behind her back since she arrived — holding out a little sunflower for you to take. She refuses to meet your eyes, her usually pale cheeks and the tip of her ears now burning a soft shade of pink.

Wednesday clears her throat, clearly bothered that you're not taking the flower and she has to say it; "I don't need other people to deliver mine."

Your heart melts. You both broke tradition.

Gentle as ever, you take the flower from her, your eyes crinkling on the sides because of your smile. You bring it to your nose to feel the perfume, humming appreciatively.

You take a step closer to her, your socked feet bumping her boots. You hear the catch on her breath when you push aside a few strands of her fringe, your fingers lingering on her skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"You're growing soft, Wednesday Addams," you had to tease.

A glare is thrown your way, her features hardening the slightest bit. It gets you smiling more, you lean up to plant a kiss on her forehead and delight in the fact that she tries to follow when you pull away. "Thank you," you whisper.

Just say it. Wednesday urges herself, shooting down her ego and the unpleasing twist in her stomach at the prospect of voicing her wishes. She grasps your free hand with hers then.

"I would-" the words feel heavy on Wednesday's tongue, but she forces them out before any second thoughts could take them from her;

"I'd like to call you mine… If you'd like to call me yours too?"

And now you're just looking at her wide-eyed, your grip on her hand becoming slack. You're not speaking, you're not moving. Wednesday doubts you're even breathing.

She shifts uncomfortably in her stance, feeling smaller by the second under your eyes. It's unnerving.

"You don't want this," Wednesday mumbles, and she despises the way her voice cracks in the middle of her sentence.

In the same heartbeat, you finally answer; "I want this," your hold on her hand returns and you tug her closer still, "I really do."

Wednesday blinks a couple of times until her eyes can find a place to focus on your face. She gulps; "don't make me regret it." It's supposed to be a threat, but it sounds more like a plea.

Your forehead rests against hers, her fringe tickling your skin as you feel her soft breathing ghost over your lips.

"I would never."

Wednesday feels more than hears your words over her lips. And she believes you.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I'd appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @simp4wanda26 @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @imlike-so-gaydude @user284747 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevan @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @maria-403 @pompompuri @halleest @wandaromanova @marveloussimp @rainbow-hedgehog @left-and-right-up-and-down @get-the-fuck-outta-here @awolfcsworld @elduster @alexkolax @georgi-salva @imdumbhi @youralphawolf72 @reginassweetheart @justyourwritter69 @yangsroboarmm @8e-h-e8 @irish-piece-of-trash @femalehomosexual666 @thenextdawn @trishatheotaku

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday addams x fem!reader #wednesday addams #wednesday #wednesday addams x you #wednesdayedit #imagine #fanfic #fluff #angst #wednesday addams fanfic #jenna ortega #wednesday x reader #my story

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pandora-writes-one-piece · 26 days

Text

The Warrior's Wrath - Part 1

Source for pic

Word Count: 6644

Tags: Medieval Scotland AU; Highlander Kid; Blurry non-con; Angst without happy ending; Fluff and angst; have I mentioned ANGST? soft Kid; feral Kid; Blood and gore; Killer might have a crush on reader (didn’t notice I did this until I was editing); MDNI!!! 🔞

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: You and Kid, the fiercest worry of your village, get married and happiness is just within your reach. Until Blackbeard, the laird, comes to claim prima nocta and takes you. Somehow, you are able to placate Kid’s anger before you go, yet, when you return filled with marks and bruises, Kid can no longer be controlled.

Notes: Highlander Kid lives rent free in my head and I can’t help it. This one got away from me, though. I meant it to be around 5 or 6k words, it turned out to be almost 13k. Historical note, there’s no concrete historical evidence to support the existence of prima nocte, but this story was heavily inspired by Braveheart - God, I love this movie. I do hope you enjoy it! I’m so sorry for breaking your heart again. I thrive on angst!

PS: Decided to compromise and split this into two parts but posted at the same time!

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane

MASTERLIST

|Part 2|

The forest whizzed past you as you raced, your heart thumping loudly against your aching chest, blood flowing so fast and so hard that you could feel it rushing through your ears. Small, insignificant cuts from sharp branches marked your face and forearms, but you did not let that slow you down.

You were being chased.

You could hear heavy footsteps approaching fast. Faster than any man of his size should possibly be able to run. Branches cracked loudly under the weight of his heavy feet and you could almost feel the vibration from his growls and grunts.

There was no use in hiding. Running was your only option. Yet, you were growing tired, and careless.

Tripping on a tree root made you tumble and roll over twice before you stopped with a whine and a wince. Your head spun for a moment and the greens of the leaves mixed with the grey of the sky and the whites of the wisps of fog. Other than a bloodied lip and a bruised knee, you were fine, so you quickly got to your feet, ready to start racing again.

You barely took a step forward before a large hand, almost the size of your head, wrapped around your neck and pushed you with your back against the tree. A muffled yelp escaped your lips as your back collided with the harsh bark of the birch tree and you were pretty sure the white of the bark would be stained with your blood.

“Caught ya, lass.” He growled, red lips curling back to reveal a terrifying grin that turned your knees to jelly. “Almost outdid me this time.” A thin line of sweat coated his hairline, turning the red of his flaming hair into a darker shade.

Your own lips curled back and you could taste blood on them from your fall. “I don't think I'm getting faster, it's you who are getting slower and sloppier. Maybe you should stop eating so much pottage.”

His laughter came out in a hearty roar as he threw his head back, shoulders heaving and fingers loosening around your neck. You took the opportunity to elbow him in the side of his belly and escape from under his arm with a quick movement.

Yet he reacted quickly and spun, lacing his arm around your waist and holding your back against his broad chest. “Clever lass.” He snarled against your ear, hot breath bristling all the hairs on your body. “Not fast enough, though.” With another grunt he pushed you back against the tree, chest bumping against the trunk, this time and, using his weight to keep you in place, his one hand wrestled with lifting up your dress.

His thick fingers found you already wet and wanting, slick dripping on your thighs, and he growled against your nape, teeth nipping your flesh and leaving pinkish indents behind. “This wet already? The run’s got ya hot and bothered, lass?”

You hummed as an answer as your digits found purchase against the tree, reading yourself for what was coming, heat already pooling and gathering in your belly, your core throbbing with desire.

He pushed a finger inside you and pressed. A small moan left your parted lips and he inserted another one. The thickness of his fingers made you feel stuffed and full and you mewled, eyes rolling back and your nails sunk into the bark. “More.” Arching your back and sticking out your butt, you whined, knowing he wouldn't resist your begging.

Sharp teeth sank on your shoulder as your head snapped back against his chest and he inserted a third finger, making you roll your hips and open your mouth. “Kid!”

“Beg, lass. Beg for me.” The vibrato of his low voice made you throb and pant, heart racing in an unholy rhythm, eyes already trembling and starting to see white.

“Please, please, Kid.”

“Please what, lass?” Yet you didn't know what you wanted. Release from his fingers, or to feel his big, veiny cock inside of you?

“Please!” You just begged, hoping he would read you and realise what you wanted, because your thoughts were already mush and you were lost in a high of pleasure. And he didn't disappoint you. Rolling his slicked fingers against your clit sent you over and you gasped as a deep crescendo of moans followed it. Kid did not wait for you to come down as he lifted his kilt and sunk his length into you, bottoming out immediately.

Your moan turned into a sharp cry as he joined you and he shoved his fingers in your mouth. “Hush, lass. Ya never know what is lurking in these woods. Now, lick my fingers until they're clean.”

You mewled and hummed as your hot tongue sucked and licked around his thick fingers, tasting yourself and finding the gesture so deeply arousing that you rolled your hips against him, which earned you a harsh bite on the back of the neck.

“Steady, lass. Ya can't move until ya lick every drop.” He meant it and you knew it. You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, his chest muscles taut against your back, rippling and coiling, ready to thrust and pound. But where he was short tempered with mundane affairs, with sex he was as patient as it got. He could wear you as a cocksleeve for as long as he wanted and he knew you would break first. Whining, begging and crying for him to move. So you did your best to lick every single drop of your juices from his digits.

“That's a good lass.” He murmured appreciatively against your ear, his hand wrapping your jaw and turning your face back to meet his lips in an open-mouthed kiss. Tongue sweeping the blood on your lips with the hunger of a starved man before his hand descended, gripping your breast firmly, then wrapped around your stomach and he finally started to move.

A single thrust got you moaning into his mouth, nails scraping against the bark of the tree, limbs writhing as you tried to ground yourself. He pulled back, almost all the way out and pounded harder this time. Parting your lips, you filled the air with a cry followed by his name, cunt throbbing against his cock, your release just within grasp.

“Harder.” You barely articulated, eyes shut and hand dropping low, finding your needy nub and pressing hard. “Kid!”

“Yar a desperate lil’ lass aren't ya?” His growls and grunts vibrating against your skin told you he was almost coming. His hand pressed against your stomach, pushing into his bulge and you panted and moaned, a litany or a prayer to gods both known and unknown leaving your open lips. Arms hugging the tree for support as Kid pounded relentlessly. Sloppy, uneven pounds, as he was on the brink of filling you up. “Tell me how desperate ya are?”

But you couldn't tell him, because his next deep thrust sent you on a spiral and you lost touch with reality, falling into the throes of pleasure. Eyes flashing white and legs trembling. Kid followed you right behind, spilling his seed and filling your insides, both of you left panting and gasping for air.

He pulled out with a grunt and you whined from feeling empty all of a sudden, knees falling down into the damp earth, chest still heaving. Kid sat down next to you, his hand cradled your cheek as he laid a sweet kiss upon your bruised lips. He moved softly now, a gentle caress with his tongue before parting, leaving his forehead connected to yours for a moment, until you were both breathing in tandem, small smiles of bliss on your mouths.

“Marry me, lass.” He asked for what felt like the hundredth time.

“We've been through this, Kid.”

“I want to make ya an honest woman.” He pulled back to stare into your eyes and you could see the hints of mischievousness in his orange gaze.

“That's not possible anymore, I'm afraid.” A chuckle left your lips and you dragged your fingers through his flaming red hair.

“I still want to marry ya. Do ya want a band? I can make ya a ring out of anything!” You kept chuckling as he started to count with his fingers: “Gold is harder to get, but I can get tin, or bronze. Maybe wood? I can craft something with resin, a flower in the middle. I know ya like primroses.”

Pressing your lips against his as you climbed his legs and straddled his lap managed to shut him up effectively.

“Aye.” A blush accompanied your whisper as you parted your lips.

“Aye? To the band? Which one?” He asked as he adjusted himself with your entry, already hard and ready to go again.

“Aye to the marriage, you fool.”

-*-

The village had been restless for a few weeks. The clan's laird had died and the son had inherited the title. Not everyone on the council agreed to have the infamous Blackbeard Teach as the new laird, but he had threatened to get the votes and secured the position.

He raised the feudal dues immediately.

However, your marriage was happening and you could not be happier. Kid had been courting you in his gruff way for a while. Leaving handmade trinkets on your door: little wooden figurines of animals and flowers; grunting and acting jealous at whatever man dared touch you in a more intimate manner at the village dances and festivities; wanting to lay his claim on you, but knowing he had no right because you hadn't yet expressed your desire for him.

Until you did. Until you pulled him by the hand to a secluded location during a bonfire dance, and you gave yourself to him for the first time.

And every time moving forward, he had asked you to be his wife. You thought he had only done that because he felt guilty about deflowering you. Turned out it wasn't the case at all. Kid, the fiercest warrior of your village was in love with you. And that thought filled you with happiness.

Thinking back, you don't quite know why you kept telling him no. Maybe you wanted him to fight for you? Or maybe you wanted to be sure of his feelings towards you? Whatever it was, it is a feeling of the past. You were deeply, madly, desperately in love with Eustass Kid.

And both your smiles said it all.

-*-

The day had dawned like many others in the unforgiving Highlands. Dense and thick wisps of fog hovered over the mountains, little droplets of dew freshening your face, forcing you to wake up. But the dim sunlight appeared shyly behind the mist and you were positive the sun would grace your wedding day.

Your best dress was not new, but it was not muddied or torn and the dark green paired perfectly with the red of your soon-to-be husband's hair. Your friend, Quincy made you a headdress of flowers: white heather and clovers for good luck, primroses and daisies because they were your favourite flowers, meadowsweet to fill in the gaps and finely woven into the headdress, ropes of ivy to symbolise fidelity and eternity.

You couldn't stop smiling.

There was a makeshift altar draped with a cloth and adorned with garlands of ivy and wildflowers, set in the centre of the sacred stone circle in the forest. Kid and the druid of your community were already gathered at the front. Friends and family sat on rocks and on the ground to witness your union. Your eyes filled with tenderness when you reached Kid’s side. He seemed anxious and you had never seen such a distraught expression on his face before. Your smile helped, though, and he relaxed with a low grunt.

After a few words to call upon the old gods, the druid tied a cord of woven wool around both of your hands. The soft sound of the piper filled the air, lending the words of the druid a sense of serenity and etherealness, blessing your union with love. When both your hands were bound Kid looked you in the eyes, his imposing figure standing much taller than your own and he said his vows.

“I pledge my heart to you,” your name came out with a raspy sound and he cleared his throat to continue. “To share in your dreams and to walk beside you through all the paths of life.”

Squeezing his hand, you took a deep, shaky breath. “I pledge my heart to you, Eustass Kid, to share in your joys and to stand by you through all the challenges we face.”

The druid continued to interlace your hands with the wool in an intricate figure-of-eight to symbolise infinity. His lips chanted a beautiful melody, a litany to the old gods.

Kid’s lip shook slightly. “I, Eustass Kid, take you as my partner for life. By the earth that sustains us and the sky that watches over us, I promise to honour and protect you, always.”

Visibly emotional, you said your name and continued. “I take you as my partner for life. By the fire that warms us and the water that cleanses us, I promise to cherish and stand by you, always.”

You shared ale, drunk from the quaich cup, to represent your joining of families, Kid placed the wood and resin band on your finger, pulling a sweet laugh from your lips, and the druid continued.

“By the power vested in me by ancient traditions, I pronounce you husband and wife. May your love be as enduring as the mountains, as deep as the lochs and as eternal as the stars. You may share your first kiss as a wedded couple. May your journey be blessed with joy.”

The piper started a happy jig, the crowd cheered loudly, Killer, Kid's best friend proclaimed loudly that he was very proud of his found brother because he had no faith in him memorising his vows and he had proved him wrong.

You and Kid pressed your lips together in a slow, tender kiss, as he wrapped his arm around you and lifted you easily, so he didn't have to bend down to deepen the kiss. The kiss broke but your foreheads pressed together. “You and me, Kid.”

“Me and ya, lass.”

“I love you forever…” You started.

“And always.” He finished.

These vows were meant only for your ears. They were private, personal and meant everything.

-*-

The party had been moved to the village where tables of food and ale had been set up. Children ran around, screaming and laughing, chasing Heat, one of Kid's closest friends, who laced a garland of ivy around his hair for them to try and grab. Yet every time one of the children came close, Heat jumped and they squealed in pleasure and mirth.

The piper had been joined by a fiddler, a drummer and a flautist, performing jigs and ballads for everyone's enjoyment. Now and then, a friend joined them to sing a few songs. You and Kid spent your time receiving the well-wishes of your friends and dancing.

Killer had pulled you into a lively reel, the drummer banging the stretched sheep skin with vigour, making you bounce and laugh as sweat poured from your temples. Your legs nearly gave out from the laughter and exertion and he had to pull you up by the arms to keep you from falling to the ground. Kid appeared to save you and you laughed harder as Killer grabbed Kid's hands and started to dance the reel with him.

It was the happiest day of your life.

Before the song ended, however, the sound of a loud trumpet being played - a small fanfare to gather attention - made everyone present turn towards the sound. A retinue of horses with guards came marching down the hill. Blackbeard, the laird, travelling in the middle, using a horse as black as night, a mighty stallion with an imposing trot.

“What does he want?” Killer muttered to Kid, who had turned his grin into a grimace the moment the fanfare started to play. Heat and Wire ran to their side, passing them their weapons and you stiffened.

“Your axe, Kid, really?”

Kid grumbled and pushed you behind him in a protective stance.

“My, my, my. A wedding!” Blackbeard grinned and clapped his hands while looking around. “Beannaichte ur pòsadh. Blessed be your marriage.” The people of the community whispered and stared, an uneasiness in the air that you couldn't quite place, though it was clear that the new laird was disliked and if it was clear to you, it was crystal-clear to him.

“You're the groom?” He nodded towards Kid as his men scattered around the people in an imposing manner. The scowls on Kid’s face and those of his men deepened.

“Aye.” Kid's dark red kilt was secured with wildflowers - primroses - so it was easy to tell.

“May I meet the lovely bride?” The saccharine sweetness of his voice almost made you nauseous and Kid grunted, opening his mouth to bark a resounding no, but you didn't want him to cause any trouble, so you stepped from behind him.

“Good to meet you, my laird.” You said, meeting his dark gaze. Kid's arm pulled you to him as his fingers pressed into your skin possessively.

Blackbeard hummed appreciatively as his eyes raked over your body and Kid growled. “Well, I have come to let you all know that there is a new marriage fee you must pay your clan chieftain - me - and it is effective immediately.” He barked a ridiculous amount at Kid and you gasped.

“We don't have that kind of money! Nor do we have goods to cover it.”

“We just paid yer raised fees, not two days ago! There's not enough time to make more money yet.” Kid said while your friends and family agreed.

The laird’s laughter started low. A rumble coming from his belly and then emerging in waves from his mouth, leaving spit on his coarse beard.

“That's your problem, lads.” He cackled as Kid’s hand gripped the axe’s handle and you gasped, lacing your arm in his, trying to prevent him from acting irrationally. “Yet, I am merciful and lenient. I am willing to forget the fees, this time.”

You sighed in relief, a tired smile forming on your lips, but Kid sensed something was wrong as he became as stiff as a board.

“I will instead reinstate my right to prima nocta - first night - with your lovely bride, here.” Your breath caught in your throat, a shiver raising the hairs on your body. There was a lightness in your head that almost made you dizzy, yet you had no time to worry about yourself as Kid was already readying his battle axe, fire burning in his eyes.

“No, no! Kid, stop! Kill, help!” You turned to Killer, who grabbed his arm to hold him back, and then Heat placed another arm on Kid’s chest to stop him from advancing.

The laird’s rumbling laugh had turned into a taunting cackle. “Why are you so angry, young lad? It's just one night. She will be all yours again tomorrow. I'll just have her this once.”

Why was he taunting Kid?

“Kid, look at me!” You pleaded, arms stretched so you could hold his face, trying to get him to look at you, but he was undeterred.

“Like fuck ya will! Over my dead body and burned bones! And even then, I'll haunt yer arse!” Kid’s voice was dangerously low, a vicious snarl in his tone as he kept pacing, dragging both Killer and Heat, his muscles flexing and veins popping.

“Stop, Kid, stop!” You urged as the laird’s men dismounted their horses and you knew that if Kid attacked him, he would be killed for treason.

“Wire!” Killer called and the tallest of Kid's friends wrapped his elbow around Kid's neck and pulled hard, slowing his approach.

“Impressive display. Lass, come.” Blackbeard said as his men approached you and Kid roared, Killer being dragged as he tried to raise his axe.

“Wait!” You screamed, shoving one of the guards and placing yourself in front of Kid, your eyes brimming with unshed tears. At this moment you were fearful for him and for what he would do, not for what awaited you. “Kid, Kid!” You urged. “My love…”

Your sob made his gaze waver and he stopped, looking down at your figure, his face distorted with rage and pain.

“Let him go.” You whispered to his friends and they heeded you, though they stood close, apprehension written on their faces. Clutching the strap of his kilt and pulling him down, your fingers dug into his chest.

“Kid… I'll be alright. I promise. I'm strong. It's okay.” You kept trying to pull his face to you, but his eyes kept darting towards the laird and flashing with anger. “Hold me, please.” Another sob left your parted lips and, with a heavy sigh and a grunt, Kid dropped his axe, his arm enveloping you and lifting you up.

Pressing your foreheads together, you cupped his face in your hands. “It's you and me, Kid.”

He shook his head. “No, no. I won't let this happen! He can't do this, I'll have his head on a spike!” His roar made his chest tremble and you settled one of your hands above his heart.

“This is happening, Kid. We can't do anything to stop it.”

“I can slice him in two!” He spat the angry words between his teeth.

“You won't. I won't lose you. It's just one night. I’ve got this.” Kid continued to grumble and you could sense rage and anger spewing out of him in hot waves. “You will not think about me tonight. You can't do that.”

His pained wail told you that it was exactly what he was thinking about. About another man's hands on you, another man's lips. And you knew how jealous and possessive he could be and how this would drive him insane. So you pressed your lips against his, tethering him back to reality, to you.

“It's you and me, Kid.”

He shook his head, eyes squeezed shut, his hand gripping your waist so hard that you knew he would leave marks and bruises.

“Kid… say it. It's you and me!” You whined, tears streaming down your face.

“It… It’s me and ya, lass…”

His voice was barely audible, but you took whatever he gave you.

“I love you forever…”

Kid's silence nearly broke you as you saw him stifle a sob. You could sense him tensing his muscles to stop from heaving and you knew for sure that once you left he would be breaking a lot of things.

“Kid…”

“And always…” He finished.

You nodded, shaking your head to drive away the wetness of your tears. Then you circled your arms around his neck, losing yourself in his kiss, turning sorrow into promises of a brighter tomorrow and the beginning of your lives together, with the possibility of leaving this hindrance behind.

He set you down again, and without taking your eyes off his gaze, you made a plea. “Kill, Heat, Wire, please, please, don't let him do anything rash.” The snarl that left Kid's mouth was a warning. Either to the laird and his men, or to his own men. He should be left alone for the remainder of the night.

Inhaling deeply you gave him another peck on the lips and turned to walk away from him. But his hand grasped your wrist firmly, fingers clenching, tighter and tighter in a fierce grip. He did not want to let you go. You knew deep down that this man, your husband, would rather die than let you go. “Kid,” you pleaded. “I want to have a life with you, you cannot get yourself killed today. I vowed my lifetime to you. You vowed the same. Fulfil it.”

Lacing your tone with authority you did not have and courage you did not possess, you hoped that tugging at his heartstrings could do the trick.

Your wrist hung loosely after he opened his hand and you walked towards the laird’s horse, without sharing another glance with your husband, for you knew if you looked into those raging orange eyes, you would not be able to leave him behind, and he would die protecting you.

A guard hoisted you onto his horse and, as you were leaving the village, your heart ached with the rage-filled roar that filled the air, turning sleeping birds into a frenzy and shaking the very leaves of the trees.

-*-

You were intent on distancing yourself from the moment when the laird took you. You focused on your wedding, on your husband, on the moments you shared with Kid and on your future. Especially your future.

How cute would it be if there were a tiny baby with flaming red hair on your husband's very large shoulders? Or a beautiful little girl, swearing as loudly as Kid, but as beautiful as you?

These were the thoughts you meant to focus on when the time arrived. And this anticipation was driving you crazy. The laird had sent you dinner but you barely ate. You just wanted to get this over with. So you could go back to Kid.

How broken he must be feeling now. You could barely imagine his hurt and pain.

Suddenly the door to the chamber they had placed you in opened and Blackbeard came forward, clad in only a linen tunic, his sickly grin in place, sending shivers down your spine.

“Ah, there you are lass.”

Gritting your teeth you held back a snarky reply. Where else were you supposed to be if not here? Perhaps by your husband's side, as you were meant to be?

He sat on the bed and patted the place next to him softly, but you stayed near the window, where you had been staring before he arrived. You wondered if Kid was watching the same sky as you or if he was simply staring at the bottom of a mug, ale filling his belly.

“Sit, lass.” He commanded. You had the urge to ignore his order, to rebel against him as you and Kid could not in the village. Yet, you didn't want to make things harder on yourself, so you took two strides and sat further from him than he intended.

“You are a very pretty little thing.” approaching, he placed his stumpy fingers on your leg. The laird started to crumple the dress in them, making it ride up, and you closed your eyes. It was about to start. You prayed to the old gods and the new that he would be fast and get this over with. So you could go home.

To your home.

To Kid.

Thinking about your husband brought out a sob and a heave and you could barely contain the tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. You could bet he was feeling devastated by now, just willing the night to pass so he could see you again.

The laird misinterpreted your tears. He chuckled softly and started to coo at you, his heavy hand tracing circles on your back in what was meant to be a soothing motion. “Hush, little lass, all is well. I will be very gentle with you. A sweet little thing, being touched for the first time…”

You snorted as a mocking laugh escaped your lips without your permission. You were too consumed by your own pain to stop it and now it was too late.

“Something funny?” The soothing motions stopped abruptly. Yes, something was funny. Touched for the first time? Gentle? You just wanted to cackle in his face like a wild banshee.

“No, my laird.” You said humbly, though, but he didn't buy your innocent act.

“You don't want me to be gentle? Or is it not your first time?” Your eyes remained fixed on the floor. There was a crack in it, a big one.

“Yes, my laird. I want you to be gentle.” You could not confess that it was your first time, as you would not bleed, and he would be able to tell.

“Yet it is not your first time? Little whore.” He grumbled as he pushed you by the shoulders and you fell onto the bed. “I'll give you something to play with, then.” His whole demeanour changed and you realised he had been excited by the fact that you were a virgin, now that he knew you were not, it seemed as if he was turned off.

He removed his tunic and barked at you to move to the centre of the bed, which you did. All the while repeating in your head that it would soon be over.

Soon.

“Take off your clothes, whore.” You started to undo the straps of your dress, but he did not have the patience to wait. He reached over and, with both hands, ripped your beautiful wedding dress to pieces.

“No! My dress!” You whined. You had meant to cherish it, perhaps pass it on to a child someday in the future. Yet now it was unsalvageable. He couldn't care less about your protests as he did the same to your chemise. The lump in your throat made it hurt and burn as you kept your sobs trapped, not willing to give him the satisfaction of your misery.

“Poor whore. I'll make you forget your dress and your husband!” He then removed his undergarments, revealing his hard cock for you to behold. This time you did not stop the cackle that bubbled up your throat. You felt hurt and dejected and could no longer contain your fiery nature.

“You'll have no chance to make me forget my husband with that tiny little thing, my laird.” The curl of your lip was quickly erased as he slapped your face with the back of his hand, making you gasp and taste blood from biting your tongue.

“You'll learn your manners, whore, and when I return you to your husband, you'll be a submissive little bitch. He'll thank me in the end.”

There went your chance to have this night pass by quickly. You had made the laird mad, and now you were going to pay dearly for it. You should've just kept your mouth shut. But you had to be stubborn and wild. All the qualities your husband loved about you.

This time you made no effort to hide the tears, though it was very hard to focus your thoughts elsewhere. The laird did not strike your face again, yet he left markings all over your body. Bruises, bites, scratches and even some cuts. It wasn't the pain that was making you cry. Not even when he took you by force after inflicting all that pain. It was the fact that you knew Kid would be devastated when he saw you. And you could not hide these bruises from him.

He would demand blood.

And you feared that his would be the one to be spilled.

-*-

The laird had spent the entire night with you. You were lucky he barely had the stamina to get his cock up twice, but he continued your physical abuse in other painful ways. You would be scarred. Mind and body, and he had made sure of that. Just because you couldn't keep your mouth shut and told him he had a small dick.

You had been dumped outside the keep with a tunic and your shredded clothes. No one took you back to the village so you were left to walk the distance that separated it. Luckily, it wasn't that far and you reached it before mid-morning. Your whole body ached and you craved to cleanse yourself by the lake, letting it soak and soothe in the icy-cold waters.

But you needed to go to Kid, first. And that thought was making you both miserable and excited.

You entered through the south side of the village, hoping to find Killer first - since he was usually stationed there - and you breathed a relieved sigh when you saw his golden mane in the distance.

“Kill!” You urged with a whisper. He, a trained warrior, heard you immediately and rushed to meet you.

“You're not on a horse? You came on foo-... What the fuck is that on your face?” His voice dropped dangerously low, and you flinched. If this was Killer's reaction to the bruise on your jaw, how would your husband react?

“Kill…” You urged again, your filthy hands grasping at his, fear in your gaze and desperate pleas leaving your mouth. “Kill, please I need your help. You need to sedate Kid. Use nightshade in his ale, or the red-capped mushroom. Kill! Please.”

“That's not the only bruise, is it?” You could practically sense the murderous vibes seething through his body. Of course he would guess why you wanted to sedate and placate Kid.

So you shook your head, confirming his fears.

“Fucker!” He growled and you flinched again, your nails still digging into his hands.

“Killer.” You begged, tears in your eyes and a grimace turning your lips down. “If he's reactive when he sees me… Kill, he'll want to hunt for blood. And the laird will kill him!” Sobs climbed up your throat in ragged breaths. “I can't lose him! I can't! I refuse.”

Killer sighed as he wrapped his strong arms around you and pulled you into his embrace, his face brushing against your hair. You winced at the touch because you were very sensitive due to some bruises, but it was comforting and you cried into his chest.

“I'll go do it.” Killer sighed and patted your hair softly. “We can sedate him as much as you want, but he's still going to kill the bastard. You can't sedate him forever.”

A glimmer of hard resolution made your eyes shine. “Just watch me, then.” Even if you had to spike every meal your husband had until his rage receded, you would do it. You would stop him from getting himself killed.

You just couldn't lose him.

-*-

Kill made good on his promise and after a while he came back saying that Kid was sleeping heavily on your shared bed. The bed you hadn't yet shared, actually.

You thanked Kill when he brought you a dress and decided, since Kid was fast asleep, to take a quick dip in the lake to scrub off most of the dirt and dried blood. Maybe the coolness of the lake would also help soothe some of the worst bruises.

It didn't.

Yet you were now cleaner and more presentable and Kid was probably still asleep, so you trekked home, trying to avoid most of the people because you simply didn't want to either answer questions or endure their pity. You made a quick stop by your garden, harvested a handful of yarrow and another of knitbone, and sped through the door.

As soon as you entered your home, you were overwhelmed by a sense of familiarity. You could hear Kid’s loud snores, his axe was by the mantle, your herbs and vegetables tucked neatly in the kitchen, and the musky scent of your husband’s sweat from the tunic draped across one of the chairs, almost brought tears to your eyes.

But you shook your head and with it the feelings too. You still had some things to do before Kid started to rouse and you had to get to it. Opening jars that were lined up perfectly across the mantle, you found the one you were looking for: honey. Then, quickly, you chopped the leaves from the knitbone and crushed the yarrow into a bowl and added the honey to create a sticky poultice which you applied to your bruises and cuts, hoping against all hope that it would accelerate the healing. Most of the bruises were covered by your dress, but there was nothing that could be done about the one on your face.

So, you covered the rest of the mixture for later use and went about staging your wonderful performance: you turned a chair upside down and broke a leg for good measure, then threw the wooden bowls and dishes to the floor to make a ruckus and break some, faking a loud wail and sprawling on the floor as if you had fallen from the chair.

Kid drowsily blinked his eyes as he stirred in bed. As soon as his foggy eyes fixed on yours, he rose, placed his hand on his forehead and slumped back down again.

“Lass! Fucking headache!” He cursed loudly as he shook his head, trying to regain his bearings. “Yar back! Fucking arse! I should not have drunk this much. For fuck’s sake.”

He finally got up as you hissed and pretended to be hurt in places where you knew you already had bruises, and when he knelt next to you, it was with a loud thump of his knees and a string of curses.

“Ya fell?” He asked as he looked you over, eyes still very glassed over as he blinked to try to regain his focus. You kept trying to turn your head so he couldn't see the bruise.

“I did. But I'm fine. I might bruise, though. It hurt.” You winced as you pressed your hands over your chest.

“What's this?” His palm pressed against the bruise on your face and you clenched your teeth at the small pressure.

“Oh, I hit my face on the floor.” You said with a shrug, setting your hand over his to reassure him.

“Lass, yar lying. This bruise is purple already. It wasn't made just now.”

His voice was laced with worry, anger, curiosity and a hint of protectiveness. So you needed to steer him away from it. Fast.

Wincing, you sat on his knees, legs apart as you took his face in your hands. Pressing your forehead against his, you smiled softly. “I missed you, my love. So, so much.”

He tried to stay angry at you, to keep the scowl on his face and you were sure he still wanted to press you about the bruise on your face. But it was a sigh that met your ears, a deep relieved sigh as his hand climbed from your waist to your neck. His fingers entwined with your hair as he pulled you to him in a kiss full of longing and yearning.

You ignored the pain in your bruised jaw as your lips parted to allow him entry. You brushed away the wince you meant to utter as Kid’s fingers tugged your hair a little harder, your scalp still too tender and sore from the laird’s rough handling.

But you could not ignore the way Kid's love and hunger were making your heart melt and heat pool in your abdomen. What you also couldn’t ignore, was the fact that he wanted you now. And that couldn’t happen because he would see all the bruises.

“My love,” You said, parting with the kiss. “I really hurt myself when I fell. I'm going to apply some poultice I was making to my knees and chest and we'll continue this later.” You pecked his nose with your lips and got up, leaving him no choice but to watch you go, a slight pout on his lips.

It was a great fortune that he was still heavily drugged and relaxed, or he would've noticed something wasn't right as you never refused him. He mumbled some annoyed words and lay back on your shared bed, restarting his snoring immediately.

You could do this. He would be fine. You would be fine. Everything would be fine.

|Part 2|

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