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luciferlightbringer · 6 months

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Stolen Away

Here is the one shot for my first giveaway winner @hawke1917 ! Enjoy!

Lucifer x fem sinner reader

Word Count: 4.6 k

CW: Trauma, Anxiety, Kidnapping, Fluff, Fear, Hurt/Comfort, Angst Depictions of Violence, Torture

It was a relatively peaceful morning in Hell, you stood out on the balcony of your room that you shared with Lucifer and watched the residence below as you brushes out your hair. At some point you feel a hand on your arm, and you turn to she Lucifer smiling at you with loving eyes.

“May I?” he said, holding out a hand for the brush. You smiled and handed the brush to him, you loved how much he loved brushing your hair. You never wanted to make him feel obligated, but he always seemed to find you when you were brushing your hair or he would find times to play with it. And you were never upset by it because his touch was to die for.

Lucifer started to brush, “How are you this morning, my love?” he asked.

“I am doing well, it’s nice today, I like people-watching on days like this,” you smiled and sighed at the blissful sensory of Lucifer brushing through your hair. He blushed to see you so content at his touch. After a few minutes, he too looked out over the city.

“It is nice, isn’t it? Would you like to go out shopping with me in the city today?” he asked.

You turned and pulled him into a tender kiss, “Yes! I would love to. Let me go get ready.” You ran off to your closet, leaving Lucifer in a lovely daze on the balcony with the brush in his hand. He set down the brush and get himself ready as he waited for you. Along with his usual outfit, he also put on a necklace that you had gotten for him a few months ago as pet of a matching set. He wasn’t much of a jewelry guy but he loved matching with you or wearing things you got him.

You came out in a nice top and skirt with comfortable shoes for walking the city in, as well as the necklace than matched his own. Lucifer looked you over as you came out and gave you a dopey smile, “Hells you are beautiful.”

You giggled, “I feel a little underdressed next to you though,” you said, flicking the tip of his hat.

He looked down at himself and then as your sheepishly, “Is it too much? I can change!”

You took Lucifer’s hand, “No no! I was just teasing you, Luci. You look wonderful. Come on, let’s go out!”

You give him a kiss and start to pull Lucifer towards the door. You knew you had to get him going or else he would overthink that comment into an oblivion, you loved him so much but his anxiety and depression could just engulf him sometimes if he couldn’t get distracted fast enough. It was getting much better over time. But you still worried about it at times.

Before long, you and Lucifer make it down to the shops of the entertainment district of the Pride ring. It couldn’t be helped that you too would attract the stares and comments of the people of Hell, mostly people gawking and wanting to talk to Lucifer, which you understood, he was the King after all!

Some people also wanted to talk to you though, wondering how you snagged the King, some weird comments about you stealing him from Lilith, and then every once in a while you would get someone who just wanted to tear you down. Today was one of those days, because it wasn’t someone you could identify, just every once in a while you would hear a quick word or phrase. “Fake”, “sellout”, “homewrecker”, “slut”. They were all so spread out over the day that you didn’t really notice a pattern, Lucifer noticed one of the words on a more quiet part of the walk and got angry, shouting towards the sound, and you wrapped your arms around him to calm him down.

“Sweetheart, it’s ok, don’t feed into it, they just want to get a rise out of us,” you said calmly, holding his face.

“I know… I just hate that they are going after you. Lilith and I had an amicable split and she knows that I’m with you now. That should not be anyone else’s business,” he pouted.

You gave him a soft smile, “We are in hell baby, this is going to happen. Come on, let’s go get some food.” He sighs, tucks a stray hair behind your ear, kisses you, and then takes your hand as you walk together down towards a favorite food place of yours. On your way to the restaurant, you saw a store on the was that had the most adorable little circus clown rubber duck in the window, you almost pointed it out to Lucifer, but then you realized that you would rather it be a surprise, so you kept quiet and had a thought to come back for it later.

You two arrived at your favorite lunch spot, and of course one of the staff scrambles seeing the King of Hell at their front door. Lucifer tries to help the poor sinner remain calm and you get set up at a table. Lucifer reaches over to hold your hand during most of the meal, partly because he was romantic like that, but also because all of the attention was starting to make him feel nervous. He liked being out with you but fuck, these sinners sometimes made it really hard to be out. You tried to sooth him by rubbing your thumb on the back of his hand, and you watched him relax a little. He sighed, maybe he should have dresses down a little, maybe he wouldn’t have gotten as noticed then.

Food came and the both of you ate and chatted, giggling and having fun. At the end, Lucifer went to go pay for the meal. You told Lucifer then that there was a store you wanted to go to by yourself really quick and that you would be right back. Lucifer gave you a quick kiss before you walked out and down to the store. You tried not to run, but you were just so excited about this duck, it just fit his vibe so well.

You walked into the store and saw an imp in a cowboy hat and bright yellow eyes at the counter. They saw you approach and gave you a big smile, “Welcome in! It’s an honor to have you in your highness!” he said with a a southern accent and a wide sharp smile, a smile that almost felt a little forced.

“Oh… hahah… oh no I’m no royalty,” you added.

The imp laughed and walked around the counter, holding a glowing white lasso, “Haha, oh I know.” He quickly tossed the rope and caught you in it, spinning you in tightly before you can get free. You try to scream but he uses his tail to hold a knife to your throat, and not just any kind of knife, one made of angelic steel. You went quiet.

“Ahh, a smart one I see. Figured you may have been at least a little familiar with this metal. Seeing as how you and your Princess’ little friends seemed to be dripping in it several weeks ago,” he sneared. So… he had been watching you?

“What do you want from me?” you asked quietly.

“I want you to come with me,” he said, tugging the rope tighter, “we are gonna go someplace where your little King will never find you.” He laughed and you felt a sharp pain in the back of your head before everything went dark.

Over near the restaurant Lucifer waited for 10, 20, 30, minutes, and you never returned. He started to get nervous. He sent you a text or two and you didn’t respond. This was not like you at all. After the half hour, he decided to just call you. There was no ring, it went straight to voicemail, a chill ran up his spine. He called again, voicemail. And again, voicemail.

At this point, Lucifer was starting to panic. He took off and started to fly up and down the streets, most were just marveling at his wings, but a few called out to him. “My girlfriend, (y/n), she was just with me and now I can’t find her. Has anyone seen her?” He gave your description, showed a picture of you to a few people, even showed the necklace to see if anyone had seen someone with the same one. One person pointed him towards the shop that you went into. He went towards it and landed, seeing the circus rubber duck in the window, is that what you had come here for?

He walked in but saw no one there, “Hello!” he called out, still on guard. He heard a noise from a hall closet. He carefully went and opened the door, and a young imp woman tided in ropes tumbled out. Lucifer got her free of the ropes quickly.

“What happened?!” he said to the woman.

“Your majesty! I… I don’t know! This man came in, an imp, cowboy hat and yellow eyes, southern accent. He tied me up and shoved me in here! I heard someone else come in, a woman that he called “your highness”. I think he took off with her.”

“Where?!” Lucifer yelled.

The woman pulled back, “I don’t know! He didn’t say! Please don’t hurt me, your majesty!”

Lucifer took a breath, realizing he was scaring an innocent woman. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to yell at you… I have to find her.” He ducks out of the shop and takes to the air, looking to find and signs of you or the imp the woman had mentioned. But this man was quick and he had gotten you out of there quickly, there was no trace of you or him.

What could he do? Where was there to start looking for you? Who could he call? One of the Sins? He thought quickly, thinking about who would be the best to call. Then he remembered that Ozzie had told him about his boyfriend Fizz getting kidnapped several months ago, maybe he would have an idea of where to start. From the skies, Lucifer started a video call with Ozzie.

Ozzie’s face showed up on the screen, “Hey Luc, not like you to call out of, ohhhh noooo, Lucifer what’s wrong?” Ozzie said after seeing Lucifer’s face.

“It’s (y/n), I think she’s been kidnapped. Please I need help and I don’t know where to start,” Lucifer wailed into the phone.

“Oh shit! Uhh… ok, hang on.” Ozzie’s faces move to look at someone off screen. “Fizzy? Do you have the number of that old friend of yours?” Muffled response from Fizzaroli. “Ya, Blitzø.” Muffled response. “Shit.” Muffled response. “Stolas? Ok.” Ozzie looked back at the camera, “Do you mind if I add Stolas Goetia to the call? He has a… friend of sorts that can help. He has saved both Fizzy and Stolas before.”

“Anything, I’ll take anyone’s help. I just need to find her!” Lucifer panicked.

“Ok ok! Try to stay calm Lucifer, we will find her. Try to find a place to land for now. I don’t want you flying while you are panicking.”

Lucifer nodded and landed on a nearby building roof while Ozzie got Stolas on the call.

“Well hello Asmodeous! A pleasure to hear from you, and… my stars, is that Lucifer?” Stolas asked.

“It is, he has a bit of a problem, we are wondering if you can help connect us with the person that saved you and Fizzy, that… Blitzø? Lucifer’s girlfriend has gone missing.” Ozzie said.

“Oh my! Has she been taken from you, my dear King? I would be happy to connect you with my Blitzy, him and his friends are very good at finding and saving people,” Stolas said with pride in his voice.

“Yes! Please! I need someone to find her!” Lucifer said, pulling at his hair. How many more people would he need to get on the phone before he could find someone that could help? As many as it took! He kept anxiously fidgeting with his necklace.

Stolas added Blitzø to the call, and Blitz chaotically picked up the phone ”What the fuck do you want Stolas? I’m in the middle of a meeting right now! Also video call, that’s bold of… whoa. Holy shit is that fucking Lucifer?” Lucifer awkwardly waved. “Whoaaa, Moxxie, Millie, Loonie, look it’s King Lucifer!” Lucifer watches as the faces of the other three squish into the video and wave, Lucifer gives another awkward wave back.

“Wait,” Blitz said “this isn’t some weird sex thing, is it Stolas?”

Stolas waved a hand, “No no no darling, this is a matter of the utmost importance. His majesty’s girlfriend has been kidnapped and I know you are just so talented at finding things, he needs your help.” Lucifer caught some flirty undertones in Stolas’ voice towards Blitz but he chose to ignore that.

Blitz blinked, “The King of Hell needs our help, this is fucking awesome! Alright, lay it on me, Luci, what’s the sitch?”

“And you uhh… trust this guys Stolas?” Lucifer added.

“With my very life,” Stolas said, putting a hand over his heart.

“Mine too!” Fizz called out from behind Ozzie.

Lucifer nodded and told Blitzø everything that had happened with you leaving to go get something, no response on phone calls or texts, and the reports from the woman.

“Wait… run that guy’s description past me again?” Blitz asked.

“Imp, short white hair, cowboy ish hat, yellow eyes, a kind of southern accent?” Lucifer said, “I didn’t see him but the woman at the shop did, she was tired up with rope.”

“Kinda like she had been lassoed?” Blitz said flatly.

“Ya!” Lucifer said.

“Fuck! Not that god damn prick again, why does he keep fucking kidnapping people?!” Blitzø said as he set down the phone and started to dig for tools.

Stolas gasped, “You don’t think it’s that Striker now, do you Blitz?”

“Oh I know it’s fucking Striker, he has such a signature style I can practically fucking smell it at this point,” Blitz added.

“Who is Striker?!” Lucifer asked.

“He is an Imp who is a sort of bounty hunter of sorts, he kidnapped Fizzy, Blitz, and Stolas before. He almost kicked Stolas before!” Ozzie added.

Killed? “Wait… does that mean he…” Lucifer said.

“Has access to angelic steel? You bet your fucking ass he does, and I have a fucking score to settle with him,” Blitz picks the phone back up, “but that also means I know exactly where he is. The Wrath Ring.”

“What? But… mortal souls don’t leave the Pride ring?” Lucifer added.

“That wouldn’t stop him from finding a way to smuggle her into the ring, also you would be less likely to suspect him there with a mortal soul. Trust me your majesty, I have this covered. Anything else you need me to know?” Blitz asked.

Lucifer sniffles, “No, just bring her back to me. Please.”

Blitz salutes Lucifer, “We will get her back sir” Blitz puts on some sunglasses, “Alright, bitches. Saddle up, we are heading to Wrath!” Then Blitz hung up on his end.

Lucifer took a deep breath and sighed, he was so worried about you. Worried that this “Striker” guys was going to harm you. Was it to get to him? Or something else?

“It’s gonna be ok Luci,” Ozzie said.

“Yes, and is there anything else we could possibly do to support you, Lucifer?” Stolas added.

“I… I don’t know… I wanna go back home but I don’t wanna be alone right now. I’m so scared for her. If I knew where she was I could take care of it myself… but tracking is not one of my strong suits…” Lucifer said.

“They have a hellhound on their team, she is good, she found my daughter when she got lost on Earth one time. They will find her, Lucifer,” Stolas said.

“How about you come over and hang with me and Fizz, Lucifer. Stolas can come too if you want that,” Ozzie offered.

Lucifer nodded, “Be there in a sec.” Then he hung up. Lucifer opened a portal and stepped into the lobby of Ozzie’s residence, and a second later, Stolas opened his own portal and stepped in, right as Ozzie rounded the corner with Fizz. Ozzie sighs and puts a hand on Lucifer’s shoulder.

“I’m just so worried about her, especially if he has access to angelic steel… oh… my darling girl…” Lucifer started to cry. Ozzie and Stolas looked at each other, Stolas was thinking back to his own encounter with Striker, but he was not going to share that with Lucifer now, it would only worry him.

“Nothing we can do now besides wait Lucifer, I’m sure once they find (y/n), Blitz will be calling us so that you can swoop down there and take them out yourself,” Stolas said.

“Until then, come join Fizzy and I for food, we just finished making lunch,” Ozzie said leading them further into their home. Lucifer had still recently eaten and was not feeling like more, but he was willing to be with them while he waited for the results of the search. Fizzaroli chanted “Burger time, Burger time,” as they walked to the kitchen, which at least got Lucifer to crack a small smile. But seeing Ozzie with Fizz and Stolas talk about Blitz made him feel your absence even more. He held onto the necklace that matched yours, and thought, ‘We will find you, Sweetheart, I promise.’

———————————————————————————————————————

Your eyes opened as you came back to consciousness, the only thing you could see was the white glow of the rope around you, and two bright yellow eyes, that were looking at you from several feet away.

“Aww, so the King’s pet is now awake. Welcome back to the land of the dead… for now,” the man said and chuckled.

“Who are you? What do you want from me?” You asked.

The eyes squinted and moved up and then slowly towards you, “Name’s Striker, not that it will matter soon. and I’m here to torture you, maybe kill you.” He gave an evil chuckle, and as he grew closer, you saw another light start to shine silver about a foot below his eyes, in the shape of a blade. You froze, remembering that he had angelic steel on him. One wrong move and you would be dead for a second time, no Lucifer, no hotel.

You swallowed hard, “I’ll do anything you ask, just tell me what you want.”

He continued to walk towards you and held the angelic blade to your chin and lifted it up, you could now see a little more of his face, and it was the same man who tied you up.

“Smart girl,” he growled, “But I didn’t drag you here because I needed something from you, although using you to get to that royal family would be pretty nice. But I know I can’t take him on. No… I’ve been hired to kill you my wanna-be royal.”

You scowled, “I am not a wanna-be royal, I love Lucifer despite him being the King, and I care about what Charlie is doing despite her being the Princess!”

Striker flicked the blade across your check and you gasped as you started to feel blood drip down your face. “Pitiful that you would believe your own lies, anyone that chases a blue blood is always wanting what they have. Even if you do care, there is something someone wants out of it. And the people that want you dead, don’t like that some sinner got to be by his side. What makes you so special that he chose you above anyone else?”

You breathed heavily, “There… there are other sinners that want me dead because I’m with Lucifer?” This comment earned you another flick of his blade, this time on your arm, then he kicked you over in the chair you were in and glared over you.

“More than just sinners, baby cakes,” he glared down at you. “I’m personally a fan of all the royals and their mates being dead. They treat us like scum!”

“No! Please! Striker I don’t want anyone to feel that way! Let me talk to Lucifer and we can try to fix things!”

This response ended with the knife plunged into your thigh, and you let out a scream.

“Oh see! Now that you are at the end of my knife, you are willing to reform things. Well it ain’t gonna work this time! I’m not listening to blue bloods, or their lying simps!” Striker yelled.

Tears started to stream down your face. All you could think about was Lucifer, how scared he probably was, and how he was going to find you in this cave, dead. You dare not make any more comments, hoping that maybe your silence will buy you more time for… something, anything. You didn’t know if anyone was going to save you from this, but you wanted to hope.

Striker continued to walk around in the darkness for a while, leaving cuts or jabs into your body with his knife, leaving you screaming as he tormented you. You secretly hoped your screams would tell someone, anyone, that you needed help, but who in Hell would come save you other than Lucifer and the hotel crew? How would they know where to find you.

A while later, you heard something that sounded like a motor and a light, showing more of the area round you, and showing that you were in a cave of some sort. Striker was distracted by the car as it came closer until it came to a screeching halt as three imps and a hellhound jumped out.

“There you are you fucking psycho! Nice job finding a different creepy ass mine shaft in Wrath, how many of these places are there!” The tallest of the imps called out.

“Blitz?! What the hell are you doing here?!” Striker asked as he moved into a more aggressive stance, pulling out a gun.

“Ahh, well you see, you pissed off the King of Hell and uhhh… he has contacts. And unfortunately for you, you are so fucking bad at your job that you practically leave a calling card at this point! An imp with yellow eyes, a cowboy hat, and a southern accent that loves kidnapping royals or there bitches? That just screams “Striker” pal.” Blitz started pulling out his phone as he talked.

“What are you doing?” Striker said.

Stolas picked up the phone, Blitz smiled and just said, “Oh nothing, just tell my friend where we finally found you sick fucks with King Lucifer’s girlfriend, at the middle part of the eastern mineshaft in Wrath by the way, so that he can come take care of you.”

A moment later, a red portal opened up above you all and Lucifer flew out, all six wings flapping furiously, full demon mode out on display. Lucifer saw you, and then locked his eyes on Striker and dove at him. Striker was able to narrowly miss Lucifer’s first lunge, but not the second as Lucifer swung back around and grabbed Striker, taking him to the ground and knocking the weapons out of Strikers hands, and holding him down.

“WĦÄȚ ŤĦĘ FŲĆĶ ÐÍÐ ŶØŰ ŤĦĨŅĶ ŶØŮ ŴĚŘÊ ÐØÏŃĞ ĶĪÐNĄPPÌÑĞ ĦĚŘ?” Lucifer roared at Striker below him. Striker was now shaking.

“Please! Ahh… My King… it was a job, a good paying one, I just take what I can get,” Striker stuttered beneath Lucifer, now fearing for his life.

“ŴĦØ ĦĨŘĘÐ ŶØŮ ȚØ ĶǏŁŁ HĘŘ?!” Lucifer roared again.

“Just this small group off pissed off sinners! Fan girls of some kind, I don’t know! They had crazy money to pay me!” Striker pleaded.

Lucifer was about to start swinging when he heard your voice.

“Lucifer, stop,” you pleaded in a pained whisper.

Lucifer turned to look at you, bloodied and beaten in a tipped over chair. Millie and Moxxie ran over to untie you and put on some basic bandages to cover open wounds.

“Būț ŵħŷ, mŷ løvę? Łøøķ ãț ħøŵ ħę ħåş ħůřț ŷøù?” Lucifer said calmer.

“Yes… but he says the imps suffer… and are treated poorly… worse than sinners… I want… to figure this out…” you slowly said through a rasp.

Striker’s eyes went wide, was this bitch for real? He looked up at Lucifer, who looked down at him. “Ïş țħâț țřüę?”, Lucifer asked down at Striker, who nodded. Lucifer then looked over at Blitz, Millie, and Moxxie, who also nodded.

Lucifer sighed, and referred back to his normal self while still holding Striker down, “Fine. I’m sorry you have all had that experience, I will work on seeing how we can do better with that. But if you come for me and my loved ones again, it’s gāmė øvęř for you pal, ok?” He said looking down at Striker. He nodded again. Lucifer got up and released him, and Striker slinked away.

Lucifer then ran over you and looked you over, cupping your face in his hand, “Baby… oh fuck…” He almost started you cry seeing all of your cuts. He started to heal you, and it sort of worked, but heeling does not work as well again wounds made with angelic steel.

“Sweetheart, it’s ok… I’m ok. I’m sorry I was so stupid,” you apologized.

Lucifer shook his head, “No… this isn’t your fault my love. There are some crazy people in hell and… I’m sorry. I should have known better.”

“Sounds like we just need to be more careful going out,” you added.

“Well… as touching as this love fest is, can we get the fuck out of here? One of your little portals would be killer for getting out of this shithole… ya know, if you don’t mind… your majesty,” Blitz said, realizing throughout the statement that he should probably talk to Lucifer with a little more respect. Lucifer lifted an eyebrow, but sighed and picked you up, and opened a portal back up to the Pride ring, not far from the hotel, and everyone went through, even Blitz’s car.

Lucifer and you then took your leave of the others and he flew you over the hospital, even though you insisted that you were ok. You were patched up and sent back home a few hours later. Once at home, Lucifer continues to fuss over you until you asked him to just lay by your side. Eventually he did lay down next to you and calm down a little, holding you close to him but being careful of your wounds. Every shift and groan made him look at you with fearful eyes still.

“Do you need anything? Do you need me to move?” He asked.

“Luci, it’s ok, it’s gotta hurt for a bit but I’ll live, I promise,” you stroked his hair, “What would help the most is if you don’t panic with every move I make. I promise if I need something I will tell you?”

“Ok…I just don’t understand how you can be so calm after all of that,” Lucifer said setting his head down of the pillow and looking at you.

“I’m not calm… but I’m not scared either… I’m home save in your arms. I know I’m safe with you,” you said.

“I’m the reason you got hurt,” he said sadly.

“No. You are not responsible for what sinners do or how imps act. I left myself in the open. Shit happens. I just know that I need to protect myself more in the future. Ok?” You said, moving a hand to cup his check.

He nodded, and he snuggled in close to you as you both drifted to sleep after a long, chaotic day.

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer #lucifer magne #fanfic #fanfic writing #lucifer x reader #fanfiction #angst with a happy ending #angst #hurt/comfort #asmodeous #stolas #blitzø #hellaverse #luciferlightbringer

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wardenparker · 11 months

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Vampire Waltz - ch 7

Max Phillips x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

A mysterious inheritance, sprawling mansion, eccentric roommates, friendly bat, and coven of New England witches are the newest chapter of your life after being unceremoniously dumped and kicked out by your boyfriend. For Max, the biggest change in his life is you, and what exactly he's going to do about the fact that he is stuck living with you as long as his sire continues to punish him for that incident at his last office...

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 13.4k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: deceased parents, cursing, food, blood and blood drinking, depictions and references to abusive relationships. Anxiety and trauma responses. Self-worth issues.* Reader being self-conscious as usual. Some conversation about blood/vampire eating habits. But mostly this is just unabashed fluff and flirting. Summary: Allison helps you get ready for your first date with Max, and as scared as you are, you are equally excited for the night ahead. Notes: For our chapter banner this week: the White Horse Tavern! A real and very lovely place in Newport, RI. May or may not actually be owned by vampires, though...I'll have to get back to y'all on that...

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6

It’s cute, utterly charming really, the way that you are currently freaking out in your bedroom. Max isn’t trying to eavesdrop, but you are being so loud that he can’t help but listen. Especially at first, when he wanted to make sure that you weren’t hurt. After the initial scream, he realizes you were panicking about the date he had formally asked you on. Deciding that visiting the dance studios deserved a little bit of flair. He had asked you if he could take you to dinner beforehand. You’re his soulmate, you deserve effort. Something that you’ve obviously received precious little from by the previous asshole in your life. For once, Max wants to make sure that you completely forget about that douchebag. Never jealous of anyone’s previous lovers, he wants to make you realize that you were just having a bad dream for the past ten plus years. Now you are awake, now you can enjoy yourself.

"Alli, you can't be serious?" Nearly clutching the dress that she brought over for you to borrow in two shaky hands, you look over the skimpy black number with trepidation. This is your fault. You know that. You're the one who went to the cheese shop at the end of her shift this afternoon to get some advice. She had sent you home to pull out your most comfortable pair of dancing shoes and swore to provide the perfect dress if you just promised to trust her. And you do trust her. She has never given you any reason not to. But this dress is short.

“Come on, it’s perfect!” She’s grinning from ear to ear, ecstatic for you and your date. It makes perfect sense now why Max had been hovering around you as a bat. You’re his soulmate. It’s so romantic, she wants to cry. “You’ll look amazing and Max will be panting to get under it!”

“It’s just the first date,” You remind her, nervous at even the mention of any kind of intimacy. Not because you don’t want Max — but maybe instead because you do and you haven’t felt that in so many years.

“The first date with your soulmate.” She reminds you with a smirk. “He’s supposed to be your perfect match, so it’s okay to put out on the first date.” She teases.

“He’s also my housemate, so if I do and that’s all he wanted from me it’s going to be awkward as hell.” It’s not that you think that of Max. It’s that the voice of doubt in your head is still loud and clear over everything else. “I’m just... I’m nervous.”

“Do you honestly think he would have joined a coven of witches at a Mabon celebration if all he wanted was the good-good?” She asks, arching a brow curiously.

“Well…no.” You snort, shaking your head at Allison. “And if you ever call it that again I won’t tell you if it actually happens.”

Laughing, Allison waggles her brows. The term was meant to disarm you and it worked. “Fine.” She huffs. “But I want details. Vampires are supposed to be incredible lovers.”

“You could always find out for yourself.” Aware of what Max had mentioned about their superior hearing, and unsure if Eddie is at home at the moment, you lower your voice measurably. “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Eddie lately.”

"What?" Her lip immediately goes between her teeth and she blushes furiously. "We are just — you know — uh, collaborating for the masquerade."

“Mmhmm.” Drawing out the sound incredulously, you grin again and eye the dress in her hands. “Tell me everything and I will try the dress on. Just to see.”

"He's nice." She hands you the dress in exchange for information. "I like talking to him. He's — well, he's just so...human."

“He is very nice.” The short dress has a beautiful, flowy skirt that will be great for dancing and you disappear into your dressing room with it with trepidation. “And he likes you! It’s even obvious to me and my observation skills suck.”

"Please...." She rolls her eyes, even if you can't see her. "I think he's just being nice because he wants to join the coven."

“If that was the case, he’d be making nice with everyone, not meeting you in town to take you out for coffee.” Having found out that that was where Eddie was on the night that you and Max had been left to eat dinner together, you found that there was no possible way to be upset about it. Things with Max are…they’re moving forward in a way that makes you nervous and giddy. And whatever is growing between Eddie and Allison is obviously mutual.

She huffs and bites her lip again. "We have a lot in common and I enjoy talking with him. Even though he's been in college forever, he's still enthusiastic about learning. He's even talking about coming out to the farm."

“That sounds like fun!” Finding the zipper on Allison’s strappy black dress takes a second, but you’re able to exchange the one you’ve been wearing all day today for the one she brought for you to borrow. The deep v-neckline and cutouts in the back are more skin than you’ve shown in years but you know instinctively that it’s the kind of thing Max will love. Fashionable and daring. The kind of girl he deserves even if it’s not the kind of girl you feel like. “Okay…um…I’m coming out.”

Allison gasps as you emerge from your dressing room, nodding immediately. "It's perfect, you can't convince me otherwise. Look at yourself!" She squeals as she guides you towards a mirror.

"Kind of weird that we're the exact same size..." Even standing directly in front of the mirror you can't bring yourself to look up. To look at yourself in any kind of positive way whatsoever. It's like it's been beaten out of you as if you were a stray dog. "It fits well."

"I'd be lucky if I still fit in it." She huffs. "Too much cheese. But you, you've got such a perfect figure to pull this off."

"No such thing as 'too much cheese'," you gripe, shuffling slightly in front of the full—length mirror. You're just staring at your shoes and fighting with yourself to figure out if you're brave enough to look up. "Do you...think he'll like it?" If he does, it doesn't matter what you think anyway. Max's opinion is the only one that matters.

"I think he will love it." She assures you, reaching up and touching your shoulders. "It will restart his non-beating heart."

"Apparently only one thing can actually do that." Digging into your armoire for a sweater, you come out with one that is midnight blue and black with little gold stars stitched all over it. It's still cold out, after all, and this will help you to feel a little less exposed.

"What is that?" She's always been interested in the dynamics of vampirism but she's too polite to ask Eddie to answer her questions.

"Apparently..." Clearing your throat slightly and pulling your sweater tight around your shoulders, you glance up and meet Allison's eyes in the mirror. "A kiss from their soulmate."

"Ohhhh now that's the most romantic thing that I've ever heard." She moans, softening visibility and looking amost wistful at the thought. "Come on, Dolly, that's just so romantic."

"I told Max that it sounded like something out of a romance novel." Which is a sentiment that you stand by very firmly. "Who knows how true it is. But it's sweet to imagine."

"Maybe you will find out tonight." She offers with a sincere smile, not wanting to tease you. "I really think he likes you, Dolly. All that time as a bat, visiting you? Being near you. He was drawn to you."

"I still can't believe that was him." She knows all about those nighttime visits of course. You hadn't thought it was a big deal to tell her about the little bat that visited you, but now you see that it was all so much more important than you realized. And she had known the entire time, but never made you feel silly for not guessing. How could you?

"It's sweet." She hums, smiling again. "I want to see him again like a bat. It was so cute to see him on your shoulder, cuddling into your neck."

“He said he didn’t mind transforming again sometimes if I wanted him to.” Suddenly you feel like you should be busy again, and you move to your jewelry box out of nerves. “He knows that I found it…comfortable. But we might get a pet for the house.”

"Okay, so Max would change into a bat to comfort you, and you still wonder if he likes you?" After spending time with you, she's learned of your ex and she understands your trepidation. "I don't think you should."

“I just…” You sigh, feeling your shoulders start to curl, and you take two long breaths in and out to prevent it. “I hope I’m more than a novelty to him, that’s all. His life is so long. It’s forever and I’m not saying he has to propose or anything crazy. I just…I would like to think a person should feel important to their soulmate. I haven’t been important to anybody since my parents died.”

"You know how long Cookie lived." Allison reminds you. "You could do the same. She—" She pauses for a moment. "Her decision to no longer prolong her life was a very serious one. But until she stopped taking her soulmate's blood, she looked no older than forty."

“Why did she stop?” That has never truly made sense to you. If someone was happy with their eternal life, why on earth would they give it up?

She sighs softly. "It— a very power spell was cast. Meant to last through time until death." She explains quietly. "It was the only way to break it and it was important enough to her to break it."

“What sort of a witch would cast something that depends on life or death?” The idea strikes you as positively cruel, but of course you can’t know what the spell was or the circumstances.

"One that knew that her soulmate could provide her with immortality." Allison explains. "It was...done in anger. Hopefully regretted, but nothing I could find could break it. Cookie spent years trying to break it."

“That’s awful.” As angry as you had ever been in your life at certain people or certain circumstances, you can’t ever imagine that type of anger. Not to mention you’ve never done much spell work beyond lighting a candle or floating an object across a room. And you’re woefully out of practice at even those.

"It was...complicated." Allison hums, "from what I've heard. I never got to meet the person." She knows more of the story, Cookie confided in her in an effort to find a way to break the spell, but she wouldn't betray the woman's confidence, even in death. Especially when it was his place to explain.

“I hope that everything worked out the way she wanted it to, then. Even if she isn’t here to see it.” Concentrating on your jewelry box is the best you can do and not get upset for no reason — but something about the whole situation just makes you overwhelmingly sad.

Allison bites her lip but just makes a non-committal sound. “So where is Max taking you for dinner?” Wanting to change the subject, but also genuinely curious as to your first date details.

“He said there was a vampire-owned restaurant on the island that was really nice.” When you had insisted that dinner wasn’t necessary because he didn’t need to eat food, he had come back with the alternative of a restaurant that also discreetly served blood to discerning patrons. That had been enough to make you agree. “It’s…a tavern? The White Horse Tavern?”

She’s impressed. Whistling lowly, she nods. “It’s only the oldest tavern in the country.” She tells you with a grin. “Super swanky, so it sounds like Max is wanting to do things right. Dinner, dancing….” She sighs. “Sounds incredibly romantic for a first date.”

“He really…he doesn’t have to make a big deal out of it.” And you had told Max that, but he had only shaken his head and told you the restaurant would be perfect. “It’s very romantic, but I guess I’m just…a little worried I won’t live up to it. And I would hate to disappoint him.”

“Why would you disappoint him?” She asks. “He knows you. This isn’t a blind date.”

The irony of that observation makes you laugh dryly, and you turn to look at her instead of searching for earrings. "It was supposed to be," you tell her honestly. "We were supposed to go on a blind date. In college."

“Really?” Her eyes widen. “What happened? Why didn’t you go? You mean you could have known Max this entire time?”

“He had an emergency that night. He couldn’t come.” There is such an ache in your heart realizing that — if things had been different — he could have graduated as a human and you could have been together for ten years already. “Everything could have been so different.”

“Do you—” she pauses for a moment. “Do you resent him for that? Because of being with your ex?”

“No.” Surprisingly enough, that answer is easy. It isn’t Max’s fault that Derek was in that bar that night. He had his life turned upside down in a completely different way. “I just wonder what the second chance will be like.”

“While Max can be cocky, he’s also more mature than he would have been ten years ago.” Allison tells you. “So I think it will be very good for both of you.”

"I hope so." That hope is a long buried feeling for you, and while you feel silly for admitting it...Allison has never been anything but welcoming, friendly, and supportive with you. She's the friend you had dearly missed having for all these years. "I'm different than I used to be, too. I just hope we're not too different."

“Eddie told me that Max, uh, he had a second chance.” Allison admits. “That he lost all his scars? So if you had changed too much, wouldn’t your birthmark never reappear?”

Startled by the solid logic of that thought, you almost reel backward, standing up a little straighter in surprise. "I guess...I never thought of it like that."

She smiles, happy that she could reassure you in some small way. “Then remember that the universe chose you as his soulmate, twice.”

"What about your soulmate?" She's never talked about it before but you feel like this is the time to ask if there is ever going to be one.

“I don’t think I have one.” She admits quietly. “I’ve never had scars, birthmarks or anything.” She shrugs. “Some people don’t.”

"Maybe your soulmate just didn't want to mark you up because they already know you're perfect just as you are." Of course, Allison is right. Some people just don't have soulmates. But that kind of loneliness is not something you would ever wish on anyone as kind as she is.

“Who knows?” She’s very doubtful of that, but it’s sweet that you would want to comfort her. “It just means that I get to enjoy everyone else finding their soulmates.”

“And you can make your own decision for your life. Whatever that decision turns out to be.” There is a matching set of jewelry in your box — a necklace and earrings that all bear golden crescent moon pendants with a little blue stone hanging like a star inside it — and you pick those out to wear tonight. “My parents weren’t soulmates, you know. They just loved each other. Fiercely and with everything they had. Just because someone isn’t your soulmate doesn’t mean they’re not going to be good for you.”

“They weren’t?” She asks curiously, tilting her head in shock.

“No.” The earrings slide into place easily and the matching necklace is a comfort, making you feel a little less exposed in the outfit you’re wearing. Makeup is the last touch. “They met at my mother’s work. She was a librarian and Dad was doing research for his doctoral thesis. She dropped a book that she was trying to get off a high shelf and he picked it up for her. That was that. They were inseparable for the rest of their lives.”

“That’s so sweet. They were both witches too?” She remembers you talking about being raised a witch, but didn’t want to assume.

“My dad was a Bishop on his mother’s side.” It was always a point of pride for him, to be descended from one of the Salem witches, and so it is for you as well. “Mom didn’t know her family, but she was a witch by her own devices, I guess.”

“Was she adopted?” She wonders, asking delicately.

“She never really talked about it.” Which had always struck you as strange, and then was downright inconvenient later in life. “She used to call Dad’s parents her adoptive family and stuff like that. We weren’t close to them, though. I guess they didn’t like that he moved away from Massachusetts, but they liked Mom well enough. They were everything I had and then…they were gone.”

“That’s so horrible. I’m so sorry. I know that it’s hard to lose a parent.” She murmurs softly. “Even worse to lose both at the same time.”

“That’s…kind of why this has been so nice,” you admit, turning to look at Allison again. “I know I didn’t know Cookie. And that we were only loosely related. But it’s kind of like getting my family back. Or as close to it as I’ll ever come, anyway.”

Allison reaches out and takes your hand. "I hope that you know that we will happily be your family. Found family is the ones that you love the most."

The sincerity of the moment cracks something tight in your chest, and before you know it you’re pulling Allison in and hugging her tightly, just willing yourself not to shed tears into her oversized sweater. “Thank you.” Two shattered words, but they are the best you can do at first. Until you manage a deep breath and huff out a half—laugh before pulling away again. “You’ve been so kind to me right from the start. All of you have. And I can’t possibly say how grateful I am. It’s…well, it’s been years since I’ve had a close friend and you’re just…you’re the sweetest woman in the whole world.”

"I felt that you had the kindest energy." She admits, "just that you were...lost. But now it seems that you have found yourself. You are finding yourself, who you are meant to be."

“Whoever that ends up being,” you squeeze her shoulder gently. “I owe her, at least in part, to you.”

"No." She shakes her head, smiling at you as if you were the most precious thing. "You have done this all on your own. You just let are letting her shine through."

“You’re the sweetest person in the whole world.” And she’s yet one more unexpected part of this whole wonderful situation, which you find yourself grateful for all over again. “You should go see if Eddie is home, honey. No sense in letting him sit at home alone while Max and I are out, right?”

She bites her lip again, a habit of hers when you mention Eddie. "I think I will." She decides with a small grin. "Wish me luck."

“Good luck.” Although you don’t think she’s going to need it. Not when it comes to Eddie.

"Do you want me to help you finish getting ready?" She offers, tilting her head playfully.

“It’s just my makeup left, and I can manage that.” The vintage purse you’ll be taking is already packed, and a moment alone to remind your reflection that this is a good thing, not something to be afraid of would probably be good. “Go and have your own fun night, honey. I want to hear all about it tomorrow.”

She turns to walk slowly to the door. Turning at the entryway and watching you as you admire or maybe critique your looks in the mirror. "You look amazing and I know tonight will be perfect." She predicts with a wink. "Let me know if you are still up for brunch tomorrow or if you need some recovery time."

“There will be nothing to recover from.” Still, you shoo her toward the door playfully and smile when she worries her bottom lip between her teeth again but makes her way straight across the second floor hall, through the shortcut to Eddie’s room.

******

Max checks his suit, feeling slightly guilty that you are so worked up. Maybe he should have eased you into this. Maybe something more low key was what you are interested in. The flowers he had bought are already sitting in a vase, at Mrs. Taylor’s insistence, and he wonders if he should even give them to you.

Sitting down at your vanity, the clock says five minutes until you promised Max you would be ready and you line up your makeup and brushes with practiced precision. Nothing can or will go wrong tonight, you have told yourself over and over all day long. It is far too important. But the moment you look up at your mirror, your eyes connect with the carnival photo booth snapshot of you and your mother from when you were twelve years old, and you breathe a soft sigh. “You’d like him,” you promise your mother out loud. “He’s sweet. And doesn’t like it when I get in my own way. Which is…it’s a relief.”

Max decides that he will bring you the flowers. Every woman deserves romance, especially from her soulmate. He gives you another minute before he’s knocking on the door, not wanting to rush you, there’s plenty of time built into the night.

The knock is a nice gesture, given that you both know what tonight is and he knows you’re inside. Still, you exhale slowly and open your bedroom door exactly the same as if it had been the front door of your house that he was picking you up at. The suit he picked out is immaculate, with a crisp, clean shirt and no tie to make it a little less formal. And you had meant to compliment him when you opened the door. You really had. But all the comes out is a soft “Wow…” instead.

He chuckles, charmed by your honest reaction. “Is that for me or the flowers?” He asks, holding them up for you to see properly.

“Can it be both?” You ask, embarrassed to admit that you hadn’t even noticed the flowers until he held them up.

“I’ll take that.” He flashes you a grin before he slowly peruses your dress with appraisal.

“If you don’t like it, I can change.” The offer is immediate, unable to read his expression and figure out whether or not he approves of your borrowed dress.

"Don't you dare." He insists, frowning at the mere idea of you changing. "You look...stunning. I don't know if I should change. Make myself more presentable."

“More presentable?” Huffing at him even as you step aside to let him into your room for a moment, you just shake your head. “That suit would make Frank Sinatra jealous. You couldn’t possibly look more presentable.”

“I don’t know, sweetheart, have you looked in the mirror tonight?” He asks as he sets the flowers down and turns to you to take your hands and holds them wide to get a better look. “You are breathtaking and that’s saying something, coming from a vampire.”

“Allison let me borrow it,” you admit, feeling your cheeks heat almost uncontrollably at the compliment. “She, um…she helped me get ready. Now she’s going to spend some time with Eddie while we’re out.” It makes you feel less guilty to know neither of them will be lonely. The idea that your happiness comes last has been pervasive for a long time, but you’re trying to be cognizant of it. To shake it.

“Well, she needs to help you spend some of that money buying flirty, fun dresses like this to wear.” He hums. “Because I can see having regular dinner and dancing dates with you.”

“I’ll have to tell her you approve. And the flowers are beautiful, by the way.” The burst of red, orange, and yellow that now sits on your nightstand is brilliant, and you pick up your purse from beside it. “Are you ready to go?”

“Whenever you are, Queenie.” His hand hovers for a split second before resting on your lower back. Guiding you towards the door of your rooms. The door that he had left open to make sure you were comfortable. Just because he lives here doesn’t mean he will impose.

Shutting the door behind you and heading for the stairs, you can hear the soft sound of laughter from Eddie's room. It sounds like they're going to have a wonderful night ahead of them and you note with interest that even though you don't feel any warmth from Max's hand on our back there is still a solid presence there beside you. "How was work today?" Instead of dwelling, you turn all of your attention to Max, wanting to hear anything and everything he has to tell you about his workday.

“It was pretty good, I have a new line on another business deal. Hopefully it will pan out. What did you do besides worry about tonight?” He asks curiously.

He does have a point. You went panicking to Allison, after all. But you smile at the question anyway. "Mrs. Taylor and I nailed down the menu for the masquerade this morning."

“Oh really?” His brow shoots up and he grins. “And what will we be feasting on during the masquerade?”

"The menus that she had mocked up were seven, ten, and twelve courses." As much as you had respected the dedication to the Gilded Age theme, it had seemed a little too much to you and eventually you and your vampiric housekeeper had whittled the ideas down to the best of four courses. "It will be potato leek soup, a fish course with asparagus and hollandaise, chicken...something or other...I think she said it's called Lyonnaise? With mashed potatoes as the main course, and then champagne and strawberry cake for dessert that she said was Cookie's favourite. It felt like a nice way to pay tribute to her." Of course there was discussion of vegetarian options being needed, but when tickets are bought people will have the chance to indicate that they don't eat meat and then that bridge will be crossed when necessary.

“And I am assuming that there is an assortment of finger foods that will be served between dances?” He asks, amused by the dedication.

"According to Mrs. Taylor, it should be several different kinds of drinks and a few sweets to choose from on a buffet table in the dining room." The immense amount of work had shocked you when Mrs. Taylor had laid the whole thing out, but she assured you that she and Renee had everything in hand with just a little extra help from Mr. Taylor and Mr. Finchley. "Then, of course, there's the breakfast for whoever is still left at sunrise."

“This is going to be an amazing night for Newport.” He predicts. “Like nothing they’ve seen for years. I bet they will be clamoring for it to become an annual event.”

"Hopefully it's not too much on Mrs. Taylor and Renee. They're both very excited but it sounds like a whole lot of work to me." At the bottom of the stairs, Max opens the door for you and ushers you through with a smile. "If it becomes something annual I'm going to insist on having extra help for her next year. I know they're both...superhuman, but they shouldn't have to overdo it."

“You know they don’t even break a sweat, right?” He asks as he moves his hand from your back to offer his arm to escort you down the steps.

"They can still only do one thing at a time. Four people cooking for that many guests is a tall order for anyone." He acts like it's the most natural thing in the world to escort you down the front steps and out the front door like a perfect gentleman. Meanwhile you are all but swooning at his side over just the simple act of having an arm offered to you.

“That woman loves to care for people.” He reminds you with a chuckle. “I would say she lives for it, but we both know that’s not true.”

"She exists for it?" You offer with a soft chuckle.

“That’s the way to put it.” Max chuckles and opens the front door to show that his car has been brought forward. Waiting for you.

So far all you've done is walk to his car together but already you feel like a princess. Maybe the bar is set a little too low, or maybe he's doing all the right things — you really can't tell. What you do know, as Max closes the passenger side door and rounds the hood of his car in less than the blink of an eye to get in beside you, is that this is definitely how you always dreamed of dates starting out.

Max buckles his seatbelt and looks over at you with a slight smile. “Are you ready, Queenie?” He asks softly. “If you want to go home at any time, you let me know.”

He's being so gentle with you that it's heartbreaking and heartwarming all at once. The idea that you need to be handled with such a soft touch is a little embarrassing, but the fact that he is being so caring without any kind of request or even indication on your part is just...well, it's just about the sweetest thing you've ever heard in your life. "I'm okay," you promise him, reaching out to put your hand softly over his on the gear shift. "I know you heard me being anxious earlier, but I've been looking forward to this since you asked." And more than that, you've been looking forward to a first date with your soulmate for your entire life.

“Good.” Max hums, turning his hand so you can slide your fingers through his if you want. “I want you to enjoy yourself. There’s no expectations for tonight. No pressure. I just want you to have a night that we should have had ten years ago.”

"Ten years ago it would have been chicken wings and a jukebox in a bar." Which isn't a bad thing, but it isn't what you dreamed of. What you've dreamed of is much closer to this: your fingers fitting neatly through his as he pulls away from the house on your way to a beautiful dinner and a night of dancing. "Let's call tonight the...grown up version."

“The grown up version.” Max hums as he pulls out onto the street. “Well, it’s a good thing then. I wouldn’t have known how to dance then.” He reminds you. “Now I can waltz with you properly.”

“To be honest I never assumed my soulmate would be a dancer.” It’s a perk, obviously. And one that you hold very dear after so many years without dance in your life. But never something you considered mandatory. “It’s like the icing on a cake I already know I like.”

“I think that it’s complementary.” He agrees. “It’s something that we can do together. And neither one of us has to pretend to like it.”

“What else do you like to do?” Other than his work, and having a few things in common like reading and dancing, it occurs to you that you don’t know much about him.

Max smirks. “I like to play poker.” He admits. “There’s this monthly game I’m in. High stakes, pretty much a two day event.”

“High risk, high reward.” Just like his sales deals, you note. He’s mentioned some of them being for upwards of a few million dollars. “I can’t say I’ve ever been great at cards but I do like to play sometimes.”

“Maybe we can play sometime?” He offers. “There’s some lower stakes games, just for fun.”

“I used to play poker for M&Ms with my Dad,” you admit, smiling at the memory. “Any game can be lower stakes if you let it.”

He chuckles, knowing that is true and refrains from offering to play strip poker. “What else did you do with your dad?”

“He liked to paint.” It’s been a long time since you’ve talked about your parents to anyone, but since coming to Newport your family and your past has seemed more relevant than ever. Almost like they had gone on a terribly long vacation instead of being violently ripped from you the summer before you started college. “He would take me to art museums and was the only Dad in my Mommy and Me Painting Class when I was little. We’d play card games and board games and plan all the trips around the world that we would take when I got older.” The last memory makes you shrug, eyes cast down at the floor of Max’s sports car. “We never got to take any of the trips we planned, but it was a fun way to pass a rainy day. It made me think for a while that I could be a travel agent when I grew up.”

“I’m sorry that you didn’t get to travel.” Max tells you quietly, wishing he had some memories like that with his parents. Maybe it would have made it easier when he was alone. But he doubts it. “You should travel.” He tells you. “Go all the places you planned with him. A remembrance trip once a year maybe.”

“I’m not very good at being alone.” Maybe it’s why you stayed with Derek so long. Maybe it isn’t. You can’t be too sure either way, but you know that being lonely is one of your least favourite feelings in the world. “But maybe I’ll try. If…there isn’t someone to come with me, I mean.”

“You don’t have to be alone, Queenie.” Max promises. “There’s your coven, I’m sure any one of them would love to go on a trip with you. Eddie loves to travel and of course, I will go wherever you wanted anytime.”

"You say 'of course' like it's the easiest thing in the world." Your fingers curl around his palm instinctively, afraid to let go of him now that you're allowed to be close in any small way. "But it...it means everything."

“You are my soulmate.” He stresses quietly. “Even if platonic soulmates was all you wanted, I would want to spend time with you.”

"It's not." He's pulled up to a stoplight on Bellevue, and even though your voice is quiet, it's sure. You're just not quite strong enough to look up at him while you say it. "It's...not at all what I want. I just need you to be patient with me. While I...I don't know...figure out how to not be so scared anymore."

“I have eternity.” He reminds you with a grin, wishing he could banish the sadness and fear in your eyes. “And you can have that too.”

"That's a very big offering considering it's only our first date." Trying for a little bit of humor — to lift your own spirits as well as his — you squeeze his hand again when the light turns and he pulls through the intersection. "Let's see how we feel about living in the same house and dancing together and maybe we'll talk about eternity after that. Sound good?"

He squeezes your hand gently. “That sounds like a good idea. Sometimes I get ahead of myself.” He winks before he looks back at the road.

******

It takes a whole six minutes to get from the front gate of Chateau-sur-Mer to the White Horse Tavern, according to the clock on the dashboard of Max's Lexus, and when he pulls into the parking lot the place seems to be completely full to the brim. There's no loud music or bright lights like you might have expected at some place called a tavern, but instead there are people in very smart clothes streaming in and out of the building alternately — and once you're inside there are white tablecloths and lovely candles on every table.

“Now you see why I thought of this place.” He murmurs in your ear, his hand on your back again. Not possessive, but protective. Guiding you up to the host stand. “Reservation for Phillips, table for two.” He responds slightly smug when asked for his name. He is smug about having you here, proud that this date is happening. Eager to learn more about his pretty soulmate.

"Right this way." The hostess smiles politely and leads the way, bringing the two of you to a table in the corner surrounded by other chattering couples on dates enjoying the warm glow of romantic candlelight.

As soon as you are seated, the sommelier comes over. “Good evening.” He smiles charmingly. “May I interest you in our vast selection of reds?” He asks, aware that this reservation includes a vampire who would be wanting a glass of their blood infused wine. Without even looking at you, Max shakes his head. “No thank you.” He hums. “My soulmate and I do not drink.” Even if you had said you are okay with it, Max is aware that anything resembling alcohol could stress you and that’s the last thing he wants tonight.

"Max." His hand is on the table and you put yours on top of it, giving it a squeeze like you did in the car. "It's okay. I promise." What he needs to sustain him and what you need are two vastly different things, and you are not going to be the reason that he skips having blood with this meal and ends up...weak or sick or whatever happens to vampires when they don't get enough blood.

He shakes his head seriously. “I was an asshole at the beginning about it.” He admits. “I didn’t know and there are are options here, just like Mrs. Taylor’s menus for us.”

“…very sweet of you.” Only the end of the sentence is really audible, mostly because you’re so dumbfounded by the idea that he is putting you before and above himself. In your whole life, maybe only your parents have ever done that for you.

The sommelier just gives a confused smile and nods, drifting away from the table. “I didn’t embarrass you, did I?” Max asks, frowning at the shock on your face. He had hoped you would appreciate his gesture, and he wasn’t doing it to show off, he genuinely wanted you to feel comfortable tonight with him.

“Not at all.” The slightly misty look on your face is from how touched you are at the gesture. “I just…you know I’m not used to anyone doing things for me. Emotionally, I mean. Or any other way. I still feel like apologizing every time Mrs. Taylor makes a meal or Renee makes clean clothes magically appear in my room. But you…” With a soft sigh and shake of your head, you offer him a smile. One where you actually manage to look him in the eyes. “I always thought I would be the one taking care of my soulmate with whatever he needed. But you’re the one taking care of me.”

He wants to chuckle, but he can’t. Now when your eyes practically hypnotize him. He’s never felt a pull like that and he shakes his head slowly. “We take care of each other.” He reminds you, “head scratches?”

“Are you asking or reminding?” Either way, the smile on your face gets broader and you can feel that growing familiar feeling of warmth in your cheeks.

“Reminding you.” He grins back at you and winks. “It’s probably the most relaxed I’ve ever gotten as a vampire.”

“Then we’ll have to make it a regular thing.” You can promise him that. The seemingly little promises mean so much when they all stack up together.

“That would be nice, but only if you enjoy it as well.” He knows that you might just agree to keep him happy and that’s the last thing he wants.

"Do I enjoy sitting with my soulmate's head in my lap, seeing him terribly relaxed while I read a book or we watch tv together?" This time when you laugh it's just one huffed chuckle, and it's in near disbelief. "Honestly? It might be the closest to bliss I've been in years."

He smiles at that, squeezing your hand again. “Good.” He hums, nodding towards your menu. “Take a look and see what you want to eat, Queenie, we have dancing later on.”

You don't even have to ask to know that he'll be ordering steak tonight, and as rare as possible. The habit makes perfect sense to you now and you'll never say another word about it. The menu is high-end gourmet and apparently all locally sourced from the list of farms on the bottom of the menu, and for a moment you feel tremendously out of place again until you glance up to find Max smiling at you. And that one little act, that seemingly coincidental timing and easy gesture, has another layer of anxiety and fear slipping away from your heart as easily as water drips down a window. "I've discovered I like duck," you confide after a few minutes of looking over the options. "I had never had it before, but Mrs. Taylor is a miracle worker. Do you think theirs will be as good as hers?"

“Doubtful.” He snorts, shaking his head. “Not unless Mrs. Taylor is moonlighting as the chef here.” He jokes. “She has been to practically every chef’s school in the world in her lifetime.”

“She should be teaching at them. Or opening one of her own.” You know, though, that she would never be as happy teaching as she is taking care of people. It’s a lovely thought, though.

“Never happen.” He promises. “Mrs. Taylor is vowed, willingly—” he adds because he knows you might think otherwise. “— to serve your family line for eternity.”

“She’ll be free to do whatever she wants soon enough, then,” you remind him gently. “We’re not exactly going to be populating that house with little half-vamps.”

“Except you can have an absurdly long life, even as a human.” He points out, sure you haven’t even thought about it.

“I—” Technically, he’s correct. You could have as long a life as Cookie did or even longer. But you can’t even fathom that he would want to spend months or years with you, let along decades or centuries. “That is…something we’ll talk about together. You and I.”

“Okay.” He won’t push, it’s just the first date, after all. Instead of continuing on the same vein, he looks around the tavern. “So, who do you think is a vampire?” He asks playfully.

“Hmmm.” A game is definitely something you can get behind, and you look around the crowded dining room full of well dressed patrons with the air of someone who knows exactly what they’re looking for instead of just being the clueless little human that you are. “I’m going to say…” your eyes fall on an impeccably well-dressed man in an elaborate suit and his pale dinner companion in her lace dress. “Those two. Aaand…the table of four over by the fireplace. I think the girl is introducing her new beau to her sires.”

Max lifts a brow, impressed by the fact that you have clock that correctly. “Good eyes.” He chuckles. “The two are, she’s a baby vamp, too.”

“It turns out that once I realized I was surrounded by vamps, it got easier to see the differences.” There is also a particular, peculiar way that they hold themselves — that all vampires seem to hold themselves. As if they have innumerable secrets. And the older they are, the more secrets they accumulate. Which, you suppose, must be true after a point.

“Really?” That makes him sit up slightly. “What differences?”

“I don’t know if I can describe it properly.” For a moment you pause, when the waiter arrives to bring you both water and ask if you’d like an appetizer. Max orders the specialty charcuterie board and you have to imagine that there are raw things involved for him as well as the regular cheeses and spreads for humans. “It’s like…your shoulders are always a little straighter. Your gaze is more direct. And there’s something…I dunno…elegant? Maybe? In the way you all move. Like it takes so much less effort or you’ve maximized the economy of all of those movements somehow. I can’t describe it properly.”

He smirks slightly and leans in. “We are elegant?” He asks, intrigued by the fact that you are not scared. Perhaps even enjoying that he is a vampire.

“Of course you are elegant, but I didn’t notice until after that you all sort of…have a certain grace.” Shrugging self-consciously, you do notice that he doesn’t let your hand slip away from his on the table. “It probably sounds funny,” you murmur in defeat.

“It doesn’t. It’s actually— I think it might be the best compliment I’ve ever gotten.” He confesses. “People always say ‘you’re hot’ or ‘I want you’ but no one ever tells me I’m elegant.”

“You are hot.” The admission comes with screaming hot cheeks and eyes trained back down at the table, but it’s true. “I thought so the first time I saw you…”

There’s a hint of heat in his smirk, not nearly as play—boyish as it might have once been. “Glad you thought I was hot.” He hums proudly. “Sexual attraction is key to a healthy romantic relationship.”

“And you’ll always look that way.” It’s not a fun thought to have, but you’ve had it twice already. He will always be young and handsome, and you will inevitably get old — even if you choose long life it will still happen eventually.

He snorts. “We age just not as fast as humans do.” He admits.

“So slowly that it’s imperceptible?” It’s a guess, but you nod your head in understanding. “I’ll get everything down eventually, I promise. This is all still…just days’ old information to me.”

“I don’t expect you to be an expert, sweetheart.” Max tuts. “Hell, I’m still learning about vampires.” He flashes you a grin. “And I’ve been one a lot longer than days.”

"What do you like about it?" You ask, looking at your connected hands before you look back up at him. "There must be something you like about the change."

“Smell is better, hearing is better.” Max shrugs slightly. “I’m a better version of myself.” He snort slightly. “The no need for sleep helped when getting my MBA.”

“It certainly gives you more time to get things done.” Thinking on it for even a second though, you laugh a little. “If I had had that in college I think I would’ve done twice as many competitions and probably added a second major, just because I could.”

He chuckles and winks at you, “That’s my girl.” He hums fondly, not even thinking about it until it comes out of his mouth, but you are his girl.

Finding it fond instead of possessive — as the comment would have been from the last person who might have bothered to call you such a thing — hearing it from Max actually makes you proud. Maybe neither of you is perfect, but you seem to fit together in all the right ways. Maybe that's all that soulmates are, ultimately. Just two people — or in this case a witch and a vampire — who fit together just right.

The meal is ordered and it’s a delightful surprise that there’s no lull in the conversation. Beyond ballroom dancing, at your core, your values match up. At least, Max’s values now, after the incident with Evan. Shockingly enough, he tells you about it.

"I can't believe that's even possible." The ordeal with his former friend, roommate, and coworker aside, the way Max describes what was basically his return from complete obliteration is just wild. "It sounds like...like magic...if I'm honest. Your sire managed to bring you back from...nothing." From his description, he was less than a undead body at that point. Something terrifying to imagine and terrible to contemplate. The idea that your soulmate could have been completely lost to you isn't exactly knew considering you thought it was dead, but knowing the truth makes it feel even more terrible. "If I ever meet your sire, I'm going to have to thank him."

“I have no doubt you will.” Max wonders when the old man will reveal himself to you. What his end game is. He always had one, that’s certain. “I am starting to figure out why I was brought back.”

"You think he had an ulterior motive?" You would think it would be enough just to be able to save his family, but you don't really know how loyal vampiric families are to each other.

“Absolutely.” His answer is instantaneous. Resolute. While he doesn’t know the details of why he was brought back, he had been for one reason.

"You're very certain of that." Which does, you admit, surprise you. "I take it he's not a sharing kind of guy? He didn't clue you in on why?"

“My sire is…an enigma.” Max admits, almost fondly. He has often been envious of the elder vampire’s flair and mystique. “He is legendary among vampires and I’m not so certain he doesn’t divulge information because it is his nature or as a way to play into his reputation.”

"Maybe it's both?" The two of you are still sitting at the table with intertwined hands even after your demolished appetizer has been cleared away. It's so unexpectedly sweet that it makes you feel a little bit...gooey. Like you might melt right into your plush upholstered seat. "Maybe the reputation came because he has a little flair for the dramatic, and now he just likes to play into it and keep it going? You said he's quite old now, right? Maybe it amuses him."

“Yes. That is probably a lot of it.” He agrees. “You will like him I think.”

"Are you saying I have a flair for the dramatic?" Raising one eyebrow and shooting him a grin, you can't help but smile along with him. You did, once, have a wicked dramatic side. Inherited from your mother and dearly cherished. It was an endless source of amusement.

“You ballroom dance and you love reality tv shows.” He snorts playfully. “Of course you have a flair for the dramatic. I can’t wait to see you show out at the masquerade.”

"If you think I'm bad with Dancing with the Stars, wait until you see me on a 90 Day Fiancé binge." That really only happens when you hit your cycle, but it's still a sight to see — you tucked up in your bed under three blankets with a bowl of popcorn and a box of tissues crying about love is just...a side of you that you normally keep hidden. But somehow you have a feeling that Max would understand.

“Yeah? Who’s your favorite couple?” Max asks curiously. “I like Angela and Mike, but sometimes she’s toooo much, you know what I mean?” He spends a lot of nights binge watching things, since it’s not like he sleeps and unfortunately, not many human businessmen work after midnight.

The way you just stare at him is nearly comical, like your brain hasn’t quite caught up with you yet, and when it finally goes you realize your mouth has been open and you snap it shut like the little boy from Mary Poppins. “I guess I really shouldn’t be surprised,” you huff, laughing softly at your own reaction. “We should have things in comments. Soulmates and all that…”

“Babe, I’m also a little dramatic shit.” He confesses with a chuckle. “I mean, who really changes into a bat to spend time with someone because your over-the-top douchbaggery has made them uncomfortable, but you’re intrigued by them?” He asks, making it seem like he is the total asshole he believes he is.

“That’s…pretty true.” And it draws another laugh from you just imagining the thought process he went through to even think of doing it in the first place. “I have to admit, though. It made me feel like the missing goth Disney Princess and I kind of loved that.”

“I’m happy to make that secret fantasy come true.” He grins, nearly beaming proudly at the idea of sparking some inner desire. “And as a bat, I can actually sleep?”

“Compacting a big vampire into a tiny bat body must take a lot of effort.” Or, at least, you imagine it does. It’s more or less breaking the known laws of physics, after all.

“It does.” Max admits with a slight shrug. He will minimize the idea of the energy it expels because he doesn’t want you to ever feel bad for wanting the bat to cuddle.

“Well, you only need to worry about all that energy when you want to, now,” you insist, being respectfully nonspecific because you can see the waiter approaching your table with your dinners. “You never need to be anything besides yourself with me.”

“I appreciate that.” He wonders if you are so accepting and accommodating because of the past relationship or if it was just you. “I hope you’re hungry, this place is supposed to have amazing food.”

It would be cheesy or clingy or just too much to tell him that you’re actually disappointed the food is here because you have to stop holding his hand. You sit back though, politely thanking the waiter and letting your mouth water over how good everything looks and smells when your plates are set down. “Thank you for this,” you murmur when the waiter has gone again, looking tentatively back toward Max’s face. “We didn’t have to do anything at all and knowing you’re my soulmate would have already made the time we spend together special. But this is…it’s really beautiful. And I’ll never forget it.”

“We haven’t even gotten to the best part of the night.” He promises with a small wink. “Before I’m through with you, your body will be sore and you’ll be breathless.” It sounds dirty, but he’s talking about dancing.

“Max.” Your cheeks burn at the innuendo but you can’t even pretend to dislike the feeling. For the first time in…maybe years, you’re free to let yourself enjoy life. And that’s all thanks to him. Let night really might be the first time you’ve considered masturbating in longer than you would like to admit. And that is thanks to Max, too.

“What?” He tuts playfully, fully aware that your heartbeat has sped up. “Dancing should make you sore and breathless if you’re doing it right.”

“Sure.” But the thought is there, and the playful, bubbly, flirtatious woman that you used to be a long time ago floats the surface unchecked. “Dancing definitely does that,” you agree, tucking a smirk into the corner of your mouth.

“So many dances.” He likes that you are flirting back. Your eyes are practically sparkling with mischief and it’s miles apart from the scared mouse he had met when you arrived. “Tango, waltz, horizontal hustle, foxtrot.” He ticks them off on his fingers like he’s doing down a list.

The mention of horizontal hustle warms you through with a flush of embarrassment and — admittedly — arousal and you pick up your fork very properly without the smirk ever leaving your face. “The girls I danced with always called it ‘getting a new tango partner’ when they started seeing someone new. Slightly more discreet of them, considering our teachers were mostly prim middle-aged ladies.”

He hums, amused by the phrase and he runs his tongue over his teeth, toying with his incisor. “It’s allllll in the hips.”

It shouldn’t be sexy, the way you know for a fact that his teeth are certified weapons and he is just casually running his tongue over them…it makes you wonder just what his tongue might feel like running over other things. “Hips,” you hum, watching him lick his lips subtly. You can’t tell if he did it on purpose or not but it’s distracting as all hell. “I’ll remember that.”

“You do that, Queenie.” He winks at you and scoops up his fork to steal a bite of your food from your plate. He’s not going to eat it. God no, it’s too cooked for his liking, but he turns the fork around and offers you the bite. “Tell me how it tastes.” Despite not liking human food now, he misses the tastes of things.

He can absolutely hear your pulse, there’s no way he can’t when it’s pounding in your ears like a hammer. But putting your lips around his fork is perilously close to put your lips around something else of his and you close your eyes against just how tantalizing that thought is when you’re seemingly getting your sex drive back all at once.

He bites his lip when you moan, taking the bite of food. Sure that you are completely unaware of how erotic it sounds. Knowing that you aren’t trying to entice him, but just like that natural curiosity to know more about you, that attraction is something he’s helpless against. All he can do is control his reaction.

“I know you’re not big on this kind of food anymore, but that’s fantastic.” You tell him, letting the flavour linger on your tastebuds happily. Truly good food is such a luxury that you have a hard time imagining giving it up, but that’s just you.

“I used to love all kinds of food.” Max admits with a guilty grin. “Favorite thing was trying new restaurants. New foods.”

“I hate that that isn’t fun for you anymore.” To lose one of life’s simple pleasures is a shame, even if the tradeoff has many more benefits.

“It’s okay.” Max hums slightly. “I can taste what the human donor has eaten through their blood.” He admits with a grin. “Although it’s a little muted since the blood is chilled and reheated.”

“So…if it was warm from the source…it would be better?” Trying to understand the logistics of his vampirism is going to be key for you, and that means even the parts that don’t seem very savory to talk about.

“Yeah.” He shrugs slightly. “I don’t look for donors anymore.” He explains. “If someone were to offer? I might would have taken them up on it before the other night, but I wouldn’t now.”

“Is it…” As the two of you start to eat in earnest, it almost feels like the conversation should have trended this way. You are, after all, talking about his survival. “Is it a very…meaningful connection? Is that why?”

“It’s….” He pauses for a moment. “Intimate. Almost sensual to the point of turning sexual.” He looks at you intently, his eyes drilling into yours and he hopes that doesn’t offend you. “There’s nothing more intimate than taking a part of someone into your own body, right?”

“I suppose I never thought of it like that before.” Before a few days ago you had honestly never given it much thought at all, but knowing what you know now? You spend almost all of your thoughts on the subject.

“It doesn’t hurt much.” He promises, thinking you might be worried about donors. “Just a sharp pinch and then it feels good. But I won’t be drinking from anyone, I think that’s not fair when you have a soulmate.”

“It’s really that intimate?” From what he’s said, it suddenly makes much more sense to you why people would succumb to the feeling quickly, and you nod when he looks at you meaningfully. “If it’s something I’m ever going to consider, I want to know about it,” you explain. “That’s all.”

“I would never ask.” He doesn’t want you to feel like he expecting you to become his meal plan. “I hope you know that.”

******

Dinner passes with slightly lighter conversation, where you learn that you both like fall and winter better than spring and summer, and that Max used to love cookies more than anything other dessert.

The dance studio that you go to is run by a very sweet woman called Miss Valerie — who apparently named the studio for herself — and is full of all sorts of different people when you and Max are ushered into the main studio for free dancing. A laptop in the corner is playing a personalized playlist and there is a card table with drinks and snacks in a different corner which looked like some people had added to upon their arrivals. It was a night of chit chat — as soon as people heard about the masquerade they instantly wanted to know every detail — but it was fun, too. Max stayed by your side, talking up the masquerade and excusing you from conversation to dance a little more when he sensed you getting nervous.

Dancing with Max might be even better now that you know he’s your soul mate. His gentleness and steady presence leading you through every dance is mixed with so much care that you could just about cry, but there is a mounting otherness in every touch that can only be compared to the first time you allowed yourself to explore any kind of sexuality. Like you’re waking up, and instead of curiosity being what drives your own fingers in the night, it will be the memory of hearing Max’s voice in your ear or feeling his touch on your skin. He had even lifted you a few times in certain dances and it was the most literal sweeping off your feet you could ever possibly contemplate. By the time he pulls into the driveway it’s so late that you’ve lost track of the hour completely but you know you’re going to keep holding his hand until the very last second.

“I think I’ve kept Cinderella out past midnight.” Max teases as he cuts the engine. “But lucky me, you haven’t turned into a pumpkin yet.”

“No.” There’s a note of bashfulness in the way you shake your head, even though you feel bolder tonight than you have in years. “I wouldn’t dare. How could I dance with you again if I was a pumpkin?”

He grins, his teeth flashing white in the darkness of the car. “That would be such a shame, Queenie.”

“It really would be.” Dancing with Max had been like floating on water, and your face burns with pleasure and embarrassment remembering even half an hour ago.

“Would you like to keep dancing?” He asks, bringing your hand to his lips. Anyone else, it would be an innuendo for something else, but with you, he’s asking if you want him to take you to the ballroom. He had loved every second of you being in his arms and of dancing was the only way, he would dance all night.

“Am I a sissy if I admit I’m tired?” Still, your fingers tingle under the press of his lips, and knowing what you now do about his exceptional hearing means you’re sure he heard you hold your breath. “I haven’t danced that much in years and my feet aren’t as calloused as they used to be. But—” The thought is there. The intent. But you can’t quite bring yourself to form the words right away. It’s like you don’t trust yourself. Which, to be fair, you don’t.

“Not a sissy,” he huffs slightly at your ease of insulting yourself. “Human.” He reminds you that he might have the ability to stay up indefinitely, but you do not. “But?”

“I was…” It feels silly to admit it, but you would be horribly sad if the night ended here. Having him close feels like a missing piece of yourself has slid into place. “Going to ask if you wanted to come upstairs,” you admit quietly. “But that’s silly. You live here. Hell…your room is right next to mine.”

Max tilts his head, tsking slightly. “Queenie, you never need to feel silly talking to me. You meant come to your room, didn’t you?” He asks quietly, squeezing your hand gently.

“I don’t want tonight to be over yet.” His hand around yours is cool and comforting, but there’s an electricity in it that is so old that it must have been called something far different before it was called a spark.

“It doesn’t have to be.” Max smiles at the shyness in your tone, the mere embarrassment. “How about this? Why don’t I make you a cup of my famous hot chocolate while you change into something causal, and I’ll meet you upstairs?” He asks, lifting a brow.

His knack for the exact right gesture is something you’re learning isn’t accidental. The effort he is putting into spending time with you is very intentional, and makes you feel like the single most special person in the entire world. “I’ll find a book that is less than a hundred years old, just in case. How about that?”

“Whatever you want to read, sweetheart.” He promises, happy that he had phrased it correctly. He doesn’t want you thinking he assumes you’re going to sleep with him. “But first, I need to walk you to the door.” In the blink of an eye, he’s out of the car and around to your side, opening it up for you to climb out.

“I’ll never get used to that.” You’ve seen him do it now five or six times and it takes your breath away without fail. This time, though, the thing taking your breath might also be the soft smile on his face as you put your hand in his and let him lift you effortlessly out of the car.

“It’s handy.” He admits with a chuckle, closing the door behind you and turning to walk up the front steps. “I’ll be able to change into some sweats after making your hot chocolate too.”

“Does this count as post-gaming our own date?” Leaving his car behind to walk up to the house, your hand stays in his and you lean slightly into his side just on instinct. He feels so safe and you can’t possibly put into words how grateful you are for that.

“More like a casual continuation. The wind down, if you will.” He enjoys your warmth, humming softly at the feeling. You have seemed more comfortable around him as the night has gone on and Max deserve brownie points for ignoring the whiffs of arousal he’s detected.

"I like that." You also like the way he almost sounds like he's purring when he hums, but maybe that's your imagination. Remembering the little sounds he would make in bat form. "I like the idea of being able to share all the versions of ourselves."

Max opens the door to the house, hearing a sound from Eddie’s room that makes him smirk. “If you can’t share everything with your soulmate, who can you share them with?”

"What is it?" His question was rhetorical, you know that, but he looks amused and his eyes darted away from you for a second before coming back.

“Allison is still here.” He tells you, putting his finger to his lips like it’s a secret.

"And she claimed Eddie wasn't as interested as she is." You shake your head at that as if the two of you were some wise old mentors finding out your protégés had finally taken your advice. "I guess tonight was a good date night for everyone in the house, then."

Max winks at you as he closes the door behind the two of you. “Like to think ours was better.” He teases. “Now, go take those shoes off, Queenie and I’ll make your hot chocolate. If you’re lucky, I might even be talked into a foot rub for your dance sore feet.”

"I would never make you do that." More than half your life in ballet, ballroom, and jazz classes means that your feet are...not exactly going to end up in shoe ads any time soon. But it's sweet of him to offer, and you squeeze his hand before you let it go. "I'm going to go up and change. You can just come on in when you're ready."

“I’ll knock, just to make sure you aren’t still changing.” He promises with a wink before he zips off to the kitchen.

You deftly avoid Eddie's room as you go upstairs, going the long way to your room all the way across the house before you hang your sweater and release yourself from your shoes — much to the relief of your aching feet. Despite the small pain, though, you wouldn't change anything about tonight. Your dress is exchanged for a favourite t-shirt, worn thin from constant use and sporting the logo of a theme park that you went to with a bunch of friends in college when you all decided that you just needed to get away for the weekend. It hangs long on your torso, skimming past the edge of your yoga pants, and you wipe off your makeup before getting into bed with a copy of a murder mystery by Alyssa Maxwell that was most definitely published in the twenty-first century.

Max hears you settle down and is at your door in an instant. He had made the hot chocolate quickly and of course changed before you had finished your nightly routine, waiting until you were done. Two light taps on the door is the knock he gives, waiting for you to answer before he turns the knob.

"Come in." The door is just feet from your bed, and when he cracks it open he's dressed in a plain t-shirt and sweatpants with a steaming mug in his hands. "Hey." As soft as it is on your lips, it's mostly out of surprise. Max is always immaculately dressed, and the revelation that he even owns a t-shirt is a pretty big deal. Not to mention the way his broad shoulders stretch the faric, or the way his gray sweatpants (bearing a small embossed collegiate logo near the pocket) hang onto his trim hips, which is wickedly distracting.

“Hey you.” He slips inside and closes the door with a grin. “You look comfy as can be in that bed.” He teases. “Is there room for me?”

"It's a big bed." Knowing that he won't pressure you gives you an immense feeling of relief, and the boldness to actually invite him in like this. You haven't even kissed yet. There is no way you would go all the way to sex tonight. But this closeness? You're craving it. "I'm pretty sure I can fit you in here. Might have to cuddle, though."

“I’ve been told I’m pretty good at cuddling.” He hands you the mug of hot chocolate and barely resists the urge to jump into the bed.

“I’m going to be spoiled forever if you keep making me this cocoa,” you warn him, ready to take the first sip despite the steam still pouring off the mug from underneath the perfect swirl of whipped cream. “That coffeeshop should be crying over losing you, if this is what you were doing as a barista.”

“I learned that girls love a perfect hot chocolate, but also, I loved one.” He laughs as he settles down beside you. “I’ll make you one every night if you want. I actually kind of miss making coffees and things like that. It was fun and easy.”

"I would have been in that shop every single day," you admit. The first sip of cocoa is just cool enough to take, and it rolls through you like a warm hug in the very best way. "For..." Bubbling just beneath the surface, a smile spreads across your lips that you just can't contain. "For more than just the cocoa."

“I knew it.” He crows, leaning in with a triumphant look on his face. He puts his lips just a bare millimeter away from your ear. “A whipped cream junky.”

Your breath catches like it always does when he gets so close to you, and your eyes flick up to his as you all but hide your face behind the mug in your hands. "Right..." you nod slightly in agreement, but when the smile returns to your lips it morphs into shaking your head 'no' and your tone dips to teasing. "Whipped cream. That's it."

“Indulgent, creamy….” He’s teasing you, maybe himself a little as well, but he loves the way your heart skitters slightly. It reminds him of a bird being startled, except this is a joyful thing. “Satisfying. What’s not to love?”

"You're incorrigible," you observe with a pleased grin, knowing full well that you have done nothing but encourage him tonight. It's the best night — let alone best date — you've had in ages. And that's so much of why you're not ready for it to end. This is the side of Max that you always want to have with you.

“Confident.” He corrects you with a grin of his own. “Cocky, maybe even a little conceited.”

"Filling in the gaps where I have no self-confidence of my own." In many ways you really are a balancing point to each other. He lifts you up and you ground him. It keeps you interested to see what he'll do next and you can only hope that it gives him a place to feel relaxed with you. Like he can let down his guard with you. "I think...if you want to...we should go back to that studio again next week." They had invited you both eagerly, and Miss Valerie herself had loudly mentioned having a spot on their competition team for another couple if they ever found anyone who was interested. If you were ever going to pin a number onto your dress again, you would want it to be with him. His over-confidence seems to be rubbing off on you, at least a little, and giving you another nudge toward boldness. "I really loved dancing with you tonight."

“It would be unfair really,” Max hums. “To deprive them of our presence. Our talent from the dance floor.” Part of it is an adopted act of confidence, but there is something magical about dancing with you. It’s easier than any other partner he’s ever had. “So I don’t think we should. Deprive them. Give the couples something to aspire to.”

The giggle that he pulls out of you is probably the closest to effervescent that you've ever managed. There is something about the way you feel when his attention is on you that is undeniable. When Max's focus is on you, the rest of the world falls away. "I wouldn't be surprised if it's more jealousy than aspiration," you tell him honestly, taking another sip of your drink. "I'll have the most handsome partner in the room."

He can’t help but preen slightly. “It helps when your partner is the most gorgeous creature you’ve ever laid eyes on.” He murmurs sincerely. Since meeting you, getting to know you, you’ve gone from pretty to stunning in his eyes.

"That's sweet of you." As much as you want to believe that he's telling you what he believes to be the truth, it's so hard to wrap your head around. There has been far too much of your life spent being told all the things that were wrong with you that it feels impossible to believe that someone like Max could find you beautiful. But gods...you want to.

He groans quietly, closing his eyes and dropping his forehead to your shoulder. He should pull away, but your warmth is too intoxicating. “Queenie, I have a confession to make.” He whispers.

Here it is. Steeling yourself for the inevitable rejection you know that you deserve, you put your mug on the table beside your bed without unsettling his forehead. You'll make yourself the smallest presence possible in his life. You'll stop the formal dinners and just let him forget you even live in the same house if he doesn't decide to move out altogether. And you'll sure as fuck wait until he's gone to cry the tears that are already pressing at the back of your eyes. "What is it?" You don't want to ask the question, but you have to. The way your heart is already sinking tells you right away how much this is going to hurt.

He hates that your tone has changed, your body has shifted slightly. He wonders if he should have even opened his mouth, but he wanted to be honest with you. Pulling back slightly, he looks at you with a sense of anger at himself for being so unable to control himself. “I want to kiss you.”

"What?" Pushed out on a single breath, it feels like all the air has been knocked out of you all at once and your eyes blow wide when you look up at him.

“I told myself I wouldn’t push you, and I’m not.” He promises quickly. “I would never push you for anything you aren’t ready for, but I can’t help but think about it and if you want me to leave or move to the chair so I don’t make you uncomfortable, I will.”

"Please don't." Immediately reaching for him, your hand lands on his arm and your fingers squeeze, keeping him close even when you feel like your heart is going to pound out of your chest and you might forget how to breathe. "Don't like don't move away from me. Not don't like don't kiss me. I—" You might vibrate straight out of the bed in disbelief. "I really want to kiss you, too."

“You do?” Despite flirting, Max hadn’t considered that you might actually want to kiss him.

"I was getting ready for you to tell me that you wanted to end this before it started." Which feels terrible to admit, but you want to be honest with him. "Honestly, I...sort of figured you would have been able to...to smell how much I want to kiss you?"

Biting his lip, he considers lying to you, but he nods. “Just because you’re body is telling me yes, doesn’t mean your mind is.” He murmurs quietly, laying a hand on your arm and rubbing it gently. “I was a fucking horndog in the past, but I know boundaries.”

"I don't know how much else I'm ready for." Your hand covers his on your arm long enough to feel the difference between your burning skin and his cooler body, before your hand moves tentatively up his arm. Being allowed to touch him while you're dancing is so very different from touching him in your bed. "But I know I'm ready for this."

Max slides an arm under your body to pull you closer, shifting slightly so both of you are laying on your sides facing each other. “Queenie,” he leans in and nudges his nose against yours, eyes watching you closely. “May I kiss you?”

"Yes. Please." As far as enthusiastic consent goes, you really can't be more explicit and you don't want to just jump the gun and kiss him without answering. Lying in his arms in your bed is the last place you expected this to happen, but now that you're here it's like a dream.

He licks his lips, wetting them as his eyes flicker down to yours. Somewhere between your first sip and now, your cocoa has been pushed onto the nightstand and he can hold you without fear of spilling something hot all over you. “Good.” He murmurs, leaning in to take in your scent, mouthwatering and thick like ambrosia, before he lowers his mouth to yours.

______

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xo2dee · 9 months

Text

ᴅᴇᴠɪʟ ᴍᴀʏ ᴄʀʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

ꜰᴇʟɪꜱ ᴄᴀᴛᴜꜱ

♱ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Vergil x Reader

♱ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: None

♱ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 8783

♱ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Nothing really quite caught your attention like the way he seemed to interact with your cat(s). Or: five times you saw a part of his heart, and one time you showed him yours.

♱ ᴀ/ɴ: this is so self-indulgent, but you cant tell me vergil wouldnt be a cat dad

♱ twitter - ao3

He never complained, so you never asked, however it was interesting watching him adapt to your environment in the same way you adapted into his own.

You ended up learning that Vergil was never one for domesticity, though he was also never one to voice a complaint whenever you seemingly doted on him and treated him as your other half. In return, neither of you truly ever brought it up or thought too long or hard about it, accepting acknowledgments in mutual silence that you both were comfortable enough to settle within the other’s boundaries and wants.

However, fitting Vergil into your life schedule somehow ended up being less of a chore than you originally thought it would be. Sure, he was a half-demon with some serious past trauma on his back and had committed less than acceptable deeds in the past, but you had already known that and accepted the fact any and all social interactions with him would take time for him to adjust to and you would need to be patient with the way he was readjusting to life outside of everything he knew.

The world itself had its edges crusted over in self-deprecation and long-picked wounds ready to reopen form the slightest tear in the seams, until someone came and sewed it back shut from any horrid presence with a touch of lingering affection. At some points you realized he was exactly like that, but you never were one for trying to fix someone; someone who was legitimately fine the way they were to you and didn’t need fixing, just a presence along his side when needed be.

You weren’t the person for fixing, and neither was Vergil, so you supposed that was why he ended up fitting in quite nicely alongside yourself.

However, if you had to come up with how to label him the moment he started frequenting you more often and became accustomed to the way you lived…

Cautious.

A word, and perhaps a description, you would give to the man who always sat almost too perfectly on your couch. His hands clasped between his slightly parted legs, fingers twitching and palms meeting every so often as the time went by, and his posture as stiff as board while his eyes darted out to assess every piece of furniture and decoration you had before he would somehow revert them back to you and repeat the process over.

Cautious… and awkward.

And be it his inability to hold conversations with you at time over dinner (he was trying, really, and it was endearing watching and hearing him talk about things he was particularly interested in), or just settling into a sense of normalcy once more, nothing really quite caught your attention like the way he seemed to interact with your cat(s).

January 7th; one month

“You don’t have to plaster yourself against the wall… Jesus, Vergil, I’m not goanna bite you.”

He was stiff – poised beyond belief – and he was cautious, perhaps walking into an unknown territory and assessing every nook and cranny before relaxing when he found nothing amiss or of threatening means. Vergil stuck out like a sore thumb in the entry way of your apartment, dressed to the nines in his velvety, Victorian getup you liked to tease him about being gothic for, and it didn’t help he took forever to learn how to relax.

The look he shot you alone told you it’d be a cold day in Hell the moment you got the jump on him, and you kept the eye roll in check when he sniffed and flexed his fingers along the grip he had of the Yamato in retaliation – cautious.

You’d seen Vergil placid, focused, and smug, but nothing compared to seeing an awkward expression (seriously, you were having a hard time wondering if it was just awkward in a way he didn’t know what to say so he just sneered, or he was just annoyed, or if that was just his face) on his face the few times he was being more mundane with his son or brother. Bless him, he was trying, but it also did make it funny as it was endearing seeing him make the same faces he made when you placed a key to your apartment in his palm (because he really needed to stop making portals in and out, the neighbors already looked at him weird and God forbid he answered the door again and scared the poor guy down the hall) whenever he was brought into a new interaction that he hadn’t yet experienced.

(It was almost as funny and as endearing the day he slipped up and called Nero, Son.)

You sighed and looked over at him from your shoulder, the dark colors of his outfit a fine contrast to the pale color of you walls, “My home is your home.”

It was decided that pointedly looking away from the heavy way his gaze landed back on your face the moment the words flowed off your tongue was perhaps the right decision… You hadn’t necessarily gotten used to Vergil’s intense stares – especially with the growing relationship between you both. Nevertheless, you fought the heat and embarrassment and snuck a coy smile in whenever you heard the soft footfalls of his boots against your floor, beginning to walk deeper into your apartment with him on your heels as you listened closely to keep everything in check.

He didn’t need a tour, but you assumed it was perhaps a little unsettling since you had practically told him to move in with you, and when you heard him stop walking the ball of doubt lodged deep into your throat fell down to settle into your stomach. You were ready to tell him he didn’t have to do it and you didn’t wanna make him uncomfortable, but he had beaten you to the punch and left you more curious than worried.

“…A cat,” he voiced flatly, and almost so softly and full of wonder you had to pivot on your heel to look and watch as he came to terms with the feline son you kept nuzzled up into your home sitting in his cat tree like he owned the place and lazily blinking at Vergil’s presence. You processed everything for a moment, remembering that very recently you took in a stray and had neglected to tell Vergil about it. Not that it seemed of pertinent information for him, but when you thought perhaps he had some heightened allergy to them because you never did see Dante or Nero around any pets that much…

“Oh… I forgot,” you turned back to him, a sheepish mask playing over your face as he alternated from the weird staring contest he was having with your cat to looking back at you, “I adopted him – kinda… He jumped through the window –”

“– Stop leaving your window open.”

“– and I just kinda let him live here…”

A fine brow rose, a tick in his jaw and you swore a vein on his forehead was protruding, “’Kinda’? Do you let everything that crawls into your life take refuge here?”

“I mean, I’m letting you live here, so yeah.”

“…”

Yeah, the vein was definitely protruding, and you waved him off while trying to hide your grin at his disgruntled stance, “Anyways, I didn’t think you’d care, but…”

The lighthearted trail you left at the end of your sentence was your ‘kissy-kissy’ talk you liked to use with him and always worked like a charm because Vergil would get more annoyed at your pestering more than anything and succumb in his own Vergil-esque way. It was like forcing the mouth of an alligator open that had its dinner sitting snugly in there open to get him to say whether he minded something or not, and you had called him a ‘No Man’ once and he got an attitude about it so you tried to refrain from prying into him. Yet, if he wasn’t okay being with a cat…

The barely audible sigh was seen rather than heard, Vergil’s shoulders relaxing and his chest rising and falling as the severe look left his face and casted a slow side glance towards your cat, who remained unbothered and lazily flicking his tail back and forth. “…What’s his name?”

You beamed, “Burrito.”

“Burrito,” he repeated, the tone you knew for sure he used whenever he was severely judging someone. You pursed your lips to hold your laugh in at how humorous it was to hear him say that and the with the way he was looking at you, reaching forward and smacked him on his chest. “Why is it named after a food?”

“Because that’s what I was eating when he jumped in… Look, he’s my big man –”

You couldn’t tell if the noise Vergil made was a snort or just a weird cough.

“But… if you mind…” you trailed off again, twisting your fingers in hopes you didn’t have to sacrifice either of the men in your new life, but Vergil silenced your rambling with a palm up, silvery eyes glinting at you for a moment before they softened just the slightest in the lowering amber sunset when he looked at Burrito.

“I don’t mind.”

February 14th; two months

Valentine’s Day was not a day you were expecting Vergil to even celebrate – Hell, you didn’t even celebrate it yourself, but that wasn’t to say Vergil didn’t end up spending time with you.

He’d been more frequent in going out (‘Finishing unfinished business’, he’d say) so time together was shill between you both when it seemed he woke you up more from his weight settling into the mattress next to you as he undid the straps to his boots more than anything else. You didn’t mind, Vergil was Vergil and you more inclined to feel grateful he was sticking around than running off into the night without so much of a word; spending time with his twin and his son certainly seemed to also put a damper onto his moody attributes as well.

So, you weren’t all that surprised when he came back that day – albeit a little earlier than usual and casted a glance to the plate on your coffee table and the leftovers on the counter. He didn’t need to eat, but it was appreciated whenever he did so with yours as much as he agreed to Kyrie’s at times (it was also fun to learn what he liked and disliked in that area; read: chocolate and mint being favorites apparently). Vergil had settled into the couch next to you the same time Burrito jumped into your lap, focus immediately reigning towards the television where you had started a documentary on ancient Samurais.

You learned he had taken up the hobby of watching every particular documentary he deemed interesting enough; be it history, science, and even marine biology oddly enough, Vergil was probably going to watch it if he found a section in it that caught his attention. You weren’t surprised given how much of a bookworm he was, and it was also nice spending time with him mutual, beneficial silence, something you had to learn he preferred even when you first met him.

You sighed inwardly. Watching an old documentary about Samurai on Valentine’s Day… your hand brushed along Burrito’s back. Well, it could’ve been worse. He could've not been there. You weren’t necessarily complaining, but your past plans for the holiday didn’t also end up sitting on the couch with a half-demon completely engrossed in a three-hour long documentary…

Well, was engrossed, until you peeked over with a less than noticeable side glance to see he had stopped watching it and was very decidedly taking that time to have another staring contest with Burrito. Who in turn stared right back unblinking with his tail flicking across your forearm… almost in a challenge.

You snorted.

“No matter the species, men never do change…” Having some weird contest over you that resulted in glaring at each other… you wouldn’t have been surprised if they randomly started having some vocal exchange to impress you.

“I’m not an animal,” his knee knocked into yours, a result from his manspread, while he propped his head into his palm, “The – Burrito… assumes I’m intruding in on his territory…” You didn’t miss the way his finger started to curl around strands of his hair, his eyes flicking back to you, Burrito, and the television every few seconds.

You paused, eyeing Vergil carefully as he just dropped that information on you and like it wasn’t weird at all that he was able to deduce that so easily. A hum resounded low in your throat and you ran your hand along Burrito’s back once more, “And you just… know this?”

He pointedly looked forward, not even at the television anymore, just anywhere else, “His behavior says otherwise?”

You thought about it for a moment, the forgotten documentary flashing against face highlighting his cut crease features and Burrito purring underneath your hand. “No, I’m just… wondering why you know that.”

Vergil sniffed again, “Instincts.”

“Right, but you’re half-demon, not half-cat… Unless…” you trailed off with a sly grin, his eyelashes shadowing over his eyes in the side-glare he shot you the moment the words left your mouth. He didn’t comment further, a familiar pinch in his brow that usually only happened whenever he had something on his mind and was trying to find the words to rightly discuss it. Part of you wanted to ease up since he looked vaguely uncomfortable about the speaking about the matter, yet the other part of you wondered just what he was getting at as he didn’t seem to particularly be in one of his ‘joking’ moods. Not only that, but he also somewhat looked like he was… pouting?

You blinked, recognition hitting you at full force.

Ah. Ah.

A sigh passed your lips as you held back the laugh lodging itself in your throat. Leave it to Vergil to have beef with a cat. If he wanted attention, all he had to do was ask.

His pout was cute, you’d give him that, and you barely held the giggle back at his suspicious side glance when you began to move in your spot. You ignored Burrito’s annoyed, ‘mrrrr’ as you jostled him in your lap from the movement, opting to plop yourself closer to Vergil and ultimately squish yourself into his side. You’d napped plenty of times on his shoulder and in his lap, but you didn’t think it really could compare to the way you two could lay together in silence at times completely awake and basking in each other’s company.

It was a moment of you sitting with your head against his arm, his scent as pleasant as ever, before he lifted his arm without a word and let you fall completely into his side. You felt a smile uncontrollably split your face when the warmth bloomed out of your chest and cheeks throughout the rest of your body, and with the documentary seeming all the more interesting as you snuggled into his side and pulled Burrito closer to you to let lay comfortable once more in your lap.

As tired and content as you were, you didn’t have the heart to even fall asleep, especially not when Vergil’s hand eventually crawled its way up to land upon yours, mirroring your motions of petting Burrito who had begun to purr the moment it happened.

March 19th; three months

With March finally signaling the arrival of Spring, you had been brought forward with allergies. Vergil had been vehement the moment you sneezed four times in a row one morning and had an itchy throat to keep your windows close. You had agreed of course, but that also resorted to you turning the air conditioner on because it was way too hot without it in your apartment. Especially when your boyfriend’s body temperature ran hotter than was humanly possible and sometimes liked to spoon with you.

Sleeping was easier, yet you got colder with the air conditioning on and had become a ‘nuisance’ (Vergil’s words) in the night stealing blankets and placing cold feet on his bare back, yet that night you were particularly warm. Even in your sleep you deduced that Vergil had returned earlier than normal, snuggling back in your sleep, but you weren’t necessarily sure why he was feeling furry and curled up against the skin of your back.

You ignored it.

(Maybe his leg hair grew.)

You hadn’t been waking up so frequently in the night since becoming accustomed to having Vergil living with you, any nightmares or memories diminished by his mere presence alone in your bed. However, it was still a fuzzy recognition each time you felt his side of the bed dip in the late of hours of the night when nothing but the moon and stars accompanied the sky.

It was of no surprise that you began to wake the moment you heard the door shut, his weight settling down onto his side of the bed as the sounds of him undressing reached your ears and you inevitably waited for him to lift the cover up and settle in next to you. It was routine, and you’d either roll over and shove your face in his chest or wait for him to curl an arm around a part of you as you fell back into a dream.

Nevertheless, when the moment did come as you heard the nearly inaudible sigh from him as he lifted the cover back and revealed half of your form, you realized with the frosty air chilling across your bare legs that the moment was lasting entirely too long.

You furrowed your brow, still facing away from him and silently begging for him to lay down because you were for sure going to roll over on top of him for warmth if he was purposely making you cold. Though with the stare you could already feel flitting across the exposed skin of your back, you had a sneaking suspicion of the mood he may have been in (as it wasn’t entirely all the time it happened). You sighed and opened your eyes, nothing but the dark greeting you and your creepy boyfriend ogling you at your back. Sure, you didn’t sleep with pants, but he’d seen it all, no reason to stare, all he had to was ask, but if he wanted to play hard to get, and that was what he wanted –

“I see you’ve let another take my spot instead.”

Despite the meaning for the words, Vergil sounded… humored. You blinked and stretched your arm around, patting around until you came across a lump of fur curled up against your back and said lump swatted at your hand for interrupting his beauty sleep. Ah, it wasn’t a potentially new form of Vergil that was hairy, it was your son seeking warmth in the sixty-degrees blast of cold inhabiting your apartment.

“Ouch,” you griped, rubbing your thumb over the spot Burrito had slapped you, while rolling over to sit up and face where Vergil was, “I didn’t even know he was there.”

“Unsurprising… Though it was bound to happen sooner or later with the way you keep it freezing.”

It made you want to bubble up into a giggle at the sound of his voice seemingly disembodied in the dark, not being able to see him yet his vision letting him see you perfectly, but you were more focused on the fact he still held the blanket up and was currently making you cold. You huffed and waved your hand, slightly disoriented as the chills on your legs doubled, “Lay down. It’s cold.”

“Burrito has taken my spot, unless you intend for me to take the couch.”

You patted the bed again, feeling the lump again and not getting slapped that time, “Just scoot him over.”

A beat. “You looked awfully peaceful.”

This again, you rolled your eyes and snickered, instead heaving your big cat into your arms and making room for Vergil, “What can I say? I need a cuddler and he’s my b – “

“Your ‘big man’, yes, I’ve heard it more than enough.”

“Don’t be so jealous, handsome,” you snickered and patted the spot next to you while lying your head back onto the pillow, tucking Burrito underneath your chin and against to your chest as he began to purr and press his nose to your neck, “You’re my big man too. All nearly seven feet of you. Now lay down and come here.”

The noise he made in the back of his throat was something you weren’t sure was of embarrassment or one of his signature grumbles, but ultimately did as you said. The bed shifted once he was down, the cover back over the both of you and a leg tangling with your own as Burrito shifted enough to lay along the lengths of your bodies. No more words were exchanged, the night was still, and you were already becoming warm mere minutes after Vergil finally settled back into bed.

At times it was hard, getting someone with the horrors that had happened to him to finally rest on his back; completely open and vulnerable to anything that could happen as he rested. It took a lot of work to get him to finally sleep next to you, it took a lot more work to get him to talk about those late nights. However, it was soft having him next to you, it was soft being with him, in a way that had chills breaking back across every part on your skin and leaving a yearning in your soul of wanting to burrow yourself into his warmth and everything he had offer.

It was perfect; perfect and warm, quiet and peaceful –

Until Vergil promptly sneezed.

You snorted, and he hissed into the dark, “Cat…”

There was no ill intention in his voice, and you felt Burrito swish his tail again (the indication that he brushed it across Vergil’s nose to tickle it and make and him sneeze that loud ass sneeze not lost on you as you bit your cheek to keep from laughing), until Vergil’s arm barred down across the both of you and all movement stopped with Burrito’s purrs soothing you both to sleep.

You fell asleep then, a lingering pink of softness and warmth surrounding you and when you awoke later you couldn’t find it in you to wake your two others. You felt your lips stretch into a smile, Vergil’s face buried in Burrito’s fur and Burrito tucked up under his chin while you both remained secured by his arm.

July 21st; seven months

The iridescent colors of blues in the form he took every so often had always fascinated you, the indention of the ‘V’ along his widened chest abdomen the most interesting as you pondered if it was something he did consciously, or it was something far beyond anything he had power. You weren’t necessarily sure if he really had any power over what his forms looked like, as he once told you before it had changed to the older he got, but nevertheless you were always quick to appreciate it whenever he showed you.

The blue of him did intrigue you the most, but you were also fascinated by his tail that would teasingly wrap around your ankles or pull on your pant leg, or his wings as they spread out for you on display and the span of them lifting your eyebrows when he let you see them. Almost as if he was proud of himself and showing them off to you for your viewing pleasure in hopes that you would like them.

(Almost like he was baring a part of himself to you that was closed off to anyone else considering the number of times he dived out of the air in the form when you were alone somewhere walking and nearly scared you shitless.)

Vergil didn’t just… phase into the form randomly, you noticed acutely he’d fly at times, not bothering to break reality with the Yamato you guessed, but it was those times you realized he was looking for you. You didn’t really have a habit of going out and walking around on your own, but that was really how you got to and from your job, it was more… you got bored if he wasn’t around. Vergil occupied ninety percent of your time, so when he wasn’t around you took matters into your own hands to actually find something to do because you weren’t about to sit cooped up in the apartment. It hadn’t been raining the day you got out, troubled by boredom and seeking the city to find something to do, but the moment you heard that noise was the very moment it began a downpour, and you made a decision before having to run home and get away from the storm.

Summer weather was always the worst to you.

However, luck was on your side in the form of a nosey boyfriend who most definitely worried more than he’d ever let on as you were walking one moment holding something precious against your chest, and the next you were wondering if you were about to get dive-bombed by a gigantic lizard. He had landed as graceful as ever in front of you and promptly lifted a wing to use as a makeshift umbrella to shield you from the rain, a sigh leaving your lips from being out of the freezing rain as you began to walk with him.

Mutual silence at times was your two’s go-to, nothing awkward about it or a sign either of you were upset. Vergil didn’t talk all that much when he was in that form, the one time you did hear his voice like that frazzling you at the way it wiggled up your spine and scratched at your brain until it tingled your nerves. It was…. Interesting the way it echoed, but also sounded like he was speaking into a box fan sometimes.

Not that you didn’t like it, just weren’t used to it. You loved his voice, and he had gotten better at talking your ear off as of then.

“Didn’t think you’d find me with all the rain,” you spoke once you both reached a more populated and covered area, that form diminishing in a flurry of azure diamond crisps as he come into view in his human guise. You realized his clothes were connected somehow (“Demonic magic,” he had offered one day, a shrug accompanying him when you asked) as he was soaked, and you wanted to curl your finger around the strand of hair that stuck out from his usual updo whenever it was wet. The little cowlick made you giggle, much to his embarrassment, a little quirk he seemed to have that you continued to learn about.

Smoothing a palm down his sleeve, he glanced over to you, “…I could smell you.”

Right; heightened senses. You weren’t sure you’d ever get used to that. You wrapped your arms around your abdomen, securing what was in your shirt closer to you to keep them warm and from slipping out, “Yeah, but you’d think the rain would mask it.”

Vergil shifted on his feet, taking a moment to lift one of the tails of his coat to wring it free of water while beginning to mumble, “It’s not something I would forget…” he cleared his throat and let go of his coat, a finger coming up to pull his collar away from his throat as he looked elsewhere, “…And you’re starting to smell like me.”

Ah. Basically, telling you he knew your scent like the back of his hand. And he could find you anywhere. That made your cheeks heat up, your pulse deepening to which you were sure he was able to hear. It was sweet, really, knowing you’d never stray too far from him without him finding you. You opened your mouth to speak, but the small ‘mew’ from the inside of your shirt cut you off, Vergil’s head swiftly snapping back to you with an incredulous look as if he was wondering if you were the one that made noise until your shirt suspiciously moved again and his eyes zeroed on it.

You tried to mask the meow with a cough, and he sneered at your pathetic attempt; damn his insane hearing. A sigh left you as you removed one arm from your abdomen, holding the other in its place to make sure the baby didn’t fall out without your support. You both stared at each other for a long moment, the sun beginning to break through a mass of shadowing clouds and the puddles on the ground casting flickering rainbows.

“…”

Vergil said your name. You smiled guiltily.

His eyebrow arched, staring down at the lump in your shirt he could easily see and hear, “What’s in your shirt?”

“…My boobs?”

Vergil looked exhausted, almost breaking composure and rolling his eyes as he motioned for you to remove your arm and promptly lifted up your shirt for you. You squawked, “Wait –!”

You weren’t able to stop from the little thing falling out of your shirt, and luckily for you Vergil had the world’s best reflexes, catching the small bundle of black that fell free from your shirt in both of his hands and holding it up for closer inspection. And truly it was a tiny thing; shaking and cold, green eyes blinking every so often, and its fur soaked to the bone which was telling since it looked awfully skinny. It looked even smaller in Vergil’s hands yet held so tenderly you wondered if he already knew and wanted to just see for himself after cozying up to Burrito more and more.

“…A cat,” he said, sounding all the same as the day he officially moved in and saw Burrito perched up waiting for him, however his voice lifted a fraction as he stared at the little ball of fur and ran his thumb over the cat’s nose.

You sided up next to him, smoothing down your shirt and sighing, “A kitten. I found it in an alley; by itself so I think it’s all alone without…” you trailed off and peeked over at him, watching his eyelashes fall carefully over his eyes and he glanced once towards you with dilated pupils.

“Do you make it a habit to pick up strays?” His mouth quirked up at the side; a tease despite how intense he was watching you and the kitten.

You shrugged, cheeks a little too warm and you feeling a little too giddy, “Maybe. I got you and Burrito.”

Vergil’s mouth twitched, a smile. You fanned your eyelashes as he sighed, wondering what was possibly going through his mind as you got ready to ask him the inevitable. Yet he beat you to the punch, pressing his thumb over the kitten’s head as it followed the movements of his pets, “I know you… What do you want to name him?”

You beamed, and grabbed his arm, “It’s a girl, and I’m not so good with names. I named Burrito because I was eating one and he wanted some, if I named her, she’d be Dumpster because that’s where I found her.”

He huffed, his throat lodging with a laugh as he lidded his eyes while petting her, “Then…?”

“Then… you name her.”

You expected him to refuse, his lips pursing and brow knotting as he stared down at the kitten in his hands seeming like he was truly thinking of a name to give the little thing and not being able to come up with anything. However, it was more the look in his eyes as he stared at her, like he was seeing something you weren’t able to and conflicting memories were riddling his brain as he tried to sort through them for a moment. Vergil looked… somewhat troubled; upset to a degree, and it twisted your gut to see such an expression on his face, so you began to open your mouth to tell him not to worry about it before he cut you off with such a soft voice it made your knees buckle.

“Shadow.”

The troubled expression was gone, and he looked… relieved, the newly named Shadow purring underneath his pets and Vergil tucking her closer to his chest. You nearly wanted to tease him about such a cliché name for a black cat, but when the sun finally casted through the dark rainclouds and shine over Vergil’s features and nearly sparkled along Shadow’s fur, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Not with that smile on his face.

You didn’t say anything else, taking his arm he offered to go back home and bringing your new member with you as well as she fell asleep in his arms.

Shadow, it is.

October 31st; ten months

Despite Vergil making some money with… the demon-hunting business, you still kept a job. You had to feed yourself, two cats, and sometimes Vergil, who had more of an appetite than you had initially thought otherwise, and you still had to rent to pay every month. You weren’t necessarily struggling, but sometimes you liked to know you had extra money on hand in the bank in case anything was to happen. He helped some, but you were hard-pressed in letting him use for himself for whatever he wanted to do; just trying to let him have a semblance of something that he may have never gotten to experience.

You didn’t like working (Hell, who did?), but if you were able to spend a little extra money on yourself and Vergil, you’d do it. Besides… it was nice getting him things he showed interests in yet never expressed an aloud want from them.

Still, you inwardly groaned, climbing the stairs to your apartment and biting your cheek at the empty candy bowls and Halloween decorations outside other apartments, did I have to work Halloween? You liked Halloween; you loved Autumn. It was a serene time of year full of inspiration and beauty in the way the leaves danced in primary colors as they fell for year, and you much liked doing activities with Vergil as he seemed to prefer the cooler weather.

Speaking of… you paused digging for your keys in your purse, eyebrows raising and blinking at your own empty candy bowl outside your door. It was a black cat like Shadow; green eyes and pink ears that you had bought and sighed over thinking about you wouldn’t be able to hand out candy for Halloween, something Vergil only acknowledged with a hum and stealing a piece of chocolate from the bowl as you weren’t too sure of his opinion on the holiday. However – your heart panged and cheeks warmed – it seemed he had taken a soft spot for the idea and placed the bowl outside regardless, and while you knew he didn’t open the door and communicate with any of them, it was the mere notion that he did it, nonetheless.

Thus, it was odd that he was home so early, your key finding its way into the lock and making your way inside to complete darkness. You had half a mind to think that perhaps you were wrong in Vergil being home (or thinking he was playing some weird prank on you), yet from the dim outside light peering inside you were able to squint and make out his form on your couch while you regarded him cautiously and to why he was just sitting there in the dark.

“Vergil?”

You received no answer, and though you blinked and let your eyes readjust to the new darkness to see the outline of his broad shoulders and his legs open in his signature manspread, you could not help but think something may have been wrong with fear trailing down into your throat and balling up into your stomach.

And didn’t help neither Burrito nor Shadow came to welcome you.

You felt along the wall for the switch next to the door, squinting as the light came on and gave you a full view to your boyfriend who was slumped over on your couch asleep. Your lips parted at the sight of his hair brushing along his chin, down and shielding parts of his face instead of its usual updo and letting you see every emotion that flickered across his face; a paradox in the enigma of him as his expressions always seemed more vulnerable with his hair down and in his face. He looked… soft; a peaceful and beautiful sleeper with his eyelashes fanned out over his eyes and his chest moving slowly with each breath he took.

He was a light sleeper, as he usually woke up before you in the mornings and would’ve definitely been roused by you turning on the light and calling his name, yet he remained still and at peace.

(A symbol of trust and safety he felt in your apartment and with you that would never go unnoticed.)

Vergil was half-laying and half-sitting as he slept; an awkward position with his neck rolling onto his shoulder that you knew potentially would be sore, and his long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. And as you assessed him and his sleeping form, you nearly missed the two other members of the household all saddled up next to him and sleeping just as peacefully as he was.

You smiled. No wonder they hadn’t come to greet you.

Burrito was curled up next to his thigh, head lying atop it nearly and stretched out leisurely as he slept, his new favorites spots to sleep being anywhere next to Vergil as long as he’d pet him and give him treats. Shadow was a little harder to spot as she was a dark color, nearly blending in with the dark colors Vergil shrouded himself with, but you spotted her curled up in a small ball atop his lap, slowly growing after you both took her in, but not the slightest bit shy with either of you. You found Vergil’s hands holding her close to him, all three of them warm and utterly peaceful as they slumbered.

Your heartbeat increased; chest heavy and cheeks warm despite the night air and rain.

“…”

You made up your mind.

Quietly you shut the door behind you, turning the light back off and using your phone as a flashlight as you tiptoed to the bedroom, setting your purse down and quickly shimmying off your work clothes for a sweatshirt and sleeping shorts with the blanket from your bed and an extra throw blanket Vergil had gotten you when you were sick. You were careful placing one around his shoulders to not wake him, the other you wrapped yourself in as you yawned, and stretched out on the other end of the couch, careful not to disturb the others before you drifted off.

You weren’t too sure how you ended up with your head in his lap as you woke a few hours later, Shadow purring close to your face as she slept and Burrito tucked in lying against your stomach limbs all sprawled out, while Vergil finally retained a more comfortable position and had his body keeping all three of you warm.

It didn’t matter, as long as you were all safe, comfortable, and warm.

December 31st; one year

You liked Winter.

The snowflakes that fell in the city sticking to all the buildings and bare trees making for a beautiful yet somber display, the blanket of blinding powder on the ground you liked to trace your fingers in, the colors of the decorative lights comforting and leaving you feeling cozy as the final days of the year came around, and the cold letting you gravitate everything that was warm; letting you gravitate towards him and your two cats in the night for that semblance of balance and warmth.

Snow was quiet as it fell around you, and as you blinked through your eyelashes you realized the snow reminded you of his hair. Finely white and fluffy; yet one being cold to touch and the other bringing you comfort whenever you got the chance to run your fingers through it.

His hair, however, was down once more; brushing his jawline and the ends slightly dyed red. You didn’t like that.

It matched the red you saw stained on the pure white hours beforehand; you didn’t like the way it looked when droplets singed his hair and a streak spattered across his cheek. It didn’t match the night you wanted to have with him at all.

You weren’t sure how long he’d been holding you. You weren’t sure where everything nearly went to Hell.

A New Years celebration at Devil May Cry was planned, and everyone had been there. Dante, Nero, Lady, Trish, Kyrie, Nico, Morrison, Patty, then you and Vergil; all of you were there and it was surprising to not have to (metaphorically) drag Vergil by his coat to social occasions, seemingly no exceptions coming from him as he was rushing you that time around. You’d been fairly happy, conversing with everyone that you hadn’t got to see in a while and indulging on glasses of red wine as Vergil watched your intake by swapping your drinks every so often. He wasn’t drinking, staying on alert despite the amicable air, yet he was more than patient enough with you when you got a little tipsy and nearly spilled your drinks.

You blamed yourself for him not being on guard enough to stop what had happened sooner, and you blamed yourself for allowing yourself to get hurt in the moment after you got pushed into Lady’s arms.

Being fuzzy with alcohol didn’t help, whatever demons attacking getting the drop on you, yet it wasn’t like you were able the defend yourself anyway against a good hoard of them. Though Vergil pushed you to Lady because he trusted her enough and know she’d do whatever she could, it wasn’t enough when face was abruptly grabbed with your jaw nearly grinded into dust and the slice in your side deemed you a liability regardless. It only lasted for a brief moment – the fear bubbling in your gut, the whining in your jaw and watering in your eyes – before anything permanent damage was done and he had sliced through its body in precise precision.

The drunkenness dissipated, only being back within Vergil’s comfort for a short moment until mere milliseconds later you were with Kyrie that time around, Nero doing his damnedest to keep her free from harm as he always would. The pain was stinging and the nerves bundling themselves in your gut to make you want to hurl, but you held steadfast, cringing whenever Kyrie began to tend to your wound and smoothing her loving fingers across the bruises on your jaw. It wasn’t long until you were coddled enough to stand up on your own with a sigh from Kyrie, a pat on the thigh from Lady, and Trish’s thumb running across your jawline with a troubled expression, not that it mattered in the end anyway when you found yourself hanging out in Vergil’s arms whenever everything was said and done.

He never openly displayed affection with you around others, the fact he was doing it around others was enough for you keep quiet in complaining about it. You supposed everyone else understood as well, keeping their eyes and voices to themselves. The only ones who spoke to Vergil were the ones who knew him best: his brother and his twin.

Dante was assuring to enough to tell him he could handle anything else from there and to go home, asking you if you were okay and cackling when you rolled your eyes when he spoke about the wine stain on your shirt. Nero was more… of a guilty sort, arguing he should’ve seen it happen before it happened whilst the rubbing the back of his neck and asking if you were well. Vergil did well to decline any need for any help from either of them, and you felt your cheeks warm at his words.

“We’ll be fine going home. Thank you.”

Vergil carried you all the way home, your questioning of why he didn’t want to use a portal or fly answered in the form of not wanting to jar you in any way with your injury. It was doting you supposed, watching the snow fall along his hair as it fell into his face, but you got the sinking suspicion his mind was heavy elsewhere all the way until he pushed the apartment door open with his foot, closing it behind him gently and making way strictly for your bedroom.

You didn’t miss the way Burrito and Shadow perked up, coming to trail after you both as they seemed to understand part of the situation that was going on.

Vergil sat down onto the bed, still holding you in his arms as the movement jostled the cut on your side and you huffed and curled your knees inward. He stilled at the noise, arms stiffening and nearly like he wanted to hold you away from himself until you dropped your head back down onto his shoulder. He was warm despite being out in the cold and snow, and while you knew that you’d heal just fine and figured a little warmth would help with pain in your side, something was particularly eating at Vergil with the corded muscles in his bicep straining and the narrowing of his eyes every so often.

You knew what was bothering him.

A wet sigh pushed itself out of your lips, “I’m fine.”

You weren’t lying whenever you said that his expressions were more vulnerable with his hair down, which is why you assumed he liked to hide behind that curtain of white to keep them at bay. The silver of his eyes found your own, the dark ring of blue just around his pupil deeper than you had ever seen as he carefully eyed you, dropping down to stare at the bruises along your jawline. You watched his lips move first, hearing the words a few seconds later so quietly you wondered if he had really spoken to them.

“You were afraid.”

Eyebrows scrunching you knotted your fingers in your shirt, “Not –”

“Don’t lie.”

You shut your mouth, feeling your body flush and grinding your teeth, “So maybe I was…”

The admittance brought about that troubled look along his face, the creases of his face shadowed by the room’s darkness and highlighted by the moon, and he looked away down towards the blood that seeped through your shirt and stained it permanently. “This is the only time this has happened…” his jaw flexed, perhaps his molars grounded together and he grimaced, “Were you afraid I wouldn’t be able to reach you in time?”

The question diminished all annoyance over him fretting, blinking numerous times at the newfound emotion running throughout your body and wishing he would look at you so you could have a fleeting grasp of just what he was feeling. It wasn’t that; more you never had that type of interaction before and were scared for good reason of your life that something might’ve happened to you… but never that he’d not be there. A treacherous part of you whispered into your mind that he was blaming himself, rethinking everything, and you sat up into his lap, Vergil’s eyes following you once more as you gripped the lapel of his coat.

“No,” you answered evenly, the hand on your back staying and his other falling into your lap, “Afraid of other demons? Maybe, but not ever afraid of you or anything you may or may not have done.” Your cheeks felt cold without lying against him and your pulse thundered, no doubt something he was easily able to hear, and with your side still throbbing you wanted to shrink back into yourself but you were steadfast to sit up and speak to him, to let him see you were telling the truth.

He seemed to take it with a grain of salt, eyes still searching around your jawline, and you could practically see the storm building up behind his expression, “You know the dangers.” It wasn’t a question; a statement. A fact.

Your chest ceased for a moment at the idea of him thinking differently, “Yes, but I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t accept that. I feel…” your cheeks warmed, finding the words difficult as you weren’t really an affectionate person as well and spouted out every single emotion Vergil made you feel, “safe… with you. And it’s always warm around you – and not just because your body temperature runs hotter –“ God, you were babbling and grasped the hand in your lap to keep yourself from blurting anything else embarrassing out. You sighed, curling your fingers around his palm, “I always feel protected around you.”

The silver of his eyes were fast to find your own once more, the intense stare he directed you something you had finally gotten used to and not shy away from anymore, and you felt his hand turn yours over, fingers tracing along your palm while his eyes seemed to brighten. You had said, perhaps, something he wanted – and needed to hear.

“This will be the last time it happens.” Vergil spoke with finality, an unspoken promise to keep you safe and his own to never let it happen again. You let a small smile grace your face before lying your head back onto his shoulder, your hands intertwined and your body beginning to feel warm once more.

“I’d hope so. I like us. I like our family. And…” You’d never said it before, your own insecurities of being rejected keeping you from doing so, but you had felt that way for a long time. God, what the Hell. “And I do love you.”

You’d been together a year, you figured it was long enough to announce those feelings – especially if it put him at ease.

It seemed to do the trick, and though you may not ever hear it verbally and so casually, you learned Vergil was a man of actions to show his true feelings. The kiss was chaste in its own way, yet passionate in the way he pulled you into him. You heartbeat slamming against your ribcage into his own, his fingers digging slightly into your back and yours tightening into the fabric of his coat, and the wisps of his hair tickling your cheeks as your lips molded together in the perfect fit of the puzzle you’d been searching for. His answer was clear as day to you, and yet the true depth of his emotions for you would remain unknown, but you knew exactly where they stemmed from – the foreign heart you could feel along your chest.

Your answer had been accepted.

He was careful in leaning back onto the bed to lie down, your body curled on top of his as his chin found the top of your head and he kept a firm hold on your back and hip. You sighed contently, a huff slightly leaving him as his lips brushed across your forehead, and you closed your eyes at the dreamy warmth prickling down your spine and throughout the rest of your body. You would’ve been able to fall asleep right then and there, but Vergil’s fidgeting and the bedroom door creaking open slightly made you smile against his skin.

He sighed after a moment, the hand on your hip falling down onto mattress and his throat humming as he spoke, “Nosey…” he patted the bed a few times, “Come here.”

You didn’t have to guess who he was speaking to, blinking your eyes back open and watching your two cats jump onto the bed, Burrito coming to curl along your stomach, and Shadow finding her way to tuck her face against Vergil’s neck. They sought the warmth and comfort the same way you sought it from Vergil; the safety you two presented something you both looked for in each other. Both of the cats purred as they cuddled with you both, Vergil’s chest deepening with the breaths he took and his hand smoothing down your back in intervals slowing down.

You closed your eyes, ready to fall asleep in his arms full of acceptance.

Safe and warm; something you’d always feel with your family.

#{🩸} nee fics #vergil x reader #vergil devil may cry #vergil dmc #vergil x you #vergil x y/n

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twola · 1 year

Text

Passerine : Chapter 1

PAIRING: High Honor Arthur Morgan x Fem!reader

When a run-in with an O’Driscoll leads you to a fate worse than death, it’s up to Arthur to pick up the pieces.

Warnings: This fic has graphic descriptions of non-consensual sex, violence against women, the trauma thereafter, and somewhat unhealthy coping mechanisms. If any of that content makes you feel uncomfortable or triggers you, this may not be the fic for you.

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“Don’t look so glum there, cowboy. I’ll be sure to put your money to good use.”

Arthur Morgan glares from across the table, pushing the pile of coins in your direction.

“The hell are you gonna do with that money?” He spits, but cannot help the grin that begins at the side of his mouth.

You toss your braided hair over your shoulder. “As I damn well please, Mister Morgan. I think I’ll take myself to town.”

Pushing the dominoes into the center of the table, you stand and relieve Arthur of his money.

“Maybe I'll find me a nice stable boy and treat him to dinner.” You tease, knowing just how to rib the man in front of you.

He snorts, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and lighting one at the table, “Ain't you just a proper lady, wine and dine the boy before robbin’ him blind.”

“Claro, Arthur, sounds like you have some experience with that.” Javier chuckles from his seat across the campfire. You look over at Javier and wink, laughing under your breath.

Arthur rolls his eyes, taking a drag from his cigarette. You laugh as you deposit the coins into the pocket of your dress.

“The pleasure was all mine, Mister Morgan.” You curtsy in an exaggerated manner before stepping away from the table and taking your leave.

Arthur shoots up as you walk away, heading toward where the horses are hitched across the camp. A pleased smile crosses your face as you hear his heavy footsteps behind you.

“C’mon now, you ain’t really gonna go blow that money in Valentine of all places,” Arthur complains, taking a drag of his cigarette as he follows you.

“Cattle town is gonna be the best place to pick up a strapping young stablehand, Mister Morgan. Besides, didn’t you and Lenny just blow through an embarrassing amount of money in Valentine two weeks ago?” You spin on your heel and press your pointer finger into his chest accusingly.

“That was - that’s… that’s different.” He sputters, almost dropping the cigarette from his mouth. A tinge of red stains his cheeks as his eyes dart away from you.

“Mhmm. Sure…” You roll the second word in a drawl imitating the man’s rough voice, the ‘u’ sounding more like an ‘o’ and ‘a’ smashed together.

He scowls in response.

“Are you seriously going to Valentine for that?”

You laugh, reaching your horse.

“I’m gonna go check out a lead I heard from one of the workin’ girls in town.” You pull on the strap of the horse’s saddle, tightening the holster where your repeater is tucked into.

“Y’want company?” Arthur asks, dropping his cigarette on the ground and snuffing it out under his boot. God, this man is about as obvious as they come.

“Nah, I’m a big girl. ‘Sides, I’m just lookin’. I’ll be sure to find ya when it’s ready to hit though.” You pull yourself up into the saddle of your gelding, a young silver-coated trotter.

“I’ll be back to take more of your money, I promise, Mister Morgan.” You laugh as you settle yourself in the saddle, looking down at him as he rolls his eyes at you. “Don’t miss me too much, cowboy .” You lower your voice to sweet registers as you lean over your saddle closer to him.

The very hint of a blush blooms on his cheeks again before he looks back to the ground.

This dance, the give and take, the teasing, it’s all burning in your gut deliciously. Somewhere along the way of robbing, thievery, and general skullduggery that the gang lived by, you and Arthur began this flirtation.

You’d be blind not to notice him - especially when he’s been apt to chop wood shirtless around camp. Karen may or may not have smacked you upside the head after catching you staring.

And you - you know you’re not any vixen - you certainly don't have Karen’s bosom, but you’ve noted Arthur’s stare at times, lingering for longer than is socially appropriate.

Also, there’s Mary Beth and Tilly teasing you that Arthur looks at you like a lost puppy. Karen drolls on that whatever this is between you is getting obnoxious and you two should just get in bed together and get it over with.

Maybe if Blackwater hadn’t happened the way it did, you’d have done that by now. It's been a while since you’ve been on your back for anyone , and certainly, since joining this gang a year back, you’ve been trying your damnedest to prove your worthiness as a thief, without sleeping your way around the camp.

But Arthur… Arthur; the stalwart enforcer, the muscle, the fearless, at times ruthless second in command… Somehow, underneath that bloody and hard exterior is a quiet, unsure, and unconfident man.

You're in the painfully obvious stage of…. whatever this is between you, where the attraction is undeniable, the tension is palpable. Perhaps it was when Arthur insisted on teaching you how to shoot when a coach robbery in Colorado went south. Perhaps it was the way he curled his arms over your back to help you aim the repeater. Perhaps it was the way his rough, low voice whispered in your ear to keep both eyes open when aiming…

Speaking of which, his rough, low voice interrupts your thoughts.

“You be careful now, Miss.”

“Always am, Mister.”

Arthur nods and gives you a two-fingered salute as you urge your horse into a trot away from the camp, passing Karen on your way while on guard duty. She waves, and you toss some crude joke at her, to which she laughs back, fading out of view as your horse makes it past the brush and woods to the main road. The gang had settled at Horseshoe Overlook several weeks ago after the mess of Blackwater and the terrible time in Colter. Things were slowly returning to normal - jobs were starting up again, there was money to be made.

The golden late afternoon sun falls behind the mountains as you steer your horse through the Heartlands, skirting east of Valentine and into the heavily wooded Cumberland Forest.

Some harlot with loose lips was talking up a client she had, some feckless man from the East who set up in a cabin north of Cornwall’s oil fields. Sounded like he had money, by the way the girl was talking in the saloon. All you had to do was a little scoping out, recruit some of the men for the job, and reap the benefits. You could see the pleased look on Dutch’s face when you bring back the haul, having orchestrated an entire robbery and provided for the gang. You would finally feel worthy .

The low light of dusk descended on the forest by the time you reach your destination. You hitch your horse just off the road, grabbing your binoculars and slinging your repeater over your back before quietly trapezing through the high grass and trees toward the clearing where the cabin stood. Luckily for you, the side you approached from sloped down a rocky hill, and there was a ledge perfect for spying upon the cabin and its occupants.

You sidle up to the ledge and stoop to your knees, then to your belly as you pull a pair of binoculars from your dress pocket.

There we are.

Sprawled out on the ledge, peering through your binoculars with a repeater strapped across your back, you grin. A light is lit within the cabin, shadows of its occupant moving around. Hell, from the one window you can see in, things look clean and new. A sitting duck. You decide to stay another half hour to see if you can delineate any other people in the cabin.

None such exist. You snort, giggling to yourself with glee - this was going to be great. Tomorrow you would recruit Arthur and Javier, maybe John if he was feeling up to it, storm into this cabin, and rob this city slicker blind. Foolproof .

“You think you can just move in on my spot, huh, missy?”

A cold shiver goes down your spine as you whip your binoculars to the ground in front of you. Sprawled out on the grass of the ledge, it was near impossible to reach your repeater at this angle.

Not that it would have helped anyway.

The butt of a rifle meets the back of your head and all goes black.

You awaken with a piercing pain in the back of your skull. It takes you moments for your vision to come into focus, but when it finally does, you find yourself indoors, the stench of stale cigarettes nearly overbearing.

Blinking, your eyes become less cloudy as you realize that you’re bound. Your hands are tied tightly behind your back, the fibers of rope rough against your wrists. You lay atop a bed of some sort, though calling it that would be generous. You struggle against your bindings, groaning against the fabric tied tightly against your mouth, gagging you.

A door opens across from you, and as you strain to get your bearings in the dark, the light from a lantern floods the room. Decrepit, falling apart, dirty - a wardrobe with a door hanging off and random items thrown in. Bottles litter the floor.

A chair with a rifle- no wait - a repeater slung over the back of it, hanging by a strap.

Your repeater.

“Now, what do we have here, little miss?”

Your eyes dart back to the stranger walking into the room, the man places the lantern down on a side table.

“I got to thinkin’- who could this little lady be that’s scopin’ out my lead?”

He leans on the bed, uncomfortably close. You squirm as far as you can from him on the bed, your teeth clenching down on the gag in your mouth.

“Yer one of Dutch’s girls, ain'tcha? Colm’ll love this.”

O’Driscoll.

Of course. Dutch had said Colm was operating in the area. Hell - it wasn't two weeks ago that a bunch of the men cleared out a safe house full of them; the green-scarved assholes. Stupid, stupid. Why didn't you take up Arthur’s offer to come with you?

You narrow your eyes at the man and finally notice the green bandana at his collar, tucked into his dirty flannel shirt. He pulls an old, beat-up cabbie hat from his head and tosses it to the ground. His dark hair is disheveled, as is his beard.

“I’ll be bringin’ you back to our camp. Colm will want to be speakin’ wit ya. Y’know, he can be quite a convincin’ man.”

You continue to try and scoot yourself away from the man, a dirty, rough-looking scoundrel - just what you pictured when an O’Driscoll came to mind. Unfortunately, the bed where you’ve been deposited is against the wall, and you've quickly run out of real estate to put between you.

“The boys are hittin’ that house now, ain't gonna lose it to any stinkin’ Van der Lindes.” He spits with derision over Dutch’s name.

He turns and spits on the floor before moving closer to you. You try to buck and withdraw further to prevent him from touching you, but between his encroaching figure and the wall, you are trapped.

“But while we’re waitin, might as well have some fun.” He grabs your leg to stop you from moving. He yanks, hard, pulling you across the bed toward him. You yell into the gag. He pulls your boots off and tosses them across the room, they skitter across the floor. His hands dive under your skirt, finding your knees, and where your stockings end at your thigh. They are peeled from your legs as you try to squirm from his grasp.

Tears run down your face as you struggle, the screams reduced to animalistic cries with the fabric between your teeth. You pull on the ropes binding your wrist but are unable to make any headway other than rubbing the skin of your wrists raw behind your back.

“Y’know, pretty little thing like you, maybe I should make you my wife.”

The man looks over you, giving you a toothy grin. He leans over and takes your shirt in two hands and pulls, buttons fly and fabric tears as you struggle against him, yelling against the gag in your mouth. The shirt is pulled from your body in torn pieces before he starts to pull at the fastening of your skirt. You buck your knee up and hit him on the chin. Smarting from the blow, he works his jaw a bit before slamming his fist across your face.

You’re left dazed, vision going temporarily black. You feel your skirt loosen around your waist. There is a tearing of cloth, ripping, and as you’re reeling from the blow to your head, you feel your bloomers torn from your hips. Your threadbare chemise is all that shields your body from this man.

The terrible clicking sound of a belt being undone pierces the stillness.

“Now, now, you haven’t been too nice to me tonight, miss. Think it’s time ta teach you some manners. I know ol’ Van der Linde prolly doesn’t teach you shit.”

He climbs onto the bed, looming on his knees above you. You try to wriggle your arms free, but the rope behind your back is tight against your wrists. You meet his eyes as a cold sweat overtakes you.

He laughs, the bastard. Standing on his knees above you, he undoes the buttons of his trousers one by one. He yanks his shirt up his abdomen before peeling his trousers down to his knees, one hand stroking his hardening cock.

You scream again but gagged as you are, your efforts are in vain.

Hands return to your thighs. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying hard to close your legs, but strong fingers move up to your thighs again and shove your knees apart. Fabric is pushed, higher, higher. The hem of your chemise is hiked over your hips, baring your naked skin to your captor. He lets the fabric go and it pools around your ribcage.

Tears burst from your eyes as you begin to hyperventilate behind the gag.

“Pretty miss.”

You feel the blunt head of his cock push against your opening, insistently demanding entry. A sob wracks your body as the man above you grunts, pressing hard against you. A piercing pain flashes through your hips, and the opening of your cunt burns as he breaches you, the head of his cock forcing his way in. You’re not prepared for anything like this, and the drag of his skin against yours is a pain like you’ve never felt before.

He groans in pleasure, pushing further into you, and tears continue to spill from your eyes as the pain worsens. He presses his whole body down on yours, your arms screaming in pain as they are forced into an unnatural angle beneath both your body and his.

You thought the burning would never end, the scraping of your inner walls, but the man finally bottoms out, and with a pleasurable moan, he thrusts himself fully inside you, his pubic bone hard against your own.

He rolls his hips, pulling out slightly, and pushing back in. In some small mercy, your body has betrayed you, and your cunt becomes wet enough that the pain becomes less and less excruciating. The energy, the fight, the fire you had, it all seems to have left you, with each heinous thrust of your captor into you, your body becomes more and more limp. Your soul crushed with each squelching noise and moan from the man atop you.

He continues on, and you turn your head, staring at the wall. It’s all you can do, focus on the crack in the beam supporting the structure. Your body moves back and forth on the bed as he rolls his hips against yours, thrusting in and out, in and out. He looms over you, his arms bracketing in your head, hips mashed together, warm skin on warm skin. If it weren’t so painful, so raw, so violating , it would remind you of lovers past, tangled up in bedsheets and limbs.

But this feels like it’s never going to end. It feels like hours that he takes you, each push of his body into yours is a little less of you left.

“Fuck , you’re tight, woman.” He grits out, thrusting harder into you, more erratically, “So g-good.”

Thankfully, he finally pulls out of you, stroking himself to completion, and spatters his spend over your mound.

He grunts as he rolls off of you, stumbling off the bed and pulling his pants back up. He redoes his belt without looking at you.

“You’ll be a popular one ‘mongst the boys, with a tight little cunny like that.”

You stare at the wall, unable to think, unable to move. Your chemise lays limply on your stomach and your legs hang open, your muscles scream against the abuse.

“Maybe later I’ll fuck ye in the ass, surely yer even tighter there.” The man reaches over and grabs a handful of your behind from the side as if to stake his claim.

You just close your eyes. He removes his hand from your skin as he mumbles something. The door opens and closes to the bedroom of this small cabin. You're left alone, your cunt aching, arms protesting, voice hoarse.

What seems like hours later, you hear a loud commotion outside the door. A violent crack pierced the night. You pray that it’s not more men coming to violate you further, tears flowing from your eyes again. You’re unable to find the strength to do anything. You can’t endure this endlessly. Maybe they will have mercy on you and kill you.

The door bursts open.

You are barely able to raise your head, but you make eye contact with the room’s new occupant. It is not your captor, nor any of his green-scarved comrades.

No, it is a lumbering man with honeyed hair and a black hat you’d recognize anywhere.

“Jesus Christ.”

Close, but Arthur Morgan is the closest you could get to a savior right now.

He slams the door behind him.

You cannot do anything but stare, your limbs don’t work, and your muscles protest. Even your neck gives out, and your head lays back on the bed, a strangled noise coming from your throat.

That’s how Arthur finds you. Bound and gagged, sprawled out on a dirty bed. Stripped to a chemise, hiked up over your hips. Your legs open, another man’s drying spend splattered in the dark hair shrouding your cunt. All you can do is stare at the ceiling with cold and broken eyes.

Arthur rushes over to you, throwing his rifle to the floor. It clatters in the silence of the room. He grabs the hem of your chemise, pulling it down over your thighs to give you some semblance of modesty, before grabbing his knife and cutting the fabric tied around your jaw.

You take a shuddering breath, and turn your eyes to the ceiling, unable to look at him. He leans over you and takes his knife to the ropes binding your wrists. They snap, and you somehow find the strength to whip your arms to your front and curl your knees into your chest, trying to make yourself small.

Arthur slowly, carefully places his hand on your shoulder, and you shiver under his touch, a sob escaping your mouth.

“Darlin’.”

Your head, tucked into your knees, raises, and your eyes, full of tears, find his. He stares down at you with such gentleness, but in those blue eyes, a sadness, a fear glimmers.

Your face crumbles as you sob again. Arthur quickly sheds his brown leather jacket and lays it over your shoulders. He sits down on the bed next to you.

“C’mon, let’s get you back to camp.”

“N-no.” You stutter. The thought of anyone else seeing you like this was terrifying. You can’t take the stares of the others. You couldn’t take the fawning of the other women, the clucking of Susan as a mother hen when one of her girls gets hurt. Hosea’s pitying expression. Dutch’s righteous anger. You couldn’t take the pity, the tutting, the attention.

“I don’t- I don’t want to go back there tonight.”

You don’t want to go back there dressed only in a chemise, horseless, with tear-stained cheeks. It would be obvious to everyone what happened.

“Alright. Okay. We’ll figure it out. But we gotta get out of here. Ain’t no tellin’ when anyone else’ll be back.” Arthur looks over his shoulder at the door to the bedroom.

He moves from the bed, taking his rifle and slinging it over his shoulder. You pull his jacket around your shoulders tighter. He moves about the room, surveying out a dirty window before grabbing your repeater from the chair and swinging it over his shoulder as well.

“Stay there. I’ll be right back.”

He unholsters his revolver from his belt, pushing the door open and shutting it quickly behind him.

You swipe at your eyes in the silence with the back of your palm. You barely have enough time to collect yourself before Arthur swings the door open and you jolt. He reholsters his revolver and moves toward the bed.

“C’mon, got the horse out front. Let’s get outta here.”

Without letting you stand; or even question him, he swings his arms around your frame, hoisting you from the bed as if you were nothing. One arm hooks under your knees, the other behind your back. You allow it. Normally, you would scoff at being treated like some damsel.

But things weren’t normal now.

Arthur’s heavy steps echo through the cabin as he moves quickly, out the door of the bedroom and through the main room, which was in just as much of a state of disarray. In moments he’s passed through the front door, onto the porch for a step, and into the glen where a ramshackle camp had been set up.

The moon shines bright in the sky. It must be close to midnight.

You peer over Arthur’s shoulder as he moves away from the structure. A crumbled body lays on the porch, contorted in an unnatural position. The bloodied face of your captor stares back at you, a bullet hole between his eyes. You close your eyes and turn away, leaning your head onto Arthur’s collarbone.

His arms tighten around you as you release an audible, shuddering breath.

Arthur swings the mare to the north of Valentine, westward to avoid any other bandits in Cumberland, skirting the cliffs along the Dakota.

The blue waters of the river gently rush by as Arthur slows his mare to a walk, her heavy breathing loud in the night as she’s worked up a lathing sweat on her coat.

You’re astride the saddle, Arthur’s jacket wrapped around your frame, fit securely against him, where he holds you tightly with one arm across your stomach and one hand fisted in the reins as he sits behind you.

He allows the horse to splash several steps into the waters before she stops to lean her head down to the river.

You look at the water for a moment as the mare drinks her fill.

“Can- can we stop here?”

He pulls on the reins, urging his mare back toward the bank of the river. She whinnies with discontent. “What d’ya need?”

The arm around your stomach tightens its hold briefly.

“I… I want to wash off.” You say softly, almost too soft for him to hear it. But he does, his mouth pulled into a straight, serious line.

“Course.” He says, voice gruff. Arthur swings his leg back over the horse’s rump, his spurs jingle as his boots hit the ground. He gently places his hands on your waist, slowly, assuredly pulling you from the horse.

“D’ya need-”

“No. I’m fine.” You interject, not able to meet his eyes. You shrug off his jacket and press it toward him, he takes it as you turn away, walking barefoot toward the riverbank. You slowly edge around stones along the shoreline, trying to save your feet from any sharp edges.

You slowly wade into the water, not bothering to strip yourself of the chemise you’re wearing. Arthur turns away, stepping back from the riverbank.

You wade out several steps until the water laps at your knees. You gather the soaking wet hem of your chemise and pull it above your hips with one hand, the other one cupping water and bringing it up to your cunt, rinsing away the viscous reminder of your violation.

You openly sob, shaking, as you drop the hem of your chemise and start to sink further into the water. You vaguely hear splashing behind you and before you know it, you’re lifted out of the water.

Arthur walks you back to dry land, his arms looped protectively behind your back and under your knees. He places you gently on an overturned log next to the tree where he’d hitched the horse.

“Sweetheart, you’re gonna freeze in just your underthings like that.” Arthur places his leather jacket around your shoulders again. You can’t stop crying, your voice cracking over shuddering breaths.

“P-please don’t take me back to c-camp.” You stutter, shivering, voice cracking as tears spill down your cheeks unbidden.

Arthur sighs, taking his hat off his head to wipe his forehead. He places it back on his head before looking around.

“How about I get you a room in Valentine for the night? I’ll buy you a new dress ‘nd then we can figure it out.”

You nod, swiping the back of your hand over your cheeks in a sad attempt to dry your eyes. Another shuddering breath escapes you.

He patiently helps you climb onto the horse’s saddle, settling himself in behind you and leading the mare away from the riverbank. The moon hangs high in the sky as the hour churns later, closer to midnight as you reach the road eastward to Valentine. Over the hours, the sky darkens, clouds moving to obscure the light of the moon as thunder rumbles in the distance, a storm rolling in from the mountains.

Arthur curses under his breath as the wind blows in the scent of rain. Still another hour to Valentine, even pushing the horse at an uncomfortable pace. He pulls you closer to his body as fat drops of rain begin to fall.

By the time you reach Valentine, the roads are choked with mud and a soaking rain pours from the sky. You shiver under Arthur’s coat as he urges the mare around the back of the Saints Hotel. He slides off the saddle of the horse, looking up at you.

“I’ll go get a room. You can meet me at the back door over there.” He says before pulling you down off the horse by your waist, putting you on the ground gently. You shuffle his coat to cover your head as he hitches the horse to a post.

Your feet squelch in the mud as you make your way to the back wooden stairs, waiting for Arthur to return. It's only a few moments before he does, rounding the corner in the night like a man on a mission.

“Here”, he presses a key into your hand, “second door on up the steps. I’m gonna go down to the general store ‘fore it closes to get some clothes and food.”

Arthur pulls a revolver out of his belt, pressing that in your hand as well. “Don’t open the door for anyone but me.”

You nod gravely, pulling his jacket tighter around you. As the rain falls, you slowly make your way up the stairs, and Arthur watches you enter the hotel before turning down the muddy street toward the store.

You pad quietly down the hall, reaching the door Arthur had mentioned and inserting the key into the lock. The door swings open and you quickly shut it behind you.

You place Arthur’s jacket over a chair, tucking the revolver into a pocket, and rub your arms as you move closer to the fireplace. Fortunately, with the weather, the hotel staff had kept the fire lit. The room was small, the wallpaper fading, but for Valentine, it was the best one could get. You survey the room before landing in the mirror, finally looking at yourself.

The mirror reflects a ghastly sight, and your dirty, threadbare chemise does little to shield you. Your hair is half out of its braid, plastered to your skin. Your feet are covered in mud, shoeless as you are. Red-rimmed eyes betray you in the reflection.

You grit your teeth and yank the chemise off of you, throwing it in the fireplace with a groan of frustration. The fabric, though wet in areas, quickly caught aflame.

You stare at yourself in the mirror, breathing heavily. Searching your reflection, you look for something , some mark, some scar, some kind of wound that showed what you had been through. Your kind, outlaws, wore scars like badges of honor. Javier’s dance with the gallows painted on his neck. John’s bout with wolves across his face. Bullet wounds and stab marks are a testament to the survival of this kind of life.

You sigh, tears escaping your eyes again. As you look over your nude form, you grit your teeth. There was nothing, other than some chafing on your wrists from ropes and fading redness on your cheek.

Your hand starts to shake as you lift it from where it hangs at your side. A shaky breath, a barely concealed sob, the popping of the fire, that’s all the sound that exists in this room. Your shaking fingers move to the cradle of your hips, to the hair over your mound. Your index finger presses inward, parting the seam of your core as you wince. You’re swollen, and as you trace up to the opening of your cunt, you gasp aloud in pain, pulling your finger back from your irritated skin.

Your gasp melts into a full-blown sob as you sink to the floor in front of the fireplace. You weep, pulling your knees into your chest, trying to block out the memory of the man’s hands on you, his length inside you.

Trying to block out the look on Arthur’s face when he found you.

You wrapped yourself in a blanket and sat in front of the fire. Three quick raps on the door pull you from your fugue joltingly.

“Hey, it’s me.”

You stumble up, pulling the blanket closer around yourself, and unlock the door. You back away from it as it swings open, Arthur stepping in with his arms full of wrapped packages. He moves past you and deposits them on the bed, before turning back toward the door.

“I’ll let you dress. There’s plenty of food here. I’m going to take the horse just outside of town and camp there.”

Fear creeps into you. “B-but…”

Arthur turns and looks at you.

“P-please don’t go.” Your eyes water over again as you clutch the blanket closer to yourself.

“Are y’ sure?” He asks, pulling his hat off and shaking the excess water from it.

“I’d like you here.” You whisper.

“Whatever you need. I’ll do whatever you need.” He replies quietly, eyes trained on yours for a moment, sincerity in those blue-green pools.

He steps toward the fireplace, moving to kick off his boots and leave them by the door.

“I’ll… I won’t look.” He mutters, pulling a chair from next to the door and placing it in front of the fireplace, taking a seat and rubbing at his forehead tiredly.

You shuffle back toward the bed and unwrap the package Arthur placed there - a simple grey dress, long-sleeved with petticoats and a new chemise lay folded underneath the brown paper. You drop the blanket and let it puddle on the floor, dressing yourself in the clothes quickly.

“T-thank you. I’ll have to pay you for these.” You murmur softly, tying the last fastening on the skirt before turning around and facing him.

He nods his head in the negative, but continues staring at the fire. “No y’ don’t. It’s fine.”

You look around the room forlornly, but finally, exhaustion begins to set in. You sit on the bed and the wooden frame creaks under your weight.

“Y’okay?” Arthur does finally turn around and look at you, concern alight in his eyes.

It takes you a moment to respond.

The twinge in your hips, the hoarseness of your voice. The chafed skin of your wrists, the overextension of your muscles. The memory, weighing you down like an anchor.

You’re so tired.

“No.”

You can barely recognize your own voice. He certainly can’t. You don’t wait for a response as you move to lie down in the bed, turning away from him.

Arthur watches you settle in, pulling the worn blanket over yourself. Sighing to himself, he turns back to the fire, pulling his hat off and running his hand through his hair.

He shoulda killed that man slowly.

You awaken in bits, blinking into existence. Slowly accumulating to your surroundings, you press yourself up into a sitting position, finding yourself on the bed in a hotel room. Arthur is across the room, sleeping in a chair, his legs propped up on a chest, his hat over his face. The fireplace smolders with the last bit of embers from the night. Sunlight filters in through the dusty lace curtains.

Swinging your legs down to the floor, you wince slightly as the bed’s frame creaks loudly. Arthur jolts in his chair, his hat falling to the ground.

“Sorry…sorry-” you whisper, knowing how miserable it is to be woken suddenly.

“`S fine,” Arthur mutters, covering his mouth with his palm as he yawns.

You rub your upper arms quickly to warm yourself up, staring at the empty fireplace.

“Y’ want to go back to camp?” Arthur’s voice pierces the stillness that had settled in the room.

“Y-yes. I think so,” you pause, “Arthur…”

“Mm?” He doesn’t look up from pulling on his boots.

“Please don’t…. Don’t tell anyone.”

He stops, looking up at you. “Course,” nodding gruffly, a serious expression on his face. He places his hat on his head and throws his brown jacket over his shoulders. He moves toward the fireplace, grabbing the rifle and repeater balanced against the frame, and slinging them both over his shoulder.

“A-Arthur…” you pipe up again, your voice small, “I don’t, I don't have shoes.”

Arthur raises his eyebrows before cursing under his breath after looking at your feet, partially obscured by your skirts. “ Shit , lemme… Lemme go down to the store and get some.”

“I have more at camp. You don't have to. We’re goin’ straight there, right?”

He nods, and you make toward the door, “Just… check out and I’ll meet you around back.”

“Alright, I‘ll just be a minute.” He gruffly nods, grabbing the key to the door and heading out. You hear his heavy footsteps make their way down the hall and the stairs.

You sigh, straightening your skirts, and look yourself over in the mirror for a moment. Was it obvious? Did you look different? Would people know?

It would not do to dwell. You move to the door, open it, and quietly relatch it before quickly moving down the hall and out the back door, rounding the raised deck to the old staircase behind the hotel. The wooden stairs creak under you, as you carefully pad down to the enclosed yard behind the hotel. You cringe when you look at the wet, muddy ground between you and Arthur’s horse, several feet away, hitched to a post outside the hotel’s property.

Arthur rounds the corner from the front and looks at you standing on the last stair. You frown, “I’ll be right there.”

The outlaw doesn't take that answer. Rolling his eyes, he stalks toward you, his boots squelching in the mud.

“Wait, Arthur-”

He picks you up like a sack of potatoes, over his shoulder, your behind high in the air as he turns toward his mare several feet away.

You screech indignantly, “Put me down, you big oaf!”

“I'm sure your ladyship doesn't want to be in the mud with us low-lives.” He snorts, reaching his mare after passing through the soggy ground.

“I swear , Arthur-”

Arthur heaves you forward, and you grunt in surprise as you land on the rump of the horse, his hands sliding to your waist to steady you. Your hands fly to his shoulders for more support.

For a moment, everything was as it was. The back and forth, the playful name-calling. The blush rises on your cheeks as you feel his fingers curl ever so slightly against your waist.

And then you wince briefly, a shot of pain through your hips, and Arthur pulls back his hands as if they burned you.

“ Shit , I didn’t-” he stutters, eyebrows raised and eyes wide.

“Wasn’t you. Wasn’t you.” You reply quietly, your hands leaving his shoulders.

He frowns, his eyes moving from you to the ground, where the horse’s hooves stamp lightly; the mare irritated by Arthur’s jolting.

Arthur runs his hand down the mare’s neck, leaning in to whisper something in her ear, calming her. He takes another look at you, his mouth drawn in a tight line.

“Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

The return to camp is blessedly uneventful. You even manage to slip in without anyone noticing your bare feet. You are able to sneak into your small tent and at least throw an old pair of boots on before anyone notices you’ve returned.

Charles speaks to you first, having found your gelding making his way back to camp. You’re able to craft a story about being bucked outside of Valentine, and how it was fortunate for you to be marooned so close to town, where you hung around knowing someone with the gang was liable to swing by. It was believable, especially with Charles knowing that your horse could still be temperamental. He doesn’t push with any further questioning.

People don’t bother you. You’re able to settle into normalcy, or at least feign it.

The nights turn cold, and much like the spring blizzard that trapped the gang in the Grizzlies, cold winds blow down from the mountains. A day is spent hanging extra canvas on everyone’s tents to guard against the chill on the overlook.

And you find yourself staring at the pitch of your small tent in the small hours of the morning, as the campfires have burned down to embers and even the hardest drinkers have gone to bed.

You can’t sleep. Your bedroll against the ground gives you little solace as you sigh, rolling over for the umpteenth time. It’s not necessarily insomnia keeping you awake.

It’s fear. It’s been days since you returned to camp atop Arthur’s horse, and you’ve gotten sleep in fits and bursts, but one harrowing nightmare about green bandanas and a laughing voice and hands all over you has shaken your already winnowing psyche.

You roll fully to your stomach, pressing yourself up to your hands and knees. Tossing the woolen blanket you were under aside, you grab a dress from the pile of clothing and shrug it on over your chemise before crawling out of the tent.

Wrapping your arms around yourself against the cold, you quietly shuffle across the campsite toward a large wagon not far from the edge of the overlook.

Sighing, you run your hand through your hair to calm your nerves. The worst he could do would be to throw you out, right?

That would be pretty terrible, you muse as you snuck between the canvas flaps of the large tent.

“A-Arthur.” You whisper.

The outlaw shoots up in his cot, about to reach for his knife on the table next to him before he realizes it’s you.

“What is it, what’s wrong?” He grunts, his voice rough with sleep.

“I just- just… can I stay with you?”

“Sure- sure. Here,” he pulls the blanket off of him, making to stand up from his cot, “I’ll sleep on the ground.”

“N-no,” you step forward, placing your hand on his shoulder, preventing him from standing, “I-…”

You sit on the cot next to him, wringing your hands together. “It’s just… y’ make me feel safe, Arthur.”

Silence falls between you.

“I’m sorry, I should go. I shouldn’t have woken you up.”

He places a large hand over yours, stopping you from standing. He lays back down, lifting the blanket to allow you to slot yourself next to him.

“C’mere.”

You slowly ease yourself down next to his form, a tight squeeze on the cot. As you press against him, he pulls the blanket over both of you, leaving his arm to lay over you.

It makes you feel secure. You settle in, placing one of your hands on his chest. You don’t remember falling asleep.

Arthur awakens with a crick in his neck. Why the hell was he sleeping on his side? Blinking awake, it only takes him a moment to realize that you’re pulled tightly against him, your head tucked under his chin, your hand lightly over his chest.

You were so full of fire and energy and life before. Now, you're curled into him with a fear that kept you up at night.

He swears he’s gonna kill every O’Driscoll he ever comes across.

You fall into a sense of normalcy. Days go by, you sew and do laundry on the cliff, you help Pearson with meals, and clean up after supper. You put on a cheery face and laugh and mask everything that you’re feeling inside, and by the time night falls, you are spent, bodily and emotionally.

The camp grows quiet in the night and you sneak to Arthur’s tent, into his waiting arms. After the first two days of waking him to ask to stay, he took to waiting until you crept in, pulling you into his embrace and somehow trying to make both of you comfortable on his cot, which was a lost cause half the time.

But you sleep. You actually sleep. Unlike the first few days of staring at the pitch of your tent, you get well-needed rest in this space.

Arthur’s turned the lantern down low, and sits in his cot clad in his union suit, sketching in his journal when you enter the tent, your long coat tight around your shoulders.

He quickly tosses the journal aside and stands up, moving toward you to help you slide the coat from your frame.

“Y’didnt need to s-stop.” You stutter, your teeth chattering.

“Was just waitin’ for you anyways.” He replies, placing your coat over the chest at the end of his cot. He pulls you toward the bed as he sits down, first moving to get himself comfortable, pulling the woolen blanket that was piled at the end of the bed over his frame. He lifts the blanket, motioning for you to crawl in.

It's a practiced movement at this point, for the past several nights, you and he have worked through awkward arms and elbows, sleeping positions that do not work, to what does.

You curl in next to him; your head laying on the curve of his shoulder.

“How did you know to find me?” You whisper, hand firmly on his chest. Your eyes can't meet his.

Arthur frowns. “I knew I shoulda just come wit’ you. I shoulda trusted my gut.”

One of his large hands moves to tuck an unruly strand of hair behind your ear. Finally, you're able to meet his eyes, those azure pools you would happily drown yourself in.

“Went to Valentine. Saw some O’Driscolls hauntin’ about. Figured I would go ruin their day. Heard ‘em talking about a new spot they had up in Cumberland.”

You swallow. You know how the story ends from here.

“ ‘M sorry, sweetheart. I shoulda been there for you.” His hand moves from behind your ear to cup your cheek, “I didn’t keep you safe.”

“Ain’t your fault.” You quietly reply back. Before he can retort back, you bury yourself in closer to him, pressing your forehead into the hollow of his neck.

“I promise, I’ll never let anythin’ happen to you again. I swear.” His rough voice whispers into your ear as he winds his arms tighter around you.

It’s a nice thought. Here, in his small cot, wrapped up in his large frame, you certainly do feel safe. But you know, you’re criminals, outlaws, robbers. There’s no way to keep that promise.

But you’ll allow it for now, at least.

He catches you staring out over the cliff, off into the distance, and the winding Dakota valley. It's still a cold and chilly place, and this morning, after you’ve crept away from his tent and redressed in your own.

Pushing a steaming cup of coffee into your hands, he tries to follow where your gaze goes, down the valley toward the cliffs on the other side of the river, in West Elizabeth.

“How would you feel ‘bout gettin’ outta camp? Just for a night.” Arthur postures. You don't look at him, taking a sip of coffee.

“Where?” Your voice is small after you swallow.

“Somewhere o’er there?” he motions toward the area you’re looking at, across the state line, “Just thought y’might need to get away.”

You look up at him, he’s always been a full head taller than you. “Alright, Arthur. When can we go?”

“Now, if you wanna. Already told Dutch I was gonna look up a lead over near the train station.”

Before you know it, you’re atop your gelding following Arthur down the trail toward the river, your repeater strapped to your back as if things were normal, you were heading out on a job. But you and he know, things have been anything but normal.

You travel for most of the day, down and up valleys and under the shadow of Mount Shann. There isn't much conversation, the plodding of the horse’s hooves taking up most of the air around.

As the afternoon sun begins to wane, Arthur brings his mare to a stop, “Let’s settle in here for the night.” he nods toward an open glen not far off the trail, obviously used as a campsite in the past, the charred remains of a fire in the middle of the clearing.

You bring your gelding toward the glen, and wordlessly, you two unpack and begin to set up a small camp. Arthur sets up a small tent while you gather kindling for the campfire.

By the time you return with a handful of kindling, Arthur is clearing out the ashes from the last fire. You place the branches on the ground next to him, and he takes pieces and arranges them before pulling a matchbook from his satchel, which he has tossed against a large overturned log.

In the silence, he gets the fire started and moves from a crouch to sit on the log, an arm’s length away from the growing flames.

You stand opposite him, unmoved since you returned to the camp.

“Can I ask you something?” You say, eyes still on the fire he’s stoking. It's the first you've spoken since leaving Horseshoe.

“Course,” he grunts, adding another piece of wood to the flames.

“Will you… touch me?”

A long exhale.

“Darlin’, I don’t know if that’s the best idea.”

“Oh- I… I’m sorry. I…”

He couldn’t want you, not anymore. The way he saw you. Of course he doesn’t want to touch you after seeing you like that. You’re damaged goods .

You hang your head in defeat, cheeks blazing red. A sense of shame crawled over you as your vision clouded over with unshed tears. Before all this, the teasing back and forth, the heated glances, the good-natured ribbing… it was all gone.

“Darlin’….I don’t want to hurt you. You…you’re hurtin’ sweetheart, I don’t want to be the one hurtin’ you more.”

“I don’t want him to be the last person who touched me!”

You clap a hand over your mouth, surprised at your outburst.

“ ‘M sorry, I-I’ll go now-”

“Darlin’. It ain’t- I ain’t… surely, you can have a better man than me touch you. I ain’t a good man.”

“But I want it to be you, Arthur. I- I feel safe with you. You’re… you’re… I… I choose you.”

He looks at you with a pained expression.

“Please, Arthur. I…want to forget. I want to forget … his hands on me….” You shudder, “I want this to be my choice.”

Silence.

“…And I want you to choose me too.” Your voice drops into a low murmur as you stare at the ground. You’ve bared the last thing you’re hiding from him. He’s now seen and heard everything. He’s seen you at your worst, your lowest.

“Darlin’ girl. You’ve always been my choice.”

From his spot sitting on the overturned log, he reaches for your hand, dwarfing it in his own. His rough and calloused fingers close around yours.

“I never want to be the one hurtin’ you. I don’t know if you’re ready for this.” His thumb runs over your knuckles gently. You finally meet his eyes.

“ Please.”

Something in Arthur breaks, it cracks like a piece of porcelain. He gently places his hands on your waist, pulling you toward him. “Tell me what it is you want.”

“ You, Arthur.”

“C’mere,” he says, guiding you down to his lap, where you perch on his thigh, “we’re gonna go slow. You tell me right away if you wanna stop.”

Your hand moves to his jaw, and you lean in and press your lips against his. One of his hands finds the back of your head, the other splayed out on your lower back, as he gently presses his tongue against your lips, urging them to open to him.

You open your lips with a contented sigh and allow him to pull you even closer into his embrace, his tongue pressing against yours insistently. You don't know how many times you had envisioned this, before the O’Driscoll, when things were a bit simpler.

His hand slowly moves from your lower back to your behind, and he tests the waters by giving it a gentle squeeze. You yelp happily into his mouth, your hips moving over his thigh of their own accord, shifting in his lap. He gives a grunt of approval and squeezes your rear again.

Your hands find purchase around his shoulders, digging into the leather of his jacket. In one roll of your hips over his lap, your thigh juts up against his growing erection, hard and hot under you. In response, he bucks his hips up, to press against your thighs, chasing some kind of relief for his burgeoning cock.

You moan, loudly, into his mouth. He pulls away from your lips, breathing heavily. You’re also panting, your eyes meeting.

A question lays unasked between you, the inches between your wet lips and his, the twitching of his fingers against your rear, the hardness of his cock under your thighs. The dampness blooming between your legs.

You push yourself up against his shoulders, standing from his lap. He looks at you, questioning, his hands moving up to your waist.

“Please.” You say, stepping back from him and his arms fall to rest on his knees. You move toward the tent he had set up and look back at him anxiously as you lower yourself to your knees in front of the opening.

He shoots up from his seat, assuaging your fears.

You scoot back into the tent and lay yourself on the bedroll, watching intently as Arthur shrugs off his jacket and leaves it on the ground just next to the campfire. His gun belt clatters to the ground, clinking as it falls. He drops his hat at the mouth of the tent as he sinks to his knees to enter.

Arthur moves into the tent, his large stature overtaking most of the room in the small tent. He pauses, on his knees, and doesn’t move any further.

“Y’ sure you want this?” He asks, his voice low, but sincerity shines through.

You balance yourself on one elbow and reach with your other arm toward him, beckoning him to crawl over you. You kick your boots off and toss them to the side of the tent. He takes his off as well, spurs clinking as they fall to the ground.

Almost hesitantly, he leans over you, his arms bracketing in your shoulders and his knees on either side of yours. You meet him halfway, pressing your lips to his while throwing your arm around his neck, guiding him down over you. You lay out on the bedroll as he trails his lips from yours, leaving kisses down your jaw.

He suckles gently at your earlobe, and you moan in response. One of his callused hands cups your breast through your shirt, kneading it gently. Your hand flies to his hair, carding through it as you begin to pant.

Arthur looks at you, waiting, patient, and you open your knees slowly, letting him trail his hand up your thigh. He watches for any sign of discomfort, any hesitance, any fear, or pain.

He finds none, and presses forward, trailing his hands up, up to dust your inner thighs. You give a pleased sigh as he moves toward your center, bucking your hips slightly when he presses against your clothed core. Your bloomers quickly become even more damp under his ministrations.

You push at his suspenders, peeling them down his arms as his hands work to untangle themselves from your skirts.

Arthur sits up, pulling at the buttons of his black shirt and shrugging it off, reaching his union suit underneath.

You let out a breath, watching him unbutton the waffle-knit long underwear, with each button, more and more of his skin is bared to your stare. Pale underneath his clothes, his chest is scarred and marked and covered in wiry dark hair.

By the time he has undone all of the buttons on his union suit to his waist and peeled his arms from the fabric, he notices that you have made no move to disrobe.

“Y’alright?”

You slowly nod, averting your eyes from his frame.

“You wanna stop?” Arthur reaches out to you, placing a finger under your chin, gently tipping your chin up to bring your eyes back to his.

“How could you want me after that?”

“Oh, sweetheart….”

You pull away from him, whipping your head toward the tent’s opening. You place a hand over your forehead and release a ragged breath.

“I wanted you when I taught you how to shoot. I wanted you when you kicked my ass at dominoes. I wanted you each and ev’ry time you shared my tent. I want you now, ain’t nothin’ gonna change that.” Arthur places his hands on his knees as he moves to sit next to the bedroll.

“Y’sure?” You ask, your previous confidence waning.

Arthur chuckles, motioning to his crotch. “You want me to prove it to ya?”

You blink - indeed, his cock swells against his work pants as he shucks his boots off. You’re staring, again, at the bulge in his pants, held back by a measly few buttons.

You look up to his eyes again, and there’s such kindness, such truth, such gentleness, that your fears and reservations are assuaged. You reach for the buttons of your blouse, threading them through their eyes as he returns to stand on his knees in front of you; undoing the buttons of his trousers, opening the fly.

“Lemme show you how much I want you, woman.” His voice is low, cut like rough-hewn stone, and the reverberations go straight to your cunt.

You shed your shirt, tossing it in a corner of the tent out of reach. You begin to unlace your skirt as you hear the rustling of fabrics together and glance up to see Arthur rid himself of his pants, leaving only his half-undone union suit on his body. The fabric clings to every inch of him, every carved muscle and tendon, every bit of sinew binding this man together. His cock strains against the cotton.

Your skirt is tossed toward the corner of the tent where your shirt is crumpled.

“C’n I help ya?” He whispers, chest heaving.

“Yeah…yeah.”

He reaches forward as you lean back, his hands finding your waist and working on the fastenings of your petticoats. They slide from your waist and you move your hips to let him pull them from your body.

You pull your chemise over your head, baring your breasts to him, clad only in your bloomers. You see him swallow, his eyes scanning your frame. He removes his hands from you and starts to undo the last three buttons of his union suit. You recline, watching him, letting him take the initiative to bare himself completely.

He threads the buttons through their eyelets and pushes the fabric down from his waist. His eyes are on you, gauging your reaction, as he pushes the suit down, down over his hips, shoving the cotton down his thighs.

His large cock springs upward, framed by chestnut curls, his balls hanging heavy between his thighs. You look back up at his face, and your thumbs hook into the waistband of your bloomers and start sliding them down your thighs. You are both rid of the clothing in moments.

“God, yer beautiful,” Arthur murmurs, his hands tightly at his side, holding himself back.

“Touch me. ” You whisper, laying down on his bedroll. Arthur leans forward, crawling on top of you, placing one forearm next to your head to balance himself. His other hand traces your jaw before he lowers his head to catch your lips.

It’s gentle, surprising you. Arthur Morgan is a man made of violence and brute strength. You’ve seen him tear men apart and beat them stupid. You’ve seen him kill and maim and shoot and stab, but now, here with you, his hand traces down your neck, your chest, across your breasts, down, down to the cradle of your hips. All as he slots his lips against yours, gently, so gently opening them so that his tongue can press against yours, a low rumble echoing from his chest.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, moaning weakly into his mouth as his fingers snake between your thighs, gently pushing them apart. A single finger presses into the seam of your body, and you cry out in pleasure as he moves that finger up and down it. He grunts as he coats his fingers in your wetness, your eagerness for him.

It goes on for minutes, hours, years? You don’t know. But it’s so different, to be lost in pleasure instead of pain. Arthur presses into you and you touch him, wrapping your hand around his cock and pumping it slowly. Whispered, urgent words pour from your mouths, interspersed with moans of pleasure.

Settling between your hips, he braces his arms on either side of your head, and you feel the hot length of him press against your inner thigh. Wanting you. Needing you.

He leans in to kiss your brow. “Still alright?”

You nod, pressing your lips on his jaw quickly. He groans in response, pressing his hips forward.

The head of his cock nudges against your opening. Your eyes widen, and immediately, his hand finds your face, cupping your cheek gently. “We can stop, we don’t gotta do this.”

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, “I wanna be yours, Arthur.”

“You can be mine and we don’t have to do this, sweet girl.”

“You still wanna do this…right?”

“More than anythin’.” He confesses, “but we do what you want. There’s plenty of time.”

“Please. Please , I want you, Arthur.”

He presses forward, gently as possible. He doesn’t force. He doesn’t buck. He leans heavily on one elbow and draws one hand down your frame, fingers tracing across a pebbled nipple, your soft belly, and the cradle of your hips. He raises his hips only slightly, snaking his hand right to where your bodies meet, to where you’re stretched taut around him. He finds the bundle of nerves of your pleasure, rubbing it in circles. You gasp, a high keening moan he has to immediately smother with his lips. He continues his ministrations, and your eyes flutter closed, your hands moving to his back, nails leaving crescent-shaped marks on his skin.

He groans, pulling back from your lips to breathe before laying his forehead against yours. Taking a breath, he pushes his hips down on you, fully sheathing his cock in your core. It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t burn. It’s not anything like before. You’re left with the sensation of being filled, warm, and secure underneath him.

“Y’okay?” He whispers, pressing his lips to your cheek briefly. One of his hands runs through your hair, brushing it back from your forehead.

“ Yes,” you breathe back, “you’re so good…”

He smiles, and you’re smitten by the way the wrinkles at the edge of his eyes move. Arthur rolls his hips, sliding his cock inside you, and thrusting back, a long, slow stroke. You both moan as Arthur presses his face into the balled-up blanket next to your head, trying to suffocate the whine he is unable to keep to himself. One of your hands works up his neck to the nape, carding your fingers through the hair there.

His arms move to brace on either side of your head, and you cross your ankles over his hips as he raises his head above yours again. His jaw hangs open as he rolls his hips, moving both of your bodies atop the bedroll. You arch your back, throwing your head back on the blanket, baring your neck to him, where he leans in and places open-mouthed kisses on your skin.

Your breath becomes faster, high-pitched whines escaping your throat as he continuously rolls his hips into yours.

“A-Arthur…” you stutter, half whisper, half pleading.

He pushes himself up, looming over you with his hands planted firmly on the bedroll, on either side of your shoulders. He takes you in, your pupils blown, a red flush creeping down your neck and chest. Your breath devolves into panting.

“Oh sweet thing, gonna come for me?”

You squeeze your eyes shut as your hands move to clench his forearms. “Y-yes, yes - I’m gonna-”

A gasp tumbles from your lips when you feel him shift above you, a calloused thumb finding its way back to the hooded skin over your bundle of nerves, pressing in light circles on it as he continues thrusting into you at a clipped pace.

“I, oh god- keep goin’- don’t stop.” You cry, trying to keep the volume down as tears collect at the corners of your eyes. The stimulation of Arthur’s hand on your pleasure and the incessant roll of his hips sends you reeling.

“Tha’s it, come for me, darlin’…”

You thrust your hips upward, arching the small of your back as the wave hits you. Arthur covers your mouth with his own to stifle the keening cry you emit as every muscle fiber in your body clenches at once.

The glide of his cock as he rocks into you becomes even smoother as your slick covers it, warm and wet and cloying against his balls and all over your thighs.

Arthur groans into your mouth, pressing himself against you fully, crushing you into his chest, the entire length of his frame against yours.

He grunts out the syllables of your name as his thrusts become more erratic. He wants to spend inside you, so much , but that was a step too far, an irresponsible chasing of pleasure, an intimacy he has not earned with you. But the idea is planted in his mind, and as he courts that precipice, he can only think about how it would feel. Thrusting deep inside your warm body, feeling the constriction of your inner walls against his length. Maybe he’d be lucky enough and you’d come too, the spasming of your core drawing him over that edge, pouring himself into you.

“T-tell me where-” he grits out into your ear, panting.

You doom him with your reply. A death sentence, his life finally catching up with him. A merciless finality in high-pitched whispers.

“M-make me yours, Arthur-” you whine breathily.

He can feel the coil tightening low in his gut as he continues to thrust, grunting with exertion, trying not to plunge over that cliff just yet.

“Mine.” He grits out, pushing his hips deep into yours, and finally the rope snaps. Arthur doesn’t just fall off the precipice, he swan dives, “G-god, girl- fuck - you’re m-mine. ”

You whine, loudly , and he feels you flutter around him and he grinds himself hard against your pubic bone, releasing deep inside you, the warm spatter of him milked out by every clench of your cunt. An embarrassingly needy moan escapes him as he drapes himself over you, utterly and completely spent.

Arthur pants in your ear for a few moments, trying to catch his breath. A wet sheen of sweat has developed on your bodies, but now as the movement dies down and you both float down from your highs, you shiver slightly under him.

Arthur immediately pushes himself up, pulling his softening cock from you with a grunt, and repositioning himself to lay at your side. He draws a blanket over your nude forms, settling you in across his chest, his arm winding around your shoulder. You hum, satisfied, satiated, warm, and happy .

“You feelin’ okay, sweetheart?”

“Better now.” You sigh into his chest, your ear pressed over his heart, thrumming steadily in his chest.

“Didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You smile and nod your head against him, “Not at all.”

He places a kiss on the crown of your head.

“Good. I’d like to do that more often, if you’ll have me.”

You press your hand over his pectoral, lifting yourself to fully look at him, your hair a messy curtain over both of you.

“I am yours now, Mister Morgan. Said it yourself.” You whisper with a grin.

Arthur’s other hand lightly traces up the ridges of your spine, “Means I’m yours too, beautiful girl.”

The blooming soreness in your hips doesn’t burn, it doesn't hurt. Arthur's large hands press against your skin, warm and secure. His frame dwarves yours, but in his arms, you feel safe. Dare say it, loved.

For this moment, at least, the world does not exist outside the tent. For this moment, at least, you can chase the demons out of your mind and slowly start to heal from the experience.

You know you’ll have Arthur next to you.

You smile, tucking your head into the curve of his neck.

“I like the sound of that.”

#rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #red dead fandom #red dead redemption #arthur morgan x reader #red dead fanfic #red dead smut #18+ minors dni #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan smut #passerine #twolafic #ao3 #rdr2 fandom

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tightjeansjavi · 1 year

Text

blue jeans n’Texas dreams | part 15

“I love you, and that’s all I really know”

A/N: another chapter in the books! I don’t want to spoil too much of what happens, so I guess you’re just gonna have to read and find out ;)

~word count: 8.3k~

Pairing | Joel Miller x horseback riding instructor f!reader

Summary: Joel and Tommy have a serious conversation, you and Joel talk things out and discuss the future of your relationship.

Warnings: smut, protected piv, dom/sub vibes, Joel is a whimpering mess, verbal consent, teasing, edging, denial of orgasm, sub! Joel, oral (f receiving) sex in public (on a bathroom sink) angst, panic attacks, discussion of relationship trauma, emotions, forgiveness, accountability, fluff, reader has no physical descriptions, readers nickname is clover because you’re Joel’s lucky charm, (+18) minors dni!

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Tommy Miller had only seen his brother have a serious meltdown on one other occasion; the night Joel came home to find his wife had up and left him and Sarah. The younger Miller brother almost didn’t know how to initially react when he found Joel crouched down against the side of his truck with his face buried deep into his hands.

“Joel?..” Tommy hesitantly asked as he crouched down in front of his older brother. “Hey man, what’s goin’ on? Do you wanna sit out here and let the skeeters get us, or do you want to sit in your truck?”

Joel wordlessly pulled himself up to his feet, refusing to make eye contact with his brother out of shame. Once Tommy unlocked the door, Joel quickly climbed into the passenger seat and slammed the door behind him.

Tommy took a moment for himself to mentally figure out exactly how he was going to approach this extremely tender situation. On the one hand, he understood why his brother was freaking out over the news he received from you. On the other, Tommy knew that he was going to have to knock some sense into Joel before he would have the chance to really spiral.

“Alright, before we get down into the nitty gritty stuff, you—didn’t just go and break up with her did you? Cus’ if ya did I’m gonna have no choice but to smack you upside the head.” Tommy asked as he pulled the driver's side door shut.

“I didn’t break up with her.” Joel murmured with his back facing the center console and his arms crossed over his chest in a protective stance.

“Well, ain’t that a relief.” Tommy responded with an exasperated sigh.

“At least..I don’t think I did. Oh god, did I? I just told her I needed some space to breathe and that we can talk when I’m ready. Does—does she think that we broke up? Fuck. I look like such an asshole right now! What the hell was I thinking?!”

“Woah woah woah. Easy there cowboy. Let’s not go and get ourselves all worked up, okay? Joel..can you look at me please? C’mon brother. I just wanna help you out here, but I can’t do that if your ugly mug is facin’ the other way.”

Joel grumbled out a response as he pushed himself as far into the corner of the seat that his broad frame would allow him to.

“Joel, c’mon. Ain’t gonna get much talkin’ done if you’re gonna be a little shit.” He gently placed his hand along his shoulder giving it a soft reassuring squeeze.

“I’m just terrified that this is all becoming too fuckin’ much for me to handle Tommy.” Joel responded with a deep sigh as he reluctantly faced his brother finally.

“..your relationship with Clover is becoming too much for you to handle? Brother, just this mornin’ you were goin’ on about how you want to marry her and that you want me to be the best man at your wedding.”

“Yeah and jus’ under 24 hours ago we confessed our feelings and had sex for the first time. Then this mornin’ we went at it like fuckin’ rabbits, and I brought up the marriage thing again. Then I find out that Sarah called Clover mom, and for fuck sakes Tommy, can’t I just feel for a minute?”

“Yeah, Ryder told me about how Sarah called Clover mom. So that’s what you’re really all freaked out about. Ain’t it?”

“Yeah.” Joel responded flatly.

“Alright well, how ‘bout you start off by tellin’ me what about this is freaking you out? I can make some educated guesses, but I’d rather you tell me.”

Joel responded with a huff as he sank back against the passenger seat, looking up at the weathered fabric ceiling. “Tommy, you and I both know that this is the first woman to get close to my daughter since—y’know. Not only that, but this changes the entire dynamic of our relationship.”

“How so?”

Joel looked over at his brother as if he had suddenly sprouted five heads. “How so? Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that I have to now think about the idea of co-parenting with someone after raising Sarah primarily on my own? How about the fact that I have to think about finances, and living with a romantic partner? How about—”

Tommy cut him off almost immediately. “Now hold on just a minute here. You’re makin’ it sound like this is some terrible thing that has happened. Co-parenting? Clover moving in? Shared finances? Brother, these are all good and exciting things to think about.”

“Tommy, what if this is just movin’ too fuckin’ fast for me to keep up with? I’m scared that these inevitable changes are going to ruin the relationship I have with her. What if down the line she ends up not wanting to be Sarah’s step-mom? What if we break up and things get ugly? Tommy, I can’t go through that shit all over again. I can’t come home to another fuckin’ empty house with no explanation. I can’t have my heart fuckin’ ripped out of my chest again, because—because I love so fuckin’ hard.” Joel spoke exasperatedly as he vigorously wiped the tears that were beginning to stream down his face. His voice cracked, and his throat felt raw as he finally broke down into heavy sobs that had his entire body trembling.

Tommy was immediately reaching for his brother over the center console. He did his best to wrap Joel up in the tightest hug possible from the angle he was at. His heart was snapping in half right down the middle as he did his best to try and bring him back down to earth.

“Joel, hey..hey, big brother..Joel, it’s okay. You listen to me alright? It’s okay. I know you love so fuckin’ hard, and you don’t want your heart to end up broken and I can’t blame you for that, I really can’t. But now I need’ya to listen to me real good now. That woman upstairs? She loves you. She loves you and your daughter unconditionally. She’s a dime a dozen, and I have never seen you light up so much around someone before. Your eyes fuckin’ twinkle man. They twinkle! Relationships are hard. They’re scary, and complicated and easy to get caught up in. Change is hard too, but you’re one of the strongest fuckin’ people I know. You’re my big brother, for fuck sakes. You’re the person I’ve looked up to since we were little shits.” Tommy was holding back his own tears from falling as he held onto his brother tightly.

“What I’m tryin’ to say is that you ain’t got nothin’ to worry about with that one. She loves you, and you love her. She’s the best damn thing to happen to ya other than when Sarah was born. I don’t believe in all that soulmate mumbo jumbo crap, but y’all? Y’all got somethin’ fuckin’ real. Like that shit out of those cheesy romance movies that Sarah loves to watch. Besides, if y’all did break up? Man, I think I’d stop believing in love entirely.”

Joel was holding onto his brother equally as tight. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he didn’t have the privilege of having a brother that was so supportive of him. Tommy just always knew exactly what to say when it came to situations like these. “Tommy..” Joel began to utter softly, “I don’t have a goddamn clue what I would do without ya.”

“Oh, you shut the hell up. I will not be sheddin’ any tears tonight! Don’t go and sayin’ sappy shit like that or else I will cry Joel.” Tommy playfully threatened him as he slowly pulled back from the hug.

Both Miller brothers sat in silence for a few minutes, sans the crickets chirping their nighttime tune, and the occasional soft hoot of an owl in one of the pine trees surrounding the property.

“Tommy?..” Joel softly asked as he broke through the silence. “D’ya think..I should go in there and talk this out with her tonight? I–don’t want her goin’ to bed thinkin’ that we’ve broken up, or for her to think that i’m upset with her cus’ i’m not..and I just think maybe I should–” He was cut off by Tommy literally holding his hand up in the air to signal him to stop talking.

“No. I don’t think you should go and talk to her tonight. Now, before you go and get your panties all in a twist, lemme explain my reasoning. I know this pretty much goes against your nature..but you gotta give her some space tonight. Y’all just dropped the love bomb on each other yesterday, and then proceeded to fuck like bunnies for half the mornin.’ Not only that, but she’s probably g’nna spend the night with Ryder and have some girl time. Y’know pillow fights and scissorin’ each other. Girly stuff.”

“Tommy, I don’t think they’re fuckin’ scissorin’ each other. D’ya ever think with that pea sized brain of yours?” Joel responded with a light snicker.

“Will ya let me finish? Sheesh. As I was sayin’, I think that tonight you go in there and spend some time with your kiddo. G’on n’hug her real tight. Read her and El a bedtime story and then tomorrow morning, you and Clover can talk. You’ve put yourself through enough emotional turmoil today, big brother. Tomorrow is a new day, and I don’t need you thinkin’ yourself into a hole, alright? This is your Clover we’re talkin’ about here. Not Sarah’s mom, not any of the other women you’ve been with. You ain’t gotta stress, alright?”

Joel nodded his head begrudgingly because deep down he knew his brother was right. Talking to you tonight was not going to make the situation better. Tomorrow was a new day, and he just had to trust his gut feeling that everything was going to be okay.

“You’re right.” Joel muttered under his breath.

“What was that? I, Tommy Miller, is right about somethin’ for a change?” He had the biggest grin on his face as Joel reached over and lightly punched him in his bicep.

“Yeah, y’heard me. Don’t go and let it get to that already massive head of yours.” Joel teasingly warned him.

“Pshh.” Tommy replied with a scoff, “I would never.”

“Mhm. I ain’t too sure about that.”

When Ryder found you in the upstairs bathroom, her heart sank at the sight of you pruning up in the tub. Your knees were pulled up to your chest with your cheek resting against your kneecap. The water was room temperature at this point, but you didn’t have the heart, nor care to move. Maybe you might have been acting a tad dramatic, but even if that were to be true, there was no denying the present pain you were feeling in your heart.

“Oh, babe..That bad, huh?” Ryder softly spoke as she went to sit down on the edge of the tub.

“I just..I thought he would be happy..” Your voice was barely above a whisper as a stray tear rolled down your cheek.

“Honey, I'm sure he is. Guys can just be..well, weird sometimes. I’m sure Tommy successfully knocked some sense into his head, and then you guys will be able to talk it through tomorrow, okay?”

You let out a deep sigh as you lifted your chin to the side so you could briefly make eye contact with your best friend. “Do you..think i’m overreacting about this right now? Everything was fine until I told him about Sarah calling me mom this afternoon and then it was like something suddenly flipped in him. I was already nervous to bring it up to him because I know that it is a big deal, but I didn’t think it would..freak him out that much.”

“Clove, you’re not overreacting about this at all. I think it’s completely valid that you’re upset over how he reacted to the news. I would have felt the same way if I was in your position. From what Tommy has told me, Joel hasn’t had it easy in the romance department, and you’re his..first real girlfriend since Sarah’s mom left. I’m sure he is excited to take this next step with you, but I can also understand why he was feeling a little overwhelmed.”

“Yeah, he hasn’t had it easy, and the last thing I wanted to do was stress him out over this. I think what’s hurting me the most is he was so focused on the logistic changes, and not the sentimental value? I don’t know if that makes sense, but he immediately brought up the fact that I would have to move in, and us co-parenting and finances..it just took away from the moment y’know?”

Ryder gently reaches for your hand that is now resting along the side of the smooth porcelain tub. She interlocks her fingers through yours and gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. “Clove, I completely understand where you’re coming from. If Tommy and I were in that situation, and he acted like that? I would be pretty hurt by it as well. Your feelings, and his feelings are valid. It’s all gonna work out baby. I promise. Now, let’s get you out of this tub and into some comfy pj’s and then you and I can snuggle all night? How’s that sound?”

You squeeze her hand back gently with a small smile tugging on the corner of your lips as you gaze up at your best friend lovingly. “You wanna snuggle all night with me? Just like old times?”

“Baby, of course I do. I can even ask Tommy if he can make us some tea?” She gently lets go of your hand and grabs a towel just as you're standing up from the tub. You’re shivering slightly from the slight chill in the air and being in lukewarm water for too long as she wraps the fluffy towel around your body.

“That sounds perfect.”

When Joel and Tommy return to the house Tommy could sense that his brother is torn about waiting to talk to you until tomorrow morning. The younger Miller shakes his head disapprovingly. Joel mutters under his breath as he saunters down the hall instead. He knows Tommy is right, but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to be stubborn about it.

He stops just outside Ellie and Sarah’s door that is half open. He can hear Ellie telling yet another ghost story from her book. Their girlish giggles are infectious as a warm smile graces his face. He knocks softly before gently pushing the door open.

“Daaad.” Sarah giggles as she playfully tosses her pillow at him. “What are you doing here? El was just getting to the best part!”

He catches the pillow with a soft chuckle. “Well, I was thinking maybe I could read to you girls tonight?”

“What about Clover?” Sarah softly asks as a frown slowly spreads across her face.

“Oh, she’s spendin’ some time with Ryder tonight. They need their girly time together y’know?”

Sarah and Ellie both look unconvinced by his answer, but agree nonetheless.

Ellie tosses him her book from the top bunk and he catches it with ease.

“You kids gonna make this old man climb all the way up there?” He muses with a gentle grin.

Both girls look at each other before giggling. “It’s not that high up, and you aren’t that old!”

Joel lets out an annoyed huff as he shakes his head. “Little shits. You’re lucky I love ya both so much.” He murmurs as he slowly climbs up the bunk stairs. “Move over and make some room.” He curses under his death when his head accidentally bonks into the ceiling of the top bunk.

When he finally gets situated, Ellie and Sarah are already snuggling up on either side of his shoulders as he opens up to the chapter Ellie left off on and begins to softly read. At some point, both girls doze off, and so does he with the book open and resting flat against his chest.

You’re the first to emerge from your bedroom the following morning. It’s half past 5 a.m when you throw on one of Joel’s sweatshirts and grab your book and pen before heading downstairs. Your footsteps are quiet as you don’t want to accidentally wake anyone up. You make yourself a fresh pot of coffee and head down to the dock. The lake is still with a gentle cloak of fog dusting across the surface as you sink down along the edge of the dock. Your legs loosely dangle above the surface as you languidly swing your legs back and forth. You scribble something down in your book as you finish up on the page you left off on. Your mind is at peace as you allow yourself to leave the present world and transport yourself into a fictional one.

It was around 7:30 when Joel had somehow climbed out of the top bunk without disturbing Sarah and Ellie. He bonked his head yet again as he quietly descended down the bunk steps. He rubs the sleep from his eyes as he trudges down the hallway and into the kitchen. Tommy is up and leaning against the counter as he glanced out the kitchen window where he has a clear view of where you’ve been sitting for what he can infer has been a couple of hours.

Joel spots your sitting Silhouette at the end of the dock as he pours himself a cup of coffee. “Mornin’ Tommy. How long has..she been out there?”

“Mornin’ brother. Not sure. She was out there when I got up, so maybe for a couple hours?” Tommy responds with a shrug as he takes another sip of his coffee. “Y’gonna go out there and talk things out?”

Joel sighs as he sinks back against the otherside of the counter. “Yeah, I’m plannin’ on it. Kinda nervous if I’m bein’ honest. I don’t even know where to start..” he trails off with a deep frown painted on his lips.

“Good. You should be nervous. Being nervous means that you give a shit. If you walked up to her all confident n’shit, she wouldn’t appreciate it.”

Joel couldn’t help but chuckle at his brother's words. He was absolutely right. You would not appreciate him going in and acting like he didn’t fuck up last night. “Yeah, she wouldn’t appreciate that. I will say after you and I talked last night, I definitely feel a lot better than I did before.”

“I’m glad I was at least able to calm you down. I know it was really upsetting for you, but I’m relieved that you’ve come to your senses. You just gotta be raw and honest and talk it out. Let her know you’re sorry and that you want to work things out.” He reached over and gently gave Joel’s shoulder a squeeze. “Get on out there and make up with your girl, lover boy.”

Joel playfully pushed him away with a roll of his eyes. “Alright. Alright. I’m goin’ now.” He took another nervous sip of his coffee before he left the kitchen and slipped out past the porch door. His palms were sweaty as he slowly walked down the dock, and it felt like his heart was about to fall right out of his ass. He swallowed his pride as he slowly sank down along the dock next to you. He held the mug between his thighs as his feet dangled above the surface of the lake.

“What’re you readin?’” He softly asked you as he glanced over in your direction. He watched the way your eyes skimmed over the page you were currently reading. He was trying to detect any emotion on your face, but you were doing a pretty damn good job of hiding anything that you were presently feeling.

“Game of Thrones.” You curtly responded before gently closing the book between your fingers to hold the page down. “Book number three, A Storm of Swords.”

“I’ve only read the first one.” He admitted softly as he nervously adjusted his posture. He could already feel sweat beading up along the back of his neck and below his hairline.

Relax. Relax, Joel. You just need to let her know that you’re sorry.

“Do you believe in soulmates, Joel?” Your question was unexpected for both you, and him, but after reading about how deeply devoted Oberyn Martell was to his soulmate and lover, Ellaria Sand, you couldn’t help but ask if Joel believed in soulmates like you did.

“I think I do. Well, at least in some capacity I do. I think there’s definitely a person out there for everyone. I’ve uh—never researched the topic or anything like that.” He cleared his throat as he rested his one hand between your two bodies. “Why do you ask?”

“Oberyn Martell was devoted to his soulmate and lover, Ellaria Sand, who could produce him no legitimate heirs as she was born a bastard. Despite this, she blessed him with several daughters. Oberyn's demise is caused by his desire to avenge his sister Elia Martell who is brutally murdered by ser Gregor Clegane. Ellaria is desperate to change her lover's mind as she fears for his life, and he refuses to listen. Driven by his lust for revenge, he grows cocky during the duel and is murdered in front of Ellaria by The Mountain.”

Joel can feel his stomach churn with unease as he tries to piece together why you felt it was necessary to disclose this information to him. You could tell that he was deep in thought by the way his brows furrowed and his eyes shifted to the calm lake below. “Clove, what does this have to do with yours and I’s relationship?”

“I’m telling you their tragic story because it’s relevant to what we’re presently going through, Joel. If Oberyn would have listened to Ellaria’s concerns, he would still be alive. If they had come to a mutual agreement, he would have ultimately realized that his lust for revenge would be in vain. While this takes place in a fantasy realm, and we live in the real world, I just want us to..be able to communicate our feelings on a mutual ground. I want you to feel like you’re being heard, but I also want to feel the same for myself.”

Joel let out a soft breath as his shoulders relaxed and slumped forward. He nodded his head in agreement, letting you know that he was fully listening and understanding what you were explaining to him. “I understand. I want that as well..and I know that a relationship is not a one-way street. I don’t want our relationship to be like that. I want it to be a two-way street where we both are able to discuss and communicate our issues.”

You both fell silent for a moment before Joel grew enough courage to finally say what he needed to say. He turned his body so he was fully facing you. “Clover, I am deeply sorry for how I treated you last night. I let my emotions get the best of me and I know it hurt your feelings. I know that you were excited, and nervous to tell me that Sarah called you mom, and I’m sorry that..my reaction was different than what you were expecting. There are a lot of things I wish I had said differently last night, and I know you and I share our own forms of relationship baggage and trauma. I was focusing on the fact that everything in our relationship will inevitably change, and I’m sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t ready for these changes or able to handle them. The last thing I wanted to do was make you feel like I wasn’t hearing you. That I wasn’t respecting the fact that you do have your shit together, and that you want to be more involved in my daughter's life. Truthfully? I was scared. I am scared. I’m scared because..I have gotten so used to raising my daughter on my own that I never thought of the prospect of settling down with a partner who I would co-parent with. I was so focused on the logistic changes that it clouded my underwhelming joy that Sarah loves you just as much as I do. That you have been more of a mother figure to her than her own mother has.” He felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders as he waited for your response.

“Joel, I know that you’re scared. I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t scared either. This is a huge step for me, as it is for you. You are the first man that I have ever thought about seriously settling down with. I know there are inevitable changes that are intimidating on the surface, but Joel, I want this life with you. I want all these changes. I want to move in with you. I want to get married and co-parent with you. Change is always going to be scary. It��s inevitably scary, but we can’t let our fears rule us. We can’t let them control our emotions and cause us to lash out at the ones we love most. Joel, we have all the time in the world. We can take these steps as slow, or as fast as we want. We can do everything at our own pace, our own comfort levels. If you’re not ready for me to move in just yet, that’s OK. I’m never going to shame you for your feelings, okay? Yeah, last night should have gone differently, but I need to apologize as well.” Your eyes locked on his as you slowly reached for his hand and interlocked your fingers through his and rested it along your lap gently.

“You’re..scared too? I didn’t know that you were. Well, that honestly makes me feel a lot better..but darlin,’ I want this life with you too. Even if it’s done in an unconventional way. It’s our relationship, and we can make it work however we want. I do need some time working through the idea of you moving in. Maybe to start we could do a couple sleepovers during the week? Just so Sarah can get used to you being in the house more. Maybe on the nights you sleep over, you can drive her to school and I can pick her up in the afternoon? Or vice versa? I know you usually have to be at the barn early, so we can plan a schedule out that works for the both of us. You’re right about change inevitably being scary. It’s scary as fuck honestly. I’ve struggled to not let my emotions rule me for years and I know that I have a lot I need to work on. I think our relationship has a strong foundation, and I wanna build up on that and make it stronger. Clover, you have nothing to apologize for. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He reassured you.

“Of course I’m scared. Joel, I wouldn’t be human if I wasn’t a little scared of the next steps in our relationship. I totally understand that you need some time with the idea of me moving in. We don’t have to jump the gun on any of this, but I think your idea to do sleepovers would definitely be a good way to start transitioning. We can work all those details out after this trip. I do however need to apologize because I reacted to some of the things that you said last night in a triggering manner. Joel, I know you didn’t call me baby to..take advantage of the situation and try and manipulate me, but past partners have used pet names on me during arguments to gain the upperhand. I know that’s not what you were doing, but I still reacted in the way as if you were doing that. Not only that, but I also acted like you were insinuating that I didn’t want to take this next step with you. I was pretty much putting words into your mouth and that wasn’t okay for me to do at all. For that, I am sorry. I’m working through my own issues and triggers everyday, but that doesn’t give me the right to take it out on you.”

Joel gave your hand a reassuring squeeze as he gently swiped his thumb back and forth across the top of your hand in a soothing motion. “Clover, I completely understand why you reacted the way that you did. It was an inappropriate time for me to call you baby, and your reaction was valid. Honestly? I probably would have felt the same way if you called me baby or something when I was already getting caught up in my own emotions. I’m sorry that past partners used it in a malicious context. I would never ever do that to you, but now I understand why you were triggered.” He took a deep breath as he squeezed your hand once more. “We both made some mistakes last night, and we’re both holding ourselves accountable. I love you, and I am willing to do anything I can to make this work. Do you forgive me?”

“Joel, I know you would never do that to me. After you left the bathroom I thought about everything that was said, and how I chose to react. There’s so many things I would have done differently, but I also love you, and I am willing to do anything I can to make this work as well. Of course I forgive you. I know you were coming from an emotional state of mind and you held no malicious intent. We’re going to work through this together, okay? You and me.”

“You and me.” He confirmed as he scooted closer to you so your thighs were touching. His head tilted down as he rested his chin along the crook of your shoulder, nuzzling his face affectionately against your skin as his arm gently draped along your lower back so that you could lean up against him if you chose to. “Now, can you tell me more about this infamous Oberyn Martell and Ellaria Sand?” He mused in curiosity as he pressed a feather light kiss to the base of your neck.

“Well, he is very handsome. Might even be handsomer than you are.” You teasingly responded as you gently leaned back against the weight of his arm.

“Is that so? Well, I highly doubt that.” He teased back.

“They call him the red viper, and he has the nicest cock in all of Westeros. Men and women of all shapes, sizes, and colors beg to spend a night in his chambers.”

“Now you’re just fibbin’ darlin.’ Nicest cock in all of Westeros? Lemme see where it says that.” He’s grinning against your skin as he reaches for the book. Before he can grasp it, you're gently grabbing his chin and kissing him sweetly.

You and Joel spend all morning out on the dock until it feels like your skin is baking under the rays and you are left with no choice but to retreat back inside away from the powerful rays.

More egg jokes are cracked as everyone enjoys a late brunch at the kitchen table, and Tommy and Ryder silently decide that you and Joel deserve some privacy in the house to ‘properly’ make up.

Joel is visibly apprehensive as you take his hand and lead him up the stairs. His heart is thrumming wildly in his chest as he glances behind him momentarily. You already reassured him that Tommy and Ryder were going to take the kids out on the lake for a couple of hours so you and Joel could work things out in total privacy. There was an edge of tipping into the unknown when you practically dragged him to the bedroom. You talked things out and were able to reach a mutual understanding of one another but now?…he wasn’t sure what was about to happen.

“You’re not in trouble, Joel.” You reassured him shamelessly.

“Kinda makin’ it seem like I am.” He murmured as you dropped his hand and made yourself comfortable along the edge of the mattress, smoothing the comforter down with your hands.

“Take your cock out and get on your knees Joel.” It wasn’t a request, it was a demand and you watched as your Texas tall glass of water blinked thrice. It was as if his brain was rewiring in a panic because you had never spoken to him in such a demanding tone. He secretly liked it.

“You want me to do what?” He asked in disbelief. Eyes in an innocent almost doe-like gaze.

“You heard me, Miller. Take your cock out and get on your knees. Now.” You raise your eyebrow in his direction challengingly.

His mouth has seemingly gone dry as he blubbers like a fish. He’s obedient however as he’s already reaching for his cotton shorts and pushing them down his thighs. His cheeks are flushed beet red as he can already feel his cock twitch in his briefs.

“Take it out, Joel.” You cross one leg over the other as you wait impatiently.

He lets out a visible puff of air as he grabs the hem of his boxer briefs and tugs them down his legs, kicking them off to the side. His cock springs free and you can’t help but smirk at how hard he already is.

“On your knees. C’mon and be a good boy for me baby.”

He sinks down to his knees like an obedient dog on a leash. His ears pathetically perk up to the sound of you using a pet name instead of his birth name.

“Good boy.” You praise him as you curl your fingers in a come hither motion in the air “Now, crawl to me.”

If he wasn’t so disgustingly in love with you, he probably would have scoffed at your demand and mutter out a ‘fuck no I ain’t doin’ that.’ He wanted to be a good boy for you, so he placed his palms down along the plush carpet and crawled to you.

You were already removing your sleep shorts and panties by the time he had reached you. You leaned over and grasped his chin between your fingers and tilted his head upwards so he was looking up at you. “I’m going to tell you how this is going to go, okay? You really hurt my feelings. I forgive you, and I love you, but I’m going to punish you in a way that is still enjoyable for both of us. If you wish to tap out, I will obviously respect that and won’t push you if you’re not comfortable.”

Joel’s pupils are blown out wide as he gazes up at you. “You ain’t gonna whip me..are ya? That’s uh—that’s where I draw the line.” He nervously asks as his cock shamelessly twitches between his thighs.

You can’t help but giggle as you shake your head, stroking your thumb across his cheekbone gently. “No baby. I’m not going to whip you. I’m going to play with myself and you get to watch. You can’t touch me, but you can touch yourself only in the way I tell you to do so. Most importantly? You can’t cum.”

Joel can’t help the pathetic whimper that slips past his lips as he leans into your soft touch as if he’s been deprived of affection and he’s desperate for it. “Fuck. That’s hot. I can’t touch you at all?”

“No. You can’t touch me at all, but you can get as close to my pussy as you’d like.”

His eyes roll back into his skull as his heavy cock twitches once more between his thighs. “Okay.” He murmurs in agreement.

You give his cheek a gentle loving tap as you lean down and steal a quick kiss. “Good boy.” You release his face gently before spreading your thighs open along the mattress. You reach behind you for one of the pillows and tuck it under your back so he has a better view of just how wet you are.

His mouth falls open when you lick your fingers before dragging them down between your thighs. He’s pathetically mesmerized by the way you shamelessly begin to play with yourself. He scoots himself as close to the edge of the mattress, locked in a trance as he rests his cheek along the comforter right between your thighs. His eyes are glazed over in utter, lustful, pathetic stupidity. They’re glued to the spot between your legs as drool begins to drip down the corner of his mouth and dribble down his chin. He’s yearning for a fucking taste and you’ve barely started to touch yourself. “ya know for such a big hearted lil lady you sure can be fuckin’ mean” he murmurs, whimpering at the sight of you glistening in arousal.

“I know, baby. You just have to be a good boy, and then I’ll reward you.”

He licks his lips as he slowly gazes up at you from between your thighs. He lets out a frustrated puff of air as he rubs his cock against the side of the mattress for some form of relief. “Can I touch myself, please baby?” He whimpers desperately.

“Yes, you can, baby. I want you to slowly wrap your hand around yourself first.” You request as you rub your clit in slow circles, lips parting open as your thighs fall open further.

Your Texas tall glass of water obeys as he slowly wraps his hand around the base of his cock. He’s so hard in his hand, it’s nearly painful.

“Good boy. Now, slowly twist your wrist. You can squeeze a little, but not too much.”

He pathetically whines as he slowly begins to pump and twist his wrist around his length. His face is so close to your pussy. So close that he can nearly taste you on his tongue.

“Don’t even think about it.” You tut as his tongue darts out for a quick taste. “Don’t be a bad boy.”

He breathes out a heavy puff of air through his flared nostrils and it fans your core deliciously as your fingers dip down and gather up your wetness. He lets out a shuddered breath when two of your digits slip inside your warmth. The squelching sound your pussy makes is nearly too much for him to handle as his freehand fists at the comforter, knuckles stark white as he continues to pathetically jerk himself off. His knees ache, his back aches, but he doesn’t care. He’s never been so fucking humiliated and turned on at the same time in his life.

“Please. Please let me taste you. Baby, please. I’m so sorry. I’ll never—never hurt your feelings again. Your pussy needs me darlin.’ She’s weepin’ for me. You’re killin’ me slowly ov’here. Please. I’m fuckin’ beggin’ you.”

He’s a blubbering mess as tears begin to roll down his cheeks. His words stumble out of his parted lips like word vomit. “Please. Please. Please. Clover, baby. This is fuckin’ torture.”

His pleas only seem to spur you forward before you’re ultimately giving in. You slip your fingers out slowly before tangling them in his scalp. He wastes no time to wrap his lips around your clit, sucking greedily as he murmurs ‘thank you baby.’ Over and over again with a mouthful of your pussy.

It’s late afternoon when Tommy, Ryder, and the girls come back from being on the lake for the majority of the day. The girls are visibly exhausted as they head to their room for a quick nap while the adults play a round of poker at the kitchen table. You and Joel are glowing from the inside out as you play footsie under the table like a couple of teenagers.

By 7pm everyone is piled up in Joel’s truck to head out for an excursion. He already told Tommy earlier in the week that it would be fun for everyone to go out for a sunset trail ride, so he found the nearest ranch to the lakehouse, and booked it without a second thought. It was a short 20 minute drive to the ranch and as soon as you passed by a field of horses grazing peacefully, you looked over at your boyfriend with a smile that lit up like a damn Christmas tree.

“How did I know that this little excursion that you have planned was going to involve horses? How did I know?” You asked with a grin. He replied with a little shrug of his shoulders and sheepish grin. “Jus’ figured we’d all enjoy a lil’ sunset trail ride before hittin’ the town for some good ole dancin.’”

Ellie and Sarah, who were smushed in the middle seats between Tommy and Ryder, both looked at each other before whispering in unison, “Yep. They’re soo twitterpated.”

Joel and Tommy looked like proper cowboys in their white tees and blue jeans that did absolute wonders for their thighs and ass. They both were sporting their cowboy hats as well. Man, you were gonna climb your Texas tall glass of water later like a damn tree. Once your horses were saddled up, you and Joel took the lead at the front as your horses calmly walked side by side along the marked trail. You held onto the reins with one hand while the other was outstretched towards Joel. He interlocked his pinky with yours as he looked over at you. “Did I ever tell ya that the sunset really brings out the color of your eyes? Man, are you jus’ stunnin.’” He’s grinning from ear to ear as you feel cheeks begin to get hot from his comment.

“Hmm..I believe you have. At least a dozen times at this point, baby. Have I ever told you just how fantastic your ass looks in a pair of blue jeans? You’re looking like an absolute snack this evening, honey.” You shoot him a playful wink.

He playfully fans his face with his freehand. His eyes squint under the soft glow of the fading sun as he chuckles. “Nah. I think this is the first time you’ve ever given’ me a compliment like that darlin.’ Does my ass really look that good? Snack worthy? Well, lil’ lady, that’s a mighty fine compliment. I am deeply flattered.”

“Breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dessert worthy baby. I will be taking a little nibble on it later tonight.”

He blushes a deep shade of red as he looks away from you bashfully. It’s a good thing the kids are far back enough that they can’t detect yours and Joel’s disgusting flirting. “Jus’ a nibble?” He looks back over at you with the tips of his cheek still as red as a fire hydrant.”

“More like a bite than a nibble”

“Atta girl.”

The sunset is absolutely stunning. The sky is painted in a brilliant hue of pinks, purples, and oranges. The colors fade together like a watercolor painting. You and Joel are still holding pinkies when Ryder takes her camera out from her bag. She snaps a picture of the two of you looking over at one another lovingly.

The ride back to the ranch is equally peaceful and you make it back just before the sun has completely disappeared from the sky. Sarah and Ellie insist on giving their horses a well deserved carrot and brush down. The ranch owner ends up taking a group picture of the six of you and your horses.

You’ve never actually attended a proper ‘hoedown’ till now and boy, did you wish that you’d gone before. The barn where the dance was held was properly lit up with twinkling fairy lights along the wooden ceilings and panels, and a disco ball glittered brightly in the middle of the dance floor. Every attendee was dressed in some form of country attire to fit the theme. There was a bar area and food station, and the girls immediately filled up on kiddy-cocktails paired with burger and fries.

When the music started Joel wasted no time to pull you up from your seat so you could dance together. You’re both out of breath by the fifth song but man, you’re having so much fun you can’t even feel the ache in your feet or your heart pounding out of your chest. You're both filled with bright smiles and echoing laughter as a new country singer named ‘Blanco Brown’ takes the stage and performs his new song called ‘The Git Up.’ It's got all the classic country flare with a pop vibe mixed in. There’s even a choreographed dance to go along with it. Joel nearly eats shit on the last couple of spins but you’re right there to keep him steady as he twirls you around.

Even Ellie and Sarah are swinging each other around in a circle.

There’s not one frown in sight. Just smiles, laughter, and good music.

At some point you and Joel disappeared into the bathroom. He was smart enough to lock the door behind him so no one would interrupt. Your infectious giggles quickly turned into moans as he took you up against one of the bathroom sinks. Your own cowboy hat nearly falls off your head from how hard he is thrusting into you while you’re gripping onto either side of the sink for dear life. His freehand that isn’t presently grasping your hip, is gently placed over your mouth to block out your high pitched moans. “Gotta be quiet, baby. Or else we’re gonna get caught red handed. You didn’t think that I was actually gonna let you get away with your little game earlier, did ya?”

All you can do is shake your head as you cry out against his palm.

He’s a total gentleman after fucking you, so it comes as no surprise when he uses a wad of toliet paper to gently clean up the mess between your thighs before he fixes your dress for you. He kisses your lips sweetly as he wraps his arm around your shoulders and you reach up to interlock your fingers as you exit the restroom.

“Did you just—” Tommy raises a brow in yours and Joel’s direction as you approach the table he and Ryder are sitting at.

“Fuck in the women’s bathroom?” Joel finishes the question for him. “Absolutely not. That would be downright un-American, brother.” His subtle wink says otherwise.

It’s a little before eleven when you all arrive home. Everyone is doing their own thing as the energy from dancing all night begins to wind down. Joel finds Ellie out on the wrap around porch with one of Joel’s guitars resting across her lap. She’s messing with the strings when he sinks down alongside her on the outdoor couch. “Y’need some help, kiddo?” He can hear you and Sarah through the open window near the kitchen, mumbling about how stupidly difficult this puzzle is, and why won’t these pieces just fit? He can’t help the smile that washes over his face knowing that everything was going to be alright after all.

“Oh, hey Joel. Yeah..would you mind? I’m just not very good at this.” Ellie responds softly with a defeated sigh.

“El, that ain’t true. Y’jus’ need a bit of practice is all.” He murmurs softly.

The younger girl lets out a soft huff as she looks over at him. “Can you teach me then? I don’t even know where to start.”

“Course I can, kiddo. I’d love to teach you.” Joel wraps his arm around her in a gentle squeeze

Ellie’s eyes softly light up as she leans into his comforting touch, resting her head against his shoulder. Joel loves Ellie as if she were his own, and in some ways she is. He knew that her life at home wasn’t the best, but he didn’t know the full extent of her situation. What he did know is that he cared for her, and he’d be there for her no matter what. By the end of the night Ellie had learned a few chords and how to properly tune the strings on a guitar. Joel loved every second of being able to teach her.

After the girls were tucked in and Joel was finally back in bed with you, he found himself being the big spoon as he wrapped his body around yours.

“Whad’ya think about adoptin?’” He softly asks as he presses a gentle kiss to the back of your head.

“Is this hypothetical or something that you’re seriously thinking about?” You respond softly as gently grab his hands and bring them up to your lips, kissing his knuckles affectionately.

“Hypothetical..but it could be serious. It’s jus’ that Ellie’s folks are hardly ever around. She’s pratically fendin’ for herself, and it ain’t right. She’s just a kid.” He murmurs as he buries his face into your neck.

“Do you love her like she’s your own?”

“I do.” He softly confirms as he inhales your natural scent through his nose, followed by a soft exhale.

“Then I say..we should look into it.” You press another gentle kiss to his knuckles as you snuggle further back into his warm grip.

“Okay, you and me?”

“You and me, baby.”

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deanwinchesterscherrypie · 1 year

Text

Inescapable

Kinktober Day 1: Dom/sub

Summary:

(Inspired by Dress by Taylor Swift) Dean, Cas, and Sam go on a small local ghost hunt while you stay at home. While you get the bunker prepared for them to come home, you can't stop thinking about your dom. Dean specifically ordered you to not be thinking of him while he's gone, but you can't help it. You miss him, and when he gets home, you think you'll show him just how much.

Words: 3,919

Kinks: Dom/sub, Rope play, light degradation, teasing, spanking, punishment

Relationship: Dom Dean/Sub Fem Reader

Content/Trigger Warnings: mentions of sexual assault (only in the first paragraph), mentions of a knife, smut, cunnilingus, p in v sex, fingering, dominant dean winchester

Notes: Read here on ao3! Full Kinktober Masterlist. I hope you enjoy :)

Dean. Cas, and Sam left Friday evening for a ghost hunt. Apparently, Old Man Milton only comes back once every 7 years on his daughter’s birthday to kill young men that sexually assault or harass young women. His daughter died by a violent sexual assault and was found in the basement of a fraternity house. He searched for the boy that did it to her, but the college covered it up. Now, he’s coming back for justice. You told Dean that they shouldn’t do anything. If it were your hunt, you would have left it alone. Those guys deserved to die, in your opinion. And maybe that makes you a bad person, but honestly, you’ve literally been to hell and back. You don’t really care if wishing a painful death on rapists is a bad thing.

The only reason you didn’t attend this hunt with the boys is because the whole topic was just a little too triggering for you. Dean suggested you stay home, and Cas agreed that the emotional trauma it brought up wouldn’t be worth getting rid of the ghost. Sam offered to stay home with you, but Cas isn’t the best hunting partner when it comes to these small hunts. So, Dean asked if you’d be alright and insisted that Sam come with him. Cas is always one call away if you need anything, and you know that.

On Sunday morning, you get ready to start your day with brushing your hair, doing your makeup, and picking out an outfit. You don’t have much to choose from, because it’s laundry day you’re washing all of the boys clothes along with yours. It’s kind of annoying that they expect you to do their laundry, and you pointed out once that you thought it was misogynistic to expect the only woman in the home to do laundry. But Dean came back with the argument that you were only doing laundry when they were out on a hunt without you. If they were the one staying home, they would do the laundry and you wouldn’t mind. Sam offered to do his own, but it didn’t actually bother you too much. You think that Dean’s just saying it to get you to do it, but you let them have it because he said it with a really cute face and puppy dog eyes. And they do so much for you that doing some laundry or cooking a meal isn’t going to kill you. You don’t exactly like falling into gender roles, but something about them being so appreciative every Sunday night when you make dinner and have them change into clean clothes is so sweet.

So, you pick out your outfit: a pair of jeans and one of Dean’s flannels because it’s the only thing that smells like him, but doesn’t have blood on it. You take his load to the wash first, because you know when he gets home, you’ll make him change into clean clothes. You put on some music first. You listen to a lot of Led Zeppelin while he’s gone because it reminds you of him. Before he left, as always, he told you not to think of him too much. In a normal relationship, that would be sweet. A request. But in yours and Dean‘s relationship, it was a demand. Every hunt he went on scared you, every time he left the bunker, a chill ran down your spine. You wondered if you would ever see him again. You try not to think like that, and he demands you don’t think of him at all. You don’t listen. You never do. He knows this, and he’ll punish you when he gets home. That’s sometimes why you think of him. You enjoy the punishment. It’s nice when he takes control when he gets home.

You finish putting his clothes in the laundry and go to the kitchen to prepare dinner for when they get home. It’s your week to prepare dinner on Sunday night. Every Sunday, you make everyone have a family meal at a table. Hunters don’t get to have a normal life, so this is as normal as it gets for you. You don’t have long before they get back, so you pull out all of the necessary ingredients and set them on the counter. Normally, you’d also be doing some research while they were gone. But this hunt specifically was one that lacked research and needed more gumption than Dean could ever gather. As you’re swaying to the music in the kitchen, the song “Dress” by Taylor Swift plays through your phone speaker. This song reminds you of Dean, but in a way that’s more playful than sexy. He likes Taylor Swift, your favorite artist, but he won’t admit it. Sometimes, you catch him listening to her in the shower, but he thinks you don’t know. Sometimes, you see him adding a song of hers to his playlist. As the lyrics ring through your head this time around, you can’t help but think about how teasing it would be for Dean to come home to tear your clothes off. He always requests that when he gets home, you are in bed with no clothes. You enjoy this usually, but tonight you’re feeling a little extra.

You prepare the food, so all you have to do is cook them. You make homemade burger patties that need to chill, sourdough bread that needs to chill to make buns, and a pastry crust for the pie. You clean up and grab your keys. Before Bobby passed, he built up a car for you out of some old parts. It was a crap car, but it barely cost you. Bobby had a soft spot for you, so he would fix the car up for you anytime it broke down or something happened. Unfortunately, when he died, you had nobody to fix up your car. It was just your luck that you remembered meeting Dean Winchester, a friend of Bobby’s, a few years back. He and his brother were well known hunters, so you didn’t think he would have the time to help. But any shop would tell you that the car was more to fix than it was actually worth. They said it was unsafe and shouldn’t be driven. They didn’t have the memories you had with that car though. So you gave him a call, and you were lucky that he was in the next town over just finishing up a case. You two haven’t left each other alone since.

You head toward a town close by to find exactly what you are looking for. You stop into a few stores before you find exactly what you wanted. A short, white sundress, complete with a cherry print scattered across the fabric. You check the price tag because unlike other hunters, you try to earn honest money when you can. You save as much as you can and invest some of it. The dress is on sale, which just lets you know it’s meant to be.

You check out and head back to the bunker to get ready and prepare dinner. When you walk inside, you hear a ding on your phone. You pull it from your pocket to see a text from Dean.

We’re on our way home, Sweetheart. About an hour out. Be ready. - DW

It’s funny that he signs his initials with every text, but it’s his thing. It’s how you know it’s really him. He told you to be ready, but you should really be the one telling him to be ready….

Yes, sir.

You go to the kitchen and begin cooking the burgers. Cas doesn’t have an appetite, but he still sits at the table with us. He always compliments the food, even though he doesn’t actually eat it. His description of food is that it “all tastes like molecules” to him. But nevertheless, Sam and Dean still enjoy it when you cook. After the burgers are cooked, you put them on a pan to keep warm and take out the dough. You make some rolls and put them on a pan to bake. The pie will cook while you’re eating, so you go ahead and head toward your bedroom to change.

You put on your new dress and put your hair up with some loose curls falling down. You touch up your makeup a little bit and add some red lipstick. It’s Dean’s favorite and it matches your dress perfectly. You spray on some Tom Ford’s “Lost Cherry” and make your way back to the kitchen. You check your watch and see that it will be about half an hour until they get home, which is perfect timing to go ahead and put in the rolls and start preparing the pie.

Soon, the whole bunker smells like fresh bread and sweet, cherry pie. You put all of the clean laundry in the rooms. You set the table with a whiskey glass in front of both Dean and Sam’s seats and a courtesy glass of water in Castiel’s spot. You put a wine glass in front of your seat, and pull out the rolls to replace them with the cherry pie. You take out all the extra condiments for the burgers and put the sides on the table. The locks of the bunker do a familiar click, and you know it’s game on. You hear the low chatter of the boys discussing the familiar scent wafting from the kitchen.

Sam walks in and sees the set table. He waves the other guys into the kitchen.

“Is it Sunday already? Man, I’m hungry!” Sam goes to pull out a chair before your hand catches his.

“You boys go wash up first. I don’t want blood and sulfur at my dinner table. Your clothes are in your rooms. Dinner in 5.” You smile and pat his hand. He laughs a little before wrapping his arm around your shoulders and squeezing a little bit. You smack his chest gently, and he laughs and saunters off to change. Dean’s heated gaze is focused on your legs, or more importantly, how much of them he can see. Your apron falls below your dress, and when you’re turned to the side, he can see that your dress barely covers your ass. He groans low to himself and raises his eyes to meet yours. Cas speaks up.

“Thank you for putting together dinner. I appreciate it.” He smiles awkwardly before the dirt and blood disappears from his outfit. He hangs his overcoat on the rack in the corner and then settles into his spot. Dean’s gaze hasn’t left you, and you know exactly why.

“All of this silence and patience, pining in anticipation.”

“Something wrong, love?” You ask with your most precious voice. You know he won’t say anything in front of Cas. He treats him like a toddler, his child that he must watch over. It’s adorable, but at the same time, he watches himself around Cas. He doesn't want him repeating things. Dean doesn’t reply, but his face looks pained. You smile and wave him off to his room to get changed. He obliges, but you can see the tension in his back as he walks away.

“Dean seems stressed. We got rid of the ghost. Why is he upset?” Cas asks you as you make Sam’s plate.

“Because his wife is his wildest dream, and he’s mad he has to eat dinner first.” Sam laughs as he walks out in fresh clothes. He sits at the table and smiles up at you. “I mean seriously, come on, he came home to his wife dressed up with his favorite dinner made and pie in the oven.”

“But why would that stress him out? Shouldn’t he be happy that he has the terribly domestic life he wished for?” Cas asks as you plate the food in front of him. He won’t eat it, but he likes to have a plate to feel involved.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean walks to the table, “can you three stop talking about me like I ain’t here? I am not stressed. I am exhausted from a three day long hunt. Now, let’s eat. I’m starving.” Dean’s gaze shoots up at you as he sits down. You plate his food next, and then, your own. You sit down and everyone eats in silence.

The conversation starts flowing once everyone starts getting full, and then, it’s time to take out the pie. You head over to the oven, which is right next to Dean’s seat, and bend down to get the pie out. Your dress rides up right next to him, so he can see your cunt soaking your white lace underwear. He groans and attempts to cover it up with a cough. You chuckle a little to yourself and set the pie down on the table. You take the boys plates and put them in the sink.

“Sam, don’t forget. It’s your day to do dishes.” You nudge his shoulder. You set out more plates and serve up the cherry pie to Dean and onto your own plate. You are on one side of Dean, so you scoop up Sam’s piece and lean over Dean to place the pie on Sam’s plate. Sam shakes his head and chuckles to himself before digging in. Cas wanders off to the library. You sit back in your seat and take a bite of your pie. Some of the cherry juice drips off of your lip and onto your chest, where Dean’s gaze falls. You swipe your finger across the juice and stick it into your mouth. Your eyes close in ecstasy, and you make a small noise of happiness. Dean has yet another cough, and you open your eyes to watch him. He hasn’t even touched his pie.

“Dean, you haven’t touched your pie?” You ask him sweetly.

“Dude, it’s delicious. You picked the right woman.” Sam says as he goes back for seconds.

Dean nods his head and picks up his fork with shaking hands.

“My hands are shaking from holding back from you.”

You all continue to eat before you both hand your plates to Sam to wash. You bid goodnight to Sam and Cas before heading to your room with Dean hot on your heels. You barely make it through the door before he catches your wrist in his hand and closes the door behind him with his foot.

“You disobeyed me.” He states. His eyes pierce yours with pure lust and determination.

“I made dinner.” You counter, reminding him that it was your week to make dinner.

“You know the rules, sweetheart. You know what happens when you break the rules.” A glint appears in his eyes, and suddenly, he begins walking toward you slowly. The backs of your knees hit the bed, and you fall backward onto the soft cushioning. “Tell me what happens when you break the rules, love.” His voice commands.

“I get punished, sir.” You let out with a bit of excitement.

“Oh, were you looking forward to this?” He chuckles deeply, “Of course you were. My pretty little slut loves it when I show her who she belongs to and where her place is.”

“Yes, sir.” You nod your head and raise your hips toward him as he climbs in between your legs.

“Oh, do you want me to touch you?”

“Please touch me.” You ask, waiting for his touch.

He chuckles deeply again before pulling his knife from his pocket. You back up a little before his hand comes to the back of your neck to keep you in place.

“Don’t run away from me, sweetheart. You just asked me to touch you.” His smirk says it all. “Do you remember your safeword?” He asks in your ear.

“Yes. Cherries.” You giggle a little at the word and how significant it’s made itself today.

“That’s my good girl.” He says as he places the knife down on the nightstand next to your head. “Sit up.”

You sit up quickly and wait for your next instruction. You don’t always have such an intense dynamic, but you both need intense when you’ve been apart for a while.

“Over my knee.” You shiver at his words, but do as you are told. He lifts the skirt of your dress and rubs over the smooth skin of your ass.

“How many do you think you deserve, darling?” He says to you as he runs his finger over the lacy fabric of your underwear.

“I don’t know, sir.” You say to him while you try to grind your hips into his legs. He lays a smack on your ass, leaving a stinging feeling.

“I think ten is fair. Two for thinking of me while I was gone, four for wearing this slutty little dress, two for teasing me at dinner, and two for grinding yourself against my leg.” You shiver again and nod your head in response. He lifts your chin and gets down in front of your face.

“Words.” He whispers and bites your lip.

“Yes, sir.” You bow your head as he lets go. His fingers travel downward until he reaches the soaking spot in the center of your underwear and presses in.

“Oh, your pretty hole is so wet for me. I can’t wait to use you.” You whine as he retracts his hand.

“Don’t make a sound or I start over. Got it?” He grabs a fistful of your hair as he speaks to you.

“Yes, sir.”

He lays the first smack and your body jumps in response. You feel your hole squeeze the nothingness. You know you’re in for it, and you just hope that he’ll have mercy on you and touch you soon.

“Nine more.” You breathe in slowly, preparing yourself for nine more.

Smack. You just want him to touch you.

Smack. You’re getting desperate.

Smack. Soon, you’re going to start begging.

Smack. You don’t know if you can handle more.

Smack. It feels so good, but it hurts.

Smack. Almost there.

Smack. You’re going to come.

“I know I don’t feel you grinding on my leg, do I sweetheart?” He chuckles before laying two smacks back to back. You let out a sound that is a cross between a moan and a cry.

“Tsk tsk, what did I tell you about making sounds?” He asks you gently.

“We- would have to start over.” You whine. “Please Dean, don’t make me.” You beg.

“What did you just call me?” His hand wraps itself around the back of your neck and pulls you toward him.

“I’m sorry, sir.” You look up at him with pleading eyes. He looks back at you with pure satisfaction. You can feel his cock that's been growing beneath you this whole time twitch at the sight of you.

“Two more.” He says, and he means it. You groan lightly, and you hear his light laugh at you.

One. It stings, but he was more gentle than before.

Two. That one is going to leave a mark.

“Made your mark on me, a golden tattoo.”

“Good girl. Sit up.” He helps you forward and reaches beneath the bed. He grabs two pieces of rope that you don’t remember putting there. He smiles mischievously when he sees your confusion and scoots you up the bed. “Arms.”

You put your arms up and he ties each arm to the holes in the headboard. That is not what you were expecting, but you aren’t complaining. That is, until he rips your dress off of your body straight down the middle.

“I only bought this dress so you could take it off.”

“Dean! That dress was new.” You look at him with shock.

“Well, I hope it wasn’t expensive.” He smirks a bit before dragging your underwear down your legs.

“Please.” You push your hips up to him.

“Please what?” He asks, his breath grazing over your slick cunt.

“Please touch me.” You ask.

“My pathetic little slut wants me to touch her pretty cunt? You want me to lick your pretty clit?” He spreads you apart until you’re completely exposed to him and glistening in the dim bunker light.

“Yes, sir.”

And that’s when he takes his change to shove his tongue deep inside your hole. He fucks you with his tongue, occasionally slipping his tongue out of your hole and circling around your clit. You can feel yourself squeezing around his tongue. His scruff scratches the inside of your thighs, and you just want to tangle your fingers in his hair. He flicks your clit quickly and shoves a finger inside of you.

“Is this what you wanted, baby?” He asks as he continues to hit that sweet spot inside of you. His tongue feels so good as he continues his gentle assault on your clit. He moves in quick circles. Every now and then, he sucks your clit into his mouth. He slows his fingers and fucks you slow and hard. You like it like this, feeling every bit of him. His fingers curl up inside you to rub on that spot.

“Fuck.” You can’t help the sounds that come from your chest.

“You’re so fucking sexy, baby. See, this is what good girls get when they behave.” He taunts you, moving his thumb to your clit and his mouth to your sensitive nipples.

You start riding his fingers harder, chasing the orgasm that his fingers are promising you. You close your eyes in pleasure.

“Look at me, sweetheart. I want you to see me when you come.” He says, watching your every emotion. He switches out his fingers for his thick cock. He rubs the tip against your sensitive clit and has you whining for it. He pushes into you slowly, but that’s the only time he’s slow about it. He rams into you and fucks you hard. He is relentless and merciless.

“That’s it, pretty girl, only I can make you make those sounds.” He whispers in your ear. Your arms pull against the ropes, but you’re unsuccessful at breaking them. You buck your hips toward him as you chase your orgasm. He starts rubbing your clit, and you feel it coming on.

“Come for me.” He whispers in your ear as you let loose the orgasm that's been building inside of you. Your legs shake a bit and your back arches off of the bed.

“Good girl.” He says as he slips his cock out and pumps it a few more times before rolling his head back and letting out a groan as he comes on your stomach. You love watching him come at the sight of you.

He reaches forward to the nightstand next to you and grabs the knife. You look at him with confusion until he leans forward to your wrist. You realize he’s going to cut you out of the rope. You hear a scratching noise and attempt to look above you, but you can’t see. Suddenly, he cuts both of the ropes and lets your arms free. You rub your wrists and turn to see what he was doing. On your headboard, there is freshly engraved statement:

Property of D.W.

“Carve your name into my bedpost.”

You put on a shirt of his and snuggle into your bed with him. He cuts the lights out, and as you’re drifting off to sleep, you swear you hear him singing Dress by Taylor Swift.

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ramp-it-up · 2 years

Text

Bucky Charms

Summary: You learn more about Bucky other than the physical. Are you ready to risk it all?

Pairing: Dark CEO! Bucky Barnes x Journalist! Reader

Warnings: As always, 18+ ONLY, SMUT. Minors DNI. ANGST. Fluff. Descriptions of past trauma, kidnapping, death, violence. Steve and Sam, Pining, lust, flirting through music, teasing, karaoke, non con surveillance, oral sex (m recieving) degradation kink alongside praise kink, Sir kink, good girl/bad girl kink, p in v (wrap it up!) lil bit of breeding kink, Soft Dark Bucky.

A/N: This is part of the Playlist Series. Read the previous part, F*cking Bucky @ysmmsy and @blackwidownat2814 are my exquisite muses who created the playlists, with more to come. 😉 Thanks you both! 🥰 please leave feedback, like and reblog. It helps to inspire me. 😊

The playlist is real and is linked here!

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

I’ll stop the world and melt with you/you’ve seen the difference/ and it’s getting better all the time/there’s nothing you and I won’t do/I’ll stop the world and melt with you…the future’s open wide…

You listened to that cut over and over until you fell asleep after Bucky left your apartment and woke up with it still on repeat.

You’d certainly melted for James Buchanan Barnes last night, and he melted all over you. You smiled at the window, feeling light and buoyant as air, but then sat up and frowned as you realized what Bucky said.

“Professional.”

He’d suggested that you could both be professional. After last night, you didn’t think you could do it, but you had to try. You moved to get out of bed and realized that you were still sore.

You grinned as you padded to the bathroom and ran another hot bath. You didn’t regret a single thing about the night before.

And you had a feeling that despite what Bucky had said, neither did he.

Bucky was late to work. For him. He walked into the office at 8:45 am.

Steve and Sam shared a look across the shared space, but didn’t say a word. Until Bucky put in his AirPods and started singing Frank Ocean.

A tornado flew around my room before you came/Excuse the mess it made…

“Okay. What the hell is going on?”

Bucky stared up at Sam who was now hovering over his desk and who’s broken through his noise cancellation.

“Hunh?

Steve got up and walked over to Bucky.

“Don’t play dumb with us. You are late, and in an awfully good mood. Singing, Buck? What happened last night, Bucky. Did you get with Y/N?”

Bucky looked up at the two men who were most like brothers in his life. He couldn’t hide anything from them.

“So what if I did get lucky last night?”

Bucky put his long legs up on his desk and leaned back in his ergonomic chair.

“What makes you think it was her? There are 4.3 million women in this city.”

Steve and Sam just stared at him, then Steve spoke again.

“Sure. But there’s only one that you are laser focused on.”

Sam agreed.

“Yeah, you’re like a dog with a bone.”

Bucky’s grin got wider and he just shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t kiss and tell.”

Sam shook his head.

“I’ve heard that before. That means this is serious, because in the old days…”

“We got a blow by blow. Literally.”

“Fuck you Steve. And fuck you Sam.”

Bucky threw up double birds at his friends.

“And step the fuck back from my work space. I’ve got work to do.”

When his business partners had safely retreated, Bucky picked up his phone to text you. He couldn’t not text you the morning after, but he had to be careful.

“See you at 4 o’clock. Looking forward to moving on with this project.”

You read the text, your heart beating a mile a minute when you saw the notification. You took some deep breaths as you walked to the subway station to go into the city. It was pretty straightforward. No subtext to be parsed out.

There was no way to know that you were the project that Bucky was talking about.

Both of you went through your days, listening to the playlist Bucky was building throughout the day. This was not the music to do work to. The songs were cute and flirty, silly, surprising, and in some cases full of emotion that went well beyond a professional relationship.

But it was just music, right?

You two sent songs flying to the playlist throughout the day, flirting with music in place of words, glances, and touch. Etta James, Savage Garden, Monica, The Pogues, Frank Ocean, The Darkness, from the 80’s to last month.

It was a very eclectic mix that seemed to summarize both of your personalities perfectly. On the A train that afternoon, you caught an older woman smiling at you as you cheesed at your phone.

Bucky was becoming more and more active on IG since your interview and he’d posted a photo. It was a close up selfie of him staring off into space at his desk in a dark grey suit with a purple line-patterned tie. He wasn’t wearing his glasses and his blue eyes were dreamy.

This man was posting thirst traps fully clothed. And judging from some of the comments, plenty of people were falling for it. There were over 1200 likes in the 90 minutes it had been up.

You didn’t want to like the picture, but then you read the caption.

No time to relax! Finished a full day of work, looking forward to working on a passion project this afternoon. #Icanseethebluerskieslikemulticoloredflowerfields

You scrolled through the comments, people saying how handsome he was, sending their coochie through the interwebs. You sighed, and liked the picture, and then posted your own comment.

I drifted off the Earth to march in your parade/Colors on me moving slowly

Bucky was waiting for your comment, ignoring all of the thirst replies and hoping that you’d respond. He replied with two perfect words.

Technicolor, girl.

Then came another slew of comments about his response and you started gaining random followers.

Oh lord, you thought, this was going to be a lot.

You decided to get control of yourself before 4 pm. If not, you would fall right into Bucky’s arms as soon as you arrived. And that wouldn't do, would it?

45 minutes later, you stood in front of Bucky Barnes’s brownstone for a minute making sure you had composure. You did a mental check of all your systems.

Heart rate: normal.

Breathing: easy.

Panties: dry.

You were confident that you were in full control and could be professional. You paused and bit your lip as you thought of the night before Bucky had made you feel like no one else had. You shook your head to clear it.

You could do it. You could be strong. He probably wasn’t as attractive as you were making him out to be. After all, it had been a while, you were horny, and now, you were fine.

Your hormones had made him out to be more than he actually was. He wasn’t all that. The dick was only amazing because you’d been sex starved. That was it. He had no control over you.

You stood up straight, your self-talk making you confident, you reached up to knock on the door.

Bucky watched your internal struggle on his laptop. He admired the body that he felt like he knew so well after just one night. Your choice of outfit was modest, but sexy. Blue chambray shirt over slim fit black pants and tank with wedge sandals. You were covered, professional, yet comfortable. There was only one upgrade he would recommend.

His blue chambray shirt. But all in due time.

Bucky studied your countenance and posture as you paused before you attempted to enter. The way you bit your lip made his cock shift, but he willed it down. You looked as if you were confident in your self restraint.

Perfect.

He loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt as you knocked, once, twice, three times and when he saw you look around and lick your lips, tentatively reaching for the digital lock on the door was when he went to open it.

Your heart started beating off kilter when your knock went unanswered.

System one down.

You moistened your lips and looked up and down the street. There was no mistaking what he said last night. It was the right time. And the right place. You had the combination to the door, but you remembered what happened the last time you entered. But you screwed your courage and reached for the lock.

The lock drew away from your hand and you moved as if you were falling down Alice’s rabbit hole when Bucky opened the door.

First sensation: the sound of The Internet playing on a sound system behind him and you knew you were in trouble.

Know you wrong/But sho you right/Home alone/For the night…

Second sensation: falling in slow motion into Bucky’s arms as you tried to follow the knob.

“Oh!”

You stumbled forward further into his chest.

“Hey!”

Bucky chuckled as he held you fast. You two stared at each other and you forgot to breathe. Damn, he was as handsome as you thought. Even more so.

System two down.

Bucky inhaled a good whiff of your scent and smiled down at you.

“We have got to stop meeting like this.”

You looked up at him, slightly confused as you attempted to process the next sensations of Bucky’s hands on your body, the smell of him all around you, and that sexy tenor in your ears. And that smile, that face, that mouth. Your serotonin spiked.

Bucky just continued to smile as you remembered yourself. You pulled back and straightened your clothes.

You concentrated hard for system three to stay afloat. But then you looked back up at him. i

Damn. He was beautiful.

“You okay?”

“No.”

Your panties were not as dry as they were. You wanted to climb the man in front of you, your hormones going crazy with flashbacks of the night before.

James Buchanan Barnes had put it down and now you were addicted.

But you couldn’t just flow with that. You were a professional.

“What-”

“I mean… no worries.”

You smiled brightly at him to cover your embarrassment.

“It was my fault, I should have waited–”

“My fault, I should have checked-”

You both spoke at the same time, and then laughed. You loved Bucky’s eye crinkles.

You cleared your throat and straightened your spine.

Bucky covered a moan in his throat with a cough. That body was his weakness. His cock thickened with thoughts of pulling you in his home and then fuck you on the hallway floor, but instead he stepped back and put his hands in his pockets awkwardly.

He smiled, and you blushed.

“How are you?”

Bucky ducked his head and smiled that smile at you. He looked so young.

“I’m good, Y/N. Real good. And you?”

His smile was hopeful, and full of knowing. God, you were a simp. Professional wasn’t going to work.

“I’m good, Bucky.”

You smiled at him and you two just stood there grinning.

Bucky just continued to stare at you. His smile and his nervousness was doing something to you, so you cleared your throat again. This was so not what you were expecting.

Finally, Bucky realized the awkwardness of the situation.

“Shit. I’m being rude. Come on into my office.”

You laughed again and followed him into the room, noticing his laptop. It made you grow warm.

“How did you sleep last night?” asked Bucky.

What a question.

He was closer that you thought, but farther away than you hoped. You turned around and looked at him, biting your lip and shifting on your feet.

“After a nice, hot bath, I slept like a baby.”

That eyebrow raised and made you squirm with the faint sensation of him inside you. You could still feel the effects of him.

“Hot bath, huh?”

“Yes, with Epsom salts. I was a bit… sore. Needed another this morning.”

You lowered your eyes to your fingers which were clutching your bag, and then raised them back up to his face. That tongue snaked out and licked his bottom lip and his teeth captured it. You dragged your eyes up to his and saw the desire there. But he also looked contrite.

“I-I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be.”

You interrupted him, fighting to keep your eyes wide open while they were on his. You tried to keep your voice from cracking when you said, “I liked it.”

Bucky took a deep breath and stepped to you.

“Y/N. I want to talk to you… about ground rules. With us.”

You lowered your eyes. You just knew he was going to shut all of this flirting down. You weren’t going to beg him, you just had to suck it up. Even though this thing between you felt like crack.

Bucky tipped your chin up, the feeling of his fingers on you shooting electricity straight to your core.

“I don’t want there to be any.”

“What?”

You were confused.

“I thought last night would get it out of my system, but it only served to make me want more.”

What was he saying?

“More? More what? You want more sex?”

You were thrilled and disappointed at the same time. Bucky Barnes had you stirred up.

“Of course I do.You’re beautiful. That body, the way you feel…I’m not dead.”

Bucky stood there and his eyes raked over you with possession. And you let hIm, wanting to belong to him. That realization had you shook.

“But I want more. More than just sex. And if you just want sex, then that can’t happen. Feelings would get involved. At least for me.”

Bucky drew in a ragged breath.

“So you have to know that you are in control of this…” he moved his hand between you both, “this situation. Because I can’t trust myself to not go headlong over this cliff with you…”

Bucky’s eyes searched yours and you tried to return his honest gaze. His words were so fucking charming that you were ready to jump as well. But you had work to do.

“I get it, Bucky. Let's just take it moment by moment. Right now, I’ll behave and be a good girl.”

Bucky released a light groan and shook his head as his eyes dilated slightly.

“Please stop. Unless you want me to…”

He stopped, and you could tell that he was holding himself back by the way his jaw clenched. The knowledge that you had this power over him was heady stuff. But you decided to chill.

“Okay, you’re right, we have work to do. Now is not the time for.. more.”

You looked up at him and bit your lip.

“Definitely not.”

“Totally.”

You took a deep breath.

“Where’s the manuscript?”

Bucky’s eyes swept over you one more time, then turned to his laptop, sat down and typed for a few seconds.

“In your inbox.”

He was calmer now, and anxious for you to read his story.

You sank down into the couch and opened your bag to grab your own laptop.

You looked up at him one more time before you started to read, and when you began, you were quickly immersed in the narrative.

An hour and half later, you looked up at him, tears in your eyes.

“Bucky… I…”

“Is it any good?”

You looked at him in a totally new light. This was a different level of intimacy than just sex. This was his soul laid bare..

“Is it any good? Bucky, it’s fantastic! The honesty, the raw emotion…thank you for trusting me with this.”

Bucky gave you a sad smile and your heart twisted. You centered yourself by observing details and realized that his tie was now off and his sleeves were rolled up. He seemed more relaxed and natural and now that you knew the full story of Bucky Barnes, he was a marvel.

You put your laptop aside and stared off into space, trying to process. Bucky watched your profile, anxious and wanting to pull you into an embrace. But you were setting the pace.

You looked back over at him after a full minute.

“Are you sure you want all of this out there? This gives insight into your most personal, devastating moments. It will give people a lot of access to things most people hold close. And it opens you up for a lot.”

You had an entirely new perspective on James Buchanan Barnes. One that went far beyond sex.

“Yes. Writing this down has helped me to heal. Publishing it will bring closure.”

Bucky stood up and poured himself a drink, and offered the brown liquor to you. You nodded and took the glass, realizing that it was probably Macallan 18.

This man had lost his wife, his whole life… you couldn’t imagine. And here you were wondering if he were playing games.

“It must have been horrifying.”

Bucky nodded and looked down into his drink.

“At first I had no memory of what I’d done and how I’d done it. I woke up in the hospital and saw the headlines that the CEO of CapTech had been found injured and sobbing hysterically as he cradled his wife in his good arm. The most anyone knew was that Sarah was killed in a failed robbery attempt. No one knew about the kidnapping.”

You rocked back in your seat, remembering the rumors around that event. Word was that Bucky went almost insane with grief.

You realized now that the rumor was true.

“My heart was buried in the casket with Sarah, and after everything that happened, I went into a type of hibernation, holed up in the Manhattan penthouse above our offices. Steve and Nat challenged me to get back to work a year later, telling me that they were taking up my slack.”

Bucky laughed bitterly, shook his head, and took a drink.

“It wasn’t until Sarah’s birthday two years later that I finally noticed that Sam was grieving as hard, if not harder, than I was. And I realized how selfish I’d become.”

Bucky looked at you with a pained look on his face and you shivered, feeling a fraction of the emotion he must have been feeling. You wanted to cry.

“Bucky… I’m so sorry.”

Bucky looked at you.

“Don’t be sorry, Y/N. It’s alright. I’m ok now.”

“But… how?”

Bucky smiled at you.

“Well, intense therapy for one. Family therapy with Sam. Running. Running with my friends, or… with strangers I bump into.”

He gave you a smile and you smiled back, hopelessly connected to this man.

“Another thing that has helped me immensely was meeting you and seeing the way you crafted our interview, and experiencing the response to it. I’m communicating about myself more with the public.

“Yes, I’ve noticed the response you’re getting on social media.”

Bucky just chuckled at your thirst trap shade.

“I need you to help me tell this story, Y/N. Please. Help me.”

You leaned toward him. You two gazed into each other’s eyes.

“Your story is powerful the way it is, but right now, the way it reads leaves you open to some liability for what happened to those men in that warehouse that day. I believe you that it was self defense, and defense of your wife. That was such a hard thing to live through and to write down. I have an idea on how to revise the story to keep the emotion, but protect you, and Sarah and Sam at the same time. Hear me out.”

—--

Two hours later, you’d sketched out revisions to Bucky’s memoir. You were emotionally spent. And starving. It was almost 8pm. You looked at Bucky when you were done and he read you like a book.

“I ordered Thai food 45 minutes ago when you were on a roll outlining. I hope you’re hungry.”

You sighed and smiled.

“Feed me and I will love you forever.”

You laughed at your joke, but Bucky did not.

“Don’t tease me, Y/N.”

Suddenly, the air was thick with need.

“About that… Bucky… I want to work with you on this project. But I can’t deny that… that I am attracted to you in the worst way.”

Bucky smiled and cocked his head.

“’The worst way.’ Is it that bad? I feel like I need to apologize.”

You nodded.

“It is bad. If we need to be professional.”

Bucky looked up in the air.

“Well. Think about last night…”

You shifted in your seat.

“I mean, we just did some pretty good work tonight. After what happened,…”

Bucky grinned

“Well. You’re not wrong…”

You grinned back at him. You just liked him so fucking much.

The tension was thick. You were about to climb onto Bucky’s lap when the doorbell rang. He looked disappointed, as if he was reading your mind again.

You stood up, drank some water and tried to get your head on straight. Bucky came back in with and you remembered your hunger for food.

When you’d eaten, Bucky had a suggestion.

“Listen, we did some good work, had some good food, but I don’t want the night to end. And it is Friday. Don’t need to get up early tomorrow.”

Bucky looked at you like a little boy again.

You raised your eyebrow at him

“What do you suggest this late that we haven’t already done today?”

Bucky grinned at you.

BABY YOU LIGHT UP MY WORLD LIKE NOBODY ELSE/THE WAY THAT YOU FLIP YOUR HAIR GETS ME OVERWHELMED/BUT WHEN YOU SMILE AT THE GROUND, IT AINT HARD TO TELL/ YOU DON’T KNOW OH-OH/YOU DON’T KNOW YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL!

You two were laughing through belting out the One Direction song at the top of your lungs at Upstairs Karaoke bar, not far from where you both lived. You were both jumping around and acted like idiots, as one does when they have a proper fun time doing Karaoke.

“Omg! Bucky! That was terrible.”

You grimaced, thinking about your singing voice.

“I bet you’ve reconsidered this idea after that.”

Bucky just ginned and swung the mic around in a circle as the music for the next song came up.

“I can do this all night.”

I can't fight this feeling any longer…

You grinned back and joined him in singing REO Speedwagon.

——

Three hours later, at almost one am, you walked back toward Bucky’s brownstone, and your apartment. When it came time to turn in the direction of your place, you took Bucky’s hand and tugged it toward his place. You walked in silence toward his house until you spoke up again.

“I’ve been through the gauntlet of emotions today, Bucky.. I mean in the last 24 hours.”

“Hmmmm?” said Bucky.

“Yeah. Lust, uncertainty, infatuation, nervousness, sympathy, motivation to write, attraction, hunger, silliness, and just plain fun. It feels like we’ve lived a lifetime today.”

Bucky stood on his stoop and looked down into your eyes.

“I feel the same. With maybe a couple more thrown in.”

You cocked your head.

“Yeah, like what?”

“Mmmmmm. Not ready to reveal that just yet. But I do want to explore a couple that you’ve mentioned. But, like I said earlier, that’s not my call.”

“Which ones?”

You didn’t know why you were holding your breath.

“Lust, infatuation, attraction… and hunger.”

You knew he wasn’t taling about Thai food.

“Oh.”

You tugged his hand, leading him up his own steps and put the code into his door.

“I would like to experience, more of those. And more of what you want. Bucky. Let’s drive off that cliff.”

With that, you pulled him inside.

You two kissed all the way down the hallway to his living room, where you ended up on his leather couch, pulling off your jacket and pulling the sweater he had put on over his shirtsleeves up over his head. You were feral for him.

And so, it seemed, he was for you.

“Come here, Doll.”

Bucky grabbed your neck and pulled your lips toward him as he devoured your mouth and his hand roamed your body.

“Been wanting to kiss you all night. Want to kiss your lips. I love the way they suck my tip.”

His hoarse voice in your ear did things to you, although you were confused at first until his put his hands in your leggings past your panties and used two thick fingers to part your pussy. He wasn’t talking about the lips on your face.

He used your slick to lubricate his digits and entered you, pumping a few times, watching as your head lolled back on your shoulders. He kissed your neck and cleavage as you succumbed to the pleasure. Then, he pulled his hand away and toward his mouth, earning a whine from you.

Bucky meant to just taste you, but that taste stirred something in his soul.

“What the fuck are you doing to me?”

He kissed you, letting you taste yourself on him, then rested his forehead on yours as he asked a question.

“What do you want, Y/N?”

“Let me suck your dick, Bucky.”

He pulled away from you, and looked you in the eyes.

“You’ll get anything to ask for.”

This was a different Bucky, not totally unlike the night before. Still sex on legs, but this Bucky was gentle, but still oh so sexy.

He pushed you backward until you stood up before him and he took off his shirt, and then his pants. You reached for him before he took off his underwear, pulling his waist band so that his hard cock slapped his abs. You stared down at it but didn’t touch it.

“I’ve been dreaming of this since last night, when you denied me.”

You swiped your thumb along his tip and then sucked it, making him lick his own lips.

“Sit down, please. Sir.”

Bucky sat, and then you kneeled in front of him on the hardwood floor. Bucky noticed and put a pillow down for you to kneel on. You smiled at him as he started stroking himself. You stared, your hand trailing song your neck and chest absentmindedly as you admired him.

“It really is a thing of beauty. Ever since I saw it the other day, I’ve been obsessed with it. How it would feel, how it would split me apart. How it would taste.”

You looked up at Bucky and it was like he’d been shot with a magazine of cupid’s arrows.

“Damn, Doll. You sure do have a way with words.”

You reached for him, grasping his shaft in one hand that looked small now, and his balls in the other.

“I’m not all talk…”

And then you leaned forward to lick a stripe on the underside of his cock, from his balls to the tip, stopping to suck the thick cap vigorously.

“Ooooh, shit… Doll. That mouth.”

Bucky’s head was sideways, cocking his head to watch you from that angle.

You opened your mouth and took as much as you could in your mouth and relaxed your throat to let him in there.

“Gotdamn.”

He placed his hand on your head but placed no pressure on you as you bobbed freely for his pleasure. And yours.

You placed your hands on his tensing thighs as you came apart as a result of your mouth, and he shuddered when you released him with a pop just to grab it again and trail your tongue back down his length. You drew his balls into your mouth, one at a time as you continued to stroke him off.

Bucky was looking at you with disbelief. He was putty in your hands. He leaned forward to kiss your sloppy face.

“I want to be inside you, wanna make love to you. Take off those clothes.”

He spoke to you softly, yet with a command your body remembered. You stood up slowly and tried to gracefully shed your garments as he stroked himself and looked up at you like you were the moon.

“So beautiful.”

Bucky reached out and made grabby hands for you as you stood naked before him.

”C’mere. Climb on. Let me in again.”

He continued to stare up at you, kissing your sternum and each breast as your thighs trembled on either side of his as you slid down over his mushroom cap.

“Buckyyyyyy.”

The feeling of him splitting you open caused a delicious pain, the soreness from the night before still evident. You didn’t think you’d ever get used to his size.

And you didn’t want to.

“Fuck me baby doll. Fuck me good. Fuck your self on this dick.”

Bucky slipped his hand between you two and started circling your clit in tight little circles.

“Oh my god Bucky! I can’t. Can’t breathe, can't concentrate…”

Your mind was mush as Bucky drove you toward your peak and up over the edge.

“Shhhh…”

Bucky leaned down to lick your nipple and suck briefly, teasing each breast in turn to work you up even more.

“Don’t think. Just feel. Release all thoughts. Cum for me.”

“Jeeeeeezzzzzzuzzzzzz!”

You came ferociously, clenching around Bucky and causing him to pulse inside you.

“Thaaat’s a good girl.”

He did not let up on your clit and drew your pleasure out until you were a complete mess on his lap.

Bucky licked a stripe up the middle of you, from your belly button to your cheek as you lay back in is arms, cock drunk, and still impaled on his very stiff dick.

“You tastes so fucking good, Doll. Tasted you in my dreams last night.”

You your surprise, he stood up, holding you and turned around to place you on the couch. The fine leather stuck to your sweaty skin, but you didn’t care.

“I don’t want to service you anymore.”

Bucky started pumping and telling you how he felt. All you could do was moan in response.

“Want to make love to you.”

He watched your fucked out face and started stroking more insistently.

“Of course, if you were mine, I’d service you anytime you needed it. Give you everything your heart, mind, pussy, body could want…”

“Yes, Bucky… yessssss.”

You were blissed out, hearing and feeling all the sensations you wanted at the moment.

“What are you doing to me doll?”

Bucky’s eyes moved from where you two were connected to your face.

“So beautiful…”

He grabbed your hand from where it was resting on his abs, picked it up, and brought it to his mouth, kissing your palm. Your back arched at the added sensation of his lips on your hand and the long fingers on his other hand grabbed your hip as he continued.

Bucky’s ice blue eyes were watching you as yours closed in ecstasy.

“Yes.”

He started moving your hip, long fingers digging in and sure to leave a bruise.

“You like this? Like how I’m giving it to you? You deserve it. Such a good girl.”

“Mmmmhmmm.”

You started moving, loving the feel of the wiry hairs at the base of his cock against your clit.

“Feels so good. Feels like this dick is mine.”

Bucky’s eyes were focused on yours now. He held your stare, which bloomed new warmth in your belly.

“You want it to be yours?”

You didn't answer, just bit your lip and nodded.

Bucky’s hand snaked up behind you and grabbed the hair at your nape, causing your neck to bend and your body to arch backward.

He admired your form and the way your breasts moved as you did. You could feel him swell impossibly more than he already was.

“I’m trying to be gentle. Sweet and slow. Like a good girl should be fucked .But you just make me want to… make me wanna fuck you. Like…”

Bucky groaned and squeezed your hip.

“Take it, Bucky. It’s yours.This pussy is alll yours.”

You rotated your hips so as to feel all of him, and which caused him to spurt a little inside you.

“You trying to make you cum inside you?”

“Yes, Sir.”

You moaned as Bucky’s hand came around and grasped your throat skillfully. His other hand grows and pinched your nipples, causing your hips to move wildly.

“There’s my bad girl. Damn. I think I…..”

“Y-yes Sir?”

Bucky almost let it slip.

“I think I wanna cum inside.”

He leaned down to whisper into your ear. That voice making you clench harder around him.

“Would you like that? Hot load of cum in your tight little snatch?”

“Oh, ohhhh shittt. Yes!”

“So fucking pretty when you’re needy, Doll.”

The combination of filth and praise sent your over the edge and you detonated around him, causing Bucky to hike your knee over his elbow and start chasing his own end.

“I can’t… No. I won’t deny myself any longer. I want this. I want you and I’m gonna. Shit can I? Can I please cum inside?”

Bucky begging got you hot and bothered again. You nodded vigorously.

“Please, I want it too!”

“Circle that clit for me. Circlie it. Cum again for me just one… fuck, just once moreeeee!”

Bucky came inside you with a shout, shooting hot ropes of cum onto your cervix. You came when you felt that and as Bucky pumped like a jackrabbit inside you.

“Holy shit.”

He chuckled in your ear.

You curled yourself around Bucky and gladly accepted his weight for a few minutes. Then, he lifted himself off of you and knelt on the floor.

“Was that? Was that okay? Did you really want this?”

Bucky looked so earnest. You nodded.

“Yes Bucky. And I want more.”

You bit your lip as he smiled down at you.

“Wanna spend the night?”

You shook your head.

“No.”

Bucky’s smile dropped. You put your hand on his cheek..

“It’s practically morning. I’ll sleep over and let you feed me breakfast later. And then we’ll talk about spending the night.”

“Anything that’ll make you smile, Doll.”

Hit play on that reblog button! 😏

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chaotic-mystery · 1 year

Text

Not A Survivalist Girl: Part 2

“What’s your name?”

(Written by @chaotic-mystery & @tightjeansjavi )

(Joel Miller x f!reader)

(gif by @cowboydin) !

Word count: 2.6k

ఌ Summary: Joel Miller lives a life alone. It's the way he likes it. After losing his daughter 13 years ago, and his brother Tommy ditching him for the fireflies out west, he doesn't have much sympathy, nor care for what remains of civilization. That is.until he meets you in the woods one cold night. How stupid could you really be to light a fire, and put yourself in imminent danger.

ఌ Warnings: implied age gap, canon typical violence (eventually) slow burn, mean! Joel, dark! Joel, is literally just a grumpy old asshole!Joel, sunshine reader, no survival skills but she's doing her best, Joel is a loner, mentions of depression, PTSD, trauma, childloss, angst, grumpy vibes, some degradation, nicknames, teasing, eventual smut, (+18) minors dni!

The twigs snapped underneath your boot as you grabbed a branch from beside your tent, slowly walking to the trees off to the side. The rustling of leaves became louder as the footsteps got closer towards you and you gripped the branch tightly, bracing yourself to swing at whatever was about to pop out.

“Are you fuckin dumb or just tryin’ to get yourself killed out here girlie?!”

A scream breaks from your throat as you take a swing with the thick piece of wood you decided was a weapon and it connects with the bicep of the older man coming out of the bushes. He grunts loudly as he doubles over in pain, grabbing his throbbing arm. You tucked your hair behind your ears after you dropped the branch and apologized repeatedly as you reached out to help him. Your hand barely touched his before he could move away from you quickly, his foot dragging in the patch of rocks and dirt.

“What the hell did you hit me for?! Jesus Christ!”

“I dunno, I got scared! Why the fuck were you walking all scary and shit in the bushes and trees?! I think my reaction was valid, asshole!” you shouted back as you let out a sigh and sat down on the log by your fire.

“I saw your smoke earlier and I had to come see what it was and when I’d seen it was just a stupid girl making a fucking fire, I checked the area to see if you attracted anything else. You’re welcome by the way because I killed what I could. Don’t you know not to make a fucking fire because you’ll attract all sorts of shit and terrible people?” His tone was mean as he spewed his words towards you, rubbing his arm gently still trying to ease the pain.

You rolled your eyes at him and used your makeshift fire poker to adjust the wood. “Whatever, it’s not like they would’ve gotten through my trap anyway” you pointed at your empty food cans on strings you had tied to the trees surrounding you in a box so they’d jingle when something tripped the wire.

Joel lifted his head towards your makeshift trap with a roll of his eyes as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Riiight. Well, your ‘traps’ are shit considerin’ the fact that I was able to sneak up on ya without you hearin’ a damn thing.” He pulled on one of the cans causing them all to jingle. “Besides that, what the hell were you gonna defend yourself with if a fuckin’ clicker came out of those bushes instead, huh?” He adjusted his rifle over his shoulder as he looked over you, shaking his head. “You ain’t got any real weapon or nothin’? A gun? Knife? The fuck are you gonna do with a piece of fuckin’ wood?”

“I can show you again what this piece of fucking wood can do, try me.” You stood up grabbing the branch again and ready to hit him once more when his hand connected with it and he yanked it from yours. It took little strength for Joel to snap the thick branch in half like it was a twig. He threw it down into the fire without hesitation. “Girlie, I’d think really fuckin’ long and hard before tryin’ that shit on me again. Can break you in half like a fuckin’ twig.”

You’d be lying if you said that didn’t turn you on a little bit, maybe even more than a little. It wasn’t the time for that though, you still had to be cautious of this mean ass old man and why he was still talking to you when he could just make you drop dead right there. “So tell me again why you’d rather stand there and talk shit about my traps instead of killing me?” you folded your arms as you looked at him, the dancing flames reflecting in your eyes.

Joel grinded his teeth together, clenching his jaw tightly. “Why haven’t I killed you yet, girlie? Hmm. That’s an easy one. I ain’t about to waste my ammo on someone as fuckin’ helpless as you.” He spat, venom laced in his tone.

Ouch. Your lips parted as you let out a scoff and you crawled into your tent to grab your blanket you’ve somehow managed to keep intact all these years. Wrapping it around your body before sitting near the fire again, your face was getting warm with anger as the man just watched you, his eyes never leaving you. “You can leave then if you aren’t going to kill me, I’m kind of tired and I want to sleep. Thanks for not wasting your ammo on my helpless self, I appreciate it. Now fuck off, k?” Being mean wasn’t something you enjoyed but you for damn sure were not about to take this, especially from a man.

Joel wasn’t quite sure himself as to why he hadn’t just walked away already. Why stick around when he knew that at this rate, you wouldn’t last the night. The infected were the least of your worries, as far as he was concerned. How stupid could you really be to just sit by the fire, blissfully unaware of the danger that you had so willingly put yourself in. “You ain’t gonna last through the night. You know that..right? You sleep now and I am 100% certain that you’re never gonna wake up again. How long have you been out here for anyway?” He leaned his broad frame against a nearby tree, crossing his arms over his chest once more.

Turning your head to look at the trees blowing in the wind, you weren’t sure if you should be truthful or not with him. He seemed like he didn’t really care if you were honest or not. You chewed the inside of your cheek before you answered him coldly, “Few weeks. I just got to this spot a few hours ago. Before this was another couple weeks but I had to move because of..” you trailed off and looked at him, who was impatiently waiting for your sentence to end. There was no way you would embarrass yourself even more and tell him you moved your whole set up because of a damn spider.

Joel was frankly dumbfounded that somehow, someway, you had lasted this fucking long out in the wilderness. How in the hell did you manage that? Surely it had to be some dumb luck. That was the only logical explanation that came to his mind. “You meanin’ to tell me, that a girl like you, lacking severely in the survival skills department, managed to survive out here for this long? How the hell did ya manage that?”

He loved insulting your intelligence, so you figure you should give him a run for his money. “I dunno, I guess they don’t think I’m worthy because cordyceps are in the brain and according to you, I don’t have any; so I’m safe I guess!” your tone dripping in sarcasm as you clapped your hands together.

Joel chuckled, resting his head back against the bark of the tree. He had a smirk playing on his lips. “You really wanna try and get smart with me girlie? Last time I checked, I’m the one with the gun and not you.” He deadpanned.

“Blah blah blah yeah I can see that, and you already made it clear you wouldn’t use it on me so you can drop the hard ass act. It was nice meeting you, whoever you are. There’s food still in the can by the fire if you’re hungry. Feel free to stay as long as you want or don’t, I don’t really care anymore. I’m going to bed, goodnight. Don’t fuck up my cans when you leave please.” you called out as you made your way into your tent, zipping the nylon opening shut quickly.

Okay, so you had a mouth to you as well. Joel had a feeling the attitude, and sarcasm you possessed, was just a defense mechanism. He was sure that underneath that protective shield, was just a scared little girl. He watched silently as you made your way into your tent. He was already teetering on the edge of staying but for fucking what? He traveled alone. He didn’t take on stragglers, and certainly not dumb girls such as yourself. You would just end up being cargo, a burden that he had no business carrying. “Sure, girlie. I won’t fuck up your shit excuse for a trap.” He grumbled under his breath as he turned to leave your makeshift campsite. “You know you’re gonna die out here, right?” His guilty conscience was already weighing on him. He just wanted to get it through your thick skull that your chance of survival , was slim to fucking none.

His condescending tone rang in your ears and you stuck your tongue out at him, glad he couldn’t see you. You knew he was right, but you made it this far alone, who the fuck was he to tell you all of a sudden your methods were shit and you’d die without him? He had no idea where you’d been and what you’ve done for yourself to still be alive. Even if you weren’t pumped full with survival skills, you managed and that was something to be proud of. Fuck him and his unwarranted opinions about your trap, it’s saved you many of times.

Joel had waited for a snapback, a snarky comment, anything at all. He was met with silence. Who was he to decide if you lived to see another day? You had chosen your fate, and his warnings of imminent death didn't seem to phase you in the slightest. Joel Miller had one more trick up his sleeve as he started to walk away. He had purposely tripped over the wire, causing the cans dangling in the tree above to jingle loudly.

Your eyes snapped towards the sound of your cans clanking against each other as you screamed loudly and muffled it quickly with your own hand. Right about now you were wishing you had Joel's gun or one of his other weapons that decorated his body in holders or pockets. He was right about one thing: you didn’t actually have a weapon. You lost your knife months ago when you set it down for two seconds and forgot to pick it up before you started on your way to a new place. The only logical thing you could think to do was to pack up your shit and move places again. You nervously grabbed the zipper and pulled down slightly, creating a small hole between the zipper track to peek out and see what you were about to haul ass from.

Joel was on the other side of the tent and he leaned down slightly so he was more at your eye level. He had a big fucking smirk on his face because he knew he was right. “Ain’t so tough anymore, huh girlie?” He spoke condescendingly, as if he was speaking to a small child.

Tongue in cheek, you rolled your eyes at him and sighed dramatically. “No, guess not. Ya know it would be a lot easier to insult you and talk shit to you if I knew your name.” you stated and unzipped the tent flap so it was open completely. You knew deep down you should probably stop being such a smart ass to him so he’ll maybe let you tag along and protect you, show you something useful you can actually use.

Joel scoffed under his breath as he straightened himself up, adjusting his rifle over his shoulder. “Yeah. Wouldn’t you like to fuckin’ know.” He was turning on the heel of his boot once more. “Well girlie, it was nice knowin’ ya. I’ll just be leavin’ ya to the clickers that I didn’t kill. You’ll be a nice snack for them. Oh, don’t worry, I have enough decency to come back and put ya out of your misery once they’re through with you.”

The thought of being chewed up and ripped apart flashed in your mind and it scared you to pieces. “Please-” your voice shook as you started and got up quickly out of your tent. “Please don’t leave me out here. Not all by myself. I can’t..um- I can’t do this on my own for much longer. I don’t have a weapon, I ran out of food actually, that was my last can I offered to you. I don’t have anyone, please let me come with you.” you didn’t mean to ramble on, it just kind of happened. The tears stung your eyes and you blinked quickly, forcing them to go away. You couldn’t cry in front of him already, he’d probably call you a fuckin crybaby.

Joel let out a deep, aggravating sigh. Cursing under his breath because he knew he should have just walked away already. Move your feet Miller. She’s a goner and you can’t save everyone. Turn around and walk away, or put her out of her misery. You can make it quick—

“Save your tears for someone who actually gives a fuck, alright? Save ‘em. Wastin’ energy on tears is only gonna make you weaker. You know what happens to people who grow weak because of their emotions, girlie? They die. You wanna live to see another day? You toughen the fuck up. Now you listen closely, alright? You go on and get back in that tent. You rest up and I’ll keep you safe for the night. Consider it my one token of kindness. In the mornin’ I’ll give you some of my food and a weapon or two, and then we’ll go our separate ways. Do I make myself clear?”

“Okay, thanks I guess.” You lingered there for a second, taking in the stern look on his face. You shouldn’t have been so surprised he wouldn’t let you tag along but he didn’t have to be so fucking mean about it. Taking one last look at him, you turned and went back to your tent. You curled into a ball under your sleeping bag, your blanket still outside on the log you sat on earlier. You couldn’t muster up enough strength to go back and get it, let alone ask his mean ass to give you it. You tucked your head under the sleeping bag as you let your tears free. Everything was getting covered by your tears but you couldn’t be bothered to care. He was so fucking mean.

Joel watched as you obediently returned to the safety of your tent. He knew his words were harsh but someone needed to give you some tough fucking love. One night of making sure you lived to see another day, wouldn’t kill him. Despite the fact that every bone, and fibre in his body was screaming at him to walk away and never look back. Despite his battling thoughts, he immediately walked over to the still burning fire and kicked some dirt over it with his boot, extinguishing the flames before he plopped down on the log. He had his rifle at the ready, his finger on the trigger as he glanced over at your stupid blanket. Of course it was fucking pink. He turned his nose up at the sight of it, shaking his head as he grumbled under his breath. Protect her for one night, and go your separate ways in the morning. With a weapon she might last a little longer. It’s not your responsibility to keep her alive past tonight. You give in, and you’ll be the weak one.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x you #the last of us #joel tlou #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #tlou fic #tlou x reader #not a survivalist girl #mads and gi

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hadesforpreswrites · 1 year

Text

dirty laundry, pt. 1

a/n: i wrote this when i was feeling incredibly low. it's based on something that happened to me. the title is from all time low. might have a part 2.

before you read this, be aware that this particular piece deals with the after effects of trauma (rape). it doesn't deal with it right after the incident but it shows how even after over a decade it can still affect someone.

before we proceed further: this is your warning that description of sexual assault on a minor will happen. this is based on truth as well as being a work of fan fiction.

i fought so hard with myself to even post this but was encouraged by @remedyx. if you don't want to read it, please by all means don't. but if you do, please be kind.

if something similar has happened to you, please reach out to me if you feel like you need to talk. i love you, you are worthy.

pairing: noah sebastian x reader

genre: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: talk of past sexual assault, trauma talk, depictions of depressive episode

word count: 2,585

summary: after seeing something triggering online, y/n is struggling. noah learns some deep secrets of his friend and tries to help.

part two part three part four part five

she’s got her secrets/yeah, i’ve got mine too

meeting friends when you’re adults means you have to understand that you will not know everything about them as easily as if you were kids. it was something that rang true for everyone.

noah understood this and was ready and willing for his friends to have secrets from him. pasts that didn’t want or need to be explained. all that mattered to him was that they were there here and now.

that is until one day when his friend messaged a group chat that consisted of him, andy biersack, and his other friend, scarlett. scarlett messaged them saying that their other friend, one they had planned a birthday party for in this very group chat, was having a very hard time.

that wasn’t new, she had been having a rough go of it off and on for a couple of months. something to do with her meds and the pharmacy being out-of-stock, something that confused the hell out of noah. but something about this time felt different.

noah abruptly stood up, startling his friends that he was with. in his worry and being glued to his phone for the last however many minutes, he had almost forgotten where he was.

“you good, man?” nick asked.

“yeah, i just gotta go do something for a friend.”

“is it y/n?” jolly teased.

“as a matter of fact, yes,” noah said while gathering his things. he waved to his friends, promising to meet up with them again soon, and took off out of the house.

he barely buckled his seatbelt before taking off in his car toward scarlett and y/n’s house. in his relatively short drive, his brain was swirling with possibilities of what was wrong. why had scarlett threatened men specifically? (this time anyway) could he still pick a lock? (probably) what if y/n didn’t want to see them? (she usually did but what if this time was different?) what could he do specifically to make her feel better? (maybe ice cream - she likes ice cream) could he get her to open up and spill this obviously heartbreaking secret to him? (he sure hopes so, but is he prepared for the aftermath?)

he barely registered that he had pulled into the driveway beside andy’s car because it was such an autopilot response to go to their house at this point. he locked his car and walked up to the front door. he didn’t even bother knocking as he entered and was met by the smell of pizza baking in the oven.

“great! everyone’s here!” scarlett said loud enough to be heard throughout the house - obviously trying to get y/n’s attention.

“is she still in there?” noah asked, slipping his shoes off at the door.

“only came out to get water right before we got here,” juliet said, casting a glance down the hall.

“door may be unlocked now though,” scarlett said thoughtfully. “maybe i’ll go peek my head in.”

“i’ll do it,” noah offered, quickly. too quickly if the smirks on his friends’ faces was any indication. he shook his head as he walked down the hall toward y/n’s room.

he knocked softly and listened closely. “i’m fine,” a quiet voice sounded through the wood, followed by a sniffle.

“you don’t sound fine, doll,” he said as he leaned his forehead against the door. “can i come in? please?”

“it’s unlocked.”

when he entered her room, his heart shattered. the ever-present blue twinkle lights she had strung around her room had been shut off, along with any mention of light from anywhere else, except her phone screen. she had her comforter pulled up to her ear with her back facing him.

he shut the door softly behind him and padded across to the bed. he climbed under the covers and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight to him. he felt her stiffen at the contact but not pull away, instead leaning into him once she calmed.

he knew this had to be crossing some sort of imaginary line he’d set for himself but he couldn’t help himself. his friend, honestly probably his best friend, was hurting and that trumped any romantic feelings he has for her.

“when did you get here?” she asked, sniffling again.

“just now. needed to know you were at least physically okay. what happened? i thought you got your meds worked out?” he asked, softly.

“i did. it’s not that. i wish it were that because then i don’t feel like i’ve failed.”

“babe, whatever it is, you haven’t failed anything.”

“yes, i have. i thought i’d worked through it and then i see one thing online and suddenly my brain throws away over a decade of work,” her hand moves to wipe newly fallen tears.

“do you want to talk about it?” he asks, realizing it may be a feeble attempt.

“no. but i should,” she sighs before turning around to face him. “i just don’t want you to think differently of me.”

he keeps his arms firmly around her and chances a kiss to the top of her head. “y/n, i think the world of you and nothing is gonna change that.”

“promise?” he could feel his t-shirt dampen with tears.

he pulled away just enough so he could look her in her eyes. eyes that held a pain he never knew was there. he feels a sense of rage bubble up in him at whoever caused this precious human this amount of pain. “promise.”

she took a steadying breath and began to sit up. they sat side-by-side, backs against the headboard, his legs spread in front of him and hers pulled up to her chest, protecting herself.

“when i was 15, i was in a really bad place. i was undiagnosed, unmedicated, and wanting love. so i took what i could get from whoever i could get it from. i wasn’t promiscuous or anything, in fact i’ve never had sex. i just wanted someone to love me because i couldn’t love myself.

i dated this guy who was all kinds of wrong but i thought i was in love. he kept breaking my heart so one day when we were broken up, i decided to invite his friend over to hang out. i thought he was cute and we made out and stuff but that was as far as i wanted it to go,” she took a breath and a drink of water as tears filled her eyes again.

he knew where this was going and he felt himself getting even more angry but he let her keep going.

“i tried to keep him off me, i really did. he was pulling my shorts so hard and i was trying to keep them on, i thought my nails would break. i kept crying and saying no over and over. but it was like it didn’t matter. like he didn’t hear me. but i know he did because when he stopped, he called me a tease and wiped his hand on a stuffed animal that was near the bed.”

he wanted so badly to hold her and tell her he’d never let that happen to her again, but he held himself back not wanting to make things worse.

she cleared her throat after a moment of pause. “anyway, i was working through it on my own for years and didn’t tell anyone until like a year later. and then when i got in therapy we worked on it for a bit and i thought i had gotten better. but i was scrolling through tumblr and came across this story that was non-con, non-consensual, and it just fucking broke me.

i don’t normally kinkshame or tell people what they shouldn’t do because that’s their business but i’ll never understand non-consensual, rape fantasies. there’s absolutely nothing to fantasize about. it’s humiliating. it’s painful. physically, mentally, and emotionally. it makes you feel like you’ll never be clean again and that you’re not worthy of even the smallest of respect or love.

noah, i worked so hard to make myself believe that i’m not dirty or broken and that i am worthy. i worked so hard and it was just stripped away from me again like it was nothing.”

“i know you did. you always work hard. and let me tell you something,” he moved so he was right in front of her on his knees. he lifted her chin so she looked at him. “you are so worthy. you’re the worthiest person i know. you deserve the world and he doesn’t even deserve a grave. you’re not broken or dirty, you’re strong and beautiful. and i am so lucky to have you in my life, you know that, right? and now you don’t have to work as hard because you won’t be doing it by yourself.”

“promise?” her voice was small.

“i promise,” he confirmed.

she basically launched herself at him with a sob and wrapped her arms around him. he pulled her into his lap and held her. oh how he had imagined this moment, but she was not crying in his imagination.

“will you stay with me?” she asked into his chest.

“always,” he kissed the top of her head.

after some time, she stopped shaking from crying and relaxed in his arms.

“let’s get you some food,” he said.

“ice cream?”

“absolutely,” he chuckled. “but i think scarlett made pizza if you want some of that first. if there’s any left, andy and juliet are here too.”

“i might could do that, then ice cream,” she decided, pulling away from him.

“deal,” he stood up from the bed, taking her with him. after setting her down on her feet, he grabbed her hand - just to make sure she knew he was staying by her side, and they walked toward the kitchen.

“hey, sunshine,” andy said as they emerged from the darkened hallway.

“hey, sorry,” she said as she wrapped an arm around him and then juliet, still holding noah’s hand.

“you don’t have to apologize,” juliet said, as she smoothed the other woman’s hair. “you’re allowed to have people worry about you.”

“we’re more than happy to be those people for you,” andy backed her up.

y/n gave them a small smile and eyed the pizza.

“here’s your gross ass pizza, my love,” scarlett said, handing her a plate with a piece of her favorite pizza on it.

“you’re the best roommate a girl could have,” she said, sitting at the bar by andy, noah sitting on her other side.

“yeah, yeah,” scarlett said, intently watching as y/n took a bite of her pizza.

conversation buzzed around them as she finished her slice, she only wanted one right now - her main focus on the ice cream in her future. noah participated in the conversation on the outside but on the inside he was replaying her story over and over in his head like a movie on loop. he was angry for her. he had questions. but he wasn’t sure when was the right time to ask - though he knew not right now in front of everyone.

he must have zoned out because when he came too he was met with the expectant eyes of y/n.

“sorry, what?”

“ice cream?”

“of course,” he replied, rising from his spot at the bar.

“let me go change real quick,” she said, putting her hand on his arm.

“for why?”

“i’m in pajamas?” she motioned to her shorts and oversized t-shirt. a shirt that he just realized belonged to him at one point.

“we don’t have to get out of the car,” he said, standing up fully. “you look fine.” he didn’t miss the look that andy, juliet, and scarlett passed between them.

“you don’t let people eat in your car,” she trailed off.

he leaned down to look her in the eye, “consider yourself special, then. let’s go.”

before he turned around he caught a glimpse of a blush creep on her face and felt a sense of pride. he didn’t catch the way she looked at scarlett with wide eyes, or the way juliet motioned for her to move. andy was grinning at the whole scene.

she got up and slipped on a pair of sandals that were near the door and followed noah out the door and toward his car. he opened the passenger door for her. “well, thank you kind sir,” she said before sliding into the seat.

he chuckled as he shut the door and jogged around to the driver’s side. once he was buckled and started toward her favorite ice cream place, he chanced a look at y/n as she looked out the window.

“hey,” he said softly. “you okay?”

“i will be,” she answered. “it’s just a lot to process.”

“i can imagine. can i ask you something?”

“of course.”

“when you were telling me what happened, you said that you’d never had sex before it happened?”

“yeah. so my first and only experience with sex was that. which is why i always get weird when you guys start talking about it,” she explained.

“i’d always wondered. wait. did you say your only experience?” he was baffled.

“yeah,” she answered, finally fully looking at him.

“that honestly explains so much. and also i’m so sorry that your experience was that.”

“you don’t have to apologize. it happened. it sucks. it sucks a lot. and sometimes i feel like i’m missing out on a whole world. but most of the time i’m fine.”

“don’t do that,” he scolded.

“do what?”

“minimize your trauma to make you seem more palatable. it’s not helpful. it’s not cute.”

she went quiet and looked away, back out the window.

he kicked himself. that came out a lot harsher than he meant. he pulled into a parking spot at the ice cream place and told her to sit tight while he went to get the ice cream. she didn’t argue.

“y/n,” he said when he slid back into his seat, ice cream in hand.

she was surprised to see he got exactly what she wanted, not that she deviated from what she liked all that often. she just wasn’t aware of how much he paid attention to her.

“i didn’t-” he started. “i didn’t mean for that to come out that way. i just meant that i don’t want you to minimize with me. you’re allowed to feel however you feel.”

“i know. i just guess i didn’t realize that’s what i was doing.”

“you do it all the time, doll. i just never knew why and i think i get it now.”

she smiled softly. “how did you know which ice cream i wanted?” she knew the change in subject wouldn’t go unnoticed but hoped he would catch on that she didn’t want to talk about it anymore for the time being.

he pulled out his phone and went to the notes app. “i keep track of your favorites.”

she blushed. “why?”

“haven’t caught on yet?” he smirked at her.

“caught on to what?”

“i’m practically at your beck and call. i let you and no one else eat in my car. i apparently let you wear my clothes,” he gestured to the t-shirt she was wearing.

“noah, i don’t understand.”

“how can someone be so smart and so blind at the same time? i’m basically in love with you, dummy.”

#noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic

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beep-beep-sunny · 1 year

Text

New fic just dropped!! I'm really proud of this one. If you read it, please tell me what you think!! I have a three part series planned, but it helps to think people might actually want a continuation.

(just an excerpt, the rest is only on AO3)

The Process of Forgetting

The Promise

"S-Swear it!" Stuttered a boy in a dingy flannel shirt. The other six children sitting around him looked and listened as if anything he said could be the most important thing any of them would ever hear. He held a shining shard of broken glass over his head as he stood. "Sw-swear that i-if it ever comes back, we'll come back too."

One by one, each child stood up with him. They watched, as he slowly and deeply cut across his palm with the glass, whimpering, but never stopping.

One by one he approaches the children and cuts their hands. First, a boy with wild black hair and coke bottle glasses. He cried out and shook his hand, trying to will away the pain, but snapped to attention when the next boy's hand was taken. The boy next to him was the smallest of any of the other kids in the group, and he had a broken arm. He couldn't look as his hand was slashed, but the bespectacled boy stroked his arm to comfort him, trying to ignore the pain in his own hand.

Each of the other children let him deeply open their hands without a single objection. The power that the boy held was palpable. He could suck all of the air out of the space while all of the attention snapped to him and his mission statement.

The ring of children stood, hands interlocked, as though they were a circuit or a delicately woven ring of flowers. They were covered head to toe in dirt, blood dripping all over them from the cuts on their hands, their eyes shining with adrenaline and determination. They had seen something no child should ever have to see. They did things no child should be expected to do. Their grips tightened, all together like one single breathing organism.

It went without saying. They swore. They made a blood oath to each other. To that stuttering boy they all adored. To themselves. They would be back. If It ever returned they'd be ready.

Bev: The First Gone

Beverly Marsh had experienced so much in her life. More than any young girl should ever have to. She palled around with a group of six boys that she adored, but that could never understand what she was going through, not really. There was one trauma they all shared and she was grateful she could talk to them about that, but she was hiding something from them.

The boys had their suspicions. They all loved Beverly and wanted her to be happy and healthy, and she was good at pretending, for a while. She couldn't keep up the "cool girl that doesn't need help from anyone" act for forever though. She was drowning. Every forced laugh was a fight to keep her head above water. She was beginning to sink. Better to sink than to float, she'd tell herself with a bitter laugh.

They'd noticed things, at first they were simple questions, simple observations.

One day Ben said to her, "Geez, how'd you get that bruise? It looks like it really hurts." She brushed it off as a fall from her bike.

Eddie would lecture her on proper bike safety with his silly little Sesame Street full safety pad set. He didn't even wear them once his mom stopped watching. The second Richie teased them he'd be tripping over himself to get them off. He insisted on bandaging her cuts and bruises. Once he gave them a strange look and then his eyes locked with Bev's. She held her breath because she thought this is it. But no, Eddie just patched her up without another word. It was funny because she thought if anyone would understand, it would be Eddie. His evil mom made his life hell. Though, sometimes Eddie would defend her. Say she wasn't that bad. She does these things because she loves him. I do these things because I love you Bevvy.

Richie would make tasteless jokes because of course, he was Richie. "Why does your dad care so much about what the fuck you do? Is he in love with you or something? Eddie's mom is in love with me, you know? Did'ya know that?" Then he'd snort-laugh and make kissy noises at Eddie, who sat next to him in the hammock of their secret clubhouse. All of them moved in slow motion while Bev's blood ran cold and her stomach turned. She knew that wasn't what Richie meant, yet she still felt in that moment like they could see through her skin down to her deepest darkest secrets.

She knew that if she was bent any further she'd break. Eventually there would be a joke she couldn't laugh off or a bruise she couldn't lie her way out of and the older she got, the angrier she got. Angry at herself for protecting her father, angry at her father for looking at her like no father should ever look at their daughter, for robbing her of a childhood. What the clown left for her, her father gleefully stole away. Mad at her friends for not figuring it out even when she thought it was obvious. Sometimes she'd wonder if they did know, but just thought it wasn't that big of a deal. That she was being dramatic. Mad at herself again for ever thinking something like that about her best friends, the closest thing she had to a real family.

One day, enough truly was enough. Beverly was 15-years-old and she decided she couldn't live another day as "daddy's little girl". She was going to fight and claw and bite even if it killed her, and she knew it might. She knew that her father didn't have any problem hurting her when he didn't get his way. If she had anything to say about it, her father would never have his way again.

When she was admitted to the hospital, her horrible secret was out. Her father was taken away, her aunt was called to take her in, and her boys? Well, her boys looked at her with an emotion they'd never looked at her with before, and it was one she hated on each of their faces. Pity. Like they didn't know how to act around her anymore, like she was some broken toy, and it was the worst feeling she'd ever experienced, seeing them look at her like that. And Beverly Marsh had a lifetime of shitty experiences to pull from.

Nothing was ever the same again. Beverly had a few weeks left in Derry, her aunt was staying with her long enough for them to get everything together for the move, and she knew she'd miss every last one of those boys fiercely. The grief of losing them felt like it would be enough to stop her heart, but she didn't get the goodbye she would have wanted. She wanted normalcy, but those last weeks were anything but.

Richie, her fellow goof-off smoke buddy couldn't even look her in the eye. All of them seemed afraid to touch her. Like she was made of glass. Like they were afraid now that it would somehow remind her of all the ways she never wanted to be touched, but it wasn't like that. Bev was comforted by the touch of her friends. This was a time when she needed that comfort the most.

Ben talked to her the most normally out of anyone. Though, he couldn't shake the sadness in his voice. "I'm - We're all gonna miss you like crazy." He said to her one night in the clubhouse.

A smile crept onto her face, "Oh come on, you know I'm gonna write. And call of course for the illiterate." She gets in close to whisper. "Richie."

"Really, Bev. If Richie's illiterate, what are we? He has better grades than any of us." Ben was obviously a little annoyed by this fact.

"Pretty impressive, seeing as how he's illiterate." She retorted with a wicked grin.

They both laugh together, their heads close, and it's the most normal she's felt since the day it all fell apart. The good warm feeling was stolen away when Ben seemed to notice how close they were and awkwardly moved away.

"Sorry." He said.

She released a long sigh. "It's fine. Really. I'm still the same Beverly that I always was."

Ben smiled a sad smile that told Bev all she needed to know. "Promise you'll write me?"

"Of course! I know how much you like all that old fashioned cheesy shit. You'll probably write me with a quill pen and send it via carrier pigeon."

His smile at that was genuine, if a bit shy. "Maybe I will."

"I hope you do!" She changed it, throwing herself forward and pulling him into a hug. "I'm gonna miss you too."

On the day that she moved, all of her boys came to see her off. There wasn't a dry eye between them, even Stan, who she'd never seen cry before. It might not have looked like he was crying to the untrained eye, but she could tell. They all hugged in a giant group hug that mimicked their positions in the blood soaked promise. This was a promise of sorts too. A promise that, even though they'll be apart, they're still the Losers Club.

"The Losers Club will rise again!" She shouted into the air. Sealing the promise to the universe. The boys erupted into a sea of cheers. "No one can keep me away from you boys for long. You're my family." Ben went awkward and red at that comment, and she planted a kiss on his cheek. The rest of them were a chorus of ooooos and she shook her head fondly.

She waved at them all with big exaggerated movements, her head hanging out the window.

"You better fucking call, Marsh, or I'll single handedly find you and kick your ass!" Richie shouted, then Eddie punched him in the arm. The two boys were standing a little closer than anyone else, as usual.

Bev beamed. "You couldn't keep me away if you tried, Tozier!" She kept her head out the window, hair blowing in the wind, until her boys were specs on the horizon.

Bev: The Forgetting

It started with small things. One day, her aunt would ask her to tell her stories about where she grew up, her friends, her school, and she would answer eagerly. Any chance to relive her best memories with her best boys, but very quickly things changed. Too quickly even, like a fog rolled in overnight. It wasn't long at all. The first week back, drafting a handful of letters, she started to forget their names. Just faces playing over and over again in her mind. She'd read the letters she started writing, and had no idea what she was talking about. It was like she was writing a story. She had no connection to the memories the letters described, and the letters had no addresses. Not even names, just titles, like Trashmouth and New Kid. It was weird. She'd never been much of a writer. At least, she thought she'd never been much of a writer.

She started at her new highschool and found that she blossomed. They would ask even simple questions like "Where did you grow up?" Or "Tell me about your family." She never had good answers. If people asked about her family she mentioned her aunt.

Her aunt was worried about her. Beverly would ask her things like, "What was the name of the town I grew up in?" or "What happened to my dad?" and she would just scrunch up her face and look at her with those pitying eyes that Bev hated. She couldn't stand to be pitied.

Her aunt put her in therapy a month after she moved in with her, and her therapist told her that she suffered from severe repressed memories and night terrors because of the awful trauma she experienced. The trauma she had no memory of and no one would really talk to her about. She supposed that filled in the blanks. The empty parts of Bev. Spacey Beverly Marsh. She repressed her past because of some fucking traumatic memories she couldn't even remember, so she could just deal with them.

Eventually she stopped worrying about the lost memories. She was making plenty of great new memories with her aunt and her amazing friends, but Bev couldn't help but feel like she was missing a big chunk of her heart. A space she just couldn't seem to fill no matter what she tried putting there. She still woke up screaming every once in a while. Not nearly as frequently as when she first arrived. Her therapist told her she was healing.

She was told that someday she may even get back her lost memories, but she couldn't help but sit up in her bed when she woke up from her terrifyingly real nightmares and think, are any of these things in my dreams actually memories? Her therapist told her that the clown monster that haunted her nightmares was probably some kind of metaphor for something, but the blurry faces of smiling little boys stuck with her. She always felt like she wanted to be smiling with them too.

Beverly was known to take on life like a bull by the horns. Fiery and passionate. This passion was noticed by a man named Tom Rogan. He was drawn to it like he was a moth and her red hair was a flame that he danced around. They both had an interest in design. Beverly had a talent and drive that was otherworldly. He had to have her. So he took her. All of her.

They started a clothing line together and were married.

Beverly felt strangely at home with him. Especially when he was cruel. She didn't like it. She hated it when he got like that, but it was familiar. She always told herself that it wasn't so bad. That he loved her, he just got mad sometimes. Something about him connected her to her past and she couldn't seem to let that go.

Her best friend, Kay, didn't agree. She saw Tom like a boiling pot. No matter how much it was watched, if it was left to boil, it would overflow. She was terrified of what might happen.

#tw child abuse mention #losers club #it stephen king #it 2017 #it by stephen king #fanfiction #long post #sunnywrites #the process of forgetting #ao3

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binnies-minsung-fanclub · 1 year

Text

Here's to Hope

Han x fem!reader

Summary: Felix has been your friend since high school. He has been there for you from the start. From the debilitating migraines that land you in the hospital most of the time to the nightmare of your abusive ex, he was there. Lucky for you, his band mates became close with you as well after he followed his dream and became an idol. Because of your past relationship and the trauma it put you through, dating wasn't even on your mind. However, Han Jisung has grown attached to you and knows you went through hell in the past. How willing and patient can he be with you, though? Hope makes you give him a chance, but how much is he willing to go through to keep you? Here's to hope that he will help you pick up your broken pieces to put them back again.

Chapter One

You had known Felix since before his pre-debut days, supporting as a best friend should during his trainee days with the company. When he told you that he was going to be a K-pop idol, you couldn’t believe it. He fit the criteria, though. Cute, charming, talented. You just didn’t realize he was going to be in a group…of very attractive boys.

You could resist. Having a rocky relationship with a boy in high school kind of ruined relationships for you now. Being friends with guys was so much easier anyway.

That relationship in high school took a lot from you, though. Your confidence, innocence, positivity…your virginity. Felix was the only guy you could trust not to hurt you, and when your boyfriend at the time stole your virginity, Felix was your shoulder to cry on.

“She’s not interested in dating,” you heard Felix say. His tone was hushed, but you heard him. You glanced up to see him talking with Han and Chan. “Her past dating experience kind of…” his voice got quieter as he spoke. You know he was looking out for you, but it still irritated you that he was preventing anyone from even flirting with you.

“Y/N told me about it,” Chan mentioned. “Don’t push her, Hannie.”

Han Jisung was a major flirt, and you liked that. He made it clear the first time you two met that he found you attractive, and you couldn’t deny how attractive you found him as well. He was such a goofball, too. Class clown would have been his title if you went to school together.

Felix and Chan were right, however. You didn’t want to date. Innocent flirting and teasing you could handle, but dating just wasn’t an interest to you. The risk of getting hurt again made your skin crawl and your chest tighten.

Your head was throbbing, putting you in a bad mood, so you decided it would be best to leave the bustling noises of the dance studio and find somewhere quiet to rest. You walked up to Felix, hugging him around the waist.

“I think I’m going to find a quieter place; my head is pounding. It’s way too loud in here.” He wrapped his arms around you, resting his cheek on your head. “Just call me when you guys are ready to head back to the dorms.” Felix released you and nodded, letting you stumble out of the room to search for somewhere to rest.

You found a bench down the hall, plopping down onto it. Laying back, you placed your arm over your eyes and tried to meditate, your phone resting on your belly. Luckily, the building was pretty empty aside from the few quiet staff that would walk by.

You felt your phone vibrate and groaned as you answered it. “Yeah.”

“Are you doing okay?” Chan’s voice came through.

You sat up, blinking at the stars that formed. “Yeah, I’m good. Just a stupid headache. Can’t seem to get rid of it.” You wasn’t sure how long it had been since you left them to finish their dance practice, but since he was calling you had a good idea it was long enough for them to be finished.

“Hm, well, we are done practicing if you want to meet us in front of the building. Felix asked me to call you.” You could hear the concern in his voice.

You actually had an issue with migraines since you were a toddler, sometimes having them land you in the hospital. Chan’s concern was actually normal since he had known you for years now, and how he always acted like a big brother towards you.

You stood up, getting prepared to make the journey out of the building, only to fall forward onto the floor. The dizziness you felt was nauseating, forcing you to hold back the vomit that your stomach was trying to lurch up. Your phone slid about four feet in front of you, Chan’s shouting coming from it as you tried to compose yourself.

All you could do was lay your hot, sweaty face on the cold floor. Forget reaching for your phone, or even trying to talk. The world around you was spinning and you knew if you tried to move or talk, it would get worse.

Curling in on yourself and whimpering from the dizzying pain in your skull, you heard distant shouting and sneakers squeaking on the polished concrete tile floors. Each sound was excruciating, causing your brain to throb more.

“I found her!” You recognized Changbin’s voice. “Y/N, what happened?” He asked in a hushed tone as he knelt beside you. Within seconds, more squeaking from sneakers came closer.

You felt a hand wrap around your shoulders and legs, lifting you into the air and cradling you. “Hospital,” you heard Felix announce. “She needs to go to the hospital.” It was then you realized it was him carrying you. The swaying from his movements made you feel worse, and before you could say anything your world went black.

“She’s so pale,” Hyunjin whispered, fear and concern lacing his voice.

“This is a bad one, mate,” Chan noted to Felix. He already knew, though. Felix was holding back his tears as he rushed you out the front of the building into the van that usually transported them back home.

“Chan, drive! She’s unconscious!” Felix shouted, his anxiety too high. A few tears slipped through, but he quickly wiped them away and composed himself as everyone piled in. Han took position next to Felix and you, helping Felix to keep you in a safe position.

Everyone was beyond worried, but only Chan and Felix knew how bad this was, especially since you were unconscious. They were the only two who have ever seen you get this bad and knew if they didn’t get you treatment soon, you would be suffering much longer with the pain, dizziness and nausea.

Felix could remember the first time you had a migraine that was this bad. He remembered the fear he felt of his best friend blacking out in the middle of school as you two were walking to your next class. He went with you in the ambulance, refusing to leave you alone. When you came to you were embarrassed and tried to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal. Once your mom arrived, she explained to Felix just how bad these migraines could get and the danger it could have on you.

The next one happened after you arrived to stay with them. It had only been a couple days and the jet lag took a dangerous toll on you. Chan and Felix invited you to sit with them in the recording studio to hang out while they worked on some music. It wasn’t loud, and you never complained, but a few hours in you passed out and gave Chan a massive scare. Thankfully, Felix knew what to do and helped both you and Chan through it.

Today, you gave all of the guys a scare. Poor Jeongin was even silently crying in the back as Chan rushed to the hospital. He was so worried about his friend, even feeling guilty for not noticing your pain sooner.

Felix reached back and wiped Jeongin’s tears. He whispered comforting words to him as they arrived at the hospital. Everyone began exiting the van, Chan rushing into the building to get help.

Within an hour you were admitted into the hospital, still unconscious. All eight guys sat in the cramped waiting area, legs bouncing, nails being chewed on, and sniffles coming from a couple of them. Felix and Chan paced as they tried to patiently wait for a nurse or doctor to announce that you were fine and awake.

Finally, after almost three hours of nervously waiting a young female nurse came. “Party for Y/N.”

Felix rushed to her; Chan closes behind followed by the others. Her eyes widened in surprise as all eight members surrounded her. “She’s awake,” she took a deep breath and smiled shyly. “I’ll just take you all up to her room.”

As they followed, the nurse made small talk with Chan and Lee Know, joking about you having a group of young attractive boys doting after you. Chan made sure to clarify that they were only friends, not wanting the nurse to get the wrong idea.

Once they arrived in your room, Felix rushed to you and climbed in the bed with you. He pulled you close and held you tight, causing you to chuckle.

“I’m fine now, you guys!” You hugged him back regardless, watching as the others piled in. You noticed Jeongin’s red, puffy face and knew right away he had been crying. You pushed Felix off of you and motioned for the youngest to come to you. He took Felix’s spot, his sobs coming back as you held him. “I promise, I’m completely fine now. It could have been so much worse if Felix didn’t know what to do.” You continued to comfort Jeongin, though, knowing he was still very much worried about you.

“You have quite a posse,” a male voice sounded. You looked up and smiled at the doctor that had took care of you. “Who would you like me to give the medication orders to?”

“Channie will take them,” you replied, pointing to the eldest member. “He will make sure I get the medications. Thanks again for taking care of me.”

He handed him the papers, quietly explaining the medication orders and instructions. Chan listened carefully and nodded his understanding. After explaining, the doctor turned back to you with a soft smile. “Make sure you take the medications as instructed. I don’t want to see you back here unless it’s for a refill order. Take care.” He dismissed himself and left, giving you the okay to leave.

After leaving, Chan made sure to stop and get the new medication before you all went back to the dorms. You explained to the boys what the doctor told you.

“Apparently, this can be managed with medications. I can’t remember the name he used for them, but these migraines can actually be treated.” You explained. “He was actually surprised I didn’t have this dealt with sooner.”

“I’m just glad it can be helped without going to the hospital when it gets bad,” Felix announced. “I worry so much about you when have those migraines.” He held you close and played with your long, dark hair.

You leaned into him, holding onto Han’s hand as you sat in between them on the ride to the dorms. Chan was driving, and you noticed he would glance back at you periodically.

“Well, hopefully this medicine will prevent anymore worry,” Lee Know stated from the front passenger seat. He turned and looked back at you, so much love showing in his eyes as reached back and gently squeezed your knee. You gave him a small smile and nodded.

Once back at the dorms, Han insisted on holding your hand as you walked. “I was so worried; I just need to hold onto you to make sure you are safe.” You glanced up at him and noticed he was holding back tears. Before thinking, you wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him close. He melted into your embrace and you could feel his gentle sobs as he held you tight.

“We were all very worried about you, Y/N.” Seungmin whispered as he exited the van. “You’re very important to us all because you are our best friend.”

You felt extremely loved in that moment. You knew Han had a major crush on you, but to know how much the others truly cared for you made your heart flutter. You couldn’t help the few stray tears that escaped.

You pulled away from Han, turning to each member and giving them all a hug. “I’m so grateful to have friends like you guys, even if you act like annoying brothers sometimes.” Your earned chuckles from the members, as well as a nudge from Felix.

When you turned to Hyunjin and hugged him he lifted you off your feet and spun you gently. “We love you so much, Y/N.”

“I love you guys, too.”

**A/N

I'm reposting it guys!!! I'm happy with what revisions I've made thus far, so here goes nothing! This chapter had no revisions, but future chapters have some or have been completely rewritten. Please, enjoy and give me feedback! If you want to be added to my taglist just comment or send me a message! ❤️

Taglist: @bangtanmix73 @skz-minchan-enthusiast @stayandot8 @hyunsungbased @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna

#stray kids #skz #skz imagines #han jisung #skz fanfics #han fanfic #skz han #here's to hope

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armpirate · 1 year

Text

UNDER YOUR SKIN || JJK || Ch. 25

Pairings: tattoist!jk x fem!reader

Genre: smut, angst, friends to lovers, tattoo au, virgin reader.

Summary: You were awful on anything related to flirting, guys and sex. He was the perfect ladies man. You wanted to get rid of your virginity. And he was there to help you with everything you needed. You didn't have the best start, but that didn't mean you wouldn't have the best of the endings.

Warnings: first time attempt, vaginal sex, hints of trauma and abuse)

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

Ever since they started, I did a good job ignoring those nightmares. But yesterday everything felt so vivid, so distressing, that I forgot where I was and who I was with. I've also tried to give it a meaning, it could be one of my insecurities acting up whenever I'm around Jungkook. But it stresses me the fact that the house seems familiar. I have the feeling it actually exists, and I've been there at least once, I can even remember the smell of musty wood. And that would mean those nightmares aren't actually made up, but a memory.

Or maybe I'm just thinking too much about it.

I'm brought back to reality when one of the customers snaps his fingers at me, smiling satisfied when he finally gets me to look at him and pay attention to what he wants.

The fact that my boss is here should've made me be more aware of the environment I'm in and how I can't space out whenever I feel like it. Thank god Jim is too lost in his own world and the group of people he's been paying attention to for the past thirty minutes to even notice it.

And just as expected, he leaves after there are only two tables left. I gotta say he's stayed around longer than he usually does whenever he comes around. Usually he only comes mid-shift, and when he leaves depends on whether we have everything under control or everything is a chaos because of the big amount of people. Like what happened today.

It's Saturday, so it isn't surprising there were a hell lot of customers. Also there isn't a better mix than drunk assholes pushing your buttons and sore legs because you wanted to have fun the night before, and said pain gets multiplied by twenty because you have to walk and stand for eight hours.

I start picking up all the empty glasses when the last table has already paid and is about to leave. Although two knocks on the crystal door, after I see them standing up and leaving, makes me think I will have to fight a drunken asshole because he won't want to leave. It isn't totally a weekend if that doesn't happen.

—We're closed —I inform, not lifting my gaze to the door.

—That's why I'm here.

His voice is so recognizable, it makes me smile instantly to know he's here. Jungkook enters the bar, taking off his jacket while he makes his way to the counter just to leave it there along with a small plastic bag he brought. I don't need to tell him, he walks to the other tables just to do the same thing I'm doing.

—Should I start sharing my tips with you? —I joke—. Every time you come here, you end up cleaning.

—Artist in the morning and pub cleaner at night —he frowns—. Sounds like a lame superhero parody.

—It fits you perfectly then —I tease him.

—Low blow, cocktease —he points his finger at me.

I simply shrug, unable to hide my smile. Not even when we are in silence. It's crazy what he's able to do only with his presence.

—What's the plan for tonight? —I dare to ask.

—We're traveling back in time.

I'm taken aback by his response. Is it going to be one of those weird thematic dates, similar to parties based in the eighties and stuff like that? If so, he should've told me before so I could've gotten something ready.

—You didn't live your teenage years like everyone did —he walks to the counter, and supports his elbows on the surface—. So I thought, how can someone go on adult dates when they haven't gone on average dates first?

—You mean I'm back to being sixteen?

He nods and smirks, before speaking again.

—And you'll pick what kind of crush I am: the bad boy you're sneaking to see or the high school crush.

—Which one were you?

—Neither —he snorts—. I told you I was a donkey. I wasn't lying. I didn't like studying, but I did what I was told to. Normal dude.

—Then play that —I shrug—. I'm on a date with the normal donkey—I fake a disappointed tone.

—Hey, the normal donkey is a sweetheart —he tries to defend himself.

—That's why I picked him.

He looks down and smiles, trying to hide his face from me. Although I can catch a glimpse of his pink cheeks before his locks get in the way.

✸ ✸ ✸

When we're finally done with tidying up the bar, I go to the bathroom to change my black t-shirt to a salmon one and a denim jacket. When I meet him again, he acts shocked and surprised to see me, looking at me from head to toe.

—You look beautiful.

—You're so annoying —I hit his arm, making him chuckle.

—Shall we go?

After nodding, I lead the way outside. Although I stop in front of the door to set the alarm and close it. When I turn around, he's already on his motorbike, waiting for me while holding the handlebar.

—The donkey knows how to ride a motorbike? —I joke, walking up to him.

—The donkey has a dark past, so he's also the bad boy your parents wouldn't want you to date.

—You're taking this too seriously —I cackle.

I hop on the motorbike, noticing while I'm still placing myself behind him how the purple is already fading. Although I really like this color on him, I'm already missing his natural hair color.

Jungkook doesn't tell me where we are going, or what's the plan. He starts the engine and starts driving, only dedicating me a soft smile before. Unlike other times, I like the idea of not knowing what's to come. And the concept of our date is heart-warming, I wouldn't have thought of something like this myself. So the fact that he did means a lot to me.

And I'm going to be honest, when he said he was planning the typical teenage date, nothing came to mind. But when he parks his motorbike in the parking lot near the port, and asks me to follow him until we stop in front of a small sign that has "Bowling & Games" with pink neon lights, I know he put a lot of thought into it.

—Is it open?

—Yup —he smiles proudly—. I spent all evening trying to find a place that was open at this time, and I found this. The bowling is closed, but we can spend some time at the arcade.

Honestly? He could've told me to take a stroll around my neighborhood and it'd have been fine by me. So the fact that he put so much effort on it only makes it even better.

—So this is how you won girls over? —I finally ask when we get to the arcade side of the establishment.

—This is how I desperately tried to win girls over, yes.

While we are at the arcade, we don't talk much. Most of our conversation is reduced to insults and threats, and several dares while we're competing against each other. How competitive we both are isn't good, and clearly neither of us are good losers. Proof of that: we've played on the hockey table six times already, and it's always because the other wants a rematch.

I know all his moves, I know how nervous and impatient he is getting by the way he jumps on his place and twists his tongue against his cheek. He also cracks his neck on both sides, and gives me that challenging look trying to intimidate me.

Ater his confident look turns into an annoyed one when I score the third goal and he's still at zero. He keeps talking to himself, pouting his lips as he usually does when he's ranting or complaining about something. And I find it funny and endearing enough to have me slipping my hand away from the lodge, just so he can slip the disc a few more times.

That smirk and challenging look comes back to his face when we are in a tie. But he obviously doesn't leave it there.

—Cocktease, I told you I'm an ace at this. See how I ascended? —he bends to get better movements— I was the best at this back in Seoul. Don't feel disappointed.

—What do you mean? —I ask annoyed— I let you score all those goals. We'd have finished the match by now.

—It's alright. You don't need to make up exc...

While he's talking, and trying to lecture me, I hit the disc and make it enter his lodge as he tremendously fails while trying to block it.

—What did you say about being an ace and shit? —I tease him, crossing my arms over my chest.

—I was distracted —he looks around—. And I was tired of this game after playing so many times.

—Sure, mr. Ace.

We play most of the games there, and probably we would've played them all if we hadn't been kicked out of the place after Jungkook was caught getting on the basketball game to move the ball in and out the basket constantly just to break the record.

Was it my fault? Probably. I told him he wouldn't be able to break the record, and he took the challenge. But it was totally worth it just to get that picture of him climbing over the crystal wall, with his legs parted, while trying the hardest he could to get the highest score. I'd dare him to do it again only to laugh with him like this.

—He kicked us out, but let's see who breaks the record now.

And that only makes me burst into a harder laughter, that forces me to hold onto his arm just to keep the balance.

When we both stop laughing, Jungkook leads the way to the port and asks me to check my bag. I open it, thinking I won't find anything, but instead, I find a transparent plastic bag filled with ice cream shaped sweets.

—There are no ice cream shops open so late, so I had to improvise —he snatched the bag away from my hands.

—When did you put it in my bag? —although I like the surprise, I'm way too curious to let that slip.

—It was on the counter. I saw it when I was putting the glasses inside the washing machine —he informs me—. I didn't think we'd find the plastic bag on the motorbike when we came back, so your bag was the plan B.

—Smart boy.

He smiles wide, opening the bag and finally letting me pick one of the sweets, just so he can pick another one.

—Oh, ice cream and taking a walk? —he nods— I like it.

We start walking, getting closer to the port and filling the silence with the sound of the wood of the boats cracking because of the movement of the water. He pats my arm, and I open the plastic bag for him so he picks another one.

—How long have you been in New York?

—Five or six years —he scrunches his nose, smiling nervously while trying to remember—. I started the degree at twenty, but joined the military service a year later... Wait, I was seventeen when I graduated, that in Korean age is nineteen and I'm twenty-eight, almost-twenty nine...

He gets lost trying to remember when he did whatever he did, his eyes are up, almost as if he were trying to sneak them inside his brain to get a glimpse of the information he seems to be missing.

—Five years ago —he finishes—. I asked to be transferred after my parents moved here because of Soo, so I finished the degree here.

—How was it? I bet it was difficult at first —we walk side by side, at a slow pace.

—It was —he nods—. But it could've been worse. I started working with Mark almost as soon as I landed in the US, and by the time I graduated, Mark had already turned me into a partner in the studio. I also met Leslie there, so I found myself with a girlfriend and a new group of friends quite fast.

—Do you miss Korea?

—Sometimes —his hands slide through his hair, taking the long locks away from his face so he can look at me properly—. We should take a trip one day. I bet you'd love it.

I can't hide the smile on my face that forms after he says that. Jungkook didn't say that I should go once and visit the country, he said we both should. The two of us together. And whether he's just saying it because it just ran through his mind, or whether he actually wants me to go with me, it's still special for me the wording he used.

—What about you? Do you miss New Jersey?

—Not really —I play with the plastic bag—. I didn't do anything to miss it. I made no memories there, so I don't think there is much to miss.

—Aren't your parents there?

—I haven't talked to them since I moved out. They were devastated when I told them I was going to move here and I was going to study Fine Arts —I tilt my head—. Actually, I did see them when my grandma died, but we didn't talk much —I chuckle—, if not at all. But yeah... it's not like we talk every day and we count the days until I get a few days off so I can see them. They haven't made the effort to come and see me either. I guess it's fine.

It's fine. I will forever be grateful for how hard they worked so I could get everything I needed, and I can't say I feel nothing for them. They will forever be my parents, and if they ever needed something I'd rush wherever they are to give it to them, but some relationships aren't meant to exist. It's better this way than us three forcing the happy family image.

—I'm sorry to hear that.

—Don't be. It's okay.

We stay quiet for a few minutes, although I keep seeing him trying to get the conversation started. He moves his head trying to find the right way to bring up the topic.

—Did you... —he thinks the question— Did you meet someone the week we didn't talk?

—Why? —I giggle— Would you be jealous if I said I did?

It starts as a joke, I meant it as a joke in a dumb attempt to be funny. But his fast "yes", with no hesitation nor doubt in his tone, makes me pause.

—That week I was too busy thinking about you and cursing your existence.

—That's why my ears were beeping all the time.

I see Jungkook laughing, and at the same time his steps also slow down until he stops walking. I look at him, waiting for him to say something. But I'm not ready for the look he's giving me right now. The street lights reflecting in his pupils just make it seem as if I could see the stars through his eyes.

—Fuck it. I can't go slower with you —he mutters.

Before I'm able to react his hands are wrapped around my neck and his lips are locked with mine. My eyelids fall closed when the softness of his lips make me drunk enough that I want to fully enjoy him. His taste mixed with the metallic taste of his lip ring has always had it easy to make me go down bad, but tonight it feels different.

The kiss doesn't go crazy, we don't lose our senses the way we usually do when we end up in this situation. We just kiss and enjoy this beautiful moment until he breaks the kiss. Jungkook's forehead rests on mine, our breaths mixing while our lips are still rubbing against each other.

—Shall we go to my place?

—We always go to your place —I giggle, my arms still wrapped around his waist.

—That's because I like having you there.

He places a soft kiss on the tip of my nose, and holds my hand before he starts leading the way back to where his motorbike is placed.

✸ ✸ ✸

I wasn't nervous when he parked the motorbike and kept being touchy and kissy while we were on the lift. I started being nervous when he made me wait outside of his apartment, and closed the door right on my nose. No explanation, no warning. Just a "Give me a second", with a worried look and the door being slammed.

That, and what happened yesterday only makes me think the worst for a quick second. The worry disappears fast though, as soon as he opens the door again and Jungkook has a radiant smile while the rest of his house is still dark.

He invites me to get in, moving his body away from the door and opening a small gap -big enough so I can walk past it with no problem. And I swear nothing would've prepared me for the way my heart squeezes with such emotion when I see everything he has prepared for me. The path of rose petals from his door to the bedroom, his house only being lit by some candles strategically positioned so he wouldn't need to turn on the lights... This is only for me.

—I know it's a cliche —I hear him on my back—, and something way too used in movies. But you deserved something special, and I couldn't find anything else that could've made it bet...

I interrupt him. I turn on my feet and pull him closer by the neck, shutting him up when my lips collide against his. It's a cliche, it's something that was overused by movies, but it's something he's done for me. He could've done nothing. He could've taken the step last night when I first told him I was ready, he could've gone on with all of it without doing any of this. Yet here we are.

We don't need to speak. The intensity of the kiss and our shaky breaths are loud enough for the both of us. I'm not aware of how big he is, compared to me, until he pushes me and corners me against the door. There's something about my head resting against the wood, his hand pulling my hips closer to his body and his tongue doing those magical moves while we're kissing that make me lose my head.

I'm ready to give him everything.

It just takes us a few minutes more to start taking our clothes off in between kisses and playful bites. Soon everything's gone and we are left only with our underwear. And there's no room for shyness and insecurity. It's just the two of us and this moment. Jungkook picks me up with barely any effort, both of his hands holding my thighs and lifting my body as if I weighed nothing.

Jungkook leaves me carefully on the bed, as if I were the most precious thing in this room and he didn't want me to break. He hovers over me, kissing every bit of skin he finds from my cheeks to my pelvis, leaving my body full of wet kisses. Unlike other times, he doesn't look at me like a prey, he's trying to make it as thoughtful as possible.

He starts sliding my panties down my legs, and he also takes off his boxers so we both are equally naked. He crawls up over my body again, kissing my lips slowly, but with such intensity that I'm convinced I'll go crazy. One of his hands is cupping my cheek, while the other is wandering all over my body, tracing my curves as if he were painting them until his hand finds the knee.

—Open your legs a bit for me —he demands with a raspy voice.

That tone goes straight to my core, that throbs and clenches around nothing, eager for him, eager for what's to come.

His hand moves up my leg again, and disappears in between our bodies until his fingertips meet with the wetness of my pussy. He groans on my lips, kissing me again, while two of his fingers slide in between my folds.

—You're beautiful.

His thumb ghosts my clit in circles, teasing me while two of his fingers are tempting my entrance. He smiles satisfied when I lift my hips, asking for more. And he gives it to me with no hesitation. His digits dig inside, opening me up, stretching me out with delicacy. They move in and out with a slow pace, but he makes sure they are knuckles deep inside of me every time he gets the chance.

Just the image of the tattoos of his fingers disappearing slowly is enough to make me moan right now.

—You're taking it so well, baby.

The combination of what his eyes are showing is confusing and exciting. They're dark, showing the self control he's putting himself under not to fuck my brains out right now; but at the same time, they're filled with care and admiration, as if this first time will forever be marked for us two. And that, that's the duality I always talk about when it comes to him. And seeing it mixed in his eyes for the very first time is the hottest thing I've ever seen.

—Are you ready?

—Yeah —I'm not aware of how nervous I am until I hear my trembling voice.

—If you ever want me to stop —he warns me—, just say it. I won't get mad. Remember communication and knowing your limits.

My heart beats faster when I see it happening. He leans toward the night stand to pull out a shiny wrapping. And I can't look away while he's opening it up with his teeth, taking out the condom to roll it down his cock. Nervousness hits my body right at the same time excitement does.

Jungkook's eyes fall on mine again, looking for reassurance as his cock is lined up towards my entrance. The tip rests against it, and it must be pretty obvious everything that I'm feeling right now, because he cups my cheek again and leans to kiss me again.

I know he's doing it to distract me from the pain, he just wants to make it easier for me. But that darkness suddenly puts my body in alert mode. And it only gets worse when he invades me. I stop feeling him, I stop being aware he's the one trying to make me feel good. Panic installs in my brain, and everything just stops working for me. I'm unable to follow his kiss, or move my hands on his back to encourage him to go further. Instead, I break down crying.

—Stop —I ask him, pushing him by his shoulders—. Please, stop —my voice sounds desperate.

And he does.

He pulls out when I first ask him and cups my cheeks, trying to make me look at him. But I'm too deep into that darkness that I can't find a way out. Every bit of arousal, excitement and confidence I felt vanished the moment I closed my eyes to be replaced by fear, insecurity and desperation to get out of here.

He's able to knock me back to this, to where we are when he hugs me and makes my head rest on his chest. The repetitive, yet soothing sound of his heart beat drags me back here, yet I seem unable to stop crying.

—I'm sorry —I manage to say in between sobs—. I ruined everything. I'm sorry.

—Shh —his fingers dig on my scalp, trying to get me to relax under his touch—. You didn't ruin anything.

That dark feeling doesn't leave me though. It's not like all the other times we were able to brush it off and just go on. It stays with me, it doesn't leave, and some disturbing images keep flashing in my head. It's like those nightmares finally made their way to real life and I can't seem to ignore it nor stop them.

None of us try to talk about it, he knows it's not the moment for it, and I'm too disturbed right now to speak more than just two words together. Jungkook holds me tight, enough to let me know that he's here, that I'm safe. He just comforts me while I'm desperately crying on his chest. Everything keeps replying in my head until it suddenly stops. I'm not aware when I fall asleep, but everything just goes black and stops.

#fanfic #ff #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkookxreader #jk #bts #wattpad #kookie #smut #jungkook smut #tattoistjk #tattooau #armpirate

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waywardxrhea · 9 months

Text

Part Fifteen - The Party

[slow burn romance between Steve Rogers and SHIELD agent Emma Baker]

Warnings: 18+, contains humor, fluff, mental health, family trauma, romance, angst, language, violence, (potentially smut later on).

installment list

Word count: 5.4k

Emma attends the Stark Industries party. The past gets dredged up by Ultron and Emma has to deal with the harsh reality that her past is no longer a secret.

Saturday afternoon comes and Emma heads over to Maria's place to get ready and then go to dinner before the party at Avengers Tower. Emma knocks on the door with her foot, struggling with the many bags she is balancing in her arms. "I'm coming!" Maria calls from inside.

The door opens to reveal Maria with curlers in her hair. "Hey that's cheating," Emma teases as she makes her way into the apartment.

"Oh I'm sorry my hair doesn't have the beautiful waves yours does naturally, I have to work for mine. I'd say you're the cheater here." They both stare at each other seriously for a second before bursting into laughter, not able to be serious with each other for long.

"Fair enough I guess," Emma replies while putting her things down. She hangs her garment bag on a door while moving her makeup bag to the bathroom, calling back to Maria, "Are you excited for tonight?"

"It should be interesting, to say the least. Stark has a rep with parties as you know."

"Let's hope for a good night with no mishaps," Emma says as she comes back into the living area. "This'll be my first Stark party, I hope I won't be overdressed...or underdressed, or over-anything. I just want this to be perfect."

"Overdressed huh? Let's see it," Maria tells her, sitting on the arm of her couch for the dress reveal.

Emma unzips the bag and reveals a blush pink long-sleeved dress that sparkles in the apartment lighting. It was a bit tighter, but Emma was told it looked great on her at the store. "Too much? The slit may be a bit much, but the stylist at the store insisted I get it."

"Wow," Maria says and then smirks while asking, "are you trying to impress a certain someone?"

"What? No," Emma replies quickly and defensively, her voice going slightly up in pitch. "It was just really cute and I thought as a first-time guest at a famous Stark party I should dress the part."

"Uh-huh," Maria says and crosses her arms, "and it's not about anyone whose name rhymes with Shmaptain Shmerica?"

Emma instantly gets flustered and dodges the question, instead asking, "So where are we going to dinner later?"

"I'm for real!" Maria tells her while laughing. "I was the Deputy Director of an intelligence organization Emma, I know how to read people. Plus little miss obvious asked me that one time if an agent had feelings for another what the protocol was. You think I didn't know right then and there?"

Emma can't help the embarrassed smile that creeps onto her face as she rolls her eyes and asks, "Is it that obvious?"

"To me, yes," Maria says with a laugh, "but like I said I know how to read people and you're one of my closest friends. I will say it was very professional of you not to do anything about it when you were working together at SHIELD."

Now it was Emma's turn to laugh, saying, "You act like SHIELD was the reason I never said anything. I haven't said anything because I don't want to risk our friendship. Plus with how involved with the team I am, I wouldn't want things to be all weird. I feel like Tony and Romanoff would go wild with jokes about us."

Even though Emma would hate the awkwardness of the latter situation, she can't help but have a smile on her face at the thought. She would totally endure some embarrassment if it meant being with Steve. Maria takes in the smile on her friend's face and says, "See, look at that smile, you need to make a move. Tonight. Or I'll do it for you."

"I think the hell not," Emma tells her while laughing. "If this happens it's on my terms, Hill."

"Okay, fine, fine. But I'm just saying there are going to be lots of ladies at this party and Steve is not an unattractive man." In retaliation for the comment, Emma throws a small pillow in Maria's direction which she dodges easily.

Emma then sighs and says airily, "A girl can dream she has a chance with him."

"You never know until you try, now let's get this show on the road."

With this, the two begin getting ready, Emma hooking up her phone to the speaker in the living room and playing 90s and early 2000s throwback pop. The pair are swept back into their teen years as they dance around the apartment while getting ready. After Emma pins her hair up into a braided crown and does her makeup, she does a spin for Maria, asking, "How do I look?"

"Like you could get any guy you want, including Captain America himself. You've got me feeling underdressed, Baker."

Emma smiles, a high of confidence running through her veins because of her incredible mood and the way she feels in the dress. "Oh don't kid yourself, you look amazing, Maria."

"Why thank you," Maria replies with a smile while grabbing her jacket and purse. At the same time, Emma takes an item out of her purse and inserts it into a secret pocket she had put into the dress. "What do you have there?" Maria asks as they make their way out.

"Oh, it's just that new tech Tony is programming for me. I told him that I would get it back to him tonight."

Maria nods, asking, "Is that what he needed those files for the other day?"

"Yeah, he's planning on finishing the coding then I should be good to go more or less into battle soon."

"Sweet, I've always wanted to see you in action after Fury told me what you did in the SUV that day."

"I can credit you for that. Those days at the shooting range have helped out a lot."

"It's a good skill to be burdened with," Maria replies as she locks the door behind them. Before they head to the tower, the pair head off to a chic place for dinner, bumping their favorite songs on full blast all the way there.

Later after dinner, Maria and Emma arrive at the party, getting escorted in by a couple of Stark Industries workers. After thanking the two for their service, the pair start their walk into the party. Maria takes off to mingle and Emma is about to head off to find Tony to give him the chip when she hears from behind her, "Emma Baker! Man, you're looking good!" It was Sam coming up behind her with a big smile on his face.

Emma laughs as she turns around to face him, greeting him with, "Hey Sam!"

"Did you ever get the chance to talk with Steve?" Sam asks.

Emma shakes her head, replying, "Not yet, no, but I feel like tonight isn't the best time."

"Well speaking of Cap, here he comes," Sam says, nodding his head toward Steve who was approaching the pair. "Isn't Emma looking great tonight, Steve?" he asks as Steve makes their company.

Steve takes in Emma's outfit and his heart skips a beat, getting lost in how beautiful she looks. He realizes probably didn't say anything for a bit too long when Sam subtly elbows him in the ribs. Steve snaps back to reality and smiles at Emma, telling her, "Looking great as always."

Emma smiles ear to ear and is very thankful she has makeup on to hide her blush. She gathers her words and replies, "Why thank you, Steve." Feeling confident, she then adds, "You look quite dashing yourself."

The two smile and hold eye contact for a second before Sam says, "You know, I caught word that they're about to start a pool tournament, y'all in?"

"I'm in," Steve says with a nod, finally breaking his eyes away from Emma's, "What about you, Em?"

"Absolutely! Prepare to be crushed," she tells him.

"Oh those are fighting words, Baker," Steve tells her with a laugh.

"You do realize he's Captain America right?" Sam interjects as they walk to the pool tables. "You know, great coordination and marksmanship skills, the whole shebang?"

"Yes I do realize that, but I'm my grandfather's kin, I like my odds," Emma replies.

The three go to the multiple tables Tony had lined up and begin playing, each beating their first opponents. Then the second round comes, knocking Sam out. While the games go on and gain a bit of a crowd, Sam starts making bets with people.

Soon enough, the final two in the last game are Emma and Steve. They shake each other's hands before the game begins. "You're going down, Rogers," Emma tells him with a wink. The gesture is small, but it's enough to knock Steve off his game for the first few shots. Had Emma been flirting with him or simply trying to win?

A few shots before the game ends, Thor comes up and claps Steve on the back as he studies the table. He gives him some words of encouragement before stepping back to watch. Even after the words from Thor, Steve takes his shot and misses, leaving the turn to Emma.

Emma studies the table and position of her targets before lining up her shot. She too misses and accidentally lands the ball right where Steve can take a perfect shot to win. As Steve looks at the table with a hint of a victorious smile on his lips already, the thought crosses Emma's mind to try and distract him, but decides to be a good sport and lets him take the winning shots. "Good game," Emma tells him with a smile.

"It was, you held your own quite well," Steve replies with a smirk.

"Oh, so that's how it is?" Emma asks with a laugh.

"That's how it is," Steve replies with a chuckle. Sam rejoins the two along with Thor who sweeps the men away with him to try some of his ale from back home, leaving Emma on her own.

After they leave, Emma walks around the party for a few minutes mingling with people she recognizes, catching the tail-end of a story Rhodes was telling. "Boom! You looking for this?" he asks as he finishes his story with a nod at the small crowd's laughter.

After a few more minutes of not being able to find Tony, Emma settles onto a barstool at the far end of the bar Romanoff is tending to. "What can I get for you, Baker?" she asks while grabbing a glass for herself.

Emma shrugs as she says, "Feel free to surprise me."

Romanoff nods, making Emma a drink and putting it down in front of her before asking, "No date tonight?"

Emma shakes her head while taking a sip. "Dates haven't seemed to be a problem I have to worry about lately. Just have to worry about me, myself, and I."

"Oh come on, there's got to be someone," she says.

Shrugging her shoulders, Emma changes the direction of the conversation, asking, "What about you?"

A smile makes its way onto her lips before she looks over her shoulder at the latest person to walk up to the bar: Bruce. "I guess we're about to find out, aren't we?" she asks as she makes her way over to where he is.

Emma watches Romanoff effortlessly flirt with Bruce and she wishes she had that kind of courage with Steve when she wasn't in a fancy dress and hyped up on adrenaline combined with the slightest bit of alcohol. On the other hand though, she still didn't want to ruin what they currently had in their friendship... She sighs and looks back to her drink, not noticing Steve come up to the bar and start chatting with Bruce because Romanoff comes back to talk with her for a bit.

"It's nice - you and Romanoff," Steve tells Bruce with a smile. "She isn't a very open person, and with you, she's relaxed."

"No, Natasha... Natasha just likes to flirt," Bruce replies, shrugging the comment off.

"I've seen her flirting up close, that wasn't it," Steve tells him. "Look, as maybe the world's leading authority on waiting too long, don't. You both deserve a win." As Steve tells Bruce this, his eyes drift to Emma at the other end of the bar.

Bruce follows Steve's gaze and comments, "Maybe you should listen to your own advice, Cap."

Steve smiles a bit and claps Bruce on the shoulder before heading off in the opposite direction. He wants to say something to Emma that night, he does, but even his courage only goes so far. Emma just looks so beautiful and her charisma is out in full force and this seems to be proving to be a deadly combination that is knocking Steve off his game every time he starts to say something to her. He likes seeing this confident side of Emma, but wow did it make him weak. He wipes the grin off his face as he meets up with Sam again for some mingling. If Sam knew what the smile was for he would never hear the end of it.

A little while later, almost all of the guests have gone for the night, so Emma starts to head for the doors to go home. "Woah, woah, woah where do you think you're going?" Maria asks.

"I don't want to mess up the dynamic, you guys have fun, though!" she replies.

"I don't think so, I'm your ride and it's dark out. You aren't leaving," Maria tells her sternly.

From his spot on the couch, Tony pipes in with a wink and a laugh, saying, "Plus, you aren't going out in that dress with no escort."

Emma rolls her eyes and laughs before saying, "As if, Stark."

Tony throws his hands up, telling her, "I'm just saying anyone with eyes can see that you look drop-dead gorgeous, and as my employee, I'm not letting you get hurt leaving a company function."

"Fine, fine, I'll stay," Emma says, giving in with a laugh. As she makes her way over to them she says, "Oh and I have that drive you sent me home with. Do you want it now or before I head out?"

"Before you leave works. You can drop it off in the lab on the way out," he tells her.

"Great," Emma replies with a giddiness in her voice, excited for the new tech.

She makes her way to the couches with the group consisting of the Avengers plus Maria, Helen, and Rhodes sitting around a coffee table that holds Mjolnir. Emma sits on the couch behind Maria who is on the floor, listening to Barton and Thor bicker. "It's a trick!" Barton shouts while spinning a drumstick.

Thor laughs and replies, "Oh no, it's much more than that, Barton." In response, Barton proceeds to mock Odin's proclamation of who would have the ability to wield the hammer. With a sly smile, Thor gestures to it and says, "Please, be my guest."

In response, Barton stands up and shakes his hands out preparing for his attempt. As he does, Tony quips, "It's been a long week, don't be ashamed if you can't get it up." Emma chokes on the champagne she was sipping in response to the comment. Usually, she doesn't laugh at those types of jokes, but with the buzz of alcohol running in her body, she can't help but laugh.

Barton of course can't even make Mjolnir budge, so he invites Tony to try his hand at it. "Okay. I'm never one to shrink from an honest challenge," Tony tells him.

Maria turns her head up to Emma, saying, "He's not gonna be able to do it."

Emma shakes her head, replying, "No way."

They turn their attention back to the scene in front of them where Tony asks, "So if I can move it, I rule Asgard?"

"Yes, of course," Thor replies nonchalantly.

When Tony can't budge it at first, he goes to get part of his suit to assist him, and then adds Rhodes to help. As they watch, Emma leans down and whispers to Maria, “I wish we had popcorn for this show.” Maria laughs as the guys all continue to take turns, Bruce even pretending to Hulk out to try and make it move.

Next up after Bruce is Steve. Emma tries not to give her crush away by eyeing him too much, but it's hard not to at that moment. She averts her eyes to anywhere else in the room but his muscles as he puts forth a solid effort, but even with all that super soldier serum running through his veins, Mjolnir stays in its spot on the table.

The attention turns to the ladies in the room after Steve throws his hands up in surrender. Bruce gestures his hands to Romanoff first who responds with, "Oh that's not a question I need to be answered."

Eyes turn to Helen who shakes her head quickly and then to Maria who just laughs. Maria is the one to ask Emma, "Why don't you give it a try, Em?"

Emma forces a laugh and tells her, "Oh I'm not worthy and you know it." The past events brought up into her mind during the last week cement that statement as fact in Emma's heart. There was no point in embarrassing herself.

"All deference to The Man Who Wouldn't be King, but it's rigged," Tony smarts off after Emma's refusal.

"You bet your ass it is," Barton agrees.

"Steve!" Maria calls with a smirk. "He said a bad language word!"

Steve sighs and turns to Emma and jokingly says, "That tech of yours. Does everyone know about that?"

Emma can't help but get distracted by Steve's smile, and while she’s mesmerized Thor gets up and easily lifts Mjolnir, tossing it in the air. As he does this, he smirks and says, "There is one answer to all of this. You all simply are not worthy."

That comment earns a groan and laughter from everyone but the moment gets interrupted by a high-pitched ringing noise. Emma cringes at the noise and covers her ears while from behind them, there is a mangled voice saying "Worthy? No..."

Everyone turns to look at the mangled robot in confusion. Emma gingerly stands up from her perch on the couch, leaving her heels on the cushion in case she has to run from the potential threat. Her mind instantly begins searching for an escape route, thinking of all the exits nearby and if they could be blocked by the mangled Iron Legion suit.

From behind her, Steve sees Emma tense up as the threat presents itself and he sees her hands start slightly shaking. Boldly, he takes a step toward her and gently laces his fingers with hers to comfort her. The shaking in her hands stops momentarily while Emma holds onto Steve's hand as the robot begins speaking, but her mind doesn't fully process what was happening, her senses all too heightened to worry about it.

In front of them, the robot almost drunkenly stumbles about mumbling, "Worthy? How could you be worthy? You're all killers and criminals. Do you know how many people each of you have killed? How many laws you've broken? How many lives you've uprooted? Or do you even care about that as long as it's good for your endgame?" The robot sweeps what would be its eyes around the room and Steve drops Emma's hand, not wanting him to use her as leverage against him.

The bot looks around at all their faces and starts with, "Mr. - No, Dr. Banner... Hulk really does love to go on the path of most destruction, doesn't he? Not caring who or what he leaves in his wake? And Miss Romanoff...how's that red in your ledger? How much more will you add until you realize it's better to stop while you're ahead? Oh and Mr. Tony Stark... How many people do you think your tech has killed? Because I can guarantee that it's at least double what you think it is.

“And Thor Odinson. God of Thunder. I don't even want to think about how many you've slain off-world. Newsflash people, it's probably a lot more than you would think! I can't forget Mr... or should I say, Captain Rogers. Always in a war. You see, your captain here didn't get into the military in the most legal way if you didn't know. Faking enlistment papers is a federal crime, Captain... Oh and don't let me forget the archer himself, Mr. Barton. Those high-tech arrows do a lot more damage than you'd think, but you can tell that to any bodies that were mangled up in the Battle of New York all those years ago."

"What do you want from us?" Steve asks in a low voice, not wanting to listen to the robot continue the slander on his team.

"Oh, I'm not done yet! You interrupted my monologue!" The robot exclaims. "I'm not going to be done until I've torn into every...single...one of you. Well except Miss Cho, she's the only one really saving lives here. Let's start again with Colonel Rhodes. You have a body count from your military service and not the fun kind. Do you ever think of those men and women who never get to go home to see their families again? And Miss Maria Hill. You may not have killed too many people directly, but all those hoops you had to jump through to become Deputy Director of SHIELD? And all the things you had to do in the line of duty? Criminal. And speaking of criminals...now I can't just let you off the hook can I, Miss Baker?"

Steve can't help but have a look of confusion on his face at the statement. "Oh, you didn't know Captain? Miss Baker here used to hack into police radios, which is totally illegal by the way. Top that off with illegal surveillance and she was at the top of her game. Never got caught, except of course by Fury and Hill. Which is another one of Miss Hill's crimes, what willingly hiring a criminal and wiping her slate clean just so she could work for you? How dare."

Maria slowly stands up and cocks her gun while turning toward the robot, willing to go into a firefight for Emma. After all, it was her responsibility to get everything about Emma's past off the books and clearly, she didn't do well enough...

Emma's heart races out of her chest. She didn't think her past would ever be mentioned so many times in one week. She can't get the look Steve gave her out of her head, he just looked so disappointed in her... Emma can't even pay attention to what’s going on around her, her anxiety getting too high with the thoughts of the past. She doesn't know how long she'll be able to hold on before breaking down but knows she can't with the seemingly all-knowing bot in front of them.

While the robot monologues for a little bit longer and Emma tries to calm herself down, Steve says, "I'm going to ask you again. What do you want?"

"I'm on a mission," the robot replies.

"What mission?" Romanoff asks.

"Peace in our time," he replies. At that moment, as if on cue, two Iron Legion robots bust through the wall and come flying into the area. Maria hits the ground and Steve kicks up a table to block himself and Emma from the oncoming attack. As they fly by, Emma throws her arms over her face to protect her head while she gets knocked to the ground.

In the chaos, everyone scatters, trying to find something to defend themselves with. Emma thinks back to the lab where Tony had started work on her drone and tries to make her way there, avoiding the flying suits around her. Through her tunnel vision though, she doesn't see a suit flying straight at her which topples her over the railing. Emma groans as she sits up, kicking away the suit that she ended up falling on and destroying in the impact. Through the ache, she stands up to try and make it to the lab.

Her feet get stuck with shattered glass, but she powers through, needing to prove to the team and herself that she could do more than just sit on the outskirts of battle and watch. Tony sees where she's heading and shouts, "Baker, it isn't done yet! Find something else to defend yourself with or get to cover!"

"There's a hidden pistol under the piano bench," Romanoff informs her as she and Bruce run up the stairs trying to get away from the action.

Emma spots the piano above her and shouts, "Thor, can I get a lift?"

Thor flies over to Emma and swiftly lifts her up to the piano where she starts searching for the gun. Emma notices Helen Cho hiding behind the piano and tells her, "It'll be okay, I got this." Although the words are directed at Helen, they were also words of encouragement to herself, trying to calm the shaking in her hands as she checks to make sure the gun is loaded.

As Emma's shaking hands finally ensure the gun is loaded, she hears the sound of one of the Iron Legion suits charging up its hand to blast the pair of them. Emma secures the gun in one hand and puts the other arm up in front of Helen, feebly attempting to block her from any damage the suit could do.

Knowing she wouldn't be able to take the thing on with the pistol alone, Emma slowly moves her body in front of Helen's and looks up at the suit, ready to take what it was about to dish out when Steve comes up behind the bot and throws it towards Thor who smashes it into bits. After that, Steve's shield gets thrown at him and he takes out the second to last Legion suit.

"Well that was dramatic," the main robot in charge says. Ultron, that's what Emma thinks she heard it call itself while she was trying to calm herself down earlier. "I'm sorry, I know you mean well, you just didn't think it through. You want to protect the world but you don't want it to change. How can humanity be saved if it's not allowed to evolve? There's only one path to peace. The Avengers extinction." At that, Thor has had enough and throws Mjolnir at the mangled suit, destroying it.

The team gathers themselves and makes their way to the lab following Bruce and Tony. Emma flinches at the pain in her feet, the adrenaline finally wearing off so she feels the full effects of the glass in them now. Helen reaches out her hand to help Emma walk easier and tells her, "Go take a seat. I'll get my mobile lab and start healing your feet. Thank you, by the way."

Emma nods and says quietly, "It's not like my career isn't ruined after that fiasco with that thing anyways. What would it have hurt getting blasted to bits?" She pauses for a second before adding on with a cringe, "Sorry, that was dark."

"Hey, it's okay. Just get to the lab and I'll help you out."

Emma nods and limps to the lab, staying on the outskirts of the room and sitting down on a bench near the door, relieved to be off her feet. As Emma waits for Helen to get back, she punches herself mentally, wishing that damn AI didn't know about her past. She had never told Steve about it, why would she? It was a time she just wanted to forget...

From across the room, Bruce assesses the damage left behind by the bot and announces, "All our work is gone... Ultron cleared out. He used the internet to escape."

As she searches the lab, Romanoff speaks up, telling the group, "He's been in everything. Files, surveillance." She pauses and throws a glance Emma's way, a hint of curiosity in her eyes, and says "He obviously knows more about us than we do each other..."

Emma turns her eyes down as Steve and Rhodes look toward her which makes her feel sick to her stomach. While looking at her, Rhodes asks, "Are we not gonna talk about the elephant in the room, Tony?"

"No, we're not going to talk about the elephant in the room because there is no elephant to talk about. I knew about her past and I chose to tell Pepper about her skills and get her on board. Because that's what Baker has. Skills. End of discussion. Now the elephant we need to be talking about is the fact that Ultron has read everything we have. Every file, every lead, everything."

Rhodes reluctantly drops the subject, tearing his eyes away from Emma and saying, "Well if he read everything and is using the internet to travel, what if he decides to access something a bit more...exciting?"

As the group continues their discussion, Helen emerges into the lab and begins picking the glass out of Emma's feet. Emma grips the sides on the bench in pain and she leans her head back, only half-listening to the conversation at hand.

The next time Emma's ears tune into the conversation, Romanoff is asking, "Nukes? I thought he wanted us dead?"

"He didn't say dead," Steve pipes in, "he said extinct."

"He also said he killed somebody," Barton reminds them all.

"There wasn't anyone besides us in the building," Maria tells him.

"Yes, there was," Tony says, signaling up JARVIS who looks like he got completely destroyed by Ultron.

The group examines the mangled AI in disbelief as Emma is suddenly jerked away from the conversation by a sharp pain in her foot. Helen had pulled out a rather large piece of glass that made Emma's foot start bleeding. "Sorry," she whispers before putting pressure on the wound for a few moments.

"It's fine," Emma breathes, closing her eyes, wanting to be anywhere except there. She regrets not going home now... Emma focuses on the pain in her feet because at least that pain she knew would be temporary. Focusing on the pain keeps her mind away from the nagging feeling that her friendship with Steve and what could have come from it was out the door, never going to happen.

Even through that concentration though, Emma's mind is ripped away yet again to Thor storming into the lab and holding Tony up by his neck. "Use your words, buddy!" Tony manages to choke out.

"I have more than enough words to describe you, Stark."

"Thor," Steve warns and he drops Tony.

Thor looks to everyone and announces, "The trail went cold about 100 miles out. He has the scepter."

Helen sets up her tech to begin repairing Emma's feet and stands to be with the rest of the group. Finally joining the conversation, she says, "I don't understand. You built this program. Why is it trying to kill us?" In response, Tony just starts laughing.

"What, so this is funny to you?" Thor asks. Tony of course responds with sarcasm to which Thor tells him, "This could have all been avoided if you didn't play with things you don't understand."

"No, this is so funny. It's a hoot that you don't get why we need this."

"God, not again," Emma whispers to herself, not wanting to listen to more bickering between the team. She tries to focus on her breathing or the pain her feet are in rather than listen to them, but her mind has other ideas. It yet again wanders back to when she was a little girl, listening to her parents fighting outside her bedroom door. To get herself back from that thought, Emma kicks herself and reminds her brain of her physical pain which brings her back to the present.

When she tunes back into the conversation at hand, she hears Tony say, "We're the Avengers. We can bust arms dealers all the livelong day, but up there..." he points upwards, to space, "that's the endgame. How are you guys planning on beating that?"

"Together," Steve replies.

Tony gives him a look and replies, "We'll lose."

"Then we'll do that together too. Ultron is calling us out and I'd like to find him before he's ready for us. The world's a big place, let's start making it smaller."

a/n there’s a LOT of music that goes with this chapter that covers a LOT of emotions! enjoy!

link to the next part

#fanfic #marvel #captain america #slow burn #steve rogers #writing #romance #fanfiction #friends to lovers #Spotify #marvel fanfic series #captain america fic #steve rogers friends to lovers #steve rogers slow burn #steve rogers romance #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers angst

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lord-explosion-baku · 4 years

Text

Beel Wants a Baby

Beelzebub x Fem!reader

Warnings: cunnilingus, breeding, semi-rough sex, pretty vanilla, unprotected sex, a hint of voyeurism bc ofc Belphie’s there, hints of MC being intimate with multiple brothers (that’s just how you play the game baybeee!), very slight, and i mean minuscule, daddy kink

A/N: This is the first time I’ve written for Obey Me! and I honestly needed to get this out of my head so I could focus on other projects lmao. Please be gentle. I’m new to the fandom. (Minors DNI)

It’s not the fanning of his warm breath against your skin that stirs you away from your slumber, nor is it the press of his soft lips against the hollow of your neck. You’re used to it by now - Beelzebub getting a little more cuddly after you’ve fallen asleep. It’s probably something he’s picked up from his twin. You like it. His presence is comforting, and his affections are never unwelcomed.

However, when air-light fingers slowly, sensually glide down your chest to your navel and his hand begins moving in soothing circles, tiny knots crowd your stomach, causing a pulse to begin between your legs. When you’re finally lucid, your toes curl and your thighs squeeze together. Your eyes flutter open, and you’re greeted with his appraising purple irises that gleam with adoration.

You lift a hand to his flushed cheek, cupping his face. He leans into your touch with a soft hum.

“What time is it, Beel?” You’re not too sure if it’s morning yet. Belphegor is still snoozing away in the bed next to Beelzebub’s, but that’s a given. Belphie would sleep until noon unless somebody did something about it. Despite being a little more alert, you can tell by the sleep under Beel’s eyes that he’s only been awake for a little longer than you have.

Beelzebub mumbles back a short, “dunno,” and that’s how you know it’s not exactly morning. He’d already be talking about breakfast if it were. You faintly wonder when his stomach will begin to growl, and if he’ll ask you to come to the kitchen with him. Before things can escalate to that, you lean up and plant a soft kiss on his lips.

What you think would be a simple peck—a light kiss before you fall back into bed, and turn away before he tries to tow you with him to get a pre-breakfast snack—turns into something much more. His kiss is deep—hungry in a way that only Beelzebub can manage while keeping it arousing. He parts your lips with a flick of his tongue and is quick to to gain as much from the exchange as he can manage. He groans lowly as his tongue grooves over yours, riffing up to stroke the roof of your mouth. All the while, his hands roam your body, moving over your sides to tighten on your hips. He pulls you against him, and you feel his erection press against your pelvis, which sends another excited flutter to your stomach.

You’re only able to breathe when Beelzebub breaks the kiss to move his lips back to your neck. What once was little lip nuzzles turns into sudden nips and harsh sucking. His tongue laves over you, trailing long, wet stripes over the most sensitive parts of your skin. He bites down when your body shudders underneath him. You moan, and despite knowing you’ll be reprimanded by Lucifer (and possibly even Mammon), for having dark spots around your neck, you weave your fingers through Beel’s ginger hair, and tug, asking him for more. He’s quick to oblige, making sure that both sides of your neck get an equal amount of sucking treatment.

When your hips buck, Beelzebub takes advantage of your position and begins grinding against you—the thin material of both of your pajama bottoms proves to be a useful form of friction. You can feel your arousal begin to pool as his cock slides against your entrance, teasing you, giving you a sample of what’s to come. But you’re far too impatient for that, and you find yourself cupping him, rubbing him through his smooth pants.

There’s a grunt, and suddenly Beelzebub is shifting his kisses lower, raising your shirt over your head so he can wrap his mouth around your right nipple while his hand tweaks and pinches your left. He bites down softly, eliciting a sweet mewl from you, only to have him chuckle and do the same to your left. Then he’s lowering himself, kissing your stomach over and over, petting you. It’s odd, but he’s giving quite a bit of attention to your stomach. You don’t mind too much, except your hips are more than a little sensitive, so when he kisses you there, he gets you squirming. But he doesn’t travel lower. He just keeps kissing your stomach...until he sighs.

“Beel? Baby?” You cast a glance down on him to see him eyeing your stomach almost solemnly. When his eyes meet yours, you see it: his sadness. His brows are knitted together, and he looks so hurt that it’s almost enough to make you cry. “What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he dips down to kiss your stomach again.

“Are you hungry?” You ask, reaching down to brush some hair out of his eyes.

He pauses. “Yeah.”

You lean up, still keeping your hand in his hair. Your fingers move down to tip his chin up at you so he’s looking at you again. “Want me to come with you to get something to eat?”

You definitely don’t want to stop here, and going to the kitchen would be a bit of a pain, but you can’t stand to see Beel looking this sad. You’d even walk with him all the way to Hell’s Kitchen if it meant seeing him smile again. But all he does is shake his head.

“I’m not hungry for food.” He drops another kiss, and you think you’re back on track, until his head touches your stomach again. He grimaces.

“Talk to me, Beel. What’s going on?” You’re more tentative now. Awake. You cradle his head in your hands and kiss his nose. “Why are you sad?”

“I had a dream.”

Oh…

Beelzebub has told you about his dreams. Memories from the Celestial War—memories about Lilith, shot down right in front of him. You hadn’t truly been there, so you don’t share his trauma, but you know it haunts him, and you want to be there for him, especially during bad nights.

“I’m sorry, Bee. I know how those bad dreams make you feel. We can talk about it, if you’d like. Or...I could distract you.”

Again, he shakes his head. “I’m not sad because it was a bad dream. I’m sad because it was a good dream.” His eyes fall down to your stomach. “It was such a good dream. And it wasn’t real.”

You begin to move your hand away from him, but he catches you, and kisses the carpal side of your palm. “I want it to be real,” he says, “so badly.”

“Yeah?” You ask as Beel’s lips slowly travel up your arms. He pulls you against him, crowding you in what would be a loving embrace if it weren’t for his tongue sliding against your neck again. When you speak, it’s broken—breathy and needy. “H-how can I help? Can...we make it real?”

He lets out a low sort of hum as his hand slips down your body and into your pajamas shorts. Fingers find your center, and you gasp when he begins to pet you through your already damp panties.

“Lay back,” he commands in a whisper, decidedly dropping the subject. You’re suddenly struck with Beelzebub’s change in expression. He no longer looks sad. Instead, there’s a determined shine in his eye. You can feel the heat of his ravenous intensity as you lay your head back on the pillow, shuffling out of your shorts. He moves south and spreads your legs apart so you’re open and ready. He plants an open-mouthed kiss over your clothed slit before his tongue slips up the length of you. He hums in appreciation, always loving the taste of you, even through your panties.

Tugging the thin barrier between you and his mouth to the side, Beel’s demon tongue slues out, hungrily lapping up your arousal. He’s a little sloppy and relentless as he runs long, languid strokes between your lips, but there’s method to his madness as far as your clit is concerned. The tip of his tongue barely teases it, but it’s enough to get your rocking against his mouth. As hungry as Beel usually is, when it comes to you, he’s much more likely to play with his food before his meal.

He hooks his arms around your legs to hold you in place before his long tongue dives deep into your cunt.

“O-oh!” You choke out a moan, surprised by how full you feel with just his tongue. “Beel, god, that’s—nnnh!”

“Shhh.” He slides out of you, offering your throbbing pussy little kitten licks before saying, “don’t want to wake Belphie.”

He wraps his mouth around your clit and begins to suck. His fingers prods your entrance, and he doesn’t spare another second before his large digits are halfway in. He pumps himself in and out of you, curling his fingers to the press against that spongey button that drives you crazy. You have to clap a hand over your mouth to keep yourself from growing louder, but still you’re whining through it, stirring Beelzebub on.

Soon you find your thighs clamping down on his head. Your heart pounds and blood rushes down to your center. You moan, halfway whining your way through climax as Beelzebub continues to devour you. He doesn’t stop until you’re done shaking and practically yanking on his hair to pry him off of you. He has a smug look on his face—a rare sight for Beel—as he licks residual slick off of his fingers.

“Was that good?” He asks, though you know that he knows it was.

“Incredible,” you pant, still trembling a bit.

He chuckles and sits up right, pulling his pajama bottoms down to reveal his thick, throbbing member. The tip glistens with a thick hint of precum, and he uses it as lubrication to begin pumping himself.

While you slip out of your panties, you ask, “do you have something? For...protection?”

His eyes fall over your naked body and he shakes his head.

“I don’t want to use any,” he says, looming over you. He presses his cockhead against your still-sensitive clit and begins rubbing himself against you.

“But, Beel-!” You’re silenced by his mouth slamming into yours. He pulses against you, sliding his cock against your waiting, plush entrance. He groans into the kiss before pulling away, a string of saliva connected his lips to yours.

“I want a baby,” he whispers gruffly.

“A-? A baby?!”

“You were so happy in my dream,” he continues, one hand traveling back to your stomach as he continues to grind against you. “You had this cute little bump and you were so excited for her.”

“A girl?” You ask, eyes widening in disbelief. Beelzebub hums a conformation and kisses your cheek softly.

“We were gonna have a little baby girl and we were going to name her Lilith,” he explains, mouth raking over your ear. “I want to make you that happy in real life. Let me inside. Let me put a baby in you.”

This is definitely a subject that warrants a longer discussion, but you’re unable to say that when Beelzebub once again bites into your neck. You cry out, hips bucking up, allowing him direct access into your cunt. He slides in with a groan, and you are absolutely lost to him.

He pushes in deep, the feeling of his unwrapped cock filling you up in one delicious thrust. Your mouth falls open on a broken moan, and that’s when his muscular arms wrap around you, caging you against him as he begins to groove into you.

Beelzebub is strong, but he’s a gentle giant. He’s always been so careful to not hurt you when he fucks you, but this is different. He starts off at his usually benevolent pace, moving his hips so he hits just the right spot, but when his hand moves over your stomach to feel his cock pressing up against you, something in him switches. His thrusts become more relentless and he even bares his teeth when you reach out to stroke his muscular chest.

He lifts legs over his shoulders, folding you against yourself, and slams into with so much force, you find yourself yipping. He kisses you with bruising intensity, tongue greedily twining with yours before he’s pulling away, growling I love you’s and I’m gonna make you so happy.

“Happy,” you echo in a half-dazed state. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been fucked this roughly. Lucifer sure likes using toys to make you scream, but when he’s inside you, he’s more charitable than anything else. Beelzebub is being greedy, and you would have half a mind to say that he’s using you, if it didn’t feel so good.

“Bee,” you whimper as you feel a tightening in your center. “Feels so good, baby! Please don’t stop!”

His response is to hiss through his teeth and move his fingers in ceaseless circles around your clit. “You’re gonna come for me, baby girl?” He kisses you. “You’re gonna make me a daddy?”

“Ahhh! Yes!”

Beelzebub drops one of your legs and holds the other spread farther out. “Use your words, little one,” he commands, panting. “Say, I wanna have your baby, daddy.”

You repeat his words, albeit breathlessly, right before incurring the crackling of sparks of an oncoming orgasm. You clench around him, chanting your pleas, locking your arms around his neck. He kisses you deeply, silencing your warbling cries, and as you lose yourself, spasming around him, he releases a long groan, jetting out white hot seed into your throbbing cunt.

The two of you stay like that, connected, breathing together, kissing each other, and loving every second of it. He whispers to you, apologizing for getting a little out of control, and you smile and kiss his nose, making sure he knows it’s okay. He tells you that he’s excited, that you’re going to be a beautiful mother, and that he can’t wait to be your baby’s daddy. All you can do is smile and let him tuck you against him after he pulls out.

You’re not sure what to think about having a kid with Beelzebub—with any of the demon brothers, for that matter. But you’ll be sure to talk to him more about later in the morning. He’ll be sure to want a repeat of what just happened—Beelzebub is as gluttonous as they come—but for now, you’ll be happy being held in his embrace.

Until, of course, his stomach begins to growl.

“Hmph!” He’s quick to complain.

“Do you want me to come with you to the kitchen?” You offer.

“No, I’ll be fine.” He kisses the back of your neck before sliding out of bed. “I woke you up, after all. You rest.”

You hum back to him, thanking him as he walks out of his shared room, then snuggle up to Beelzebub’s pillow, already missing his warmth. It’s not long before you’re dozing back to sleep, and a new presence dips into Beel’s bed.

You feel his hands roam over your bare back before he speaks.

“Now, that’s no fair…” Belphegor's voice is crackly with sleep as he nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck. His breath is hot with envy and need while his arms wrap around your torso. “What if I want you to have my baby?”

#obey me x reader #obey me x you #beelzebub x reader #beel x reader #obey me imagines #obey me reader insert #reader insert #obey me

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plaid-shirtsandvibranium-arms · 3 years

Text

Nemesis: Retribution (5)

Summary: 10 years after the Avengers had left you for dead during a mission gone wrong, you unexpectedly re-enter their lives. Wholly unrecognizable from the person they used to know and now with a new team behind you, they ask for your help to stop a chain of syndicates who were manufacturing and peddling the super soldier serum. You were determined to say no until the chance at the vengeance you had been chasing for years was added to the offer.

Fandoms: Avengers, Marvel, MCU, The Punisher, Daredevil

Pairings: Female Reader x (Frank Castle, Billy Russo, Matt Murdock, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Pietro Maximoff)

Warnings: EXPLICIT SMUT. SHAMELESS SEXUAL BEHAVIOUR (18+ ONLY. I WILL BLOCK YOU), human rights violations, polyamorous relationships, reverse harem, blatant disregard for canon timelines and events, angst, Punisher canon level of violence and gore, strong language, mentions of trauma, mentions of character death, fluff if you squint,

A/N: Okay okay. I’m finally happy with how this turned out. Goddamn that’s a lot of words. I’ll see you all in the party in the comments and reblogs! I love reading what you think. Don’t be shy. Jump in!

No permission is granted to repost, steal, or translate my work. Not even a credit makes it okay. Tumblr is the only place I post my writing. If you see it anywhere else please report it.

[gif not mine. credit to: this glorious gif post.]

Series Masterlist | Full Masterlist

1:5 Lemons

2 missions.

A 50/50 chance of getting Salvacion.

Your heart was pounding in your chest and you were on the verge of getting lightheaded from the anticipation. A decade of chasing this bastard and this was the closest you had ever gotten to him. The man was not only deadly in skill, but always seemed to manage to give you the slip every single time. Forcing yourself to face the life you left was worth it if it meant finally avenging Lily.

The briefings the past week had been long, but they were important to make sure everyone was prepared to end this. You were minutes away now from shipping off to the mission and your whole body was buzzing.

This was it.

There were two locations that you had to hit at the same time. Two locations with large shipments that you had to stop from reaching its destination. The teams needed to be split.

"Let's go over this one more time," Steve started, fully suited up in black that was truly a far cry from his old blue and red ensemble. "I'll be leading a team into the shipment yards with Bucky and Nem at the front. Sam will be on air support. Billy will manage a team of snipers in the surrounding area."

This was the smaller of locations, but with the larger shipment. The location itself entailed a more strategic approach. You weren't happy that there was a chance that Salvacion would be at the other location, but having Frank on that team put you somewhat at ease. He understood more than anyone how important this was to you and he promised he would take Salvacion alive. He was yours to kill.

Frank always kept his promises.

"I'll be leading the other team into the industrial district," Frank continued, his signature vest strapped tight across his chest. "Pietro and Matt will cover the perimeter and I'll be charging in with Nat and Wanda."

Their location was more complicated. It was too close to the residential district and the warehouses there ran 24/7. There was a high risk of civilian casualty if they weren't careful which was why almost everyone who was powered was assigned to that group. They needed every capability they could pull to make sure no innocent blood was spilled.

"Good," Steve nodded. "We'll both have a group of agents with us too. They've been briefed and are prepping transport as we speak. We leave in 20 minutes."

Everyone nodded their understanding, grabbing their gear and heading down to the transport docks. There was a fleet of cars standing by that would be used, gassed up and ready to go. Your hands were drumming repeatedly on your vest, itching to just get on the road. Frank and Matt lingered with you before they joined the rest of their group.

The towering marine stepped up close to you and tightened the buckles of your bulletproof vest, wishing you would have accepted the offer of better gear from the Avengers but also knowing it was hypocritical of him when he declined as well.

It just wasn't your style.

It was his own damn fault for training you in his own combat style. He had no doubt of your capability, but still he worried about you. He always worried about you and he felt a sense of responsibility toward you after finding you tortured within an inch of your life.

"Stay close to Steve, sweetheart."

You snorted, but a glance back at Steve who was already looking at you with a raised eyebrow made you grumble and relent. "Fine."

"Good girl," Frank chuckled, before leaning in to press a firm kiss on your lips as he held you by the buckles of your vest. You smiled into the kiss, feeling the steady protection and reassurance that he always brings.

He stepped away for Matt to get his turn. This was a tradition that just developed naturally between the four of you. A kiss before danger. A promise to keep safe. A promise to come home.

Matt took your face in both hands and kissed the breath out of you as if he was trying to outdo Frank. It wasn't uncommon. He was always more aggressive with his affections, always as if he was scared you might suddenly slip away from his life and you were happy to reassure him every time that you weren't going anywhere. He chuckled when you bit his lip, beating him to it. He gave you one more peck before stepping aside.

Billy came closer to your side and slung his arm around your shoulders, chuckling as he nuzzled his nose against the side of your face. It was amusing him to no end at how easily you were folding for Steve. It was a nice change of pace from the three of them never being able to deny you anything.

Most especially Billy.

"We're definitely keeping Steve around. I think I like you compliant," he snickered, turning your head toward him with a finger under your chin. He planted a quick chaste peck on your lips. Your eyebrows quirked at the unusual behavior.

"What you're not gonna try to outdo me too?" Frank teased.

"Nem knows I do my best kissing elsewhere. Don't you, pretty girl?" Billy winked at you and you rolled your eyes. You smacked him in the chest but didn’t comment further. He wasn't wrong, but he was smug enough as it is.

You were about to turn toward the cars when you were knocked back slightly to the side by a sudden peck to your cheek. You couldn't stop the laugh when you caught Pietro's grin before he vanished again, a subtle warmth spreading in your chest. You were still smiling when you took your seat beside Steve who intertwined your hand with his and raised it to his lips, smiling that soft boyish smile against your skin that now made your stomach flip. He didn't let go of your hand throughout the ride, even as he caught Bucky's yearning gaze in the rearview mirror.

You were greeted by an ambush.

Somehow the syndicates knew that you would be coming, setting up a small army as your welcome party. A quick distress call through the comms from Frank confirmed that they were facing the same in their location.

But you couldn't focus on that.

You were too busy tearing through the goons that kept coming at you. Having two super soldiers and Sam in the thick of it with you was a blessing, but even with the other agents and Billy's sniper support you were severely overrun. You would just have to trust that the other team can handle their own.

You emptied the clips of your pistols as you trudged your way deeper into the fray, not bothering to duck or take cover from the onslaught of angry men. You tossed your empty guns to the side and drew out another, catching a few bullets in your vest.

No time to reload.

"I got you, Hedwig. Give 'em hell," Billy said in your ear.

The deadly smirk on your lips was the only warning the men in front of you got. You charged again as the adrenaline coursed through your body, bullets flying precisely into their skulls.

One. Two. Three. Four men down.

When your bullets ran out, you dropped the gun and pulled out two daggers. Your eyes narrowed as you took off into a sprint toward the closest target, weaving effortlessly through the oncoming fire.

A slice to the forearm to disarm.

A dagger up the chin.

Dead.

He dropped to the ground spluttering on his blood as you took the other dagger and sent it flying toward another's chest.

Dead.

Rough muscular arms caught you by surprise and gripped you from behind, caging you as you struggled. You saw the gun in his hand and reacted.

Break the wrist to disarm.

You smirked at the loud pop of his bones. You grabbed the gun before it dropped to the ground as you slipped a knife from your vest. The pain in his wrist caused him to loosen his hold on you, allowing you to turn to face him.

Blade to the gut.

Bullet to the face. Point blank.

Dead.

You didn't even flinch when his blood splattered across your face, joining the explosion of red already painting your figure. You could make out two more in your peripheral who dropped to the ground before they could advance on you, care of your guardian angel with a sniper rifle.

"Thank you, Blackbird," you said sweetly.

"Goddamn, doll," Bucky said, Steve stood beside him mirroring the same look of equal awe and fear.

This was the first time they had seen you in action. Hearsay and that little demo with Kim did nothing to prepare them for the sheer brutality you had when given the clear purpose to kill. You didn't hesitate. You didn't waste time. You didn't care that you were drenched in blood. You had a goal and you were going to meet it every time with ruthless violence.

This was who you were now.

"Are you hurt anywhere?" Steve came up to you looking worried after seeing you charging headlong at open gunfire.

He didn't like it. At least he had a shield. Skilled as you were, he didn't like that you were running every mission like you had a death wish. There was so much blood on you that it was difficult for him to tell if any of it was yours.

"None of the blood is mine," you dismissed, wiping your face with what was the only clean part of your sleeve. "Let's go. I hear more up ahead and Sam said that's where the shipment is."

Rounding the corner, you were faced with another cluster of goons with weapons aimed at your small group. They stood a good distance away in front of two shipping containers that were being readied for transport. Sam landed beside you along with a group of agents. Bucky pushed you behind him and Steve raised his shield to cover you both. Billy chirped in the comms that the snipers had repositioned and were ready. All of that barely registered with you, white noise against the rage that was brewing, because behind enemy lines was the goal you've been chasing for a decade.

Salvacion.

"I have to say," he drawled. His voice, the first you're hearing of now, sending a chill down your spine. "I expected more from the Avengers. You didn't even bring Iron Man. I'm disappointed."

"Give up the serum," Steve growled.

"No. I don't think I will," he answered. "Kill them all."

All hell broke loose once more; fists, bullets, knives, and a shield flying in every direction. Bucky and Steve kept close to you, shielding you from most of the shots as you advanced. You gunned down every bastard you saw but your eyes never strayed from Salvacion who was just standing there watching the clash.

Taunting you.

Something nagged at the back of your head as you fought. It was unusual for the syndicates to be deploying this many people to a single location even if it was for the serum. While you were thanking every god you knew for luckily drawing Salvacion on this mission, his presence was also peculiar. Something else was going on.

Something else was here.

The syndicates were pushing back on your team hard, but you were making a dent in their numbers. When you saw Salvacion start walking away, that was when you felt the panic stir in your mind.

"I can't let him get away, Steve!"

You ignored his and Bucky's calls for you as you made a mad dash straight through the fight, efficiently shooting and stabbing anyone who dared get in your path. You were consumed with the purpose of reaching him, of finally being able to end it all.

You left the larger fight behind you in favor of this more personal one, the noise receding as you chased him farther. You caught a glimpse of him making his way up stacked containers and you sped up your run. You didn't even think twice about climbing the height. Nevermind potential broken bones. Nevermind getting cornered. Nevermind that you had no backup.

Salvacion would die today.

When you reached the top, you were surprised to see him standing there waiting for you but also that he wasn't alone. You raised your gun to match the one he was aiming at you, but he merely tutted and smirked. His other hand also had a gun, this one aimed up the chin of the person he was holding captive in front of him.

Kim.

The amount of irritation this woman was bringing into your life was starting to get on your nerves. She was delegated on your team for this mission and you stifled the aggravated groan as you noticed that she was bleeding heavily from both shoulders causing her to not be able to fight back.

Top agent my ass.

"Hello, Nemesis," Salvacion grinned at you. "Or should I call you Y/N? Much more personal given our history, don't you think?"

Your name on his lips caused a wave of nausea and a sneer to grace your lips. You raised your gun higher, narrowing your eyes as his own pressed harder against Kim's skin. It wasn't an idle threat.

"Nice of you to show up for once. Was beginning to think you were avoiding me."

"Come now. Don't you enjoy our little game of cat and mouse?"

A game.

This was all a game to him and the malevolent smile on his face confirmed that. The fury in you burned, almost making you physically shake. Killing Lily was nothing to him while it had completely consumed your life. It had become your driving force while to him you were merely entertainment.

"You're going to let me go," he declared, fully confident.

"Is that so?"

"Yes," he dragged out. "Or else your teammate here will die."

"What makes you think I give a shit?" you scoffed. "Go ahead."

The way Kim's eyes widened in terror brought a sick sense of pleasure in you that you shouldn't be proud of. Salvacion let out a low laugh, amusement clear in his tone.

"Oh, dear child. No matter how much spite you wrap yourself with, you are the same naive hero wannabe you always were," he snickered. "Self-sacrificing. Even at the expense of your sister."

"You don't talk about Lily, you bastard!" you screamed, your grip shaking slightly on your weapon.

All of a sudden it was hard to breathe and your heartbeat was hammering in your ears. You didn't expect that finally facing him, hearing him talk about Lily like she was inconsequential, would shake you to your core. This was what you have been waiting for. This was what you have been building up to for the past decade. This was your purpose for living.

What were you waiting for?

"I am feeling generous today. Consider it my gift to commemorate our first official meeting," he said.

"What the fuck are you on?" you growled.

"Open the containers," he smiled. "See you soon, Y/N."

He abruptly tossed Kim to the side, pushing her off the ledge of the containers you were on and bolted away with a mad cackle. You shot at his retreating figure, desperately trying to aim through the turbulent emotions he inspired in you. You were going to chase after him when a yelp of pain caught your attention.

Kim was hanging by one hand off the edge, obviously struggling to hold herself up with her busted shoulders. You were too high up for her to survive the fall and she was too injured to help herself. Her grip was slipping.

"Y/N! Help me please!"

A dark shadow passed through your features. Saving her would mean Salvacion would definitely escape. Again. You didn't know if you would ever get another chance at him or when that would be.

You didn't like this woman. You never did. She tormented your youth, took joy in it even and as you reunited nothing changed. She was the same egotistic bully she always was. This was a dangerous mission. People die in the line of fire.

It happens. No one would blame you.

"Please!"

"Fuck!"

You dropped your weapon and clasped both hands on hers to pull her up. You strained with the effort, Kim being a deadweight adding to the struggle. You let go when half her body was safely on top, her legs swinging up to roll herself flat onto the surface. She was crying and whimpering from the fear and pain. You couldn't help the anger that bubbled to the surface.

You slapped her face.

"Get your goddamn shit together," you roared at her. "I don't have time for this. Call for evac, princess."

You ran toward the sound of helicopter blades, jumping onto crates and jolting your bones at the impact. You didn't care. The renewed rage had steadied you, calmed you almost to the point that the only thing you could see in your mind was taking him out. You had faltered and you would beat yourself up about that later, but you couldn't let him slip away again.

The helicopter was already starting to take off, Salvacion clearly visible through the open door. You cocked your gun and fired away. Empty. You slipped another gun out and fired. Empty. You kept running toward him, drawing and firing every last bullet you had as you screamed your frustration with every shot that missed.

You noticed that you managed to get a few through him by the way his body jerked. You were feeling optimistic until he reached around and pulled out a rocket launcher. You saw the sinister grin before he fired.

"Nem!" You heard your name being called, but you were too stunned by the horrible realization that you had failed today. You watched the helicopter slowly make it's way farther and farther behind the rocket that was hurtling toward you.

Even if you ran, the area of impact would still tear right through you. You were frozen in place, unable to process that this was how it would end. That it would end in you dying by his hand as well. That it would end without you making it up to Lily.

Your internal struggle was interrupted by a large body completely engulfing yours. The impact of the rocket threw you both to the ground and the loud explosion accompanied by ripping metal deafened your ears.

You struggled with your vision, the ringing in your head was painful and your body sore from crashing down. Oddly, your skull itself didn't feel injured. All of the pain seemed to be concentrated on your torso. You blinked a few times to focus the blur of your eyes as the repeated chanting of your name became louder.

"Are you okay, doll? Answer me, Nem! Come on."

"Bucky?"

Your sight finally focused to find that it was the brunette super soldier on top of you, covering you from what would have certainly been your death. The dread on his face gave way to a tired relief at you finally responding.

He pressed his forehead to yours and closed his eyes, taking deep steadying breaths. You noticed now that he was wincing and that his flesh arm was underneath you, supporting your back and cradling your head. His metal arm was detached, a mangled mess of forcibly severed wires and metal plates sticking out from his shoulder. Your eyes widened in realization.

"Bucky, your arm," you started to struggle underneath him, knowing he must be in a world of pain.

He shushed you by rubbing the tip of his nose against yours. Your eyes met icy blue ones and you saw him smile weakly, as if telling you it was worth it. He wouldn't hesitate to catch a missile with his arm again if it meant protecting you.

The rest of the boys reached you shortly after, Sam took Bucky and informed you that evac and medics were here. You were still in shock from what just happened. Billy took you gingerly in his arms, endlessly fussing at you and apologizing for not being able to do more even if you understood it was impossible for him to have tracked you through the chaos. Steve stood to the side, obviously furious at himself for not going to you even if you understood it was only right that he led the main fight.

Your body felt like it had gone through a war and you were too emotionally distressed to address anything else. You felt defeated. You felt at a loss. You failed Lily again today. Suddenly, you remembered what he told you.

His gift.

"Steve, Salvacion told me to open the shipments. He said it was a gift from him."

You didn't wait for them to respond, dragging your battered body limping across the yard to the crates. Billy recovered first, quickly jogging up to support your battered body straight with his. Steve followed closely behind, the uneasiness clouding the three of you. The locks were easily broken by Steve's shield and soon your gift was revealed.

What you saw drained the blood from all of you and caused your skin to immediately chill. It was the most sickening thing any of you have ever seen in your lives and that was saying something. How anyone could do this was beyond comprehension.

People. Dozens of people.

Crammed inside the steel box were dozens of people in various states of distress. All of them had barely any life left in them, barely sustained by the various IV bags hooked on their bodies. They hardly reacted when the doors were opened, too spent by what they had been made to go through to even blink. You suspected that a good portion of those who were not moving at all were dead. The smell was horrendous and this was coming from people who were about to be shipped to god knows where.

The horror you felt heightened to epic levels when you noticed that some of the drip bags held a different colored fluid, the distinct color of the super soldier serum. Then it clicked and the nausea finally overcame you. You poured your guts out onto the pavement, your stomach heaving violently as the truth made your vision spin.

Human testing.

Human experimentation.

And you had let the bastard escape.

Steve was going to approach you, clueless as he was on how to help you at that moment, but you had scrambled out of reach and ran out of the shipment yard. He called after you readying himself to go to you, but Billy's grip on his forearm stilled him.

"We're not who she needs right now, Cap," Billy shook his head. "Right now these people need us more."

"Where's she going?" Steve asked, swallowing hard on the lump in his throat and reluctantly agreeing.

"She'll be fine. Matt will find her."

Matt found you hours later. He had returned badly beaten and bruised from their own mission, but upon receiving word from Billy he pushed aside every painful injury he felt and rushed to where he knew he would find you. His chest tightened when he was told what you had seen. It was bad enough that you were carrying the guilt of your sister's death, but now you had the weight of all the lives that were victimized by these sick people too. It was too much for one person to bear.

He found you in the confession booth of the church on the corner of a quiet street and he couldn't see the broken look on your face when he opened the door, but he could feel it. He heard it in your unusually slow heartbeat, as if your organs were trying to give up. He heard it in the shallow breaths you took, as if the act of living was a betrayal in itself. He heard it in the cry that was begging to break through you throat. He could almost taste your despair.

He slowly knelt in front of you and pulled you urgently into his arms, squeezing himself into the tight space. He held you against him, clutching you tight and rocking you gently back and forth. This was an open secret shared between the two of you. When the darkness was overwhelming, you turned to each other and confessed. He pulled away after a long moment, cradling your face firmly in his palms. His thumbs brushed against your dry cheeks. Of course you hadn't been crying.

There were no more left to shed.

"Talk to me," he muttered, pressing his lips softly against yours.

"He experimented on a lot of people," you muttered. "And I let him go, Matty. I've been letting him carry on for ten years."

Your tone was almost a hoarse whisper, devoid of much emotion apart from a cold defeat. This worried him, but at least you were talking. You had known when you were being tortured that they Hydra hadn't perfected the serum. They kept torturing you in the hopes that they could get you to reveal anything about the formula, Steve and Bucky's abilities, or where samples of their blood were stored. You didn't talk.

Maybe you should have talked.

When the syndicates got their hands on the incomplete formula, they were faced with the same problem. A problem they apparently decided to solve by trial and error on actual people. You knew this. At the back of your mind you knew this, but it didn't register until you saw it for yourself tonight. Somehow you had ignored that fact because you had only been focused on your own grief.

"I let him go. I did this, Matty," you breathed, the guilt clear in your voice.

"No! You did not let him go. The bastard got away," he insisted. "And this is not your fault. I won’t let you think that this is your fault."

"No," you argued weakly. "I let him go. I had a shot at stopping him tonight and I didn't take it."

"Steve told me. You stopped to save Kim." The movement of his thumbs on your cheeks changed to soothing circles. "You stopped to save a teammate. That was a good thing."

You scoffed. "I wanted her to die."

"What?"

"For a solid moment as she was hanging on for her life, I wanted to let her die."

"She's alive now because of you, Nem. You fought it. You're strong. You didn't give into it."

"But what if that's what I need to do? If I did I could have ended Salvacion tonight."

You could have ended it all tonight.

Salvacion's words tonight plagued you. if you didn't try to play the hero then this whole twisted operation could have been stopped. If you didn't try to play the hero then you would have gotten your revenge for Lily. If you didn't play the hero then Lily wouldn't even be dead. You had wanted to save people so much, make a difference in the world, that you didn't stop and think about how that would impact the people you held most dear.

"You don't honestly believe that, do you?" Matt asked cautiously, he knew more than anyone the struggle you faced. All of you were just a bad day away from completely snapping.

"I don't know," you admitted in defeat. You sounded so tired and confused that it broke his heart.

He held you for a moment more, waiting for your heart and breathing to return to normal. He didn't know what else to do or what else to tell you. He didn't know how to help you this time. Just then, he sensed the arrival of a Maximoff twin.

"Pietro's outside. I'll ask him to take you away for a while," he shook his head when he felt you were about to protest. "You need a break and you need some peace."

He led you outside, his pace slower than normal as your shoulders slumped lower to the ground in resignation. He exchanged a few words with Pietro before he pressed a kiss to your temple and pushed you toward the other man.

"Come with me, little star. I'll take care of you."

The next thing you knew, Pietro had lifted you into his arms and asked you to close your eyes. You buried your face into his neck as you felt the world around you dissolve in a blur, your hair whipped around but you weren't scared. The steady grip he had on you assured you that you would be safe. When he told you to open your eyes, you had no idea where you were or how long you had been traveling.

"Where are we?"

He gently set you on your feet as you looked around the area. It was beautiful. A dense lush forest that opened up to a lake with a small cabin. Isolated. Quiet.

Peaceful.

Immediately you felt your body relax in the new environment. It was so far removed from anything and everything that it allowed you to let go of the tight hold you had on your life. It allowed you to let go of the rage for a moment.

"Sokovia," he answered. "This is mine. When Wanda and I were little, even before the enhancements, our connection was strong and can be overwhelming. I needed a place that was only my own."

"Wanda doesn't know about this?"

"No, it is the only secret I have ever kept from her. I've never brought anyone else here."

Turning to him, you could see the shy smile on his face. There was a reluctance there, as if he was nervous that his little hideaway would not be good enough for you. You were quick to shoot that thought down.

"It's beautiful, Pietro. Thank you for sharing this with me."

His smile brightened as he approached you and held both your hands in his. "We can stay for as long as you want to. I can go into town and get us more supplies. We can swim in the lake if you like and I can cook you paprikash. You'll love it."

He was so excited. So happy to be able to spend time with you. Elated to be able to share this sentimental place with someone else, but he saw the sadness in your eyes and it made him force himself to slow down. The smile on his face dimmed.

"Do you want to go somewhere else? I can take you anywhere you like."

The heartbreak and disappointment in his voice alerted you. You hurriedly wound your arms around his shoulders and forced his eyes to meet yours. You recognized the way he looked at you, but it was only now that you really noticed that he has always looked at you that way. He was so pure. So honest. So good.

He was too good for you.

"No, Pietro. This is perfect. You're perfect." You tried to smile up at him. "I don't deserve you."

Just like that he understood you. He drew you closer by the waist and pressed a soft kiss at the corner of your mouth. When he drew back, his smile lit up his face again.

"Why do you need to deserve me, little star?" he chuckled at the puzzled look on your face, finding it adorable. "Can I not just choose to love you?"

You frowned and he just laughed more. He shushed your protests by pulling you flush against his body, lowering his head to hover his lips mere inches from yours. He left this small distance as your choice to make just as he has made his.

"Let me choose to love you."

You could feel his breath on your face at this distance, see the sparkle of anticipation in his eyes, and his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

You made your choice.

Kissing Pietro has to be the most comforting experience that you had ever felt. He tasted like hot chocolate on a rainy day and you felt your body melt when he returned the gesture. You were sighing against his lips when the now familiar feeling of him dashing turned it into a surprised squeal. You blinked and you were lying down on a soft mattress with Pietro grinning down at you.

You laughed as you shared more kisses, hands giddily exploring each other and tearing away pieces of clothing until nothing lay between you. For the first time in a long time, you felt insecure about your scars. For the first time, you were reluctant for someone to see them. Again, just like that he understood you.

"You're beautiful, little star. You have always been beautiful to me."

He kissed you again, deeply and full of emotion that you melted into the bed. His lips traveled down your neck, your chest, your stomach. He stopped to nip and suck at the inside of your thighs causing you to involuntarily moan his name. Lower he went until his mouth was working gentle swirls on your sensitive bud. Your hips grinded against his tongue, desperately seeking more.

He pressed his mouth fully on you then, adding a finger much to your delight. He ate you like he worshipped you. Like he was blessed with the opportunity to bring you pleasure. Your body sang his praises, reacting with equal enthusiasm by soon reaching your orgasm. You shook beneath him as he allowed you to ride out your high, soothing you with gentle hands rubbing circles on your hips. He was smirking at you when he crawled up, satisfied that he had made you cum but clearly aiming for more.

He kissed you again as he lined himself up against your core, sliding it against your slit to coat it with your slick. He wasn't even inside you yet and you already felt like you were ready to cum. He held your gaze, silently asking for permission that this was still what you wanted. Instead of answering, you moved your hips to slip his length inside causing him to drag out a hiss and capture your mouth again. The groan you both let out when he bottomed out vibrated through your fused lips.

"You feel incredible," he whispered. "You feel so good wrapped around me. Just like I always thought you would."

"Pietro, please."

His strokes were slow and deep, hitting that special spot inside you that had you panting with want. The smooth roll of his hips was quickly driving you higher and higher toward another orgasm. It was so gentle. So sensual. So personal.

"Tell me what you want, little star."

Everything about Pietro's life had been one big event after another. Rushed decisions. Angry fighting. Missions. Even his very enhancement relied on speed.

He didn't want that with you.

With you he wanted to slow everything down. He wanted to savor every moment. He wanted to stop time if he could, keep you in his arms for as long as possible. Freeze you in this exact moment when all you felt was pleasure.

"More," you pleaded.

Maybe he could speed up just a little bit.

His strokes gradually hastened and he glowed with satisfaction at seeing you delirious with desire because of him. He palmed at your breasts, nipped at your neck, and bucked his hips just a bit harder.

"More."

He smiled. How could he deny you? He lifted you up until you were seated on him, holding you firmly with an arm up your back with his hand fisting in your hair. The other hand he slipped between the two of you to rub against your clit. You saw the wicked glint in his eyes before he dipped his head to lave at your breasts.

You felt like you were going to explode from the different sensations. That was until he decided to move your body to bounce on his cock, his own hips thrusting up to meet you and his hand on your back guiding you to wind your hips as you came down. Your clit hit his pelvis each time and another wave was added onto your building climax. You whined, moaned, and pleaded his name. Begging him to grant you release.

“Let go for me. I have you. Let go.“

He growled against your breast and pounded up into you until you screamed and shook above him, clenching him so hard you pulled his own orgasm out of him. He spilled into you, crushing you against him as you continued to flutter around him.

You fought to catch your breath and when you caught each other's eyes, still hazy from lust, you laughed. You felt free. You felt renewed. You kissed him then.

"I love you too, Pietro."

He looked at you with unrestrained adoration. He had been chasing after you for so long that he could hardly believe that he had finally caught you. That he was finally yours.

"What? You didn't see that coming?" you teased.

He chuckled and pulled you in for another lingering kiss. You felt so good in his arms that he has completely forgotten how it felt to not have you in them.

"I meant what I said earlier," he murmured against the skin of your shoulder. "If you want to we can runaway. I can take you away from all of this. We can stay here or we can go anywhere else."

He smiled warmly at you and pecked your lips when he saw the internal conflict flash through your features. Again, without a word he understood you.

"But I know that is not what you want," he reassured you. "I just wanted you to know that you have that choice if you should want it."

Tempting as his offer was, you knew you couldn't let go of Lily's memory. You would never truly be at peace until Salvacion was rotting six feet under and his whole operation was blown to bits. You couldn't leave your mission unfinished. And you couldn't bear to leave four other men behind. Looking back at the events of the past night, it felt more accurate to say five. Still, there was a sense of security from knowing you had that option.

"Let's go home."

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A/N: Okay let’s take a vote. Should we forgive Bucky now?

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