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shooting-love-arrows · 1 year ago

Note

could you write where darling wakes up and sees 1950s husband in the middle of his morning routine and finds out hes not as neat as they thought?

but instead of taking it badly they love him even more

Dear Anon,

Aww, that's heartwarming!

@shooting-love-arrows

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎'𝐬! 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃 and not so perfect morning

PAIRING: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 x reader (gender not specified/mentioned/implied) Tw. angsty, hurt and comfort. A/N: I decided to take into consideration this question when writing this fic. So it is longer and about our dearest 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Squeeack…

You were awoken by the quiet and familiar sound of the bathroom door being open. It means only one thing: your dear husband was currently in the bathroom. Like every other day during this time around.

“Ugh…” A soundless groan of misery left your mouth. Unluckily you didn't sleep well that night. Your sleep was shallow and you couldn't seem to find a comfortable position. Not to mention you woke up to every sound you could hear. And just when you were slipping into a blissful dreamland, your bathroom doors decided to prevent you from slipping further. For now, you snuggled closer to your fluffy pillow. Your thoughts began to roam freely but at some point focused on something that has been bothering you for a while.

It was confusing.

At the very beginning of your marriage, you found it surprising. Not many people were that determined to wake up early in the morning. After a few months, you reasoned that it was just part of his personality. Perhaps a perfectionist problem? Part of his routine he didn’t want to stray from? You didn’t know and you didn’t want to pray. Your logic was that if he wants to share it with you, he’ll do so. But after months turned into years, with you still being left in the dark, you began to feel…doubt.

“Why does he do that?” You wondered more than once. You had no idea what was the reason why your sweetheart got up before you, shuffled around the bathroom, only to come back to bed right before your alarm clock rang, like nothing ever happened. “What does he do there? Should I ask him? Does he want me to ask him? Maybe I should wait for him to tell me himself?”

So many questions, so little answers…

You sighed heavily. It looks like you won’t be able to catch some zzz’s anymore. You were too awake, especially with your mind running miles an hour.

“What a pity…” You rolled over your back and groggily opened your eyes. You blinked a few times to adjust your eyesight. The familiar white ceiling of your cozy bedroom greeted you like an old friend. Streams of warm sunlight were shyly peaking in the room from behind the gaps of the closed curtains. Everything stood still. It was peaceful. You let yourself sink into the soft bed and strained your ears to hear your husband shuffling in the bathroom. You wanted to say you were content but… “What a pity he isn’t here with me…”

You let your eyes slide over to the other side of the bed. It tugged on your heart that it was cold and empty with a messily thrown blanket and a pillow with a dent the size of your husband's head is what has greeted you. It was a let down. You wished he was there to greet you with his brilliant smile that seemed to light up the room, whisper to you a ‘good morning, my darling’ that always caused your heart to skip a beat and let you kiss his soft lips that perfectly molded with yours. This is what you needed to start a good day.

Involuntarily you did a big and satisfying stretch. Your body felt heavy and begged you to stay in. Just lay down…under those fluffy blankets. Let yourself relax and wait for your dearest husband to climb back beside you. Wake up to him and cherish those kisses you'll share…

“I’m spoiled fella, aren’t I?”

There was no point in dwelling about such matters this early in the morning.

With a heavy sigh, you bravely fought those demons of laziness and decided to get up. You decided to invest this energy in something productive instead. And there’s so much to do around the house!

“Hold on a moment…isn’t my husband in the bathroom?” Your mind went blank before you eagerly jumped out of your bed. You wouldn’t miss a chance to spend more time with the love of your life.

You shuffled towards your bathroom, barely containing your happiness. So high on positive emotions and not expecting anything unusual, you didn’t even hesitate to open the door.

Squeeack!

There was a beat of silence. Both of you froze for entirely different reasons.

You stopped mid stride when entering the small space. Your jaw went slack when your eyes took a closer look at your husband. Your shoulder dropped and you took a deeper breath. His face was…bare. His glistening face seemed to be freshly washed since it was glowing in the warm light. He…he was mesmerizing.

While you were too busy admiring the entirely new side of your husband you didn’t notice how 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 seemed to be feeling the exact opposite of you. His eyes widened till the white was showing around his irises and his stare didn’t dare to stray from you. His breathing quickened and his body began to fold, hoping to make himself smaller.

This couldn’t be happening…it can’t be! How…why are you awake? Why are you here? You…fuck…you found him out!

“Swee — ”

“This can’t be happening…! You…no…how…?” You were cut off by your husband's quiet and wobbly muttering. Your eyebrows threw together and your body grew still. You were quick to note how your husband hid his face from you and was hunched over the sink. You heard just how heavy his breathing has become. Something was clearly wrong.

“Sweetheart…?”

The reality around 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 became more vivid. His senses heightened to the point he was sure he could feel his surroundings. He was sinking so deep into his headspace he began to get lost there. Everything was becoming too much. His head, his thoughts and his feelings were ripping him apart. And the reason behind it was very valid. Whatever he has built around his person, whatever worth he had in your eyes and the control were gone with the swing of those blasted doors!

“Dearest?”

He was falling apart.

You flinched back (but only because you didn’t expect it) when he started laughing hysterically. Your concern for your husband only grew tenfold when you saw his state worsening by every second. You wanted to help him however you didn’t understand what could be the cause of this. Was it…you?

It turns out you didn’t have more time to analyze the situation, because you had to rush over when you saw your husband crumbling to the floor. Before his body could hit the ground at full force, you caught him safely in your arms. He was hyperventilating and you feared that he would pass out from the lack of air. His body was shaking badly and muttering things under his nose like a madman. Just like you did many times before in different scenarios, you tucked his head into the crook of your neck, laid your chin on top of his head, brought him safely into your arms to hold him tightly. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 closed his eyes, brought his knees close to his chest and circled his arms around them. He curled into a tight ball, slowly rocking back and forth in your arms.

Sob…sob…sob…

But your heart broke when you heard the first sobs escaping his lips.

You really wished you would know what to say or do in that situation. You wished you were more educated on that matter so you could be useful. You wished you could fulfill your role as his lifetime partner to him. Unfortunately, for now you had to rely on your instinct with a promise to be better and aid your husband in the time of need.

Starting now.

“Let it out love…let it out…” You whispered against his ear and started caressing his head. Sweet nothings began to pour out of your mouth soon after. Half of his curls were freed from the curlers and you carefully carded your fingers through them in a soothing motion.

“Y…you…u…fo…fou…nd…out…!” He wailed in your neck after a while of intense crying. His voice held nothing but despair, pain and heartbreak. Not to mention he could barely speak with how violent his sobs were. You blinked rapidly, scrambling to understand what he meant by that.

“What have I found out, dearest husband?” You lowered your voice.

“You…you…w…will…leave…leave…me!” He choked out those words like he didn’t hear your question.

Your eyes widened when you heard this statement. How could he think you’ll leave him? What’s the reasoning behind this logic? Are you failing as a partner? Apparently so because otherwise, your husband shouldn’t be saying, nor even thinking, about such dark thoughts.

Some moments passed before you opened your mouth again.

“For better and for worse…for better, for worse…for richer, for poorer…in sickness and in health…until death do us part.” You whispered those sacred vows, engraved in your mind till the end of your time. You squeezed him tighter so your bodies were melting against each other. Your husband's eyes widened when he heard them, especially when laced with so much love and adoration just like during your wedding. His chest was heaving up and down, violent hiccups jolting his body. His face was flushed, fat tears pouring from his eyes and snot steadily coming down his nose.

He was at his worst, ugly and disgusting. And you…you dared to say those words? Why…?

“Be it whether you’re at your best, at your worst, when we’re young and when we’ll grow old, whether you wear your makeup or not. I am here for you.” You swallowed thickly and fought against your own tears. Your husband needs you and you won’t fail him ever again.

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝟏𝟗𝟓𝟎’𝐬! 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 processed your words before he let out another wail that echoed in the bathroom. You felt your husband latching onto your waist and clutching onto it tightly. He was afraid that if he won’t hold tight enough you’ll get up and leave him for good. He buried his face in your neck and continued to cry harder. He was reduced to a crying mess and shadow of the person he usually portrays himself as.

“I will never cease to love you, the dearest love of my life.”

All of the published posts on this account/blog belongs to @shooting-love-arrows. I do not consent to my works being: translated, stolen, published or reposted on this and other sites. Likes, reblogs, comments are highly appreaciated. Thank you.

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lordprettyflackotara · 6 months ago

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dollhouse || jeff the killer

SMUT. MINORS DNI. 18+. PLEASE READ TW LIST: MURDER, YOU ARE A CREEP/MURDERER, blood kink? kinda?, choking, hate sex, enemies to prob lovers trope, orgasm denial, etc etc. yes there will be a part two ;) <3

part two

“God fucking dammit!”

The screech left your mouth involuntarily, your hand gripping the back door and slamming it shut. The sound echoed through out the kitchen, your vision borderline seeing red. You continued to mutter curses under your breath as you stormed into the living room. Ben nearly bent his neck backwards trying to look at you from the couch, “Uh, something wrong?”

Your eyes were shooting daggers as you looked at him. The blonde would’ve cowered in fear if he didn’t find you tragically attractive. (Considering you’ve made it very clear you are off limits from any mansion residents). “I got a fucking assignment like i’m a goddamn proxy,” You grumbled, stomping into the living room. Lazily you flopped down on the couch beside Ben, running your fingers through your hair.

Ben playfully elbowed you. “Oh cmon, that’s not that bad. Every creep has had to go on a mission for Slendy at one time or another,” He said cheerfully, resuming his button mashing on his xbox controller. You slumped in your seat, sighing as you propped up your head.

“Yeah, but not every creep has been paired with Jeffrey Woods.”

“Don’t flatter yourself sunshine, i’m not happy to be paired with you either,” Jeffs cold voice rang from the staircase. Ben looked back and forth between you to, pausing his game. “Oh and call me that again and i’ll slit your throat,” Jeff barked. He casually strolled down the stairs, parking himself in his usual chair by the window. You refrained from looking at him, his face making you physically sick. “I don’t know what you’re complaining about either. If I were you i’d be dropping my fucking panties and praising Slender,” Jeff continued. His rambling was growing tiresome, your patience becoming thinner.

You and Jeff were equally as aggressive, which led to many disputes and many more fist fights. Jeff never knew when to shut his mouth and you never knew when to stop throwing punches. “You single handedly have the best killer on your team and you’re still running your mouth. At this point it’s a mystery why your folks didn’t stitch it shut,” Jeff snickered. Your ears twitched visibly, your eyes widening at the sound of him mentioning your human family. Your human life.

In a swift motion you dug the (carefully thought out) emergency knife from the couch, throwing it at his head. You were known for your aim, your accuracy. The blade whisked past Jeff, digging into the wall. “You’re gonna break a window!” Ben screeched. Jeff frowned, glaring at the knife in the wall behind him. “You missed doll face,” He seethed. You grinned your petty scheme paying off.

“Did I?”

A warm liquid began trickling down Jeff’s ear, his fingers reaching to identify the source. Crimson red blood stained his fingertips, the lobe of his ear nipped by the launched blade. “You bitch i’ll kill you!” Jeff yelled, rising from his seat. You matched his energy, standing up immediately. Despite Jeff’s tall size you refused to let him intimate you, your gaze always burning with a sincere hatred. Ben was quick to hop around you, wedging himself in between you both.

“Guys let’s think about this, you know Slender’s rules,” The blonde suggested. Typically Ben didn’t give two shits about Creeps wrestling it out. Shit, last week he let Masky throw Toby into the coffee table. (Shattered it, by the way.) But he genuinely liked the both of you, considering you both his best friends. Your eyes flickered past Jeff for a moment, landing at the disney princess clock Sally had requested.

“Shit we’re late. Clean yourself up and let’s go.”

One key thing was to be known about Slender missions: if you had any questions, you kept them to yourself. This is what you tried to convince yourself as you pulled on a set of scrubs. Cosplaying as a nurse was not on your bucket list, certainly not like this. “Could you be any slower?” Jeff huffed. You both stood in the back alley of the hospital, a keycard having been delivered to you to gain entry. Jeff stood on the other side of the car, facing the wall. You threatened to scoop his eyes out if he looked at you changing, the mere threat alone leading to half of his annoyance.

“Oh im sorry, maybe if your face didn’t look like it went through a meat grinder you could’ve been the doctor,” You spat, venom lacing your words. You shoved on your face mask, your key card pinned to your shirt. You rounded the car, shoving Jeff his sunglasses and blue face mask. “Do I look legit?” You asked. Jeff scowled as he shoved on the sunglasses, shoving his hood over his head. “I wouldn’t trust you with a walnut, nevertheless my life,” He snarled. You had learned long ago to discard anything Jeff said to you, no matter how hurtful or spiteful it seemed to be.

But he noticed your eyebrows briefly furrowing, your eyes flickering with concern you didn’t look nurse like enough to complete the mission. “But yeah I guess you look like a healthcare professional,” Jeff finished, shoving his face mask on. You locked the car, shoving the keys into your scrubs. Jeff’s part was to play a sick patient, one you were taking to the emergency wing. The same wing where they had a lab with copious amounts of blood bags. Again, you were never supposed to ask questions. But you couldn’t help but wonder what or who Slender would be feeding with these bags.

“Why did you make me wash my hoodie again? The blood on it could’ve looked like I was coughing it up,” Jeff asked. Jeff was notorious for not wanting to wash his hoodie. You figured it was an ego thing, pride always seeming to drip off of him when he paraded around in his victims blood. Grabbing your keycard you bypassed the pitiful security system, the door unlocking with a click. You grabbed him by his shoulder, assertively guiding him inside. “Yeah we would’ve wanted you to look like you were coughing up blood, not coming back from a murder scene,” You whispered. The bright hospital lights were borderline overstimulating, your vision narrowing as you struggled to remember instructions.

Jeff sensed this, fake coughing and jerking his head towards the sign. West wing. Great. You led Jeff through the busy hospital, nodding respectfully at any medical staff that made eye contact with you. No one seemed suspicious, just another human nursing a sick patient back to health, right? The journey felt longer than it was, your nerves gnawing at you. It wasn’t the fear of being identified necessarily. You and Jeff (if you managed to work together as a team) could certainly slaughter this entire hospital floor and get away. It’s not like many would try to fight you both off either.

Creeps were not to make spectacles of themselves by having their identifies revealed to humans. Camera systems were in place, people had cell phones, police were nowadays just one click away. If you both failed to remain secretive, you’d violate one of Slender’s rules. And if you cared to live another day with more than three brain cells in tact, you did not disobey Slender.

Finally reaching the west wing brought instant relief, both of you reaching your destination. You swiped your keycard, both of you pushing into the room. A middle aged man stood at the counter, turning around to see who had entered. He briefly turned back around, before realizing Jeff did not appear to be medical staff. You shoved a metal cart in front of the door, Jeff quick to take out the threat. “Go to sleep,” He snickered, slitting the man’s throat. You rolled your eyes, grabbing a trash bag from under the sink.

“gO tO sLeEp,” You muttered mockingly. You wondered when he’d retire the corny catchphrase. You threw your mask aside, tired of playing pretend. Jeff strolled over to the fridge, yanking open the door. Blood pooled on the floor beneath his shoes, staining them as he crouched down. Jeff wasn’t bothered in any capacity, reaching out to grab a trash bag. You both began shoving the bags into the bag, grabbing each and every type. “Wait did Slender want the different blood types in different bags?” Jeff asked. You sighed, ignoring him as he stopped and looked at you. He yanked off the mask and tossed aside the sunglasses, his obsidian eyes boring into yours. “He didn’t specify,” You shrug, grabbing another row of bags.

“He didn’t specify? So why wouldn’t you do it then?” Jeff asked. You rolled your eyes, dropping your hands. “What does it matter? We’re putting bags of blood into trash bags and delivering it like we’re in the twilight zone. We don’t even know what this is for,” You argued. You went to grab another bag, Jeff’s pale hand harshly grabbing your arm. “Exactly, we don’t know what it’s for. Meaning we should play it safe,” Jeff debated. You yanked your arm away from him, disgusted by his touch. Angrily you dropped the trash bag, standing up.

“You just want an excuse to argue. I knew you would fuck this mission up,” You growled. Jeff rose to his feet, towering over you as he did so. “I’m fucking up the mission? You’re the one who’s being sloppy,” He said, poking your chest. You shoved his shoulders, hating his touch. “You’re the sloppy one. Yeah Jeff get your shoes stained with the humans blood so they can look for it later. We’ll just have to burn it in the middle of nowhere,” You said, gesturing to his shoes. Jeff rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. “Them knowing my shoes, which by the way, are converse, which half of the planet owns, is not a big fucking deal,” He said mockingly.

You threw your arms up, exasperated. “Yes it is! Because then they’ll link it to any other crime they’ve captured with a stupid pale guy in converse and it’ll be all over the news, and you know how Slender hates the media-” You began, before the hallway light stopped your sentence for you. Two nurses shoved their way inside of the room, both of you freezing. Shit.

Jeff grabbed both of them by their scrubs, yanking them inside and slamming the door. He shoved his hand over the first one’s mouth, slamming her onto the cold floor. Your victim seemed dumbfounded, her eyes widening in the same fear that dripped off of every victim of yours. “Dont scream bitch, whatever you do, don’t scream,” You suggested. You didn’t look visibly armed, maybe she’d listen to you. As Jeff repeatedly stabbed her coworker in the chest, she changed her mind. A shallow gasp left her lips before you were on her like a wild animal, your pocket knives blade stabbing her from the underside of her chin.

Not your preferred method, gallons of her blood pouring down onto you and your scrubs. Her eyes went blank as the soul left her body, her life officially drained. Crimson paint coated your entire front side, the skin on your arms stained with the color. “There is no fucking way i’m going to be able to walk through the hospital like this,” You seethed. You turned to Jeff, tossing the nurses limp corpse aside. “You should’ve been keeping a lookout instead of picking an argument!” You exclaimed. Jeff rose to his feet above his own victim, her organs on full display as smashed lumps of meat.

“Nothings ever your fault, is it sunshine? Maybe take some responsibility for your fuckups instead of pinning it on me,” Jeff spat. You hated him. You hated him beyond belief. You also hated that he in one way or another, was right. You let him get in your head and distract you from the mission. In a fit of rage you shoved at his chest, the pale killer having enough of your hissy fit. He shoved you back, pushing you against the counter. Slipping on the blood beneath you, you instinctively grabbed handfuls of Jeff’s hoodie, dragging him with you.

His body smashed into yours as your back hit the counter, both of you breathing heavily. You glared up at him, his body not deserting yours. He licked his dry lips, observing you from above. Your chin and neck were coated in blood, along with the rest of you. When Jeff came to think of it, you didn’t look half bad when your mouth was shut and you were covered in his favorite liquid. Glaring up at him you noticed he was stained the same way, splatters of blood painting his face. “I hate you,” You seethed. Jeff leaned in closer to you, his face an inch away from yours.

“I hate you too sunshine. Don’t ever think for a moment I don’t,” He replied. You could feel your heart beginning to race, the close proximity making your stomach do back flips. “Why would I think you don’t?” You asked. Jeff hesitated, knowing what he was about to do would change everything. But fuck he could not resist a hot chick covered in blood. “Cause of this,” He huffed, smashing his lips into yours. You were surprised to find yourself kissing him back, clashes of teeth ensuing more than a traditional kiss. His large hands helped you onto the counter, the pale killer wedging himself between your legs.

You wrapped your arms around Jeff’s neck, bringing him closer. You both were willingly jeopardizing the mission, all for a sweet release. Because you both knew deep down that you both were the same, cut from the same cloth. Jeff’s hands slid up your thighs, reaching for the hem of your scrubs. Your lips refusing to stray from his, awkwardly lifting your hips to help him take them off. Jeff’s tongue slid into your mouth, the faint taste of a monster energy drink dancing across your tongue. Jeff was quick to pull down your pants and panties, leaving you completely exposed.

“We don’t have much time,” You panted into his lips, nibbling on his bottom lip. Your hands reached for his pants, fiddling with the belt. Jeff rubbed two fingers up and down your slick, sickly satisfied with how wet you were for him. “You’re fucking drenched. I knew your slutty ass wanted me,” He snickered. You glared up at him, wrapping your legs around his waist. Without thinking you raised an open hand, slapping Jeff across the cheek. The stinging electrified him, his cock throbbing with a more intense desire.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” He seethed, shoving two fingers inside of you. You let out a groan, your hand slithering down to your clit. “Who are you supposed to be pretending to be now? Ben?” You asked, relishing in the sight of his pale cheek turning pink. He curled his long fingers inside of you, your eyes fluttering shut as you moaned. “You greedy bitch, pay attention,” Jeff growled. His spare hand flew to your throat, harshly gripping at the sides. Your eyes burst open, meeting his dark orbs. “Thats it, look at me as I ruin you,” Jeff ordered.

You began drawing quick circles around your clit, biting your inner lip. “You gonna make me cum or just keep talking?” You huffed, grinning as his grip on your neck tightened. Jeff continued finger fucking you, your groans music to his ears. “You sick bitch. You like me choking you, huh?” He taunted. You could feel yourself getting closer to the edge, your orgasm threatening to wash over you. Jeff could sense so too, releasing your throat and yanking away your hand from your clit. His fingers emerged from your cunt, just as you were teetering on the edge of cumming.

“You fucking asshole, fuck you,” You seethed. You spat in his face, your saliva coating the same cheek you slapped. Jeff picked you up off of the counter, slamming you against the closest wall. Aggressively he pulled down his pants and boxers, his lips meeting yours again. For such a prick he was intoxicating, his lips working wonders against yours. “Be patient for once you brat. You’re gonna cum on my cock like a good whore should,” Jeff grumbled, rubbing his shaft up and down your slick. He forcefully shoved himself inside of you, your body splitting in half as his dick bottomed out inside of you.

You gripped his blood stained hoodie, your palms covered in the liquid you could never escape. You swallowed as you screwed your eyes shut, attempting to adjust. Your body was tense and still, your breathing heavy. You expected Jeff to be a prick and move, ramming into you the way he wanted to. But he didn’t, his eyes watching you intently. Slowly and unsurely he grabbed your chin, forcing your head towards. His touch seemed too caring to be real, his lips working against yours again. Your body slowly relaxed, his lips bringing you ease.

Jeff hadn’t expected you to be overly experienced, your walls squeezing him like you were a virgin. An uneasy silence flooded between you to as you fully adjusted, your eyes fluttering open. “Jeff, move,” You ordered weakly, straying away from his heroin laced lips. The pale killer wanted to deny you, to make you beg for him. But as your victims blood pooled at his shoes once more, he knew he didn’t have time for that. He began moving quickly, his thrust rough and reckless. His cock abused your g spot just like his words abused your sanity.

“You’re bigger than I thought you’d be,” You huffed, unable to stop yourself from insulting the man who was providing you euphoric pleasure. Jeff laughed dryly, burying himself in the crook of your neck. “You’re tighter than I thought you’d be. I thought you’d be so desperate as to let EJ fuck you and stretch out this cunt of yours,” He rambled, jealousy ensuing. He hated how well you got along with EJ. He hated how seeing you laugh with him made him feel. He didn’t understand it. That nagging feeling. He couldn’t understand it. He didn’t want to understand it.

You licked your lips as you tried to contain your sinful noises, Jeffs name finally straying from your lips as he abused your cunt. “Thats it, moan my fucking name,” He praised, a sick satisfaction making his hips snap into you faster. His breath was hot against your neck, the twisted fucker licking the side of your neck. The taste of sweat and blood was intoxicating to him, the killer only more turned on by the taste. You could feel yourself finally close to the finish line, your hands combing into Jeff’s shaggy ash black hair.

“Fuck, right there. Please don’t stop,” You whined, unable to stop the plea from falling off of your lips. Who was Jeff to deny you of that? Your walls spasmed around him as you came, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. Jeff came with a grunt, huffing into your neck as his warm seed flooded your cunt. You both were frozen for a moment, the realization of what had just happened washing over you. You shoved Jeff’s chest, pushing him away from you. The pale killer backed away, removing himself from your cunt.

He watched as you shoved your clothes back on, grabbing the trash bag.

“Get dressed bitch boy, we have a mission to finish.”

#creepypasta #creepypasta smut #creepypasta x y/n #creepypasta x female reader #creepypasta x you #creepypasta lemon #creepypasta x reader #creep #jeff the killer #jeff the killer x y/n #jeff the killer x you #jeff the killer x reader #jeff the killer x eyeless jack #jeff the killer smut #jeff the killer x female reader

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whorefordean · 10 months ago

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mr. ghostface

wc: 1.6k

tw: language, unprotected sex, belly bulge, choking, slight degradation, slight dubcon perhaps, porn with barely any plot

a/n: this is pure filth, let me know if i missed anything!

p.s this is so ghostface!rafe coded however there is no name mentioned for gf. also @kaylablogsstuff i’m nervy

MDNI

you rolled your eyes as your phone rang for the third time. at this point, it's become a bigger burden to ignore it than to answer whoever the hell keeps disrupting your peaceful night.

you huff as you click answer and hold the phone up to your ear.

"hello?" you questioned impatiently, plopping down onto your bed.

"i'm a little offended, y/n. you write so fondly of me in this journal of yours, but you refuse to answer when i call," the distorted voice echoes throughout the receiver of your cellphone. embarrassment floods your system as you check your nightstand for your journal. shit.

"i don't know what you're talking about," you speak calmly as you try to slow your racing heart.

there's no way this is happening right now.

"so it wasn't you who wrote about how you would take ghostface's big cock like a good girl?" ghostface asked rhetorically. heat pooled low in your belly, causing you to clench your thighs together.

"tell me how much you enjoy this, princess" ghostface ordered, a teasing tone in his voice. unbeknownst to you, he was watching you struggle to gain some self control. you slowly drag your hand down your body, stopping to lightly trace random shapes against your skin once you reach your panties. you opt to put your phone on speaker and settle it beside your head.

"you look so pretty like that, princess. so desperate and needy."

you couldn't help the moan that tumbled out of your pouting lips. the tension in the silence is enough to send your hand into your panties.

"just couldn't wait, huh? such a whore that you couldn't wait any longer before rubbing your little cunt?" ghostface speaks. you shouldn’t be this turned on by the degradation you’re receiving from a killer, but everyone has their flaws.

"you've read my journal. been wantin' you for so long, mr. ghostface," you answer honestly as you begin to tease your clit. you can hear shuffling on his end, and it's clear that he's touching himself too. his soft moans are echoing throughout your room.

"can you see me, mr. ghostface?" you ask breathlessly as you continue rubbing your slick. grunts echo through the phone, causing you to whimper in response.

"fuck. yea i can, princess," ghostface moans out before speaking again.

"i can see how wet your pretty little pussy is just from knowing i'm watching you," his voice is teasing, and you’re positive he can see the wet spot that’s forming in your panties.

"i wish you were here. i could take it," you can't stop the words from tumbling out of your lips, desperation dripping off your tongue.

"yea? would you let me use that sweet little pussy however i want? be my little plaything? gonna let me stuff you full with my cock, princess?" ghostface teases over the phone. his panting is getting louder, and you can hear how breathless he is. your fingers move faster on your clit as your moans and whimpers continue to escape.

you're too far gone to hear your front door click open. you don't hear his footsteps on the hardwood floor of your apartment. you don't even bat an eyelash as your bedroom door drifts open.

ghostface, unbeknownst to you, stalks over to your bed. he watches as your thighs shake with your approaching orgasm. he waits a moment, mesmerized by you. then, without warning, he yanks your hand out of your panties. you yelp in surprise as your eyes shoot open to see ghostface standing over you.

“boo,” ghostface teases, causing you to jump slightly. you can’t stop yourself from scooting away from him just an inch. quickly, ghostface reaches out, wrapping his hand around your throat. he squeezes slightly before pulling you closer to him.

“cat got your tongue, princess?” he speaks. your mouth is dry now, and you can feel your heart thumping out of your chest. you remain silent as you wait for his next move. as you stare up at his mask, you can’t stop your thighs from clenching together, desperate for any kind of friction.

ghostface grabs your thighs, roughly pulling them apart. you almost whine, but just as quickly, ghostface is shoving his hand into your panties. you inhale a shaky breath as he toys with your slit, purposely avoiding where you want him most. you shouldn’t be this desperate for him, but, god, you need him.

ghostface withdraws his hand and releases your throat. you watch with bated breaths as he pulls his mask up just enough to expose his mouth. then, he slowly drags his other hand up to his lips, sucking your juices off each of his fingers. your jaw drops open as he smirks at you before pulling the mask back down.

he leans in close and whispers into your ear.

“you taste so fucking sweet, princess. maybe next time i’ll tie you up and spend all night in between those pretty thighs. see how much you can take until you’re begging me to stop,” his voice is hoarse, deeper now as he pulls away.

you lift your hips as his hands slip into the sides of your panties, pulling them down your legs. the wet fabric is tossed precariously across the room. as you attempt to hide yourself from ghostface, he tuts and pulls your thighs open yet again. you blush as he stares down at your weeping cunt.

“i’m gonna ruin you,” he mumbles as he tilts his head slightly. you bite your lip and drop your head onto the pillow. your actions cause him to snap up to look at you.

“you’d like that. wouldn’t you?” the question is rhetorical, but you nod anyway. though you can’t see it, ghostface is smirking under his mask.

you gasp as he pulls your shirt off, leaving you completely exposed to him. without hesitating, his heavy hands are on your hips, flipping you onto your stomach. he lifts your hips up until you feel his clothed bulge resting again your bare core. you gasp and grind your hips, trying to relieve the tension settling inside you.

a quick slap is delivered to your plump ass. you’re too focused on the pain coursing through your backside to notice that ghostface has pulled his jeans down just enough to expose his cock.

he grabs his thick shaft, giving himself a few pumps before teasing his head through your wetness. without warning, he pushes into you, not bothering to let you adjust.

you moan breathlessly, dropping your entire torso onto the mattress. he’s stretching you out so nicely, though you can’t ignore the pain seeping in from how deep he’s reaching.

“come on. you can take it,” ghostface spoke condescendingly. his heavy cock pounded into you from behind, knocking the breath out of your lungs.

"it's too much," you moaned out. tears were rushing down your flushed cheeks. your body thrust forward with every shift of his hips.

the pleasure was too much, but you wanted this. god, did you want this.

"but you talked such a big game on the phone. you're such a desperate whore that you practically begged me to fuck you," ghostface patronized. his hand gripped your throat, pulling you up until your back hit his chest. ghostface stopped his movements, burying himself deep in you. his hand traveled down the expanse of your body, stopping at your tits momentarily. he toyed with your nipples, smirking under his mask as you mewled.

"so pathetic," he murmured, before continuing to lower his hand down your body. his large hand stopped on your belly, reveling at the feeling. he looked over your shoulder into the mirror across from your bed.

"oh, fuck," he moaned at the sight, moving his hips slowly. there in the mirror, he watched as your stomach bulged with his cock each time he thrust into you. you whimpered as you watched him. placing your hand over his, you held his palm firmly against your belly.

“see, you’re taking me so well, princess,” ghostface smirked as he whispered into your ear. the hiss he lets out as you clench around his cock has you throwing your head back in a moan.

“feels so good,” you babble. with trembling thighs, you come around his cock, mumbling nonsense as you do.

“i know it does, princess,” he mutters into your neck, breathing you in.

your brain goes numb when you feel his hips stutter to a stop inside you. you bask in the feeling of him emptying himself into you. you whine when ghostface pulls out, leaving his hot cum to drip down your thighs.

he situates you onto the bed, laying you on your back. with an ache in your belly, your eyes flutter closed as you try to catch your breath. the bed dips as ghostface stands. peeking your eyes open just slightly, you watch as he tucks himself back into his jeans. silently, he leaves the room, and you can’t deny the embarrassment you feel. of course this is how it would end. he’d fuck you then leave.

you roll over and try to settle, but your ears perk up at the sound of running water. the water stops just as quickly as it started, and heavy footsteps can be heard throughout your apartment. a few moments later, ghostface walks back into your room with a wet washcloth in hand.

he can see the relief on your face and the tension leaving your body as he positions himself in front of you to clean you up. he feels you relax into his touch.

“thought you left,” you mumble quietly. his masked face tilts as he glances up at you.

“had to make sure my little plaything got taken care of, yea?” he answers.

#ghostface #ghostface smut #scream smut #ghostface x reader #ghostface x reader smut #ghostface!rafe cameron

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fir3ylolol · 1 year ago

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break up, make up

pairing: Johnny Cage x Reader

summary: You and Johnny didn't end your relationship on a good note. You've successfully avoided him, but what happens when you both end up at the same bar??

word count: 2.46 k

tw: Vaginal sex, oral sex, cunnilingus, afab!reader, gn pronouns, dom!reader, sub!johnny cage, forgiveness, make up sex, vaginal penetration, grinding, semi-public sex, begging, mentions of cheating, making out, no spoilers, he's so pussywhipped dude, praise kink, no other canon characters, smut, shameless smut, porn with plot

a/n: I've never really written fic b4 so I hope it's not shit. Slightly inspired by 3d-wifey, they are an actually good writer

Ao3

Johnny stared daggers at you from across the room. Why did he have to show up here? It had been a couple of months since you two split up and this was the first time you’d seen each other since. All you wanted was a nice night out with friends, which was already hard enough. But there he is, just 1000 feet away.

It hadn’t been easy. You had been with him for over a year and for the most part, it was fine. Despite his career and fame, he managed to find plenty of time for you. He loved to spoil you, spend time with you, and show his love wholeheartedly. That was until he had a long shoot overseas. He promised that everything would be fine and nothing would change. After 2 long months, he finally returned. But something felt off. He didn’t hold you like he used to, spent less time at home, and you didn’t see the love in his eyes anymore. A very dramatic breakup ensued, complete with tears and screaming from both of you. You moved out and quickly lost contact. Trying to cope as article after article about him returning to his ‘playboy lifestyle’ came out, you decided that he wasn’t worth your time, that he killed the relationship because he was bored of you. And so you tried your hardest, knowing that running into him again was unlikely. He’s too busy being famous, right?

Right?

Wrong.

Because there he was, same old Johnny, in a red button-up shirt with the arms rolled up and the top two buttons undone. Black slacks straining against his thighs, expensive watch glistening in the low light of the club. And, fuck, that look on his face. You couldn’t fully read it, and you weren’t sure if you were scared or interested.

Trying not to look at him, you brush off your clothes. You want to seem cool, calm, unbothered. Something you weren’t. But you weren’t turning around again to look. You just laugh with your friends and continue to enjoy your night. Until…

“Why, hello there dear,” his familiar voice rang out in your ears. You froze, the familiarity and warmth were something you hadn’t heard in a very long time. Slowly turning, you meet his eyes, trying, and failing, to hide your nerves. But when you meet his eyes, you can’t read anything. His words are cool, calm, and suave, but his eyes? Ice cold. It made you feel worse. You manage to utter a “Hello Johnny” as he stands there, his presence looming. Your friends look to you for guidance, but you nod, letting them know you’re fine. But they take that to mean, ‘you can leave now’, because they walk away, leaving you alone with him.

The exact opposite thing of what you wanted, honestly.

But it's too late for that. You take a deep breath and look directly at him, trying to seem brave. He leans against the table, looking around before sitting down across from you. “So, why are you out tonight? Trying to find another guy to disappoint?” His words cut deep, harsh accusations that offend you. “Excuse me?” you question, leaning towards him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t act innocent, we both know you’re not,” He scoffs, leaning back in his chair and looking at the crowd. You scrunch your face up in frustration, feeling the anger bubble up inside you. “You know, you’re not exactly innocent either. You leave for 2 months, you don’t talk to me once, and when you’re finally back, you treat me like shit! I honestly preferred it when you were gone, at least then I didn’t feel like complete garbage.” You try not to cry, unable to stop your eyes from watering. Your words seem to soften Johnny slightly, as he looks back and seems more awkward than angry. “What do you mean? I didn’t do that.” “WHAT?” you nearly yell, surprising yourself and him. “You came back a different person! You weren’t the man I fell in love with anymore. You were cold and cruel, just like you are now.” You reach for your bag and move to stand up and leave, but he nearly dives across the table, grabbing your arm. “Wait, wait, please don’t go. I’m sorry. Please just…let me explain.”

You slowly sit back down, shrugging out of his grip, and stare at him, waiting. He finally seems nervous, scratching the back of his neck. “I won’t beat around the bush. I thought that while I was gone, you were cheating on me.” He looks away, clearly ashamed. “I don’t know why. I didn’t have proof. I just…I’m used to people leaving a lot sooner than you, so I assumed the worst. I didn’t think I acted that poorly, but I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. I’ll just leave you alone now.” His head hung slightly in shame, he started to stand.

But now it's your turn to stop him, gently taking his arm and making him sit down again. You both pause, waiting for the other to speak. Quietly, you begin to laugh, your whole body shaking. You manage to get out a muffled, “We’re so stupid.” He slowly starts laughing as well, both of you absorbing the absurdity of the situation. After a bit, you both calm down, managing to speak again. You learn that he’s been cast in a new show and that the rumors spreading around have been untrue. He learns about how you’ve been, your true interest in how you are shining through.

“Hey, you look really good, you know?” He gently takes your hand and stares into your eyes. All of a sudden, the mood shifts. Reconnecting with him has reconnected something else, something you didn’t quite expect. His words rest heavily in the air, trying to gauge how you’re feeling. You look into his eyes, the kindness and care he used to show you returning. “You look good too. Better than I remember, honestly.” He laughs, touching your arm more. “I always look this good baby.”

His eyes, now half-lidded and sultry, beckon you closer. You decide to be brave, take initiative. You get up from your seat, standing next to him. Still holding his hand, you pull him up. “Yeah? Wanna show me if everything else stayed the same?” You coax him up, getting closer to him. His smile grows wider, and he stands up and wraps his arms around your waist. “Gladly, baby.” You wave to your friends, who honestly can’t tell if it’s the right thing to let you go with him, but decide to let you. If it’s a mistake, at least you’ll learn from it.

He leads you to his car, a sleek black sports car parked in the virtually empty private parking lot out back. The perks of being famous apparently include better parking. He unlocks the door, letting you sit down first. He climbs into the driver’s seat, turning his body to look at you. “So, my place or yours-” Before he can finish that thought, you reach over, grabbing his face and kissing him gently. He is clearly shocked but quickly leans into it, growing more passionate by the minute. He turns and grabs your hips, trying to get you closer to him. You didn’t realize how completely touch-starved and needy you were until right then. You pull away and take a breath, panting lightly in sync with him. Your hand travels down his chest slowly, dancing towards his crotch. You feel his breath hitch under you, lightly whimpering at the feeling.

Lightly brushing against him and teasing him further, he starts to grow needier, pleading eyes looking directly at you. “Please…please love…” he whines out. You decide to be nice, but not that nice. Slowly unzipping his fly and freeing him, he hisses at the feeling of the cool air in the car. Gently taking him into your hand, you truly forgot how big he is. You lean over, spitting onto his dick and slowly stroking him. He starts to moan lightly, flinching as you flick your wrist over the tip. “Ah-h! H-heyy…stop teasing…” he looks through his lashes, desperation evident.

Finally giving in, you lean down, taking as much of him into his mouth as you can at this angle. He gasps, leaning back and biting his finger to stop himself from being too loud. You look up, wide eyes meeting his. You lift your head, taking a deep breath. “Don’t quiet yourself. I wanna hear those pretty moans, baby.” His eyes lightly roll back at your words, moaning louder when you return to his weeping cock, keeping a quick, almost torturous, pace. He shakily reaches out to grab your head, not forcing you down, just feeling you and trying to remain stable.

You lift your head again, kissing him hard and rough. He desperately tries to keep up, lips slipping against yours messily. You take his hand, leading it down to your crotch. “Touch me, love. Please, I need it.” You rasp out, making him shiver. As he reaches into your underwear, he nearly melts at the feeling of how wet you are. His fingers gently curl into you, feeling you pulse around him hungrily. He gently pulls his hand out, looking at the slick on his fingers before shoving them in his mouth greedily. Groaning at the taste, he reaches his free hand out to grab your thighs, feeling your soft skin under his desperate touch. “Mmfph, alwaysh taste so goodf me,” he tries to speak with his fingers still in his mouth, not wanting to stop. He tries again to taste more but you stop him, to many protests.

But they quickly stop when you take you underwear off, slipping it out from under you and tossing them in the back seat. “Push your seat back,” you state casually, but you both know it’s a command. Hurriedly, he scrambles for the seat controls, moving himself as far back as possible. He looks to you, then down at himself. He pulls his pants and underwear down further, then looks to you excitedly. Carefully, you reach your right leg over him, straddling his lap. You can feel him throb against your leg, impossibly fast, and the wetness he can’t seem to stop. You pause, looking down at him. “I want to hear you say you want this before I do anything. If this is how we rekindle our relationship, it’s starting on a good note. And if not, then it’ll end on one. But I need to hear you say it.”

Quickly, he grabs at your thighs, tight grip digging into you. “Yes, yes, please. I need you. I’ve missed you so bad and, and just want to be with you right now. I need it. I need you. Please…” His desperate pleas and pathetic expression shoot to your core, you can feel yourself growing even wetter. That was all the motivation you need as you lift yourself up and grab his dick, lining it up with teasing touches against you, earning groans and gasps every time. Finally, you start to sink down, wincing. It’s been a while and Johnny is a lot to handle. But he doesn’t notice. His head is thrown back, strings of long whines, moans, and other pornstar sounds pouring from his mouth. His sounds are motivation enough as you sink down as far as possible. It’s like you knocked the wind out of him, gasps are all you get out of him for now. You take a second to adjust further.

Then, you begin to move. Hips rocking back and forth, forehead pressed into his shoulder. You speed up, bouncing on him as you basically use him. It’s not like he minds, whimpers echoing through the car, hands death gripping onto your ass as you ride him. He genuinely can’t control himself, babbling near nonsense. You can make out a few of the words he’s saying in your ear. “Love”, “s’good”, “missed this”, and “feel incredible” is about it amongst the uncontrollable moans. You can definitely tell that it's been a long time. I mean, he’s usually pretty whiny, but this takes the cake.

He manages to get a solid couple of sentences out in his fucked out state, wrapping his arms around you like a hug. “I missed you so bad, I knew it was a mistake. No one that feels this good could be bad. I missed being yours, missed having you use me like this. I love it, I love you.” His hips jerk upwards without rhythm, desperate to get off. His words egg you on further, speeding up and absolutely shaking the car. His grip on you tightens as you can tell he’s about to cum. You whisper shakily into his ear, “Come on baby, cum for me. Be a good boy for me.” With that, he finishes with a loud cry, a death grip around you and shaking thighs. He trembles beneath you, still sensitive from the comedown. You smooth out his hair, brushing the hairs stuck to his forehead from sweat. Still fuzzyheaded, he kisses you tenderly, full of love.

You slowly climb off and get back in your seat, catching your breath. But you don’t have long, as Johnny grabs your leg and twists you. Exposing you as you lean against the car door, you barely have time to think before he dives in, eating you out with such fervor that you genuinely can’t believe he got down there that fast. After his sweet words and all that you’ve done, you’re not that far from the edge. He hasn’t forgotten all the ways to make you cum though, as he quickly gets you even closer. He rubs his nose against your clit, causing you to jump at the sensitivity. But then, his head backs up slightly, which you can’t take at this moment. You have to finish. You grab his head, fingers tangling in his hair, and fuck his face hard. He is moaning again at this point, your pleasure gets him off just as much as his own. You lose the ability to think about anything but cumming, your sole goal. Finally, you finish, your grip on him loosening. But he stays just as close, burying his face in you and lapping up your cum mixed with his.

He finally pulls away, both of you gasping for air. You are suddenly much more thankful for being parked in a more secluded area. After what feels like forever, you turn and whisper out, “Am I as good as you remember?” Turning his head, he laughs and whispers, “Better than I remembered.”

#johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage smut #mk1 #mortal kombat 1 #mortal kombat #x reader #afab reader #johnny cage mk1 #mk1 smut #mk1 x reader #sub!johnny cage #dom!reader

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unicornpopcorn14 · 6 months ago

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Dazai and his (dis)association with Guns

It's interesting to me how Dazai conically wields no firearms on him, neither in the PM nor in the ADA.

I mean, taking how dangerous both jobs are into consideration, and how he isn't as physically capable as the strongest ability users out there, you'd think he'd at least ensure a safety measure with him at all times.

But every gun he wields in the series is someone else's.

Every. single. one.

Even the handgun he wields in the Azure messanger arc, despite belonging to the agency, he doesn't constantly use:

While in Stormbringer, Dazai uses a tazer gun before meeting Adam and relying on him:

I've had many speculations regarding this pattern (feel free to add onto them), one of them being that Dazai thinks he doesn't even need guns, since strategies are his weapons, his hands alone are his weapons. In a world of crazy abilities, and users completely relying on said abilitis, being a nullifier might be considered the biggest threat, and a pretty sturdy weapon to rely on.

After some thinking, however, I found that while this might be part of the reason, it isn't enough to just disregard firearms as weapons entirely. Dazai's plans/predictions aren't foolproof, and as he'd explained, they are full of uncertanties, contrary to Fyodor's plans.

And Dazai's ability can't be relied on all the time. Having to touch the enemies/maintain proximity in order to activate it is definitely a hindrance. Besides, some enemies can be physically competent without their abilities, some might not even have abilities, but are formidable. Firearms in these situations would be extremely useful, given their range, and a good precaution.

Aside from combat, tw: suicide Let's not forget that a shooting oneself is subjectively the most painless way to die. So if anything, Dazai should be eager to have one on him and even attempt with it. But he doesn't, he never even seems interested in using guns at all in his suicide methods, hence he would have succeeded long ago...

So if it isn't out of unnecessity, then what might be the reason? I mean, having to count on your enemies to have guns in order to use one is rather inconveniet, right? Why can't he just carry the agency's gun or, before that, any of the countless PM's firearms? Well...

Here is what I think: Killing with guns is triggering for Dazai

Let's rewind a little...

15!Dazai is the earliest we see him using a firearm, and one of the few times he does shoot with said firearm, resulting in this fiasco:

He's clearly having a mental breakdown, spiraling, can't stop, and most importantly: can't think straight. This is Dazai's lowest moment in the whole series.

Thing worth mentioning: in the manga/lightnovel, Dazai does stop after shooting the man one time (basically killing him) and pauses, before he continues again and again and agian...

So I believe the triggering factor is either the death/corpse itself, or how the recoil felt.

We can't exactly determine what it might be, since remember, this is before Dazai even joins the Mafia. He's known Mori for mere weeks at this point. Whatever Dazai's going through in this moment has to related to his past prior to the mafia that we have yet to (or might never) see.

You'd get why Dazai, a person whose greatest ability is his mind above all else, would never wish to go through a moment where he can't keep his thoughts in check. Where he'd lose control.

And you know what's crazy? Dazai seems to avoid that outcome since then, as This is the only moment we see him actively kill someone with a gun in the series.

18!Dazai, through his (abusive) teaching moment with Akutagawa, shoots three times in hopes the other finally uses his ability defensively. There is a cause, and a motif, that a gun has to be involved in. And he knows Akutagawa is going to succeed in repelling them, he knows that won't kill him. Which is why wielding a gun is safe along with shooting it.

While in the ADA, in the instances Dazai wields a gun, he doesn't even shoot:

And that checks. Each one of these example were mere empty threats, but now I see that, as much as it's a threat to whoever he's pointing the barrel at, he's also under the mercy of it. Which means that every time he's used a gun since fifteen was a means to scare and not kill, if only to avoid the worst outcome which is losing control.

Dazai's sanity is on the line whenever the trigger is at the tip of his finger...

So why would he carry guns when he never even plans to shoot? When properly putting them to use threatens to send him into a breakdown, to overthrow his entire line of thinking?

One moment out of control might cost him his plans, his objectives, his subordinates, the lives he wishes to protect. And unless there is a motif for the gun (other than of course, killing) using it is a threat looming over him.

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loveharlow · 6 months ago

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SEVEN [SEASON 2] - 002 (PART 1)

PAIRING ‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚[8.2k] A trip to Charleston leads to a wild chase through Kooksville and an unexpected reunion that turns the pogues worlds upside down, amongst other heartbreaking events...

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, mentions of death, mentions of firearms, unestablished relationship, poor communication, tw // jiara mentioned, mild angst

NOW PLAYING‧₊˚

A/N‧₊˚ don't shoot me pookies, it's for plot value😬

˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

IT WAS THE NEXT MORNING AND THE FOUR OF YOU WERE RIGHT BACK IN MR. SUNN’S CLASS. You had a permanent smile on your face from last night and something had shifted between you and JJ in the hours between then and now. While you were driving to school in the car you two had fixed up together, you’d made a joke about him being your passenger princess, the blonde laughing and then absentmindedly planting his hand on your thigh for the rest of the ride.

You were starting to feel like yourself after weeks of walking around like a ghost and you were holding out hope that after this was all over, once the cloud passed fully, that you could give JJ the answer he deserved.

Right now, you were muffling laughs as Mr. Sunn rambled about the current unit topic, you and JJ sending tiktoks back and forth, phones hidden under the desks.

“Mr.Sunn,” A man emerged in the open doorway, dressed down in a suit with an envelope between his fingers. Your laughter died as your attention went to him. “Can I borrow Mr. Heyward for a moment?”

The teacher looked dumbfounded between Pope and the man at the door, chalk clutched between his fingers. “Uh, we’re in the middle of a lesson.”

“My apologies, it won't be long. I’m from the Vanderhorst Foundation, Mr.Heyward was previously in the running for our scholarship.” He pressed once more, Mr.Sunn sighing and giving in, motioning for Pope to get up. Pope looked at the three of us before getting and leaving the room.

Your eyes met JJ’s across the room, both shrugging. Kiara was too engrossed with trying to peek out of the door from her seat. Even though the classroom was fairly quiet, it was still too far to hear any part of the conversation.

Maybe he was there to offer Pope another chance which would be, for one, great but also impeccably poor timing. You glanced up at your teacher as his attention turned back to the board, slouching in your chair and shooting a text in the group chat the four of you had.

You

think they’re giving him his spot back?

Kie

doubt it, the deadline’s more than dead :/

maybe they still want him, pope’s a certified genius

Just then, Pope came power walking back into the classroom, turning a few heads as he did so. He practically fell into his seat, turning around to face you, JJ, and Kie, holding the envelope the man from the foundation had in his hand just minutes ago — flipping it to reveal the very same wheat symbol that was branded into the gold bars.

“What the fu-” JJ started, gaining the attention of Mr.Sunn who had very teacher like expression of warning, causing JJ to trip over his words. “Fu-fudge…” He cleaned up. The teacher gave him a look and turned back around in his chair.

“We’ll talk about it after class.” Pope whispered, nodding and turning around his seat.

THE FOUR OF YOU BOOKED IT TO THE LIBRARY AS SOON AS THE BELL RANG, the middle-aged hag of a librarian shushing you at the door. You found an empty table and crowded it as soon as possible, all ears waiting on Pope.

“That was the guy from the scholarship committee.” He started, putting the envelope in the middle of the table. “But that’s not all. Read it.” He urged, JJ being the first to swipe up the letter but he hesitated to read. You were sat next to him, the both of you across from Kie and Pope, so you leaned over his shoulder.

“What? What’s wrong?” You asked. JJ angled the paper in your direction, eyeing the two people in front of him nervously as you immediately spotted the problem — the letter was written in cursive. JJ couldn’t read cursive. “Oh, it’s fine, I got it.” You reassured, gently taking the letter from the blonde’s hands.

“What?” Kiara asked, brown eyes fleeting between the both of you. JJ shook his head, wiping his palms on the fabric of his cargo shorts.

“Nothin’. I just, I can’t read cursive.” He dismissed cooly but you could tell the subject made him slightly insecure. “What does it say?” He deflected, looking back at you.

You cleared your throat before reading, paper clutched between both of your hands. “Dear Mr.Heyward, I am reaching out because I may have material evidence that can exonerate John Booker Routledge…” You trailed off, shocked eyes meeting those around the table before you continued reading. “...It is of vital importance that you come and meet with me in person at my offices at twenty-seven King Street, Charleston at eight PM sharp, tonight. Please come alone…?” Your face twisted at that. No way in hell was that happening. “Regards, C.Limbrey.”

“Charleston?” JJ exclaimed incredulously, eyeing Pope’s endlessly pacing figure. “That’s like an eight-hour drive.”

“Plus, the ferry.” You added. “If you want any chance of getting there tonight we’d have to leave, like, right now.”

“I have a free period.” Kie shrugged, sighing. “I gotta tell my mom, though…”

“Alright but guys?” You piped up, meeting each of their eyes before continuing. “If we get it this time, there’s no way in hell we are giving it to Shoupe. It's gotta go to higher ups or some shit.”

“Agreed.” JJ nodded, standing from his seat and grabbing his backpack, you following his lead before Pope, who was crouched in front of the library computer, spoke up.

“I think whoever this Limbrey person is, they might be related to the captain of the Royal Merchant.” He told the three of you, JJ and you sharing a look before rounding the table to stand behind the boy at the computer, a webpage pulled up — a biography for ‘Captain Herman Limbrey’.

Well. Charleston it is, then.

“I AM SO SICK OF THIS SHIT!” Kiara’s mom’s voice traveled through the rolled down windows of Heyward’s truck. You, JJ, and Pope were sat with the music playing lowly as Kiara attempted to reason with her parents about where she was going.

The family of three was visible from the driveway, but you could no longer hear the conversation as their voices lowered.

“They’re takin’ it really well.” JJ quipped sarcastically. You were sat in the middle of the two boys, Heyward’s truck not having a backseat made this drive even more dreadful. “How’d you get this rig?” The blonde asked the boy in the driver’s seat, referring to his father’s truck. “I know your old man didn’t let you have it.”

Pope spoke absentmindedly, eyes too focused on the girl arguing with her parents some feet away. “I undid the intake valves on the carburetor, made it start pinging.”

JJ nodded his head in approval, shifting his weight in the seat. “Mm, and now you’re just gonna 'take it to your cousin Jeff’s house, just gonna get it fixed, and crash overnight’.” He suggested to which Pope agreed. “I think I’m rubbin’ off on you, Pope. Lyin’ to your old man, stealin’ his truck…”

You quickly nudged the blonde in his side, shooting him a look. He held his hands up in mock surrender and bowed his head. “Ma bad. Sore subject.”

Pope simply sighed, tipping the hat on his head. “I’d say we have about eighteen hours before my pops loses his shit. So long as we get it back before then, we should be good.” Just then, Kiara came storming in the direction of the vehicle, yelling at her parents over her shoulder.

“I’m not going to boarding school!” She shouted, JJ opening the door for the both of you to get out and allow her into the car but she paused in her tracks when her dad began shouting.

“Look at your life, right now! Look at your life!” Kiara looked around at the three of you and then back at her father, shrugging carelessly and not sparing a word. Pope then peeked his head out of the driver’s side window.

“I, um, I promise to have her back at a reasonable hour and safe.” He threw out, holding his hand up as if he was asking permission. Kiara looked at him, shaking her head.

“Kiara, listen to me,” Her mother started, not exactly yelling but her voice traveled clearly. “You wanna go? Then go. But if you don’t come back at the proper time, then don’t. Come back. At all!”

You turned to Kie from your place next to JJ. “Hey, don't even worry about it. It’s the same threat each time, you know they won’t go through with it.” You told her quietly, in hopes of not offending her parents but offering her some sort of comfort.

Kiara didn’t say a word as she ducked into the car, you piling in as JJ squished himself in next to you.

“This shit would be so much easier without parents...” She scoffed, throwing her bag down on the car floor as JJ shut the passenger side door.

You and him both shared a look, knowing Kie probably didn’t fully think about what she was saying or who was around. You both grimaced at one another before looking away.

“God, 's so hot in here.” She complained throwing her head back. “Remind me why we didn’t take your car again?” She directed the question at you. “I mean, isn’t it drive-able now? You and JJ spent like every day working on it…”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t have the willpower to make it to Charleston and back just yet.” You told her with a small shrug. The girl simply groaned, trying to adjust herself in between you and Pope so it wasn’t so tight.

“Okay, could you stop moving like that? It’s making it hard to drive.” Pope inquired, pulling out of her driveway and heading down the road.

“There’s no space dude, there’s twice as many people in here than this car was built for.”

“Okay, JJ and Y/N, can you guys lap up or something?” The suggestion almost made you cough. Sitting on JJ’s lap for the next few hours did not seem like a good idea, considering recent events.

“Why can’t she sit on my lap?” Kiara asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Because she’ll block the rearview.” Pope threw out, annoyance growing in his tone.

You looked to JJ for some kind of reassurance, he simply nodded and motioned his hands for you to come on. The car was still moving so you tried your best to be careful, the blonde spreading his legs to make a little more room for you to sit between them.

Once you had yourself settled, it was almost like JJ didn’t know where to put his hands. He had them planted on his on thighs beforehand so he accidentally laid a hand on your thigh before quickly removing it.

“My bad.” He muttered nervously. You could see his face faintly in the passenger side mirror.

“It’s fine. I don’t mind. I’m the one kind of in your space, right now.” You shrugged, trying your best to come off nonchalant, as if this whole scenario didn’t make your heart go crazy.

“You sure? I mean, I got pockets, I can just-”

“It’s cool, JJ.” You cut him off reassuringly, the blonde hesitating before letting his hand make home on your thigh. You didn’t know how to sit, if you should lean back on him, anything. But you figured if you made it awkward, it was going to be awkward. So you took a deep breath and simply leaned back into him, the boy making no protest about the movement.

The only thing you couldn’t ignore was the growing erection that was pressing against your leg, harder by the minute. Heyward’s truck was no smooth riding vehicle, so the ride was quite bumpy. You could still see JJ’s face in the passenger side mirror and he looked mortified.

Neither of you were stupid — if you could feel it, you knew he definitely could. And if he could feel it, he felt terrible knowing you could too.

“I’m so fucking sorry.” He muttered out, coming out more like a sigh as he ran a hand down his face. You shifted your eyes to the left to see Kie on her phone and Pope was too occupied with driving, probably deep in thought about how much trouble he was going to be in if his pops found out about all this.

“It’s-” You cleared your throat before speaking, shrugging one shoulder. “It’s fine. Shit happens.”

“Nah, it’s not.” He groaned. “I can try and move so you can sit more on the seat-”

You cut him off quickly. “We’ll be at the Ferry dock soon. Honestly, JJ. Don’t sweat it.” You said finally.

The action did make a small well of discomfort bubble in your stomach with your last sexual encounter being non consensual and traumatizing. Just because it was JJ didn't quell any of your anxiety but you were trying not to live life as a victim.

A few deep breaths and you were calming down.

You could understand his humiliation and had your relationship with him been in different place, maybe you two would have laughed it off. But with this newfound depth of your “friendship”, it had you both sitting in silence the rest of the ride.

“MY PARENTS ARE SO PARANOID ABOUT ME BEING A POGUE LIKE IT’S THE WORST THING THAT COULD EVER HAPPEN…” Kiara complained leaning against the passenger door of the truck. The four of you had it made it to the ferry just in time to catch the current ride. You and JJ, who was rolling a blunt, were sat in the back of the pick-up truck across from one another, Pope leaning on the side paying the three of you no mind. The awkwardness between you two had alleviated by the time you reached The Ferry, but the situation still lingered in your mind.

Seagulls squawked as the boat sailed the water, the sizable ship making its way slowly but surely.

“Hey, I hear they got good weed at boarding schools, though.” He replied optimistically. “Y’know, ‘cause all the rich kids got a shit ton of money to blow.”

Kie shrugged, dismissing the blonde’s hopeful piece of information. “I’m not going to boarding school.” She protested firmly. “If they want me to go, they’ll have to kidnap me. I don’t even know what their problem is. I mean, my dad was a pogue, you know that, obviously…” She trailed off, throwing an arm out in your direction. “They’re so hypocritical and overbearing. Why can’t my parents be more like yours?”

You couldn’t contain your expression of offense at Kiara’s words, the statement flowing so freely from her lips. So carelessly. “...You want a dead father and an underlying criminal mother who couldn’t give less of a shit about you?” The question was rhetorical but you wondered how she planned on explaining herself.

“Of course not, I didn’t mean it like that.” She cocked her head as if you were being unreasonable. “It’s just that, you can’t deny that this whole thing has been easier for you without parents watching your every move and breathing down your neck. That’s... all I was saying...”

You drew your lips into a thin line, arms crossing defensively. “Okay, well, my dad was murdered and my mother probably had something to do with it. Not to mention she tried to kill me, so not having two parents hasn't really been a choice for me, Kiara. But hey, ‘can’t deny that this whole thing has been easier’ for it, right?”

“I wasn’t saying-” She tried to defend with half a scowl on her face before Pope jumped in, JJ tapping your shoulder and offering you the blunt he’d been preparing. You took his from between his fingers, taking a long drag as Pope spoke.

“Okay, can we not argue? Please? I’m already mildly seasick enough as is.” He suggested, Kiara muttering a ‘fine’ under her breath as she adjusted her ponytail. “Kie, have you tried to hit JB back on that number?”

“Like, twenty-million times.” She groaned. “Some random lady at a hotel keeps picking up the phone.”

Pope sighed, shifting his weight. “Well, until they contact us again, we gotta keep trying to clear John B’s name. Right now? This letter is our best bet.” He concluded, rubbing his hands over his head. You turned slightly to be able to see him, offering the joint to the boy.

His eyes fleeted between Kie and the smoking object, contemplating. She simply crossed her legs and arms, offering the boy a mischievous smile. “What Pope are you gonna be today?” She asked.

He seemed to ponder for a few more moments before shaking his head, you retracting the blunt and passing it back to JJ as he spoke to Kiara. “I’m good, gotta stay focused.”

“I’ll take that.” JJ offered himself up, plucking the rolled object from your fingers with a smile.

Kiara simply nodded, her smile flattening out into a grimace. “Good Pope…” She said. “Boring Pope.” And you didn’t miss the way Pope’s face fell.

“I’VE READ THIS LIKE A THOUSAND TIMES AND IT STILL MAKES NO SENSE.” Kie explained from her place between Pope and JJ, you once again on the blonde’s lap as Pope cruised through Charleston. You’d gotten off the ferry a few hours ago, the sun now lower in the sky. “The Limbrey’s own like half of Charleston. What do some elite Kooks from Charleston known about a murder on Kildare?”

“I’m more concerned about why Pope specifically?” JJ questioned, eyes looking up at the driver.

“Yeah. ‘Please come alone’? That’s off-putting, to say the least.” You added, sitting almost slanted in JJ’s lap in order to lean on the door. You were both a little hazy from the weed so your nerves were a lot calmer.

“I had the same thought.” Pope chipped in. “I was thinking it’s probably because-” He cut himself off as a cloud of smoke erupted from the hood of his dad’s truck, blinding the road ahead. “Aw, shit, come on!”

“Pull over.” Kie demanded. “Jesus, that’s a lot of smoke. Even for your dad’s truck…” JJ began cough, you using your hand to cover his mouth as he rolled up the window. When he had it successfully rolled up, he gently removed your hand from his mouth.

“Pope, I got sensitive lungs, dude.” He coughed out. A filter of smoke filled the car, you trying to wave it from in front of your face as it made your eyes burn.

“I’m pulling over, okay?” Pope assured, but the car wasn’t slowing down. Pope swerved to the side but instead of pulling over, the car kept going off the curb until it was cruising through a patch of grass next to a quiet farm and you didn’t miss the rim that fell off of one wheel fly by the driver’s side window.

“Every time we let Pope drive, nothing goes right.” You muttered as the car came to an abrupt stop, the hood still smoking. You heard the engine die as Pope put both hands on top of his head.

“No, no, no…” He whined as he hopped out of the car, JJ following suit and helping you before jumping out himself.

“It’s gonna blow up.” Kie worried, crawling out of the passenger side herself.

“It’s not gonna blow up.” JJ told her, coughing one last time and rounding the hood as Pope attempted to fan the smoke away with his hat. “You most likely unhooked the radiator, Pope.” JJ suggested, eyeing the state of the vehicle. “Damn, you knocked the entire hubcap off.”

“Yeah, the Limbrey’s might have to take a rain check for tonight.” You added, scratching the back of your neck and eyeing Pope pitifully. The boy had a look on his face — somewhere between terror and disbelief.

“There’s still, uh, public transportation?” Kiara tried to reason, not seeming completely sure about the suggestion herself. You took it upon yourself to life the hood and examine the parts yourself, picking up a little bit about cars here and there from JJ.

“Yeah, it’s definitely the radiator…” You said aloud, sighing. Pope groaned loudly behind you.

“My dad’s gonna kill me!”

“No, he won't. I’m sure-” You were about to reassure the boy before you took one glance back at the car. The smoking, hubcap-less, mess of a car. “Okay, he might. He might…”

“Look, Pope, buddy, I’m sure there’s somethin’ we can do, right?” JJ offered, putting a hand on the solemn boy’s shoulder. You took the time to pull out your phone, you didn’t have many bars out here but enough to open up the ‘Maps’ app on your phone.

“There’s a mechanic garage about fifteen miles south of here.” You announced, looking out at your three friends. “Think your dad’s truck can make it fifteen more miles?”

THE SUN HAD COMPLETELY SET BY THE TIME THE FOUR OF YOU MADE IT TO THE GARAGE. What should’ve been a mere thirty-minute car ride took nearly an hour, Pope being too afraid to drive more than twenty miles an hour and making a pit stop to check under the hood again.

The boy in question was inside, negotiating with the owner of the shop. It was some place called Archie’s Auto Repairs, right next to a gas station and rest stop. You figured you were killing about three birds with one stone – car repair, refuel, and food.

JJ and Kiara were waiting in the truck while Pope spoke to the man in charge and you went inside to relieve yourself and get snacks. You were in the gas station bathroom, finishing up with washing your hands when you looked at yourself in the mirror.

Surprisingly, you didn’t look like complete shit. Your hair was a bit frizzy and you look tired but you looked better than you had in the last month. You felt better than you had in the last month. Ever since that text from John B came through, it felt like everything was returning back to it’s normal state, like your life had hit the refresh button.

And maybe after everything settles and John B is cleared, things could be different but in a good way. This new life you were building, with JJ and Marley, it was starting to make you envision you had never really seen before. A life with JJ as something more than a best friend. You’d thought about him like that a few times throughout your friendship but it was JJ. You needed him and you didn’t want to ruin something so special because you had an on and off crush. But this one stuck. Maybe it was the kiss, or the almost sleeping together, you didn’t know. But something in your head was screaming at you to give it a shot. Something inside of you was reaching for him, calling out for him.

So maybe, once everything was okay again, you could figure that out.

Leaving the restroom, you cruised down the aisles of the shops — candy bars, chip bags, and sugary drinks, the whole selection look appetizing when you hadn’t eaten in over five hours. You grabbed four sodas and two family sized bags of chips and took them up to the register, the older, gross looking man eyeing you up and down as he scanned your items.

“That’ll be nineteen sixty-eight.” He slurred, bagging your goods as you fished for the twenty in your back pocket. “You’re a pretty little thang, aren’t ya? How old are ya, darlin’?” He asked, leaning his arms on the cashier’s counter, bumping the register. You cringed, sliding the bill across the surface.

“Not old enough.” You sassed, snatching the bag from the counter and leaving out the door, the bell ringing above you as you left. “Perv.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes as your rounded the corner of the shop to see the truck come into view.

Just as quickly as you rounded the corner, you hid behind it. Your heart had stopped for a moment as your registered exactly what it was you had just seen. Biting your bottom lip, you slowly peeked your head around the corner to find that your eyes had in fact not deceived you — Kiara and JJ were kissing in the trunk of Heyward’s pick-up. She had both of her hands on his cheeks, pulling his face into hers as his own gripped the side of the truck for stability.

You immediately tore your eyes away when they pulled apart, hiding behind the wall once more. You couldn’t hear them. Maybe you were grateful for that. You were torn between wanting to cry and wanting lash out on them both. But maybe you had no right, maybe you were the fool in this situation.

It was JJ. JJ Maybank. Half of the female pogue population could probably describe in detail what was hidden beneath his pants. And Kiara? Well, who would turn her down? But she was supposed to be “with” Pope and JJ was giving you all types of green lights. But maybe you were blind and couldn’t see them for the red flags that they clearly were.

But you refused to cry. But that didn’t mean you weren’t pissed. You felt a bit played, in all honesty. And by JJ of all people. And how could Kie do that to Pope when he’s less than ten feet away? They weren’t together or anything, sure. But rules of friendship and respect just seemed so thrown out of the window in the past sixty seconds.

So, shaking it off, you rounded the corner with the bag in hand. JJ was scratching the top of his head while Kie fiddled with her fingers in her lap before his eyes found you, immediately perking up.

“And the potty princess returns!” He threw his hands up in celebration. “Ooh, did she bring snacks? What’s in the bag?” He asked, coming closer. When he reached you, you pressed the bag into his chest, attempting to keep him at a distance. Letting him have the bag and not even sparing the two another glance, you hopped into the passenger side of the vehicle, absentmindedly slamming the door shut in your silent rage. You hadn’t realized that one of your hands was balled into a tight fist. Loosing your hand, you left crescent-shaped marks in your palm.

You didn’t know how you felt or what you wanted to do about. So you just sat there, listening to the night air, the crickets, the cars that passed by. You felt like JJ had just stomped on your heart and you weren’t even sure if you could be mad at him for it. But you should’ve known.

You’re a pogue. There’s always a calm before the storm. Nothing good comes without something bad.

A COUPLE HOURS HAD PASSED. Pope had found an empty field to park the truck in — shaded by a large, thriving willow tree. None of you really had enough money for a hotel and the money spent on one would be a waste, anyway.

Surprisingly, there was no night chill in Charleston. The four of you opted to sleep in the trunk of the pick-up, using your jackets and flannels as blankets for comfort. You hadn’t spoken since witnessing what happened at the garage, even Pope was taking weird glances at you the entire ride.

At this moment, Pope was knocked out, Kiara right behind him. You felt a snarl of disgust edge your way onto your face when she leaned over to peck the curly-haired boy on his cheek before closing her own eyes and drifting off. What was she doing?

A part of you was angry that she and JJ kissed, of course. JJ had led you on with this ruse of giving yourselves time to figure out what was going between you two — whether is was grief-driven or genuine. And Kiara had been playing tug-o-war with Pope’s feelings for weeks, months almost, and the moment he has his back turned, she locks lips with his best friend.

As a friend group, you all had your moments. But you never went behind each other’s backs. Especially never like this.

So, you slept alone. As alone as you could, anyway. You were curled up in the farthest place in the trunk from the other three, closest to the front of the vehicle itself. The pit in your stomach was finally starting to settle as the beginning of sleep started to overtake you when a warm hand curled itself around your shoulder, startling you.

Your eyes shot open as you whipped your head to the side to find JJ’s face hovering over yours.

“Jesus.” You whisper-yelled, rolling your eyes before looking at the blonde once more. “What do you want?”

At your standoffish tone of voice and straight to the point question, the boy drew his lips into a thin line, letting his hand slide from your shoulder. “Okay, someone’s grumpy.” He tried to joke, a lazy smile on his face.

You stared blankly at him for a few beats, blinking. “Goodnight, JJ-”

“Okay, sorry sorry…” He protested quickly, looking behind him to make sure he didn’t wake the other two when the volume and pitch of his voice raised before looking back at you. You shifted to lay flat on your back, staring up at JJ as he stared down at you, leaning his weight on one of his arms. “What’s wrong with you? You’ve been actin’ weird since we left that sketchy ass gas station.”

You simply cocked your head. “What’s wrong with me?” You whispered in response, an air of frustration surrounding your voice. “What’s wrong with you?”

He reeled his neck back at your reversal, his face twisting in confusion. “Wh-Nothing’s wrong with me. You basically threw a bag full of snacks at me and jumped into the truck. Did I say something? Was it the potty princess thing ‘cause you know I was just messin’ around.” He guessed, taking your lack of reaction and response as a sign that maybe that wasn’t the problem. “Did I do somethin’?”

“I don’t know, JJ. You tell me.” You pressed, eyes never leaving his own. He genuinely seemed to rake his brain for answers before settling on one that made your blood boil.

“No, I don’t think I did.” The statement sounded more like a question when it tumbled from his lips. You couldn’t do anything but scoff and roll your eyes, prompting the blonde to try and clean up his answer. “Yes? I don’t know what you want me to say here-”

“Nothing.” You snapped. You were so hurt and angry that you could feel your eyes twitching as you looked at him. “I don’t want you to say anything else to me.” You warned, shifting to turn on your side and effectively away from him. “Ever again.”

“...C’mon, Y/N. Are you just fuckin’ with me or somethin’?” When you didn’t reply, he put a hand on your shoulder, attempting to pull you over to face him. You just shook him off. “Can you tell me what I did?”

The sadness in his voice almost made all the anger fall from your bones but you couldn’t allow yourself to be the weak and vulnerable. Especially not for him. Not anymore.

“No. Now, leave me alone.” You mumbled, shifting to get comfortable for the last time, hearing him sigh and lay down himself behind you. You felt one single tear fall across the bridge of your nose before you closed your eyes. Maybe it was a misunderstanding or something, but your brain couldn’t come up with any explanation of excuse that could explain what you saw. You wanted to talk about it but then again you didn’t. But you knew eventually you’d have to, tonight just wasn’t that night. In a million years, you never thought you’d feel this way because of your best friend.

For the first time in your entire life, you didn’t trust JJ.

“THEY’VE RUN CHARLESTON FOR, LIKE, THREE-THOUSAND YEARS.” Pope explained as the truck pulled to a stop in front of a large, three-story, gated property. It was the next morning and the sun had quite literally just set in the sky. Pope had woken the three of you up at the very first crack of dawn so you could make it there ‘on time’. You’d tried to remind him that ‘on time’ would’ve been last night, but you let him hang on to hope.

It didn’t help that the truck was significantly more crowded. You weren’t eager to sit on JJ’s lap this time around and surprisingly, Kiara wasn’t eager to take your place. Thankfully, the house was only a couple hours from where you slept.

“These Kooks make our Kooks look like Pogues.” JJ proclaimed, staring out of the window and up at the large, standing building. “You sure this is the place, Pope?” He asked, in awe of the property.

“Pretty sure.” The boy sighed, opening the driver’s side door and exiting, JJ following right after as you and Kie exited the vehicle as well, closing the doors behind them. The four you walked up the black, wrought iron fence. Pope held the note in his hands, reading off the address in confirmation.

“Talk about home security…” JJ trailed off, looking at the rather sizeable, sharp points at the top of the fence.

“Are those spikes to keep people out?” Kiara inquired.

Taking a good look at the property through the bars, you noticed a couple of things. You shook your head, a look of disappointment on your face. “No.” You spoke for the first time in hours, the three of them turning to you as you pointed to a section of the yard. “The slave quarters are over there.” You explained, looking at the three of them. “The spikes were to keep people in.” Was the last thing you said before heading up the steps to the front door, the three of them following behind you.

You let Pope take the reigns when you reached the door, him knocking three times on the structure before you heard heavy footsteps coming towards it from the other side. Despite the footsteps, almost a whole minute went by before anything happened.

Pope, nervous and jittery, went to knock again — getting two good ones in before someone opened the door. A middle-aged white man with small, beady eyes and short light brown hair. The expression on his face didn’t look like one of someone who was expecting guests.

Leaning against the door frame, he eyed the four you individually before settling on Pope, an odd smile growing on his features as he pointed at you friend. “You must be Pope.” He said almost excitedly, crossing his arms. Pope stumbled for a response. “Ms. Limbrey was expecting you yesterday.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. My car…broke down on the way up here.” Pope explained, trying to mask his uneasiness.

“Carburetor blew up in the middle of Nowheresville.” JJ voiced from behind Pope. He didn’t look nervous at all, he looked ready for anything. “Sorry ‘bout that.” He said, little emotion to his voice despite the apology.

“Yeah, she was, uh, real upset when you didn’t show up.” The man told Pope, a southern twang to his voice, almost as strong as Shoupe’s.

“We tried to call but there’s no number on the invitation.” Kiara piped up smally, looking at the invitation as she spoke. “We got here as fast as we could…”

“She also expected you to come alone.” The male said, eyeing you, Kiara, and JJ as he said it.

“Well, he didn’t, so…” You added in, crossing your arms and eyeing the man up and down. “Where’s the ‘she’ with all these demands anyway?”

Pope edged in front of you when the man took a threatening step forward, JJ also shuffling forwards. “Look, these are my friends. They helped find the Royal Merchant, too-”

“The instructions were explicit.” He cut Pope off mid-sentence, eyes boring into yours as he leaned forward, his voice lowering to a condescending whisper. “Your friends…can stay outside.” He reprimanded, straightening out and turning back to Pope.

“We’re kind of a package deal, man.” JJ turned his nose up at the man standing between the four of you and the inside of the house.

Pope turned to the blonde. “JJ, it’s okay. I got this.” He assured, sending a small nod his way. JJ took his words at face value, sending a nod in return and taking a step back.

“We’ll be right here…” Kiara trailed off in support, sliding a gentle hand down the length of Pope’s arm. You simply rolled your eyes, something JJ didn’t fail to notice.

“We’ll keep the car running…” You warned, eyes never leaving the suspicious man in the doorframe.

“Well, c’mon now. Ms.Limbrey can’t wait to see you.” He said, stepping aside to allow a weary Pope into the mansion. The boy in question entered the home, not without a glance back at the three of you out on the front step, the door closing menacingly slow behind him.

“Fucking creep.” You scoffed, turning and heading down the steps swiftly.

“Hey, where are you going?” Kiara asked, running after you, watching as you walked the length of the wrought iron fence, examining the spikes.

“What does it look like? I’m gonna find a way into this…house of horrors.” You mumbled, shaking each of the poles for a weak spot, failing to find one. You resorted to attempting to climb the fence but didn’t even manage to get both feet up onto the structure at once.

“And do what exactly? What if you trespass and ruin all our chances at clearing John B’s name?” The girl asked, her face twisting in annoyance as you sighed and hopped down off the fence, turning to face her. Shifting your weight, you shoved your hands into your back pockets before speaking.

“Oh, like you did when you made Pope drop the camera?.” You shrugged, jutting out your bottom lip. “Y’know, the one that had the video of Ward killing someone-”

“That wasn’t even my fault!” She defended.

“I think we all collectively agreed that it was…” You argued nonchalantly, shooting the girl a grimace before walking off in the direction of the parked truck that JJ was leaning against, watching the entire interaction occur.

Before you’d turned away you could’ve swore Kiara opened her mouth to reply, but one warning head shake from JJ and her lips were sealing themselves shut. You were about to open the passenger door when JJ’s hand gripped your upper arm, the blonde staring out in front of him with a stoic yet pointed look on his face.

“Can you let go of me-”

“Does that look voluntary?” He asked, tone deep. You followed his unwavering gaze to find a blonde woman and the man who opened the door leading Pope further into the yard behind the gate. Pope was looking back pitifully at the three of you as the man pushed him forward and the woman, a cane by her side and a limp in her walk, led them both further into the greenery.

“Not at all.” You practically whispered back, attempting to take a step forward when JJ tightened his grip.

“Hold on, hold on.” You turned to him an impatient and questioning look on your face, throwing a hand out as a way to ask ‘what?’. “They’re goin’ around the back alley.” He said hurriedly, rounding the driver’s side of the truck as you hopped in the passenger side, Kie piling in beside you. “We’ll meet ‘em on the other side.”

JJ started the car, driving it slowly in order to draw too much suspicion — with the Limbreys or surrounding neighbors. You could almost hear all three of your hearts beating in panicked unison with every turn made. You didn’t know what these people wanted with Pope, but if they didn’t drop this whole super secret act, they wouldn’t be getting anything.

Driving and driving, and still no Pope. JJ eyes were focused ahead as you and Kiara looked to the sides of the road for any sign of him. “Where did they go?” Kie asked, peering out of the window. She sounded sad. The trio of you continued driving around, Pope nowhere in sight. You were starting to get worried, extremely worried.

If the Limbreys were like the Camerons of Charleston, there was no telling what they could be doing with your friend right now.

“Okay, stop the car.” You said, putting your hands on the dashboard.

“What?” JJ asked, although he slowed the vehicle down, bringing it to a stop on the side of the road. You reached over key and threw the passenger door open before climbing over the girl. “Where the hell are you going-”

“Ouch, that’s my- Ow!” Kie shouted.

You threw yourself out of the vehicle before standing up and dusting yourself off, looking side to side before deciding to go back in the direction the alley was in. Even if you didn’t see Pope, there was a way in and there was no way in hell you weren’t taking it.

You set off quickly in the direction of the alley, Kiara and JJ calling out for you before two pairs of footsteps were trailing behind you. You passed a few people on the sidewalk, unintentionally shoulder-checking them in your haste.

“Watch it!”

“Hey! Rude…”

Reaching the alley, you made a sharp turn into the greenery. You could hear grunts and groans that stopped you in your tracks — you were no stranger to the sounds of violence. Your power walk turned into a sprint, pushing leaves and branches out of your path before reaching Pope, who was beating on the creep who opened the door.

He had him pinned down to the concrete, both of them reaching for what seemed to be a taser. Your eyes fleeted between the two brawling guys and the weapon before you decided to kick the object behind you in the direction of Kiara and JJ.

Pope delivered one last blow to the man’s face before getting up. “C’mon.” You demanded, being the first to run away, back in the direction of the truck. The four of you took the short way — hopping over a cement wall that guarded a small portion of the yard.

The car was a few feet away since you ditched the scenic route, the four of you wasting no time in jumping in. JJ in the driver’s seat with the three of you piled in as well.

“Who the hell were those people?” Kiara panicked, out of breath as she slammed the passenger door shut.

“I don’t know but they’re crazy as shit!” Pope’s voice cracked as he settled into the vehicle. “We need to get out of here now.” He warned, wide eyes drifting in JJ’s direction as the blonde started the engine and hit the gas almost all in one motion as the vehicle leaped forward, sending you all down the road.

Near moments after JJ had hit the gas, leaving a smoke trail in his wake, you looked behind you to see a car speeding behind you, the fishbowl windows allowing you to see the driver clearly. “Creepy guy recovers fast.” You panted, looking back ahead of you and prompting JJ to peek in the rearview mirror, pressing the gas a little harder.

“Here we go now!”

Heyward’s truck was going faster than you ever deemed possible, flying down the road. “Hey, JJ, slow down. This is a one-way.” Pope warned, the truck never slowing down. JJ was too focused to hear much of anything, you were gripping the seat for dear life. “This is a one-way!” Pope got louder as JJ started to reach a busier part of the town. A car suddenly appeared in front of you, the headlights blinding.

“Car, JJ! There’s a car!” You warned, grabbing a hold of the steering wheel yourself and making a right turn before the truck could collide with the SUV. Rounding the corner, you almost collided with two pedestrians — the two heads of blonde and light-brown hair looking eerily familiar for the slightest of moments.

“Jesus, look out!” Pope and Kiara said in unison as JJ took back control of the wheel and avoided hitting the two people.

“Get out of the road!” JJ shouted as he redirected the car on the street.

“Those were pedestrians!” Kiara reprimanded, gripping the passenger door for stability.

“That was evasive driving technique right there, y’all!” JJ patted himself on the back as you turned to look out of the rear window to see the man still hot on your trail.

“You sure about that ‘cause he’s still following us.” You warned, looking at the blonde for the briefest of moments.

“Hang on, I’ll lose him.” JJ assured you all, making a sharp turn that sent the three of you crashing into each other. Just as he turned into an empty alley, a pop sound following a hiss of air and smoke came from the truck. “I thought you said he fixed carburetor!”

“He did!” Pope said as the car came to a stop of its own.

“No, Pope, he clearly did not!” JJ retorted as he opened the door, Kie doing the same on the passenger side. The four of you got out of the truck, fanning the air and coughing.

“Number one rule, never trust mechanics.” JJ spoke mainly to himself as you all grabbed whatever you brought along with you out of the trunk of the car just as the car following you pulled in the alley as well. “Shit. Go, go, go!”

The four of you booked, the smoke hopefully giving you a bit of time as you ran through the alley. You and Kiara looked behind you as you ran, seeing the man get out of his own car and tuck something into his jacket.

“He has a gun.” You muttered, looking back ahead as you ran. “He has a fucking gun!”

Pope and JJ glanced behind themselves, past you and Kie to see the man not far behind. The squad of you picked up the pace, making the first turn available but you swore you heard someone calling your names.

The man was picking up the pace as well, getting closer to you all. “We might have to split up!” JJ suggested from the forefront of the group.

“Are you crazy?” You shouted, being right behind the blonde. “No way!” You continued, almost tripping over an unleveled section of the concrete. JJ, not paying attention, ran into a mailman, sending the packages in his hand flying into the air.

“Sorry ‘bout that!” He apologized over his shoulder. JJ led you all into another alley, this one much narrower causing you all to run in a line. The guy was falling behind, which was a plus.

Coming out of the alley, you all came face to face with a couple on a bike almost getting run over by them. But after taking a longer look at the two people who almost pummeled you all with their bike, your heart dropped farther down in your body than it ever has.

Every single one of your five senses seemed to cease to exist in this moment. You couldn’t hear anything, white noise filling your ears as your vision blurred on the edges, only allowing you to see what you could only logically explain as two ghosts standing in front of you — a very much alive John B Routeledge and Sarah Cameron standing in front of you, covering in mud and dirt and who knows what else.

Whatever breath you had been holding in your lungs released itself, the release of air allowing your senses to return, almost like coming up out of the water.

All of your expressions were somewhere in between a blank stare and a smile. You wanted to reach a hand out to see if they were real.

“...Get in. Get in! Get in!” John B broke the silence. His voice hadn’t changed. It was exactly like you remembered. The four of you did as he said, still partially in shock, piling into the bike. You, Kiara, and Sarah crowded into the cab of the pedicab as JJ and Pope pushed it from the back as John B pedaled as hard as he could.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of his back as he pedaled, unless of course it was to direct the same blank stare in Sarah’s direction. The Limbrey guy plus two other men were chasing the group of you now, JJ and Pope hopping onto the sides after it gained enough speed to ride smoothly with the six of you on it.

The entire ride to the boat, your friends were whooping and cheering. And on the inside you couldn’t be happier or more relieved at how well the universe seemed to work in your favor but for some reason, your body wasn’t so eager to show it on the outside.

For a whole month, you’d grieved someone who wasn’t dead.

Once you reached one of Ward’s boats the Sarah knew the location of — My Druthers Too, you all wasted no time jumping into it, sailing in the direction of The Outer Banks. Back home.

next chapter>

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.

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iamthemain-character · 14 days ago

Text

The Gold and the Rust

astarion x reader

she/her

TW: mild spice, almost dubcon (but nothing actually happens! we only believe in clear consent in this household!), mentions of canonical trauma

@ S.H. you better give me a big kiss for this one

One bright morning changes all things

Soft and easy as your breathing, you wake

Your eyes open, at first a thousand miles away

But turning, shoot a silver bullet point-blank range

And I can scarce believe what I'm believing in

Could this be how every day begins?

The grass was soft and cool under the scarred skin that stretched over Astarion’s shoulder blades. He was sure his body ached, but after thousands of years of this routine, he hardly even noticed it anymore. What he never got used to was the prick of guilt, making his heart bleed out into his stomach.

He pushes himself off the ground, relying on his hands to keep his frame upright. He let his head drop back between his shoulders, the soft, bristle-like ends brushing over his skin. He couldn’t help but recall how your hands had grasped at those same hairs not but a few hours ago. It had stirred an unexpected feeling in him, that simple gesture in the heat of passion. It was not the first time someone had grabbed his hair while he pleasured them, nor did he expect it to be the last. Yet...it had felt different; the pulling certainly had left his scalp tingling from the force of it, but it wasn’t violent. It had felt like you needed him closer, needed to have his lips on yours, needed his skin to merge within your own. Your touches had felt like you needed to know every part of him, like your soft fingers could reach down into his damned soul and bring it back to life.

He had never been needed before.

Astarion looked over to the side, his ruby eyes appreciative as he gazed at your body. Your skin looked so soft, the peaks and valleys of your frame swirling in the sunlight that shone through the leaves. You looked just like a treasure, glowing and priceless in your mere existence. Astarion’s mind kept replaying the sound of your voice as you had squirmed underneath him, the way your softness welcomed his tight grip. Heaven didn’t exist for vampires, but when you had called out his name he was sure he had found it.

Something altogether too warm and fluttery stirred in his cold, undead heart, and Astarion pushed himself up off of the ground, stretching to his full height as his hands brushed the low-hanging leaves of the willow tree that covered the two of you. He wasted no time collecting his clothes, lacing up his leather trousers in a business-like manner.

Just before he could don his shirt, however, he heard the rustling of the grass behind him; for some reason he could not fathom, he wanted to turn around. He wanted to watch you wake up, let his fingers lazily trace over your skin, pretending he was the artist who had fashioned this masterpiece. Then, perhaps when you woke up fully, he would create his own works of art upon your warm skin.

With a start, he snapped himself out of his thoughts, realizing his shirt was hanging loosely in his hands, swaying in the breeze. He felt an unfamiliar rush to his ears, a sort of embarrassment at catching himself so lost in thought over you. He never had trouble like this with any of his other victims before, so why was he so sentimental over you? Astarion knew he couldn’t love anyone, it wasn’t who he was. So why did he yearn to lay back down in the soft grass again?

Against his better judgment, he turned around, and he felt his resolve weaken. The sun now shone over your face, and you had instinctively turned away from the light, but the Sun’s hands still left its caress over your neck and hair. Astarion softly crossed the short distance, crouching down beside your sleeping body. His logic was screaming at him to leave, to make sure there was no chance of a confrontation between the two of you. That was how he was going to string you along, of course, keep you guessing, wanting more. But now he was the one guessing himself, and needing more.

Slowly, he laid on the grass again, feeling the sun glint off his own paper-white skin. He kept his chin over his shoulder, his gaze unable to be pulled away from your features. His fingers nearly ached with the desire to reach out, to feel your jaw under them, or the way your shoulder felt through your hair. But he kept them still, not willing to chance disturbing your rest.

This was good for his ultimate plot, he reasoned to himself. You would trust him so much more if he woke up beside you, showered you with flirtatious comments and sensual touches. Him staying behind was a good thing for him, so he wouldn’t have to wait as long to be able to manipulate you to his whims.

Surely that was the reason he laid beside you in the morning light, his pinky just a hair away from touching yours.

One bright morning goes so easy

Darkness always finds you either way

It creeps into the corners as the moment fades

A voice your body jumps to calling out your name

But after this I'm never gonna be the same

And I am never going back again

Astarion could see your hunger the moment you had come back into camp. Your eyes had that dark expression, your body tense in a way that he knew exactly how to relieve. It was beautiful, something he certainly appreciated, but his chest ached with the anxiety of having to perform. Just the thought of touching you in that way made him want to puke whatever little blood was in his stomach. Not because you yourself were repulsive, but because he knew he wouldn’t be able to feel your hands, but instead the claws of Cazador.

But he didn’t want to lose you. Already, his perfect plan was in crumbles. He already had your protection, your blood that you offered willingly. Now it was just maintenance. But instead, he kept trying to be more, to have more with you, simply because he wanted to. He liked your subtle glances across the camp, he liked the way you’d brush your leg against his. He loved the way he was finally able to learn to sleep because you held him so tightly after your encounters. Despite his best efforts, he had gotten used to having you as his, having your sole attention and romantic interest. Even if the blond elf pretended to not care, he liked having you all to himself.

So when you entered his tent, already looking like you were one breath away from shredding his clothes, he did what he always has. Kept his mouth shut, shutting off his brain and letting his body exist for the only thing he was good for. He felt like he was simply watching as you kissed him, lips hungry and needy as they sought to claim his. He simply followed the routine, touching where he knew you liked it, meaningless words murmured in a sickenly sultry tone. If he could just get through this, he would be fine. And besides, you always felt so good, so he was simply overreacting. He would be fine.

He let you pull off his shirt, but while your hands rested over his heart, the memory of Cazador’s tightened around it, fear running through his ice cold veins. And when you pushed him down onto the bedroll, straddling his hips, he didn’t see your adoring smile, but rather the vampiric fangs that had doomed him so long ago.

“Astarion?”

Your gentle voice broke through his thoughts, though by the look on your face, you must have called for him few times before.

He tried to gather himself, putting on his practiced wicked smile. “Yes, pretty girl?”

Your forehead was wrinkled from your furrowed brows, the desire in your eyes filled with concern. “Are you alright?” Your voice was so soft, so sweet, and if Astarion didn’t know better, he would have thought you cared.

“Of course pet. Please, I believe you were getting to something very important.”He purred, a little uncomfortable with the sudden attention to himself.

Instead of continuing, however, you got off of him, kneeling beside the bedroll. “If you don’t want to do this, we don’t have to.”

Astarion sits up, and opens his mouth to reassure you, but he pauses as he hears your words. For a moment, he wasn’t quite sure he had heard them properly, because no one ever asked what he wanted, or if he even wanted the things he was doing. Still, the fear that you’ll walk away, that you’ll find someone else to shower your attention on seizes him, and he knows he must double down on the lie. “Dearest, I could see you wanted me from the moment you came into camp. Let me take care of your needs, ease the weariness from the day.”

You shook your head vehemently, a frown pulling at your mouth. “That’s not what I’m asking, Astarion. Do you want this right now, or would you rather not?”

Shame and guilt filled up his stomach, churning it into a stormy sea. Your eyes were so intense, as if you could see through him. He wasn’t sure his careful web of lies could protect him this time. “What does it matter what I want?” Astarion winces at how bitter his voice sounds, knowing that he’s not angry with you. He hesitates, wondering briefly if you were going to punish him for his impertinence.

Your furrowed brows arch upwards, surprised at his tone, but you don’t move away, nor do you make any move to harm him. “I don’t want to sleep with you if you don’t want it as much as I do.” You say, your voice a little frustrated from how much Astarion is dodging your questions.

Astarion huffs, looking guilty. “I can still give you what you want. I know how to make you feel-”

“That's not the point.” You cut him off, taking a deep breath to keep yourself calm. “Is that really what you think this is? You think I come to you just because of what you can give me?”

For the first time in his undead life, Astarion is speechless, a little bewildered by your reactions and your words. “What else would you come to me for?”

You run a hand through your hair, wishing you could shake this man of whatever terrible thoughts are under that silvery hair of his. Instead, you smooth out the edge of the blanket, keeping yourself calm. “Do you truly not have any idea how I feel about you?” You watch, but Astarion gives no reaction or indication of his thoughts. You soften, your heart aching a little. “I......I care about you so much Astarion. And I mean all of you.”

You sigh, dropping your head back against your neck as you think. “I think about you all the time. I worry about if you’re safe or if you’re hungry. I get excited knowing I get to see your face, I long to make you smile. And not the one you always have, the real one where I can see one more fang more than the other because your lips go crooked when you’re trying not to smile.” You drop your gaze back down, looking into the depths of his ruby eyes. “I enjoy the sex, of course. But that’s because I enjoy every part of you. You have so many other amazing qualities.”

Astarion sits very still and very quiet as he listens, only the tips of his ears twitching. He keeps playing the words on loop inside of his head. I care about you. And for the first time, he finds that he has no quips, no easy flattery or flirtation, nor any weapon to get out of this. You are just there, in front of him, your words raw and so saturated with honesty. And it terrifies him.

But deep inside of him, in the heart he likes to pretend he doesn’t have, there's a small glimmer of light. A tiny flame of hope, burning through the cruelty of Cazador and the ghosts of past trysts, making him wonder if he could truly be so desired. To be wanted beyond his body. “...I have spent my life, being a body for people.” He says quietly, his eyes trained on your hands as he speaks. Everything in his rougish logic is cursing him for being vulnerable, but as he lifts his gaze to your eyes, he finds nothing but safety and acceptance. “I do not know what it is to be cared for. But…” He pauses, his eyes softening, round and doe-like. His hands are embarrassingly shaky, but he reaches out, taking yours into them all the same. “I would very much so like to find out.”

A small, sweet smile curls on your face, fanning the hope inside of Astarion’s heart. You hold his hands gently but firmly, like you know he may pull away otherwise. “Then let me ask you again; do you, Astarion, want to continue what I was doing? And I want your genuine answer, not what you think I want.”

Astarion swallows the ball of nerves in his throat, his fingers tightening their grasp on you. “No.” He says, and he feels a surge of emotion within his heart. “No, I don’t.” he says again, astonished at how it feels to say the word. He watches you, but you’re still smiling, still looking at him like you adore him. Astarion wonders if perhaps you really do just care about him. “But I...I don’t want you to leave, either.” He admits, wondering if he’s pushing his luck.

Your smile only grows, and you move a little closer to him. “Would you like me to grab my bedroll? Or...I could even hold you, if you’d like?”

Astarion feels his own lips turn up, the idea of being close to you, warm and comfortable in his bed more enticing than he can express. “Yes please, darling. I’d like to keep you close.”

You nod, and without a single hesitation, you move back over to the bedroll. Astarion feels a little giddy at the prospect, struggling to keep up his cool, nonchalant attitude. He lays down with you, watching your hair sprawl out over his pillow. Your head mirrors his, and for a while, the two of you just gaze into one another’s eyes. Astarion tries to subtly shift closer, pretending like he’s getting comfortable, when in reality he just wants to be closer to you. Knowingly, you smile at him, and you open your arms to invite him in.

He practically swan dives into the junction of your shoulder and chest, nuzzling his head over your heart. He doesn’t even bother trying to hide the smile that pulls at his lips, all but purring as he melts against your side. You curve one arm over his shoulder, cradling his head as it rests over your breast, and you drape the other lightly over the valley of his waist.

The little flame inside of Astarion’s heart bursts into a fire as he feels you hold him, and he gives up any attempts at being cool about your presence. His bicep presses into the underside of your breasts, squishing them a little from how tightly he holds you. His other arm snakes under you, resting at the natural curve of your back. Even with your body fully in his grasp, however, it's still not enough. He draws his knee up, hooking his leg over yours, resting it below your knee. A contented sigh brushed your hair as he relaxed, his eyes fluttering shut. You could see his soft white eyelashes over his cheeks, the skin lightly pink and matching the tips of his ears.

Gently, your hand shifts upwards to the nape of his neck, lightly scratching at the hair where it grows out from his skin. The shorter strands loosen from where they were tucked between the two of you, twisting with every moment of your fingers. Astarion almost doesn’t want to believe this could be real, that you truly were so willing to simply lay with him, to hold him. And yet as he listened to the steady beat of your heart, so full of life, he was sure that he had found heaven.

The sky set to burst

The gold and the rust

The colour erupts

You filling my cup

The sun coming up

Like I lived my whole life

Before the first light

(Some bright morning comes)

Like I lived my whole life

Before the first light

Being an elf and a vampire meant that even when Astarion could sleep, he didn’t sleep for very long. It used to bother him, the long, lonely nights where he was left alone with the ghosts of his past. After falling in love with you, however, he adored the mornings. He would linger in the warmth of your shared bed, cuddled as close to you as he possibly could be. He would alternate between stroking your hair, or pressing delicate little kisses over your shoulder and arms. He loved watching you sleep, able to take his time studying your features without you blushing or hiding away.

On the mornings where he was feeling needy, however, he took no issue waking you up.

“My love.” He murmured, pressing a more insistent kiss to your shoulder, his arm wrapping around your waist. He saw no response, however, and so he decided to be more persistent in his efforts. He began trailing his lips over your arm, nibbling at whatever softness was there, making his way up to your neck. He couldn’t resist pressing the point of his nose into the skin of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. Sometimes he felt he could get drunk on your scent alone, the different aromas that collected on your skin melding into a fragrance that was entirely unique, and entirely his to enjoy.

With that thought in mind, he nibbled gently at your neck, and was rewarded with the shifting of your body below his chest as you awoke. Your hands instinctively found their way to his back, soft and warm as they ran over his cool skin. He shivered, the sensation only serving to stir up the heat coiling in his lower abdomen. “There she is.” He hums, his tone dripping with satisfaction and barely controlled desire.

“Good morning.” You say sleepily, your body already leaning up into him, not needing to be fully awake to know what it wants. Your touch crawls up to the nape of his neck, brushing the soft curls there at the base. Astarion nearly moans, the simple gesture only adding to the intense need he feels for you.

He moves to get more fully on top of you, knees guiding your thighs apart as he finds his rightful place between them. Still, it's simply not enough, so his long fingers cup the slope where your ass met your thigh, nails digging into the soft flesh with a desperate claim. He knows that you’re still waking up, that he should be more gentle, but the smile on your lips is all the encouragement he needs to know his advancements are welcomed. His hands snap your hips up to meet his, and he presses his body intently against yours, letting you feel just how aroused he is.

A soft moan leaves you, your mind waking up considerably as you feel heat rush straight to your core. You look down your body, seeing the way he’s practically grinding into you, his red eyes dark with lust and love.

“Please.” The request carries an infinite well of want, his voice slightly breathless and husky, brushing invisible fingers along your spine. You nod, and that’s all it takes for Astarion to give into exactly what he’s wanting. Your bed becomes a paradise, both skin and sheets marked as he savors the way he can be this way with you, his past nothing more than a distant whisper.

Heaven didn’t exist for vampires.

But you did. And for Astarion, that was everything.

#i've dived so deep back into my bg3 phase #s.h. you are not helping the delusions #to be fair i'm also the culprit here #astarion #astarion baldurs gate #astarion bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you

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amethystarachnid · 21 days ago

Text

MUTANT BODYGUARD - part II

⤷ JAMES LOGAN HOWLETT

ᯓ★ Pairing: James Logan Howlett x fem!reader

ᯓ★ part 1 | part 2 | part 3

ᯓ★ Genre: fluff and spicy (I mean, it's Logan...)

ᯓ★ Story type: short story

ᯓ★ Word count: 6k

ᯓ★ TW(s): jealous and a little possessive Logan, reader has to play a love interest in a movie and her co-star makes stupid jokes and flirts with her

ᯓ★ Timeline: doesn't follow a timeline in the x-men movies, just...maybe before days of future past?

ᯓ★ Request: Can you do a part 2 on the bodyguard Logan with the actress like shes playing another famous actor love interest and Logan gets jealous ( @st4rrlighttt)

ᯓ★ From: Marvel Bingo, Bodyguard romance x Age Gap

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests open)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ If you are a Charles Xavier lover click on this link!

ᯓ★ English isn't my first language and this isn’t proof read

As the weeks pass, your relationship with Logan seems to settle into a strange sense of normalcy, despite the whirlwind of public attention surrounding you both. The tabloids are relentless, but true to Logan’s word, he brushes it all off with a shrug and a smirk, never letting the flashing cameras or whispered rumors affect the way he treats you. He’s present, caring, and somehow, the protective nature that once seemed intimidating now feels like a comforting constant in your life. You’re not used to this—to someone being so entirely in your corner, unbothered by the world’s judgment.

But as the days roll into weeks, you feel the pull of your career tugging at the edges of your quiet bubble with Logan. The script for your next project—a romantic comedy—arrives, and it’s everything you’ve ever dreamed of. The lead role is challenging, a huge opportunity to show your range as an actress. The director is a big name, and the production is star-studded. It’s exactly the kind of role that could elevate your career to the next level.

But there’s one complication. Your co-star, the love interest in the film, is none other than Jason Reed—a rising actor with a notorious reputation for being charming, flirtatious, and a bit of a womanizer.

Logan hasn’t said much about it, but you can tell it’s been on his mind. You’ve noticed the way his jaw tightens whenever the subject comes up, the way he changes the topic whenever the script or Jason’s name is mentioned. You didn’t want to bring it up either, unsure of how to navigate the delicate line between your career and your personal life.

That evening, you’re sitting on the couch, the script in hand, when Logan walks in, looking as brooding as ever. He glances at you, and his eyes flicker to the script on your lap.

“You start shooting tomorrow, right?” His voice is casual, but there’s a tension underneath that makes your chest tighten.

You nod, biting your lip. “Yeah, first day of filming.”

Logan crosses the room and sits down beside you, his presence as grounding as ever. He’s quiet for a moment, then he speaks, his voice low. “You gonna be kissing that Jason guy?”

The question catches you off guard, and you glance at him, searching his face. There’s no anger there, just… something else. Something raw and unspoken.

“It’s just acting, Logan,” you say softly, placing your hand on his arm. “You know that.”

He grunts, clearly not convinced. “I’ve seen the way he looks at women.”

You sigh, not sure how to ease the tension. “I’m a professional. So is he. We’re just doing our jobs.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve seen guys like him before.” Logan’s voice is a low growl, and you can tell he’s trying to keep his emotions in check. “And I don’t trust him.”

You place the script on the coffee table and turn to face him fully. “Logan, you have nothing to worry about. This is my job. It doesn’t change anything between us.”

He runs a hand through his hair, leaning back on the couch with a frustrated sigh. “It’s not you I’m worried about, it’s him.”

“I know,” you whisper, leaning closer. “But you don’t have to protect me from this. I can handle it.”

Logan’s gaze meets yours, intense and conflicted. For a moment, you think he’s going to argue, but instead, he reaches for your hand, pulling you into his lap, his arms wrapping around you in a way that feels both possessive and protective.

“I trust you,” he says, his voice rough but sincere. “I just don’t like the idea of some smooth-talking actor putting his hands on you, even if it’s just for a role.”

You kiss him gently, hoping to soothe the storm brewing behind his eyes. “You’re the only one I want, Logan. You know that.”

He kisses you back, his lips firm against yours, but there’s still a trace of tension in his body. “Yeah, well, don’t expect me to sit around and play nice if this guy steps out of line.”

You smile against his lips, knowing full well that Logan means it. His protective streak is part of what makes him who he is, and while it can be overwhelming at times, there’s a part of you that finds comfort in it.

The next morning arrives all too soon, and you find yourself standing on set, dressed in character, nerves buzzing under your skin. Jason Reed is already there, flashing his trademark grin as he saunters over to you.

“Y/N! I’ve been looking forward to this,” he says, his voice smooth and charming, his eyes scanning you in a way that makes you feel a little too seen.

You give him a polite smile, keeping your distance. “Ready to work?”

“Always,” he replies, but there’s a glint in his eye that makes you wary. He leans in a little closer, lowering his voice. “You know, I’ve been hearing a lot about you and your new… boyfriend.”

You stiffen slightly. “Let’s keep things professional, Jason.”

He holds up his hands in mock surrender, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Just making conversation.”

The first scene goes smoothly enough, but as the day progresses, the tension between you and Jason becomes more palpable. He’s good at what he does—charming, charismatic, and undeniably attractive. The camera loves him, and you can see why audiences swoon over him.

But with every take, every lingering touch or gaze, you can’t help but feel a gnawing sense of unease. It’s not just about the scene or the acting—it’s the way Jason looks at you when the cameras stop rolling, like he’s testing the waters, seeing how far he can push.

By the time lunch rolls around, you’re more than ready for a break. You head to your trailer, hoping for a few minutes of quiet to collect yourself. But when you open the door, you find Logan sitting there, his arms crossed over his chest, a stormy look in his eyes.

“Logan,” you say, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d stop by. See how things were going.” His voice is calm, but the underlying tension is unmistakable.

You close the door behind you, walking over to him. “You didn’t have to come.”

“I wanted to,” he replies, his eyes scanning your face, searching for something. “So… how’s Jason?”

You sigh, sitting down beside him. “He’s fine. It’s just work.”

Logan’s jaw tightens, and he leans forward slightly, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “He better remember that.”

You reach for his hand, squeezing it gently. “Logan, I can handle him. You don’t need to worry.”

“I know you can handle yourself,” he says, his voice softening slightly. “But I also know guys like him. And if he crosses a line, I won’t be sitting on the sidelines.”

You smile, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

As the afternoon unfolds, you can feel the weight of Logan’s presence on set. It’s both a comfort and a reminder of the delicate balance you’re trying to maintain between your professional life and the man who’s quickly become so much more than just a protector.

When the final scene of the day comes—a pivotal moment where your character shares a passionate kiss with Jason’s—you feel Logan’s eyes on you, watching from just off-camera. You take a deep breath, reminding yourself that this is just acting, just a scene.

But when Jason leans in, his lips brushing against yours, you can feel the intensity of Logan’s gaze burning into you. And as the scene ends, you catch a glimpse of him, jaw clenched, eyes dark with a mix of jealousy and something more primal.

As the director calls it a wrap, Jason pulls back, his grin easy and self-assured. “Not bad, huh?”

You force a smile, trying to shake off the awkwardness. “Yeah, good work.”

But as you turn to leave, Logan is already by your side, his hand finding yours, pulling you close. His touch is possessive, a silent reminder of everything unsaid.

Jason’s eyes flicker to Logan, and for a brief moment, there’s a challenge in the air, an unspoken tension that lingers between the two men.

“See you tomorrow,” Jason says, his grin never wavering.

Logan’s grip tightens around your hand. “Not if I see you first.”

You stifle a laugh, nudging Logan as you walk away, but the tension between them is impossible to ignore. As you leave the set, you realize that the lines between your world and Logan’s are blurring more and more, and you’re not sure where this story will go next.

The next morning arrives with a bright sun streaming through the windows of your trailer. After a quick breakfast, you’re buzzing with anticipation and a hint of anxiety about filming your scenes with Jason. But knowing Logan is by your side eases your nerves. You’re both navigating uncharted waters, but you’re determined to keep everything as professional as possible.

As the day progresses, the energy on set fluctuates between light-hearted banter and intense moments of focus. You do your best to keep things casual with Jason, but his flirtatious demeanor makes it increasingly difficult. Each take, every lingering look feels heavier, and you can see Logan’s tension growing with every interaction.

By lunchtime, you’re more than ready for a break. You sneak into your trailer, hoping for a moment to collect yourself. Just as you settle in, the door swings open, and there stands Logan, looking ruggedly handsome as always.

“Hey,” you say, smiling as you watch him step inside, closing the door behind him.

“Hey yourself,” he replies, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Thought I’d find you in here.”

“I need a break from all the flirting,” you joke, rolling your eyes. “It’s exhausting.”

“Yeah, I can imagine,” he says, his expression shifting to something more serious. He steps closer, his hands finding your waist, pulling you in as he lowers his voice. “You don’t have to deal with that alone, you know.”

You lean into him, feeling the warmth radiate from his body. “I know. That’s why you’re here, right?”

“Exactly.” He tilts his head, capturing your lips in a soft kiss. The world outside fades away, and it feels like it’s just you and him in this moment. You melt into him, deepening the kiss as your hands tangle in his hair.

Time seems to slip away, and you’re lost in the warmth and comfort of his embrace. The kiss is soft and tender, a reminder of how far you’ve come together.

But just as you pull away, breathless and smiling, there’s a sharp knock on the door, causing both of you to jump apart.

“Y/N! Are you in there?” Jason calls from the other side, his tone light but a hint of impatience evident.

Logan’s expression darkens slightly, and you can see the muscles in his jaw tighten. “Just a minute!” you shout back, shooting Logan an apologetic look.

“Perfect timing,” he mutters under his breath, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“Logan, it’s fine. We’re just—”

“I’m not letting him come in here,” Logan interrupts, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re my girl now.”

You feel your cheeks flush at his words, a mix of warmth and pride flooding through you. “I know,” you reply softly, stepping closer to him, drawn to his protective energy.

The knocking grows more insistent. “Y/N! I need to talk to you about the next scene!”

Logan huffs, clearly agitated. “Yeah, well, he can wait a minute.”

“Logan,” you say gently, trying to ease the tension. “Let me just talk to him. It’ll be fine.”

He watches you for a moment, the intensity of his gaze penetrating. “Just remember, you’re with me now. You don’t owe him anything.”

You take a step back, feeling the weight of his words. “I know, but I want to keep things professional. We can’t let this interfere with work.”

He gives you a reluctant nod, still looking a bit possessive. “Fine, but I’m staying right here.”

You chuckle, knowing he won’t budge. You head toward the door, preparing yourself for the encounter. You take a deep breath before swinging it open.

Jason leans against the frame, a confident smile plastered on his face. “There you are! I was just wondering if we could go over the scene together.”

You nod, doing your best to keep the situation light. “Sure, let’s go over it.”

But as you start to step out of the trailer, Logan moves to stand beside you, his posture relaxed but his presence impossibly dominant. You can feel the tension radiating from him as he folds his arms and leans slightly closer to you, as if to make it clear to Jason that you’re not going anywhere without him.

“Hey, man,” Jason greets Logan casually, a hint of surprise flashing across his face. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Yeah, well, I’m just making sure Y/N is good,” Logan replies, his tone edged with an unmistakable possessiveness. “You know how demanding the job can be.”

Jason raises an eyebrow, a smirk creeping onto his face. “I get it. Protecting your girl and all.”

You shoot Logan a warning glance, but he doesn’t seem to care. The way he’s standing, shoulder-to-shoulder with you, sends a clear message: you’re taken.

“Just remember, it’s still a work environment,” you interject, trying to ease the tension. “We’re here to focus on the film.”

Logan looks down at you, a soft smile breaking through his seriousness. “Right. But that doesn’t mean I can’t keep an eye on things.”

Jason chuckles, though there’s a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. “No problem. Just let me know when you’re ready to rehearse.”

You take a step forward, hoping to diffuse the situation. “We’ll be right out, Jason. Just give us a second.”

As Jason turns to leave, Logan leans down, whispering in your ear, “You know he’s going to be trying to push my buttons all day, right?”

You can’t help but laugh softly. “I know, but we can handle it. Just remember, I’m with you. Always.”

Logan pulls back, his gaze softening. “Yeah, I just want to make sure he knows it.”

With that, you step out of the trailer, feeling Logan’s presence lingering beside you. As you walk back to the set, you catch Jason’s eye, and he flashes that charming smile again, but this time you’re not swayed. Not with Logan standing strong beside you.

Filming continues, and though Jason attempts to play up the flirtation during scenes, you feel a new sense of confidence in your relationship with Logan. Each time Jason leans a little too close or delivers a line with a little too much innuendo, you can feel Logan’s gaze on you, fierce and protective. You catch his eyes, a silent conversation passing between you: you’re in this together.

The final scene of the day arrives, and it’s the climax of the movie—a passionate confession followed by an even more passionate kiss. You and Jason stand across from each other, the tension in the air electric.

“Ready?” Jason asks, a hint of mischief in his voice.

“Let’s just get it over with,” you reply, feeling a twinge of nerves. You glance toward Logan, who is watching from the side of the set, arms crossed and an expression that says he’s not impressed.

As the director counts down, you take a deep breath, channeling all your emotions into the moment. Jason steps closer, his face hovering inches from yours, and as you start the scene, you can feel the weight of Logan’s gaze burning into your back.

The kiss comes, and you pour everything into it, knowing that the reality of your feelings lies just beneath the surface. As the kiss deepens, you feel a spark of rebellion against the situation, and you realize just how much you want to distance yourself from Jason’s advances.

The director yells “Cut!” and as soon as the command rings out, you pull away, your heart racing. But as you step back, you catch Logan’s gaze again, and this time it’s different. There’s an intensity in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment that you’re his, and he’s yours.

As Jason makes a joke about the scene, trying to lighten the mood, you can see the way he’s trying to maintain his charm, but it doesn’t faze you. You turn to Logan, who’s stepped closer, his presence radiating a sense of ownership that sends warmth cascading through you.

“Good job out there,” he murmurs, his voice low as he tugs you closer.

“Thanks,” you reply, feeling a rush of warmth at his proximity. “I was just thinking about how much I’d rather be kissing you right now.”

Logan grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Trust me, you’ll get plenty of that later.”

Just then, Jason approaches, his confidence unshaken. “So, Y/N, you think we can work on that scene a bit more later? Maybe grab dinner?”

You don’t hesitate. “Actually, I have plans,” you say, shooting a quick glance at Logan, who looks like he could take on a bear if he had to right now. “With Logan.”

Jason raises an eyebrow, his smirk faltering slightly. “Really? You’re going to let him keep you from doing some real work?”

You don’t flinch. “Logan isn’t keeping me from anything. I’m choosing to be with him.”

A flicker of surprise crosses Jason’s face, but he quickly recovers, his charm returning. “Well, I guess you’ve made your choice then.”

You smile sweetly, a sense of triumph surging through you as you turn to Logan, who’s watching the exchange with an amused expression.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says, the possessive glint in his eyes returning.

As you walk away from the set, hand in hand with Logan, you feel

a rush of exhilaration. You’ve stood your ground, and for the first time in a long while, you feel empowered.

The world beyond the set may be full of distractions and complications, but in this moment, with Logan beside you, everything feels right.

The night of the premiere is electric. Flashbulbs flicker in rapid succession as fans line the barricades, shouting out for autographs and pictures. The energy is infectious as you step onto the red carpet, the roar of the crowd sending a rush of adrenaline through you. The premiere of your romantic comedy has been highly anticipated, and tonight feels like the culmination of all the hard work you and Jason put into the film.

You take a deep breath, standing tall in your stunning gown, feeling the press of eyes from every direction. Beside you, Jason looks every bit the charming leading man, his arm casually draped across your back as the two of you wave to the crowd. It's all part of the act—selling the chemistry you had on-screen—but tonight, there’s a difference. Logan is here.

Your eyes dart to where Logan stands just behind you, dressed impeccably in a dark suit, but not in the way that draws attention. He blends into the crowd of security personnel and handlers, his gaze steady as he watches over the event. He’s doing his job, but you know him well enough to sense the tension beneath his cool exterior.

As you step onto the main stretch of the carpet, reporters rush forward, jostling for your attention. Jason leans in, giving them his signature grin as he holds you a little closer, making the moment look picture-perfect. But you feel Logan’s gaze on you, like a tether grounding you in the midst of the chaos.

A reporter thrusts a microphone toward you and Jason, her eyes wide with excitement. “Y/N! Jason! You two had such amazing chemistry in the film. What was it like working together on this romantic comedy?”

Jason is the first to answer, his voice smooth and confident. “It was fantastic. Y/N is an incredible actress, and working with her just made everything feel natural. The chemistry was easy—when you’re working with someone as talented as her, it just clicks.”

You smile graciously, playing along, though your thoughts are half-focused on Logan’s presence just behind you. “Jason made it really easy to get into character. We had a lot of fun on set, and I think that translated on screen.”

The reporter’s eyes light up, sensing an opportunity for more. “You two seem to get along so well. Was there ever a moment where the lines between acting and real life blurred?”

Jason chuckles, leaning in closer to you, his voice dropping just enough to seem intimate. “You know, there were definitely moments where it felt very real,” he says, giving you a wink that sends the crowd into a frenzy of excited murmurs.

You feel a flicker of discomfort, though you keep your smile firmly in place. It’s all part of the show. But as you glance toward Logan, you catch the flash of something protective in his expression, though he remains stone-faced and professional, arms crossed as he keeps his distance.

You clear your throat, quickly steering the conversation back to the movie. “Well, we were definitely dedicated to making sure the audience felt the connection between the characters. We wanted it to be as authentic as possible.”

The reporter nods eagerly, then shifts her attention, sensing the drama just beneath the surface. “Speaking of real life, Y/N, the press has been buzzing about your relationship with Logan Howlett. It must be a bit strange to have your boyfriend here tonight—especially since he’s working as security. How does that dynamic play out, especially with all the chemistry between you and Jason?”

The question hangs in the air for a beat, and you can feel the intensity of the moment building. The flashes from the cameras seem to grow brighter, and for a second, you wonder how Logan is feeling, hearing his name brought into the public eye like this. He’s always been fiercely private about your relationship, careful to keep things professional in public.

You force a confident smile, even though you know the question is loaded. “Logan is amazing, both personally and professionally. He’s been so supportive, and I’m really lucky to have him by my side.”

Jason jumps in, clearly enjoying the extra attention. “Logan’s a good guy. We all know this is just part of the job. Y/N and I have great chemistry on screen, but off-screen? She’s got her guy.” He says it with a playful tone, but you can sense the way he’s subtly stirring the pot.

You glance toward Logan again, your heart tightening slightly when you see the set of his jaw. He’s doing his best to remain neutral, but you know him too well. He hates being reduced to just “the bodyguard” in moments like this, especially when Jason’s tone carries a subtle undercurrent of smugness.

The reporter doesn’t miss a beat. “It sounds like there’s a lot of respect between everyone involved, but there’s no denying the fan theories out there—people are rooting for a real-life romance between you and Jason. How do you handle that?”

You laugh lightly, the sound carrying over the crowd. “I think people always want to believe in the stories they see on-screen. But the reality is, we’re actors doing our jobs. Jason and I had a lot of fun working together, but off-screen, we’re just friends.”

Jason leans in again, this time more for the cameras than the conversation. “Well, friends with great chemistry, right?”

The fans nearby scream in excitement, but you feel Logan’s tension like a heavy cloud hanging in the air. You can practically sense the way his muscles have gone rigid, his eyes locked onto the scene unfolding before him. It’s clear Jason is playing it up for the cameras, leaning into the narrative of a possible romance to feed the buzz around the movie. But it’s a fine line he’s walking, and you know it’s testing Logan’s patience.

Before the conversation can go any further, another reporter jumps in, changing the subject to the film’s themes and comedic elements. You breathe a silent sigh of relief, grateful for the brief reprieve.

As the interviews wind down and you begin to make your way down the carpet, you feel a hand gently press against the small of your back—Logan’s hand. He’s finally close enough to offer a small, reassuring touch, hidden from the view of the cameras but grounding you nonetheless.

“You okay?” he murmurs, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

You nod, giving him a quick, grateful smile. “Yeah. Just the usual.”

His eyes flicker with something protective, but he keeps his expression calm. “He’s pushing it,” Logan says quietly, nodding toward Jason, who is now posing for photos with a group of fans, all smiles and charm.

“He’s just playing the game,” you reply softly, squeezing Logan’s hand in reassurance. “But don’t worry. Everyone knows who I’m really here with.”

Logan’s gaze softens, and though he says nothing more, you can feel the weight of his unspoken words. He’s here, standing by you—always.

The night on the red carpet had been buzzing with excitement, and for the most part, you had managed to navigate it smoothly. Between the interviews and the endless flashes of cameras, you had kept your cool, smiling for the press, exchanging quips with Jason, and doing what you were there to do—promote your movie. But Jason was testing Logan's patience, and deep down, you knew it was only a matter of time before things came to a head.

It happened just as you were wrapping up your final photo op. Jason, standing far too close for comfort, leaned into your ear and said in a voice just loud enough for the reporters to catch, “You know, Y/N, if we ever wanted to try out that chemistry off-screen, I wouldn’t mind.”

His tone was playful, clearly intended to stir the pot for the cameras, but the implication was unmistakable. You shot him a sideways glance, your smile faltering for a split second. The crowd ate it up, eager for any hint of drama or flirtation, but you could feel Logan’s eyes burning into the back of your head.

You knew that was it. The moment Logan would break his iron-clad professionalism.

As soon as the cameras were out of view, Logan was by your side, his hand resting firmly on your lower back, guiding you through the narrow hallway leading to the back of the theater. His grip was tight, possessive, and you could sense the tension rolling off him in waves. You barely had time to register what was happening before he steered you towards a nearby restroom.

With a swift motion, Logan pushed open the door, pulling you inside with him. The click of the lock echoed in the small, dimly lit space, and suddenly, you were alone with him, the noise of the premiere muted behind the thick walls.

“Logan—” you started, but your words were cut off as he turned you to face him, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you flush against his body.

His gaze was intense, darkened with something primal and possessive. “He doesn’t get to say that to you. Not in front of me, not in front of anyone,” Logan growled, his voice low, rough, and vibrating with frustration.

Your breath caught in your throat at the intensity of his words, but there was something thrilling about it, too. The raw need in his eyes sent a shiver down your spine.

“He was just playing it up for the cameras, Logan. It’s part of the game,” you said, your voice a little breathless as his grip tightened.

Logan’s lips curled into a smirk, but there was no humor in it—just a simmering, barely controlled jealousy. “I don’t give a damn about his game. You’re mine, Y/N. And I’m going to make sure you remember that.”

Before you could respond, Logan’s mouth was on yours, crushing against your lips with an urgency that took your breath away. His kiss was fierce, claiming, his hands sliding down to your hips as he backed you up against the cool tile wall of the bathroom. You gasped, your hands instinctively grabbing the lapels of his jacket, holding on as the heat between you two surged.

His lips moved from your mouth to your neck, kissing a path of fire along your skin. “No one else gets to make you blush like that,” he murmured against your throat, his stubble grazing your sensitive skin and sending a wave of desire coursing through you.

“Logan,” you breathed, trying to keep your head clear, but it was hard to focus with the way his hands were roaming your body, fingers sliding over the fabric of your dress, exploring every curve. His touch was possessive, almost territorial, but it ignited something deep within you—a craving that only he could satisfy.

His hand slipped up the slit of your dress, fingers brushing against the bare skin of your thigh, and you could feel the restraint in him, the way he was trying to hold back even though every fiber of his being wanted to take things further.

“Do you know what it does to me, hearing him talk to you like that?” Logan’s voice was a low rumble, his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “Knowing that you’re mine, but he’s standing there, acting like he has a chance?”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “Logan…you know you’re the only one I want.”

His eyes darkened at your words, and he captured your lips again, this time slower but no less intense. His hands slid up your sides, teasing the edge of your dress as his tongue danced with yours, a slow, intoxicating rhythm that made your knees weak.

You could feel the heat between you growing, the way his body pressed against yours, hard and unyielding. The tension that had been simmering all night finally boiled over as Logan gripped your hips, pulling you even closer, as if he needed to feel every inch of you against him.

His mouth moved back to your neck, biting gently at your skin before soothing it with his tongue, leaving a trail of heat that made you gasp. “I need you to say it,” he growled, his voice rough with need. “I need to hear you say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you whispered breathlessly, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. “I’ve always been yours.”

That was all it took. With a low growl of satisfaction, Logan’s lips crashed against yours again, his hand slipping further up your thigh, fingers teasing the bare skin there. The feel of his touch, the intensity of his kiss, made everything else fade away—Jason, the red carpet, the cameras. None of it mattered.

Logan pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his breathing ragged, his hand still resting possessively on your thigh. “Good,” he whispered, his eyes locking onto yours. “Because I don’t plan on letting you forget it.”

The tension hung thick in the air between you as he pressed his forehead against yours, his body still flush against yours, the heat between you practically crackling. There was a promise in his gaze, one that sent your pulse racing.

“Now let’s get back out there,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear one last time. “Before I forget myself completely.”

With a final, searing kiss, Logan reluctantly pulled away, his hands slowly releasing you, leaving you breathless and wanting more. You straightened yourself, smoothing your dress as best you could, trying to regain your composure, even though your pulse was still racing and your mind was spinning from the intensity of it all.

Logan unlocked the door, stepping aside to let you exit first, his hand brushing the small of your back as you reentered the chaos of the premiere. But the look in his eyes as he glanced at you, that dark, possessive glint, reminded you that tonight, no matter what anyone else said or did, you were his girl. Always.

The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. You lay nestled against Logan’s chest, his arm draped around you, holding you close. The events of last night still played in your mind, each moment more vivid than the last. Logan’s possessiveness, the intensity of his touch, the way he had claimed you without hesitation—it left you breathless. Now, in the quiet aftermath, wrapped in the warmth of his embrace, everything felt right. Safe. Like you belonged here, with him.

Logan stirred beside you, his grip tightening around your waist as he nuzzled his face into your hair. His chest rumbled with a soft, contented sigh, and you couldn’t help but smile, feeling the heat of his body pressed against yours. The night had been intense, filled with passion that neither of you had been able to hold back. But now, in the calm of the morning, it was peaceful, comforting.

Your phone, which had been resting on the nightstand, buzzed. At first, you ignored it, not wanting anything to break the serene bubble you and Logan had created. But then it buzzed again—and again.

With a groan, you reached over, grabbing it. Logan, still half-asleep, tightened his hold on you and mumbled, “Ignore it.”

You chuckled softly. “I wish I could.”

Unlocking your phone, you were immediately greeted by a flood of notifications. Texts, social media mentions, even missed calls. Your brow furrowed as you scanned through them, trying to make sense of the sudden flurry of activity.

Then, one message caught your attention. It was from your publicist: "We have a situation. Reporters are already running with a story about you and Logan being… intimate at the premiere last night. They saw you leave the bathroom together."

Your heart skipped a beat as the realization hit you. The bathroom. The heated moment with Logan. You hadn’t even considered that anyone might’ve seen you. The adrenaline, the need to be close to him—it had clouded everything else.

Logan sensed your tension and lazily opened one eye. “What is it?”

You hesitated, biting your lip, then handed him the phone. He glanced at the screen, scanning the message, before tossing the phone back on the nightstand with a nonchalant shrug. “So?”

“So… some reporters saw us leave the bathroom,” you said, half-embarrassed, half-amused. “It’s already making headlines. I guess they didn’t expect us to be so… open.”

Logan chuckled, the sound deep and rough, sending a shiver through you. “They can write whatever the hell they want. Doesn’t change anything.”

You tilted your head to look up at him, his expression completely relaxed, almost amused. “You really don’t care, do you?”

“Why would I?” His fingers traced lazy circles on your bare skin, a slow, deliberate motion that made it hard to focus on anything else. “Everyone already knows we’re together. So now they know we can’t keep our hands off each other. Big deal.”

A laugh bubbled up from your chest at his carefree attitude, and you rested your head back against his chest. “I guess I’m not used to being so… public about things like this.”

“Trust me, sweetheart,” Logan murmured, his lips brushing against your temple, “this might actually do us a favor. If Jason or anyone else was thinking about getting too close, this’ll make ‘em back off. They’ll know exactly who you belong to.”

His possessiveness, that underlying hint of jealousy, was so distinctly Logan. Protective, fiercely loyal, and unapologetic about claiming what was his. It was one of the things you loved most about him. There was no pretense, no games—just raw honesty.

You shifted, propping yourself up on one elbow so you could look at him fully. “And what about you?” you teased, your fingers tracing the outline of his jaw. “What if the press decides to make a bigger deal out of this?”

Logan’s eyes met yours, a glint of mischief in his gaze. “Let them. I don’t care what they say. What matters is right here,” he said, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip. “You. Me. That’s all that matters.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart swell. Logan wasn’t like anyone else you had ever been with. He didn’t care about the opinions of others, about the noise that came with being in the spotlight. All he cared about was you—and making sure that the world knew you were his.

You leaned down, pressing your lips to his in a slow, languid kiss, letting the warmth of his touch sink into you. “I love you, you know that?” you whispered against his lips, feeling the truth of the words settle deep inside you.

A soft smile tugged at the corner of Logan’s mouth as he pulled you closer. “I know,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble in his chest. “And I love you.”

The phone buzzed again, but this time, you ignored it. Whatever the press had to say, whatever headlines were spinning—none of it mattered. All that mattered was this moment, wrapped in Logan’s arms, where everything else faded away.

You had never felt so sure, so secure. With Logan by your side, you could handle whatever came next—reporters, Jason, the whirlwind of public attention. It was all noise compared to the quiet, steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek.

And as the morning sun streamed through the window, casting a golden glow over the two of you, you knew that no matter what the world said or did, Logan was right. This — right here — was all that truly mattered.

I'm a sucker for soft Logan I'm sorry. If you like the story don't forget to like, reblog and maybe even leave a comment or a follow to read more of my stories! <3

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panda-writes-kpop · 10 months ago

Text

Second Chances ~ Pirate!Karina

a/n: another pirate fic, but it was inspired by a conversation about losers that @kingmaker-a and I had. enjoy the fruits of my continued pirate brain rot and my experience of being a loser for nineteen years and counting! :]

tw: guns, blood, and violence (oh my!), alcohol (reader has a preference for brandy but just imagine something different if you don't like it), reader is a professional little shit (and this is a bit of a self-insert plz leave me alone)

♡ Masterlist ♡

summary: you're given a second chance at pirating because Karina fucked her first impression with you. To prove your worth (and to give her a second chance), she takes you out to a local shooting range where sparks fly (literally and figuratively).

As a former pirate warlord in a small town, your life couldn't get more boring.

You had spent your younger years chasing fame, glory and riches - and look where that got you. You were stuck on a shitty island with no crew and no way out except swimming (which would most likely result in certain death).

Once, a lifetime ago, it seems, you had your face plastered on every wanted poster board on every island you visited. Your head was worth a pretty penny, which made you keep your crew on a short leash. If one of them babbled, you'd find out pretty quickly.

Rats are a nuisance found at the worst time, so you'd only found out about your disloyal crew when you were disputing fraudulent charges with a nearby pirate crew.

With the world hunting your head, a pissed-off group of enemy pirates, and a pit of vipers you had once called your crew, you were on the next sailboat out from the coastline. You didn't have much more than the shirt on your back, so you fled to the first island that the ship ported on - the same shitty island you were stuck at, three years laters.

Three years might as well be eternity in the world of pirates - you barely recognized any of the pirates that were on the wanted boards. It's not like you wanted the bounty - doing odd jobs around the island kept a roof over your head, food in your stomach, and enough alcohol to clear your thoughts for a few hours.

Yet here you were, on a quiet island, in the first bar from the docks. With a bottle of brandy (the bartender started giving you the bottle after growing tired of refilling your glass again and again), you eye the newest group of pirates to make themselves at home on the most unbecoming island on this planet.

You didn't think anything of it - pirates frequent bars like birds frequent feeders - but a glimpse of shiny red-hair nearly causes you to choke on your brandy.

The infamous Red-Hair Pirates, led by none other than Captain Winter. A fierce fighter known for her loyal, deadly crew, and you wanted nothing more than to stay out of her way.

She could kill you without a second look, not to mention that her crew would rip you to shreds afterwards like rabid hyenas.

You wouldn't find any peace tonight, not when an unloaded rifle crashes against your shoulder. It takes every muscle in your body to resist the urge to fight as a girl with short black hair scrambles to grab it.

"Sorry, fuck, I'm sorry." She slurs before crashing against the table.

Brandy spills all over your clothes as your temper crashes against its lid - you're almost at your breaking point.

"It's fine." You teeth grind against each other as you spit out your answer.

"Your brandy-"

"-just take your damn gun and go!" You shove the gun into her arms, which sends her tumbling to the ground.

Eyes follow the two of you as the girl attempts to get up, at least three times, before another girl from her crew grabs her arm.

"C'mon, Rina, let's go." The second girl, with light blonde hair, shoves Rina towards the exit as you try to sink back into your seat as far as possible.

Everyone's eyes are still lingering on you as you pull out a small knife - not to kill or show dominance, but to perform a favorite party trick of yours.

You spot the target board on the other side of the bar. When a bartender moves out of the way, you quickly aim and fire the knife while looking the opposite direction.

The gasps and cheers tell you that you've hit your mark while you attempt to clean up the spilt brandy with a few napkins. You'd probably smell like liquor for days, if not weeks, but you'd learn to live with it, just like everything else.

After you dry most of the liquor off the table and your clothes, another bottle of brandy lands on your table with a sharp thud.

"I don't take pity booze." You sharply answer.

"It's not free, but I'm asking for five minutes of your time." Captain Winter places her hand on her hip as you hesitantly grab the bottle.

"Take as long as you need, Captain." You take a swig of the brandy, and you're pleasantly surprised by the flavor. "Top-shelf booze?"

"We got lucky on our last ship takeover." Winter slides into the other side of the booth. "Are you looking for any riches?"

"You're trying to buy my loyalty with alcohol." You scan Winter for any malicious intent, but she only has a simple smile on her face.

"Is it working?"

"Depends on what you're offering and why you're so interested in me."

"You threw a knife from across the room without looking and managed to hit a target dead-on." Winter leans in before folding her hands. "Are you that accurate with a gun?"

"I am, but you wouldn't know that unless you knew who I was." You lean back against the booth before taking another drink of brandy. "You're well read, Winter."

"The lucky guess excuse doesn't fool you, then. It's an honor to be in your presence, Captain."

"Are you looking for a marksman?" You deadpan as she nods.

"I can't guarantee great pay or a path back to notoriety, but-"

"-I'm in."

Due to the damages to Winter's ship, you're stuck on land for a couple more days. After your little stunt at your most frequented bar, you decided to go to a much quieter place, farther from the docks for tonight's drinking session.

Unfortunately, trouble finds you before you can find it. The drunken girl from before, Rina, is stunningly sober as she walks through the bar doors.

Once she spots you, her eyes become shifty as her posture tenses up. A smile plays on your face - a nervous marksman, a paradox for the ages - so you ask for another glass of brandy before you wave her over.

"You're here later than I expected." She softly says before swirling the brandy in the glass in front of her.

"And you're here sober. Guess we're both full of surprises." You quip as her eyes widen.

"I don't usually have that much to drink. We had a good plunder earlier in the day." She's quiet for a moment before her eyes meet yours. "Sorry about last night. I don't hold my whiskey as well as I thought I did."

"You'll get used to it eventually, or you start drinking lighter, Rina." You sip your brandy as she chuckles into her glass.

"Karina." A subtle correction, but one you notice. "Giselle's the only one who calls me that."

"Well, Karina, it looks like you and I will be spending more time together. Your captain has recruited me as a marksman under your watch."

"If you're under my watch, then we should see what you can do," Karina pushes the glass towards the bartender after taking a final swig from the glass, "unless you're not feeling well enough?"

Her lips twist into a teasing smile as you finish off of your own glass of brandy. For someone who can't hold their liquor, she's got a mouth that will get her in trouble with the wrong people.

Luckily for her, you're not that type of person. Not anymore, at least.

"There's a shooting range a few miles from the beaten path. Unless you've got somewhere else to be, I'd be glad to show you what I've got." You slide off the stool with ease as Karina scrambles to catch up with you.

"Isn't it locked up by now? It's a few hours past sunset." She says as you scoff.

"When have pirates ever cared about rules?"

"Have you ever picked a lock before?"

You turn to Karina, who ponders your question for a moment in the glowing moonlight. Without any obstruction, it shines just enough light to illuminate her face, especially her eyes and lips.

....It's not like you were looking, though.

"I usually leave that to Giselle, she's the crafty one." Karina shrugs before pulling her jacket closer to her chest. "How much farther is this shooting range, exactly?"

In all fairness, it is a bit chilly at night, especially when you're taking a dirt path that sits close to the ocean. You've taken this path before, when you need to blow off steam or just need a break from the hustle and bustle of town life.

"Just a few more minutes up the road. You cold?" You start pulling at your overcoat, trying to undo it as quickly as possible, before Karina places a hand on your arm.

"It's alright - a little cold never killed anyone." She jokes before taking a soft breath.

You watch, albeit it a little intensely, how the air from her lips creates a soft, foggy mist that floats into the night sky. You wonder if she's putting on a brave face because she's intimidated by you or if she wants to intimidate you. Seeing as her first introduction to you was as destructive as a bull in a china shop, you could easily rule out the latter.

Karina wasn't the type to lead with authority - she left that to her Captain. From what you've seen and heard of her, she develops personal connections with her subsection of the crew, which explains the immediate offer of shooting practice. This wasn’t a test of skill, but rather, a form of camaraderie.

That was something you could respect, as a former Captain of your own crew.

A distant pang in your chest pulls your attention from Karina - did you really miss your crew that much? They were liars and scumbags, but they were family, after all.

"We're here," You curtly say as you place the lock on the gate in your hand, "hand me your hairpin."

"How did you know I had hairpins in my hair?" She asks, confused, before slowly grabbing a hairpin from her hair.

"Your hair has stayed perfectly in place since we left the bar and it's been breezy all night." You answer before holding out your other hand. "I'll give it back, I promise."

"Sounds reasonable enough." She shrugs before handing you her hairpin.

Normally, it would've taken you a few seconds to pick the lock, but Karina's presence throws you off your game. It doesn't help that she's eagerly leaning over your shoulder, which causes heat to rise to your cheeks, but the lock gives a satisfying click before you can dissolve into a nervous mess.

Her soft breath on your shoulder causes you to gently shudder. You look back at her as you pull the lock from the gate and put it in your pocket.

"You're incredibly resourceful for a simple marksman." Karina says as you open the gate for the two of you. "Are you sure you're not hiding anything from me?"

Karina offers you a brilliant smile, one that outshines the sun and the moon.

"Why don't we find out?" You give her a wink before gesturing for her to enter the gate. "My commanding lady goes first."

Her eyes widen as she slips through the gate before you, and you shut the gate as she intently watches you.

"My hairpin-" She lightly brushes a lock of stray hair behind her ear as you hold the hairpin in between your index and middle fingers.

"I've got it."

Karina holds out her hand expectantly and opens her mouth to say something, but the words die on her tongue as you quietly close the distance between the two of you. You, ever so carefully, put the hairpin back into place in Karina's hair, in the exact location that it came from.

When you pull away from her, a rosy blush covers her face as she nervously plays with the sling carry on that keeps her rifle on her back. You bite your lip as she shakes her head at you.

"You're full of surprises."

"I know." You shrug as you continue to walk towards the shooting range. "Shall we?"

The rest of the walk to the shooting range is silent, but you manage to slip the lock into your pocket during the walk.

Karina was right - you were full of surprises. You were surprised that the sound of the key banging against the lock in your pocket didn't give you away.

You'd done some personal business for the owners, and they didn't have much capital, so you simply asked for a key to their shooting range. They were more than happy to give you a spare from the keysmith, and you used it whenever you came here alone.

This time, you had something to prove, and someone to impress. Since Karina could hardly look you in the eyes every time you glanced over at her, your mission was complete.

"You've shot a rifle before." Karina folds her arms and steps away from you as you aim the barrel of the gun at the target.

"It used to be one of my favorite weapons, back when I was pirating with my crew." You casually mention before firing the weapon.

The bullet hits the center of the target, just as it always does, and Karina stares in amazement.

"Nice shot, Deadeye," Karina softly says before adding, "were you this good of a shot when you were a captain?"

"Did Winter tell you?" You ask.

Karina looks away for a moment before responding.

"I was the one who recognized you, at first. I was too drunk to remember how I got over to you, but I remember saying something to Ningning, who must've told Winter," Karina explains before meeting your eyes, "I still can't believe I made a fool of myself in front of such a notorious pirate."

Her cheeks burn bright with embarrassment, but you're quick to comfort her with a small smile and a soft hand on her shoulder.

"If it makes you feel any better, the first time I got wasted without my crew, I threw up on a Marine Officer. Don't remember how that night went, but I woke up the next day on my ship, and I was covered in someone else's blood."

Karina throws her head back and laughs, and you think that her laughter is the best sound that you've ever heard. It's much better than the jokes told at the bar, or the sleazy tactics of the salesmen that you walk past every day on your way to your job of the day.

You wish you could bottle her laughter and get drunk on the sound every night of the week. It's loud, beautiful, and it fades too quickly for your liking.

"I guess we're both natural disasters, huh?" Her warm smile causes your heart to stir as you set the rifle aside for a moment, just so you can stand closer to her.

You move away to set the rifle down in a safe location before turning around to face her.

"Enough about me. I've heard plenty about you from your crew." You say, feigning innocence, as Karina folds her arms and scoffs.

"If it's about me not being able to hold my liquor, I'm going to hunt Giselle down and-"

You take a step closer to Karina - only three steps between the two of you - before you interrupt her.

"I've heard from your Captain and her first mate that you're quite a flirt. Sometimes too much of a flirt, but it's okay to overindulge every once in a while."

Karina bats her eyelashes at you as she takes a step closer - now it's two steps between you and her.

"Would you like me to flirt with you, Captain?" You don't miss the way her eyes scan you over, shamelessly checking you out when no one's here to witness it.

"How about I go first?" You flirt right back before taking another step - now there's one step between you and her.

Karina takes another step forward - her lips are so close to mine, please kiss me - as she rests her arms at her side.

"Do your worst." She taunts before you pull her in for a long, sensual kiss.

Her hands grab for your arms as you rest your arms at her waist. You're usually not this coy with your romantic pursuits, but Karina's different from your usual type - much prettier and much kinder, if you were to be honest.

Pure adrenaline rushes through you as neither of you want to let go. To let go is to ruin the moment, to have a conversation that neither of you are ready for, but you have to do it anyway because air is a necessity to life, apparently.

"I-" Karina starts as her lips leave yours. "What about-"

She pauses before diving in for another kiss. This time, she weaves her hands through your hair as you continue to hold your waist. She's much more reluctant to let go this time, so her hands go back to rest on your arms as your hands rest on her hips.

"So... does target practice always go like this for you?" You jest as she lightly pushes you away.

"Way to ruin the moment." She jokes as you lean in to taunt her.

"So, this isn't how you treat all of your new recruits?" You grab her rifle and toss it to her.

"Just the ones I really like." She smiles at you, and you take her words at face-value.

She could be playing you for a fool, but that didn't seem like the person she was. You say the woman under the mask, the flirty disaster of a woman who took you out to target practice just so she could steal a few kisses from you.

"Do you want a few more drinks, or would you like to go back to the inn?" You ask before Karina offers you a hand.

"I think another round of drinks is in order - a round for my favorite new crew member." She emphasizes the word favorite, which makes your heart flutter more than you want to admit.

"As long as you don't throw a loaded gun at me this time, I'm in," You say before she elbows you, "okay, I'll let it go... for now."

"I'll make it up to you, I promise," She waits for you to take her hand before walking back to town with you, "you just have to give me a second chance.”

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