#Austin Pain Management | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pedgito · 4 months ago

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𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑 | Cowboy!Joel Miller x reader

summary | Through all of his supposed wrong-doing, Joel has never failed you. Alternatively, falling in love with your dad's enemy while he shows you your full potential.

author's note | this is for @kedsandtubesocks's wild ride writing challenge! i struggled with this for a while, but ultimately erika and @hauntedhowlett helped me settle on something after sitting on the struggle bus for longer than i liked. this is all unbeta'd so please go easy on me dsjhkg

content warning | 18+ MDNI, no outbreak au, rodeo cowboy!joel, dbf but they're rivals now, forbidden love, hefty age gap (early 20s, late 40s), daddy issues, switches between present/flashbacks (all titled to differentiate), joel strolling around shirtless in a cowboy hat, mentions of injuries from riding, angst/internal conflict, fluff, smut (inappropriate use of a barstool), joel's such a loverboy

word count — 7.5k

Austin, Texas — Present Day:

The energy in the stadium is inconceivable.

Austin always had amazing crowds during rodeo season, especially with such a close-knit community of people supporting a passion many have attempted to pursue. For you, it was in your blood, riding on the coattails of your father, you were saddled on a horse before you could even speak full sentences.

You can hear the deep, roaring chants as you stand steadily in the waiting pen, eyes locked on the television as the words echo in your ear, a faint smile growing on your face as you feel the solid press of his hand against your back.

Joel.

It was a year of tireless dedication to get you back on a horse, somehow managing to entangle yourself in his grasp in more ways than you can explain—he wasn’t just a partner, he was your lover, a confidant, and the only person that could ease the quickly growing nerves.

“Like ridin’ a bike,” He says with an ease that comes natural to his voice, hand climbing up to settle against the back of your neck with a reassuring squeeze, “what’s goin’ on in that head of yours?”

“What if she gets startled?” You ask absently, the accident flashing through your mind in snapshots, the subtle twinge of pain in your knee that came and went when it felt like it.

“All she needs is you,” Joel reminds you, “s’never been a time I’ve seen her freak out when she’s got you on her back and you know it.”

Honey had been with you since you were a young girl, a trust built through years of connection and care, having practiced the art of non-verbal communication, you knew there was nothing to worry about, but the fear still lingered.

Joel’s Ranch, One Year Ago — Flashback:

Joel can see the way your hands shake, attempting to grasp the reins a few times with a clammy grip, over-adjusting yourself on the horse he’s ridden for many years, even into retirement. Buttercup was docile but strong and he’s attentive to Joel’s instruction, a rub over his snout as he attempted to reassure you.

It was your first time back on a horse since your accident, months of recuperating on Joel’s ranch with the help of him and his brother Tommy, working through doctor’s visits and physical therapy alongside two men who weren’t your father, but had filled the hole enough that you didn’t have to suffer through your injury alone.

“We’re just doing a few laps and getting a feel on things,” Joel reminds you, “I’m not pushin’ you and I’m not gonna let you push it too soon—what’s your number today?”

You bend and stretch your leg hesitantly, a subtle movement as Joel’s hand rests just above the thick band of your jeans, your face contorting in slight discomfort.

“Five…six,” You say indecisively, looking down at Joel.

“So, an eight,” He surmises with a smile, “alright—just a few laps and we’ll work from there.”

It was a step forward, fearful that you might never ride again.

But, Joel follows you around the ring from start to finish.

He promised in the beginning that he wouldn’t leave your side and he hasn’t lied once.

Austin, Texas — Present Day:

While dressage started their run, you and Joel slipped off into a dressing room to watch the show and deal with the insistence from Joel that you shouldn’t ride on an empty stomach.

You picked at the food sparingly though, still feeling rattled by the energy in the arena.

Joel’s presence comes from behind, palms spread over the arms of your chair as he leans his chest into your back, lips brushing against your ear in an endearing manner, a ghost of his breath against the side of your face as he presses a gentle kiss against your neck.

"Hey," he murmurs softly, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. "You're going to be amazing out there, baby. I believe in you."

You lean back into his warmth, letting out a shaky breath. His arms encircle you, strong and comforting. "I'm just so nervous," you whisper.

Joel turns your face with his fingers at your chin. His eyes, filled with tenderness, meet yours.

"Remember why you started riding in the first place? That freedom? The connection?"

You nod and his hand flattens against the side of your neck and you tilt your chin up expectantly, eager for a kiss that never comes, instead he chuckles and placates you with another kiss to your cheek.

“No distractions,” He chastises, “I meant that.”

You pout for a brief moment but relent, knowing that you needed a clear head and Joel would give you anything but with how easily he’s clouded your thoughts in the past several months.

Joel’s Ranch, Six Months Ago — Flashback:

When it happens, you aren’t expecting it.

Neither is Joel, which makes the entire situation unfold faster than you’re capable of processing.

The storm rolled in without warning, the wind picking up like someone had flipped a switch.

But, the lighting strikes unexpectedly from the right and downfield with not a drop of rain in sight.

It startles everyone, but especially Buttercup, Joel’s horse. It was quick buck, with Joel’s hands on your waist luckily, so the decent is smooth but the impact isn’t as graceful as you would have liked while Joel’s horses thrashes wildly until he can calm him down, moving you a safe distance away before he can eventually get Buttercup tucked away in the stables and return to you, jogging toward you as the rain began to mist.

As Joel approaches, his eyes lock with yours, concern etched across his features.

The misting rain clings to his cheeks, making them glisten in the fading light. He reaches out, his calloused hands gently cupping your face. Thumbs rubbing over your cheekbones.

"Are you alright?" he asks, his voice soft and filled with worry.

You nod, unable to speak as you realize how close he is.

It’s never been like this, even in the moments of physical therapy and joint dinners with him and his brother—Joel had always been careful about being respectful and keeping his distance.

Joel was prominent in your childhood, weekend dinners with him and his daughters after the death of your mother—it was all a blur now, most of it buried away and forgotten. But, there was an eventual blow-up with your father and then he was gone.

You’d see him on television and around town when shows were happening and he had a break from his extensive tour through different states, having turned his professional career into entertainment both out of a need for change and necessity.

He constantly remained out of reach, but with your injury and his willingness to yield to you when you needed someone in your life the most, he had stepped in. It made you feel like that little girl again, scraping your knee on the ground and crying for help, but instead of your dad it was Joel and the floating feeling in your stomach wasn’t because he was comforting you, but because he was touching you and neither of you had the courage to speak on it.

He’s never touched you like this. He wouldn’t.

Joel’s always been careful—too careful.

"I'm fine," you assure him, but your voice trembles slightly. Joel kneels closer, his warmth enveloping you despite the cool rain. His hands find your shoulders, steadying you, “Joel—I swear, I’m okay.”

“M’so sorry, sweetheart,” He apologises despite no wrongdoing, “I should’ve checked the weather or at least held on a little tighter,”

You look up into his eyes, seeing the genuine worry there, and something else – something that makes your heart flutter in your chest. "It's not your fault," You insist, blinking away the rain from your lashes before Joel is helping you to your feet, his touch never once leaving your body.

The rain is falling harder now, but neither of you can find the urgency to move.

Joel's hands slide down your arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Your breath catches in your throat, coming out in a desperate attempt to clear the swell as you make a small, weak noise that seems to break him from his trance.

“Let’s get you dry,” He nods toward the house, grateful for the deflection as you turn, but his hand is still pressed firmly against your back as you both walk toward the door, like he’s too scared to let go - like you were too fragile to leave on your own.

Austin, Texas — Present Day:

Honey nuzzles into your chest before nibbling at the apple in your palm, always rigid about the time you spent with her before your shows, a moment of quiet and connection that strengthens the bond.

She was full of personality, leaning into the gentle touch you apply to her snout as you rub your hand up and into her mane, a small push into your ribs as she hears Joel approach.

Your heart swells with affection as you lean into Honey's warmth, savoring the sweet moment.

Joel's footsteps draw near, but you're reluctant to break the spell.

You press a soft kiss to Honey's velvety nose, whispering words of love and gratitude. As Joel appears, his eyes meet yours and a tender smile spreads across his face. He understands the depth of your connection with Honey, having witnessed your bond grow over countless shows and quiet moments like this. Even when you were much younger and Honey was twice the size she is now.

Your father had purchased her when Joel was meeting Buttercup, how the girls had hounded him over the responsibility to name his horse. He wouldn’t admit how much he liked it, either.

"You two are inseparable," he murmurs, stepping closer. His hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers as you both stroke Honey's mane, "I swear, sometimes I think you love that horse more than me."

You laugh, giving your horse one last pat before turning to Joel. "Are you jealous?"

Your head tilts, eyes as wide and vulnerable as they always were with him.

“Not when you look at me like that,” Joel explains, his hand cupping your chin as his thumb rubs against the point of it, the corners of your mouth tugging upwards as Joel mirrors that same admiration, a playful glint in his eyes as you pucker your lips and kiss his thumb, keeping your eyes on him, “boy, you are really pushin’ it today.”

It was silly to think about now, but a few months prior Joel wouldn’t even allow himself to touch you like this, despite the clear indication of how you felt and how he had ultimately fallen first, too scared to admit that he’d fallen for his old friend’s daughter, knowing your father despised everything that Joel was, it was a maze he didn’t know how to navigate.

He still felt lost on most days.

Joel’s Ranch, Five Months Ago — Flashback:

Mornings were sacred on Joel’s ranch - a beautiful sunrise etched out over the hills and through the trees, animals rousing from their sleep, and a silence that reminded you of a simpler time.

Usually you found Joel up this early, nursing a mug of coffee in his hands as rocked in the old chair on his porch, eventually finding the courage to join him after a while, when it didn’t hurt to bend down to his level, taking a seat on the deck near his legs and sipping at your own drink of choice, talking through your pain level on whatever particular day it was.

Your fondness has grown over shared meals and proximity; seclusion, too.

It was you and him, months alone aside from Tommy’s occasional visit.

Maybe it was inevitable—that your injury served a purpose.

You always tried to find a reason to excuse your own mistake, a moment of hesitation that cost you an entire year of your newfound career, excitedly filling in for Joel in his departure.

It couldn’t have been for nothing.

You felt her heart skip a beat as his footsteps approached, his gaze warm as it descended upon you, peering over your shoulder to be met with a tired smile.

The morning sunlight caught the silver in his hair, and you found herself admiring the lines around his eyes - evidence of a life filled with both laughter and hardship.

"Good mornin’," Joel's voice was a low rumble, softened by the early hour, “something botherin’ you?”

“Why do you ask?” You chirp with a soft laugh, narrowing your gaze in a manner to intimidate.

Joel smirks half-heartedly, “It’s a good place to think,” He notes, “so—what is it?”

“Can I ask about my dad?” You start hesitantly, not sure how sore of a subject it was for him.

“Whaddya wanna know, sugar?”

“I want your side,” You wanted honesty, not half-truths, “did you cut him out of the deal?”

“He cut himself out,” Joel explains without skipping a beat, “we were partners for a long time, couldn’t have imagined doin’ all I did without him before he turned on me, but it was good money, security—it put Ellie and Sarah through college.

“He’s a sell-out,” If there was any time for your father to disparage Joel Miller, he would, “runnin’ off to Florida and taking some big deal, that shit ain’t right—it’s selfish.”

Joel had never meant to turn his career into entertainment, competing in circuits at a professional level before his body started to take a toll, eventually earning the Old Timer moniker and booking shows around the surrounding cities of Texas before touring the country.

If you were involved in rodeo, or even caught a whiff of it in the media, you knew who the Old Timer was. And even with him gone, you can feel your father looming.

The echoing mantra of his words in your head as you remember watching Joel perform with Buttercup, a long-established Bronc with his own exuberant personality to match Joel’s more subdued one, a perfect balance.

Ain’t nothing out there you won’t experience here in Austin.

You weren’t sure where the animosity stemmed from until now—it was a clear path he had pictured for himself and you, riding out the rest of your career in Texas, even as you were starting to climb the ladder as one of the more notorious female riders, still just a whisper for most people, living in the shadow of your father for so long.

“He’s stuck in his ways and that’s not sayin’ I’m any different, but I don’t regret signing that deal for a better way of livin’—a easier way, it got me all of this,” He throws his arms out lazily, property that stretched for miles, a place where he’s come to offer a camp for young riders to learn the ropes and get comfortable around the animals in a safe environment.

But, it was also home.

It was a surprise waking up one morning to a yard full of kids, a handful no older than ten or eleven, showing how easily Joel molded into the teaching role in such a relaxed environment.

You weren’t sure if that was when your feelings for him had evolved or if it was during the early weeks of being injured when Joel would sit with you bedside almost every night, either reading or working on his crosswords like it was religion, glasses perched on his nose as he moved with every subtle twitch you would make, worry etched on his face.

It was a mix of both and more, countless times you’ve found yourself at a loss for words.

“If he knew,” You pause, chewing at your bottom lip with worry, “if he knew—that I was here, that I turned down his help to come to you, Joel, I don’t know how he would react,”

“There ain’t a single reason he needs to know,” Joel assures you, “I’m sure he’s said a lot about me and some of it is probably true, but you deserve a place you feel safe.”

You nod, feeling a wave of relief wash over you.

Joel's words sink in, and you realize just how much you needed to hear them. The weight of your father's expectations, his dreams for your future, had been suffocating you for far too long.

"Thank you," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the soft whinnying of horses in the nearby stables, and your words linger, like you’re holding back, “I do—I do feel safe…”

Joel hums, turning his body toward you more, his elbow meeting the railing of the ring.

“But?”

“You have to know,” You begin, heart constricting with nerves, a surge of adrenaline rushing through your veins as Joel looks at you, all of you, that familiar full body glance that you’re not even sure he realizes he’s doing, “it’s more than just safety, Joel.”

"I reckon I do know," he says, his voice low and gravelly, still thick from sleep. "Been knowin' for a while now."

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with meaning and possibility. Uncertainty.

“I feel stupid,” You laugh away the sudden embarrassment, face heating as the silence grows, “fuck I’m—I’m only a couple years older than the girls and you were helping me with my math homework while trying to teach them how to tie their shoes. It’s wrong, isn’t it?”

“Seems to me like you’re an adult capable of making her own choices,” Joel decides.

You feel a flutter in your chest at Joel's words, at the implicit acceptance in them.

Your eyes meet his, searching for any sign of hesitation or doubt, but you find only warmth and a hint of something deeper, enticingly haunting.

"I've been making my own choices for a while now," you say softly, not realizing the instinctual gravitation toward him until his chest is pressing into your shoulder. "Some good, some...not so good. But, coming here? It was the first choice I’ve made for myself that felt right."

“It always needs to feel like that, sweetheart.”

Austin, Texas — Present Day:

Joel tightens the belt at your waist, the leather stiff from lack of wear. You’ve only worn the uniform a few times for fittings, a brightly colored shirt and riding pants to match, which were still hung on the rack behind Joel.

He takes a moment to tug at the leather to assure it was secure before he drops down to his knees, catching you by surprise with a bubble of laughter slipping past your lips.

“Joel, what are you doing?”

He shrugs, pressing featherlight kisses along the top of your thigh while his hand drags along the back, hooking behind your right leg as he brings your knee to his mouth, his lips pressing over the jagged but healed scar.

You find yourself overcome with unexpected emotion, throat burning with the threat of impending tears, the moment holding still as Joel looks up at you.

Joel’s Ranch, Four Months Ago — Flashback:

It was intended to be a simple task, filling the troughs with water as you both lugged the buckets to each individual pen, narrowly escaping Joel’s increasingly boyish behavior as he fills the trough up halfway before he’s tossing the rest of the water at you, gasping at the cold, frigid temperature of it.

“You ain’t smiled today,” Joel reminds you, suddenly sheepish as you realize how big the grin on your face has grown, wasting the rest of the water to return the wet favor, tossing the bucket on the floor before you decide to make a run for the house nearly at the door before you slip on a slick spot of mud.

Squealing, your arms flail out—you accept your fate, arms bracing behind you as you wait for the impact, but instead you’re caught by two thick arms wrapping under and around you and your breath catches as you find yourself pressed against Joel's broad chest, his strong arms holding you securely.

Your heart races with an anxious stir of emotions, interlaced with excitement, suddenly very aware of how close your bodies are. Joel aids you back to your feet, shoving him away playfully as you snake your way out of his arms, trying your hardest to seem upset even though you weren’t.

“Careful,” Joel warns, “can’t have you injuring yourself any worse, you’ll be takin’ up a permanent residence here.

“Would it be so bad?” You ask curiously, a hint of teasing to your tone, “I think you like the idea of keeping me here, all to yourself.”

His eyes echo his earlier words. Careful.

The restraint he shows day by day amazes himself with how hard you’ve tried to break him down, some guilt surrounding his own growing feelings, ashamed with how strong they’ve become.

“Where’s your manners, anyways?” You ask, “You get a girl all wet and you can’t even invite her to dinner or kiss her first? And I thought you were a gentleman.”

Joel wasn’t intimidated by much in his life, but the way you see straight through him with ease—he’s helpless under your gaze, the grin on your face that follows is tortuous to his psyche.

“Oh, don’t hurt yourself, Joel,” You tease, poking at the damp fabric stuck to his chest, his eyes following the movement as you pull away and turn toward the house, “I’m just fucking with you.”

Joel snaps then, pulling at your wrist with a gentle tug, “Now, you ain’t gotta be so crude all the time, mouth like that’ll get you in trouble,”

Like this?

Joel sees the smug expression as it sneaks onto your features, his grip climbing higher until you’re at the lip of his front door and he’s got you crowded, pressing into the flimsy screen as he noses at your cheek like a wolf sniffing out prey, violently aware of how your hand squeezes into his wet shirt and pulls him closer.

“Just kiss me,” You plead, “fuck—please. Just do it.”

It was a craving so unnatural you ache, in your gut and chest, lips parting as your chin lifts in an effort to chase his hesitance. You’ve both been dancing around this for weeks.

Joel's resolve crumbles, his self-control shattering like glass.

With a low growl, he captures your lips in a hurried kiss, weeks of pent-up desire pouring out in a single, passionate moment. His calloused hands frame your face, holding you steady as he deepens the kiss, tongue seeking entrance between your lips.

And you melt instantly, fingers curling tighter into his shirt. It was everything you needed.

Rough but tender, his soft lips against your own with the satisfying scratch of his overgrown beard that tickled your cheeks and nose, hiccuping a breath into the kiss as he tilts your head up to meet his hungry mouth, each press more insatiable than the last.

When you finally part, both panting for air, Joel rests his forehead against your own and allows his eyes to fall shut for a moment as you giggle, shaking slightly in his hold.

“Now, was that so hard?”

Austin, Texas — Present Day:

He’s got you imprisoned this way—body and soul, your hand shifting to rest at the crown of his head, curling into his hair, another gentle kiss before he’s leaning his cheek against the inside of your thigh and offering a gentle squeeze of reassurance.

“You plan on stayin’ down there, cowboy?”

Joel chuckles, shifting to hide his face into your thigh.

It’s a gentle tickle, his mouth against your skin, but it brings you immense comfort.

“We’ve got fifteen minutes,” You remind him, eyeing the clock overhead, “I think we can manage.”

He shakes his head with relaxed defiance, groaning quietly as he pushes to his feet again.

“Right—right, later. No distractions,” You repeat his earlier words, followed by a playful roll of your eyes, “You’re not making it easy, you know?”

Joel’s Ranch, Four Months Ago — Flashback:

Joel’s got you on a strict schedule lately once you’re cleared for training—breakfast, a workout, practice, lunch, repeat, only a few months out until your inevitable return and he’s hammering the routine into your brain, which you appreciate, but a break would be nice.

The run-through was flawless this evening and you retired earlier, savoring the burning heat of water as it melted over your skin, dressed in a loose shirt and panties as you searched through your messy suitcase of clothes and the pile that has grown over time with your extensive stay, down on your knees.

It wasn’t always this easy, depending on Joel for nearly everything in the beginning of your stay.

He was showering in his room simultaneously, or so you thought.

Joel spotted your hat about halfway through the living room, resting on a post outside.

His chest is still wet, jeans unbuttoned but snug on his hips as he strolled barefoot outside and retrieved the item, knowing that you hardly parted with it, it was a strange sight.

You pause in your rummaging, sensing a presence behind you moments later.

Turning, your breath catches at the sight of Joel standing in your doorway, hat balanced on his head as he leaned against the frame and smiled, the muscles in his arms conforming to the stretch and pull as he crossed them, tanned skin glistening with the few droplets of water still lingering.

“Found your hat,” Well, one could only suspect.

You stand slowly, acutely aware of how little you're wearing. "Thanks," you murmur as you make your way toward him, reaching for the hat. Your fingers brush as he hands it over, his own molding around the crown of the hat, bottom side up.

Joel doesn’t let go immediately like you’re anticipating, “I think you deserve a weekend off,”

“No,” You argue instantly, “I’m finally getting comfortable with the routine, I don’t need a day off.”

Joel’s face scrunches up in with a lack of belief in you words, tilting his head with narrowing gaze, “Now, that’s something only a person who needs a day off would say,”

“Joel, no,” You put your foot down, finally prying his fingers away from the hat, seeking a few inches of space from his bare chest and the unbearable heat that radiates from his frame.

While your admission of feelings had led him to be less reserved with the way he approached your or talked, more touchy during practice and at night while you both cuddled up on the couch and watched some old western you could care less about—Joel really loved them, though, so that had to count for something.

He makes you nervous, anticipatory of his next move, waiting for him to put your misery and break the metaphorical seal over your relationship—if you could even call it that, but it never happened. It would have to be you, a choice you made entirely on your own.

Your heart races as you take a step back, clutching the hat to your chest like a shield.

Joel's eyes follow your movement, a flicker of something indecipherable crossing his face before he schools his expression back to that easy, warm smile. It’s subtle, but there.

"I get it," Joel levels, "You're afraid of losing momentum.”

You shrug, unsure if that was fully true.

“C’mon,” Joel beckons, uncrossing his arms to offer his hand, your eyes following it with hesitance.

Joel chuckles to himself and pulls the hat from your grip before placing it on your head, fingers circling your wrist before they trail toward your hand and lead you toward the kitchen, through his expansive living room until he’s guiding you toward one of the few barstool, silently ordering you to sit down.

Almost immediately, he squats behind the island to rummage through the liquor collection he kept stored away for the occasional celebration or nightcap, avoiding it mostly out of preference while you trained, but he’s sliding a glass of whiskey over before you can fully piece together what he’s doing, rounding the counter with his own glass in hand.

“Happy early birthday to me, I guess,” You joke before taking a small sip of the whiskey, knowing your 22nd birthday was on the horizon but enjoying the reaction as Joel’s face contorts through phases—first confusion, then fear, before he’s attempting to pull the glass from your grip as he realizes his mistake

You giggle and stretch the glass out of reach, “Oh, calm down—I’m old enough to drink, Joel. Old age is really getting to you, isn’t it? I didn’t celebrate last year because I was so focused on the show, but we all know how that turned out,”

“You’re tryin’ to kill me, aren’t you?” Joel asks, downing the rest of the liquid in one go.

He’s drifted closer now, palm pressed into the counter beside your arm, his free hand rising up to tip the brim of your hat up, your bottom lip pulling between your teeth with an impish gaze.

“I’m just so young and impressionable,” You feign innocence, “I blame you.”

Joel's eyes darken, a mix of amusement and something more intense swirling in the depths of brown. Holding his eyes, you slide the glass against the counter and reach for your hat before placing it back on his head, a little on the snug side but still wearable.

“Kinda like it on you better,” You decide, adjusting the brim before your fingers trail toward his shoulders and settle there, feeling the muscle underneath twitch as he laughs, though you find yourself deadly serious and sincere, no longer meeting his eyes as yours trail toward the patch of hair at the center of his chest and down, a solid wall of muscle follow—Joel wasn’t defined, but he was large, intimidatingly so. When he wasn’t riding, he was building, working with his hands, lifting and moving things around the ranch, it was mouthwatering to watch.

“Eyes up, sugar,” He warns, not realizing how dangerously low your hands had trailed before your fingers were folding over the open seam of his jeans and how blatantly obvious it was that Joel wasn’t wearing anything underneath and how his cock had swelled slightly with your proximity and innocent touches.

You feel a rush of excitement as your fingers brush against the warm skin just beneath the waistband of his jeans. Joel's breath hitches, his hand moving to grip your wrist firmly.

“But, you’re—”

Joel shakes his head dismissively, “Can’t help that part—bein’ around you ain’t easy lately.”

In any other circumstance you would take those words harshly, but you can see the pain on his face, the self-restraint he’s holding himself to.

“I can—we can,” You offer, legs spreading on their own as you turn toward him, fitting him between your thighs as you lean into him, “I mean—it isn’t like you’ll be stealing my virtue. I’m not that innocent, Joel.”

Joel's grip on your wrist tightens, his jaw clenching as he struggles to maintain control.

You can see the conflict in his eyes—desire warring with his sense of propriety.

Impatient, you surge upwards, pressing your lips against his with a hunger he hasn’t seen from you before, taking advantage of his parted mouth and dragging your tongue across his top lip, feeling the restrain in the way he kisses you back subdued with his hesitant touch.

“Think about—what you’re—askin’ for,” Joel interrupts through hurried kisses, his hand curling around the side of your neck to push you back, “What this’ll mean for you.”

“I think you should fuck me,” You respond crudely, “besides—you kissed me first.”

His resolve wavers, and you seize the opportunity.

Your free hand slides up his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm. Joel's eyes flutter closed for a moment, a soft groan escaping his lips at the indecent sight of you looking up at him, lips parted on a breath and eyes wide with desire.

Joel never made great choices, only what felt right in the moment.

And somehow, it has led him here.

“We shouldn’t,” He says softly, “s’just another distraction.”

“My mind has never been more clear, Joel,” You argue.

Joel’s resistance is weakening quickly and with a low growl, he’s capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his hand leaving your wrist to grip your hip with a natural possessiveness, the same touch he lends while you’re riding, not an entirely different circumstance, but the intention is loud. You moan into his mouth, arching against him as his fingers dig into your flesh.

“Slow down, cowboy,” You tease, flicking at the hat, your laugh breaking through the tension as Joel parts for a brief second, watching your fingers fold around the hem of your shirt, “help me?”

It’s devious, you know, he knows it.

But, he listens.

The moment your shirt is thrown to the floor, Joel’s jaw slackens.

Instinctually, his thumb drifts over your nipples, circling the areola before he’s using the full expanse of his grip to cup your breasts, maneuvering the barstool until you’re leaning against the marble top, his lips latching onto your skin, tongue alternate as they circle the sensitive buds.

He’ll repent later, much later.

A gasp escapes you when he grazes his teeth against your nipple, sending a spark of pleasure through your body.

"Joel," you breathe, arching into his touch. He hums against your skin, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. He knew exactly what he was doing, hesitance out the window and replaced with newfound confidence.

His hands slide down your sides, rough calluses catching on your soft skin as he explores every inch of you. When his fingers reach the waistband of underwear, he pauses, looking up at you for guidance and surety.

You nod eagerly, lifting your hips in time with his tug, pulling the damp fabric down your legs and leaving you bare. The cool air hits your heated skin, making you shiver with anticipation. Joel's eyes rake over your naked form, hunger evident in his eyes.

And you learn quickly that his skilled hands and fingers aren’t entirely for show, two fingers to start as they push inside of your cunt, head tilted back into his empty hand as he watches you carefully - the quickened breath as he curls his fingers, eyes fluttering shut when he reaches a sensitive spot deep inside of you, gasping for air while he brushes it once, twice, until you’re nothing but a sobbing mess, crying out his name until you come over his fingers, the butt of his palm pressed against your clit for added measure.

“She loves me, don’t she?” Joel teases, the gall of that man.

You offer a pathetic sound of acknowledgement, Joel's eyes never leaving your face as you come undone, drinking in every gasp and shudder. As your climax subsides, he slowly withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his lips. His tongue darts out, cleaning up the mess you’ve made, his chest rumbling with a deep groan.

You’ve had enough.

You reach for his jeans, fumbling weakly as you push them down, desperate for as much of him as you could consume—all of him, preferably.

His arousal is evident as you rid him of his jeans, watching as he kicks away the tangled mess to fit himself between your spread legs, his cock bobbing freely against his stomach, thick and heavy against your thigh as you pull him closer. You wrap your hand around his cock, stroking slowly, reveling in the way his breath hitches and his hips buck involuntarily.

"I’m good," You assure him without elaborating, guiding him towards your entrance—you could talk later, too desperate to feel him inside of you.

Joel hesitates for a moment, searching your eyes. Whatever he sees seems to convince him, both of your breaths holding as he presses inside with slow, hesitant thrusts.

The sensation steals your words, knowing just by the sight of him that it would be pushing what you were used to, and no fumbling hands either, sure in every touch he laid upon you.

The way he squeezed at your hip and curled his other hand around the back of your neck, protecting you from the hard edge of the counter before he’s slinging your arms over his neck and nearly knocking the barstool to the floor as he leans into you, his hips picking up in their intensity as he listens to your body and your voice, distant and soft but there, floating in some ethereal plane of pleasure.

Your fingers dig into Joel’s shoulders, moaning at how he fills you in the most satisfying way, amiss to the bite of the counter in your back as the chair creaks and rocks with Joel’s hurried movement, breath hot against your neck where he’s buried himself.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” He sighs, mouthing his way to your ear, hissing at the sting of your grip and with that his thrusts become deeper, more forceful— each one pushing you further over the edge. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, wanting more.

Joel’s lips find yours frantically, in desperation as he groans, a low rumble that seeps into your own mouth, “Gonna gimme one more,” He tells you,

You nod fervently, barely able to form words as Joel's movements grow more insistent.

His hand slips between your bodies, finding that sensitive bundle of nerves and circling it with a precision that leaves you breathless. The dual sensations of his thick length filling you and his skilled touch on your clit quickly push you towards the precipice.

“Good, good,” He coos, soothing your weak cries with his mouth as your voice muffles under his guise, kissing you soundly, “go on—let go for me,”

His words push you over the edge and you come undone while Joel follows, burying himself deep inside you with a guttural moan, coming forceful and deep, fucking his spend deeper inside of you as reality resurfaces too soon.

“You alright?” Joel asks almost immediately, slipping out of you with a soft grunt.

The barstool creaks ominously as you adjust yourself and Joel chuckles.

“Probably not the sturdiest spot for that,” He jokes, thankful for the levity as he helps you stand, unsteady on your legs and held up by his firm grip, “I’m blamin’ you for that one.”

The grin it brings out of you is worth the slight discomfort you feel.

You shrug, nonchalant and admit defeat, “Guilty,”

Austin, Texas — Present Day:

He’s not supposed to be here.

There was always a plan, something tucked away in his back pocket.

This time it was the element of surprise and a mix of fear, eyes landing on him for the first time since he rushed onto Joel’s property, half-cocked and throwing out demands where he had no position or right.

He knows what he’s doing, eyes locked with yours from several feet away.

“Guest speaker?” Joel asks, the words biting as they leave his mouth, “Seriously?”

“It’s okay,” It was a mantra to yourself mostly, but Joel hears you, “I know what he’s trying to do—it won’t work.”

“You say the word, I’ll take care of it,” Joel promises.

You smirk slightly, rubbing your hand against his cheek and offering a reassuring squeeze.

“Easy, cowboy,” You offer lightheartedly, “I can handle myself.”

Joel’s Ranch, Two Months Ago — Flashback:

You knew he’d figure it out eventually.

For a while he believed the lie—that you had been transferred to a beautiful place in Florida that dealt with injury and rehabilitation for your line of work and he accepted that, kept his distance.

He almost followed through on his reconciliation with Joel, that is, until he sees you at his side.

It was such a natural moment for the both of you now, Joel’s arm slung around your waist as he pulled you in, lips pressing against your temple before you both called it for the day, Honey’s head slipping between your hands as she noses at your head, suddenly whining at the shadowed intruder as he grew close.

At the sound of his voice, you fade away.

You’re still here, standing, but Joel’s protectiveness jumps out instantly.

The words were loud and harsh, but the moment you snap back is as your father’s hand squeezes at your bicep and yanks you forward, immediately met with resistance.

“I forbid it,” He shouts, “whatever brainwashin’ you’ve done to my kid, it’s over.”

“Forbid it?” You counter, “Do you hear yourself?”

“Always liked makin’ a show of things,” He sounds bitter, he is, “come on, we’re leaving.”

“No,” You tell him, voice unrecognizably strong, “I’m finally doing something for myself.”

Your father's face contorts, a mix of anger and betrayal etched into every wrinkle. He takes a step forward, his voice lowering to a dangerous growl. "For yourself? You think leaving everything behind and letting him influence you is for yourself?"

Joel shifts behind you, a ghosting of his fingers against your back but you don’t waver.

"Yes, for myself," you say, shocked at the steadiness in your voice. “I deserve a chance to figure things out my own way, I don’t have to follow the same path you did.”

Your father scoffs, shaking his head. "Your own way? You don't even know what that means, honey. All we built together, you’re ready to throw that away for him—”

"We?" you interrupt, feeling a surge of frustration. "You built that, Dad. I was a kid, I did what I was told.” It was clear he still saw you as a young girl, his protege, destined to take over after he was gone and carry on the legacy.

The silence that follows is deafening.

Your father's eyes narrow, searching your face as if seeing you for the first time. You weren’t the same young girl who stared at him wide-eyed, amazed by his ability to wow the crowd and commit to everything he did. The disappointment in his gaze morphs into something else—hurt.

“I’m not gonna sit and wait around if he breaks your heart,” Your father tells you, “let alone how inappropriate it is—you try justifyin’ that to the public. I see what this is and what you did.”

His eyes land on Joel.

Fortunately, he couldn’t be more wrong.

Austin, Texas — Present Day:

The truth was, no one cared.

You and Joel had created an amazing partnership with natural chemistry and it seared the crowds, grabbed their attention, all eyes on you when you finally took your run out in the arena.

It was weeks that had built to this, following through your routine almost masterfully and without missing a beat, ending with a flourish trick as you stood on Honey’s back for the hundredth time it felt like now, not a single waver in your movement and lasso’d the cowboy hat from the middle of the ring and yanked it in, placing it on your head before the crowd erupted in a loud cheer.

It was the feeling you had searched for since you were younger, fulfillment like no other.

Your father’s appearance couldn’t be further from your mind and as you dismounted Honey and took your bow, your eyes searched the side for the one face that mattered most. Joel's proud grin beamed at you from across the arena, his eyes locked on yours.

In that moment, the roar of the crowd faded away and it was him.

Joel’s Ranch, One Month Ago — Flashback:

You feel guilty for the way your eyes linger on his back as Buttercup trots around the ring, distracted and smiling to yourself as you step onto the railing and lean over with your forearms.

“Focus,” Joel chirps, “c’mon—put on your best voice.”

You clear your throat dramatically and lower your tone a bit, fighting through the giggles.

“You know him, you love him,” You bellow from deep in your chest, “It’s Old Timer!”

Joel chuckles, “That was horrible, baby.”

“So what?” You shrug, “I know him, I love him—point proven.”

It was rare to get a glimpse of Joel like this, back in his element as you watched him run-through your routine without all the flair, offering a slightly different view—though, he knows it won’t help.

You were barely focused on the routine, preoccupied with how easily Joel could capture a room like this, noticing your glossed over gaze as he finishes and hops off his horse, walking over with a knowing smirk.

"You weren't paying attention at all, were you?" Joel teases, his voice low and intimate.

You feel a heat creep up your neck as you meet his gaze.

"I was... distracted," You admit sheepishly.

His smirk softens into a tender smile. "By what, exactly?"

“Not Joel,” You clarify, grabbing hold of his collar as you pull him close, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to his cheek, “I like it when you ride, Old Timer.”

“All I gotta do is hop on a horse to make you swoon?” Joel asks, the skin around his eyes crinkling with the emotion as he blushes at the affection.

“Among other things.”

“Done and done, sweetheart.”

divider graphics: @saradika-graphics <3

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us #tlou #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #kedsandtubesocks wild ride #my writing

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nevadancitizen · 9 months ago

Text

-> CH. 1: SOMEWHERE (FAR, FAR) EAST OF THE MOJAVE

synopsis: you wake up in some cabin, half-frozen to death. a man named arthur finds you and decides to have mercy on you, as do his associates.

word count: 3k

ships: Arthur Morgan/Modern!Reader, Van der Linde Gang & Reader

notes: if anyone wants me to start a taglist just lmk <3!! also there's a PROLOGUE before this, please read it before reading this :)

THE OLD SOUL OF AMERICA MASTERLIST

It’s cold. Above everything else, it’s fucking cold.

You screw your eyes shut tighter, curling in on yourself. You’re vaguely aware that you’re on your side and in a fetal position.

There’s a light, faintly, somewhere behind you. You let out a hiss that tapers off into a groan and draw your arms over your head.

“Hey!” A voice shouts. It’s growly and abrasive-sounding. There’s the sound of a revolver’s hammer cocking. “Turn around. Face me.”

You prop your forearm on the floor and push yourself up with more effort than you think would be needed. You pant softly, and your breath mists in front of your mouth. You manage to hold yourself up with both hands on the floor and turn your head to look at the man.

He’s tall in a way that makes him look down his nose at you. His silhouette is stark against the door – there’s snow outside. You don’t remember it to be… snowing. It’s May in southern California. It doesn’t snow in May in southern California.

The man looks you over, his revolver still pointed at you. His hand is unwavering.

“I’m sorry,” you say. You don’t know why. “Is this your house?”

“No,” the man says simply. “What’re you doin’ here?”

“I’m…” You look down at your hands, the way they’re braced against the floor. “I don’t know. I think…”

Your arms shake, then collapse. Your jaw hits the floor with a dull thud, and your eyes screw shut on instinct.

“Shit,” the man drawls under his breath.

“W-wait! Wait,” you say quickly. “I’m not on anything. I – I’m stone-cold sober. Like Steve Austin.”

You force a laugh and manage to open your eyes to look at the man. He looks confused – maybe a little disgusted? It’s hard to tell.

“Like, the wrestler?” You say. “Stone Cold Steve Austin?”

The man lowers his revolver, just a little, so that it’s not pointed at your head, but still in your general direction. It’s obvious he doesn’t know what you’re talking about, in any capacity. Maybe he won’t shoot you if he thinks you’re insane? (Or maybe that would just give him more of an incentive to kill you.)

“Just – just ignore me,” you say. (Again, you don’t know why. You don’t want to be ignored – you’re very obviously in bad shape.) “I don’t know where I am. I remember being in California, just north of Los Angeles.”

The man scoffs and checks over his shoulder, like he’s checking he’s not being duped. He looks back at you. “California? Really?”

“Yes,” you say softly. You wrap your jacket tighter around yourself the best you can with the way that you’re laying. “South. Right near Mexico – Tijuana.”

The man tilts his head and takes a half-step closer. “You’re bleedin’.”

“I am?” You manage to move your arm and see dried brown blood on your jacket laced with redder, fresher blood. “I am.”

“I just…” You shift, curling in on yourself further. Now that he’s pointed it out, you do feel some type of dull pain in your abdomen. “I’ll be okay. Don’t call for a doctor, or an ambulance. Please don’t call an ambulance. I – I’ll get to a hospital on my own.”

The man shifts on his feet. Was it always this cold? It’s… it’s so fucking cold. And no matter how much you curl in on yourself, there’s no warmth.

The black returns.

There’s snippets of conversations you can pick up on over the sound of feet shuffling and the sound of wind blowing outside. One woman gives a few demands to others, while another woman announces that “Davey’s dead.”

You can feel yourself being lifted and laid on something that’s hard against your back. You groan and try to open your eyes and sit up, but can’t.

The voices grow quieter. There’s a man making some sort of speech – you can’t make out the words.

You know you’re wavering in and out. There’s the warmth of a man’s hand on your shoulder, and a murmuring voice, still fading in and out: “I commend you… your Creator… who formed you from the dust… angels, and all the saints…”

It takes all your strength to lift your hand and grab him – some part of him. You can barely open your eyes and can’t make out a lot. “Not… dead yet. Fucking pr…preacher.”

Black again. There’s a repetitive, stinging pain in your side.

Awake, again. Somehow. A woman, her face worn but still beautiful, hovers over you. Her wrinkles are stark in the lantern light.

“Hello?” You say, your voice a bit slurred.

The woman turns and calls another woman over – this one much younger than her. “Miss Jackson, get Dutch. Let him know Arthur’s friend is awake.”

Miss Jackson turns and walks off with a “Yes, Miss Grimshaw.”

“Arthur?” You interject. “Is that the man who found me?”

Miss Grimshaw turns back to you. “Yes, Arthur’s the one who found you. I don’t know why he didn’t shoot you.”

You wait for her to say something more. She doesn’t.

“Where am I?” You try. “I remember being in California, just outside of the Mojave. But the Mojave doesn’t get snow in May.”

“That’s because you’re not in the Mojave,” Miss Grimshaw says. “We’re in the Grizzlies.”

“Th…the Grizzlies?” You echo. “Like, Appalachia?”

“Somewhere in there, yes,” she says. “You been out a few days now. Reverend read you your last rites a handful of times.”

You try to sit up, but groan and lay back down. She pushes you down as well, a scowl on her face.

The door opens with a gust of cold wind. A man steps in, then quickly shuts the door behind him. He hurries over, rubbing his gloved hands together.

He looks you over, then drags a nearby chair over and sits. “What’s your name, friend?”

You give him your name.

“My name is Dutch,” Dutch says. “Dutch van der Linde. I think you know by now that you’ve caught us at an… inconvenient time. And you’ll forgive us for not trusting you right away.”

“No, I get that,” you say. “I just… I need a map or something. I need to get back home.”

Dutch beckons for Miss Grimshaw to bring over a map. He opens it and holds it out to you.

You sit up, slowly, making sure not to do anything too sudden. When you’re upright, you take the map from him and look it over. You don’t recognize anything on the map, but one point piques your interest – the date. The year reads 1891.

“Sir, I don’t mean to be rude, but…” You point to the year. “This map seems a little out of date.”

“It’s just eight years,” Miss Grimshaw says. “Most everything is the same.”

You glance up at her, then at Dutch, then at the people around the cabin. Your fingers twitch and crumple the map a bit.

This is a dream! I’m in a coma! Your mind shouts. I’m in a medically-induced coma because I was shot and holy hell – how the fuck did I go from 2024 to 1899?!

“Right, right,” you say instead. “Sorry. I’m just being nitpicky.”

“Where’re you from?” Dutch asks.

“California. Near the Mojave,” you say. “Out west.”

“And you would leave all that… virgin paradise…” Dutch laughs and gestures vaguely around him. “For this?”

“I don’t know how I got here,” you say. “I’ve been saying that since I woke up. I don’t…” You shake your head.

“Well, I’m sure we can get you back to your home,” Dutch says. “We’re persevering folk. Do you recognize anything – anything at all – on that map?”

You look down at the map again. It’s all unfamiliar. “No. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, my friend,” Dutch says, reaching a hand out like it’s meant to soothe. “You’re a soul in need. I’m sure we can figure something out somehow. Can you at least tell me what your home is like?”

This is a coma, you remind yourself. I can just make something up. I’m not some person that couch-surfed for half my life. I can be whoever.

“I… it’s odd,” you say to buy yourself some time. You say the first thing that comes to mind. “There’s a few tribes that live in Zion Canyon – the Dead Horses and the Sorrows. I was a courier delivering goods to the Dead Horses. There were two men there that convinced me to stay.”

A Black man – broad, intimidating, with long, dark hair – perks up at the mention of tribes. His dark (almost black, honestly) eyes find yours, then he looks down at the floor again.

“None of it rings a bell,” Dutch says. “But, these men – what’re their names?”

It’s in that exact moment that you realize you just prattled off part of the storyline of Fallout: New Vegas. Then you realize that, if this really is 1899, no one here would know what you’re talking about.

“Joshua Graham and Daniel,” you say. “They’re white – they work with the natives and help them trade. Joshua’s acting as the Dead Horses’ war chief and Daniel is a healer that works with the Sorrows.”

Yes. You’re totally friends with Joshua Graham and Daniel and the Dead Horses and the Sorrows. And from the way Dutch nods solemnly, you think he believes you.

You hold out the map and he takes it back, folding it neatly.

“I don’t have anywhere to go,” you say. “I’ve never even been this far east before.”

“Don’t worry,” Dutch says. “You can stay with us, for the time being. At least until we get to some… some town, or city. Let you rest your feet while you recover. We’re a gang of… violent criminals and degenerates, but we care. I can’t say the same for the rest of America.”

Your hand instinctively goes to your side, where you felt the stinging, repetitive pain earlier. “Right. My side doesn’t feel as bad as before. Thank you for that.”

You look around and slowly swing your feet over the side of the table. A lightning arc of pain shoots down your leg, causing you to gasp and tense. As with everything else, you force through it and stand.

“I need to get some air,” you say. Dutch just nods. You walk (shamble, really) to the door and open it, slipping outside.

The cold is even worse out here. There’s footpaths in the snow. You stick your hands under your arms and walk one. It leads to a man standing by a fire in front of a cabin, dressed in a winter poncho with a gun in his hands.

You hold your hands out towards the fire and rub your hands together. It doesn’t replace the warmth you had while you were inside, but it’s still something.

“What’s your name?” The man asks. He shifts the rifle in his hands, but doesn’t move to point it at you. (An improvement, if a small one.)

You give him your name. “What about you?”

“Javier,” Javier says. “Javier Escuella.”

“Where are you from?” You shift your focus to the fire. “Not trying to be rude. It’s just that there’s a few ‘Javier’s where I’m from.”

“Northern Mexico,” Javier says. “You?”

“I’m originally from the South, but I live in the Mojave. I moved to the Frontier to be closer to my sister,” you say. “So I guess we weren’t that far off from each other.”

You look up at the sound of footsteps crunching in the snow. It’s the man from way earlier – Arthur. You look back at the fire instead.

Arthur nods at Javier and spares a glance at you before entering the cabin. People are talking inside, and you catch a snippet of voices before Arthur closes the door again.

“It’s too cold to be May,” Javier says. You can tell he’s trying to be polite by making conversation. “I’m not designed for this snow.”

“I know, right?” You laugh under your breath. “Neither am I. I’d go back inside, but I don’t want to intrude. Any more than I already have, anyway.”

“It’s below freezing,” he says. “Everyone needs shelter. Come on.”

With that, Javier turns and walks into the cabin, holding the door open behind him for you. You thank him and follow him inside.

Inside is a group of men and the overwhelming smell of cigarette smoke. You tense when they all turn to face you. Most of them are, in fact, smoking. You nod politely and tuck yourself into a corner, next to a man with a blond mustache.

A hefty man is sitting across from the blond man, and a much younger Black man is sitting on a table next to him. Javier is by the door, and you try your best to ignore Arthur’s huge presence beside you. You can see him throw a small log into the woodstove out of the corner of your eye.

The man sort-of across from you looks at you, then returns his gaze to the man sitting beside you. “I guess folks miss them… that fell.”

“Well, when I fall, I don’t want no fuss,” the man beside you says.

“When you fall…” The young man waves his hand, which is holding a lit cigarette. “There’ll be a party.”

“A party!” The hefty man echoes, laughing. “Hah, probably.”

You feel the beginnings of a smile start to cross your face. You don’t know these people, and while they aren’t exactly doing their best to welcome you, they aren’t exactly making you feel unwelcome, either.

The man beside you holds out a bottle to you. You hesitantly take it, even though you’re confused. “I don’t want this.”

He pays you no mind and stands, looking down at the man. “That funny, huh?”

“Sure,” the man says, the remnants of laughter still in his voice.

One man strikes another, and it’s loud, absolute chaos. On instinct, your eyes snap to the door. Unblocked. An exit if needed.

Arthur and the young man are holding the hit man back, and the blond man speaks. “Maybe I don’t feel like being laughed at by the likes of you two!”

It’s going to escalate. You can get to the door. Dutch was right – this is a gang of violent criminals and degenerates. One you want nothing to do with.

But Dutch bursts in with a gust of cold wind. As soon as he sees what’s going on, his face twists. The men dissipate from their tight proximity and distance themselves from each other.

“Stop it!” He snaps. “You fools punching each other when Colm O’Driscoll’s needin’ punching – hard! You wanna sit around, waiting for him to come find us?”

Arthur slips out of the door as Dutch continues. “All of you, we got work to do. Come on.”

The men turn and start to file out of the cabin. You can hear Arthur and Dutch talking outside. By the time you’re outside, most of the men are over by the horses or on one of them.

Dutch is talking quietly to Arthur while they’re both mounting up – you couldn’t hear them if you tried. He straightens up on his snow-white horse and shouts. “Mister Matthews, Mister Smith, Mister Pearson, would you please look after the place? There are O’Driscolls about!”

With that, he snaps the reins and his horse darts off. The rest of the men from the cabin, now all on horseback, quickly follow.

You resign yourself to following another footpath. This one leads to a partly-sheltered, partly-dilapidated garage-type-thing with something like a kitchen inside. There’s a deer hoist against the wall, but it’s empty.

Your eyes dart to some sort of cauldron-looking pot hanging over a fire that’s mostly coals. You walk over and hold your hands out to it, trying to get warm again.

“You’re new.”

Your head snaps up to see the broad Black man from earlier. He still has that impassive look on his face.

“Yes, sir, that’s right,” you say. You introduce yourself. “What’s your name?”

“Charles Smith.” Charles walks and stands beside you, mirroring you and putting his hands out towards the fire. “You were talking earlier about tribes.”

“Yeah,” you say. “What about them?”

“I’ve never heard of the ones you were talking about,” he says. His voice is deep and smooth and calm. (You try your best not to latch onto that sense of calmness. You now know how quickly things can turn.)

“The Sorrows and the Dead Horses?” You rub your nose as you try to think of an excuse. “I wouldn’t expect you to. They live in Zion Canyon – in the Mojave. They’re fairly isolated, but they’re good people.”

Charles hums and his eyes return to the fire. You try to think of something to keep the conversation going.

“Who’s Colm O’Driscoll?” You ask. “I’ve heard his name a handful of times.”

“A rival gang leader,” he says. “Runs the O’Driscolls.”

“Oh. Yeah.” You scratch your cheek. “That makes sense.”

A silence settles over the two of you again. Charles must be comfortable with it. Unfortunately, you’re not.

“Is there anything people need done?” You ask, glancing at him. “I don’t like being idle for too long.”

He looks over at the empty deer hoist. “We need food.”

“I’m no good at hunting.” You look at the fire and rub your hands together again. “Sorry.”

“You apologize a lot,” Charles says. His eyes flick to you. “You know you don’t have to do that, right?”

You bite back another apology and force a laugh. Your breath mists in front of your face. “Force of habit.”

Charles hums and his focus returns to the smoldering coals that make up the fire. A nagging thought in the back of your head tells you that you made him mad (even though he’s given literally no indication you’ve done so).

You follow his lead and look at the fire. There’s nothing else to do in this kind of cold, anyway.

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austinbutlerslovers · 7 months ago

Text

Behind the Scenes

Label Mature 18+

Summary You’ve never been able to contain your jealousy when it comes to Austin. So when he shoots an intimate scene as Feyd Rautha with his female co-star, your jealousy simmers just beneath the surface, before burning behind the scenes.

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥 jealous passion • make it better • oral on fem • claiming • P in V • sex against a mirror •orgasms• cream pie 🔗Master List

📖 Proofreader @purejasmine 💭Plot inspired by @psycheetamore 💕

Behind the Scenes

You had never doubted Austin’s love for you—not really. But being in a relationship with someone so effortlessly magnetic, so achingly handsome and charming, came with its own share of insecurities. His fame was undeniable; his talent, unmatched. But what haunted you the most was how he managed to flirt without even trying.

The way he held eye contact just a second too long, his easy smile, and the way his voice dipped into a tone that made every word sound like a secret—it wasn’t deliberate, you knew, but it still drove you crazy.

Especially when it came to other women.

Especially when those women were stunning celebrities who practically melted under his gaze.

Lea Seydoux is no exception. You’ve seen her work, admired her elegance and wit from afar, but now, watching her with him on set is unbearable. You can’t help but feel like an outsider—like you’re watching two people who fit better together than you and Austin ever could.

The scene between them is intense. Austin, fully transformed into Feyd Rautha, stands behind her—Lady Margot—his knife pressed against her throat as he whispers into her ear. His menace is undeniable, his brooding presence intoxicating, and you can’t deny how convincing Austin is in the role. But when she leads him to the next room to continue the scene, something inside you twists.

He follows her through the doors as she sits on the bed, the scene unfolding like a deadly dance. She perches on the edge of the futuristic bed, her movements precise, calculating, the perfect Bene Gesserit.

“Kneel,” Lea commands, her voice laced with quiet authority, and Austin obeys without hesitation. He sinks gracefully to his knees, his sharp, predatory energy tempered into dangerous submission.

Your eyes narrow as they lean toward each other, their faces inches apart. The tension between them is unbearable, the kind of chemistry that makes your envy uncontrollable. You can’t tear your eyes away. It looks like they are about to kiss—a slow, inevitable collision—until Lea breaks the moment with her next line.

“Put your hand in the box,” she says, her voice low, her French accent only adding to the sensual edge of the scene.

In her lap is cradled the prop of the “Jom Gabbar,” the iconic Bene Gesserit pain box. In her other hand, she holds a needle poised near his neck. The camera zooms in, capturing the dangerous intimacy between them, the way Feyd’s defiance melts into reluctant obedience as he extends his hand.

“Cut!” the director finally calls, breaking the spell. But the tension between them is too real, too raw, and even though the cameras aren’t rolling, it doesn’t stop.

Austin grins at something Lea says, her fingers lightly brushing his chest. The inky darkness of his black out smile makes the gesture both unnerving and magnetically attractive as she leans in closer to playfully tease him.

The ease between them lights a fire in your stomach. The kind of fire that burns and sears and leaves nothing but jealous ash in its wake.

By the time the filming for the day ends, you are brimming with resentment in Austin’s trailer, your thoughts racing, your chest tight with the weight of everything you’ve seen.

He emerges from the shower, his hair damp and slicked back. A towel hangs low around his hips, exposing the sharp lines of his torso, every muscle carved and glistening. The pale body paint of Feyd has been rinsed clean, but the intense persona lingers.

“You’re mad,” he says, tilting his head as he studies your expression. His voice is low and commanding. “Let me guess. Lea?”

“Don’t say her name like that,” you snap, crossing your arms. “I saw the way she was touching you, Austin. The way you were looking at her.”

He smirks, leaning casually against the doorframe, every bit the picture of arrogance. “I was acting, but perhaps my talent is something you can’t discern yet,” he says, his tone dripping with mockery, the smirk on his lips daring you to argue.

“You weren’t acting when the cameras were off,” you shoot back, your voice laced with frustration and something sharper—hurt.

His smirk deepens, infuriatingly slow. “You’re jealous,” he says, the words rolling off his tongue like a quiet taunt.

“Of course I’m jealous!” you blurt, stepping closer. “Do you have any idea what it’s like, watching everyone throw themselves at you? And you—you just… let them.”

His eyes flicker, cool and unreadable, and for a moment, he says nothing. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he gestures toward the chair beside you. “Sit.”

You bristle at his tone, crossing your arms. “No.”

“Sit,” he repeats, his voice sharper now, and it isn’t a request, Austin is being uncharacteristically insistent.

Instead of obeying, you turn your back on him, shaking your head. “I’m not doing this,” you say, your voice laced with frustration and defiance.

Before you can walk away, you feel him move behind you, his presence looming, suffocating. His hands come to your shoulders, firmly stopping you in your tracks. Slowly, his fingers slide down your arms, sensually grazing your skin in a way that makes your breath catch.

His voice is low and commanding as it brushes against your ear. “Don’t walk away from me,” he whispers, the edge in his tone unmistakable. “Not when you’re unsettled like this.”

You try to shrug him off, but his grip tightens as he steps closer, his chest brushing your back. His hand slides up, tilting your chin so you’re forced to look at the full-length mirror in front of you.

“Look at yourself,” he says, his reflection towering over yours, his eyes locking onto yours in the glass. His hand stays on your chin, keeping you in place. “Do you see what I see?”

You swallow hard, your heart racing as his words settle over you. The intensity in his eyes, the dominance in his stance—it’s Feyd, unmistakably. But somewhere beneath the surface, there’s still Austin, the man who always seems to unravel you with a single glance.

“Do you think I would let anyone ruin what is mine?” he asks, his voice a low rasp that sends a shiver down your spine. His hand moves from your chin to your waist, pulling you back against him. “Answer me.”

Your breath catches, your reflection betraying every crack in your composure. The line between Austin and Feyd blurs, their edges indistinguishable in his gaze. “Austin, stop it. You’re not—”

“Not what?” he interrupts smoothly, his lips brushing your ear, his voice low, almost dangerous, sending a shiver racing down your spine.

He trails a finger down your throat, slow and deliberate, the weight of his touch making you swallow hard. It’s as if he’s still lost in the scene, his intensity blurring the line between acting and reality. Instead of a knife, his hand moves lower, settling over your chest, his palm cupping your breast, his fingers kneading it gently.

“Is this what you want?” he rasps in your ear, his words dripping with wicked intent. His eyes lock onto yours in the mirror, his piercing gaze daring you to look away.

His mouth presses against your neck, and when his tongue flicks out, you catch it in the mirror—his slow, deliberate lick up the column of your throat.

He makes sure you see it, makes sure you feel every inch of his dominance as his tongue drags along your skin in a way that leaves you trembling.

Your breath comes out in a shallow gasp as he presses closer, his body aligning with yours, the hardness of his need for you unmistakable.

“Tell me,” he whispers against your ear, his voice like a dark secret, “—Tell me that you want me to kneel for you,” he rasps, smooth and tantalizing.

His lips brush the shell of your ear as he lingers, letting his words settle deep in your chest.

“Austin—” you manage, but his name comes out more like a gasp, stunned and unsteady. Your mind spins, caught between disbelief and the undeniable heat coursing through you.

Austin steps around to face you, his movements slow and deliberate, his eyes dark with intent. His hands slide up your sides, grazing the curves of your breasts before lifting your shirt up and over your head.

Your breath hitches as his tongue darts out, licking a slow stripe along the valley between your breasts before his hands slide up cupping them. His lips close around one nipple, sucking gently but firmly. The heat of his mouth sending a jolt through you, your body responding instantly.

His eyes flick up, catching yours, watching every shift in your expression as he works, his tongue teasing one sensitive peak before moving to the other, the intensity in his gaze holding you captive.

Then slowly, deliberately, he sinks to his knees before you, his movements fluid and commanding. Your eyelids flutter as you feel him hook his fingers into the waistband of your leggings.

With practiced ease, he slides them down along with your panties, the cool air of the trailer brushing against your heated skin as you step out of the fabric.

Without hesitation, his hands cup the back of your thighs, pulling you flush against his mouth. Your knees nearly buckle as his tongue meets you, hot and insistent. All you can do is watch in the mirror, your reflection a blur of flushed skin and trembling limbs as he devours you hungrily. The obscene, wet sounds of his movements fill the room, his mouth working you over with a precision that makes your head spin.

Your hand finds its way to his hair, gripping tightly as your mouth falls open in a silent cry. He flicks his tongue against your clit mercilessly, the rhythm relentless until the pressure inside you builds into something you can’t contain. His hands slide up your thighs, gripping your waist as he looks up at you. The sight of him, his face buried between your legs too much to bear.

Your voice chokes off, your body shuddering as the wave of your orgasm crashes over you. He stays with you through it, his mouth slowing but never stopping until the last moan fades from your lips. Then, with maddening calmness, he wipes his face along your thigh, his teeth grazing the soft flesh there as he nips at you, leaving a faint mark.

Standing slowly, he towers over you, his presence consuming as he turns you, pressing you face-first against the full-length mirror. The cool glass against your heated skin makes you shiver, but his body is there behind you, warm and solid.

His hand slides down, loosening the front of his towel before letting it drop to the floor. You barely have time to process the sight of him before you feel the insistent head of his cock slipping against your wetness, poised to enter you.

“Now,” he says, his voice low and raspy, the hunger in his tone unmistakable as your eyes meet in the mirror. “Let me show you exactly who I belong to.”

His hands grip your waist firmly as he thrusts into you, hard and powerful, the force of it stealing the air from your lungs. You moan, your palms pressing against the cool glass for balance as he sets a relentless pace in you. It’s overwhelming and intoxicating—there’s something darker, more commanding in his movements, and you savor every second of it.

“Tell me how much you like it” he rasps his hips snapping harder with each deep driving thrust, his body unyielding as he pushes you further into the mirror.

“Yes, F—Austin,” you moan, your voice breathless, trembling under the pressure. “Don’t stop—please, don’t stop.”

His abs flex with each thrust, his body relentless as his thighs clap against the back of yours the sound echoing in the space.

His hand tangles in your hair, tugging with just enough force to pull your head back. “Look at yourself,” he demands, his voice rough with exertion. “Watch what I do to you.”

Your eyes flick to the mirror, the sight of him behind you—his body moving with raw power—sending a new wave of pleasure crashing over you. The intensity is too much, the rhythm of his hips, the pull of his hand, the way his cock hits that perfect spot inside you again and again.

Your body trembles as you close your eyes, giving in to the overwhelming sensations as you cry out, your release washing over you in waves. He doesn’t slow, his movements coaxing every last contraction from you as his grip on your waist tightens, lingering as you orgasm completely.

His pace falters slightly as his control slips, his breaths turning into deep, guttural grunts thrusting harder and faster chasing his release until you feel the unmistakable twitch of his cock inside you.

A groan rips from his chest, low and primal, his hips pressing flush against yours as his release spills, filling you completely. His fingers dig into your waist, anchoring himself in the intensity of the moment as the warmth of him come spreads between you. His eyes flutter shut for a moment, his features softening in pleasure before his piercing gaze finds yours in the mirror again.

He slows his movements, pulling back to slip his satisfied cock from you, and his hands slide to your hips, steadying you as he turns you around to face him. His breaths are uneven, ghosting against your lips as his piercing gaze roams over your face. He takes in every detail—the flush of your cheeks, the way your chest rises and falls with each ragged breath, and your eyes filled with pleasure.

His thumb brushes along your jawline, the roughness of his touch grounding you further as a grin tugs at the corners of his lips.

“You’re even jealous of your own reflection,” he teases, his voice still rough from exertion.

You laugh, the sound soft and breathless as your hand rests gently against his jaw, your thumb brushing over his skin.

“I can’t help it,” you murmur, your voice filled with honesty. “You’re so special to me, Austin. Sometimes, it scares me.”

His grin softens into something warmer, more vulnerable, as his hands slide up to cup your face. “And you’re special to me,” he says, his voice quieter now, the rasp fading into sincerity. “More than you’ll ever know. No one else could ever make me feel the way you do.”

You lean into him, your cheek resting against his chest as his strong arms wrap around you, holding you close. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothes you as you let his words sink in, grounding you in the connection that only the two of you share. In his embrace, everything else melts away, leaving only the undeniable bond between you.

⚔️ End 🎬

🔗 Master List

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sitepathos · 6 months ago

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https://www.tumblr.com/sitepathos/771441759147507712/imagine-the-angst-if-bruce-does-end-up-finding-a?source=share

In that post you said jason would have raised reader if he wasnt so blind now my question would he have done that actually or would he just be a good brother also what if reader ended up in the same situation as in the start of the series but jason saved reader

He’d basically assume Dick’s title as #1 Big Brother with you, always texting you, asking how your day was, and even making it a point to stop by your work, clad in his Red Hood gear (which actually led to an increase in business when rumors began circulating that Red Hood likes retro games).

He’s pissed beyond words when he realizes that you’ve been neglected ever since day one of moving into Gotham, offering to rip Bruce and the others several new ones on your behalf, but you convince him it’s not worth it and him and Alfred are more than enough for you. He’s happy to hear that you hold him in such high regard (something that means a lot to him since majority of Gotham worship at the Alter of the Bat), but he does go hard on them during sparing sessions to get back at them.

He loves spending time with you, the two of you staying in one of his various safe houses, teaching the other about your interests; you show him your game and go off on tangents on your favorite games and he nerds out about Jane Austin and shows you how to handle firearms, gifting you a custom-made pistol to reward you for completing his firearm safety test.

Jason will also help you with school and you were shocked to find out that despite him being built like a brick shithouse, he loved school after being adopted by Bruce and had As and Bs. He’ll help you study for your tests and when you pass them, he’ll take you out to dinner to celebrate.

And if this scenario took place when Damian first moved in, he would’ve defended you from his sword. The moment he saw the little brat reach for his sword, he instantly knew what was about to happen and dashed out in front of you, shielding you with his body and shoving Damian away. Bruce and Dick chastise him for shoving Damian, but he glares at them, his eyes Lazarus Green, and carries you out of the room, wanting to put as much distance between you and the demon spawn.

And the night you were kidnapped by the three thugs? You gave them Jason’s number when the leader demanded someone to call and arrange for a ransom. When he found out he was speaking to your kidnapper, that night with Joker flashes before his eyes and all the fear, pain, and despair he felt that night came flooding him all at once. He keeps them on the line as he traces the call and races to the cabin. Once he arrives, he uses his helmet to see through the cabin’s walls and due to the poor condition of the wood it’s made of, he manages to put a bullet in each of their heads through the walls. He rushes into the cabin and casts his helmet aside, wanting to see if you’re hurt with his own eyes and when your eyes met his, you notice they’re the greenest they’ve ever been.

He takes you to the safe house you’d come to know and love, telling you that you wouldn’t be going back to the manor since Bruce isn’t able to pull his head out of his ass and give you the care you need. Alfred is sad to see you leave, but is glad Jason will be the one to take care of you, so he helps pack all your stuff and often sends food in the mail. After you move in, Jason tears into Bruce, saying he’s a failure of a father and that he never should’ve been allowed to reproduce.

The night you graduate, you can hear him cheering you on as you receive your diploma, even with the rest of the audience giving you a round of curtesy applause. When you meet up with him and Alfred, he gives you a giant bear hug, swinging you around and saying he’s so proud of you.

When you tell him you want to move back to your old house in Goodsprings, he’s sad, of course, but he understands that desire to go back to more familiar surroundings. He goes with you to Nevada to make sure you get there safely and helps clean it up and make it livable, even going as far as to buy you all new furniture and appliances (using Bruce’s credit card, of course). You turn your old room into a guest room that’s always ready for him and he makes it a point to stay over once a month.

When your game finally releases, you give him the first copy and even dedicate it to him, bringing a tear to his eye. While he’s not the biggest gamer out there, he becomes your biggest fan and praises your work online.

And should you ever meet a man that you wish to date, he ensures that before your dates leaves with you, the last thing he sees is Jason cleaning his extensive collection of guns.

#asks #from gold to mold

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yourlocalsmutwriter · 2 months ago

Text

There are twice as many stars as usual - minotaur! Daniel Ricciardo x reader

cw: daniel actually cursing the second seat, body transformation verging on body horror, monster fucking, primal play (chasing reader through the woods), dubcon, dark! Danny, author read greek mythology in her formative years instead of talking to boys, so now we have this

It's September in Singapore, the night after the Grand Prix, and Daniel Ricciardo can't sleep. He lost his race seat. He heard the venomous words from Helmut on Friday. But he held on. He knew he could get the tractor out to Q3, he had the ability, the experience. Just not the pace. The old engine was holding him back, and that P18 was the final nail in the coffin of his career. He still tries, might as well go out in a blaze of glory. He manages the fastest lap, soft tires sparking up against the streets. Daniel brings her home to the garage and sits. He just waits. He's like a petulant child, hiding out in a bathroom, not wanting to face the world. Not wanting to let go of the comfort of the cockpit. Not wanting to face everyone like this. But it's hot, and he's not about to be a frog boiling itself alive. He still had a job to do. He gets out and gives his interview, misty eyed, and broken. His signature smile gone. The mention of Austin doesn't help.

Everyone knows why he stays in the paddock. Lando comes by, and Danny also swears the Netflix people are still lurking in the shadows for him. They should unionize, he thinks, along with the photographer that's waiting for a last shot. Daniel gives it to him. And goes back to his hotel.

Maybe it's the heat. Maybe it's the sheer nausea from the track. The shock of an icebath after it. Maybe it's months of unprocessed feelings and the week from hell recently in the media. But no matter how hard Daniel tries, he can not sleep. So he sets out with a plan. And thankfully the expensive hotel they are staying in has a receptionist 24/7. One that laughs at his face when he asks for the best place to find a witch.

"Sir, pardon me, but this isn't the White Lotus. I'm not some plot device that will magically bring you everything you need cause you're staying with us. I can help with a faulty AC, a light bulb that doesn't go out, sure. But I can not find you a tarrot reader at 3 in the morning." They say. Daniel sighs and opens his banking app. He hates using his status and money for things. He had a nice personality and good looks he'd rather utilise. He tilts the screen and asks

"How much?" Within an hour, a taxi stops in front of the hotel, and an old woman is knocking on Daniel's hotel room door.

"You must be pretty desperate to seek me out, young man. What is so pressing that you couldn't wait any longer?" She asks, clearly skeptical of him.

"I want to place a curse. And reinforce one I made years ago." He says, dead serious. Daniel explains the infamous second seat at Redbull curse he had actually asked for. How he had the terrible, winless seasons in Renault to repent for it. The worst luck from his stint in McLaren was due to the fact he was wishing evil on Pierre and Alex. It lessened when he had no seat or when he was a reserve. After all, as long as the "energy drink team" had him, there was no need to be despising them. Now Checo was collateral damage. Whatever podiums he'd had in 2023 would be his last. Daniel felt a bit conflicted about that, he and the Mexican driver did have a good time once. He breaks it down, as cohesively as possible. Describes exactly what he knows about the woman from Etsy he hired then. The witch listens intently to what he wants now. The second VCARB seat, too. Daniel Ricciardo could be a petty motherfucker when he wanted to. And Liam Lawson was going to feel that.

"Look, I am capable of it. But it comes with a price. I see your pain, your anger, your resentment. They are built up inside of you. That reserve is not endless. So when you no longer feel them, you will have to change. Shed your old skin and give in to what you want. If you do this, you might become nothing but a raging bull. Is it worth it?" She asks.

"Yes." He says without hesitation. The world of racing wouldn't be the same without him. But he knows that he also wouldn't be the same without racing. Not without a fight, right? Well, this was his fight.

Daniel lets the woman take a lock of his hair. He covers the smoke detector in the room with a trash bag so she can light her candles. Closes his eyes when instructed to. A magician never revealed secrets, huh?

It works, Daniel thinks, watching the rest of the season. Liam fights with Alonso of all people. As if Fernando was going to let a rookie make a fool out of him. The Alpine double podium in Brazil puts the French team up in the constructors and bumps the VCARB down. Meanwhile, Daniel is thriving. Enchanté is selling like hotcakes. He's still got the wines, the Thorne ads. He's dubbed a WAG of Josh and Scotty, he's traveling. He even attends some Redbull things. God ,does he like the bikes better. Maybe he should listen to those fans and stay in motorsport but on two wheelers. He had the ass for MotoGP, that's for sure. Of course, he has to lose something, too. That's how curses work.

The media is still vicious on him. The commentators, the articles, they help feed the datkness sometimes. But honestly, he is less petty than he was years ago. Repeated loss taught him to forgive. There was no use dwelling on the past. He was focused on the present, the future. Unfortunately, that's not how curses worked. It started with the announcement. Liam was moved to Redbull. Now, it was almost solely focused on him. He carried two curses. Which meant the universe had to take double from Daniel. Equivalent exchange and all of that. There was the reel fiasco. Who knew Enchanté would invite a comedian who was also a horrible person. The digital footprint of that wasn't great. Then, the underwhelming collection, where people criticized him for having higher prices and less inclusive sizing. But, as the season started, and he got to Australia, it had stopped. Maybe it was Daniel congratulating the New Zealander for the promotion. Maybe it was the combined bad luck of hometown heroes Doohan and Piastri. Maybe it simply had an expiration date he wasn't aware of? Either way, he had sold out his new drop. What was meant to be a homecoming in Australia for the new season.

Danny reflects on Saturday evening when he gets the message that it's all sold out. He won. Then Sunday, Isack's crash on the formation lap, Liam and Yuki's performance out of the points. It was taunting him. A hat trick of bad luck was coming his way. And he was none the wiser.

Daniel was getting hairier. He'd always been blessed with good genes, his dad's Italian heritage. The thick curls, the bushy eyebrows. But now it was a lot. His beard was out of control, and no amount of shaving cream could let a razor pass through it. He could only attempt to style it, the silver clippers burning slightly, but doing the job. His happy trail was more like a scarry dark road now, not to mention his bush. Danny had to put 4 pimple patches on his ingrown hairs, wincing as he pulled out the curly strands with tweezers. It was almost like he was growing fur, the hair was forming a peach fuzz on him everywhere. It got worse as the season went on. When Max started getting penalties out of nowhere, Danny sighed. But the sound that came out was inhuman, almost like a cow's moo, that terrifying throaty sound. It spooked Heidi so much that she got mad at him for pulling a prank on her. She kept telling him that she knew he played the sound on his phone, an app of some sort. But his trusty iPhone was charging upstairs, and he was as confused as her. Danny guessed it was just something going down the wrong pipe, an accident. But it kept happening, again and again. Sighs, snores, even words turned into that horrifying sound. The Grand Prix weekend ends. Daniel turns to speak to Heidi, but he can't. It's all a demented moo. He pleads for her to listen, to help. She calls an ambulance and tells the paramedics something about a "psychotic break." or an episode of some disorder. They shove the world's thickest needle in Danny's ass. He's out like a light, and when he comes to, it's Monday night. They keep him for tests, just a few days. There's apparently nothing wrong with him. He comes back home, and there's left of Heidi is a note saying she's sorry. That's strike one.

He packs up his stuff too. There's no use. He had moved out of Monaco. He could move out of this one too. Go back to his childhood home, spend some time with his parents. He could run things from there too, couldn't he? Visit some local someliers, work on what's next. Plus the extra money from selling this place would be good. Of course he manages to wrap it up in 4 days, get an initial meeting with his realtor on Monday. Daniel knows he shouldn't tune into the GP. Suzuka is a good track, though. He rations that if the race is boring, he'll just doze off, the sound of the engines putting him to sleep. Right? He watches the whole thing, ears perked up. Yuki, in his home race, first in the Redbull team, isn't doing too hot. And Daniel feels bad for him. Maybe it's camaraderie, for the almost 2 years they had in formerly Alpha Tauri. Maybe it's guilt, because all of the bad luck was only meant for Liam. Not for everyone. But there is no malice in Daniel anymore. He can't really sleep that night, there's a splitting headache that's troubling him. He googles it all - stroke, brain tumors, aneurysms, the lot. But nothing feels like the constant pain he's having at the sides of his skill. It's almost like when he had his wisdom teeth coming in sideways. There was something trying to grow, to pierce through when it couldn't and it was driving him insane. He took advill and paracetamol or ibuprofen, something to ease it. He was skirting on the amount, almost on the verge of actually taking too much when he managed to fall asleep.

Daniel was late. Badly, horrendously late. At the last minute he stormed in the realtor's office, still in the tanktop he had slept in. Curls messy, face red from the pillow, head still throbbing. He didn't stop when the receptionist screamed (she was new, he noted, must be a fan). He sat down and saw the realtor's face turn fifty shades of red. Daniel was dragged out with a "Why you?" and a "Am I some sort of twisted joke to you." and something about hornbearing. The former athlete looks in the mirror in his car and almost thinks he's still dreaming. There are two big straight bull horns coming out of his head. Actual horns, made out of god knows what. Danny googles hornbearer and in some languages it's slang for being cheated on. He remembers his realtors messy divorce. The wife running away with the best friend, the whole affair lasting for years. The fact that Danny shares a first name with his realtor. Daniel is a hornbearer, Ricciardo wants to remind him of that. The complexity of that sentence worsens his headache. He goes to buy a ridiculous fedora. By the time he's home and trying to call someone else, the rumor that he's a horrible client spreads like a wildfire. The house doesn't sell. But right before the next free practice on Friday, the horns are gone. Which is good, because Danny can't really justify them to passport control. That's strike two.

Australian soil seems to do him well. For now. Maybe it's because he doesn't watch the race. Maybe it's the huge time difference. Maybe it's just a bit of luck. But for a few days, nothing bad happened to Daniel Ricciardo.

It's actually just a fluke. Just like the mini break between China and Suzuka, that seemed shorter to everyone. But the third strike and the bad luck from Bahrain 2025 was going to catch up to Danny. No matter how fast he ran from it.

Farm life was his thing. Before, he couldn't even get that close to the animals. They didn't know him. Didn't trust him. He was a stranger. Now he was shearing sheep and alpacas like a pro. Always knowing when the cows need to be milked. He even knew more about them than the farmlands. Daniel could tell which animal was sick. Which cow was fertile. It started to freak him out. It wasn't like he was using a farmer's almanac or something. It just came naturally. Like driving. No, like breathing. Then came the next race. Saudi Arabia. He didn't have the fondest memories of Jeddah. Didn't feel like tuning in. But his dad was somehow now invested in Doohan's performance. Something about a fellow Aussie in the sport. Daniel knew that Joseph saw younger Danny in Jack and Oscar. That hungry, scrappy 20 something battling for points, for a win. Alone, in Europe, missing home, trying to get sponsors, trying to get the people back at home to tune in. So he sits by his dad, and despite all odds, Daniel cheers for the McLarens. He should really pick a team he had no history with, like Ferrari or Aston Martin. Seeing the VCARBs scramble for points is like a punch to the gut. He can't help but wonder what he'd do in the car. Would the upgrades be kind to him? Would he be able to outperform Isack or Liam or Yuki. Could he be even close to them on the SIM, or would he be at a Sauber's pace or in the wall. Danny looks at his hand, the scar still visible. Oscar is on the podium again, being drowned in champagne like his predecessor once was. And Mark Webber before them. And Jack Brabham. Who would come after them? Where was the rookie that would take it home one day? Daniel thinks of all the kids he could visit on the karting tracks. How he's getting old now and should be thinking of making one anytime now. After all, somebody has to give baby Verstappen- Piquet a run for their money.

Dan goes to sleep in his childhood bedroom and wakes up in a barn. He can't see properly. His eyes seem so far apart, and his head feels heavy. He takes a breath and hears a loud "pff" coming out of his nostrils. That can't be right. He tries to get up, but his hair keeps getting in his eyes. The dark curls are entirely too long, almost like bangs now. He looks around, and he can't recognize any of the animals. He sees the brands, the tags, and it clicks. He's in the next property over. The one which got inherited by some distant relatives of the original owners who wanted nothing to do with it. Who turned it into an AirBnB, giving the guest an "authentic experience." And discounted prices due to the animal stench. Daniel recalls listening on the farm hands talking about the trio of friends and how they messed up, thinking they'd be able to travel to Sydney and back every day. How one of them apparently wore his team hat like a uniform, not having any idea, he lived nearby. This was bad. He had to get out of there. He couldn't afford for a fan to see him dazed and confused, post sleep walking and apparently, judging by his bare feet scrambling on the hay, naked. He tried to walk, but he collided head first with a pole. Daniel lets out a groan, and here it is that moo, from months ago. The sound that drove away Heidi was now back. And it was scarring the cattle. He was walking over to them, trying to soothe them, but to no avail. It was only getting worse.

He hears footsteps and tries to hide. But the sudden movement makes him dizzy, and before he realizes what's going on, he's on his ass. All he can do is try to hide his head between his legs, literally. But as soon as he realizes that two protruding horns are on his knees, he knows he's inevitably and irrevocably screwed.

You hate this entire trip. Your Australian friend finally goes back home, and by some miracle, you can send her off before going long distance. Then, at the airport, she gets the text that her friends are no longer welcome in her parents' home. Something about traditions and bad luck. Slight bump on the road, but that just means that you'll have to find a cheap hotel nearby. The only thing in your budget that can accommodate 3 people is hours away. With no other option, you're on a farm in Perth. And now, in the middle of the night, the animals are freaking out. The rest of your friends think that the livestock will calm down on its own. But you see it as an omen. What if there's a snake or a spider that's in the barn? Or an intruder, a drunk teenager, or something. So you go to check it out, classic horror movie trope. Lone girl in the dead of the night, only in her babydoll nightgown. Serial killers were also a possibility you reason with yourself as you use your phone flashlight. George Orwell did not prepare you for this might be one of the last things you think. At least it was iconic.

You walk in and the cacophony starts again. Of course the animals aren't happy, they don't know you. But there's something wrong. There's a statue in the middle of the barn? A perfect replica of a minotaur that wasn't there before. You go to touch it and it moves. You jerk away immediately as if you're scalded by burning water.

"Jesus, what are you? A freaky robot?" You ask and it shakes its head.

"Wait, was that a coincidence? Can you actually understand me?" The creature shakes its head again and then nods. So there was a human in there. An anatomically correct one, judging by the quick glance you make towards it, well him now. You should go. Get back to bed and blame this on whatever moonshine you drank with your friends after finding a bottle in a closet. Call it a sleep paralysis demon or something. But you can't just leave it. Because he looks as confused as you are. His dark brown bull eyes remind you of someone. You ask him if he's seen himself and he shakes his head no. You ask him if it's okay to take a picture with the flash on and show him. He nods. You almost laugh as he poses, a rock on sign next to his horns. You snap the shot and walk over to him. You try to move in such a way he sees himself, but when you're close enough, you get your eureka moment. He has tattoos, ink on his skin that's as familiar as if it was on yours. The American traditional ship on his thigh. The rose on his hand. The of love and life on his collarbone. This creature was your celebrity crush. Daniel Ricciardo was in quite of a pickle. And you'd be in one too if you let on that you knew it was him.

Because Daniel was off the grid, in more than one way. Even the Instagram and Tumblr fan pages were in a drought. Scotty's content was only throwbacks, the man was practically a ghost. Technically a minotaur, you joke in your head. You absent-mindedly hand him the phone, let him see what he looks like. You don't notice the sounds of distress. How both of his hands fly to his crotch, cupping it awkwardly. How he's shaking his head, almost wanting to throw away the bull face with sheer force. You're terrified, but you do something stupid. You start comforting him, as if he's a child. Whispering that it's okay and that he's safe. That this can be fixed. You should leave. You should give him some clothes and snacks, let him sleep in or something. But you can't help it. You touch his head, attempting to brush off the fur out of his eyes. A male highland cow, you thought, fit him better than a honeybadger. He huffs, his dark brown eyes filled with rage.

"I'm sorry, Daniel." You say, entirely to loud. He knows you know. So you do the one thing you know you shouldn't do. You turn your back on him and run.

He's an athlete. Albeit retired, he has his stamina. He can run. And you barely see in the dark. You don't know the layout, just that it looks huge. You somehow have a head start, the bunny slippers having good grip on the grass. But you can hear him behind you. Huffing, mad, a raging bull. You speed out of there, happy that your friends left the door to the wooden fence open. You're in the thick of it now. There's just a dirt road ahead of you and you take it. Twigs snap around you, you scrape your legs on bushes. You feel like Daniel is enjoying this, enjoying how you already sound out of breath. How you occasionally look back to see him dangerously close to you. How a snake darts out and you shriek, backing into him. How he takes the creature and lets it curl around him, seemingly needing the heat. Danny releases it, letting it go in the opposite direction of you. You, who's kneeling, exhausted, trying to catch your breath. Mud is caking the hem of your nightgown and you're just defeated.

Daniel should pick you up and lead you back to safety. He should trust that you won't tell anyone about this. Who would believe you anyway. If you sold the pictures, they'd think you got a little crazy with photoshop. Or that he was into some weird furry sex thing. But there's something about you, looking so vulnerable, caught by him, helpless that makes him feral. So he has to get it out of his system, the anger he just felt posses him earlier.

He kneels, tan legs familiar with the soil. He'd sit here often after a bike ride, knee pads off, just stretching or squatting. And now he was on top of you, elbows on either side of your face, cock heavy, almost brushing against your ass. He can see that you're frozen, eyes wide in fear. Your breathing is irregular and he's scared. He knows what a panic attack feels like, knows how your chest is tight already. So he does what a bull might do to a calf that's in distress. Licks.

The thick bovine tongue smells bad. The texture is almost slimy, but it also feels good? It encompasses your whole chest. He presses it against your left breast, and swirls it. He's trying to feel your heartbeat, you guess but the only thing he's successfully doing is flicking his tongue against your nipple. Again. And again. And again. You scratch at the ground bellow you, caking your nails with dirt.

"Daniel please." You say and he gets the jist. You've calmed down. He pulls away, a thick string of saliva connecting you. You're not sure what you're doing and why. Maybe it's all the adrenaline, scrambling your brain. But you get on your hands and knees and spread your legs for him. You move your panties to the side, exposing your cunt to him. It's an invitation. A peace offering, if you will. He pressed his wet nose against it and attempts a kiss. When it doesn't work, he simply licks a stripe from your clit to your entrance.

It's soaked and sloppy and clumsy, and yet it has you aching for more. You reach your hand behind you, spread your folds open, showing him exactly what you need. His tongue is as thick as regular cock, even worse. It fills you, stretching you out so good. The texture which you thought you'd hate was actually good, foreign yet intriguing. You shift your hips, trying to move, to get more, to fuck yourself on it, on him. Daniel doesn't like your squirming. It's throwing him off, what if you move the wrong way and accidentally scratch yourself on his new horns. So he grabs you around the waist and picks you up, your knees around his shoulders. He thrusts his tongue into your slick cunt as you're upside down, just moaning and catching an eyefull of his monstrous cock.

You're sure your perspective might be off because that thing did not fit with Daniel's human lower half. It was big, bigger than anything you've ever seen (aside on your curious browses of the Bad Dragons site) and definitely way more than anything you've ever taken. The minotaur above you didn't let you be distracted for long, flicking his tongue. He fully grabbed your hips and pulled you towards him, fucking you with his tongue. He's fast and unrelenting and before you know it, you're coming against his face. Danny sets you down gently, but you're still face to face with his cock. Angry, red, the tip decorated with beads of precum on it. Begging to be used, begging to shoot loads into your pussy, to fill you and breed you. Well, when in magical realism, you think. You silently ask that Australia has good gynecologists on speed dial and affordable healthcare before saying.

"Danny, will you sit for me. I think that will be the easiest way for me to try to take this. Rely on good old gravity." He lets out a puff of air from his nostrils, what you take as a chuckle. But he obeys. He holds your hips, giving your thighs a gentle squeeze. Daniel nudges the monster cock around you, trying to gather the slick from his saliva and your orgasm. He can't even get the tip in. You take a deep breath and relax, and just try to move down. It's slow, but it feels good. So, so good. Danny wants to hump you, to shove his dick inside of you, but he knows he can't. He settles for groping you instead, rough, calloused suntan hands against your tits. Squeezing, making you moan. You're so responsive to him, gone is the fear and hesitation. You're running on lust fumes, fucking made for taking his cock. You try to move, to bounce on it, to get something. But you're lucky because your partner is sensitive. Hasn't felt even his own fist around his cock, much less a perfect wet cunt. It doesn't take much for you to be feeling the telltale slowing of his hips, the throb of him inside of you.

Daniel Ricciardo kisses you as he cums. It's sloppy and gross, and you can taste yourself a tenfold of his large tongue. But it's also right. You get off him, legs jelly. You're too tired to move, and you just hope that you're actually able to flee with him. God knows what a farmhand will think if they find the two of you like that. For now you curl against Danny and try to get some sleep.

Daniel still wakes up before you, feeling lighter, like the worst is over. He turns to you and there aren't horns digging into the dirt below him. He looks around and luckily enough, he did manage to drag you far enough for no one to see. You were sleeping peacefully, his fucking cum dried in a puddle beneath you. Your clothes are intact enough, albeit filthy. He nudges you, getting ready for the most unusual morning after conversation. But when you open your eyes and practically cover his face with kisses, he changes his mind. Maybe it would be worth keeping you. Especially after you promise to get him a clean pair of clothes to change into if he points you to the way back.

Of course, his smug laughter echoes when you realize he's fully naked and mutter "that wasn't part of the weird minotaur thing, god does have favorites." He also finds it amusing that your most oversized clothes are the Hugo shirts he "modeled for", you were a bit of a crazy fangirl, huh. He liked to be liked, to be praised, to be worshiped. He dedicated his life to this sport, so why wouldn't he profit from it. Danny likes that you find a loophole in your visa and stay with him in his parents' house. You're constantly encouraging him, making him appreciate life again. Helping him draft his little LinkedIn posts. Just listening to his ideas and showing him the little Tiktoks fans make to support the Enchanté and F1 academy collaboration. Both of you cheer and drink a shit ton of the new wine when Christian Horner gets demoted. Maybe that's why in the morning you're vomiting, head almost in the toilet. The cheeseburger Danny offers as hungover food also doesn't bode well for you. There's something wrong, and you think it's stress. International moves lead to missed periods, right? Somewhere, in Singapore, an old woman is looking into a crystal ball. It's May in Australia, and Daniel Ricciardo can't sleep again.

#f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 imagine #f1 smut #dark f1 #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo drabble #daniel ricciardo imagine #monster fucker #terato #minotaur boyfriend #dark daniel ricciardo

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subwillsolace · 1 month ago

Text

-- -- --

Nico wakes up early, the next morning.

It shaves ten clean years off his life.

But he is on a mission.

He forces himself off of his pillow the second the sun rises, pausing curled up on the mattress, praying that he will be magically filled with a burst of energy great enough to drive him, triumphant, out the door and onto the tasks of the day. He is not, and he must crawl, weak-limbed and bleary-eyed, off of his bed, which he forgets is not on the floor and remembers when he is face down upon it, hands and knees aching, and just sits there for a moment, suffering.

"How the hell," he mutters to himself, fighting the urge to lie in prone position on the marble, "does he do this every morning --"

He supposes he has woken up early before. Although, on those occasions, he was either running for his life, which woke him up nicely, or pleasantly surprised by a hot, eager mouth on the side of his neck, on the dip of his clavicle; those mornings, frankly, are his favorite, and he mourns the loss of them with the same pain and grief he has mourned the deaths of close personal friends. What a life he has lived.

He drags himself to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He does not bother brushing his hair. He cannot even manage to force himself into anything but his boots, and stumbles, still half-delirious from sleep, to the barely-lit dining hall.

Will is there, dressed and humming, at his spot at the Apollo table. It is early enough that none of the other kids are up yet.

There is an extra plate, next to his.

Nico takes it for the hint that it is. It could be for Austin, or maybe Lou Ellen, since she likes to get up early, sometimes, but Will scoots over when Nico sits, and he has saved Nico the good green grapes.

"So here is the plan," he says, like there is nothing out of the ordinary. He links their hands together and swings his legs, humming.

Nico thinks: ??????

And then: Oh my gods don't push it lock in lock in lock in.

"The plan," Nico echoes, managing to eat one (1) grape and not choke. "Yes, the plan."

"Mhm. For tomorrow."

Nico looks at him, lost. He smiles, eyes twinkling and -- teasing, knowing, but says nothing. Only finishes the last of his breakfast, turns sideways on the bench, and starts playing with Nico's free hands. Nico shivers, letting him.

"You're not busy, right?"

"Nope," says Nico, even though he is. Sorry, Jason. He will be rescheduling. "Uh, I'm up for anything. Everything." He snaps his mouth shut before he can continue to embarrass himself. Will giggles, and it is worth the red cheeks.

Whoever is responsible for my forgiveness, he offers, to the Heavens at large, thank you, thank you, thank you.

He was genuinely kind of worried he was going to shrivel up and die. There's only so much abstinence a person can take.

"I just need you to be up before noon," Will says, pushing Nico's hair back. He squishes Nico's eyebrows in the process, a little, and seems to enjoy that, wiggling his fingers to bring forth weird expressions. Nico was not the only one a little lonely, it seems. Touch-hungry.

"I can do that," Nico says softly. He smiles when Will does, leaning up to kiss him, soft and gentle. Will sighs into his mouth, hand dropping limp between them. "Any reason?"

"Surprise."

"Oh?"

"Mhm. Eat your grapes. Be up by noon, and do what I tell you." "Aye, aye, cap'n," Nico says, doing a Vulcan salute instead of a normal one just to see the pleased little look on his nerd face. And then he turns, dutifully, to his grapes, and they taste better than they ever have before.

-- -- --

Because Nico is only allowed one blessing from the gods per business year, he doesn't get to see Will for the rest of the day. There schedules are different, which usually wouldn't stop them -- Nico is genuinely called 'Skip' by some of the older campers for the sheer amount of times per week that he plays hooky to go bother his boyfriend -- but someone has to go and fall on their own sword, or something, and Will spends half the day in surgery.

"You're such a leech," Austin says in fond exasperation, pushing him, for the third time, out the door. "You have, like, a job, dude. There are fifteen armed children currently destroying the amphitheater with swords. Go…handle that."

"It's an illness," Nico begs. "There is something wrong with me. I actually can't handle not being around him. I'm going to die."

Austin succeeds in shoving him over the threshold. Nico fights the urge to hit his knees and beg for mercy. He feels possessed.

"Austin -- no, wait, Austin, listen -- Austin -- Austin have you ever been dehydrated --"

"Oh my gods --"

It is probably a small mercy that Austin slams the door shut. There is only so much dignity left for Nico to grip onto, after all, and it was leaking out of him at speeds he does not want to consider. It takes strength, to drag himself away from the infirmary -- he keeps thinking, for no fucking reason, of the kind of knobbly shape of Will's knees, and how they are freckled, still, and always bruised -- and stumble over to the amphitheatre, where he is literally employed, as in, on pay roll, to teach children how to fight with swords. Soon as he hit eighteen and everything.

"Alright, brats," he says, clapping his hands together. The screaming children cease immediately. Thank the gods. "Today we are going to do a fun thing called Hunt Jason."

"Hunt Jason?" questions a younger kid -- Farrah, as of yet unclaimed. She is Nico's favorite because she is the most shamelessly bloodthirsty. It's hilarious. She has trouble with her 'r' sounds but really enjoys screaming I will reap your soul! at the top of her lungs when she charges. Does things to Nico's proud heart.

"Yes," Nico confirms. "It is this special field trip activity where I release you into the camp to hunt a demigod called Jason with swords."

"What are you going to do?" asks John, who is a son of a Athena and a little snitch.

"I am going to sit on a lawn chair in the common and evaluate your vibes," Nico tells him. "There will be a winner."

That gets John on board. Excellent. The other children were already foaming at the mouth with the word 'hunt', so Nico goes ahead and shows them a particularly embarrassing photo of Jason he carries around wherein he is wine drunk and redfaced and dressed as Superman. Nico loves Halloween.

He releases the children, shrieking bloody murder, onto the camp, setting up in his beloved lawn chair and sighing up at the sun. Life is good. It is afternoon, which means he will see his beloved again by dinner. And, this time, Will is not mad at him. They will probably even play footsie under the table until Kayla and Austin start pelting things at them. But even that will be worth it, because he will be beside Will again.

Fuck, maybe Lou Ellen is right.

He hears high-pitched, terrified shrieking quickly followed by fifteen ravenous, bellowing voices of success, right on time. He twists in his chair to confirm -- yes, there is Jason, running for his life, and the baker's dozen hungry bloodhounds close on his heels -- and as the circus rounds the bend of the cabin the dinner horn blows.

"Alright!" Nico bellows. "Brats A through O! Disengage! Go bother your counsellors! Remember, moral demigods show mercy!"

They do remember, groaning, and peel of the son of Jupiter, who, bravely, has managed not to sob and only stands with his eyes squeezed shut, accepting his death. The children run off and as soon as it's safe, Jason straightens, looking around with murder in his eyes.

Nico makes himself scarce.

"You're a bad influence," Kayla sniffs when he sits down. "I don't know why my brother hangs around you."

Nico flicks a forkful of broccoli at her. Austin sighs, gets up, and forces himself between them before this can escalate.

"We love you, Austin," chime Nico and Kayla together, "we're sorry, Austin."

"Both of you are insufferable."

Nico and Kayla meet each other's eyes over his head and grin. Mission accomplished.

But both Apollo kids look pretty beat, as it is. And Jason finally gives up trying to find the criminal behind his attack and stomps into the dining hall, glaring, so Nico busies himself with stuffing his face and avoids all eye contact for a minimum of thirteen minutes.

"So," he says, when thirteen minutes have passed, trying for nonchalance. It fails. "Will on his way?"

"Will tied the last stitch, washed his hands, and damn near passed out on the floor," Kayla reports. "He will not be joining us." She looks over at Nico's crestfallen face. "Could your heart break a little quieter, please, I'm trying to ignore my balanced meal."

"That's a plate of chocolate cake, right there."

"Shut up, Austin."

Nico tunes out their bickering. He is a little embarrassed by the genuine despair he is feeling but he -- fuck, he was looking forward to this. To time with Will.

He used to, like…fight werewolves.

He used to fight gods.

"There, there," Austin says, patting his shoulder. "Uh, if it helps any, he cursed you a few times when he was mad. So." Austin pats him again. "Your suffering might just be the residual effects of Will praying that you would feel the hunger of ten thousand men for ten thousand eternities."

That does make Nico feel better, slightly. Will is actually pretty good at cursing people and has nailed Nico with a couplet hex on more than one occasion. He is also fond of sending everyone who ignores his medical advice away itching. It's very cute when it is not directed at Nico. He gets this sweet little murderous look in his eye and everything.

But that's not it.

Nico knows what it feels like to be on the receiving end of Will's curses. They don't quite shock, like Lou Ellen's, but more burn -- like falling asleep in the sun and walking up so hot you're sure you've gone red. And there's none of that, anywhere, wasn't even when Will first stomped out of his cabin, several days ago now, half-naked and cussing him out to high heavens. Whatever furious prayers he offered went unanswered.

Nico is just desperate.

And a little blueballed, maybe.

"I'm gonna go check on him," he says, shoving the last of his pizza in his mouth. Kayla glares at him in warning -- "Wake him up and you die, di Angelo, I only pinkie-swore not to hurt you when Will made me, I never swore on the Styx." -- but Nico is let go with no serious threats, and he jogs to the Apollo cabin with more speed than is maybe necessary. It is dumb and stupid and he's bound to let himself down again, but he's half-hoping Will was implying something else, when he told his siblings he was sleeping. Something that hopefully does not involve his pants.

But he was not. Nico pokes his head in, hopeful, and sighs as the low evening light spills onto Will's sleeping form, blankets up over his head.

"You're gonna suffocate," Nico whispers, smiling, pulling back the covers so they rest at his chin. He leans down and kisses his newly exposed forehead, lingering, listening for the puff of his boyfriend's breathing, the half-coherent mumbling. Nico catches his own name and smiles wider. "Goodnight, sweetheart."

He presses one last kiss to his sleeping cheek and stands, tiptoeing out of the cabin and closing the door tightly behind him.

Another lonely night, he supposes. But he thinks of Will's instructions -- up by noon, be ready for something -- and smiles.

One more lonely night, he can handle.

-- -- --

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oldermen-apologist · 10 months ago

Text

Orgasm Denial

prompt : O is for Orgasm Denial / Control.

fic warnings : 18+ mature content smut. rough dominant!ab. crying/tears. total control. total submission. degradation. aftercare is implied. one-shot style. porn without plot. Slight anal. Blurb-sized.

a/n : my writing is a bit patchy i’m so sorry in advance. i tried :/ i hope it’s not too bad

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

“Sir.. please.” You manage out a whimper from below him.

Austin had just gotten back into town from filming his most recent movie, Bikeriders. And it seemed from the moment he stepped in the door that night, he only had his sights set on having you. In every. Way. He. Wanted. He wanted to see you squirm, he missed the way you felt around him, missed the way you constantly begged him to remain deep inside of you like the pretty little slut he turned you into. Missed your pretty face as it contoured in pleasured pain as he would force you to push out an overstimulated orgasm.

Tonight, he had too much planned in his mind to put you through. His torture of the night? Not letting you release. Under any circumstance.

He cooed from below you. His head was nestled in between your thighs that were comfortably placed on top of his shoulders. His skilled tongue traced your swollen clit, his arm wrapped securely around your front to keep your hips hoisted down onto the mattress. His lips closed around the sensitive bud, pulling your hips closer into your pussy as he pushed down onto you with his lips.

He pulls off of you reluctantly, he’d never leave his baby hanging. He hummed, pushing a steady finger into your tight wetness as he raised his eyebrows up at your shivered form. “What’s the matter, darling?” He purrs, his lustrous blues meeting your puppy-dog pupils that filled with tears. It had been an hour now of his tortuous movements, he’d run his tongue along you until you started to shake then would pull away with a painful smirk.

You squirmed from below him, running your hand down to tangle in his hair, rolling a few blonde strands through your trembling fingers. “I need to cum.. please.” You whimper again, your throat scratched up and making your sweet voice sound hoarsed.

He adds a second finger, curling the digits as you fought his strength to try lifting your hips up to melt into his hand. “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that, little rose.” He tsked. He wasn’t punishing you or even planning to in the near future, he just wanted to hear those noises he replayed over and over in his head during his many lonely nights without his baby angel by his side to play with as he liked.

The question that started to arise from your throat is cut short by a sharped gasp as he effortlessly flips you onto your back, manhandling you skillfully until you were on your hands and knees. He forces you down so your elbows are digging against the mattress, his arm pushing your hips up to meet the thin fabric of his dress pants. The slight sound of his belt unbuckling behind you makes you stiffen, and makes your mouth water against the pillow you rested your head on, drool pooling around your lips. God, he could take a picture of you like this and frame it if you’d let him.

He slides into your heat without warning the second his pants and boxers pool around his knees, bending his body to press a rough kiss to the shell of your ear. Between passionate thrusts, he runs a hand down to your thighs, his finger circling around your clit as he forces the full length of his cock into your slicked hole. He groans into your ear as your walls glue around him, tightening against his every vein the more he picked up the speed of his hips.

As soon as he feels your sweet cunt tighten around him clutching for dear life, he pulls himself out, much to your dismay. He chuckles from behind you, gripping tightly onto your hips as he flipped you back over so your hair splayed across the pillow. He uses his thumbs to rub slow circles into your inner thighs, smirking up at your desperate form. His lips pop into a faux pout causing a whine to slip past your lips. You were already pretty sensitive when it came down to Austin’s size, he knew that, and he loved it. And nothing could stop him from taking advantage of it.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He questions, stuffing two of his fingers into your hole again, his free thumb circling your puffy clit. He had a hutch at what was wrong, he loved you like this.

“I.. I wan’ cum, sir.”

He doesn’t answer, instead slides his fingers out and raises your legs to rest upon his shoulders, rubbing his tip up your slit before allowing himself to sink into you for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. “It’ll be okay. Let daddy take care of you, yeah? I’ll decide when you deserve it.” With that, he starts to thrust into you again just how he knew you liked it. Making sure only his tip remained inside before he slammed into you again, and again, and again.

On cue, you tighten around him, he stops. You thrash your hips below him as he kept his cock buried inside of you, his tip hitting the back of your heat. He brings a gentle hand up to rub heart shaped patterns into your cheek, cooing at the tiny tears that spill out. He drank in the beautiful sight.

“Gon’ make you feel good. D’ya trust me?” He rasps up against the shell of your ear, waiting for the sweet dazed nod of your head before adjusting your position. He sits himself down on the bed against the headboard and slowly sinks himself into your ass. Your head lulls back onto his shoulder as you swallow his cock whole. His hand slides around your neck, massaging your skin.

Once he’s fully inside, he uses the leverage to spread your thighs with your legs resting on either side of his lap. “You’re gonna’ be the death of me.” He growls into your ear as he slides two leisurely fingers into your pussy. Your eyes widen, a gasp slipping your drooled lips at the double penetration. You had only tried anything close to this one time, and needless to say you’re more than happy with the reappearance.

As his fingers begin to move, he says the magic words.

“Cum f’me, darling.”

————————————————————————

a/n : OKAY Sam actually finished a piece again? It’s a miracle!! i hope this wasn’t too bad, i don’t feel amazing about it but i hoped at least some of my readers liked it :) kisses.

#austin butler #austin butler imagine #austin butler x reader #austin butler smut #austin butler fic #austin butler fanfiction

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lila-lou · 10 months ago

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✨His true fate - Part 19/?✨

Summary: Jensen hasn't been happy for years. But it seems almost impossible for him to escape. After another nasty argument between him and his wife, he decides to visit his ´former´ best friend for his birthday. Back in Austin, an encounter awaits him that will turn his life completely upside down.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, Teasing, Language, age gap, flirting, fluff

Word Count: 7937

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

The next morning was rough for both of you. The soreness from the previous night’s activities made every movement a challenge. You both had barely slept four hours, and it felt like your bodies were protesting every action.

Jensen groaned as he rolled over in bed, his muscles aching from the intensity of the night before. Meanwhile, you were in the bathroom, trying to pee and wincing at the throbbing pain between your legs. It felt like a dull, persistent ache, a reminder of the passion and intensity you had shared.

Jensen’s voice called out from the bedroom, tinged with concern. “Are you okay in there?”.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself against the discomfort. “Yeah, just… sore”, you replied, your voice strained.

He managed to sit up, wincing at the soreness in his own muscles. “I think we’re both feeling the aftermath”, he said with a wry smile as he got out of bed and made his way to the bathroom door. He knocked gently. “Do you need anything? Maybe some painkillers?”.

You grumbled tiredly, “I don’t think painkillers will help much”.

Jensen listened to the sound of water running as you washed your hands, then stepped slowly into the bathroom. You were wearing nothing but his sweatshirt from yesterday, which barely covered your ass. The sight of you, even in your discomfort, brought a tender smile to his face.

He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You look cute in my sweatshirt”, he murmured, his voice soft and filled with affection.

You managed a small smile, despite the soreness. “Thanks. I just grabbed the first thing I found”.

"I feel like shit”, Jensen chuckled softly, his hand rubbing your back gently.

You sighed, leaning into his comforting touch. Despite the soreness and discomfort, being close to Jensen made you feel a little better. You hugged him tightly, your face resting against his warm, naked chest. “I feel like shit too”, you mumbled, your words slightly muffled against his skin.

Jensen’s chuckle vibrated through his chest. “Well, at least we’re in this together”, he said, his tone light and affectionate.

You nodded, appreciating his effort to lighten the mood. “Yeah, misery loves company, right?”.

Jensen chuckled softly again, before leaning down to kiss you tenderly. His lips brushed against yours with a warmth that momentarily made you forget the soreness. “Alright, let’s get ready for the convention”, he said, pulling back and giving you a reassuring smile.

You nodded, feeling a bit more energized by his affection. “Yeah”, you replied, mustering a small but determined smile.

Despite the lingering soreness, you moved through your morning routine with a sense of shared resolve. The warmth of the shower helped ease some of the tension in your muscles, and Jensen’s playful commentary and jokes lightened the mood.

As you both finished getting dressed and ready for the day, Jensen walked over and gave you one last kiss. His lips lingered on yours, filled with warmth and reassurance. As he pulled back, he looked into your eyes with a mixture of affection and determination.

“Today won’t be as bad as yesterday”, he encouraged, his voice steady and confident. “And no matter what happens, no matter what they ask me on stage, just remember this: I’m completely sore because I couldn’t stop fucking you over and over again. You’re the only one I’ll ever be balls deep inside of”.

You felt a rush of warmth at his words, the confidence and affection in his eyes giving you the strength to face the day. You managed a small, genuine smile, feeling the weight of his love and commitment.

“Thank you”, you giggled. “I needed that”.

Later that day, you waited patiently until Jensen’s panel was finally set to start. The excitement and anticipation in the room were palpable.

As soon as they walked out, the crowd erupted in cheers. Jensen’s eyes immediately found yours, a tired but affectionate smile tugging at his lips. You couldn’t help but notice how exhausted he looked, his walk slightly off-kilter, much like yours. It was clear that neither of you were used to the kind of marathon you had experienced the night before.

Jared, ever the energetic presence, greeted the crowd with his usual enthusiasm, but even he cast a few concerned glances at Jensen.

“Hey everyone!”, Jared called out, his voice booming through the speakers. The crowd’s cheers grew even louder, the energy in the room electric.

As the panel progressed, fans began to line up at the microphones to ask their questions. The first few were standard fare—questions about favorite scenes, behind-the-scenes pranks, and their experiences on set.

Then, a fan with a bright smile and an unmistakable Texan accent stepped up to the microphone. “Hi Jensen, hi Jared! My question is for Jensen. How does it feel being back in Austin after moving to Connecticut? Do you miss it here?”.

Jensen’s tired eyes lit up with a mix of nostalgia and warmth. He leaned into the microphone, his voice steady but softer than usual. “Hey there. It’s always great to be back in Austin. This city has a special place in my heart—it’s where I met some of my best friends, and it’s filled with so many great memories. Moving to Connecticut was a big change, but Austin will always feel like home to me”.

The fan nodded appreciatively. “Do you miss anything specific about Austin?”.

Jensen chuckled, glancing briefly at Jared who was listening intently. “I miss the food, for sure. There’s nothing quite like Tex-Mex in Austin. And of course, the live music scene here is incredible. But most of all, I miss the people. The community here is just amazing”.

Jared nudged Jensen playfully. “And what about me? Do you miss me?”.

The crowd laughed, and Jensen shook his head with a smile. “How could I not miss you, Padalecki? You’re like a big, annoying brother. It’s not the same without you”.

The fan beamed, clearly thrilled with the response. “Thanks, Jensen. We’re glad to have you back, even if it’s just for a visit”.

Jensen smiled warmly. “Thanks. I’m glad to be back”.

As the questions continued, you could see Jensen’s energy start to wane slightly, but he kept up his warm and engaging demeanor. His eyes would occasionally find yours in the crowd, and each time, it gave him a visible boost. After a while you couldn’t help but overhear the conversation of the girls sitting next to you. They were gushing about Jensen, talking about how good he looked today and how he always seemed so considerate about his appearance.

“He’s just always so put together”, one of them said with a dreamy sigh. “Danneel is one lucky lady to have him as a husband”.

Instead of feeling jealous or upset, you chose to focus back on Jensen on stage. You watched as he interacted with the fans, his smile genuine despite his visible exhaustion. The love and admiration the fans had for him were palpable, and it filled you with pride rather than envy.

You knew the truth of your relationship with Jensen, the moments you shared that no one else could see. His whispered confessions, the way he looked at you with eyes full of affection, the warmth of his touch—these were things that were yours alone.

Jensen’s eyes found yours again, and his smile grew softer, more intimate. It was a look meant just for you, a silent acknowledgment of your connection. It reassured you and made your heart swell with love.

It wasn’t until the panel finished that you heard the announcement that the photos from the previous day were ready. The excitement in the room grew as fans eagerly headed to collect their pictures. You made your way over to the designated area, eager to see the photo of you and Jensen.

As you walked into the room where the photos were displayed, you scanned the tables, searching for yours. The room was filled with fans, each one excitedly picking up their memories from the day before. You finally spotted your picture among the neatly arranged rows and picked it up with a smile.

The photo captured a beautiful moment between you and Jensen. His arm was around you, holding you close, and both of you were smiling at the camera. The chemistry and connection between you were undeniable, even in the still image. You couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth and affection as you looked at it.

As you stood there, admiring the photo, your phone buzzed with a text. You pulled it out to see a message from Jensen.

Jensen: Did you get the photo of us yet?.

You smiled, feeling a warm flutter in your chest. You quickly typed back a response.

You: Yes, just picked it up.

A few moments later, your phone buzzed again with his reply.

Jensen: Can’t wait to see it. Bet you look amazing.

You felt your cheeks flush with warmth at Jensen’s words. It was the first photo of you together, and the significance of that made it even more special. You quickly typed back a response.

You: You look pretty cute too.

With the photo safely tucked away, you spent the rest of the day attending various panels and taking snack breaks in between. Every now and then, your phone buzzed with messages from Jensen, keeping the connection between you alive even when you were apart.

Jensen: Cute? Really? I’m 46, don’t call me cute.

You couldn’t help but laugh.

You: Sorry, my mistake. Handsome and charming, then?.

Jensen: Much better. But don’t think I’ll forget this. You’ll pay for calling me cute.

You felt a flutter in your chest, a mix of anticipation and affection. His teasing always made your heart race a little faster.

You: I look forward to it.

As the day progressed, you continued to enjoy the convention, attending panels and soaking in the excitement of the event. Jensen’s occasional texts kept you smiling, a constant reminder of your connection.

By the time the convention ended, you were pretty spend and ready to head home.

Tonight was your last evening together before he had to head back to set, and you were determined to make the most of it. When you arrived home, you decided to keep things simple and intimate. You ordered takeout from your favorite restaurant, opting for a cozy night.

After a refreshing shower, you felt much more relaxed. You slipped into something comfortable and waited for Jensen in the living room.

Eventually, the doorbell rang, and you quickly went to open it. Jensen stood there, looking majorly spent. The exhaustion from being up almost all night and the long day at the convention was evident in his eyes.

“Hey”, you greeted softly, taking in his tired appearance.

“Hey”, he replied with a weary smile. He stepped inside and you closed the door behind him. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, resting his head on your shoulder. “I missed you”.

“I missed you too”, you murmured, holding him close. “You look exhausted”.

Jensen chuckled softly. “Yeah, I think the adrenaline from the convention finally wore off”.

You gently brushed your fingers through his hair, holding him close. “How about you take a shower?”, you suggested softly. “I ordered food already”.

Jensen sighed contentedly, leaning into your touch. “That sounds perfect”, he replied, his voice a low murmur.

You guided him towards the bathroom, giving him a gentle nudge towards the shower. “I’ll get everything ready out here. Take your time”.

He gave you a grateful smile before disappearing into the bathroom. You could hear the sound of the shower running as you looked for a movie.

The doorbell rang again, signaling the arrival of your takeout. You quickly grabbed the food and set it out on the coffee table, the delicious aroma filling the room.

A few minutes later, Jensen emerged from the bathroom, looking more refreshed but still tired. He was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a loose t-shirt, his hair damp from the shower.

You smiled, feeling a warm sense of contentment as you gestured for Jensen to sit down. “Come on, let’s eat before it gets cold”.

He sank onto the couch, pulling you down with him so that you were snuggled against his side. The comfort of his presence made everything feel right. You handed him his pizza, and he accepted it with a grateful smile.

“Thanks”, he murmured, taking a bite and letting out a satisfied hum. “This is perfect”.

You picked up your own slice, starting the movie you’d chosen earlier. The cozy atmosphere and the delicious food created a perfect backdrop for the evening. As the movie played, Jensen’s arm remained wrapped around you, holding you close.

Despite the exhaustion, you both managed to enjoy the film, sharing quiet comments and occasional laughter. The warmth of the blankets and the soft glow of the screen made the world outside feel distant and unimportant.

Jensen’s fingers absentmindedly traced patterns on your arm, a comforting and intimate gesture that made you feel even closer to him. As the movie continued, you could feel the tension of the day slowly melting away, replaced by a sense of peace and contentment.

Halfway through the movie, Jensen shifted slightly, pulling you even closer. You looked up at him, noticing his eyes falling shut from time to time. You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a mix of affection and playfulness bubbling up inside you.

“Hey, old man”, you teased gently, nudging him with your elbow. “Falling asleep already?”.

Jensen chuckled softly, his eyes opening halfway to look at you. “I told you to stop with the old man jokes”, he protested, a tired but amused smile on his face.

“I know, but it’s just too easy”, you replied with a grin. “Remember, this is our last night together for three weeks. Don’t fall asleep on me now”.

Jensen’s smile grew warmer, a hint of sadness creeping into his eyes. “I know”.

Determined to lighten the mood, you sat up and shifted, straddling his lap. You placed your hands on his shoulders, looking into his eyes with a playful grin. “Come on, tell me about all the girls that crushed on you today”.

Jensen laughed, the sound rumbling pleasantly in his chest. “Oh, you know, the usual”, he teased, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Lots of screaming, some marriage proposals, a few ‘I love yous’…”.

You rolled your eyes dramatically. “Poor you, all those adoring fans. How do you cope?”.

He chuckled again, his hands gently caressing your sides. “It’s tough, but I manage. Besides, I have the best girl waiting for me. That makes it all worth it”.

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Good answer”, you murmured against his mouth, feeling the warmth of his breath.

Jensen deepened the kiss, his hands moving up to cradle your face. The kiss was tender and full of unspoken emotions, a reminder of the connection you both cherished. When you finally pulled back, you rested your forehead against his, savoring the closeness.

“I’m going to miss this”, you admitted softly, your fingers tracing patterns on his shoulders.

“Me too”, he replied, his voice equally soft.

You bit your lip and mumbled, “Promise me, this time you’ll call more often”, as you slowly slipped your hands under his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin.

Jensen nodded, his eyes sincere. “I promise”, he said, his voice firm with conviction. “I’ll call you every chance I get”.

You smiled, reassured by his words. Your fingers traced the contours of his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your touch. “Good”, you whispered, leaning in to kiss him again, this time with more urgency.

Jensen responded immediately, his hands sliding down to grip your hips, pulling you closer. The kiss deepened, filled with a mix of longing and love, a desire to make the most of the time you had left together.

As your hands explored his chest, you felt his muscles tense under your touch. Jensen’s fingers dug into your hips, his touch growing more insistent. “I don’t know how I’m going to handle being away from you for three weeks”, he murmured against your lips, his breath warm and ragged.

“We’ll make it through”, you whispered back, your voice filled with determination. “And we’ll make up for all the lost time”.

“I can’t wait”, he said, his voice thick with emotion. He kissed you again.

Quickly, you pulled his shirt over his head, grinning at the sight of his broad chest. Jensen chuckled softly and took a moment to appreciate your touch.

“You know”, he murmured, his eyes locking onto yours with an intense gaze, “you’re going to make it really hard for me to leave”.

You smiled, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. “That’s the plan”, you teased, your fingers trailing down his chest, feeling the defined lines of his muscles.

Jensen’s hands moved up your sides, slipping under your shirt and gently pulling it over your head. He tossed it aside, his eyes roaming over your exposed skin with a mix of admiration and desire. “You’re so beautiful”, he whispered.

You leaned in, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. The urgency between you grew, every touch, every kiss filled with the unspoken promise of your love and connection. You could feel the heat rising between you, the need to be as close as possible driving your movements.

Jensen’s hands moved to the waistband of your pants, his fingers deftly undoing them and slipping them off. You followed suit, quickly discarding the rest of his clothes until you were both bare, skin to skin.

He pulled you back into his lap, his hands gripping your hips with a firm yet gentle touch. As you straddled him, your bodies pressed together, the heat between you was palpable. Jensen’s eyes never left yours.

Slowly, he guided you, his fingers tightening slightly on your hips as he positioned you just right. You could feel the tip of his dick pressing against you, the anticipation building. Jensen’s breath was warm against your skin as he whispered, “Take your time. We’ve got all night”.

You nodded, your fingers digging into his shoulders for support as you began to lower yourself onto him. The sensation was intense, a mix of pleasure and a slight stretch as he entered you. You moved slowly, letting your body adjust to the feeling, every inch bringing a new wave of sensation.

Jensen’s hands continued to guide you, his touch both reassuring and encouraging. He groaned softly, his eyes half-closed as he savored the feeling of being inside you.

As you fully lowered yourself onto him, you both paused for a moment, savoring the closeness and the connection. The feeling of him deep inside you was overwhelming.

Gently, you began to move, finding a slow and steady rhythm. The initial discomfort started to give way to a building pleasure.

“You feel so good”, Jensen murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

“So do you”, you whispered, your voice breathless with emotion. The feeling of him inside you, combined with the intimate connection between you, was overwhelming in the best possible way.

As you continued to move, the pleasure began to build, each thrust and roll of your hips bringing you closer together. Jensen’s hands roamed over your back, his fingers traced the curve of your spine, the softness of your sides, and the firmness of your hips, heightening your arousal.

Jensen’s breathing grew heavier. “Fuck, you’re so tight”, he groaned, his voice thick with need. His head fell against your chest, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke.

You gently held him by his hair, keeping him close against your chest, your fingers threading through the strands. You moved your hips slowly and sensually, creating a rhythm that was both deliberate and deeply intimate.

Jensen’s hands gripped your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your flesh as he tried to maintain control. “You’re killing me", he murmured against your skin, his voice a strained whisper.

You smiled softly. “Good”, you whispered back, your voice filled with a mix of affection and desire. “I want to make you feel as good as you make me feel”.

Jensen responded by kissing your chest, his lips warm and soft against your skin. “You do”, he murmured, his voice reverent. “Every single time”.

You continued to move slowly, the sensation of him deep inside you sending waves of pleasure through your body. The closeness, the intimacy of the moment, made everything more intense, more profound. You could feel every inch of him, the connection between you both physical and emotional.

“Look at me”, Jensen whispered, his voice filled with need.

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. His eyes were filled with love and desire, and it took your breath away.

“I love you”, he whispered, his voice breaking slightly with emotion.

“I love you too”, you replied, your own voice trembling.

With that, both of your hearts clenched, a deep wave of emotion washing over you.

Jensen gently turned you so that he was on top, his lips finding yours in a passionate kiss. The change in position brought a new level of intensity, his body pressing down against yours as he began to move.

His thrusts were slow and deliberate, each one sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. He pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes locking onto yours with a fierce, almost desperate intensity. His breath was ragged, mingling with yours in the intimate space between you.

He looked down briefly, watching the way he entered you, the sight clearly intensifying his arousal.

You moaned softly, your hands gripping his shoulders, your nails digging in slightly as you tried to ground yourself in the overwhelming sensations. “Jensen… please”, you whispered, your voice a breathy plea.

He responded by deepening his thrusts, his movements still controlled but more insistent. Each push brought you closer to the edge, the pleasure building steadily within you. His lips found yours again, capturing them in a kiss that was both tender and filled with a fiery passion.

“You’re perfect”, he whispered, his voice strained with emotion and desire.

You gasped, your body arching up to meet his, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable level. “Jensen, I’m so close”, you managed to say, your voice trembling.

“I know, baby”, he murmured, his breath hot against your lips. “I’m right there with you”.

His hand moved down between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in perfect rhythm with his thrusts. The additional stimulation pushed you over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave. Your body tightened around him, your nails digging into his shoulders as you cried out his name.

Jensen groaned deeply, the sensation of you clenching around him driving him to his own release. He buried himself deep inside you, his movements becoming erratic as he found his climax, his moan mingling with your cries of pleasure.

He held you tightly as the waves of pleasure subsided, his body trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

As you both slowly came down from your high, Jensen carefully rolled to the side, instantly reaching for a tissue to hand to you. You took it with a grateful smile, gently cleaning up the mess he made. Before you could do much more, Jensen swept you up in his arms, cradling you close as he carried you toward the bathroom.

“Always taking care of me”, you teased softly, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest.

He chuckled, a warm, affectionate sound. “Of course. I can’t let my girl do all the work”.

Jensen placed you gently on the bathroom counter, his touch tender. He turned to start the water for the bathtub, adjusting the temperature to make sure it was just right. The room filled with the soothing sound of running water, the steam beginning to rise.

“My girl, huh?”, you asked softly, your cheeks flushing with warmth.

Jensen’s own cheeks turned a light shade of pink, matching yours. He smiled, a bit sheepishly but with a glint of affection in his eyes. “Yeah”, he admitted, his voice sincere. “My girl”. He stepped back in front of you.

Your heart swelled with happiness, the simple phrase filling you with a sense of belonging. “I like the sound of that”, you whispered, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw.

Jensen’s smile grew, his eyes reflecting the same joy and contentment you felt. “Me too”, he replied, leaning in to kiss you again, this time with more passion and tenderness.

The kiss deepened, a blend of love and desire, as if you were both trying to convey the depth of your feelings for each other. His hands moved to your waist, holding you close as you wrapped your arms around his neck, drawing him nearer.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, but the contentment in your eyes mirrored each other’s. The bathwater was ready, and Jensen helped you down from the counter, guiding you to the tub.

The heat enveloped your body, easing the lingering soreness and providing instant relaxation. Jensen climbed in after you, settling in behind you so that you could lean back against his chest.

You leaned back, resting your head against his shoulder as his arms wrapped around you, holding you close. The sensation of his skin against yours was comforting, a reminder of the deep connection you shared. Jensen’s hands moved slowly, caressing your arms and shoulders with a tender touch, his fingers tracing delicate patterns on your skin.

The steam from the water created a cozy, almost ethereal atmosphere, the room filled with the soft sound of your breathing and the gentle splashing of the water. You could feel Jensen’s breath against your ear, each exhale warm and soothing. He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his lips lingering for a moment as he savored the closeness.

“How does that feel?”, he asked quietly, his voice a soothing murmur.

“Perfect”, you whispered back, turning your head slightly to meet his eyes. The tenderness in his gaze made you feel cherished and loved.

Jensen’s hands continued their slow, gentle movements, massaging the tension from your shoulders and neck. You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to fully relax into his touch. Each caress was a silent affirmation of his love, a wordless promise of the bond you shared.

As you lay there, enveloped in the warmth of the water and the security of Jensen’s embrace, time seemed to slow down.

Jensen’s hands moved with slow, deliberate care, brushing over your arms and shoulders before gradually making their way to your chest. His fingers traced light, teasing patterns across your skin, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine.

His hands gently cupped your breasts, the warmth of his palms a stark contrast to the cool air. He held them tenderly, as if they were delicate treasures to be cherished. His thumbs began to move in slow, circular motions, brushing over your hardening nipples. The sensation was electrifying, sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

You gasped softly, the sound barely more than a whisper, and leaned further into his embrace. Jensen’s breath was warm against your ear as he whispered, “You’re so beautiful”.

The sincerity in his voice made your heart swell with love and gratitude. You reached up, your hand finding his, intertwining your fingers with his in a silent gesture of connection. The slow, sensual rhythm of his touch continued, each movement a tender exploration of your body.

The water lapped gently around you, the heat relaxing your muscles and amplifying the sensations. Jensen’s thumbs continued their gentle caresses. Your nipples hardened further under his touch, the sensitive buds responding eagerly to his ministrations.

You could feel the rising tide of desire within you, a deep, aching need for more of his touch. “Jensen”, you whispered.

He responded by pressing a series of soft kisses along your neck, his lips trailing down to your shoulder. “I’m here”, he murmured.

His hands never left your breasts, continuing their slow, sensual exploration. The pressure of his thumbs increased slightly, adding a new layer of intensity to the pleasure. Your breathing grew heavier, each inhale and exhale a testament to the growing desire between you.

As one of his hands lingered on your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple with a rhythmic, tender caress, the other hand began to travel downward. It moved with a slow, purposeful grace, trailing down your side and across your stomach. The light touch of his fingers on your skin sent shivers of anticipation and pleasure coursing through you.

You felt a growing ache of desire as his hand continued its journey, moving lower until it brushed gently against your inner thigh. Jensen’s breath was warm against your ear, his voice a soft whisper of affection and need. “Tell me what you want”, he murmured, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck.

Your breath hitched, your voice trembling slightly as you responded. “I want you, Jensen. I want to feel you”.

His fingers traced gentle patterns on your thigh, moving closer to your core with each pass. The anticipation built within you, your body responding eagerly to his touch.

Jensen’s fingers brushed softly against your most sensitive spot, the light touch sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.

“Like this?”, he asked, his voice a low murmur filled with affection and desire.

You gasped softly, your body responding to his touch with a shiver of anticipation. “Yes”, you whispered, your voice breathless with need. “Just like that”.

Jensen’s fingers began to explore more intently, his touch both gentle and insistent. He circled your clit with a delicate, teasing motion.

His other hand continued to caress your breast. The dual sensations were overwhelming, each touch heightening the pleasure and deepening the connection between you.

“Do you like that?”, Jensen whispered, his breath warm against your ear. “Does that feel good?”.

You moaned softly in response, your body arching slightly as the pleasure built within you. “Yes, it feels amazing”, you managed to say, your voice trembling with emotion.

Jensen’s breath came in soft, ragged gasps against your ear, his own arousal evident in his touch. He carefully parted your folds, his fingers seeking out the most sensitive parts of you with a deliberate and tender touch.

“You feel so good, baby”, he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “So wet and ready for me”.

You whimpered softly, your body responding to his words as much as his touch. “Jensen, please”, you gasped, the need in your voice clear.

He smiled against your neck, his fingers continuing their slow, teasing exploration. “Please what, sweetheart?”, he asked, his voice a low, seductive whisper. “Tell me what you want”.

“More”, you breathed, your hips arching towards his hand. “I need more”.

Jensen’s fingers moved with more purpose, his touch both firm and gentle as he began to focus on your clit.

“Is this what you want?”, he asked, his voice filled with affectionate teasing. “Do you like it when I touch you like this?”.

“Yes”, you moaned, your body trembling with the intensity of the sensations. “Don’t stop”.

Jensen’s arousal grew more pronounced beneath you, the hardness of his dick pressing against your lower back, adding a layer of urgency to his touch.

“Do you feel that?”, Jensen whispered against your ear. “How hard you make me?”.

You whimpered in response, your body trembling with the intensity of the sensations he was creating. The heat between you was palpable, every touch igniting a deeper flame of desire.

“Move, Sweetheart”, he instructed gently, his hands guiding your hips. “I want to be inside you”.

With a mixture of anticipation and eagerness, you moved your hips, adjusting your position to align yourself with him. The warmth of the water and the intimacy of the moment heightened your senses, making every movement feel more intense.

Jensen’s hand moved to your thigh, lifting it slightly to create a better angle. “Just like that”, he murmured, his voice filled with both encouragement and desire. “Perfect”.

You felt the tip of his dick pressing against your entrance, and your body responded with a shiver of anticipation. Slowly, he began to push forward, his fingers still working your clit, amplifying the pleasure.

Jensen groaned deeply as he pressed into you, the sensation overwhelming both of you. “Just… stay like this”, he murmured, his voice thick with need and emotion. He didn’t move, and he didn’t want you to move either. He just wanted to feel the intimate connection of his hard length inside you, savoring the closeness and the warmth of your bodies pressed together.

The stillness between you was electrifying, every breath and heartbeat shared in perfect sync. You could feel his length pulsing inside you, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through your body. His fingers continued to tease your clit gently, adding to the intensity of the moment.

You moaned softly, the pleasure building slowly and deeply within you. Jensen’s other hand remained on your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple with a slow, deliberate rhythm. The combination of sensations was almost too much to bear, but you held still, reveling in the profound connection between you.

“I could stay like this forever”.

You nodded, unable to find words to express the depth of your feelings. The intimacy of the moment was beyond anything you’d experienced, a perfect blend of physical and emotional connection.

As the pleasure continued to build, Jensen’s fingers on your clit increased their pace slightly, his touch becoming more insistent. You could feel the tension coiling within you, the anticipation of release growing stronger with each passing moment.

“Are you close?”, Jensen asked, his voice a strained whisper.

“Yes”, you gasped, your body trembling with the intensity of the sensations.

“Let go for me”, he murmured, his voice filled with a mix of command and tenderness. “I want to feel you come”.

With a final, deliberate stroke of his fingers, you felt the tension snap, the pleasure exploding within you. Your body convulsed around him, your release powerful and all-consuming. Jensen groaned deeply, the sensation of you tightening around him pushing him over the edge as well.

Jensen held you tightly, his own release shuddering through him as he buried his face in the back of your neck. The intensity of your shared climaxes left you both trembling, your bodies pressed close together in a moment of pure, unfiltered intimacy. The warmth of his breath against your skin and the soft kisses he peppered along your neck sent shivers down your spine.

His hands roamed your body, caressing your sides and tracing the curves of your hips. The gentle, loving touch was a stark contrast to the intense passion you had just shared, grounding you in the moment and filling you with a deep sense of contentment.

After a while, the comfortable silence between you two was broken by the soft sound of your voice. You hesitated to look at him, feeling vulnerable. Lying on your stomach on top of him, you traced your fingers softly over his bare chest, feeling the warmth of his skin and the gentle rise and fall of his breaths. Your fingers played with the few shorter hairs there, a nervous gesture to distract yourself.

“You mean what you said earlier?”, you asked quietly, your cheeks flushing with a mix of anticipation and vulnerability. You were referring to the “I love you” he had whispered during your intimate moment.

Jensen tensed slightly underneath you, the words replaying in his mind. Of course he meant it—he loved you deeply. But he hadn’t intended to say it out loud, not yet. The timing felt too soon, and he didn’t want to rush things or put pressure on you. Yet, the moment had felt so natural, so right, that the words had slipped out before he could stop them.

Jensen hesitated, his breath catching slightly as he processed your question. He could feel your fingers trembling slightly against his chest, and it broke his heart to think you might be uncertain about his feelings.

His hands, which had been resting gently on your back, moved to cradle your face. He lifted your chin slightly, guiding your gaze to meet his. The vulnerability and sincerity in your eyes mirrored his own emotions, and he knew he had to be completely honest with you.

“Yes”, he said softly, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “I meant it. I love you. I know it might feel soon, but I’ve been feeling this way for a while now. I just… I didn’t plan to say it yet. I didn’t want to pressure you or make you feel rushed”.

Your eyes widened slightly, and a soft blush spread across your cheeks. The sincerity in his words and the warmth in his gaze made your heart flutter.

Jensen's confession hung in the air, charged with raw emotion. Your heart raced, and before you could fully process his words, Jensen leaned in, closing the distance between you. His lips met yours with a tenderness that took your breath away.

The kiss started softly, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle, tentative caress. You could feel the warmth of his breath mingling with yours, each exhale a silent promise of his love. The world seemed to narrow to just the two of you, the sensation of his mouth on yours filling your senses.

Jensen's hands cradled your face, his thumbs brushing softly against your cheeks. You responded to his kiss, your lips parting slightly to deepen the connection. The kiss grew more passionate, yet still tender, as if he was pouring all his unspoken emotions into that single act.

His tongue traced the seam of your lips, seeking entry, and you granted it willingly. The gentle exploration sent shivers down your spine, a slow burn of desire building within you. Your hands moved to his shoulders, fingers curling into the warmth of his skin, pulling him closer.

Jensen's kiss was unhurried, each movement deliberate and filled with meaning. It was as if he wanted to savor every second, to make sure you felt the depth of his feelings with every touch. The rhythm of the kiss was slow and sensuous, a dance of lips and tongues that spoke of the connection between you.

As the kiss deepened, you felt a swell of emotions—love, longing, and a sense of rightness that wrapped around you like a warm blanket. Jensen's hands moved from your face to your back, pulling you even closer until there was no space left between your bodies.

The softness of his lips against yours, the warmth of his body, and the steady beat of his heart under your fingertips created a symphony of sensations that left you breathless. You poured your own feelings into the kiss, letting him know without words how much he meant to you.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing heavily, foreheads pressed together. The air was thick with emotion, the unspoken words hanging between you. Jensen's eyes searched yours, a mixture of love and vulnerability shining in their depths.

"I love you", he whispered again, the words a soft caress against your lips.

"I love you", you replied, your voice barely more than a breath.

Eventually, as the warmth of the water started to fade, you both became aware of the chill creeping in. Jensen was the first to notice, pressing a kiss to your forehead before gently breaking the embrace.

“I think it’s time we get out before we both turn into ice cubes”, he said with a soft chuckle, the affection in his eyes still burning brightly.

You nodded, your body still humming. Reluctantly, you shifted off him and stood up, the cool air hitting your damp skin and sending a shiver down your spine.

Jensen followed, stepping out of the tub and reaching for the fluffy towels hanging nearby. He wrapped one around you first.

As Jensen finished wrapping the towel around you, his touch lingering for a moment, you couldn’t help but mumble a soft “Thanks”, your cheeks flushing with warmth. The tenderness of the moment, combined with the vulnerability of the intimacy you’d just shared, made you feel a bit shy.

Jensen noticed your blush and couldn’t resist teasing you. “Are you blushing?”, he asked with a playful smirk. “After everything we just did?”.

You looked away, your blush deepening, which only made him chuckle. He then wrapped a towel around his waist, the fabric hanging low enough to reveal his defined v-line. Your eyes were inevitably drawn to it, and Jensen caught you staring.

Jensen noticed your eyes lingering on his v-line and couldn’t resist teasing you further. “See something you like?”, he asked with a mischievous grin, his voice filled with playful amusement.

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide your embarrassment but failing miserably. “Maybe”, you replied, your voice tinged with both shyness and defiance.

He stepped closer, the proximity making your heart race. “Just maybe?”, he teased, his fingers gently tracing the line of your jaw. “I’m starting to think you’re not telling me the whole truth”.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Okay, fine”, you admitted, looking up into his eyes. “I like it. A lot".

Jensen’s grin widened, his eyes twinkling with delight. “That’s better”, he said, leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. “I like hearing that”.

“You’re so full of yourself”, you mumbled shyly, trying to hide your flustered reaction.

Jensen chuckled softly, his eyes never leaving yours. “Maybe”, he said with a playful glint in his eye. “But I think you like that about me”.

You couldn’t help but smile, his confidence and charm always having this effect on you. “Maybe I do”, you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jensen’s grin widened, clearly enjoying your reaction. “And you know what else you like?”, he teased, his fingers gently brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You raised an eyebrow, your curiosity piqued. “What’s that?”.

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, seductive murmur. “You like being full of me”.

“Jensen!”, you squeaked, your cheeks turning an even deeper shade of red. His boldness caught you off guard, making you feel a rush of shyness and excitement.

Jensen laughed softly, the sound warm and affectionate. “You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed”, he said, his fingers continuing to caress your cheek. “But you know I’m right”.

You tried to compose yourself, but the intensity of his gaze and the confidence in his words made it impossible. “You really love teasing me, don’t you?”, you said, your voice a mix of exasperation and affection.

“Absolutely”, he replied, his grin never faltering. “Especially when you react like this. It’s adorable”.

You rolled your eyes, but the smile on your face betrayed your true feelings. “You’re impossible”, you said, shaking your head.

Jensen’s grin widened even more, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Impossible, huh?”, he teased, his hands sliding down to rest on your hips. “I’ll take that as a compliment”.

You shook your head, unable to suppress the smile that tugged at your lips. “You would”, you replied.

Jensen chuckled softly, his fingers gently squeezing your hips as he pulled you closer. “You know”, he murmured, his voice low and filled with warmth, “I’m really going to enjoy these weeks with you. Just a bit more filming, and then we’ll have so much time together”.

You smiled, resting your head against his chest. The thought of spending uninterrupted time with him filled you with a sense of anticipation and happiness. “Can’t wait”, you whispered.

Jensen smiled down at you, his expression tender. He gently guided you towards the bedroom, his arm wrapped protectively around your waist. “Come on”. he said softly. “You need some sleep”.

You yawned against his chest, feeling the exhaustion from the day catching up with you. “I guess I’m more tired than I thought”, you admitted, your voice drowsy.

He chuckled warmly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m not surprised. It’s been a long day”.

As you reached the bedroom, Jensen helped you into bed, pulling the covers up around you. The sheets were cool and inviting, and you sank into them gratefully. He climbed in beside you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close.

As soon as Jensen turned off the lamp on the nightstand, he turned on his side, pulling you close. The darkness enveloped you both, creating an intimate cocoon. You nestled your face against his chest, breathing in his familiar scent, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

Jensen gently lifted your chin, his fingers tenderly guiding your face up to his. Even though you could barely see each other in the darkness, the connection between you was palpable. His lips found yours in a soft, lingering kiss, filled with all the emotions you both shared.

As the kiss deepened, his hand wandered from your chin to your ass, pulling you even closer. He hooked your leg above his hips, the movement bringing your bodies into even closer contact. The sensation of his half-hard length pressing against you sent a shiver of desire through your body, despite the exhaustion.

“Jensen”, you whispered against his lips, your voice filled with both need and affection.

“Shh”, he murmured back, his breath warm against your skin. “Just relax. I’ve got you”.

His hands roamed your body with a gentle yet possessive touch, exploring every curve and dip. The intimacy of the moment, the feel of his skin against yours, was comforting and arousing all at once. Jensen’s kisses trailed from your lips to your neck, his mouth leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

You sighed softly, your leg tightening around his waist, bringing him even closer. The sensation of his hardness growing against you was both thrilling and soothing, a reminder of the deep connection you shared.

“Let’s just stay like this”, he whispered, his voice husky with desire and tenderness. “I just want to hold you”.

You nodded, feeling a sense of peace settle over you.

As you both settled into a comfortable position, your bodies entwined, sleep began to claim you.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

Part 20

Taglist: @cheynovak @chriszgirl92 @jenniferr0323 @angelbabyyy99 @cevansbaby-dove @muhahaha303 @jackles010378 @suckitands33 @n-o-p-e-never @mayafatimakhan @ladysparkles78 @viviandarkbloom06 @jassackles @evasmlp @acklesaddict67 @mostlymarvelgirl @emma1998sblog @mishaesque @headinthemoon87 @hobby27 @winchesterwild78 @impala67rollingthroughtown @manicjk @kr804573 @zaratahir @djs8891 @winchesterwild78 @jamerlynn @whimsyfinny @libby99hb @deansimpalababy @deans-queen @kawaii-arfid-memes @faephoria @stoneyggirl2 @fitxgrld @luvr4miya @yikeschoices @lyssalvus @soab1967 @luvr4miya @didi0666 @impala67rollingthroughtown

#jensen ackles #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles x reader #jensen x reader #jensen x y/n #jensen x you #jensen ackles x female!reader #jensen ackles x y/n #jensen ackles the boys #his true fate

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blackleatherjacketz · 1 year ago

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Shadow and Sin: Chapter 7

Elijah Mikaelson x Female Reader

Summary: Having just recently moved to New Orleans, you get intimately acquainted with both Mikaelson brothers, but don't find out who they truly are until it's too late.

This Chapter: Elijah comes to your rescue after you and your brother get attacked.

Warnings: Blood and Gore, Violence, Compulsion, Brushes With Death, Blood Drinking, Kissing, Loving Touches, More Phantom of the Opera References

Word Count: 2.1k+

Read the rest of the story HERE

“Drink.” Elijah orders you, cradling the back of your head as he presses his open wrist against your lips. The hot viscous fluid pours around your mouth as your weakened body slumps against the alleyway, barely able to register what he’s saying, let alone what he’s trying to do.

You manage to squint up at him in response, feeling your heart beating so fast that it nearly rattles your ribcage.

“Please drink, little Lotte, it’ll heal you.” His words are laced with an unmistakable urgency as his breath becomes more erratic, his concern for you more evident than ever. He tilts your head forward again and practically forces your mouth to open against his skin, the salty metallic liquid flooding your taste buds until you have no other choice but to swallow it. “That’s it, take a little bit more.”

Allowing it to fill your mouth completely, you begrudgingly down another bitter gulp as the rest of it spills down onto your chin and chest, mixing with the coagulated blood from the bite on your neck. His morbid cure oozes down your esophagus and settles into the pit of your stomach, allowing his features to slowly come more into focus; his eyes wet with sorrow as he waits for the sanguine solution to work its magic on you. Once a pillar of self control, now a nervous wreck riddled with regret as he strokes your hair, his jaw clenching in anticipation.

The blood he gave you suddenly steadies the deafening sound of your rapid heart rate, the panic quaking its way through your nervous system eventually following suit. It quiets the alarm bells in your head, gradually easing the sharp yet throbbing pain in your neck and the crippling fear that widens your eyes.

Holy shit, he was right. It healed you, somehow. HE healed you.

“Look at me.” He whispers, taking his wrist away before grabbing onto your chin, inspecting your wound as it miraculously seals itself up. “I need to get you off the street, somewhere safe.”

“Is Austin okay?” You try to turn your head to look over at your brother, but Elijah’s grip on your face forces you to keep your eyes only on him.

“I wouldn’t worry about him. Your brother’s going to be just fine, trust me.” He stares into your eyes, stroking your chin with his thumb as he instills that truth into your psyche. “Now let’s get you home.”

“Alright, but...” You keep staring at him, still too shocked to ask him any more specific questions that race through your mind as your body recovers from the attack. “Shouldn’t you be taking me to the hospital? Or the police station? Somewhere, anywhere else?”

He swallows hard and picks you up off the ground without a word, tucking his elbow beneath your knees to carry you like a bride across the threshold. The hot Louisiana air rushes past you in a soothing breeze as you cling to his neck and shoulders, taking in that dark scent of his as it mixes in with the blood splattered across his suit. He continues to carry you through the quarter at lightning speed, blurring past some of your favorite spots until you practically float up the stairs and reach your apartment’s doorstep much quicker than you thought humanly possible.

Only you know now that he’s not human, no matter what he may look like on the outside.

“There’s no need for a hospital.” He turns his head toward you, his lips grazing over your cheek as he lowers your feet onto the ground. “My blood should have healed you completely.”

“Your blood,” you repeat back to him, not stepping away from his embrace as you try to accept the gruesome truth that stains his pristine white shirt a deep burgundy. “Thank you for saving me, but umm…” You look down at his ruined sleeve. “What about you? Your wrist, it was bleeding, wasn’t it? At least, I could have sworn it was.”

“I’ll be fine,” he smiles, almost amused by your concern for his well being. “I promise. One of the perks of being a vampire is that I heal almost instantly, which is why my blood could heal you. Now, let’s get you inside.”

“Right,” you nod, hoping that if you repeat what he said to you in your head a thousand times or so, it might make it easier for you to accept.

You turn and pull your keychain out of your pocket, fumbling through them until you finally find your house key, noticing that your hands and arms are still caked in blood. Trying to compartmentalize the issue, you focus solely on sliding the key into the slot, shakily turning the handle before opening the door to your home away from the monsters that had attacked you. Still holding onto his hand, you attempt to bring him inside until you feel him forcefully tug backward, stopping as if there were some sort of invisible barrier between him and your doorway.

“You have to invite me in.” He states solemnly, as if it’s some piece of common knowledge that you just haven’t been privy to until now.

Right. Blood, healing, vampires, invitations. This is all becoming a little too real, no matter how excited your inner thirteen year-old self is right now.

“Please come in, Elijah,” you say out loud.

And just like that, the invisible barrier between you disappears as he walks into your apartment, still holding onto your hand.

--------------

“So who were those guys, anyways? Part of some rival vampire gang?” You run a washcloth under the kitchen sink as you try to collect yourself, to make sense of everything that’s happened tonight as the water slowly begins to heat up. You take your time wringing it out as you wait for him to answer until you suddenly feel him behind you, his chest gently pressing against your shoulder blades as he whispers into your hair.

“Something like that, but they won’t ever harm you again.” His bloody hands graze over your arms, encasing your hands as the water falls down your knuckles, saturating the dried blood before he smears it away, sending a wave of warmth up your spine. “Here, allow me.”

His stern tone wavers a little as he takes the cloth from you, his hands nearly dwarfing yours as he begins to rub your skin in slow circular motions until it’s no longer stained that shade of muddy red. You can’t be sure whose blood covers more of the cloth now as he squeezes it out before starting again on your other arm, both of you watching it disappear down the drain.

Once your arms are clean, he takes your hand and turns you around toward him as if the two of you were back on the dance floor of that bar, watching you with a desire that has a whole new meaning to it now that you know the truth about what he is. His eyes seem to darken, but don’t burn that infernal red like the man who’d bitten you earlier tonight, instead only warming you from the inside out as they quietly take in the sight of your face and neck.

Oh no, your neck!

“Are you okay with this? You’re not tempted to… bite me, or anything, are you?” You refuse to relinquish the washcloth he tries to tug away from you as your thoughts of caution come a little too late. You realize now that you’ve let your romantic ease with him override your new knowledge of his potential for violence, putting you both in a compromising position as the space between you closes.

“If I wanted to drink from you, I would have done so already.” He states in that firm, cold tone that you secretly love as he pulls the cloth from your fingers. “But I’ve already fed tonight, and my interest in you lies elsewhere.”

“Elsewhere?” You smile, unable to stop the twinkle in your eye as his words make you feel a little bit safer. You assume that he wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble to save your life if he wanted to take it the very second you invited him in, but you had to ask, just to be sure.

“To answer your question, those men are part of the underbelly of New Orleans, part of a world that the city likes to cover up with extravagant tourism and ghost tours.” He explains, wiping the bulk of the clotted blood off your neck as his other hand keeps your shoulder steady. “For centuries now, it’s been the reason that so many souls flock to the quarter, to experience the magic and danger of it, all while blaming it on the spirits inside the bottles that they drink.” He wets the cloth again, wringing it out one-handed before bringing it up to your chin, a small smirk crossing his lips at the image of your mouth drenched in blood. His blood. “But then people like you often get caught in the crosshairs, and that’s not what I ever wanted for you.”

“What you ‘wanted for me’?” Your brows knit together as you try to make sense of it all, wanting a bit more clarity than his stoic generalizations are giving you. Was he involved with Klaus, or this… Marcel Gerard that the other man had mentioned before? Or was he simply just in the right place at the right time for him to save you?

Elijah purses his lips together and washes behind your ear, the warmth of the washcloth soothing your previously broken skin as he holds you close, making you forget the rest of your prying questions for the moment. You close your eyes and let him clean you, getting lost in the pleasant feeling of the fabric washing away the horrors of the night and the sensation of his hands on your body.

You can’t help but think back to the other night when you were covered in paint with Klaus in his studio, and now you’re here covered in blood with Elijah. Both of these men are caught up in something much more maudlin than you can even begin to grasp. You get the feeling that choosing either of them would put you in a highly dangerous position, but Elijah had just saved you, no questions asked, while Klaus seemed intent on corrupting you to the core. The images of the Emperor and the King of Swords come up in the forefront of your mind before you open your eyes to take in his handsome features by the light of the moon shining in through your kitchen window.

“It was naïve of me to think that I could have you and not get you caught up in my mess.” His hand switches from squeezing your shoulder to cupping your cheek, having wiped all of the blood off of your skin. “I warned you that the phantom kills despite Christine, not just for her. What I forgot to do was remind myself of that fact. I wanted to be your Raoul, Little Lotte, but…”

“But what? You can’t see me anymore just because you’re a vampire?” Goddamnit, you’d just decided to stop seeing Klaus, and now Elijah’s backing out, too? You can barely wrap your head around dealing with the loss of one, let alone both of them at the same time. “I don’t want Raoul, Elijah, it’s never been that for me, okay? I want Erik, The Phantom, I want you!”

A hint of a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “You know not what you ask, but if that’s true I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of them, make sure that you’re protected. You have my word.”

“Take care of who, exactly?” You raise your eyebrows at him, hating not knowing the whole story, especially when it’s putting your life at risk. You understand that it takes time to open up to people about certain details of your life, but you’re way past all that now.

Elijah sighs and weaves his fingers into your hair, pulling on it just hard enough to make you look at him again. “Those men that attacked you were random criminals looking for a bite to eat, nothing more. They weren’t connected to any other vampire. In fact, you don’t even remember what they said to you or your brother. All that you can remember is that you were bitten, and that I saved you.”

“Right, you saved me.” You repeat back to him numbly, a docile smile spreading across your face.

“You won’t go out into the quarter after midnight again unless I’m with you, is that understood?” That ice cold timbre returns, quickly chilling you to the bone as he delivers his last hypnotic order of the night.

“I understand.” You nod into a kiss on your forehead as he drops the blood-soaked washcloth into the sink, wrapping his arms around you in a tight yet affectionate embrace.

“Good, now let’s get you out of these clothes.”

-------------------------

Tags: @hcqwxrtss123 @hayleym1234 @derangedangel

#elijah mikaelson #daniel gillies #the originals #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson x female reader #elijah mikaelson fanfic

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spaceoracle · 11 months ago

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My name is Austin. My family is homeless and has been since 2-2-22. My disabled, bed bound, immunocompromised father who is on oxygen 24/7, mom with a very painful disabled leg, cute as can be dog, wonderful and beautiful cat, and myself are in urgent need of support to keep us off the streets and in a motel room. We were evicted from our home after the passing of my aunt. She had a reverse mortgage and the bank took possession. We've been busting our butts to find a place ever since, with no luck finding housing whatsoever. Our daily motel fees eat up all of the money we manage to raise or save up, but crowded shelters are simply not an option because of my dad’s medical conditions. Catching COVID in a congregate shelter with his weak lungs and immunocompromised system would possibly kill him. We have been waiting for another Emergency Housing voucher as we were unable to find a place in the few days we were given to find one when approved previously. We are on countless low income housing waiting lists who have also told us to just wait. We have paid to apply for apartments and are rejected because of our low or non existent credit and low income. We are working with some new resources at the moment and hoping something comes of it. Basically, our issue is this: If we don’t have enough money for motel fees, we will have to sleep in our car which is super difficult for my parents and our pets, not even mentioning myself. There's honestly not enough room in our car for all of us to sit, let alone sleep comfortably. My dad’s oxygen machine needs electricity to run, and spare tanks only last a few hours each. The days are scorching and the nights get cold in California, especially this time of year, and we’re trying our best to stay together as a family and stay sheltered, healthy, and safe, and out of the triple digit summer heat. We would appreciate any donations you could spare to keep our motel room while we attempt to get on our feet during this awful experience. Thanks for your consideration, it means the world to us all. -Austin

The USA Today story featuring my family was published today. Apparently they have a policy that they can't link our fundraiser directly. So please help me spread it here.

#News #usa today #homelessness #homeless families #Fundraising #Fundraiser #Please reblog

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twinnedpeaks · 5 months ago

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it’s DELAYED but it’s HERE:

my list of favourite and least favourite books i read this year as someone who reads a lot and works with books <3 mostly horror books since that’s my area, but other genres as well.

BEST:

thirteen storeys by jonathan sims - given how big a tma fan i am it didn’t surprise me that i loved this. but i have NOT shut up about it since. one of the horror books i rec most often at work. genuinely just so good. i love his brain so much. i wanna study it under a microscope.

interesting facts about space by emily austin - this book gave me an autistic lesbian with mommy issues in the best way possible. loved it so much. cannot wait for her new book.

a botanical daughter by noah medlock - i could have CRIED from how beautiful this book was. basically a frankenstein retelling with a tender, botanical, queer heart.

butter by asako yuzuki - i’m not usually a big crime/thriller reader, but this FLOORED me. read it coming home from a trip and i was so enraptured by the story and the dynamics. saw it won waterstones book of the year so! good for her.

brainwyrms by alison rumfitt - oohh miss rumfitt you’ve done it again …. such a viscerally brilliant and at times disgusting tale. i recced this to a regular at work and she messaged me saying ‘okay. what the fuck did you make me read’.

it came from the closet: queer reflections on horror - some of horror’s big queer artists talk about how they felt seen in horror media as lgbtq people!! so interesting. picked this up at gay’s the word in london.

a lonely broadcast by kel byron - this felt like reading a tma episode and that is a compliment. so unique and stunning. i want the next book now.

evocation by s t gibson - i’m rarely a fantasy girlie but BY GOD this ruled. tarot inspired magic system with a toxic polycule? from the author of a dowry of blood? sold.

monstrilio by gerardo samano cordova - i named this my favourite read of the year on ig for a REASON. holy fucking hell i still struggle to find words for this book. so full of grief and love and humanity.

bury your gays by chuck tingle - now THIS was fun as hell. gay slasher w some truly brilliant moments.

summer sons by lee mandelo - godddddd this. just. yeah.

compound fracture by andrew joseph white - genuinely one of the best modern horror writers out there, and this was no exception. managed to snag a signed first edition through work and i shall treasure it.

a sunny place for shady people by mariana enriquez - horror short stories!!!! loved all of them so much.

witchcraft for wayward girls by grady hendrix - i know hendrix is one of those authors you either love or hate BUT. i love his work, honestly. reminded me of ahs coven and the craft. i got an arc back in october and devoured it.

she’s always hungry by eliza clark - ah tapeworms my beloved <3 i will read everything clark writes forever.

perfume and pain by anna dorn - this was so messy and fun. truly what it’s like to attempt to be a writer while also being just a very messy kind of sad person.

evil in me by brom - i am a HUGE brom fan and this latest book was everything i could have wanted.

don’t let the forest in by cg drews - GOD YES I enjoyed this. reminiscent of summer suns or a horror version of the raven boys. loved loved it.

blackwater by michael mcdowell - how the HELL have i never read these???? southern gothic perfection. there are a couple books and i’ve read the first three and adored them.

WORST:

my throat an open grave by tori bovalino - when i heard it was a horror novel about fae loosely inspired by labyrinth i was so excited. it, however, fell SO flat and i was bored.

day one by abigail dean - only read this because i got it for free from work. it was not worth the money. reminded me why i don’t read crime novels.

we used to live here by marcus kliewer - ok it feels a little unfair to put this with the worst, because i DID have fun reading it. i was just wildly disappointed. i had so many people telling me it was the scariest book they had ever read, and it just felt a bit like a sad attempt at ripping off jordan peele’s us.

incidents around the house by josh malerman - honestly, same reasoning as above. just less fun and more boring.

let the right one in by john ajvide lindqvist - i’m sorry but the writing here was genuinely just so bad that i couldn’t focus on the story itself. great movie, bad writer.

dearest by jacquie walters - could not tell you what happened in this book. could not make myself care.

mean spirited by nick roberts - i’m sorry but this was just so fucking stupid i couldn’t take it seriously. you might love it if you’re really scared of dogs or communication.

#oh yeah ig is looksforghosts thats where i post those thingies

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sydsaint · 1 year ago

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Weasley white boy, I love you <3

Summary: Jay sets his sights on finishing his collection of Billy Gunn's children. And it just so happens that Billy's daughter will be attending Austin's birthday.

Collision is around halfway through it's program. Max Caster is in a match against your brother, Colten Gunn. You, Anthony, and Billy are in Max's corner for the match. On the other side of the ring, Austin and Jay are in Colten's corner.

"You're still going out with us all for Austin's birthday, right, dad?" You ask Billy while the action in the ring isn't urgent.

"For a little while, yeah." Billy nods. "Your brother may be a backstabbing pain in the ass, but he's still my son." He sighs.

You pat your fathers arm sympathetically. "Awe, it'll be alright, dad." You attempt to comfort him. "Austin and Colten will come around eventually." You assure him.

Billy nods and smiles down at you, his last remaining loyal child. You'd never betray him like his ungrateful sons did. Billy can always count on you to be there for him.

On the other side of the ring, Jay watches you console your father intently. The wheels in his head turn as he begins formulating his master plan to complete his collection of Billy Gunn's kids.

"Austin, your sister is coming out with us later for your birthday, right?" Jay turns to Austin.

"Yeah, she said that she'd be there." Austin nods. "Why?"

Jay shrug and goes back to watching you from across the ring. "I was just wondering." He answers Austin.

In the ring, Colten manages to roll up Max and get the win. The bell rings so Jay and Austin hop into the ring to celebrate while your team retreats.

"YN! Baby! Are you tired of being on the losing team yet, darling?" Jay taunts you from inside the ring.

"Shove it up your ass, Jay!" You shout back at him with a scoff.

Jay chuckles and watches you retreat up the ramp with your father and The Acclaimed. These past couple of months he's been systematically wearing you down. He almost had you while BCG and The Acclaimed where teaming up for a few weeks. But you stayed with Billy when the group split. Much to Jay's dismay.

After Collision, everyone heads back to the hotel to change and get ready for Austin's bday celebration. You take a quick shower and decide to get all prettied up for the party since Colten told you that Austin invited a bunch of friends from work to the shindig. You throw on the only dress that you packed for the trip and do up your hair and makeup before meeting Billy in the lobby.

"YN! Hey, sweetie. You look...nice." Billy greets you in the hotel lobby.

"Thanks, dad." You laugh at his wide eyes. "Are you ready to go? Because I so need a drink right now."

Billy nods and the two of you head out to meet your brothers.

You arrive to the party and split up with Billy. He goes in search of Austin since he doesn't plan on staying out long, and you go in search of a drink and anyone you know from the show.

Your journey to find drinks comes to an end once you manage to find the bar. You saunter up to it and order yourself a light drink to start off your night.

Across the room, Jay finally spots you over at the bar after some casual searching. "Fucking hell." He mumbles to himself when he sees you leaned up against the bar.

"What's up?" Colten asks from next to him when he hears Jay's mumbling.

"You're sisters trying to kill me, mate." Jay replies and nods over to the bar.

Colten glances over at the bar briefly before sneering. "Oh, dude, ew." He gags and walks away from Jay.

Jay laughs and makes his way through the crowd and over to the bar. He comes to a stop a few feet away from you and signals for a drink before he speaks.

"Well well well." Jay smiles to himself. "Look who showed up to her brothers party looking all enticing. Who are you trying to impress, YN?" He catches your attention.

You turn to face Jay, drink sliding across the bar in your hand with you. The low light of the room makes the bastard look frustratingly hot. Especially now that he's wearing normal clothes instead of his usual garb.

"Jay." You greet him in a friendly manner. "You look...nice." You blink at him.

"Thank you." Jay grins. "But trust me sweetheart. When it comes to looks? You've got every shmuck in this building beat. Easily." He pays the compliment back and then some.

The unique illumination of the room does little to hide the blush on your cheeks at Jay's compliment. "What do you want? You silver-tongued weasel?" You ask him frankly.

"Silver-tongued?" Jay chuckles. "Oh, sweetheart, you've no idea how true that statement is." He winks at you.

You roll your eyes and pick up your drink. "You didn't answer my question." You remind him before pressing your glass to your lips.

"Forgive me. But it's not my fault that you are terribly distracting." Jay replies. "And to answer your question, darling. I want you." He licks his lips.

Your heart skips a beat in your chest and you set your glass down. You can see your dad talking with Austin across the room before Jay moves slightly and blocks your view.

"That's a bad idea, Jay." You shake your head.

"Is it?" Jay replies. "Because I'm not afraid to admit that I can't seem to get you out of my head." He admits. "Which is quit a feat, I must admit."

You watch Jay's hand move from the bar and inch towards your face. He gently brushes a stray piece of hair behind your ear before giving your chin a small nudge so you're looking directly at him now. "And I know you think about me. So don't even try and deny it." He adds.

"Austin! Hey! Happy Birthday to my second favorite brother!" You jump away from Jay suddenly when Austin walks over to the bar.

"Awe, thanks, YN. Wait! Second favorite?" He adds after a moment.

You laugh and hug your brother. "You heard me." You tease him. "You having fun tonight?" You ask.

"I'm having a blast, yeah." Austin laughs. "What about you? You and Jay look cozy over here." He comments.

You glance over at Jay, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. "Your friend is very persistent, Austin. I'll give him that." You admit. "And he's not that bad looking, I guess."

"Well, I'll let the two of you get back to talking then." Austin nods and pats Jay on the back gently. "Don't forgot to have some fun dork." He adds and ruffles your hair as he walks off. "Even if it is with that tool."

You roll your eyes and shake your head as Austin saunters off. Once he's out of your line of sight you turn back around to Jay.

"Can I get you another drink?" Jay asks you.

"Sure, why not?" You bite the inside of your lip.

Jay orders the two of you another round of drinks and you turn around to watch the crowd again for a moment. You see Billy talking with someone from the show across the room and guilt hits you like a truck again.

What the hell are you doing?

You turn back to Jay and he hands you a drink. The two of you knock back your drinks at the same time before setting them both down onto the bar with a 'clink'

"Thanks." You fidget with your glass, letting the alcohol slide down your throat and whittle away at your judgment bit by bit.

You and Jay sit and chat for a while. Nothing serious. Just a casual conversation between two friends, or rather, acquaintances. But as the night drags on and you share a few more drinks with the men that manipulated your brothers into leaving the family, he stares to reel you in with his charms.

"I think that we've celebrated your brother enough for one night." Jay's hand lingers on yours under the bar and out of sight of the crowd. His hand trails up and down your arm gently, a suggestive grin on his face. "Why don't the two of us get out of here?"

"Alright, but just one night, Jay. Just one." You nod.

Jay intertwines his hand with yours and stands up. He pulls you off your barstool and into his side where he slings an arm over you in a possessive manner. Jay leads you through the crowd of people still lingering about and toward the door.

"YN?" Billy catches a glimpse of you tucked under Jay's arm just as he's letting his sons know that he's heading out for the night.

"Hmm, what's up dad?" Colten replies from Billy's side.

Billy turns back to his son. "Nothing. It's fine." He shakes his head. "Be safe tonight. I'll talk to you and your brother tomorrow, alright?"

"Yeah, okay, dad." Colten nods.

The next morning you are woken up by the sound of running water. You yawn and rub the sleep from your eyes before rising into a sitting position. "Hmm." You hum and stretch your arms above your head.

"Wow! Now that's a sight that I could get used to." Jay appears in the doorway of the bathroom.

"What?" You reply with another yawn, only to realize that you're not wearing a shirt.

You quickly lower your arms and cover your chest, earning a chuckle from Jay. "Oh, come on now." He teases you and bends down to grab his shirt off the floor. "I think that I got a good enough look at you last night, darling." He tosses the shirt at you.

"Whatever." You mumble to yourself and slip the shirt over your head.

Jay walks over to the bed and sits down on the side closest to you. "Need any help getting up?" He asks you. "You know, if I had to guess from last night, I'd imagine that your legs are pretty sore today, yeah?" He teases you.

"Ugh! I hate you! Smug bastard." You cover your face with your arms in embarrassment.

Jay chuckles and leans over you, propped up with one arm to your side. He uses his free hand to move your arms out of the way and grins at you. "You look adorable when you're all embarrassed." He teases you.

You roll your eyes again and set a hand on Jay's chest. "This was a one time thing, remember?" You remind him of your agreement last night.

"Was it, though?" Jay replies and leans down for a kiss.

"It was." You mumble against his lips.

Jay lifts his head back up to look at you. "Well what about the day?" He asks you. "You didn't say anything about the day."

You sigh and hook an arm around the back of Jay's neck. "That's true." You admit. "But's it's a bad idea."

"Eh, I've never been known to make good decisions when beautiful women are involved." Jay shrugs before leaning back down for another kiss.

'Neither have I.' You think to yourself. 'Thank god dad doesn't know about this.'

#wrestling #aew #all elite wrestling #aew fanfiction #aew fanfic #aew fic #aew x reader #jay white #jay white x reader #switchblade jay white #wrestling fanfiction #wrestling fanfic #wrestling fic #syd's wrestling fics

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dreamingofep · 1 year ago

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Sinned Awakening pt. 21🩸

An AU Elvis fic

(Vampire!Elvis/Vampire Austin! Elvis × reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Prompt: Getting promoted to be Elvis full time housekeeper, you realize the man holds secrets beyond beliet and your undeniable attraction makes you tear the unknown. [Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, SMUTTT, mentions of blood/gore!!!

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 7.1k

A/N: Hello everyone happy Sunday! Thanks for convincing me to keep writing! The support over this fic is amazing so thank you so so much! Exciting stuff is happening in this part and really hope you enjoy where I’ve taken this! Please comment, message, and reblog if you feel so inclined ❤️

A reminder, this is Vampire!Elvis so there is going to be mentions of blood/gore from here on out. If that's not your thing, sorry but it's needed for the story.

If you'd like to start from the beginning, start here I hope you enjoy and message and comment what you think.

May 1973

Spoiled was an understatement of how you were getting treated by Elvis these last few weeks. You didn’t deserve such things, but he was insistent. You two flew around the country, getting to see things you never thought you’d get the chance to in this life. Elvis canceled his upcoming tour to spend time with you and his manager just about lost his head about it. Elvis gave him one look that just about drained all the color out of his face when he said no to him. He never got questioned about it after that.

Elvis was sure he was going to give you every human experience you wanted to have. Part of you was excited to try new things, taste new foods, and see places you never knew existed. There was another small part of you would miss certain things. You’d miss the warmth of the sun, and the comfort of a soft blanket wrapped around you. All of it would be so different for you. An unknown world was going to be unleashed and it was going to be a huge adjustment. Elvis was gracious and patient with you, assuring you everything was going to be alright. You believed every word he said, knowing he would be by your side through the entire time.

He kept you up all night making deep, passionate love to you at all hours of the night. You weren’t going to miss sleep that’s for sure. He was making up for lost time and was worshiping you any chance he could. Making love to him was like a song, something that started slow and sultry, then crescendos into something electric and thrilling. He knew how to make you sing and hit all the right notes. You were indeed his favorite song to play.

You knew he tried to ignore the bite marks on your body, but you felt when his eyes would stare at them in frustration. You suggested to him to feed from those scarred spots, hoping that maybe his bite would heal them in some way but he wouldn’t let himself do that. The shame and guilt he had inside him was still present and it was going to take time to get through those feelings.

But you’d let him feed when he wanted and he began to not be as shy about asking if he could. The more he did it, the more you found it insanely attractive. The pain was still prominent when he initially sunk his teeth in you but it faded away after a short period of time. It was something he needed to survive and you were more than happy to give that to him. Each time he fed, there was a small part of you that wanted him to finish the process so you could turn. But he wouldn’t let himself do that to you. He was adamant about keeping you human til your birthday like you wanted.

He took you to Hawaii the week of your birthday and you think that this has to be your new favorite place in this world. It was more stunning than you could ever imagine. Elvis would tell you stories of the times he’s visited and the movies he’s made there. He was here earlier in the year recording the first worldwide concert via satellite. He was so proud of the concert, every time he brought it up, he had this big smile on his face and was so happy he got to do it. He couldn’t help but marvel over the fact he made history doing that concert. He definitely had a love for this place and you could see why. The waters were more blue than you could have dreamed and cool enough to relax your body after laying out on the beach for too long.

Elvis would watch you enjoy your time here while he stayed underneath the shade of an umbrella. He would come and join you for a bit in the water and keep his shirt on to shield him as much as possible from the sun. It made his skin hurt though and he couldn’t stay out there that long with you. You understood and thought it was cute he still wanted to be out there with you regardless. After your legs get tired from swimming, you get out of the water and receive a devious look from him, his eyes eating you up as water dripped off your body. You smirk at him and shake your head gently.

“What do we have here,” he says softly.

“It’s just me,” you say shyly.

“No, I think it’s the love of my life,” he says pulling you on top of him.

He scoops you into his arms, holding you tightly and taking a deep breath in, giving you kisses on your cheek. His cool body temperature gives you goosebumps after getting out of the water and need a towel to dry off. He senses you’re cold and wraps a towel around you that was lying out in the sun getting warm. It felt so nice on your skin, making you feel cozy and warm.

“Let's go back to the room for a bit hmm?” He says softly. You nod your head and he takes your hand as you walk toward the hotel. You had the penthouse suites, of course, to give you and Elvis the most amount of privacy while you stayed here. He would get awestruck looks while you went through the lobby and a few people stopped him for an autograph.

You took the elevator all the way up to the top floor, holding him around his waist. The mood felt tense like he was nervous for you. Once you both are in the room, he locks the door behind him and looks at you softly, his eyes looking unwaveringly. You smile at him and turn to go on the balcony, looking out at the light blue waters on the horizon. You don’t hear him walk your way, but feel his hands wrap around your waist, pulling you back into his body. You sigh at the feeling of him, loving him more than you could have possibly imagined.

“Are you having a good birthday honey?” He asks low into your ear.

“Yes, I am. The best one ever,” you hum softly.

“Well, if you wanted to have more birthdays, you can always have that option…” he trails off. You squeeze at his hand, turn around to face him, and pull him in for a kiss.

“No, I don’t need any other special days when I get to have you forever,” you assure him.

“Mhmm… okay baby, as long as you’re happy. Was there anything else you wanted?” He asks, slowly trailing his hand down your back.

You can’t help that your heart gallops at the sight of him or how he has that look on his face that could make you do anything he wants. He smirks at the sound of your fluttering heart and pulls you in closer. Your bodies melt into each other and your brain begins to fog over at any logical thinking. You repeat the question he asked in your head and smirk at him.

“N-no, there’s nothing else I could possibly want. Was there anything you wanted to give me?” You ask cheekily.

He chuckles amused, tucking your hair behind your ear, “yes there was. There was one more human thing I wanted to give you…” he says. You look at him a bit confused, not sure what he’s getting at.

“When I first told you about our bond, I knew it was hard for you. The notion of giving up your human life and being part of a vampire one was a lot to handle. I know you said you were scared and had a future to look forward to and make for yourself. That’s why we’ve been traveling so much, getting you to see new things you never have before. And that will never stop, I’ll keep showing you new places. I wanted to give you something else that you mentioned you were going to miss.”

He slowly bent down on one knee and pulled a ring box from his pocket. He opens the small, red velvet box and looks up at you, love overflowing his gaze. A stunning diamond ring is looking at you and sparkles in the sunlight.

“Honey, will you do the immense honor of marrying me?” He says as his voice trembles.

You hold your breath, not believing this is really happening. The diamond was huge. You’d never seen something so extravagant other than the rings Elvis wears. It was an emerald cut with a pavé band in yellow gold and was the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen.

“Oh my God, honey, are you serious?!” You breathe.

“Yes baby, I want you. In every possible way, in the human way, by making you my wife, but also as my Chosen and make you mine forever,” he confesses.

Tears well up in your eyes and your heart leaps out with joy and love for him.

“Yes, of course I’ll marry you,” you say, your voice shaky and in disbelief.

He stands up to wrap you in his arms and hug you tightly. He kisses you with so much love and passion it makes you dizzy. You pull at his arms to have him somehow hold you tighter and it leaves you breathless. He pulls away to look at you, smiling and taking the ring out of the box.

You shakily hold your hand out and he slips the ring on your finger. It was a perfect fit and looked more beautiful than you could have ever imagined any ring could have looked on you.

“We can go get married whenever you want. Just tell me when and I’ll make it happen,” he tells you.

“What about the press? Won’t it look weird if you just suddenly get married after just getting divorced?” You ask worried.

“I don’t care about that darlin’. You’re all I care about and what makes you happy. We can do it whenever you want.”

“What about right now? Just go to city hall and do it right there? What do you think?” You say.

He looks at you a little shocked, not expecting you to be so ready for this.

“Yeah, baby? You don’t want a big wedding with your family and friends? There’s no rush,” he says softly.

“Yeah, that’s what I want. And besides, I want my husband to turn me later,” you press, knowing he’s going to like the sound of that. A low emitted growl comes from his chest and he squeezes your arms.

“Mhmm… that sounds like the most perfect way to go about it,” he says pulling you in for another kiss.

He called his guys and had them arrange everything and get a car ready to head down to city hall. He had enough connections that it wasn’t an issue to put everything together and get a marriage license ready for him. Everyone came to city hall and witnessed you both say your vows and celebrate with you.

It was just enough, it was special but there wasn’t too much attention drawn to you which sounded like your worst nightmare for a wedding. At that moment, it was just you and Elvis. You all quickly got out of the building before the word got leaked that Elvis is now married to a new mystery woman no one’s ever seen him with. For a split second, you think of your mom and Anna finding out this news in the newspaper without a heads up from you. You knew it wasn’t the best way to go about it but you’d deal with them later and knew they’d understand.

Everyone celebrates up in the penthouse with you both, happiness filling the room and joyful laughter. Elvis kept his arm around you the entire night, not letting you leave his side. He looked down at you from time to time and would just mutter something under his breath you couldn’t hear. You reach up for a kiss and he gives you a soft and tender one.

The sun was starting to set and the sky filled with a beautiful golden-orange sky. As you’re looking out the window, he bends down slightly so he can whisper something in your ear, “I think it’s time to kick everyone out and let me enjoy time with just my wife,” he says softly. Your heart gallops at the notion and you nod your head in agreement. Elvis gets everyone to leave and makes sure to tell them that no one disturb us. The door closes and you shiver at the way he’s looking at you.

He walks slowly to you, not having to say a word to get you to come to him.

“I love you,” he whispers, pulling you into his arms.

“I love you too,” you say back, pulling at his collar and getting him to kiss you. His lips crash into yours and your hands roam freely on his body.

“What did you want to do now?” You ask cheekily.

“It’s your day, you tell me what you need from me,” he says. His tone of voice and the way the slightest touch makes you unravel has to be one of the best things in the world. You would never get enough of him.

You pull him in closer by his arms, “I think you know what I want…I want you to change me,” you plead.

He takes a sharp breath, looking down at you with lust, need, and apprehension in his eyes.

“Are you sure about this? You don’t have to rush anything. It doesn’t have to be today. You could just enjoy being married as a human for a bit,” he assures.

“I’m positive. I want this more than you know. I’m ready to be completely yours,” you hum into his ear. He lets out a pleased grumble and squeezes you tighter, nearly knocking the wind out of you. He quickly releases the grip he has on your waist.

“Sorry baby didn’t mean to squeeze ya so tight,” he snickers, his hands consuming your body.

“Was there a certain way you wanted to do this? I want to make this as painless as possible,” he says softly, concern filling his eyes.

“No, I thought you would know how to do this the best,” you say jokingly.

“Well, yes, I’ve turned people before. I’ve just never turned someone I love so dearly… this is all new to me too,” he jests.

Your heart thumps faster, anxiety and intrigue filling your veins. A million things run through your head and you don’t know what to do exactly. There isn’t a play-by-play of how to become a vampire exactly. Would you go into a blood frenzy the second he bites you? Could it be contained? What would this all feel like? You sort through your scattered thoughts and try to ask them calmly.

“And where should I… bite you?” You say softly. He looks at you intensely, liking the sound of that proposition already.

“Anywhere you want baby, your instincts will take over and you’ll know what to do, trust me,” he coos, softly touching the side of your neck with his fingertips.

You push at his chest, leading him to the edge of the bed where he sits down when he feels the plush mattress hit the back of his knees. You stand in front of him and want to devour him. A shiver runs through you at that thought and you sit on his lap.

“Kiss me,” you plead, your heart racing against him. He wraps his arms around your waist with a grunt and pulls you even closer to his body. His hand caresses the back of your head and kisses your lips, tenderness and need filling you. You wrap your arms around him tightly and melt into his cool touch. He kisses down your cheek and onto your neck, nipping there causing an airy moan to escape from your lips.

“I wanna fuck you. I want to fuck my wife,” he growls, grinding your core on his bulge. You grumble in his neck and bite there, making him groan.

“Turn me first. Then I’ll be able to keep you up all night and fuck you how you like,” you tease. He bites his lower lip, his large hands cupping your supple breasts.

“You promise? Do you think you can take that all night? Even if you’re a vampire?” he growls. Your cheeks redden, unable to denounce his godawful seductive ways you were sure even in immortal life, you would never be able to handle normally. You sigh at the notion and you feel yourself melt into him.

“Yes, I promise you.” You moan into his mouth, going in for another kiss.

“No, let me make you feel good first. Please let me give you this and I will turn you after,” he tells you.

You don’t want to fight him over this and the way he’s looking at you with these dark and hungry eyes, you can’t say no to him. He beckons you to get closer to him and he crawls back on the bed, slowly unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it to the side. You crawl in between his legs and unbutton his pants, needing to feel his naked body on yours.

He lays down on the bed and you unzip your dress, watching how he looks at you with big, needy eyes. You start to pepper kisses up his naked body, making his chest huff with anticipation. Your eyes never leave his as your mouth gets dangerously close to his cock. Your tongue licks the underside of his shaft in one long swipe and he groans in agony. You gently rub his cock in your hand and look up at him innocently.

“Let me make you feel good. Just like this,” you coo, sucking on his head, moving the rest of his length with your hand.

“Goddamn baby, no,” he commands. You stop and he pulls at your arms to make you get on top of him. You look up at him unsure what he’s doing.

“I need to take care of you, the way I want to,” he grumbles, his hand slithering up to your neck and squeezing there. “Let me take care of my wife real nice now.”

You grab onto his wrist and your eyes roll back at the pressure closed around your neck.

“You know I’ll be just as strong as you when you turn me. Enjoy getting your way with me now while I can’t put up a good fight,” you tease. He grunts at that notion and gives you his hungry stare, his eyes slowly devouring your body.

“Oh, darlin’ what makes you think you’ll want to put up a fight? Do you think you’ll be able to fight how much you want me when you’re turned? It’ll be even worse than it is now.” He smirks devilishly. You stare at him drunkenly, not imagining you could want him any more than you do now.

“Goddamn it, don’t start,” you say holding his jaw, knowing it’s going to fuel him more. You bite the inside of your cheek and feel your core flutter. Fire ignites in his eyes and he pulls by you closer to his face.

“Hmm,” he hums to himself smugly, “I’m not doing anything. I’m just stating mere facts. And by the looks of it,” he pauses and his hand finds your dripping heat, “you like the idea of wanting me more. You like the idea of having my cock ruin you hmm? Just ruining my favorite places to be inside of all night, like this one,” he says as his fingers tease through your folds and circles your entrance.

“And this one,” he coos, pressing his index finger to your lips and you can’t help but lick the pad of it.

He lets out a satisfied grumble,” Mhmm, I love it when you beg for it, ” He teases, his fingers picking up pace and gathering more of the slick that has accumulated there. You gasp at the friction he gives you and try your best to not give him the satisfaction of showing how good it feels.

“God, I know you do. You just love to hear your name screamed, don’t you? Thought you’d get enough from all the audiences screaming your name,” You hiss. In the blink of an eye, his eyes are dark and ravenous. Two of his fingers plunge into your wet heat and curl them deep inside you. You gasp at the sensation and your eyes roll back.

“I wonder if you’ll be this insolent as a vampire too? I wonder if you’ll always test me and keep having me punish you for saying such things to me,” He says as he gives your ass a swift spank. “You’re going to be exhausted at the rate you don’t listen.” He moves his fingers and twists them deeper inside you and you groan, your hips moving with his hand.

“Elvis,” you hiss at him, his fingers continuing to make you fall apart.

“That’s right honey, you can be louder if you want to, no one’s in the penthouse. Say it one more time for me, nice and loud,” he teases devilishly. You shut your eyes in agony, pleasure skyrocketing into your body and making everything else seem meaningless.

“Elvisss, please! Please,” you whimper louder.

“Let me please you, baby. Let me give you more,” he coos. Your heart races a million miles per hour and you give in. Your body stiffens and you feel your core flutter at the notion.

“Yes, I’ll let you take me however you want,” you moan.

“Mhmm, good girl. Turn around and get on me,” he commands.

You look at him unsure, if you’re understanding correctly, you’ve never done this kind of thing and it made you feel like you’re about to die. You do as you’re told though and turn around on him straddling his torso, taking his long length in your hand, getting ready to take him inside your dripping heat. You suddenly feel his hands on your hips and makes you angle them back to his face. You look over your shoulder at him in disbelief. He makes your breathing hitch and your body begins to tremble.

“That’s it, baby, just relax,” he says low. You feel his thumb swipe through your dripping heat and you whine. You felt so exposed, so naughty for doing this sort of thing. You’ve never done this! The most intimate parts of you were just in his face and there was no being modest about anything now.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath as he plays with you, his thumb gathering your seeping arousal.

“Fuck baby this little pussy just dripping for me? Lookin’ absolutely delicious,” he groans.

That’s when you feel his tongue start to lap through your folds, groaning deeply as he tastes you. His low grumbling sounds made you wetter by the second. God damn him and his perfect mouth. Your chest heaves and you can’t keep your eyes open as he gives you the most intense wave of pleasure. He focuses on teasing you, not staying in one particular place for too long. His hands have a firm grip on your hips, keeping you as still as possible as his mouth does the work.

You open your eyes and find his cock hard and dripping with precum in front of your face. You could barely function with his mouth on you like this but you were going to try to please him too. Your hand gathers the slick on his head and you slowly start to spread it along his length. He lets out a low grumble that sends a vibration through you and you gasp. You do this slowly and try to tease him as much as he did to you but there’s no point. He always wins the teasing game.

You lean your upper body lower and start to swirl your tongue around his head. Another deep moan comes from him and it makes your body feel limp.

His tongue works faster on you and you let more of his cock slip into your mouth. You both moan together and his hips move up very faintly with your movements. You had never experienced anything like this and it was incredibly fervid getting to get fucked by his perfect mouth and you do the same to him.

You suddenly feel his tongue enter your core and you gasp for air. Your hips can’t help but rock back into his face. It felt too good not to and after all the teasing he’s done, you needed him inside you.

“Oh God, baby yes. Oh yes, fuck me,” You pant. He responds to you with a moan as his mouth is on you, sucking on your clit and then moving his tongue back inside you.

You try to focus on him more and suck more of his length. He helps you as he moves his cock in and out of you more and your tongue does the rest. But you couldn’t last much longer, not with the way he was devouring your pussy. You can barely catch your breath and his cock was hitting the back of your throat, making the most vile noises.

He moans again and you are about to get off of him when he stops you and grabs your thighs with his hands.

“Stay on me. Turn around and come sit on my face,” he growls, his voice exhibiting an unparalleled amount of dominance. You do as you’re told and turn around, placing your knees on either side of his head. He greedily grabs your hips, sitting you down, putting his mouth back on your core. It doesn’t take long for him to make you see stars with the way he’s eating you, like it was the first time, making it all too much to handle. Your walls flutter and your body shakes on top of him. Your hips roll on his face, chasing the high of your orgasm and your hand rakes through your hair, looking up to the ceiling.

“Oh my God baby,” you cry out, gasping for breath.

He teases at your entrance, too sensitive after all this but he doesn’t care, he wants to watch you squirm on top of him. It was one of his favorite things to do. Your body keeps shaking and he looks up at you with lust lighting up his dark eyes.

He lifts you up off his face so that you’re hovering above him on your knees and he turns his face to the inside of your thigh to kiss it but groans slightly instead. The scar from where Daniel bit you was still very prominent there and you were sure it killed Elvis to look at. He groans uncomfortably the more he looks at it. You place your hand on his face, making him look up at you.

“I’m all yours, no one else's. Feed baby, right there, it’s all yours,” you pant. His hands grip on your thighs tighter and he lets out a frustrated grunt before he sinks his teeth into your scarred flesh. You gasp as his sharp fangs pierce into your fragile skin, all too close to your over-sensitive core.

You try to stifle the groan that comes out of you, the sharp pain of his fangs making you wince. He’d never fed here before, it was all so new and fragile. Maybe the scar from the previous bite made it ultra-sensitive. Either way, it was all such a new sensation, and pain spread through you.

He swallows your blood delightedly and has a grip around your thighs that makes you immovable. Small groans come from the back of his throat as he feeds, and it just about makes you want to faint. The way he sounds when he’s with you will never be something you’ll ever get tired of. It’s like he’s never touched you before. Never gotten to see you naked. Never tasted any part of you and gets to experience it for the first time.

Your legs begin to quiver and you feel your arousal spill out of you and run down your thigh. He drinks a few more gulps and slowly stops, gently taking his fangs out of you so he doesn’t tear your skin harshly. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and his tongue is back on your thigh, licking the remaining blood that is seeping out of the wound and licking up your spilled arousal. You curse at him, looking down and watching how his hungry eyes light up when he sees you panting above him.

In a flash, he has you pinned on the bed with your arms above your head and his hands firmly pinning you there. “Fuckin’ hell baby,” he grunts. You feel the tip of his cock tease your entrance and you moan, already too overworked to be teased.

“Honey please,” you whimper.

He gently puts his cock all the way inside you, making you cry out his name, fucking you slow and powerfully.

“Tell me what you want,” he coos, his voice sending shivers through you, moving his hips the way only he can.

You can’t rationally speak, everything was so overwhelming and your mind couldn’t put together what you wanted to say.

“I w-want…. I- oh please honey I-,” you mutter, unable to put together any cohesive thoughts together.

His hips snap into you, powerful and claiming, making you want to see stars once again. You groan in torment, unable to focus on anything else but his hard cock fucking you into the bed.

“Come on baby girl you can say it,” growls, slowing his thrusts to let you catch your breath but still making it difficult.

“Change me, please. I’m ready,” you tell him. He lets go of your arms and covers your body in kisses, smothering you with his love. He reaches your face and kisses your lips softly, the mood of the room changing dramatically. He fucks you slow and controlled, taking his time in enjoying all of you.

He takes a sharp breath and glides his finger along the side of your neck where your scar resides. His eyes wander down to the other scars on your chest, your tummy, and the inside of your thigh that is still leaking blood. You wished he wouldn’t look there, those scars a constant reminder of what awful things were done to you. His fingers trace every outline of the bite marks left on you and he looks back up at you.

“Okay baby,” he softly murmurs. Your nails rake down his arms in fear, anticipation, and nervousness. You try to pull him close but he stays hovering above you. His eyes darken again and he licks his bottom lip. You want him closer, kissing you with passion and distract you from the pain that will ensue.

“Elvis, please,” you whimper.

“Hold onto me tight okay? Don’t let go,” he tells you. You nod your head immediately and your chest heaves looking at his sharp fangs.

“I love you,” he whimpers.

“I love you too,” you breathe.

He lets out a grunt before leaning down and kissing your neck. Sparks of electricity run through you and hold onto his back. He swivels his hips into you making you gasp for air and you turn your head to the side. A pleased groan comes from Elvis’ mouth as your neck is fully exposed to him, right where he needs to bite. You whimper in agony for him, ready to be completely his and start anew.

A deep growl comes from his throat and you feel his hand grip at your jaw, keeping you still. Your heart pounds in your ears and that's when you feel his sharp fangs pierce into your neck. You cry out, the pain rippling through you like a tidal wave. He was right, this hurt worse than any other bite. The skin here was so much more sensitive and thin, it felt like his bite was fifty sets of fangs inside you all at once. Your nails embed themselves into his back, the pain increasing with every moment he was drinking out of your neck. You hear him moaning as he’s drinking more of your blood than he ever has before. But he has to for his venom to enter your bloodstream.

You feel tears puddling from the corners of your eyes, unable to catch your breath. Your gasps and groans fill the room as Elvis is groaning, drinking from your neck in a focused manner. He pulls you up from the bed, sitting back with you sitting on him, holding you close as he swallows your blood with you two still connected.

Then you feel it; his venom. It was like wildfire burning and coursing through your veins. It made your entire body feel stiff and paralyzed. All you could manage to do was groan in agony, the pain paralyzing the rest of your senses. Your eyes started to feel the pain too and could only see large black specs in your vision. It was hurting to keep them open and each blink made it worse. Every movement you made made your body cry out in agony. Elvis was still feeding, holding the back of your head with his hand to support you. It felt like a long strain of time passed before he finally stopped and took his fangs out of you. You couldn’t see and the only thing keeping you in this moment was Elvis’ vice grip he had around your body that you were sure was going to break your bones. He doesn’t say anything and you suddenly feel both of his hands on your face. You can barely keep your head up and the searing flame burning in your eyes makes it unbearable.

“Oh fuck,” he breathes out, his tone scared and trembling. Your brain couldn’t compute what he meant or what he was seeing but it couldn’t have been good.

“Baby, it’s gonna be alright. I know it hurts I’m so sorry. Please forgive me,” he says trembling. His voice seemed so far away from you, like in another void of time. You feel his tongue lick your open wound and his hand placed on your cheek.

“You need to bite me now honey. Right now,” he demands, but to you, his voice sounds so far away and almost like an angelic whisper and you don’t move. His hand leads your head to his neck and this sweet, savory scent fills your nose. You groan in misery and press your lips to his neck. You could feel his light pulse on his neck and that sweet scent hit you again like a train. You open your mouth and let this new found instinct take over your senses. You bite down on Elvis’ neck hard and feel his normal rigid flesh give way to much more soft and supple skin. He pushes the back of your head into his neck more, encouraging you to keep going. You sink your teeth deeper into him and you taste the first taste of blood hit your tongue. It was strange at first, it didn’t taste like much and almost tasted metallic. Then you start to suck more and that’s when it hit you; the most savory and decadent thing you’ve ever put on your lips. His blood ran down your throat and your body thanked you for it. You were still weak but it felt good to drink from his neck. You had enough strength to pull yourself closer to him and feed more. You faintly hear him moan, clutching to your body and breathing heavily. Your hunger worsens and you drink bigger gulps, you have never felt hunger like this. This ravenous appetite Elvis would describe to you was very much real and worse than you realized. But your head throbbed and your eyes still burned, unable to see anything.

You take your mouth off his neck and gasp for air. Everything felt like it was on fire and you didn’t know what to do. Your body went limp and your hearing went out.

Black.

Your eyes flutter open and the air is still, almost too still. You look at the white ceiling and it feels like you’re looking at it through a magnifying lens. You saw every single texture and line that went through the ceiling and it confused you. Your eyes shift to somewhere else and a piece of lint floats into your vision. You were able to discern every wave and bend of the fiber it was bizarre.

“Hey darlin’,” a smooth baritone voice whispers at the other end of the room.

You slowly sit up in the bed and see Elvis sitting in a chair in the corner with sunglasses on and a silk shirt unbuttoned.

You take a deep breath through your nose and the most heavenly scent fills your head. It was mouth-watering good. It was sweet and savory, warm and delicious with each breath you took. Breathing felt peculiar, almost like it wasn’t needed.

Your hands move on the sheets and you can feel the softness of them through every thread. A robe was wrapped around you and tied at your waist. The silk fabric felt nice around you and smelled just as great as the room.

Your legs swivel to the edge of the bed and slowly gain your bearings. Elvis gets up and cautiously walks to you. Everything felt off and way too sensitive. The plush carpet was grainy and soft at the same time. It went in between your toes and made it tickle.

You look up at Elvis and your breath nearly gets sucked out of you.

You’ve never seen such a beautiful man in your life.

Every single detail was perfect. His hair, his nose, his pouty lips.

All of it.

It was like you saw him for the first time and it makes you feel entranced. He changed from the last memory you had of him. He had a brighter glow about him, his hair shorter, and his face looked more flawless if that’s even possible.

You raise your hand to touch his face and the warmth of his skin radiates through you. His skin felt perfect and near obsessional. There wasn’t a flaw on his face and you never felt so in awe. You place your other hand on his chest and the course little hairs that resided there felt nice underneath your fingertips. And then it hits you; you can feel his warmth. He’s not cold and instead melts into your touch.

He places his hand on the back of your head to have you look at him. He lets out a sigh of relief and smiles at you lovingly.

“Hi beautiful, I missed you,” he coos, leaning in to kiss you. God those lips were perfection, devouring yours with intense need and the utmost importance. You sigh softly into him, loving how incredible he feels. He pulls away to look you over again, and bites his bottom lip slowly, making it pop.

“Jesus, you’re perfect. How was it possible for you to become even more beautiful…” he says dazed. You smirk at him and shake your head. “Come here, you need to look at yourself,” he says, leading you over to the large mirror in the corner of the room.

He holds your hand as he leads you over but you couldn’t care how you looked right now. All you wanted to do was study every detail of his face because you felt like you’d never seen him like this before. Stunning and perfect in every way. Elvis steps behind you and turns you around toward the mirror. You slowly turn your focus to your reflection and cock your head in confusion. You barely recognize yourself and look up at Elvis in the mirror.

You stare back at your golden, gleaming eyes and your long fanning lashes. You were in shock by what you were seeing, you had almost prepared yourself to see red eyes whenever you thought of changing into a vampire. The golden hue was like sunlight; bright, warm, and full of life. Your hair’s natural waves became more defined and the auburn color was vibrant and lustrous. Your skin was also smooth and pale like his and all your senses felt heightened. Every breath you took was intense and you rubbed your thumb against his hand and felt the hairs that were there.

The robe you’re wearing is not tightly tied around your waist so it exposes your chest and neck. As you look closer, you realize the scars from the bite marks are gone, and all that’s left behind is glass-smooth skin. Elvis’ hand is around your torso, melting into you and making you realize this is all real and not some delusion.

You twist your body around to face him and don’t know where to begin.

“What happened? Why are m-my eyes…” you trail off. He starts to take off his sunglasses and chuckles softly, looking down at the ground. He shoots his gaze back up to you and you gasp.

The same golden eyes stare back at you and look even more beautiful. You caress his face, lightly rubbing your thumb across his cheek.

“Oh my God, they’re stunning honey. God, how can you look better than before? What- What does this mean? Is this normal?” You ask.

He smiles at you as he tries to soothe your worries away.

“Shh baby it’s okay. I think it's because… we’re one. In heart and soul, we are one.” He smiles.

•

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