#Blue you sit so pretty west of the one

[sorryiliketoscreenshot]

Now let us drink the stars, it's time to steal away Let's go get lost right here in the USA Let's go get lost, let's go get lost

[st4rfckerz]

Farmboy | Farmhand!Anakin Skywalker x Farmers!daughter

word count: 4.1k

warnings: MDNI 18+, oral (male receiving), face fucking (if you squint), unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, slow(ish) buildup, not proofread

summary: Anakin is your family's farmhand and after inviting him to dinner, you can't keep your hands to yourself

Your family owned a farm out West, not far from the outskirts of town. It was quiet, as farms often are. The land was hilly, rolling out as far as you could see. The sun was shining, and the blue sky was bright with few clouds in it. The sound of horses and the wind rustling through the trees was all you heard. The air was crisp, and there was a slight tang of wildflowers.

Anakin was one of the farmhands that your family had hired a few months ago, a man who was quiet but skilled. As one of their hired hands, he was responsible for helping with the maintenance of the farm's livestock and machinery. His primary role was to ensure everything ran smoothly, which meant keeping the animals fed and watered while fixing broken machinery when needed.

It was midday when you approached him in the garden shed with a worried expression on your face. "Ani, I need your help. The sheep pen collapsed, and I can't find any tools nearby." Panic was evident in your voice, hinting at the potential consequences of leaving the sheep unattended for too long. Anakin followed you back to the dimly lit barn and you found the sheep wandering around their stalls, bleeting softly.

"I see," he muttered looking at the pen, he glanced over where the sheep were grazing. "I hope nothing else broke." he says under his breath, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of damage. He walked forward, whistling for the sheep that were scattered, and they came to him. He began leading them towards their pen, some were very fussy about it and didn’t want to go, yet he remained calm and gentle.

"Don't worry, I'll fix it," Anakin assured you, stepping over the fence and rummaging through the debris left by the fallen wood.

"You need me to help with anything?" you stand near him awkwardly, not sure what to do.

“Nope. I got it under control,” He said calmly, continuing to lead the sheep. You admired his patience and his ability to stay so level headed. "You can just sit there and look pretty while I get this done." Anakin shoots you a slick smile that makes your insides turn a little.

"I won't be bothering you?" you ask as you sit down on a bale of hay.

"You won't be bothering me at all sweetheart," He says, his eyes traveled over your body and he smirked at you. "You can be my moral support." He leans against the aged wall of the barn. His stance was relaxed, very casual as he was being nonchalant, but with you he was a little different. Something about you made him like this.

Anakin couldn't help but notice how good you looked in their simple dress, its hemline brushing against your thighs, revealing just enough skin to drive him wild. The sunset cast a warm, golden light over your body, creating a delicate glowy outline around your figure. It was almost like the sun was wrapping itself around you.

"You know you could stay for supper if you'd like," you suggest, breaking the silence of the barn. "I'm sure my folks won't mind." He watched as you leaned back on the bale of hay, and he couldn't help but notice your dress riding up a little. It was a small thing to notice, but he saw it.

Your dress wasn't that short, by any means, but the way it rode up on your legs was enough to make Anakin notice you. His gaze drifted down to your legs, and back up to your face.

"Oh I don't know, I don't wanna intrude or anything-" You smiled and cut him off, stopping him in his tracks.

"Please Ani? Just this once?" You walked over to him, and with that sweet tone in your voice, you were playing him like a fiddle. It was clear that your invitation was genuine, you wanted him to stay so you could keep his company. He smiled at you and looked away from your eyes for a moment. When he looked back at you, he was slightly speechless. The words were caught in his throat, and he couldn't speak, he wasn't used to someone that could make him flustered.

"Well, alright I s'pose I could join you." Anakin smiles. "What's mama bear fixin' up tonight?"

he smirked at you, his expression was playful, but you could tell he was serious. You laughed lightly at the silly nickname he often uses for you mother.

“She’s making beef stew, with biscuits. All from scratch, too.” you explain. "And there's fresh apple pie for dessert." His smile showed he was interested, and he couldn't help but admire your beauty. You looked like a little doll, with sweet doe eyes that could disarm any man.

"Then I'll be there." His voice had a masculine yet flirty quality to it, and it sent shivers down your spine. It was like music to your ears.

"Good, I'll see you later farmboy." You tease, knocking his hip with your own as you walked past him. You felt his eyes devouring you whole, looking at your sweet face and the sway of your hips.

As he continues to fix the pen, he can't help but think about the upcoming dinner. He's never had dinner with you and your family before, so he wondered how it would go. He didn't know if he'd be welcome, but you said they wouldn't mind, and you're pretty much like a little princess in their eyes so it shouldn't go wrong at all.

The evening rolled around, you were sitting at the table waiting for him, ready for the dinner to begin. Your family was already seated around the table, discussing various things. They all seemed pretty jovial, and you could hear the occasional laughter, as well as bits of conversation.

You looked around and expected to see Anakin walking through the door at any second, yet he was a bit late which was out of character for him.

Just as you thought he might've bailed last minute, Anakin's voice draws your attention towards the door, where he was finally walking in. His expression had a hint of embarrassment, since he was later than he thought he'd be. He had a shy yet sheepish look on his face, as if he expected you or your family to reprimand him.

"Sorry," he said quietly, looking at you, "I'm a bit late."

"Ani! I was afraid you flaked out on us." you joke as you abruptly got up from your seat to greet him. When Anakin saw you get up and come closer to him, he was initially confused as to why. But then you envelope him in a tight hug, catching him completely off guard. He didn't know how to respond, as he was taken aback by your show of affection.

"No, I'd never do a thing like that." he responds.

He hugged you back, his hands squeezing you tightly as you felt his body pressing against yours. He was caught by surprise, and he didn't expect you to show any affection. His body stiffened up as you hugged him, as he remained still.

However, he felt a wave of warmth rush through him and it caused him to relax into the hug. He wrapped his arms around you, feeling a new feeling of closeness between you both.

"Come eat, there's plenty of food." You let go of the embrace, but you still keep your hands on him, dragging him to the seat right next to you. He didn't hesitate to follow you, nor did he show any opposition. You both sit down, with you being right next to Anakin. You pull yourself slightly close to him, close enough that he could feel it.

Anakin's eyes look up at your father, his expression showing a bit of anxiety. Your father smiles warmly at him, and welcomes him to the table. Anakin smiles back in response, looking down at the table a bit. Your father proceeds to sit down, as does the rest of your family. The dinner proceeds like normal, everyone engaging in conversation with one another.

"So Anakin, how's everything been?" your father asks, his aged, gravelly voice booming throughout the room.

"I've been quite fine sir, same old news." Anakin says, smiling a bit as he takes a bite from his biscuit.

"Anakin fixed the sheep pen today." The conversation shifts as you interject, causing Anakin's attention to look up. Your words get everyone's attention, as they all look at Anakin, who is sitting to the side.

"Oh, did he?" your father says, looking at him. Anakin's ears pick up, and he looks over towards you. Your father continues, "I'm sure the sheep are happy." He blushes slightly, nodding his head humbly as he looks at your dad.

Your mother pipes up with her own question, pointing the discussion in another direction.

"So Anakin, what do you do in your free time?"

Anakin answers, keeping his tone relaxed and level.

"Nothin' too special really," he says, taking a few moments to respond, "Just hang around, or fix things. Y'know how it is." He's cordial, polite, and has a soft attitude.

He treats you with respect, yet his attention keeps flicking back towards you again and again, as if he was drawn to your charms. You felt as if you were a magnet to him, as he always looked over at you after he said anything.

As you lean forward to grab the salt, your fingers brush against Anakin's thigh under the table, a subtle gesture that sends a thrill through both of you. He raises an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips. He knows exactly what you're doing. You quickly return to your seat, trying to hide your flushed cheeks under the low light.

"The food is really good mom." you smile sweetly at her. While you speak, your fingers graze along Anakin's growing bulge under the table, a subtle hint of your growing attraction.

Anakin's eyes meet yours for a brief moment, he swallows hard, trying to maintain his composure as he continues the conversation. The tension between you two is palpable, yet unnoticed by the rest of the family.

Dinner comes to an end, and your mother presents a homemade apple pie for dessert. The family cheers in appreciation, and you can't help but smile at the delicious aroma wafting through the room. The scent of apple pie creates a cozy atmosphere that wraps around you like a warm blanket. Anakin compliments your mother on the meal, his eyes never straying far from yours.

As everyone digs into the apple pie, you feel Anakin's hand gently slide in between your thighs under the table. You try your hardest to suppress the smile creeping onto your face, the connection between you two growing stronger with each passing moment. The dessert is sweet, but it's nothing compared to the warmth you feel inside.

When you finish eating your piece of pie, you stand up and gather your plate and utensils, turning to head towards the kitchen sink. Anakin follows closely behind. You work side by side, the clinking of dishes echoing through the kitchen.

Anakin's hands are large and rough from farm work, but they move gracefully as he washes the dishes. He looks at you, his expression calm but also full of appreciation.

"It was nice having dinner with your family." he tells you, "thanks for inviting me over."

You give him a smile and use a nearby towel to wipe your hands. "It was no problem, they enjoyed your company." He smiles back, his jaw firm but his eyes showing that he was genuinely pleased.

Just as your family enters the kitchen with their now empty plates,  you lean in close to Anakin, your voice barely above a whisper. "Meet me in the barn in five minutes." you say, your eyes filled with anticipation. Anakin's gaze locks onto yours for a moment before he nods, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Your father approaches, engaging Anakin in conversation about the farm and the upcoming town festival. You turn to your mother, your cheeks flushed but your voice steady. "I'll be right back, I just need to check on the chicken coop."

Your mother doesn't seem to suspect anything unusual since this was usually the time you'd check on the chickens anyway. "Take your time, dear. We'll be in here for a bit longer." She waves you off, her smile warm and understanding.

You wait for everyone to settle down before slipping out of the house, making sure to lock the door behind you. The moonlit night casts a pearlescent glow over the yard, illuminating the path leading to the barn. You hurry inside, your heart racing with exhilaration.

Anakin watches you leave, his eyes never leaving yours as you exit the house. He knows what's coming next, and he can't help but feel a whirlwind of trepidation. The anticipation killing him, but he forces himself to continue the conversation with your father, his voice steady despite the turmoil within him.

Finally, your father finishes his glass of sweet tea and stands up, nodding goodbye to Anakin after he explains that he should be heading home.

The sound of crickets and distant frogs filled the air as Anakin walks towards the barn, his boots rustling against the grass beneath him. He approaches the old barn slowly, his heart racing faster than a stallion at the starting gate. He takes a deep breath before opening the door, the creak of the hinges echoing through the night. He called out your name softly, his voice tinged with anticipation. The barn is dimly lit, with the moonlight filtering in through the cracks in the wooden walls.

As he stepped inside, he felt a sense of relief wash over him. You were there, your eyes locked onto his.

"Hi." you say softly, your voice tinged with a hint of mischief. The barn feels smaller now, the air thick with tension. Your eyes lock onto each other, and the crickets chirping outside seem to grow louder. Anakin takes a step towards you, his confidence wavering only slightly.

"Hey," his tone is softer than normally, you could tell just from his voice he was nervous. His eyes are locked on you, scanning every inch of your body. "Your folks know you're in here?" he asks.

You shake your head, biting your lip to suppress your smile. "I told them I'm checking on the chickens." His eyebrow raises, a hint of amusement playing on his face.

Anakin clicks his tongue while shaking his head teasingly. "You shouldn't be lyin' to your parents sweetheart." He looks at you with a certain sparkle in his eyes, as if you made him feel special with a simple remark.

"Technically, I glanced over there when i was walking over here." you state matter-of-factly. Anakin steps closer to you, his fingers brushing the little strands of hair out of your face. His eyes never leaving yours. His touch is gentle, yet electric, making your heart race even faster. You step closer to him and you can't help but feel the pull between you two. The barn feels comforting and inviting, a secret haven away from the world.

"You look real pretty tonight." Anakin compliments sincerely, his hand still resting on your cheek. His thumb brushes against your jawline, sending shivers down your spine. You nuzzle your cheek against Anakin's big palm. "Thanks," you whisper, your voice barely audible in the silence of the barn.

Anakin's thumb traces a line along your lower lip, teasingly brushing against the corner of your mouth. His hand moves to your waist, his fingertips grazing the hem of your dress, sending electric currents through your body. Anakin leans in, pressing his lips against yours in a gentle peck. He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching for your reaction. Seeing your approval, he leans in again, this time with more intensity. His kiss is soft yet passionate, filled with a sense of longing.

The kiss intensifies, your lips pressing harder against each other, tongues dancing in a rhythm only you two understand. Anakin's hands slide into your hair, pulling you closer, his breath hitching in your mouth. You break the kiss, trailing your lips against the rough stubble along his jaw. He groans softly, his hand tightening on your hair.

"Been thinkin' about you all day," Anakin panted between breaths. He grips your waist to pull you impossibly closer as you continue to explore his neck with your lips. "You and that damn dress." His hands moved up to cup your breasts, massaging them roughly through the thin fabric of your dress.

You giggle softly, your teeth grazing lightly against his neck. "You're that worked up over a dress, Ani?" Anakin whines quietly in response, his hips desperately bucking in your direction. You pull back slightly, your eyes locked on Anakin's. His eyes widened in surprise as you suddenly dropped to your knees, your hands reaching for his belt buckle. He groaned, his hips rocking forward, his cock straining against his pants.

Your hands reach for the hem of his pants, slowly pulling them down, revealing his muscular thighs. You reach down further, your fingers brushing against the waistband of his underwear. With a quick tug, they fall to the ground revealing his thick cock, hard and ready just for you.

"You're killing me kid." He managed to croak out as you slowly wrap your hand around the base of his shaft, stroking it gently. You lean forward and kiss his angry red tip. It twitches in anticipation, leaking a small amount of precum onto your lip. Your tongue darts out, tentatively exploring the head of his cock, savoring the salty taste. You moan softly, your hands reaching down to cup his balls, massaging them gently.

Anakin's hands grip your hair tightly, his moans turning into groans of pleasure as you continue to tease him. "F-fuckin' hell," he growls, his hips rocking back and forth, pushing his cock further into your mouth. You stroke the part of him that doesn't fit into your mouth, your fingers gliding up and down his length. You can feel him twitching, his body trembling under your touch.

His cock pulses in your hand and his breaths come in ragged gasps. You gag slightly, your eyes watering, but you don't pull away. Instead, you take as much of him as you possibly can.

" 'M close- hold on, I'm- ah!" His cock twitches violently in your mouth, shooting a hot stream of cum down your throat. You swallow it unhesitatingly, eager to please him. Gazing up at Anakin, your eyes is fixed on his. He's panting heavily, his hands shaking slightly. His eyes are filled with admiration and desire. You can feel the heat of his gaze, and it makes you blush slightly.

"Come 'ere," he says, his voice hoarse. He pulls you to your feet, his lips crashing into yours. His tongue dances with yours, tasting himself on your tongue. His hands wandering over your body, cupping your ass and pulling you closer. As you kiss Anakin, you can feel him growing hard again, his cock pressing against your thigh. He slowly walks forward, guiding you towards the small tractor in the back of the barn. His lips never leave yours, his hands roaming over your body, exploring every inch. He moans into the kiss, slapping his big hand against the fat of your ass. "Turn around for me baby." he commands.

Anakin bends you over the tractor, and flips your dress up, exposing your pink cotton panties to him. He strokes the growing wet spot gently, his fingers grazing your bare skin.

"Jesus, she's practically dripping for me." he whispers, his voice filled with lust. His hands move to your panties, tugging them to the side, revealing your swollen, hot flesh. He licks his lips, his eyes locked onto your slobbering cunt. His cock pulses, ready to be inside you.

Anakin lines up his cock with your entrance, gently pushing in. You gasp, your body adjusting to his girth. He holds onto your hips, guiding himself inside you. He thrusts deeper, his cock filling you completely. You moan softly, your body quickly getting used to his size. "Thaaat's it, angel." he praises, his voice low and alluring. "Let me in."

His hips move slowly at first, his cock sliding in and out of you with ease. Your body responds, your cunt clenching around him, pulling him deeper. Anakin's breaths come in ragged gasps as he starts to move faster, his hips slamming into you, each thrust sending you further onto the tractor.

You cry out as he sweetly rolls his abdomen, his cock hitting your sweet spot with each movement. The tractor creaks under your weight, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the barn.

"Takin' me so good baby." he growls, you can feel his cock stretching you, filling you completely.

"M-more Ani," you beg, your voice hoarse. "Need more-"

"Yeah? You want more?" he rasps, his hands gripping the back of your neck tightly. Anakin pulls you up by your neck and your back is now pressed against his chest. He thrusts harder, his cock hitting your G-spot with every movement. You yelp in surprise, your nails digging into the arm he has wrapped around your shoulders to keep your body flush against his. "There you go, you can take it, I know you can."

"Needy little girl," he teases, his voice thick with desire. "Just couldn't keep your hands off me at dinner, shit, could've bent you over that damn table and fucked you raw in front of your folks if I wanted to."

You moan, your head thrown back, your body moving with his. Your walls flutter around him when you hear his vulgar words.

He chuckles, his hands gripping your neck tighter. "You'd like that wouldn't you? Oh, you're dirty." He turns your head roughly, his lips crashing into yours, kissing you messily.

His tongue duels with yours, his hands gripping your neck tighter, holding you in place. You moan into the kiss, your body trembling. "Ani- cumming, c-cumming!" You can't form any coherent words, your breath coming in gasps as you neared your climax.

"Let go sweetheart, I got you," Anakin's breath tickles the shell of your ear as he speaks. You cry out as your orgasm quickly wracks over your body, your cunt contracting tightly around his cock. "That's my girl, c'mon." His breath comes in ragged gasps, and sweat trickles down his forehead, his chest heaving. It takes a few more powerful thrusts for him to fully unload inside you, his cum filling you up completely.

He takes a moment to catch his breath, and carefully withdraws from you, his cock glistening with your wetness. He hastily pulls up his pants and adjusts himself.

"You did so good for me." he whispers, his voice filled with awe. He carefully fixes your dress, smoothing out the wrinkles. "You look even prettier now," he says, his eyes filled with admiration.

He reaches up, fixing your hair, his fingers grazing your face. "You best get back to the house," he says, his voice filled with concern. "You know I'll be here tomorrow."

You nod, your cheeks flushed, your heart still racing from your encounter with him. "Mhm," you hum quietly. He smirks, his eyes filled with mischief.

You smile, a blush spreading across your cheeks when he leans in and brings his lips to yours one last time.

Anakin leads you towards the barn door, his hand still wrapped around yours. "I'll see you tomorrow sweetheart." he coos, his voice filled with promise.

You nod, your cheeks still flushed, your heart racing. "See you, farmboy." you say, your voice shaky. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, and you step out of the barn, your body still buzzing from the encounter. As you walk away, you can feel his eyes on you, watching you every step of the way. You glance back, catching him standing by his truck, his hands on his hips, watching you walk away.

You enter the house, trying to compose yourself. Your parents were still awake, sitting in the living room, sipping on their drinks. They didn't notice anything amiss about you, thankfully. You made your way upstairs to your room, still feeling the evidence of your encounter between your legs.

You feel a thrill of excitement, knowing that Anakin will be waiting for you at that old barn, ready to have you whenever he wants.

[idyllcy]

a pathological people pleaser

word count: 4.4k

warnings: smut || pt 2 to and i wouldn't marry me either

summary: Jinshi's getting desperate to bed you.

夏

Jinshi contemplates what kind of a ring to get you. He really does. He looks through the designs that had been initially made for your marriage, but he finds inspiration in none of them. You would suit a ring that's crafted with only the finest of materials, not a ring that was just bought from the streets. Though, you had been going out with Maomao more often with some guards to have fun and buy food. At some point, the palace chefs are going to need to learn how to make a roujiamo that tastes like the ones on the street and not the fancy food that you had grown used to having.

He calls Maomao and Gaoshun for help picking a ring, but ultimately neither of them come up with something that would suit you. (He even asks his mother, but she is no help either.)

So, he rots in the confinement of your shared office, head spinning as he sketches more and more ring designs. The one of the current empress is nice, but it is not something of your style. The one that his mother had received was pretty as well, but not something that he desired to put on you. Perhaps a simple jade ring of your size would do better, but it seemed too plain compared to the kind of treatment he was supposed to give you. A simple jade ring would be fitting for him, but not necessarily for you. He would give you gold, but he wasn't quite sure what kind of a ring design would fit you.

He's gonna age from this, he swears.

Yet, he continues sketching at it between his paperwork, frowning at how big of a demand there are for eunuchs. The lower ranking concubines were still desperate, he finds. Perhaps especially with the announcement of his marriage... not announcement. He was married, but with the revealing of his marriage, it seems some concubines are getting desperate for some sexual release. Jinshi... really is no better than they are. He finds that he can't sit still around you these days.

He's... desperate. Yeah. Desperate is the right word.

"Rotting in here again?"

"You know, I'm starting to think you're actually Diu from your actions." Jinshi grumbles from his desk, shoving the paper with the ring designs to the side, catching your eye.

"To be fair, I am him, and he is me." You pick up the paper, tilting your head at the ring designs. "Designing rings for me? How sweet of you. Why not just use one from the treasury?"

"You deserve a new one." He groans. "I wanted to design one for you."

"Why not just gold?" You hum. "And then thread a pearl and jade orb through them."

"A jade ring would be nice." Jinshi hums, staring up at the pin in your hair. "To match your pin."

"Whatever you design." You hum. "I'm sure I will be satisfied."

"It has to be perfect." He mopes. "Or else I will not forgive myself."

"That's rather harsh on yourself." You hum, reaching for his brush as you sketch a design. "I liked the ring presented to the empress."

"The blue gem?"

You tap your chin. "Though, the gold isn't my favorite combination." You finish your sketch, noting down the color scheme, and Jinshi blinks at the choice.

"You just want a plain jade ring?"

"For the wedding ring." You blink. "The westerners are quite intriguing with the tales they tell. The women there boast many rings."

"You went to the west?"

You shrug. "A season is plenty of time to explore."

"She went to a port city." Maomao speaks up from the door. "Gaoshun is asking for the report."

"I sent it to him already?" You raise a brow.

"The one regarding the ceremony in the winter."

"Ah." Jinshi's fingers slide down the stack, pulling out a booklet between all of it. "Here."

Maomao nods, pausing as she catches wind of the ring design. "How about a ring with the royal family's seal?"

"I'm not becoming crown prince." Jinshi grimaces.

"I am sure the emperor would allow it regardless."

"I don't want a ring like that." You pause. "though, it would be quite a statement to wear it on the pinky."

"You want a divorce?!" Jinshi cries, heartbroken as Maomao leaves the room with the report.

"No." You shrug. "I might if you keep putting off the concubines' requests."

Jinshi jumps in his skin as he goes back to the papers, and you glance at the ring you've drawn.

"Carve a jade ring with a phoenix for our wedding ring. I do not desire gold." You hum. "And you are to have a dragon on yours."

Jinshi looks up at you, eyes gentle as he drinks in your figure under the setting sun, summer wind rustling the leaves outside, heat not too much to handle either. There is something delicate and breathless about you to him. You are worth so much, yet he had to spend such little time compared to the age of the universe to prove that you are his only one. Time is suck a fickle thing when it came to the clouds and sky. He supposes that's more a reason to treat you well and make up for time lost.

"Is that all you want?"

"What else would I want?"

"How about a jade pendant?"

"With the royal family's seal carved into it?"

Jinshi laughs. "Why not my last name?"

"Sure, pretty prince."

Jinshi flushes.

秋

You have tea with Ah-Duo a lot during fall. The weather cools bit by bit, and you sit in your yard, peeling the sugarcane as she looks through the files, humming at your writing, each stroke nice and clean. She puts the papers down, a maid rushing over to take them to your study, and she glances at the sickle and cane in your hand. It seems you have found new talents outside of the palace walls. It fills her with a sense of warmth, almost.

"How do you feel about the new eunuchs?" She hums.

"Some of them are rather attractive." You hum, not paying much mind as you cut off a piece for the lady.

"Is that so? Yue would have a heart attack if he heard you say that." She takes the piece, popping it in her mouth as she chews, humming. "It's sweet. I like it."

"That's good." You laugh. "I had the chefs just hand me whichever one." You continue to hack at the crop with the sickle. "Jinshi would be fine."

"I doubt it." She hums, spitting out the dry cane into the bowl prepared beforehand by the maids. "He is rather protective when it comes to things he desires... you included."

"It is only recently that he has become protective over me." You hum, putting a piece into your own mouth as you chew. She was right. It is sweet. "Which is also why he refuses to become the imperial prince."

"You would make a great empress."

"I would." You chuckle. "I have been raise for the role, after all."

"Though, this is better." She smiles. "You are happier like this."

"Oh, well as empress, I suppose I would not do too much. Jinshi, though? That poor man."

"He would have quite the work set out for him." She hums. "Though, you would be there to support him."

"I suppose." You hum. "It would be better had you been ascended to the position of empress."

"What is done is done." She hums. "I find it more amusing that your talk with the emperor of letting me visit worked."

You snort. "I saw the chance and took it. It would be a shame to not host you at least once in a house that is now warm."

"I suppose so." She smiles. "Does it not hurt to cut the sugarcane yourself?"

"It does not." You hum. "My hands are stained with sugar, and I work up a good sweat. I find it fun."

"Fun?"

You snap the plant in half, handing the peeled half to Ah-Duo as you continue with the unpeeled half.

She bites it, humming. "It is good. Is there a reason to cut it? I no longer remember."

"It's so you can get the most of it." You offer her one of the knives on the table. "Be careful not to cut yourself."

"I will." She nods. "Have you learned anything else?"

"A foreigner showed me how to peel a pomegranate." You pause. "Oh, and I have developed a strange talent for peeling oranges. It is incredible how clean it can peel with the right tools."

She nods, popping a piece into her mouth.

"How are the children?" You tilt your head, cutting another piece to put in the central bowl.

"They are faring well." She hums. "They are children, after all."

"I suppose." You mumble. "Jinshi went a little insane on their family."

"Not to mention he had full right, holding the army seal." She chuckles. "I heard from the maids that the imperial court threw a fit upon the realization that you had been holding onto something so precious and had just casually given it to Jinshi in order to save a maid."

"Not just any maid at the time." You snort. "Jinshi's dear maid."

"Of course." She smiles. "Though, he had been in love you. He had simply pushed it down."

"Like father like son, I suppose." You mumble. "Has the emperor visited?"

"Not yet." She pauses. "Is he planning so?"

You turn your head at the sound of footsteps.

"Jinshi." You hum, smiling.

He steps over to press his lips to your forehead, smiling fondly at your juice-stained hands, only freezing when he remembers his mother is with you. "...niang."

Ah-Duo waives her hand. "How cute."

Jinshi flushes, and you chuckle, pinching his cheek.

"You needed something?"

"The emperor is coming for a visit, niang." He pauses. "To our residence. He will be visiting the tearoom."

You raise a brow at Jinshi.

Jinshi shakes his head at you.

"Very well." You grin, shaking Jinshi off of you as you peel the sugarcane with eerie accuracy, cutting the rest into bits for the late consort to enjoy. "You can take the bowl."

"None for me?" Jinshi pouts.

"The emperor matters more in this case." You shrug. "I shall send some maids to accompany you."

"Alone will be fine." Ah-Duo nods. "Thank you."

You smile as she leaves, and Jinshi takes her spot, pouting at the sugarcane she had left behind.

"I want a bite."

You take the plant from him, cutting pieces off for him, watching as he chews, reaching for his throat as he threatens to swallow. This fucking dumbass.

You pry his jaw open, ignoring the fact that your hands probably taste like some sort of sugar, ordering him to spit it out. He listens, dry cane spat into the bowl you've held before his mouth, and his spit slides down with hit, the poor male panting like some bitch in heat. You let go of his mouth, exhaling as you mumble. "Good boy."

The words ring in Jinshi's head and shoot straight to his dick, and he licks your fingers unconsciously, eyes half-lidded as he tastes the sugar on them. Wait.

fuck.

He was NOT supposed to do that.

You freeze as something brushes your knee, and you stare into Jinshi's eyes as he stares back up at you, blinking rapidly, praying you wouldn't point it out. The two of you meet eyes, and you back up, sitting back down as the two of you wait for the other to speak up. Jinshi refuses to speak up.

You break the silence. "I'll wait."

"Thank you." He mumbles, cheeks red in embarrassment as he rushes off to somewhere private.

This is awful.

冬

some days you wonder how long Jinshi went without sexual release.

It's a strange thought, really. So, when you and Jinshi are wedded and you're waiting for him on the wedding night in your shared bed, you don't know what to think. Alright, wedded is the wrong word. The two of you are rewedded, and you are dressed in the robes the late empress had prepared for the two of you to sleep together in. You think it's too little, but apparently it's supposed to rile Jinshi up. Speaking of Jinshi, you wonder how he's dealt with getting boners. He... can't sleep with someone because he's a eunuch, but he can't just leave himself hard forever.

Jinshi stares at you from the door as you're lost in thought.

Skin. You're showing skin. He feels rabid at the sight— as though he were some carnivore in the wild, grew before his eyes. He feels as though he would go feral if he were to get his hands on you, so he stands there, collecting himself. He can't scare you off. He finally has you in his hands again, this time treating you properly, and he can't just scare you off because he's wanted to touch you for ages but couldn't.

"Jinshi?" You tilt your head at him, and he musters up a smile.

"I don't want to scare you." He pauses. "But I fear the maids did a little too good of a job with you."

He offers you a drink, and the two of you down it before you lick your lips to speak up.

"Why? You want to defile me?" You lean forward, almost as if to emphasize your point, and Jinshi flushes red.

"I really wonder how you learned to flirt like that when you were Diu." Jinshi sits next to you, fingers pushing your hair back as he leans in. "This is fine, right?"

"Would be funnier if I were Diu right n-" You're cut off as Jinshi presses his lips to have you shut up. He loves you, but god, were you infuriating sometimes. It was as though the winter and spring without him had changed you into a different person— not that he minded. You're charming no matter how you act or react. Your hair scrunches between his palm and fingers, and you tilt your head to give him better access, passion and longing staining your face as he presses his lips to yours and his fingers bloody with something he's wanted forever. Some sort of twisted passion beats from his chest to yours, a whimper spilling past his lips as you thread your fingers through his hair.

He only pulls away when you soften against him, chest pressed to his as he feels your muscles tensing from the lack of breath.

"You still with me?" He moves his hand out, your hair slipping between his fingers as you hang your head to breathe.

"I sure wish you weren't good at everything you did," You keep your head hung, unraveling his robes with ease, palming his cock through the fabric wrapped around his waist. Jinshi's hips shift slightly for more friction, and your hand presses down on his hipbone, forcing him to still as you pull on the strand to free him, licking your lips at his length. "I don't think you're going to fit, pretty boy."

"We'll make it fit." He hisses out as you let the spit on your tongue roll onto the tip of his cock, smearing the precum with your saliva, your fingers smooth against his length as you spread it. Jinshi whimpers as you do, the ring around your finger cool against his skin, and you lean in to stare up at him through your lashes, biting your bottom lip as your hand speeds up. Jinshi whimpers, hand flying to wrap around your wrist and hold you still, and you tilt your head, yelping as he takes your lips pushing you back into the mattress. You lean into the kiss as he tugs on the bow, string coming out and top falling off with ease as his fingers brush your tits, thumb pressed to your nipple, humming into your mouth at the feeling of it hard. "Let me take care of you tonight." He huffs, pulling from you as he forces your tits up with his hands, pinching your nipple to catch a wince from you.

"Mean." You pout, no real annoyance on your face, and Jinshi busies himself with your chest, lips pressing a kiss to the meat of your chest, biting down— almost as though to mark you as his territory. It irks him some days that the maids still have lingering crushes on you from when you were Diu. So, his bites trail up from your chest to your neck, canines crazing over your pulse point as he bites down, hands sliding down to hold your waist as you crane your neck and whimper. Jinshi leans to force his chest to yours, and your fingers curl uncomfortably next to you as he sucks on your neck, purple blooming across your skin wherever his lips were.

"You're so pretty." Jinshi mumbles, finally pulling his lips off of you with a pop, staring down at you as you're suddenly aware that you are bare. You try to hide yourself but Jinshi makes work of his hands swiftly, holding your wrists together as he rolls his hips against yours experimentally. "I wonder how much of my reading is going to pay off."

"Studying through indecent literature? How sinful of you." You arch your back as he pulls your undergarments off, spreading your legs slightly as he slides his index finger down your slit, taking note of the slick threatening to spill out.

"I'd say this is worse, though." He slides a finger into you with ease, and you whimper as he curls it, nails slightly grazing your walls, making you gasp. "You sound so sinful like this. I sure hope you didn't let any other man see you like this."

"And if I did?"

"Then I'd suppose I'd just have to ruin their life." Jinshi straightens his middle finger as he curls his index out of you, sliding both into you at once. You shift slightly at the stretch. Jinshi curses under his breath at how tight you are. He doesn't want to break you your first night. So, he spreads his fingers in you slightly, thumb on your clit as he tries to loosen you. Instead, you flutter around him, only a light gasp freeing from your lips as he furrows his brows. He spreads his fingers, trying to make space for a third and get a reaction out of you. Instead, you don't react, simply shifting your hips to accommodate the stretch from his fingers.

"Am I bad?" He pouts, thumb finding your clit.

"No." You breathe, squirming from his touch.

"Am I average?"

"Jinshi, I have no idea. This is as much of my first time as it is yours." Your wrists fight against the grip of his hand, and he lets them go, lowering his face to your pussy instead, hooking your knees over his shoulders as he pulls you up. You back arches dramatically as he wraps his arms around your thighs, and Jinshi presses his tongue flat against your cunt, licking up as you jolt. He watches as your pussy flutters around nothing, and he slides his tongue in, moaning into your against as he tastes you. So this is what you taste like— some mixture of sin and lust, nectar that would put even the sweetest of peaches to shame. It would drive Jinshi to madness, he supposes.

Your fingers grasp at the pillow above your head, whimpering with each flex of Jinshi's tongue, and his fingers dig into your thighs, earning a squeal from your lips as you feel something tighten in your stomach. Your eyes widen as your nails dig into the sheets and your back arches impossibly more, tears in the corner of your eyes as Jinshi sucks at your orgasm, ignoring the mess of slick sliding down his chin and splattering onto the sheets. You turn red in embarrassment at the mess, but Jinshi pays it no mind, continuing to lap at your pussy, eyes digging into yours as he puts on a show for you. You look away from his eyes, opting to make a mess on his tongue instead, eyes rolled to the back of your head as a second orgasm crashes upon you. Jinshi drinks it up just as eagerly as the last, eyes half-lidded as

Your legs shake as Jinshi lets you down, fingers wiping the slick from his face as he pumps himself with it, and then sliding his tip beneath the hood of your clit to further coat his dick in your cum. You shift against his cock, grinding lightly into him as he chuckles. "Patience, beloved."

"I'd say you're worse than me." You heave, walls fluttering around Jinshi's length as he slides in. He notices the way your skin lifts with him inside of you, and he presses down on the bulge, blinking slowly. You gasp, stomach flexing out of instinct, pussy clenching around Jinshi with a hiss. Jinshi stays still, thumb brushing your clit to incite a reaction from you, earning him a lewd whimper. The sound shoots straight to his cock, head spinning as he slides his palm up your abdomen to your chest, pinching your nipple as he swallows.

"This is fine, right?"

"Insecure?" You roll your hips in affirmation. "I wouldn't have married you or let you catch me if it wasn't."

"Tease." He grumbles, taking your legs and folding them to your shoulders, forcing himself further into you. You moan, clenching around him as he moves, holding you down by the hips as he slams into you with each thrust, gasps slipping past your lips and colors in your vision as he moves. Flowers blossom in your lungs as you try to catch your breath, head spinning deliciously at the taste of Jinshi's lips on yours, a light fragrance from the rice wine he had taken mixing with the one on your lips, and you moan into his mouth, squirming from his touch. Your legs relax over his shoulders as he presses into you, fingers digging into the plush of your thighs, hair sliding off his shoulders to cage you in as you whimper.

The wind rustles the trees outside as you cum around Jinshi the first time, brows knit together and eyes closed as your face twists from the unfamiliar sensation, head thrown back and lips parting once the crash ended, and Jinshi stills, hand reaching to brush your hair to the side, cupping your face with his hand. "You alright?"

"Felt weird." You mumble. "Did you..?"

"No." Jinshi hums. "Would you like me to? Inside?"

"I don't mind." You whisper.

"Alright," He starts moving again, focusing on himself as your legs slide off his shoulders and fall into the mattress, hooking behind his pelvis as he thrusts, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as he pistons into you, your breath caught in your throat as you see white and stars, drool threatening to leak down your chin and choke you with your head thrown back and muscles tense. Jinshi pants into your ear as he feels himself get close, pulsing and ebbing inside of you with each roll of his hips, your name spilling past his lips in some sort of raw desperation and begging, only spilling into you once you call his name back through your cloudy haze, white painting your walls as white fills your vision, the same white visible in the air on the snowy trees.

His breath mixes with yours as he rests his forehead on yours, bare skin pressed to yours, sweat and cum mixing with your own, the two of you merged as one. In the distant past, you loved him until it physically destroyed you, and in the distant future he will love you until he is stuck in the same destruction that had dragged you away from him. Only then would he forgive himself, lips spreading into a gentle smile, eyes staring into yours as yours are closed, catching your breath as your chest rises and falls, vine of hickeys and bruises trailing down from your neck to your waist. Your walls flutter around him as you recover from another orgasm, skin flushed like peonies as Jinshi tilts his head to press a kiss to your shoulder.

"Still with me?" He presses his palm to your cheek, palm brushing your skin.

"Yes." You pant, grimacing at the squelch that sounds when he pulls out of you.

"I wonder if we'll be with child."

"I doubt it's this easy." You mumble, lashes fluttering. "Would you want one?"

"Up to you." He mumbles, reaching to the side to pour himself another glass of wine. "We do not have to worry about succession either."

"Oh, I've never been so thankful to have not ended up where I was supposed to." You sigh in relief.

"You do not want one?"

"Not my priority." You hum. "Unless you wish for one."

"You are my priority." Jinshi hums, offering you a glass. "Another?"

"No." You roll onto your stomach to stretch your back. "We have plenty of time as well."

"I suppose." Jinshi hums, holding his hand out for yours.

You give him your right hand, and he pouts.

"Your left. The ring."

You free your arm and hold it out, and Jinshi kisses your knuckles gently, eyes closed as he hums contently.

"We match." He smiles, lips curled into a gentle smile, eyes full of a warmth you had forgotten he was capable of. You smile, a laugh bubbling out of your chest as he fiddles with your fingers, some sort of domestic ambiance filling the room. And just like that, your anxieties fade away, and a smile makes way on your face.

"I love you." He hums, lips pressed to your forehead as he lays next to you, still holding your hand, his ring brushing against yours.

"I love you too." and you close your eyes, body relaxing into his, heartbeat one below the missing sun.

[hellsbedroom]

call out my name

pairing: winter soldier!bucky x f!reader

word count: 4k

summary: as an assassin for hire, you often worked alongside the Winter Soldier. immediately after the events of CA:TWS, that soldier shows up at your doorstep needing help. and he thanks you in a very particular way

warnings: 18+, nsfw, brief mentions of violence, mild alcohol consumption, heavy petting, hair pulling (m receiving), p in v, porn with actually a lot of plot, angsty ending because i couldn't help myself, google-translated romanian

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The frantic knocking at your front door shouldn’t be happening. Even though Hydra’s secrets had been blown open a couple days ago, your name wasn’t mentioned anywhere. Mercenaries’ names never are. So how could anyone find you?

You slow your breathing to counter the adrenaline as the knocking rattles the hinges again. Clutching your gun tighter, you throw the door open and aim into the night.

The barrel lands against a man’s chest and takes you both by surprise. You pull the gun away when a familiar pair of blue eyes blinks back at you from underneath a ballcap. His face isn’t one you ever expected to see again, especially after the carnage in DC.

“Soldier?” You’d never known him by any real name.

“Can I come in?”

“Am I gonna get killed for it?”

He glances behind him and tugs his backpack tighter. “Not if I’ve done my job.”

That’s enough of an answer. You wave him in with the gun still cocked in case it’s a trap. But after you lock the door, you turn to find him staring at you and all at once the gun is no longer necessary.

His eyes are different. You’d seen them empty, you’d seen them focused, you’d seen them angry, you’d even seen them lust-blown as he thrusted into you in some alleyway after a mission. But you’d never seen them scared.

And he is terrified.

“I need your help. I have to get away.” Vigilance strings his shoulders taut and you wonder how many sleepless nights had led up to this.

“Okay, my cover’s not blown and I’ve still got my contacts. Is the west coast far enough? Canada?”

“No. Farther.”

“London’s pretty big.”

He grips your forearms in a flash, gruffly pleading an inch from your face. “Somewhere they can’t find me.”

The intensity freezes you for a few moments before you nod. Wordlessly you cross the room and rummage through papers strewn across your desk. Identities, informants, any connections you still have. Anybody they can’t get to.

“Does Romania work?” You proudly hold up some papers with illegible scrawls. “I can get you out at dawn.”

“Yeah. Yeah, thanks.”

His sigh of relief leaves you comfortable enough to grab a couple beers from the fridge. Might as well drink when it’s clear that he’ll stay the night. But when you try to hand him one, he’s staring off into space and doesn’t seem to notice. You aren’t the best at comforting people, especially not Hydra’s former war dog, but you clasp a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, it’ll be okay.”

He snaps back into the moment, nodding in thanks as he takes the beer and opens it with a simple flick of a metal finger. He rubs the other hand down his face, dragging away the last of whatever thoughts had distracted him.

“Yeah.” He still stands resolute in the center of the room, even as you sling yourself into a chair. “Sorry for grabbing you. I just—”

“It’s alright, Soldier. I’ve been roughhoused before.”

“It’s actually Bucky.”

“What?”

“My name is Bucky. I didn’t know that for a long time. Hydra’s doing.” He sinks onto your couch, still weighed down by the revelation.

You immediately sit up straighter, the gears in your head trying to make sense of it. The whole story comes out with just a bit of prodding. World War Two, his capture, his fall, Hydra’s brainwashing, all of it. You sit in stunned silence through it, nodding in support every now and then. He finishes after the second round of beers and checks the magazine of his gun from force of habit. You do the same, then venture with a question itching to be answered.

“Do you remember anything you did?”

“Some of it. I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t...I didn’t want to stop it.” A guilty silence follows and you hear the distinctive whirring of his metal arm as he clenches his fist.

You laugh to lighten the mood. “Hey, that’s better than me. I chose to do this shit and got paid for it.”

Bucky nods solemnly, staring down his empty bottle. Then he flicks his gaze back up to you. “I also remember you.”

“On a mission? Marrakesh was pretty memorable.”

“Yeah. But I remember us doing some other stuff, too.” A smile ghosts his lips for the first time that night.

Memories of him sucking angry marks into your neck as you writhe on his cock come flooding back, making you cross your legs. You clear your throat and try to seem nonchalant.

“I hope that’s not something the brainwashing made you do,” you joke.

Bucky’s eyes are sharp as knives as they cut across the room. “It wasn’t. And I didn’t want to stop that either.”

“Oh. Good.”

The next silence thunders with anticipation but you don’t push your luck. Instead you focus on clearing away stray dishes and papers, flitting back and forth and trying to remember how to play hostess. You cross in front of Bucky and easily lift the bottle out of his hand. But before you can step out of reach again, he takes your arm.

This time his grip is gentle, nothing like the way he’d ever touched you before. You swallow thickly and dare to meet his gaze.

“Yes, Soldier?”

The gentleness is abandoned as his mouth crashes into yours. You knock off his ballcap in a rush to card your hands through his hair, desperate to have him closer. It’s all practiced and familiar, tilting your head to deepen the kiss and his teeth nipping at your lower lip.

His scruff burns against your jaw and then he’s kissing in its wake, lips and teeth devouring down your neck as his hands dive under your clothes to brush at your waist and hips. The skin-to-skin contact lights you on fire and you help him lift off your shirt in a flurry that’s followed by his own jacket and shirt. The fleeting moment spent apart is enough for you to catch your breath and shiver at the desire swirling in his eyes.

You collide into his chest again, wasting no time in dragging him backward with you toward somewhere, anywhere sturdy enough for support. It’s like you’re back in Mumbai or São Paulo or Kosovo, desperate to find a pleasurable release at the closest available location where he could grind his hips into you. This time it happens to be your kitchen island, a throne of granite onto which Bucky lifts you and your legs easily split, letting him settle between them and pull you so that his bulge presses just so against your core.

You're grabbing his shoulders — clutching flesh and metal — and that familiar coolness of his titanium arm curving around your back brings heat pooling between your legs. He captures your lips in an eager, fluid motion, tongue darting out to graze yours. Expert at killing, expert at kissing. The tendrils of his long hair tickle your forehead just like you remember.

With the usual haste and fervor, you grind against his solid hips in search of friction and he obliges by slipping his hand down to rub through your pants.

Soldier...you nearly moan, but stop short. You don’t have to settle for this kind of quickie. He isn’t just Soldier anymore, and you aren’t under the pressure of a mission.

“Bucky,” you murmur against his lips, grounding him to something besides what you both once were. “Bucky, wait…”

He slows down, his grip moving to your thighs, two heavy palms weighing down on you. Then he looks up slowly — his gaze could crack you in half. There’s a vulnerable tenderness in his eyes, clouded over by the bewilderment of what being Bucky once was.

“Bedroom,” you order gently.

“What?”

“Let’s do this in the bedroom.”

He has a lot of unlearning to do after so many years of Hydra control, so maybe you can help him with this one thing. You aren’t sure why you want this extra layer of intimacy, but it feels right.

Your insistence makes him wary. His eyes dart around, calculating whether or not this, too, is an attempt to capture him. Anyone could be in on it.

“It’s not a trap, I promise,” you coax, holding your hands up. “It’ll be better like this. I’ll show you.”

He doesn’t move as you slide off the island, brushing against him and letting the moment linger. You leave your eyes locked on his as you turn and take a few inviting steps down the hall, not abandoning the gaze until his doubts subside and he follows you.

The sparse bedroom is suddenly alive with electricity as you kiss him again to pick up right where you left off. Your grip dives into his hair, pulling in the way you remember makes even the stoic soldier moan. The liplock is blinding and his hands mold to your waist and hips and everywhere, keeping you close as the last of the clothes are haphazardly tossed away. Once you’re bare it’s a short stumble onto the bed and he falls on top of you with his metal arm braced in the unmade sheets.

Somehow Bucky looming over you, sinking down with every delectable muscle, is more breathtaking than the Winter Soldier fucking you senseless against a brick wall that digs into your back.

You don’t get a chance to catch that breath before his hand snakes down to toy with your clit, expertly coating it with your slick with a particular brush of his finger that he knows works so well. The gasp wracks your chest — you’d been ready for this since he admitted remembering every salacious encounter — and you almost give in then and there.

But where’s the fun in that?

Your thighs are locked around his hips and you swiftly flip on top, sitting up to settle on his lap. You’re naked, with no chance of hiding weapons, so he quickly relaxes and focuses on how new this is. Studying your form, from draped legs to raised brow. His hand lifts and you catch it in sync, bringing it up to your breast where he rolls your nipple instantly, carefully watching the arch of your back in response. Bucky is nothing if not a quick learner.

He’s hard, aching underneath you, and the tug in your core calls for the same thing. He helps lift your hips and you brace on his chest and then you’re slowly sinking down on his length to draw out the sensation.

It’s a pretty thing to watch his lips curl as he hisses out your name — your real name, not just one of your aliases — and your own sigh flies out when you reach the hilt. You take a few moments to adjust and then start rocking to an inaudible beat. Or maybe that’s your heart thrumming with pride.

It’s different this time. Everything is still eager and strong and deliciously satisfying but this isn’t just a convenient tryst. That has its time and place, like a muggy Havana afternoon after a vicious shootout. This time there’s something in the way Bucky rubs along your thighs while you lean in close, the rhythm of the thrusts keeping you just out of reach of his lips and yet leaving you anchored to those blue eyes.

He cradles the nape of your neck, watching your face morph in pleasure while the tension builds. You can’t help kissing him then and there and everything winds tighter and tighter until the climax takes you, your open mouth grazing against his as bliss washes all over. His name is a whispered prayer from your lips.

Your stuttering hips drag him into the throes a moment later and his gasp rushes past your cheek. A moan rumbles through his chest and you collapse on it, daring to smile as you breathe him in.

God that was good. The two of you still have it.

You unceremoniously roll off and into the sheets before another thought strikes. You’d never had to deal with Bucky in the moments after a good fuck. You always went your separate ways down dimly-lit alleys or out of a jungle. But here he is, stretched out beside you, with no prerogative to leave until morning.

Apparently the same thing was on his mind because he suddenly sits up and tugs a weary hand through his hair. “I’ll take the couch.”

“No.” You catch his wrist before you know what’s happening. “It’s alright, stay. You need a good night’s sleep. Getting to Romania is gonna be a hell of a ride.”

His eyes sweep over you but there’s no wariness this time. Instead he blinks slowly, giving a half-smile as he settles back down and pulls the covers up. It’s quiet for a few moments, comfortably so, and his arm brushes yours without pulling away.

“You should come with me,” he finally says, voice raspy with sleep and sex. “You need to get out, too.”

It isn’t the first time that thought has crossed your mind but it suddenly feels much more serious. A real chance to escape. Your fingers trace the sheets and mattress below, a place to lay your head that you had never really called home. Of course you have a bag packed and ready to go at a moment’s notice, every good mercenary does — but are you ready to be on the run? To live your life at the whim of whoever finds you in every city?

Bucky has already dozed off beside you, his gentle breathing interrupted by furrowed brows and an occasional shake of his head. He has no choice but to run, though you doubt he’ll outrun the nightmares anytime soon.

Sleep does its job of lulling you, too, and you decide to make your choice in the morning.

***

Two Years Later Bucharest, Romania

The rusted faucet gives a weak stream of water but you still rinse off the dishes, watching stray peelings and seeds whirl down the drain. Big bowls of fruit are your staple breakfast now that you have the time to enjoy them.

The apartment is silent except for the gentle ceramic clinks, with Bucky having stepped out to the market next door to pick up more plums — the favorite household snack.

As ex-assassins, calling your arrangement “dating” feels childish. You and Bucky sleep in the same bed, fuck regularly, cook each other meals, watch each other’s backs, and take turns cleaning the arsenal of weapons. So whatever the term for that relationship is, that’s what you have. You need each other.

With the dishes clear and reading to catch up on, you step into the bathroom in the back of the apartment to grab a clip for your hair. Can’t have the locks in your way when novels await.

You hear the front door open and a smile tugs at your lips. “Ce mai faci?” you call. (How are you?)

The Romanian greeting is part of yours and Bucky’s precautions — a code for when one of you reenters the apartment, just in case. You expect to hear the coded answer: Voi fi mai bine mâine (I will be better tomorrow).

But there’s no reply. Only muted footsteps toward your kitchen.

Your heart slams into overdrive. There’s a handgun hidden under the bathroom sink and it’s cold in your grip as you level it at the door, cautiously stepping into the small hallway. No one is immediately visible but your senses don’t fail you. Someone’s there.

“Reieşi!” you spit. “Come out!”

Still no answer but a careful shuffling of feet just out of sight. You hunker at the wall for only a moment and then fling yourself around the corner, barrel first.

Standing by your refrigerator with arms warily raised is Steve Rogers, Captain America himself. You recognize him from both the news and Bucky’s attempts to piece his life together. He cocks his head in surprise — whatever intel had let him here, it hadn’t mentioned you.

But he keeps his voice steady as he breaks the silence. “Where’s Bucky?”

You don’t answer. It’s pointless to lie, since he somehow found the apartment, but you know better than to tell the truth. You can’t claim ignorance anyway — the unwavering handgun in your grasp says otherwise.

You stare back in silence and take a couple calculated steps forward while trying to figure out what the fuck to do. Despite the proximity Steve lowers his arms, correctly guessing that if you haven’t shot yet, you won’t do so without warning. Killing Captain America isn’t exactly the best way to keep people out of your life anyway.

“I just need Bucky. People are coming for him.”

That raises goosebumps along your arms. It makes sense, Steve only finding him when someone worse is on the way. You’re about to demand more answers when footsteps reach the outside of your apartment and pause, no doubt noticing the door slightly ajar.

“Ce mai faci?” It’s Bucky’s strained voice trying the code. Then he more urgently adds, “Esti in siguranta?” (Are you safe?)

“Da,” you call quietly, keeping your eyes trained on Steve. “I’m alright, Bucky. We have a visitor.”

Bucky carefully treads in, his eyes darting between you and Steve and the gun in your hand. The air stings with confusion. But eventually he crosses to you and closes his hand over the barrel to make you lower the gun, and not even your incredulous gaze changes his mind. He simply nods and runs his hand down your back. Trust me.

He pushes a newspaper into your lowered hands and you look down at the words plastered across the top: ‘Winter Soldier Bombs UN Headquarters’. The newspaper crinkles in your tightening grip. Underneath the headline sits a photo of Bucky’s face, clear as day, when it isn’t possible for him to have been there. You’d come out of hiding to vouch for it yourself.

But that wouldn’t matter, you know better. The little world that you and Bucky carved out is caving in fast.

“Do you know me?” It’s the intruder, his gaze no longer fixed on you or your weapon but on his long-lost friend.

“You’re Steve. I read about you in a museum.”

A pause. Steve clenches his jaw. “I know you’re nervous, and you have plenty of reason to be. But you’re lying.”

He pauses again as the comms unit crackles in his ear, probably warning of the distant commotion now rumbling up the building from many floors down. You sneak a glance at Bucky and the grim set of his mouth.

“I’ve got him here,” Steve says into his radio. “He’s with someone. Unclear whether she’s a hostile.”

He clips that last part at you, demanding your intentions as you still bristle at him. But you don’t get a chance to threaten him again before Bucky steps in front of you.

“I wasn’t in Vienna. I don’t do that anymore. Neither does she.”

“Well the people who think you did are coming here now. And they’re not planning on taking you alive,” Steve adds, the gravity in his voice sinking deep into your chest.

“That’s smart, good strategy.”

Bucky’s right. Special forces are always taught to eliminate a threat, not wait for heroic negotiating. That doesn’t happen in the real world when real consequences are at stake. A rattling shakes the staircase outside your apartment door, the telltale sign of heavy men and heavy guns on their way. You quickly realize that whether or not Steve is on your side, he’s a better option than what’s waiting out there.

Steve softens. “It doesn’t have to end in a fight, Buck.”

Bucky takes off the glove concealing his titanium hand, flexing the joints and heaving a sigh. He looks at you and tips another nod. Get ready. You grab another magazine of bullets for your gun.

“It always ends in a fight,” Bucky murmurs.

“That’s why we ran, you know. To try and stay away from the fight.” You cock the gun, staring Steve down. Blaming him for this situation is wrong but damn it feels right. “But when it comes to our door we have no choice.”

Steve gets agitated, glancing between you and Bucky and trying to piece it all together. “Bucky, you pulled me from the river. Why?”

Bucky stays still. “I don’t know.”

The thundering footsteps get closer, louder and louder like in every nightmare you’d had about being found. You walk to the windows, looking for any trace of the enemies no doubt rappelling down the building at that instant. There are more weapons hidden on that side of the room anyway, and you gather what you can.

“I hate to break this up,” you quip at the men behind you, “but we can’t keep standing here playing high school reunion.”

“She’s right, Buck. We have to go.”

“She’s coming with us.”

You spare Bucky a grin over your shoulder. Of course you’re going with them, but it’s good to hear him say it.

Steve steps closer, faint warnings still being yelled into his comms unit. “They aren’t looking for her. She’ll be safer away from us for now.”

That makes your breath catch. Arguing with Steve will make the oncoming fight that much more difficult. You turn, a sneer already waiting on your lips, but Bucky once again interjects. He catches your shoulders and his gaze sinks deep into yours.

“Steve’s right.”

“What?”

“They’re after me for the stuff in Vienna. You need to get out.”

“Bucky, I’m not —”

Crash! Grenades come flying through the windows, shattering the tension with shards of glass. You knock one right back out and Bucky kicks the other to Steve, who covers the blast with his shield. Bucky is two seconds ahead of you and lifts the mattress to cover you both from a third grenade tossed in. The explosion is hot against your back and your muscles tremble. With his free hand Bucky throws the steel table at the door, blocking it and buying a few minutes before the tac team can bust through.

Rappelers burst through the windows and Steve kicks one down, his gunfire raining into the ceiling instead of your flesh. You return fire to another, clipping his knee and shoulder, while Bucky yanks the third and knocks him against the wall. Two more come swinging in — your adrenaline kicks up another notch — and a scream grates your throat as you land a few good punches on the closest one. You hadn’t fought for your life like this in a long time, but it’s a skill that comes back quick as lightning.

Bucky dashes over to Steve, forcing the other rappeler out of his grip and onto the balcony with a swift knee to the chest.

“Buck, stop!” Steve calls. “You’re gonna kill someone.”

“I’m not gonna kill anyone,” Bucky grunts. Floorboards splinter under the force of his punch and he pulls out his backpack before tossing it onto the roof of the adjacent building.

You take a respite from watching for more assailants and step over downed bodies to reach him. The other backpack lands heavily in your hands and despite the chaos, the rest of the world briefly fades when Bucky drags you closer.

“Go, you have to get out!”

All air vanishes. “No. I’m not leaving —”

“Please.” Bucky’s voice is small against the rushing of blood in your ears. His iron grip pulls you toward the windows and he hands you a rappelling rope. “I’ll find you later.”

You know there’s no choice. And arguing further will put everyone in danger. You attach the rope to yourself and the balcony, still pulling Bucky with you as you back onto the ledge. Shotgun blasts at the hinges of the door across the room draw Steve away and you know this is your last blessed moment alone.

Whatever version of Bucky Barnes this is — the man out of time, the assassin, the shell of a vintage hero — you don’t care. This version is yours, and you love him.

You kiss him, hard. He returns it with fire, his hand tangling in your unkempt hair. A sad smile creeps onto your lips when you pull away and Bucky nods solemnly. One gentle push later and you drop from view.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Follow You Anywhere 12

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: yuhhhhhh.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

Gulls flap across the cornflower sky. Thin wisps of cloud crest beneath the gemlike sun, shining at you with a blinding gleam. You shield your eyes with your hands as Sy steers along the crooked backroad around the cliffs the face the coast.

Aika pokes her head out between the seats as she sits in the back. She is your only comfort on the long journey to a beach you’ve never been before. 

You don’t ask where you’re going. You wouldn’t know the difference, you only know that most people head to West Cove. You jostle with the truck. The sun reaches its apex. It’s a bit late to just be getting to the beach then. 

Yet, he doesn’t stop. He keeps driving. Around the rocky crags and cliffside, on and on, through the scatter of trees, and past that. You can still see the water but the clock ticks on. 

You sit up, more rigid than ever. You haven’t been able to relax but you’re on edge as you realise how far you’ve gone. How long he’s been at the wheel. 

“Everything okay, sweetie?” He asks. 

“Y-yeah. Um... does Aika need to go?” 

“She’ll let us know, don’t ya worry,” he chuckles. “Pretty, ain’t it? The water?” 

You peer around him as the water now stands at his shoulder. 

“Shouldn’t we be going towards the coast?” You ask. 

“We’ll get there, sweetie,” he assures you. “Just a little further. Didn’t I mention I got a surprise?” 

“Erm, no. A surprise?” 

“Don’t wanna spoil it,” he smiles and runs his hand over his beard.  

You shrink down and go silent. You don’t want to push him. You can’t help but hear the echo of his booming voice and the crack of plaster around his head. No, you won’t do that again. 

You come in sight of a house. The siding is beaten wood, the blue paint chipping away, and there’s a crooked shed around one side. The pillars of the porch are dusted with dirt and the old windows boarded up. A tickle creeps up your spine as Sy steers toward it. 

“Surprise,” he blusters excitedly. 

“Surprise?” You squeak and stare at the house. 

“It’s a beach house,” he proclaims proudly. You don’t have the heart or the courage to extinguish his excitement. Does he not see how decrepit it is? 

“A beach house?” 

“Oh yeah,” he shuts off the engine. “Just us.” 

“Wow,” you breathe. 

He laughs so loud it makes you flinch. He slaps his hand down on your thigh and squeezes, “don’t be so nervous. We’re gonna get it all cleaned up. Won’t take much.” 

“Mhm,” you hum as you look down at his large hand. You gulp and he lets you go. 

He gets out and you look at Aika. Her wet nose touches your cheek. Sy whistles and she hops between the seats and follows him out the open door. You climb out on your side and peer up at the house in dread. 

“Sy, it’s... it’s gonna be dark in a few hours though.” 

“Well, we won’t be driving back now,” he scoffs. “We’re gon’ be here a while. Just you and me. Like a honeymoon or such.” 

Your heart sinks. This man took over your life barely two days ago and he’s talking like you’re married. Worse, you let him bring you out to who knows where. Why hadn’t you been paying attention? 

“I’ll just get it opened up and air it out,” he says as he marches up to the porch. 

You watch him. Stunned. You really can’t believe this. It can’t be real. You scratch your scalp as panic razes through your skin. Aika sits on the steps and you turn back to the truck. You don’t understand... 

You go around the bed of the truck. It’s covered. And locked. You can’t pull it open. 

You hear him stomping before he appears. You quickly move away from the truck and pretend that you’re admiring the wooden bench amid the patchy grass. He calls your name and you turn to him, swallowing your fear down deep. 

“Wanna come see? Got a flashlight.” 

He wiggles the yellow plastic and clicks the button. He hits it to make it turn on. You blow out a breath and nod. You go to him, choked of your voice. 

He waves you ahead of him. You enter as he shines the flashlight around you. There’s furniture draped in sheets and an old cross stitch hung over a chest of drawers. There’s a fire stove that could be a century old and a carpet with fraying edges. You don’t know if this place is forgotten or condemned. 

“Get the boards down, get the dust out, and it’s perfect. Isn’t it?” He purrs as he comes up and puts his arm across your shoulders. 

You wince and nod. He guides you along as he aims the light into the kitchen and the stove that looks right out of a mid-century advert, well maybe if it got a fresh coat of paint. He squeezes you closer and stops. 

“You alright, sweetie? You quiet?” 

“Yes,” you sniff, “y-yeah. Like you said. It’s a surprise.” 

“Now I know you wee probably looking forward to the beach today but we’ll get this place nice and cleaned up and have a good fire. I brought stuff for smores. Heh, another surprise. Then tomorrow, we’ll have the whole day in the sun.” He waves the flashlight around, “you know, it’s not ten minutes walk to the shore. I know a shortcut.” 

“That’s... great,” you eke out. How does he know this place? 

“I’ll get the windows open. How about you pull them sheets off the furniture?” He suggests. 

“Okay,” you agree softly. 

You turn and go back down the hall. Aika watches through the door. You’re trapped here with this mad man and his trained dog. There’s no way out, even if you did know where you are. 

All you can do is distract yourself for as long as you can. Take your time, stay busy. It’s once you have nothing to do that he’ll be able to do anything he wants. 

You work at uncovering all the furniture. Then you find a cloth to dust the surface. Sy tosses the boards from the windows in the yard and you take the straw broom form the corner to sweep the floor. The sky ripples as the sun sets and you work in the dimming haze. 

Sy lights an old lantern, struggling to catch the wick. He leaves it with you as he takes the flashlight. He mutters something and continues into the shadows the hallway. There’s a clatter and Aika taps through the open door with breeze. She stops as her snout points after her owner. 

Thump, thump, thump, thump... the noise whittles off and you look down as you hear noise beneath you. There’s a basement? You wait as Aika keeps vigil, unmoving. You scratch the floor with the bristles as you try to get up as much dirt as you can. 

There’s a crackle and some more creaking. Sy thunders back up the stairs and you look up as he searches the wall. He twists a switch and shuts off the flashlight. The tinted bulbs on the wall light up.  

“Found the generator,” he says. “Look at you. Looks good in here.” 

“Um, yeah,” you continue to brush the floorboards. 

“Should I make up the bed?” He asks coyly. 

You put your head down as you move with the broom, “well, I am getting tired.” 

“Tired...” he mutters. “Mm, sure, but we’re still gonna have a fire, huh? It’s a nice night.” 

You nod, “if that’s what you want.” 

He sighs, “hm, I’ll... I’ll go fix up the bed then.” 

You know he’s disappointed. You’re trying to play along but you’re terrified. As the crickets buzz louder and you hear the forest cracking and swaying, the desolation sets in. Your hopelessness cannot be staved off much longer. 

Mistake after mistake, you can’t help but blame yourself for this. He might be the villain, but you set yourself up. You started that Instagram, you didn’t pay enough attention to security, you spoke to him at the grocery store, and you let him take you home. You let him invade your life and when you finally tried to get him out, it was already too late. 

It is too late. 

You still the broom and squeeze it. You stare at the window. You're lost. Entirely. 

He comes back out and you flinch. You try to shake off your despair. It clings but you make yourself smile. You lean the broom against the wall. 

“Can I help?” You ask. 

“Help, er, sure.” He accepts, “I got some fresh stuff in the truck.” 

He ushers you ahead of him. You go outside and he’s close behind. The keys jangle as he comes up next to you and you walk with him to the bed of the truck. He unlocks it and you nearly collapse. He drags out a large plastic bin. What is all this? It’s like he’s moving... 

How long has he been planning this? 

You step back and blink. You’re woozy with horror. All this stuff, you don’t think he’s planning on leaving. 

“Ah, this one,” he drags out another container. “Got the sheets in there.” 

He lifts the big blue bin and you take another step back. You shake your head as you stagger around dumbly. He doesn’t notice as he hauls the container in his arms toward the porch. 

“Be a sweetie and get the door,” he says. 

“No,” you wisp and clear your throat. “No,” you say loud as you stumble back. “No, no!” 

You shake your head as he turns to you, his face contorted in confusion. You spin and nearly trip over your own feet. You burst into a sprint. You’re not thinking. It’s purely your body moving on fear alone. 

You pump your arms and lift your knees, heading for the spatter of trees. They aren’t thick enough to hide you completely but you might be able to weave around fast enough to lose him. And then... 

Then... 

You don’t know. All you know is that you have to keep going. You can hear him. His footsteps crush through the twigs as he hollers, “Aika.” 

He whistles as you puff shallowly through the pain in your chest. Go, go, go. It isn’t fair. It’s two against one. 

You get past the first few trees as you hear his next order but don’t understand it. It’s in that other language. You’re hit from behind, a toppling force that sends you onto your stomach. You land painfully in the dirt as Aika stands on your back and growls in your ear. 

“Aika, please. You’re a good girl,” you plead, “Aika, off! Aika--” 

“She don’t know English,” Sy snarls as stomps up behind you and kicks your foot.  

You whimper and drop your head down. Your stomach, knees, arms, hands, legs, even your cheeks are scraped from your fall to earth. And fall you did. Back to reality. 

“Please,” you snivel. “Please, Sy. Take me home. I’m scared.” 

He sighs and snaps his fingers. Aika quiets and hops off of you. She turns as she stands by your head and Sy approaches you from behind. He pulls you up and turns you to face him. 

“You are home, sweetie,” he grits through his teeth. 

You pout and shake your head, “no, Sy. Why? Why are you doing this to me?” 

“Doing what?” His forehead wrinkles and his eyes dull. “I’m takin’ care of ya. What do ya mean?” 

“But... we can’t stay out here.” 

“Why not?” 

You stare up into his eyes. They’re empty. Like before. Like when he went rabid. You squirm and grab at his thick fingers. 

“Because,” you exclaim. “I don’t know you.” 

He winces and blinks. His throat bobs as his head tilts back and forth. He squeezes your shoulders and huffs, “no, no, you know me.” 

“I don’t,” you whine. “I don’t know you.” 

“You do. You do.” He insists. “You spoke to me. You smiled at me. Every night.” 

Your lip quivers and your tears overflow, “Sy,” you sniffle, “Sy, you... you... you’re not a bad guy, you’re just confused. Please, I know you don’t want to hurt me so take me home.” 

He closes his eyes and sucks in through his nose. His chest rumbles and he his breath out slow. His lashes lift. His pupils swallow up his irises. You shiver at the pools of black. 

“Captain,” he snarls. “I am your Captain.” 

[forthelostones]

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ➺ 𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐣𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐲 #5

anderson construction and landscaping had been parked outside your door since you returned home from university. as if the summer couldn't get any hotter, the business owner works overtime in your area. anderson is collecting new, loyal clients of your neighbors, cementing her permanence in your life for the next few months. what's to come of your girlish crush when she keeps showing up?

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜. 18+ (mdni); age-gap, young!reader, older!abby, butch!abby, slow-burn, suggestive language, thoughts of infidelity, ellie ft, smoking/drinking, mentions of parents, nickname: sweetheart, and modern au.

𝚊𝚗. yall! life has been crazy. your girl is finally back. I'm so sorry I love you all for loving me. lets geeettt etttt. x (this chapter is loosely proofread)

♫ 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝. change your mind by moonchild ♫

I kick the duvet off my bed onto the floor, leaving my skin frozen as the blue sky begins to make an appearance like an oil painting on my bedroom walls. My throat is dry and my muscles are tight. I cried before I went to bed but this time it wasn’t over the business, it was about me. When was the last time I cried about me? A deep yawn allowed a stretch to be released from my stiff body. I don’t remember falling asleep here but my back thanked me for it. What happened yesterday? In-house client consultations weren't unpopular just not as common as they used to be. Most days, folks want a Pinterest-made bathroom cutting out the middle price of my creativity. Like I say, who am I to complain?

My phone was crowded with email notifications of applicants. I was one step closer to taking a huge load off my shoulders and that felt good. So good, that I brewed a pot of coffee because I had the time. I reached under the kitchen sink and among the disorganized cleaning products a Mr. Coffee Pot was birthed. I had switched to a fancy automatic dispenser but there’s nothing like a cheap hot drip. I perch my lips on the edge of my mug before opening my mouth. Across the yard, through the window is my neighbor Nora, the lemon lady, as I call her. Just about this time of the year, she would leave a small brown crate of lemons on my front porch. Our conversations were short and awkward but she was a pretty lady to look at. She was heading to work in a blue dress that suctioned her body and extenuated the light brown fro flourishing on her scalp. I wonder how she's doing, my wonder would never be strong enough to open the door and ask that.

Hair and teeth were brushed promptly before opening my laptop and scheduling interviews. The most recent application was from the woman who stood in my house just last night. My first instinct was to pick up my phone and send a photograph with a witty sentence accompanying it. However, I refrained and stared at the email. I could hear her voice describe the elements of her resume. It was a sweet delusion and ghostly experience to recall her rasp but it eased some tension to know I could possibly have her around more.

I didn’t know what to do with the time I had magically acquired this morning. The possibilities seemed vast and the anxiety I felt from the thought of breaking my routine made me just sit in silence. A silence that was paired with fantastical grandeur from a childish part of my brain. Daydreaming about her was a great way to begin my morning.

Over to the loudest street on the west side with two clients already secured, I felt accomplished with the direction both projects were going. A turn down the road revealed a paramedic hauling away a gurney. Without worrying about the parking situation I pull the keys out of the ignition and jog over to the scene. All my men were crowding around the truck and I pushed through them to see pale bone breaking through the flesh of my roofer. I winced at the sight and looked up quickly to meet the eyes of the victim. 

“Boss,” He chuckled in a stupefied state. “ I fell down.” 

We all shared a moment of happiness that the injury didn’t result in any other damage. I took pride in knowing workers comp was going to take care of him for the healing. If it ever did. My back pocket floods with vibrations and I finally interrupt them. 

6:55 am: paramedics? what’s happening abby? 

7:04 am: hello? are you okay?

7:05 am: I don’t see you. where are you? 

As I begin to type and move out of the road to allow the paramedics to leave then I see her, standing on the sidewalk with her house shoes on and draped in a short robe. I could see a bit of relief on her face as I approached her. The closer I got the more nervous I felt but she didn’t have to know that. 

“Gosh, I’m sorry.” She brings her hand to her forehead. 

“So, you were worried?” I poke. 

She chuckles lightly, “My mom made me come outside and check.” 

“Oh right.” I laughed to hide my embarrassment. 

“Well, I’m going back to bed.” She mentioned but her feet didn’t move. 

“Long night?” 

“Longest. It should be illegal to get into arguments after 10 p.m.” 

Her girlfriend was stressing her out again and now that I looked closer, her under eyes were puffy and darkened. She kept her up all night, hopefully not arguing about something concerning me. 

“I agree, that’s a good rule.” 

“I’ll see you later, okay?” 

I nod and turn back towards my truck, wishing we were going in the same direction instead of the opposite one. 

Well into the afternoon I saw her glint in her front yard tending to the blossoming flowers. The old, form-fitting grey sweatpants were dirtied on the knees with brown and green alike. I was leaning against the truck and secretly watched her clean her forehead with her matching shirt, darkened by sweat. I couldn’t stop thinking about how to approach her about the application. Once she had enough digging done she sat in the grass on her behind, leaning on her hands, with her head tossed back. 

I mustered the courage to step away from the car and got a clear view of the most toned parts of her body. My mouth became dry and I had to find the moisture again by lolling my tongue over my lips. She lifted her hand to wave slightly and then to hide her eyes from the sun, even though I am sure she knew it was me. My shadow covered her with a temporary coolness under the fiery sun to which she audibly sighed. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” I smile. 

She opens her big eyes and follows my belt buckle up to my face. She looks glorious in that position, dominant yet completely able to be persuaded. The curves on her body were muscle as much as they were fat. A glorious mixture that made me crave her more — especially when I’m not supposed to. 

“Ms. Anderson,” She giggled playfully. 

“I saw your application, post-graduate life got you desperate?” 

I wasn’t much of a tease toward women I liked, but in the moment it felt good to watch her face contort in a false sense of temporary anger.

“Don’t think I’d be a good employee?” 

I shrug at her comment but inside the vision of her in business casual clothing, debriefing clients, and leading weekly meetings painted my cheeks red. A woman in charge of me was something I didn’t often relish enough. The facade I give off is the opposite of what’s expected but if she gains my trust… Suddenly, she stood up with her hands clasped around her hips breaking my lewd thoughts. The tips of her fingers slightly perched under the fabric of her loose top. 

“I’m not sure,” I grin. “Isn't that what the interview determines?” 

She rubs her glove up the side of her forearm, leaving traces of soil on her skin. The sunshine reflecting from her body is nearly blinding. I fought off the urge to clean away those imperfections on her.

“Does this mean I have an interview?” She perked up on her heels in excitement. 

The motion triggered a reflex to wrap my hands around her hips and pull her inward as I bent her backward for a passionate kiss. I unknowingly took a step forward as the screeching of a '98 Cadillac Seville pulled quickly into the driveway to separate us. The car hummed and scrapped against the pavement causing me to wince. It was her girlfriend, Ellie. I should move. I should lift my feet and walk back down the street and drill a nail into some wood, but I don’t. 

Ellie slams the door to her car with her greasy hair tucked behind both ears and a slouch on her spine. Her eyes avoid my face and I’m glad that they do. 

“Woah, you’re all dirty,” Ellie smirks. 

“Gardening.” Her one word answer even stings me. 

“Let’s get cleaned up, hm?” Ellie’s hand gently clasps her elbow but she pulls away. 

“After I’m done talking to Abby. Why don’t you go up to my room and wait for me?” She asks, sweetly. 

I felt a bulge of confidence wave through my body knowing Ellie was going to listen because of my presence. She cuts her eyes towards me briefly before walking up the driveway to disappear into the house. 

“You okay?” I ask. 

“We’ve been arguing more and more since I moved back home. She’s so sensitive,” Her face crinkles in distress. 

A genuine, heavy pool of laughter escapes my throat. The way she contorted her face to say sensitive showed her disgust of Ellie which I was overly pleased to know. I cover my mouth slightly until she grins too. 

“I shouldn’t even be telling you this.” She adds. 

“It’s fine. I’ve been in your position before.”

“And what happened?” 

I inhale. “We broke up and it was messy.” 

An oh slips her lips filling the silence between us. I pulled my mind from the clouds to stop its wandering tick of floating into the past. I’ve had many girlfriends but my final relationship, five years ago, was the most mentally taxing years of my life. ‘We broke up and it was messy’ was a simple reduction to a very complex situation. 

“I’m sorry to hear that Ms. Anderson.” Her fingertips rise gently to my arm. The glint in her eyes showed a sincerity that I had never seen before. Most people say sorry to things as a formality but she actually meant it. 

“You’re young, these things happen, you have time.” 

“I hope so.” She mutters as she removes her gloves and tosses them angrily into the grass. 

“All right, sweetheart, if you need me you know where to find me.” 

She mouthed a humble thank you and followed behind her girlfriend. 

The team was disoriented, tired, and lazy upon returning from their first break. Losing my finest roofer was going to cost me time and money. With such short notice, it wouldn’t be particularly difficult to find someone willing to fill in. Men in this industry are always hopping from job to job but I want someone reliable and will stay.

I chuckle in disbelief of what I’m about to do. Contact Ellie, to be my new roofer. 

12:00 p.m. Bad timing to ask you something?

She walked towards my truck as I forced a chip into my mouth. I brush the crumbs off my chest and check my face in the rearview as she boldly pulls the handle to sit in the passenger's seat. She avoided eye contact with me and slammed my door with an angry force.

“Hello,” I say, chewing off the last bit of my food. 

“Was your text a joke?” She snaps, her voice holding a begrudging tremble.

“A joke? No, I would never, not at all I was—” My words were tumbling over each other breaking my cool facade. She did not seem phased by my current display. 

“You want Ellie to work for you.” 

The statement was supposed to come out more like a question but there was no rise in tone at the end of her sentence. 

“I don’t have time to hire someone and test them out. You said she was good, right?” 

“She’s one of the best.” She groaned. 

“Well, to be honest, I’m desperate.” I sigh a little more pathetic than I want. 

She turns her head towards me and melts into the cushions. Her legs widen to touch the door with her kneecap. She twisted her head upwards to admire the black upholstery on the ceiling, exposing her kissable neck. I feel a zing of warmth travel from my cheeks to my thighs and I twitch at the unfamiliar feeling. One that I haven’t felt in ages. I run a lingering thumb against the seam of my pants and relish the sensation I feel through them. She turns and looks at me, leaving me frozen. Those eyes were dark with a desire that awakened a sleeping part of me. 

Why did my body suddenly feel like a flowering opening upon first bloom? I was no teenager discovering the female body for the first time but why did it feel like that?

“Fine. I’ll tell Ellie to call you.” Absentmindedly she tugs her lip into her mouth and I cross my ankles because crossing my legs would be too obvious. 

“I owe you.” My voice sounds strained as I exhale into the air. 

In her bedroom, I had my tape measure in hand with a small notebook and golf pencil. The boxes in the room had been cleared since the last time I was here. I had to redo the farthest bathroom wall three times as a tender need pressed against my zipper. The pressure of the metal alone was making my legs wobble. When was the last time I was truly aroused? Her perfume coaxed the walls in the same sickeningly sweet warm musk that followed behind her. My concentration was drained.

"Ms. Anderson?" She asked lightly in the door frame.

I swivel my head like a cartoon character, not particularly shocked by her presence but at my lack of bodily control. "Hey."

"Just wondering how you're doing?" She asked.

Her gardening top had become soaked around the collar and the cuff under her arms. Those sleeves were now folded inward displaying a vast spread of skin. I was going to be thinking about this interaction all day.

"Done." I lie.

"Good, I'm overdue for a shower," She giggled as she walked into the room in what I saw as slow-mo. "See you tomorrow."

"Thanks again. I seriously owe you." I repeat.

"I know," she smiles, starting to lift the hem of her shirt up. "Just make sure I have an interview next week and we're good."

The last thing I saw before leaving the room was a rousing glare, over her right shoulder, in my direction.

DONATIONS FOR DR CONGO

[heartsofminds]

i'm calling just to hear you scream - part ii.

“Free means “fuck.” She’s gonna fuck us, Sugar and you don’t even fucking care!” or it's your first day at The Bear (or is it The Beef still?), Richie is convinced you're a fed, and Carmen may or may not hate your guts.

A/N: well surprise, surprise! here's part two of i'm calling just to hear you scream. definitely more of a filler chapter before everything starts to implode and get more serious and downright grimey, but i hope you enjoy!

The shadows created by the awnings of the sandwiched businesses chill your bones while the Sun makes your backside sticky beneath your sweater and light spring jacket. Chicago is beautiful in March, but always full of surprises.

One day comes an icy snowstorm that adds to the gray slush collecting on the side of the street and the next a blissful sixty-one degrees that gaslights everyone into walking around with shorts on because it’s just “so warm.” 

You can’t revel in the tranquility for much longer. Not when you’re pretty sure you’re coming up on the address Natalie emailed you two nights ago. 628 West Wager Street sits prettily in between an old antique shop and a Chicago Cubs merchandise store that has definitely seen better days. Despite no sign hanging on the window and the glass completely shielded from outside eyes by brown butcher paper, it somehow looks like it belongs; the younger sibling of a once booming and vibrant street scene. 

Being outside of the door is a feeling that fills you with both anxiety and uncertainty. You know you’re in the right spot but you don’t feel like you are; not when you can’t hear any noise coming from any of the three storefronts that stand in front of you. You’re made even more uneasy when you see the five by eleven sheet of insulated foil wrap with capital letters written in Sharpie taped to the front window. 

The Beef is closed. Thank you for your patronage. The Bear is coming. 

The nerves start to hit you even harder. All Natalie had mentioned over the phone and through your frequent emails have been about needing help with a restaurant. The name of the aforementioned restaurant had never been disclosed and its location remained a mystery until this morning when you got an email with the unspoken directions that Apple Maps would omit. There’s nothing more embarrassing than doing a consult and not knowing any of the details. It’s even more humiliating when the feeling of being made a fool seems inevitable. 

Your arm refuses to move forward and yank the door open in case this is some sick prank. You half expect Becca to be hiding behind it with the “good ole boys” crew that is full of Senior and Junior partners at your law firm; their only purpose is to further humiliate and belittle you more than they already do on a day-to-day basis at the office. 

It’s a ridiculous thing to think that someone would care enough about you and your shame to do that, you know, but it’s the only way you can rationalize your brain warning you not to touch that door. Your eyes catch your reflection and suddenly you want the concrete sidewalk to swallow you whole. You take in how your navy blue pantsuit engulfs you and how your work bag seems to get heavier and heavier as it hangs solemnly at your side. 

You don’t belong here. 

The itch to turn around and run back to the train as fast as you could possibly manage crosses your mind, but the shattering of the quiet oasis around you interrupts that thought before it can materialize. 

“Do you ever shut the fuck up!” you hear a voice scream.

“Do you ever realize you don’t know fuckin’ everything!” another one screams back. 

The sound of a wall being hit accompanies the shouts as well as numerous other voices joining in on the cacophony the verbal altercation created. 

Call it a hunch (or just having enough common sense), but you definitely are in the right place and there are certainly people inside. The scary part of not knowing is over. The absolutely horrifying part of having to see where you fit in is pending. 

Your fingers grip the solid metal door handle and you rip it open. The resounding squeal it emits makes you want the floor to swallow you up whole. The chaos of screaming shouting and yelling start to pause before the sound of the sledgehammer hitting the wall a second time interrupts it and sends it into a full frenzy once again. 

The world seems to be moving in slow motion and your words are caught in your throat. You’ve never seen chaos like this before, but you’ve definitely felt the way you’re currently feeling every day for the past five years. Faces you don’t know, a nagging feeling of responsibility, a dire need to do the best job you possibly can and not fucking up and not pissing anyone off, and yet no idea where to even start. 

“If I already fuckin’ told you you were tearing the wrong wall down why the actual fuck would you do it again!” a strained scream bounces off the walls. 

You jolt at the echo. The current lack of infrastructure and an igloo of scaffolding tarp amplifies the sound by three thousand decibels. 

He can’t see your face because his back is turned toward you, but the temperament and the mop of curls tell you the obvious. Carmen. Natalie’s brother and shareholder that she had subtly warned you about in a half-joking, half-not tone when you had spoken on the phone the other day. 

“To prove a fucking point,�� a lankier taller man scoffs back. Richie. Their cousin, not cousin (which you don’t really understand, but you chalk it up to a deduction that not everything is meant to make sense), and the absolute bane of Natalie and Carmen’s existence at times. She had also warned you about him on the phone. “Even if I’m wrong you never fail to always think you’re fucking right like a – like a fucking baby! You walk around here pissed the fuck off and fucking changing everything and makin’ it everyone else’s fucking problem –” 

Carmen lunges at him and two other men from the crowd almost pick him up from the floor to prevent him from tackling Richie. 

“Everyone else’s prob – You’re my fucking problem! You’re my fuckin’ problem and all you know how to do is fuck up and make everything fuckin’ worse!” 

“Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuckin’ pissy ass pamper cry baby.” 

Carmen tries his hardest to wrangle himself out of the hold he’s currently in. Sydney, a genius and the Lord’s prayer (according to Natalie, also), clumps herself near him as he remains twisting and turning like a toddler fighting a parent’s protective hold through a temper tantrum. 

“Chill, chill, chill. Stop. Just stop,” she gently coos. Her hand claps the shoulder of one of the men holding him up. You can see the gentle squeeze it gives to provide silent comfort, but you wonder if the softness in her tone is to deescalate the situation or to help regulate herself. 

He’s dragged out to what you can assume is the backdoor and it slams with a cadence that demands attention. A sharp thud can be heard five seconds later accompanied by various, “Yo, what the fuck, dude?”’s. 

He must have kicked the door. He definitely kicked the door. 

Your body continues to stay frozen in the bare entryway. The survival skills you’ve adapted kick into full effect. Don’t make a move. Don’t make a sound. Do not piss anyone else off. 

The aftermath of commotion and chatter fills the room and leaves no space for you. You have half the mind to put your hand back on the handle and dip out before anyone notices. You’ve been here all of three minutes and you feel as if it’s been a year. The shouting and the hurtful insults and the frequent use of the word “fuck” send a blush down your chest. You’re embarrassed because you’re starting to think that you can’t handle it. You’re not good enough. You’re not strong enough. 

What the fuck were you thinking even coming here? 

The push of your thigh against the door causes the rusted metal hinge to groan again. The sound is indiscernible from relief or protest; staying or leaving. Either option makes your skin crawl. The sudden redirection of eyes casts a dome of silence and everyone zones in on the thing that wasn’t there before: you. 

No one moves and for a second, you don’t think anyone blinks. The realization of someone infiltrating a rather robust and rage-filled argument occurring at nine in the morning sinks in before the vein of awkwardness begins to bleed. You know the logical thing to do is to introduce yourself; to force a plaster-like smile on your face and extend your hand and ask how everyone is doing. 

But you don’t. 

You can’t. 

Natalie can feel the alarm bells going off in her head when her eyes float to your figure. You look worried; a flash of pensiveness and subtle fear floods your facial expression and she starts to panic. Opening a restaurant is beyond humbling and asking Becca Cantor for her help was a last-ditch effort to contain the smallest bit of confidence she had left. Besides, she would rather roll over and die than you to walk out that door, tell Becca about how they’re sledgehammering walls with a gang of lunatics at the restaurant, and somehow get a call from Uncle Jimmy that turns into a stern talking to about how they’re just dicking around with his money and how it’s a waste of time. 

You absolutely, positively can not walk out that door. 

She’ll make sure of it. Even if it’s the last thing she ever fucking does. 

Her feet carry her faster than what her brain is aware of. Her eyes have to catch up with the scenery passing her in a blur as she walks up to you. Seeing her face calms you down in a way that is small but not unnoticed. She has kind eyes and a calm demeanor. This is the kind of client that gives you confidence. This is the kind of client that brings you joy. This is the kind of work you were made to do. 

“Oh, hey! You found it!” she cheers. Her hand brushes against your bicep in a welcome. 

The pool of spit inside your mouth gets swallowed as you curtly nod. “Yeah! Yeah, I thought Apple Maps led me astray but I was definitely in the right spot.” 

Pretending not to notice the curious gazes behind your interaction proves difficult, but it’s not something you’re not used to. Working in an office means there’s always someone in your business and you always feel like you’re under constant surveillance. 

At least this time, the threat of humiliation seems considerably low. The obvious danger of being chased out of here with a sledgehammer is considerably high though. 

“How are you doing?” you ask quietly. A conversation of niceties always makes things less awkward and gives you some leeway for at least learning who the owners are of the staring eyes. 

“Yo, who the fuck is this, Suge?” Richie asks, wiping his plaster-covered hands on his shirt. His face still harbors a flush that had yet to dissipate. He also has kind eyes but you know from the moments you witnessed prior that he can turn his kindness off and on instantaneously. 

Natalie rolls her eyes and huffs. The damage control that she’s doing is not going to plan. She had grown up around cursing and incredibly forward questioning and knows that not everyone else had, and from the disastrous commotion you stumbled into five minutes prior and the way your eyes show more of the whites than the irises, the crudeness needs to take a backseat. 

At least enough of one to ensure that you’re not about to turn around and bolt out of that shitty ass door that she had been bitching at Richie to oil for the past two months. 

She moves to stand next to you and puts her arm around your shoulder. Natalie knows that the second they find out that you’re an attorney all hell will break loose. Something about accusing you of being “fed” and coming to rip the “fundamentals of democracy” out from under them brews in her mind and she gags a little at the thought of having to diffuse yet another shit show before ten in the morning. 

The unwelcome taste of acid tinging the back of her tongue makes her take a mental note to ask her OB about being so nauseous. 

“This is our attorney,” she starts and begins to ignore the groans coming from the crowd in front of her, “She’s gonna help us with some...things.” 

Richie scoffs and throws his hands up. He wipes at his nose with his forearm and some of the plaster residue makes a home on the tip of it. 

“You brought a fuckin’ fed in here, Sugar?” His eyebrows rise to his hairline and it doesn’t take a genius to know how he doesn’t want you here at all. “I told you I had this under wraps. The fuck do we need a fed up our ass for if we’re just tearin’ down walls and shit.” 

You sigh and Natalie can feel the anxiety radiating off of you. She’s starting to absorb it, but the fight in her to make this right persists. 

“Well, first of all, the fed has a fucking name, you dick,” she snaps, “And you’ve been slinging beef sandwiches your entire adult life so the fuck do we need you for?”  

Richie exhales as the rest of the people around him start to snicker. 

“Damn, Papa. You need to pipe down,” whom you guess is Tina from some of the people who had been mentioned to you through the phone calls (and there’s so many goddamn people in here for it to be out of business and you’re sure you’ll need to start doing flashcards every night to remember who they are). 

“Thanks, T,” Natalie and Richie chirp in unison; their voices capturing the different emotions of annoyance and triumph differently. 

Some more harsh words and excited chatter served with a side of frustration occurs and you’re so checked out that you don’t even realize that no one has asked you directly what your name is. The animated voices and exaggerated body movement swell the room even more; pushing you outside and three blocks away so vividly through emotion that you have to check to make sure your feet haven’t moved. 

No one has asked who you are and which firm you came from. No one has asked how you are. And still, no one has asked you what your name is. 

They continue to talk and joke and yell and you start to feel yourself shrinking in. 

Smaller, smaller, smaller. 

Gone. 

You know that it’s not personal. It’s almost never personal, but the mind tends to conjure up ideas when it can’t make sense of the feelings it detects from the body. 

Maybe it had just gotten thrown to the wayside. Maybe they were making room for direct conversation with you to occur later when things weren’t so awkward. Maybe they don’t hate you and think you’re the worst and may actually like you.

But then maybe they don’t. 

Maybe they just don’t give a fuck. 

In your catatonic daze, you hear an offhanded remark about how you look like a high schooler who just waltzed in after a Model UN convention and that Natalie has no idea what the fuck she was doing. The laughter that follows highlights those who actively agree and the agitated huffs of frustration show those who silently concur. 

In any other circumstance, you probably would have joined them in laughter or returned a smart-alecky response or accompanied them in making fun of you, but this isn’t a different circumstance. You’re in a construction zone on a Saturday morning, overdressed with a pantsuit on, and have not a clue on how hospitality law works, and the facts leave a non-disputable conclusion. 

You’re the odd one out and you can’t get an invite to be even no matter how hard you try.

You truly don’t belong here. 

“Richie, have you ever considered that maybe we need to do it right this time?” Natalie asks, her tone dripping annoyance, “Her being here clearly doesn’t affect your ability to be an idiot, so you can go fuck yourself because she’s staying.” 

Richie narrows his eyes at her. His lanky limbs flail as he attempts to make his emotions seen without having to verbalize them. Natalie has had it with his stubbornness and she knows that she might be puking her guts out in about fifteen minutes. The great debate has to have an ending in sight soon. 

Besides, she knows that Richie’s apprehension toward the whole thing is because he’s resisting change and trying to get under Carmen’s skin. It doesn’t matter how great she knows her brother can make something. Richie will try and put a pin in it before it becomes something he no longer recognizes. 

Just like their dad. Somewhat like Mikey. Especially like Carmen (even though she knows he doesn’t recognize his own stubbornness yet). 

“Jesus, that’s fuckin’ horse shit if I’ve heard it,” he sneers, “And I happen to be very intelligent and very charming – and FYI – I also know how a fucking business works and all this “foo-foo,” “high dining”, microgreen shit –” 

She holds up her hand to him and rolls her eyes. She’s surprised she hasn’t been able to see the back of her skull yet. “It’s fine dining, but whatever.” 

“Fuck all the way off. Fine dining, microgreen shit is a dishonor to our roots and I will not stand for it.” 

Natalie’s hand smacks down on a metal rolling table with a rusty toolbox and a wrinkled pad of Post-it notes. The sounds of clanky metal snap everyone’s attention to her. Natalie was never mean. She was always sugary sweet and ooey gooey; trying to be in everyone’s good graces at all times and forever attempting to fix things before they had the potential to be broken. But she could also brush the sugar off and leave a bitter and tongue-curdling hurt if she got pushed to her limit. 

She’s not had a full night’s rest since she got asked (more like begged, but she’s not one for bragging) to be their project manager, she can’t bare to stomach anything nowadays without wrestling the urge to puke it back up, and the fucking pregnancy hormones are filling her with unexplained bouts of rage as of late. 

She is not one to be fucked with and Richie knows that. He just always wants to poke the bear. 

“Well that’s fuckin’ sad that your “roots” are tied to an Italian beef shop, but that doesn’t change my mind whatsoever,” she pushes past him with more force than she intended, guiding you along with her to wherever she had in mind, “You can bitch and moan and holler all you want but you’re not the one losing your fucking mind over fucking paperwork so whatever other unhelpful and extremely negative shit you have to say can get shoved up your ass and you can get fucked because I’m not putting up with it.” 

Richie is rendered speechless – a phenomenon that does not occur very often. 

She turns to you and gives you a friendly smile. Her hand rests softly above yours that are bawled into anxious fists. “Let’s go into the office so we can talk some more. Are you okay with that?” 

You’re still frozen in equal parts shock and fear; too scared to say no. 

“Umm. . .yeah. Yeah, we can go to the back,” you swallow and she brisks you away to what you assume is where all the paperwork is housed that they need help making sense of resides. 

You arrive outside of a closed wooden door and Natalie steps in front of it, her arms coming down to hug the hinges of it in a way that makes you slightly worried. “So I know that you’re not a hospitality attorney and I know that you’re doing this for free and you’re totally at liberty to say you want out the second you say the word,” she speaks softly. 

You know that she’s starting to panic. Your feelings and her feelings are starting to merge into one; two halves of the same whole – people pleasers. 

“But it’s. . .a lot and I don’t know even know where to start and this is legitimately driving me insane so –” 

Her anxiety starts to break your heart. The pang in your chest makes your decision for you. No matter how uncomfortable you are, you know you need to do the right thing out of the kindness of your own heart. 

“No, it’s fine!” you cut her off, “I’ll take a look and we’ll figure it out. Nothing you have here is too much. I can promise you that.” 

Ocean blue irises engulf you with sentiment and appreciation through their gaze. Natalie’s shoulders sag before her hand finds the gold doorknob. A deep breath adds to the noise of chatter and squeaks of the faulty fire alarm in the hallway. The oak door opens with a wheeze and a groan; stuck because of the swell its wood causes from the constant fluctuation of temperatures in Chicago. 

“Well,” she begins, “Here it is.” 

The mountains of cardboard boxes all labeled with acronyms and doodled with nonsense send the pit in your stomach down to your toes and through the center of the Earth. 

Holy fucking shit. 

Natalie notices your shock and starts to go back into “fix-it” mode. She hasn’t eaten at all today, but she figures that the emotions bubbling up and down at a fixed and constant rate are what fill her insides and are making her nauseous. Bile starts to make its way up her throat but she forces it back down. 

She’ll be damned if this goes even more sour than how she knows it has. 

“It’s a lot and it’s more sorting things and making them make sense than doing actual work? Like you’re gonna be doing work but it’s not rocket science. . . Not that being an attorney isn’t hard! My husband is one and I. . .need to shut up now,” she word vomits. Despite the apparent fact that she’s panicking, the sound of her voice is soothing and the gentle hand she places on the junction between the base of your neck and your shoulder does wonders to ground you. “And there’s no rush to have all of it done. It’s a work at your own pace kinda thing?” 

You both know that she’s fibbing about the last part. 

The frantic text at 11 PM last week and the hour-long phone call debriefs you had yesterday and three days before say otherwise. This is her compromising and making her needs smaller. This is her being like you and you being like her; being like each other. Digging yourself into holes to help others no matter the effort – no matter the pain. 

“No, I’m doing this because I want to. Just let me know exactly what you need and we can get to it as soon as possible.” 

You know that you must have said the golden word because as soon as the statement leaves your mouth, Natalie whips out her phone and starts reading off a list she had compiled of all things that have some link to the legal world. 

Contracts. Permits. Tax revenue sheets. Paystubs. Workers Compensation. Equal Employment Opportunity Commission. City Ordinances. Chicago royally fucking anyone who dares to open a business, really. 

The sad part is that this should scare you. This should make you want to run out of here and never look back and purposely take the long way to get somewhere if you knew where you were headed would cross paths with the restaurant. 

But you don’t do any of that, and the buzz of finally doing something that you know is helping people overpowers the migraine of stress you can feel looming over you the second you agree to help them out. 

“You’re amazing,” she says, eyes twinkling with admiration. 

Your cheeks turn a shade of baby pink that you hope she can’t see. You’ve never taken well to flattery. 

Richie’s knuckles give a soft knock on the door and it opens before either of you can think to welcome another presence. His gaze finds both of you fist-deep into the first box labeled “Cocksuckers: For IRS - 1987.” You already know that he’s not related to the Berzattos by blood, but the beautiful blue eyes make you question that fact. He gives a sheepish smile almost to apologize for his interruption and you think he’s about to apologize before he opens his mouth and says, “Suge, your dashing baby brother is bout to blow a fuse because the fed is here.” 

Natalie stops what she’s doing. Her hands come to rest on the flimsy cardboard box and she throws her head back to eye the ceiling. If she can count the row of six vertically, maybe she can slow her breathing and calm herself down enough to spare Carmy the chewing out of a lifetime. 

One. 

“Sugar!” 

Two. 

“Get the fuck off me!” 

Three. 

“I said get the fuck off me! I need to see my fuckin’ sister!” 

Four. 

“Sugar!” 

Five. 

“Leave me the fuck alone!” 

Six. 

“Natalie!” 

Her brother appears in front of her disheveled and angry. Even though she’s only five years older than he is, she always sees him as the little baby she used to put in her strollers and push around for years until he got too big and too “grown” to think playing with his older sister was cool. Years spent with him also meant years studying him; knowing his ticks down to the smallest one and learning how he expresses every emotion. 

It was the only way she survived living in that house until she was eighteen. 

Dealing with an angry Carmen is nothing in comparison to dealing with an angry Michael or even attempting to console a slightly agitated mother. 

Besides, Carmy’s anger, while often misguided and very explosive, was never unexpected. He always has a tell and there’s always a few seconds before he completely comes unglued. Adult temper tantrums are shit shows, and quite frankly she’s fed up with having to diffuse one of his every couple of hours as of late. 

Her face starts to fall when she sees Carmen’s left eye begins to create that deep crinkle it does when he gets pissed. He starts to wrinkle his nose and she knows that he’s about to start screaming. 

Richie lets out a whistle before pushing Carmen’s head in a playful yet agitated manner. Before his hand can be swatted at, he jumps out of the way and joins in on a distant conversation about his daughter’s last dance recital. 

He has a smug grin on his face that Carmen wants nothing more than to slap off him. He knew that touching him would provoke him even more.  

Richie always has to poke the bear. 

Always. 

Carmen tries to contain his anger the best he can. Even though he’s totally against the idea of having you in the building, he knows there’s jackshit he can do about it now. Sydney said yes, Natalie sought you out, and Uncle Jimmy thought the idea was brilliant. The vote was three against one and he knows that all he can do is go fuck himself. So much for everyone promising not to make decisions about the restaurant without his okay. 

It’s not like his credit will be the one that’s fucked if this place turns to shit. 

His arm stretches to hold the side of the door’s hinge and supports his body weight as he leans to the right. “You hired a fucking attorney and didn’t tell me?” he snaps. His face pinches in a way that brings his nose, eyes, and mouth closer together; a face their mom used to make before she came totally unglued. 

You have your back turned toward the door he’s looming in. Something about being targeted makes you want to be blind to it; to shut your eyes as tightly as you can and will it away. You know that the way he’s acting has everything to do with him and nothing to do with you, but you can’t help it. When you feel out of place, every action to push you further out feels personal. 

“She’s doing it for free,” Natalie scoffs, putting a lid back on one of the boxes and crossing her arms over her chest. She would offer up more information, but what would be the use if Carmy is as wound up as he is? 

“Free means “fuck.” She’s gonna fuck us, Sugar, and you don’t even fucking care!” he screeches, seemingly uncaring that you’re right in front of him and that he’s biting his sister’s head off as if it’s nothing. 

You start to pull files out of the boxes faster than you were before. The distraction is needed because you know that if you listen too intently to what else is being said, you’ll start internalizing it later. 

Nothing with you. Everything with him. Nothing with you. Everything with him. 

“No. She is not gonna fuck us,” she pushes a finger into his chest and her nostrils flaring, “You’re gonna fuck us because you’re being so stubborn and stupid and can’t have a goddamn conversation like an adult.” 

His chest pushes deeper into his sister’s finger. “You calling me a baby? You calling me a fucking baby?” 

Carmen usually isn’t one to pick a fight in his everyday life, but once he gets started he refuses to back down. The rational part of his brain knows that he’s going overboard but he can’t help himself. The rage inside has nowhere to go and this whole thing is really pissing him off. He’s so fucking sick of everyone acting like he’s too immature and irresponsible to handle things.

Natalie’s finger comes out to become a full palm. “Well then stop the yelling. Stop the pissy pamper attitude. Stop wasting our fucking time and just admit that you’re way over your fucking head and don’t know everything.” 

Carmen balls his hands into fists and licks his lips to prevent him from saying something really fucking mean. He knows that Natalie is just trying to help but she always is, and it fucking sucks when she always saves the day even when he doesn’t want her to. The restaurant was supposed to be theirs; supposed to be all him and Mikey and everyone who made them into the people they are. It was never supposed to be his. It was never supposed to be his when he has not a goddamn clue what he’s doing and Natalie driving herself borderline insane trying to proactively fix everything before it turns to shit. 

He doesn’t know what to say because she’s right. Sugar is always right and Carmen is always wrong and he wishes Michael was here to balance them out; to add a third option so it wasn’t so split. 

But he’s not here. He won’t be here. He never really was here. 

“Fuck!” he yells at the top of his lungs. 

“Fuck!” Natalie shouts back. 

Argument over. 

His shoes slide on the floor with ease and he tries to steady his breathing. His arms let go of the door frame and his head hangs with the dissatisfaction of still housing a boulder of anger. 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he whispers, voice growing smaller as he walks away. A loud clash of hollowed metal is heard shortly after. “Fuck!” 

“Punching the lockers doesn’t get rid of the fact you’re a little bitch, Cousin.” 

Richie has to poke the bear. 

Always.

[makeyoumine69]

Flesh n' Bones | Hospital AU (INTRO)

PAIRING: Doctor!Patrick Bateman x gn!Nurse!Reader

SUMMARY: My name is Patrick Bateman. I'm 27 years old. I live in the American Gardens building on West 81st Street in New York City. I work as a surgeon at St. Pierce's Hospital—one of the most upscale medical centers in Manhattan—which happens to be owned by my father. And even though I hate my job, sometimes I can find a little bit of fun in making the experience of my patients in the hospital really unforgettable. Not to mention the dozens of missing nurses who definitely regretted crossing the threshold of St. Pierce's Hospital, but who cares—I was the best thing that ever happened to them.

CONTAINS: Swearing, medical procedures, evil plans, gaslighting, pain, blood and injury, interns & internships, power dynamics, flirting, perversion, pet names, Patrick Bateman's POV.

WORDS: 2.4k

A/N: Hello my dears! This story is based on Hospital AU by @peepoo79! Since the first day I saw her Hospital AU comic I was obsessed with this idea so I decided to write it! Since I am not a doctor myself, some things might not be that accurate to medical standards, but I am always open to critique. As always, I hope you enjoy it! Also, many thanks to @mothhmannn for the amazing Patrick art!

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [AO3].

October 28, 1987.

Today started so shitty that I didn't even want to go to work, but how could I? I was a fucking surgeon who was supposed to save lives, and when I finally arrived at St. Pierce's Hospital, several nurses crowded around me and started bitching about some shitty stuff I didn't even care about.

"Dr. Bateman, your intern has arrived and is waiting for you in your office," one of the nurses said, handing me a folder of papers. "They seem to be very shy, so please treat them right."

Scowling, I took the papers and nodded. "Uh…Thank you."

Without further ado, I walked past another nurse and down the long corridors, avoiding all of my coworkers as I tried to concentrate on the music blaring from my Walkman headphones. Stopping at the door to my office, I made sure my hair was neatly slicked back before opening the door and stepping inside to see a beautiful person sitting in the chair. The blue medical uniform fit them so well that I even wanted to compliment them, but I stopped myself and just offered them a handshake instead.

"Well, hello there, my name is Dr. Bateman," I smiled and continued to examine my new plaything. "It's...uh...nice to see some young blood in our hospital these days."

You were embarrassed so quickly, probably from such a warm welcome, which was more of an exception for me than a regular thing.

"Thank you, Dr. Bateman...it's an honor to be your intern," you replied politely, trying to hide your nervousness as your hands visibly shook. "This hospital is so...amazing! Literally everything I have seen so far is amazing...including this office!"

The office did look luxurious. Everything screamed wealth and prestige, including the wooden desk and a high-end clock on it, the way you looked at the white leather couch in the corner of the room probably sent shivers down your spine, and somehow I really hoped it did.

"So...when can we start?" You asked as you watched me flip through your portfolio, my face stoic, blank, and absolutely unreadable.

As I stopped flipping through the documents and frowned to add some tension between us, I looked at you stealthily out of the corners of my eyes, and when I saw you chewing on your lower lip, I smiled in wicked satisfaction, but that smile never reached my eyes.

"It's very inspiring that you're so eager to get started," I said, placing several pages on the desk, then picking up my Montblanc pen to make some notes. "I see you've been studying pretty well...considering your grades."

Another shy chuckle fell from your lips at my words. "Oh, I did my best," you replied, settling more comfortably in your chair. "Although I didn't really want to reflect on my college years."

"Why?" I asked, writing down all the personal information I could get from your file, including your address, phone number, blood type...

"It was..." your voice wavered and you paused, causing me to look up at you again. "...hard as hell."

"As it should be. Our jobs require hard work as we carry a huge responsibility on our shoulders," I grinned, closing the folder before I could see the name of the college.  "So where did you study exactly?"

Just as you were about to answer, a loud knock on the door rang through the office and I couldn't help but grumble in anger.

Can I have a break, for fuck's sake!

"Come in," I almost barked, my attention shifting away from you as I saw a nurse - one of the hottest hardbodies in our hospital - walk in. "Courtney? What happened?"

"Dr. Bateman..." She walked over to my desk, completely ignoring your presence. 

"Yes, Courtney?" My patience was about to explode if she didn't answer right away.

"I know you told us not to bother you with non-emergent cases, but other surgeons are busy," she stammered as our gazes met, her blue eyes seeming to brighten even more. "We have a girl whose hand is so full of broken glass, can you please examine her?"

I sighed before glancing quickly at you, a little impressed that you still hadn't said a word. "Does she have insurance? How old is she?"

"Uh," Courtney hiccuped, looking at the patient's medical card. "I checked her insurance, it's valid and... she's nineteen."

"Nineteen?" I replied, suddenly feeling excited. "Well, I think this can be a good start for your internship. What do you think?"

Courtney seemed to finally notice that we were not alone, her plump lips pursed back into a thin line, and I really wanted to laugh at her reaction, but I told myself to stay professional. 

"I'm ready when you are, Dr. Bateman," your suddenly confident voice sounded so challenging that it struck a chord in my chest and brought back a long forgotten feeling of thrill. "I'm sure we'd make a great team under your guidance."

How sweet.

I managed to hold back puke at such a silly, saccharine statement. It reminded me of the cliché every doctor used whenever someone asked them why they chose to work in a hospital.

'Oh, we want to save people's lives! And we're not doing it because doctors have almost the highest salaries in the country!'

I grinned insistently, reveling in my own sense of superiority.  "All right then," I stood up and put on my doctor's coat over my custom-made scrubs with my initials on them. "Courtney, give the medical card to the intern."

The woman froze in shock. "But...but I thought I would assist you..."

I rolled my eyes as I checked myself in the mirror, adjusting the collar of my scrubs and pulling up the sleeves a bit to reveal my Rolex. "I think I made it very clear that your help won't be needed this time.”

If we were alone, I would probably just boff her before doing my work and that would help me get rid of her until the next time, but hell no, now I had a pain in the ass. And why should I have to teach an intern when I didn't even ask for one?

Meanwhile, you were waiting for me at the door, holding a medical card to your chest as if Courtney or I were about to snatch it from your hands. After I was completely satisfied with my appearance, I pinned my ID badge to my chest and walked to the door, trying not to stare too much at Courtney's ass while she was doing something at my desk that I never really bothered to know.

"You know what," I stopped suddenly before leaving. "Wait for me here," the blonde nurse turned to look at me, still bent over the table. "We'll discuss your new assignment."

A few minutes later, we finally entered the Surgery Division, and since you were a newbie here, I had to guide you all the way, telling you some things from time to time, and at some point I realized that I didn't really hate it, because I could blather on about being a super professional surgeon, and this whole place being mine.

Just like the whole hospital.

"I think this is our ward," I muttered and opened the door to let you in. " C'mon, don't be shy." I pushed you forward a bit before closing the door behind you.

The patient—a young red-haired girl with big green eyes whose tight top stuck to her chest so that her nipples poked out—looked at us the moment we entered the ward. 

"Oh, finally," she mumbled in sheer annoyance, her right hand covered in blood-stained bandages. "I was beginning to think everyone had forgotten about me."

Still nervous, you cleared your throat and quickly looked down at the medical card. "Sorry for the long wait, Miss...Miss Ray," you managed to smile, even though you looked like a patient who was afraid to get treatment, but not her, "My name is (y/n) and this is Dr. Bateman, he's one of the best surgeons in this hospital."

One of the best?

Your slightly incorrect comment made me furrow my brow, but in the next second I was smiling seductively at the girl whose scrutinizing look I couldn't miss. She was pretty attractive, hell, just the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra made her attractive. 

With practiced ease, I put on medical gloves after washing my hands very meticulously. Then I glanced at the patient's medical card, not taking it in my hands, but letting you hold it for me.

"Can I take a look?" I finally asked, taking a seat next to the examination table and putting the mask on. Carefully I began to unfold the bandages, the little whimpering the girl made gave me undeniable pleasure. "Well, that doesn't look too bad," I said when I could finally see the wound, and several pieces of glass had sunk quite deep into her flesh. "How did you manage that?"

The girl blushed as I began to examine her forearm, moving higher up to her shoulder, though it wasn't really necessary. I just loved how soft her skin was, as much as I could tell by feeling it through the elastic material of my gloves.

"I...I accidentally broke the mirror." She replied, her breathing uneven and her pulse quickening as I took a moment to check her. "My name is Liza, by the way."

I chuckled charmingly before turning to look at you, as you stood behind my back, watching my work very intently. "Can you bring me forceps? And...a scalpel?"

"Scalpel?" You replied a little confused.

"Yes," I confirmed and repositioned Liza's arm for better access. "And I'll also need a suture kit."

The girl tensed at my words that I would need a scalpel. "Is it...necessary?"

"Hmm?" I hummed, asking her a silent question while you busied yourself with preparing the instruments. 

"A scalpel...are you going to make an incision?" Liza asked, giving me a pleading glare, her fear was palpable in the air and I couldn't help but savor it.

"I just want all the instruments to be close by in case I have a need for them, that's all. Now please relax." I murmured this with fake sympathy before resuming the examination, pressing down on one of the shards and making Liza whimper. "Shh, it's okay."

The redhead frowned in pain. "It hurts...doctor...it hurts so much!"

When I heard you return, I removed my fingers from the wound. "All right, no nerve damage and that's good." I smiled, obviously lying, my hand was already extended, ready to take the forceps.

"Your forceps, doctor," the way you said 'doctor' made my eyes glow with a mischievous spark. "Clean and sterilized, just like the scalpel and suture kit."

"Very well," I replied, feeling a chill in the metal in my hand. "Put them here," I tapped the spot on the examination table, wondering how you would do that. "And where's your mask?"

Confused, you stuttered. "Oh...yeah...sorry," you mumbled in embarrassment before putting on a mask. "I'm still a little nervous."

Liza knitted her eyebrows in a skeptical way that almost made me burst out laughing.

Okay, now I'm really starting to like this.

"Don't worry, my pill fairy," I watched you place a metal tray with instruments on the spot I showed you. "It's your first day in the hospital...it's...always a little nerve wracking."

As soon as I said it, you stopped in your tracks, and even though your face was covered by the mask, I was pretty sure you were so damn embarrassed that I was going to burn my finger off your cheek. You didn't make any comments though, which made me a little frustrated, but I didn't show it, I took the forceps more comfortably in my hand and began to remove the broken glass from Liza's shaky arm. The way I used the instruments was always mesmerizing - a work of art - as some nurses said, including Courtney, but today I was trying my best because I wanted to impress you. Shard by shard, I took them all out without causing any pain, something I usually couldn't find anything to be proud of.

"Done," I muttered, throwing the last piece of glass into the steel bow. "You took it so bravely."

The redhead smiled tiredly, trying not to look down at her hand. "Thank you, Doctor."

"You're welcome, sweetheart," I allowed you to clean the wound with the antiseptic and dab it with a swab. "It's my job, after all. Now, (y/n), can you please show me how you were taught to make stitches?"

"Of course, Dr. Bateman," you replied without hesitation, and this kind of obedience seemed to become my personal drug.

Standing up, I took a moment to admire how your uniform accentuated all of your curves, especially the roundness of your ass and the arch of your hips.

Shit, maybe I shouldn't have let Courtney stay in my office?

With these thoughts I leaned against the white wall and took off my mask as I suddenly felt a strong urge to smoke, luckily I still had the box of cigars my father had brought me from Cuba. I imagined inhaling the sharp scent of snuff when Liza's sudden whimper pulled me out of my trance.

"Can I have an anesthetic?" She asked, squirming in her place as she watched you prepare a suture kit.

"Just a local one," I muttered, a bit annoyed. "That will be enough. (Y/n), what should you do before using anesthesia?"

My question made you freeze. "Ask the patient about any allergies?"

"Right, but in this case you can find all the information on the medical card," I took off the gloves and took the card in my hands. "Well, I don't see anything that would prevent us from using bupivacaine."

As Liza sighed with relief and I watched you take a syringe, I had to admit that I was amazed at how carefully and attentively you worked.

Maybe you're not gonna get kicked out of the hospital as fast as I thought.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[whispereons]

Oracle!Reader 1k Special

Masterlist - Part 1 of Main Series

Warning! This is imposter SAGAU yandere Genshin so expect blood and gore in this chapter.

Sunlight streams down as the birds caw and the faint smell of dew bothers your nose. Keeping your eyes closed you try to ignore it as you curl deeper into your spot. The blades of grass- 

…Grass?

Your eyes snap open as you sit up frantically. Towering trees and scattered rocks greet your panicked eyes as you stand up quickly. How the hell did you get here?!

A headache begins to form as memories of the night before come to mind. You vaguely recall exiting Genshin Impact after healing at the Anemo Statue of the Seven and walking in Wolvedom. The title screen came up before the doors of Celestia opened and… 

That’s it, nothing else could be recalled beyond that.

Looking around you take a step back for a wider view of the area when something is felt below you. Removing your foot and bending down you pick up the slightly trampled bag and examine it.

Nothing seemed wrong with it so there wasn’t any harm in taking it right? It was basically spotless if you ignore the dirty footprint so maybe it came with you? God you had no fucking clue.

With a sigh you sling it on and examine your surroundings a little closer. Something large and blue caught your eyes and you move a little closer to be sure of what you see.

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of the familiar structure, something you were sure wouldn’t exist on Earth. Emitting a soft blue and hovering in the air was a teleport waypoint. 

This must be a dream, a lucid one considering how aware you are. To dream about Genshin out of all the media you’ve consumed is amazing luck. It doesn’t take much thought for you to remember where in Mondstadt this waypoint is.

Lush green grass with sparse shrubs and fallen trees farther away reminds you of the west side. There’s a faint cry of hilichurls even farther to your right is only a little bit worrisome.

There was the weapon domain near there that you recall being the biggest bullshit in history. At least until Dendro was officially released. But either way it basically confirmed that you were near Wolvendom.

And that was pretty close to Dawn Winery where you could travel the short easy path to Mondstadt City. Traveling across Wolvendom would be no problem since it was just a dream.

Turning your heel, you began your trek to the Anemo statue. 

Was there a chance that you could run into a wolf? Yeah but as long as you don't get close to Andrius, wasn't that a weird thought, you should be fine.

The lack of pain in your bruised foot and perfectly intact knuckles didn't even cross your mind. The idea of exploring this dream while you could filled your mind like a pleasant haze.

Finches hopped on ledges before flying off as you climbed up. It's not that high due to Mondstadt's easy terrain, it would be much harder if you dreamt of Liyue. Sumeru would have been your personal hell. But it's easy enough to hop down to the darker area of woods. 

Trunks lay on the ground with deep scratch marks clear. The high stone slopes that you dared not climb had similar marks to a larger degree. 

That was the telltale sign of Andrius lair being nearby. With a cautious glance to the right where the claw marks led, you continued going straight. A beckoning blue beam shined in that direction affirming your choice. 

Bushes decorated your path with berries, a rich purple color that caught your eye. Halting for a moment you crouch before it and reach out.

A rubbery small berry was rolled between your fingers as you carefully avoided the spikes. The Wolfhook berry that you farmed often in this area was a small joy you had at seeing it in your eyes. 

Without much thought you began to pick multiple Wolfhooks from the bush and drop them into your bag. You stood back up after picking the bush clean and continued walking.

Since going straight to the Archon statue didn't have a path you had to climb through the bushes. Leaves batted your face and you were sure a few were stuck in your hair too.

Not to mention the grass and dirt stains you had gained throughout the hike. Even still, you couldn't stop the beaming smile on your face. 

Reality was good and all but you would welcome any form of escapism that you could. To dream of Genshin and becoming a ‘protagonist’ of sorts is the most common form of it.

Well you weren't hoping to defeat dragons, fight hordes of enemies or be the nonverbal emotional support hero for every nation to lug their problems on. That would be no better than reality.

In the midst of your thoughts you mindlessly popped the first Wolfhook berry you picked into your mouth. 

Thinking back to the Archon quests you aren't the type of person to just accept bullshit easily. Like the way Ayaka just plainly guilt tripped and played on the travelers sense of justice was just- sweet?

The taste of sweet fruitiness is followed by a bitter aftertaste. In confusion you stop chewing and lick your lips. Hesitantly you swallow the berry and the sensation of something very real sliding down your throat has you taking a sharp breath.

It's real. Everything was real. The leftover bitter juice of the berry clinging to your teeth. Rough bark of the tree that you're leaning on in a whirlwind of emotions. 

Even the wolves glaring at you just a couple of feet away are real!

.

.

.

Fuck

Tensing up at the sight of those predators you subtly pat your body. Other than the bag you had no means of defense. Running wasn't an option either, that would simply goad them into chasing you.

Taking a deep breath you keep your body on high alert and eyes on the pack. Visibly there are six but who knows how many are hiding in the shadows?

It would be best to assess how hostile the wolves in front of you are before worrying about any unconfirmed danger. With that thought in mind you stare at the largest wolf that hasn't let its eyes stray from you.

No barring of teeth or pulled back ears. Good starting signs but those could change instantly. It didn't seem happy with your intrusion judging by its restless behavior and thumping of its tail.

The smaller wolves, probably females, didn't seem on guard either. That was the best sign as it meant no pups were around. You would be totally dead if that were the case.

With the chance of being mauled to death lower than you initially thought, you began to take small steps backwards. Whether you were heading in the direction of the Anemo statue or not didn't matter that much anymore.

It's ear twitched at your movements but it made no move to get up. Feeling the slightest bit relieved at that, you shuffle backwards a bit faster.

“Ugh! I fucking hate Mondstadt! Stupid useless hills and these god awful pollen make me sick!”

Freezing at the female voice and the wolf standing up in alert, you cringe at the sight of a purple figure stumbling out of the bushes. 

Right between you and the wolf. Maybe you should be happy that if it attacks it'll kill this idiot first.

Before you can bolt away and leave this, probably capable, woman to deal with the mess she stands up sighing in annoyance. 

Dusty green hair, a dark mask, and a recognizable bat-like hood made this situation 10x worse. A Cicin Mage just had to intercept the moment you tried to get away.

…Maybe if you run fast enough the wolves and the Cicin Mage could just keep each other busy.

“Oh, oh my Celestia! This-This isn't a dream right?!” The moment she faces you, she falls to her knees. Hands clasp she looks up at you, the mask she wears can't obscure the smile.

“The fuck?” The words slip out of automatically from the sheer bizarreness of the situation. She doesn't even seem to realize the pack of wolves behind her.

“Almighty Creator, I beg of you to forgive me for my insolent words just now. The foul words I spouted should never have irritated your ears.”

Did she literally not hear you curse just moments ago? Actually fuck that, what's more important is how she referred to you.

“Why are you calling me ‘Almighty Creator’ and would you get off the floor?” There's a pause as her smile falters before she stands up.

Was it cool to have an annoying early game enemy kneeling at your feet? Yeah. 

Did you want any passerby to misunderstand the situation as you being a Harbinger? Hell no.

“As you wish, your grace. But allow me to ask, is this some sort of test? A testimony to my faith in you?”

Clearly you had two options. Either lie and act the part of the Creator. Or deny it and risk the chance of her attacking you.

Things were still too vague for you to make a decision. Time to stall for time and information.

“I'm not here to answer your questions. Whatever I plan to do is up to me alone. So either answer my questions or scram.”

She's quiet and you want to curse the mask she wears. But you still catch the way her lips twitch downwards before she's smiling wide and bright.

“How silly of you, your grace. Playing dumb and tricking me like this is quite cruel. Don't worry I have something to match your type of jokes.”

Warning bells go off in your head as she takes steps closer towards you. Maybe it was the near mocking tone she used, or the belittling words but the malicious smile she wore was the most off-putting.

You needed to leave.

Taking a step back, your heel turns to sprint away but it was futile. Delusions wielding wild unpredictable elements would always overpower the weak and limited bodies of mortal capacity.

Her lamp glows in time with her teleport to your front. Her gloved one's grasp yours as a Cicin is summoned to her hand. 

Trying to yank your hands away only earns a painful jolt of electricity to flow through your hands. Gritting your teeth you resist any shameful urges to show your pain. Using this moment she basically slaps the Cicin into your hands.

Predictably the electro infused bat creature bites your palm forcing you to wretch your body away from the mage.

Holding your now bleeding palm, you bite your lip and cover the wound with your other hand. “Why the fuck did you do that?! I know Cicin Mages aren't the sanest people but for the love of-” Bright scarlett drops roll from your palm and splat onto the grass. 

The air seems to shift as her fingers twitch in place. As if hypnotized by your blood she continues to stare at it staining the grass. “Fuck this…” With that last mumble you turn around more than ready to ditch this situation when electro crackles behind you.

Any lingering hesitance was immediately killed and you bolted away from the area. Maniacal laughter follows you as the electro in the air surrounds you like a fog. She was right on your heel, you could sense it.

“Did you think you were slick? Pretending to be our god when you are nothing more than a human? Not even one with elemental powers, what a pitiful existence~”

She teleports in front of you with a lantern in hand that glows as Cicins are summoned to surround her. It’s more than enough time for your fist to connect with her face. Even if your raw strength wasn’t enough, the momentum you had from running gave you whatever strength was needed.

“Fuck off!” The yell is accompanied by her cry of pain as something inevitably gives away under your fist. She staggers backwards and glares at you angrily with tears escaping her mask.

“You rotten imposter! How could anyone, let alone I of all people believe you to be the Creator?!” The Cicins leave her side to chase after you as she twirls in place. 

Wolvedom’s environment of hulking trunks, shady areas and raised tree roots were cool in-game but in real life it was nothing more than a pain in the ass. The city is where you felt the most comfortable traversing but you did relatively well in dodging most of the terrain.

Didn’t stop the slight jolts of electro hitting you as the electro cicins were hot on your heels. All you could focus on was the steadily closer beam of blue of the Anemo statue. You would be near Dawn Winery where Diluc, who loathed the Fatui, could deal with this damn Cicin Mage.

But let’s be real, you should have known your luck would run out.

And that’s exactly what happened when you failed to vault over a tree root in time. Curling and rolling on the landing you avoided any severe injuries but the Cicins were too close to not take advantage of the opportunity.

Some continued to shoot electro at you from afar while most took to biting and tearing at your body. Limbs against the agile small bats were useless to swat them away with. It only got you more bites to suffer from.

Humming is heard getting clearer and it only serves to panic your already frazzled mind. With limbs becoming tingly and numb from the electricity, your hands grope the grass around you for something, anything-

Cool metal is felt and your fingers wrap around what you can and swing in a large arc. The long metal weapon works just as intended and flings a good chunk of them away. When your arc ends you can see a few bats stuck on the spikey end of the metal club that twitch and bleed. As if on cue, all the Cicins cower before fleeing.

The Cicin Mage skips over with her lantern glowing and crackling, her lips are pulled into a scowl as she yells at the retreating Cicins. “Get back here! The mist grass hasn’t been completely used up yet! How are you all already leaving?!”

Panting, you try to see past the blood in your vision to gauge how close she is to you. Quickly you use your arm to rub the blood off your face and by the time you pull it off, the mage is already beginning to float.

“You REALLY know how to work me up!” Crazed laughter erupts from her as the lantern glows one last time before shattering in her hands. It’s the catalyst for the electro shield to surround her and a strange symbol above her to begin shooting electricity.

Try as you may, your twitching muscles are slow from the Cicins attacks leaving you slow to get off the ground. She’s just about in reach, you can basically see your death about to play out.

In a flash a gray blur pounces on the Cicin Mage, it’s not hard to make out the pointed ears and furry coat. More wolves emerge from the shadows and follow the first wolf’s lead in attacking. The lightning manages to hit quite a few but with the multiple targets present, it switches too fast for any consistent damage.

“What the-?!” The mage yells in a mix of frustration and confusion. She can only try to float away from the horde in the shield. But the shield flickers and you can see the way her body trembles as the wolves surround her, awaiting for that flimsy shield to break.

And when it does, the bloodbath is horrific.

You’ve seen many people die, usually in painful ways. Thanks to your upbringing and line of work of course. But most of it was done with knives and guns, maybe the occasional poison if stealth was necessary. The sight of sharp teeth digging into screaming flesh was a new experience.

Blood stains the maws of the wolves and flies off to splat on your face. It’s still warm and the feeling of it sticking to your skin is nauseating. Her clothes are ripped as well as her limbs. It’s hard not to gag when you realize that they’re eating her.

The smell of iron gets stronger when all the wolves turn to you. Teeth bared showing strings of flesh clinging to their teeth. You can just barely make out shredded green hair, a half eaten arm and soulless eyes seeping out her mangled head.

Shakily you try and stand up, it’s not the best decision with all the pack staring at you but you could care less about that. Between the realization that everything is real, that you aren’t on Earth, and how you seem to resemble the ‘Creator’.

Nothing seems to make sense and you can only focus on escaping.

A teal symbol appears below the pack of wolves before wind shoots up, throwing the wolves into the air. You stare at the familiar symbol and the relief you feel is immense. 

The wolves hit the ground with a whimper before running away. The symbol fades as a figure floats down from far above you. 

Venti, the Anemo Archon disguised as his deceased friend, holds the Skyward Harp bow you equipped on him as he floats to the ground in front of you. Cream and teal green colors make up his signature bard outfit as he smiles at you.

Soft nearly girlish features look down at your bloodstained figure as mirth swirls in his teal eyes. With no danger present, the thrum of your heart slows down letting you smile crookedly at him.

“Thank you for the save. I was really about to die there…” Your words trail off at the Anemo infused arrow pointed at your face. 

“It’s my pleasure imposter.”

This has to be some sick joke. Once is an incident, twice is a coincidence but did you really want to deny it and risk the third being a pattern? Gulping you stare at Venti’s face, the smile he wears is now lined with something… sinister.

“What do you mean by imposter? I haven’t claimed to be anyone.” A giggle leaves him at your words but the arrow in your face is steady.

“You really are clueless huh? No one is just born with the Creator’s face yet you, a stranger that appeared from nowhere, are.” Frowning you try to make sense of his words. If you visibly looked like this ‘Creator’ then what made the Cicin Mage be sure that you aren’t?

“Just like that Fatui brat, I too believed you to be the Creator. But the more you spoke and the way you acted made me suspicious. I’ll give her some credit for thinking to cut you to see the color of your blood.”

The color? You glance down at your palm, it was bleeding red so was that abnormal for the Creator?

“Then again, if you did bleed gold I would have just immediately killed her for daring to harm our God.” The fuck?! You mean you’re about to die for being born with this face and not bleeding liquid gold?!

“What the fuck man, is it really that serious?” You knew those were the wrong words to say as the arrow comes close enough for you to feel the air whipping around it. His smile disappears and the dark glint in his eyes are more than enough for you to shut up.

“That serious? Oh what a pity it is to exist without knowledge of the Creator. Without even touching how they created every particle of energy, every drop of blood in our bodies and the vast gifts they gifted us I could still lecture you on their divinity. But I’ll keep it short and simple that even you can understand. They help poor outlanders who arrived here to find their sibling and even used that opportunity to take care of the nations they come across. Their touch extends from the most important events to the smallest tasks that even normal people wouldn’t bother with. How could we, how could I, not worship them?”

So this was a cult? It was the only viable explanation as to why both a Fatui member and an Archon like Barbatoes could agree on something. And by extension that means you must be the Creator.

The only one that could ‘control’ the outlander is you as the player. It would explain why you look ‘exactly’ like them, why Venti was wielding the bow you specifically put on him and even why you had appeared in this world with the bag.

But why the hell is there a condition about having gold blood attached to it?

“You seem to fully understand why I’m pointing this arrow at you. Then that means we can end this here and now-”

“Look Venti, I never fucking claimed to be the Creator. And isn’t this lecture hypocritical considering that you’re parading around in the body of your dead friend? I was born with this face, what’s your excuse?”

There’s a full stop with your words hanging out in the open. Like the slightest pressure on a tightrope leaving you to wonder whether you’ll stay balanced or fall off into the air. He blinks at you with a mix of emotions you can’t decipher.

A snort leaves him that evolves into a chuckle before turning into full blown laughter. His head is thrown back as the bow slants down, his laughter doesn’t put you at ease. He finally calms down as you wait patiently on the ground.

Running would be useless against the God of Wind.

“I have to admit, you make a very good point. I suppose the term imposter doesn’t suit you anymore. What is your name? If you have one of course.”

Seems your gamble paid off, Venti wasn’t the type to stay fixated on one rule or another. He’s flexible just like one would expect from the God of Freedom. Whether or not you would risk your name being known as the Creator’s is another risk.

“My name is Y/N.” You can’t offer more personal information than that. The only reason you gave up your name is due to his power to hear through the wind. There’s no telling when you could accidently slip up and have Venti hunt you down due to your lie.

“Well Y/N, it’s your lucky day today! I’ll let you live for succeeding in pointing out my ‘hypocrisy’ as you put it. Mind you, it’s definitely not on the same level. My friend is dead and not the Almighty Creator. But then again you didn’t claim to be the Creator either. In fact, I’m more interested to know how you even came to obtain that information while managing to be oblivious to our God’s presence…”

Well it certainly wasn’t your fault that Genshin fucking hid everything about this. But you needed a way to explain how you know so much while being oblivious to the ‘Creator’.

“I’m just a messenger blessed with visions of their journey.” The words are spoken solemnly but Venti seems intrigued either way.

“My sole purpose is to communicate words and feelings that the traveler couldn’t convey.” Venti frowns at that, and you know it’s not the best set up considering you didn’t even know about the creator a few hours ago. But Venti didn’t give up any super useful information to work with either.

“Oh really? That lets see some proof and maybe then I won’t kill you for claiming to be a servant of the Creator’s.”

“I’m well aware that the Creator hasn’t selected every vision holder to be used by them. Captain Eula for instance hasn’t ever been wielded unlike how often Chief Alchemist Albedo has been. That’s not counting the brief moments on special occasions.”

Venti stays silent at that but his eyes haven’t strayed from you. His dark braids and teal blue tips are gently swayed by the wind as he keeps a firm grip on his bow. 

“I recall on more than one occasion how often you would be wielded to group up enemies in combat. Both in the various regions and in the Spiral Abyss in the sea.”

He hums in contemplation at your words. A playful smile graces his face as he leans downwards to ask you. “All this sounds very nice and all but how does this explain your confusion to being mistaken as the creator?”

A pivotal question that decides your fate hangs in the air. There’s no stalling or distractions to help you out. Sheepishly smiling, you stare back at him as a sad tone coats your next words.

“In truth, I’ve never seen the Creator. For a long time I studied those visions as intangible feelings bloomed within me without reason. But one day I was spoken to in the sweetest whisper of how they longed to converse with their people.”

Closing your eyes and clasping your hands, you continued to speak with a wavering voice.

“I offered them myself to be used but I never received an answer. And now I woke up here with no memories of my past outside of the visions. It was only after you spoke about the Creator that I realized my God and your God are one in the same.”

Opening your eyes to smile widely up at the surprised expression on Venti’s face you finished your words.

“I truly am lucky to be blessed with a face so closely resembling the Creator’s. But you shouldn’t mistake me for the Creator. A mere oracle like me pales in comparison to the Creator of All.”

The bow disappears from his hands and he begins to clap. “That would earn you a standing ovation if this was done in front of a crowd!” He laughs but you don’t relax your body, that decision is proven right when his tone lowers dangerously.

“While your story makes sense, I can’t just trust you. Everything can be neatly resolved if I just believe you to be Celestia’s spy and kill you right now.”

An arrow flies past you, grazing your neck before you could even try to move away. 

“I’ll stay true to my word and let you live. Feel free to roam my region and claim to be the oracle. I will not stop you but don’t expect me to let you spread false information either.” Your blood is warm as your bloody palm presses on the burning wound in hopes of slowing the bleeding.

“But if I ever hear or find out about you using those blessed features to mimic or claim to be the creator. I will end you.”

The eyes of Barbetos stare you down as wind whips around his body. You could see that it was Barbatoes watching you instead of Venti.

“I’ll hunt you down across the nations and string up your body for the Genesis Cathedral to see.” With those last lingering words, the wind becomes a barrier as a symbol glows on the ground.

You close your eyes instinctively in response to the harsh wind and open them to the sight of a bloody clearing instead.

A weary sigh leaves you before you collapse backwards onto the grass. The sun that shines above you is your only guiding light now that the beacon of blue spelt out pain instead of hope.

The events that you had just gone through make your head spin. Your fingers slid up your face and carefully traced your bloody features. 

The Cicin Mage’s bloody mask lays on the ground just a few feet away. 

It’s just a temporary measure you tell yourself as you slide the uncomfortable and unfitting mask on. Just until you can find a way to cover your face properly.

------------------------------------

The sight of the Barbatoes statue that glows in your presence is almost nauseating. The blood from that event still sticks to you despite how much you rubbed on it. To your surprise the Statue heals your injuries and leaves you feeling more refreshed than before.

The metal club you hold in your dominant hand seems to weigh less too.

You cast a wary glance towards Dawn Winery before looking at the faint outline of Mondstadt city. There’s no way you could go to Dawn Winery wearing a Fatui mask, Diluc would actually kill you. But could you go to the city wearing this mask in strange bloody clothing either?

Even Springvale seemed like a bad place to travel to in this state.

With a groan you readjust the mask and turn slowly to survey the area. The outline of smoke rising catches your attention. Out of all your options, this was your best bet.

You creeped closer to the smoke's origin and arrived at the edge of a small cliff. Looking down you could see three figures sitting around a campfire. Deciding to lay low for the time being you flatten yourself on the ground with a clear view of the camp.

A purple and black clothed blonde, silver hair poking out of a dark gray hooded figure, and finally a pale haired person that was definitely burning the food. Just those aspects make it clear that you accidentally stumbled on Fischl, Razor and Bennett.

Thoughts of what you went through earlier with Venti come to mind as your finger brushes against the healed skin where Venti left his ‘warning’. 

Patiently you watch the trio as they struggle to eat the burnt food. The sun has already begun to set and you think through different plans on how to obtain a change of appearance from the group. The bushes on the opposite side of the camp shake, catching your attention.

From your vantage point, you can clearly make out some treasure hoarders shuffling closer to the camp. Biting your lip, you debate whether to reveal yourself to warn the trio or not. Teal eyes flash in the back of your mind solidifying your choice in not getting involved.

Instead you watch as Razor suddenly stands up and sniffs the air, his greatsword materialized into his hands. Fischl and Bennett stand up in hurry as they look around. Oz, Fischl’s companion manifested by electro is summoned too.

It was pretty entertaining to watch the hoarders freeze in place at the commotion. Razor stalks around the camp on edge as Fischl commands Oz, he obeys by soaring on the border. Bennett to his credit tries to simply sit back down on the lod, more than well aware of his extreme unluckiness.

Except it breaks beneath him making him fall flat onto the ground and get scratched up from the broken pieces. Most likely worried, Razor and Fischl move closer to Bennett as he stands up laughing sheepishly.

Even from far away you can hear his bright sunny voice ring out. “Don’t worry I’m okay!-” The barrel that he uses to help himself up just so happens to be a pyro slime barrel that explodes at the contact. 

Cringing you watch Bennett fly through the air and land on the hilichurl structures crushing them. The dust settles and the now exposed treasure hoarders look at FIschl and Razor with that signature ‘deer in headlights’ expression. 

The camp goes into chaos to say the least.

The hoarders attack first as Fischl and Razor meet them halfway only using physical attacks. Probably due to the fact that Bennett was on fire and frantically trying to put out the small fire growing around him.

A hoarder slinking in the back of the group raises a vial, the plum colored clothing he wears makes it clear what kind of potion he was about to throw. And just as you were already anticipating, he threw the electro potion in Bennetts direction looking like a direct hit.

A direct hit at the second pyro slime barrel just inches away from Bennett.

The resounding explosion was at least double the previous one as smoke and dust covered the area. You can’t see much as you rub your eyes but there’s a loud thud of something hitting the cooking pot and a follow-up of more smaller scale explosions.

It all calms down as Razor and Fischl cough out the remaining smoke, they’re surprisingly unharmed in the center as Bennett and the hoarders lay passed out. Bennett’s ashy hair is slickened with blood and his mildly charred body catch the duo’s immediate attention.

You can’t help but feel slightly worried at the sight, head trauma was no joke. Perhaps it was your distracted thoughts but you didn’t even realize how close you moved to the edge until ruby red eyes met with yours.

Fischl is shaking Bennett trying to wake him up but you can’t look away from Razor’s red eyes staring into yours. 

“Wolf der kleinen worte! Do thou not grasp our ill-fated companions condition?! Quicken thou sloth paced soles and support our misfortunate companion!”

Razor breaks the staring contest to look at Fischl with a pinched expression. “I-I don't know.”

To his credit he does get closer but immediately stops when Fischl or rather Amy yells in frustration.

“Just help me carry Bennett to Springvale!” Razor rushes to Bennetts side and supports most of Bennetts weight. He seems to have completely forgotten about you thankfully.

“Um Mein Fräulein , I believe we have a-'' Oz begins as he returns to the frantic Fischl's side. She's quick to snap at him too. “Silence Oz! Matters unrelated to the wretched and uncouth incident that our companion is suffering from can be properly dealt with at the hour of dark deception.”

You almost feel bad for the crow if he would just stop giving you those damn pointed looks. Just to push his buttons in return, you bring your hand up to wave at him.

His grumpiness at your actions is visible but useless as he's forced to follow Fischl and Razor who rush toward Springvale.

Meticulously you watch their figures get farther and shrouded by the forage before quickly descending from your hiding spot.

Once you land at the now ruined camp, you reach down to the first treasure hoarder and rip off his mask. Discarding the Cicin mask you place the flimsy cloth mask on with a sigh of relief.

The ill fitting and hard mask of the Cicin was not something you wanted to wear longer than needed. Readjusting the thin mask you frown. It seemed this one wasn't much better…

Taking a good long look around you note how the majority of the headers had masks on. The clothes they're wearing are mostly intact and clean too…

Without a shred of guilt or sympathy you stood in the camp wearing new clothes and a reinforced mask covering most of your lower face. Your bag is full of similar clothing, leftover masks, weapons, a meager amount of mora and vials of elemental energy that would no doubt sell for a good amount of mora.

Luck finally shined down on you when one of the treasure hoarders groaned as he sat up. Your blood-stained metal club's spikes glistened in the rising moonlight as you smiled down at him.

“Hey, let's make this quick. Long story short I'm going to need you to answer my questions with every lingering integrity you have or else this club will bludgeon your head like a pinata!”

Whether he knew what a pinata was or not didn't matter. The fear flickering in his eyes only spurred you to grin wider.

---------------

You left Mondstadts gates with slumped shoulders and drained morale. It's been a few days since you woke up in Mondstadt and today you finally had everything set up to live in a different nation.

The perfect layers of a backstory of being an ex treasure hoarder turned adventurer. An oracle to the acolytes who sensed your divinity. So far only Venti has heard about your outlander status.

You intended to keep it that way.

Venti stayed true to his words and never tried to out you in any way. But you just couldn't feel comfortable enough to live in Mondstadt long term, especially with Ventis increasing clinginess. 

It was a strange development and he wasn't the only one to display those tendencies but you couldn't keep putting yourself under this stress.

At least in a different nation, you might only have to fear accidentally running into an acolyte. But other than that you would be relatively set for life.

Those encouraging thoughts of the future caused you to stroll with a pep in your step. If you kept up this pace, you'll be passing Dawn Winery before noon.

“Ughh, please…” The hoarse voice of a man is is close by but all you can feel is dread. You don't see him, nor do you look for him. You did NOT want to get caught up in someone else's problem. You had enough of your own to worry about.

That plan is thrown out the window when a weak hand grasps your ankle. Looking down your eyes trail over the pale hand to the bleeding body it belongs to. Yanking yourself out of the deathly tight grip you stare warily at the man.

“Please, your grace, I need your help. I need your mercy…” That title made your heart skip a beat as you glared down at the man.

Did he know? How could he when you sewed so many of their shitty masks to make the durable one you wear now?

Red and pink froth bubbles out of his mouth as he coughs pathetically. His whole body is pale and thin, very unlike the first and only set of treasure hoarders you saw when you first transmigrated.

“I beg of you, show me mercy!” Grimacing at his wails you look around to make sure no one is around. When you look back down at him, you can finally see the injuries he wore.

A long gash down his chest, deep and maggot infested to boot. Legs mangled and oozing something that smells like death itself. Then there's his face, if you can even call it that, burned to hell and back.

With no eyelids, you stare back into his glazed ones as he mumbles endlessly. All you can hear him mutter is pleading for mercy and death. 

Seems like he can't actually see you, but would Venti take it the same way? Gritting your teeth you try to move around the dying man when his eyes latch onto your clothes.

“Ha…HAHA!” He laughs hysterically letting his chewed tongue hang out. Repulsed, you stop and glare down at him in confusion.

“Running is useless for us! HAHAHA- THE COLD ALWAYS COMES WITH THE WIND!” Without any warning his laughs become sobs as his hands grope the grass. “They were right! We should have listened to them… Treasure Hoarders like us can't survive in Mondstadt…”

“Ex-treasure hoarder.” You correct automatically more then used to doing so in the city.

Shaking your head with a groan you turn around. Why were you still here with this soon to be corpse?! You had other places to be and better things to do then get caught due to this guy.

Danger. Your body feels an immense sense of danger that has you throwing yourself to the side in an instant. A wave of cold breezes past you at the same time causing frost to grow on the side of your torso.

Seems you were right about Teyvat sending you some sort of signals in these situations. But the way your head hit the ground sent your mind into a haze. 

Teyvat sends another warning but the dizziness hasn't subsided enough for you to even move. It would have been useless anyway as the next elemental attack is too broad for you to dodge. Hydro washes over your body before a lighter Cryo attack mixes in.

Now frozen in place attached to the ground, you can't even see who even attacked you. Hands pry you off the ground and flip you over.

Colors and shapes wooz together until the only thing your sight can process is two things. A cryo vision and hydro vision glow before a bag is thrown over your head effectively blocking your vision.

Panic and fear hit you like a ton of bricks at the realization as you're lifted into the air. Flailing your body as much as you can frozen you angrily yell even with the slurring.

“Put me dwown! Lwet me gwo!”

The kidnappers ignore your screams and curses as they leave the area. Judging by the crack you heard, you're sure the treasure hoarder was already put out of his misery.

--------------------------

You're not sure how long it's been since you've been kidnapped. The cryo that drips off your body has mostly melted away now replaced by rope but you've long lost the energy needed to get away.

After being kidnapped by those two vision holders, Kaeya, Rosaria, Barbara, Mona, Mika so many possibilities since they can just travel(this will be in different font), you were handed off to other people. They must have handed you off at least 4 times and any sense of where the fuck you are has been lost. 

But the sounds of nature and the faint smell of grass have dropped off. Now replaced by the sound of your captors boots hitting stone pavement. A building, an underground one considering the lack of sunlight and faint color of flames that you pass by. 

The bag over your head was annoying but relatively useless if they wanted to keep you completely blind. The only thing you truly lamented is your bound hands. If they were free you could bring up the screen and blindly teleport to the few waypoints you unlocked.

And even if that didn't work, you could just use one of the characters to fight through all the enemies before making your escape-

Your thoughts are cut off by the creaking of a door being swung open. Abruptly you're pushed down into a chair and more ropes are bound tying you to the chair.

When the bag is torn off you're mildly surprised by the completely white room. The only pop of color you could see is the blurry things behind the people in front of you.

Eyes struggling to focus after being cut off for so long you squint at them in front of you. 

“You must be the latest person to join our reform program. How lucky you are!”

Something about that happy go lucky tone made your stomach churn. It was eerily reminiscent of when Venti went on that spiel about the ‘Creator’.

Clarity is regained and you frown suspiciously at the two people in front of you. 

The man on the left stands in pure white clothing with a black suit underneath that barely pokes out. A cassock if you remember correctly. His short blonde hair and facial features are somewhat familiar.

The woman on the right matches his perfect posture with the same outfit. Again her brown hair in that braid laying over her shoulder gives you an even stronger sense of recognition.

But the smiles they wear are identical and eerie in the most utopian way you can imagine. Adding in their earlier words about being part of the ‘reform’ program makes it clear that this is some cultish shit.

“Extremely lucky considering that they get to witness first hand how we, who were once in their position, are going to help them reform first hand!”

…If that wasn't ominous then you didn't know what was.

Simultaneously they speak with wide smiles and eyes gleaming in a way you can't trust.

“Welcome sinner to the Genesis Cathedral.”

Maybe that alone wouldn't be too big of a deal. Escaping from the depths of a cult was hard but you had powers from being the Creator.

It was the gold weapons faintly stained with blood in the background that sent chills down your spine.

Guess who forgot to post it last night? Sorry everyone but I do hope you enjoy this admittedly long special. It was a lot of fun to write! [Guess who had to spend an extra 10 minutes fixing shit when Tumblr forced me to exit without saving it?] My characterization of Venti is quite different then how most of the SAGAU fics have him (that I read). Mostly cause I feel everyone only sees the SAGAU and his God of Freedom is lost in the mix. It's not super bad but it does feel like a shame. I was enjoying making the camp go to hell with Bennett as his unluckiness is a easy plot device lol. But he is one of my fav characters so no surprise there. The next chapter and onwards will be for the main series as again this was just a 'what if' au. Again this was fun and a nice change of pace but at the end of the day- I have a whole document draft detailing the general events (and certain twists) of the main plot. Thank you all for the support, likes, reblogs (yes I read your tags <3), and comments! Taglist is always open for more, it's kinda like growing a conga line if I had to make a comparison lol

Taglist: If your username is in italics, that means I couldn't tag you! It's going to be in this format from now on since Tumblr has a text limit per paragraph.

@vvyeislazzy, @nikqi, @the-dumber-scaramouche, @etherisy, @yourlocalstranger123, @ra404, @iruiji, @goldenglow149, @haru-tofuu, @lsleepysimpl, @bebobeboben, @yuyuzi-ling, @amidst-the-tempest, @resident-cryptid, @mxd1zzy, @mochicurls21, @nervouseaglelover, @thedevioussmirk, @yumuramma, @kwqsla, @undecidingfate, @ehjane, @game-savvy, @akiramirae, @liansh3ng, @fluffy-koalala, @formacoon, @sxftiebee, @khxii-i, @ursinaw, @chuuya-brainrot, @sweetbills, @kazuchaos, @snowfoxnix, @bluebelony, @shellofthewell, @pencil-of-ashes, @ghostlyintervention, @taiformaifoe, @goaudduck, @carminerin, @maddysflowers, @zenith-of-all-zenith, @crazydreamcat, @leafanonsforest, @grimreapersscythe, @leylanx, @sapphireknown, @help-whatdoimakemyusername

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[romanoffsbish]

Bible Study

Priest!Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

WandaNat x Fem!Reader

Warnings: BLASPHEMOUS! (Read with caution) Mean-ish WandaNat. (Am I a whore?)

Smut: Father (N), Mommy (W), Bunny (R) |Fingering (R), Oral (W), Unprotected Sex (R-Nat has a Dick), Kinks: Spitting, Slapping, Praising, Breeding.

18+ | Minors DNI | Please Don’t Report^ Labeled.

4,674 Words

Wanda knew everyone in town, it was part of the gig being the pastors wife and all, so when you entered their church this morning her curious eyes locked right in on your docile form as you took a seat on the aisle three rows back.

"Isn't she so pretty Natty?" Wanda held onto her wife's bicep with unexpected force as she surveyed the crowd settling into the pews, "She's precious, can we have her, please?"

Natasha chuckled, "Will that make my detka happy?" Wanda nodded. "Then she's all ours."

The couple shared a sweet kiss before Wanda took her rightful place in the front pew, right by their twins, Billy and Tommy Romanoff. They were a perfect split, Billy looked just like Wanda, while Tommy looked like Natasha.

——

Natasha softly smiled down at her family, then she looked out at her congregation with a grin, "Good morning everyone, shall we begin?"

—

The sermon was great, it didn't feel anything like you were used to in the past, there was an air of understanding in the preachers eyes and you knew it to be genuine as she had a wife. Word traveled around this small town fast, which is why you ended up here this Sunday.

There wasn't judgement here, and that was the way it should always be, as the bible itself says.

There was a post sermon luncheon being hosted across the way from the main church in a smaller building, it definitely piqued your interest, but you were unable to bring yourself to enter, so you did the next best thing and turned to leave towards the parking lot.

"Where are you sneaking off to dorogoy?"

"Oh, um hi there ma'am, I was headed home."

Wanda winced, "Please, refrain from calling me ma'am, it feels like you've just wounded me honey," she gripped at her heart to feign pain, causing you to chuckle softly, "My apologies..."

"Wanda," she held out her hand, you nervously accepted it, and your knees threatened to buckle at the mere sight of her gorgeous smile.

"So, instead of heading home, how about you follow me in? We'd love to get to know you."

"Y/N."

"A pretty name, attached to such a pretty face, what a shocker," she mused, relishing in the sight of your widened eyes, and at the way your head fell to hide your sudden nervous smile.

Wanda escorted you to the table with her kids, "I'll be right back with some snacks, sit tight."

"Hi!" Tommy shouted, you met his enthusiasm with a calm wave. "I'm Tommy, this is Billy."

"Hi," Billy greeted, far more reserved than his brother, "You're new, what brings you here?"

"I'm on a journey of self discovery actually," you admitted, rather easily at that, "I'm from out West, but I decided to venture out and in my journey I seem to have ended up here."

"Interesting, of all the places you could've traveled to, tell me honey, why New Jersey?"

It shocked you to see the pastor stood beside you, she was no longer in her church attire, but instead she wore a pair of blue jeans, with a simple white shirt that clung to her muscular figure in a way that seemed far too sinful for the venue, but your eyes still wandered.

"I-I'm not exactly sure Pastor Romanoff, I just know something told me that this was where I needed to be, so I parked my RV and stayed."

Natasha smirked, if her job has taught her anything, it's that God works in mysterious ways, and that this here was a true testament to the powerful nature of divine intervention.

"Please, call me Nat," she extended her hand out, and even if your hand was clammy, like before you accepted it, and whispered, "Y/N."

"Well Y/N, we're so happy to have a new face around, especially one as gorgeous as yours," she winked and you about lost the ability to breathe as she looked at you like you were her prey while her children were sat there coloring.

Wanda returned to see you looking absolutely awestruck, your lips pursed, while your eyes were chock-full of wonder as well as terror. Their prayers have finally been answered is all she can think as she settles down beside you, a smidge too close for a preachers wife you reckon, but you also can't be bothered to care.

"Hey, Y/N," you turned to look at her, your breath hitching as you nearly bumped noses, "Are you free for an introductory bible study?" Wanda smiled at you, innocent in nature, but you could see something more devious brewing behind those mesmerizing viridescent orbs.

"I-I, where, when?"

Natasha smirked, "Here, tonight, let's say 6?"

"Yeah, okay, what do I need to bring?" you asked while jumping to your feet in a rush.

Wanda followed your movement, placing a hand on your lower back she gently guided you to the exit with her wife right behind her, the women smiling brightly as you faced them.

"Just bring your pretty self," Wanda said while placing a kiss on your slightly heated cheek, "We'll handle the rest, don't worry about it."

When you got into your RV your skin was crawling, every alarm that could go off did, but you simply turned the radio up to drown them out, and headed straight towards your hotel. Where you paced for about an hour, deciding if returning was a smart idea, and wondering why you had the urge to shave for such a night.

You're preparing for the likes of a date, when in reality you're meant to meet the pastor and her wife to go over various pieces of scripture. You could use some sort of help honestly, resisting temptation was never exactly your strong suit, and with women as gorgeous as them you were perceivably hopeless if you read the vibe right.

And God, were you hoping you did...

—

After hours of deliberation you found yourself eagerly driving back to the church, a bible in your shaky hand as you got out of the vehicle. But it mattered not when your heart was consumed entirely by sin, your body matched that sentiment, adorned in a lacy red two piece that you could catch a glimpse of through your sheer white top tucked into a tight black skirt.

"Oh fuck," Natasha cursed, she could feel her cock hardening at the sight of you through the blinds in her office, "Wanda, come look at her."

"Yebena mat'," Wanda cursed in her wives mother tongue, "Come on, she's waiting!"

(Holy shit)

Natasha and Wanda quietly approached you from behind as you were stood in front of the church doors in wait for the clock to strike six.

"Aren't you an early bird?" Wanda announced herself with a playful smile when you turned to her, a bit startled, but you were able to recover pretty quickly, "I haven't got much else to do."

"Really? You're dressed so," Natasha paused, eyes drinking you in, her tongue seductively moving passed her lips as she wetted them before her tone dropped, "Provocatively."

You smirked, unsure where this sudden wave of confidence of yours came from, but you were ready to run with it, "Oh, well I actually have a date after bible study, but I thought I looked cute, are you saying this gives the wrong idea?"

Natasha's jaw clenched as she brushed passed you with the church keys, meanwhile Wanda's only giveaway towards jealousy was her eyes. They spoke in place of her neutral expression.

"It's cute, but Natasha's right, you look slutty."

Words worked too you supposed...

They left you stood in the doorway with your mouth agape, and a sinking feeling setting in. You were just trying to tease them, but it seems all you did was anger them, and likely ruined your chances of this fantasy to actually happen.

"Are you coming Y/N? You're letting all the cold air in honey," Wanda called out to you, and it was her soft voice giving you whiplash that brought you back from your mind full up on turmoil. "Yup, sorry," you shuffled inside, shutting the large doors behind you, and in doing so, you effectively sealed your fate.

Natasha cleared her throat, "Come here," she was stern in not only tone but stance as she stood at her podium behind the altar, and you had no interest in making her mad so your legs swiftly brought you to her. "Kneel," she husked, sending shivers down your spine as you were quick to obey the alluring woman in charge.

"You won't be needing this," Wanda slipped the bible from your hands, leaving you in a state of total confusion, your eyes tracked the room as you began to realize that this was indeed a closed bible study, and not just a fantasy.

"Look at me," Natasha commanded, and your flickering gaze instantly settled on her stony face, "From this moment forward you will call me Father, and if at anytime you wish to leave, you're free to go, do I make myself clear?"

"Answer her malysh," Wanda said from right beside you where she was crouching down to be on your level, "Don't upset her now honey, or this'll be no fun for any of us, and mommy wants to have fun with her precious bunny."

You nodded without a moment's hesitation, "Yes father, I understand," you smiled at her, and for a brief moment you saw her lips upturn before they fell back into a neutral position.

Natasha turned away to grab some things, and as she did that you released a nervous breath, only to have another caught in your throat as Wanda pressed herself into you. "You're so pretty bunny," she craned her head around to gently kiss your cheek, an act of faux innocence because in the next instance she was kissing your tingling lips hard enough to leave you breathless, "Can I touch your body, hm?"

The question felt near redundant, her lips have already touched yours, while her hands held onto your hips for support from behind, so you knew that what she was asking wasn't as simple as it sounded, and you were so eager to give in, you nodded vigorously, but Natasha gripped your chin before you could nod again.

"Use your words," she held you tighter for emphasis, "Unless you wish for consequences."

"Sorry father, I-I promise to be good," Natasha nodded, and once she loosened her grip you turned to face Wanda, "Yes mommy, you are both free to touch me however you like."

"There you go," Natasha smiled at you, it was soft, but in a condescending way, "I knew you weren't just a pretty face, such a smart girl."

While Wanda's hands bunched your skirt up Natasha's hand gripped your chin again, far less tightly than before, "Open up bunny."

Natasha watched with pride as you obediently parted your lips, she lifted the chilled golden chalice to her lips, sipping the ruby tinted wine into her mouth before she slowly leaned over, and sensually spit the wine directly into yours.

It was perfectly synchronized, the altered liquid permeated your tastebuds, and then it slid down your throat just as Wanda slid two of her fingers into your dripping cunt. Natasha pressed her lips to yours just as a scream was ripped from your burning throat, catching it with efficient ease, and spurring your arousal on tenfold as she slid her tongue over yours.

Never in your days did you expect communion to play out like this, but you'd honestly never felt closer to a higher being than you did now. Natasha, and Wanda were the holy figureheads for this small town, you understood the appeal right away with their charms, and now you thanked the world for introducing them to you.

"You're dripping," Wanda groaned, "Good grief, do you hear yourself detka? So wet."

You'd willed yourself to feel shame for what was taking place here tonight, you felt like a common mans' whore with how easily you were giving it up, but you just couldn't seem to care. With the way she fucked you, and Lord, with the words she said, they had you in a chokehold. "It's like this pussy was meant for mommy's fingers. Don't you agree detka?"

Natasha pulled away from you, the picture perfect display of cool as you panted loudly. She returned to her previous position, moving about to put things in order for, well, you hadn't a clue honestly, but you were excited.

"Answer mommy," Natasha commanded, "Sorry father," you choked out over a moan, "Y-yes mommy, I was made just for you to fuck."

"Watch your mouth," Natasha chided, her hand made instant contact with your cheek, "Pretty girls like you need not speak like that Y/N."

"Oh, okay, I-I'm sorry father, I won’t swear,” you stuttered, mind currently reeling from how your body alit with this nearly painful desire as her hand harshly collided with your skin, you nearly asked her to do it again, you’re certain Wanda knew too with the way she smirked against your shoulder, you’d clenched so hard she felt your walls suck her in even deeper.

“U shlyukhi bolevoy sindrom,” Wanda spoke in secrets to her wife, you dropped the redheads gaze as soon as she looked to you with a smirk, she knew now. “Imeyet smysl.”

(The slut has a pain kink / Makes sense)

You wish you could say you were embarrassed now, but you weren’t, only eager for more.

The pastor began to hum a familiar tune to fill the nearly silent room, and with that followed Wanda's sultry voice,"'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear, and grace, my fears relieved." Natasha unexpectedly sang out the next line, "How precious did that grace appear, the hour I first believed."

"Amazing grace, how sweet the sound," the women kept their voices low, their raspy tones wrapped around your brain as they harmonized, further clouding your lusty mind. "Sing with us sweetheart," Wanda nibbled on the lobe of your ear as her thumb grazed your clit, pulling a set of delicious mewls from you.

"Go on bunny, be our good girl," Natasha purred, her face now in front of yours as she crouched down before you with a sly smirk.

"That saved a wretch like me," you were alone as you choked out the next line, working your hardest to not get too lost in the pleasure that you forget the words, you weren't sure she wouldn't stop if you did. Wanda sped up her pace in reward, her lips parted as she breathed heavily, seeing you so pliant for them made her heart swell with hope, and she was giddy to see her wife's eyes held the same dream when they locked gazes. Natasha nodded; it was time.

"I once was lost, but now I'm found," all three of you sang the next line in synchrony, "Go on detka, let go, finish the song for us."

Her words felt coded, and as you sang the last line you knew they were, "Was blind, but now I see," your vision blurred as you came a second later, finishing on Wanda's fingers as she'd curled them with a sort of expertise.

"Good girl," Wanda purred, you whimpered at her praise, you felt your walls clench around her fingers, and cried a moment later when she pulled them from you. You were spent, your body now sticky with a thin layer of sweat, your head rested on Wanda's shoulder as your heart pounded in your head, you didn't see nor hear what the women were saying or doing.

You'd never experienced as powerful of an orgasm before, it was very much life changing, and you nearly chuckled that it happened in a church. A place of worship; you surely felt that.

It wasn't until you felt pointed fingertips tap the side of your head that you opened your eyes. Natasha stared down at you with a grin, "What do you say bunny?" You smiled softly, "Thank you mommy," you turned awkwardly to kiss her lips in thanks. "Thank you Father."

Natasha beamed genuinely, loving the way that you understood without much guidance. You were perfect, her wife always had a knack for finding prizes, and she clearly has yet to fail.

Wanda's sticky, glistening fingers flooded your vision a second later as she dipped them into a metal basin, metaphorically washing her hands clean of your sin, but you noticed she left out two of her coated fingers. You watched with a dry mouth as she lifted her hand up to her wife who didn't hesitate to lick it clean, "Sweet..."

You nearly fainted, traces of your slick now layered over her lower lip, shining just right under the dimly lit church lights. Wanda's moan directly into your ear after she tasted you next made your body tremble with renewed need as you kept your eyes locked on her wife's. It felt as if they sought to kill you with their provocations, so sexy in their natural states.

Then, the icing on the cake came when the pastor dipped two of her fingers into the tainted water, stirring it languidly until she was satisfied that your essence had mixed in well.

"Vo imya papy," Natasha chanted in her mother tongue, her thumb dripping with the not so holy water pressed a circle into your forehead, then her hand returned to the bowl, "Mamochki," her thumb swirled over your left cheek, "I dragotsennogo zaychika ty budesh' nashim," and then repeated on the right.

(in the name of the father / mommy / and the precious bunny you will be ours.)

Wanda nearly snorted as the words translated in her mind, her wife always did have an odd sense of humor; you were likely none the wiser.

"Are you ready for more?" Natasha asked, and once you replied her pants were at her ankles. The redhead watched the way your eyes fell to her tented boxers instantaneously, "You see what you did to me bunny? It's aching, and the only remedy is to let me breed your pussy, ok?"

It was a risky game saying yes, you weren't on birth control, and though you wanted kids, you weren't exactly financially stable being on the road, but when you felt Wanda grip your hips a bit tighter, and saw the hopeful look in Nat's eyes you realized your life was about to change.

You nodded, but quickly fixed your mistake, "Please father, fill me up, make me pregnant."

"Oh bunny," Wanda coo'd as her arms wrapped around you in a tight embrace, "You're going to have to clean up the mess you made of mommy too," she swiftly shifted from behind you, and gently moved you to lie flat on the ground with her arms still around you. "Can you do that?"

"Of course," you beamed, a bit too excited for such a blessing. "Such a perfect gift you are." Wanda pecked your lips, then booped your nose, a soft moment before all the carnality.

Natasha cock sprung to life as she removed her boxers, she saw the way your eyes widened at her size, then she shifted her gaze as you did. The redhead began to lazily stroke herself as you both watched Wanda slip out of her dress.

"Wow," you gasped, both women chuckled as they took in your enamored features, "You're both so beautiful, a match made in heaven."

The irony of your words seemed to be lost on you in your dizzied state, but both women had to stifle a laugh. With how tonight's transpired, it's unlikely any of you are ever ascending.

"Have you seen yourself bunny?" Natasha spoke, "You've got to be like a fallen angel."

A warmth blossomed beneath your skin, and your bashful smile gave you away, you'd been well worked up as it was, but that did you in.

Within a moments time your brain further short circuited as the brunette straddled your chest, you internally cursed as you felt her wetness dripping down from the swell of your breasts. It was only turning you on more to know you caused any of this, and soon enough you moaned unabashedly as her aromatic arousal was pooling in the divots of your neck.

Wanda tutted as your hands tried to bring her closer, "Patience now bunny, I wanna see your pretty face first when daddy fills you up."

Natasha lined herself up with your hole, she slipped her tip in with ease, yet you clenched. The redhead groaned as you held her in a vice grip, with a harsh thrust of her hips half of her length was sheathed within you. Stretching your walls further than they’d ever been before, you moaned in a high pitch as her thick veins throbbed beneath the crushing pressure of your delighted pussy as you clenched.

Wanda’s legs were growing tired, as was her patience with the pit forming in her stomach, so without warning she slid down your chest and onto your agape mouth. She nearly fell forward as your screams echoed through her pussy, and sent shivers throughout her body.

Natasha had used the distraction of Wanda to fully pull out, then thrust back in until she was bottomed out. Wanda’s loud moan was simply an echo, her body a vessel for your pleasures release, letting Natasha know she was an expert at her craft, with her ego now doubled.

There was a cycle at play here, Wanda knew this very well, Natasha was staving off her release, but all the while ensuring that the both of you came, and well into the double digits.

Wanda was out of lives as you sucked her clit between your teeth harshly when her wife had slapped your clit with incredible force. The way you ate her out was different than she’d ever experienced before, it was a sloppy, tempered kinda carnal, it was so sensual, she could swear she was in Utopia, and she’d once thought she met God when she actually bagged Natasha.

Wanda surged forward, landing painfully onto the hardwood on her hands and knees due to the overstimulation. You barely had a chance to gulp down any air before Natasha was devouring your lips, her tongue greedily entering your mouth, lapping up her wife’s essence as she busts a nut without warning.

Her face falls into the crook of your neck with a pleasurable grimace, she was grunting hotly as she chased after her ever fleeting high, “Fuck!”Sounds reminiscent of a tidal wave could be heard between your legs as she desperately continued to fuck her seed into your womb.

“Oh bunny, daddy can’t wait to see your belly swell, pregnant with our kittens,” she was panting against your neck now as she built herself up to another fast approaching high. This time she completely stills as her orgasm paralyzes her with blinding pleasure, and you writhe as her seed instigates another big O.

Once she regains control of her body she jackhammers her hips into yours with no regard to your cries of anguish. “You’ll be an amazing mom Y/N, so good to all our babies,” she honestly whispered against your sweaty forehead as she laid a kiss there. Natasha had finally grown tired, pleased with her efficiency she finally allowed herself to rest atop of you, and stopped her attack on your sensitive pussy.

Wanda had already finished redressing by the time you and Natasha had finished recovering. Though her panties only grew wet as she watched the two of you beautifully fall apart. Once Natasha pulled out Wanda was kneeling at your side, her left hand cupped your face, while her other cupped your cunt. You hissed at the barest contact, whimpering, “no more,” as her fingers dipped inside, shoving back in the mixed arousal slowly oozing out of you.

Wanda didn’t want to hurt you, so she stopped after a few thrusts, scooping her fingers as she pulled out to bring the arousal to her mouth. You whimpered as she licked one of her digits clean, “Shh, mommy is gonna share bunny.” Wanda pressed her other finger passed your kiss swollen lips, leaving it there for you to suck on in a self soothing manner as she cleaned you up with a warm towel from the church kitchen.

You whined in subtle anguish, but you settled when she smiled at you with a tender gaze. In a haze of minutes for you, Wanda had redressed you and gotten you up onto at least your knees.

"Look at me bunny," Natasha cupped your cheek with a contrasting tenderness to every other touch she'd given you tonight, and she smiled just as tenderly when your hazy eyes lifted to meet hers, "Welcome to the church."

You snorted amusedly, "Thank you father,” your voice hoarse after the many harsh moans.

Natasha smirked down at you, the pad of her thumb ran over your lips, a soft gasp left her when you wrapped your lips around her digit, "Careful sweet girl, trust me, you can't handle another round tonight," her eyes darkened, and you were convinced of her terrifying honesty as you swallowed thickly and released her thumb.

"She's right detka," Wanda guided you to your feet, and kissed you with a natural smile, "Stick around town though, and I promise you we'll see to it that you're properly cared for by us."

"How so?" Wanda smiled, "In all the ways that matter, you could be ours, if you'd want that."

"But you have a date," Natasha reminded you, and you watched Wanda frown while still held tight in her embrace, "I-I was just kidding."

Wanda pressed her lips to your cheek, "That's so delightful to hear sweetheart, we aren't ones for sharing," leaving behind a smudge as she'd just freshly reapplied a layer of her lipstick.

Natasha reached for your hand next, so you extended yours to her, and she pulled you in for a far less tender kiss, but the way she cupped one half of your face told you she held you in an equally as tender regard as her wife.

"We'll see you next Sunday kotenok, drive safely, and don't forget to thank the Lord for all he's done for you in your nightly prayers," she softly pushed you passed the large oak doors, and you turned back to the happy couple with a smile that made their hearts flutter, "Thanks."

Wanda smiled warmly, "Pleasure was ours." Natasha winked at you, adorning that stupid smirk that made your core throb, you slowly wobbled your way back to your RV, a perfect reminder that you definitely did need to rest.

Wanda blew you a kiss, and watched with delight as every wall you had left crumbled as you dopily caught it. "I think I'm in love Natty."

The redhead turned away so she could lock up, "Mhm, she's a perfect fit for us, let's remember to thank God for divining us such a miracle,” suavely turning back around she sent a wink.

Wanda pressed her front into her wives, hands flat against her chest as she gazed up at her in wonder, "Do you think it worked?" Natasha's arms overlapped behind her wives lower back, her face contorted thoughtfully before she leant in to peck her alluring lips, "If it didn't, we'll make sure it does next time, she's ours now."

The couple shared a soft kiss, an excited smile worn on both their faces as they drove home. Soft tunes filled the air as they rode with the top of their mustang down, both women silent as they each dreamt up how to decorate the guest room. If all things worked out well, in a weeks time they hoped to be bringing you back with them, to the place you'll soon call home. 

——

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

It’s Not A Camera

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: You make Daryl regret bringing you back a gift from a run. This technically takes place in the same universe as my other fics “Your Fault” and “Meet Cute,” but it can be read as stand alone.

Tropes: Fluff, Established Relationship

Era: Alexandria, pre-Negan

Warnings: I mean, I don't think there's any? Daryl being super hot, working on his motorcycle, and being in love with you? Flirting? Honestly, if I’ve missed anything please let me know. ❤️

Note: This is written in a dialect style with Daryl's accent in mind so the misspellings are intentional. There is minimal use of (y/n). If any? Any references to the reader besides the (y/n) is done using "your" or "you". I tried to proofread the best I could, nobody's perfect. If you don't like, don't read, but if you do like you're my favorite!

Internal monologue is done in italics and is in first person.

A/N: Just felt like doing a little bit of Daryl fluff on this fine Thursday morning.

Main Masterlist

Walking Dead Masterlist

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"Alright, could you give me a more engaging pose?" You ask tracing the outlining shapes of the scene in front of you in a worn sketchbook that Daryl found for you out on a run last week.

"Wha are ya doin?" Daryl turns from the motorcycle rubbing his hands against the red oil stained rag that hangs from his back pocket.

"Capturing Daryl Dixon in his natural habitat." You stand up and move to sit next to him, crossing your legs underneath you as you go. "And now I'm getting a close up."

"s'not a camera." He shakes his head at you, but you can see a smile twitch on the end of his mouth before it fades. A reminder that he might act annoyed, but deep down you know he’d be lost without you.

"You can only blame yourself- you're the one that brought this back for me." You tease.

"Because ya begged me to bring something back for ya like a damn toddler."

"No no no. I think secretly you wanted me to capture just how sexy you are for prosperity." Your pencil scratches against the paper, tracing the smooth line of Daryl's strong jaw against the page.

Daryl huffs, but continues to tinker with the motorcycle with red tipped ears.

The sun was just beginning to set in the west, barely seen through the thin slats in the large metal fences that protected Alexandria from the outside world. A cool wind blew from the east, but it wasn't enough to wick the sweat that gathered on the back of your neck and soaked into your collar.

You sit in silence for a few moments together, your shoulder leaning into his arm, while you draw a cartoonized version of him holding a wrench leaning forward to fix a motorcycle that will never be finished, but it's nothing like the real thing.

Daryl lets out a sigh every few minutes adjusting and cleaning, adjusting and cleaning, adjusting and cleaning-

But he makes it look so good.

You think to yourself with a smile.

"Daryl?"

"Mhmm?"

"I love you."

He stops working to glance at you, quirking the end of his lips. "Wha’ did you do?"

"Nothing. I just realized I didn't get to say it to you this morning when we woke up. We were both in a hurry and I wanted you to know." You reach up with the eraser end of the pencil and push some of his dark hair out of his deep blue eyes that always seem to see beyond what everyone else does.

Daryl's hand comes to gently curve round your waist and land on the small of your back, bringing you closer to him. "I love you too.”

"Well I'm glad because if we’ve been together this long and you didn't-"

His lips brush against yours stopping you mid-sentence with a soft sigh as you feel yourself melt into him.

"But at least after all this time, you know how to shut me up." You mutter against his lips.

"Had tah learn pretty quick."

“You think you’re so clever Dixon.”

“Naw.” Daryl nudges his nose against yours with the same soft smile that always makes you weak in the knees. “I’m just happy.”

“Happy that no matter how hard you work on this motorcycle it never seems to get fixed?” You raise an eyebrow.

“No.” He chuckles, raising an oil stained hand to your cheek. “Just happy.”

You lean into the gentle touch of the man you love with all your heart tracing the familiar lines of his worn face and feeling the roughness of his fingertips against the smooth skin of your cheek. The hands that had done so much, both good and bad, and yet were only gentle to you and touched you only with love and care.

“Me too.”

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Thank you so much for reading! If you liked this fic please feel free to read the other two in the same universe:

Meet Cute: How the reader and Daryl met

Your Fault: Daryl and the reader navigate a delicate situation.

[silassinclair]

Hi!

Can I request Maddox with a darling who lives to read, maybe he catches her reading some old romance books in an abandoned house they shack up in or something like that

Btw I live your writing ♥️

As someone who loves to read I am obligated to write for this req 😤🫡 Thanks for the request tho!! Hope you like it :-)

Yandere Wild West Outlaw x Bookworm Reader

CW// Maddox is annoying, Reader being a little perv Masterlist Here!!

The new house Maddox found was lovely. It had decently okay furniture and a vast collection of old books on the shelf. It's small with only two bedrooms and one bathroom but it was charming. But what caught your interest was the big oak wood bookshelf. You couldn't even remember the last time you picked up a book. Being on the run with Maddox made time fly.

"Who would leave all these books behind? They're all in great condition." You mutter to yourself as you take a blue and purple book with gold trim off the shelf. Tracing your fingers down the spine of the hardcover novel you appreciate the craftsmanship. It was clearly expensive, something you could no longer afford. Your Dad bought you many books like these but now you were pretty much broke. You only had Maddox to rely on now.

Speaking of Maddox you had no clue where he was. Which you didn't really care, he always disturbed your peace. Cracking open the book you sit down on the loveseat and start reading. It was a romance book about a huntsman who fell in love with a duchess. The story was beautiful as it was exhilarating.

"Oh wow, you into that kinda stuff?"

You snap the book shut instantly, a mini cloud of dust poofs from the pages. Maddox chuckles huskily behind you, leaning down and resting his chin on the back of the loveseat.

"Oh don't be embarrassed princess, it was getting to the good part. What did it say again? Oh! Ahem-"

Maddox coughs into his hand and smirks. Deepening his voice he quotes the passage in a deep, British-like accent,

"He caresses the duchess' milky thighs, her womb felt of silk wrapped around his ma-"

"OH HUSH!" You whip around and smack the outlaw's head, his hat nearly flying off. But he only laughs at your flustered state.

"You're filthy." You groan and put the book back on the shelf where it was. But Maddox follows behind you and takes the book into his own hands and opens it up. Skimming through the pages he smirks.

"I'm filthy? Sweetheart you're the one readin' this junk." Maddox shuts the book and puts it back. Putting his hand up on the shelf he leans against it while looking down at your shorter self.

"Well it is a romance book." Rolling your eyes you choose a different book. This time you pick a title you're familiar with, Pride and Prejudice.

"Now leave me alone you brute. I'd like to relax for once." With that you walk away and go outside. Finding a nice tree you sit beneath it and read the book. Reading reminded you of home, the home that was ripped from you. In a way it was escapism which is unhealthy but a girl can dream right?

Hours pass and the sun begins to set, casting an orange glow across the cloudy sky. The words on the page become harder to read as the sun sinks lower and the moon rises. You didn't want it to end. You know you could read inside but that damn outlaw was inside. You just wanted to stay out here forever with the natural ambience of wind and birds.

Footsteps approach you and you already know who it is. Looking up you see him. Black denim jeans, a burgundy vest, twin revolvers around his waist, and a dark brown cowboy hat on his head. And of course that bandana covering the bottom half of his face. Anytime you asked him about his face he got ticked off so you avoided the subject. But you couldn't help but be curious.

"You're starin' sweetheart." His husky voice breaks the silence. There’s a hint of a Spanish accent mixed in with his Southern drawl. You can't help but think about what it would be like if you and him met under different circumstances. Would he save you from bandits? Offer to buy you a drink at the saloon?

Would you two have a storybook romance just like in the books you adore?

"Hey."

He's right in front of you now, crouched to your height. His gloved hand pets your hair and you're frozen. He has you in a trance that you make no effort to free yourself from. His dark amber eyes are crinkled in slight concern over your unusual silence.

"What..?" You say softly.

"It's gettin' dark. Unless you wanna be dinner for the coyotes then I suggest comin' back in. I'll cook up some beans so hurry your little bum up."

Well there goes the moment. You groan and get up off the grass, your back cracking as you stretch. Your eyes watch as Maddox walks back into the house. His hips sway as he walks, you never really payed attention to that before. His ass looks pretty round in those pants to-

"Ugh, what is wrong with me.." Groaning, you follow after him.

[jflemings]

— rascal

pairing: jessie fleming x raso!reader

synopsis: in the hopes of convincing you to sign with chelsea, sam encourages you and jessie to get to know one another

warnings: none

a/n: this lil idea has been bouncing around in my brain like the dvd symbol so here ya go

it was no secret that you were one of the more outgoing players on the australian national team, having gained a reputation of being bubbly and energetic through your style of play on the pitch and personality. sam had taken quick advantage of this from the moment you joined the team, posting various funny videos and photos of you during camps and tournaments purely for her own entertainment.

the most recent video she had shared to her close friends story. you were distracted with pulling out your training kit from your suitcase when she had loudly announced herself as she walked into your room, the camera in selfie mode and held above her head.

“look who’s baaaaack!” she exclaimed causing you to turn around too quickly and get your foot caught on the leg of the bed.

“fuck!” you exclaimed loudly as you fall to the carpet floor, both yours and sam’s loud and infectious laughs filling the room as you processed what happened.

she stopped recording and caught her breath before captioning the video ‘the rascal diaries are off to a good start 🤣🤣’ and posting it so that her club teammates could see.

“you- you are impossible” she managed to say before another round of uncontrollable laughter erupted from her “and erin and guro are gonna find it so funny”

you huffed and unhooked your ankle from around the bed leg before sitting up “i’m so glad that you get a kick out of embarrassing me” you say sarcastically “it’s really the best part of seeing you”

sam smirks “jessie will probably find it funny too”

a blush makes its way up your neck at the mention of her canadian club teammate “shut up”

“you two should swap shirts, add a canada one to your collection”

“i’ve got julia grosso’s” you shrug uselessly whilst pulling yourself up by the sheets “and, i don’t know, i’ve never spoken to jessie before”

“you’ll be speaking to her a lot when you sign with chelsea” the striker hums “might as well become friends now”

you huff and stand, turning around immediately and pulling your kit out of your suitcase “i haven’t decided on anything. and you’re not the first australian to try to convince me to sign for their wsl team” you look over your shoulder and quick a brow at the older woman.

“as if you wanna play for arsenal or city! you’re a blue through and through”

“steph is pretty convincing” you sing-song earning a swipe from sam as you make a run for the bathroom. you quickly shut the door behind you and put all your weight against it

“don’t listen to steph!”

———

hayley, sam, kyra, macca and yourself are all lounging around playing an intense game of uno when sam decides to open her big fat mouth.

you smirk and place a +4 card down, raising your brows at sam when she gasps “y/n!”

hayley, who’s sitting to your right, holds her hand up for a high five. the two of you laugh as sam reaches for the pile of cards whilst angrily mumbling, her already stacked hand beginning to slip from her grip as she attempts to organise them all.

“fuckin’ rascal” she grumbles from behind her cards, sinking further into her seat “if you treat jessie like this when you come to chelsea, i’ll have your head”

you roll your eyes and go to answer before macca just about jumps out of her seat.

“you’re signing with chelsea?”

“why is she bringing up jessie fleming?”

you cringe at the sound of hayley and mac talking over eachother at the same time, kicking your feet out and hiding behind your cards. hayley reaches over and pushes them out of your face so she can look at you “why is she bringing up fleming” she questions again.

“who cares!” mac loudly says “why are you signing to chelsea? i thought you were coming to west ham!”

“yep” sam speaks up again, quite pleased with herself and the chaos she’s started “she’s gonna be a blue and she’s got a biiiiiig crush on jflem”

both women gasp. hayley kicks your ankle hard and throws her cards down onto your chest “you didn’t tell me that”

“because it’s not true!” you defend “sam doesn’t know what she’s talking about”

kyra, who has been unusually quiet, snickers “as per usual”

your captain frowns at the young midfielder before turning her attention back to you, a sly smile on her face. she pays your arm with fake affection “it’s okay y/n/n, they won’t tell”

“there’s nothing to tell!” you almost shout before lunging at her “and stop looking at me like that”

hayley grabs onto the back of your shirt and plants your bum back into your seat “she’s cute, y’know, totally your type”

“and she’s smart! like really smart. you’re into that, right? your last girlfriend was pretty smart”

“wasn’t she also canadian?” mackenzie pipes up smugly, side eyeing you and getting a peek at sam’s card whilst she’s distracted.

“she was american” you grit out “and yes, she was smart but that’s not the point! i’m not crushing on jessie fleming!”

“not yet” hayley mumbles before yelping as you push her off her chair.

———

“scrambled!”

“sunny side up!”

you and hayley argue over steph who’s sat in between you, the both of you paying no mind to the defender who’s wearing a flat look on her face. you’re dressed in your training kit with the sleeves rolled up, showing off your toned arms easily as you half flail around.

jessie finds herself smiling at her phone, her eyes not once leaving your face. in all honesty, she really enjoys the videos sam posts during international break. she finds herself being entertained whenever she sees your face pop up on her phone, unable to stop the smile that eventually adorns her face as you get up to your usual antics.

whilst she hadn’t properly spoken to you, she had heard nothing but kind things about your character. sure, you were an instigator and a bit of a smart-ass on the pitch but off it people claimed you were one of the sweetest people they had ever met.

“sunny side up? are you kidding, the only thing that’s good for is when you want the yolk all over your plate” hayley argues whilst pointing her fork at you.

“hayley” you begin you say, running your hand over your brows “the day you stop being wrong is the day macca scores a hattrick”

“you little—”

the video cuts just as hayley goes to slap you again

jessie loudly snorts at the abrupt cut off and rubs her hand over her face in an effort to stop herself from smiling, you really were living up to the rascal nickname that your team so affectionately called you. sam said that it was alanna who came up with it when you were eighteen and ‘feral’ as she says. not only did you make it your mission to annoy your older teammates every chance you got, but you were also known to be a bit of a wild child in your teenage years and early twenties. more than once sam had boasted about all the trouble the two of you got up to with a smile on her face, claiming that you needed someone to ‘put you on a leash’.

jessie chooses to not remember the way sam insinuated that she should be the one to do it.

‘scrambled vs sunny side up: who wins?’ the text on the screen reads. jessie doesn’t think about it as she swipes up on sam’s story with a reply

sunny side up always. tell y/n she’s right.

———

jessie watches your back and shoulders flex under your jersey as you grab the back of hayley’s neck in the tunnel. she tilts her head slightly as you begin to fiddle with your sister’s ribbon, untying it and retying it before hayley swats your hand away.

she’s played against you for a few years now and she always found it endearing how the two of you not only wear matching ribbons, but also wear the numbers sixteen and seventeen respectively. sam told her that it was a complete coincidence that you got number seventeen when you were first called up, but that the whole team found it cute whenever they saw you two walking together. raso and raso, sixteen and seventeen, forward and defender.

adriana places her hand on jessie’s shoulder and leans down into her ear “eyes forward jeff” she whispers with a smile “can’t get distracted”

jessie’s face burns and she scratches the back of her neck nervously “i’m not distracted” she quietly defends herself, switching her weight from one foot to the other.

adriana doesn’t move her head but instead takes her own look over at the pair of you just in time to see hayley smack you upside the head. she can’t help but snicker “she’s pretty” she hums “definitely your type”

the midfielder throws her elbow back into her teammate “drop it” she grits out whilst stretching her neck out of nervousness. “i get it enough from sam”

“i heard she’s signing with chelsea. arnold and cooney-cross were talking about it just before we lined up”

jessie’s lip quirks at the thought of sam successfully getting you to sign to the powerhouse club, especially after all the pestering she’s put you through once she heard you were looking to move to europe from america. it had only gotten worse once the blues had actually made you an offer.

she silently recalls a time she and niamh walked into sam’s place and heard her loudly listing off reasons why you would be a perfect fit for the team. the australian even going as far as trying to rope the her and niamh into joining her pestering. jess had politely refused whilst niamh offered a kind smile and an enthusiastic nod, encouraging the decision.

dri leaves her alone once realises she’s not going to get anymore out of jessie, leaving her to get back into the right headspace for the game.

———

the match was close and although canada had beaten australia by one— curtesy of jordyn huitema— sam still had a wide smile on her face as her and jessie stood talking on the pitch.

sam laughed at the way hayley pulled you into a headlock and began dragging you around, hopping and cheering as she went. kyra, of course, stood back and egged the two of you on loudly.

“they’re great” she tells jessie between laughs “i think you and y/n would get along”

jessie cocks a brow and hums, choosing to ignore the smile that she can hear creeping into sam’s voice. she crosses her arms and continues to watch the two of you tussle, smiling when you hook your foot around hayley’s ankle and take her to the ground.

sam bursts out laughing and almost doubles over when she sees kyra toss you a waterbottle so you can empty the remaining contents onto your sister’s head. hayley’s eyes go wide in shock and you push her further into the ground before grabbing kyra’s hand and breaking out in a sprint, laughing boisterously as the two of you try to find refuge in polks and emily.

hayley pulls herself up and watches the two of you run off. a deep scowl settles on her face as she combs her hair back with her fingers and stands.

“you doing okay ras!?” sam shouts with a smirk

hayley gets herself off the ground and brushes the grass off her bum, making her way over to the chelsea players. “no. that was so uncalled for! she’s such a shit”

“acting as if you’re not the same”

“you don’t have much of a leg to stand on, sam” jessie mumbles.

sam’s jaw drops and hayley claps in delight “fleming’s right, you don’t!”

the skipper rolls her eyes and pushes hayley’s shoulder “you” she points “are just as bad as your sister. and you” she directs to the canadian suddenly “need to go do something”

jessie looks to hayley before back to her close friend shrugging in fake cluelessness. sam’s shoulders go slack just as hayley leans on her, her expression both knowing and unreadable. the way the two australians are looking at her makes her nervous and she digs the toe of her boot into the pitch out of habit.

“she means go make a move on my sister”

jessie’s eyes nearly fall out of her head as she once again looks between the two of them. hayley’s lax attitude and expression doesn’t do much to ease her sudden spur of nerves, even after she drops the facade and smiles instead.

“no i don’t” sam starts “i mean go introduce yourself properly. you’re the last phase of my plan”

“same same” the winger waves off

“oh” jessie says dumbly. she doesn’t really know what the right way to respond was, or even if there is a right way. at this point she really can’t tell what sam’s motives are. jessie wasn’t stupid, sam had been dropping hints that she wanted her to get to know you but jess hadn’t done much besides follow you on instagram. “when did i get included in your plan” jessie questions carefully, to which sam tuts.

“when i realised you are exactly y/n’s type”

jessie blushes furiously and brings her hand up to her face in an attempt to hide it. she kind of wishes that the earth would just open and swallow her, or at the very least that hayley would remove herself from this conversation.

raso nods “to a tee”

sam takes charge of the situation and grabs the younger woman by her shoulders. she manhandles her club teammate until jessie has you in her eyeline “go on!” sam says before giving jess one hard shove.

jessie, for whatever reason, reluctantly follows sam’s orders and begins to trudge her way over to you.

“you’re such a pot stirrer”

“they’ll thank me one day”

———

you’re listening to kyra talk your ear half off about anything and everything that comes to mind, her hands not being able to stay still as she runs you through a story involving charli, harper and a tub of butter.

as you lean down to retrieve your now filled waterbottle from the ground the midfielder abruptly stops. the sudden silence makes your brows furrow and you lift your head just in time to see kyra’s cheeky smile. she blows you a kiss and waves quickly before running off to annoy mini, leaving you both confused and intrigued about the end of her story.

“do you wanna swap shirts?” you hear someone ask behind you, the unmistakable canadian accent catching you off guard.

you spin around and are faced with freckled flushed cheeks and a shy jessie fleming holding her hands behind her back.

“sure” you answer sheepishly, cursing yourself when you realise how small your voice sounds. you watch as jessie’s shoulders relax and she reaches for the hem of her jersey, pulling it off in one swift motion.

you pull your own shirt over your head before she can catch you staring. you definitely did harbour some type of romantic feelings for the canadian but you had always pushed them aside with the excuse that you didn’t know her beyond whatever sam had told you and the times when canada and australia would play eachother.

the truth was that jessie is your type. a pretty brunette with brains and talent? yeah, sign you the fuck up. you had admired her work ethic and determination from afar for years but hadn’t gotten the chance to exchange more than a few words with her at a time until now.

your usually outgoing personality has suddenly taken a backseat when you finally removed your shirt and saw jessie nervously playing with the fabric of her own. the two of you smile at eachother and swap, silently putting on one another’s jersey.

“sam seems pretty sure that you’re going to take the deal chelsea offered” she says whilst pulling her ponytail out of the collar of your shirt.

you shrug and mimic her actions, subconsciously fixing your ribbon “sam is sure of everything even if she’s wrong” you roll your eyes and tilt your head “but- um yeah. that’s the way it’s looking”

jessie smiles genuinely and you feel yourself becoming light headed “well, hey, if you need a tour guide when you get there i’d be happy to show you around”

“that’d be great” you smile back at her.

“a photo girls?” a man with a camera asks the two of you. you both smile at eachother and stand close together with your arms wrapped around eachother’s waists, proudly showing off both of your nation’s badges.

the camera clicks a few times and you feel jessie tense slightly under your arm. he looks at his camera before giving the both of a thumbs up “great thank you!” he says enthusiastically before walking off to take photos of other players.

“jeff!” someone yells. leon and sinc stand a little way away, both smiling and beckoning jessie over to them. the canadian lets go of your waist and turns to you.

“see you in london?”

words fail you for a moment before you snap yourself back into reality with a blush “yep”

you give jessie a small wave as she walks off and tuck one of your hands under the canada jersey. you can feel the heat radiating off from your face and you lift a palm to your cheek in an attempt to cool yourself down. letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you relax your shoulders before you feel someone slap and grab you from behind.

“so i’ll see you at cobham then?” sam says cockily into your ear as she hooks her chin over your shoulder

“shut up sam”

[vintagedebutante]

Power & Control

A JFK x Petite!Reader Fanfiction- 18+

Further Info: Smut, period-accurate views on virginity I guess, uh... rough sex

Word Count: 1.6k+

A/N: This is my first time writing smut in like, forever! I’d like to thank the ever-iconic @lancerlovesick for inspiring me to write again, I hope you all enjoy it! (Please be kind, I'm kinda rusty lmao)

All alone, you wrung your hands restlessly. You had received a call from one of the President's men instructing you to wait in the west sitting hall, part of the White House's residential area, for a face-to-face meeting with the President himself. Why on earth would the President want to see you alone? How bad of a job could you be doing as a lowly secretary where you required the attention of the country’s most powerful man? Puzzled, your eyes darted around the room.

The west sitting hall was both palatial and comfortable-- an austere half-moon-shaped window provided an elegant backdrop to the green and white floral couch and matching chairs, one of which you were anxiously curled up in.

Your train of thought was quickly derailed by the authoritative sound of a man’s footsteps approaching the room. Abruptly, you stood up and straightened your dress. Your heart clanged in your chest so ferociously you could have sworn you were about to faint.

John F. Kennedy, the President of the United States, stood before you in his expensive, well-tailored navy blue suit. He towered over you, making you feel even weaker in his presence. Though you had interacted with the President briefly many times during your few weeks as a secretary, you had never been alone together like this. Rather than giving you the reprimanding look you expected, he gazed at you rather... ravenously.

You hated to admit it, but you loved the way he looked at you. Though Kennedy was a married man, not to mention the President of the United States, you couldn't help but relish in his lustful gaze. The way his stormy blue-green eyes wandered as he looked down at your minuscule, delicate frame like you were his most prized possession sent you into a frenzy. Though you understood you were no more than one of John F. Kennedy's many sexual conquests, being in his presence like this made you feel like you were the only two people left on Earth. And then, oh God, he smirked and shot you a wink.

"You're a pretty little thing, you know that?" The President quipped in his charming Boston accent. "Now I've got you right where I want you."

"Oh! Uh, Mr. President, I... Mmh..."

Instinctively, a soft moan escaped your lips. You couldn't believe yourself, reduced to a giddy schoolgirl by such a powerful man. Your cheeks flushed. How embarrassing. Yet, the fluttering in your chest was undeniable-- you couldn't resist him. This must have been the famous "Kennedy charisma" you kept hearing about from the other secretaries. The President let out a low chuckle and swayed closer before placing a large, rough hand on your waist. The aroma of expensive cologne mixed with cigar smoke was intoxicating. God, you wanted him.

"Now how can I uh, get you out of that dress?"

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. The other women you worked with used their familiarity with the President as a kind of status symbol. You were lucky if he knew your name. To be lusted after by John F. Kennedy was unlike anything you'd imagined. Like a marionette controlled by an unseen force, you turned around, reached for your zipper, and slinked free from your cotton shirtdress. It was at this moment that you noticed how wet you were, your white undergarments marked with a visible damp spot where your thighs met.

"Not so innocent, are we now? Don't worry, there's nothing wrong with uh, being a little excited."

You guessed you weren't the only one who noticed. A bright red blush crept across your cheeks. As if in a trance, you stripped yourself of your matching set of undergarments and stood coyly before the country's most powerful man. What had come over you? You weren't normally that kind of girl, yet, in this moment, you found yourself uncharacteristically eager to please.

You could tell the President was enjoying himself. You heard gossip around the office that Kennedy got a thrill out of using his power to get those close to him to do his bidding. Whether he was challenging diplomats to swimming contests or making a newly hired secretary drop to her knees, the President was well aware of his influence on others. You never imagined he would turn his attention to you, after all, the two of you really hadn't interacted outside of work. Perhaps he was attracted to your subservience— you were always quick to follow orders from higher-ups in a professional sense.

"God, you're perfect," Kennedy remarked as he ran his large, textured hands over your tiny naked body, pausing to play with your perky breasts. "Spin for me."

Slightly confused, you stepped back and gave the President a coquettish twirl.

"Atta girl," he smirked as he took your dainty, manicured hand and led you to the large, floral-patterned couch behind the coffee table. The President let out a pained groan as he sat, his lustful expression briefly changing to one of genuine discomfort before slowly settling into a seated position. You watched excitedly as Kennedy fiddled with his belt, exposing his large, erect member as his slacks and undergarments pooled at his ankles. He wanted you just as badly as you wanted him.

The President gave his cock a few slow, indulgent strokes before impatiently gesturing for you to join him. He was a busy man, after all. Knowing Kennedy, he likely had something important to attend to following your tryst. You couldn't help but feel special as you clumsily climbed into the man's lap, facing him. God, he was handsome. You had never been this close to the President before-- you could finally get a proper look at his chiseled, masculine features, made all the more apparent by his ever-present suntan. You understood why nearly every woman you worked with swooned over him. To be completely at Kennedy's mercy like this was sublime.

"Have you uh, done this before?" Kennedy's breath was warm on your neck.

"M-hm," you responded sheepishly. You knew it was unbecoming of an unmarried girl your age, but you knew better than to lie about the time you spent at the local drive-in with a handsy boy or two back in high school.

"You dirty girl." The President began to draw slow circles on your aching clit with his thumb. Immediately, you felt a hot, fluttering sensation in your chest. You tried to hide the immense pleasure you were receiving from such a light touch- you didn't want to come across as too needy. Though, based on how quick you were to disrobe, perhaps that ship had already sailed. Before you had time to gather your thoughts, Kennedy plunged his index finger into your wet little pussy. A sharp, panicked moan escaped your lips. "Hush, you don't want the whole White House to hear you now, do you," he quipped, only half-joking. Though the thought of getting caught was titillating, you decided it would be in your best interest to obey. You ran your hands through his thick, perfect-looking chestnut hair as he roughly thrust his finger deeper inside, desperately grabbing fistfuls to keep yourself from making the mistake of being too loud once more.

Wasting no time, the President slipped his index finger out of you and began stroking his larger-than-average shaft indulgently in preparation. Though you were not a virgin, you still wondered how you would manage to fit the whole thing inside yourself. You were quite petite, and it had been a while, after all. Nervously, you adjusted your position so the tip of Kennedy's throbbing, fully erect cock was resting at your entrance. You inhaled deeply, bracing yourself. You locked eyes as he gently placed his hands on your waist.

"Now, are you going to be a good girl and keep quiet for me?"

"Yes, Mr. President," you whispered coyly.

The President grabbed you by the hips as he nearly slammed himself inside you, setting a feverish pace. Instinctively, you buried your face in his neck and let out a muffled gasp. It hurt at first, but the initial pain gave way to immense pleasure as your muscles relaxed. You bucked your hips up and down, desperately trying to match his rhythm.

"God, you're so tight, just how I like my girls," Kennedy whispered between grunts and curses. All you could muster in response was a soft, tortured whimper as you held onto him for dear life. The throbbing between your legs was excruciating.

Kennedy lowered his lips to your ear. You could nearly feel his teeth against your skin. "I could just hide you away and have you all to myself whenever I want. How does that sound?" You could only moan against his neck-- though the prospect of being one of the President's favorite playthings only made the pleasant sensation in the pit of your stomach grow.

"Oh, Mr. President..." Your breathing hastened as you gave in to the all-consuming wave of pleasure that overtook you. You had never experienced a climax so intense-- it was as if an earthquake raged within you, you couldn't help yourself from trembling as Kennedy continued thrusting roughly. "Atta girl," he whispered. His grip tightened on your hips as his pace increased, his low moans sounding more frustrated by the second.

"Oh, fuck," the President gasped, his head rolling back as he violently came inside you. You could feel his cock furiously throbbing within your walls as you both paused to catch your breath. You sat up straight as you watched him wipe the sweat from his brow.

"Same time next week, doll?" Kennedy asked breathlessly.

You stumblingly dismounted, your knees wobbling like jelly. You wondered how on Earth you would make it home after such an experience.

"Of course, Mr. President."

[milliesfishes]

౨ৎ꣑ৎInscrutable౨ৎ꣑ৎ (Part Two of Impossible)

[fem reader] contains: war, rivalry, pregnancy angst, difficult childbirth, death, sexual themes. summary: you and billy navigate your relationship in the face of the lincoln county war pairing: billy the kid x fem reader author’s note: since the show isn't over yet, I had to take liberties with the ending, but tbh prolly would have done so anyways. enjoy and I apologize in advance. this was a labor of love, and I'm very proud of this story <3 Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

You had never before known bliss.

But lying here, bare and soft in the afterglow of lovemaking, you found it over and over. Billy was half lying on you, his face in your shoulder, panting with his right hand knotted with yours. Your other hand lazily came up to rest on the back of his head, elbow bent, fingers dragging through his hair once.

He lifted his head after a moment, a sleepy smile on his face. "How ya feelin' Daisy?"

"Mm," you sighed, your eyes half closed. "Really good."

"Really good, huh?" he propped his chin on your shoulder.

"Really, really good," you affirmed, and he nudged his nose against you.

Billy gazed at you, the glow from the morning light through your window settling on him. He lifted himself up to hover over you, leaning on his forearms and just looking at you. By now you were used to this; he did it often after sex.

His bright blue eyes drank you in, your smooth skin, your wonderfully messy hair, the haze that had settled over your face. He ducked down to kiss your nose lightly. "So pretty." Another kiss, but this time to the space between your eyes. "Prettiest girl in the west."

You smiled as you always did at his affections but lifted your head impatiently. "Pretty sure I look the same every time."

"Mm, gotta make sure just in case," Billy teased, kissing your cheek, then your jaw. "Sides, even if ya do, you're pretty enough to look at over-" he kissed your neck. "-'n over-" he bit at the spot playfully and you squealed. "-'n over again."

You wiggled a bit under him, looking up at him sleepily. "I wanna cuddle."

"Cuddlebug," he smiled, resting his chin between your breasts. "Let me look atcha just a little more Daisy?"

He was giving you puppy dog eyes and you giggled, unable to say no. Especially when he was so handsome, bare and smooth against your own bare and smooth body. "We're gonna be cuddling for a million hours after."

"A million it is," he grinned, pressing little kisses to your chest, nosing under your breast and kissing you there too. "Mm, dunno how 'm s'posed to ever leave ya."

"Good thing it's your day off," you smiled, and he nodded, lifting his head just slightly.

"Thank goodness for that." Billy was kissing your tummy now, his lips parted and leaving little wet patches on your skin. You squealed in delight as his kisses got lower and lower until he was right between your legs.

"Mmph, Billy," you protested lightly, sitting up on your elbows. "Wanna cuddle."

He gave you a chaste little kiss below your belly button. "Lemme take care of ya one time and then we can cuddle Daisy." You mulled it over, them nodded, bending your knees a bit and spreading them a bit so he had better access.

Nipping at your inner thigh, he looked up at you like he always did, checking in. "'Kay?"

You nodded, your hand falling into his hair and tugging lightly. "You're going so slow."

"Can ya blame me for wantin' to take m' time with m' angel?" Billy gave twin kisses to both your thighs. "Last night..."

"Fast," you mused, eyes hazing over dreamily.

He laughed, squeezing your legs and throwing one over his shoulder. "'xactly baby. Fast. Wanna go slow 'n make it good for you, sweet."

"Last night was good for me," you insisted, and he grinned, resting his chin on your tummy.

"'m glad. This mornin's gonna be good for ya too," he nosed a kiss into your belly button, making you giggle.

"Okay, okay," you smiled, leaning back against the pillows and closing your eyes, one arm flung lazily above your head and the other in his hair.

Billy wrapped his arms around your thighs because he knew you'd wiggle around. "Atta girl. Gimme a-"

"Hey little, can ya-" Joe's voice got louder as he approached, opening the door wide. The second he saw the scene, he jumped back, closing his eyes. "The hell?"

Billy flung his body up and over yours to cover it from view, ignoring the fact that his entire behind was on display. "Ever knock Joe?"

Your brother seemed traumatized by what he'd seen, and he, with one hand over his eyes, blindly reached for the door handle, shutting it firmly.

Waiting until his footsteps were heard going down the stairs, Billy sunk his head into your neck and laughed, low and deep. You couldn't help but join in, tilting your head back, your arms over his shoulders. "Poor Joe."

"Ya'd think he'd know to knock by now," Billy said, muffled into your skin. "What is this, the fifth time he's caught us?"

"We've never been completely naked before though," you got out, flinging an arm over your eyes briefly. "I can't believe my brother saw me like this."

"I'm not thrilled 'bout it either," Billy mumbled, lifting his head. "Only I'm s'posed to see ya like this."

"Seeing as it's Joe I don't think it'll happen again, don't you worry," you smiled, tracing a hand over his shoulder. "Maybe this will be the incident to get him to watch where he walks."

Billy laughed lightly, kissing your collarbone. "Always makin' things happier ain'tcha Daisy?"

You sat up with a sheepish smile, and he sat up, pulling you to sit on his thighs, holding you lightly by your own. "I should probably go downstairs so he doesn't think we're doing anything."

"Mm, but we are doing things," Billy mumbled, his eyes roving over your bare body, thumbs stroking your hip bones. He laid down against the mattress, eyes glued to you.

Smiling a bit, you leaned down to kiss him softly, your hair falling over him like a curtain. "I'll just see to the garden for a moment and then we can go right back to this." You sat up again and he grinned, fingers of one hand sliding between the crease where your thigh was pressed against your calf. "You still owe me cuddles."

"We can't just cuddle right now?" Billy wondered, bending his knees, the action making your bottom slide down so you were seated upright on his stomach, back resting against his legs.

"We'll wait until Joe goes into town," you said, now holding his hands in both of yours. "I don't want to make him more uncomfortable."

Billy heaved a dramatic sigh, but he nodded, bringing one of your hands to his mouth to kiss. "Alright sweet. Whatever ya say." You knew that even though he wanted to hold you, his friendship with Joe was too important to him to ignore how he was feeling.

You got off of Billy, redressing in what you'd worn last night. He sat on the edge of the bed, bringing you to sit in his lap so he could lace up your half stay. Kissing your shoulder when he was done, he laid back in bed, pulling the sheet partly over himself as he lazily watched you put your dress on, tying the little bow at the front. "Pretty," he called, smiling when you came over to sit by him again.

Smiling sweetly, you leaned down and kissed his forehead, lingering there for a moment. He grasped your hand in his, unable to stop holding onto you for even a moment when he was able.

There was a knock at the door and you looked back. Joe's voice was muffled through the wood. "Can I come in?"

"We're decent," you called, and Billy chuckled. Joe entered cautiously, stopping at one step through the threshold.

"Can I talk to Billy for a minute?" he asked, looking at you, and you nodded.

"I was just about to go into the garden for a little bit anyways." You stood, squeezing Billy's hand before letting go and leaving. "Don't be too long!"

As you left the room, you could hear both Billy's laugh and Joe saying, "Would ya put some pants on?"

Hand grasped in yours, Billy was leading you through the woods, his expression eager. He was wearing that blue striped shirt you loved so much, and you could hardly take his eyes off him he looked so good.

When he'd come to you today, you could tell he'd taken a bath, maybe even shaved a little although there was a little bit of scruff still left, just the way you liked it. His hair looked soft and fluffy like it always did after he washed it. You longed to run your fingers through it, but waited, knowing you'd likely get the chance once you got wherever you were going.

Billy pushed aside a branch, and you saw a lake, blue and clear with trees lining the edges. There was a little dock on your side, and he confidently pulled you over to it, close to the end. The sky was cloudless, and it was nice and warm. You were glad you'd worn something pretty to match the view. A blue dress- one of your favorites.

Wrapping his arms around your waist, Billy rested his chin on top of your head, taking it all in for a moment. There were no words between you two, just the magnificence of the open space.

"I didn't know there was a lake near here," you finally murmured, the side of your face resting on his chest.

"Found out 'bout it from some 'f the boys who like to fish here," Billy explained, still holding you close. "Thought it might remind ya of when we used to swim back when."

You giggled, remembering. "Joe and you would always throw me in."

"Ya made it real easy," Billy teased, kissing the side of your head.

Shaking your head good-naturedly, you leaned against him, looking out again. "It's so beautiful."

"Is," Billy agreed, pulling back and looking at you, his eyes soft, that look he always seemed to have around you.

Then he separated himself fully, only holding onto your hands and looking over you with a peculiar expression on his face.

"What is it?" you tilted your head, smiling in confusion.

Billy swallowed once, seeming nervous. "Daisy..."

"Billy?" you were a little worried now.

"I've loved ya a long time, Daisy," he said, squeezing your hands. "You're the sweetest, kindest, prettiest girl I'll ever meet. I always wanna protect ya...I always wanna have ya near."

You smiled, touched by his words but still wary of what he was leading up to.

"I know we ain't been together in this way for a while, but I spent so much time pining over ya I feel like it's been forever," he smiled. "You're the best thing in my life. I never wanna let go of ya."

Billy let go of one of your hands, fumbling in his pocket for something. When he found it and pulled it out, your eyes went wide as saucers. A little golden ring.

You gasped and stepped back in surprise, forgetting you were at the edge of the dock. In one moment you were upright. The next you were hitting the water with a splash.

Muffled from underwater, you heard Billy shout something. You heard him jump into the water, and he dragged you up to the surface, his arms around your waist holding you up. Once your head was above water, you gasped for air, coughing a bit.

“You okay, sweetheart? Talk to me!” Billy demanded anxiously, his arms tight around you. His hair was sticking to his forehead in little curls, and his shirt was completely soaked through as he treaded water, holding you both up.

The soaked state of you was the furthest thing from your mind. “You want to marry me?”

Billy stared at you. “Baby ya just fell in- “

“I’m okay,” you interrupted, grasping his arms. “Billy…” you looked into his bright blue eyes, searching them intently. “You want to marry me?”

He gave a little laugh, squeezing his hands at your sides. “Yeah. Yeah, Daisy I wanna marry ya.”

A smile spread over your face and you threw your arms around his neck, sending him toppling back underwater. Your lips found his, kissing him excitedly.

“Mmph!” Billy spluttered, bringing the two of you back up. He laughed against your lips, his hand coming to the back of your head. “Is that a yes, then?”

“Yes!” you squealed, burying your face in his neck. “Yes, yes, yes!”

Billy grabbed your chin and brought his lips to yours, the kiss full of joy and pure love. You hugged him tightly, nudging your nose against his. “I love you.”

He sealed your words with another kiss. “I love ya too, Daisy.”

Billy suddenly lifted his head. “Shit, the ring-“

“Oh!” He must have dropped it when he dove in to get you. You swam up to the dock, and the both of you propped your elbows up on the wood, searching for the little gold ring.

He spotted it, reaching over to grasp it and leaving a trail of water from his arm spattered over the grainy surface. “Aha!” Then, turning his attention to you, he reached for your hand resting on the wood and slid the ring on, the smile not leaving his face the entire time.

You held your hand up, admiring the way it looked on your finger. Your own smile was uncontainable. “It’s beautiful, Billy.”

“Was my mama’s,” he explained, and you looked up at him tenderly. “Carried it with me all these years.”

You looked at him sweetly, throwing your arms back around him and sending the both of you tumbling back in with a splash. He laughed as you kissed him, holding you close and thumbing the side of your cheek.

Billy eventually hauled you out of the water, and the two of you rested on your backs in the sun to dry off. He held your hand, leaning on his side and keeping his eyes on you.

“My love,” he breathed, kissing your nose. “My Daisy.”

The wedding came and went. It was a decidedly joyous affair, and you enjoyed every second of it.

Truthfully it was all a blur- you saw Billy's face at the alter with you, but not much else. He looked the happiest you'd ever seen him in that moment. As if his sole purpose in life had been to marry you and now it was coming to fruition.

The wedding night however, you remembered every minute of.

Joe had decided that after the wedding he'd move out of the house and into the nearby camp the Seven Rivers gang was staying at. You'd balked a bit at that, saying he didn't have to, but he'd insisted.

"I like livin' with the boys," he said, grinning. "'Sides, I don't wanna hafta listen to you 'n Billy goin' at it all times 'f the day."

That'd made you blush, and he'd laughed. "You'll be a married couple, little. 'S fine. We'll see each other all the time 'nd I'll be workin' with Billy. Just the same but we all live with different people."

You'd smiled at that. And to his credit, he'd been right.

It was ecstasy, living that way with Billy on the ranch, all by yourselves. You were bookkeeping just like you had before the fire, and he would do little things around to help out the ranch hands every now and then.

For a long while, everything was just short of perfect. You loved your life more than you ever thought you would. Waking up every morning in Billy's arms, managing the ranch...it was heaven.

Sometimes when you were supposed to be working, you found yourself reminiscing about what you'd done the day before or daydreaming about being with him when he got home. It all felt like something you'd only imagined, not real life.

Billy was slowly moving up higher in the gang ranks, as the man they were working for- Major Murphy- had taken a particular interest in him. You'd only met him a few times, but you knew he was powerful, and he paid Billy well.

Your husband grew a little more uneasy as he got closer to the top, but he didn't complain much. Only on late nights when the two of you were cozied in each other's arms would he confess that he didn't like that the work he was doing had become less and less honest.

Still, because he was loyal to the gang, Billy kept at it. It only endeared him to you more. You were happily, blissfully in love with him, more and more every day.

One day, he came home and immediately put his arms around you, stroking your back and pressing a gentle hand to your lower belly. "How you doin' baby?"

You looked up at him, confused. "I'm alright...is something wrong?"

He pulled back a bit, looking down at you, a little confused. "You're feelin' good?"

Nodding slowly, you searched his eyes. He tilted his head, taking his hat off. "You ain't on your monthly?"

You shook your head.

"Huh." Billy scratched his head, keeping one arm around you. "Thought it was the second week 'f the month."

Thinking back, you realized he was right. Your monthly did usually come on this week. But your bleeding had always been fairly irregular. You didn't pay it much more thought because now he was picking you up and spinning you around and asking about your day.

That was the first strange thing.

The next occurred when you came outside after working with the books for hours, stretching and sighing as you got some fresh air on the porch. You saw Billy out mending a fence, and you leaned against the railing of the porch steps to admire the view.

He spotted you and ran right up, unbuttoning his shirt as he did. It was a hot day, and he was sweating...a lot. It only made your heart beat faster for him.

"Hiya Daisy," he greeted, pulling you in for a nice long kiss. His shirt was half unbuttoned, and you slid your fingers between, feeling his warm, slick skin. "How's m' girl?"

"Good," you murmured happily against his lips, tugging at his shirt.

He grinned through the kisses, his big hands sliding two directions. One went to your cheek, the other to your breast, palming it and telling you exactly what he wanted.

But the sudden sensitivity there had your hand flying up. Billy frowned, pulling back. "Whatsa matter Daisy?"

You were covering his hand over your breast, stiffened. "I'm...just a little sore there...is all."

Billy rubbed his hand slightly over your breast, brow furrowed. "Everythin' alright?"

You nodded slowly, then turned back to him, smiling. "Yeah. Yeah, it's okay." He pressed a little concerned kiss to the corner of your mouth, then continued what he'd been doing before, his hand moving to your waist instead.

That was the second strange thing.

Then, there was a day when you and Billy were out for a ride, laughing and talking as you always did. Usually on those days you'd spend hours on horseback, but after a single hour you felt exhausted.

Of course, Billy noticed, pulling the reins on his horse when he saw you slowing down. "Daisy?"

You nodded tiredly, still trying to keep up. "Mhm?"

He came over to you, his horse facing the opposite direction as yours. "You feelin' alright darlin'?"

"Yeah," you tried to smile, pretend nothing was amiss. You desperately wanted to ride; you hadn't been able to in so long. Not with him being so busy and you in the like. "Yeah I'm fine. C'mon."

Billy gave you a look. "You're tired."

"I'm good," you were trying to convince yourself too. "I wanna keep going."

"Daisy you're gonna wear yourself out," Billy shook his head, reaching for your face and studying you. "Let's go back. You've been so tired lately."

And you realized then: you had. All the way home, you went over the odd symptoms you'd been having. Exhaustion, no bleeding, sore breasts...

It hit you like a lightning strike.

You looked over at Billy, riding contently beside you. He didn't seem suspicious of anything, just concerned that you weren't feeling your best.

Looking back ahead of you, you swallowed. Best go see the doctor to make sure. Before telling anybody.

The next day, after doing so you found yourself in a state of shock.

As you'd ridden home from your visit, you'd barely focused on where you were going, grateful your horse didn't need much guidance to get back.

Hands shaking, eyes wet, breath unsteady.

Before you knew it you were up in your favorite tree on the ranch, frozen stiff and staring into the leaves. It was a place of refuge in a way. All you could hear was the echoed confirmation of the doctor. And all you could think about was how everything would change now. The life you'd gotten used to, the life you had worked so hard to make constant. Just when you were content it was upheaved again.

When you heard Billy's voice calling your name it startled you. You didn't know how long you'd been up here, but you knew it certainly wasn't so long that it was now the time he usually came home.

Eyes wide with surprise, you grabbed hold of the branch beside you, steadying yourself. It wouldn't be long before he found you, and you needed to compose yourself fast.

As expected, his head popped up from the branches and he smiled when he saw you. "Knew ya'd be up here Daisy."

You forced a smile. "You're home so early."

He grinned, climbing up so he could bend over and kiss you. "Missed my wife. Wasn't much to do today so I thought I'd come surprise ya."

Nodding, you moved over on the branch so he could sit, wrapping his arms around you. "How's m' girl? Hm? Ya doin' alright?"

"Yes," you blurted out, and he gave you a funny look.

"Glad to hear it, sweetheart," he said, his hand absentmindedly stroking up and down your arm. "Anythin'...anythin' happen today I should know about?"

"Why, did you hear something?" you looked up at him, eyes wide.

Billy chuckled and tilted his head. "No...just makin' conversation baby." But now he studied you inquisitively. "Ya sure everything's good?"

For a moment you stared at him, your secret weighing in on you. You wanted to tell him, you did. But the shock of it had rendered you useless for any logic. Slowly, you nodded. "Yes."

He chucked you gently under the chin. "Yeah?"

"Yes," your tone was becoming less convincing by the minute.

Bringing his hand underneath your chin and looking you in the eye, Billy gave you a look. "Daisy?"

You shook your head, avoiding his gaze and starting to climb down from the tree. "I'm alright," you called up, jumping to the ground. Billy followed you, scratching the back of his head.

"Sweetheart, did somethin' happen?" Billy asked, following you down the hill into the meadow. "Ya seem..."

"Seem what?" you turned around suddenly, eyes wide.

He stopped in his tracks in front of you. "Is this about everythin' with Murphy? I know it's been tough and I've been workin' long hours, but I promise I-"

"No," you shook your head reassuringly. "No, it's not that."

"Did I do somethin'?" Billy questioned, taking your hand

"It's nothing you did-" you cut yourself off, thinking about it. "Well..."

"How can I fix it?" he asked immediately, his other hand finding yours. He pulled you into him, your stomachs pressed together with a secret between them. "Tell me what to do Daisy."

"It's not...really...a fix...able thing," you said slowly, drawing out the word fixable.

"C'mon baby I-"

"I'm pregnant!" you burst out, your heart pounding.

Billy paused, and you watched the news wash over him. He searched your eyes, as if looking for confirmation. You nodded ever so slightly and he took a tiny step back, looking down at your flat tummy.

After a second, his face broke into a smile, and he settled his hands over your waist, lifting you up and spinning you around, your legs wrapping around his middle to steady yourself. His gun belt pressed into your bottom, and he secured one arm around you as he brought your hand to his mouth, kissing it gently. "My love." Billy wrapped his other arm around your waist and held you to him, peering at you from under this hat. "Are you sure?"

"I went to see the doctor today," you said softly, knocking his brim up so you could look at him properly.

Billy grinned when you moved his hat but faltered when he saw your expression. "Hey. Daisy whatsa matter?"

You just folded your arms around his neck and rested your face there silently. Eyes closed, you tried your hand at hiding, but he'd always been able to see through you.

"Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, hugging you tight to him. "My angel." His words were soft and sweet, knowing you needed him right then. Billy drew your chin up to look at him. "We're gonna go back to the house, yeah? We're gonna have kisses 'n cuddles. Doctor's orders."

"What doctor?" you asked softly.

"Doesn't matter," he pressed his forehead to yours. Then he remedied, "A very good doctor."

You closed your eyes and smiled, leaning against him. "I'm sure."

Billy rocked you back and forth a little bit. "There ya go, sweetheart." You started to try and get down, but he merely shifted you into a bridal carry. As he walked you back to the house, he said, "We're gonna relax cause we both work too hard, 'specially you, and just know-" he kissed your forehead. "Everythin's gonna be okay. No matter what."

When he was saying it this way, you couldn't help but believe him. Billy took you home and had you under the covers in his arms in no time. You were nestled between his legs, your bottom in the cradle of his thighs. His hands were loosely resting on your stomach, absentmindedly stroking up and down. He was pressing a flurry of kisses to wherever he could reach. Your cheek, your neck, your shoulder. With each soft kiss, you felt your body melting against his.

"There ya go, Daisy," he said against your neck. "There's my girl."

Billy brought his arms up to rest on your collarbone, his head leaning against yours. You sighed softly, your mind weary.

"How d'ya wanna go 'bout this?" he asked quietly. "I know this is a big thing. Maybe the biggest thing."

"It's not that I don't want a baby," you whispered, and he nodded. "I love you. I knew this would happen eventually but..." you closed your eyes. "I'm scared. It's just so unexpected."

"It is," he nodded, squeezing you once, his nose squished against your cheek.

"But..." you took in a deep breath. "I love you. And we'll more than make it work. We're having a baby..." your hand fell to your stomach, rubbing it softly.

"We're havin' a baby," he kissed your cheek and covered your hand with his.

His gentle words and reassurance warmed you from the inside out, and you nearly felt like you were glowing. Turning to face him, you pressed your lips softly against his. "You gave me this," you held his hand to your stomach. "This life we've built...I've never been happier. I never thought I would be this happy."

"My Daisy," he murmured, stroking your cheek. "I'd give ya the world if I could." Billy rested his hands on both sides of your face. "And I'd do anything to protect what we have."

"Daisy?"

You perked up when you heard Billy's voice, abandoning your mending and standing when he entered the room. "Billy?"

He came through the door, grabbing you around the waist and dipping you into a kiss. "How's my beautiful wife?" he asked as you giggled.

"I'm good," you smiled, looking up at him adoringly. "I wasn't expecting you until later."

Billy thumbed the side of your face. "We were let off early today." He lifted you, rubbing his hand on your midsection. "How's baby?"

"Good as far as I can tell," you leaned up to kiss him again. "She misses her daddy."

"Ah, I know mama's been missin' daddy too," Billy nosed a kiss into your hair. "Feel like it's been forever since I got to really talk to ya."

"You've been working so hard," you murmured, wrapping your arms around his neck and nudging your nose against his. "Wake up before I do, come back before I'm asleep..."

"I'm sorry sweetheart," he muttered into your hair, rocking the two of you back and forth. "I'm sorry I haven't been around. Murphy's got us workin' long hours." He kissed your forehead. "Keepin' me away from my girl...while you're growin' baby at home..."

"It's okay," you pressed your lips to his cheek. "You work so hard for us. We love you very much for it."

He smiled wearily, catching your lips in a brief kiss. "Daisy you're an angel. Best of wives..." Billy rubbed your tummy, feeling the slight swell of it. "Y'know, the reason we got off early is cause there's a party tonight Murphy wants all of us to go to," he brought his hand to your cheek. "Now, if ya don't wanna go I'll skip it and stay home with you but-"

"I wanna go!" you said excitedly, bouncing on your heels and squeezing his hands. "It's been so long since I've done anything like that and I haven't seen anyone in weeks-!"

"Woah, woah, slow down darlin'," Billy laughed, squeezing you as you jumped into his arms. "Don't get baby all worked up. 'm glad you're excited though sweetheart."

You kissed his cheek excitedly and went upstairs to find a dress to wear, leaving Billy chuckling to himself in the kitchen.

That night on Billy's arm, you were elated and energetic, greeting each of the members of the gang with enthusiasm. You practically tackled Joe when you hugged him, which he found funny. But you couldn't help it- it had been weeks since you'd seen any of the gang between their hard work and your pregnancy.

Though you were excited, you did not fail to notice how on-edge Billy seemed to be. He was slightly stiff, making sure not to let go of you for even a second. When you asked him about it, holding onto his arm lovingly, he merely patted your arm. "Just worryin' Daisy. Nothin' to fret about."

You frowned up at him. "About-"

Suddenly an older gentleman cut in, whispering something to Billy, who kissed your temple and excused himself, stepping to the side. You watched him concernedly, and Joe came up beside you. "Everythin' okay?"

"I don't know," you watched Billy talked to the man. "Joe... what exactly is Billy to Murphy?"

Joe shrugged, following your eyes to your husband. "The old man likes havin' a famous outlaw on his side. Dunno if Billy likes the jobs we get sent on."

"Why not?" you looked up at your brother. Billy had never mentioned anything like that to you before.

He sighed, looking down and then back up at you. "To be honest I ain't that big of a fan of it either. Murphy's havin' issues with several farmers in the area. He's demandin' they get off their land...it's messy stuff little."

Your brow furrowed and you looked back at Billy. "And he...?"

"He translates for us since a lotta' them only speak Spanish," Joe said. "I do some too, but not at all as good as him. It's gettin' bad. Jesse's aboutta get ruthless with 'em, and that ain't Billy's style at all."

The farmers...Mexican farmers...you knew Billy's sense of justice was heightened when it came to the Hispanic people in the area, since they were nearly always treated unfairly. That explained why he was so on edge- it must have been uncomfortable to be in the same room as people who stood for what he was against.

"Why wouldn't he tell me?" you breathed, your eyes not straying from your husband.

"Probably doesn't wanna worry ya," Joe said wearily. "Wants to provide for his girl...'specially since you're in a family way."

This information washed over you and you turned back to him. "Why do you stay? If you don't like it?"

"Murphy pays good money," Joe half smiled. "He's gotta be the only one around who's gonna hire a bunch of outlaws."

You nodded, understanding instantly, but still upset at the prospect of what they were doing. "Those poor farmers..."

"Yeah, it's not lookin' good," Joe said distractedly, looking up. "Hey, Billy's headin' off."

Instantly you looked up, watching him walk over to an open area. Someone shouted something, and people began to gather around him. Confused, you grabbed Joe's hand and pulled him over, pushing through the crowd to the front to see what was going on.

Billy was loading a gun that had been sitting on a table to the left of him. You were about to walk over and ask what he was doing, but Joe put his arm in front of you, shaking his head. "Look." He nodded at the scene in front of Billy, consisting of targets.

Your blood went cold as you put the pieces together. Oh no.

Your husband aimed and began to shoot, hitting every target with exact precision. He finished with the pistol and picked up a rifle, once again leaving no target unchecked. When he was done, the nearby shed was on fire and all the bottles had bullets in them.

All through the demonstration, the people around you made impressed noises, but you stood still in horror. You knew him, and you knew more than anything that he didn't like being put on display. His 'Billy the Kid' persona was the exact opposite of the way he wanted to be viewed. You wondered how he'd even been convinced to do this.

Dropping the rifle back on the table, Billy pushed through the crowd, and you watched him go. Looking back at Joe with wide eyes, you whispered, "What the hell was that?"

His expression was grim. "You asked what Billy is to Murphy, little. That was it."

You squeezed Joe's hand, then went to find Billy, searching the room for him. When he was nowhere to be found, you opened the door to the back porch. There he stood, leaning against the railing and looking at the sky.

Shutting the door on the party, you went to him, standing close. Your words were quiet. "I'm sorry you had to do that."

He shook his head, taking his hat off and looking back at you. "'m sorry you had to see it."

You went to him, taking his face in your hands and shaking your head, immediately knowing what he was thinking. "Billy...Billy look at me."

Meeting his eyes, you could see the dead weight in them, and you shook your head some more, kissing his cheek, then his other one. "You're not what they say you are."

"Seems like I am," he said quietly, and you pressed your forehead to his. "Havin' me put on a fuckin' show..."

"I know," you breathed, kissing his nose. "I know it feels that way. But you're not. You've never been."

"I've killed, Daisy," he whispered, taking your hands in his and removing them from his face. "I ain't a good man...I ain't..."

"Billy," you held one of his hands to your heartbeat, setting your other one on his. Your eyes pleaded with him to snap out of it. He took in deep breaths as he looked at you.

"I don't deserve ya, baby," he said softly, and you squeezed his hand.

"Don't say that," you breathed, squeezing again. "Please Billy..."

He hung his head. "Daisy..."

"C'mon," you tugged on his hand. "C'mon, let's get outta here."

Your husband was quiet the whole way home. It was only once the two of you were up in the bedroom that he said anything.

"I didn't think that was gonna happen," Billy murmured, hanging his head.

You removed his hat, setting it on the dresser, and sat down with him on the bed, taking his hands in yours. When he wouldn't look up at you, you brought your hands to his face, feeling his scratchy stubble underneath your fingers and turning his head.

"You aren't a bad man," you said quietly, moving closer to him, looking him straight in the eyes. "What you've atoned for doesn't define you."

"I've done such horrible things Daisy," he lifted his hands to your wrists. "I don't deserve any of this...not one bit of it..."

"Please don't say that," you whispered, nudging your nose against his. You kissed his forehead softly, smoothing his hair. "My love..."

"I've never deserved ya Daisy," he sniffed, looking down. "You're too good...sweetest girl in the whole world..."

"Oh-" you wrapped your arms around him, bringing him to lie down with you, so the two of you were lying facing each other on the bed. You took one of his hands so it was resting between the two of you, fingers intertwining. "Billy. I love you. And-" you put his hand on your belly, which was swelling slightly with new life. "And baby loves you. We know you're a good man. The best of men."

"Daisy," he rubbed your belly slightly. "You're good...you always were good..."

"And so are you," you insisted, your hand covering his. "Would a bad man be laying here with me? Would a bad man kiss me so soft or love me like you do? A bad man would've up and left the second he found out I was having his child. But you didn't 'cause you're a good man."

Your words washed over Billy, and he just looked at you for a moment. Then he brought your hand to his lips, kissing it for a long time.

Reaching for him, you pulled him into you, and he rested his head right beside your chest, burrowing into it a little. One of his hands remained on your belly, and he rubbed up and down, the motion soothing to the both of you.

You kissed the top of his head again, your hand trailing up and down his back. Quiet for a moment, you considered your words before you said them.

"Joe told me a little about Murphy," you said quietly, and Billy lifted his head.

"What about?" he asked, stroking your belly as he sat up, looking down at you.

"He told me about the farmers," you said, and Billy sighed, shaking his head.

"Don't want ya to worry 'bout that," he muttered, kissing your belly and smoothing his hand over it. "You just needa focus on growin' baby."

"I am worried," you sat up, reaching for him and sniffling. "Billy...I hate that you have to stay with that awful man and do what he wants."

"Shh," Billy squeezed your hand. "Daisy, you're gettin' yourself all worked up. I promise there ain't nothin' to it."

"I know you wanted honest work, Billy," you shook your head, your breathing growing quick. "Joe told me...oh-! I can't stand how hard it must be for you. And with the act he made you put on tonight-"

"Daisy, Daisy," he pushed you to lie down, sliding his arm under you so you'd rest on his shoulder. You clung to one of his suspenders, and he rested his head against yours. "Baby. You'd best not worry 'bout that in any way my love."

"But you're unhappy," you reached to cup his face, your fingers tracing up and down. "You're unhappy...and he's making you think such awful things about yourself..."

"Mustn't fret," Billy kissed your hairline, his body sheltering yours. "Ain't good for baby." He trailed his fingers up and down your midsection. "Won't ya look at me for a second?"

You did, your eyes meeting his bright blue ones. A smile betrayed his serious expression, and he soothed his hand over your tummy. "Oh, ya sweet." Billy kissed your hair. "I made a promise to provide for ya. You 'n baby. If I gotta hit a few targets for rich folk to do that I will."

"It's not just that," you said softly, reaching for his hand and playing with the fingers, sliding his wedding ring up and down. "It's the farmers. The work. You were so excited to be doing something legal, but now it's...it's..."

Billy shook his head. "Baby..." he picked up your hand, bringing it to the handkerchief around his neck, knowing holding it always calmed you. When you were clinging to it, he took your face in his hands. "I would do anything to keep you 'n baby safe. You're my family. I have ya, and I'll fight for ya, and keep ya safe 'n comfortable for all my days." He kissed your nose lightly. "You...and our child. That's all that matters to me."

You wanted to protest, but seeing the look on his face, you kept quiet. He was noble and true, doing a job he hated so he could protect you. It irked you, but you didn't say a thing, nestling into his arms for the rest of the night

All the good in the world. You wanted Billy to have all the good in the world.

You did your best to give it to him in your own way since you knew he loved you so. The both of you felt it separately, you knew, that after all the time you'd spent wanting for each other there was a lot of making up to do. Even unconsciously the both of you clung to each other when you were together. It was a natural response- you needed each other so.

Mind, body, and soul, you'd given yourself to him, even before you were officially together. From the first time sleeping together on, you were bound to him even if you had pretended not to be to try and save your tender heart.

Now that you wore his ring on your finger and had his baby in your belly, you were determined more than ever to bring happiness to him just as he did you.

All of this was the reason you met with Joe in town one day, in addition to whisperings on the horizon you'd heard, and a business card found in Billy's shirt pocket when you were washing it.

Holding up the card, you leaned over the table toward your brother. "Tunstall?"

Frowning, Joe reached out for it. "Where did you-?"

You held the card away, raising an eyebrow. "You do know. Who's he?"

He leaned back in his seat. "Ya shouldn't be meddlin' little. Billy-"

"He's my husband," you insisted, looking at him with determined eyes. "And you're my brother. If working for Murphy is taking a toll on you it's my business."

Joe sat on the edge of his chair, elbows on the table as he looked at you under the brim of his hat. "I know you're tryin' to be sweet. Ya always have been, I know it's your way. But if Billy's decided not to tell ya about it I can't go tellin' ya."

You shook your head, staring at Joe firmly. "You're my brother."

"He's your husband."

"I'm your sister."

"He's my best friend."

"I'm his wife."

"You're his wife," Joe rested his palm on the wooden surface of the table. "And you're my sister. Can't go tellin' ya things like this. If I send you into a frenzy Billy'll tan my hide no matter how good of friends we are."

"If you care for him at all, you'll tell me," you pleaded, sitting up straight. "I only want to help. I want to support him and you both. You're miserable under Murphy with all the horrible work he makes you do."

"I toldja 'bout that, little," Joe protested. "Ain't nobody gonna hire outlaws-"

"Then who's Tunstall?" you asked, meeting his eyes.

Joe looked like he'd been backed into a corner. He pursed his lips, exhaling through his nose and seeming to give up. "Tunstall's a rival businessman. From what Billy an' I can tell, he's tryna make things right with a lotta farmers 'round here. But that also means Murphy ain't a fan of him."

"And he wants you to join him?" you questioned, leaning in interestedly.

"Badly," Joe nodded, slinging his arm over the back of his chair. "He's gunnin' for Billy cause of his reputation and any of the gang he can get to come with him. But..."

You furrowed your brow. "What?"

Joe scratched his neck. "Little...if we join him, it could cause a full-on riot. Some say war. Murphy don't take kindly to people leavin' him. His people in the Circle could make things bad."

"Murphy's part of the Circle?" your eyes were wide.

"Goddamn, he ain't told you a thing," Joe took off his hat, tossing it on the table. "Yeah, Murphy 'n his crew are Circle. Don't wanna go 'gainst that. 'Sides, I know Billy doesn't wanna leave Jesse after all they've been through, and I feel the same way."

"Jesse wouldn't go with you?" you tried to put the pieces together.

"No," Joe shook his head. "He likes bein' cutthroat too much. And he likes the money. Tunstall's offerin' more but the work is on the opposite side. That ain't somethin' Jesse's gonna go for."

All this information sunk in, and you slumped back in your chair. Joe pursed his lips, nodding. "Now ya see?" he sighed. "I know Billy likes the idea of honest work for good people and I do too. But the consequences might be too much."

"No," you shook your head. "I don't understand. From what it sounds like Murphy 'n Tunstall are on the verge of a war anyways. And if money isn't the issue..."

"Little..." Joe ran a hand over his face. He gritted his teeth, then looked up at you. "I really ain't supposed to tell ya this. But if it'll get ya to see our side I will." He reached across the table and took your hand. "All you said's well and good. But...for Billy and honestly for me too, it's you that's holdin' us back."

There was silence between you for a moment. Your lips parted slightly, and you tried to fathom it. "Me?"

"You," Joe nodded, squeezing your fingers. "Look." He held your hand with both of his now. "I know if I had a sweetheart who was havin' my baby, I'd do anything to keep 'em both safe."

Your face fell as you realized he was right. Joe watched you come to this conclusion; his lips pressed together. "With a war it wouldn't be safe for ya. 'Specially cause you're Billy's girl. He's a famous outlaw, little. It'd be careless of him to just jump into this and put a target on your back."

Shaking your head, you looked down, trying to process. He wanted to protect you. But now knowing about the rivalry, the outright war brewing, you realized this was bigger than Billy and Joe feeling good about the work they did. This was justice. It was wrongful law. Your heart soared at the thought of Billy going against his instincts to keep you safe.

But it wasn't right. Not in your mind.

Meeting Joe's eyes again, you squeezed his hand. "I was foolish and innocent before to think what I did. But now I still think the same for different reasons."

Joe tilted his head. "What can ya mean?"

You took in a breath. "If what you say is true, this is a good cause, the best really. This is good and bad. Those people, the ones Tunstall's standing for, they need you." You squeezed his hand again. "They need you and Billy to fight for them."

Your brother's eyes grew soft as he looked at you. "Little-"

"It would be selfish of me to keep two able, right minded men from advocating for something so worthy," you said softly.

Joe looked at you for a second, noting the sincerity in your eyes. You could see the battle he was fighting in his mind.

He stood up, picked up his hat, and came around the table, kissing you on the head. Looking down at you, he said, "I'll do whatever Billy does."

And with that, he walked out the door.

It was late when Billy arrived home.

When he did, he found you in the kitchen in your nightdress, your hands folded on the table, Tunstall's card in front of you, a single candle lit.

"Daisy," he greeted, looking at you suspiciously.

"Sit," you nodded at the chair in front of you. He obediently did.

Immediately his eyes caught on the card, recognizing it. He lifted his eyes to you, and you could see the panic behind them, though it didn't move past there. "You saw Joe."

"I did," you confirmed quietly, sitting up straight.

Billy just looked at you for a moment. "Darlin', I didn't wantcha to know about any of this. I oughta give your brother a piece 'f my mind for even tellin' ya-"

"Don't blame Joe," you shook your head. "It took a lot for me to get it out of him." With only a little difficulty due to your belly, you picked up his hand. "He told me everything-"

"So ya know why I can't do it," he cut you off, squeezing your fingers. "I ain't aboutta put my wife 'n child in danger. I've fought too hard to get us here to do somethin' so stupid."

"I understand," you said softly, "But I haven't changed my mind."

Billy let out a frustrated breath, looking down. Then he got out of his chair, getting on his knees in front of you and gripping your hands around your belly. He kissed them briefly, mumbling, "Daisy. I am not going to put ya in harms way. Not you and not baby."

"At least hear me out?" you asked, looking him in the eye.

He'd never deny you anything. Sighing softly, he nodded.

You kissed one of his hands. "Thank you." Gathering your thoughts and your courage, you began. "I know you're worried about me. And I love you more than anything in the world for it. But-" you clasped his hands, bringing them to your breast. "This...this is everything you've ever stood for. I know how much it means to you for things to be right, especially when it comes to immigrants." His eyes softened, losing some of their panic as he listened to you. You'd never in your life felt like Billy wasn't hearing what you said and now was no exception.

"You are good. And you want things to be right. You fight and you protect," you squeezed his hands, keeping them where they were. Your hair fell over your shoulder as you leaned in closer to him. "My love, my Billy...they need you. And who would I be to keep you from them?"

"My darlin'," he shook his head, gripping your fingers for dear life. "I ain't riskin' ya for nothin'."

You bowed your head, closing your eyes. "You have something to fight for. That means you'll be the best of them."

Billy heaved a deep, choked breath, and he buried his face in your lap, right against your belly. He brought your hands close to him again, his elbow propped on your knee, squeezing one tight. When he finally lifted his head, he stood, pulling you up too. When you were steady he framed your face with his hands and kissed you soundly, softly, slowly.

You met his lips with equal fervor, the love he poured into the kiss electrifying you. When he pulled back, he pushed your hair behind your ear, smoothing his hand over the back of your head and holding you there. "My angel," he breathed, eyes sincere, his other hand mirroring the first. "My Daisy...you're too good for this world."

Sliding your arms around him, you kissed him again desperately, and he lifted you into his arms, in a bridal carry as he walked up the stairs to your bedroom.

A million kisses and touches and whispered affirmations later, you were back where you'd missed him, back where you knew everything would be okay. His arms were the safest place in the world.

Billy's hand found its spot on your belly, tracing circles around your bare skin. He kissed your head. "How's baby?"

"She's good," you murmured absentmindedly.

He pressed a sleepy series of kisses to the side of your face. "She?"

You smiled in a quiet way. "She."

"Ya think baby's a girl?" his nose squished against your cheek as he asked, his lips against your skin.

"I know," your hand came around to play with his hair.

"I see," he tucked his face into the crook of your neck, kissing you there now. "Ya know we gotta give her a flower's name then? Like her mama?"

The thought made you smile wider. "We've got lots of flowers to choose from."

"Rosie," Billy muttered, leaning down to kiss your belly. "Rose."

He looked at your belly with such wonder, such awe. Billy propped his chin up on it, still being gentle though, kissing it again. You stroked his hair, the image of a baby with pink cheeks and your husband's bright blue eyes dancing in front of your eyes. "Rosie."

Billy moved up close to you again, leaning down to press a soft little kiss to your lips again. He nudged his nose against yours, closing his eyes briefly. "Gonna be pretty as a peach just like her mama."

You smiled, closing your own eyes and trying to imagine her in detail. "She's gonna have her daddy wrapped around her finger."

"Same as mama," Billy kissed your jaw. "Gonna spoil her beyond belief."

"Me or Rosie?" you asked, opening your eyes to find he was looking right back at you.

"Both," he promised. His lips trailed sleepily all over your face. Pulling back for a moment, he looked down at your belly again. "She's stealin' daddy's heart without even bein' born yet."

You settled into his side when he came back up to you, resting your head on his chest. His hand trailed up and down your arm lazily. "She stole my heart same way you did."

Looking up at him, you smiled happily. "I love you Billy. Billy Antrim." Then you mock gasped. "Oh- William H. Bonney. My mistake."

He poked your shoulder, grinning good-naturedly. "Slip 'f the tongue, eh?"

"Never did tell me what the H was for," you giggled, hiding your face in his side.

"Darlin'-" he chuckled. "Gotta let go of that damn H."

"I never will," you laughed, shifting against him comfortably.

Billy stroked your hair fondly, soothing you to sleep. "I know Daisy. I know."

Tunstall turned out to be a better man than you'd thought, and you were glad for it. The Englishman welcomed Billy and Joe with open arms, listening to their feedback and paying them generously.

Billy was happier. You could see it. He came home before dark most days, sweeping you into his arms and holding you tight. He always pressed warm kisses to your face. "How're m' girls?"

As the weeks passed, your belly grew, and so did Billy's doting. He spent every night curled up with you in bed, just enjoying your presence, enjoying watching the baby grow.

"Everything okay?" he asked one night, noting your brief look of discomfort.

"Rosie's been kicking me all day," you winced slightly as she did it again.

"Ah, she's restless, eh?" Billy brought his hand down to your tummy, rubbing it soothingly. You let out a little noise of satisfaction as his big hand's feeling relaxed you. "Want me to talk to 'er?"

You nodded, settling back and closing your eyes. Billy's voice, as you'd discovered, had a soothing effect over Rosie. He was proud of the fact, and you let him have that, full of joy over it.

"Rosie girl," Billy murmured, his head right by your belly, hand resting on top of it still. "Ya wanna settle down in there so mama can get some sleep?

Rosie gave a little kick seemingly in response and you smiled, lifting your head to look at him one of your arms falling above you. "She's sassy."

"Just like mama," he grinned. "Think she's enjoying the attention. She likes hearing daddy's voice."

"She's not kicking anymore," you sighed, closing your eyes for some blissful, much needed rest.

Although things were well at home, you knew on the front, it was getting tenser by the day. As expected, Billy and Joe's resignment from Murphy's side caused a world of conflict. The way Jesse took the news hit them hard in particular. It was hard to watch men who'd been like brothers split suddenly, and you knew Joe and Billy had been that to him. You wouldn't let your worries show, for you knew Billy was stressed enough as was.

Instead of voicing your concerns, you did your part, keeping house and loving on him all you could when he got home every day. "My angel," he whispered into your hair nightly like a mantra. "Don't know what I'd do withoucha."

For a time all was well. For a time you were content with your growing baby and your home, your adoring husband.

But that was all before Tunstall was killed.

Billy wasn't home until early hours of the morning, collapsing into bed and waking you instantly. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes and reached for his hand. "Billy...Billy are you alright?"

He didn't respond at first, and you sat up more, looking down at him. "Billy..."

"Tunstall's dead," he said plainly, somberly, his voice muffled because he was buried into your side.

You pushed his face so you could see him. His eyes told you everything you needed to know.

"Oh my goodness," you breathed, reaching out and hugging him to you. He held on extra tight that night as your mind raced, wondering what this would mean for him. For Joe. For the war.

Billy craved justice. He fought for fairness and liberty. It’d been clear for all the years you'd known him, and you stood with him when he protested against what wasn't right.

The Regulators sought to avenge the death of the Englishman, and you bit your tongue, understanding their logic. Instead of fighting pointlessly with them you opened your home, since the camp they'd kept was no longer safe for them to stay at.

In a funny way it was just like old times, living with a gang. Your little corner of land was well hidden, and you were grateful for it, happy to do your part for their cause.

As in all times of war, some things couldn't be stopped, and in your case, it was Rosie. With all the hard work of keeping a house as busy as this one in addition to the stress of everything around you, you weren't doing as well as you should've been.

Though Rosie was active, a sign of good health you'd been told, you were losing resolve. Your weight was dropping at an alarming rate, and you became weaker. Billy was in a full state of protection, enlisting Charlie's wife Manuela to help you, even insisting you don't do any work, but you refused. You wanted so badly to help. Your husband was risking his life and this was the least you could do.

Late one night you were drying glasses, stacking them in the cabinet in front of you. Your movements were slow, your hands shaky.

Billy came up beside you, putting his hand on your back. Through the window you could see snow on the ground, and you were shivering, only a thin shawl wrapped around your arms.

He rubbed your back lightly. "Why don'tcha let me take care 'f those. You go up and rest, honey."

"No," you shook your head, stacking another glass in the cabinet and picking up another. "I can do it."

"Daisy-" he tried, reaching for the glass, but before he could get it, your hand gave a violent tremor, and it slipped from your hand. There was a magnificent shatter at your feet and you jumped, frightened from the sound.

Manuela appeared in the doorway, her eyes wide. "¿Margarita?"

Billy grasped you in his arms, looking up at her. "Lo siento."

She shook her head, reaching for a broom leaning against the wall and squeezing your arm as she walked past.

Without a word, Billy scooped you up into his arms and carried you up the stairs. He stripped your clothes off once both of you were behind the door of your bedroom, telling you to hold your arms up so he could put your nightdress on you.

He made you lay down, and he pulled the covers up, holding your hand tightly. Sitting on the side of the bed by your legs, he hushed you when you tried to protest, simply shaking his head.

The motion silenced you. There was no way to deny how bad it was getting anymore.

From that day on, your work was extremely minimal. Manuela took over most everything, all while caring for her newborn, which you hated the idea of. But Billy wouldn't allow it. He enlisted the men to help as well, ensuring the two of you weren't doing anything too heavy.

Some of the color came back to your face, but not much. It was horrible timing on your part, you thought. Murphy's crew was closing in. Nobody knew how much longer everyone had before they found the house and all in it.

One day one of the men came back with news. Through your window you saw him ride in and run up to the house. There was a world of commotion downstairs, and you sat up fully, trying to hear what was going on.

Footsteps sounded up the stairs, and you looked over to the doorway as Billy came in, a pile of wooden slats in his arms. You moved forward, poised to get out of bed but he shook his head. "Keep restin', baby."

"What's going on?" you asked, reluctantly leaning back against the pillows again.

"They found out where we are," Billy deposited the boards on the floor, fishing nails out of his pockets. "We don't know what they're gonna do to try 'n make us come out, so we're just gonna barricade everything."

"Right," you watched him start to hammer boards over your window, holding nails between his teeth. "Can I help at all?"

Billy made a noise of protest, spitting a nail into his hand and hammering it into the board. "You can help by restin'. It'll ease my mind."

You bit your lip and nodded, rubbing your belly as a soothing motion. "Am I the only woman left?"

"No," he stood up, tucking the hammer into his gun belt and coming to sit by you, clasping your hand. "Manuela and the baby left yesterday but there're two other wives here. Been helpin' us out." Billy looked mad at himself for a moment. "I shoulda had ya go with Manuela, don't know what I was thinkin'."

"It's okay," you squeezed his hand, giving him a reassuring smile.

Billy shook his head, looking down. "I shoulda known they'd find us eventually. Shoulda gotten ya to a safe spot." He kissed your fingers. "I'm sorry Daisy."

"Don't worry about me," you reached your arms out for him, and he obliged, hugging you tightly. "I'm perfectly fine."

"A standoff ain't no place for a pregnant gal," Billy muttered into you.

"I'll be safe up here," you promised, and he pulled back, holding you by the arms.

"You will," he said determinedly. "Ain't nobody gonna touch ya. I'll protect you." Billy kissed your forehead and got up. "Let me know if ya need anything, 'kay? Joe's here too, so just holler."

"I will," you gave his hand a final squeeze before he went back downstairs.

The opposing gang found the house quick. You could hear them shouting things, and men inside the house yelling back. As much as you wanted to go downstairs and see what was going on, you were determined to listen to Billy.

Rosie was kicking, so you tried walking back and forth, hoping the movement would soothe her. Over and over you prayed, hoping against hope that somehow Murphy's gang would leave and everyone would be safe.

It was hours before anyone came up to you and this time it was Joe, holding a glass of water and his gun. He set the water on the table. "What're ya doin' out of bed? Didn't Billy tell ya to rest?"

"I've been resting for a full week Joe," you paced back and forth, trying to breathe deep. "I don't think I'll ever have to sleep again."

"Still," Joe sat on the bed, removing his hat. "Little...ya gotta settle. Ain't good for your own little one."

"I'm fine." you stopped, trying to look through the boards on the window. "What's going on down there?"

"A lot of the gang left but some are still keepin' watch," Joe said, sitting on his hands.

"They left?" you turned to look at him. "That's not good."

"No," he agreed, standing and trying to see through the window with you. "We don't know if they're takin' shifts or if they've got somethin' worse up their sleeves."

"I'd bet on the latter," you looked at your brother. "Joe...what do you think's gonna happen?"

He looked at you, opening his mouth to respond, when suddenly he noticed something through the window. "Shit." he turned to you and squeezed your shoulders. "You stay here. Do not come downstairs unless me or Billy says."

Joe ran out the door, and you looked back through the slats. There were men on horses approaching. They were all holding something in their hands...you couldn't tell what it was, but it couldn't be good.

You watched anxiously, but as they got closer you couldn't make out what they were doing, and so you sat back on the bed, clenching your fists and trying to stay calm. Nothing good would come of your panic. You needed to stay calm for Rosie.

Then you smelled the smoke.

Suddenly you were taken back to the day you'd ridden home to your childhood home burning to the ground by cattle rustlers. Clenching the sheets, you reassured yourself blindly. Maybe they were just starting a fire. It was sunset after all, and it was winter. Surely, they were getting cold.

You kept your thoughts serene with wishful thinking, taking deep breaths. There was a world of unrest downstairs, but you ignored it. Please let Billy and Joe be safe. Please let Billy and Joe be safe.

It was nightfall now, and you were rooted to your spot, pleading for the door to open to reveal your brother or your husband telling you it was all over. You were terrified for them, more than yourself.

There was a crackling sound, and when you opened your eyes, you were startled by the sight of flames licking at the lower walls. The sight was one you couldn't tear your horrified eyes from, and you were frozen by it until the door slammed open.

"Little...little ya gotta come with me," Joe said in a panic, coming over and helping you stand.

A pit settled in your stomach that had nothing to do with the baby, and you asked in scared tones, "What's happening?"

"Bastards set fire to the house," Joe got you to the stairs, then lifted you into his arms, carrying you down carefully. "We'd kept it to just the bottom but there ain't enough water anymore. Cover your mouth."

You brought your arm to your face as Joe descended to the bottom level. Instantly smoke overwhelmed you, and you coughed into your arm, closing your eyes. The thick, cloudy substance was burning tears into them.

Joe shouted, "I got her!" and you saw one of the silhouettes move from the wall and hurry over.

Billy took your face in his hands instantly, looking over you for any sign of injury. He was still holding a gun in one hand, and the metal pressed up against your skin, warm from the fire. "Daisy...Daisy you alright? Baby alright?"

You nodded, still coughing on the smoke. He sighed in relief, his lips catching yours for half a second. "We're gonna get ya outta here. Promise, sweetheart. You're gonna be okay."

He nodded at the back half of the house, and Joe carried you over quickly. There was less fire over there, and you breathed a little easier. Billy looked around at his men. "You know the drill. We're gonna go in groups. Two of ya go first, 'n keep shootin' to keep their heads down." He looked at Joe and you. "You go after the second group. They'll be firin' instantly if we send ya first so we'll wait just a moment. Yell at 'em that you've got a woman with ya so they won't shoot."

Everyone nodded, their eyes trained on Billy. You couldn't help but admire his leadership in that moment. He was fearless, strong in the face of the danger you were smack in the middle of. You could see the trust on the men's faces around you and it filled you with awe. They were facing nearly certain death and yet.

"First group go!" Billy shouted over the fire, and two men you didn't recognize barreled through the back entrance, guns blazing. You couldn't see what became of them.

The second group went to similar results, and then Billy turned to you and Joe. He kissed you on the forehead, trailing a thumb down your cheek and touching your belly for just a moment. "You're gonna be okay, Daisy. Everythin's okay."

"Please be safe," you pleaded, your voice raspy from the smoke.

"I'm gonna come back to ya," Billy swore, kissing you quickly. He grasped Joe by the shoulder. "Charlie's place. You know the way."

Joe nodded. "You got it boss." Clapping him on the shoulder, Billy nodded at the door.

"Go!"

It was like slow motion. Joe moved quickly, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, keeping your head down. He shouted that he had a woman, and someone yelled something back. You relaxed slightly when the gunfire ceased, lifting your head. Joe held you close to his chest protectively, and he looked down at you when he'd nearly reached the end. "I've gotcha little. I've-"

The crack of a gunshot, the most sickening sound you'd ever heard.

You realized before he did, and your mouth opened in a silent scream as his body jolted, his face rigid. Joe tried to take another step, but his legs gave out and he collapsed, simultaneously dropping and falling on top of you.

All your senses blurred as you crashed to the ground, and your eyes stung with tears as you struggled to get up, pushing Joe off you and shaking him. "Joe...Joe get up...please get up, please-"

His eyes were glassy, staring at some invisible thing in the sky, his limbs stiffened. Another scream, this time real, tore itself from your throat as tears fell in rivers. You shook your head, sucking in cold night air as you tried in vain to wake your brother up. "Joe-"

A pair of arms pulled at you from behind, and you struggled, refusing to leave. him. "No...no he's gonna wake up...he just needs a minute...he's gonna-"

Whoever the arms belonged to was pulling you away, and you cried hysterically, not once looking away from your brother's broken body, his gun falling half out of his holster. "Joe...Joe..."

"Shh!" your rescuer whispered harshly, and you turned to look at him, your horrified expression melting into a confused one.

Jesse stood you on your two feet away from the rest of his gang, shoving something cold and metal into your hands. "Here. Ya still know how to shoot?" he asked in a harsh whisper.

You nodded, still numb from the pain and shock. He held you by the shoulders. "Good. Now-" he looked at the nearby woods. "You run. Far away from here. Go wherever Joe was gonna take ya."

At the mention of Joe you teared up again, but Jesse shook you slightly, snapping you out of it. "Hey. You can cry over him later. For now, focus on gettin' outta here. Go." When you hesitated, he pushed you toward the trees. "Go!"

Too scared to do anything else, you obeyed. The winter air hardly had an effect on you as you ran through the woods, the gun Jesse had given you grasped tightly in your hand. You hardly had time to process his act of kindness with everything that had happened.

The only thing you could think of was Joe. The look on his face, the fact that someone had the gall to shoot-

Anger became adrenaline, and you ran for a long time before you stopped, exhaustion and your pregnant state forcing you to rest. You breathed sharply, leaning against a tree for a moment.

A branch snapped, and you held up the gun, looking around fearfully. Had one of Jesse's crew seen you and come after you? Your breaths were fearfully quick, and you turned around, jumping back when you saw a man standing there, his hands held up in a show of peace.

"Easy, easy," he said, nodding at you. "Not gonna hurtcha."

You recognized him as one of the Regulators, and you lowered the gun, feeling like you'd crumble into the earth. He must've seen this because he stepped closer, steadying you. "Here...ya shouldn't be walkin' like this. C'mon." He lifted you off your feet, minding your belly, and started to walk.

Everything was a blur after that. You were limp in the man's arms, and when you came to, Manuela was standing above you, putting a blanket over your body. "Margarita," she murmured, putting her hand on your forehead.

You lifted your head to greet her, but a sudden sharp pain shot through your core before you could. Gasping in pain, you held your hand to your belly tightly as if that could stop it. "What was that?" you choked.

Manuela pushed you to lie back down. "You started having pains on the way here. Don't you r-" she cut herself off, seeming to realize something. "Your baby's coming."

"Baby's-agh!" another pain cut you off and tears sprung to your eyes. "How long have I been here?"

"Maybe two hours," Manuela said, mopping your forehead with a cool rag. "Have you been having any other pains? Maybe earlier today?"

You nodded, gritting your teeth as another contraction passed through. "I thought...someone told me it was normal to have them...in the last couple months...I didn't tell anyone..."

She nodded. "Labor can sneak up on you." Taking the rag off your forehead, she smoothed your hair comfortingly. "It'll be okay. You're probably more than halfway through it already."

You hissed when another pain slid in and out of your system. "Billy...I want Billy, where is he?"

Manuela paused for a moment, adjusting the blanket over you. Then she met your eyes grimly. "He's not back yet."

Squeezing your eyes shut, you nodded, biting your cheek so you wouldn't cry. She noticed, soothing a hand over your cheek. "There, sweet girl. You're going to be okay. He'll be back soon enough.”

You reached up for her hand and squeezed it, having no choice but hope. "He will. He has to."

The pain stretched on for what felt like hours. Manuela was your companion through it all, whispering things to calm you and letting you squeeze her hand. She knew a few things about giving birth, she said, because her mother had been a midwife, and given she'd done it herself fairly recently.

Pain bled into more pain quicker and quicker, and Manuela sat beside you on the bed, propping pillows up behind you for support. She set your legs apart, squeezing your hand and telling you to push when it felt like you had to.

Grueling and long, the process weakened you. You tried to focus on getting Rosie out, but the events of the night wouldn't leave. Joe's death and your home burning down and running through the woods...it was all charred into the forefront of your mind, and the result was a lengthened, difficult birth.

Manuela looked up, and you tried to follow her eyes, but you were too weary. She stood, going to someone in the doorway and speaking in hushed tones. You heard boots clomping over to your side, and then a big, warm palm was caressing the side of your face. Opening your eyes, you smiled tiredly.

"Angel baby," Billy breathed, kneeling beside you and clasping your fingers together. "You're bein' so brave. 'M brave girl." He kissed your sweaty forehead.

"You're here," you whispered, and he nodded, slipping an arm under you and lifting you slightly, causing you to whimper. "Shh, shh," he soothed. "This'll help. I'd never do anything to hurt ya."

“Joe…” you sniffled, hoping he’d tell you what you saw was just your imagination.

Billy’s face broke for a second, and he bowed his head. “Don’t think ‘bout that. Rosie. Ya gotta think of Rosie.” He seemed to be convincing himself too.

He kissed your hair and lifted you all the way to sit up, then moved the pillows and settled behind you, his legs on either side of your body. Billy smelled like sweat and smoke, but you didn't care. He was here and everything could be okay now.

Once he moved you, labor went quicker. You could feel your body working for you, pushing the baby out of its own accord. Silently, you thanked the deities for natural instincts. Billy held your hand in his, letting you squeeze tight as you could. His presence was a comfort to you, and it made you forget everything else. All that mattered was Rosie.

She slid into the world as the sun was coming up, and you fell limply against Billy. It was over. Everything in the darkness had been sharp and painful. With the rising sun, you gained a little more hope, and you looked up weakly, trying to see your baby in Manuela's arms. She'd wrapped her in a blanket, confirming it was a girl.

Rosie wasn't crying, which you found odd, but you were too happy for labor to be over to worry. Manuela had a strange look on her face as she looked down at your baby, and you frowned, trying to sit up more. "Can I see her? Can I see Rosie?"

Her face was somber as she looked up at you and Billy, and without a word she walked slowly over, lowering the little bundle for you to see. Your heart nearly stopped.

Rosie was moving, but feebly. Your baby was ailing, even though her life had just begun.

"It was a very stressful birth," Manuela said, her voice hushed and sad. "She wouldn't have been long for this world...even with everything..."

There it was again. That numbness that encapsulated your being, the feeling you weren't sure was temporary. It crawled through your mind, digging up a whole world of sorrow you hadn't known you were capable of.

Billy took the baby, holding her in one arm carefully. His grieved face was hard to look at. Your baby girl stirred, letting out a tiny cry. He kept you pressed against his chest, holding Rosie and rocking her gently. "Shh, sweetheart. It's okay. Daddy's here. I'm here."

For the millionth time you felt tears welling up and you hated yourself for it. You were so tired of crying.

Rosie grabbed at Billy's shirt with her tiny fist. He gently slipped a finger between her little ones, letting her grasp it. When he saw how tight she was squeezing it, he smiled through his own tears. "Lookit how strong you are. Holdin' on tight to Daddy's finger."

The scene was too much, and you hid your face in his shoulder, sniffling and letting tears rain. It all hurt, but since it wasn't the first hurt of your waking hours, it just pounded at your chest like a dull ache.

You forced yourself to look back at Rosie, reaching a hand out to touch her face, your hand cupping her little head. She was beautiful.

"Hi Rosie," you said softly, tears still raining. "Oh sweetheart...mama loves you so much. My love...my girl…”

Billy was silent, and you could see your baby growing weaker by the second. You slid your arm under Rosie, and he handed her over, letting you hold her as she slipped quietly from the world.

Grief is not a big, monstrous thing that pounds at your doors and shatters your windows.

It is smoother than that. Grief holds your hand and acts as a friend, tells you things you've been wanting to hear your whole life. You begin to trust it, and then there is no need to smash any windows or break any doors. You've let it in with no fuss to it. And it makes itself comfortable.

It was a friend you'd welcomed over and over in your more recent years, over your father's death, over the loss of your childhood. But you hadn't known the layers to it before. Rosie and Joe went within less then a day of each other. So you had a hard time untangling tears from each other.

Billy was hit hard with it. He'd known it before too. That was the thing. You had both thought the feeling was familiar. You thought it had been mastered and that it was over and gone. It hit when you were least expecting it.

You felt like a ghost in the weeks following the deaths of your brother and daughter. Nothing felt real anymore.

Nothing except his arms around you. That was the only place you felt anything. And he let you feel.

Time ticked whether you got better or not. Billy's protective instincts didn't dull one bit as he watched for Jesse's crew, gun always loaded, eye on the horizon.

He and Charlie spoke of heading to another location for just a little bit, until Murphy had scoped out the space you were currently residing. Then he'd come back, he promised you. He'd come back and you'd figure something out together.

You grasped his hand as he sat atop his horse, looking down at you. "Be safe."

Billy leaned down and caught your lips in a long kiss, more comforting than anything. He squeezed your hand. "You're strong Daisy. That's my girl." He gave you a smile that looked like it held all the weight in the world. "I'll come back to ya. Never forget it. I'll always come back to ya."

You pulled him down for another kiss, lingering a little before saying, "I'll hold you to it."

"Please," he let go of your hand with a final squeeze, tipping his hat to you like the gentleman he was. "I love ya Daisy. I'll be back."

His words seemed to echo as he rode off, Charlie's horse in step beside him. You leaned your head on Manuela's shoulder as you watched your husbands go.

It was a week before you heard the news.

Billy grinned as you pulled the blankets up, putting his hands under your arms and lifting you up, setting you on his lap. "Ain't no gettin' away."

There were cracks in windows of this house. You'd never noticed that before.

"You're gonna make me stay?" you asked playfully, leaning down on his chest and kissing his collarbone once. The morning sunshine made him nearly unreal; he was so pretty.

A deputy came by to tell you officially. He didn't seem proud, even though this was all his comrades had worked toward for the past who-knows-how-long.

"Daisy," Billy teased. "I'm gonna hold ya all mornin' and then some."

This had been at the root of your every fear since you'd met him. But you had never thought it'd come true. He was yours. Yours to hold and keep and need.

"Maybe I'll stay a little while," you smiled, rolling off his chest and lying on your side to face him. "Since I happen to love you so much."

Shot by Pat Garrett. Once a friend.

"That's my girl," Billy smiled, pulling you in close. "Angel baby."

You were told he hadn't even had time to pull out his gun. A hard thing to believe, since he was the fastest draw in the west. But then Charlie stumbled through the door with the same story, and it was hard to get past that.

There was a time in your life, when he'd been gone from your life for a long time, when you hadn't been sure Billy had even been real. Had you made him up? Was he something you could just tuck back into a memory box?

You didn't have the luxury of thinking so this time.

"I'll always come back to you."

You never knew quiet before.

In this little house, though, it took shape and settled next to you like a fond cat. It was welcomed. You craved it, holding it to your body and willing it to bring you the peace of forgetting.

The day after you'd been informed of Billy's fate, you had ridden into town and drawn all the money you had out of the bank. Even though he was an outlaw, you weren't, and you were able to access that, and Joe's account too. Ignoring the pain of being told you were your brother's next of kin, you'd gathered your things and wasted no time in leaving Lincoln County in the dust.

Here it was very lush and green, with tall trees and leafy foliage bigger than your head. The little home you'd purchased was tucked away in the midst of the plants, just the way you'd wanted. Whoever would find you here?

So far nobody. And you were fine with it.

Sure, you went into town every now and then for supplies, pouring a little money into investments that left you time to yourself. It would have been spent working otherwise, and you didn't want to do that yet.

Here in the forest, you'd be content to live out your days in the hallowed halls of memory, and hopefully let time soften all wounds. Maybe the ticking clock would be merciful and let your recollections fall, fall into the abyss of forgetfulness. You'd only know if you waited.

Naturally you sent letters to Charlie and Manuela, telling them you were safe. They were the only people who knew you in the world now.

Such a thought would have disturbed you in the past, but now it was comforting. All the pain and grief you'd held tight was free to roam in the wide space of the forest. It traveled the length and came back to tell you about it, as you knew it always would. Time became the wound, but it was stitching with every second you spent in serenity.

You felt yourself smile and come back to life. All could be well. Just as you had in the past, you would learn to exist purely for yourself. Surely the hole in your heart would ease into a prick mark.

So far, your results had weaned nothing. You yearned and tried not to. Nights were not spent sleeping, but reminiscing. Because oh, the tragic memories wandered, but so too did the beautiful ones.

You thought of your little daughter more often than not, your beautiful Rosie. So strong-willed, so darling and true. She was treasured within you, and you knew you would never forget her. She was probably the one thing you didn't want to forget.

And of course you thought of him.

“I’m a lucky man,” he kissed your forehead, his nose smushed to it. “Everythin’ we been through…I’d do it a thousand times more so I could love ya at the end.”

Could you set all the rest adrift? So far no, but it'd been a mere few months here. Only time would tell.

The rain pounded at your roof that summer, and you tended a roaring fire in the hearth most nights, trying to keep warm in wake of the storms. The sound calmed you though, and somehow that kept you going.

You stretched out by the fire one night, looking at the flames and trying to imagine them as something other than destroyers. That was all you'd ever known the element to be.

It was fruitless for now, so you turned onto your back, staring at the ceiling and hoping you'd be more successful tomorrow. The wooden pattern of the roof spun daydreams that had you slipping off into sleep.

A sudden pounding knock at the door startled you out of your stupor, and you frowned. Who could possibly be here at this hour? And in the rain?

Standing up and reaching for the pistol you kept on your side table, you gaged your options. If it was a lost traveler you'd offer them shelter. Anything else...you'd play it by ear based on how threatening they were.

Grabbing the door handle and swinging the door open, you held the gun tightly at you side, peering into the darkness to see who it was.

The pistol clattered at your feet.

You were dreaming. You had to be. Because this was the most impossible thing you could think of.

Reaching out a trembling hand, you touched his face, feeling that scratchy stubble, damp from the rain. Solid. Real.

You took him by the hand in a haze, pulling him inside and shutting the door. Sitting down by the fireplace, he did the same, and you studied him, the light from the flames making it all the more probable.

His lips parted, and he removed his hat, dropping it beside his knees. "Daisy."

Like a trigger, the word sent you flying into his arms, knocking him over backwards with an oomph. He wrapped himself tight around you and you were home.

"You're dead," you breathed, pressing your face into his chest and inhaling his scent, the one you'd dreamt of for months.

"Everyone thinks I am," he whispered, his nose buried in your hair. Billy rocked you back and forth, and you nearly wept.

"How do I know this isn't a dream?" you asked softly, looking up into his blue eyes, never wanting to tear away from them again.

"You don't," he kissed your head. "I'm half sure I'm dreamin' myself. But after we go to sleep and wake up right here, I hope we'll both be a little more convinced."

That was him. That was your Billy. You wound your arms around him and burrowed into him as you'd ached to for months. He was here. Utterly yours. Forever in this far off place where only the gentle survived.

Bliss, you thought to yourself as he kissed you long and soft and sweet. This is bliss.

Previous part|Epilogue

[lancerslover]

The Private Conference

(this lovely moodboard was created by @vintagedebutante ♥︎)

Pairing: President John F. Kennedy/Petite!Reader

Summary: As Cold War tensions rise, President John F. Kennedy calls one of his secretaries into the Oval Office to help him relax.

Word Count: 2.8k

Further Info: 18+, includes swearing and smut, specifically oral sex

A/N: happy Fourth of July, everyone!! i simply cannot think of a more patriotic way to celebrate than posting a fic about America’s hottest president. in this one, i tried to combine a few different requests, including one asking for the setting to be in the Oval Office, one asking for an angry/angsty Jack, and one asking for the reader to be on the petite side. i hope this fic at least somewhat does justice to those amazing ideas, and i hope you all have a wonderful, safe holiday! ♥︎

You froze for just a moment, almost like your shoe had caught on the carpet, when you stepped into the Oval Office and saw the President on the phone. This wasn’t uncommon—in fact, you’d estimate that at least half of all the “private conferences” you’d had with him since becoming his secretary had been interrupted, at some point, by a call. Typically, it didn’t put a damper on things (though you liked to groan and pout up at him whenever the phone rang, but that was only because you liked the way he would give your nose a playful, reprimanding pinch and tell you to “hush now, baby”). In all honesty, it made you feel oddly powerful, like a glamorous concubine of old, to sit with this big history book figure and listen while he discussed Castro and Khrushchev and all the other monumental responsibilities he carried on his wide, ex-Harvard-football-player shoulders.

On this particular afternoon, however, you immediately picked up on the fact that his call was putting him in a very bad mood. You knew tensions had been heating up with Cuba (you weren’t let in on any of the specifics, but you figured whatever threats Castro was making must’ve been pretty severe because, recently, you’d noticed your coworkers in the West Wing laughing less and pointlessly bustling around more), and you figured that was what the President’s call was about because you’d never seen him glower quite like he was now. His eyes were solid stone as he tracked you across the royal blue carpet; it was almost like he couldn’t truly see you through the dark film shadowing his gaze—he didn’t even offer you so much as a wink or a little throwaway smile.

As you came closer, you decided to test the waters and cast your usual finger-twiddling wave his way, but the only response you saw, and the only confirmation you got that he’d even registered your hello, was his eyebrows suddenly furrowing—drooping, almost—down his brow, as if your wave had actually stolen energy from him somehow. You quickly dropped your hand back to your side. The President was in serious need of some de-stressing today.

“Here’s the problem I have,” he was telling whoever was on the phone as you came up beside his looming Resolute Desk. “You can’t give me a definitive answer as to how long that’s gonna take.”

As he listened to the little voice (voices?) that jabbered away in response, he slowly swiveled in his chair to face you—and you supressed a delighted shiver. Since he was so tall (or maybe because you were so pitifully short), the two of you were exactly at eye-level whenever he sat down, and at this proximity, you swore you could feel the hot, agitated energy emanating off of him in thick, nerve-frying waves.

“Well, there’s no sense in you making any kind of official statement,” the President snapped abruptly, cutting the other man off (and making you flinch instinctively, which you normally would’ve been deeply embarrassed about after the fact, but the President hadn’t seemed to notice; at this point he was still looking more through you than at you), “until I can get up there and restore order.” You noticed then that his trademark East Coast accent sounded especially thick today, almost British. He pronounced “restore order” like ree-sto-ah oh–ah-dah, and he spit cigar smoke with every syllable.

Though the thought of turning around and leaving made your ribs clench around your heart with a yearning, almost schoolgirlish disappointment, you knew his needs ultimately came before yours. So, you started to mouth Should I come back later? as animatedly as your lips could manage, hoping you’d finally grab his attention enough to at least get a goodbye, when suddenly, his hand swung out to grab the skirt of your pencil dress and he pulled you, half-stumbling, between his large, knobby knees. Your hand flew to the edge of the desk so you wouldn’t trip over right into his chest (admittedly, if he was in a better mood, you probably wouldn’t have been so quick to catch yourself), and as you regained your bearings, you found yourself sucking in your cheeks to stave off a full-on beaming smile. You should’ve known better than to think John F. Kennedy was ever not in the mood, phone call be damned.

You were close enough to him now that, when you finished smoothing your rumpled skirt and looked up at him, you could smell the confused mix of cigar and minty toothpaste on his breath, and you could see the secret swirls of gray and green surging through the stormy blue of his eyes. He was definitely the most handsome man you’d ever been with—the combination of his boyishly-freckled, chronically-sunburnt cheeks with the square-shaped, no-nonsense masculinity of the rest of his face was undeniably endearing. During the quick half-second you two hung there staring at each other and his pupils (at last!) zeroed in on you and you alone, you felt a sudden sear of jealousy for the First Lady. It must be wonderful, you sighed inwardly, to be loved by a man so attractive. Sure, you were called in almost daily to the President’s office or the White House pool to help him “blow off some steam,” but you weren’t dumb enough to think that was love. You’d seen how he and his wife giggled like teenagers while they whispered in each others’ ears and how, whenever she spoke, he gazed down at her with eyes so soft and tender it made your heart hurt. The two of them simply sparkled. And though you liked to think you’d achieved a certain level of friendship with the President, he’d always made it clear, without ever having to say a word, that no one—not you or any other pretty young secretary, no matter how good you all got at giving blowjobs—could ever hope to reach the height of the First Lady’s pedestal in his mind.

As if to illustrate that very point, the President moved the receiver a few inches from his mouth and tore you from your thoughts with the very first words he’d spoken to you all afternoon, which were: “Don’t waste any time now, alright?” with a pointed glance down between his legs for emphasis. Then he added, “I’m having one hell of a day” and reached around to plant a firm pat on your butt.

And so, you began the familiar routine of stripping off your clothes and laying them neatly to the side—to ensure they’d stay wrinkle-free—until you were wearing nothing but your skin-colored stockings and the cross around your neck (for some depraved reason, the President liked it when you wore that necklace while you sucked him off).

You barely had time to kneel before he was clasping his hand around the side of your head and hooking his giant, hairy-knuckled thumb in your mouth to practically drag your face closer. Your throat tightened around a sharp intake of breath. Lord, he was impatient.

While you were in the middle of unzipping his slacks and pulling his penis out from the big bramble of hair beneath his belly, you suddenly jumped, startled once again as his voice sliced through the room, deeper this time and undercut with a predatory rumbling you could feel in your chest. “That fucker,” he snarled into the phone, which was now balanced between his shoulder and ear. “You oughta tell him he can stick that silly little ultimatum, if that’s what it is, right up his ass.”

Electricity sizzled up through your stomach. The President was going to be rough with you today, you could tell. You almost wanted to thank Castro personally for riling him up so much (you might’ve felt guilty for thinking something like that, but you were so confident the President would never let anything happen to his country that you truly didn’t see why Castro’s threats should be any cause for concern). Why the idea of the President taking his anger out on you was such a thrill, you weren’t sure. You were simply desperate for human touch as fast and hard as you could get it, you supposed—and in that way, if in no other, you thought you and the President were sort of kindred spirits.

You were practically leaning into his palm like a purring cat when he pulled his hand out of your mouth and ran it up over your cheek and back across your scalp to gather all of your hair into a makeshift ponytail. He was muttering into the receiver all the while (“Uh-huh. God, I know. Shit.”), his voice wet with saliva from the two or three painkillers he’d popped absentmindedly into his mouth.

Once your hair was all out of your face, you spit into your hand just like he’d once taught you to and gave the length of his gradually-stiffening cock a few long, indulgent strokes. But to your dismay, he gave absolutely no reaction. You watched, puffing your cheeks out with frustrated air, as he slowly set his cigar down in the ashtray and, like you weren’t even there, began tapping his pointer finger against his teeth like he always did when he was lost in thought—thought that clearly had nothing to do with you.

You didn’t waste any more time before bending over and wrapping your lips around him, eyes fixed frenetically on his face, and you swore your heart itself squealed with joy when, finally, his eyes flicked down to you, and he tilted the receiver away again to let out an appreciative, whistling breath.

You felt your hair tangle around his fingers as he moved his hand from the back of your head to the nape of your neck, and then, barely giving you enough time to adequately relax your throat, he pushed your head down with appalling strength, his tip jamming up into you with enough force to rub the insides of your cheeks raw. Your hands latched onto his knees.

“There we go,” the President said in a soft half-whisper-half-groan that made your inner thighs flush hot. “Atta girl.” Always the one to set the pace, he began moving you hastily up and down.

After working through the first eye-watering, throat-burning few seconds, you thought you were adjusting pretty well—until his hips made a sudden, violent twitch while he was buried to the hilt in your mouth (which was accompanied by a heaving grunt that could’ve been either from pain or pleasure, you weren’t sure), and you hacked a loud, wet cough that made the guy talking in his ear falter and go silent for a moment.

Your eyes fluttered wide. Had the President’s men heard you?

The President certainly seemed to think so, because he suddenly jerked you still halfway up his cock, which only served to send you into a fresh fit of choking, your whole body wracking with every cough. In an attempt to drown you out, the President leaned back in his chair and spoke louder into the phone. “Well, that bastard’s incompetent,” he said, patting his fingers against your cheek as if that would somehow shut you up. “I wouldn’t have him running, uh, a cathouse.” His wedding band burned cruelly against your skin.

Eventually, he oh-so-benevolently relented and lifted his hand from your neck, and you instantly whipped your head up—not so much to catch your breath (you were pretty sure you would’ve gotten ahold of your coughing fit without having to interrupt your “de-stressing” session if he’d have given you just a few more seconds) as to gauge whether or not you’d only made him angrier with all your noise. But to your relief, he was actually smirking now as he looked down at you, his lips twitching like he was holding back a laugh, completely unfazed by the men now clearing their throats and timidly resuming the conversation in his ear. That figures, you thought. The President probably wanted those men to hear you, deep-down. You knew him well enough by now to understand that he occasionally got off on the fact that his bodyguards and cabinet members were plainly aware of how many doe-eyed, obedient women—not just secretaries and interns but Hollywood starlets, too—he had giggling and dropping to their knees at the snap of his fingers.

At least you’d gotten him to smile, though—if not exactly in the way you’d hoped.

After a long pause, during which you were trying in vain to wipe away all the spit and pre-cum that had dribbled down your chin, the President said with an air of finality, “Alright, there really isn’t anything more to say here.” Say hee-ah. You froze mid-wipe and let out an excited gasp.

He responded by scooping a strong forearm under your armpit and hoisting you up onto his lap like you were nothing but a tiny doll, forcing you to clamp your hand over your mouth to muffle a squeak of surprise.

Leaning against his warm chest was like reclining into a giant sofa back as you settled onto his muscled leg. His penis, now only half-erect again, stirred plaintively against the inside of your thigh, seemingly sulky after having been abandoned.

“I’ve got my hands full over here.” The President was grinning widely at his own pun as he took to rubbing his free hand down your body, the width of his fingers splaying across the entirety of your stomach as he inched toward your clit with agonizing slowness. In retaliation, you reached back over his shoulder to grab a fistful of thick auburn hair.

“Call me back this evening with some good news, would you?” was the the last thing the President said before, in a blur, the receiver was slammed into its cradle and his hand was around your neck, his fingers were in your mouth, his hips were twitching up into your backside with an eager mind of their own. Suddenly, you could feel his heart thunking between your shoulder blades and your ear growing moist with heavy, animal-like breaths.

“God,” he groaned as he finally let his hand fall to your clit. “God-fucking-dammit. You drive me crazy, you know that? You dirty little girl.”

He started nibbling on your neck (he’d never actually kissed you—this hungry, barely-restrained biting, like a wolf chomping at its muzzle, was the closest he ever came) and cupping your breasts and tugging at your nipples with the same fiery-eyed ferocity you’d seen when he was on the phone. You and the other secretaries teasingly referred to this do-or-die passion of his as the famous red-blooded Kennedy “vigor” the press always talked about. Though what the press didn’t know, you and the girls always joked, was that this eager, youthful energy—this incessant, almost pathological need to dominate and conquer—extended far beyond just bull-headed political policies.

“They heard you,” the President was murmuring between his little bites. “God, they all heard you. That excites you, doesn’t it?”

Unwilling to admit how right he was, you instead smothered your face in his hot, pulsing neck to cover up a whimpering moan, and then you were twisting around to loosen his tie, unable to stop yourself—when a loud knock banged against the Oval Office doors.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” the President griped dramatically against your ear, making you laugh.

“I can come back later,” you said, more pleading with him than anything, whispering right into his mouth. You watched his eyes flick ravenously around your face as you wrapped your hand around his cock and added, with a small chuckle, “To finish you off.”

“That you will,” he said, “if you know what’s good for you.” Then he gave you that long-awaited wink and grin before wrapping his hands around your waist to stand you back up, and you were pleased to hear him groan softly at the loss of contact.

When you bent down with wobbly legs to pick up your clothes, he offered you his hand to hold and steady yourself on, and you felt yourself blushing at this perversely chivalrous gesture, even though he’d done similar things countless times before and was always unabashedly ogling your body as he did so.

“That knock means I’m going to have to head down to the Sit Room,” he told you then, wearily running his fingers through his perfectly-mussed hair while you tugged your blouse over your head, one hand still cradled in his. “But in about an hour, when I come back,” he continued, “I want you in here, naked and lying on that sofa over there.” He flung a finger towards the parlor area across the room.

You breathed a smiling sigh and shook your head, knowing you’d soon be in your office counting down the seconds. “Whatever you say, Mr. President.”