#abigail chase x reader

[saintlucretia]

I guess i have a type mental disorder

[ivorydragoness44]

You were prepared to sink your teeth into his skin if he thought of running off with the Declaration.

“Part 4 - The Letters” Riley Poole x Reader

(A/N: Requested. Here we go and welcome back! Part Four is where things really start moving!

Having just left Patrick Gates taped up at home with a tv remote, the group goes out to check out the Silence Dogood letters. But how far ahead are all of you? What about Ian and the Feds? It’s time to pick up the pace a little. Better run.

Check out: Part One / Part Two / Part Three

Warnings: Kidnapping and mention of minor injuries.

Word Count: 4,884)

~~

Clear skies and a relatively quiet city block eased the anxiety in the group. The Franklin Institute there in Philadelphia.

After a dreamless sleep, food, and disputes on where to park, the four of you prepared to temporarily go separate ways. Earlier, Ben had convinced you that it was fine to use his dad’s money instead of yours for food. Considering you were still half awake at the time, it wasn’t a difficult task. What was difficult was deciding which clothing store to shop in, however the one closest to the Franklin Institute won out. Or so you were convinced.

Keep reading

[mggslover]

Unrequited love

In which reader has been haunted all her life by the ghost of unrequited love, always reminding her of everything she could never have. That is — until she met Spencer.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader Genre: angst x fluff x smut (18+) Content warnings: spoilers for s8e12, very angsty but no worries there's a happy ending Word count: 5,4k A/n: for anyone who can relate to not having their love reciprocated, I'm hoping you'll find your spencer reid soon

It’s stupid, really, to love someone so wholeheartedly. It’s even more stupid to expect them to love you back.

Never in your life had anyone reciprocated your love — hell, no one had even accepted it. Unrequited love was a burden that has clung to you all your life, a thread of rejection woven through the fabric of your earliest memories. 

You remember the moment clearly, when as a little girl you found your mother hunched over the dining room table, furiously wiping away tears she did not want you to see. You watched from afar, making sure she left the room when you tiptoed to the table, finding a piece of paper ripped out of a notebook. Your small finger traced the letters of the handwritten note. The words were jagged, some unfamiliar, making you skip them. You experienced a rush of pride and excitement when you could make out some words: leaving, sorry, woman, goodbye. It was the first time you’d read something that wasn’t written in the large colorful books Miss Abigail assigned in school. It wasn’t until a few days later, when your mother explained that your father wasn’t coming back, that the weight of the note fully sank in. From that moment on it felt like your fate was sealed. 

In middle school you had some friends, but when the moment came to pairing up for school trips, it was you being the one left out. You always had someone you would call your best friend, but you’d never be theirs. Someone always seemed to be better, more lovable, more wanted. 

In highschool, you got your first boyfriend, Timmy. You weren’t sure you loved him, but you wanted to be seen, to be noticed. So when he asked you out, you said yes. For a while, you reveled in the feeling of someone showing you off. That was until the day you overheard his friends, talking by the lockers.

“I swear, his tactic is working!” one of them said. “Jessica dumped James the second she saw Timmy walking hand in hand with Y/N through the hallways.” 

“Oh shit, man,” another friend laughed. “If I knew that, I also would’ve used a fake girlfriend to get to Hannah.” 

A fake girlfriend. The words echoed in your mind as you started to make sense of the situation. It suddenly clicked how Timmy only showed you off in public, only kissed you in the busy hallways, where people could see. It was never about you.

You decided to give love one more chance in university, but when a night that was supposed to be the first of many, ended in a one-night-stand and a “I’m sorry, but I don’t really see you that way”, you made yourself a vow: no more chasing love. You stopped giving your love to people who would never truly appreciate it, and instead, you gave that love to yourself. The library became your refuge, spending endless hours studying to give yourself the future you deserve. You passed your exams with flying colors and never forgot to reward yourself after every small victory. And when you landed a position at the BAU, making it as an FBI agent, you knew you made the right decision to never fall in love again. That was until you stepped into the office, and you saw him. Spencer Reid. 

—

“And this is doctor Spencer Reid,” your boss Hotchner introduced him with a nod. 

He was tall, awkward in the way only someone who was brilliant could be, but he smiled warmly as he waved a hand at you. “Hi.”

You smiled back and stuck out your hand instinctively. “Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

He blinked at the gesture, looking uncomfortable. He swallowed, his voice uncertain. “It’s nothing personal, I just don’t like shaking hands.”

You tilted your head and laughed. “That’s totally fair. Do you know how many germs your hands carry?”

His eyes widened in surprise, as if no one had ever said that before. “I-I actually do! The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It’s actually safer to-”

“Kiss?” you interrupted, a grin spreading across your face.

The words came out simultaneously, and you both laughed. A sound that felt... easy. Like something you hadn’t experienced before.

Someone you would later come to know as Morgan, who had been leaning against a desk, looked up at the two of you, eyebrows raised in disbelief as he shook his head. 

It was then you realized — there was something special about Spencer Reid. It was something unspoken, something more than just the intellectual connection. Before you even knew it, you had fallen in love.

—

You never confessed your feelings to Spencer, but you felt like there was an unspoken understanding between you. Every morning, you arrived at work with an oversweetened cup of coffee for him, and in return, he made sure you never went without your favorite sandwich from the shop around the corner, especially on days when you were too absorbed in a case to remember to eat. On your days off, you took each other on trips. Sometimes to a museum where you would explain the art in great detail, and he would pretend not to know any of the facts, just to hear you talk. Other times, you’d go to a movie screening, where he would simultaneously whisper translations of the foreign dialogue to you, making you giggle when his breath tickled your ear. You convinced yourself that this was what love was: understanding someone to the point of not needing words.

But how foolish were you to have forgotten about the shadow that lingered behind you, always ready to remind you of everything you could never have.

—

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N! Have you heard the news?” Penelope squealed in delight as she rushed toward you, the rhythmic click of her heels making a melody against the office floor. 

You glanced up from your desk, raising an eyebrow. “Based on the excitement, I’m going to assume you're not talking about the wildfires in California.”

“Oh no, no,” she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m talking about big news. The juicy kind.”

You chuckled, leaning back in your chair as you sipped your tea. “Alright Pen, bring it on.”

Penelope’s grin widened. “Spencer has a girlfriend!” She yelped, hands flying to her mouth as she realized just how loud she’s gotten.

You blink as you try to process her words. “He finally adopted a cat?” 

Penelope shook her head vigorously. “Y/N, I mean a real girlfriend. An actual human being girlfriend!”

You scrunch your forehead, the words not quite connecting. “I don’t think I understand.”

Penelope leans in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Derek told me that Blake told him that Spencer’s been making calls... to a woman.” She glances around quickly, making sure no one can overhear. 

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Your smile drops at the familiarity of the situation. Spencer had been leaving the bullpen often recently. You’d always assumed it was because he was still struggling with his headaches and didn’t want the team to get worried. Not in a million years would you have expected Spencer was seeing someone.

Penelope continues speaking, but her words fade into the background as your thoughts spiral. “Excuse me,” you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper as you push yourself out of your chair and rush to the bathroom.

Once inside, you lock the door behind you. Your chest tightens, the familiar weight of a panic attack settling in as if it had never left. Your breath comes short and shallow, the room spinning slightly as you grip the sink. The air feels thick, suffocating even. For the first time in years you find yourself back in this situation, fighting to breathe.

—

After a while, the whispers and giggles about Reid's love affair had died down. Still, it took Spencer some time to feel comfortable enough to share more about her — Maeve Donovan, the brilliant, lovely woman who had stolen his heart. As his best friend, you were the one he turned to, the one who had to endure all the little details of their intimate phone calls.

And you tried, you really did. You tried to be the supportive friend, even when each word about Maeve felt like a thorn in your chest. You’d joke, asking him if he was sure Maeve wasn’t some sixty-year-old man catfishing him, or teasing him about how it didn’t count as a relationship if you’d never actually met the person. The snark was the only way you could cope with the sinking feeling every time he smiled when her name came up, the way his eyes lit up when he spoke of her. But Spencer was oblivious to your remarks. No matter how hard you tried to plant seeds of doubt in his mind, it never seemed to have any effect.

It was a sad thing to admit, but on nights when anxiety kept you awake, you couldn’t help but wish for their relationship to end. You prayed for a chance to tell Spencer how you really felt. You convinced yourself there would be time, that everything was going well, and eventually you’d find the courage to speak up. But on nights like these, you deeply regret never having thought of the possibility of another girl realizing how incredible Spencer is, and making a move before you ever could. 

Those feelings of jealousy turned into big regret, when Spencer came bursting into the bullpen, panic and fear evident in his eyes. He was frantic, certain that Maeve had been kidnapped. His suspicions turned out to be tragically true, and your world crumbled the moment the gunshot rang out, taking Maeve from him. Your heart shattered into a thousand pieces as Spencer broke down in front of you, and you couldn’t even reach out to comfort him, believing it was you who caused this. That the ghost you knew as unrequited love, finally gave you what you wished for. 

You wanted to scream, to turn back time, to take back every selfish thought. But now wasn’t the time for regret. When Spencer locked himself in his apartment, unwilling to speak to anyone, you made it your mission to be there for him. You were the only person he let in, and when the door creaked open, you were struck by the sight of him — pale, hollow-eyed, and worn down in a way you’d never seen before. Without a word, he pulled you into a tight embrace. The two of you cried together, until his neighbor shouted at you both for the noise. From that moment on, you’d take Spencer to your apartment. Making sure he had a warm, homemade meal waiting for him as you’d binge Doctor Who episodes, trying to get him to smile even just a little. Slowly, he began to open up, the weight of his grief pouring out in quiet conversations. And you made sure you listened to every word as you held him close, offering whatever comfort you could.

As the weeks passed by, the weight of the situation was becoming overwhelming. It wasn’t easy hearing the love of your life talk about another woman. The way he spoke about her, like she meant more to him after just a couple of months than you ever did in all the years you stood by his side. It was almost too much to bear. When you overheard a moment between Reid and JJ, where Spencer mentioned how he would’ve had kids if it weren’t for Maeve dying, you realized you couldn’t keep going like this. You needed time to process what you were feeling, to grieve what you’d lost — even if it wasn’t really yours to begin with. So, you called in sick for the next case. Hoping you could clear your mind, while the team was out of state.

—

So here you were, experiencing heartbreak like all those times before — rotting on the couch with a pint of ice cream as you watched reruns of Love Island. 

You jumped when a loud banging echoed from the front door. Your surprise faded as quickly as it came, knowing there was only one person that would bother you this late an hour. 

“Y/N, I know you’re in there. Open up!” Spencer’s voice rang out, firm and insistent.

With a sigh, you shuffled to the front door, trying to steady yourself before facing him. The moment you opened the door, you were met with Spencer, brows furrowed in concern and annoyance.

“Where were you? You didn’t show up on the jet, and you’re never late,” he said, brushing past you to step inside.

“Sure, let yourself in,” you muttered under your breath, closing the door behind him. “I wasn’t feeling well, had a headache,” you replied, keeping your tone casual.

Spencer paused, taking a quick glance around the room. His eyes landed on the TV blaring in the background and the half-empty pint of ice cream on the coffee table. He turned back to you, eyebrows raised.

“Your TV is on full blast, and you’re eating ice cream,” he said, his tone skeptical, clearly aware of your lie.

You sighed, shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry, I just needed a break.” 

“A break?” He scoffed. “You never take breaks. We practically had to force you to stay home when you got shot. You’re always there, no matter what. I needed you, and you weren’t there.”

As much as you appreciated hearing that he needed you, this wasn’t the time to feel flattered by it. “Spencer, I know,” you started, your voice taut with frustration. “I just had my own things to worry about.”

“What things?” He stepped closer, his tone rising. “What could be more important than your work? Then being there for a friend when he needs you?” It was obvious how upset he was. “I was worried about you,” he continued, his voice breaking slightly. “I called you every day, and you didn’t pick up.”

His words hit harder than you expected, and a bitter laugh escaped before you could stop it. “What about me, Spencer?” you snapped. “Have you ever thought about me needing a break? Or am I not important enough for that?”

“Oh, please.” His voice dripped with disbelief. “You’ve always been there for me, but suddenly you can’t pick up your phone because you need time for yourself?”

“God, you’re such an ass,” you shot back, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

“Me? I’m the ass?” His voice pitched higher, his eyes widening in disbelief.

“Yes, Spencer! I told you I wasn’t feeling good. I needed time off.”

“You could’ve just picked up the damn phone!” he yelled, his voice cracking with emotion. “Do you even realize how worried I was?”

“It sounds like you were more worried about yourself than me,” you countered, your tone icy.

His face twisted in frustration, but then his shoulders sagged. “Is that what you think?” He asked quietly, his voice trembling. “I was worried about you. Can you even imagine what it was like for me to call and get no answer?”

You swallowed. For a split second your mind drifted to Maeve, thinking that he might’ve felt the same fear as when she didn’t pick up the phone. You quickly put the thought away, he didn’t care about you like that.

“If you’d just asked Hotch, you would’ve gotten an answer right away,” you said defensively, crossing your arms to shield yourself.

“Oh, so Hotch knew?” His tone turned bitter, his eyes narrowing.

“Of course, Spencer. He’s my boss!”

“And I am your friend! I always tell you everything before I let anyone else know.”

You rolled your eyes, frustration taking over. “Well, that’s on you. Just because you feel the need to bother everyone with your problems doesn’t mean I have to do the same.”

The instant regret was written all over your face as the words left your mouth. Spencer’s expression shifted, looking completely stunned.

“Spencer, I didn’t mean-”

But the damage was done. His shoulders stiffened, his jaw tightening as he looked away.

“Please, Spence, I swear I didn’t mean it like that,” you said softly, your voice trembling as you reached out to him, but he instinctively stepped back.

“Spencer, I’m so sorry,” you pleaded, your voice cracking. “I don’t know why I said that.”

He shook his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Oh, but you said it. And you meant it.” His voice was quieter now, but somehow it felt heavier. The anger in his eyes had faded, replaced with something worse: disappointment.

“Spencer,” you whispered, the sound barely audible, terrified to say anything else that could upset him.

He looked down, his shoulders sagging as he exhaled shakily. When he finally looked back at you, his expression had softened slightly, though the hurt still lingered in his eyes. “Do you really think I’m someone who bothers people with my problems?” he asked, his voice raw with vulnerability.

“No!” you said quickly, the desperation clear in your tone. “I don’t know why I said that. I don’t think that at all. I’m so glad you opened up to me and trusted me with your feelings.”

“And yet…” he trailed off, rubbing his temples in frustration. “You ignored my calls. You avoided me. And then you said that. Jesus.” His hands fell to his sides as he let out a tired sigh, his exhaustion etched into every feature.

“Spencer,” you started, but he interrupted. “I don’t understand,” he said, looking at you like he was searching for answers he couldn’t find. “If you’re glad I talk to you about my feelings, why did you shut me out?”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his question bearing down on you. “It’s just… a lot to handle, Spence,” you admitted. “I’m not a therapist. I don’t know how to deal with these feelings. I want to be there for you, I really do, but it takes a toll on me too.”

“It takes a toll on you too?” His voice rose, and you cursed yourself for triggering another outburst without meaning to. “I’m the one with ‘the problem’. I’m the one with the dead girlfriend! All you had to do was be there for me when I needed you.”

You exhaled heavily. “I’m getting a drink,” you muttered as you made your way over to the kitchen. Spencer followed behind you, not willing to give up yet.

“Of course,” Spencer said, with a sarcastic edge. “Grab a drink. That’ll fix everything.”

Ignoring him, you grabbed a glass and poured a generous amount of whiskey. You raised it to your lips, savoring the burn as you swallowed.

He crossed his arms, watching you with a raised eyebrow. “You know what? Go ahead. Keep ignoring the problem. That’s what you’re good at, right? Avoiding things.” He said, his tone filled with hurt. 

Your hand trembled slightly as you set the glass down. “I know you don’t believe me,” you said, voice shaking, “but I am trying.”

“Trying?” Spencer’s laugh was humorless. “You didn’t even call me. You just disappeared. I needed you, and you left. What kind of ‘trying’ is that?”

“God, Spencer, I didn’t want to avoid you. I wanted to pick up the phone, to explain everything, but I couldn’t. I knew I’d just hurt you more, and I couldn’t-” Your voice broke against your will. “I couldn’t risk ruining all the progress you’ve made.”

Spencer’s expression softened, his furrowed brow easing as confusion replaced his anger. “You’re not protecting me by keeping whatever it is that’s bothering you to yourself. You’re hurting me even more by shutting me out. I want to be able to help you when you’re struggling, Y/N.”

Your throat tightened, tears threatening to spill. You bit your lip, trying to hold your words in.

“Please,” he whispered, his hand gently taking yours. “Let me in. Let me help you like you’ve helped me.” 

You stared at him, your chest aching. How could you possibly tell him? How could you burden him with this truth when he was already carrying so much? But the way he looked at you, so desperate — it broke something inside you.

The words escaped before you could stop them. “I’m in love with you.”

Spencer froze, his heart skipping a beat as he loosened his grip on your hand, making you regret speaking up.

“You.. you’re in love with me?” He asked, his voice a mix of surprise and disbelief.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, guilt twisting in your chest.

He stared at you in silence, his gaze unreadable as he processed your words. After a long pause, he spoke up. “You’re sorry?”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you nodded. “I’m an awful friend,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

“No, no, no,” Spencer said quickly, stepping closer. His heart ached as he reached up to gently cup your face, brushing away your tears with his thumbs, hating to see you cry. “You are not an awful friend — you’re wonderful.”

“Don’t say that,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m not wonderful, Spencer. I listened to you grieve every night, and still I felt jealous because she got your love, even if it was just for a second.”

His eyes widened. “Jealous?” he asked softly. “You were jealous of Maeve?”

You cringed at his words, shame tightening your chest. “I know, it’s disgusting. I get it if you never want to see me again.”

“Is that what you think? That I’d stop wanting to see you?” He shook his head. “How can you think I’d judge you for having feelings for me?”

“Because I blame myself, Spencer!” you cried. “I should’ve been happy for you, but I wasn’t. And now she’s gone, and I feel like it’s my fault.”

He closed the distance between you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a tight embrace. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for any of that. You didn’t make any of those things happen,” he reassured. “They were just… they were just an unfortunate turn of events. You didn’t have any control over it.” He held you tightly against him, trying to comfort you as his heart ached. 

“You shouldn’t touch me,” you sniffled, but you weren’t able to pull yourself away, needing his touch.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt your face up to meet his eyes. “I should touch you,” he said firmly. “I should hold you, and comfort you, and be there for you. Because that’s what friends do. That’s what I want to do.”

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, your voice quivering with emotion. “I did feel jealous, but please, don’t think for a second that I didn’t care. I’d do anything to bring her back.”

“I know you care,” he murmured into your hair. “I know you do. That’s why I could never think of you as a bad friend.”

You cried against his chest, the weight of everything finally crashing down. His arms tightened around you, his hold warm and grounding. “It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve got you.”

You shook your head. “You shouldn’t be the one comforting me.”

“Yes, I should,” he said. His arms didn’t loosen, holding you as if he feared you’d vanish if he let go. “Your feelings matter. Your happiness matters. I don’t want you putting yourself aside for my sake.”

Something in his tone gave you the courage to lift your gaze. His eyes met yours, searching, filled with an emotion you hadn’t dared to hope for. Slowly, he reached out, his thumb brushing against your tear-streaked cheek with a gentleness that made your chest ache. 

“I mean it,” he said, his voice firm. “You matter to me, more than you probably realize.”

You leaned into his touch instinctively, the warmth of his hand calming you. “You can still talk to me,” you said quietly. “I just… I needed a break. But we can still have our talks.”

He nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I know. And I’ll take you up on that.” 

His hand remained on your face as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a tender murmur. “I care about you. I always have, and I always will.”

The proximity was impossible to ignore as his thumb traced slow, soft circles on your cheek, his eyes locked on yours. “I’m sorry,” he began, his voice quiet and pained, “for not realizing sooner how you felt about me.”

“It’s fine, Spence,” you replied, lifting your shoulders. “I should’ve been more obvious.”

He let out a quiet sigh, his heart heavy with remorse. “You were, I should’ve known. Penelope and JJ never treated me the way you did.” He admitted. “I wasted so much time. I could have had you, but I was too blind to see it.”

“You… you would want to be with me?” you asked, surprise noticeable in your voice.

His eyes softened, his expression filled with disbelief. “Of course I would. How could I not? You’re smart, you’re funny, you’re caring, you’re beautiful...” His voice dropped to a tender hum. “You’re everything.” 

You looked away, as doubt crept in. “You’re just confused,” you said. “I gave you a lot to process all at once.”

“I’m not confused,” he said steadily, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Not about this. I know how I feel. I know that it’s you that I want.”

Your heart ached at how convincing he sounded, but you couldn’t stop your uncertainty. “You’re not over her, Spence.”

The mention of Maeve made him swallow, his gaze flicked downward for a moment. “I know,” he said quietly, as he looked up at you. “I know I’m not completely over her. I may never be. But that doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

Tears welled in your eyes. “It doesn’t feel fair,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve wanted you for so long. It doesn’t feel fair that I get to have you now.”

Spencer gently pulled you closer, the simple comfort of having you in his arms overwhelming. “You deserve everything, Y/N. You’ve been there for me through everything. You’re one of the most selfless, most loyal, most caring people I know.” 

The warmth in his gaze, the tenderness in his touch, made it impossible to look away.

“I need you,” he said, his voice a raw confession. “Not talking to you these past days was torture. I can’t do this without you. I need you in my life, Y/N. Not just as a friend.” He paused, his voice softening. “You deserve to be loved, please let me be the one to do that.”

You felt your breath catch, not finding the words to express how you’re feeling. “Can I kiss you?”

His lips parted in surprise, but his eyes softened, filling with an emotion that made your chest ache. He nodded, “Yes. Please.”

His hands were warm against your cheeks as he pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was everything — urgent, raw, and filled with years of unspoken longing. A soft, desperate sound escaped your throat, conveying all the need you’d kept bottled up for so long. Spencer seemed to feel it, deepening the kiss as his fingers threaded into your hair, afraid you might slip away.

He effortlessly lifted you onto the kitchen counter, his body fitting perfectly between your legs as you wrapped them tightly around his waist. The closeness wasn’t enough to satisfy your need. Your fingers found his tie, fumbling to loosen it before letting it fall to the floor.

As you moved to the buttons of his shirt, Spencer groaned softly against your lips, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. The moment your hands met his bare skin, his breath hitched, and his grip on your hips tightened. The heat of his body was intoxicating, and every inch of him seemed to respond to your touch.

“God, Y/N…” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and filled with desire. His forehead rested briefly against yours, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he caught his breath. But his hands never stopped, sliding down your sides and pulling you even closer.

You continued your exploration, your fingertips tracing the planes of his chest and shoulders as if trying to memorize him. 

You’d always imagined taking your time when this moment finally came — savoring every touch, every kiss. But now that it was happening, you couldn’t stop the rush coursing through you. The need to feel him everywhere, to prove that this was real.

“Spencer, please,” you whimpered against his mouth, your voice filled with desperation.

“I know, sweet girl,” he murmured, knowing exactly what you needed. His hands slid down to your thighs, gently parting them to make room for himself. The warmth of his touch had you gasping, and you let out a quiet cry of relief as his fingers moved to his belt, the soft clink of the buckle filling the air.

You didn’t want to waste any time, tugging your pants down your legs in a frenzy, eager to meet him halfway. Spencer’s gaze flickered to yours, his eyes dark with need, and in an instant, his mouth was on yours again.

His kiss was hungry, consuming. One hand gripped your waist, holding himself steady, while the other hooked beneath your leg, lifting it effortlessly to pull you closer. The heat between you is overwhelming, every touch igniting yet another spark. 

You threw your head back as he rubbed the tip of his cock against your wet folds. A soft gasp escaped your lips, your mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ as he slowly pushed into you, the stretch intoxicating. Your fingers gripped his back as you sunk your nails into his skin.

The sharp bite of pain drew a low, guttural groan from him, his face buried in the curve of your neck. His breath was hot against you as he murmured your name like a prayer.

“I wish we’d done this sooner,” you gasped, as he began to move, his hips rolling into yours. 

His breath hitched at your words, and he pressed a soft kiss to your jawline. “I know, baby,” he mumbled. “We’ll make up for it,”

A soft giggle escaped you, but it was quickly swallowed by a moan as his pace quickened. 

“Oh, Spence… I’m already close,” you confessed, never having reached an orgasm this fast.

“Thank God,” he groaned, his voice rough with desperation, as his grip on your hips tightened. He guided you to meet his thrusts, the intensity of his movements growing erratic, overwhelmed by pleasure. 

Unable to resist, you cupped his face, pulling him into an open-mouthed kiss as you moaned and gasped for breath. 

Your walls clenched around him, drawing a string of desperate whimpers from your lips as your head fell back. Spencer took full advantage of your exposed neck, sucking and biting on the skin, claiming you. His thrusts grew deeper, determined to hit the spot that made you cry out in pleasure.

His low, breathy moans filled the air, and you could tell he was close. Your legs began to shake around him, and as if perfectly in sync, your release crashed over you just as he shuddered and spilled into you.

“I love you,” you gasped, the words leaving your lips over and over as your orgasm rushed through you. Tears streamed down your face, blurring your vision. You couldn’t tell if it was the sheer intensity of the feeling or the flood of emotions you’d been bottling up for so long, but what you did know is that you meant every word.

Spencer stayed close, his breaths uneven as he gently rocked into you, drawing out the shared high. Slowly, he pulled back just enough to brush your hair out of your tear-streaked face. His eyes locked onto yours, and it felt like he truly saw you — every part of you.

A soft smile tugged at his lips as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“I love you too.”

[gogobootz1]

Dog Day Afternoon

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: New to town but oh-so sought after, a few stumbles might just lead you to love

Word Count: 3k

Dearest Gentle Reader,

Today, I write with news from the North. The reclusive Duke of Devonshire has come to London. It seems that after the death of his younger brother some time back, he is determined to find his eldest daughter, the new heir, a husband. The lady is supposedly very beautiful and will no doubt consume all of the attention of eligible young bachelors. I only bid good luck to her competition, as they will surely need it.

The fluffy tails of your two best friends could not keep still. The black Newfoundlands you had trained from puppyhood loved carriage rides, mostly because they loved meeting the horses before and after. You were sure they'd grow even more excited when you arrived at the park.

As the carriage slowed, you smiled, eager to get them some exercise. Your maid stepped out first, and you momentarily handed her both dogs' leads. Accepting a hand down from a footman, you turned to take them back when they broke free of her grasp entirely. Worse yet, they took off at a run.

You called after them, then whistled, but they were determined. Usually, they didn't give you any trouble with recall. Reaching for the dog whistle you kept on your person, you found nothing.

Without a second thought, you took off after them.

"My Lady!" Your maid called from behind you, panicked. You paid her little heed, anxious to have your babies back safe.

Park patrons stood as your dogs, followed by yourself, ran past. They gawked openly at the strange scene put on by an unknown young lady.

You were relieved when they slowed, but it didn't take long for them to sprint off again. They rounded a corner, quick as lighting. You kept after them, unable to see the obstacle around the bend.

Crashing right into someone's back, the two of you stumbled. The poor gentleman in front of you took the brunt of the impact, but you didn't have time to stay and make a formal apology. Staggering a bit, you resumed your chase.

"Sorry!" You yelled over your shoulder.

"Wait! Miss," the man called after you but gave up as you ran further away.

When your dogs ran off the path and into a clearing where people were picnicking, you grew really worried. Chasing after them on a trail was one thing, but ruining the outings of fellow nobility would be an altogether worse embarrassment.

You stopped in your tracks when you realized who the boys were scampering up to: your little sister. Abigail sat on a blanket with a girl who looked to be about her age. In her mouth was the dog whistle. You tended only to use that whistle when you took them out in the woods, and you'd trained them to run back to you at the sound of it. It gave you peace of mind knowing that you could call them back at any time if they went too far off in the forest or on one of your walks.

Abigail seemed pleased to see the two of them. A surprised grin graced her face as she patted them. They were even happier to see her, showering her in kisses. "Hoo-y? Moo? What are you doing here?" She giggled.

Her laughter stopped when she saw you stalking over. Thoroughly out of breath, you crossed your arms when you reached them. The three of them looked guiltily up at you. With a snap, your dogs came to sit on either side of you. Although your countenance was thoroughly enraged, scratching behind both dogs' ears decreased your intimidation factor.

"Why on Earth did you steal that?" You nodded toward your whistle.

"I think it makes for a chic necklace," Abigail said defensively. You stuck a hand out, and she reluctantly placed the whistle she'd put on a chain in it.

"And why on Earth were you using it?" You asked expectantly.

She held her hands up in surrender, "Miss Hyacinth was skeptical that the whistle could not be heard with human ears. I was simply showing her how it worked." Abigail was clever- you'd give her that. You could hardly scold her in front of her companion, and you wouldn't dream of scolding the other young girl for something so clearly not her fault. Using her as a human shield was a cowardly tactic by your sister, however. "And I thought you weren't arriving until later!"

"They were antsy. I figured I could abandon the harp in favor of allowing them some exercise," you explained, then glared at her, "This was not the type of exercise I had in mind."

"But Hoo-y and Moo love running free," she pouted at you.

"They are not allowed to run free in public spaces where I must chase after them!" You snapped at her. Crouching to get closer, you reached into your purse and gave both dogs a scrap of jerky. "Huginn and Muninn are both well-behaved gentlemen, and you may have tarnished their good names by causing this wild romp!"

"Huginn and Muninn? Does that make you Odin?" A deep voice called from behind you. You rose and turned to see a tall, handsome gentleman with dark hair.

His question took you by surprise. Most people did not understand their names. You blinked for a second before collecting yourself, "No." It was hardly a smart reply, but it was the most you could manage after chasing your dogs a few hundred meters. You shook your head a little, vaguely embarrassed by your answer, before turning back to the girls.

"Would you please excuse Lady Abigail, Miss Hyacinth?" The bright young lady nodded at you with a pleasant smile before you even finished speaking, "The least she can do after causing such trouble is help me walk the dogs." You directed the last part toward your sister, who reluctantly stood. Taking one of the leads from your hand, she bid goodbye to her companion before walking off. You nodded at the young lady and the handsome stranger before following after her.

Benedict watched you walk away from his sister's picnic spot, only slightly removed from the rest of the family's. He collapsed down next to Hyacinth and stole a grape from her plate, "Who was that?"

"My new friend, Abigail," she replied, smacking his wrist. He ate the grape anyway.

"And the older one?"

"Her sister," Hyacinth looked at him skeptically, "why do you ask?"

Benedict thought of how you'd practically pushed him to the ground in the middle of the walkway, then ran from the scene. "No reason," he shrugged.

——————————————

The first ball you'd be attending was later that evening, and you were incredibly nervous. Sat on the floor of the library, you brushed through Muninn's coat in an attempt to calm your nerves. Waiting for your father to finish changing was making you even more anxious, the dread just building up in your body.

"Why are you on the floor?" His voice finally came from the doorway.

"His coat needed brushing," you shrugged innocently. The Duke waved at you to come join him, and you stood, brushing some fur off yourself. Muninn stood, too, and closely followed as you joined your father.

"You're only lucky he didn't slobber on you," your father shook his head at you fondly, offering his arm.

Taking it, you made one last bid to skip the event, "Remind me why we are attending this?"

"A future Duchess needs a husband," he said simply.

"Does she really?" You asked wryly.

"No," your father answered seriously, causing you to stop. "Well, only if she should like a Duke or Duchess of her blood to follow in her footsteps," he tugged on your arm to keep you walking.

That only made you feel worse. While before you felt nervous, guilt was now in the mix. What if that didn't happen?

"If you never marry, I will not love you any less," he revealed. "I only ask that you try," your father asserted, "but if there is nary a man up to snuff, I would have you die a spinster." You laughed at that, feeling some pressure relieved. He joked with you for the duration of the carriage ride and up until you were announced at the ball.

"Now presenting; His Grace Daniel, Duke of Devonshire, and his daughter Lady-"

The entire company of the room turned to watch the two of you descend the stairs.

"What? Is there something on my face?" Your father whispered to you jokingly.

"Oh, only that awful mustache," you whispered back playfully. You caught the corner of his lip twitching as he tried not to laugh at the jab at his expense.

A few more seconds of staring had you whispering to him again, "I see now why you never leave the house." That earned a huff of a laugh from him.

"Let us thank our host, then visit the refreshments," he relayed the plan.

"Excellent idea," you replied quietly as he dragged you toward a finely dressed older woman.

"Lady Danbury," your father nodded at her in greeting.

"Lovely to see you again, Your Grace. It's been quite some time," she smiled at him knowingly.

"Indeed it has," he laughed, "may I present my daughter?" You smiled then, giving her a polite nod as well.

"My, how you've grown, my lady. The last time I saw you, you were far shorter than me," she chuckled, and you laughed politely with her. Unfortunately, you had no memory of that meeting. It must have been a long time ago, and she must have visited your home at Chatsworth House.

It was only a few more moments of small talk before your father excused the two of you, under the guise of not impeding her from talking to other guests.

He fixed you both a glass of lemonade at the refreshments table before he was pulled away. As much as he hated socializing, people loved him. He sent you an apologetic glance as he left. You only shook your head at him, smiling.

You took a brief glance around the room, noticing a few debutantes conversing near you. You sent them a smile, but they sneered in reply and closed ranks. Stunned at their response, you didn't quite know what to do.

"They can be rather mean," you turned to find a young red-headed woman beside you. "Not to mention jealous," she said helpfully.

"Jealous?" You were confused. They hadn't even met you. "Of me?"

"Oh, yes," she laughed a bit. "Haven't you read Lady Whistledown?"

You were embarrassed to have no idea of what she spoke, "I haven't met her. Is she in attendance?" That got an even greater laugh from your companion.

"Lady Whistledown is a gossip columnist and a rather popular one at that," she informed you, and you felt foolish for your last comment. "She wrote about you in her latest issue."

"Really?" You were stunned, as you'd only recently arrived in London.

"She predicted you'd steal the attentions of every available gentleman away from your fellow debutants," she nodded.

"No wonder they hate me," you sighed, sorry to have made a bad impression on the debutants before making their acquaintance. "Oh, I'm sorry, I still haven't introduced myself!" You were eager to make at least one good first impression.

"I'm Penelope Featherington," she said with a smile.

"I must admit, Miss Featherington," you shook your head, "I think Lady Whistledown's prediction will prove incorrect." She tilted her head and gestured for you to go on, "I've not been approached by a single gentleman."

Penelope took a quick look around the room, accidentally meeting a few pairs of eyes. Plenty of people had already been looking in your direction. She smiled a bit at your obliviousness, "I think perhaps they're just intimidated."

"Oh no," your eyes widened, "have I done something wrong?"

"Not at all," she assured you, "I think it's just... no one wants to take the first shot at a great stag and miss."

"I'm not sure I like being prey in this metaphor," you deadpanned, causing her to laugh once again.

It seemed one young gentleman mustered the courage to be the first to approach, and he really was young. "Good evening, ladies," he greeted you both, then offered you his hand, "would you care to dance?"

You placed your hand lightly in his but sent Penelope a look as he led you off. She giggled as you went. From there, you were off to the races. Dance after dance, gentleman after gentleman, you were exhausted.

"Please excuse me, sir, I'm feeling rather parched," you did not even recall this one's name.

"Oh no, please, my lady, I shall fetch a beverage for you," he nodded, "stay right there! Don't move!" He kept eye contact with you as he walked backward a few paces. You couldn't help but walk backward away from him, and you continued to do so even after he'd scurried off.

In fact, you retreated so far back that you retreated right into someone else's back. You both turned.

“You rather love bumping into me,” the gentleman you’d seen earlier said.

“Excuse me?” You certainly hadn’t seen him before this morning, so you had no idea what he meant by that smart comment. Your offense at his statement outweighed the sway of his good looks, unlike earlier.

“This makes twice,” he insisted, “once chasing after your ravens and once just now.”

It took you a second to catch up, “It was you I knocked over in the park earlier?!” Embarrassment rolled over you like a wave. “Oh God,” this was awful, “I am so incredibly sorry. Truly, I am mortified. And I would have apologized earlier, I-“

He only laughed a bit, “It’s quite alright. I got the sense you were in a rush.” His teasing tone brought a smile to your face.

“They’re usually so well-behaved,” you assured him, “I’m afraid my sister was behind the debacle.”

“Oh, yes, she was sitting with Hyacinth, was she not?”

“You know Miss Hyacinth?”

The gentleman grinned and bowed, “Benedict Bridgerton, her brother.”

“Very nice to meet you,” you smiled, “officially.”

“I’m not sure I caught your name,” right as he asked, you heard it being called.

“My lady?” You whipped around, and spotted the gentleman you’d abandoned searching for you. Wincing, you scuttled toward the closest pillar and ducked behind it. Benedict stayed put, but watched you run off with great amusement. After a moment, he chose to follow you.

“Are you hiding?” He teasingly asked.

You peered around the pillar, hoping the man had walked away. When you saw he hadn’t, you ducked away again, “yes!”

Benedict blinked at you, smiling, “Why?”

“My feet hurt,” you confessed, “I have danced every dance. I haven’t sat down in hours. Frankly, I’m surprised so many are interested after my jaunt through the park.”

“Perhaps they were impressed by your display of athleticism,” a crooked grin crossed his face. You leveled him with a look.

“There you are, my lady,” you jolted at the foreign voice, and Benedict had to clap a hand over his mouth to muffle his laughter. “I could not find you, so I’m afraid I drank your lemonade as well,” you could see Benedict’s shoulders shake with laughter, “Are you ready for our next dance?”

A look of pure horror must have crossed your face, because Benedict finally intervened, “I’m afraid she’s promised the next dance to me.” He pulled a pencil from a pocket in his jacket and outstretched one hand to you. You held out the arm your dance card was attached to, “In fact, I’ve very generously been granted all her remaining dances.” He winked at you as he filled in the four remaining spots. You fought off a grin.

“I see,” the man you interrupted you said sourly. He turned on his heel and marched away. Neither you nor Benedict could stop your laughter at his reaction.

“It is not my intention to further burden your feet,” he assured you after a moment, “I only hoped to dissuade him.”

“You did a fine job,” you grinned at him, “you have my gratitude.”

“I think I rather scandalized him,” Benedict chuckled, and you shook your head.

“It seems rather easy to scandalize this lot,” you said.

“Well, you’re right about that,” he nodded.

You sighed, “I think they’re all so concerned with presenting themselves as proper and important they forget to consider anyone else. Not one man I danced with asked me about myself.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Benedict shook his head, “I hope the rest of your evening is more relaxing.”

“Thank you,” you nodded at him, “at the very least, I know my dogs will listen to me when I return to them.”

Benedict laughed at that and slightly bowed towards you again, “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, my lady. I hope to bump into you again soon.”

Your eyes widened, “Maybe not bump.”

“Goodnight,” he smiled at you and nodded before leaving you free to go find somewhere to sit.

Soon enough, you father found you relaxing on a chaise lounge in a nearby study. He only shook his head, and offered you his arm to depart.

——————————————

The next morning brought with it house calls. You’d been hoping to spend a quiet morning working on a new piece for the harp, as you’d forgone practice the day before. But, much to your chagrin, you were forced to dress and be presentable within only ten minutes of your waking.

It didn’t take long for the sitting room to be bombarded with interested parties, though none were interested enough to truly speak with you. Each brought with him a new bouquet of flowers, and you soon grew worried you’d start sneezing uncontrollably. Eventually, you became so overwhelmed that you bribed poor Abigail to keep them occupied while you disappeared.

The only question she had for you was if you cared what she did to them. You’d given her free rein. With one look at her wicked grin, you fled the room.

Quickly turning the corner to another hallway, you quite nearly crashed into someone.

“That was almost three,” Benedict joked with you.

“Almost,” you highlighted, “but only a close call.”

“True,” he nodded.

"What brings you here?"

Benedict smiled, "I had hoped to call on you. Have I caught you at a bad time?"

"Not at all," you shook your head jovially.

"Excellent! I brought a gift," he produced a brown paper bag. You were slightly confused but glad for something other than flowers.

"Thank you," you reached for it, but he pulled it back.

"Not for you," he shook his head. You blinked back at him, wide-eyed. "Unless you have a proclivity for raw steak." Benedict laughed at the shock on your face, "I thought Huginn and Muninn might enjoy a treat."

A surprised smile eased onto your face. Your eyes sparkled as you looked at him, "I'm sure they'll appreciate it."

"Do you think they might also appreciate a walk in the park?" He asked, "A chance at redemption?"

"I think they'd like that," you grinned widely as Benedict smiled and offered you his arm.

---------------------------------------------------------

He didn't ask a single question! And he was wearing these- FUGLY jeans

Lol I've been toying with this idea since S3 part 1 came out, hope you liked it! I let her live in 2005 Mr. Darcy's luxurious mansion so you're welcome

(sorry for obscure norse mythology references)

[musickgeek]

Happy (SDV Sebastian x Farmer!Reader)

945 words, unedited

Warnings: None

The first time you'd met Sebastian was the first Friday after your arrival in Pelican Town. You saw him bent over the pool table, lining up his shot. Your face got hot, and butterflies flew in your stomach. He looked so at peace, in his element. The small smile on his lips, and comfortable stance he took up. You were wondering how to introduce yourself, but Sam, who you'd met earlier in the day, waved you over. Nervous, you tried to walk over as casually as possible, brushing dirt and dust off your clothes. "Hey (Y/n), these are my friends Abigail, and Sebastian." Sebastian makes a shot, knocking a few of his balls into the pockets. Sam frowns, but quickly refocuses on introductions. He bumps Sebastian's shoulder with his own, almost teasing. "Sebastian, this is the new farmer girl." 

The dark haired boy looked at you, curiosity in his eyes. "Oh. You just moved in, right?" You nodded. "Cool." He pauses for a moment, as if thinking about it. "Out of all the places you could live, you chose Pelican Town?” You couldn't help the small laugh that came out. "I know it seems small and confining, but for me, some of the best memories of my life were made here with my grandfather." He nodded thoughtfully, accepting the answer. You found him to be so pretty, it almost embarrassed you. You'd just met the man for Yoba's sake! Oh well, you'd already decided you wanted to get to know him better.

~~~~~

You tried to speak to him every day, trying to figure out the things he liked. What do boys like him like? You came to an easy conclusion while in the mines. When you found a little piece of clear crystal. "You may think it's not much, but when in the right light," you moved it into the sun to show off how it glimmered, "it shows it's true worth." Just like him, you decided. And so your ventures into the mines became more frequent, finding colorful gems and crystals that Sebastian might like. 

You would walk in the house, scuffed up and dirty, but smiling widely. Robin would look at you strangely. You'd greet her cheerfully like you weren't bleeding and bruised before disappearing down the stairs to her sons room. She was confused for weeks until Sebastian asked her to build a shelf for him to display the fruits of your labor. 

~~~~~

"You know, I'm starting to think you're obsessed with me." He teased one Friday, you guys walking to the saloon together. "In your dreams!" It wasn't you fault, you thought. He was the one who plagued your mind with a late night motorcycle ride a few nights before. You found him working on his bike, and he suggested brining you along on time. You said you were scared, to which he promised to keep you safe. That moment played in your mind over and over like a broken record. You'd become a little clingier, and the fact that he'd noticed startled you. His phone chimed, luckily changing the subject. He frowned, and you asked what had happened.

"Sam isn't coming by tonight. He hurt himself on his skateboard earlier, and is stuck with Harvey tonight." Little did either of you know, it was a crafted lie designed by Sam and Abby to get you guys to hang out. "Do you know how to play pool?" 

"I get the idea, but I've never actually played. I don't know how to execute it, really." He gave his little smile that you adored. "Tonight is going to be interesting." He sped up, almost giddy at the idea of sharing his skills with you, leaving you to chase after him, laughing.

~~~~~

Your skin was on fire. His body had never been so close to yours. You could feel your face burning. You could feel his breath on your neck. His hand covered yours, his chest was pressed against your back. You could smell the woodsy scent of his room on him. To the other patrons, the act was innocent. He was just showing you how to line up a shot for pool. But to you, everything about this felt like carnal sin. You felt like you could pass out. The sound of the lively talk and music faded away, all you senses focused on him. Could he feel it too? You when for the shot, but were too distracted to make a hit. 

"You're even worse than Sam." He said, pulling away. "I'll just have to practice more." You insisted. "Oh, by the way, I found this for you." You pull the blue, teardrop shaped crystal out of your pocket. The shock on his face pleased you. He took it carefully, afraid of breaking it. "I really love this." 

"It's no big deal." You shrug. But he shakes his head, frowning deeply. "But it is, I know the lengths you have to go to for something like this, for any of the crystals you give me. You go down there all the time, risking your life just to give me some silly trinkets. I don't even understand why." Now you frown, feeling hurt. "I thought you liked them..." He realizes his mistake, and gets panicky. "No, I do, I really do! But...I like you more. Sometimes I wait at the rivers edge for you to come back. Just to know you're safe." 

You felt your heart pounding in your chest. What was he saying? "I...I can handle myself, Seb. I promise. I do it because it makes you happy." He looks down, and smiles. You so badly wanted to kiss him. "(Y/n), you make me happy." 

[twola]

Sorta got carried away with the prompt list…(I must be ovulating because DAMN the pregnancy prompts got me going)

But #161, 154,151,140,125- where the reader is preggo and miserable walking around camp so the gangs giving out ideas (sexy time) and Arthur’s like ;) then later on the reader is like ya know what get over here.

Do with it what you will.

You do the best with anything you type!

Xoxo

Oh - trust me, I am into this.

I'm also eight months pregnant myself so I am SUPER into this. Am I projecting something here? Perhaps…

Pain Relief

Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI, Pregnancy Sex, Breeding Kink

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

You are very over it at this point. Really. Very over it. It’s a struggle to get yourself out of the cot that you and Arthur share. 

The morning sun beats down on the worn canvas of your shared tent, and you know it's by some divine providence that Miss Grimshaw hasn’t summoned you to work yet. Or maybe it was Arthur snapping at her when he saw you struggling to carry a basket of laundry.

That must be it.

But a laze you are not - even now, when your swollen stomach makes any kind of movement difficult - when your sleep is nearly non-existent and the pains and swelling and overall discomfort are driving you crazy.

Pushing yourself up, you huff, annoyed that seven months ago you were chasing down bounty hunters on horseback and now getting up out of a cot makes you lose your breath. 

God, this was terrible. Finally getting around to standing up, you glance at yourself in the small mirror Arthur uses for shaving. Your chemise stretched taught over the swell of your belly. The dark circles under your eyes from lack of quality sleep. Sighing, you run your fingers through your long hair to tame it, or at least attempt to. After fighting with the fabric of your dress to cover your frame, you shove your feet into your boots and breathe out heavily as you sit back on the cot to tie the laces. God damn everything is a struggle with how swollen your belly is.

By the time you make it out of the tent, the midmorning sun beats down, and you shield your eyes for a moment before you feel a small tug on your skirts. You look down to see Jack give you a toothy grin, one small hand fisting the cotton of your skirt and the other clutching the most recent toy Charles had carved for him.

“Auntie, you’re so big! You look ready to pop." Jack pipes up excitedly.

You laugh as you hear a cluck of disapproval as Abigail follows in her son’s footsteps, “Jack - that’s very rude of ya - shouldn’t make comments about ladies like that.”

“It’s alright, Abigail,” You smile at her as she frowns down at the boy, “I do feel ready to pop.”

“Y’look like the baby’s dropped… ain’t long now.” Abigail’s eyes trail down to your belly as she shoos Jack off to play elsewhere.

“Too long in my opinion.” You roll your eyes and Abigail chuckles in return.

“Ladies!”

Susan Grimshaw’s voice cuts through the peace of the morning. Abigail’s gaze looks past you to where the sharp disappointment came from, and you frown as you hear footsteps stomp ever closer before the camp matriarch pushes into your view.

“There’s laundry to be done,” Susan eyes you up and down, “You can certainly sit and still do the washing. C’mon, get to it.”

She waves her hands at you dismissively, Abigail rolls her eyes and starts to head over toward where the other women have started doing the day’s wash.

You scowl at Grimshaw’s retreating figure, rubbing your aching lower back as you too make your way over to the edge of the camp, where the large tub is filled with soapy water and the pile of men’s shirts seems to be overflowing. You sigh tiredly, finding the stool 

Mary-Beth places her hand on your back slightly over your own, massaging gently as you sigh in a moment of temporary relief. 

"Try walking, I hear it helps. Tilly and I will cover for you for a few minutes.”

You thank her quietly and slowly make your way to the woodline of camp, taking a few minutes to walk back and forth before giving up and sitting down on the stool, letting out a long, labored breath as you wince in pain.

“Y’know….”

You open one of your eyes to see Karen across the tub, a mischievous look on her face. Cocking your eyebrow, you wait for her to continue.

Karen smirks, "You should try having sex."

Well - volume was never her strong suit. Across the camp, the men’s conversation falls silent as several pairs of eyes glance at you.

You flush from your hairline to your chest as you dunk a shirt into the tub, trying to ignore the stares you know you're getting as Karen merely chuckles.

“Aye, Arthur- sounds like you're needed elsewhere.” Javier chuckles and you're mortified.

You spare the quickest glance up in his direction, the man who got you into this mess in the first place. You can see Arthur’s smug grin from under the rim of his hat.

-

You silently scrub at the rest of the laundry load, handing shirts to Tilly for her to wring out and hang on the line.

“Don’t let her get to you, you know how Karen is. Tilly places a hand on your shoulder and squeezes gently to assure you before returning to the laundry. You sigh, taking another shirt and dunking it into the water.

A pair of boots land in your vision before a hand reaches down toward you. You look up to see Arthur ready to pull you up to stand, a gentle smile on his face.

“C’mon now sweetheart.” 

You sigh and take his hand, secretly grateful for the assistance to stand up. He steadies you before pulling your hand to his lips and pressing them to your knuckles.

“How’s about you lay down for a little.” He offers, holding his arm out to you as you wind your own around it, letting him walk you slowly to the tent, holding back the canvas for you to step inside. 

You let out a long breath, bracing your lower back with both hands for a moment before sighing. There was just no getting comfortable at this point.

“C’mere, let me help you.”

Arthur stoops down on one knee and loosens your bootlaces enough that he can pull them from your feet one by one. You let a breath out once both boots are off, unable to deny it felt good to get your swollen feet out of them.

“Better?” He looks up at you for a moment and you nod, your hand moving from his shoulder that you were balancing on to your lower back again, idly rubbing at near-constant ache that has settled there. 

Arthur stands up and places a kiss to your forehead before turning around and taking his hat off, placing it on the small table where he kept his shaving kit.

Karen’s suggestion echoes in your mind as you watch him run his fingers through his short hair absentmindedly.

You roll your palm over your distended abdomen, frowning.

“You don’t have to lie and tell me you want me.” Your voice cuts through the silence and Arthur swings around to look at you, puzzled.

“Darlin’, it ain’t a lie. It’s never a lie.” He responds softly, taking a step closer to you.

“Really? Lookin’ like this… it does something for you?”

Arthur blushes before looking down at his boots. “Well, I… uh... Yes?”

You quirk your eyebrow, placing your hands on your hips, “I’m a goddamn watermelon-”

“You’re pregnant-”

“Literally swollen up like a damn cow-”

“C’mon now darlin’-”

And damn, if you can’t hold back the tears from collecting on your eyelashes as you spin away from him.

His broad arms wrap around your swollen waist, pulling you back half a step and against his large frame. One hand spreads wide over your belly as you feel him press his lips to the top of your head.

“I… ain’t the woman you was chasin’ after anymore.” You admit with a cracking voice, the tears spilling down your cheeks as your hand falls upon his over your belly, “Who knows when I’ll be able to ride or shoot or do anythin’ like that again.”

His lips move from the top of your head down to your earlobe, where he nips gently. Arthur’s low voice rumbles in your ear, causing a delightful shiver down your spine.

“Whole world knows you’re mine -” He pulls you another half backward and you gasp as you feel the long, hard line of him against your rear, “Christ, you’re the most beautiful thing alive, all big with my child.”

“A-Arthur - ” You whine as one of his hands cups a swollen breast through your blouse.

“Have half a mind to keep you like this.” Arthur continues, his other hand moving downward to slide between your legs and the needy sound that escapes your throat is loud enough to make him shush you as he presses at your core through layers of cotton.

Your hands fly to grasp his forearm as he gently gropes at your breast, and you turn your head up toward his and he greedily pushes his lips upon your own, tongue pressing inside your mouth as you moan into his.

You have no idea how long it is you spend wrapped up in his arms - your hips pressing back into his, his hands groping at your breasts and cunt, your knees shaking as you pant into his mouth. 

Those damned hands of this, they keep you under his spell as somehow, he unlaces your skirts and they fall to the ground in a heap around your ankles. He spins you around in his embrace, and his lips fly to your neck as he opens the buttons of your blouse. You let him pull the sleeves down your arm, leaving you in just an old cotton chemise stretched tight over your belly. The seam of your bloomers, soaked, chafes delightfully against your cunt.

It’s only another moment before he’s shrugging your chemise down over your shoulders to free your breasts.

“What’s gonna be the best for you?” Arthur whispers into your ear, his warm, somewhat rough palm engulfing your breast, squeezing it gently.

Your head tips backward as you lean against him, a high and flighty moan bubbling up from your chest. “On- on my side-”

Your chemise flutters to the floor, along with your bloomers, his hands pushing the cotton down of your body.

“Go on, get in the cot and get comfortable.” Arthur nips at your ear again and gives a playful swat to your rear.

You nod, eyes falling from his face to his hands as he pulls his suspenders down his arms and begins unbuttoning his work shirt. You back up two steps to the cot, slowly sitting down upon it, your gaze refusing to leave him as he strips himself down.

With the speed of a man on a mission, he rids himself of his boots and the rest of his clothing and stalks the few steps to the cot.  You turn yourself over to lay in it, burdened by your stomach as you let out a long breath as you finally settle down on your side, facing the wagon that makes up the side of the tent.

Arthur slides into the small cot next to you, that warm, big hand finding its way to your belly as he situates himself behind you, pressing all six feet of his frame against you, his body hard, hot, and wanting.

“You tell me what feels good, darlin’.” He mouths against your neck as his hand retracts behind your hip to stroke his cock.

You moan lowly and press your hips back against him, you can feel his smile on your skin as he guides himself to your entrance. The blunt head of his cock presses into the rim of your cunt, and his hand moves to sling your thigh back over his, opening you to him more.

“Mm, that feels good.” Your voice strains as he slides himself deeper into you, a deep, satisfied rumble coming from his chest when his hips press fully against your rear, fully sheathed in your cunt.

His arm swings across your hips, pulling your thigh backward even more as he languidly rolls himself into you. His fingers find that small bundle of nerves as he nibbles on your earlobe.

You mewl aloud at the stimulation, panting as he continues to press himself into you. His low, rough voice whispers in your ear, vacillating from sweet nothings to filthy utterances. The slide of his cock into your cunt is the constant, grounding thing as his fingers that rub at your clit speed up and slow down.

“A-Arthur-” you pitifully whine, gasping as you huddle toward that precipice. He grunts into your ear as he slightly picks up the speed of his hips rolling into yours, still gentle. He pinches at that nub and you’re gone, your legs shaking and hips seizing as you meek through your release, your slick glossing his cock and dripping from your body, even with him filling you.

“Tha’s my girl…” Arthur slurs as his hand moves up to cup at your lower belly, “Christ, I ain't ever gonna be able to stop fillin’ you-”

His murmurs fade into a groan as he presses forward one final time, burying himself deeply in your warmth as he shudders his release into you.

You sigh in contentment at the feeling, warmth blooming from your joined hips. His lips touch the back of your neck as his large hand rubs gently at your hip as he catches his breath.

Arthur gently pulls out, you gasp slightly at the feelings of the loss of his flesh and the dripping of his warm spend from your body. He shushes you with a kiss over your jaw, rubbing circles over your swollen belly.

“Feelin’ any better?”

Your hand covers his over your belly as you lean back fully into his embrace.

“Much better.”

[muxshwriting]

the way i loved only you (pt. i)

Eloise Bridgerton x fem!reader

summary: you never thought you'd find someone again, let alone find that someone in a girl from a past you'd left behind || warnings: mentions of childbirth, death, abandonment || word count: 1379 || masterlist

REQUESTED BY @baylegend6

Your mother's screams cut through the air and through your bones. They wouldn't let you into the room, pushing everyone away despite the fact that you were nearly seven and ten. Lady Danbury rushed past you, a worried expression on her face.

"Lady Danbury, is Mama alright?"

She was solemn. "I don't know my child. She is strong and a fighter, I'm sure she will give birth to a brother for you."

Your mother did birth a son, but not for you. Your father couldn't have been happier and her screams faded into the excitement. You weaved through the corners of the room, unnoticed in favour of the new male heir. You creeped into your mother's room, trying to see if she was alright. Instead you saw maids carrying bloodied cloths and hiding tears. Mama was dead, killed by the child she loved unconditionally.

Choosing your future above your father's reputation and not wanting to meet your mother's fate, you packed the necessary clothes and pin money and took off into the night.

Three years later, a lot had changed. At seventeen, you'd met a boy who you'd thought loved you more than life itself. As young lovers do, the consequences of your actions didn't occur to you until they were hitting you in the face. You gave birth to a beautiful young girl alone named Abigail and afraid after your lover abandoned you in the middle of the night. You had held that babe with such tenderness, whispering sweet nothings and promising that you would never let her have the life that you did. You promised you would be there, that you would protect her and hold her close as long as you were able.

Now your baby had grown into the most mischievous toddler you'd ever met. She would try and trick you and her favourite person in the world whenever she could, Theo. Theo had been there since Abigail was born, helping you care for her when you were working. The two of you had met when you got a job working as a shop assistant at the same printing shop. There was no doubt that Abigail adored Theo, she would run to him whenever she could. And on one occasion, Theo wasn't alone.

"T'eo!" Your daughter cried, running towards the boy. As she toddled closer, Theo bent down to take her in his arms and her tenderly. He had always been the best with Abigail. You chase after her, taking Abigail from his arms and turning to the girl he was talking with. She seemed only slightly younger than you but was dressed like aristocracy. There was no dirt on the hem of her dress, no scuffs on her shoes.

"I'm terribly sorry about her." You say to the girl, lowering your gaze slightly to look her over. She was pretty, blessed with brown locks and the kindest eyes as she looked at your daughter.

"No problem." She replied.

"What brings you so far from Mayfair?"

"Mayfair?" The girl says slowly. "Am I that obvious?"

You smile at her. "I happen to be an expert in noticing those who don't fit it. However, you are particularly obvious Miss...?"

"Bridgerton. Eloise Bridgerton." A Bridgerton, in these streets of London. Perhaps pigs were about to fly.

"Well Miss Eloise, it is an honour to welcome you into our corner of the world. I'm Y/n, this is Abigail, my daughter."

"Your daughter?" Eloise seemed surprised. "You two are married?"

Theo, who had been watching this conversation burst out with laughter. "No!" He cried, then steadied his emotions. "I'm not Abigail's father, nor am I married to Y/N."

"We're friends. He's helped me greatly. As for Abigail's father, he uh- he isn't around."

Eloise stared. "You are not married?"

"No..."

"But you have a daughter?"

You roll your eyes slightly, tired of this conversation. "Yes, yes. I'm a sinner, having a child out of wedlock. My soul is damned, my virtue is ruined. Please, spare me the lecture."

"No!" Eloise tried to defend herself. "I just mean to say that I didn't know that unmarried women had children."

"Ah." You understand what she means, and she means no insult. "You'll find there are plenty things Mayfair doesn't teach you."

"You speak as though you know."

"Because I do." Abigail fidgets in your arms and you say your goodbyes to Theo and Eloise as you try and calm her before she starts screaming. "Sorry, I really must put her down for her nap otherwise I won't be able to work. I hope I see you again Miss Eloise."

As it happened, you did see her again. She would visit and ask for Theo in the beginning but then she would ask for you and Abigail. Eloise could easily spend an afternoon sitting at your desk and entertaining Abigail whilst you poured over the printer's accounts. More often than not, Eloise would bring ribbons and small toys far too expensive for you to afford, all so that Abigail could be happy.

You found yourself growing closer to the girl, craving her visits and unable to hide your smile when she did. Eloise shared your smiles and the secrets the two of you held for each other only grew. Until one day, Eloise simply vanished. She didn't come and visit, she left no note, no hint of where she had gone or why she didn't visit.

Theo managed to find a copy of Whistledown that slandered Eloise for daring to enter the poorer areas of London and talking with commoners. But Eloise had completely cut off you and Theo and Abigail with no warning and no apology. Perhaps you should be the one apologising to her; she was a young girl, perhaps you had pulled into a part of your world she wasn't meant to see.

You had made a decision to walk away from the upper class and aristocracy. You couldn't try and relive some of your childhood by burdening Eloise Bridgerton. For the sae of your future, and your daughters future, you had to forget that Eloise Bridgerton ever existed and ever entered your life. She would never be yours to have and hold and love. It was better to move on now, so that you didn't convince yourself that something might happen.

But something did happen. A letter arrived, hand delivered by a man not dissimilar to Eloise. He was dressed in a spotless suit, awkwardly looking around with a letter clutched in his hand.

"Can I help you sir?"

He suddenly turns to you and seems glad to see a person who doesn't want to steal from him. "Yes, I'm looking for Y/N Y/L/N?"

"You've found her."

The man straightened his jacket and offered you the letter. "My name is Benedict Bridgerton, I believe you knew my sister? She wished for you to have this."

"Eloise-" You were stunned for a second. "Eloise wrote me a letter?"

"She also wanted me to apologise for it taking so long."

You practically snatched the letter from his hands, tearing it open and reading the words she wrote for you.

Dearest Y/N,

Words can't express how sorry I am because I am eternally sorry. But I cannot come to the shop to see you and Abigail. I don't think I'll ever be able to see you again and that is my greatest disappointment. My eldest brother intends for me to spend my summer fixing my reputation and then likely intends to find me a husband next season or perhaps the season after that.

The truth is, I want to see you and knowing that I can't only makes me want it more. I hope you write to me throughout the year because I will answer. If you chose not to write, I will not harass you any longer and I'll leave and Abigail alone. I hope Abigail knows how much I care. I'm sorry for abandoning you and her. I imagine that you're upset and angry and I don't blame you one bit.

I don't want you to blame yourself for this, it isn't your fault and it never will be. I just hope you can forgive me for all this. If you'll have me, I'll be yours, forever.

Eloise Bridgerton

part two (now here!)

so... it's been three weeks since my last upload. but this took me a while. i hope you like it xx

[sunlightmurdock]

The Odyssey | 0.9 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

You arrive in Venice, and reach a breaking point of sorts.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, power imbalance (professor / student relationship), age gap (22 / 33), swearing, infidelity, explicit pictures, smut f receiving, 18+ minors dni, wc: 6.8k

…

His lips are on your neck. Kissing you slowly, his mouth spreading like fever along your throat and down your chest. He’s between your legs. Your thighs bracket his hips, his hands are trailing along your bare legs.

Each time he sucks softly at your throat, you make the same delicious little sound. Barely audible. Just for him. The sweetest little whine, so eager for more. Sweat beads along the valley between your collarbones, chased by the hot muscle of his tongue. It’s not a summer kind of heat.

It’s crackling from the living room still and the smell of wood burning fills his fourth floor apartment. It smells like November.

His shirt and shoes are on the floor and yours is unbuttoned, hanging off your shoulders. His thumbs trail along the joint where your hips meet your legs, then squeeze, pulling you tighter against him.

Your hands trail over his shoulders, skin against skin as your skirt bunches pliantly around your hips. Along the nape of his neck, brushing softly against the trimmed hair at the back of his head. Soft breaths, fanning against his bare throat.

His mouth reaches the space between your breasts and you keen into the feeling, stretching into his touch. Salt on your skin, sweetness from your perfume, the warmth of your mouth. It all feels so real.

But he knows it isn’t. You have never been here, in his bed — back in his home outside of Ithaca. His mind conjured the image without prompt, this perfect scene of you nestled into his sheets, half-dressed like this.

His fingers curl into the sides of your cotton underwear, his mouth sucks softly at the flesh of your breast and your fingers freeze against his skin. Then, they pull back and shove at his shoulders. Panicked, pushing at him like a trapped animal.

“Don’t. Bradley, don’t. Please don’t.”

Bradley wakes up cold in a way that doesn’t reflect the temperature. He packs the room silently, dodging Luke’s morning small talk. He’s the last down to the lobby, the fog in his brain this morning feels like it’s weighing him down.

He collects the room keys and completes the paperwork, then follows his class out to the bus where Pasquale is already helping them load their luggage once again. It’s a beautiful day out. It takes him a second to spot you.

Leaning in through the side door of the bus and wedging a bag under your seat. You’re bent at the waist and wearing white tailored shorts that hug your waist. He almost shivers at the scene his mind had conjured up.

“You okay, Bradley?” Abigail asks, reaching out and resting her fingers against his elbow. “You look kinda lost.”

“I’m fine. Thanks. Everyone hurry up, let’s hit the road already.”

Without a word, he walks past you and enters the passenger side. After your argument last time, you presume that you’ll sit in the back with everyone else again, and he doesn’t stop you.

It’s not a long drive but it takes him twenty minutes to finally glance up at the rear view mirror. You’re sitting behind him, staring out of the window with your headphones on your ears, nodding your head to the beat.

He turns his attention back to the road quickly. Before you have a chance to notice him. He’s dreamt of women before. He’s had dreams that felt real before. He hasn’t ever been left feeling like this before.

Every sexual encounter that Bradley has ever had, the lines have been very clear. It has always been an enthusiastic yes. Even when he lost his virginity on his seventeenth birthday in the back of his mother’s station wagon and Naomi had been out after curfew — she might have been terrified of her father finding out where she was, but she was all over Bradley.

Taking the lead hadn’t ever been a problem, his actions had always been very well received. Bradley isn’t a creep. He respects women, he likes deep conversations, he knows how to handle his emotions most of the time and he’s good in bed.

The dream plagues his mind. Visions of that terrified look in your eye. The sound of your pleading. He’s not sure what his subconscious was trying to teach him. He analyzes it like literature.

You were there. That part makes sense. Especially after yesterday. You’ve been thinking about your feelings for him, it makes sense that his feelings for you would be on his mind.

But you weren’t here. You were in his bed, in New York. You’ve never been there before. He would never let a student come over to his place. But location is the least of his worries.

Your blouse was white. He has seen you in it before, he just can’t place from where. It was unbuttoned all the way. Open down the middle and dangling off of your shoulders. You weren’t wearing a bra. Because he saw you in that nightdress last night, he’s sure. Images of your nipples perked and hard are easy to conjure with how often he has thought of them in the last twenty-four hours.

He hasn’t ever seen you naked, but the image in his head seems right — it had seemed so real. Living, breathing flesh, right there in front of him.

Next comes him reaching under your skirt, curling his fingers around the sides of your underwear. The panic in your voice, the way your body had turned rigid. Like you had been afraid that he just wouldn’t listen when you asked him to stop.

It’s all in his head. He’s sitting here, sweating over a situation that hasn’t even happened, and he’s still stuck on the most important aspect. Why.

It’s not because Bradley is afraid that he wouldn’t stop. There’s no risk of that. He wouldn’t dream of it, the idea makes him sick. Which means that it’s you. Something in him has him scared to death of seeing this situation play out again, and him not waking up this time.

Sex hasn’t ever been a big deal to him. Whether it happened or it didn’t. Where, or when. It didn’t ever matter much. But to you, it clearly does.

Regret. Realization hits him at once. His gaze flickers up to the rear view mirror once more. After reading the letter yesterday. After the evening in your room.

Sex is where this is leading. Kissing. Hanging out in your room alone. It’s where this will lead eventually, and you’re going to wind up regretting it. That’s what he’s afraid of.

He exhales deeply and rests his chin against his palm, turning his face toward the window. It’s selfish to want more. That doesn’t stop him from shifting in his seat, letting his hand slide slowly around the back of his seat.

You flinch as his fingers brush your knee, broken from your daydream. Glancing down, you watch him squeeze the apex of your calf muscle softly, brushing his thumb over your skin once, twice and then withdrawing his hand.

Turning your head, you look to the rear view mirror and find him already watching you. Your lips twitch, almost pulling into a smile. He shoots you a quick wink. Then, you look back out of the window with warm cheeks and a little smirk on your lips.

Finally, Bradley looks back to the notes that he had compiled from Verona, sitting on his lap, and exhales. He can focus.

Venice really isn’t that far. Before he knows it, Pasquale is pulling into a parking space and the doors of the minibus are open. Settling his papers back into their folder, Bradley reaches for the door handle and stops.

In front of him is the woman he spent five years loving. She’s crossing the street with her arm looped through a much older man’s. It takes Bradley a second longer to recognise him.

Andrea Mancini. He was Bradley’s landlord in Sorrento. He’s also a professor of Classics, and a pioneer in his field. Suddenly Natasha being here makes a lot more sense — she’s with the man who introduced them. Andrea always liked her.

She doesn’t notice him, her head thrown back in laughter as the two of them continue across the road and into a cafe.

Three days in Venice. He wonders to himself if, between you and Natasha, he’ll make it that long.

Still, everyone already thinks that something is going on with him after he wandered out to the car like a zombie this morning, he needs to get his shit together. He steps out of the car onto the sidewalk, stretching his neck as he looks around.

His eyes land on you, facing away from him with your film camera plucked from your bag and aimed towards the street ahead. His brows knit together slightly as he watches Abigail approach you. She taps gently on your shoulder and your head whips around to look at her.

“Did you want me to take your picture?”

Tugging his bag from the storage up onto his shoulder, he just watches as your eyes widen in surprise. His mouth twitches, but he doesn’t let himself smile as you dumbly hand her the camera and take a few cautious steps back.

Over Abigail’s shoulder, you catch Bradley watching you and your cheeks burn. A smile tugs at his lips, nodding for you to go ahead. You swallow, tilting your head and smiling at the lens like he isn’t there. You’re so sheepish under his gaze. Finally, he grins across at you, pushing a hand into the front pocket of his blue jeans.

Once the keys are handed out, Bradley gives all of his students free reign of the city — the itinerary doesn’t kick in until tomorrow, they’re free to do as they wish until dinner at eight. Given that Bradley has work to catch up on, you’re left to your own devices too.

On this particular day, the tides are low and the city smells like the ocean. Salty, sure, but not humid and sticky like the family trips down to Charleston you had taken as a child. Narrow alleyways that are smaller than your own wingspan. Bridges upon bridges. Tall, practically ancient buildings with long, arched windows.

You spend your afternoon wandering between cafes and buildings, street markets and cathedrals. It’s a beautiful place and you can already picture how Malcolm will react to your pictures here. It’s late afternoon and you’re between streets when you stumble across a boutique that you hadn’t yet crossed. The only thing that catches your eye is a flash of sleek, dark hair.

Turning your head, you notice Natasha standing at the cash register. Poised, her head is held high and her shoulders squared. She has a polite smile on her face. It’s then that you notice where she is — where you are. Standing outside of a boutique that specializes in bespoke Italian lingerie.

Narrowing your eyes, you watch as the cashier hands her a cute little designer bag with a bow at the top. But, you don’t have time to stare. You walk ahead, directed back to the hotel to change before dinner. Bradley is the first one at the restaurant, with Pasquale sitting at his side.

“Ah! — Natasha!” Pasquale waves, straightening up in his seat with a grin on his face. Bradley damn near gives himself whiplash turning his head. “I ran into her earlier, I invited her to eat with us?”

“You did what?” Bradley gawks.

There she is, standing in a form-fitting red dress, strutting towards him in black heels. Behind her, Bradley spots you standing in the doorway in a cute white geometric wrap dress, your mouth hanging open. Fuck. This entire thing feels like a game of chess. You sit directly opposite him, and Natasha’s sitting directly at your side. Every single move feels dangerous.

“So, Natasha, how do you and Bradley know each other?” Robin asks.

Bradley watches you roll your eyes and knock back a sip of wine. He joins you in your sentiment as Natasha nudges her elbow against his. Natasha’s smile is so effortless, so beautiful.

“We studied together. I introduced Bradley to Classics when he got out of the Navy.” She explains calmly.

“Bradley was in the Navy?” Abigail gasps from the end of the table.

“Yes! Here,” Natasha turns and grabs her bag, pulling it into her lap and starting to dig through it. She still hasn’t said a single word to Bradley directly yet, but the eyes that she’s making across the table at him tell him everything about how she’s expecting this to go. Oddly, Bradley doesn’t feel quite as self-destructive as he normally does when she’s around. She plucks a small photo wallet from her bag and opens it up. “Look.”

There he is. Watching through the grainy photograph is a twenty-year old Bradley. He’s leaning back against a plane, with a cigarette dangling from his lips and a smirk on his face that makes you that little bit more into him. He’s head to toe in his uniform. Younger, sure, with tidier hair, but he looks very much the same. Moustache, muscles, mean look on his face.

Natasha flashes a few pictures from the album, but you’re paying more attention than most. Bradley engages to a polite level, discussing their various study trips with the group as Natasha displays pictures of them. You narrow your eyes, chin propped up on your fist.

She’s careful with her little album. She will happily display any of the pictures in the wallet, but her pinkie finger is tabbed against a page near the back, keeping it from popping open. Hiding something. Lingerie. Photos of him when he was young. Secret pictures.

You’ve had enough.

It’s after you’ve eaten that Natasha is called to the bar by an old friend. Apparently she has a lot of those. You’re left alone, her purse sitting on the seat beside you, wide open.

You swallow softly, glancing up to check that she’s still standing over by the bar, then back at the Polaroid album in her bag. She stopped three pictures early. You’re reaching out before you have the common sense to stop.

The black leather cover folds back far too compliantly and once again you’re met with that grainy picture of Bradley in all green, short sleeves rolled up around his biceps, smiling at the camera around a thin cigarette.

Another quick glance towards the bar, you confirm that Natasha’s still over there. But you fail to check on Bradley. He’s frowning across the table at you, wondering what you’re staring at.

You’re busily flipping through the album. You can’t help the curiosity. You’d seen the magnetism between them up close back in Como.

All of a sudden, your suspicions are confirmed. You’re not looking at photos of historical sites anymore. Tucked away at the back, is first a picture of Natasha laying on her back amidst unmade sheets and pillows. She’s grinning at the camera through her dark eyelashes, wearing nothing but a black silk bra topped with white lace. Bracketing her ribs, are a man’s knees. You know wordlessly that Bradley’s the one behind the camera. Those are his thighs.

Your mouth feels dry, but you turn the page anyway. Bradley watches your eyes widen across the table. You stare at the picture of Natasha’s naked chest. She’s pushed up on her palms this time and her smile is gone, she’s staring right at the camera lens with a dark, sultry gaze. Her breasts are full and round and there’s not a single tan line on them. She still sunbathes topless now.

Bradley leans one elbow on the table and looks around him before drawing just slightly closer to see what’s got your attention. His eyes blow wide open in immediate recognition.

He remembers that exact day, and that brown Polaroid camera. It was a week and a half before Natasha left him.

But it’s too late, you’re already turning to the last page, and Bradley knows exactly what is going to be in that photo slot. He shoots a look over to Natasha at the bar, then back at you. Pasquale’s sitting right next to you. Bradley swings his foot under the table and kicks it into your calf.

You gasp sharply, and not because he just swung his size thirteen Converse tennis bland into your leg. The kick, though, does make you jump enough to drop the small photo album.

Bradley’s chair scrapes across the floor loudly as he ducks down to retrieve it from under the table. You follow him down, it’s closer to you.

Finally, he meets your gaze, under the table cloth in this busy restaurant, his cheeks swelling to a deep blushed red. Adam's apple bobs in his throat. You stare across at him. Lips parted, just blinking. He curls his fingers around the photo album and snatches it from the ground, sitting back upright in his seat.

Numbly, you follow his lead and withdraw from under the table. Not only is everyone now staring directly at you, but Bradley’s staring at something behind you. You flinch, squeezing your eyes shut as Natasha moves her purse from her seat and sits down once again.

Bradley shoves the photo album into his pocket.

“You okay, Bradley?” Zoey frowns at his side, glancing between him and you.

“Yeah. Fine.” He answers, clearing his throat and reaching out for his wine glass. You’re barely breathing, watching him gulp back Pinot Grigio like it’s water. Zoey’s attention then turns to you. You just exhale and turn your chin towards the ceiling.

There’s no way that you can bear to look at either Natasha or Bradley now. Or maybe ever again.

Bradley feels the photo album practically burning a hole in his pocket. Natasha shouldn’t have brought these photos. Truthfully, Bradley didn’t even think she still had them. And, of all of the people at this table, you’re probably the last person he would have wanted to see them.

The third picture was of Natasha sitting up in their shared bed, wearing a pair of black silk underwear. Her eyes hooded lustfully, her red lips wrapped around the tip of Bradley’s dick.

Bradley hits the bottom of his wine glass and sets it down on the table, exhaling deeply. Through his burning embarrassment, he feels eyes on him. It’s either you or Natasha and he doesn’t want to look at either one of you just yet.

It feels like it all takes far too long. Everyone’s just having a great time, and Natasha’s got plenty of interesting stories. She was always charismatic.

Bradley’s just staring at the artwork behind your head and wondering if she kept their video tape too. He swallows dryly at the thought. Finally, the bill is settled and the party begins to file out of the restaurant and onto the cobbled street.

The first inhale of cool air is cut short as Bradley feels an arm loop through his. Natasha presses herself against his side and looks up at him, opening her mouth to speak. Bradley isn’t looking at her. He’s watching you watch her.

Swiftly, you press your lips together and turn on your heel to head back to the hotel.

“We should catch a show or something while we’re here.” Natasha says to the group. Bradley threads his arms out of her grasp as she’s met with a round of agreement from his student.

“Let me check that she gets home okay. I’ll meet you at the theatre.”

“We haven’t decided which show we’re seeing.”

“I’ll figure it out.” Bradley’s already waving her off and heading down the dark street after you. The sound of your heels on the cobble gives you away, he’s able to catch up to you quickly.

“Slow down, stop,” Bradley’s fingers curl around your shoulder gently, trying to guide you to a stop. You shrug out of his touch, eyes focused ahead, without faltering in your pace. “Honey — talk to me, look at me.”

Embarrassment surges through you. Thinking of Bradley tonight. Natasha, alone in her expensive penthouse suite. Natasha’s husband must not know why she’s here. She wouldn’t be staying in such luxury if he did. She wouldn’t be if he saw those pictures.

You can picture it now. Thick, heavy curtains and exceptionally soft, white sheets. Your mouth tugs into a small frown at the thought of the king-sized bed in that room.

Bradley’s following behind you still, trying to get your attention, tugging gently at your arm and begging you to stop and talk to him. You’re paying no attention. You just can’t stop thinking about the two of them together.

Bradley’s heavy hand gripping the headboard, his broad shoulders squared in front of it and Natasha under him. Wearing lingerie that her husband paid for, her hands in Bradley’s hair and her deep lipstick smeared on the thick column of his throat.

You’re being ridiculous. He wouldn’t have sex with her tonight. Not when… — fuck, that thought is even more ridiculous than the first. Of course he would. He has before, many times, and there’s no way you would be the one thing to stop him.

Unless. The thought strikes you like lightning, and it seems to be the lightning itself that makes you spring into action. You turn and catch the back of his neck, tugging him down into a stony kiss.

“Don’t sleep with her tonight.” You breathe against his mouth, pressing your chest into his, kissing him again. Bradley’s brows draw together as his hands find your waist. “I’ll do it. I’ll — I’ll let you have sex with me, just don’t go to her.”

“What?” Bradley gawks, his hands holding your hips tight as his eyes search over your face.

You chase his mouth, fingers trailing over the hair at the nape of his neck. “Please.”

He turns his head, feeling you kiss softly at his cheek in an attempt to gain his attention again. He sighs, dropping his hand from your waist and linking his fingers through yours. “Come with me.”

It’s a short walk, through dark streets. He would have never let you walk this distance by yourself. It’s not cold tonight. It’s warm enough outside that you wouldn’t need a jacket. And yet, Bradley can feel your hand trembling against his.

Swallowing dryly, your heartbeat is in your ears as Bradley leads you through the hotel lobby and silently into the elevator. He hits the third floor and it illuminates. You press your lips together, staring at the dark wood on the inside of the doors.

Neither one of you says a thing. You glance briefly down at the way his hand eclipses yours. The way he’s holding on to you. Your heartbeat rattles on, slow now but heavy. Just like your breathing.

The doors open with a ding and Bradley doesn’t hesitate in walking out, his grip on your hand taking you along with him. Trembling from head to toe, you follow him to your hotel room. He turns and stares at you expectantly outside of the door, dropping your hand.

You fumble around in your bag for the key and produce it, handing it silently over to him. Bradley presses it into the lock, twists and then pushes the door open.

“Go ahead.” He tells you.

You glance up at him, finding his face calm and collected. Pressing your teeth into the inside of your bottom lip you step around him and into the hotel room.

It’s cold, and empty. You had left the window open before you had left the room for dinner. Bradley closes the door behind you as you flick the lamp beside the bed on.

“So… how do you want—“

“Stop talking.” Bradley tells you, standing with his back pressed to the door. He inhales deeply and then exhales. Your eyes widen as he pushes away from it and starts towards you. He steps past and sits down on the edge of the bed. “Sit down, and listen to me.”

You stare at him. He shoots a look towards his parted thighs and then back at you, lifting his eyebrows expectantly. You drop your shoulder bag to the floor and let him guide you down against his thigh.

He lifts his hand and brushes your hair back off of your face, searching your features for some kind of clarity. He’s feeling out of sorts himself, after the polarity of his day. Waking up with you begging him not to, sitting now with you telling him that he can — but he knows you don’t mean it. You’re terrified that he won’t see right through you.

“I’m sorry that you saw those photos,” Bradley tells you calmly. He leans forwards and presses his lips to your cheek as his palms snake around your middle. He squeezes softly at your waist, resting his chin against your shoulder. “I didn’t know she still had them.”

“I don’t want to talk about Natasha.” You tell him, pulling back to look him in the eye. Your lip trembles as you trail your fingertips along his jaw.

“I told you to listen.” Bradley shakes his head. “I like you. You know that?”

“Stop.” You sigh, dropping your head in shame.

Bradley leans in close and kisses you softly, pulling back to rest his forehead against yours. “I like you. For a dozen reasons that have nothing to do with whether or not I want to sleep with you. Alright?”

“Bradley. I’m not a little kid, you don’t have to talk to me like I am.” You huff.

Illuminated solely by the soft warm light of the lamp, the irritation that flashes briefly across Bradley’s face is softer tonight than it is in direct sunlight. He opens his mouth like he’s going to argue with you and then closes it again to think on it more.

“I’m not going to fuck you because you’re freaking out over some pictures from like eight years ago. That’s not—“ You scrunch your nose at his choice of words. Bradley shakes his head at you. The second that he leaves this place, he’s Natasha’s.

“I want to.” You rush out, resting both hands against his shoulders.

His mouth twitches as he shakes his head again. When he closes his eyes, you’re back in his apartment in Ithaca. Begging him to stop. He pinches your hips gently. “Honey, no you don’t.”

Your face falls, embarrassment and anger swirling through you as Bradley holds you against him. “What does Natasha have that I don’t?”

“What?”

“That makes you want to have sex with her and not me.”

“Fuck me.” Bradley sighs, letting his head fall forwards to rest against your collarbone. He smiles against the skin of your throat. “That’s not — honey… come on. That’s not true.”

“This isn’t funny.” You remind him, scowling seriously.

“I want you.” He promises, nodding slowly. His palms flex around your soft middle once again, his eyes lowered to study the cute purple, white and yellow geometric wrap dress you’re wearing. “But sex is a big deal to you, and I’m just trying—“

“It’s not.” You tell him. “It’s fine.”

“Fine — can you stop?” Bradley sighs, lifting his head finally to frown at you. “Stop guessing at what I want. I’m not going to sleep with Natasha. I’ll stay here with you all night if that’s what you want.”

Silence falls between the two of you. All that rigidity in your trembling body seems to just melt away. Bradley closes his eyes as you lurch forwards and wrap your arms around his shoulders.

He rubs heavy circles along your back, turning his face into the crook of your neck.

“Sorry.” You mumble into the fabric of his shirt. Bradley huffs out a dry chuckle, shaking his head at you. You press your lips to his neck, kissing his pulse point as another, silent apology. Bradley’s hand trails up the length of your spine, into your hair. Another soft kiss, your mouth pressing softly to the warm skin of his neck.

The first two could have been passed off as innocent enough. It’s the third that isn’t. You cup the other side of his neck and press your chest into his, kissing him a third time. This time, you suck tenderly at his throat as you pull away.

Bradley trails his thumb along the nape of your neck, eyes closed as you press against him once again. This kiss is open-mouthed. Your tongue is warm, and wet against his neck, trailing the skin before your lips close around the spot.

“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” He chuckles without opening his eyes, curling his fingers loosely into your hair. He feels your mouth twist into a sheepish smile against his collar. You kiss once more, nothing more than a gentle peck against his pulse point.

“Bradley…” Your palm spans across his chest, stretching up onto the broad plain of his shoulder.

“Hm?” He breathes.

“Can we… Can I… Could I touch you?”

His brows knit together. With you purring in his ear, kissing his neck, sitting there against his thigh, it’s all too tempting to just answer with the first thought that springs to his mind. He’s smarter than that.

“That’s not a good idea.” He decides with a soft shake of his head. You hum in quiet, dejected agreement. Bradley drops his hand to rest against your knee. He promised to stay in here with you all night, and he’s got no clue how he’s going to get through it without making this a thousand times more complicated.

He toys with the hem of your dress under his index and thumb. It’s cute, and summery. He imagines that girls your age probably find it pretty on trend. It’s modest enough, resting an inch or two above your knee.

Bradley looks up and finds you watching him. Studying his face with a pressed look on your face. Your eyes drop down to his hand toying with the hem of your dress, then back up to his face. He watches as you chew awkwardly at the skin of your lip. It’s on the tip of your tongue, you just don’t know how to say it. You’ve been taught that it’s not your turn.

His hand dips swiftly under the hem and curls around the meat of your thigh, just inches from the platonic safety of your knee.

“Are you wet thinking about all this, honey?” Bradley whispers. Your eyes widen slightly and you swear that he hears the thudding of your heart with the way he squeezes tighter at your thigh. Fuck, he shouldn’t have said that. The way your breathing quickens has his mouth going dry. “Can I feel?”

Blinking, it takes a second for your brain to catch up. You nod at him, shuffle your knees apart. Bradley’s slow, his eyes on yours as his fingers slide along the soft skin of your inner thigh. Inch by inch, his eyes steady on yours. The crook of his knuckle is the first thing that touches you, brushing gently against the cotton gusset of your underwear.

“You’re sure?” Bradley asks. Once again, you nod at him. He hooks a finger into the fabric and nudges it slowly to the side. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt. His fingertip trails your labia first, then gently dips between your folds. His brows knit together. “Fuck...”

Your eyebrows raise, watching him silently.

Bradley should stop and retreat to the far side of the bed, but he doesn’t. This was already a step too far. Kissing you was a step too far. He doesn’t care.

His finger trails through your excitement cautiously, his eyes studied on the way you’re nipping at your bottom lip. The pad of his fingertip reaches the slight bump of your clitoris and your thighs press together around his hand.

“You want me to stop, baby?”

Suddenly, your mouth doesn’t feel dry at all anymore. Even with the window still wide open, the chill has dissipated around you. Now, it’s just hot. Hot on the nape of your neck and across your chest, and between your legs.

“I don’t know.”

“You just tell me if you do, alright?” Bradley tells you, stroking a hand over your hair, pressing a delicate kiss to your temple. You nod slowly, your lips parting as he presses the pad of his thumb over where his index finger had been just a second ago. His touch is featherlight as he swipes a slow circle around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

You’re suddenly very aware of how still you are. Maybe you should be touching him. Or kissing him. Or moving at all. Or just breathing. You inhale deeply beside him and your head rush starts to fade.

His free hand pulls at your waist, shifting the way you’re resting against his thigh as he rubs softly at your clit with the other.

“Oh.” You gasp through your teeth, squirming away from his touch, your growing excitement soaking his fingertips already. “That’s — is it meant to feel like that?”

“Like what?”

“That’s… a lot… is all.” You tell him sheepishly. Bradley nods his head along with you, withdrawing his hand from your underwear. “Wait, I didn’t mean to stop.”

His mouth twitches into a boyish grin as he grips your hips and turns, planting you on your ass on the bed. “I’m not stopping. Not ‘til you tell me to. Just close your eyes.”

You lean back on your palms and close your eyes, feeling him leave the bed. Bradley settles onto his knees, guiding your legs slowly apart. You feel him lift the hem of your dress and set it around your middle. His gaze settles on your plain white, cotton underwear briefly, before flickering back up to your face.

Just as quickly as they had closed, your eyes shoot wide open again and you sit bolt upright. Bradley’s mouth pulls off of your thigh and he smiles, already bracing for what’s coming.

“What are you doing?”

“Sit still,” He muses, kissing your skin softly once more. His mouth is practically watering as he curls his hands around your thighs and tugs you to the edge of the bed. “I just want to see something.”

He watches you frown uncertainly at him, gnawing at your lip so hard that it’ll be sore tomorrow. Bradley hasn’t been with a girl who was a virgin since he lost his own virginity. He swallows, reminding himself to be slow. Really, he wants to tear those cute cotton panties down your legs with his teeth.

Instead, he gently holds on to your ankle and kisses the inside of your knee. You watch him intently. Lips quirking, Bradley drags his lips from your knee to the apex of your thighs, kissing lazily at your warmed skin. The hairs above his lip tickle your thighs and make you fidget under him, hips stuttering into the air.

Both of his large paws come up to pin your hips into the mattress, drawing a shocked gasp from your mouth. His touch softens, loosening his grip slightly. You catch sight of the soft smirk on his lips as he glances up at you.

Helpless, you fist your hands into the bedsheets as he lays soft, tongue-fuelled kisses against your inner thighs. Once again, as the tip of his nose grinds into your clothed pussy, you gasp through your teeth again. He smiles against the fabric, pressing a soft kiss to your pubic bone over the cotton.

“How are you feeling, honey?” Bradley asks, stroking his thumbs in slow circles over your clothed hips.

“Um… okay. This is fine.” You tell the ceiling, uncurling your hands from the sheets in case he can see the way your knuckles were straining.

“You want me to leave your underwear on or take it off?” Bradley asks, pressing another hungry kiss to the top of your clothed core. Your brows draw together slightly, frowning at the ceiling fan.

“Will it still work if you don’t?”

Work. He almost snorts at your choice of words, but now isn’t the time to be laughing at you. “Yeah.”

Proving it will probably work best. He leans forwards, his broad shoulders pushing your thighs further apart. Slowly, like he’s trying not to spook you, Bradley presses his mouth to your body, closes his lips together and sucks your clit through the fabric.

Helpless once again, your body betrays you by jolting against him, seeking something more than he’s giving you. Bradley smiles, flexing his hands around your hips.

There’s a brief moment of quiet. “You can take them off.”

He gives you a moment to decide if you’re certain. Slow, he flattens his tongue and licks a stripe down your clothed folds. Spit-soaked, your white panties stick to your glistening core.

“I want you to.”

Bradley’s meaty hands leave your hips for a moment, trusting you to behave for him. They slide up to the softness of your stomach, squeezing at your skin, tugging you closer against him. Like he just can’t have you any closer. Watching you through hooded eyes, Bradley presses an experimental kiss to your still clothed lips, his own eyes closing as the first taste of you permeates that soaked cotton and dances on his tongue.

“You tell me if you want me to stop. I’ll stop. Alright?” Bradley breathes out, lids heavy with lust as he curls his fingers into the sides of your underwear.

“Don’t. Don’t stop.” You rush out, a little bit too quickly. Bradley swallows as you lift your hips for him to undress you. He rolls the cotton under his fingers, gliding the flimsy garment down your legs. He’s practically salivating, reminding himself to be gentle.

He can be gentle — but he’s done waiting. Another seething gasp pulls through your teeth as Bradley dives forwards, pinning your hips, pressing his lips to your soaked pussy. He licks a slow stripe, purely for his own pleasure, groaning softly as your taste coats his tongue.

The wet muscle of his tongue swirls your entrance, teasing you by nudging the tip just a fraction into you. Heart thundering in your chest and through your ears like a train chugging along a track, steaming towards danger. Instinctively, your thighs aim for each other and clasp around his ears.

Bradley chuckles against you, grabbing at the backs of your thighs and pushing them back against your middle.

He groans, licking deeper. His dick is hard, pressing uncomfortably against his zipper to the point that it’s distracting. He fumbles with his buckle, one handed while his other hand presses your stomach down into the bed.

Even one handed, he has your eyes rolling back into your head and your body trembling with every languid stroke of his talented tongue.

His free hand dips into his jeans, boxers and wraps loosely around his cock. All the while, he’s sucking and kissing at the most sensitive parts of your body like it’s a personal hobby. His tongue trails in every which direction — there seems to be a pattern to it, but you can’t place it. Your head is spinning too fast for any of that.

He slows, groaning eagerly. You’re soaking his mouth, his mustache and his chin. You’re gripping the bedsheets like you’re about to rip a hole in them.

“Bradley, wait, wait wait!” You shriek. Withering under Bradley’s heavy hands, shaking and digging your heels into the mattress.

He relents and you almost curse at him for it. Bradley nips at your thigh, replacing his mouth with his thumb. “Do you actually want me to stop?”

“I don’t know.” You pant out, whimpering.

“Let me make you cum, honey, you’re gonna be just fine.” Bradley’s breath fans out against your sensitive core and makes you jump.

“Yeah. Okay. Yeah. Yeah.” You babble, squeezing your eyes tightly shut, reaching instinctively for his hair. Bradley abandons his own need and grabs your hips with both hands, burying his face between your legs again.

His mouth works feverishly, tightening that coil in your stomach until you’re seeing stars behind your eyelids. Usually, Bradley likes to let his partners ride through their orgasm on his face. Today, he relents. You’ve been brave enough for one day.

“What the hell was that?” You pant out as Bradley kneels on the bed, moving your dress back down to cover you. Wiping off his jaw with his palm, Bradley leans forwards and kisses your forehead.

“That, honey, was your first orgasm.” He should feel so ashamed of himself for breaking his number one rule, making this mistake with a student. But, for you, he would do it a dozen times over.

Blinking, you look down between your body and his. His jeans are unbuckled, unzipped and the tent in his jeans is pressing against your belly button.

“Should I…?”

“No. No, it’ll go away.” Bradley tells you, pressing forwards and kissing your forehead once more. Your eyes flicker again.

“Could… could I see it?”

…

Tags: @thedroneranger @batdanceq @cassiemitchell @himbos-on-ice @wkndwlff @bradshawsbaby @damrlova @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @sihtricswife @callsignvenus @callsign-joyride @harper1666 @krismdavis @sheisanangell @thecitysgraveyard @sugarcoated-lame @kmc1989 @cherrycola27

[abbys-wifey]

5 days

pairing: abby anderson x female reader

warnings: my first fic in a little while so…

“It’s not funny Abigail.” My eyes harden, gazing at the woman who holds my heart… and who laughs through her nose as she sits before me, trapping me between her thighs at the edge of our bed. Furrowing my brows in protest does nothing, Abby’s face is still plastered with an amused grin. I glare harder at my girlfriend who scoffs, fingers running up my legs and landing on the backs of my thighs, squeezing gently.

“You’re being dramatic.” She singsongs wiggling her eyebrows just to irritate me. Rolling my eyes I look away, the floor becoming more interesting than Abby’s face.“It’s just a patrol that’s longer than usual because there’s gonna be a storm. I swear I’ll be fine mkay?” Fingers brush against my cheek, capturing my chin and forcing my face back in her direction.

Her cheeky grin had disappeared, instead her eyebrows furrowed not unlike my own. Her now serious persona and soft touch bursts the dam I had been holding back for so long now. “Yeah well what if something happens to you? Like the storm is too noisy and you don’t hear the infected in the building you stay at? And then you get infected and I have to live the rest of my life alone because you were stupid.” Tears well up in my eyes as the scenario plays out in my brain. Abby’s blood splattered against walls, her cries echoing-

“I’m not the best soldier at this camp for nothing ok? Have a little faith in me hmm?” Her soft spoken response interrupts my train of thought. Clenching my jaw I watch as a hint of a smile protrudes from her lips, her large hands tapping at the backs of my thighs. “It’ll only be like 5 days. You’ll live without me for that long won’t you?” She scrunches her nose up almost mocking me. I can’t help but smile sadly.

“I’ll miss you.” I whisper moving my hands across her broad shoulders and down her biceps enjoying the feeling of her muscles contracting beneath my palms. Abby smiles at my reply. Leaning down, I capture her lips in a kiss, my hands crawling up her shoulders and neck to rest on the sides of her face. A few tears fall down my cheeks as I pull away from her resting my forehead on her own.

“You’re such a baby.” Abby whispers lightheartedly, using her thumb to wipe away the stray tears on my face. “Shut up.” I half chuckle half sob, burying my face in her neck. She shifts slightly, her hand coming up to rest on my back before ruining the moment. “I have to go soon babe.” Abby sighs.

I ignore her. If I just keep holding her she can’t leave.

How wrong I was.

She left 4 days ago and I had been a nervous wreck ever since.

“Leah please.” I beg standing before my friend with my hands clasped together. “Just tell me what you know.” I groan changing my tactic and grabbing her shoulders instead, shaking them just enough to rattle her brain.

“I’ve already told you everything I know.” She replies in the same whiny tone I used, slapping my hands off her shoulders and crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m in the same boat dumbass, Jordans out there with her and Manny.” She rolls her eyes with a hint of a smile. I groan again and sit back on the chair in the stadium field. “They’ll be back soon, hopefully tonight.” She adds picking up a ball and throwing it for Bear, her favourite dog, to chase.

A few more hours pass and still no word from Abby and the rest of the patrol unit. Sitting in the cafeteria, I simply poke half heartedly at the green beans on my plate, wishing Abby was here to eat them for me like she always did when I hear the yells of the soldiers outside, signalling a truck coming through the gates.

Jumping up, I discard my tray and rush towards the arena praying that a certain blonde haired woman would meet me there.

Barging through the arena doors my heart skips a beat at seeing Abby hop off the back of the truck, seemingly in ok form.

Rushing past Jordan whose eyes are glued to Leah, and Manny who holds out his arms for a hug about four different women, I launch into my girlfriend who stumbles backwards slightly as she catches my full body weight in her muscular arms. Before she can even open her mouth to speak I press my lips to hers in a bruising kiss that leaves no room for breathing.

I only pull away to get some air back before my lips are on hers again and again and again. Somewhere between the 7th and 10th kiss Abby begins to chuckle trying to pry my face off of hers with little success as I chase her lips again and again and again.

“Baby.” She manages to say causing me to stop my current activities and smile adoringly at her. “I’m expecting that kind of welcome home after every patrol now.” Abby’s blue eyes crinkle at the sides as her nose scrunches with her smile. I shake my head at her. “No, because I forbid you from ever doing that again.” I scoff running my hands up and down her arms. “That was hard.” I add causing Abby’s eyebrows to raise as she puts me down. “Oh I’m sorry, did you fight hordes of infected and a few handfuls of Scars?” She teases poking my chest with a smirk.

Rolling my eyes I glance back at the small crowd gathered to see the units return, my cheeks flushing at the thought of them witnessing my previous acts.

“Let’s go to our room.” I tug at Abby’s hand as she grabs her belongings out the car. “You smell like shit.” I tease. In a flash Abby’s arms wrap around my waist as she lifts me off the floor causing me to let out a squeak, her face nuzzling itself into my neck. “And now you smell like shit too.” Her voice is muffled by my skin.

“Guess we are gonna have to shower together.”

[jungle-angel]

The One Where The Boys Think They're In Star Wars (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Summary: You and Rhett love your little boys, especially when they let their imaginations run wild

Warnings: Parenthood, mentions of pregnancy etc.

Tagging: @floydsmuse @withahappyrefrain @bradleybeachbabe @sorchathered @bradshawsbaby @sebsxphia @attapullman @callmemana @kmc1989

"Alright get'em on in there!" Royal ordered.

Rhett, Rip, Kayce and the others herded the cattle through the chute, loading them up onto the trucks in the hopes that the auction would be better than last years. None of them were looking forward to the two hour drive from Bozeman to Billings, let alone the auction itself.

"Lookin good Dad," Rhett said, dismounting from his horse.

"You get'em all?" Royal asked him.

"Yep," Rhett answered. "Looks like it's gonna be a better year than last year. Hopefully we can get some more milkers."

"We'll see son, Abigail's already a handful and so aren't the calves," Royal chuckled.

When all was said and done, the men hung around the fence while the hands retreated back to the bunkhouses until lunch. As they talked Rhett could hear giggling coming from the kids along with strange noises. He turned around to find them all wearing their Halloween costumes from that year and play fighting with sticks.

"I find your lack of faith disturbing young Skywalker!" Tatum chirped.

"You'll never take me alive Vader!!!" Tanner shrieked before chasing his brother with a stick.

"Oh my God," Rhett laughed under his breath.

"Are they.....?" Rip asked him.

Almost all of them pulled out their phones and began filming the kids and their shenanigans. For them, it was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

"Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope!" Evie Wheeler cried out, pretending to be dramatic.

"Hey I'm Luke Skywalker, I'm here to rescue you!" Tanner exclaimed as he ran up to her.

"No Han Solo needs to come and rescue me!" Evie told him.

Jake Dutton and Colt Tillerson came running out of the bushes, one in his Han Solo costume and the other pretending to be Chewbacca while Amy, Tate and Rosie Hawk ran at them from behind a tree.

"Ya'll remember doin stupid shit like that?" Rhett laughed.

"Oh my God, we had more fun doin that than most kids we knew," Billy answered.

They could've watched the kids and their stupid antics for hours, completely forgetting that the date was May 4th. Later that day when Rhett came home, he showed you the videos, the two of you sharing a long, good laugh on the matter and never forgetting the priceless memories your children were already making.

[canaidliafail]

what she brings out of me

sadie adler x f!reader

4.5 k words MDI

old piece that isn’t proof read but I wanted to post it. Sort of canon compliant for 1/7 of the story so read at your own risk + bad english ahead. enjoy

hunting with Hosea was a chore more often than not but the man raised you to be the hunter that you are now and you were willing to tolerate the withered old man. He had his fun but he couldn’t do the miles he did before and his aim left much to be desired. But he kept you company and gave you maps for all the legendary animals he wanted to see and you, to catch.

That winter while you sought out shelter and a temporary camp while leaving blackwater,he was more prickly than usual.He insisted you stay in and help Pearston skin and cook the animals and man were you a shitty cook.

Pearston decided he would let you sneak out to hunt being the greedy drunk fool that he was so long as you brought something other than vegetables for the crew to eat.

You had barely managed to mount your horse when Arthur came back with Dutch and the rest with a new guest. a woman, frightened like a rabbit, shaking from the cold and the grief judging from her tear stained cheeks

the crowd came in with questions and she shrunk in herself stepping behind Dutch. You hitched your horse back and half ran your way to them

“This is Ms. Adler. Abigail help her out, she's had a rough night” he said and Abigail approached the woman who seemed reluctant to move from her spot as everyone discussed what took place. fed up with the situation you pushed the others away clearing a path for her and stopped beside Abigail

“Christ people give her some air can't you see she’s frightened?” You commanded and they lowered their heads, hats covering their eyes.

The three of you made your way back into the cabin and left it up to Abigail to talk to the woman.

Men widowed her that night and took everything else with them, money,silver, dignity….

the night was grim and you could hear her weep quietly, mourning her lost husband till daylight hit and she passed out from exhaustion. You woke up first and made coffee and left one by her bunk bed with a note

You probably won’t have much appetite but try to consume some liquids at least

Throughout your whole stay there you never conversed any further than a tip of the hat when you entered the cabin at night and a soft sigh when you replaced her untouched plate and cup in the morning.

You felt for her despite not knowing what it meant to lose a husband. You didn’t know what it meant to even have a husband in the first place

But your heart still ached to see such a lovely woman stripped of all joy and light

•••

“a 1000 pound bear and you thought we could take her out with our piss poor rifles?!” You asked bewildered and glanced at Arthur who had much more patience than you that day, which said a lot. Hosea passed him the map with a hand over his heart still scared and in shock how quickly he came face to face with death

“Ill head back…You two gonna chase after that thing are are you coming with?”

“coming with. Arthur its all yours” You said and mounted your house and he did the same

“Had enough entertainment for now. Let’s head back” He agreed and you all three started the two day journey back talking about everything and how everyone was settling in

“By the way, Karen has been asking for you again”

“hm?” you looked up at Arthur. Of course she was. you leave for a few days and she is looking for you again to let out some steam. You stay at camp and she won’t bat an eye your way. You took little offense however simply enjoying that you had someone to have your fun with when no one was looking

“Ill go by her tent later…” you mumbled

“Speaking of can you keep some company to Ms. Adler as well? You two have a spunky spirit and might lift her up a bit”

Sadie Adler had continued her daily routine of wandering off to the far end of the camp sitting on the rocks and crying. You caught her talking to Abigail more than anyone else and despite wanting to get close to the woman you had no idea how to approach her

“Ill…see what I can do”

you agreed and continued silently too tired to indulge in small talk

you arrived at the hideout the next evening. Arthur took off shortly to go back to blackwater for a lead on some members that stayed behind

You bathed in the dreadfully cold river and made it back to your tent combing your hair into two braids, putting on a clean pair of jeans with a shirt to go out and see if there was any coffee or herbs to make tea.

Your caught Sadie with the corner of your eye sitting by the rocks looking off into the distance and decided to give it your best shot. At this point you were the only woman who had not talked to her and it felt rude

you grabbed two chapped mugs and poured whatever hot liquid was available and made your way to her

“Evening Ms. Adler” she looked up at you

“Good evening”

“Mind if I keep you some company?” you said pushing the warm cup in her direction which she took without protest and schooched to the side giving you space. You sat next to her and looked at the dim light from the sparse fire pits enjoying the cracking of wood and soft unison of voices talking in the background

“Listen Im sure everyone had asked how you are doing so I won’t try to remind you of that but, I hope you are finding your stay with us of some comfort”

you said and dared a fearful look at her admiring her untamed blonde hair and freckled nose. A second longer and you may have found yourself in love with a widow so you turned your sights back on the coals and fire in the distance

“As much as I'd rather be left alone, its nice to have some company” she confessed and you nod, waiting to see if she had anything else to say. With a shaky voice she continued

“I just wish my Jacky was here with me. He was a good man you know, better than anyone out there”

your lips thinned almost feeling her anger. Karen passed in front of you in the distance quirking a brow indicating she would be waiting for you tonight

“I just wish it was me in his place. I feel so lost”

you brought your attention back to her and slowly pressed a hand against her back gently moving it in circles. she leaned into your touch and you felt her breath stutter

“I wish I could take my own life…but i’m not brave enough to do even that” you matched your breathing with her own pulling her closer silently trying to calm her down the minute you felt her shoulders shake

“To be brave is to keep on going. To keep on living” you quietly offered your thoughts and she shook her head tears falling again

“I don’t know…”

you kept caressing her back

“Keep on living Adler. Show those fuckers what you’re made of”

You said boldly and she turned to look at you surprised. she seemed to consider your words and then your face. maybe both. You knew you weren’t good at this but you were satisfied to see the tears stop and her features soften

You smiled and hesitantly tucked a lose strand of hair behind her ear and then stood up

“We are here for you. Take your time to grieve the man. He is worth it” she nod and took in a deep breath looking into the distance, taking a sip from her tea “Thank you for listening” your shrugged “least I can do for a pretty lady. Should you ever seek company my tent is open” you said and saw a soft smile graced her lips for the first time before she turned away. Remorse hit you quick and hard realizing you accidentally just made a pass at her and felt shame drown you.

with a tip of your hat you excused yourself.

You feared you had messed up, spoke too soon and maybe with too much ignorance. You prayed she’d brush your words off. Its not like anyone even considered that a woman could flirt with a woman.

You sought out Karen and her willing touch that night. You forgot yourself in the pleasure of her spread legs and let her soft gasps fill your mind.

However the next day you were surprised to see Sadie with her hair braided and her shirt tucked in neatly with a lovely brown straw hat shielding her face from the sun. she went to pour coffee and caught you staring and for the first time greeted you first with a smile

•••

Days turned into weeks and Sadies curt greetings turned to small talk that turned into long conversation and eventually she took interest in your role with the gang asking of your trips

“a huntress?”

you felt pride in your chest. sure women weren’t expected to do much but you loved that you challenged that standard from a young age

“I feel I am of more use with a bow in the wild than with pins and needles”

“What's up with you managing to have every woman all over you?” Arthur asked one day and you laughed pushing him away with a soft punch on his arm

“Its my talent”

“and here I thought that laid in hunting animals. ‘s that why we’ve been starving lately?”

he asked meaning no harm and you saw his crooked grin and the softness in his eyes, crinkling with wrinkles

“shut up arthur. Don't you have a train to rob or something?”

“my bad, I won’t take any more of your precious time with Ms. Adler”

You also quickly found out Sadie had a sharp tongue and a short temper. Her strength and quip was overshadowed by her grief before but slowly it raised to the surface and more people took interest in her. She grew more familiar with Arthur and her long skirts were slowly replaced by the occasional tight black jeans that accentuated her assets even better

Some nights she was still haunted by nightmares and you took it upon yourself to invite her to your tent. You talked for a while and when she tried to excuse herself you stopped her and patted the side of your bunk bed

“You can sleep here for tonight”

“and you?” you laughed “Ill also sleep here. Never had a sleepover with a friend before?”

“Not like that you prick” she said and laid next to you. Her eyes widened, noticing she was a little too close than she calculated. you held her by the waist guiding her “turn around for me” you whispered and she obliged. You pressed your chest against her back and held her like that and felt her tense shoulders slowly relax only to stiffen again when you spoke again close to her

“Goodnight Sadie”

“goodnight”

It only happened once but after that night You often caught yourself admiring her, those warm brown eyes, the raspy voice that gave you goosebumps and when no one paid you attention you shamelessly eyed her figure.

“You are no better than a man,huntress” Karen teased and leaned next to you against the tree. You chuckled and glanced at her “jealous?”

“you wish” she said. It didn’t go past you that she wore a dress that exposed her chest nicely yet it did little to arouse you and in horror you realized your mind drifted over to Sadie and how nicely she tucked in her shirt leaving no more than two buttons open barely exposing her collar bones

“The boys are going out for some job” she said leaving the invitation and you smirked looking down at her

“Hm…Maybe Ill join them”

“or..” she said and carefully flattened her palms against your chest pretending to fix your bandana for you “you can join me instead” she looked up at you with doe eyes and your lip twitched in a smile. She left swaying her hips and you let your gaze linger for a second before looking up. Sadie stood there with an unspoken question in her eyes and then cocked a brow in challenge.

you took two cigarettes out of your pocket and she approached you accepting your offer. she placed the stick in her lips and you motioned her to come closer.

her head tilted in confusion and you carefully pulled her in by the back of your head till the ends of your cigarettes touched and lit them both in one go

you tucked the lighter back in your pants and she took in a long puff in thought “You seem closer to Karen than the rest. Does your friendship go back in time?”

you laughed at the innocent and awfully unsuspecting question and decided to test the waters

“Friends ? Hardly, we are close though. In different ways” she seemed even more puzzled “Everytime you answer my questions I end up more lost and confused than I was before”

“Maybe I'm just that bad at conversing with others” she chuckled, a low raspy giggle almost “You give yourself too little credit. Had it not been for those coffees you left and your company Id probably still be on that rock crying” you smiled

“Glad I could help” you continued to smoke in silence and you inspected her clothes your eyes falling on the yellow brooch tied around her neck

“That's a nice brooch” she looked down and smiled “thanks. One of the few good things I own”

“Oh don't say that. You have a lovely sense of fashion darling” you held the ornament in your fingers leaning closer feeling her breath fan your cheeks. Something shifted and it wasn't even anymore. you looked up and saw her completely focused on your every movement catching her eyes that were stuck on your lips. Flattered, a cocky smile escaped you.

There was a tense moment that snapped from Peaston calling out to everyone informing them that dinner and drinks were ready.

You both pulled away from each other abruptly and pushed yourself off the tree patting your pants and dusting them off

“Will you join us?” you asked and she shrugged “Was about time I did”

•••

You were drunk. Way too fucking drunk.

“shit how many…” you tried to look around and count how many glasses of whiskey you had. everything was spinning and buzzing. Karen and Mary-beth were singing and you clumsily joined. Sadie sat next to you cracking a joke here and there but still was mostly quiet listening to all of you and sometimes laughing. Karen laid her head on your shoulder and her hand fell on your thigh beneath the table going upwards and staying there fondling your thigh. Too drunk to care if Sadie was looking, you indulged her sensual move and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

unbeknownst to you Sadie withdrew from you slightly and confused looked at the pair of you her frown growing deeper as Karens hand traveled higher eventually tugging at the metal belt clasp

amidst the chaos- which you were uncertain if there was any due to your drunken state- you remembered getting up and escaping to the quieter place of the camp, then your hands were on Karens hips and her lips on your neck biting and sucking and everything else was a blur

had you been slightly more sober you would have noticed that you weren’t completely hidden. Because Sadie was interested in you in ways she couldn’t explain and she was out looking for you that night. And she unfortunately caught a glimpse of your nasty sexual endeavors with the other woman who you had so willingly pinned against the tree and who elicited the most pornographic sounds

•••

Sadie caught herself interested in you. She liked the fact that you were a huntress and she liked more that you took little pity on her state and gave her solid motivation to get back on track with her life. She realized she chased your polite compliments when she wore a new accessory or when she braided her hair.

but to feel like this towards a woman? how?

she questioned and doubted it immediately believing it was the grief that made her lose her mind. That was until she saw you devouring karen in the deep of the forest. Something woke within her. fiery jealousy and heat bloomed in her chest and her core ached.

She-at first- was convinced she was repulsed by the act, finding it vulgar. than she thought that she was simply taken aback by it but not in an unpleasant way. eventually she decided to sleep frustrated and confused, unable to understand what she felt.

two days later she sought out Karen who seemed very eager to tease and taunt her

“What a voyeuristic eye that you have Adler”

“Are the two of you in a relationship?”

she laughed, loud enough to almost make her feel humiliated and stupid as if the answer was obvious

“Gods no! I mean I know she only likes women but I don’t care for things like that”

“only women?”

“If you ever find yourself with too much frustration pay her a visit. In my opinion every woman should feel her tongue” Sadies eyes widened and then she shook her head in disappointment

“Ill find other ways to keep myself busy” she barked growing angry with Karens games

“Suit yourself. I'm just saying that I trained her well” and with that she left. Sadie was angry. Jealous.She saw Karen marking her territory and she didn’t like that

why does she try to claim something that isnt hers

She avoided you on purpose for the upcoming days and she hated seeing your confusion and visible pain to her dismissive attitude

You once tried to approach her more boldly and in her spitefulness she spat

“what's up with you? Nothing to do?”

You huffed out a frustrated breath and crossed your arms standing in front of her.

“Ive thought about it a lot and it all boils down to you probably finding out I swing the other way”

“I did find out”

you nodded in repeat looking away and she saw your jaw tense and your brows lower “well Fuck me then” you hissed exasperated

“Id like to be alone” she said with a low growl and you scoffed “Really Sadie? Am I that disgusting to you now that you won’t even say goodmorning to me?” you raised your tone and she stood up “Don't you use that tone on me”

“or what?!” she stared at you long and hard. You were the first to break contact and took a step back, arms swinging softly

“You know what Sadie? You wanna be alone ? then be fucking alone” she watched as you turned your back on her and left immediately regretting how sbe handled that conversation.

She didn’t see you for a week after that. That week she herself was busy with her first bounty hunt and she could hardly be happy about it. Her stomach felt like she’d swallowed stones and her throat was dry.

and when you came back it was with Arhur, Hosea and another woman. Someone you rescued on your recent bounty hunt who was as lost as she once was. You attention was on the hurt woman keeping her company making sure she felt secure with your group of people

“Listen we ain’t good but we ain’t them either” you consoled an arm around her shoulders soothing her and Sadie had enough of it. She approached you with heavy steps the heel of her boots digging into the dirt

“I wanna talk to you”

you looked up and the girl in your arms seemed intimidated by her. Sadie disliked that she seemed threatening to an innocent person but her focus was on you and you alone

you silently questioned her, eyes wide, jaw tense as if saying really?! now?!

she stood her ground until you gave in and followed her back to your tent where you could have some privacy

“You wanted to talk? speak”

“Why do you have to be like that?” she asked annoyed and you shook your head defeated “Like what hon? I am around you and you are repulsed, I give you space and you are equally unsatisfied. The hell do you want from me, woman?!”

“I just needed time! Time!” she emphasized the words and you sat down knowing your knees were too weak to handle this unprovoked attitude

“time? for what?” You tried peacefully and truly exhausted knowing someone had to be tame or this conversation wouldn’t go far without resulting in you pulling a gun to each others head

“Christ I- I just was confused. I didn’t know a woman could look at a woman like that”

“And why does it concern you?” you asked and she seemed taken aback. Why indeed

Because I considered you that way too

she came to the conclusion her tongue numb and heavy, unable to speak these words out loud.

She hated how quickly you caught on and in a delightfully predatory way she watched you stand up and approach her, circling her like a vulture

“Sadie did you hate that I look at women like that or did you hate that you weren’t one of those women?”

the hair on the back of her neck rose and heat pooled in her stomach again. A feeling she thought had surely died with her late husband yet here it was.

“I wasn't?” she asked, her confidence faltering. She was sure she caught you staring at her chest, her lips, her hips at first not questioning the wandering gaze until she put the puzzle pieces together to figure out the reason behind it

your hands were on her shoulders running up and down the length of her arms slowly

“Would you like to be?” she turned around and as if in a dance sequence your hands fell on her neck to pull her in for a hungry kiss

She could feel how starved you were in the way your lips pressed against hers tasting her, imprinting the feel of her skin against hers. She returned the notion with equal fervor if not with more and was reluctant to be the one to submit. her hands landed on your hips pulling you in and she was shocked to find how right this position felt. how velvety your tongue felt against her own and how your skin molded into her palms becoming one.

she pulled away to take in a few deep and heavy breaths looking at you and was pleased to find you putty in her arms, to see the mighty huntress small, fragile and ready to do anything she would ask you to

“Do I awaken something in you Sadie?” You asked and held her closer, your arms wrapped around her neck and she responded by kissing you again loving the power and control she had. The passion melted into something more gentle, affectionate and tender and when you pulled away the second time she held your cheek in her hand caressing the flushed skin

“ that answer good enough for you?” she asked with a lazy smirk and you huffed out a laugh still gasping for air “Never thought you packed such heat” you confessed and her ego grew dangerously “You haven’t experienced the half of it”

•••

Unlike you, who was secretive and shameful of your nature the minute Sadie felt sure in herself she didn’t hesitate to greet you with a good morning kiss letting everyone think about what they just witnessed. As outlaws you certainly had bigger problems than two girls deciding to kiss each other and you came to the stupidly obvious realisation. Hosea and Arthur were the first ones to tell you

well we knew men didn’t do it for you, but I didn’t exactly know what did so…I just do now thats all it is

and you felt good about his awkward and reassuring words. Sadie didn’t care on the other hand. if she spent the night in your tent she didn’t hide it and if she felt like making a move on you while at the saloon she would and dealt with the consequences violently and eagerly still needing to vent out her pain and frustrations.

“are you not…scared?” you asked her once at night when you both laid together, naked beneath a thin sheet and she smiled giving you small kisses on your cheeks, jaw, neck

“I am scared of other things darling. Death is one of them. Random drunk men ain’t on the other hand are not”

“You aren’t indestructible Sadie. I worry for you” you confessed and she smiled “Nobody’s taking nothing from me ever again” she said and kissed you “And nobody’s taking me away from you either”

[pubbybutch]

FRIENDS IN THE DARK - Chapter 1

Ellie Williams x Reader x Abby Anderson - TWILIGHT AU

Word Count: 6.1K+

Content Warnings: Uninvited Visitors, parents being proud of you, USE OF Y/N, nicknames (from parental figure), motor vehicle accident, being chased/hunted, Ellie-Abby beef, Abby having beef with Mel, Abby in general in this tbh…

Men, Minors and general fuckheads DNI 💚

The prologue can be found here

Jackson, Wyoming. It’s a quiet town. The sort of town where nothing ever seems to happen. Surrounded by hills and woods, people who are born there eventually move away nine times out of ten, those that do stay have been there for generations and can’t escape the monotony of the town. It’s the kind of town where one is never rudely awakened. Especially on the weekend.

The morning after your first night in Jackson, the nearly eerie silence that seemed to descend across the valley is broken so abruptly that the thundering noise can only be described as strange, forcing you to wake early and not due to your body clock. But to a heavy handed knock on your front door, maybe choosing the room with the front facing window was a bad idea but you’d made your bed now all you had to do was lay in it… well a you put a mattress on the ground and had to lay on top of it, but that’s besides the point. Throwing a fleece blanket over your shoulders you peek out the open window, stood there was a girl. You lean on the window ledge and poke your head further to try and see her better, but with little success, only being able to gather that she was blonde with an extremely impressive shoulder span.

Shrugging into your jeans from the day before, you quickly get down the stairs to answer the door, the blaring of the radio from the kitchen explaining why your mom hadn’t answered the knocks. As you stand in front of the door, you smooth the creases in your shirt from having slept in it last night and pull the doorknob.

Blue eyes meet yours and a small smile comes to her face. “Hi. I’m Abby, I live across the street." She tilts her head towards a rather impressive two storey house with a vintage Chevy out the front. You pause for a moment looking towards where she motioned but thankfully catch yourself and open the door wider, “Wanna come in?” She nods and steps in as you close the door behind her. “I’m Y/N, by the way. Mom’s in the kitchen if you want?” Politely Abby nods and follows behind you as you head into the back where you push the door and find something akin to a bomb scene. Amid pots and pans, silverware and slow-cookers, stands your mother with her hair tied out of her face with a bandana and beads of sweat amassing on her furrowed brow.

“Mom. Mom! MOM!”

“Huh? OH, GOOD MORNING SLEEPYHEAD!” She turns and twists the volume down on the little portable blue radio, “Who’s your friend, doll?” At this Abby extends her arm towards your mother and shakes her hand, her grip is firm and confident, “Abigail Anderson, ma’am. I live down the road.” They continue to chat as you lose yourself in thought…

It’s the name that causes you to stop in your tracks, shattering your coherence. Wait- this is Abigail Anderson?! The same Abigail that was your first kiss in elementary school at eight years old?! The same Abigail that braided your hair at recess in the school yard? The same Abigail that always swapped half of your peanut butter and marshmallow fluff sandwich for half of her chicken salad sandwich? The same Abigail that hugged you so tight that last day of school, whose tears had made your shoulder damp and you held each other one final time before you left Jackson for what was supposed to be forever… Abigail- Abby. She’s all grown-up now, you suppose you have too, she probably didn't recognise you for that very reason just as you hadn’t clocked on to her. Looking at her as she talks to your mom, her hair is still the same dirty blonde more golden than hay-like as it had been but it is confined to a braided prison that falls over her shoulder and onto her shirt, a shirt that does nothing to hide the fact her shoulders are so toned and broad how she’s clearly built an incredible amount of muscle. The freckles up her neck are new, maybe from the summer sun. And they trail up to her ears, little golden brown flecks and her eyes piercing blue, glacial and bright. Further down her face her mouth is moving, and she’s looking at you- She's talking to you. Oh fuck. OH FUCK-

“Sorry, I lost my train of thought… what was that?” Shit. Count on you to sound so fucking ditsy, but at least she’s smiling, maybe she likes bimbos. Wait why would you think that-

“I was asking if you needed a lift to school on Monday? You’re going to Johnson-Bailey High right?” Abby’s trying to start a conversation and you can’t even think straight.

“Oh yeah, I am.” Awesome, common ground to start from again, “Are you going into senior year too?”

“Yeah! Hopefully we’ll have a class together,” She’s moving from her spot on the breakfast bar, and is dusting herself down, “well, I’ll leave you to get sorted out. Call me if you need a hand with those tables and boxes?”

Your mom is wrapping her arms round over Abby’s shoulders to hug her as the blonde girl attempts to make it to the door, and you’re left following behind the pair. “Thanks for coming over Abigail, please tell your father he’s welcome over anytime and you are too.”

“I’ll see you later, Y/N?”

“I’ll see you later, Abby. It was nice seeing you again.”

“You too, really nice.”

As you close the door you walk away as Abby waits outside the door for a few moments, mumbling under her breath, before jogging away of her own accord. Meanwhile your mother returns to the kitchen, you in tow.

“It was nice for her to offer you a lift, make sure you thank her on Monday.”

“I will, mom.” And boy you wish you could do more than just thank her.

The rest of that Saturday breezes by, from unloading the moving truck to constructing the newly purchased ikea furniture, with your hands full the whole day you never even notice how tired you are until the your head hits the pillow on top of your now put together bed, the Friday night’s mattress now having a place to rest, your phone on your nightstand and plugged in to charge buzzes with a notification just as you’re dozing off. You decide to check in the morning. Despite your tiredness and complete willingness to fall asleep, something keeps you tossing and turning. A burning sensation, like someone holding a lighter too close to your flesh. Pulling the quilt over your head eases the feeling a bit, enough for you to finally fall into a deep rest.

When you wake on Sunday morning at a far more reasonable time than the day before, you pick up your phone, finding all that's displayed on the screen is the time. You could have sworn that you’d gotten a message last night but brush it off.

That Sunday morning and afternoon follows a similar path as the previous, unpacking the boxes and shuffling around mini mountains of clothes and kitchen ware. It hadn’t occurred to you in the chaos of the past two days that you had school starting that next day, the weekend had been rattled through so quickly that both you and your mother hadn’t had time to rest - the rest that the weekend would serve you under normal circumstances, but these weren’t normal circumstances. Abby had come over around noon, said she was coming back from a jog and left you her mobile number for the morning. You had forgotten that she’d offered you a ride.

Pushing past your mothers relentless teasing of ‘oh you’d be so cute together’ and ‘such a pretty couple’, you finally get her to back off with a sharp “Mom. I don’t know if she’s even into girls.” With your mom now quelled at least partially, you hide in your room opting to sort through the boxes of your personal belongings.

By the time books are on the shelves and the majority of your clothes have been tucked away into the closet that sits to the left of your bay window, it’s late. Like super late, 11:45 isn’t that late you tell yourself initially but then remember that you should be up at 6:30 at latest… Deciding that you’d be best sleeping immediately you text Abby as you crawl into bed to check that her offer of a ride still stands and much to your relief it does. With clothes for the morning on the desk beside your full and definitely heavy backpack, you feel confident enough in your preparations to set your alarm. Abby will pick you up at 8:00AM with that thought in your mind you drift into a contented sleep, small smile on your lips.

The alarm sounds and your phone vibrates on the nightstand, you wake with a most unhappy groan spewing from your mouth. You definitely should have gone to bed earlier. Steam and hot water provide your achy muscles a modicum of relief as you soak in the spray of the shower, the water pressure is definitely better here. Getting dressed, you look outside the window relief rushing over you as the morning is misty and overcast but for the first time since Friday night, it’s not raining.

You greet your mother as she comes out of her bedroom, dressed in her casual wear. “There’s some cereal in the cupboard and milk in the refrigerator, but I’m going to get groceries after talking with the doctor.”

“Are you not feeling good?” She shakes her head, yawning while trying and failing to speak at the same time. “You’re trying nursing again?”

“Hey! I’m good at it, plus it’ll pay more than waitressing or being some retail assistant.”

“Fair.”

You sit at the table, scrolling through your phone. While checking your tumblr a knock at the door snaps you from your passive scrolling, the digits on the corner of the screen read ‘07:53’. Abby likes to be early. Noted. Leaving the spoon and bowl to clatter in the sink, you snatch your backpack and throw it over your shoulder before yelling a hasty ‘Bye Mom!’ to your mother through the front door from the front porch.

Abby waves at you from the bottom of the driveway, her posture is relaxed as you open the car door and drop down into the seat.

“Hey, you ready to go.” The blonde looks to your face firstly then to the backpack at your feet and finally back to your face once more, meeting your eyes.

“Ready as I’ll ever be?”

She smiles at your answer but doesn’t mention why as one hand puts the car in drive and the other pulls at the steering wheel. Her stance never changes from the calm, confident and collected aura she exudes. The small talk she makes is pleasant, the little tidbits of information the two of you exchange quickly help you re-establish a bond and the twenty minute car ride goes by in what seems like a blink of an eye. Her dad hadn’t remarried since her mom had died, she was captain of the lacrosse team, she’d broken up with her boyfriend 3 weeks before you’d arrived because she found him cheating on her. It was nice to talk to someone other than your mom, and boy did it help that Abby was easy to talk to.

Pulling into the large gates and red brick walls that bordered the grounds of Johnson-Bailey high school, Abby parks the car up in a section set aside for the seniors. The school looks much less intimidating than it did when you were younger, the brick carries on from the walls and makes up the exterior for the front school building but the extensions and external gym building juxtaposes the classic red brick with their stark white and metal make up. Hundreds of grumpy teens and even grumpier teaching staff mill about the front of the school, reluctant to be back to normality following the summer break. It feels normal. Normal is good.

Abby waves goodbye to you as the assistant principal singles you out and pulls you over. Standing next to the finely dressed lady (‘Miss Dandridge’ she had said) is a very pretty girl, thick curly hair tied back from her face and light makeup enhancing her dark features. She introduces herself as Nora, and your personal ‘buddy’. Despite the forced friendship aspect of the introduction, Nora is extremely likable as she makes small talk and gives you a quick tour of the school building on your way to your joint home room. Opening the door, Nora heads to the back of the room and sits in the spare spot next to a familiar blonde.

Following the lead of Nora you move further into the classroom and find a seat next to a tall Asian boy with the floppiest black hair you’ve possibly ever seen. He leans over and offers you his hand, “Jesse. You new?”

Taking his hand, thankful for him approaching you first, “Yeah, Y/N. I’ve just moved back.”

He smiles, “Well, it’ll be nice to have a fresh face ‘round here. Jackson’s a bit shit, to be honest.”

You laugh at his seeming ‘down to Earth’ness and continue talking with him until the man that had previously been sitting at the teacher’s desk gets up from his spot and the scraping of chalk against black board alerts you to his shift in demeanor.

“Good morning, Class S-1. I hope you had an enjoyable summer, I’ll be your home room tutor and your English teacher. My name is Mr O’Bri-”

The door opens and a girl comes in a heavy blush on her face as she rushes past and sits down at the desk directly in front of you and Jesse and as she scurries around, fixing herself in the seat Mr O’Brien locks eyes with the girl. “Dina, see me after first period.”

“Goddamn it…”

Aside from the initial interruption of the Dina girl, the period passes swimmingly. And the one after that, and the one after that. The day continues smooth and steady as a drumbeat and lunch rolls around before you have time to realize. Following the stream of students into the cafeteria, you look around and spy Nora and Abby sitting beside some other people in letterman jackets around a circular table in the corner, after a small amount as you approach the table. Abby gives you a smile as you approach, pull a chair out and sit down. You breathe a sigh of relief as Nora introduces you to the rest of the table, a few guys and a couple of girls. There’s a tension you immediately pick up on a few side glances between Owen and Mel, deciding to ask Abby about it on the ride home at three thirty you keep your voice down and occupy yourself with the mystery meat in a hamburger bun.

The lunch is pleasant and the company is definitely the cause of it being so. As you find yourself walking back to class with Manny, the brown haired boy keeps you in chat as you head towards the physics classroom. Manny sits behind you as the teacher instructs you to sit along the benches each row separated by gender.

There are no familiar faces in the room, but as class drags on you feel a burning sensation at the back of your head. That’s familiar, but you can’t place why or where from. Looking back at the rest of the class, green eyes meet yours. They’re burrowing into yours as you struggle to break the contact. You finally snap back to reality with a nudge from Marta who’s sat beside you. You clear your throat and try to ignore the churning in your stomach as you can still feel the pine needle eyes stabbing into your back. As the bell rings, you rush to your final class. Throwing the notebooks and pens haphazardly into your backpack, charms around the zips clinking together in your attempt to make a quick get away. You don’t notice as one of the button badges on the front of the bag pops off as you fling a strap over your shoulder. But she does. Her eyes lock onto the cute little smiley face pin. Long fingers wrap around it and slip the accessory into a jean pocket.

By the time the final bell rings to signal the end of the school day, you’re relieved to say the least. The flushing of students towards the front of the school and out to the parking lot sweeps you away until you’re in front of Abby’s car, waiting for her to show up. To be fair to her, she had warned you that would most likely be running a bit behind the rest of the student body as the coach would be looking to talk to her. And as it was currently twenty to four, she was turning out to be correct. Nora walks past and waves as she hops into her car, a little green fiat. Abby can’t be too far behind as Nora was a part of the lacrosse team too. Scrolling through your phone, enjoying the screen time for the first time since lunch, you get lost in the endless dopamine hits the silly little TikToks give you. You’re completely in a world of your own when a poke to your arm shocks you. And there she is. Staring you down once more, is the green eyed girl from Physics.

She says nothing as she sets her longboard on the ground allowing herself to slide a long, bony hand into the front pocket of her baggy jeans, the belt seeming more of an accessory than a functional piece of clothing as it does nothing to support the denim laying loose around her thin hips, you get your first good look at her the auburn shaggy bob she has frames her face nicely if not causing her to appear a even more gaunt than her skinny, pale frame already is, the freckles across the bridge of her nose and up her cheekbones are comparable with constellations. Pulling her hand out of the pocket you see she’s holding something, something small and sentimental. She holds it out for you to take, “here,” she says and you take it hesitantly from her. You meet her eyes again, they’re still looking at you with as much focus as when you had your first encounter. You give a soft, nervous smile, “Thanks, where did you-”

“WILLIAMS. FUCK OFF.”

Abby’s voice booms out across the empty parking lot. You turn on your heel to look at the blonde as she moves at great speed towards you and the other girl, Williams… it must be her last name. As Abby comes to stand between the two of you, the slight warmth to the auburn girl’s eyes vanishes. She backs up and pulls the skateboard away with a slight yank of her leg, one foot rests on it allowing her to rock back and forth giving an air of arrogance to the smaller girl. “Easy! Down girl,” this elicits a guttural rumbling from Abby, “I was just returning something.” Abby lunges towards the skinny girl but you grab the blonde’s arm and pull her back. In comparison to Abby this strange girl was akin to a rag doll, small and frail looking in your eyes. The skater girl takes this as her chance to back up and she does.

“Watch it, Williams. You better fuckin’ watch it.” Abby calls out after her as she moves away towards the backgate of the school.

You reach out and meet a muscled shoulder with your hand as your touch causes Abby to snap back to reality. She opens the passenger side door for you and lets you get in before hopping around to the drivers side and sliding in. The journey home is quiet and tense. Turning your head to face the blonde, she answers your question before you even finalize it in your own mind. “Nobody, nobody good anyways. She is trouble. She will always be trouble.”

“Why’s that, Abby?”

“Bad breeding, at least in my opinion.”

She clicks the knob for the radio and music starts wafting through the car easing the tension as Shania Twain comes out from hiding in the speakers, as the karaoke begins any tension is washed away with the titters and giggles of pure unadulterated fun.

Abby drops you off at yours before pushing on towards her own home. opening the door you find the house empty and devoid of life, letting your backpack lay up against the breakfast bar you spot a yellow sticky note on the worktop, ‘Got some groceries. Snakes Snacks are in the pantry. Got an interview for the hospital. Love you, Mom.’ With a fistpump of celebration, you poke your head into the pantry only to see it much fuller than nine hours ago. Thank god. Grabbing a cereal bar you go upstairs and get stuck into your homework, this keeps you occupied for a few hours until eventually the front door opens, closes and the scuffling of shoes being cast off and relegated to a corner tells you your mom is home. “Sweetheart! I brought take out!”

With a fist pump and silent cheer, you close your laptop over and chuck your history textbook to the end of your desk. The Oregon Trail can wait, you’ve got chinese food to eat. “Comin’ now, mom!” You yell whilst running down the stairs, stepping into the kitchen you see your mom holding a plastic bag with several takeout boxes inside. “You grab plates and I’ll get some drinks, then we can have a TV dinner and you can tell me all about your first day?” Your mom suggests as she is already head and ears into the refrigerator, poking around for some cans of soda.

The flickering of whatever late night chat show is on the screen makes for ambience as you spill the gossip of the day to your mother, her face is nothing short of comical as you tell her about the tension between Owen (your mom laughs heartily at the description of him you give, of his hair being a dirty blond hedgehog with his eyes being too close together, like an opossum,) and Abby. The strange girl that had returned your pin. You even mention joining one of the clubs at school.

“Sweetheart,” your mom starts, “can I talk to you, adult to adult?”

You nod and panic flashes across your mind and definitely across your face, but your mother doesn’t seem to catch it and looks relieved.

“I’m glad you’re being so open. I was scared… I was very scared about coming back. And when your dad…”

You keep quiet, letting her ramble and fumble through her words as you watch as she becomes more and more lost in her mind before you wrap your arms around her, comforting her, soothing her worries, bringing her back to earth with a few words,“I know, mom.”

She sobs into your arms, tears wet your shoulder leaving your t-shirt damp and darkened on one side. She cries long and hard until she eventually falls asleep, grip on you loosening as your mom loses consciousness. You wiggle out of her grasp, take the blanket from the back of the couch and throw it over her, placing a kiss on her forehead you move to the kitchen and do the dishes. The street lamp light doesn’t reach this far around the side of the house but the moon is enough to at least not leave you to stare into an abyss of total darkness, the tree line starts about two hundred and fifty yards from the back porch and you watch as a fox pokes its head out from the brush. It makes its way across the portion of grass that makes up your backyard before stopping dead in its tracks. The dishes are forgotten as you watch the small canine look around panicked. It quickly sprints back into the green foliage and it disappears from view.

Getting back to the dishes, you finish the chore quickly and choose to make your way to bed, turning the TV off on your way while making sure your mother hasn’t woken up. She hasn’t.

Returning to your room, you see that you’ve left your laptop open and your books are still scattered about the desk. Taking one look at the half finished homework, you close the laptop and stash it away into your backpack. “That’s enough of that,” you mutter under your breath.

Stripping and getting dressed again for bed, you crawl in under the covers and settle down for the night. Turning over onto your side you see the curtains in The corner of your room flutter as though there was a light breeze, it’s then that you notice the window cracked open a few inches. “Fuck me…”

Feet meeting the cold floor you scuttle across the room and close the window completely, good and tight. Hopping back into the warmth of the various layers of quilt and blankets, you’re asleep as soon as you close your eyes.

The days in the valley town turn to weeks with nothing strange or startling to really speak of. You seem to be getting more forgetful lately. Your things are seemingly shifting about your room. You’re probably just being silly and misplacing things, at least that’s what you’ve been telling yourself.

The high school lacrosse season has started and Abby had tried her best to rope you into joining the team, but with the absolute disaster that was tryouts you’ve come to the realization that sitting on the bleachers cheering on your friends (new and old) is definitely the best place for you.

Abby had let little tidbits of information slip, about how Owen was her ex and left her for Mel and how she’d later come out as bisexual as a result of the relationship disintegrating. The confirmation that she was into girls had you internally kicking your feet, punching your fists and screaming until your throat was so raw that it could bleed, but you decidedly keep that to yourself. The little crush that had completely taken over your mind, Abby crawling into every little crevice that wasn’t taken up by school or the various relationships you’d been establishing or reestablishing.

You’d grown close to Dina again, her boyfriend Jesse by extension. Dina is… talkative to say the least, occupying most of your AP math class with her chittering, and you’re yet to meet this elusive Ellie you’ve heard so much about from her venting and seemingly never ending gossip. From ‘oh my god! Ellie and Cat from S-3? They kind of had a huge argument-’ to ‘Ellie is ditching class again, I’m surprised she hasn’t been kicked outta here by now, that’s what happened to her back in Boston!’ Based on what you’d heard, Ellie could only be described as a badass juvie escapist. And that’s how you’ve come to be sat in Jackson’s only diner, The Clay Pit BBQ, on a Friday evening after school waiting for ‘Ellie’ and Jesse to show up.

Dina sits across from you in the booth as you take in the cringe worthy old western themeing that seems as though it was plucked from a young child’s bedroom or a roadside tourist trap. A milkshake is sat in front of Dina with her admitting to herself more than saying to you, “I really shouldn’t be having this… lactose intolerance is a big thing with my family,” you nod at her more to quell her than to actually provide any opinion on her predicament, while a large cup of water and a plate of fries in front you. You both thank the waitress and begin to eat until a cough and playful punch lands on your shoulder. Jesse. You scooch further into the booth, the old faux leather squeaking underneath your movement. But as you turn to look at the others it’s not Jesse that’s sat beside you but the ‘Williams’ girl. The one that had returned your pin and the dots line up in your head. Dina had always said about her ditching to go skateboarding, and under the table is the same longboard as she’d made her escape on weeks prior.

“Ellie, this is Y/n.”

Dina turns to you now, “Y/n, this is Ellie.”

The air fills with a heavy tension, Dina and Jesse both look between the two of you and to each other as though having a silent conversation while Ellie keeps looking at you, as though trying to read you. Green eyes meeting your own eyes with such intensity that a heat begins to spread up your neck and it takes Jesse kicking the auburn haired girl and jolting her out of her trance-like state before she sticks out her hand. “Hi?”

‘Is that all she’s going to say’, you think to yourself as a laugh escapes your lips outwardly and you shake her hand. “Hi.”

Ellie doesn’t eat much but orders an apple cobbler and attempts to make small talk, despite the encounter starting off stale and almost jumpy as the ice breaks you find yourself relaxing into her company as though you’d known her as long and as well as you had the other pair, but you can’t seem to shake a niggling at the back of your mind that there was something off about Ellie Williams.

As the evening continues you settle into a comfortable chit chat, and discuss this and that, what’s there and what’s not. Everything under the sun. Until the waitress from before approaches your table to tell you that they’re closing up for the night and you gather your bits and ready yourselves to leave. As you stand outside the diner, you realize that your phone had died and with the only way to contact your mom dead as a doornail, Jesse asks you something you hadn’t planned for, “How’re you getting home?” You give a huff of frustration and shrug your shoulders, “I’ll walk it’s only a half hour anyways, I can take a shortcut through the woods. Dina pops her head from around Jesse's side and pipes up, “Are you sure, I can’t carry everyone but Jesse can walk home if you want to get on?”

“No I’m fine, genuinely! Besides, you both live on the other side of town.”

Ellie shuffles her way from inside to stand beside you.

“I can walk her home.”

“But Els, you live-”

“Dee. I’ll walk her home.”

Sensing the finality in Ellie’s tone and probably wanting to avoid being the cause of a scene, Jesse and Dina hop onto her minty vespa scooter, and the tall boy waves a long limb as they pull out of the street and down the road out east.

“Ellie. I appreciate the sentiment but I think a bit of alone time would be good for me?” You tell her, its the honest truth but not the whole truth. Internally you’re screaming. ‘Why would she do that? Dina said Ellie lived near her. Why would she offer to walk you in the completely opposite direction to where she needed to go?’

“Oh…” She looks disappointed but quickly fixes her face, “I- I guess I’ll see you round then?”

“Yeah, see you at school?” She lets go a small smile at your good natured teasing.

“Yeah…”

You part ways as she sets off on her skateboard, quickly picking up speed as she propels herself forward, following the same road as Dina and Jesse had just gone down. In a flash of flannel and beaten converse, she’s gone and you start the trek home.

The late evening twilight turns to night it seems as you set off and you are left with a predicament. Either brave the dark of the woods and be home fifteen minutes faster, or take the long way round and stay in the safety of the luminous orange of the streetlights… Taking one look at the storm clouds beginning to form in the western sky, you quickly make up your mind. Woods it is.

Pulling the purple hood up over your head as the occasional spitting of raindrops turns into a gentle pouring, getting past the small saplings and shrubs that make up the treeline you breathe out a sigh of relief at the umbrella provided by the canopy of the tall ancient pines. A thick, choking mist is rolling in, concealing the ground from your vision. The trek is tedious, those people that came before you and also opted for your choice of the protection of the trees have left a somewhat easily traversable path between the roots. The silence of your surroundings that during the day would be comforting is anything but as full darkness takes hold. The only sound is the trodding of your feet against pebbles, leaves and twigs. The half moon peeks out from the clouds occasionally amid the rain, the slivers of light it gives off let you know you're still on the right path and spur you onward.

Snap.

Loud and clear.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

The cracking rings out over the pitter patter of rain on the leafy surroundings.

It’s what causes silence to break and it dawns on you why the woods had been so silent before. They were afraid. The birds, the deer, and the elk. The moose, the eagles, and horses. They were all afraid. And doing their best to stay out of the way of the local apex predator. You had walked head first into the lion's den. Panic sets in as you pick up speed, feet propelling you forward over tree roots and through branches.

Run.

You have to run.

As you run the backpack on your shoulders jostles around, keyrings making clinking sounds with each step. Another creaking noise pulls your attention back towards your surroundings as you attempt to focus on something aside from your labored breaths and the blood thundering in your ears. The same sound comes from behind you again. “Fuck.” It sounded closer than before, ‘where’s it coming from… holy shit… I’m not ready to die…’ Fear has you whipping your head around to the direction you think the sound had originally come from. You hear a follow up rustle as if it knows what you’re thinking. ‘Shit.’

You feel like an antelope in a nature documentary. Meager, mortal prey for a wild, powerful, immortal predator. All common sense is thrown out a shattered window, basic human necessity drives you. The animalistic need to escape courses through you. Instead of sticking to the path, you run straight. Jumping over logs, and avoiding puddles. Your sneakers are going to be destroyed, your hoodie is flailing about as your arms pump back and forth. A glimmer of hope in the darkness appears ahead as the rows of trees begin to thin, the tawny light of a streetlamp. Through the rain and the mist it’s hard to determine the exact distance left, the orange tones bleeding through the weather like paint through a cup of water. The trees are skinny and short, saplings and bushes as the ground turns to soft green grass beneath your feet, you don’t stop until your feet hit hard tar. A road now under your feet.

Your legs burn, your head is light.

The glow of the streetlamp above you fills you with warmth as the adrenaline fizzes out and your breath comes back to you. Lungfulls of damp, cold air rake through your chest.

Just letting the relief flood your mind, you feel the warmth of big wet crocodile tears tracing down your cheeks. You remain unmoving as the rain continues to soak you, you haven’t felt more alive than at this moment in an exceedingly long time. The surreal nature of your escape has you standing in the middle of the road, head reeling. As you close your eyes and take another deep breath, you fail to see the lights coming around the corner.

Your ears hurt before anything else does, the screeching of rubber on tar. Cold metal throws you several yards, searing pain in your shoulder, up your neck, and down your side. Above you is a girl. The light above her head like a halo is the last thing you see as you collapse in her arms.

I hope you guys enjoyed the first proper chapter, I wanted to keep it a little longer but felt that this was the best place to cut it off.

If you wanna be added to/removed from either my TLOU tag list or the tag list for this series (FITD) drop me a message!

Tag list: @moonlightdivine @hi2647 @jasmine-gazaille @mortallyfurryjellyfish @soft-and-lush @viswifetotallyreal @chrry1ovr @paleidiot @sawaagyapong @macaroni676 @godswlwwarrior

[veren-cos]

I Like Both of Them?

Part 3 to my Sam x Reader x Sebastian fic that I *really* need to name now-

Part 1 Part 2

Today was the day! You were going to confess! To both of them! God the pining. The seeing them pine over each other! If only it goes right. Please, please, please let this go right!

But Sebastian avoided you. Every time you tried to be in the same room as him and Sam, Sebastian shied away.

Why would he avoid you? Did you do something wrong..?

After all this time? Why now? Right when you were finally going to tell them?

Your mind goes back to the first time you realized..

You were at Abigails. The two of you were close friends, and she had finally gotten with Haley. So now instead of her squealing about her own love life, she was extremely invested in yours.

"Soooooo, farmer." The shit eating grin on her face was obvious, "which one is it?"

"Which one is what?"

"Well who do you like! It's gotta be Sam or Sebastian. You literally can't shut up about them."

"Yes I can!! And I don't know! They are like two out of my 3 closest friends. I don't think I'd want to screw that up. Plus I've never even thought about it.."

She laid down, kicking her feet, "Well start thinking! I see the way they look at you."

"They look at me?" Your heart started pounding. Wait were you happy about this? "Abigail what do you mean?"

"Oh honey, they are both down BAD for you." She held your hand, using that small town talk as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Did you like them? I mean they were both on the same level. You just thought that they were your closest friends. You hung out all the time. But looking back, your heart skipped a few beats more than once. And not just for one of them. "I like both of them?"

"Oh my Yoba I can't believe you like them!"

"Shhh, Abigail!!"

"Both of them? This is a revelation! A realization for the centuries!"

"Ughhhhhh why did I even start talking. Maybe??? Abigail Oh god. Oh yoba I think I do like both of them. This cannot be happening."

But oh did it happen. You were falling hard and fast. Nothing could have stopped those boys from worming into your heart. So why did it have to be when you got the courage to ask them out that Seb started to avoid you?

........

Fuck it. You'll talk to Sam first. He is more open anyways, so he'd probably be okay with it and be able to help you talk to Seb. So here you were. "Sam I'm going to cut to the chase."

"Yeah, of course, what's up? Is everything alright?" He looked at you so obliviously. You can't believe you were doing this.

"Sam, I think I like you. No scratch that. I don't think, I know. You make me feel special, and I want to make you feel the same way."

Please. Please. God you loved him so much, but you don't want to scare him away. All you wanted to do was kiss him. Hold his hand. Spend the rest of your life with him and Sebastian.

"I think I like you back..?"

You tilted your head, "you think?" He thinks?? What does that mean???

"I- uhm. I know I like you. But uh.. shit." It clicked. Oh he was kind of cute about this.

And you smiled at him. "You like Sebastian, don't you?" He froze. This is good! Well not him panicking- but he likes you. And he likes Sebastian. This could go better than you had thought!

"Sam, it's okay." You reach to rub his ark, trying to keep him from spiraling.

"Its.. okay? Wait how is this okay? Isn't this basically a rejection for you?"

"Well.. are you rejecting me?" Maybe he didn't like you as much as it seemed? God wait was he rejecting you?

"No!! No! No, farmer, this is absolutely not a rejection!"

You blushed. "But you're saying like me back?"

He turned red in return, "O-oh! Yes! Yes absolutely I do!! I think I've likes you for a long time now! I mean I think I just realized it. I think I've liked Sebastian for forever, but I've liked you for seasons, farmer."

He goes to hold your hands, "Can I kiss you?" That was bold. Certainly not how you excepting this to go but you honestly didn't know what you were expecting.

"Of course." You couldnt believe this was happening. He pulled you in by the waist, wrapping his arm tight around you. You lean in and put your fingers in his hair. Your lips touch, and it feels magical. He runs his other hand to the back of your neck. He pulls you in closer, and it feels like no other kiss you've had before.

Once you let go of each other he start, "But how are you so calm about this? About me liking Sebastian? How is this okay?"

"I also like Sebastian." It may have been blunt, but it was the truth. If you wanted them you needed to be open and honest with how you felt. And by yoba did you love them both.

"You huh?!" His face was adorable, so confused!

"I was hoping to catch both of you but Sebastian has been avoiding me recently.." You look away, "But I've liked both of you for nearly as long as I've lived in the valley. And I can see from the way you two look at each other that there have been unspoken feelings for a long time. I knew I would regret it if I never said anything. The best I could hope for was that you'd like me back, and we could talk things through, the three of us."

The three of us..

"That was kind of a lot to throw at you, wasn't it.. I'm not sure what I was expecting to happen here. But hopefully we can make the best of it?"

"Sorry, sorry. I just needed a minute to process. You said Seb has been avoiding you? Why??"

"I'm honestly not sure. I think he is misunderstanding something? I have no idea what's going through his head.."

"Well, Why don't you go catch him? I'd love for the three of us to talk. See where we can go. But you need to clear up whatever is going on with him before we can talk about anything." He points over at the idiot of a boy walking towards the beach.

You sigh, "yeah... yeah you're right. God why does he just shut himself down instead of talking to me.." shaking your head you start after him. "I'll be back, hopefully soon." You turn around sharply, "But thank you for earlier."

You kiss him on the cheek before running after his best friend. He wasn't that far ahead of you, but his hair was in his face so you couldn't read him.

Once you finally caught up, "Hey sebastian!!" You smile at him, hoping to actually talk with him.

"Hey, farmer." He looked down at the ground. Oh no he is already shutting this down? God you wish you just knew why he was acting like this.

"Awh man, whats up?" Maybe he just needs a prompt to talk about it? Or.. maybe you can have Sam be there to. He isn't mad at Sam right now. Or at least you hope not? "You know, i was just talking to Sam. Would you want to hang out with us? Maybe play some pool? We havent actually hung out the three of us in a while..." You offer your hand out to him.

"I'm good." He practically swats your hand away. "I bet you'd absolutely love it for it to just be you and Sam, arent I right?" He drags the words out. He sounds so.. hurt. "Because you just absolutely love him. Don't you?"

"I do like Sam, but-"

He shouts, "what kind of 'but' is there?! You don't like me. I get it. But I'm in love with you, farmer. I can't help it."

He's in love with you? Wait wait but why has he been avoiding you? This was going all sorts of wrong. Shit and he is walking away.

"Sebastian hey!!" You reach for his shoulder, but he shrugs you off. "Sebastian, come on! You aren't even listening to me."

"And why should I? Huh? Leave me alone farmer. I'll see you when I see you." He practically spits the words to your face.

No.. no no! God why cant you fix this? Why did you even come to this valley? You've ruined your relationship with Sebastian and you don't even know how. You were in love with him! And he loved you back.. how did this go so wrong???

Nothing good would come out of chasing after Sebastian right now. So you go to Sam's house. Hoping. Praying for something to happen. For something to go right. Please.

An* If you have been keeping up with this series (which would be so cool!!!) There might be some confusion with a dialog change. I had to edit some of the first part (literally only one paragraph) for it to make sense as a series. It wasn't originally supposed to be a series so it needed some tweaking. But if you like. Remember every detail then just check out part 1 again!

Alsooooo, if you have any name recommendations for the series, please comment them!! It really needs a name because it'll have at least 5 parts (it just keeps getting longer...)

Masterlist

I take requests!!!

[allzelemonz]

Watching: Charles Smith X Male Reader

Pronouns: None Mentioned, implied homosexuality, Reader referred to as ‘feller’ and ‘mister’ Physical Sex: None Mentioned Rating: T/Violence, murder Warnings: Soft Charles, protective Charles, unwanted flirting, kissing, fluff, unestablished relationship, sober consent, flirting, bar fights, babysitting drunk friends Summary: The Van der Linde gang in a saloon always spells some kind of trouble, so a few of you stay sober to watch the others.

There is not a care in the entire saloon. Dutch has put down enough money for the gang to drink itself silly ten times over and most have taken full advantage. There are a few, like you, Hosea, and Charles, that have been designated as responsible. Abigail is the other but you haven’t seen her in about an hour, you stopped worrying when you noticed John’s absence as well. You watch your drunken friends dance and pick petty fights, taking up nearly the entire saloon. There’s only a few strangers, mostly working girls getting cozy with free drinks until they pull someone upstairs, but there’s also a few troublesome men that you keep an eye on. One of them was hitting on Karen earlier and she made it clear she wasn’t interested. He kept coming back, so you broke a bottle over his head and Charles helped you drag him out. Overall, a standard night.

Until a man decides to talk to you. “Hey, darlin’.”

You glance at him. He has a crooked nose and skin peeling from a sunburn hidden behind an unkempt beard. At the very least, he’s bold for hitting on a man in a public space.

“Mister.” You give him a nod.

He grins, showing that he lacks most of his teeth. “Ya look like a strong feller.”

The glare you give him doesn’t seem to deter him.

“Got a handsome face too.” He giggles, leaning towards you. “Ya like fellers, mister.”

A hand lightly pushes him back before anything further happens, Charles steps between you. He stands up straight, crossing his arms. The man stumbles on his feet and opens his mouth to speak, but he stops when he sees Charles. You ignore the rest of the altercation, turning back to continue cleaning the ring you’d taken from the man that had bothered Karen. You assume the sleazy man that had been talking to you ran away because Charles sits next to you.

“I could’ve handled him.” You mutter.

Charles sighs. “I know.”

“You’re supposed to be watching the idiots.” You gesture to a drunken Sean as he attempts to climb onto a table. “Not me.”

“Maybe I like watching you.”

You look over at Charles and find his focus on the crowd and no discernible expression on his face. Then he turns, still no change in his expression, but now you can see a certain sparkle in his eyes.

“Are you suggesting something, Mister Smith?”

“Maybe.” He cracks a slight smile. “What if I am?”

Your attention is drawn by the sound of a gunshot and you turn, following everyone’s eyes to Sadie. On the ground in front of her is a man that you can assume deserved the bullet he got. In a second, once everyone registers the event, the saloon erupts in chaos. Hosea already has a few of the girls towards the door so you go to pull some of the others from the fight. Charles drags Arthur away just as you manage to shove Micah and Javier to the back exit. It takes a few trips, a few punches, even a disarming as one man drew a knife, but you get everyone out to the horses where Hosea waits. Abigail reappears as well, helping with the girls while Hosea gets everyone in some sort of formation on the horses. He places Charles in front to guide everyone back with himself, you, and Abigail along the sides to make sure no one does anything stupid along the way. If it wasn’t for the fight and the murder you’d stay in the hotel, but Hosea isn’t so sure that’s a good idea now.

So you ride back, only having to glare at a giggling Sean and Lenny a few times as they whisper about running off so you have to chase them. The trees are a welcome sight when they come into view. Getting everyone to bed doesn’t happen because Dutch makes a speech and Uncle passes out beers. A new party begins, this one not in need of babysitters. Hosea thanks you for helping before he goes off to his tent, leaving you and Charles with the mess of horses to get settled. Kieran offers to help, probably having been bored with most people and horses gone from camp, but Charles waves him off.

As you get the last of the saddles off, Charles leans against the hitching post you set it on. He doesn’t say anything, just watches you situate the saddle.

“So you do like watching me?” You ask, turning to him.

He shrugs. “Can you blame me?”

“What makes you so confident tonight?” You ask as you lean next to him.

He’s quiet for a moment. “Arthur might’ve given me a shot.”

“Just one?”

He shakes his head with a bit of a smile.

“Am I going to have to thank Arthur?”

“Depends.” Charles says, leaning a little closer. “Do you like watching me?”

You shrug. “Can you blame me?”

He slowly leans in and presses his lips to yours. Piece by piece, his hands find your face to hold it in place and yours find his waist to pull him closer. He’s warm and you can taste the whiskey when he deepens the kiss.

You pull away a bit. “I’m not doing this if you’re drunk, Charles.”

He hums. “I’m not.”

“You’re sure.”

He closes his eyes for a moment, ducking his head. “I promise, you’d know if I was drunk.”

You smile. “Are you a crazy drunk?”

He returns the smile, looking up at you again. “I can be a little stupid.”

“You promise you’re not drunk?” You sigh. “That you’re coming onto me sober?”

“I promise.” He mumbles. “Can you kiss me now?”

You oblige, pecking his lips. “Do you want to go to my tent?”

“Please.” He mutters against your lips before he presses another kiss to them.

[ruewrote]

𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑐𝑒𝑙𝑒𝑏𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠.

PAIRING: arthur morgan x fem!reader WARNINGS: strong language, GENRE: angst, fluff SONG INSPIRATION: cardigan by taylor swift WORD COUNT: 908

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it wasn’t a secret that you liked arthur far from one. if anything you had gushed over him a countless amount of times. you’re honestly surprised that they haven’t told you to shut up more times by now.

sitting by abigail swinging your legs back and forth whilst you sat on the chair beside her as she hung up the washing out to dry, humming and harring as she kept an eye on jack as she does so.

you and abigail giggled over how handsome he looked from afar as you drank late into the night, the two of you getting told off by dutch which only made you giggle more.

as tilly taught you how to fish and you’d get lost in a love struck gaze not realising a fish was yanking on the end of the line well not of course until she started yelling at you snapping you back into reality.

everyone in the camp had someone. how abigail used to have john, karen and sean grew closer with time, her being distraught when she had found out the bad news and how tilly had dibs on lenny.

you felt so alone most days, but the thought of arthur pushed you through as you watched as the other couples snuggled up together.

you’d often try and make little useful trinkets, sure to either stitch or carve a star into whatever it was. feeling overjoyed when you see him using whatever it was whilst he was inside camp.

you hinted your very big crush to him like how you'd pushed yourself up against him slightly as you shifted to get to a different spot across from him by the campfire since all the other spaces were coincidentally taken.

you even tried to make it completely obvious by stealing his hat and running off with it, arthur chasing close behind you — playfully tackling you to the ground and tickling you until you couldn't breathe.

it wasn’t necessary for him to chase you since you would’ve given it back soon enough anyways but you didn’t mind as long as he was close.

then one day he just up and left.

day after day you got more worried, asking dutch for any updates. of course there was nothing.

he didn’t even say goodbye.

you were sat by the lake when the sound of horse hooves thudded against the grass in the near distance. they grew closer and closer, rapidly trying to blink away the tears that sat along your waterline.

the sound of cheers and celebrations close by confirmed that they were back and sean was safe. you let out a deep sigh of relief.

your hands gripping onto the tree stump that sat underneath you, if not for that it’d be the palms of your hands that'd face the abuse, already having done that enough for it to leave fresh purple bruises behind.

a gust of wind blew your hair in front of you, shuffling to fix it not hearing footsteps stop beside you.

“hope you didn’t miss m’too much whilst i was gon’” it was him.

that was all it took to set you off. whipping your head in his direction.

the fucking audacity this man had.

standing then marching over to arthur, him straightening out his stance not expecting this sort of outburst from you.

“you bastard!” the tears that once flooded your vision now came back to haunt you, leaving a lump in your throat as you stood in front of the tall brunette, shoving your index finger into his chest with every word that you spoke.

“you left us! y-you left me…”

your pokes soon became small shoves to your hands weakly beating on his chest. he stood there and took it. his arms hovering over your figure as if he didn't then you would fall.

your sobs became stronger as did your yells.

it caught the rest of the others attention.

“how could you just up and leave like that? even before the other boys went off to f-find sean.”

you swallowed harshly, wiping some of the tears that had fallen trying to get ahold of yourself, “how could you leave me?”.

arthur was still silent, arms now down by his sides — his head tilted down but not too low so you could still see his lips turn into a small smirk.

“wh— you think this is funny?” your hands going to shove him again, his strong hands wrapped around your own, pulling you ever so close to him.

“‘re ya done yet?” your body went stiff as you realised your predicament. your body tightly pressed against his, his breath gently fanning across your face, his lips so close to yours.

his grip was still no longer on your hands but wrapping his arms around you, securing you in his hold.

“jus’ kiss already!” sean yelled from afar, you both slowly turned towards where the voice came from seeing the whole group gathered around, nodding their heads giving you both thumbs up encouraging you both.

“let’s give what the people want.” as you were turning back to question him, his lips caught your own in a loving kiss, his hands pushing your lower back into his torso deepening the kiss.

only to be met with loud cheers and whistles off the side, karen and tilly definitely shouting the loudest — making you smile into the kiss happily.

at last!

© ruewrote.

[twola]

Seven Deadly Sins - II

PAIRING: low to mid honor Arthur Morgan x Fem!reader

Summary: Because if one thing is true, it is that Arthur Morgan is a sinner. Pure, organic, non-GMO smut. A continuing series.

Warnings: Smut, Violence, Low to Medium Honor Arthur (and all that entails)

Gluttony: excess in eating or drinking, greedy or excessive indulgence.

➵ AO3 Link

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“Pájaro que abandona, cielito lindo, su primer nido,  Si lo encuentra ocupado, cielito lindo, bien merecido…”

The mood of the camp, for the first time in a while, is lifted, as Abigail’s son is returned to her after the fiasco with the Braithwaites, Bronte, and moving from Clemens Point deeper into Lemoyne. The group has taken up at an old, decrepit plantation in the swamps.

Javier plucks his guitar strings as he finishes his ballad, to which the other members of the gang drunkenly shout the refrain.

Arthur sits on an upturned crate around the campfire, tossing an empty bottle of whiskey behind him in the tall grass, taking one last drag on the cigar Dutch had given him in celebration before dropping it to the ground and crushing it under his boot.

Across the fire, he spies you, halfway through a bottle of brandy, leaning on Mary Beth’s shoulder as Javier begins to strum again.

His gaze locks with yours. You immediately sit up straight and lift the bottle of brandy you’re holding to your lips, taking another swig.

Maybe it was the copious amount of whiskey in his belly. Maybe it was the alluring dip of your blouse to show the slightest bit of cleavage in the sticky Lemoyne night.

Maybe it was just the basest, deepest part of him that he had been fighting for weeks that he wanted you. That he wanted to sink into your wet, warm heat and feel the constriction of your body on his.

He had been avoiding you since your last foray. Perhaps it was a momentary weakness, fluttering like a bird in flight. Not that there had been terribly much time for chasing skirts, between his run-in with the O’Driscolls, the mess between the Braithwaites and Grays, and now getting Jack back to his mother, he had been running this way and that for weeks.

But he didn’t miss the look in your eye when you crossed each other’s paths in camp. The hurt, betrayed, questioning look that would make him flee.

Arthur was still mortified about how he acted with you. He woke up the next morning realizing just how bad it looked, that he appeared out of nowhere watching you bathe, and had proceeded to rut you like a damn animal on the lakeshore.

But watching you tonight, in the pit of his stomach, he knew. He knew he wanted you. He had been lying to himself for weeks.

Arthur places his hat back on his head, and stands up, announcing that he’s retiring for the night. After a good bit of ribbing, he rolls his eyes and starts to make his way toward the dilapidated plantation house and the room upstairs he was afforded.

He knows someone is following him. Even with how much whiskey he’s drank tonight, he has lived his life on a razor’s edge and is always prepared.

“Arthur.”

He turns partway around, knowing that you followed him into the house, and your meek, sad-sounding voice just made the pit in his stomach even deeper. You’re standing there, your hair slightly mussed, holding a bottle of half-drunk brandy by the neck.

“I thought you wanted me.”

He breathes out heavily, and every part of him fights against what he wants, the gut pull and baser instinct.

No, not ever, he has never been a good person. He steals and cheats and lies and kills. He takes what he wants from men with little regard.

He should stop lying to himself, at the very least.

“If you don’t want to do this, just please, tell me.” You plead, a hurt tone in your voice, uninhibited by decorum and urged on by brandy.

He turns around fully, his hands resting on the buckle of his gun belt, as he was apt to do in flashes of discomfort, and he looks down to the worn floor of the decrepit house before looking back up at you again.

Arthur’s gaze rests upon you and his cock stirs. Your cheeks are blush red and lips soft and damp. Every fiber of his self-control snaps as he traces your curves under your rumpled blouse, the winnowing of your waist where your skirts flare over your hips. How he knows what you look like underneath those layers. The whiskey his blood serves to burn off the inhibitions that have been dogging him for weeks.

“Get over here, woman.”

A hesitant smile crosses your face, as you take a small step toward him. One of his hands leaves his belt and reaches toward you. He closes the distance and grabs your free hand and yanks you to him bodily, and his lips press against yours insistently.

A noise from the other room makes you jump as you pull away from him, and he pulls you down the hallway and out the back door. You’re a stumbling mess as Arthur drags you away from the main house. Your hands interlace in an almost sweet way. The two of you make your way toward a dilapidated dock house over the bayou, a ways away from possible prying eyes and the celebration going on in front of the old plantation house.

Arthur spins back toward you, stopping you in your tracks as you both reach the dock house.

“I thought we were gonna do this more often.” You hiccup, your hands on his chest as he leans back against the stacked crates on the dock.

“We’re doin it now, ain’t we?”

“I ain’t askin’ for you to marry me, Arthur. I just want ya not to ignore me like you have the last few weeks.”

You lean in and kiss the side of his neck, your teeth gently nipping at the skin there. “…nd maybe a bit more attention at night…”

He groans, pulling your shoulders back, and you gaze up at him questioningly.

His silence makes you nervous.

“D’ya not want….-“

“I reckon that we wouldn’t have time for much else if it were up to me,” Arthur confesses, and in the time since he’s pulled you back, one of his hands has trailed down the curve of your waist to rest on your rear, squeezing it slightly, affectionately.

Slowly, a smirk crosses your face. “Then it’s settled. Sounds like you should get to work, Mister Morgan. You’ve kept a lady waiting.”

“Yes ma’am.” Arthur glances backward quickly and yanks the both of you a few steps closer to the dock, where he sits down on a crate and pulls you against him, almost devouring you with the force of his lips on yours.

You taste of the sweet brandy you’ve been swilling. And peaches, the tart, syrupy, saccharinity of the fruit he knows you have a weakness for - cans of peaches have gone missing from his wagon and he didn’t need to be a lawman to figure out who the thief was.

He’s got you on his lap, your arms wound sweetly around his neck, his hands spread across your lower back and thigh, keeping you firmly seated and safe from the murky, gator-infested swamp water below the dock.

His tongue pushes against yours, and he’s sure that he doesn’t taste quite as sweet as you do, with his belly full of whiskey, and the two cigars he smoked with Dutch earlier in the night.

You grab at the collar of his black shirt with greedy fingers, and his hand moves further down your back to grab at your rear, smacking it lightly as he nips at your bottom lip.

“Inside.” You whisper, pulling your lips from his and glancing back over your shoulder toward the rowdy, loud gathering near the main house. Though the two of you were a good hundred feet away, the sound carried in this grove in the swamp, and with how much the both of you had to imbibe, staying quiet was likely impossible at this point.

You slide off of his lap as he stands up, and follow him as he looks around at the old dock house and its boarded-up windows and doors. Rounding the corner, he looks at the old door leading inside and braces his forearm against it to push on it. The door doesn’t budge.

Arthur grumbles, backing up and rolling his shoulder slightly. He shoves his shoulder against the boarded-up door of the dock house. Arthur had not put much force into it, and you raise your eyebrows as he swears under his breath, making out a few choice curse words.

“Mm.. big bad outlaw stopped by a locked door. You’re losin’ your touch, Arthur.” You joke, a sly, overly sweet tone to your voice.

Arthur turns his head and glares at you, a cold, angry stare that reminds you that yes, indeed, he was a big, bad, outlaw. Your smile falls.

He takes a step back, and before you can prepare yourself, the heel of his boot hits the door with the full force of his body. You yelp, shielding your face with the back of your arms as dried-out wood splinters and the door flies open.

“Y’ were sayin’?” Arthur goads, his cocky airs returning.

“Hmph.” You huff, brushing by him with one hand on your hip, the other still gripping the neck of the bottle of brandy. You enter the small, dusty dock house and look around, the light from the moon shining through the gaps between the wooden walls.

There was not much to look at. A few crates, a work table littered with tools, a canoe with a hole rotten out on its keel.

A large hand braces your lower back and pushes you forward a few steps toward the table. You turn around, only to come eye level with Arthur’s barrel chest as he continues to push you backward. You almost trip, but he grabs one of your arms, keeping you upright.

“C’mon now, girl. Up you go.”

Your hip bumps against the edge of the table, and Arthur leans over you and with a swing of his arm, the cluttered table becomes clear with a loud clatter. You giggle at the noise, and Arthur frowns slightly before his hands fly to your hips and heave you onto the table with little effort.

Your giggles stop as you stare up at him. He seems to be in no laughing mood, the shadow from the brim of his hat shading one of his eyes from your view.

“Mister Morgan… you look like y’wanna devour me.” You retort, drawing your skirts up past your knees and spreading your legs.

“Reckon I do.” He drawls back, hands joining yours to push your skirts further, to your hips, and his eyebrows raise as a smug grin is painted across his face.

“No drawers? Y’expecting somethin’ like this to happen?”

“I told you, Arthur, you’ve kept me waiting.”

He snorts, “Well for that, I apologize, milady. Let me make it up to ya.”

The outlaw drops to his knees in front of you, pushing your skirts all the way up to your hips. You cannot help a gasp as you feel his warm lips against the inside of your knee.  Your legs spread wider as he moves further up your thigh, toward the jointure of your hips.

The rim of his hat brushes against your inner thigh, and you reach forward and pluck it off his head with a giggle, placing it on your own head, and flicking the brim up so you can see past it.

Arthur looks up at you, his head between your legs, a mischievous, tempting look in his eyes.

“Back to your thievin’ ways, I see.”

“We all gotta eat somehow, Mister Morgan.”

His arms wrap around your thighs and he pulls your whole body forward on the table, so that your hips nearly fall off. You yelp as he nips at your inner thigh before looking at you again.

“That we do, Ma’am,” He gives one long lick up the seam of your core, “Speakin’ of which…”

You gasp, your thighs involuntarily tightening slightly around his head, as your hand shoots into his hair, tufts of his honeyed locks askew from wearing his hat all day.

“God, Arthur.” You groan out loudly, throwing your head back, tilted toward the ceiling.

He breathes a hot breath against you, making you shudder, before nipping slightly at your thigh again.

“Y’gotta stop confusin’ us, Miss. That’s a hell of a mistake to make.”

You relish in the blasphemy of it all. Finally letting go of the bottle of brandy, your other hand falls behind you, bracing yourself against the table to keep you upright as Arthur pushes his tongue between your folds and presses against your entrance.

You let out a high-pitched wail as his tongue slips inside, laving the warm, wetness of his mouth against your core. He moves up, up, away from your throbbing entrance to give a long, slow lick at the bud of nerves that makes you squeal and yank at his hair. Arthur groans happily against you, muffled by your thighs clenching around his head.

You have no idea how long he’s between your legs. A minute, ten, a year, time was irrelevant. Not when you felt as if you were dangling cliffside waiting for the wave to take you and drag you under. Unabashed moans escape your lips as Arthur feasts upon you, as if he were never to eat or drink again. You throw your head back and his hat flies off, landing somewhere on the dusty floor.

Your orgasm sweeps like a wave as he suckles on that sweet spot, and you scream his name to the heavens, voice breaking with the crescendo of energy working through your veins.

He pulls back, grasping the top of your thighs as anchors as he stands from his knees. His short beard shines with wetness before he swipes his palm down it quickly while standing up.

You’re panting, still delirious from your orgasm, feeling high and oversensitive.

“I hope y’got another one in ya, 'cause I don’t plan on stopping.” Arthur drawls, pulling on the buckle of his gun belt and letting it clatter to the floor.

The man is sin incarnate. The stuttered moonlight coming from the holes in the ceiling shine down on him in fractal pieces, half of his face shadowed, the strong line of his jaw, the muscles of his arms both beneath the fabric of his shirt, pulled taut, and peaking out from where his sleeves are rolled up. He is hewn from hard labor and violence.

You sluggishly prop yourself up on your elbows, hair wild, pupils blown, still breathing heavily. Arthur slides his thumbs into the crease of your hip joints, smirking as you shiver from his touch. He then moves to peel his suspenders down his arms and works on the buttons of his pants.

He glances back up at you, all breathless and needy, your cunt glistening while your skirts are hiked up around your waist.

Arthur frees his hard cock from the confines of his trousers, stroking it a few times as he leans over you, one of his forearms on the table next to your head, and you lay back down as he chases your lips with his own. Your legs widen, nearly of their own volition.

The head of his cock notches against your opening as you whine against his mouth. His other forearm brackets in your head as he slides in slowly, finding little resistance after he dragged your earlier orgasm out of you.

He nestles his hips in between yours, and when he bottoms out, he cannot help but to groan loudly, in his state of inebriation, keeping the volume down is very, very low on his list of priorities. He pulls back, standing at his full height to tower over you, spread out on the table beneath him.

You’ve propped yourself up on your elbows, mouth slack, pupils blown, watching as he firmly grips your hips with his large hands. He looks down at you, and his lips part as he lets out a deep breath, collecting himself while buried deep within your heat.

Arthur rolls his hips, dragging his cock back slowly, his hot flesh moving against your walls, to the point that he’s nearly pulled out of you. He watches your face, his mouth hanging open, as he pushes forward, relishing as you have to close your eyes and grit your teeth against the moan bubbling up from your throat.

He repeats the motion, only this time, twice as fast. As he pushes back into your core, you curse aloud, your voice crackling.

“Shit, Arthur.”

“Y’like that, girl?” The outlaw pushes in again, snapping his hips against yours.

You whine, your head lolling back as you cross your ankles behind his back, “Yes.” You’re able to hiss, your heels nudging him back toward you as his hips roll.

The table shakes with the movement of your bodies, the crashing of his hips into yours, the wet smacking of skin on skin. The moans and grunts and groans punctuate the night, and in one instant you hear the far-off melody of Javier’s guitar and are thankful that there’s probably enough noise by the big house that the rest of the gang cannot hear your raucous coupling.

Arthur finds a punishing rhythm, his large hands on your hips, fingers digging into your skin sure to leave bruises. The still, humid night is punctuated with his low drawl, that’s it, c’mon and good girl and a thousand other little things that make your breath stutter. Your second orgasm comes over you without warning, and you fall back from your elbows to your back, thighs clenching hard around his hips, moaning unintelligible words broken by gasps.

Arthur’s pace falters, and he swears as your cunt clenches around his cock. One, two, three more thrusts and yanks himself from you, groaning loudly as he strokes himself to completion, spilling on the wooden floor of the old shack.

Arthur tiredly drapes himself over you, his head against your ribcage, panting as he shakily comes down from his own high. Your hands float, nigh of their own volition, to run affectionately through the tufts of his sandy brown hair, mussed by wearing his hat all day. His hands lay on the table, one of his thumbs caresses at the side of your hip.

“Told you we should do that more often.” You laugh, as he starts to tuck himself away and rebutton his pants, his head remaining on your ribcage. You feel the man chuckle, his body still pressed against yours on the table.

He slowly raises himself from you, smirking back at you as he gives your thigh a pinch.

“‘M serious, Arthur.”

“Alrigh’, alrigh’.” He drawls, pulling your skirts down over your thighs and letting them fall over your knees. He takes a step backward from the table, allowing you to sit up and slide yourself off of the surface and to your feet.

You sway slightly, between the blooming soreness in your hips or the empty bottle of brandy you’d left on the table, but Arthur’s hands find your waist to steady you.

“Easy there, girl.” He drawls, keeping you upright.

“Quit talkin’ t’ me like I’m yer horse….” You fuss before trailing off, lost in thought, staring up at him dumbly.

“What?” He asks, tilting his head slightly, questioning.

“Actually… kinda like how you talk to ‘er. Y’can keep talkin’ to me like that.”