#and it will hopefully go away with time I’m just wondering if people have tips … | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

juletheghoul · 1 year ago

Text

AN: The gif of this man as a sheriff, sent my ass into a SPIRAL and this is what happened. I originally wanted to post this for my birthday, but with Canadian Thanksgiving falling on the same weekend there was no way I would have been able to finish lol. I am still trying to post more often, please be patient with me, hopefully this makes up for the lack of posting for the last few weeks. Special thanks to @wheresarizona for betaing and just general wonderfulness, to @just-here-for-the-moment for screaming at me through comments and in whatsapp over this, and to @frannyzooey for screaming at me through discord lol (And for making me some super awesome edits that I will post after!) Hope you enjoy xox.

(PS, I have an idea for a part 2, let me know if you’d want to read it!)

Pairing; Sheriff Frankie Morales x f!reader (Blue / Bluebell as a nickname)

Warnings; sweet, lovestruck Frankie needs his own warning I think-piv sex (wrap it up), swearing, dirty talk, Frankie eats pussy like the champion he is, a non-consensual creampie, angst, longing, yearning, some violence (involving guns / war, accurate for the time period-I tried not to let it get too gory or graphic) brothel mentions - let me know if I missed anything.

Word count; 13k 😅

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist

Dust swirled around him as he made his way into town from the train station, the sun beating down on his every step, and although he hadn’t been home in over a decade, he still knew the way just as well as if he’d never left. Difference was he’d left practically a boy, and now he’d come back a man.

People he both did and didn’t recognize passed him as he carried his suitcase down the sunny high street, some of them smiled, most of them ignored him. It made no difference to him. He would be their new sheriff just the same. Besides, there was only one person he cared to see again. There would be time enough for that later, though. First, he had to get settled.

The brothel was busy, a surefire sign of the town’s growth evident in the number of horses tied up in front.

“Well, hey there, sugar–” He tipped his hat and smiled at the young lady calling out to him, smiling as she leaned against one of the columns flanking the entrance, “-you coming to make a woman out of me?” She batted her big eyes at him.

“Don’t count on it.” His tone was polite, his smile in place. She tsked, giggling at his manners before being called away by someone inside.

Sweat was starting to collect on his brow with the effort of lugging his suitcase all the way from the train station, and he let out a relieved sigh when he finally stepped through the doors of the sheriff's office. It was somehow even hotter on the inside.

“Can I help you?” A kid no older than he’d been when he’d left greeted him from one of the two desks in the small room.

“I’m Francisco Morales, I’m here to see–”

“He’s here to see me, he’s my replacement.” A grizzled but familiar voice sounded from behind him, “You’re early.” The older man walked past him on his way to the second, bigger desk, where he put his cowboy hat down before turning to face him once more. “I was under the impression you’d be here by the end of this month. You in that much of a hurry to retire me, boy?”

He set the suitcase down before wiping at the back of his neck with his handkerchief.

“No sir, just wanted to get settled in, have some time to reacquaint myself.” He put the cloth away. “Fix up the house before starting. Thought I’d check in with you first, though.” He’d gotten in plenty of trouble growing up, and most of the time, this man had been the one to pull him by his ear and make him smarten up. It was a novelty to be in this office and not be in trouble.

“Well, you’ve checked. Go on and get settled. The desk and the badge will still be here in a week.” Sheriff Carson had always been one to speak plainly, and he did so now.

“Yes, sir.” Francisco picked the suitcase back up and braced himself for the glaring rays that would greet him just outside.

“Son,” He turned at the sound of the old man’s voice, “I was sorry to hear about your folks. They were good people.” He nodded back at the old man once and made his way back out the door.

—

“Try again.” You crossed your arms, “We both know I’m not paying that much.” You kept both your voice and expression as neutral as you could, keeping your real interest in the supplies he had close to your chest. Interest and necessity always cost more.

He narrowed his eyes, and you raised your eyebrows in return, holding your ground.

“Price is an even one hundred dollars; had to ride halfway around the world to get most of it-” You curled your lip in disgust.

“Bullshit, Dale! You rode to the nearest town, and that’s only a day's ride at the most. I’ll pay fifty, and that’s twice what it’s worth.”

“You tryna rob me, woman?” He crossed his arms, mirroring you, “I’ll go down to eighty, but that’s final.” He rose to his full height, his posture making him look like some giant, petulant child.

“Seventy-five. And I want some tobacco.”

“Goddamn, you drive a hard bargain. Fine.” He extended his hand, and you shook it with a satisfied smile.

“Good man. Pleasure doin’ business with you.”

“Yeah, yeah, robbin’ me more like.” He grumbled good-naturedly and unloaded the supplies while you counted out the money to pay him with. “Goin’ back in a couple weeks, make sure you let me know what you’ll be needin’ before I go.” He tucked the money away and left. The rest of the morning was spent restocking the various bottles and cabinets with your new stock.

It was therapeutic, sitting behind the big mahogany counter to take inventory of your shop. The shop that had taken you years to finally acquire. Every so often, you took stock of all the work you’d put into it and felt a significant amount of pride in what you’d accomplished. All of it done on your own.

The customers came and went throughout the day, buying tinctures and tonics, and you helped them all to the best of your ability until the end of the day eventually found you, and you locked up the shop. With a final sweep to ensure everything was in its right place before closing up for the night.

The sun was blessedly low as you made your way home, but the streets were busy. Ethel, the youngest and friendliest of the girls who worked in the brothel a few doors down from your shop, was smoking her pipe on the porch, waving and smiling as you passed.

“Hey Ethel, how you keeping?” You called out to her, “Fall in love again today?” She laughed, a plume of smoke wreathing around the halo of her hair.

“Of course, saw a tall drink of water today. Think I’m gonna marry him.” She winked, a devilish smile on her pretty face.

“Uh oh, sounds like he’s in trouble.” You laughed, waving as you passed by the house.

“He will be if he ever comes in here, bye Honey, see you later.”

The buildings thinned as you moved further and further away from the main street, giving you a clearer view of the surrounding ranches and houses scattered throughout the plains. Your own house came into view, and you smiled to see it. The view of it had the pride swelling again; it had been run down and ragged when you’d purchased it, but money wasn’t the only thing you’d invested. That house was the result of your blood, sweat, and tears. Hours and hours of elbow grease, blisters, and bruises, cuts, and had you not been very careful, it would have cost you a few broken bones as well.

There was another house on the way to yours though, one that wiped the smile right off your face as you passed it. It was a house that drew your eye no matter how many times you walked past, no matter how many times you tried to ignore it. It was empty now, but years ago, it had been full of life, full of love and mischief and happiness. It had been full of hope and promises. It was empty now, one of the windows broken, much like the promises had been.

You couldn’t help but watch it as you passed; something flashed in the window, but you ignored it. There hadn’t been anyone there for years.

Wish it would just burn down or sell. Wish the ground would open up and swallow it whole.

Your feet ache when you finally make it to your house, eager to unlace the boots imprisoning them. You did your best to hurry through all your chores and feed yourself, the promise of a hot bath and sweet-smelling soap carrying you through.

—

The house was so much worse than he’d thought it would be, and he’d thought it’d be bad. A couple of windows had broken, and half a town's worth of dirt and dust had blown in through them. He sighed at the state of it, knowing his mother would never have let it get this bad, and for once, he was grateful she wasn’t around to see it.

He set his suitcase down and made a mental list of what needed to be done. First thing first, he needed a few things.

With a wagon full of supplies and considerably less money in his pocket, he began the long process of making it habitable. With a stiff brush and an even stiffer broom, the dirt was returned to its rightful place outside the house. The windows that weren’t broken were opened to let in fresh air, and floors and counters were washed. Food and supplies were put away; the bed was made with new, expensive sheets and linens.

He worked his fingers to the bone throughout the day and most of the night until he’d done as much as he could. There was nothing to be done about the windows; the glass had been ordered, but it would be a few days, possibly even weeks, until he could fix those.

By the time he’d boiled water to bathe himself with, he could barely keep his eyes open, and once clean, he dropped into bed and into the sweet abyss of sleep.

It was strange for him to wake up in the same house he’d grown up in, even stranger for him to wake up in the bedroom his parents had owned. He’d been so dead tired that he’d forgotten to close the shutters, and the room was flooded with the golden light of dawn, chasing away any and all hope for a few extra hours of rest.

Those earlier years were vivid in his mind now that he was here, in this house. He could practically hear the younger, wilder version of himself climbing out his window to go find her. Could still taste the stolen kisses in his mouth, could still hear her delighted laugh when he’d wrap her up in his arms and declare his undying love.

He rose, trying and failing to leave the memories of her behind, and got ready for the day. The coffee he’d bought from the general store wasn’t half bad, and he drank the whole pot with gusto, making a mental note to make sure he picked up some more before he ran out.

The current sheriff didn’t want him underfoot while he settled his affairs, and he didn’t plan on making Carson’s life harder, but he did want to reacquaint himself with the town he’d soon be the law in. He figured the best way to do that would be to go into the businesses and talk to the people, and make his presence known.

You should be looking for her, give her an explanation–demand one in return.

He shook his head, ignoring the rational part of his brain. After all, he didn’t even know if she was still here. He thought about her as he left his house, imagining he could see the two of them as they’d been before. He, in his transition into manhood, her in the bloom of her youth, the two of them inseparable. The ghosts caught up to him though, and then he saw her–the real her, standing just outside the apothecary, waving someone away.

She saw him too, and his heart raced. She was even more beautiful to him than he remembered; it was as though for a brief moment, all of the years between them melted away.

A very brief moment.

The look of shock and hurt, and what he hoped had been love on her face was replaced with a look that, thankfully, could not hurt him. It was pure and unadulterated anger, no–fury.

His legs moved, bringing him towards her. This was definitely not how he wanted this meeting to go. He just hoped she’d listen, but judging by the way she stuck up her middle finger at him, it didn’t look good.

–

The nerve of him. The unmitigated gall!

“Wait–” His voice sounded as you turned to make your way back inside the shop.

“No!” You yelled back over your shoulder, not even bothering to face him, even as your heart raced to see him again.

“Goddamnit, woman, wait! Let me talk to you–” He was closer than you thought, barely managing to avoid you slamming the door in his face.

“Don’t you ‘woman’ me, Francisco Morales!” you yelled up into his handsome face, hating how gorgeous he looked, how his neck- one of your favourite parts of him- stared you in the face. “Do me a favour and take off for another fifteen years. Leave me be.”

“Come on, Bluebell, you gotta let me explain.” He managed to slip through the doors before you had a chance to lock them, but it didn’t matter, the pet name he called you stopped you in your tracks and rocketed the fury to new heights.

“Bluebell?” You couldn’t hide the edge of violence in your voice, “How dare you call me that? I am nothing but a stranger to you at this point. You lost any and all privileges to call me anything at all when you left.” He was taller than when he left, but his eyes still burned into yours the way they’d done when you were young and in love.

It would make you laugh if you weren’t still so hurt about how everything had gone down. The way he was standing in front of you, hands on his hips, frustrated frown in place. You didn’t give him an inch, but it hurt to admit just how badly you’d missed him. You shooed the swirl of feelings for him away, focusing on the one easiest to deal with: anger.

“Will you listen to me at least?”

“Why should I?” You turned from him, busying yourself with putting a few of your jars back in their place.

“Well, because I owe you an explanation–” You let out a bark of cruel laughter.

“That’s an understatement.”

“-I know, I always intended on coming back for you. You have to know that.”

“Do I? Do I just have to know that Francisco?” You all but slammed the jar into its slot on the big cabinet, taking up the whole wall behind the counter. “You know, you have some goddamn nerve–” the little bell above the door jingled when the Sheriff walked in, his bushy, white eyebrows raised into his hairline as the look on your face. It didn’t take an overly in-depth investigation to see that Francisco wasn’t exactly in your good books.

“You never could stay out of trouble, could you, son?” He moved past him to stand at the counter before you, “You want me to come back later, sweetheart?”

You sighed, doing your best to smile at the older man.

“Not at all. I have the tonic ready; give me just a moment to wrap it up for you.” You did your best to smile and ignore the big, aggravatingly effective puppy dog eyes shining at you from your peripheral. “Here you are, Sherriff, that’ll be thirty-five cents.” He dug into his pocket, counting out the right amount and handing it over before thanking you and turning to leave.

“You make sure you let me know if you need anything–” He gave Francisco a frown, “-and I mean anything.”

“Yes sir, thank you.” With another jingle, he was gone, but other customers made their way inside, and Francisco sighed.

“You can go ahead and leave. I am at my place of business.”

“I will come and find you later. Then we can actually talk.” He took a few steps back, his hand on the door handle.

“I won’t hold my breath.”

—

Much to his annoyance, the sheriff was waiting for him outside of the apothecary.

“Can I help you with something, sir?” He spoke the words through a tired sigh.

“Boy, I do believe that woman hates you.”

“No sir, that woman loves me. If she hated me, she would have shot me.” He moved away from the sheriff, ignoring the raucous laughter that followed his every step. He ignored it and set about doing what he needed to do, telling himself that he’d be able to deal with it later when she let him explain himself. It made no matter what he told himself, though, his mind wouldn’t let her go.

Instead of using the time productively, he found himself counting the hours until she closed up the shop, loitering around the door like some lovestruck teenager. He scoffed to himself, ignoring the cloying heat of the sun. Isn’t that all he was? Just some lovestruck fool? She couldn’t know that, though, not with the way things had gone down.

Any hope he had of her cooling down throughout the day died at the narrowing of her eyes, her expression now as she locked the apothecary door so different from the one that had kept him going throughout the years he’d spent away.

“Still here, shocking.” She waltzed past him, “Just leave me be.”

“I can’t do that., I need you to listen to me.” It took him a few long strides to catch up with her, “Can I please just explain?”

“Why? What does it matter at this point? I don’t want to hear you–” He stood in her way, blocking her path on the dusty sidewalk.

“Listen! Please!” He held onto her arms, keeping her still so he could look into her eyes. “I know you aren’t happy with me–” She scoffed, and he spoke over her, “I know, but you have to know that I missed you all this time. I didn’t want it to happen like this, but I can’t help that now.” She shrugged out of his grip, crossing her arms.

“You okay, Honey? This man botherin’ you?” An older woman shouted from the porch of the brothel, her hand on the gun at her hip.

“No, Ma’am, I’m fine. I know him–well, I knew him.” She turned towards the madam and smiled, “I got it under control.” She sighed and walked around him, turning to him after a few steps. “You have until I get home.”

He rushed behind her and kept the smile to himself.

“I see you’ve done really well for yourself. It makes me really happy to see how you’ve been–”

“This isn’t an explanation. You’re wasting your time with flattery I won’t respond to.”

“Right, I’m sorry.” He frowned, trying to keep pace with her. “I sent you letters–”

“You sent me a few letters, all of which I responded to.” She spoke loudly, cutting him off. “A few letters in almost fifteen years–”

“I sent you dozens of letters.” It was his turn to frown and her turn to slow down, “I wrote to you as often as I could, even after I stopped getting your responses.” He knew he wasn’t exactly the kind of man her parents had wanted her to end up with. He remembered the sour looks on their faces when he’d come calling.

“I got a few letters the first year and then nothing else.” Her expression was wary, her eyes narrowed. “Did you really write to me? Or are you saying that so I’ll forgive you?” She crossed her arms, stopping to gauge the truth in his words.

“I wrote to you for years, figured I would have to come and talk to you in person, but then I thought maybe you’d met someone else, or moved away, or worse. Then I told myself I’d come and find you, but life is the way it is, and things got in the way. When I heard they needed a new sheriff, I sent word to Carson to see if he’d consider hiring me–I was shocked when he responded yes.” She stared at him, eyes bright but mistrustful. “I swear on my mother's grave.” He took her hand, holding it to his heart. “I should have come sooner-” She pulled her hand away gently, fire still burning in her gaze, but now it was coloured with sadness as well as fury.

“Yes, yes, you should have.” She sighed and continued walking towards their homes, “I am so angry at you, Francisco. I am angry you left and angry you came back.” She looked away from him, her hands flying to her face momentarily before facing forward again.

“I know.” His house came into view, and he fought the urge to invite her in. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry.” She didn’t respond, only kept her eyes forward. “What time do you leave in the morning?”

“What?” She frowned.

“What time do you usually leave? I’m not sure what time the Apothecary opens–”

“It opens at eight, but I like to get there early. Why?”

“May I accompany you? I would like to walk with you if I could.” He knew she wouldn’t forgive him so quickly. Her fiery temper was one of the things he’d always loved about her.

“You want to walk me? I am fully capable-”

“I never said you weren’t. I would still like to walk with you. I’ve missed talking to you, it would be a nice way to…reconnect.” He chanced a smile, hoping it would still have the effect it used to.

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t smile in return. Her house was closer now, his time with her coming to an end for the day.

“I suppose I cannot stop you.” It wasn’t a yes, but it definitely wasn’t a no.

“See you tomorrow then, goodnight Bluebell.” He stopped a few yards from her door, waiting until she was safely tucked inside before turning and going home.

The moon was high when you finally dug out the letters you’d hidden away deep in the chest at the end of your bed. The paper had yellowed, and you didn’t even bother getting up off the floor. With shaky hands, you untied the little bundle and spread them out in front of you, trying your hardest not to tear up at the little hearts and flowers he’d drawn in the curled-up corners.

My Dearest Bluebell,

I cannot even begin to tell you how much I miss you. Things here move so quickly, but I’m doing so much, making more money than I’ve ever seen! More than enough for us to start our lives together–

You pushed the letter away, finally letting go of the sob that had been squatting in your throat since seeing him earlier that morning. The love he’d had was so evident in his scratchy script, and the pain of his apparent silence reared its head in your soul to see it again after all of the years you’d survived without him. The last letter he’d sent held no clue as to why he’d ever stop writing, and now a nagging suspicion filled the corners of your mind.

Your mother had made it more than clear that Francisco wasn’t her first choice for you. She’d treated him less than kindly whenever he came calling, would turn up her nose at him whenever she’d seen the two of you together, and had smiled a big, cruel smile at the news that he’d be leaving. Would she have gone so far as to hide letters from him? Something in your heart said yes.

Suddenly, it was too much to see his words surrounding you, and you gathered them up hastily, tossing them back into the chest before surrendering to the exhaustion in your heart and in your bones and getting into bed. You tried to think about something else as you lay there, anything else–but he kept popping up, making you wonder–against your will–whether or not he’d actually be there in the morning.

He didn’t let you wonder.

His heavy knock made you practically jump out of your skin as you did your best to tie the laces of your corset. You chewed on your bottom lip, annoyed with how you rushed to throw on your dressing robe, sighing at the speed with which you made it to the door.

He smiled as you opened the door, testing every measure of self-control you’d built up in his absence with a single dimple.

“You’re here.”

“Yes, just like I said–I figured it would be best to be early.” His gaze raked over you in your half-dressed state, “You look lovely.”

“Sure I do.” You scoffed, “I need more time. I usually leave a little later.” He scratched at the back of his neck, unsure what to say, and you had to work extra hard to keep from laughing at him. “Come in then. You can wait in the kitchen while I finish getting dressed.” You turned and left then, leaving him to close the door.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You kept the door slightly ajar in your bedroom, your heart racing to know that after all this time–he was in the same house as you. You shook your head, shooing away the novelty of his presence to call up the anger and the fury that had kept you from falling apart in his absence.

“The house looks great!” He called from the kitchen, “You shoulda seen the state of mine when I got here.”

You bit your lip, relishing the deep tones of his voice as they filled the house.

“Still haven’t been able to fix the windows–had half a desert's worth of sand in the house. Took me forever to clean it.” He continued speaking as you finished dressing, completely unaware of the way you contemplated whether or not to use some of your very pricey, very precious perfume. You ignored the disappointed little voice in your head as you dabbed a few drops behind your ears and on the inside of your wrists.

“-hopefully, they'll come in by the end of the week-” He was still speaking when you made your way back into the kitchen where he sat at your little table, the long lines of him entirely too big and too wonderful for the tiny space.

“Have you eaten?” You cut off his speech, pulling down the cast iron pan from the rack above the woodfire stove.

“I, uh, I had some coffee.”

“So, no?” You shoved some kindling into the open door of the oven, striking a match to light it.

“Well, no–”

“Okay then.” There was enough time, and you got to work.

“Can I help?”

“No–actually, yes. You can go fetch some water from the well out back.” You shoved the big kettle into his hands and sent him on his way, where he went without comment.

Soon enough, you had biscuits baking and coffee brewing, and the house smelled better than any perfume you could buy. You once again ignored the little voice, the one that curiously sounded like your mother when you put out both the butter and the jam.

When they were out of the oven and steaming, you couldn’t help but smile at how well they'd turned out.

“It smells like heaven in here.” You could practically hear him drooling, and it was with a great sense of both satisfaction and pride that you watched him throw caution to the wind and eat one without waiting for it to cool down. He moaned at the first bite, making your heart soar and silencing the mean little voice.

“You like them?” You had to hear it, had to hear the words in his voice.

“Like them? Honey, I’d kill for them.” You narrowed your eyes at him but let the endearment go without comment. Already, you were softening up for him. “I could eat this whole goddamn plate.” He pulled another one open, no doubt burning the tips of his fingers but continuing on just the same, slathering it with both butter and jam before taking a huge, steam-filled bite.

You ate yours slower, unsure what you liked best, the biscuit or watching him eat.

He poured you a cup of coffee before pouring one for himself, and for a moment, your heart shattered at how right it felt to have him here. For the first time since he’d left, you let yourself feel just how lonely you’d been without him.

“I know you’re angry with me.” He put the remnants of his biscuit down, “I know you think I abandoned you, picked up and found a new life outside of this place, but you have to know–” He reached over, taking your hand in his, “I never stopped thinking about you.” The tears flowed without your permission, what felt like years worth of them dripping steadily onto the bodice of your dress. “I have loved you since I was a boy, and I should have come back the second I thought something was wrong. I’ll never forgive myself for letting you worry or letting you imagine for a single moment that you weren’t everything to me. I know it’ll take time for you to trust me again, but I’ll work as hard as I can.”

You wanted to rip your hand away, to scream in his face and tell him to give you peace, but you couldn’t. Instead, you let the tears fall, let him stand and tentatively pull you towards him, let him crush you in the first hug you’ve had in years. For a moment, it’s as though you cannot get close enough, your hands like claws digging into the fabric of his overcoat, knuckles cramping from the force of your grip, and he sighs into your hair. The relief of the painfully familiar smell of him is so great that it almost knocks you off your feet.

When you finally push him away, you know your eyes are puffy.

“I believe you–” He smiles through his own tears, “-but I am still angry. I cannot just let go of my hurt. Not so quickly.” It takes everything in you, but you untangle yourself from him softly. “I have been living in this for so long, I don’t even know how to stop feeling this way.” The handkerchief that usually lived in your pocket made itself useful now. “I don’t even know where to begin. I loved you so much–” His face contorted in pain, the use of the word in the past tense like a stab to his heart. “-I don’t think I ever stopped. It’s the reason it hurts so much.” He let out a shaky breath, smiling a watery smile.

“I know, I’ll work for it, I promise.”

“I know.”

–

He felt like he was flying. His steps were so light, surely he’d grown wings. He knew it was going to be a long road for them, but for the first time in years, he had hope.

He couldn’t keep the smile off his face throughout the day, the feel of her in his arms, the smell of her in his nose, all of it made him feel like any errant puff of wind would blow him away. He had a skip in his step as he made his way over to the Sheriff's office, uncaring whether the man wanted him there or not. He had to keep his time away from her occupied with something, and learning what it took to do his job effectively was the next best thing.

“I haven’t seen that look on your face in years, it meant trouble back then, and I doubt it’s changed.” Sheriff Carson frowned at him, “Your house all fixed up then?” He didn’t stop what he was doing, instead continuing as he spoke.

“As fixed as it can be, sir, until the replacement window panes come in.” He sat in the chair in front of Carson without invitation. The man only grunted in response.

“I want to start early, get a feel for what you do so I can do it properly.” At this, the older man looked up.

“I know I wasn’t the easiest kid–” The older man scoffed at that but let him continue. “-Yes, yes, I know. I was a helion. I’m a man now, and I’ve grown up. I just want to keep this town safe, want to do my job.” The older man's eyes narrowed, and Francisco frowned. “Why did you say yes when I applied?”

“Part curiosity, part hope, I guess.” He set the pen down, leaning back in his chair, his arms coming to rest crossed on his belly. “You’ve always been a smart kid, Frank, and if you really are as grown up as I think you are, I think you got the makings to be a great sheriff. Especially if you’re anything like your daddy.” It was probably the nicest thing Carson had ever said to him. He didn’t know how to respond.

“I just don’t want you to hurt that girl–” He raised his hands to forestall any response, “I know what you felt for her was real, but she was a shell when you left, and I don’t want to see her like that again. We clear?”

“Yes, sir. I’m here. I’m home for good.”

“Good, now let's get to work.”

Francisco was no stranger to hard work, but Carson seemed determined to make him jump through every single hoop in order to prove he could do this job. It didn’t deter him in the slightest, not with the promise of the life he’d always wanted so close on the horizon. Instead, he took notes, followed Carson, did everything he asked, and paid as much attention as he could, but secretly counted the hours until he would see her again.

He heard the gunshots as he organized the disaster that was Carson’s filing system.

“Suppose you oughta come with.” Carson slipped his holster on, handing a gun to him before leading the way toward the sound.

A half-naked man was rolling around on the ground just outside the brothel, clutching at a blood-soaked arm. His eyes were wild with pain and anger, and he only seemed to get more frantic at the sight of the two of them approaching.

“Sheriff! Arrest that woman!” He pointed with his good hand at the young woman on the porch. “Crazy bitch shot my damn arm-”

“You put your hands on me, and you lose your hand! Them’s my rules!” She was screaming mad, a painful-looking shiner blooming on her pale face.

“Enough!” Carson’s voice rang out loud enough to silence everyone within earshot, “Now–Who’s gonna tell me what happened? I can listen, or I can arrest the lot of you and be done with it.” He rested his weight on one leg, hand resting on the gun at his hip.

The madame stepped out from behind the younger woman, her face austere.

“I think it’s pretty obvious; he took a liberty, smacked my girl around, and he got bit.” She put her arm around the younger woman's shoulder. “Ethel is one of my best. Now she’s got this to deal with. He’s lucky she didn’t shoot his pecker off.” The man scoffed, pulling his shirt on as best he could before moving towards the women.

“I don’t think so, pal,” Francisco spoke directly to him, pulling his own gun and holding it at his side in warning.

“I got witnesses, Carson. Lock this fucker up, and let us get back to work.”

“I’ll need to come in and get some statements, Mabel. You know that as well as I do. Frank, take this moron over to get patched up.”

“So I’m just gonna lose my fuckin’ hand!?” He was incensed.

“Lucky you didn’t lose your life. Now get out of my sight. I’m gonna give you until sundown to be out of here; if not, you can spend an undetermined amount of time in my jailhouse.” Carson’s voice held no room for anything but complete obedience, and after a tense moment, all of the air went out of him, and he let Francisco lead him toward the town physician.

You tried not to be upset when he wasn’t waiting for you outside the apothecary at the end of the day; after all, he hadn’t said he would be. Instead, you locked up as usual and set about making your way home.

“Bluebell!” His voice rang out from behind you, making your head whip around. Your frown turned from annoyance to worry at the sight of dried blood on the white of his shirt. Your hands clutched at the collar of his shirt before you had a chance to catch yourself.

“What happened?” Any and all propriety went right out the window with how frantically you pulled at his layers to see where the blood had come from. “Did you get hurt?”

“No, no, I’m fine–it’s not mine.” there was something in his voice that brought you back to your senses, a tenderness that pierced the very heart of you. His hands held onto yours for a moment before you pulled them away slowly.

“Oh. I’m glad.”

“There was some trouble at the brothel. One of the girls shot some idiot who got handsy. I had to bring him to the physician.” The thought of him anywhere near the brothel made your hackles rise. You stamped the feeling away and continued your walk back home. He fell into step beside you. “What was that?” His smile was big now.

“What was what?”

“That look you just gave me.” He bumped his shoulder into yours, and you frowned.

“What are you talking about? I didn't give you any look.”

“You gave me a look, Blue, when I said the word brothel, a jealous look.” His smile was so wide you wanted to smack him.

“I did not. You are free to do as you please. We aren’t married.” You kept your eyes on the horizon and did your best to ignore the bark of laughter he let out beside you.

“Fine, I’ll drop it. I got no business in a brothel anyway. Even if I’m not married, yet.”

You sighed, ignoring just how right he was.

There was a man with a wagon waiting just outside his house as you passed it.

“Can I help you?” He called out to the man outside his house. You can’t help but notice how he put himself between you and the stranger.

“I have some window panes to deliver.” He walked around to the back of the wagon, uncovering it to show the cargo

“Oh! Yes, I’ll take those.” He jogged over to the man, helping to bring the glass inside. You followed him despite yourself, unable to keep the frown off your face at the state of his home. You were still looking around when everything had been brought inside, and the man had been sent away. “It still needs work, but at least the windows will be intact.” You could see how he surveyed his home, his eye just as critical if not more than yours.

You set down your things.

“Need to boil some water.” You hauled out the biggest pot you could find.

“What?” He came over and took the pot from you, putting it onto the stove for you.

“We need to boil water to clean these floors, and we should wash these windows too.”

“Yes, but I can do it–”

“Francisco. Go get water so we can boil it and get this place in order.” You raised your eyebrows at him and relished the way he watched you. He’d always liked it when you were assertive.

“Yes, ma’am.” He smiled before heading out to his own well.

Once the water was boiled, you got to work with a stiff brush while he set about replacing the broken windows. It wasn’t easy work, getting down on your knees to scrub the years worth of dirt and dust out of every nook and cranny embedded in the floorboards. It was worth it, though, to look up every so often and see the hard lines of him working, both his jacket and waistcoat shed and thrown onto a chair; his shirtsleeves rolled up.

He’d always been beautiful to you, with his big brown eyes and his golden skin, the maddening dimple, even the curve in his nose. He was even more gorgeous now, with age and experience etched on his face, even hardened, he could still make you swoon.

You gasped at the sting, snatching your hand back cat-quick. Blood beaded on your finger and dripped down onto the freshly washed floor, an errant piece of broken glass sitting on the floor. It was a few seconds before he was gathering you up from off the floor and guiding you to one of the chairs.

“I’m okay, just a little cut.” He moved away for a moment, moving towards the back of the house. “Really, Frankie, I’m fine.” He came back with a few pieces of clean linen and a little jar of something clear; you can only imagine what it is.

“I know. I still want to clean and wrap it, though.” He set his things down, moving to the remaining boiled water on the stove to dampen one of the pieces of cloth, using it to clean the wound before opening the little jar. His eyes found yours then– ”You gonna be brave for me?” He held it over the cut, waiting for you to answer. “It’s going to hurt, but I know you’re gonna be good for me.” He winked and then splashed a little bit of the moonshine onto it. He may as well have stuck a hot poker into your hand. “There there, Blue, almost done.”

By the time the stinging abates, your finger is wrapped up, and any evidence of injury is gone.

“Thank you.” You held your hand close to your chest, ignoring the way it shook a bit.

“Of course, I think we’re done for today. I don’t want you to hurt yourself. I would like for you to eat something.” He pulled out what looked like some crusty bread and some dry meat. “It’s not much, but it’s what I have for right now.” He set it down in front of you, giving you everything he had to offer, and for the first time in years, you smiled at him.

“Are you done with the windows?”

“Yes, I just need to get rid of these broken pieces.” He gestured to the pile on the counter.

“Okay, let's go back to my place. I can make us dinner.” You stood to move, and he followed you, protesting for a moment.

“But your hand–”

“My hand is fine. Let’s go.” You moved to pick up your things, but he stopped you, gently knocking your hand aside to carry them for you.

The stew came together as quickly as it could with the way your hand throbbed. The bread, too, and soon enough, you were both sitting at the table eating the steaming food quietly. He ate with gusto, and you wondered briefly if he’d been eating well in his time away. He looked strong, but then again, he’d always been broad.

He pushed his bowl away with a dreamy smile, his hands coming to rest on his belly.

“That was the best thing I’ve eaten since I left. Aside from the biscuits this morning, I mean.”

“I’m glad.” You finished eating as he sat there, enjoying his company far more than you’d ever admit. Once you were done, he grabbed your bowl and put it into the sink, pouring some of the leftover well water to begin cleaning up. “You don’t have to do that–”

“I know. You don’t have to feed me either. I’ll just clean these and then get out of your hair.” You sighed, knowing you wouldn’t convince him otherwise.

“Thank you.”

“No, thank you, you’ve fed me better today than in the whole time I was gone.” You smiled to yourself, half exhilarated, half annoyed at just how much your anger at him had crumbled. “Okay-” He set the last plate on the drying rack before drying his hands, “-I desperately need a bath. I’ll get out of your way. See you tomorrow morning?”

“If you want.” You followed behind him, trying your hardest to keep the hope out of your voice.

“Of course, I want to see you tomorrow.” He moved in quickly, pressing a kiss to your forehead before you had time to protest. “Goodnight Blue.” With a smile and a wink, he’s gone.

Weeks passed, and it could not be said that Francisco Morales wasn’t a persistent man. No matter how hard you tried to hang onto that anger, he excelled in chipping away at it. He was true to his word about working on building back the trust that had been lost, spending any time away from his work with Carson split between you, and working on his house.

He’d become quite the handyman in his time away, and he showcased that in the work he did in both his house and yours. He’d noticed your laundry line had broken and fixed it aggravatingly quickly. He spotted a few leaky spots in your roof and had them fixed at no cost to you, making you wonder just how much money he’d made while away. Aside from the windows and the cleaning you’d both done at his place, he’d replaced the more rundown furniture, and while it was missing some of the personal touches of his mother–it was definitely comfortable and livable once again.

The intense loneliness and craving for intimacy had also hit you full force with his return. You found yourself thinking back to how things had been when you’d been young and wildly in love with each other. How his mouth had always found yours, how he seemed to need to be close to you, his arm often around your shoulder, his hand always finding a way to clasp yours.

It was worse at night when other memories floated out of the isthmus of your mind, filling it with the visions of him above you, his tongue in your mouth, and his cock deep inside. You’d been young but eager to explore one another, and he had been nothing if not resourceful in finding any and all opportunities to get you out of your clothing. Now, the days were filled with new tortures, and you found yourself feeling jealous of the beads of sweat that rolled down his back, envious of the way his shirts seemed to hold him so tightly.

The way his eyes tracked you didn’t help the situation; they were just as wild, just as beautiful, and just as open and honest as they’d always been. His desire for you shining out at you through their honeyed gaze.

He’d been busy that morning, well and truly the sheriff now, and with that came more time away, giving you, in turn, more time alone. Or so you’d thought. The knock was loud, solid, and instantly, you knew it was him. You groaned, staring at the perfectly steaming water of the tub surrounding you.

“Not now, Frankie!” You called out to him from the back of the house–hoping for a moment he’d let you enjoy the sweet steam surrounding you. His knock came again, and you huffed, stepping out of the oasis and wrapping yourself up in your dressing gown. “Frankie, I’m kind of in the middle of something–” You opened the door to him, and instantly, his gaze raked over you, no doubt seeing the way the damp fabric clung to your body, leaving nothing to the imagination. The dumbstruck look on his face filled you with such satisfaction that you let him look his fill before moving your eyes to bring his attention back up. “Can I help you with something?”

“Uh–” He stumbled for a moment, his eyes moving back down to where the gown split, to where your leg and most of your thigh peeked through. “Um–I uh…”

“...You…?”

“Um…Sorry. I brought you a gift.” He shook his head for a minute before decidedly looking you in the eye. “I remember I took your copy; brought you a new one.” He held the book out to you, and for a moment, you forgot to be alluring.

“Jane Eyre?” You grabbed the book, opening it up quickly.

“I remember you reading it to me; thought maybe I could read it to you sometime.” His dimple shined, and you couldn’t help but leap into his arms.

“Oh, Frankie, I love it! I have been looking for a copy forever!” You pressed your face into his neck and relished how tightly he held onto you in return, relished the feeling of his nose buried in the crook of your neck.

“God, Blue, you smell good enough to eat.” His words, his voice, they ran down your spine like a drop of ice on a hot day, hardening your nipples and making you ache for him. You pulled away, biting your lip as you stared at his mouth.

“You could come in… and read to me?” He smiled and closed the door. “I was just in the bath. I could get in and cover myself with a cloth. You could read to me while I bathe.” He nodded slowly, gulping before following you, making sure to grab a chair on his way.

“Give me one minute to get in.” You closed the door, heart thumping at how the colour had gone out of his eyes, leaving them blown black. Within a few tense moments, you were back in the tub with the hangover of the lining cloth covering you under the milky, soapy water. “Okay–come in.”

He looked almost pained as he pulled up the chair beside you, his eyes once again greedy in their quest to map whatever part of you he could see, which admittedly is more than you planned to show him with how transparent the lining is.

“Shall I start at the beginning?” He flipped open the book, but his eyes were still locked on you.

“Yes, please.”

“Very well.” He took a deep breath, and began, his deep, soothing voice the perfect accompaniment to the steaming water.

“Folds of scarlet drapery shut in my view to the right hand; to the left were the clear panes of glass, protecting, but not separating me from the drear November day–Oh, sorry, I already read that.” You smiled to yourself, enjoying the way he couldn’t seem to focus, the way he kept losing his place, and admittedly, it took everything in you not to pull him into the tub with you.

“That’s okay. Can you help me with this?” You offered him the soapy washcloth, “My back? It’s so hard to get it on my own.” You batted your eyes at him, smiling the smile he’d never been able to resist, hoping it still worked its magic on him.

“Let me rinse my hands first. I don’t want to muddy up this paradise.” He knocked the chair over in his haste to reach the washbasin you had on the counter. By the time he was finished and righting his seat, he had shed his topmost layers and rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his biceps.

You leaned forward, giving him access to the skin of your back and sighing at the closeness of him when he pressed the soapy cloth to it.

“God, I missed you, Blue.” He rubbed at your shoulders slowly, his other hand slipping around to hold the top of your chest, just beneath the dip at the bottom of your throat. “Missed touching you, feeling you, kissing you.”

Your eyes closed, and you thought surely he must feel the way your heart raced just under your skin when his fingers curled softly around your neck.

“Been dying to kiss you for years.” You felt then how the cloth had been discarded, and his bare hand spanned the smooth skin of your back, massaging at your shoulders and the top of your spine. “You ever miss me like that?” His voice was a soft rasp now, lulling you up and back into his hand, letting the linen go and looking up into his eyes.

“Yes–I do, Frankie–all the time.” You bit your lip, staring at his mouth as he spoke.

“Can I kiss you?” He moved forward an inch, leaning in as his hands worked their spell against your skin.

“Yes-” You barely whispered the word before he pressed his mouth to yours softly. It was tender and oh so familiar, the way his lips moved against yours, his tongue seeking entrance and gaining it just like he’d done so many times before. Your kiss was a dance, the steps of which neither of you had ever forgotten. It ached, the way his mouth claimed yours, and you couldn’t help but lean into him, to reach up and hold onto him as he groaned into the kiss.

“I have been dreaming about this since I left–” He spoke between kisses, pressing them to your face, before licking into your mouth once more, “Can I touch you?”

You nodded, chasing his mouth again. His hand slipped down, slick with soap, and then he held onto your breast, kneading one and then the other, his thumb strumming against the sensitive buds while your cunt leaked for him. His eyes moved, watching himself touch you, his lip caught between his teeth,and all of a sudden, it was too much, and you move, pulling away and standing, naked as the day you were born.

“Take me to bed, Frankie.” He stared up at you from his place on the chair, and from the look on his face, you’d think he was looking at an angel. It didn’t last, though; within seconds, he was up and pulling you out of the tub, practically dragging you towards your bedroom.

Your breath came out in a huff when you landed on your back, smiling breathlessly at the look of pure hunger on his face. He chewed his lip as he pulled off his layers, going through them quick enough that you genuinely worried he’d rip them. The water that had clung to your skin from the bath, now seeped into the sheets underneath you as you watched him undress.

“I’m so fucking hard for you, Blue.” He kicked his denim off, tossing everything every which way, “So hard it hurts.” His cock bobbed as he finally crawled his way over to you, and it was then that you saw it, a significant scar on his side, like a starburst. Your hand reached out, and you pressed your fingers to it, looking into his eyes for an explanation.

He pulled your hand up and kissed the tips of your fingers, “It’s nothing. I’m fine.” He continued his pilgrimage across your body, stopping only to kiss your sternum, your hip, and the soft skin of your belly. “I missed seeing you like this so much-“ he opened your legs, groaning at the way your cunt glistened for him. “-I missed how fucking wet you get, how good you taste-“ he barely finished speaking before he dove in, his tongue parting you further, gliding over your clit with desperation.

“I missed you-oh-“ his hands clutched at your thighs, pulling you closer to his mouth, pulling the strings of your arousal to pool for his tongue. “That feels so fucking good, Frankie—“ Your hands found the short crop of his hair, unsure of whether you wanted to pull him up or grind against him. He huffed a cocky laugh into your skin, doubling his efforts and tightening his grip on your thighs, his fingers indented into the skin. The steady glide of his tongue against your clit, up and down, up and down, has you falling over the edge of the cliff and your thighs clamping around his head.

It didn't stop him; his tongue kept moving, slower as you rode out your high. He bit at the plump of your inner thigh as you relaxed, smiling and shiny with your arousal.

“I missed that too.” He moved, pressing his lips to your belly again, moving up and licking a hot stripe between your breasts before slotting his hips between your legs. His skin was so warm, so welcome, that you couldn’t help but sigh and pull him close, your fingers curling into his hair.

“I wanted you to come back so badly-“ You covered every inch of his face in kisses, “Wanted you to stay with me, love me like this.” You licked into his mouth, tasting yourself in the kiss.

“I’m here, Honey, I’ll never leave you again-“ You can feel just how hard his cock is as it pressed into your belly, the two of you clinging to one another in the dying light of the day.

“Promise me, promise me you won’t leave me.” You reached down and wrapped your hand around the sizable heft of him, stroking slowly while positioning him at your entrance.

“Fuck-I promise baby, I promise you-“ His sentence ended in a filthy moan as you pulled him in with your heels, pressing into the meat of his ass, finally having him inside you again after everything.

You moaned at the way he filled you.

The last fifteen years melted away, the long stretch of loneliness feeling more and more like a dream with every deep stroke of his cock.

There were no more words, only whimpers from you and deep groans from him. There was the rhythmic rocking of your bed and the slick sounds of him moving between your legs. His hips snapped faster and faster as he chased his release, burying his face into the crook of your neck to feed all the delicious sounds he made directly into your ear.

“I’m so close, touch yourself—“ his voice sounded wrecked, moving his hips like a piston, his cock kissing that one spot only he ever found. You obey and reach down to swirl your fingers around your clit, rocketing yourself closer to another, more intense orgasm.

He moved his face down, holding onto your breast to suck on your nipple, and then the dam broke, and you clenched around him, moaning his name as you reached your peak.

“Fuck, that’s it, that’s so good, oh god—I’m gonna come-“ his hips sped up, the wet sounds of his thrusts louder after your second climax. You opened your legs wide, giving him space to move, but he stayed put.

“Frankie-“ You started to speak, trying to guide him to spill on your belly; still, he didn’t move. Instead, he pushed in deep, groaning loudly, and it was with a sinking feeling in your stomach that you felt him twitch inside.

You were frozen in place, momentarily shocked into silence.

“God—I’ve been dreaming of that for years.” He sounded drunk, pulling out of you with a hiss to take a good look at his handiwork.

“Francisco, did you just do what I think you did?” Your tone was devoid of any sweetness. “Did you just spill inside me?”

“Yes—“ he frowned, confusion colouring his face along with the flush of his exertion, “—I thought you’d forgiven me? We’re together again-“

“And me forgiving you means risking a baby?” You pulled away, wiggling out from under him to grab a linen shift from your drawer.

“Wait, Blue, come back.” He moved to sit at the edge of the bed, “I’m sorry I didn’t think. It just felt right.”

“Of course it felt right to you. You have no regard for how I might feel.” Your anger burned through you, where once there had been passion, it was now replaced with fear. A deep fear that the next time he decided to up and leave, it might not just be you waiting for him.

“Don’t be like that, sweetheart, that’s not true-“

“I’d like you to leave.” Hot tears flowed down your face at the thought of being pregnant with his child, and alone, waiting to see how long it took him to return the second time.

“Baby, please—don’t make me leave, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that—“

“Leave! I want to be alone. Please just–just go home.” You wiped at your eyes before crossing your arms, doing your absolute best to avoid his gaze. He sighed loudly, moving slowly to gather his things, stopping only to put on his pants and his shirt before tucking tail and heading home.

He’d fucking blown it.

By some miracle, he’d managed to get into her good books, his persistence and determination to show her just how madly in love with her he was–how in love with her he’d always been–weeks worth of it, and he’d messed up in a few minutes. A few glorious, amazing minutes.

He couldn’t help but groan in annoyance with himself every time he remembered it, the euphoria of being with her again, being inside her, of having her wet and needy and so eager for him only to get lost in it and risk a baby they hadn’t yet discussed. Hadn’t even really discussed getting married, not since he’d come back.

He didn’t even know why he’d thought it’d be okay. It had been purely instinctual but also irresponsible and disrespectful. It shamed him that he couldn’t stop thinking about it, couldn’t stop craving it. He ignored it, though, continued on with showing her his reliability and hoped she understood that she was all he wanted.

Sleep eluded you for days, refusing to find you until the blood came. It wasn’t much better when it finally did, though. There was the initial relief, of course, there would be no child born out of wedlock, and you would not be treated like a pariah, but where did that leave you? He apologized for it, constantly. He groveled, he begged for your time and for your love and forgiveness, and it was his. It was there–ready for him, but the fear hid it away.

No matter how consistent he’d been in his time back, no matter how much he’d assured and explained that he wasn’t going to leave, it still felt like there was a clock ticking somewhere you couldn’t see, counting down the seconds until you’d be alone again.

You tried to focus on other things, filling your days with organizing your home, with clearing out things that no longer served you, things that you had brought over from when your mother died and had actively ignored or hidden away until genuinely forgotten. There were old, moth-eaten rags that had once been her clothes, a few books, and an old hairbrush. Amongst her things, though, was a bundle of paper, a fat wad of it.

Confused, you pulled it apart and very quickly realized that they were letters and they were addressed to you. It was jarring to see your name in Frankie’s script and harrowing to realize that you’d had them the whole time without knowing.

With shaking hands, you opened them one by one, and by the third, the tears obscured your vision.

My Dearest Bluebell,

I know you must be angry with me, things aren’t moving as quickly as they should, but this changes nothing–I’m still coming home to you–

He talked about his time in the war, about how differently they did things where he was, and about how much money he was saving, but between all that was the same promise of return. It was everywhere, that–and his pleas for a response from you.

Please sweetheart, I need to hear from you, please let me know you’re okay, and that you don’t hate me–

You sobbed into them. The words were like wounds, the pain of being alone for so long is even sharper now than it had been before. He had been true to his word, writing letter after letter without a single word from you, and despite the pain of knowing that fact, you read every single one. The dates were consistent, every week, almost like clockwork, except for once–when there were a few months between two letters.

Bluebell, my love,

I am okay–but I was hurt. I barely remember what happened, but one minute I’m in the middle of it, fighting, and the next minute I was screaming and then blackness, until I woke up in a hospital. Nurse says I’m lucky to be alive and that I’m going to be okay–

It was too much, all of it, and despite the fact that it was late and he was most certainly asleep, you had to see him.

The moon followed you on your walk towards his house, lighting the path and keeping you company. There was a soft glow shining out from one of his windows, and it inspired hope, making it easier to knock on the door despite the hour.

There was movement on the other side of the door, his heavy footsteps padding across the old floorboards.

“Who’s there?” Suspicion threaded thickly through his words, and you couldn’t blame him; this was no hour for anyone to come calling.

“I need to talk to you. Can I come in?” Your voice was shaky, the tears had abated while you made your way over, but the worried look on his face when he opened the door threatened to let them flow once more.

“What’s the matter? What happened?” He was shirtless, holding his pistol at his side while he looked beyond you to inspect the horizon. “Come in, come in—“ He closed the door behind you, setting the pistol down with a frown. “What’s the matter, Blue? Why are you out at this hour?”

“I—“ you choked on the word, clutching at his letters, “Frankie, I found them, my mother—“ you sobbed out words, choking on them before he sighed.

“Oh Honey, please don’t cry.” He gathered you up, pulling you into the strong cage of his arms, and it was like the floodgates cracked open wide. One palm held the back of your head, and the other was wrapped around your waist. “You didn’t know, it’s okay.”

“I, I don’t even know what to say. I’m sorry,” your voice cracked with the agony of all of the lost years, “you wrote so many letters, and I never answered any of them, and you got hurt—oh god, you could have died!” It was hard to tell if you were screaming or sobbing anymore.

“Hey! Hey! Shhh, it’s okay, baby,” he rubbed your back, a soothing gesture, “Hey, stop, stop, take a deep breath, I’m fine. I survived. There was nothing you could have done. I know you would have written to me if you’d gotten my letters, if you knew.” He pressed his lips to your temple. “I’m sorry I didn’t come back sooner. I shouldn’t have left without you.”

“I should have known she’d do something like this. I–” You pulled away to look up into his eyes, “I am so angry at her. She let you carry on, just hid them without a care–even though she knew I was heartbroken.” You brushed his hair back before hugging him again.

“She never did like me. It was pretty cruel of her to do that to both of us.” He was being much more gracious about it than he should have, a testament to his love for you that he didn’t want to bash your mother despite the damage she’d done.

“Miserable old bitch.” You had no qualms about calling her what she was.

“Forget about her. It’s okay now. Thankfully, we’re together again.” He grabbed his pistol and led you further into the house.

Your fingers drew the shapeless pattern onto the warm skin of his chest for what must have been the hundredth time since the both of you tumbled into his bed an hour ago. It was still pitch black outside, the only light being a candle on his bedside. The sun would creep in soon enough, though, and when it did, it would find the two of you clinging to one another.

“I hate that you went through this alone.” Your fingers migrated down to the starburst on the side of his lower stomach, tracing the edges of it softly.

“I’m lucky, I made a full recovery.” His voice was soft, “I saw others get much worse.”

“That doesn’t minimize this, Francisco, you could have died out there, and I never would have known.” You squeezed your eyes together for a moment, ignoring the implications, “Can you ever forgive me? For not writing?”

“Only if you can find it in you to forgive me for being away so long and for what happened.” He pulled your hand up, pressing your knuckles to his lips.

“You’re forgiven for everything.” You frowned, “We hadn’t discussed our future, everything was still so up in the air, and I was terrified to get pregnant. Not because I don’t want to have your children, I was just terrified you'd leave me again and then I'd be here, alone and with a baby.” His face fell, guilt swirling around his features. “That was before. I believe you when you say you won’t and that you’re here for good.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek, then to his lips.

“I understand why that would have scared you. I shouldn’t have done it without permission, though. It was careless of me.” He pulled you closer, relishing in the contact just like he had in the early days. There was a beat, a comfortable silence, and it stretched on for a while, the two of you content to lay there until the stiffness of your dress pulled you away. He helped you take it off until you were in your simple shift, and then you took your place beside him once more.

“Francisco?” You murmured, wondering if he’d fallen asleep.

“Yes?”

“I never said, but I’m sorry about your parents.” He’d been gone for years when they passed.

“Me too.” He didn’t say more, and you didn’t press. “You should get some rest. Will you stay with me?”

“Yes, I don’t want to go.” He got up for a moment, pulling the rest of his layers off before blowing out the candle.

“Good, I didn’t want you to leave.” He slipped into the bed, pulling his sheet over the both of you before pulling you in close. “Goodnight, Honey.”

“Goodnight, Frankie.”

The sun shone bright enough to shoo the last vestiges of sleep away. It found you warm and comfortable under the comforting weight of his arm over your belly and his leg tangled with yours. He looked younger, asleep and you could almost see him just as he was when he’d left, fresh-faced and eager to see and do as much as he could. That fire for life and all it entailed, burning brightly in every expression.

Your thumb traced the line of his jaw first, sweeping up his chin to glide across his pursed lower lip. He twitched but didn’t wake, only tightened his grip on you. Your thumb slid up, following the curve of his nose, up to smooth across his brow.

He stirred again, humming softly before pressing closer still, burying his face into the crook of your neck and tickling you with his moustache.

“Is it morning already?” His voice was sleepy but laced with pure joy.

“Yes, it is. How did you sleep?” Your tone matched his, his joy was contagious, hope and happiness swirling in the air much like the dustmotes that danced in each shaft of light. Your hands had migrated down, fingers flitting across his broad back, relishing every inch, every errant freckle.

“Better than I have in years. How about you?” His lips made their own pilgrimage, from just below your ear, down the column of your neck, and down to your shoulder; each press of his lips widening the smile on yours.

“I slept really well. I forgot how warm you get when you sleep.” He laughed at this, good-hearted.

“Good, means you don’t need to wear this–” His hands slid under your shift, grabbing greedily at your thighs, then your backside.

“Very clever. Don’t you need to get up and go to work, Sheriff? Or am I under arrest?” There was no real bite behind your words.

“Hmm, I don’t know, are you? Are you here to confess to a crime? Aside from stealing my heart, that is.” You let out a bark of laughter, rising slightly to let him take the shift off of you despite the game.

“Is that what I’ve done? Stolen your heart?”

“Oh yes, years ago. First day you smiled at me, come to think of it.” He nodded sagely for a moment before pressing his lips to yours softly, making you both melt and drip for him.

“Well then, I guess I deserve my punishment.” You reached down, shimmying out of your underthings to bare yourself to him. He bit his lip before dipping low to lick at the stiff peak of your breast, soft as his kiss, before taking your nipple into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks. You moaned, watching him enraptured.

“I’ll be just and fair.” He smiled, after letting go with a pop, moving to the next one to give it the same treatment. Your fingers curled into his short crop while your thighs pressed together to alleviate the aching at your core. He sucked harder, frantically, and then there was the edge of pain when he bit softly, making you gasp for a second before he once again soothed with his tongue.

“God, woman, you make me crazy.” His eyes were wild for a moment before he claimed your mouth again, his tongue plundering without mercy.

“I want you, Frankie–give it to me.” You reached down to grasp him in hand, but he moved away, denying you.

“I want to make you feel good. Let me taste you again.” He moved down, his lips mapping a course down to where you wanted him most.

“I want you, though, Frankie, want you to make me sore. You can use your mouth later.” You held your arms out to him, and although he stared at your mound with hunger, he obeyed.

You spread your legs for him, and he slots his hips, pulling your legs high onto his thighs for a moment before sheathing himself in you with one brutal, delicious stroke.

“God, Frankie, you’re splitting me open.” You moaned the words into his ear, and his head dropped into your neck, groaning at your words.

You reach down to hold onto his ass, grabbing onto it as he thrusts.

“You want me like this? Or you want me on my knees like you used to like?” You whispered, and he moaned, his hips stuttering for a moment before pulling out. It was the only answer you needed before you moved to get into position, presenting yourself to him.

His thighs pressed against the backs of yours, his hand landing heavy on one ass cheek before he entered you from behind. He felt deeper this way, hitting something otherworldly with each press.

“That’s my girl, you gonna take my big dick Honey?” You moaned into your forearm, arousal burning bright as a coal in the pit of your belly from his words, from the slick sounds of your joining, from the way your nipples grazed against his bedding.

He bent forward, pulling at your arms to hold them behind your back, and once he did, his efforts doubled. He was a piston, ramming into you hard enough to make your breasts bounce, hard enough to make you scream for him.

He moved you again, pulling you up to meet the solid wall of his chest, his chin hooking over your shoulder, one hand holding onto your breast, the other sliding down to swirl around your clit, shoving you headlong into a blinding climax.

“That’s it, baby, God, I can feel you squeezing my cock. Where do you want me to come? Can I come on your ass?” His words sounded frantic, and you nodded, barely whispering the words.

“Yes, Frankie–” He let you go, and you pressed your face into the mattress once more, spreading your legs a little wider before you felt him pull out, feeling the way his hand grabbed and spread you open while the other one pumped between your legs. You felt the hot spurt of him on the cheeks of your ass and the small of your back just as you heard the filthy groan he let out.

You both caught your breath for a moment, riding the wave of release before he moved and within a few minutes, he passed a cool, wet cloth across your skin, cleaning his mess off before discarding it and falling into bed beside you.

There was sweat on his brow, there was sweat on yours, too, but it didn’t matter, the euphoria was rich and sweet as fresh cider.

“I missed you so much, Frankie.” You turned to face him fully, the two of you naked and comfortable.

“I missed you too, Honey.” He pulled you close, wrapping you up in his arms, where you belonged.

–

tag list: @foli-vora @greeneyedblondie44 @lola4pedro @ezrasbirdie @221bshrlocked @artsymaddie @supernaturalgirl20 @sleep-tight1 @sherala007 @marydjarin @cannedsoupsucks @thirstworldproblemss @ilikechocolatemilkh @freeshavocadoooo @hrk-fic-recs @maxwell--lord @princessxkenobi @the-feckless-wonder @kirsteng42 @thisshipwillsail316 @feministfanboi @dihra-vesa @stevie75 @readsalot73 @pedrostories @tobealostwanderer @mandocrasis @elegantduckturtle @diogodxlot @alczysz17 @evyiione @absurdthirst @beskarboobs @andruxx @littlemissoblivious @1800-fight-me @maievdenoir @gracie7209 @omlwhatamidoinghere @magikfanatic @frankiecatfish @pedritoispunk @studythoreauly @missswriter @pintsizemama @mswarriorbabe80 @a-trial-run-on-paper @la-le-lu @chickadee-djarin @dobbyjen @rosiefridayrogersunday @ajeff855 @johnsrevelation @the-witty-pen-name @zombiesnips-blog @quica-quica-quica @sarahjkl82-blog @fan-of-encouragement @queenofthecloudss @deadhumourist @felicisimor @sophiefatale2495 @toomanystoriessolittletime @what-iwish-you-knew @pedrostories @athalien @bi-thewayy @literallydontlook @pedrosbrat @gamingaquarius @localddreamers @luxmundee @iamafadedmoon @nakhudanyx @littlemisspascal @grogusmum @recklessworry @heyitmelexie @killyspinacoladas @gothicxbarbie @evildxad @dragonslarimar @spideysimpossiblegirl @chemtrail-mix @maievdenoir @breezythesimp @altarsw @artooies-scream @staygolddindjarin @softsweetedbeauty @littlemisspascal @yuiopiklmn @squidwell @just-blogging-around @bbyanarchist @girlofchaos @maddiedrmr @frasmotic @acourtofsnakes @buckybarneshairpullingkink @astoryisaloveaffair @harriedandharassed @swtaura @send-me-to-valhalla @shirks-all-responsibilities @androah @alwaysachorusgirl @dindjarinsmut @captain-jebi @gallowsjoker @oliviajdjarin @actuallyanita @tusk89 @dadbodfanatic-x @naiomiwinchester @blazedprince @rosymythologies @avidreader73 @mr-underhills-things @avengersfan25 @tastygoldentaters @nyotamalfoy @mymindfuckery @txtattoostark

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #frankie x reader #francisco morales #francisco catfish morales #francisco x reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #triple frontier #triple frontier au #tp au #frankie x f!reader

419 notes · View notes

princessbrunette · 11 months ago

Note

omg!! the purity ring request??? it’s def one of my new favorite tropes with rafe now (only bc i used to wear a purity ring and long since ditched it lmaoo)

but, going off that anon who requested that, i kinda wonder what it would be like the reader’s first time with rafe. like, we all know he’s a bit rougher n’ stuff, but what would it be like? the build up, the tension, how long did it take for reader to cave and be like “fuck it, i need his dick NEOW, eternal consequences be damned” ofc it’s up to you if you wanna elaborate lol i just love this already!!

-🪐

࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃

a day spent with rafe where he’s super sweet to you just makes you wanna give it all up for him !

there’s some kind of event hosted by the cameron’s, a fundraiser of some kind, so everyone’s there. rafe knows a sweet little thing like you gets shy, so he takes you around with a hand on your lower back the whole time, being super charming as he chats away to people his dad wants him to network with. maybe you were ovulating or something, but you were practically salivating over him. he was in a good mood, so he was all smiley and gentle, that confident drawl of his making your panties stick to you— a feeling you weren’t used to but definitely wasn’t unwelcome. on top of that he just looked so good, but he always did so this didn’t surprise you.

by the end of the afternoon you’re all warm from the humid weather, comfortable in your sweet little sundress and you’ve made up your mind. your poor pussy was aching, soaked and pulsing in your panties when you lead him up to his bedroom. he’s offhand complaining about some guy at the party who’d made some passive aggressive comment about something. you’re watching him, eyes all wide and watery and a little hazy from the small flute of champagne you’d allowed yourself.

you bring your finger to your lips, slowly pushing it past the parted pillows until your teeth graze the ring, slowly sliding the ring to the tip of your finger. he trails off, his own lips parted too as he watches, intense gaze watching you like hawk. you could practically feel his heart thumping, questioning your actions. you place the ring into your palm and then gently onto his dresser, looking at him hopefully.

“rafe, i want you to have it.” you hum, voice airy and wanting.

“want… you want —” he blinks a bunch, trying to gather his thought as he steps slightly towards you.

“my virginity. i don’t want to be pure anymore. i want to feel you.” you request. when he doesn’t respond, just stares at you dumbly— you begin to hike up your dress slightly, fingers looping around your soft cotton panties and pull them down to your ankles and off, picking them up and holding them shyly in your hands. “look.” you whisper. staring down into the panties face up— the material soaked and sodden with your arousal.

“jesus… baby.” he whispers, walking towards you until he was directly infront of you. he takes the panties from you, looking at them briefly before putting them aside, eyes searching your face. “and you’re sure? you— you know this is something that can’t be undone. don’t want you getting all mad at me…”

“rafe i’m sure… please?” you blink up at him slowly like a relaxed cat and he folds, large hands cupping your cheeks to pull you in for a kiss.

he definitely would fuck you on your back, legs spread either side of him. his back muscles flex as he rolls his hips into you, fucking you deep until every whine and sob echoes through his bedroom. he makes sure you cum, because his pride couldn’t deal with you not doing so, and then when it’s his turn he gets a little rougher, thrusts speeding up, hands pressing under your thighs to bring your knees to your chest, the way he likes it. you don’t complain though, even when the ring on the dresser catches the light.

࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃

#🪐 anon #rafe cameron prompt

197 notes · View notes

1d1195 · 1 year ago

Text

Love and Dryer Sheets VI

Read the rest here: Love and Dryer Sheets

For those that have been kind enough to continue supporting this crazy mixed up story, thank you so, SO much. I hope you like this last part.

~4.7k words

I know I say this a lot but this is a bit all over the place. The timing might not make sense but I don't think it matters (if that makes sense). I wanted to showcase a lot of time passing and hopefully it will translate.

“I think it makes sense with you too, munchkin,” she whispered.

“C’mon,” she stepped aside so Harry could enter. He moved slowly and slugged his way over to the sofa. He looked at her paused TV screen and released a tired, quiet chuckle. She smirked to herself. “Do you want me to start it over?” She asked.

He nodded sullenly. His eyes were redder than she had ever seen. There had been so many times he had come to that laundry room, red-eyed from rubbing them over and over. She could only imagine the argument that took place. Or maybe ‘argument’ was the wrong word. What do you call that? The final show? That sounded so terrible. Harry’s sweet face was all blotchy. She can’t imagine all the tears he shed because if she was in the same room she would have sobbed. Poor Harry. Even the tip of his nose was red. He needed a warm compress; her mom always got her one after a bad heartbreak or when she was crying herself silly over a broken toy when she was little or for one reason or another.

She pressed a few buttons on the remote as he sat beside her on the sofa. Carefully, she draped a blanket over him and gave his arm a gentle, comforting rub.

He sniffled—trying to do so discreetly. It felt like a stab to her heart that she couldn’t imagine feeling for anyone else. Not even Niall. (Although she imagined if someone hurt Niall, she would probably be the one doing the stabbing). “I’m sorry, munchkin,” she whispered softly. All she wanted was to take away his pain. Just like the patients she helped every day.

It was no use denying anymore that Harry meant something to her. There was time to figure that out. They were still friends right now. She was a good friend. She was good at comforting people when they were sad. This was...easy for her to do. She could make him feel a little better.

He nodded and tried to look away from her to hide the sadness and sniffles from her. She pretended not to notice.

Kiss him! The voice in her heart shouted.

You’re an idiot. The voice in her brain would have rolled its eyes if it could.

“C’mere,” she encouraged and nudged Harry to lay with his head in her lap. It probably wasn’t comfortable in the slightest. But he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, Harry was feeling the first bouts of relief in hours as she threaded her fingers through his hair and rubbed her fingertips gently on his scalp.

I could get used to this. The voice in Harry’s heart sounded almost tired. It probably was. The whole final fight with Ava was so draining. It was a wonder Harry could keep his eyes open. But he had been aching and dreaming to watch this movie with her for so very long that he wasn’t going to fall asleep now. This wasn’t what he wanted. Not in the slightest. She deserved an easy relationship. Especially after a three-year long crazy relationship that hurt her more than he could ever imagine.

Harry was going to need time. She knew that. Of course, he would. Because of the relationship she had and the way she watched her parents... It felt like Harry knew the very heartache she always felt. The little bothersome part of her mind that worried about love all the time. Harry was feeling it firsthand. She wouldn’t wish it on anyone... not even Ava.

But that just meant she knew how to support him and be there for him as best as humanly possible.

“Someplace where there isn’t any trouble...Do you suppose there is such a place, Toto?”

Harry wondered the same as Dorothy. Was there such a place?

Part of him thought it might be right on this couch.

Or maybe it wasn’t a place at all and just the sweet girl beside him.

“Thank you for driving me,” she said sweetly.

“Course, kitten,” he smirked. “I’ll keep an eye on all your plants,” he promised.

Harry was carrying her carry-on duffle bag and pulling her suitcase even though she insisted that she didn’t need it. In fact, she thought Harry might just drop her off at the entrance and drive away. But he wanted to walk her in. Wanted to see her off properly.

She couldn’t help but want that too.

They didn’t hold hands, but she really wanted to. She wasn’t going to kiss him. As much as she wanted to do that, too. They were moving slowly. Really slow. It was the right thing to do. They were good at being friends and they didn’t want to mess anything up. Especially after the rocky couple of months they both had.

She was going to visit Niall. The first time she had seen him in since his move approaching almost four months ago. The last time they had been apart for that long was when they were in college and Niall did a semester abroad. Harry was kind enough to drive her to the airport. “Not t’sound...crazy. But y’not going t’suddenly hate me jus’ because Niall’s going t’hate m’guts, right?” He asked.

He knew she would tell Niall. Part of him wanted her to tell Niall. It wouldn’t feel right to be friends or anything without him knowing.

“I don’t think he’s going to hate your guts,” she shrugged.

“I kissed y’when I shouldn’t have, Sunshine. Made y’cry. Pretty sure if I were Niall, I’d kill me,” he smiled knowingly.

“I don’t think he’s going to be happy,” she sighed. “But...” she bit her lip. “This is maybe a little indelicate, but... Niall said all kinds of nice things on your behalf without knowing the other stuff. When he overheard the egg thing, he asked if you were actually dating “the Wicked Witch of the West,”” she looked at him awkwardly.

Harry released out a loud burst of laughter. Shaking his head, he smiled. “Well, maybe s’hope for me yet.”

She was also hoping Niall would feel the same way about him. Once they reached security, she took her belongings from Harry and gave him a gentle smile. He grinned back, stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked at her shyly. “I’ll... miss you, kitten,” he sighed, his face contorting into a half grin, a half frown.

For the last week they had spent most of their evenings together—eating dinner and watching movies. They even ventured out to run errands. Ava was long gone. In the first couple days Ava and Harry spent yelling, crying, and packing her stuff up so she could leave him. It was sad but cathartic in a lot of ways.

Ava was already in another town with the guy she had been seeing behind Harry’s back. No one batted an eyelash at Harry’s heartache. They called Ava brave for finding happiness after so long. No one cared to inquire about how the breakup went down. But, that was okay. The people closest to Harry knew what happened. Those that sided with Ava, well, good luck to them. Ava had a way of breaking hearts without any warning.

Besides, Harry had the sweet girl about to board a plane to worry about. “I think I’ll miss you most of all,” she smiled sweetly.

Having seen the Wizard of Oz no less than three times over the last week or so, Harry thought his heart would explode at her sweet quote. “Yeah?”

She frowned. “You won’t miss me?”

“No!” he grabbed her hand quickly forgoing all rational thought for a moment. What a difference a few months could make that hand holding was the worst thing he could do. “No, of course,” he shook his head. “Honestly, kitten, m’not sure how m’going t’make it a week without you,” he laughed awkward rubbing the back of his head with his free hand. “S’going t’be very boring,” he brought her hand to his mouth and placed a kiss on her knuckles.

She smiled, her cheeks turning pink at the gentle touch of his mouth on her skin. “You sure you don’t mind picking me up really late at night either?” She asked.

He shook his head immediately. “No, not at all. Probably be sad and worried if I didn’t get t’see you when y’come back right away,” he nodded.

He still hadn’t let go of her hand. Kiss him, kiss him, kiss him! The little voice in her heart was shouting.

We’re not doing that yet. It wasn’t even her little conscience talking. It was entirely her own thought.

“Thank you,” she sighed gratefully. They stood a moment, hand in hand. Gazing at each other. Neither moved for several moments. “I guess... I better go,” she whispered.

“Yeah,” he smiled sadly and released her hand. “See you soon, Sunshine.”

With a small wave she backed away and turned to leave. Harry already liked her so much. Letting her go for even a week felt like his heart was already breaking. And he knew she was going to be back. He would have to talk to Gemma and see if this was normal or okay if—

“Harry!” She shouted. Spinning around, Harry turned back to see her almost back to him now, running quickly as she dropped her bag and threw her arms around his neck. Harry’s arms instinctively wrapped around her waist while she nuzzled her face into the curve of where his neck and shoulder met. She sighed deeply and Harry had never felt so much adoration for her—or maybe anyone—in his whole life. He kissed the side of her head and inhaled the sweet scent of her shampoo.

Harry really never wanted to let go.

Niall was pacing. She figured it was best to get it all out in the open right away. Since she was still feeling her own time zone, it was easy for her to be awake and tell him. She warned him that he had to wait until he heard everything. All of it. Every last horrible detail. He was told it wasn’t going to be pretty and he would probably get mad.

Niall thought he was going to be tired after picking her up so late at night, but he was wrong. Fueled by anger and frustration was wonders for him to listen and pace the entire time she spoke. When he heard how she cried about the kiss, he nearly tore his hair out. He stopped pacing when he heard the egg story again.

But at the end he stopped pacing and sat down as he listened to how heartbreakingly mean Ava was to Harry in their final argument. “Jesus,” he said finally. After she finished her heartbreaking tale.

“You can’t hate him,” her tone was firm.

“I hate him for kissing you when he was with someone.”

“That’s...” she sighed. “That’s fair. But I think you hate what he did, not him.”

Niall frowned and rubbed a hand over his face. “You’re sure you want to date him?”

“Well...not right now...but yeah...I mean...” she shrugged. “The Wizard of Oz, Niall. Am I just supposed to ignore that?”

“I gotta be your best friend for a second,” he said. A grim, serious look took over his features. She nodded. “How do you know he won’t... kiss someone else when you guys have arguments and stuff?” He asked.

It was a fair question and there was a pang of sadness that coursed through her heart and body. “I don’t,” she murmured. “But... I wouldn’t know that about any relationship I have.”

Niall nodded. “I can’t see you hurt like the last time,” he told her. “I won’t do it again. I’ll kick and scream and make your relationship miserable.”

“Honestly, I think Harry would appreciate that. You’ll really like him,” she promised. “He drove me to the airport and walked me in and...” she smiled. “He’s really nice Niall.”

“How long are you guys going to wait?”

“Until...it seems right.”

“Are you okay with that?”

She nodded. “We’re good at being friends. But it’s...complicated. Or complex, whatever you want to call it. We want to do it right and... I want to tell him more about my last relationship... and my parents. I want him to know that I won’t be such a walk in the park.”

“Yeah, you do have a lot of lions and tigers and bears on your yellow brick road,” Niall said knowingly.

“You’re an ass,” she rolled her eyes.

“I will love him if you want me to,” Niall said softly. “But if he puts even one little crack in your heart, I’m killing him.”

“I think he’ll agree to that,” she nodded. “You don’t think I’m stupid?”

“The heart wants, what the heart wants, princess. Harry’s a good guy, I think. It’s not his fault he dated a wicked witch... think he needs a good witch in his life,” he smiled. “May as well be you.”

Niall, once he had the proper amount of sleep, had about two hundred more questions. She answered every single one of them. When she didn’t know the answer, she texted Harry and waited for his reply patiently.

Some of the questions were a little more sensitive and she didn’t feel right texting them to him. So, she FaceTimed him so she could ask instead. “Niall has a question for you, but it’s a little sensitive,” she warned. She saw him sit up straighter, looking ready and prepared as best he could. He wanted Niall to like him, he knew it was necessary that he liked him. But he also knew that he did a very bad thing, and it would be hard to earn his trust. He nodded readily, like it was a job interview, but nonetheless ready to answer her question.

Niall was off to the side listening intently while he made soup for them. “I feel awkward asking this,” she admitted. Niall turned to nearly glare at her. He wouldn’t back down. It was a question they kept circling back to. One that Niall would probably go crazy about if it wasn’t answered properly.

“S’okay, s’important. S’good t’ask the tough questions,” he promised. “Don’t feel awkward, kitten.”

Niall smirked over the stove already liking the way he spoke to her. It was encouraging that he would make her talk out her feelings and not bottle them up just to protect their relationship. Even if it was awkward or uncomfortable. She sighed. “Do you have a... habit... of kissing other girls when you’re in a relationship... or when you’re upset?” she put her hand on her face to hide the embarrassment. But it was easy to see that she was comfortable asking Harry delicate questions. That never happened in her old relationship. Niall appreciated it before he even heard Harry’s answer.

“No, Sunshine, not at all. S’jus... this s’not an excuse... but you are so nice. Y’made me feel... happy when I didn’t feel happy at all. I was jus’ so tired of not feeling happy. I shouldn’t have kissed you, but it was nice. But I wouldn’t... I won’t kiss anyone but you when the time comes.”

Her heart felt so warm she could have cried. She looked over her phone screen at Niall. “Is that satisfactory?” She asked quietly. Harry smiled shyly, feeling his own face warm at the vulnerability of his statement. But he would have shouted that from roof tops. Niall was welcome to know anything about his relationship if it meant she could be his when the time was right.

“Who’s your favorite football team?” Niall asked suddenly.

“Oh, for the love of God, Niall, he’s English,” she groaned. Harry chuckled.

“It’s important, princess! Might even be more important than the kissing question,” he rolled his eyes. Everyone knew it wasn’t, but while Niall finished ladling soup into bowls for the pair of them, he wanted to tone the seriousness of the room down. He entered the shot of her screen and Harry smiled.

“Manchester United.”

“Well, it was nice knowing you Harry,” Niall said slurping up a spoonful of soup. “Maybe if you get better taste, I’ll let you date her.”

She flicked his face and rolled her eyes again. “Derby is the correct answer,” she explained for Harry. “Followed by Chelsea.”

Harry laughed and shook his head. “Sorry, Niall. Can’t help who you love.”

Niall smirked, wiggling his eyebrows at Harry. “I’ll say.”

“Sorry, I swear my bag is the last one,” she told her phone. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” she promised.

Harry chuckled, refraining from saying he would wait forever for her like a lovesick puppy. “S’okay, Sunshine, m’not going anywhere,” he promised.

“I know, but it’s late, and the delay didn’t help, and I know it’s probably been a long day—”

“Kitten, s’fine. M’fine. Missed you a lot. I can miss you a little longer.”

She sighed heavily into the phone. It was going to be hard to remain friends when all she wanted to do was kiss him until her lips physically hurt. “Okay, finally,” she grunted heaving her bag off the conveyor belt. “M’on my way up,” she sighed tiredly.

“See y’in a minute,” he murmured and hung up the phone.

I missed her so much. The little voice in his heart was practically crying with relief and joy that she was a mere escalator ride away now and no longer a terribly long plane ride.

Me too. His conscience agreed. They were much more in sync now that the pretty, sweet girl was in Harry’s life.

Me three. Harry thought.

Harry’s heart slowed the moment she entered his line of vision. He watched her scan tiredly for him. She was in leggings, a big sweatshirt, and a pair of trainers. Her hair was in a ponytail, and she looked exhausted from the delay and her long flight. He imagined she wanted to shower and fall right to sleep.

She very well may have been the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on.

Harry was standing in the middle of a bunch of other parties waiting for their people to ascend the escalator. There he was, patiently waiting for her. As handsome as he looked for so late at night—unfairly so, after waiting for so long and traveling to the airport not once, but twice due to her delay—she couldn’t tear her gaze away from the bouquet of flowers at his side. His smile was so heartfelt as she approached. Instinctively, he wrapped one arm around her waist, so he didn’t hurt the flowers in his other hand. He kissed the side of her head. “Missed you, kitten.”

“Missed you more, munchkin,” she sighed happily pressing her face to the crook of his neck and breathing in the warm scent of his cologne. Her arms looped up around his shoulders and she sighed again with relief.

There’s no place like home. The voice in her head and her heart were in total agreement.

She and Harry enjoyed being friends so very much. But both knew it wasn’t quite friends. There was the lingering promise there would be more, eventually, when the time presented itself. But for now, they would have pizza nights, watch TV shows together, and do errands and laundry together.

“Can y’tell me more ‘bout your last relationship?” Harry asked quietly. She certainly had pizza sauce on both cheeks from the way the crust bent around her mouth. She wiped a napkin across her face and looked at him. The TV show they had on in the background continued playing, but Harry was watching her.

“What about it?” She asked.

“Jus’... I don’t know. Anything.”

She took a deep breath. “Uh... he was just... controlling. I didn’t do anything to stop it,” she shrugged. “It felt like I had invested so much time into the relationship. Even if it was bad. It’s one thing to say you should or need to start over, it’s an entirely different thing to actually have the courage to do it,” she explained looking at her fingers like they had the answer. “I didn’t even have the courage. Niall had to give it to me.”

He felt every word she said. Every part of it. “Did you love him?”

“Yes,” she nodded firmly.

“Even though it was...bad?”

“You can’t help who you love,” she shrugged in response.

It was hard to be vulnerable, but with Harry it was easy. It was like talking to herself about how she felt. Or like talking to Niall. It was easy and comfortable. But it had always been that way in the time she had known him. It was easy to share hard thoughts and truths. “Do you regret it?” He asked.

She shook her head. “No... I regret losing part of myself, but that’s on me, not him. I... I should have handled it differently... but I did love him—part of him, for a really long time.” She knew Harry was partly asking questions to understand his own relationship. If it was okay to have loved Ava even if she wasn’t always nice. ��Y’know, I met Ava one other time...besides the eggs,” she smirked.

“Yeah?” He muttered looking at his plate of pizza.

“Yeah...in front of the mailboxes. I just thought, ‘wow, she has to be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,’” she smiled. “I felt bad she was so...grumpy.”

Harry snorted. “Course y’felt bad,” he muttered.

She tilted her head. “Harry,” she said softly. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “You don’t have to explain your love,” she told him knowingly. “It doesn’t have to make sense.”

He looked at her with agony in his pretty green eyes. “I want it to,” he whispered.

“I know.”

Harry started the show again and finished munching on his piece of pizza.

“Sunshine?” He said softly.

“Yeah?”

He paused the show again and turned to look at her once more. This time his eyes were so clear. She had seen them angry, sad, heartbroken, but right now they looked serious. Strong. Completely resolute. “It makes sense with you.”

Her grin spreading across her cheeks and Harry thought even with pizza sauce on her cheeks that she was wrong—Ava wasn’t the most beautiful. It had to be her. Right here, a messy bun, pizza grease, and mismatching socks. He was certain. “I think it makes sense with you too, munchkin,” she whispered.

Niall was coming home in a little more than a month. He only had to stay an additional two months to the original year long stay.

But that of course wasn’t the only change.

Harry started doing laundry the right way: a load of darks, a load of whites, and a load of towels.

She started liking cauliflower.

Harry had seen The Wizard of Oz at least twenty times—mostly during the week she was sick right before Christmas and Harry took care of her.

She went to Harry’s work parties. Just as his friend. But everyone kind of thought she was perfect for him anyway. Especially after seeing the startling difference between her and Ava.

But that didn’t stop the guys in Harry’s office from trying their best to win her over. “I’m sorry, I’m not really...seeing anybody,” she explained kindly.

“You have to be seeing Harry,” one of them said with an exasperated sigh.

She laughed. “No, really. We’re not... seeing anybody,” she said.

Harry never pushed her. But Harry knew he had to work out some kinks in his relationship mind anyway. Plus, he enjoyed being her friend. She had a great cure for hangovers and made the best blueberry muffins he had ever eaten.

“You’re going to replace me with him, aren’t you?” Niall asked over the phone.

She smiled and shook her head. “I don’t think anyone can replace you, Niall.”

But at Halloween, Harry dressed up as a scarecrow, she dressed as Dorothy, and he came to the hospital to spread joy to all the little patients who needed smiles more than anyone she had ever met. He delivered perfectly. He pretended to fall on shaky scarecrow legs, and he pretended he didn’t have a brain so the little ones could help search for it.

Even the slightly older kids thought he was funny and thought it was nice how he made the younger kids smile. The parents adored him, of course they did.

She adored him too.

“Are you dating yet?”

It wasn’t just Niall that asked. Gemma had asked at least three times a week. Harry’s mum asked only once a week but only because she knew Gemma was asking more. Even her parents, who couldn’t agree on anything, liked Harry to the umpteenth degree.

“He’s so nice, sweetheart,” her mom said. “He’s adorable too. Clearly, he likes you,” she nodded firmly. She was helping with the Christmas decorations while Harry and her father worked on the outdoor lights. He didn’t even bat an eye at the request. He climbed the ladder to help put the lights on the gutter. “Not even Niall will get on a ladder for us,” she reminded him.

But being friends was good. Being friends was nice. There was no rush. It would happen when it was supposed to. It was good for their souls. Harry was healing. Processing. It didn’t and wouldn’t happen overnight. It took a lot of talking and a lot of assurance that everything he was feeling was normal.

“Is she why you were worried about being a dad?” She asked, randomly.

A lot of their conversations happened like that. A thought would appear in their head, and they let it out. She wanted to know, and Harry wanted to tell her.

He nodded without making eye contact. It helped sometimes not to look at each other. At least when they were having more serious conversations. It made it easier for the words to come out. They could always backtrack later. She looked back at her book. The washing machine was spinning below her, and she was enjoying the latest read—a Harry recommended book, of course.

“Did y’enjoy your childhood?” He asked while he put his laundry in the dryer.

She put the bookmark in between the pages—a birthday gift—so she would stop being a serial killer. “All things considered, yes.”

“But y’worry about...relationships,” he said.

It wasn’t accusatory. He already knew she felt that way. But she nodded affirmatively, anyway. “I do.”

“I don’t want y’to,” he stopped with the dryer and looked at her—through her. “M’not... m’all yours, Sunshine.”

It was like the part of her brain that controlled her heart saw him—really, truly saw him in that moment and said Ah, yes. You found him. Finally.

“Yeah?” She whispered with a smile on her face. He dropped his stuff beside the dryer, hurried the few steps back to her, and put his hands on either side of her hips while he stood before her.

“I never want you t’feel like I don’t love you,” he said simply. As if it wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world that he loved her. Especially when she felt it too. “I don’t want you t’think we have t’fight like y’parents do. I don’t want you t’think y’can’t spend time with Niall. M’jus... m’so happy t’be in your life. Meeting you was... it was like... finding home.”

Her heart fluttered. “I don’t want you to be angry,” she whispered.

He nodded. “I won’t be. Not like that.”

“Because... I think I loved you the moment I met you,” she told him.

Harry pressed his forehead to hers. It was the closest his lips had been to hers since the day he kissed her when he shouldn’t have. “Yeah?”

“Niall said only a lunatic quotes The Wizard of Oz,” she smiled.

He chuckled, his breath was minty and warm on her lips.

Harry would spend forever thanking the powers that be that he forgot laundry detergent the day he met her. Even though Harry hadn’t touched her mouth in over a year, it was like no time had passed at all in that very same room, when he did for the second time.

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @youdontcaredoyou @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach @straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals @angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams @summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland @lolyouallsuck @buckybarnessimpp @stylesfever @harrysxcarolina @haarrrys @lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles

Love and Dryer Sheets: @love-letters-to-uranus

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

#harry #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction writing #love and dryer sheets

221 notes · View notes

sopiao · 1 year ago

Note

hello :3 i absolutely love all of your ghost works !! hopefully studies are getting better for you pooks.

i can’t stop thinking about taking Ghost out but he’s ran out of masks and all of his cloth ones are in the wash so he’s forced to go out in a stupid silly one in public to get what he needs X3.

manifesting everything gets better pookie ;3 -🍅

MWEHEBHSEBHSE YES.

oml ty ty 😭 what i’m majoring in is just totally swamping me TmT.

ur so sweet ilysm :,,)

BUT YES, Ghost leaving with you in a silly mask

“Shit” Simon speeds through you, exciting the garage and looking through the junk drawer. You lower your cup and turn to him, dropping your book, leaning to the side of your chair to see what he’s looking for.

“What’s up?” You ask, wondering if you could help, he seemed to be in a rush. He just shook his head and muttered something too low to understand. Shrugging as you continued to your book. If he didn’t want help, he didn’t want help, it’ll be worse if you push it.

Simon rushes past you again into the closet, rummaging around, from what you could hear. Eyes focusing on the ink on paper you can hear him growl in frustration.

His hurried and annoyed stomps echo through the house as he walks into the bedroom, then the laundry room. At this point you aren’t even paying attention to your book. Walking back in front of you. Your eyes trail up to meet him, placing your cup down from your lips.

“What?” You tilt your head. Simon’s avoiding your gaze, rubbing the back of his head. You could tell he’s been working on his motorcycle, even without all of the loud noises coming from the garage, the tips of his fingers coated in a light layer of oil.

“Could you.. uhh.. Get me something?” He asks bashfully and hushed, as if he knows that you’ll say no but tries it anyway. You actually did say no whenever he asked this, multiple times. Every time he did you always got the wrong thing.

“No”

“What? Why?” He already knows why.

“You know. Every time I go, I get the wrong thing, then you get mad, then we go back. It’s stupid” He stares at you then looks away defeated, slumping his shoulder as he sighs, in a childish attempt to guilt you.

“Just come with me” You asked, already knowing that he’ll refuse.

“I have no masks” He grunts. You stand up and walk into the bedroom, he follows closely, hoping that there wasn’t one so he wouldn’t have to go out to that shop.

If it weren’t for those people he would have no problem going by himself. Whenever he goes, no matter the time or day, there’s always these loud obnoxious group of men that always over-explain and point out the obvious, even when they’re wrong they’ll just make a joke and pin it on you. Makes everyone uncomfortable and annoyed. Flexing money they don’t have, people they don’t know, etc.

You rummaged deep in a drawer and pulled out a white piece of cloth. No way would Simon wear this but he had no choice. It was a crocheted white balaclava that had sewn bunny ears on the top, it was actually very well crafted, it was from your niece that made it for him for Christmas since he always wore masks.

“No.”

“Yes”

“No.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to wait till tomorrow to get your part. Shop closes in an hour and the wash is finished in 2” You negotiated, not really if it was his only choice. He contemplated between his motorcycle or his dignity would he like to save. Ah shit. He loved that bike more than his dignity. He grumbled annoyed and snatched it from your hand, already making his way to the front.

You chuckled and slipped on your shoes, grabbing the car keys from the counter before following him to the car. He already had on the mask and was in the passenger seat, arms crossed and facing the window away from you.

Entering the car, and making sure he had his seatbelt on, you drove away towards the designated shop with your grumpy passenger princess. No way in hell your gonna let him drive.

“Hurry. I don’t wanna be out here any longer” He grumbled, even when he was upset in an adorable fashion, he still held his hand out for yours, waiting for you to take his hand.

“Lead the way, cotton tail” You tease, walking in together, he beelines towards the nuts and bolts, just wanting to get what he needs and get out of there, no chitchat or pleasantries. Simon rolls his eyes and walks in front of you, immediately looking through the little bins of nuts and bolts. You stand next to him, eyes wandering around the store as your boyfriend collects what he needs.

“Ok. Done. Let’s go” Simon speaks up behind you not even a minute later, obviously hasty to get home and out of this ridiculous(ly cute) mask. It makes you laugh how hasty he is to leave. Usually he would take an extra 20 minutes walking around and looking for things he’ll need for future planned projects.

“Wait. Let’s get paint for the bathroom” You insist, already making your way towards the colorful paint isle, he grumbled, subtly rolls his eyes and follow you before you get lost. For a month, the bathroom’s been torn apart for repairs and renovations, but paint hasn’t been decided yet.

The entire time you looked at the paint cards Simon was fidgeting with his hands, cracking his knuckles and picking at his skin, looking at anyone who looked at him for more than a second. Until, a little boy walked by with his dad, couldn’t be any older than 3. Simon’s height, physique, and overall look is very intimidating. But when that little boy saw him in the bunny mask, he smiled and waved, making Simon’s heart melt.

That was the first time a little kid wasn’t scared of him. That moment gave him instant baby fever, hesitantly waving back at the little boy as he laughed and walked with his father. After that he would wear the bunny balaclava from time to time.

155 notes · View notes

that-one-enby-ranger · 4 months ago

Text

Tattoo

Day 13 of the Ranger Gathering - Tattoo

More blood appeared on his face as yet another punch was thrown. Halt had been hit so many times that he would have been on the ground only half conscious if he hadn’t been tied up in a position so he was standing. So instead he was standing lazily only half conscious.

“This is what you get, you ranger brat!” One of the abusers spat at him. Literally. Spit threw out of the dirty man's mouth hitting Halt in the face. Somehow he found this worse than the punches and kicks. “You put us through torture,” he was saying, “and now we’re putting you through torture.”

“We tortured you because you’re a criminal, you bastard,” Halt managed to grind out before he was punched again. It hurt like hell, but Halt continued on, probably unwisely. “Did you really expect to get away with murdering people? Lighting houses on fire and just leaving them to burn with the families inside? I mean, I guess there is a possibility that you could be cocky and stupid enough that it never even crossed your mind.”

He only just managed to get the full sentence out before more punches rained down on him, one of them opening up an old cut that had been so close to properly healing. Apparently that wasn’t enough for the man. He raised his leg and quickly and forcefully drove the heel of his foot in Halt’s knee. Halt, unable to stop himself, let out a pained scream. He would have fallen to the ground if not for the burning tight ropes keeping him up. Before he even had time to fully process what had just happened, the man in front of him grabbed him by his chin and forced him to look into the man’s eyes.

“You failed here today,” the man goaded, “We got you. You’re our prisoner now, and I’m going to make sure you always remember that.” The man motioned to two other crooks he had with him to go on either side of Halt. He then brought out the long bladed extremely sharp looking dagger from the sheath at his belt and quickly cut through the ropes securing Halt to the tree. As soon as the ropes were released Halt began to fall to his knees, but he was held up by the men to his sides. They were gripping his arms so much it hurt, but he barely felt above all the other pain.

“Rip his shirt off,” the man with the dagger ordered, and the other two complied. Using their smaller knives, they slashed down Halt’s shirt, tearing it off of him until all he was left wearing was his trousers.

“Thanks,” Halt mumbled sarcastically and was silenced by yet another punch.

“Turn him around,” the lead man ordered and the others forcefully turned Halt around so his back was facing the man. “Now hold him still,” the man ordered unnecessarily. It wasn’t like Halt was struggling to get out. He had no energy or strength left to even try.

“This will be your reminder,” the man said, stepping closer to Halt, “a permanent one.” Halt could feel the man’s cold hard hands touch him and wondered what he was doing, and then he felt the tip of the knife stab into him, and then slice around, cutting lines throughout the flesh in his back. Halt tried to not to cry out and somehow he managed even though the pain and the thought of not knowing what the man was doing was unbearable.

The man continued to cut around, not caring about how much blood he was drawing. He formed a shape with the knife.

He spent a while longer with his art, then finally stepped back, eyeing his handiwork.

“Hopefully,” the man said quietly, half to himself, “that will scar over, and it'll be permanent. Like your own little tattoo to remind you that we captured you.”

← — →

Later on, when Crowley managed to find Halt and helped him out of the men’s camp, Halt finally got a chance to look at the scar with Crowley.

The man was truly wicked.

He had carved a rough marking of an oakleaf into Halts skin. Across that oakleaf, was a giant x, cutting deeper than any other line. Even if Halt took care of it, it was sure to scar a little bit.

It would leave as some fucked up tattoo.

I didn't bother to properly proof read this which is pretty much what I've been doing for all of them at this point. So if it has a million plot holes and errors then I blame you.

This was actually pretty fun to write even though I didn't put too much effort into it again and I'm lazy.

Probably the reason I liked it was because HALT and the idea of nice tattoos 😏

Hope you liked it, I'm gonna go draw my clown oc while watching YouTube in the background

#rangers apprentice #ra #ranger's apprentice #ranger apprentice #john flanagan #halt o'carrick #crowley meratyn #slight cralt at the end of you squint #ranger gathering 2024 #rangers apprentice fanfiction

25 notes · View notes

so-long-soldier-writes · 1 year ago

Text

drabble #3 - can’t help that i love you

kai parker x reader

summary: while you and kai aren't necessarily in a relationship, no one can ignore the way you are together. it started with kai's nightmares, bringing you to his side for nightly comfort. soon, gentle touches on his back led to full blown hugs and forehead kisses; simple conversation turned to long talks, and you're only getting closer every day. kai feels safe with you, and you're falling for him. maybe he's falling for you, too. this is why your "thing" needs to stop. right now.

tags: fluff, parker siblings meddling in your business, soft!kai

word count: 463

a/n: i have been totally MIA bc life has suddenly gotten so, so chaotic, and i feel awful that i haven't posted, and sad bc there's nothing i love more than writing, but here's a little gift (🫱🎁🫲) {*hands you gift*} in the meantime. 😘 ily all and i'm sorry for my absence. though I'm going on vacation next week, so hopefully time off work and life gives me time to write! (it's a family reunion {urghhh}, but i wake up at 5:30 and everyone else around 9, so i'll be tip-typing away!)

The moment you wake up, you feel a presence in the room with you. Flipping onto your back, you focus your eyes on one blurry, exasperated, Luke Parker. He speaks before you can even ask what he wants.

“This thing with Kai needs to stop.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. Your thing with him - whatever is it.”

You internally groan, knowing this day would come.

“You’re gay, right?”

“What?”

“Aren’t you gay?”

“Yeah, why?”

Without further question, you take off your top to reveal your bare chest, before putting on a bra and a new shirt. You slip on a pair of panties under your sheets, then proceed to walk around the room to find a pair of shorts to wear. Luke half-watches while trying to explain “your thing” with Kai, and why it “needs to stop.”

“-just, you’re in danger, and you’re putting other people in danger, too.”

Now dressed, you give him your full attention. “I’m pretty sure I’m one of the only people to ever give him any attention in his life, so how would that put me in danger?”

“Because he’s a sociopath and doesn’t know what to do with attention. The minute you take it away, you’re dead.”

“Well I’m not going to ‘take it away’.” He sighs, but you’re not finished. “Listen, Luke, I can’t stop feeling what I feel for him. And as long as I…” you pause, getting a taste of your words before saying them, and wondering if you should. Your eyes drop to the floor.

“As long as you…?”

Looking directly at him, you decide to admit it. “As long as I love him, everyone’s just a tad bit more safe now, don’t you think?”

Love. The word dances in the air above your heads.

Luke is speechless, and doesn’t even follow you out of the room. You pat his shoulder on the way out, giving him a small, victorious smile.

Unbeknownst to you, Kai heard the whole conversation. Right before you opened the door, he managed to sneak away unheard.

As soon as you come downstairs, brotherless, he surprises you by wrapping his arms around your waist. His head rests on your shoulder and a deep breath exhales his body.

“Hi, puppy,” you greet, kissing his head. “How are you?”

If it’s even possible, he melts even more. “Good,” he mutters.

“Good. Want some coffee? You can still hug me while I make it.”

A contented groan falls from his lips before he can stop it. Part of him expects you to push him away because of it, but instead you just pull him closer for another forehead kiss. As promised, you let him koala-style hug him during your whole coffee-making process. He’s never felt more at peace in his life than when he’s in your arms.

#malachai parker x reader #kai parker x reader #kai parker fluff #tvd fanfiction

155 notes · View notes

septimusmoonlight · 10 months ago

Text

Anonymous: Imagine you're a young demon or witch who's been doing favors for a while in Exchange for peoples first borns, only you didn't realize that the ones who hadn't already conceived their first borns are all starting to now, and they're all magically appearing in your womb as they are conceived. You've been doing deals for a few years now, hopefully you haven't bitten off more than you can chew

Oho, I like this idea~ I’m going to switch it up a little, though…

I’ll choose demon here. I’m just meandering around the nice isolated cave I’ve turned into my mountainside home, and I pause to admire myself in the mirror - I am rather handsome, ifI do say so myself, and my arrow-tipped tail only adds to the charm. My horns, while nothing massive or extravagant, still spiral away from my head in an elegant way, and I take a moment to adjust my hair around them before moving on to the bookshelf I’m planning to rearrange.

I’m idly wondering which side of the shelf a specific potted succulent should go on when I suddenly feel a strange heaviness drop into my lower abdomen. I pause with a frown, wondering what the hell that was - and then another weight falls, and another, until I realize what’s going on. This is the start of all of the firstborns that I’ve accepted as bargaining chips over the years, arriving in my womb instead of their human parent’s. I wonder, disoriented, if all of these people just happening to be conceiving in a row, and then I figure that it’s just my comeuppance for using magic so flippantly - magic does come with its costs, after all, but I didn’t forsee this.

I stumble over to my bedroom as my belly starts growing, visibly. I wonder why the children are maturing so fast, but then I remember that I’m a demon, and demon-children aren’t even born most of the time; there’s a ritual that has to be done to bring them into existence, but I guess I’m just bypassing it, and their sudden manifestation during a ritual is just turned into this massive baby bump when pregnancy is substituted in. I suppose that, if I were a human witch who had made all of these deals, I would have time to get used to all of these children, to decide if I even wanted to give birth or not…but no such luck, and here I am on my hands and knees in bed, my midsection hanging heavier and heavier.

I live alone and my cave is pretty isolated, but I still lean down and bury my face in the pillows just in case someone happens to pass by, bracing myself for the first baby. Demon children are stronger than human young, with more developed instincts, so I don’t even have to push for the first child to start fighting its way out, kicking and squirming in a way that I find uncomfortably pleasurable, my eyes rolling back in my head at the feeling of it stretching my cervix so vigorously.

Even while the first one is still fighting its way out of my pussy - which is, strangely, wet - I still feel more and more children being deposited into my womb, my belly pressing comfortably into the bedspread. The first child slides out of my body, and I don’t bother to do anything with it, knowing how strong young demons are - but I hardly get any time to admire the sensation of my cunt gaping open before the next baby starts scrambling to get out. I moan into the pillows as I push, relishing the stretch as it forces me wide open, and I cum at the sensation of it slipping out fully, clenching tightly and shivering in pleasure. The next one doesn’t appreciate the delay that my climax brought, and is already trying to get out before I’ve even come down from my high - but I don’t even care.

I’ve made many, many deals over the years, and I haven’t even kept track of them all. I have no clue how long I’ll be stuck like this, or how big my abdomen will get - but, as another demon child thrashes its way out of my body, I figure that I don’t really care at this point.

#Originally posted September 17th 2020 #asks #anonymous #my writing #nsft text #patreon.com/septimusmoonlight #birth #impreg #preg #constant birth #constant preg #forced birth #demons

17 notes · View notes

twistmusings · 2 years ago

Note

hi! i’m so happy your requests are open! i love your blog :) i was wondering if you’d be comfortable writing how the dorm leaders would mourn for you if you died? i know that’s pretty angsty but angst is my favorite 💕 if you’re not comfortable with it, i totally understand! thanks either way!

Aw, thank you so much! I'm glad you've been enjoying it. I don't mind angst at all, though I may be a bit rusty, so hopefully this does it justice!

How would the Dorm Leaders mourn for MC if they died?

TW: Dark content, death, mourning, bad mental health and coping mechanisms, implied relationship but it could also be read as very intense friendship (just depends how you wanna view it!).

CW: Mentions of a major spoiler from book 6 in Idia's section. Please be careful of that and skip reading if you would like to avoid it!

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle is convinced he must have done something horrible in a past life. His life was supposed to be getting better, right? He was supposed to be moving past the things that happened in the past with his mom and his isolation and be making moves to improve himself, right? So why was someone so important to him taken away from him so soon?

At first he couldn't bring himself to believe it-- it had to be some cruel prank. Despite him having attended their service... there was no way that they were gone. It had to be a joke and someday he would wake up and they would be there and they would be smiling and say "Gotcha!" and he would be mad but they would still be here and he could learn to forgive them someday.

And then that had not happened. Trey had told him that he was worried about him-- about how little reaction he seemed to have. Chenya came to check on him every few days to try and drag him out of the house, but he said to him that something had changed with that worried look on his face. People were tip-toeing around him again, he could see it.

It might take several weeks, but when it finally hits him, he snaps. He starts crying-- loud and ugly and miserable. He's inconsolable, and even though he has people there to help, no one is ever going to be able to fix this. He can't stop the tears, and they come on so randomly. He can't quite bring himself to be as put together as he always has been-- his hair is an unbecoming mess and his clothes don't sit on him right and he's exhausted to the point that he can barely hold himself up.

He has people to help him work through it, and he's so gracious for their support, but it's still going to take him a long, long time to be even be "okay" again.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona's first thought when it happened was that he should have known. He should have known because his life had always been this way. Happiness had always been dangled just outside of his reach, and yet somehow he had hoped this time would be different. He'd let his guard down enough that this hurt, it felt like someone was tearing a hole in his chest and it feels like a piece of him is missing now. He's hollow on the inside.

He shouldn't get his hopes up, and so he doesn't. Anything he loves or values is snatched away from him, so it's in his best interest to just stop caring about anything. It's what he'd been doing for years-- and what he should have kept doing because he wasn't allowed to know contentment. Maybe if he had, they would still be here.

He's starting to wonder if they really would be-- maybe he was cursed by someone as a cub and he would have to watch the people around him that he cares about wither and turn to sand whether he uses his unique magic or not. It's ironic, really, because it feels like every time he tries to find any light at the end of the tunnel that it slips through his hands just like sand.

So he sleeps. And he doesn't get up anymore, not unless someone pulls him physically. He can't find it in himself to care anymore, it's exhausting to constantly be disappointed and grieving. He doesn't have the energy and he can't muster it anymore. His body feels weak, like the only thing that was holding him together was momentum and their loss was the last straw and he was finally going to fall apart. It's so much easier to just sleep.

And at least when he's asleep there's still a chance he will get a chance to escape to somewhere where he's still allowed to feel hope. And maybe, if he's lucky, he'll get to see them again.

Azul Ashengrotto

It's like someone has cut a limb off of him. There isn't a better way to describe it-- it feels like someone has taken one of his legs and now he's left there to look at the place where it used to be and to know that something is missing... except, unlike his own limbs, this one won't regrow. It can never, ever regrow.

For a while, he throws himself into his work. He needs to fill the void with something, at it feels like his job and the Leech twins are all he has left to try and mend. And even the Leech twins sometimes look at him like he's broken-- look at him with such pity in their eyes and it takes him right back to that pathetic, small octopus that he was as a child. It makes him feel helpless, so when he notices Floyd behaving because he's worried, he tells him off. Likewise for Jade, when he notices that he's shying away from giving him a hard time. He expects them to be on the top of their game.

On some level, he knows it's unfair. It's unfair to them to expect that he should just be okay to move on like this. Unfair to himself to not give himself the time to mourn, and unfair to Jade and Floyd because they were also close to them. But if things don't feel normal, then he's going to fall apart. He just might overblot, again, if he has to sit and wallow in it. He needs to feel some semblance of normal. He needs it. Please.

But that's not how it works. It's not normal, because he's trying to ignore it. He's trying to push off having to deal with it until he feels well enough to deal with it and it backfires horribly.

It overwhelms him, one day in the lounge. Floyd and Jade are in the back room with him and they're chatting with each other. Azul hasn't really been listening to them-- he's trying to crunch the opening predictions and he doesn't need to know what they're saying. At least, not until he hears Floyd say Shrimpy, and suddenly it feels like Azul's lungs are collapsing. It feels like he can't breathe-- like his potion is failing and he can't breathe the air on land anymore. His grip tightens on his pen and his desk, fingers flexing so tightly against the wood that they go white. He feels like the walls are collapsing in around him, and though he can see the way the tears splash against the papers and desktop below him, his brain can't quite connect that he's crying. He's started crying.

"Azul?" It's Jade, and something about hearing him address him snaps Azul out of the hole he feels like he's falling into and everything snaps back to the present around him. Jade has this worried look on his face, and he's apparently had his hand on his shoulder. Azul is confused and overwhelmed, and all at once it's too much. He feels the sob wrack his body painfully, and he hiccups. It's like he's a cup and he's overflowing. He must look pathetic. Floyd and Jade move quickly, one on either side, arms around him in a hug and there's something soothing about feeling small and safe knowing that despite all of their ribbing, they won't abandon him here when he's at his lowest. And they stay until he stops crying.

He's lost a limb and it's never coming back, so he's going to have to learn how it is to live without it. It will take work and time, but he will learn to live without it someday, though he will never forget it.

Kalim Al-Asim

For one of the first times in his life, Kalim feels entirely lost. Hopeless and adrift, and since all he knows is showing his heart on his sleeve, he cries hard and repeatedly. The only person who he really lets near him is Jamil, and that's only because Jamil is too obstinate to let him self-destruct.

He can't pull himself out of bed. He feels like he's been run through the wringer and he has been thinking about it non-stop since it happened and wondering why. They were so kind and fun and wonderful, he doesn't understand why it had to be them of everyone. They deserved better, and though he knows the universe doesn't work that way, he can only hope that they still exist somewhere and that they know that he does care. That he misses them, and that he hopes they can still have fun. He's not spiritual, nor is he religious, but the thought brings him comfort, so he clings to it.

Since he's really the only one who actually gives himself space to mourn, it might look like he gets over it quickly, but really he just reaches his equilibrium faster than anyone else because he isn't trying to stuff the feelings down. He will always, always miss them, but he can only hope that they know how much he cares and how much love he has for them in his heart.

And even if privately, he will hold out the hope that someday, in some form, he'll get to see them again.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil handles his mourning with silence, and with shutting people out. No one needs to know how he is feeling, he's not a spectacle, and it's none of their business how he's handling it. That might be well and good in the eyes of the public but... in private, people are worried about him. They can't see him cry, but they can see that he's tired. His normally perfect complexion is marred by the dark bags that are under his eyes. He does a good job of covering them up, but for the people who see him every day, they can see the difference.

It's not that they haven't tried to talk to him about it, but whenever they try, Vil's temper gets the better of him. He is fine, they need to act like it. At least... he will be fine someday, and he doesn't have time to dally and linger on it right now. He can deal with processing his emotions when it's more convenient.

It fails in about the most spectacular way that it could have. He's asked for an interview, and while he's not acting right now to finish out his education, he still needs to keep himself relevant so he accepts. He doesn't know how the interviewer found their name, but they ask about them. Ask how they're doing-- entirely unaware-- and it hits Vil like a train. It is so unbecoming to have a breakdown on camera and especially so on live television, but he can't seem to stop it before it happens since it happens so fast. Before he's even aware of it, he's started crying and his mascara is starting to run.

He handles it as gracefully as he can, apologizing profusely for his crying and phrasing in the most detached way possible that they are no longer among the living. He ends up needing to ask to be excused half way through the interview and leaves the stage with cheeks streaked with his makeup and shaking. Despite it all, he holds it together long enough to get to his dressing room before the dam breaks and he starts sobbing.

He still has a long way to go, but if there is any saving grace, it's that the people around him care about him and are patient with him. After the interview even Neige reaches out to make sure he's okay and offer his support, and though Vil is overwhelmed and miserable, at least he knows he still has people to go to if he needs.

Idia Shroud

Idia is no stranger to death. Their death wasn't so traumatic as Ortho's, he hadn't seen them get mauled, and he didn't feel responsible for it, and yet it still hurts so badly. They had managed to get him to lower his walls-- get him to let them in to see who he was despite of his fear of their judgement. They had so easily made themself at home in his heart and now there was nothing there to fill that gap. Idia has no desire to fill it-- no one else is worth the effort.

Somehow he expected something like this should happen. It was a sort of dread that always stuck with him-- maybe its trauma? Either way, Idia has a track record of losing everyone who is important to him, so why would he try? He should have learned his lesson the first time and he can't find himself to feel anything but disappointment to start. He'd always shown his grief strangely-- look at Ortho.

He doesn't try to make a replacement for them, though. Something tells him that isn't what they would have wanted him to do, and as much as he loves Ortho, he thinks trying to recreate them might be impossible. He'd know Ortho better than anyone, but they were always so unpredictable and seemed to know exactly how to push him to open up. Even if he tried to recreate that, he would fail-- even he doesn't know how they managed to earn his trust.

He doesn't cry. Not really. He's spent a lot of his life crying over the dead-- cried more times over Ortho than he can count, and eventually it just... stopped. He doesn't think he can cry from sadness anymore.

He ends up knowing that he is destined to be alone. He already knew that, actually, but this cements it. He's going to end up losing the people he cares about, and regardless he's going to end up having to care for STYX and the underworld, and that's all he's got going for him in life.

Malleus Draconia

Nothing anyone could have said could have prepared Malleus for the reality of death. And a young death, at that. Malleus cared about them so, so much, treasured their company and their opinions and seeing how quickly their life had been snuffed out was devastating to him. He wasn't able to bring himself to speak to anyone for several days after it happened. Instead he retreated into himself entirely.

He knew that the others were worried-- Lilia kept bringing him food and insisting that he eat to sustain himself, but he finds that he can't taste anything and really has no desire to. He's listless, and while Lilia and his other retainers keep coming to sit with him, he's having a hard time holding himself together and continuing to push on.

It marks a fundamental change in Malleus-- something inside of him morphs and becomes cold. He struggles to let people in again. And while he ends up warming up again to his fellow fae and SIlver, he finds it so, so hard to let another human in even if he wants to. They're so fragile and getting hurt and he doesn't know if he can take it again.

Especially not when the person that he lost was as special as they are.

#answered;;#riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #kalim al asim #vil schoenheit #idia shroud #malleus draconia #tw: death #tw: character death #cw: death #cw: character death

169 notes · View notes

ladytanithia · 1 year ago

Text

Writing WIP Wednesday

For Chapter 18 of Best-Laid Plans. Just doing some good works around Windhelm and showing sweet Erik around the less-fortunate parts of town. Miranja's take on the Aventus Aretino situation. Could damn near be a chapter in itself.

Tagging @dirty-bosmer @guarmommy @gwilin-stay-winnin @mareenavee @skyrim-forever @sunny-d-anomaly @thana-topsy @thechaosdragoness @thequeenofthewinter

^0^0^0^0^0^

Miranja hugged Quintus tightly for a long moment. “Please let me know if there’s anything else I can do. I mean that. And if his condition changes. I would like to try to be present for his funeral when the time comes.”

Quintus nodded, following his guests to the door, and closing it behind them as they exited.

Miranja was somber as they took the way back through the cemetery toward the docks. Before Erik could speak to her, a passing guard commented about the Aretino boy. Miranja’s mood shifted visibly, and a determined look came into her eyes.

“I’ve been hearing about this kid since the day I came to Skyrim. It’s odd that after months, no one’s done anything to help this kid. We’re about to go right by his house. Maybe I’ll check in on him.” Although Erik had claimed to be open-minded, he obviously retained some of that Nord superstition. He tried to protest, but Miranja had made up her mind. “You don’t have to go in with me if you don’t want to,” she told him.

“I’m not letting you go into a potentially dangerous situation by yourself, Miss Miranja. I’ll do what you’re paying me for. I’m just a little nervous, that’s all.”

She had to pick the lock to get into the house, and as soon as she opened the door, their nostrils were assailed by the smell of decomposing flesh. But it wasn’t the boy; they could hear his frustrated chanting and cursing from where they stood. Miranja gagged and turned away toward the outside, sucking in a deep breath of fresh, cold air.

“Die, Grelod! Die!” Miranja nearly jumped out of her skin at the shout, and she took another deep breath and held it before hurrying up the stairs.

“I’m… so tired…” the boy whimpered to himself. “How long do I have to pray?”

It was quite chilly in the house, and Miranja dared not wonder how bad it would smell if it had been warm. Surely the jarl’s people would have tended to the boy’s mother’s body after she died, right? What was this nauseating smell?

“Sweet mother, sweet mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear.” The bloodchilling prayer was accompanied by repeated thunking sounds, and when the pair finally reached the room where Aventus was performing his ritual, Miranja was stunned. Here was the source of the rotting smell: decaying human body parts. It was warmer in this room because of the circle of candles, and the scent of the hot wax did nothing to detract from the stench. The thunk was the sound of Aventus wearily stabbing the disintegrating flesh, the tip of his blade catching slightly in the floorboards with each blow. Aventus was tearfully complaining to himself now about how tired he was, asking why the Night Mother wasn’t answering him.

Miranja nearly wept at the thought of some stranger doing this ritual with the intention of having her life snuffed. To see this child performing the ritual… what sort of horror must he have endured at that orphanage? Where and how did he get the body parts? This was serious, gruesome business.

“By the Nine…” Miranja murmured in horror. Behind her, she could hear Erik vomiting into – well, hopefully into something. When she tried to take another breath, the smell was so bad that she gagged again, but the boy was on his feet as soon as he heard her voice, jumping for joy as if he hadn’t just been on the verge of collapse a moment ago.

“Are you okay?” Miranja choked out, trying to take shallow breaths.

“You came! An assassin from the Dark Brotherhood! I did the Black Sacrament with the body and the… the things. I prayed and prayed, and the Night Mother finally answered me!”

“Oh, no, no, no, I’m not who you think I am, young man.”

“Of course you are! I prayed, and you came, and now you’ll accept my contract.”

Aventus told her about his mother’s illness and death, and how he was sent to the orphanage in Riften, and how cruel Grelod had been. Miranja agreed that someone who could be so inhumane to children who had already lost their parents and had no one to love and care for them deserved a terrible punishment, but she was not an assassin and wasn’t sure that she could kill someone who wasn’t actively threatening her life. But Aventus wouldn’t take no for an answer, so she agreed.

“Please hurry,” he begged. “It’s lonely here, and even though I hated Grelod, I really miss my friends there.”

Before she left, she had Erik open some windows and helped Aventus fill a burlap produce bag with the grisly items from his ritual. She found Aventus’s mother’s cleaning supplies and cleaned up the blood stains from the floor. Reminding the boy to close the windows again in half an hour or so, she took the bag with her and put it in a large trash receptacle down at the docks, where it and all the other trash would be taken by ship to be dumped far out in the Sea of Ghosts. Erik took the whole bucket, keeping it upright even when he added it to the trash bin, knowing the cold weather would freeze it solid. They were both relieved to have that experience behind them.

#skyrim #elder scrolls #tesblr #miranja #fanfic #ao3 #tanithia writes #wip wednesday #erik the slayer #aventus aretino #quintus navale

20 notes · View notes

luveline · 1 year ago

Note

dear jade,

Im 23 and I would say I’m doing ok the scheme of things. I moved to a new city and my job is meh and I have friends and it seems fine but I can’t help but feel lonely especially because I have a p rocky relationship with my family members and sometimes all I want is someone whose excited to see me and do errands with me. I like my friends but most of them r actually moving soon and I’m scared about having to try to make new friends and idk I guess I was wondering if you had any tips on feeling lonely bc I really want a bf but also the mature part of my brain knowing having a bf won’t fix anything per say.

Hey!

My tips for feeling lonely. I think I was a very lonely person for a long time, and I'll give you my advice rather than what a therapist or a professional might say, so please take it with a pinch of salt. EDIT : I'm not trying to say I know better than a therapist btw I don't just that you can find that everywhere so I wanted to be more personable

I think if you really want a boyfriend, you're right in thinking it won't fix everything, but I also don't think it's a bad idea. The want to be in a relationship is one that most people will experience in their lives, it's very natural, and of course lots of things can go wrong and you can end up very hurt, but I still think that looking for love and a partner to be with wouldn't fix everything but it would probably be a good thing. BUT. it is also very very important to have friends and family too. Friends are so hard😭 and they move away and even if you make new ones you won't know who they are, but I think the standards for friendship are kind of skewiff these days, so my advice to you is to try and make relationships with people that are casual in a sense, but honest and caring, too. I know it isn't easy, you can't just magically clap your hands and make it happen, and there's a balance to be struck between being forgiving with people but not wanting them to walk all over you and your boundaries. (Sorry this paragraph is a little behemoth but hopefully my main point is that a boyfriend won't fix things but it probably won't do you any harm to have love and intimacy in your life, but don't try to fill the gaps that friends and family are leaving with a boyfriend because it may leave you feeling worse (which I'm sure was your original point, sorry😭))

I'm sorry to hear about your rocky relationships with family and I certainly won't stand here and tell you to try and fix them because family can be impossible and hurtful and too much to deal with. I hope things get better with them but I also understand that they might not, and I want to tell you that that's okay! Family by blood is real but family can also be anything you want it to be, including friends or a partner or people in your community. It's tough though, and I'm sorry!

ANYWAYS you didn't actually ask for any of the above and I'm really sorry if what I've said so far is unsolicited or incorrect, I can't pretend to know every detail of your situation but I think i can understand how you're feeling, like things are fine but loneliness is still pervasive anyways

When I'm feeling really really really lonely, there are a couple of things I do. I talk to friends (and not to tell them I'm lonely, maybe just to send a video or something) and I don't mind admitting that I don't have tons of friends, but the very best one I've made was through the Internet, so I definitely recommend trying to make friends via the Internet with people who have your interests in common! Friends in real life are sometimes friends because we see them a lot, which isn't a bad thing (it's actually GOOD to be friends with people who are different from us) but often means that we can find ourselves a bit unsure of where we stand or how to keep the friendship going when they move away.

I do all the usual things the Internet tells you to do, too, because this stuff sucks but it really works, like taking a very hot shower or going for a walk. Sometimes it absolutely doesn't work and then you're just walking around feeling lonely and miserable though, but it's worth a try. sometimes we feel lonely because we realise how unhappy we are and that we don't have anyone who's worried about how unhappy we are, if that makes sense? Like a consequence of the human condition, we actually do want attention when we feel shitty and there's no crime in that.

But sometimes all the usual stuff doesn't work! When I was at my Loneliest and most depressed, where I really truly could not see a light at the end of the tunnel kind of situation, I turned to writing. It literally saved me and saved my life and made it one worth living (as someone who doesn't have very much ambition). I think that finding a hobby and trying to master it or at least trying to create can really do wonders for a lonely person because it gives you a sense of worth or a sense of purpose outside of personal relationships. I always tell people I think they should start writing but what I mean is that finding a way to express yourself or finding a way to make things that you can look at with pride is great.

But obviously one hobby isn't going to get rid of all your loneliness, and I don't think it necessarily has to. I was recently talking to someone about this kind of thing and we spoke about this quote from a poem by ocean zuong, "loneliness is still time spent with the world." You will feel loneliness at different points of your life for the rest of time and so will I, and it's going to be very painful at some points, but I think if we can try to look at loneliness as more neutral, we can feel lonely without putting pressure on ourselves to fix it. It would be very tiring for you if you were always expected to fix your own loneliness. Sometimes there's nothing you can do and im so sorry to say that and to hear about how you're feeling, because it's not fair. But loneliness isn't like hunger, there's no guarantee that you can make it better by doing any one thing, you just have to hope that the world is going to be kind to you. When it isn't, you have to be kind to yourself! Try to treat yourself as you'd treat someone else going through a hard time, get yourself a treat if you can and remember that just because you're lonely doesn't mean you deserve to be, you're a unique person with all these interesting things about you that I'm sure people are one day going to discover and love, I'm sure people already do!

#jade's asks #ily

22 notes · View notes

littlemissaddict · 2 years ago

Text

Christmas Lights - Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: A little accident involving Christmas lights leads to Bucky meeting reader for the first time.

Word Count: 956

A/n: Day 8 and I’ve already run out of pre written fics, hopefully I can get my act together and not fall behind.

Normally when he was out and about Bucky kept his head down, a habit from when he was technically on the run from multiple governments trying to avoid getting caught and well some habits die hard. Though today his gaze was focused on the girl atop a pair of ladders attempting to put up some Christmas lights along the front of a bakery by herself.

He wasn’t sure if it was his many years protecting Steve, his years in the army, as the winter soldier or even his short time as an avenger that meant he was able to sense danger before it happened but one look at her on the unstable ladder with no one around to watch out for her, it screamed danger to him. Yet there were plenty of people walking around her as if nothing was wrong.

Minutes later he was glad he was keeping an eye on her as one false step had the ladder tipping one way and her the other. He was also very thankful for his super soldier reactions as he was there with arms outstretched in seconds to catch her before she hit the floor.

It took her a few moments to realise that she’d stopped falling but hadn’t hit the ground before she opened her eyes that she’d squeezed shut the moment she’d felt herself falling. Blinking rapidly to focus her eyes again she finds herself staring up into a very concerned pair of blue eyes, blue eyes so pretty that made her wonder if she had actually hit her head and died.

“Are you okay?” she heard him ask, his voice rough but kind that had her relaxing into his arms.

“Um a little shaken but unharmed thanks to you” she says in a shaky voice, unable to tear her gaze away from his eyes.

“I’m going to put you down now” he says slowly and she nods in response feeling her cheeks heat at not suggesting he do it sooner. Placing her feet on the floor, he waited until he was sure that she was steady and her legs wouldn’t give way before he released his hold on her, “So what made you attempt this by yourself?” he asked, his head tilting as he gestured to the fallen ladder.

She smiles softly, dropping her gaze as the sheepish feeling washes over her. “I didn’t want to put any of my staff at risk of falling” she mumbles, chancing a glance up at him to see his eyes have not left her but his brow is now furrowed.

“But you willingly put yourself at risk of falling without anyone to keep an eye on you” he asks, confusion written across his face and his worries only deepen when she shrugs as if it’s nothing. “Okay there’s no way I can let you finish putting them up by yourself” he sighs, feeling slightly as though he’s back with Steve pre super serum and trying to protect him from doing something stupid.

Eyes widening at his suggestion as she shakes her head rapidly, “No no no I can’t ask you to do that, I can’t let you risk falling” she says, this time it’s concern written all over her face instead of his.

“Doll you didn’t ask, I offered and there’s less risk of me getting hurt than you trust me” he smiles, already reaching down to pick up the fallen ladder before she has a chance to say anything.

All she can do is watch as he climbs the ladder, his hands deftly working against the string lights as he attaches them above the bakery sign. He makes it look easy, like it’s taken him very little effort which is in complete contrast to how she was managing and in next to no time he’s attached the last bit and is climbing back down the ladder.

“Well you’re all set to go but when it comes to taking them down please have someone help” he urges, knowing that he was in the right place today to save her but if he hadn’t she’d have been hurt and he didn’t want that.

“I will, don’t worry and thank you for your help. I really appreciate it” she smiles, trying to think of a way that she can thank him other than just words because after all he’s done for her today it really doesn’t feel like enough. “Wait here I’ll be right back” she says quickly, not giving him any time to respond before she’s dashing into the shop.

Glancing through the window Bucky can see her fussing about behind the counter and he thinks he has an idea of what she’s doing and he can’t help but shake his head because it really wasn’t necessary. A minute or two later she’s ducking out the door, a cake box in her hand as she makes her way back over to him.

“I didn’t know what you’d like best so there’s a few of the favourites in there just as a thank you for saving me and for putting up the lights” she says, her arm outstretched as she waits for him to take it but upon sensing his hesitancy she steps forward and places the box in his hands. “I’m serious and I’ve put my number on there just in case you need a refill on sweet treats” she smiles, not quite meeting his gaze as her cheeks flush, not normally one for being so forward.

Thanking her for the treats, she waves goodbye as he makes his way back along the way he came knowing that the others are going to get a kick out of hearing why he came home with a box of pastries.

#littlemissaddicts blurbmass 2022 #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #marvel oneshots #marvel

80 notes · View notes

lizard-shifter-noms · 3 months ago

Text

Still Subject to Change Chapter 28 (NEW)

——————————————————————————-

Hello everyone! i decided to repost arc 1 of SSTC

(the chapters were way too long and had a bunch of typos but hopefully this will make reading easier)

this Story contains Vore, Dont like dont read.

if there are still any grammatical errors i’m sorry.

——————————————————————————

Robin and Arthur also gave confirmation that the garden looked pretty and Barsen smiled widely.

“Thank you! I work hard to get it like this so hearing that I did a good job makes me very happy! Though, say what are you doing here?”

Oh right, we had wanted to look at the cliff.

“We wanted to look at the cliffside, the only places we know are the empty shed and the old tower that Oakley claimed”

I wondered what the tower would look like when Oakley was done, he’d keep the tree for sure but beyond that it was a mystery.

“Looking at the cliff? Well I know a spot where you can do that without having to worry about falling, want me to show you?”

There was an excited shout from Robin and Arthur agreed as well while I nodded.

So he waved to follow him and he went a bit towards the castle.

After just a few meters I could see a big boulder embedded into the ground that stuck about seven feet over the cliffside.

The boulder itself was very long but most of it was on solid ground and half embedded in the floor.

It even went into the floor so who knew how big it really was.

The top of it was smooth, probably from years and years of people walking over it to get from point A to point B.

I had to admit that was actually very cool, and since the longer part of it was anchored to solid ground there was no chance of it tipping over.

“Oh that is awesome! How come it hasn’t fallen yet?”

Barsen stood on top of the flattest part.

“I think the embedded part of it goes on for quite some time, see that tree back there? From what i know it goes all the way over there if not farther”

I looked in the direction he had pointed and saw a small birch tree about thirty feet away, oh yeah that stone slab was secure and I doubted it would fall any time soon.

The thing also wasn’t that far from the castle, hell I could see the building perfectly from here and wouldn’t have to walk more than a minute or two, at least in this form.

“Well you have fun, and don’t forget to be careful, I have to get back to work now, see you around!”

With those words he turned to walk into the trees that we just left and we waved after him for a second before turning to the cliff once more.

“I’m gonna look down!”

Robin jumped on the rock and walked towards the edge before I could react.

I went after him and closer to the drop where he had started to lay down on the floor and inch his way closer to the edge like a caterpillar.

that was smart, like this it was harder for a sudden breeze to knock him off or to lose balance.

A glance back showed that Arthur stayed behind like I had predicted so I focused forward.

I did want to know what it looked like without having the restrictions of a tiny window.

Inching closer and standing next to Robin I looked down.

And down and down, how tall was this drop-off? And there were tons of stony spikes jutting out of the water.

I had seen some of them before, a few of them were taller by enough that they were almost reaching the level of the main part.

There were even two that did reach the same height, but they were a bit too far for any human to jump to.

One of them even had a little tree growing on its flat topside while the other was right behind it and only had some grass growing on it.

I idly wondered if I could jump the distance as Ardua, I managed to go over the stream and the spikes weren’t That far away from the ledge.

I kinda wished that they were in front of the stone slab so I could actually try but no luck there.

Whatever, I didn’t even know if the spikes themselves were stable, maybe the one with the tree but that was it.

Aside from that there was just saltwater far below us gently sloshing against the cliff wall.

I decided to get back now and inch slowly backwards until I was sure I could turn without any problems.

Robin followed suit as he saw me leaving my spot and heading to the more secured part of the big stone slab a good fifteen feet away from the edge.

This part was almost completely flat save for a few bumps and grooves and I suspected that this was where most people had walked over it.

The stone itself was pleasantly warm from the sunlight, hmmm.

I was still a bit tired and I didn’t know if it was the Ardua speaking or just my body asking for rest while the teal stuff Oakley gave me took effect but I was very tempted to just loaf here and sleep for an hour or so.

I’m sure nobody would mind.

After all, this wasn’t in the middle of a road or anything and I was pretty sure the plants on my back would appreciate the sunlight.

I still didn’t know why the fuck i had those but my best guess was that they helped with gaining energy from sunlight.

Yawning, I sat down on the sun warmed rock and settled down.

“What do you two wanna do now?

I think i’m gonna take a nap that teal stuff is making me tired”

Arthur looked between me and the castle.

“I think i’m going to take a look at the castle again, maybe ask someone to explain the stupid floorplan to me”

While Arthur talked Robin had immediately jumped to burrow into the crook of my arm.

I wouldn’t be surprised if he was a bit tired too, he’d spent all day being like an energetic little cat.

And I wouldn’t mind sharing, even if I was sure that the only reason he wasn’t seeking out a bed was the fact that I was fluffy.

Not that I minded, company was actually nice when they weren’t trying to kill you or hunt you for sport.

Thinking about it my life had been really fucked up, at least not anymore now since Rikaad was doing the paper stuff for that.

“Yeah whatever, if you find out how to navigate that nightmare of a floorplan let us know”

He gave a thumbs up and left the immediate vicinity of the cliffside as fast as he could without running.

Poor guy, first motion sickness and then vertigo too, that must suck.

Eh, he could just do other things then, and i doubted we’d be climbing anytime soon.

Since there was nothing else to do now I decided to settle down and sleep till the teal stuff wore off and I wasn’t numb anymore.

Robin was still wedged in the crook of my arm so I decided to use that arm as a pillow and create a little hollow.

He fit in seamlessly.

Like that nobody would disturb him, or even see him, perfect.

Closing my eyes and listening to the waves crashing against rock far below, I fell into a peaceful sleep.

I had no idea how long I actually spent sleeping on that rock, but it was strangely nice to just laze about for once.

That wasn’t something I got to do often, especially since I used to sleep on the street which was very dangerous, specifically for me as a Fae bastard.

so I enjoyed it as much as I could.

At least until someone shook me awake.

At first I tried to ignore it and curled a bit more around the redheaded form right next to me who was also still fast asleep.

Whoever it was that had disturbed my slumber tried again, this time even speaking in a voice that was somewhat familiar.

“Donovan? Come on get up, when i said there would be a stupid celebration for our admittedly weird victory i meant it”

What? Oh right, so the one waking me up right now was Norrin.

I lifted my head and blearily looked at him, blinking a few times against the light.

It was quite some time later judging by the stand of the sun.

And the fact that my pouch wasn’t numb anymore, and just as Oakley had promised all the pain was gone, what a relief.

“What? Oh do you mean right now? Wait where?”

He laughed a little at that, the skin around his eyes creasing the tiniest bit.

“Not yet but in about half an hour, i thought id tell you beforehand in case you wanted to do something first and the celebration itself is in the castle, the main hall to be exact”

Ah, so I still had some time, good to know.

But I couldn’t stand up right now as Robin was still using my arm as a pillow.

He looked so incredibly small while he slept and I did not have the heart to wake him right now.

He fit in perfectly in the crook of my arm and I didn’t dare move more than my head.

Maybe he’d wake up in a few minutes and then we could go.

I did wonder what that celebration would all entail.

Well there probably would be food and music as that was pretty much a standard for such things.

Norrin had followed my gaze to where the little ginger was sleeping and peered over my arm.

He had to stand on his tiptoes to do that, and looked at the peacefully sleeping ginger.

“Ah so that’s where he is, and i was running around the castle like a headless chicken looking for both of you”

He shook his head at that and I imagined it must have been pretty funny to see the headguard run around aimlessly in search of two people that had been in the same spot for quite some time.

“Mhm, gimme a few minutes, well come in a bit to the big entrance door”

At least I knew where that was, and I strongly suspected that the main hall was right behind the throne through the two doors I had seen the last time I was there.

The older man nodded.

“Sure, i’ll be waiting there, but tell me if you don’t want to attend or i’ll be standing there for nothing”

“Yeah, I’ll let you know, but please make sure nobody stabs me when I appear in human form?”

I would prefer to stay in one piece and not end up injured, again.

He nodded once again in affirmation, eyes flicking to my ears for a second.

“Right, pointy ears, don’t worry i’ll let all of the guards know not to touch you”

“Thank you, now gimme fifteen or so minutes to wake Robin”

He nodded and then waved and left towards the castle where I could see the dull walls reflecting the sunlight and giving it a more orange tint.

Huh, it was already close to sunset, I’d bet that was pretty from up here.

Well, time to wake Robin, as much as i would like to let him sleep we had to get up sometime.

I gently nudged him with my free hand, paw? Whatever, but he just curled up even more and mumbled sleepily.

So I tried again, this time telling him softly to wake up.

“Robin? We gotta get up, come on we are invited to some celebration over the ice mage”

There still wasn’t much reaction other than some more mumbling.

Oh I had a good idea what would get him to get up.

“Don’t you wanna try the Royal food? And imagine the luxurious chairs”

That got his attention.

“Whu? Oh, wait, you mean they are throwing a party?

In the castle? I wanna see that!”

He sprung up like an excited dog and almost hit the underside of my face.

And now he was up, like predicted, well time to go then.

I wondered if I had to bring anything or if there was a dress code but Norrin Mentioned neither so it was probably fine.

Besides, he was waiting in front of the door, if we forgot anything he’d surely tell us.

Since Robin was awake now I could also finally stand up.

Shaking the tiredness of and stretching like a cat, much to the ginger’s amusement, I turned to look towards the castle.

“Norrin said he’d wait for us at the big entrance door, Are you okay to go or is there anything you wanna do first?”

The redhead shook his head.

“No, I’m good, let’s go! I wanna see what a castle party looks like!”

He was excitedly jumping up and down and I had to admit that I was curious about that too.

“Well then let’s not waste anymore time”

With those words I bent down a little and Robin immediately jumped to climb on my back.

“How fancy do you think it’s gonna be?

You think they have golden plates and cups?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s a bit too expensive, even for the castle unless there are not a lot of people, then again i don’t actually know how much is in the treasure chambers”

Falling into a steady trott towards the castle it wouldn’t take longer than about two minutes to reach the big entrance door.

“Maybe, do you think there’s going to be exotic food?

I’m pretty sure they have some of the most expensive wine too!

But I’m not gonna drink that, last time I drank alcohol it made me puke, Have you ever drank alcohol?”

If I had drank alcohol?

Well, sometimes that was all I could get from sneaking around pubs when there was no clean drinking water, I wasn’t keen on getting dysentery after all so alcohol was actually the safer option sometimes.

Alcohol was used as a disinfectant too so sometimes I HAD to get it.

Even if it was causing headaches later and made me act weirdly, I’d better not drink anything alcoholic today since I now had the bracelet and who knew what I’d end up doing should I drink to actually get drunk for once.

“I have, when there was no clean drinking water, and I agree it’s kinda awful, Also, aren’t you too young to drink alcohol anyway? Did someone sneak some or did they give you some at the guard school?”

A valid question considering he was only around sixteen.

“Hm? Yeah they did, I think it was wine?

But it tasted awful so i’m not gonna drink that ever again”

To be honest I had no idea what wine even tasted like, aside from that it was made out of grapes and dark red.

Since beer was cheaper it was easier to steal that from the pubs, and it had less alcohol in it than wine too so I had never been absolutely drunk.

“Fair, if it made you throw up you probably shouldn’t drink it anyway”

I’d believe Robins account for how wine tasted and spare myself the trouble of getting sick from it like he did.

While we talked we had gotten to the castle and I could see that some of the windows were already illuminated.

Seemed like we were just in time, going around a flower bed that was planted right next to the wall to avoid stepping on them.

I saw that the big door had been propped open and was nicely illuminated from chandeliers and whatnot within and as Promised Norrin was waiting in front of the door.

He had cleaned his armor from mud and polished the gold accents so they shined in the light.

Well, I better shift down to human form so I could actually use the smaller doors and sit in a chair, as well as everything normal sized too.

There really wasn’t anything for big folk, Why should there be? This was a human place after all.

But first Robin had to get off so he wouldn’t fall from my back when I shifted into a way smaller form.

“Hey Robin? Do you mind getting off of me?

I need to go back to human form so i can use doors and stuff”

He leaned forward a bit and nodded.

“Sure! Oh if it has tables I wanna sit next to you and Arthur and Rikaad!”

I bent down and he slid off on the side, he was getting good at this I noted.

“I’m sure you can sit at least next to one of us, and if not maybe there’s someone we can ask for more chairs”

He just grinned while I twisted the gem on the bracelet that let me turn back into the smaller two legged form I was used to.

“So, ready to go?”

He nodded with a big grin on his face and zipped past me to chatter at Norrin.

The poor Guard looked very surprised for a second before he composed himself again.

I went after him as fast as I could without running, I was not keen on getting stabbed in the time it took me to walk the twenty or so meters to get to them.

Getting closer to the castle I could already hear music, as well as some people jowling in joy.

Must have started the party already.

Whatever the case, I decided to head inside and see if I could find Arthur or Rikaad.

It was quite possible that Rikaad was still sitting in front of the paperwork after all.

He was a very diligent man and seemed to rarely tire, he might just be a workaholic though.

I hoped that at least he’d take a little break, if only for a bit.

Coming up to the big front door and greeting Norrin he led us inside.

“Ah glad you decided to show up!

But i have to say that your human form takes my brain a second to recognize as it is used to the green form”

Right, he’d only seen me once in this form and that only for a short time.

“I guess so, don’t worry I’m sure you’ll get used to seeing me in my various forms, for now let’s see if they have any good food!”

Norrin laughed a bit at that and led us around the, overly expensive looking, Throne itself to one of the two doors behind it where a big hall was that fit a really big and long table and a few chandeliers that illuminated everything.

It was actually pretty, especially with all the decor around, but to be honest the thing that enticed me most was the food.

It was scattered all over the ridiculously long table and looked absolutely delicious.

Sure I didn’t have to eat thanks to the bracelet but I doubted that it would hinder my ability to taste things.

And there was an overabundance of expensive food around that i really wanted to try since i had never gotten the chance to do so in the past.

I had never even seen some of these, like what was this weird long yellow fruit?

I decided to try it and found that it didn’t taste bad at all, aside from the skin which had a tough texture.

Better peel it next time, which was surprisingly easy since I could just rip strips off of it and eat the inside.

I wondered what else there was and went around the table picking random stuff to test out.

All the while Robin followed me and stuffed his face with whatever he could reach.

He seemed especially happy to stuff his face with something that looked like miniature cakes.

Trying one too I could see why he liked them, They were very sweet and tasted of honey melon.

Then I saw something I recognized, Cinnamon bread, oh I HAD to have that.

That was one of the few things I could rarely get while on the street and I even remembered my mother baking these once.

Also cinnamon was tasty as long as it wasn’t just the powder, the powder was just dry as fuck and could cause a coughing fit.

I learned that the hard way.

Regardless, these ones looked really good, they were even still steaming with warmth like they had just come from the oven, so I picked one up and sunk my teeth in.

Yep, just as good as I remembered, if not better as the castle probably had higher quality flour and better ingredients overall.

I really hoped I wouldn't get nauseous.

After spending weeks eating nothing due to the bracelet it might very well be that I would have an upset stomach later from stuffing myself with whatever was on this bigass table.

That was a problem for future me i decided.

“Donovan!”

I looked around to the person that had called my name with half a bread in my mouth to see a familiar blonde framed face.

“Arthur! Hey, look at this, they have so much food!

I don’t think they are gonna eat most of it, at least not in one day”

I shoved the rest of the bread into my mouth and grabbed a new one.

He looked at the table and then back at me.

“Yeah maybe, however i think you should try using cutlery, saves you the hassle of having sweets stick to your fingers and face”

“Mhm?”

With a mouth full of bread I couldn’t answer but looking at my fingers I saw what he meant.

They were stained from the various treats I had tried and I probably should not shake anyone’s hand today.

The main culprit was probably the mini cakes.

Eh i could wash that, if i found where that was.

Looking around a bit for anything that I could use until Arthur tipped at my shoulder and pointed to a wall behind me.

“There’s a thing for washing hands, it’s just a fancy bucket really but who cares”

“Ah, thanks, hey have you seen Rikaad anywhere?

I mean he’s king now so surely he’s around, right?”

He nodded.

“Yeah I saw him like five minutes ago, he was talking to the cook, complimenting Her i think.

I have no idea where he is right now though, and I assume Robin is here also?”

Ah so Rikaad WAS here, i’d say hello after washing my hands, and then i could tell him that Oakley had helped me and that the stab wounds were gone.

As for Robin I pointed Arthur to where I last saw him, which was one table over and taste testing everything he could reach.

He went over to look at what the Ginger was doing while I went to wash the sticky sweets off my fingers.

Weaving between some other people that either talked or danced to the rather obnoxious music, I finally found what Arthur had pointed at.

Looking at the basin thing I saw that Arthur was right, it did just look like a fancy bucket.

Whatever, as long as it stopped my fingers from being sticky I didn’t care.

Sticking my hands in the water I scrubbed my hands together to get all of the stuff off.

Only after that did I realize that there was literally nothing to dry my hands with.

Did someone steal the towel? Or was there just no towel?

Maybe I could unsuspiciously dry them off at one of the curtains?

Before I could move to do so another familiar bearded face appeared, holding out a piece of cloth I was very sure he took from one of the tables.

“Barsen! What are you doing here?”

He smiled and handed me the cloth which I gratefully accepted.

“I was responsible for putting flowers up as decoration, aside from that nobody in the castle cares where i go or not, i could sit on the throne and nobody would blink at it”

Huh, that was something, but I didn’t doubt him.

PREVIOUS / NEXT / OVERSIGHT

#sstc #lizards writing #vore story #giant/tiny #magic #Barmea #Donovan #Ardua #nsx vore

2 notes · View notes