#even if the chances are small and youre afraid it is all still worth it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

isawritesshit · 8 months ago

Text

The Color Blue - Chapter 1

image taken from @ lovevivianne on pinterest

Synopsis: As the only daughter to the leader of the Kamo Clan, you were trained and protected to one day bring your father honor through your marriage to the heir of the Gojo Clan. However, your husband ended up being something that your family never prepared you for. As you come to navigate a new world of politics between the clans, your husband convinces you that there is nothing wrong with honoring yourself too.

Warnings and Content: fem! reader and slightly ooc! (?) gojo (ig; i feel like i didn't write him as in character as i wanted), cursing, allusions to and anxiety about marriage consummation, themes of traumatized and anxiety-ridden reader, themes of forced/arranged marriage

Author's Note: Fuck me in the ass, it took me wayyy too long to get this out to y'all I'M SOOOO SORRY GUYS I DIED AND NOW I AM REBORN BACK AND SEXIER THAN EVER! Anyway, I'm at least happy to finally get this out for you guys because you guys gave me so much love for the prologue (mwah mwah). If you have yet to read the prologue, pleaseee do so! Provides some good context to the premise of the story. I'm going to flag once more that there will be themes of nsfw and physical/mental abuse down the line!

Word Count: ~7.3k

___________________________________________________________

"Are you afraid of me?"

He spoke. You masked your surprise easily. Did you look afraid? What made him suspect that? How do you answer?

Respond clearly. "No, Gojo-sama. Apologies if I seem at all startled in any way. I am taking in my new surroundings," you replied with a slight incline of your head towards him.

Satoru's eyebrows raised a little. It was the first time he had ever heard your voice. As he suspected, it was graceful and beautiful, but still so sad. And what was with the honorifics? He waited a second for you to say something else, but nothing came. "Do you like it? The house that is." Satoru figured the only way to get anything out of you was to ask himself.

He asked you a question. Respond clearly. Tell him what he wishes."Yes, your home is beautiful Gojo-sama. I'm very fortunate to be living here as your wife." Your words sounded exactly the same, clipped and poised to perfection like the small smile you had on your face. Your skin was cold despite the amount of fabric that covered it, but you refused to shiver. You refused to tremble despite the fear you were feeling. Yes, you had trained and prepared yourself for this. You would be fine.

Satoru only cocked his head and crossed his legs, observing you like a painting from where he sat on the couch. "Thank you." His voice conveyed his usual charisma, but the look he was giving you did not. He sighed as you only bowed your head again and said nothing. He could tell you were afraid, you just didn't wish to admit it. Was it stubbornness or nervousness that had you standing like that before him, looking both strong and weak at the same time?

After a few moments, he spoke again, this time with a little more calmness and reassurance. "I don't bite, y'know." Not a word left your lips at that. You didn't even move. It was like he had a statue standing in a wedding dress in the middle of his foyer. Not a statue, a corpse, with unfeeling, empty eyes. Maybe you weren't happy with the current situation. "Did you like the reception? I'm sure you had input in the planning."

Take this chance to show your worth. "I planned the entire reception, Gojo-sama. I hope it was to your liking." You clasped your hands even tighter as you waited for his reaction.

Satoru raised his eyebrows. "Oh, wow. I'm sorry then, I'm sure you liked it because you put it all together. Well, uh, I definitely enjoyed it, and I'm sure everyone else did too. You did a great job. Uh, thank you," Satoru chuckled. He meant every word. Planning an event of that nature must have been a daunting task and you had done it all on your own. You must be pretty independent.

"Of course, Gojo-sama. It was my duty," you replied with another bow. The fear in your gut subsided at his words. It seemed he could be won over by acts of service.

Duty. That's when it clicked in Satoru's head. You saw this as 100% a duty. Well, it wasn't like he didn't see this arrangement as a duty too, but it had always been more than that to him. It was both a duty and an enjoyment. At least, that's what he hoped it would be for the both of you.

He said nothing for a few moments. You didn't move. He could tell by the uncomfortable silence that the household staff was probably listening from somewhere nearby. Perhaps that also made you uneasy. "Let's head somewhere more private," Satoru murmured, and stood from the couch.

Private? A chill ran down your spine that worsened when he made his way over to you. Were you both going to-

You remained silent as he took your arm gently and led you up the steps of the grand staircase. He moved slowly, watching and searching you for any indication of emotion or feeling, but you gave him none. He cleared his throat before speaking once more. "That outfit seems uncomfortable. I'm surprised you've been able to wear it all day."

Your mind was running circles around his words, but you didn't show it. Is he going to offer to take it off me? Why is he being so gentle with me? Where is he leading me? A bridal chamber? A bedroom? "It is not uncomfortable, just a little heavy," you responded, forcing yourself to keep your voice even. "The tailors did a fabulous job with it."

Satoru hummed and muttered his agreement. He would take this as slow as possible. He knew that the first thing he would have to do was make you comfortable. "I see. If you would like, you may change out of it, and I can take you on a tour of the rest of the estate. Or, you can sleep if you're tired."

This seems like a test, you thought. Which option would he prefer? "I can change and join you on a tour of the home," you responded. "If that is what you wish of me."

Not exactly the answer he was looking for, but an answer nonetheless. "Alright. I'll show you your bedroom. It's apart of my rooms of the estate. I hope that's alright," he said as he guided you towards a set of double doors down the hall.

Satoru stepped before you to open the doors himself, a few staff members walking out past. You assumed that they were finishing their cleaning for the night. You could tell a few of them looked at you as they passed, though you never looked up to meet their gaze.

You could tell these were Gojo's chambers, as they were decorated somewhat differently from the rest of the house. While the entire house had a more contemporary feel to it, his part of the estate added western styles to it: gray and white furnishing, an upstairs that led to an open second floor balcony overlooking the first floor living room space, comfortable carpeting, and a woodsy, homey scent. There was a dining area and billiards further to the right to entertain guests. Truly a home within a home.

Satoru led you up the stairs, watching as you looked over the second floor railing into the living room. When you reached the top, he gestured to the first door on the left. "This is my bedroom here, in case you ever need to find me," he said as he moved you two forward. "And this one is yours." He opened the next door over.

Satoru let you step into the room first. "I wasn't sure what you would prefer in terms of the color of the room and everything, so I had a few of my staff design it for me. Do you like it?" he asked, a slight guilt to his tone. He felt bad that he knew almost nothing about you. He didn't even know where to start when he began planning to incorporate you into his home, but he figured an inviting bedroom would be a start.

"Yes, very much so" you replied. The room was bigger than your one at the Kamo estate. The furniture was made of oak wood, with the room itself having accents in white and various shades of purple. The canopy bed was plush and had silk sheets. Most of your attention was drawn towards the bookshelf in one corner, which already had some of your books as well as many new ones. The closed curtains, which had little butterflies sown on them, had moonlight escaping into the room. The wall to the right had another door, which you assumed led to the bathroom and closet. "Thank you for arranging this for me, Gojo-sama."

You moved your gaze down as you turned to face him. "Of course," he chirped.

Silence once more.

He sighed audibly. "You're gonna hurt your neck if you keep looking down like that, pretty girl. Especially with that monstrosity on your head," he said softly as he approached you. You stilled, jumping a bit as Satoru reached his hands forward to grasp the top of the headpiece. "Shh, I'm not gonna hurt you, okay? Just taking it off for you," he murmured when he saw you tense up. He removed the headpiece gently, letting your hair fall. He resisted the urge to touch the soft locks upon seeing them unbound, and instead opted for setting the headpiece on a side table. "There. Feels a lot better, doesn't it?"

"Yes. Thank you, Gojo-sama." You still didn't look at him. After a pause you asked, "May I go change now?"

Why did you ask for permission? "Sure," he answered, a little confused as he watched you retreat into the bathroom. He stood awkwardly in the room as he heard you shuffle around behind the door. He sighed and leaned against the bed. What was it that had you so... uptight? Why wouldn't you relax?

Meanwhile, you made yourself busy undressing and slipping out of the heavy fabrics of your wedding garb in the bathroom, hanging up the piece and choosing a simple, flowing dress to change into. You looked into the mirror once more, and paused.

You had forgotten about the white lace lingerie your handmaidens had forced you into while dressing you this morning. A provoking technique, they had called it. It was beautiful, the entire ensemble having been comprised of silk and lace with little flowers adorning it, but you felt incredibly uncomfortable now that you saw yourself with it on. You felt more like a prized ham, wrapped up and ready to be eaten. And that is my responsibility tonight-

Your thoughts were broken by the sound of movement coming from the room. Right. He's still out there. You thought back to how he had taken off your headpiece. You couldn't help but be frightened for a moment, but then the way he removed it had been... gentle, as all his other actions toward you had been.

You were used to men like him: large, imposing sorcerers, with big egos and even bigger amounts of cursed energy. However, when any of those men came close to you, maybe even to just put a hand on your shoulder, their touch was also gentle, but not in the way Satoru was. They were gentle and domineering. Satoru had been both gentle and considerate.

But what he had called you...

It still felt like he was trying to get something out of you. And you didn't like it.

You slipped on the dress over the lingerie, letting the soft velvet material warm you as the skirt ended at your ankles. You had always liked this evening dress.

Satoru's head shot up when he heard the door click open. You stepped back into the room, ready to be led. Your apparel took him aback at first. He had expected you to choose something comfortable, a t-shirt and leggings at least, but you still came out dressed like you were going somewhere. You looked beautiful though, and he supposed it was nice to see you in something that wasn't clan-styled regalia (didn't matter that he was still wearing his outfit from today).

Satoru said nothing as you took his arm and let him lead you into the estate. Although he didn't look directly at you, he observed your movements. Beautifully robotic was the way he could best describe it. But why?

Then it dawned on him. The wedding had been ceremonial, so your actions there he could ignore, but everything after... it was like you were still in the ceremony, even in this moment. He saw it firsthand when you said your goodbyes to your family. You would be seeing them so much less now that you were married, yet neither of your parents nor siblings hugged you or expressed any emotion when sending you off.

Then finally with himself. You never looked at him. You complimented him at every opportunity. You asked for permission to go get dressed.

He could never get you to relax. To be comfortable. It was like you were being monitored by some invisible camera that he couldn't see and that you feared.

Duty. 100% a duty.

He looked down at you once more as you walked down the hallway, eyes trained ahead. Yes, those eyes had been his first sign, he realized. For what once held liveliness and curiosity in youth had been replaced with a senseless, dull husk of what he remembered.

Something had happened in those seven years since he last saw you. He felt sorry for you.

He felt sorry because he felt like this was somehow his fault.

But that wasn't going to stop him from trying to be the best he could to you.

___________________________________________________________

An hour later, Satoru had shown you about half of the estate, everything between recreational rooms, kitchens, dining rooms, and his own personal office. Yet, as he talked, you seemed disinterested, elsewhere.

The both of you were on the first floor, walking down a hallway with floor to ceiling windows on the left wall.

"There's not much left to show you, or at least anything that's interesting anyway. If there's anywhere else you'd like to..." Satoru's voice trailed off when he looked at you again, staring out of the windows as you passed.

There. You looked out the windows toward the estate garden, your eyes wide, glittering, and curious. He opened his mouth and then closed it. You looked like a little girl staring at a new doll in a toy store. Finally, something that he could read from you that you refused to hide. Wonder and interest.

Satoru stopped walking when the two of you reached a set of glass doors that led outside. "Do you want to see the garden?" he asked, almost chuckling when you nodded eagerly. "Let's go then." He opened one of the doors to let you through, watching you with amusement. You still kept your face neutral, hands folded over your chest as you stepped out into the open air before walking, practically running, over to the vast flower beds and trees across the lawn.

He just stared as you bursted with this sudden childlike excitement. So you can be won over somehow. Satoru laughed under his breath, a small smirk on his face as he went to join you. You started by walking between bushes, running your hands along any part of the plants as you could. He never would have guessed that you were interested in plants, but now that he thought about it, it made sense. He could see you being the type of girl that's interested in feminine things. Things like dresses, books, and maybe even chocolate desserts. Things like flowers.

You were kneeling next to a bush of blue hydrangeas as he approached. He thought you looked perfect like this, the moonlight playing off of your hair, skin, and dress while you ran your fingers along petals. However, when you realized he was getting closer, you quickly got up and returned to how you were in the foyer: standing straight, hands clasped, and head bowed. It stopped Satoru in his tracks, but also made him understand a little more of how you worked.

You must see a husband, him, as an authority figure that you have to please. Satoru didn't know why. Maybe your family pushed you to be a good wife, but now you're just taking it too far. You must be able to relax when you're comfortable, or when you're alone. That had to be it. Right now, you seem to view this place as comforting, so he had to be the same.

And if he seemed to make you feel uncomfortable, he would leave you alone.

But first, he had to try to get through to you.

"Do you like gardens?" Satoru asked, even though the answer was really fucking obvious.

"Yes, Gojo-sama," you replied. "I like flowers and plants. They are a great enjoyment of mine. Your garden is the most magnificent I have ever seen."

It was the best Satoru had ever seen too, but at this point, he couldn't tell if you were lying to him just to make him happy. He took a step closer and huffed a little. "Y'know... you don't have to call me that. I mean, I'm your husband, not the emperor," he chuckled, though he was dead serious. Laughing through it was the only way to show that he wasn't mad at you. "Why do you like flowers? Or these ones in particular?" He gestured to the bush that you had been admiring.

If you were nervous or scared, you didn't show it. You seemed to be pondering for a moment as you looked at the bush. "I... don't know. Flowers have interested me since I was a child. I used to keep up a garden at home."

A garden that you'll never get to take care of again, he realized. "Well, if you want or... if you need something to do, I can have someone show you where we keep our gardening supplies. You can do as much or as little as you like of course."

Your eyes lit up at the request. "That would be lovely, Gojo-" He could tell you were about to add the "-sama" at the end, but stopped yourself. He still smiled at the way that you seemed to beam in the current setting.

"What other things do you like? Do you have any hobbies?" Satoru asked, watching as you continued to run your hands along the plant.

"I like music," you stated.

"Really? You play any instruments?" He proceeded to raise his eyebrows as you listed a slew of different types that you knew how to play, though you added that piano was your favorite. "What else?"

"I like... cooking, and cats, and," you settled one of the hydrangeas in your hand, "the color blue."

Satoru hummed in response. He felt like he was getting somewhere. "Really? Well in that case, I guess I should've had your room be that color."

"Purple is still just as nice," you replied with a small smile. It was brief, but he could tell it was genuine. It took his breath away. It was almost embarrassing, this effect you were having on him.

"Yeah, I guess." Satoru dared to move a step closer to you. He could see you tense, and decided this was as far as he would get. Maybe now was the time to get some answers out of you. He watched your hand continue to rub the petals. "How do you feel about... all of this. Really."

"Your garden is dazzling-"

"No, I mean our... situation. Be honest with me," he said gently, but the way he worded it almost made it sound like he was pleading with you.

You paused before answering. Your hand stopped moving. "This marriage is just as important to me as it is to my father and the Kamo name. I will do right by him to ensure that it succeeds. And not just for him, but for you as well." Your tone was light and sophisticated, your voice sweet as can be, but it still felt fabricated. Rehearsed. Satoru wasn't buying it.

After a few moments, he decided to try something a little bold. "Look. I'm not your father, okay? And this isn't the Kamo estate. You don't have to be so... restrictive around me. I know this is, like, your first time ever talking to me, but I'm not some authoritarian." He almost regretted the words when he saw your guilty face. "But of course, that also means I'm not going to control the way you act. You can do whatever you want, say whatever you want. It's all fine by me." Silence again. "(Y/N)?"

You seemed... confused. Satoru spoke again. "Are you feeling alright? All I'm saying is I want you to be comfortable here. If that means... not interacting with me as much, then I get that."

Still nothing.

Satoru sighed. Maybe he needed to take a different approach. Maybe he just needed to leave you alone for a while. "If there is... anything else you want to see, I can show you. Otherwise, I'm going to go to bed. You can stay out here as long as you want..." he said softly. He began to turn away from you, listening for your movements as he started to walk inside. You only walked from your spot and moved further into the garden.

The halls echoed with the sound of his footsteps. That went... much differently than expected.

He thought back to fantasies he used have of what this night would look like: learning more about you, showing you around the estate, laughing with you until both of your stomachs went numb.

Kissing you for the first time in that garden, and, if you wanted it, carrying you back to his room in seconds.

But as he thought more about it, Satoru realized just how unlikely those scenarios would have been, especially with the current situation. He speculated that your behavior was a combination of your familial expectations, anxiety, and the fact that you were meeting him for the first time. Not to mention, he knew he wasn't the most approachable-looking person in the world.

This was going to take some time. He would let you get used to the house first, get used to seeing him and the other staff around. Then eventually, you might begin to open up to him once you felt safe.

Or you might not talk to him at all.

Satoru really hoped it didn't come to that.

___________________________________________________________

Some time ended up being much longer than what Satoru thought you would need. It had been a week since you last spoke, and you made no effort to approach him.

He did get some semblance of a routine you kept. You were definitely a busy body, always up and ready with a full breakfast waiting for him on the dining room table before he was up (although, since he had the following two weeks after the wedding off, he was sleeping in later than normal). By the time he was finished eating and getting ready for his day, you had gone halfway through your daily routine, which included cleaning and managing the state of almost every room in the whole building. Once that was finished, you prepared lunch, taking your portion out to the garden to eat. The rest of the day you used for your own recreation, usually something along the lines of taking walks, reading, or taking care of different parts of the garden. Of course, you still had time set aside to make him dinner before you stayed in your room for the rest of the night.

Just noticing the things you do throughout the day was a source of admiration from him alone. Satoru knew that the kind of work he did would be considered maddening and dangerous, yet he accomplished everything with ease. He couldn't help but think of you in the same light. You completed the same tasks everyday without fail or signs of fatigue (gods know he could barely clean a fucking toilet without gagging). He noticed that the meals you cooked were not just chosen randomly, but instead were meant to be perfectly balanced in terms of nutrition while still complimenting every bite he took. In other words, fucking delicious. Satoru knew he wasn't a bad cook either, but you made five star meals like it was no one's business.

He would see you often around the house, your skirts or dresses flowing as you flitted about. He could tell you favored modest clothing, usually in either knee to floor-length dresses, or blouses with skirts of the same length. Your makeup was simple, your hair always done up and clean.

Whenever he was close enough to you or entered a room you were in, you always bowed politely and addressed him, never saying more than was needed, before returning to whatever it was you were working on. Satoru knew if he asked, you would sit down and have a conversation with him or eat with him, but he wasn't going to push it. He wanted to be sure it was something you were okay with.

Yet hours and days dragged with almost no change. What was meant to be your two week honeymoon break passed, and Satoru had to return to his missions. Somehow you had already known what time he gets up to eat, and, just like almost any other day, there was a breakfast waiting for him.

No sign of the person who cooked it, though.

Satoru decided he couldn't take this anymore, the awkwardness and silence. No, he was going to find you and asked if you wanted to eat this breakfast with him.

Luckily, he found you in the kitchen putting away dishes you had just finished washing. "Good morning, (Y/N)," he said, trying to sound as polite as he could without frightening you.

You must have been lost in thought, because you jumped when he said your name and turned towards him.

Head bowed. Eyes down. Hands folded.

He was tired of it.

"Good morning, Gojo," you replied. "I hope you had a restful evening last night."

"I did..." he said. "I was just... wondering if you wanted to eat that delicious-looking breakfast you made with me. You're allowed to say no, of course." He felt stupid having to add that last bit.

"Apologies, Gojo, but I already took my breakfast this morning, but I sincerely appreciate your offer." He felt his stomach drop inside him a little. "Is there anything else I can get for you?"

"No, it's fine. I'll be home later tonight." He tried to keep his tone from sounding disappointed. He couldn't be mad at you for eating before he asked you. However, Satoru wanted to end the conversation positively, with something not so... stale. He turned to walk to the door, looking once more over his shoulder at where you still stood. He opened his mouth once, closed it, and then opened it again. "You look gorgeous today, by the way."

That surprised you. Not the words necessarily, nor the fact that these weren't your best clothes, but the way he said it. Like he meant it. It stirred something in you. You decided to look up at him, but he was already gone.

A while later, Satoru was dressed and ready to go, his car parked just outside with the AC blasting. He walked down the grand staircase... with you waiting for him at the bottom.

You were waiting for him. He paused in front of you once he reached the bottom of the steps. You had assumed your usually stance, but... he could tell you wanted to say something.

"I... realized that I never asked what you would like me to make for dinner for when you return..." you said as if you were just realizing that you were standing here, and you needed to make up an excuse.

It tugged at his heartstrings a bit. You had never asked if he had a preference for dinner, so... this was you trying to approach him to start a conversation. "Well, whatever you want to make is fine. You're such an amazing cook. I would never not eat anything you make," Satoru exclaimed with a small smile before leaning in a bit as if telling you a secret. "But, if I must request something, I reallyyy like mochi desserts," he whispered before pulling away. "But you didn't hear it from me."

Your small smile and barely noticeable laugh made his heart explode. Pride swelled in his chest. So you have a sense of humor in some regard...

He smiled and walked past you to the door, walking through before-

"Gojo," you called from across the room. Satoru turned at the sound of you calling his name.

"Have... have a nice day today..." you said, giving him a small bow.

His eyes widened in surprise before he flashed you a grin. "You too, pretty girl." And just like that, he left, the door shutting behind him.

Satoru was trying to do his best not to holler in excitement on the other side of the door. You went out of your way to meet him at the front door and ask what he wanted for dinner and told him to have a good day? He felt like a middle school girl. A stupid smile plastered itself on his face as he walked to his car.

And stayed for the rest of the day after.

___________________________________________________________

The next few weeks went just the same: him waking up to breakfast that you sometimes stopped by to eat a few bites of, you saying goodbye and asking what he wanted for dinner at the door, and him coming home to that meal in the evening, which you occasionally ate with him also.

Satoru felt pretty spoiled if he was being honest. He never liked those mysogynistic views on gender roles, especially when it came to the roles of a husband and wife, but he was now understanding the appeal. He had assured you a few times that you didn't need to have something home cooked and ready for him each time he came home, and that he was just as fine with takeout, but that never stopped you. He knew it was serious, if not a little concerning, when he asked for a three-tiered Danish cake for dessert as a joke and you had made two because you, in your words, got bored and had the time. He didn't even know he owned the cooking supplies needed to do that. Nevertheless, to say he ate most of that within a few days would be an understatement.

As time grew, Satoru had been able to observe you more closely. There were the normal things, like the type of books you liked to read (mostly poetry), what time you liked to take your walks (sometime between 3:00 and 6:00pm), and what days you went to the grocery store and farmers market (Wednesdays, if he's correct) despite household staff insisting to him to tell you to stop because it was technically their job. He could never find himself to do so.

Then there were a few... less fortunate things. You still don't look up at him, for starters, and your voice still retained that proper, unnatural tone. Besides the times where you say goodbye to him in the mornings, you always observe and never speak unless he speaks to you. You have a cell phone, but you almost never use it, so he assumed you probably have no friends that you contact, or even family that wanted to contact you for that matter. Lastly, among a few more things, you always try to sneak an ice pack from the fridge some nights when you think he can't see it in your hand as you walk back to your room with it. He never knew what it was for, until he saw it on your neck while you read in the library, something he had to peak through the doors to see.

You get neck pains because of the subservient posture you forced yourself to have around him, and Satoru started to think just how far back this training you had been given goes. He knew that you couldn't get neck pains from bowing if you've only been doing it for a month.

One day, he brought the situation up to Yaga as they watched some student sorcerers training out on the grounds. "You really don't know the kind of backwards training the Kamos put their girls through?" Yaga asked, fixing a stitch on one of his jujustu dolls. "I thought you knew what you were getting into, especially since you're in one of the clans yourself."

"Well, I'm starting to see it," Satoru says with a wince. "I just don't know how to get her to... relax, I guess. Act normal, y'know?"

"Do you think she even knows how?" Yaga mused. Satoru went still. "The Kamos are traditionalistic; their customs span all the way back to the Golden Age of Jujustu as a way to preserve the glory of that time period. This includes how they train their... females."

Satoru furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I don't know much," Yaga said, a piece of the string in his mouth as he adjusted a stitch. "The kinds of things like how to please a husband, how to raise kids, how to behave around authority figures, which includes men. Weird stuff like that. And if (Y/N) is Arao Kamo's only daughter that was betrothed to marry the Six-Eyes wielding Gojo clan head, you can expect her to be well educated in that regard."

Satoru sighs. He felt stupid for not looking into that, for chalking it up to some kind of anxious defense when it was much more than that. "I'm a real fucking idiot."

"Yeah, well, while that may be true, there's not much you can do but give it time. With the kind of stuff she was brainwashed to believe, the least you can do is give her some patience," Yaga said, finishing up his patch.

"True, but that'll take forever," Satoru groans, looking out at the young sorcerers sparring. "She won't do anything unless I tell her to. She doesn't know what it's like to just... have some sort of free will."

"Then maybe show her what's like to have one," Yaga says with a groan, settling back into the bench they were sitting on.

There was a pause before Satoru chuckled. "This is the one time you've actually given me advice that I considered listening to."

"Good. You should, otherwise I'll send you on another mission from this weekend," Yaga grumbled.

"Fine, I'll listen."

___________________________________________________________

That next day, Satoru planned on asking you about something when he saw you before he left.

"Hey, pretty girl," he quipped with a smile as he walked down the stairs, enjoying the slight blush that formed on your cheeks, something he had noticed the past few times he called you that.

"Good morn-" your gentle words were cut off by a sudden cough and a sniffle that caught his attention. He stepped in front of you.

"Hey, are you alright? Is your throat okay?" he asked, his usual teasing tone replaced with one of concern.

You seemed to pause for a moment before speaking. "I'm alright. Something caught in my throat is-" You coughed again, this time more aggressively as you turned to cover it.

Satoru's brow furrowed. He gently pulled your chin so you could face him again. He felt your forehead with the back of his hand. "You're burning up, (Y/N). You probably have a fever."

"I can assure you, Gojo, I feel-" You gasped as you were suddenly lifted into his arms, his hands resting underneath your back and knees as he walked you back up the stairs. He smiled a little when he felt you throw your arms around his neck.

"Please don't lie to me, (Y/N). How long have you been feeling like this?" Satoru asked calmly as he carried you to your room. You looked down at the floor.

A pause. "About the past two days." Satoru sighed.

He opened the door to your room and set you down on the bed. "Hold tight, okay? I'm just going to go grab some things..." He left and returned a few minutes later with an ice pack wrapped in a towel, some medicine, and a glass of water.

Setting the items down on your bedside table, Satoru started by ripping two pills out of their packaging and handing them to you with the water. "Why have you been walking about like normal when you've been feeling this way for the past two days?"

You took a moment to take the pills before answering. "I am well enough to complete my usual routine, so I saw no need for rest. I had the staff prepare your meals to make sure you did not catch my illness," you replied weakly, trying not to cough.

Satoru shook his head. "But we have people hired here to do those tasks anyway. You still need to take care of yourself." Your brow furrowed.

"But I'm still-"

"Don''t fight me on this," Satoru butted in. You lowered your head, eyes despondent. "I don't mean to say I don't appreciate what you do every single day. Really, I really appreciate it. But I don't want you doing anything when you're clearly feeling like shit."

"My apologies-"

"Don't apologize. Please." Satoru's mouth tightened when he saw the ashamed look on your face, the way your shoulders caved slightly. He spoke again, this time more smoothly. "I'll call Yaga to cancel my appointments for today. Just let me take care of you... and don't feel bad about it. Okay?"

Satoru didn't care that he was almost begging with you, but he needed you to understand that that's all he really wanted right now. To take care of and cater to you for a change instead of you constantly doing so for him.

"But, you might get sick too..." His chest tightened a little at the guilt you displayed, your tone of voice, the slight whine in it.

"That's fine. Just means I don't have to go to work longer," Satoru chuckled, moving to sit on the edge of the bed next to your legs. "But don't think that's the only reason I'm here with you now, of course."

Your lips moved into a small, downturned smile as you huffed a laugh. You weren't even smiling in full, yet he thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

A sharp, painful sounding cough from you broke the silence. Satoru handed you the water again, propping another pillow behind your head. Once you finished, he took the water from you and handed you a woolen blanket that you had resting on the end of your bed. "I'll get some lozenges for your throat and some tissues. For now, just rest for me, okay? I'll come back to check on you, but if you need anything just yell. I'll be in my room," he said as he adjusted the ice pack onto your forehead.

"Okay," you whispered. You looked almost... stunned. Like you never expected this. It made Satoru sadder than he would like to admit.

After a few seconds, he stood, turned off the lights, and shut the door quietly. He walked away right before the sound of your soft cries reached the door.

___________________________________________________________

Satoru looked after you for the next two days, making sure you took medications and got proper rest. Even when you were well enough to get back on your feet, he still made your meals and brought you ice packs and popsicles at night for your throat.

He apologized the first few times he served you food, scratching the back of his head and laughing. Sure, his grilled cheese and tomato soup wasn't bad, but it was embarrassing compared to your culinary genius. You never replied, looking back at him with a perplexed expression.

Satoru noticed this, and he had his suspicions as to why you may be confused. Because you had been living with him for the past month and a half, he was able to easily discern what your looks meant, or at least, what he thought they meant. Your confusion was not necessarily because of actual confusion, but rather, because you weren't used to gestures like this. It was a little disheartening, of course, but slowly, you began to accept them with a small smile and nod of your head. It put him at ease to see you that way.

Now was the third day Satoru stayed home to be with you, and because you seemed to be doing much better, he knew this would probably be the last day he would have to do so. Thus so, he wanted to make the most of it.

It was early afternoon when Satory began to approach your room. You had taken to sleeping in while being sick, and if there was one thing he had definitely learned from this time with you, it's that you could sleep when you weren't waking yourself up at a certain time. He found it cute, and somewhat surprising.

He snuck into your room as you slept, gently placing the reason he came in on your bedside table: a vase, with those blue hydrangeas in it. And just as he was about to walk out, you called his name.

Satoru stilled and turned slowly. You were staring at the flowers on the bedside with a haphazard, exhausted look on your face. God, and just when he thought this moment couldn't get any more precious...

"Fuck, sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up. Goddamn, and I had it all planned out too! Having you wake up to flowers, I was just gonna get cracking on some blueberry pancakes and everything-"

"Oh... are we celebrating something?" you asked, looking between your hands and the flowers.

"No, 's just because. Unless there's something you want to celebrate? Happy your-fever-decreased-from-103-to-101 day?" he chuckled. "Anyway, I'm going to attempt to make pancakes even though I'm ass at it. Hope you're okay with Frosted Flakes as a fall-back option." Satoru turned towards the door again. This woman has him adding blueberries to his pancakes-

"Satoru...?"

He paused, stopped, buffered, restarted. Did you just call him Satoru? His brain was running laps around the replayed sound of your voice in his head as he turned. He was elated, estatic, down-right jolly, one might say.

And then all that was thrown out the window he faced you completely, and you were looking right at him.

Head up. Eyes bright. Smile... paragon.

"Thank you... for taking care of me."

Satoru knew you weren't just talking about this past three days. He felt like a five year old boy laying his eyes on you again for the first time as he, the ever so confident, swaggering, and teasing Gojo Satoru, flushed. "Yeah, no, it's no biggie, you deserve it cause you do so much and you're my wife so I kind of have to and-" he bumped into the door behind him, "fuck, you know what? I'm just gonna shut up and go... pancakes... haha, yeah..."

This poor man Satoru turned the corner and facepalmed, shutting your door behind him while your small laughs could be heard from the other side of the door. Running a hand through his hair, he tried his best to compose himself while he walked away, but then your face flashed in his mind again, and it was like he had a buzz that reached from his brain down to his whole body. He was smitten.

Once he reached the kitchen, soft music playing from his phone, he searched up that pancake recipe. While he began to get out ingredients, there was a knock as someone entered through the doors that led to the rest of the estate. One of the household staff.

"Sir, there's a guest at the front door," the woman stated.

"Who?" Satoru asked as he leaned over the counter while scrolling through the recipe.

"Arao Kamo, sir."

Fuck.

___________________________________________________________

tags: @leonora13x @cole-silas @feeiry @mysuperrainbow @tw0fvced @emptybrain01 @xixiwang @drilled-brain @lvieee @xxkoyukixx @we-loveebony @sereniteav @ilovecoyotepeterson10 @baby—vera @jebemticeluporodicu @louannfox

I love you guys

#isawritesshit #jjk #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #female reader #anime #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #arranged marriage #forced marriage #principal yaga #guys I did it

441 notes · View notes

roseghoul26 · 7 months ago

Text

Part 2

Javier Escuella x femVirgin!Reader

Synopsis: You and Javier are to attend a party in Saint Denis, hoping to rob the owner of the establishment. Your role is to distract the man while Javier sneaks up to his room, stealing bonds rumored to be worth a good bit. The only problem is, the two of you are pretending to be husband and wife, which would be fine if you weren’t completely in love with the man. Will you be able to muster up the courage to finally confess to him, or will your personal anxieties hold you back from getting what you want?

Tags: fluff, smut, friends to lovers, fem!Reader, reader is described to have longer hair but that’s about it, reader is afraid of intimacy, but like still wants it, unwanted touch (not from javier), unwanted sexual advances (not from javier), non consensual touching (not from javier), basically any noncon stuff is not done by javier, degrading language towards women, first kiss, love confessions, virgin reader, not beta read, angst, unsafe sex

Author’s Note: i realized while writing this that the song “Slut!” by taylor works so well with fic, and i was going to change the title to a lyric from it but i already committed to this title

also, this is the part that contains non consensual themes, but there is not actually assault that happens. if you’re not in the right headspace to read something like that, please skip this fic!

part 1 ❉ part 2

If you had to laugh at one more awful joke, and to continue pretending like you were oh so interested in the history of a family’s company, you were going to hurt someone. You were thankful for Javier’s charm, letting him take the lead in most of the conversations, but you could tell that even he was getting exhausted.

It had been about an hour and a half since the two of you arrived, spending most of your time mingling with the other guests, blending into the crowd as you awaited an opportunity to speak with Lee. But he was apparently a very important man, constantly being whisked away by other people before you could even approach him. He was constantly moving between floors, meaning that even you had to get his attention for a good while to allow Javier a chance to get into his room.

The two leaned side by side at the bar now, each of you nursing a small glass of some brandy. He had his arm around your shoulders, and you observed the crowd with disinterested eyes. Lee was currently in conversation with two other men, and he had been for the last ten minutes.

Your feet were aching, and the corset was tiring, but it did its job as a distraction. More often than not, you watched men’s eyes roam over your body as Javier talked, and they seemed more eager to answer his questions and engage, if you didn't have a bit longer to look at you. It made you feel disgusted, but you could handle it for a night. But, thankfully, no one had laid their hands on you, mainly because your ‘husband’ was beside you most of the night.

The man beside you bent towards your ear, voice barely audible over the sounds of the party. “Are you doing alright?”

You smiled half-heartedly. “I’m ready to be done.”

“You and me both,” he chuckled dryly.

“I will say, it’s much more bearable because of you.”

He didn’t respond, but he pulled you in closer. Because his arm was across your shoulders, he had access to exposed skin, and you felt him lightly dance his fingers across it. It felt quite nice, and you felt yourself begin to unwind.

That was until you watched from across the room as Arthur raised his hands up, in a heated disagreement with another man. You nudged Javier, gesturing over to Arthur with a nod. “I swear, we can’t bring him anywhere.”

Javier laughed. “That we can’t. I’ll be right back, mi amor.” Kissing the top of your head, he removed himself from you, and you felt cold at the lack of contact.You already missed his hands on you, and despite what you believed, the growing fire inside of you didn’t cool down at all when he stopped touching you. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right? As he made his way toward the cowboy, you heard him begin to defuse the situation; his honeyed words could cool down even the most aggravated people.

As you watched, trying and failing to keep your eyes off the way his hips swayed as he walked, a new presence made themselves known beside you, on the opposite side of where Javier once stood. Taking a sip of your drink, you glanced up at the new figure, nearly choking on your drink when you saw who it was.

“You enjoyin’ the party, ma’am?”

“I am, Mr. Reginald.” Time to turn on the charm. “The name’s Anna. Anna Howard.” You extended a hand towards him, which he took. He kissed the back of your hand, and you were successful in fighting the urge to pull it away. You were able to get a closer look at him, pretending to look interested in him as you did so. He was older, probably around Hosea’s age, with a scrappy white beard that scratched against your skin even through the glove. His longer hair was slicked back, and he had almost unsettling blue eyes that didn’t even bother to look into yours. His white skin was blotched with red, his cheeks ruddy with drink.

“A lovely name for a lovely woman,” he murmured as he straightened, flashing you a smile that you figured was supposed to be appealing. His teeth were partially rotten, and looked the color of turmeric, and you could smell the alcohol on his breath. But he didn’t let go of your hand. “And you can just call me Lee.”

Pushing back your disgust, you smiled back at him. “A pleasure, Lee. You really know how to throw a marvelous party.”

Disregarding your compliment, you watched his eyes flick to Javier, a look of disdain in his eyes. “Is that your husband?”

Following his eyes, you watched as Javier escorted the man that Arthur was arguing with away, but his eyes were on you, an unspoken question in his eyes. Am I good to sneak away? What you didn’t notice was the barely restrained anger, jaw clenching and unclenching as he watched what was unfolding. You nodded, both at Javier and Lee, and you turned your attention away from Javier. “He is,” you laced your words with disappointment, and you could tell he heard it. “Married for two years.”

Before you could react, you felt the hand still grasping yours rip your glove away, a pleased grin on his face as he examined your hand. You let out a shocked gasp, which he took at you enjoying what he just did, his grin turning even larger. “I thought I didn’t feel a ring.”

“Don’t tell him,” you winked. He let go of your hand, shaking his head with a smile while handing you back your glove, which you slipped back on. You were killing this man in your mind, but you forced your face to seem flustered.

“Any children?”

You shook your head. “It ain’t for a lack of tryin’, though.” You laughed, and he joined in as well. He has still yet to make eye contact with you, eyes practically glued to the rest of your body. Pushing your chest forward, you watch his gross eyes widen. Grabbing your clutch from under your arm, you reapplied the rouge, and for once you watched his eyes flick to your face. Popping your lips, you tucked the rouge away, and you saw how he tracked every movement of yours. You had him right where you wanted him. Now you just needed to give Javier about fifteen to twenty minutes, then he’d be whisking you away, Arthur in tow, and then you’d never have to see this man again.

“I’m surprised your husband let you go out in somethin’ like this,” you felt him run the back of his hand against the bodice of your dress, running just under the cup of your breasts. You stiffened under his touch, but you were thankful that his body language comprehension was absolutely terrible, because he seemed to think you were liking it. You saw Arthur begin to approach the two of you, but he stayed close enough away to not interfere with what was happening, but he was ready to do anything if things went south.

“Actually, he chose it for me, for tonight.”

“So he likes parading his wife around, like she’s a whore.”

His words had your blood turning cold, your heartbeat hammering in your ears, and you wanted nothing more than to tear yourself away. You steeled yourself, trying to not seem as affected as you were. “Whatever makes him happy.”

He laughed at that. “You like it, no?”

“I-”

“You like havin’ everyone else’s eyes on you, don’t you. I mean, you were practically pushing your tits to my face a moment ago. You that desperate for attention, huh? Your husband not givin’ you enough?” You wanted to roll your eyes. For the love of…

“I’m sorry, it’s just,” you began to cry, a neat little trick you could pull out whenever you felt like it. “Old habits are hard to break, you know?” You elaborated more. “I used to offer my services to men… that’s how we met. He used to be so sweet.” You laughed bitterly. “But, ever since we got married, he hasn’t been treatin’ me right, always seeing’ other women, comin’ home late, and…” you took a moment to breathe, letting a tear escape from your eye, no doubt smuggling the kohl around it. “And he’s left me so unsatisfied. I wish I never married him!” You were playing into exactly what he wanted to hear, and he was hanging on to every word you said.

He cooed at you, demeaning in every sense of the word. “You poor thing,” his hand tugged at your waist, pulling you into him.

You tried to push him away, arguing that he might see, but he chuckled. “Look around. He’s nowhere to be seen. He’s probably got his hands on another woman right now. Isn’t that terrible?” He pulled you in close to him with a hand on your hip, and you shuddered.

You nodded, looking around for Javier. Just as he had said, he was gone, and you were content with that, the job going smoothly. “What kinda woman am I, who can’t keep her own husband loyal to her?”

“It’s not your fault, sweet thing. I’m not sure how any man could be unfaithful to a beautiful thing like you…” both hands now wrapped around your waist, pulling your back into him. His lips tickled your ear as he whispered to you, and you held back a gag at the stench. “How ‘bout I show you how a real man treats his woman.” You couldn’t even respond before he was pulling you towards one of the stairs by your hand. He had an iron grip on you, and you found yourself unable to pull away. Glancing behind you, you saw Arthur trying to follow you, but he was stopped by a group that were claiming very loudly that they knew him, getting more and more aggressive by the minute. He looked understandably panicked, eyes not leaving you as he tried to push through the group surrounding him. You mouthed I’m alright, despite the panic that threatened to overwhelm you.

“Right now?” You sounded calm, much to your surprise. He nodded, not even looking back at you. “What about the party?”

“It’ll be there when we’re done.”

Shit. It had only been about seven minutes since the two of you had started talking, not nearly enough time for Javier to be done. And if he was taking you to his room, that’ll probably be where the bonds are located, and, in turn, where Javier would be currently trying to rob him. So much for the job going smoothly.

But you didn’t want to raise suspicion, so you went along with Lee, keeping as much distance away from his as you could. He kept his iron grip, nearly causing you to stumble up the stairs, your shoes catching on the carpet. His hands were so much worse than Javier’s, demanding and harsh; the hands belonged to someone who didn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.

When you reached the top floor, you let your facade drop slightly, looking around for some exit. Every door looked the same, a deep mahogany, and the hallway seemed to extend to infinity as he marched down it. A thin rug extended down the center of the floor, and so you tried your hardest to walk along the hardwood floor, praying that Javier would hear the approaching noise of your heels.

Wordlessly, he suddenly halted in front of one of the doors, opening it quickly, pulling you in forcefully. It was at that point you were debating screaming. Would someone come help you? Would they be able to even hear you over the party? Lee was not a large man by any means, old and scrawny, but he still had the upper hand right now. And you didn’t know if he had any weapons on him, and you weren’t too keen on finding out.

The room, thankfully, was devoid of any other people besides you and Lee. He finally let go of your wrist, and you snatched it close to you, rubbing at the hurt skin. He stepped further into the room, passing by a large closet and dresser that housed a washbin before reaching the bed. Keeping his back turned to you, he slowly began to undress. Now, you debated running out the door behind you. You knew you probably wouldn’t be able to get far, your shoes and dress restricting you from moving easily.

Your mind was made, however, when you saw the closet door creak open, and you barely suppressed a surprised noise. A familiar figure stood hidden in the shadows, various jackets and garments hiding him further, and you nearly cried in relief. It was at that point you noticed the large desk and safe in the corner, your theory that his bonds would be in his room being right. Javier tried to exit, but you stopped him with a panicked look. One slight turn from Lee and he would see. Even in the dark, you could see the conflict on his face, and you held up a finger, telling him to wait. He nodded, and you saw the glint of a blade, which helped to ease your worries.

“Are you just gonna stand there?” Lee’s gruff voice made you jump, and you turned your attention back to him. He still had his back to you, working off his tie and unbuttoning his shirt, his jacket discarded on the bed.

You didn’t dignify him with a response, making your way to the large window that faced the streets of Saint Denis. It was partially open, a cool night’s breeze tickling your skin. “Don’t think about jumping,” you heard him try to joke, but it came out more as a threat. He had sat on the bed as you approached the window, and you heard the wooden frame creak as he got up. You retrieved the hidden blade from your clutch, pulling off the fake comb top. It was a tiny little thing, a needle compared to the hunting knife you saw Javier frequently use, but it could cause some damage if need be.

Holding it to your chest, your breathing slowed as you heard him approach, floorboards creaking with each slow step. “I’ll make sure you get paid after this.”

“I said I was a working girl.”

He scoffed. “Sure, whatever makes you feel better.” He took another step towards you. “Get on the bed.”

With the assurance that Javier was also in the room, you found yourself surprisingly confident, shaking your head at his question. That pissed him off, and you could feel the anger beginning to roll off of him. Still, you faced away from him, gripping the blade so tightly that your fingers ached.

“It wasn’t a question. Get on the bed.”

“And I said no.”

In surprising swiftness, you felt his fingers grasp at the back of your neck, and you figured he would’ve gone for your hair if it wasn’t pinned up. His fingers had merely grazed your skin before you were spinning around, the blade flying at his face with unrestrained fury. A streak of crimson cut through the air as you hit your mark, the blade running across the entire side of his face, barely missing his eye by a quarter of an inch. He stumbled back a few feet, shocked, clutching the side of his face.

Blood poured from his fingers, and he looked up at you with hate in his eyes. “You whore! C’mere!” Lee attempted to lunge for you, but was easily stopped Javier wrapped his hand around the face of the man, muffling him as he pulled him down to the ground. His knife pressed into the delicate skin of his neck, pressing so hard that droplets of blood began to appear. A shocked noise that turned into a muffled noise left Lee’s mouth, turning into a cry when Javier dug the knife in deeper. A satisfied smirk graced his lips when he heard Lee reduced to a whimpering mess, and his blazing eyes found yours.

Ignoring your desire, you sighed in relief, and you let your arms loosen, the blade falling to your side. “What do you want to do with him, mi amor?” Javier sounded almost breathless, and you watched as the blood from Lee’s wound began to coat Javier’s hand.

A part of you wanted to see him dead on the floor, but you refrained yourself. “Let him live,” was all you said, not bothering to give an explanation, not that you had one; you just didn't want him to die.

Not yet, that is.

Letting out a sigh that almost sounded like disappointment, Javier adjusted his blade so that it was no longer completely digging into Lee’s skin. “You’re lucky that I listen to what she tells me, cabrón. If she wasn’t here, you’d be long dead. You know what…” Javier moved his hand so that it no longer covered his mouth, but he kept his blade where it was, ready to move if he decided to make a noise. “Why don’t you tell her how thankful you are that she spared your miserable life?”

Lee took a few shuddering breaths, tears mixing in with the blood that streaked down his face. “T-Thank you,” he rushed out, eyes squinting closed as he braced himself for the final blow from Javier.

“And…”

“And?” Lee practically squawked.

“You said some pretty nasty things to her. Maybe you ought to apologize.” You watched Javier’s jaw clench as he recalled the small bit he heard, and it was evident that he was using every ounce of restraint in his body to not just end Lee then and there. If he knew what all was said to you, then Lee would be lifeless right now.

“I’m sorry!” Lee cried out, and Javier gave an approving noise in response. You couldn’t care less if he apologized to you. Quite honestly, it was much more rewarding watching Javier force the man into submission. You realized watching him like this was turning you on, growing increasingly warmer despite the cold air from the window.

You needed to speak to a doctor. Or a priest.

“Very good,” Javier praised, his voice gravelly. “Now that that’s out of the way.” With ease, you watched him flip the knife around his fingers, now holding it in a way that allowed him to bash the butt of it against Lee’s head. He fell to the ground like a sack, body hitting floor with a thud.

You weren’t quite sure what to do with yourself, too many emotions running through your body. Anxiety still persisted in your brain, reminiscing over all the what ifs and scenarios that could have transpired if Javier hadn’t been in the room. You were grateful that he was here, and there was that feeling in your chest again, increasing with every beat of your heart. And much to your surprise and embarrassment, you found yourself aroused, every fiber of your being needing Javier.

He stood in front of you know, deep concern in his eyes as he regarded you. You watched as he raised his hands up, ready to wrap his arms around you, until he saw the blood on his hand, and realized you wouldn’t want to be touched right now. He couldn’t have been more wrong.

Without saying anything, you placed the blade back into your clutch, not bothering to recover it back up. You grabbed the handkerchief instead, and you felt his eyes on you as you grasped his wrist gently with your other hand, pulling it towards you. He had his jacket on still, which did enough to hide the blood that stained his clothes, but a few specks still dotted the white sleeves of his shirt that poked out.

Pulling him toward the wash bin, you dipped the handkerchief into the water before you got to work on wiping away his skin. He tried to protest, but you cut him off with a gentle yet firm look.Javier set his blade on the dresser, and the two of you stood in silence, the only sound your breathing and the occasional splash of water as you redipped the handkerchief into it. The water turned from clear to a rusty brown as you worked, which you watched with rapt attention, scared of how you would react when you looked into his eyes.

As you dipped it into the water for the final time, Javier finally spoke, his voice still a bit raspy. “Guess you don’t need those knife lessons, then.”

You chuckled, setting the rag down on the dresser as it turned into a loud laughter that shook your body. You weren’t quite sure why you were responding like this, but you figured it was probably shock. You didn’t even register that you were crying until you felt his freshly cleaned hands rest on the sides of your face tentatively, growing more confident when you nodded your consent. He murmured your name softly, brushing your tears away with his thumbs. “Mierda, sorry. It was a bad joke…”

“It was funny,” you said through tears. “It’s just… God, I felt so weak. I haven’t felt that scared since… forever.��

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head, mouth opening to respond, but a fresh wave of tears threatened to overwhelm you. Not trusting yourself to speak, you practically crashed yourself against his chest. Javier cried out softly, startled, as you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him in close in a tight hug. His familiar scent helped to calm you, and when you felt him reciprocate the hug, strong arms tight around you, you felt your heart rate begin to slow. You're sure your makeup was running on to his jacket, but it didn’t matter now; it was already dirty.

His fingers traced soothing patterns on your back, and he rested his head on top of yours. You're not sure if he held you for a few moments or a few hours, time seemingly nonexistent beyond the two of you. But of course, reality was quick to catch up with you, the sound of the door being kicked down hardly pulling you from his embrace as you spun around, grabbing the knife on the dresser before Javier could.

Arthur stood in the doorway with his hands up, eyes flicking from the knife in your hands to the man unconscious on the floor, quickly connecting the dots. “Don’t do that shit, Arthur,” you snapped, practically slamming the knife back down on the dresser. “I could’ve hurt you…”

“Are you alright?” He asked, typically not caring for his own safety. He approached you like you were a spooked horse, though, which was quickly annoying you.

“What do you think, you idiot?” A voice behind you interjected, and you felt him slide his hand across you back as he moved around you. His eyes were blazing with anger, getting into Arthur’s space. “What the hell happened?” You watched Javier shove the other man, which he took, guilt evident on his face, but you saw the angry storm clouds begin to roll in behind Arthur’s eyes.

“You had one job, and you fucked it up!” Another shove, and you watched Arthur’s jaw clench. “You nearly got her assaulted!” Javier's voice had raised significantly in volume, emotion causing his voice to break ever so slightly as he spoke. “How did you-”

“You think I don’t know that?” Arthur finally snapped, which was a hard thing to do. Guilt probably snipped his fuse, and the immediate attack by Javier ignited it. “You don’t think I’ve been fightin’ like hell to get up here?” He scoffed. “It ain’t my fault you asked the most recognized man in camp to tag along with y’all!”

“Oh, so it’s my fault now?” Javier challenged. “You wanna know why, then, you asshole? Because you’re the only one I trust to make sure nothing happens to her,” he snarled, jabbing his finger into Arthur’s chest. “You think Micah, or Sean, or Bill would give two shits if someone dragged her away?” He shook his head with a sneer on his mouth. Arthur didn’t respond, but his silence was all that Javier needed. He took a breath, stepping back a few paces from Arthur.

“You know I wouldn’t let anything happen to her, right?” Arthur’s voice was soft, which was surprising given the circumstance. “But you know she doesn’t need our constant protection, right?”

Whatever temporary peace that had been created between the two men shattered instantly, Javier getting right back into the other man’s face. “She didn’t even have a damn gun, Arthur. All she had was a tiny knife that could barely hurt a mouse. The only reason she managed to get him,” he pointed angrily at Lee, not bothering to turn his head to look at him, “was because she caught him off guard. And I know she doesn’t need my- our protection. I’ve seen her toss men double her size to the ground with ease, I’ve seen her knockout men with a single punch. I’ve seen it all.” Javier took a deep breath before continuing. “But that was when she was free to move, without having that goodman dress on. She can barely even walk, let alone defend herself tonight.”

“You stepped in before anythin’ could happen.” Arthur tried to reassure the man.

“But what if I hadn’t? What if I had been in another room, too busy robbing that bastard to even notice? What if there had been more than one guy in here? What if he drugged her, or what if I didn’t hear her approaching down the hallway?” Javier began to pace as he ranted, running his fingers through his hair, pulling part of it out of the tie.

As entertaining and endearing as it was to hear them argue about you, you were tired of being talked about like you weren’t even there. Clearing your throat gently, you got their attention, Arthur giving you an apologetic smile. Javier took a little bit longer to catch your eye, having to turn around to do so, but you watched as the fire in him immediately fizzled out as he looked at you, any anger left in his body leaving in a final shaky exhale.

You smiled gently, folding your hands in front of you. You had taken your gloves off during their disagreement, the garments becoming wet while you cleaned Javier’s hands, and you had tucked them away into your bag. You watched as his gaze went down to your intertwined hands, a smile about to grace his own lips before it was overtaken by a shocked gasp.

Everyone’s eyes in the room followed where Javier was looking, with similar reactions across the board. Where Lee had gripped you was an already bruise in the shape of his hand, encompassing almost the entirety of your wrist. You hadn’t realized he grabbed you that hard. Looking back up, you saw an outraged look on Arthur’s face, but it was nothing compared to the sheer hatred and disgust on Javier’s. You were grateful that you still had his knife by you, or else Lee’s blood would be spilt right now.

A combination of curses and Spanish left Javier’s lips as he pulled away from Arthur, finally giving the other man space. You expected him to make his way over to you, which he started to do, but he halted a few steps in. Confused, you cocked a brow at him, and he just shook his head, backing away backwards toward the door. “I’m gonna get the carriage,” you heard him mutter, eyes fixated on the bruise on your wrist as he continued to back away.

“Javier-” you tried to stop him, but it was clear he wasn’t in the right headspace to listen.

“I’ll see you in a minute, mi amor.” And with that, he left you and Arthur alone in stunned silence.

Trying to not seem too upset, you forced a smile on your face, which probably looked as pained as it felt. “Do you think he got the bonds?” You asked, and the other man looked confused. “You know, the thing we came for?”

Recognition flashed across Arthur’s face, and he shook his head. “Don’t think so. Didn’t have enough time, probably. Why?” You briskly made your way over to the safe, getting down on your knees ready to begin cracking it open. “After all that, you’re still worried about the bonds?” Arthur asked in disbelief.

“After all that, I ain’t returnin’ to camp empty handed. Now, tie him up for me,” you gestured at Lee, and Arthur nodded.

“Yes, ma’am,” he muttered, but he still complied, and you rolled your eyes before preparing yourself to get to work. You weren’t an expert at cracking safes by any means, but you could get it done with enough time. The metal was cold against your face as you pressed it against it, listening to the inner workings of the safe. You were able to see Arthur move out of the corner of your eye as you began to turn the dial slowly, listening for the telltale click.

It was when Arthur finished tying up the man that you heard the first click, and you glanced down to see what the first digit of the code was.

34.

Moving the dial to the right, you felt Arthur watch you while you worked, but you paid him no mind. That was until you heard him talk, nearly causing you to jump because of how focused you were on the safe. “You know, I haven’t seen Javier that angry in years. He used to be filled with hate and anger toward the world, but it died down as the years passed.”

You merely hummed along, not fully paying attention to his words. Another click hit your ears, and you took a mental note of the next number. 28. Arthur continued. “I’m still surprised he’s still callin’ you that, like you don’t know what it means.”

Your curious eyes flicked to him, and realization dawned on his face. He laughed with an almost childish grin. “You don’t know what it means, do ya’?”

You sighed. “No, ‘cause everytime I ask, no one tells me! Especially you! Now, hush. I’m tryin’ to concentrate.” Arthur left you alone then, and you continued to turn the dial slowly to the left, waiting to find the final digit for the safe.

Finally, the third click rang throughout the room, the final digit being 4. The safe door creaked open, exposing its contents to you and Arthur. Inside contained a stack of papers, which you assumed to be bonds, a few clips of cash, and a small gold ingot. With a satisfactory smile, you gestured for Arthur to bring you your clutch, which he did. You pulled the gloves out, quickly slipping them back on even though they were wet. All paper items went into the bag (and you were sure to make sure the blade did not wreck them), and you took the ingot into your own hands. It always caught you off guard, how heavy gold ingots actually were.

You stood up, heading over to the dresser and grabbing Javier’s knife while handing Arthur the gold ingot, which he stashed away. Where, you weren’t quite sure, but it disappeared from sight. You had just enough room to place the knife in your bag, the thing barely closing before you tucked it under your arm. You left the soiled handkerchief on the dresser, and you started to move towards the door before Arthur’s voice stopped you. “He’s callin’ you ‘his love’.”

“What?”

“Mi amor,” Arthur’s Spanish wasn’t even comparable to Javier’s, but it was understandable. “It translates to ‘my love’.”

You were stunned, blinking back at him with wide eyes. “You’re kiddin’ me.” Arthur shook his head. “This entire time he’s been callin’ me-” you cut yourself off, rubbing a hand down your face, being careful to not smudge the makeup completely. “So you mean to tell me, that instead of me livin’ in constant doubt about how he felt about me, I could’ve known, but you and everyone back at camp refused to tell me?”

Arthur rubbed nervously at the back of his neck, guilt once again eating away at him. He didn’t respond, so you laughed bitterly. “Now I’m startin’ to regret that I didn’t end up hurtin’ you earlier.” Huffing angrily, you didn’t spare either Arthur or the man tied up on the bed a glance, quickly reaching the door in angry strides. “C’mon. I wanna leave this damn place.”

Arthur didn’t need to be told twice, following behind you as you marched down the hallway and back down the stairs. It was easy to slip away from the party, everyone was too drunk or too busy in conversation to notice. The silence outside was a complete shock to your system, your ears ringing loudly as you took a deep breath.

Just like he said, Javier was waiting beside the carriage, eyes following you as you descended the stairs. It melted any cold from the night, and like in the party, you felt that need for more grow inside you. You felt Arthur move behind you, cutting across the front lawn to reach his horse. As you reached the carriage, Bill’s voice broke the silence. “You get the whiskey?”

Shit. “No, I’m sorry. Things went bad in there.”

Bill sighed, disappointed, but he didn’t speak further. “Here,” you dug out one of the clips of money, practically having to toss it at him, “it ain’t whiskey, but it’s just as good in my opinion.”

The corners of his mouth tugged up, and you knew that he accepted your new gift, tucking it away into his jacket pocket. Javier uncrossed his arms once you were within reach, once again helping you into the carriage. You could practically feel the tension from him, his entire body tightly coiled as you settled into your seat.

Again, you expected to follow in behind you, but he was quickly shutting the door. You stopped it with your hand, and he stopped immediately. “You’re not comin’ in?” Your voice was dispirited, and Javier frowned as he shook his head once.

“You don’t want-”

“Don’t tell me what I want, Javier.” You cut him off, shocking yourself with your directness. “Get in here.”

Wordlessly, he obeyed, sitting across from you again. It looked like he had a thousand things to say, but he remained silent. Bill almost immediately took off, but you better prepared than last time, managing to not lurch forward. To say the air between the two of you was awkward would be an understatement, and you found yourself looking out the window, watching the streetlights as you passed them.

After about a minute of silence, you saw Javier shift out of the corner of your eye, so you refocused your attention on him. “I’m sorry,” you heard him murmur, barely audible over the hoofs of the horses and the sound of the wheels rolling over the cobblestone.

“Javier, you couldn’t have known that would happen,” you sighed, wanting nothing more than to take his hand in yours. “And I knew that things could go bad tonight.”

“It’s not that. Well, I am sorry about that, I’m not sayin’ I’m not, but-” he paused for a moment, recollecting his thoughts. “I’m sorry about the way I acted. And for talking like you weren’t right there. And for implying that you couldn’t protect yourself. I’m sorry, for all of it.”

“I’m not the one you should be apoligzin’ to,” you laughed lightly, and you felt successful when you saw a light smile on Javier. “And emotions were high tonight, and even the best of us snap sometimes. And you weren’t completely wrong about the dress,” you adjusted the bodice of said dress, trying and failing to gain more room to move. “But, thank you. It… it means a lot.”

A lot of the tension dissipated from Javier as you accepted his apology, leaning back against the back of his seat finally. He had taken off his jacket while he was gone, leaving him only in his vest, necktie and undershirt, and the sleeves had been rolled up, hiding the splotches of blood from view. Even in the dim light, you were able to clearly see the definition of his forearms flexing against the shirt, even more so when he crossed his arms against his chest.

Thick veins traveled down his hands and arms, and you couldn’t stop the thoughts of what those hands might be able to do to you from running through your head. It surprised you, having these thoughts. If you had had these thoughts days, or even hours ago, your mind would be spiraling into a panic. Instead, you found your mind spiraling into lustful thoughts, and you found yourself having to look away, cheeks growing warm.

Javier didn’t seem to notice your staring, too deep in thought to do so. After a few moments of silence, he finally spoke again. “Why didn’t you have me kill him?” Anger flashed in his eyes at the thought of the other man, but he kept in check.

You still weren’t quite sure, and you voiced that to Javier. “I think I didn’t want you to because I was having a good night, and watching someone die kinda ruins that.” If your words were blunt, Javier didn’t seem to care.

“A ‘good’ night?” Javier looked at you like you’d grown a second head. “Mi amor, if that’s your idea of a ‘good’ night then…” he trailed off.

Now knowing what he was saying, you felt your heart skip a beat. You should’ve realized a long time ago what it meant, you realized. His voice was always filled with adoration when he said it, and a bashful yet cocky smirk would follow. “Besides the last twenty minutes,” you laughed. “I was having a good night because I was with you, my love.” It felt like a confession, and you kept your voice low, but you were sure to add extra emphasis on the final two words.

Javier’s eyes widened, forearms flexing as he readjusted his crossed arm. “Finally figured it out, then?” He teased, but there was an underlying panic in his voice, not aware if you liked it or not.

You nodded, diverting your gaze as you prepared for your next question. “Do you mean it?” Your voice was small, vulnerable.

Javier responded with a confused noise. Shifting nervously, your hands felt clammy under the gloves. “Do you mean it when you call me ‘my love’? ‘Cause I know you like me, and that’s great… but I want to know.” Do you love me? You breathed shakily. Why was this so hard?

Silence fell over the carriage, and you dared to look back at the man across from you. His arms now rested on his elbow, and when he noticed your attention was back on him he smiled, extending a hand for you to grab. When you did, he covered it with his other, kissing the back of it before doing so. You almost wished at that point that you hadn’t put your gloves back on, wanting to feel his lips against your skin.

“I said I would never lie to you, and I mean it. I never said anything to you that I didn’t believe.” He shifted closer to you, your knees pressing against each other. “I mean it, every single time. I…” It would’ve been funny, in any other context, to see Javier at a loss for words. “I know there are thousands of different ways I could say this, but I can’t remember a single one. It’s like my brain just turns off whenever I’m near you,” he chuckled.

Your heart was hammering so loudly in your chest that you were sure Javier could hear it. It burned where your hands were connected, but it was a delicious pain, one that you never wanted to be rid of. It was reassuring to know that you weren’t the only one who got nervous around the other, then.

“So, I guess I’ll keep it simple, then. I love you, and, if you’ll have me, I want… you. I want to be by your side, through the good and the bad. I want to wake up by your side, your voice the first thing I hear every morning. I want to know your thoughts, your fears, your desires.” He sighed, smiling. “I, well, I guess all that was to say I mean it.”

You expected to feel a sense of dread, some sort of anxiety over your changing relationship, and what that could possibly lead to, but you found none. Before you could even register what you were doing, you were leaning into him, pressing a light kiss against his cheek. It wasn’t long, lips barely there for even a second before you were leaning away. You gasped slightly when you saw the red mark left there by you; apparently you still had more makeup on than you thought. Between curses and apologies, you began to wipe it away with your cloth covered thumb, which seemed to just smear it around.

A light tug at your hand had you stopping, your name being said softly focusing your attention back on to the man. He didn’t seem to mind that your lipstick was now on his face, and his eyes were filled with unbridled love as they danced across your face, before finally settling on your lips, then back up into your eyes. His hand was no longer holding yours, instead it was trailing up your arm, up your neck, finding purchase on the side of your face, holding you with such reverence that it almost brought tears to your eyes.

His eyes went back down to your lips, a soft plea in his gaze. “Let me kiss you,” Javier asked, restraint pulling his voice down an octave. Slowly, you brought your hand up, brushing away a few strands of hair that had been pulled from the tie. His eyes closed at your touch, a pleased noise escaping his mouth. Those same eyes opened when he felt you nod, and you hadn’t realized how easy it was to get lost in them until this moment.

He closed the distance between the two of you, thumb brushing your cheek as your lips finally connected. It felt like everything finally clicked into place, like the final piece of a puzzle. Everything felt right, and you sighed happily against his mouth, resting your hands on his thighs.

It was a short kiss, merely testing the waters, with Javier pulling away first. He rested his head against yours, simply savoring the moment. A quiet, giddy giggle left you, causing Javier to raise a brow. “It’s nothin’… I’m just happy.” It was almost childish, the reason you were really giggling, but who wouldn’t be happy after their first kiss.

“Good,” he murmured, before a concerned look crossed his face.

“What?” You asked, immediately thinking the worst.

“It’s your lipstick.” The thumb that was on your cheek shifted to your lips, running against the lower one.

“What about it?” You had no idea where he was going with this.

“It’s not nearly wrecked enough,” he lamented, and you felt his thumb pull your lip slightly, causing the rouge to smear.

“Are you gonna fix it, then?” You challenged, slowly running your hands slowly up and down his thighs. You’re not sure where this sudden burst of confidence was coming from, but you weren’t complaining. All you knew is that you wanted his mouth on yours again.

“Gladly,” Javier purred, pulling your face to him as he kissed you again. Instead of simply holding his lips to yours, you felt him begin to move this time. It was messy and passionate and it had your head spinning. Gripping on to his legs tighter, you were able to ground yourself. That was until you felt his tongue run against your bottom lip.

You gasped, pulling away an inch to give yourself a moment to breathe, all the foreign sensations causing you to become breathless. Javier, with some visible restraint, didn’t chase after you, giving you a moment to collect yourself. It was at that point that you felt that you almost had a death grip on the man’s legs, and you let go with a soft apology.

He paid it no mind, and you felt his hold on your face lax a bit. “You’ve never kissed before, have you?” He wasn’t anywhere close to being rude about it, but the question still had your blood running cold.

Embarrassed, you felt your face flush even more. You tried to pull away, but he kept you close. You shook your head, not wanting to admit it out loud. “Was it that obvious?” You mumbled, quite upset. Javier went to respond, and you braced yourself for the words that your brain trained you to expect.

What you weren’t expecting was him to be smiling at you, thumb rubbing reassuringly on your cheek again. “I only noticed because you seemed less confident,” Javier explained, with no hint of judgment in his voice. “I guess we need to practice some more, then,” he added with a playful grin.

“I love you,” you whispered, before your hands were grabbing both sides of his face and smashing his lips against yours, both of you smiling into the kiss. Any remnant of anxiety about him vanished as you kissed him, feeling more relaxed than you’ve felt in a while. You pulled him toward you as you sat back in your seat, ignoring the way that the bodice of your dress pressed uncomfortably into your skin. You couldn't be bothered to feel it; all that your senses could feel was him.

He followed as you brought him close, getting on his knees on the carriage floor as he kept his lips locked on yours. Even despite being on the ground, his face was still relatively level with yours, if only a few inches lower. You felt him settle between your legs, at least as best he could with your skirt, hands resting on your hips.

Unlike the other two kisses before, this one had a secondary intent behind it, and you felt that fire in your core return, arousal making you dizzy. You wanted more, and you’re sure that Javier was more than eager to give it to you. One of the hands that grasped his face moved behind him, discarding your gloves to somewhere in the carriage before quickly undoing the tie that held his dark hair in place, causing it to fall around his head. Greedily you ran your fingers through it, a pleased groan felt on Javier’s lips as you combed it.

A nip from him had you gasping, offering him an opportunity to sneak his tongue into your mouth. The act surprised you, inadvertently causing you to grasp his hair, pulling the strands into a fist. You felt him moan in response, the hands on your hips squeezing tighter, but he didn’t move them. Pulling him impossibly closer, you tried your best to keep up with the quick movements of his mouth, moving your lips in tandem with his. You were always a quick learner, anyway.

An aggressive jolt from the carriage forced the two of you to separate, gasps and pants filling the silence. Moonlight filtered in, and you were able to see Javier clearly now. You realized you had never seen him with his hair down before, and beautiful wasn’t even close to the right word to describe him. He looked ethereal, and he was all yours, making your heart thrum happily in your chest.

“You should have your hair down more,” was all you said, smoothing your hand over it. It was soft, well taken care of, and you wanted to keep your hands in it forever.

“Whatever my girl wants,” he responded, pure bliss on his face. You didn’t even bother to hide the happy noise that left you when you heard him call you his girl.

Glancing down at his lips, you saw they were practically the same color as yours now, smeared messily across the lower half of his face. You’re sure you looked just as bad, and you registered that it would be hard to hide what the two of you got up to from the rest of camp. But you found that you didn’t care that much.

An image flashed in your head as you watched him; his exposed chest covered in your kiss marks, from his neck to his hips, a pretty ring of red rouge around his cock. The thought had you subconsciously rubbing your thighs together, trying to ease the growing tension that was starting to become unbearable, but it was hard to do when there was someone between them.

Javier honed in on the movement immediately, working at his bottom lip as he stared up at you with blown out eyes. “More?” He asked, the word sounding breathy.

You nodded, carding your fingers back through his hair to pull him back to you. After meeting you for a quick kiss, you felt him travel down your jaw, peppering kisses along as he did so. You laughed lightly when you felt him move to your neck, the soft prickle of his facial hair tickling you, and he smiled against your skin.

The hands of your hips began to explore now, one rising up your front, touching lightly over the bodice, causing you to shiver. His other hand traveled downward, down your thigh and past your knee, until it was wrapping around your calf. He wrapped your stocking covered leg around his back, causing your shoe to fall off in the process, hitting the floor with a dull noise.

Satisfied, the hand on your leg moved to join the other, stopping once he reached the underside of your breasts. Instead of running his hands over the mounds, he bypassed them completely, running his hands across your shoulders delicately. For the first time, his bare hands were on your skin, and it was everything you’d ever wanted. They were deliciously rough, years of hard living making them so, and a number of calluses adorning the tips from playing stringed instruments, but they also felt like silk, rolling across your body like water. It caused another shiver to wrack your body, and he chuckled, vibrations falling from his chest into yours.

“You’re so responsive,” he noted, his normally smooth voice gravelly. His lips traveled further down your neck, showering your lower neck and collarbones with apt attention. “No one’s touched you like this before, no?” He stated rather than asked, and your silence was a more than adequate answer. “What a shame. They don’t know what they’ve missed.”

“I don’t care,” you said with sheer honesty. “Damn everyone else. I only want your hands on me.”

You felt him pull at the back of your head, pulling you into a searing kiss before pulling away slightly, face mere inches from yours. “Let me make you feel good.” Curious, you gave an inquisitive noise, playing with his hair as you did so. He was already making you feel good, so you weren’t quite sure what he was trying to say.

He let out a small chuckle at your confused expression, pressing a light kiss to the tip of your nose, which was an innocently sweet gesture. His next words were less than innocent, another wave of arousal crashing through you as he spoke. “Let me taste you. I need to feel you fall apart on my mouth.”

You’d be lying if you said that his filthy words weren’t getting you incredibly turned on, but a deep feeling of embarrassment overtook you, and you would’ve turned your head away if you could, but you were forced to just avert your gaze.

“Don’t go getting shy on me now, mi amor,” Javier teased, attempting to get your eyes back on him. “It takes more than a few words to get my girl nervous, hm?”

Laughing mostly at yourself, you finally looked into his eyes, a calming smile greeting you. “So, what say you? Are you going to let me eat you out?” He said it so nonchalantly, like it wasn’t completely turning you into a mess. Forcing back the shame, you nodded, not trusting your voice. Javier wasn’t satisfied, and with a disapproving noise he placed another kiss on your nose, causing you to laugh lightly. “Use your words.”

Javier was giving you a second chance to change your mind, you realized, not wanting you to do something that you would regret. It was a nice gesture, but what he didn’t know was that you made up your mind hours ago; you needed him so badly that it almost hurt. “Please,” you responded, your mouth was moving faster than your brain.

He didn’t respond, smiling gratefully at you, like you just offered him something luxurious. One final kiss met your lips before he was descending your body, trailing back over where his lips had been moments prior. One of your hands tangled in his hair when you felt him ghost his lips across the top of your breasts, grinning when he felt the goosebumps form. He didn’t stay there long, a single goal on his mind as he descended further down.

When he no longer had exposed skin to kiss, he rested his head by your knees, staring up at you adoringly as his hands continued to travel down. In the back of your mind, you remembered hearing stories from the girls at camp about lovers they had, how they treated going down on a woman like a chore, or how some just outright refused to do. The hungry glint in his eye and the almost desperate touch of his hand told you that you didn’t have to worry about that.

When he reached your hips, he pulled you forward, forcing you to lean back further in order for your back to reach the back of your seat. If you barely had any airflow then, you had none now, a sharp pain growing in your lungs as you shifted around, trying to get comfortable. Javier quickly noticed this, a concerned frown pulling at his lips. “Dress,” you gasped out, and he quickly got to work unworking the bow and laces that held the corset bodice tight, a pleased sigh leaving you as you felt it loosen its grip on your body. He didn’t undo it completely, the garment still on well enough to keep your body from being exposed, but it was enough that you could get more comfortable.

You didn’t even get to mutter out a ‘thank you’ before he was getting back to it, hands pulling apart your thighs. Your skirt had bunched up when he had pulled your leg around his back, giving him enough room to sneak his head between your spread legs. Your skirt still covered the entirety of his head, only peeks of hair visible to you.

Warm breath caressed your sensitive inner thigh, and you fought the urge to wrap them around his face. Featherlight kisses were felt next, small jolts rocking through you with each touch, increasing in intensity as he reached your aching center. He tugged at the waistband at your undergarments, having you lift your hips slightly so he could peel them away. Pulling them all the way off, he set them somewhere on the seat behind him.

Your hips bucked when you felt him press a kiss to your exposed cunt, humming appreciatively when he felt your arousal, which had no doubt soaked through to your undergarments. “You’re this wet from kissing?” He asked, mostly to himself, and it was barely audible under your heavy clothing, but you felt the need to defend your dignity.

“It wasn’t just the kissin’,” you managed to get out, hips bucking again when he yet again teased you with his mouth. You felt one of his arms sneak out from under your skirt, broad forearm settling across your waist to keep you in place. “Watchin’ you threaten him…”

You didn’t have to see him to know he had a cocky grin on his face. “That got you all bothered?” He asked, bewilderment and desire both lacing his question. Warm air hit you as he talked, causing you to squirm anticipatorily in your seat.“You’re a dirty little thing, aren’t you?”

“Only for you.”

You felt more than heard the responding growl, his grip tightening on your waist as he ran his tongue through your folds, almost immediately going back through for a second, a third, a fourth time. Rolling your head back, pleased noises tumbled from your lips, your other leg almost immediately joining your other around his back. You felt him mutter something, and the broad swipes of his tongue turned to short precise licks, targeting your clit with precise movements.

The change in sensations had you crying out, hands scarbling at his arm as you tried to find something to hold on to. He chuckled lowly, the vibrations shooting straight to your core. “As much as I’d love to hear you, we don’t want anyone finding out what’s going on in here, do we?” You both knew damn well that nothing could be heard outside the carriage, but the idea of having to keep quiet to prevent your friends from knowing turned you on more than it should. Your body must’ve reacted some way, and you heard him groan appreciatively. “You are dirty.” He sounded a million miles away, but it still felt like his mouth was pressed to your ear.

Now attempting to muffle yourself, you bit at your lips, most likely drawing blood. His mouth worked at you so much better than you could’ve imagined, your fingers nothing compared to this. Nothing you had ever done to please yourself had felt this good; now that you had a taste of what someone else could do to you, you never wanted to go back.

A particularly rough flick of his tongue had you whining, pressing a hand on your mouth to stifle your cries. He brought out every drop of pleasure from your body with such ease, like it was second nature. You felt that familiar pressure begin to form in your abdomen, one that normally took you so much longer to reach yourself. He was almost too good at this, playing your body like it was his guitar, his talented mouth pulling noises from you like he was strumming his fingers across the strings.

All thoughts left your mind when you felt his lips latch around your clit, sucking the toying with the sensitive nerves. A plethora of exclamations tumble from your lips, the most frequent one being his name. It seemed to spur him on even more, and you felt his free hand trail up your thigh, resting at the inner junction of your leg and hip. His fingers rubbed soothingly at the sensitive flesh as he continued his ministrations with his tongue. “Javi…” your voice was too breathless to complete his name, and you tried your best to warn him of your upcoming release, which was coming faster than you knew how to process.

He didn’t verbally respond. Instead, you felt him adjust your lower body so that your hips were almost level with his face, your back hardly able to rest against your seat. The new angle made it hard to keep your legs wrapped around his lower back, so you let them go limp, no longer on the man. Javier didn’t seem to like this, almost immediately taking your legs and resting them on his shoulders, which was much more comfortable than the two previous positions. He hadn’t detached himself during the entire readjustment process, tongue and lips still expertly bringing you closer to your release.

The hand at your thigh moved inward, almost so slowly that you barely registered it. You moaned, slightly startled, when you felt those broad fingers spread you apart, tongue delving between them before almost immediately returning its attention to your clit.

You felt him move his face downward, the new angle allowing him to do so with ease, his fingers following. Feeling them tease around your entrance, and you half-braced yourself for the intrusion you were sure was bound to happen with his fingers. Instead, you felt them move to where his tongue had been, rubbing them against you with the perfect amount of pressure and speed that had you crying out. His tongue instead teased around your entrance, pushing in a tiny bit before retracting, slowly easing you to take his tongue.

The pressure in you increased tenfold as he slowly started to fuck you with his tongue, dexterous fingers adding to the ecstasy your body was feeling. “Javier, I’m close,” you managed to murmur out, before crying out again, barely able to muffle yourself this time. Your fingers dug into the muscle of his arm, most likely leaving crescent shaped indents from your nails.

With his mouth quite preoccupied, the most he could do was groan something in response. Your muffled cries of his name turned to small gasps as pants, teetering closer and closer to reaching your peak. As best you could, you carded your fingers through the hand that held you down, desperately needing something to hold as you came. Without missing a beat, he flipped his hand so that his forearm still locked your hips down, but it gave you his hand to hold, your fingers shaky as you gripped his.

With a final cry of his name, your lips bruising from the way you clamped down on it, you felt your release wash over you. Your thighs clamped around his head, but he didn’t seem to mind, fingers and tongue not stopping as he drew out every bit of pleasure from your orgasm. Head thumping against the wall of the carriage, you felt your hips buck slightly with each jolt that passed through your body, letting up in intensity as the aftershocks wore off.

Eventually, Javier let up, a cold shiver wracking your body at the lack of his heat. Pulling back your skirt away from his face, the two of you sat in silence for a second, both processing what the hell just happened. A chuckle spilled from you, a light smile on your face that Javier mirrored. He looked as disheveled as you felt, hair tousled and completely out of place. He only had a few light remnants of your lipstick left, his lower face instead was now covered in your arousal, it glistening in the pale moonlight. A proud smirk greeted you as he realized what you were looking at, and you wiped it away as best you could, resting your hand on the side of his face when you were done. You’re sure you looked like a mess as well, but Javier looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Pulling him back up to your face level, you smashed your lips against his, and you felt his tongue run against the seam of your lips. Opening your lips to let him in, you let out a groan when you were able to taste yourself, the filthiness of it all causing a fresh wave of arousal to wash over you. Running your free hand down his chest, you toyed with his belt, a slight desperation in your touch as you unbuckle his belt.

Not even bothering to get it all the way off, you let it hang open, and you fiddled with the zipper, opening it after some difficulty. Brushing your fingers against his cock beneath his underwear, which had become deliciously hard, and you felt him shudder, breaking the kiss to exhale a breathy noise. “Mi amor.” It sounded like a mix of a plea and a warning.

“Sit,” you whispered, yet it held no room for argument.

After a second’s pause, Javier complied, and you could tell he expected you to follow him with. You would’ve found it funny, the way he let out a shocked moan, when you sunk to your knees, but you only had one thing on your mind.

Framing your knees on each side of his waist, he moved up the skirts to allow you enough room to straddle his lap. You felt his hands move from your skirts to your waist, and his cock pressed right up against your exposed center. You felt him begin to rut his hips the tiniest amount, running his cock through your folds. It was at that point that reality kind of hit you, and you felt that familiar feeling of anxiety begin to trouble your mind, but you pushed it away.

One of his hands sneaked between your bodies, and you felt him hold himself upright. “Are you ready?” You heard him ask, the hand remaining on your waist squeezing reassuringly. You nodded, saying a hushed yes as you did so.

Rising up onto your knees, you adjusted yourself so that the tip nudged your entrance. Both of you let out similar noises as you began to sink down onto him, and you rested your head against his neck. It was less painful than you thought it would be. Sure, the stretch of your muscles as they accommodated the intrusion was unpleasant, but it wasn’t downright painful. “Take it slow,” you heard him say through a clenched jaw.

Holding his shoulders for support, you eased yourself down inch by inch, your moans becoming more frequent as you felt him deeper and deeper inside you. He was already far deeper than you’d ever been able to go with your fingers, and you weren’t even close to having your hips flush with his.

Javier muttered praises to you, moving his hand from between the two of you to rub your lower back. “You’re doing so good,” you heard him say, lips pressing against the side of your head. “Just a little more.”

The slight discomfort you were feeling, the stretch of muscles causing a dull throbbing to spread across your abdomen, was quickly turning into a pleasurable feeling. Mumbling something out in response, you heard him chuckle softly, affectionately pressing another kiss to your head.

A few more moments passed, your legs beginning to shake from the exertion of holding yourself up. Relief flooded your body when you felt his hips meet yours, and you let yourself relax on his lap now that he was fully sheathed in you. “Just like that, mi amor. You- fuck, you feel so good,” you heard Javier pant, voice raspy. Raising your head from his neck, you pulled him into a messy kiss as you let yourself get used to the feeling of him inside you.

Both of you broke the kiss simultaneously when you began to move, lifting yourself off his cock before sinking back down. It was slow, and the drag of him across your walls felt so incredible that you felt your head rolling back. A gentle hand brought it back. “I want to see you,” was all Javier said. You were sure to keep your head still as you repeated the action again, slightly faster than the last.

Bitting again at your lip to keep yourself quiet, you were quickly able to fall into a rhythm, moving yourself down his length with increasing speed. Pleasure bloomed in your cunt, and you felt yourself clench around him with another drag. Javier choked our name, which sounded hotter than you thought it would be, and your body reacted accordingly. He moaned out your name again, smirking when your body reacted the same way. “Does my girl like that? Does she like hearing me cry out her name?” It was a rhetorical question, but you still found yourself nodding.

Your legs were beginning to hurt, but you pushed on, the start of a new orgasm beginning to create itself. You felt Javier's eyes on your face, enraptured by the expressions on it. In any other circumstance, you would’ve found his close examination of you nerve wracking, but right now it was adding fuel to the fire growing in you.

After a few more moments, your legs were really starting to hurt, barely able to lift yourself again. “Javier, I…”

“Do you want me to take over?”

When you nodded, you felt his hands secure themselves on your waist. “You did so good, mi amor,” you heard him praise, and you felt him slowly begin to lift you, fingers digging into your skin. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, before he was bringing you back down.

It took no time at all for him to return to the pace you had set, lifting you up and down like you weighed nothing. You moaned out his name, your head almost rolling back again, but you caught yourself. His hips began to snap up every time he pulled you down, somehow reaching even deeper than before, and the added pleasure was bringing you right to the edge of your release. “I’m gonna-” another snap of your hips cut you off, an unitelliagble noise replacing your words.

“Me too.” Javier’s voice sounded thoroughly wrecked. “Where do you want me?”

It took a second for you to realize what he was asking, and if your brain wasn’t so filled with lust, your answer would’ve been completely different from the one you gave him. “Inside,” you answered, and you felt him falter completely.

“Fuck, amor,” Javier began thrusting into you with reckless abandon, and in the back of your mind you prayed that Bill would not be able to feel it. The heightened speed had you reaching your end faster than you expected, and with a quite loud cry of his name you came, walls fluttering around him. Javier wasn’t too far behind, and with one final thrust he spilled into you, warmth flooding you.

Sagging against Javier, the two of you sat in silence for a few moments, basking in the afterglow. He no longer held on to your waist, trailing his fingers lightly over your back. After pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, you felt him sigh. “As much as I’d love to keep you like this, we are almost back.”

Glancing out one of the windows, you saw that Javier was right, familiar scenery rushing past your eyes. Not bothering to hide the disappointment on your face, you slowly lifted yourself off him for a final time, barely able to do so because your legs were jelly. You made a small whining noise when you felt his release spill from you, and if you weren’t so focused on trying to make it back to your seat without falling then you would’ve seen the way Javier’s eyes darkened hungrily.

You were barely in your seat before he was back on you, having tucked himself back away into his pants, peppering many kisses across your lips and jaw until you were a giggling mess. Wrapping your arms around his head and shoulders, you pulled him into a deep hug, pressing your own lips on top of his head, a happy smile on your face. Content, he sighed deeply, even more so when you started rubbing your fingers across his scalp.

With a regretful smile, Javier pulled away, and he slowly began to redress you. Starting with your undergarments, which quickly became soaked with his spend. Your stockings were put back on next, your shoes quickly following behind. The act of Javier redressing you almost left more intimate than what you two had just done, and you felt your heart thump erratically in your chest at the reverence of it all.

Finally, you watched him sit upright on his knees, bringing himself level to you again. With one of his thumbs, you felt him wipe away the rouge that had smudged across your lips, another proud smile gracing him.

“Did you fix it?” You teased, referencing back to a few moments ago, your voice hoarse and scratchy.

“I think so. Though we can always try again later.” You felt another pass of his thumb under your bottom lip.

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “You’re insatiable, you know that?”

His hand stilled. “Can you blame me?”

You didn’t respond, and you felt him continue to clean you up.

When he deemed it done, you felt his thumb rest on your lips, brushing over the plump skin, not making a move to leave just yet. His eyes followed the movements of the digit, widening when you took it into your mouth. Bobbing your head once, you worked it between your lips, releasing it with a pop. Darkened eyes bore in you. “You’re making it quite hard to stop right here, mi amor.” You chose to not laugh at the innuendo. “That’s the point.”

He chuckled, which sounded more like a pained exhale through his nose, before removing his hand away from you. He moved back into his seat, lounging with a content expression, and you wanted nothing more than to climb back into his lap. Noticing your staring, you watched him spread his legs, providing you with an unobscured view of the way he was already getting hard again

Your hungry eyes traveled across his lower body, which Javier found highly entertaining, that cocky smirk returning. “And you say I’m insatiable,” he joked, hints of his own desire creeping into his voice.

Before you could respond, the carriage coming to a sudden halt pulled you two from the little bubble you had created. A glance out the surprisingly not fogged window confirmed that you had arrived back at camp, a brightly lit campfire the only thing clearly visible in the dark night. Sighing, you grabbed the last of your belongings, tucking the clutch back under your arm and stuffing your gloves in your other hand, not bothering to put them back on. You watched as Javier quickly fixed up his hair, smoothing down the strands that were sticking up.

In typical fashion, he left first, helping you out with a hand, the same one that had just pulled one of the two . That fact had you hesitating for half-a-second before grabbing it, and if Javier noticed, he didn’t say anything, but he smirked at you knowingly. Cold air immediately cooled your overheated skin, goosebumps forming where sweat had been. You heard a soft thump on the ground as Bill hopped down from the driver’s seat, nodding at the both of you before retiring to his tent, unaware of what had transpired.

Arthur pulled into camp not a few seconds later, having trailed behind the carriage the entire time, following behind the two of you as you headed over to Dutch once he hopped off his horse. Arthur didn’t say anything, not quite knowing how Javier would react, and he kept his distance. When Javier rested his hand on your back, leading you toward Dutch’s tent, you could feel his stare, and you didn’t have to turn to know that he had a shit-eating grin on.

You were grateful for the touch on your back, not only because you wanted it, but because it also kept you steady, legs still partially jelly as you hobbled over. If anyone asked, you could just blame it on the shoes.

Dutch greeted you and the two other men warmly, sitting at a table with Hosea and Micah, a bottle of whiskey in his hand. You three said your own greetings, Arthur moving to slide into the extra open seat at the table. Javier stayed behind you, hand not leaving your body, as you leaned back into him.

“So, I’m gonna assume that because you’re all here in one piece that it went well,” Dutch began, going straight into business.

You heard Javier begin to explain to Dutch that it didn’t, and that he couldn't get his hands on the bond, but you cut him off by digging into your clutch, pulling out the the stacks of paper you’d pulled from the safe, along with a few clips of money, keeping one for yourself and Javier. You dropped them on the center of the table along with the gloves, a pleased whistle leaving Dutched as he eyed it, and you tucked the bag away. You’d give Javier his knife back later. “There was also a gold bar, which Arthur had.”

The cowboy nodded, pulling it from a satchel, and you realized that was how he had hidden it before. How he got into the party, you’d never know. Sliding across the table to Dutch, he weighed it in his hands, before passing it to Hosea who examined it more closely. You could feel the shock from Javier, gratitude and curiosity in his eyes as he watched you.

Micah began to converse with Hosea about the gold, Hosea only answering in short, clipped sentences. Dutch and Arthur were already deep into conversation, Dutch giving you no more than a half-hearted thanks before seemingly dismissing you and Javier. Your skin felt sticky and your undergarments were growing more and more uncomfortable, and you wanted nothing more than to leave. Javier began to leave, but you stayed put, steeling yourself. You had one last thing you needed to say.

“Dutch,” you kept your voice neutral, and he regarded you with a hum, still not turning away from Arthur. “Don’t you ever send me on a job like that again.” You tried to not word it like a threat, but it still came out as one.

Immediately, all conversation halted, clear shock written across all the men’s faces. The odd chair creaked as Dutch turned to face you now, his expression unreadable. Never, during the entire time you’d been with the gang, had you ever talked back to Dutch in any sort of manner, and it caught everyone off guard, including yourself. Heart thudding anxiously, you awaited a response from the leader, unable to tell if you had just pissed him off. You watched Arthur’s eyes flick between Dutch and you, also unsure of where this was heading. Hosea seemed to be the only one not worried, and you swore you saw the older outlaw smirk in the low light.

“And why’s that?” Micah interjected, but you ignored him, biting back the anger that threatened to overtake you. Deep breaths, now.

After a few beats of tense silence, Dutch finally responded. “Noted,” was all he said, nodding as he spoke. A sound of protest left Micah, but Dutch disregarded it. “You did well tonight.”

Nodding, you muttered a quick goodnight, before quickly getting the hell away from the table before the calmness dissipated. Javier followed not far behind, no longer in reach to touch you, and he laughed so lightly that you barely heard it. Turning your shoulder, you questioned him with a look.

“You’re incredible, you know that?”

“Oh, hush,” you waved him away, ignoring the flush in your cheeks at his compliment.

“I mean it!” Javier laughed, moving closer to that he was able to stop you with a gentle tug of your waist. You realized that you had walked back to the edge of camp, near where the carriage was parked at the entrance. The two of you were relatively shrouded in the dark, trees helping to block you from the camp. A few people beside the men at the table still lingered around camp, but they were too preoccupied with what they were doing to notice you and Javier.

“There I was, having completely disregarded the whole job, and you just went along and did it yourself. And you know I normally wouldn’t condone you talking to Dutch like that,” Javier pulled you in close by your hips, his own pressed against your backside, “I would be a liar if I said I didn’t find you incredibly hot asserting yourself like that.” He nipped at your ear, his facial hair causing you to giggle. It turned into a moan when you ground yourself against him, feeling the still noticeable bulge there. No wonder he chose to stay close behind you as you talked with Dutch.

You went to tease him about it, but were promptly cut off when you felt him press himself into you, his member protruding into you, pretty much ready to go. As Javier began to lead you away to the woods, you realized that you were not going to get a lot of sleep tonight.

You found that you didn’t care.

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #javier escuella smut #javier escuella x you #javier escuella rdr2 #javier escuella x reader #javier escuella

288 notes · View notes

punkshort · 11 months ago

Text

look what we've become - ch.4

Chapter Summary: You finally get a chance to talk things out with Joel, but when you volunteer to take Ellie back to her family, it causes more tension.

Chapter Warnings: language, talk of parental death, discussions of pregnancy and marriage, brief mention of slavery, angst, Ellie being a cockblock, Joel is a little mean at the very end

WC: 8K

Series masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

It was the end of August, and it felt like the summer saved the worst for last. The heat from the sun laid over the town like a thick blanket, making it nearly difficult to breathe when you were working, forcing you to take more breaks than usual. Working outside in the garden attached to the greenhouse was actually more comfortable than being inside the building itself, the humidity so stifling you could almost reach out and touch it, but you still chose to take your breaks inside. Right in front of the little oscillating fan. Pulling your hair off your neck, you ran a damp cloth across your neck and chest, collecting all the sweat that had accumulated there as the weak breeze from the fan dried your skin.

You were alone at work all week. A bitter part of you thought it fitting, considering how lonely you felt at home, too. But it afforded you a lot of time to think. And cry. But eventually, the tears stopped, your body too depleted and your head too sore to keep it up. Now all that was left was the loneliness and the guilt. The more you replayed that day in your mind, the worse you felt. The look on his face and the way he tried to hold back his tears haunted you at every turn. The pain in his voice, pain that you caused, unforgettable.

And you deserved it, the way he left. You deserved so much worse. He did so much for you, and this was how you repaid him? He saved you, time and time again. He found Jackson, he built you a home, built you a life. And he hardly asked for anything in return.

It shouldn't have come to this. You should have been an adult, talked to him before it was too late, discussed your plans for the future. But how could you be expected to, when you lived in a world where a future was hardly a guarantee?

It surprised you that he even wanted anything to do with you after that night. That he even bothered to ask if you still wanted him, shocked he would still want you. Of course, you told him you wanted him. You did want him. You loved him more than anything, but you didn't feel deserving of him. Not after the way you treated him. He deserved so much better.

And you felt so fucking selfish for keeping him. For breaking his heart, and then begging him to stay.

You promised yourself you were going to talk to him when he returned. That is, if he even wanted to talk. To tell him everything, put it all on the table and let him decide. You owed him that much.

When Jesse and Jake returned without him, your heart sank. You thought the worst. Standing at the gate with Maria on your one side and Carrie on the other, waiting for him to appear. Maria thought the worst, too. You felt it when she clutched your hand, after Carrie ran to hug Jake and you both watched them joyfully reunite, neither of you wanting to ask, afraid of the answer. To his credit, Jesse told you the story the moment he made his way through the small crowd of welcomers, instantly flooding you with relief.

It was really only a minute, maybe two, where you thought you lost him. The last conversation you had wouldn't be the last words he heard from you. But for that minute or two, your world stopped, you forgot how to breathe, and your only thought was - my life is over, I can't go on, I'll never experience a shred of happiness again.

So, yes. When he came home, you needed to do whatever you possibly could to fix the wound you caused. Because what you had was worth fighting for.

You stood, mustering the energy to get through the next couple hours before you could head back home when the greenhouse door swung open and shut very quickly, taking you off guard. You glanced up, not noticing anyone at first, and wondered if you imagined it before you saw the top of a girl's head bobbing along one of the aisles slowly, admiring the various plants and flowers that were so tall at this point in the season, it resembled a jungle.

"Hello?" you called out, craning your neck down the aisle. You made eye contact with the girl, one you didn't recognize, and she froze, staring at you with eyes widened, clearly not expecting anyone to be in the building.

Frowning, you began to walk towards her, but stopped when she looked like she was ready to bolt back out the door.

"It's alright," you said, holding your hands up to her. "What's your name?"

Her gaze shifted back and forth quickly between your eyes, examining you carefully before answering.

"Ellie."

"Hi, Ellie. Are you- is your mom or dad around?" you asked, lowering your hands. She shook her head.

"They're dead," she replied flatly, and you felt your heart squeeze in your chest.

"I'm sorry," you said softly. "Mine are, too."

She looked at you differently now, more with curiosity than fear. Taking a couple steps forward, with her finger trailing gently along the plants that hung over the side of the tables, she came closer to the end of the aisle, where you stood in front of your workstation.

"Yeah?" she asked, and you nodded. "Before or after?"

"After," you told her.

"Mine, too," Ellie replied, her voice laced with sadness.

You stared at one another for a few moments, both wondering what the other was going to do next. You knew Ellie didn't belong there, that she was trying to hide, and she knew you figured that out already.

"It really fucking sucked," you finally said, and her eyes lit up, the corners of her mouth turning up into a small smile before replying.

"Yeah, it did really fucking suck," she said, and you both giggled simultaneously.

You were about to offer her some water, noting she was wearing long sleeves on such a hot day, when the door burst open once again, startling you both. Tommy pushed inside and glanced around, his eyes immediately landing on Ellie, and his shoulders sagged with relief.

"In here!" Tommy called out through the open door. And it all happened so fast, you didn't even have time to process that if Tommy was home, then so was-

"Joel," you said softly to yourself when your eyes fell on his familiar, broad frame entering the building. He looked at you first before allowing his gaze to drift to Ellie, his brow furrowing with annoyance, then back to you. You swallowed roughly, and you heard Ellie curse under her breath next to you.

"Oh, great," she muttered, and you tore your eyes away from him to look at her now, for the first time putting the pieces together. This must be the girl Jesse told you they were taking to another camp in exchange for medicine.

"What're you thinkin', runnin' off like that?" Tommy said to Ellie, walking down the aisle towards her. You could feel Joel's eyes on you from where he stood by the door as you looked at Tommy questioningly.

"What's going on?" you asked. "I thought Jesse said you were taking her to another settlement?"

"Change of plans," was all Tommy offered, reaching his arm out and motioning for Ellie to step forward and follow him.

"She's staying?"

"Not for long," Joel finally said as he narrowed his eyes at Ellie.

"C'mon, you can stay with one of the teachers in town til we can get you back home," Tommy told her, sounding tired. Ellie followed behind Tommy slowly, admiring the plants as she walked.

"You're taking her back to her home?" you asked, following behind them.

"Yeah, no thanks to Joel," she said with a sneer as she walked by him. He rolled his eyes and moved out of the way, allowing Tommy and Ellie to exit.

"Will you two give it a rest? Goddamn, enough is enough," Tommy said, sounding like he was scolding two children. But before you could ask more questions, they were gone, leaving just you and Joel.

You looked at him, your fingers nervously fidgeting, tangling together. Now that he was right in front of you, you realized you had no idea what you were going to say. No rehearsed speech. And the way he looked at you in that moment made you feel like you kicked a puppy, his big, brown eyes wide with lingering pain, and the knot in your stomach tightened. Taking a shaky breath in, you straightened your posture, trying to summon some confidence, but failing.

"Did'ya move out?" he asked, breaking the silence, fists flexing at his sides.

"What?" you asked softly, your brows knit. "No, of course not." He exhaled loudly, like he had been holding his breath waiting for your answer.

"Do you... want me to?" you asked him, casting your eyes down to your feet, unable to look him in the eye if the answer was yes.

"No," he said simply, and you nodded, relief washing over you, eyes still glued to the floor.

The heat was becoming unbearable in the greenhouse now that you weren't directly in front of the fan. You dragged your eyes back up to Joel and noticed his shirt was already damp and his face was flushed, sweat trickling from his hairline down the side of his head.

"I have a couple more hours here, but after, did you want to talk?" you asked, chewing on your lip. He stared at you, his eyes wide, jaw tense, body rigid, and he nodded. Other than still looking hurt, he was impossible to read.

"Okay," you said softly, looking away and turning to pick up your bucket of tools and gloves from the ground. When you straightened back up, you were shocked to feel his strong arms wrap around you, pulling you into his chest quickly. Your eyes fluttered shut and you dropped your tools in favor of circling your arms around his waist. You inhaled deeply, missing everything about him: his scent, his warmth, his touch, his voice. His heart hammered in his chest, you could feel it fluttering against your cheek, and you squeezed him even tighter, not even caring about the heat anymore.

His arms loosened and you opened your eyes again, allowing him to take a step back so you could look up at him.

"Joel," you whispered, reaching a hand up to his jaw, but he took another step backwards, clearing his throat.

"I'll see you tonight," he said, then quickly pushed the door open, disappearing and leaving you all alone with your heart stuck in your throat and tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

He was relieved when he finally made his way home and confirmed with his own eyes that you didn't move your things out of the house. Back when he hurt Jake, he came home to find you in the middle of packing all your things, leaving him in agony for four excruciating months.

Dropping his gear by the front door, he dragged himself up the steps, wincing at the pain in his back and hips from the past several days on horseback, until he reached the shower. The heat from the water helped the ache in his bones, but he still popped two ibuprofen. He hardly slept well on these trips, his body not used to sleeping on the forest floor anymore, so the urge to collapse into bed was strong, but he fought it.

He wandered down to the kitchen in search of food, and finding some leftovers in the fridge, ate over the sink as he stared out the window, his mind reeling. He spent the entire trip wondering what was going through your head, and he was determined to find out.

Pacing around the house, he spent the rest of the afternoon trying to stay busy, trying not to let his anxiety squeeze his chest like it used to. His panic attacks had gotten much better over the past couple years, but he still had moments here and there that brought him to his knees. Usually, you were there to help, to talk him through it. To help ground him.

When you arrived home, he had your kitchen table upside down, the four legs sticking straight up in the air with tools scattered on the floor around him. His back was hunched over as he twisted a screwdriver into the wood firmly with a grunt, then sat back on his heels to give the leg a shake, testing for any movement before standing up with a sigh. Turning around, he froze when he realized you had been leaning up against the wall, quietly watching him work.

"Didn't hear you come in," he said, scooping down to collect his tools and putting them back in his toolbox, one by one.

"What are you doing?" you asked him, and you could feel your pulse quickening as your nerves settled in.

"Fixin' the table, been wobbly for weeks," he muttered, and you nodded as if you had any clue what he was talking about, fairly certain that he was just looking for something to do to occupy his time. He locked his toolbox and put it on one of the kitchen chairs before running his fingers through his hair roughly and turning back around to face you.

"Is it me?" he asked bluntly, and your eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"No!" you told him immediately, and pushed off the wall to close the gap, about to reach out to him, but hesitated. "It's absolutely not you," you confirmed again.

"Then what is it?" he demanded, chest rising and falling faster than normal as he stared at you, his forehead crinkled with worry.

"It's me," you said with a shrug, as if the answer was obvious. "I'm scared, Joel."

"What's there to be scared about?" he asked, tilting his head to the side, his hands itching to reach out and hold you, to prove there was nothing to fear.

"Everything!" you said, exasperated. "Look around! We barely survived this, and who knows what tomorrow will bring. But to have a baby? A helpless, little baby who doesn't understand they need to be quiet if we are in danger, who wouldn't have access to the medical care you and I had when we were little-"

"These new people have tons of medicine," he told you, shaking his head. "Whatever a baby would need, I can get."

"Okay, fine. But the rest, Joel... if we had a baby and something happened to this place... to us-" your voice caught in your throat at the thought of a baby being orphaned, all alone and scared. Then your mind drifted to your conversation with Ellie, the perfect example of a child abandoned, left to depend on strangers to take care of her.

It seemed as though Joel either made the same connection, or finally understood your fears, because he sighed and hung his head.

"Alright," he agreed, shoulders sagging.

"Joel, if a child is something you really want, it's not fair for me to stop you from doing that," you said, blinking away the tears.

"I don't want a kid unless it's with you!" he said angrily, turning away so he could pace around the kitchen. "Quit sayin' shit like that."

"I'm sorry," you said softly, sitting down weakly in one of the kitchen chairs, staring at your hands in your lap. He sighed and stopped pacing, choosing instead to brace his hands on the kitchen island, staring at you from across the room.

"It's fine," he said unconvincingly.

"No, it's not," you said, looking up and calling out his lie. You could see the tension in his jaw from where you sat across the room, a muscle twitching under his patchy beard.

"No, it's not," he echoed in agreement. "But I'll get over it."

You weren't sure what to say after that. Part of you wanted to tell him again that he deserved everything he wanted out of life, and you felt so selfish for not feeling the same way, but you knew he would get angry if you suggested it again. So you remained silent, letting him work through his thoughts while you waited.

"And marriage?" he asked after a few minutes, trying to keep the hurt from his voice.

"I think I just need some time," you told him, feeling guilty enough for denying him a family.

"Okay," he said, looking down at his hands splayed on the counter. His face relaxed as he audibly exhaled, and you could tell your answer gave him a bit of relief.

"Are you sure it's okay?" you asked timidly, and he glanced back up at you.

"Yes," he said, pushing off the counter and rounding the island. He crouched down in front of you, still seated on the kitchen chair haphazardly placed in the middle of the room, the kitchen table still upturned. Taking your hands in his, he gave them a reassuring squeeze. "We'll get through this," he told you softly, and you pressed your lips in a thin line to keep them from trembling.

"You promise?" you asked shakily, eyes watering, and he nodded.

"Promise," he said firmly. He reached up, fingers pinching your chin gently as you stared at one another before he tugged your face forward, pressing his lips softly against yours. You could tell he was trying, but you didn't feel the usual heat behind the kiss. It felt mechanical and distant, but when he pulled back, you forced a small smile, anyway.

Maybe you both just needed some time.

Tommy didn't waste any time. The very next day after arriving back in Jackson, he began to organize a group of men to go raid the neighboring police stations for guns and weapons, Joel included. The plan was to only be gone for one night, maybe two, which wasn't too bad, but considering the fragile state of your relationship, it made you uneasy.

You both went through the motions of your typical routine. Getting ready for work at the greenhouse while he repacked his bag with fresh clothes and food. The morning he left, he walked you to work like he normally would, neither of you hardly saying a word, both trying not to acknowledge the ripple of tension between you. He gave you a quick kiss, told you he would miss you, you told him to be safe, and you each went your separate ways.

You wished you had more time together before he had to leave again, maybe it would have made you feel better. Less anxious, less distracted, less questions. The first morning was spent rethinking everything the two of you said, every interaction. And you tried not to dwell on the fact that, for the first time in a very long time, you woke up without his arms around you. Instead, he was curled up on his side of the bed, not even facing your direction. So, when Ellie found her way back into the greenhouse that afternoon, you were grateful for the distraction.

"Hey," she said softly behind you, causing you to jump.

"Ellie! Hey, what are you up to?" you asked her, standing up with a grunt. You had been hunched over for too long, as evidenced by your spine crackling when you stretched.

"Nothing really," she said, glancing around at the plants. You noticed once again that she was wearing a long sleeved shirt.

"Did Julia offer you any new clothes?" you asked with a frown.

"Yep."

"Aren't you hot?"

"A little," she said with a shrug, and you decided to drop it when it became clear she wasn't going to offer more of an explanation.

The two of you spent the next couple hours occasionally chatting, but mostly sitting in a comfortable silence while you worked. Ellie would watch you and ask if you needed help, and to make her feel useful, you would ask her to get you a watering can, or a certain tool. She seemed to enjoy helping, noticing she became more relaxed as the afternoon wore on.

"You know, you're staying right across the street from my house," you told her as you began cleaning up.

"I know," she said, and you looked up at her, surprised.

"You do?"

"Yeah. I saw you come home yesterday," she said, perched on top of your workstation, legs swinging back and forth.

"Oh. Why didn't you say anything?" you asked as you lifted your apron over your head to hang on the wall.

"Dunno. You seemed like you were in a rush."

She was perceptive. She didn't offer much about herself, but she seemed to read people very well. A byproduct of the last few years of her life, most likely.

"I know all this must be confusing for you," you said, leaning up against the workstation, crossing your arms. "But you can stop by my house anytime, alright? If you need anything, or just want to come hang out. Here, too. If you want."

"Yeah, okay," she said quickly, a small smile spreading across her face. "Thanks."

"You wanna walk with me back home?" you asked her, and she nodded, slipping down from the table and bouncing alongside you as you walked out of the building and back into the sweltering heat.

"How's it going over at Julia's?"

"It's fine," Ellie replied, kicking a small stone as you walked up the street together. "She's nice. But..."

You glanced at her from the corner of your eye, waiting for her to continue.

"She's old. And she's a little boring. Gave me a bedtime like I'm some little kid and made me say my prayers before dinner," she said.

"How old are you, anyway?" you inquired, realizing you never asked before.

"Almost fourteen."

"Yeah, that's a little old for a bedtime," you said, nodding in agreement as you approached your house. You stopped in the middle of the road, expecting Ellie to say her goodbyes and head over across the street, but she hesitated.

"You wanna grab dinner with me?" you asked her, and she looked up at you with a grin, nodding enthusiastically. You smiled back and jutted your chin towards Julia's house.

"Go tell her I'm taking you to the dining hall, I just want to change real quick and I'll meet you back out here."

"Okay!" Ellie replied, looking the most excited you'd seen her since you met.

After you cleaned yourself up, you stepped out of your door to find Ellie pushing herself back and forth on your swing at the end of the wraparound porch.

"Having fun?" you teased, and she jumped off the swing, sticking the landing and trotting over to you.

"Yeah, your house is really cool," she said, following you down the steps as you made your way to the center of town.

"Thanks. Joel built it for me. Well, the swing and porch, anyway."

"Joel?" she said questioningly, her nose scrunching up.

"Yeah, he was with the group-"

"I know who he is," she said, cutting you off and casting her eyes down to her feet. "Are you guys married or something?"

"Uh, no," you said, ignoring the fluttering in your chest. "But we're together."

"Oh," she said quietly.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. He just doesn't seem to like me much," she said with a shrug, but you could tell she was trying to put on a brave face.

"I'm sure that's not true. He doesn't even know you," you said, walking up the steps to the Tipsy Bison.

"Don't think that matters," she mumbled. "He didn't want to bring me here. Wanted to take me back to them."

Joel had briefly told you about Ellie's history with the Fireflies the night before, that Ellie was forced into slavery, but he failed to mention his own opinions about her.

"He's a good man. He's just got a lot going on lately," you said, hoping to leave it at that. Ellie eyed you curiously, but let it go, flopping down in a chair at an empty table, head swiveling around the room to check out all the people while you went to the bar to place an order with Seth. When you came back with your food, the dining room had grown more crowded, most of the tables already filled. Ellie's eyes lit up when you placed the tray of food down in front of her.

"Thanks! This place is so fucking cool," she said before digging into her food like it was her last meal.

"Yeah, we are really lucky," you agreed.

"Were you here when this place was built?" she asked you around a mouthful of food.

"Not at first," you said, then proceeded to tell her a bit of your own story. How you and Joel knew each other before the outbreak and you traveled across the country to try to find Tommy, never expecting to find him in the town you now called home. She nodded along eagerly, hanging on your every word and asking questions along the way. You chose to leave out a few parts to your story that a child shouldn't have to hear about, focusing more on how you both survived and depended on one another for safety, instead.

"Was he a dick before the outbreak, too?" she asked you after she had long finished up her dinner.

"Ellie!" you scolded her, but you smirked. "Actually... he was worse," you said, and you both dissolved into a fit of giggles.

"No, seriously, he's not that bad. He comes off like he's all tough, but deep down he's a softie," you said. "There's a whole other side to him that's just..." you trailed off, your eyes glued to the table as you thought about Joel.

"Just what?" she asked, urging you to continue.

"Just really good. He's loving, and sweet, and caring. He would do anything for this town, puts himself at risk all the time, expects nothing in return," you said, realizing you were rambling, but Ellie didn't seem to mind. "I'm really lucky to have him."

Ellie looked at you for a few moments, studying your face as you struggled to hide your feelings. Rehashing everything that you love about Joel just made you feel even worse, wishing for the millionth time that you weren't so selfish, that you could give him what he wanted.

"You guys have been through some shit, huh?" she said, and you looked back up at her. Very perceptive.

"Yeah," you said softly, and that was all she needed to hear.

"Alright, then," she said dramatically, standing up from the table. "I guess I could give him another chance. For you."

"How generous of you," you joked, standing up as well and leading her to the exit. "If history is any indicator, Joel tends to need a couple chances before people start to like him."

You both laughed as you headed back down the street, the sun beginning to dip lower behind the houses. Ellie was in the middle of telling you about a comic book she was reading, enthusiastically acting out her favorite parts of the story, when you finally made it back home.

"Okay, kid. You should probably get home. It's close to your bedtime," you teased, and she scoffed at your joke, rolling her eyes.

"Fine, I guess I'll have to pick up where I left off tomorrow," she said, begrudgingly heading across the street to Julia's house.

And that was exactly what she did. You had been in the greenhouse for all of ten minutes before the door swung open and Ellie burst in, this time with her comic book in hand so she could read it out loud to you while you worked.

The entire second day Joel was gone, you spent with Ellie. You told her odd pieces of information about Jackson, she would read or quietly draw your plants on some crumpled loose leaf paper she had stuffed in her backpack, never really giving away much information about her own history. But you didn't mind. You knew if she ever wanted to share, she would do it in her own time. You just wondered how much time the two of you would have left.

Joel arrived back in Jackson early on the third day. You were surprised to hear your front door open as you were making yourself a quick breakfast in the kitchen.

"Hey, you're up early," you called over your shoulder. "Are you hungry?"

"Already ate," Joel's deep voice rumbled somewhere behind you, and you spun around in surprise.

"You're back," you said, trying to get your bearings.

"Who'd you think it was?" he asked, dropping his backpack on top of the kitchen table.

"Ellie," you said, turning back to the stove to shuffle your eggs around in the pan.

"The kid?" he asked you, and you nodded.

"Yeah, she's been keeping me company the past couple days. She's really funny and smart," you said, turning the stove off and sliding your food onto a plate. You walked over to him, taking in his dirty clothes and face. Setting your plate down on the table, you took a step closer and hooked a finger into one of his beltloops. It wasn't lost on you that he neglected to greet you in his normal fashion. Accustomed to him wrapping you in his arms and pulling you in for a searing kiss, minimally.

"How'd it go?" you asked quietly, staring up at him, trying to read his face.

"Good," he said gruffly, seemingly unphased by your hand so close to his belt. "Got the guns. Tommy's gonna organize another trip back to the Fireflies to drop 'em off, tell 'em the kid ran off, and hope they let us keep the meds."

"Does that mean you're leaving again?" you asked, trying to keep the disappointment from your voice.

"No, he's gonna send some other guys. Said we earned a break," he said. His hands that would normally be all over you were shoved deep in his pockets.

"That's good, you need to relax," you said, bringing another finger up to hook into a beltloop. You pushed yourself up on your tiptoes to reach up and give him a soft kiss, one which he returned, but didn't deepen.

"You gotta get to work?" he mumbled, tipping his chin down to break the kiss. You shook your head.

"Day off," you whispered, trying to sound suggestive. "I can help you relax, if you want," you added. You felt nervous, your heart thumping loudly in your chest, not sure what he was thinking and afraid of being shot down.

He finally dragged his gaze back to you, and you swore you saw a familiar glint of lust flash across his dark eyes. You held your breath, waiting for him to say something, anything, to make you feel less exposed.

"Maybe later. I gotta clean up," he said. You deflated a bit, but noticed he hadn't attempted to move away, so you tried again.

"I don't mind. I like it when you're dirty," you said, sinking your teeth into your lower lip, and that seemed to do the trick. His nostrils flared and he took a deep breath, his eyes falling to your lips. And finally, he dragged his hands out of his pockets to reach down and cup your ass, pulling you against him roughly with a grunt. You gasped when you felt the hard outline of his cock pressed against your stomach, then hungrily covered his mouth with yours, your tongue swirling around his as your hands left his belt to grip the dark curls at the base of his neck.

"Missed you," he mumbled against your mouth before greedily making his way to your neck, his fingertips digging into the plumpness of your ass.

"Me, too," you whispered, closing your eyes and tipping your head to the side, giving him better access.

"Ew, gross," you heard Ellie say, startling you both. You jumped away but Joel strategically stayed behind you, adjusting himself when Ellie wasn't looking.

"Whaddya want?" Joel asked roughly with a frown. Ellie plopped herself down in front of your abandoned plate of eggs and took a forkful before screwing her face up into a grimace.

"These are cold," she said, but continued to shovel more in her mouth, anyway.

"Good morning to you, too," you said to her before walking back over to the stove, heating up the pan to make more food.

"Morning," Ellie replied, mouth full of eggs.

"Didn't anyone ever teach you to chew with your mouth closed?" Joel asked her, arms crossed over his chest. "Or to knock before bargin' into stranger's homes?"

"Nope," Ellie said with a smirk, and let her jaw fall open so Joel could see even more of her partially digested food. He made a face and rolled his eyes.

"Lovely," he said sarcastically, looking away.

"Besides, she's not a stranger," Ellie said, nodding in your direction. You smiled to yourself, your back to the pair of them, pleased that the girl found a friend in you after all she had been through.

Joel sighed and dropped his arms to his sides as he headed towards the stairs.

"I'm gonna go wash up, then we gotta meet Tommy and Maria at the town hall," he told you. You frowned, turning away from your eggs.

"What for?"

"Informal council meeting. To figure out how to get this one out of here," Joel replied, shooting a look at Ellie. Her chewing paused as she looked back and forth between you and Joel.

"Oh. Right," you said with a nod as he headed up the stairs, the bedroom door shutting behind him.

"You're on the town council?" Ellie asked, and you shrugged, turning the burner off for the second time and sliding your eggs onto a new plate.

"Guess I am now," you said, and joined her at the table. You both chewed thoughtfully while you heard the shower turn on upstairs, right above your heads.

"What if I wanted to stay?" she asked you quietly, staring down at her eggs.

"I don't know, Ellie," you said with a sigh. You had a feeling this was coming.

"Can you try to convince them?" she asked you earnestly, looking up at you now. "If you're on the council, maybe you can tell them to let me stay."

You chewed on your lip, trying to figure out how to handle the delicate situation.

"It's complicated," you said. "They are lying to those people to protect you. If the Fireflies ever found out, it could be really bad."

She nodded solemnly and looked back down at her plate briefly before shoving it away and standing up.

"I should go," she said, avoiding your gaze as she headed toward the door. You stood up to follow her.

"I'm sorry, Ellie," you said, and you really were. You didn't want to tell her that you wanted her to stay just as badly, that you didn't have any power to make that wish come true, that you were just another adult who failed her.

"It's fine, I'm used to it," she said over her shoulder as she swung the door open. "Thanks for breakfast," she added, jogging lightly down the steps and shoving her hands in her pockets as she headed back across the street.

You sat quietly at the conference table while Tommy went over the plan to return Ellie to her family. Someone must have asked her where she was from, because Tommy had a map spread out on the table with Phoenix, Arizona circled in red marker, his fingertip gently tracing up the map slowly until he found Jackson.

"Probably take a week to get there. Week to get back," he said, straightening up to look at the group. Besides you and Joel, Maria was also there, along with Bill, the town doctor, Eugene, and Claire, a high school teacher. "Figure it shouldn't take many people, I don't want to leave this place defenseless just in case this blows back on us."

"Who is going to take her, Tommy?" Claire asked, her glasses sliding down her nose as she leaned forward on the table.

"Me and Maria volunteer. I'll see if Jake's up for another trip, and maybe one more," he said, avoiding eye contact with Joel. You shifted in your seat, about to open your mouth to volunteer when Joel's head whipped towards you, shooting you a glare that said don't even think about it.

"I'll do it," Eugene said.

"I'll need another group to take the guns to the Fireflies, was kind of hopin' you might take the lead since you know 'em," Tommy replied, and the older man nodded.

"Wherever you need me," he said.

"I'll go with Eugene to take the guns," Joel offered, and you stiffened in your seat.

"Alright, maybe Jesse'll go with you and that should be enough. I oughta warn 'em we're comin'. I'll radio over later today, see if I can get ahold of Marlene, tell her the story," Tommy mumbled, jotting down a note for himself as he spoke. "I'll ask Carl to come with us to take Ellie."

You cleared your throat, drawing the table's attention.

"What if she stayed?" you asked, and Tommy paused for a moment, glancing at Joel before looking back at you. "What? Is it that absurd? She said she wants to stay, and that way we aren't risking the lives of four people to get her to Arizona safely."

"No, we would be riskin' the lives of the whole town if she stayed," Joel countered. "If those Fireflies ever find out we lied, we're fucked."

"He's right, darlin', I'm sorry," Tommy said. Maria cast you a sympathetic glance and you sighed.

At least you could say you tried.

They had agreed to disband each group in a couple days, allowing everyone a chance to rest up, as well as give Tommy an opportunity to touch base with the Fireflies over the radio.

Joel gripped your elbow once you were both far enough away from everyone as you made your way home, pulling you closer.

"You weren't about to volunteer to take that kid, were you? Tell me I'm crazy for thinkin' that," he muttered lowly next to you.

"I didn't volunteer, did I?" you shot back, not exactly answering the question, and he knew it, but he still released your arm. "Besides, you volunteered to take those guns to the Fireflies, when you just told me you weren't going. Like that isn't even more dangerous? What if they see right through this lie and do something?"

"That's different and y'know it," he said, and you scoffed.

"Right, because it's you," you replied, rolling your eyes.

"No, 'cause this needs to get done, and it needs to get done right. And I ain't riskin' my neck takin' that kid back to her family," he said, jaw clenching. "Neither of us are riskin' it. It was a mistake to bring her here in the first place."

You opened your mouth to argue back, but decided against it. He got what he wanted anyway: you were staying home. That aside, you could tell your relationship was still in a fragile state, and you weren't interested in making it any worse.

The next morning, you arrived at the greenhouse, leaving Joel behind in bed at home. He would typically walk you to work, but you wanted to make sure he got as much rest as possible before yet another journey outside the walls of Jackson. You were still disappointed that he volunteered for the task, especially after he told you he would stay home, and the insecure part of you wondered if he was trying to stay busy as a way of avoiding you.

It wasn't until closer to lunchtime that Ellie finally joined you at the greenhouse, much to your relief since you had become used to her being around to keep you company.

"Hey kid, where have you been all morning?" you asked her when she came in with no more than a silent nod in your direction as a greeting.

"Maria came by," she said, and you noticed right away her voice sounded distant. You stopped what you were doing so you could give her your full attention.

"She said I'm leaving in a few days, wanted specifics on where my aunt and uncle lived," she continued, and you nodded along, wiping the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand. She was avoiding eye contact, focused entirely on her open backpack and rifling through her meager possessions.

"I'm sorry, Ellie. I did try, you know, in the meeting. But it wasn't up for debate," you told her. She nodded in acknowledgement, still keeping her eyes cast down.

"I get it. I know there's some people who really don't want me here," she said, choosing not to name names, but you knew who she meant. "But at least we still have a week."

She must have noticed your silence because she finally glanced up at you.

"Maria said it will take a week to get me there. You are going, right?" she asked. Your face must have given you away because she clenched her jaw and shook her head. "Are you fucking kidding me, man?"

"Ellie-"

"You have to come with me!" she pleaded now, her eyes wide. "Please!"

"I can't, I'm so sorry," you said, your heart breaking at the expression on her face. She stomped angrily across the room, tears welling up in her eyes as she gave you a firm shove, making you stumble back in surprise.

"Not fucking cool," she said, giving you another shove, nostrils flared. And then another. And another, until you were up against the wall and couldn't move backwards any further. Two tears fell down her cheeks and her fists were raised to pound on your chest out of frustration, but you quickly wrapped your arms around her instead and pulled her in close for a hug, tears blurring your vision.

"I'm sorry," you repeated over and over as you held her in your arms, gently swaying back and forth as she cried silently against your chest.

"I need to tell you something," she said, pulling away and wiping her nose with the back of her hand. "But you need to promise not to tell anyone."

"What-"

"Promise me!" she yelled, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks as she stared at you with a fire in her eyes.

"I promise," you told her. She looked at you for another minute, as if she were deciding whether or not to really tell you. She sighed, glancing back at the closed door once before pulling up the sleeve of her shirt.

You raced down the street, sweat collecting at the base of your neck and hairline, as you bobbed and weaved your way to Maria's house, hoping Tommy would be there. You could hardly think straight, the past thirty minutes completely sending you off the deep end. She's immune, she's immune, she's fucking immune.

Knocking erratically on the front door, you struggled to catch your breath, wiping the sweat away as best you could with your other hand while you waited impatiently for an answer. Just as you were about to start knocking again, the door swung open and Maria stood on the other side, giving you a confused look.

"Is Tommy here?" you gasped, and she nodded, her eyes widening at your demeanor and ushered you inside.

"Are you okay?" she asked you, and you nodded, glancing in the living room to find it empty before you headed to the kitchen. You stopped cold when you saw Joel was there with his brother seated at the table, two maps spread out in front of them. They both looked up when you entered the room, and Joel stood from his chair immediately, coming over to you with a look of concern.

"What's wrong?" he asked you, taking you by the shoulders to give you a once over, but you stepped aside so you could address Tommy behind him.

"I'm coming with you to take Ellie back to her family," you told him.

"Like hell you are!" Joel roared, dropping his hands from your shoulders, but you ignored him. Tommy sighed, looking back and forth between you and Joel, before standing up from his chair.

"Darlin'-"

"No, Tommy. I'm going. You said yourself you needed a fourth person."

"You ain't goin' anywhere," Joel said, narrowing his eyes. You finally caved and met his gaze. "We talked about this," he added.

"Things change," you said, and he bristled at your response.

"What changed?" Tommy asked calmly, and you turned your attention back to him.

"She's scared. She wants someone she trusts to go with her," you said, only half lying.

Tommy and Maria exchanged glances. You waited for a response while Joel seethed next to you, staring daggers at his brother.

"Tommy, she ain't-"

"We need a fourth, Joel," he said, cutting him off.

"Find someone else!" he yelled, running his fingers through his hair.

"I can do it, I can handle myself," you assured Tommy, ignoring Joel's reaction once again, knowing you only had to convince one person. "You know I can handle myself."

Tommy gave his brother a pained look before looking back at you.

"Alright," Tommy said, and you breathed a sigh of relief. "I'll keep her safe, Joel," Tommy promised, daring to look at Joel, who was brimming with so much anger, his face looked flush.

You glanced at Joel, his jaw clenched so tightly you wondered if he was cracking his molars. His gaze bounced between you and Tommy, not sure who to channel his rage toward.

"Joel, it will be fine. Sit down, you're going to give yourself a heart attack," you said, trying to smooth things over, but it was no use.

"Fuckin' hell," he grumbled, rubbing his eyes. "Guess I'm goin', too."

"That's fine, I'll shift some guys around, send Jake with Eugene," Tommy agreed with a nod. Joel just stared at the ground, taking deep breaths, trying to control his temper.

"Thank you," you whispered to Joel, reaching a hand out to place on his shoulder, but he stepped away.

"Thought you didn't want kids, why don't you make up your damn mind," he snapped, and it felt like he punched you in the gut. He turned on his heel towards the door, slamming it shut behind him.

Your eyes filled with tears and your face flushed with embarrassment as Tommy and Maria glanced awkwardly at one another. Maria stepped forward and wrapped an arm around your shoulders so she could lead you into the living room.

"You wanna talk about it?" she asked you, handing you a tissue. You shook your head and dabbed your eyes.

"Not right now," you said quietly. "Thank you. I'm sorry I put you in that position, I didn't know he was here," you said, addressing Tommy, who was leaning against the doorway, watching you both.

"It's alright, he'll get over it, I know how to handle my own brother," he said with a smirk. You chuckled and wiped your nose before taking a deep breath.

"I should probably go," you said, trying to force a smile. Maria walked you to the door and reminded you quietly that she was there if you wanted to talk. You gave her a quick hug and thanked them both before heading back down the street towards home, hoping Joel had a chance to cool down and come to his senses.

If Ellie was immune, you needed to make sure she got in the right hands, to have a chance to explain to her remaining family the gift she was given, and if you were the only person she could trust to confide in, then so be it. You wanted to tell Joel the truth, but you made her a promise, and you weren't going to let her down again.

Tag List @nana90azevedo @ninaminaromina @untamedheart81 @taz-97 @nastiasnow @amyispxnk @plz-be-solo @iloveramensm @caitlynsixxx @anoverwhelmingdin @harriedandharassed @jessthebaker @txtattoostark - if your name is crossed off, it won't let me tag you. lmk if I missed anyone

346 notes · View notes

billsbabydoll · 1 month ago

Text

“𝓌𝒽ℯ𝓃 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝓀𝓃ℴ𝓌, 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝓀𝓃ℴ𝓌.”

contains:FLUFF<3

summary:the time felt right, could an addition to the family be what just me and bill need?

WARNINGS:none really just very cringe fluff, kissing, pet-names, mentions of pregnancy, SLIGHT anxiety, reassurance, suggestive ending.

notes:take this drath from july while i force myself to write something new.

happily married and recently moved into our dream home things finally felt like they had fallen into place perfectly, bill wondered if it was the right time to consider taking the next step?

one evening while cuddled up on the couch together watching our favorite movie, bill suddenly spoke up-

“babe?”

“hm yeah?”i replied looking up at him with curiosity, awaiting his response.

he smiled softly pausing the movie and turning to face me, he proceeded to gently pull me closer, his arm wrapping around my waist.

"nothing, i just wanted to chat for a bit baby."

he paused for a moment, his expression now becoming more serious.

“theres something ive been wanting to talk to you about.”he adds.

“and whats that liebe (love) you know you can tell me anything right?”i responded with a hint of sincerity, looking deeply into his eyes trying to puzzle what he leading towards.

he nodded, a small smile now tugging at the corner of his lips, he took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving mine as he continued.

"i know, and that's why i want to talk to you about this...it's something that's been on my mind for a while now."

he reached up gently tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch tender and loving.

"ive been thinking a lot about our future, and i have an idea that id like to discuss with you."

i returned the smile curiously, my eyes glimmering with anticipation as those words left his lips.

“go on?…”

i asked excitedly but still remaining calm, taking my hand in his.

he squeezed my hand in his, the feeling of my skin against his giving some comfort to his anxious jitters.he took another deep breath before continuing, his voice firm yet gentle.

"we've been together for a while now almost 6 years, and we've accomplished so much..but there's something ive been thinking about a lot lately, and i think it's time to bring it up."

he paused, his expression earnest.

"i want to start a family with you, love."

“a-are you serious bill?!”i asked eagerly with a new loudness to my voice.

ive always wanted to start a family with him but it always felt too soon or not the right time, but now felt like the was the perfect time.

we’ve been together since i was 17 and he was 18 now we’re 23 and 24, i just finished school, he was becoming more and more successful with his career, now was our chance.

he chuckled lightly, my excitement and enthusiasm making him smile even wider, he nodded his expression enlightened and genuine.

“im completely serious meine liebe (my love) i want you and me to watch our kids grow up, i wanna do all of that with you, i love you and i wanna see you be the best mother i know you can be.”

he reached up, gently caressing my cheek with the palm of his hand.

“and i know you want this too, ive seen it in your eyes.”

“babe are you sure, i mean what if im not a good mom?” i softly asked an afraid expression now on replacing my happy one.

“youll be a fantastic mom, i have no doubt in my mind-”

“you are kind, caring, and loving, you have the perfect qualities to be the best mother in the world.i will be with you every single step of the way we’ll do this together, as a team.”

i sighed deeply, listening to the words that fell from his lips i looked back up at him with a now more calm and confident expression.

“then i guess its worth a shot then, lets do it.”

a wide cheeky smile spreads across his lips at my acceptance, his heart swelling with joy and excitement.he pulled me tightly wrapping his arms around me, while kissing my forehead.

“we’re gonna have such an amazing family together, i love you so much!”

“i love you too baby..”

i whispered with an anxious but excited smile, leaning in to place a delicate and rather deep kiss on his puffy lips.

“well why dont we get started on this baby-making hm?”i teased with a seductive grin.

he laughed heartily, my teasing igniting a familiar fire in his eyes.he tugged me into his lap, his hands strongly gripping on the sides of my waist as he looked up at me, his eyes now filled with desire and need.

“i like that idea, lets get started then babe.”

THE END

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel smut #tokio hotel x reader #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz x reader #georg listing #gustav schäfer

70 notes · View notes

keisgirl · 2 months ago

Text

hidden by the crown; oikawa tooru

again might delete!

pairing; campus volleyball star!oikawa x gf!reader

kjdhfksjhfdkjs might turn this into a three part fic where you can choose endings to read. one would be fluffy and one would be angst-

wc; 0.8k

multi masterlist

you sat at a small, worn-out table in the corner of the campus café, staring blankly at the coffee cup in your hands. the warmth seeped through your fingers, but it did little to comfort you. your phone vibrated beside you, lighting up with a familiar name—oikawa tooru. you sighed, pushing it aside as you ignored yet another message from him.

it wasn’t that you didn’t want to talk to him. no, you always wanted to talk to him. but today was different. today, you couldn’t stomach hearing from him, especially when the same thing happened—again. another girl had approached you in the hallway, all smiles and nervousness, asking you if you could help her confess to oikawa. you were used to it by now—being seen as his best friend, his confidante. the girl even mentioned how lucky you were to be so close to him, to be his friend.

you were tired. tired of being the one who knew everything about him, the one who he kissed behind closed doors, but never in public. best friend—that’s all anyone saw when they looked at you. you were the secret, the one he kept tucked away from the spotlight that constantly followed him around. it wasn’t that he didn’t care. he did. you knew it in the way he’d brush his fingers against yours under the table when no one was looking, or how he’d send you texts that no one else would ever get to read.

but still, it hurt.

it hurt every time someone told you how perfect he was, how they wished they had a chance with him. and you—what were you supposed to say? you couldn’t even claim him, couldn’t say that he was yours without blowing everything up. his fans, his image—he always said it wasn’t the right time, that it would cause more trouble than it was worth.

the door to the café opened, and you didn’t need to look up to know it was him. his presence was like gravity, pulling everyone’s attention the moment he walked into a room. you forced yourself to take a sip of your coffee, your throat tightening as you heard the footsteps approach.

“hey,” his familiar voice greeted you softly, sliding into the chair across from you. his hand reached out, gently nudging yours, but you pulled away, setting the cup down on the table with a soft clink.

“what’s wrong?” oikawa’s brows furrowed, his usual cheerful expression dimming as he looked at you. “you’ve been avoiding me all day.”

you exhaled sharply, finally meeting his gaze. “do you ever get tired of it?”

he blinked, caught off guard. “tired of what?”

“tired of this.” you gestured vaguely between the two of you. “of me… being a secret.”

his face softened, guilt flashing in his eyes. “babe, we’ve talked about this…”

“yeah, we have,” you cut him off, voice quieter now, but no less strained. “and i thought i could handle it. but today—god, tooru, another girl asked me to help her confess to you. she was so sweet, and i had to stand there and pretend like it didn’t feel like a punch to the gut.”

he was silent for a moment, his eyes dropping to the table. “i didn’t know it was this bad.”

“well, it is,” you murmured, your heart aching. “i don’t even know why i’m telling you this. nothing’s going to change. you’ll just keep being the volleyball king, and i’ll keep being the girl that no one knows about.”

“stop that,” his voice cracked as he reached for your hand again, this time more firmly, and you let him take it. “don’t say it like that.”

“like what?” you whispered, your vision blurring with unshed tears. “like the truth?”

oikawa’s thumb brushed over the back of your hand, his grip tightening as if he was afraid you’d slip away. “i hate that you feel this way. i don’t want you to feel like you’re less important than anything else in my life. but it’s not that simple—”

“it never is, is it?” you smiled bitterly, pulling your hand away from his once again. “there’s always some excuse, something to justify why you can’t just… admit it.”

he ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “do you think i like this? do you think it’s easy for me, seeing all these people fawn over me when the only one i care about is sitting right in front of me?”

you stayed quiet, his words not offering the solace you wished they would.

“i know i’ve been selfish,” oikawa said, voice softer now. “but i love you. i’m just… scared.”

you raised an eyebrow, not expecting that. scared? he was never scared of anything—or at least, that’s what everyone thought. confident, cocky oikawa tooru, afraid? of what?

“scared of what, exactly?” you asked, your tone less biting now, genuine curiosity slipping in.

he sighed, leaning forward with his elbows on the table, burying his face in his hands for a moment. when he looked up again, his eyes were tired, his usual spark dimmed. “scared that if i let people know about us, things will change. you know how people can be. i’m afraid they’ll tear us apart, make it impossible for us to just… be.”

“tooru…” you whispered, his vulnerability catching you off guard.

he reached for your hand again, more desperately this time. “i know i’ve been asking you to wait, and it’s not fair. but please, don’t give up on me. don’t give up on us.”

you bit your lip, trying to stop the tears from falling. this was the side of him no one else saw—the boy underneath all the bravado and charm. the boy who was just as scared as you were, but for different reasons.

“i’m not giving up on you,” you finally said, your voice trembling. “i just… i need you to meet me halfway. i can’t keep pretending like this doesn’t hurt.”

he nodded, squeezing your hand tightly. “i’ll do better. i promise. just… don’t walk away from me.”

you took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the conversation settle over you. it wasn’t a perfect solution, but it was something. it was a start.

“okay,” you said softly, allowing your fingers to intertwine with his. “but you can’t keep me in the dark forever, tooru.”

“i know,” he whispered, bringing your hand to his lips. “and i won’t.”

it was a quiet promise, one that would take time to see through. but for now, you’d hold on to it, because despite everything, you loved him. and as long as he was willing to try, so were you.

should i make it two part..

#keisgirl ��#hannahly!'s thoughts #haikyuu angst #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #oikawa #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #oikawa angst #oikawa fluff #oikawa imagines

77 notes · View notes

lisenberry · 3 months ago

Text

Don't have a name for this one yet, but this is Part One of Posh!Price, and my third entry in the Summer Love series.

Inspired in no small part by this amazing ask from a few months ago.

NSFW/MDNI/18+

CW: somewhat public sex, Price smokes and drinks, language.

There was nothing John hated more than pomp and fanfare. Or tiny plates of cold, unidentifiable food. Or the physical constraints of formal dinner wear. Give him a waist-deep swamp, a warm MRE, and thirty pounds of gear any day. Anything but the soul-sucking misery of a back-patting, bureaucratic group wank.

The only reason he was at the gala at all was because he didn’t have a choice. Well, he always had a choice, in theory. But in practice, he knew he’d be there the moment you asked him so nicely. With a glowing smile and the promise that you’d make it worth his time. He could sit still, and behave, like a good lad.

For a little while, at least.

Finally, after the third hour of watching your every move from the edges as you made your rounds to financiers and well-to-dos, he refilled his glass of whisky at the open bar and took a fresh cigar to the secluded terrace. With the full-bodied taste of earthy leather, sweet molasses and crisp cedar settling thickly on his tongue, he reflected on the circumstances that brought him there.

He’d met you six months prior at a product development retreat to introduce a new communication device that would resist both detection and interference in the field. He’d been skeptical of your credentials at first, but by the time you finished your presentation and answered every one of his biting remarks with ease, he was left impressed with your knowledge not only of the tech, but of the practical application as well.

You had experience with the weaknesses of the current equipment, and the upgrades would significantly improve not only the efficiency of the tradecraft, but the safety of his team.

He’d sought you out for the rest of the weekend, practically joined you at the hip, as you bonded over your shared combat experience and time at the Royal Military Academy in Sandhurst, although you’d been several years behind him.

By the end, you’d exchanged numbers and a handful of nights together since. When he was off mission, and you were in between business travel. And there was that one wild night in Dubai when your flight paths had crossed clandestinely.

Neither of you were in a position to make things any more official, but he never turned down the chance to spend more time with you.

“How’d I know you’d be hiding out here?” He heard you approach even before you spoke, as you wrapped your arms around his waist from behind.

“I’ve hit my limit on polite conversation, I’m afraid.”

John could stay hidden, and completely still in a bush for 24 hours without so much as blinking, all while holding a rifle scope steady on a target kilometers away. But he’d grown restless to be so near, and yet so far away from you.

“What about impolite conversation?” you countered, slipping a hand lower to where his tuxedo shirt tucked into his trousers. “Think we could fuck out here without anyone seeing us?” you murmured into the side of his neck.

Your heels gave you just enough height to reach a bit of exposed skin above the collar of his well-fit jacket.

“Why do you think I chose this advantage point?” he growled with a grin, twisting around to face you and holding his cigar between his teeth. It freed his hands to pull you closer, enough to feel just how much he needed you and slip up under the slit of your evening dress.

The smoke from it hung heavy in the humid summer air between you.

You’d told him you didn't care much for cigars before you met him, but that your granddad would smoke the same label in his office when he’d let you sit atop his lap and listen to old war stories.

He'd been too young in WW2, but he'd served after. The rebuilding in Berlin and the struggles throughout the continent that followed. The Cold War and later, the troubles in Ireland. His greatest successes and his deepest regrets.

John didn’t seem to mind that you’d drawn a connection between him and childhood memories of your grandfather, but you'd held off from confessing that it was something even stronger than just a pleasant recollection. It was a feeling deep in your bones, of when home was a place in the world. Concrete and unmoving, and yet a soft place to land. Not just another tumultuous thing to be handled.

Navigated. Fixed.

With John, you found comfort again. Or at least, recognized the possibility. But still, you pulled the thick roll from his mouth as if it was competing for his attention and claimed his deceptively soft lips and warm tongue in a kiss that was as long as it was deep.

“I’ve missed you, John.” One night together was never enough. Two was always a pleasant surprise, but they were few and far between. Anything more was wishful thinking.

“I have a short leave starting the week after next. Are you free?” He nuzzled the length of his chin along your cheek, unwillingly to sever the connection even as he spoke. His hands moved circles up along your hips.

“I’m going home for a family thing at our place in the country. You’re welcome to tag along.” You’d meant the last part to sound more sarcastic, but your voice hitched as he pressed you against the stone railing and spread your legs to better fit him against you.

“Where is it?”

“Herefordshire. I was only kidding. It’ll be horribly...I don’t even know how to describe it.”

What were the odds that it would be the same area where he’d grown up as well? In between his time at boarding schools, at least. He was about sixteen the last time he’d been home. He understood all too well the stress of returning.

However, he was unwilling to give you up for long. Not when you smelled like gardenias, looked at him so fondly, and clung so snuggly around his waist.

“How can I say ‘no’, when you’ll be there?” It was his turn to claim your mouth, as he quickly proved just how clever he was at evading detection.

You just had to stay quiet, and not drop his cigar.

#call of duty #john price #captain price #captain john price #price x reader #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader

60 notes · View notes

daryltwdixon · 21 days ago

Note

Hello, I thought I'd put a request through properly on my 'official' account 🤍

I have a request because I adore your writing and love how you write Daryl 😭

You can take it wherever you want one shot, drabble etc

I've been recovering from a brain injury and for the first time ever last week I got to see the Northern Lights/Aurora and for a moment I forgot everything and the emotion that I felt was just urgh, no words to describe it but it was AMAZING and this little idea popped into my head along the lines of :

Reader always being fascinated with the stars, sunsets, night skies and the moon etc. Always preferring to sleep under the moon or in the moonlight and because you never know when you will be able to see the Aurora until it's actually there, the reader noticed something different about the sky a pink glow which developed into full blown aurora/Northern Lights the longer reader and Daryl wait/watch.

It's just an idea 🤍 I understand if you don't want to write something like that.

daryl x reader drabble

note: The thing that really gets to me is how often writers overlook just how incredible the night sky would be without light pollution.

and also @fluffy-dixon ilysm thank u for the love x

You had fallen in love with the sky even more since the world went to shit. Without the city lights to mask its beauty, the night now stretched out in an endless canvas of stars, brighter than you ever remembered. The moon felt closer too, as if it could reach down and graze the earth with a cool, silvery hand. You’d always loved sleeping beneath it—there was something comforting about its silent glow, a reminder that the world, even in its broken state, could still be beautiful. So any chance you could get, in the small in between nights of rare safety, you would sleep under the stars.

Tonight, you find yourself lying on the damp grass, the air crisp and cool against your skin. You can hear Daryl beside you, his breathing steady and low, a quiet rhythm that anchors you in the dark. You turn your gaze upward, the scattered stars glittering in the soft glow of the milky way, and you think about how the sky feels more like home now than any place you've slept in years.

It’s then that you notice it—a faint pink glow creeping along the horizon, like the sky itself is blushing. You sit up, your breath hitching slightly as you stare. “Daryl,” you murmur, your voice barely breaking the quiet, but he’s already noticed. He shifts beside you, eyes narrowing as he looks up.

"What’s that?” he asks, his voice rough, curious.

You shake your head slowly. “I think… it’s the Northern Lights,” you whisper, almost afraid to say it out loud, as if speaking might chase it away. You’d read about them once, how unpredictable they were, how you could never really know when they’d appear. And now, against all odds, here they are, soft waves of pinks and greens slowly unfurling across the sky like an ethereal dance.

Daryl doesn’t say anything. You can feel his gaze flicker between the sky and you, as if unsure which is more worth watching. The corners of your mouth twitch into a small, wonderstruck smile, your eyes wide with awe. You feel his hand brush yours, a brief, awkward attempt at comfort or maybe just connection. It’s enough to make your heart skip, the warmth of his rough fingers grounding you in the cold night.

The pink glow deepens, giving way to deeper greens and purples, swirling like a living painting. You don’t know how long you sit there, mesmerized, the two of you side by side in the soft glow. It’s like the world’s trying to remind you that there’s still magic here, even in the ruins.

“Didn’t think I’d ever see somethin’ like this,” he mutters, a hint of wonder creeping into his usually gruff voice.

“Me neither,” you admit, voice soft and a little raw. When you look over to him, his eyes are on you, and the reflection of the dancing light above you is breathtaking in his deep blue eyes.

You hold his gaze for a moment longer, the rare softness still lingering in his eyes, before you both wordlessly shift back onto the grass. You settle in, your head turning to watch the lights above—but it’s not enough. The colors feel like they’re pulling you closer to him, as if the night itself wants you to be nearer.

You shift again, this time leaning over to rest your head on his chest, your ear pressed against the beat of his heart. He tenses at first, his breath catching, and for a brief moment, you wonder if you’ve pushed too far. But then you feel it—the way his chest slowly rises and falls beneath you, the way he seems to settle into the closeness.

His arm hesitates, hovering just for a second, before wrapping around you fully, pulling you in tighter against him. You hear the faintest, almost awkward sigh escape him, as if he’s trying to figure out how to hold onto the peace of this moment. The tension in his body fades, replaced by a quiet acceptance that makes your heart ache a little.

The sky’s colors continue to swirl and shift above, but your focus is on the warmth of him, the way his hold becomes more certain as the minutes pass. There, beneath the luminous dance of the Northern Lights, you allow yourself to simply exist—safe, close, and understood, without a single word spoken.

#ask daryltwdixon #Daryl Dixon drabbles #daryl x reader #daryl one shot #daryl dixion imagine #daryl twd #fluffy-dixon

33 notes · View notes

bunni-v1 · 1 year ago

Text

Cureé

Chapter 2: Strange Men Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Tw: Vil is a manipulative older brother; Idia

Info: Vil and Reader; Idia x Reader; Riddle Rosehearts x Reader; Leona Kingscholar x Reader

🍓How exciting that I got the second chapter done. It's considerably shorter, but I hope it's still worth reading. Love you all, enjoy!

Tags: @kitsun369 @bloomstruck @squidsailing @roseinbloom02

You sit quietly in your room, drenched in sweat in clothes far too small for your frame. You felt like a child waiting for a scolding. You might as well be. The anticipation of your brother's reaction to your little escapade with Epel was wearing on your mind since the guards set you back into your room.

No one was allowed to visit you, and you weren’t allowed to leave - at least, that's what you assumed the burly guards placed outside your door and windows were for. You sighed – you’d been doing that a bit too much today.

Left alone with nothing but your thoughts and time, you decided you would ponder about what happened to you today instead of driving yourself mad with worry.

You turned another year older and had another extravagant party where all you did was sit and watch your guests enjoy it for you. You learned your brother intended to sell your heart off to the highest bidder of jackasses in all of Twisted Wonderland. And… most importantly, you realized that you and your brother are not nearly as close as you thought.

Just how many secrets was he keeping from you?

Did he banish you from the forest because he knew about that phantom? If he knew why didn’t he tell you about it? Why has he done nothing to stop it until now? What about all the citizens you know who frequent that forest? Was it all right for them to go in with such potential danger?

So many questions swirling in your head, you nearly forgot about the strangest thing of all—that man from the party. You hadn’t even caught his name, but he had made such a lasting impression on you.

You took the hat he gave you off your head, examining it with curiosity. He knew so much and was so charming and sneaky at the same time. If you were a weaker person, you would’ve fallen for him in a heartbeat.

His words still echoed in your head, how people wanted to harm you, how he wanted to see you again. You won’t lie and say it didn’t make your heart race a little.

Your door creaked open, and you looked up from the hat, fiddling with the brim of the hat. The long-awaited confrontation has come.

Vil’s face was practiced patience, the perfect queen stood in front of you. Not a hint of what he felt was leaking through his facade, but you knew he was pissed beyond words. He took his seat from the tea table and pulled it to sit across from you, resting in it as if it were a throne.

Were you a regular citizen, or were this a normal day, you would be horrified. However, you had sat with your thoughts long enough to understand you had every right to be leagues angrier than he was.

He stared you down, waiting for you to relent. When you didn’t, he sighed, shaking his head.

“This was a rebellion,” he started.

“Was it? I wasn’t sure. Thank you for letting me know, brother.” you shot back with venom dripping from every word.

“You are angry.”

“You have betrayed my trust.”

“I am doing what I must for the betterment of our people.”

“The betterment of our people includes selling me off to the dragon prince that everyone is afraid of?”

“I am not selling you off.”

“What are you doing then? Vil, he claimed I was his betrothed!”

“He is trying for your hand, as everyone else will, fairly.”

“Who is everyone else.”

He sighed again, clearly frustrated with your unwillingness to bend to him. It felt liberating to see him upset in the same way you had felt upset since your parents died.

“Leona, Riddle, Malleus, and Idia are your main contenders,” he admits, rubbing his temples, "there are a few more, but they don't stand much of a chance."

“I can’t believe you offered my hand to Leona Kingscholar. You do know he hates my guts, right?”

“And I hate him, but his family adores you, and the alliance would be beneficial.”

You groaned, burying your head in your hands, “It’s always about benefits with you isn’t it? Could you not think of what is fair and kind for me for once?”

Your brother did not respond for a long moment, and you thought that perhaps he had left, but then he wrapped you into a tight hug. He hugged you like he used to when you were both little kids, both innocent to the world around you and still afraid of the shadows on the wall and monsters under your beds. Despite all your anger and your unanswered questions, you melted into his arms and cried your heart out.

“I have not been kind or fair to you, and I apologize for failing you in such a way,” he whispered, “you can trust me, my darling. I have never done anything that wasn’t in your best interest.”

·┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆·

You did not learn much that night, or the many nights afterward. You doubted that your brother would’ve told you much about the monsters in the woods if you asked anyway. It had been weeks since your night in the woods, and things were returning to normal… sort of.

If you ignored the new presence of your new suitors wandering around the palace. Ah, and, your new guards. Courtesy of Riddle Rosehearts. Seems he wanted to get on your brother's good side early, so he sent you two of his kingdom's ‘best’ knights. If by best he meant stupidest.

Ace and Deuce were diligent but incredibly easy to rile up – especially Deuce. Ace spent most of his time trying to do just that, and Deuce always fell for the bait without fail. They were just magnets for trouble, though. ‘Trouble’ being Roseheart’s attention, of course.

You were in the library with them at this moment, skimming through history books, attempting to find any information about what you saw in the forest. All you knew was that these creatures were fictional in the eyes of the public, but the history books could tell you something.

They weren't proving too useful.

You wondered how that mysterious man found so much information on this creature. First-hand experience, maybe? If that were the case, then shouldn’t more people be aware that these creatures are real?

You sighed, closing another dud of a book on the table.

“‘Nother loss?” Ace asked from his seat next to you, flipping through a nonsensical fiction book.

You nodded, picking up the next one to start looking through it. You’d been at this for hours and still hadn’t gotten anywhere.

“Maybe you should take a break,” Deuce offered shyly, still not used to being friendly with royalty.

“Nah, let ‘em suffer,” Ace snarked, closing his book with a laugh.

You rolled your eyes, “It wouldn’t be so bad if I had some help.”

“We’re not helping you chase a crazy dream, Your Highness,” he teased.

“I believe you princess.” Deuce defended, though he made no effort to grab a book.

“Thank you, Deuce. It’s nice that one of my guards appreciates me and my mind.” You joked lightly, enjoying the way Deuce perked up at the praise.

“Aw, you’re such a suck-up,” Ace groaned, “seriously though, what do you think you’re gonna find in these old history books.” He snatched the book out of your hands, flipping through the pages, “This stuff is hidden, so looking in the regular books probably won’t get you anywhere.”

You sighed, slumping in your chair. He was more right than you’d like to give him credit for, and it frustrated you to no end when you were proven wrong.

“Hey, don’t give up just yet, we can still find something if we work together,” Deuce assured squeezing your shoulder, and you gave him a tired smile.

Instead of comforting you as well, Ace stood from his seat with a posh look on his face. Book in hand, he began reading from it in a voice that you assumed was mocking yours. He had his own way of making things easier, you supposed.

It was just what you needed too, to be poked fun at. It was making this process far less arduous. You and Deuce both laughed gleefully at his obnoxious display, so he amped it up, pretending to be more prissy and royal.

None of you heard the door opening through all the noise you were making, nor the clicking of heeled boots and clanking of metal armor until it was too late.

A voice cleared behind the three of you, and you knew it was Rosehearts by the way Deuce and Ace immediately stiffened. You sighed, turning to look at the Duke with boredom, waiting for his routine lecture.

“I was unaware that your training taught you to mock the princess, Ace, is that what you've learned, or do I have to send you back to the kingdom for remedial lessons,” he said, scowl wrinkling up his otherwise stunning face.

“No sir!” they responded with varying levels of enthusiasm.

“So why do I keep catching you doing just that--”

Riddle's personal guards – Trey and Cater – sent you an apologetic look. You placed a hand on your hip, rolling your head back in annoyance as he continued his lecture. You felt for his people deeply. If this was the man running their country, they were doomed, and you were doomed if you had to wed him.

You weren’t sure how long he went on for, you weren’t listening at all, but it must’ve been an eternity with the way Deuce was sweating. He looked horrified, poor thing.

You would hate to upset your brother again, but you hated little tyrants who didn’t know their place more.

“If I catch you doing this ever again I wil–”

“Rosehearts,” you interrupted, “you forget yourself. Screaming so hard you’ve turned red in the face – this is not a good way to win my hand, you know?”

He tensed up, features confused between anger and embarrassment.

“Ace and Deuce are my friends, and they are my guards. They are doing as I wish, and is that not why you sent them to me?”

“I- yes. Of course Your Majesty,” though he was still red in the face, he was able to answer calmly enough.

“Good. Now, you’ve come to the library for a reason outside of scolding my guards,” you shifted topics gracefully. “What can I help you find? I know this place like the back of my hand, so I’m happy to help.”

His face shifted to full-on embarrassment now, clearly not expecting you to handle him with as much ease as you did. In front of his own people no less.

“I wanted to see your books on equestrians,” he admitted.

With a wave of your hand, you dismissed both sets of guards and gestured for Riddle to follow you. You examined his face carefully as you guided him toward the equestrian section. He was pretty, with delicate features except for his sharp grey eyes. If his personality weren't so horrible, you might say you were attracted to him.

“I wasn’t aware that you liked horses, Rosehearts,” you commented curiously, trying to see what you could get out of him.

“I do. I have three girls back at home,” he answered, avoiding your eyes, “do you like horses, Your Majesty?”

“I do, but not as much as you, it seems,” you teased lightly watching his face flush, “Riding was my mother's favorite hobby, and she was teaching me before she passed, but no instructor has been nearly as good as she was, so I gave up on trying.”

He stayed quiet for a long moment, seemingly conflicted on something. You watched him curiously, dangerously intrigued by what might have him so in his head. Then, he swallowed and looked into your eyes, “I could teach you. I’m told I’m the best rider in my kingdom, and I’ve been wanting to teach some classes.”

You blinked, pausing in your steps for a moment, which he followed. You could feel his nervousness build with each second you stayed silent, but you didn’t know what to say. You hadn’t expected him to offer such a thing. Perhaps it was just a way to get in good with your brother, but you were too curious now.

You smiled, “Are you trying to make up for yelling at Ace and Deuce?”

He smiled a little back at you, “Perhaps, but I would like a chance to teach someone, and I do… want to get to know you, just a bit. We are politically inclined to get along after all.”

You laughed at that, “I suppose you are right. Then, I’ll say yes to your proposal.”

He grinned, and you found yourself grinning back at him. Maybe he wasn’t so bad, just a bit uptight.

“Ah- ahem, the books are just right here,” you said suddenly, gesturing in front of you both.

“Oh, of course, right. Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Of course.”

With a nod of your head, you dismissed yourself.

·┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆·

After your little ‘incident’ in the library, you decided you’d like some fresh air. Just a break from the smell of old books and inhaling cloudfulls of dust. You dismissed Ace and Deuce from duty and made your way into the castle’s garden. Your mother had planted most of the flowers herself, and none of them had been the same since she passed. Somehow, they too seemed to lose most of their life without her.

As you walked, your mind began to wonder back to what you were trying to escape: the phantom in the forest. There was no historical record of them - none whatsoever. At least, not in your records, which meant one of these two things.

1. They truly didn’t exist, at least not until recently. If this was the case, then the one in the forest was either a fear-filled hallucination or an exception to this rule. It couldn’t be a hallucination, since Epel and the man saw it too, so if anything it was an exception. Though, that didn’t make sense either, since the man seemed keenly aware of everything about it.

2. They had existed for a very long time - long enough to outage you, at least. It also means your brother had purposely removed all mentions of these things, which meant he didn’t want you or any of your staff to find out about it. This meant he knew far more than he was letting on, and he still didn’t quite trust you with this information.

You adjusted the brim of your hat – the one the man gave you in the forest, the look of it had grown on you, though you supposed it was a bit silly with all your fancy dresses. You hoped he would come back for it like he said he would, there was much you needed to discuss with him, and you’d like to catch his name this time.

Truthfully, you needed to speak with anyone who had some experience with magic – anyone but your brother, of course. The staff wouldn’t discuss magic with you they weren’t allowed to since magic was dangerous and Vil was insistent that you would hurt yourself by using it.

You picked up the pace of your walk, feeling frustrated at your helplessness. You were the second most powerful person in this kingdom, and thanks to your brother you could hardly do anything. You were growing sick and tired of his intrusion into your life.

A sickening crunch beneath your foot and a groan to your right halted you in your spot. Lifting your dress to see what you just stepped on, you frowned, turning to glare at the owner of the tail you just stepped on.

Leona Kingscholar greeted your glare with his own as if you were in the wrong.

“Why don’t you watch where yer goin’ mousey,” he grumbled.

“Why don’t you get out of my mother’s petunias!” you snapped back.

He growled but did as you said regardless. Seems he’d rather not sit through a whole lecture, which was smart on his part. You’d learned your lecturing skills from Vil.

“Why would you even be asleep here, you have a perfectly good room that my brother prepared for you.”

“Felt like it, and no one was stoppin’ me,” he replied, adding “Until now…”

“Aren’t you just charming?”

“Look who’s talkin’, you’ve got a mouth on you for a princess.”

“I do, to deal with the likes of you, of course.”

He rolled his eyes, stretching out his limbs in a manner so casual it was practically disrespectful. You have no idea why Vil was allowing this buffoon of a man to try for your hand, but you knew he had no chance in the first place. Leona was brash, rude, and downright lazy. Not exactly the perfect prince, and not the perfect life partner.

His eyes scanned you with boredom, “Are we done here.”

You blinked at him, pondering something, and then smiling at him, “Actually… you’re a talented magician, aren’t you?”

“What of it?”

“You must know plenty about blot then?”

It was his turn to blink at you as if he was waiting for you to tell him your question was a joke. When you didn’t, he grinned so wide you could see his fangs, busting out in boisterous laughter. Your smile fell into a pout, confused as to what could be so funny. You were serious.

“You’re serious,” he asked between chuckles.

You nodded sternly.

He wiped at his eyes, “I knew your sorry excuse for a queen sheltered you, but I didn’t know it was this bad.”

You crossed your arms, frowning, “I don’t understand what’s so funny, I’m being serious.”

“Listen mousey, I’m telling you this because I don’t like your brother, but blot isn’t real. It’s made up to scare little things like you off from using it,” he finally answered, proud as a lion would be, “Start usin’ yer head instead of listening to what that lunatic you call a ruler says all the time.”

He turned to leave at that, leaving you glaring at the petunias in front of you. Before he fully walked away, he decided to shout out, “Your hat looks awful, by the way.”

You huffed, swiping the hat off your head. This whole investigating thing was going to be far more difficult than you thought it would be. Leona confirmed that blot, and phantoms, weren’t exactly common, but he gave you a million more questions to worry about.

Examining the hat in your hands, you hoped that the mysterious man would come and visit you soon. If not for your sake, for the sake of your people.

·┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆·

You wound up in the library once more, more frustrated than you had been before. There truly was nothing about these mysterious beasts anywhere. You’d combed over every single book over the past few weeks ten times over and still found nothing. A groan ripped its way through your mouth, echoing off the empty library walls.

You would get nowhere with this frustration. Your only remedy was the fact that these creatures were not plenty enough to cause an immediate threat… at least, you hoped they weren't.

The door to the library creaked open, and a faint blue glow filled the dark room. You hadn’t realized how late it had gotten. This topic was consuming your life, wasn’t it?

The person at the door crept in, quietly muttering to themselves under their breath. Upon closer inspection, you realized it was Lord Idia of STYX. The blue fire of his hair was a dead giveaway. You knew the least about him out of all of the men crawling around your castle grounds.

You knew his parents were incredible magicians, and frequently played with death. You know that a curse had befallen him and his far kinder younger brother Ortho. And you knew he tended to slink around in darkness and avoid all socializing at all costs. So seeing him was quite a surprise.

He didn’t seem to see you, wandering around the shelves of books with a scowl on his face. You didn’t want to disturb him, you were tired and needed quiet too. You tried to stand from your seat quietly, but the legs of your chair squeaked.

The blue light flared up for an instant, and Idia whipped around to face you. He looked as though he was about to cry. You gave him an awkward smile, lifting your hands to show you were no threat.

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to scare you,” you quickly tried to ease.

He didn’t respond, simply staying frozen and blinking at you.

“I was just leaving, I won’t bother you,” you said, softer this time.

He relaxed a bit, still keeping the frown and wide-eyed look on his face. He watched you as you gathered your things, careful and delicate as any princess should. Quietly scooching your chair back in, and moving with all the grace in your world. You figured you’d just leave like that, but he cleared his voice behind you.

“Ah, uhm, you’ve spent a lot of time in here recently,” he said nervously.

You turned to him with a polite smile, “I have, yes. I wasn’t aware you were watching me?”

He jumped, “I-I wasn’t! I just, uhm, I notice things.”

“I’m only jesting, don’t worry.”

He relaxed again. He was more jumpy than you’d expected him to be, not very fitting of a future leader. His parents had a lot of work to do if they wanted him to succeed.

“What are you researching,” he asked quietly, almost reluctantly.

He was likely trying his hand at courting you since he was one of your suitors, but he wasn’t good at it. It was charming how clumsy he was, a nice change of pace. You chose not to tease him this time.

“It’s silly,” you admit, “Leona laughed in my face earlier about it.”

He raised an eyebrow, a hunger for knowledge in his eyes. Now, that was unexpected of him. He didn’t seem to be the type to be hungry for knowledge, but maybe you judged him wrong.

“Do you… know the stories about blot, you know the fairy tales our parents would tell us about?”

He nods.

“Well,” you sighed, feeling crazy, “what if they were real.”

You expected him to laugh. To jeer and point and call you crazy, but he doesn’t. His face seems stern, and he is completely serious.

“That’s a pretty bold claim to be making with no evidence.”

You stiffened, his attitude had completely changed. Seriousness didn’t suit him, his face wasn’t built for it, which is why it was so unsettling. He didn’t break that stare on you.

“I- You’re right. I’m just going stir-crazy, being locked up in this room can get to someone,” you quickly explained, not wanting to spend a second longer here.

As you began to leave again, he muttered something that sent chills down your spine.

“You shouldn’t go digging your nose in places it doesn’t belong.”

Swallowing thickly, you gave him a polite curtsy and mumbled your understanding, quickly stepping out of the room. To think he was being shy and sweet just a few moments ago, what an odd man.

His behavior did give you answers, however. Blot clearly did exist - obviously, since you saw it. However, this proves that it's a hidden subject, and people with power - a few of them at least - knew about it in more detail than they were willing to admit.

That just meant you had a lot more searching to do, and you had to be more careful about doing it.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #x reader #bunni's treats 🧁#idia shroud x reader #vil schoenheit #ace trappola #deuce spade #leona kingscholar x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #idia shroud #cureé

181 notes · View notes

devildom-moss · 2 years ago

Text

Punishment (Lucifer)

What has Lucifer done wrong, and how will MC try to punish him?

(Lucifer x gn!MC)

(NSFW) (sub!Lucifer / dom!MC) (plot-heavy) (NSFW tags: degradation for Lucifer, "puppy/pet/good boy" used with varying descriptors, puppy/pet play, bondage, tail butt plug, use of aphrodisiacs, jealousy, mild cuckholding, neglect, leg humping)

Word Count: +2,900

It had been a long day. On top of your classes, you had just spent four hours reviewing for an exam with Satan in the library. Sure, you were prepared to do well when the test came around in a few days, and it was worth it to have the weekend free so you could relax, but the effort was draining. The last thing you wanted to deal with was one of the brothers’ stupid antics. Yet, you rushed to Mammon’s room the second you heard his blood-curdling scream just as you stepped foot in the entrance.

“Mammon! I’m coming into your room!” you shouted through the door before entering. His only reply was an agitated wail.

When you got in, Mammon was strung up from his ceiling, struggling and sobbing. He wouldn’t even acknowledge you. Instead, he muttered weakly, “go away. Make it stop, please. Please, stop it.”

The tears were flowing down – or rather, up – Mammon’s face, dropping onto the glass top table below. He looked so miserable and pitiful that you would have expected the entire house to be ablaze in order to justify this punishment. You dragged the table out of the way before throwing every pillow from the couch and all of Mammon’s bedding onto the floor below him.

“Mammon, can you hear me? I’m going to get you down with magic. I can’t reach the rope from here. Relax, don’t thrash around too much, and you’ll be fine,” you yelled up at him. He still ignored you, crying even harder in response. You felt a few tears hit your arm. What could he have done this time?

You released the rope from the ceiling and Mammon came crashing down – almost safely, barring a few bruises. Still, Mammon was sobbing and begging for some invisible threat to leave him alone. If he had appeared less horrified, you might have assumed he was telling you to go away, but Mammon wouldn’t look at you and had never seemed so afraid of you before. Something was horribly wrong. From this distance, you could sense a curse concentrated in that rope. Luckily, when you tried to untie him, no harm came to you.

The second the rope hit the floor and was removed from around Mammon’s body, he seemed to awaken from his previous state. Tears were still coating his face, but he was finally staring directly at you. With a few more seconds to process, Mammon wiped his face and jumped into your arms.

“Ya saved me. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you! That jerk, Lucifer, put a curse on me and everything I saw was right out of a horror movie. I was up there for three hours, MC. Why didn’t you come to my rescue sooner?”

Lucifer had strung Mammon up and cursed him with horror movie hallucinations for something as small as ditching one class – which was practically insignificant as far as Mammon’s antics are typically concerned. That was the last straw.

Admittedly, Lucifer had been acting like a little bitch all week. He was snippy and moody – an unrelenting and unforgiving presence that added to your stress instead of alleviating it as he often attempted to do. Maybe he would behave of his own accord, and you could have a relaxing weekend for once, but you weren’t chancing it. You headed to his room to squash the problem at its roots.

“Lucifer, are you in there?” you shouted through his door after a few harsh knocks. “Open up. I don’t want to kick your door in.”

Lucifer opened his door, flustered to see you. His brows were scrunched in confusion, “the door was unlocked, you know.”

“I,” you started. Fuck. “Well, I’m not in the habit of opening other people’s doors without permission.”

“My brothers are resistant to retraining,” Lucifer sighed and stepped aside for you to come in. No, fuck off, you do that too, asshole, you thought. However, that wasn’t your point of argument this time, so you decided to drop it.

“So, what the fuck is wrong with you?” you questioned him.

“What?”

“You’ve been so bitchy all week, and this stunt with Mammon – seriously? He ditched one class, and you’re torturing him for it. That was way too far. He’s been pretty normal all week. What kind of bullshit are you taking out on him? He’s not your punching bag.”

“That’s none of your business,” he retorted, failing to look at you. “Stay out of it.”

“Are you fucking kidding me with that?” You stepped forward. Now his eyes were on you – cautious and unblinking like some wary animal. “I live with you all. Every one of you drags me into your shit. How was I supposed to stay out of it? I had to heat up a pack of Mammon’s favorite noodles and hold him until he stopped crying. How is that an appropriate punishment?”

“I’ll repeat myself,” he adjusted his gaze and straightened his posture, “stay out of it.”

“That’s all you have to say?” It was as if his pride had blinded him to the pain he inflicted on others. His lack of explanation only cemented his wrongdoings. He knew he was in the wrong, and instead of apologizing and correcting himself, he dug his heels excruciatingly, irritatingly deeper. You grabbed the collar of his uniform roughly, inching yourself closer instead of pulling him in. Summoning all your annoyance, you spoke: “what the fuck? You come to me with so much, and now that I ask you directly when something is clearly wrong, you keep that mouth shut? For what? So you can cause me more trouble?”

No one else could pull those terrified doe eyes out of Lucifer like you could. When you glanced down at his offensively silent mouth, his lips were slightly parted, and his lower lip trembled ever so subtly that it appeared to be a trick of the eye. He shrank in the face of your anger – crumbled at your justice.

“I didn’t. . .” Lucifer trailed off as he averted his gaze – his voice lost in the short oblivion between your lips and his.

“What?”

“I didn’t mean to take it all out on him.” Lucifer admitted, slowly suffocating his pride.

“Why did you?”

“He was texting you when he ditched.”

“And?”

“I wanted to be the only one you paid attention to – not just then, but all week.”

“You were being a little bitch all week because you were jealous?” you scoffed at him. That was a poor excuse.

“And pent up. I keep touching myself to the thought of you – but it’s not the same.” Lucifer took one of the hands grasping at his collar and lowered it to the bulge in his pants. He lowered his gaze to the floor, face flushed pink, and muttered, “see?”

You only left your hand there long enough to feel how hard he had gotten in your presence before pulling back. “That’s a sorry excuse. I’d rather you just be sorry. I think a punishment is in order for you.”

“Me?” Lucifer hesitated, but the glint of hatred in your eyes – the kind of hatred that exists temporarily in moments of extreme annoyance that seems indistinguishable to participating parties – terrified him. He nodded cautiously. “Okay.”

You guided him to the foot of his bed and commanded him with a firm “sit and stay.” Lucifer obeyed while you left briefly to find a rope that Solomon had enchanted and gifted to you (don’t ask). You tied his hands together and instructed him to try and break free. He failed, much to his visible irritation.

“Solomon really is a talented man,” you chuckled. Lucifer let out a low growl in frustration.

You untied his hands, and he rubbed the mild rope burn from his escape attempt. Now that you had confirmed the strength of the enchantment, you could tie him up properly. With no display of lust of affection for him, you stripped Lucifer until he sat bare at the foot of his bed. You tied his hands behind his back prettily and transition that tie into a harness around his torso before securing the end of the rope to his bedframe with about 4 feet of slack for him to utilize. He couldn’t move far, but he could move.

“Isn’t this suitable: you sitting at the foot of the bed like a dog on a leash?” He looked so pretty with the deep red rope digging gently into his skin and his face flushed pink up to his ears, but Lucifer didn’t deserve to hear how gorgeous he was. “I already know you’re a thirsty little bitch, so I brought you something.”

When you left to retrieve the rope, you brought a few other items of interest, including a shallow bowl and a pastel pink moon milk with an aphrodisiac in it. Asmo had been gifted several cases of it and gave one to you with the (inevitably crushed) hope that it would work on humans. It would, however, work to toy with Lucifer a bit more. You placed the bowl in front of Lucifer and poured the milk in. Lucifer stared at you with the disbelief of someone who knows they are in no position to deny a request: frantic and submissive.

“Must I?” Lucifer questioned you.

“I’ll put a record on for you while you enjoy your drink.”

Lucifer crawled back towards the bed on his knees, so when he bent forward, he was face to face with the bowl. It was as if the tint in his cheeks was reflected in the soft pink surface of the milk. He felt humiliated and had no idea how to proceed and best please you. When Lucifer looked up at you for guidance, your back was turned to him as you perused his cursed album collection in search of the right one. He self-consciously tested lapping at the milk like a kitten before attempting to sip from the flat surface and accidentally dipping his nose in it. Neither was an ideal course of action, but he didn’t know what else to do.

You found what you had been looking for: the album with a deep crimson apple on the cover. Every time that album played, Lucifer became incredibly, uncontrollably horny. You both figured that somewhere along the cloudy history of the album, the magic imbued in the record had turned romance into lust and now served as an audible aphrodisiac. As the first few notes played, Lucifer became aware of what you were planning. He hesitated in his messy drinking, anticipating the overstimulation you would subject him to.

“Ass up,” you commanded as you grabbed the last item of interest. He obeyed, arching his back for you. With no other warning, you placed a pre-lubricated tail plug up his ass. He whimpered and looked over his shoulder to give you a half-angry look, as if reprimanding you for not giving him more notice. “Perfect, a little bitch with his tail between his legs. That went in so easily.”

“I told you I was pent up,” Lucifer remarked with the rough, matter-of-fact edge of a brat.

“Did you?” You teased. “Well, that’s that for now. I have to get ready. I have a date with Solomon planned, and after dealing with you, I only have 20 minutes left.”

“What?” Lucifer shot up. His eyes were wide and pleading, “Don’t leave.”

“I’m not rescheduling for your sake – especially not after the stunts you’ve pulled this week. I should be back at 9pm. That’s two hours from now. You’ll be fine.” You started towards the door.

Lucifer’s jealousy intensified and he tried to break himself free. He crawled towards you until the rope between him and his bed was pulled taut. The rope dug into his skin harshly, but any pain he felt was overshadowed on his face by a pitiful combination of despair and lust. “Please, don’t go. Not to him.”

“Be a good boy while I’m gone.” You ignored his pleas and reached out to pet his head. He savored the feeling of your touch, knowing that it would come to an immediate end. You heard a sniffle and a low groan – simultaneously pained and pleasured – before you shut the door behind you.

Cruelly (at least as far as Lucifer was concerned), you dragged your date with Solomon out so that by the time you entered the House of Lamentation, it was already half-past 9pm. You knew that Lucifer would have kept a keen eye on the clock regardless of how the aphrodisiacs and his innate lust ravaged his senses and control. When you walked into Lucifer’s room, you were pleased with the results of your punishment.

Lucifer looked up at you, his tear-stained face pressed against the floor next to his bowl. Pitiful moans escaped his mouth, low and strained as if they had been fighting their way back down his throat. He didn’t want you to see him like this: desperately grinding against the small bump he had managed to create in the area rug after well over an hour of repeated thrusting against it. His precum dripped and stained the rug, with some of it even dried into his tail plug, but he had failed to get enough friction for release. Despite the dejected look in his eyes and his ragged panting, he mustered up a cutting tone to tell you, “You’re late.”

What he meant was that he missed you, craving your touch in every second that he awaited your return like some despondent pet abandoned at the peak of its need for attention. If he was honest, he’d thank you for coming back and ask you to bring his punishment to an end, but he wasn’t, so you had no problem teasing him a bit further.

“Solomon held me up. That man can’t keep his hands to himself.”

“What?” He had intended to say it harshly, but the single word trembled out of his mouth – more of a whimper than a question. His hips halted their rhythm, his tail slowing from a mild rocking to still. A low growl escaped Lucifer from some deep, enraged pit in his chest whose emptiness you prodded mercilessly. Despite that rabid noise, fresh tears washed down his face along the dried trails as if they wished to make a pristine mess of him. “Why are you being so cruel? I’d rather you whip me all night than break my heart.”

You clicked your tongue at him before walking over. “Up.”

Lucifer followed your command with the lethargy of a defeated man, but you let the speed of his obedience go. He rose to his knees, still as hard as when you’d walked in on him. You wiped the tears off his cheek with a gentle touch, as if he were something fragile, and at that moment, he was – but not so fragile that he couldn’t take a bit more. He shuddered under that miniscule touch, leaning into it affectionately. You licked the tear from your finger and spoke in a honey-sweet voice that underscored your disapproval of him: “you really are so pathetic, Lucifer.”

“I know.”

“Good. Then, I suppose I can untie you, can’t I, my pretty little puppy?” Lucifer gasped softly at the nickname and nodded, slow and uncertain. “Stay perfectly still.”

Lucifer followed your command as you untied him. Even when he was finally free, Lucifer refused to move until you gave him permission. You leaned down towards his neck and before he could question your intentions, you sunk your teeth into his shoulder, biting down until an erotic groan filled the room. When you pulled back, deep marks were indented into his skin that glistened with saliva. You kissed over the mark sweetly, causing Lucifer’s face to turn pink up to his ears. He reacted so well to the smallest sign of affection.

“Now you’ve been marked as my slutty little puppy,” you cooed. “Would you like to cum, pet?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you should do something fitting a puppy. I’ll permit you to hump my leg. Will that be enough?”

“Yes, I think so.” It was pleasant to see him be so uncertain.

You sat at the edge of the bed and beckoned him to your side. Lucifer waited for a reassuring nod before touching you. He thrust himself against your leg slowly, rolling his hips deliberately and moaning like a bitch for you. Every inch of your skin that he could rub himself against was savored, but he still wanted more.

“Could you pet me?” Lucifer asked, uncharacteristically timid, as if you would continue to deny him.

“Greedy boy – marking your scent all over me and still asking for more.” You chastised him, but your hand still wandered down to his head so you could run your fingers through his hair and scratch his scalp affectionately. The small show of adoration intensified his pleasure. Lucifer picked up his pace slightly and the sound of ragged panting weaved into his delicious moans. You could feel him twitching against your leg, and you moved your hand from his hair to under his chin. “Look at me, my pretty little puppy.”

You caught those dark red eyes, softened by pleasure and love and clouded with lust – dangerously beautiful, just seconds before he came. Admittedly, the comfort of staring at your face combined with your touch had pushed him over the edge more than the few thrusts that preceded his cum leaking down your leg.

Lucifer sighed a quiet “thank you” before sinking into a sitting position and resting his head on your knee. You felt a few tears drip onto you, so you stroked his hair and hushed him.

“There’s my good boy,” you hummed. When the tears stopped, you could take a nice, warm shower together, but for now, you just needed to be there and let Lucifer cry. He just needed you to love him again.

Punishment (others)

Belphegor | Barbatos | Asmodeus

A/N: I feel like I went a little feral on this one. I just want to make Lucifer cry and suffer. I'm still sick, and I still have one more fic to do this month, so... really misspelling trial because I'm putting the try in trial. Forgive me if the proofreading isn’t great on this one.

#lucifer #gn!mc #spice tier #obey me #obey me luficer #obey me smut #lucifer smut #lucifer x mc #lucifer x reader

450 notes · View notes

theshiftingcafe · 1 year ago

Text

⇢ ˗ˏˋ shifting pick a pile ✧˖°࿐ ꒰"what are me and my s/o like in my dr?"꒱

hello! welcome to the shifting cafe!

for today's session, we'll be tackling about what exactly your dr s/os want to tell you all right now in general and in regard to shifting.

i know a lot of you must be currently missing your s/os, so, i hope this simple pick a pile brings you excitement and more motivation to shift.

REMEMBER: TAKE WHAT REASONATES, LEAVE WHAT DOESNT

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵

pick from at least one of these pictures:

∘₊✧───────────── pile 1 ─────────────✧₊∘

ok this pile is soooo cute to me. i’m lowkey getting forbidden love vibes? also maybe even sunshine x grumpy! i just get this vibe that you two are slightly polar opposites from each other yet still get along so well.

despite everything happening around you; no matter what your statuses, differences, and inequalities are, there’s no doubt that your dr s/o is always going to be by your side no matter what–especially through tough times. i see this pile to be a very mature relationship. they’re ready to help you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders–maybe even just carry it for you all together–just as much as you would for them. is your s/o older than you? perhaps not just physically, but more on emotionally. i see your relationship being full of trust and respect, given equally to each other of course. they have this very mature energy lingering over them that is endearing and comfortable, so rest assured, you’re in very good hands.

you dr s/o is not afraid of showering you with love at all despite there being restrictions if ever there are any. they radiate an artistic and warm energy and show their love for you in the most creative ways possible. like, your s/o just loves you so so so much! they go all out with their, well what they call as “small”, gestures. i see they might even consider stuff like starting a family with you or perhaps you already scripted to have a family with them which is adorable omg!!

one of you might be leading with your head, while the other leads with their heart, and that usually causes some miscommunications, conflicts, and clashing opinions. the cards remind you that it’s perfectly normal when people don’t see eye to eye, what matters most is how you resolve it. which i see you guys don’t really have much trouble with. you and your s/o are so harmonious, small petty fights usually end pretty easily and resolve immediately. which just proves more how emotionally connected you and your s/o are and how emotionally mature this relationship is.

i feel like most of you really have big doubts when it comes to love. whether it be because of old wounds that never healed completely, or fear of what could be itself, the cards tell you to breathe and learn to take risks when giving love another chance. yes, you’ve already learnt what not to do and what to avoid when it comes to love, but, never let that build up walls that shelter you so much that you won't get to experience it. you’re deserving of love. don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

never restrict your foolishly in love heart from chasing after what it wants, even if it doesn’t end the way it wants to. because, eventually, you’ll trip and fall into the right arms. but of course, think before leaping in blind. trust your mind, your heart, but also, most importantly, trust your soul. the trials and tribulations will all be worth it.

•------------------------------------------------------------•

that is all pile 1! thank you so much for stopping by the shifting cafe and spending this session with me. i hope to see you all again soon. happy shifting!

•------------------------------------------------------------•

∘₊✧───────────── pile 2 ─────────────✧₊∘

hmm, ok, this pile is very interesting to me. it seems this reading is actually for 2 types of shifters; those with s/os and those without. but first, let me give the reading for those with s/os.

do you happen to be shifting to a fame dr? maybe a dr where you, your dr s/o, or both of you are very well respected and have a certain reputation to uphold. a reputation that could be broken and twisted by anyone–both a blessing and a curse. i can really see the quote “in the death of their reputation, they felt truly alive.” fitting in this pile.

i’m seeing so many restrictions with this pile. one of you or both of you is withdrawing affection and energy from this relationship. not in the way that you or they don’t want to give it, because it’s taking you or their whole will power to hold back, but because there’s something in the way of it all. this act isn’t exactly an act of passion, but rather, an act of security. you want to protect each other, yet can’t freely love each other by doing so. which is quite a pickle itself.

all you and your s/o want is a warm home with a sincere relationship where you could be free to be who you want to be and love the way you want to, but it almost feels like everyday, the world turns against both of you. i’m not gonna sugar coat anything for this reading; it’s gonna be hard. it’s gonna be hard, confusing, scary, disappointing, and sometimes you’re gonna have doubts. but never ever let them make you regret your journey.

that’s just the reality of shifting; it’s real life. you’re gonna go through struggles, you’re gonna disappear for a while, you’re gonna go through it all. but, just when you think all hope is lost, people you love the most are gonna be there for you. they’re gonna stay by your side, especially your dr s/o, and help carry most–if not all–of the pressure of the world off your shoulders. taking even a small break would help. not just for when you’re in your cr, but also when you’re in your dr. you’re probably scared about something. could it be fear that you won't be enough for your s/o? maybe you feel like you’re going to be too much for them. look, let me give you a little pep talk; if they truly love you, they’re going to accept every part of you. and i mean every part. the good and the bad. and i’m sure you’re a great person who deserves all the love from the people you love.

if ever you happen to stumble upon this pick-a-pile but you don’t have an s/o yet still felt drawn to this pile, the cards tell you that you don’t ever need to be pressured into a relationship. you don’t have to feel pressured to persuade anyone in your dr or script an s/o for yourself when you don’t want to, even if everyone tells you to do so. it’s your dr, and it’s your feelings. you can’t force love. and this applies not only to you, but to everyone else.

•------------------------------------------------------------•

that is all pile 2! thank you so much for stopping by the shifting cafe and spending this session with me. i hope to see you all again soon. happy shifting!

•------------------------------------------------------------•

∘₊✧───────────── pile 3 ─────────────✧₊∘

the moment i started the reading for this pile, i instantly thought about adrenaline inducing scenarios and maybe even a bit of danger, yet also just slow sunday mornings and sun lit rooms? do you happen to be shifting to a superhero dr? maybe a dr that’s labeled as dangerous to some if not most people? i’m also getting a partner in crime type of trope/enemies to lovers trope vibe for this pile, which is super cool if it’s accurate!

you and your dr s/o are literally each other’s safe space, and there isn’t more or less to it.

one of you isn’t particularly fond of being flashy or adventurous. they’re mostly a rule follower and very rarely ever expresses their ideas. however, you can count on them at all times, and best believe they would break every single rule in the book for their other half. this person is stable, practical, and of course, loyal. the other, however, is the opposite. they’re flashy, adventurous, and not afraid to voice out their opinions. always ready to set an idea and follow it, no matter what anyone says. making them a perfect match! they’re the literal definition of left brain and right brain, perfectly balancing each other’s intuition and intellect.

one of you, if not both, has acts of service at their top love language–both giving and receiving. one of you needs help reaching something above the shelves? the other will get it, don’t worry. one of you need help putting on their jewelry? the other will immediately be behind to help clip the necklace on. one of you feel hungry? the other will pick up either the phone for takeout or cook the meal. one of you feel exhausted? the other will be there 24/7 ready to do whatever it was the other didn’t get to do and let them rest.

you guys just enjoy each other's company, even when it’s doing absolutely nothing together. whether it be in the middle of a chaotic crowd in a hustling and bustling situation, or with no one else but each other in a quiet empty space, you guys cherish every single moment of it. you’re ready to accept each other's sweet nothings and bitter everything, which is everyone’s dream!

i feel like most of you really chose this trope because most of you came from a very dysfunctional place and just want to be comforted after a long tiring day. this pile has to be the most comforting reading i’ve ever done. like, literally! that fuzzy warm feeling in my chest and everything! whatever it is that you went through or are currently going through, just know, there will always be someone waiting for you at the dinner table with a warm meal ready to ask you about your day and listen to how it went. ready to give you your dream fairytale love story.

•------------------------------------------------------------•

that is all pile 3! thank you so much for stopping by the shifting cafe and spending this session with me. i hope to see you all again soon. happy shifting!

•------------------------------------------------------------•

・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・

that is it for today's pick a pile session! thank you so much for everyone who decided to participate/stop by and picked their piles for some guidance. i hope these resonated and i have interpreted them well for all of you.

if you have any suggestions for future pick a piles, please feel free to request through messaging me or leaving an ask!

for a personal tarot reading session, check out my carrd and order from my google forms!

thank you so so so much and i'll see you all soon! happy shifting!

・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・

354 notes · View notes

cinewhore · 7 months ago

Text

The Duchess of London (2)

Pairing: Thomas “Tommy” Shelby x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: angst, mentions of drinking, drugs, blood, gore, fighting, guns, fluff.

A/N: Wrote the first part damn near a year ago! Wanted to finally finish it off. Please know that another part is highly unlikely! No beta. Enjoy! Credits to the gif artist.

Thomas Shelby ends up on your doorstep three months later.

Technically, it was the door of the Gentlemen’s Club, Adonis, where you helped to manage the talent and had a few stocks invested in.

If you hadn’t been paying attention, you would’ve missed him entirely. Tommy remained seated in the back of the room near the door, one leg crossed over the other, fingers delicately grasping the rim of a glass. It was a talent of his, being able to blend into a room seamlessly while still maintaining a sense of distinctiveness. You couldn’t lie, the thought of seeing him again taunted you day after day. Thinking about his plump lips on yours, hands pressing against your neck-

A throat clears. “I believe it’s your turn, Duchess.”

You blink a few times, returning to the present. Sir Donald Chesnut fixes you with a stare, pool stick tapping the floor impatiently.

Giving him your best innocent smile, you nod and saunter around the table. There were two of his stripes left compared to your four solids. The men who gathered to “watch” all gawked as you bent over the velvet lined table, dress straining against your backside. You’re sure to milk their attention for all its worth, a teeny frown sprawling across your face as you stand back up.

“Must I repeat the rules of the game for you, miss? See those colored balls? You have to hit them into the holes. Do you understand?” Donald taunts, voice barely masking his mockery.

You smile and shrug. “Gee, I just can’t seem to decide which one to hit, they’re all so pretty!”

A few in the audience chuckle at the perceived naivete. Thomas takes a swig of his drink, watching your hands carefully.

“Let me assist you then.”

Donald pushes up against you, hands helping to position yours correctly. Upon steading them, you attempt to hit one of your balls but fail to do so. You jerk back into him as you laugh, hands fanning at your cleavage.

“I’m not even sure how I got the other balls in, must be a lady’s luck.” you comment.

“Sure.” Donald nods, already gearing up for his next shot. He sinks his two remaining balls with ease but misses the eight ball by a hair.

“Oh! You almost had it. Maybe I can catch up.”

“Good luck.” Donald tuts, hands grazing your ass as he passes behind you.

The act drops immediately and you get to work cleaning up the table. The balls clinking against each other before they sink into the pockets fills you with such pleasure you fight hard to maintain your poker face.

The eight ball lays just a few inches away from the right corner pocket, albeit at an odd angle. If you weren’t careful, it was an easy shot to miss and you didn’t want to give this fucker a chance to win. That didn’t mean you couldn’t have a little fun with your prey.

“Are you gonna call it?” Donald asks.

“Eight ball, middle right pocket.

Donald huffs out something that sounded like a mix between a snort and a sigh. “No fuckin’ way. You can’t make that!”

You don’t take your eyes off of him as you station yourself off center to the ball, cocking the pool stick until the weight of the wood feels comfortable in your hands. Sucking in a small breath, you let the stick slip through your fingers as you exhale. You could feel everyone else in the room hold their own collective breath as the ball pings around the table, making haphazard patterns until it slowly nears the pocket.

The eight ball all but comes to a complete stop before it finally drops into the pocket, the white ball close behind. You refuse to move, afraid that any sudden shift could cause the other ball to fall in behind it.

The ball edges you as it nears the pocket but you release a sigh of relief as it comes to a halt. You don't dare celebrate openly, just smile and wink at Donald, who was turning more red by the minute. Murmurs fly and papers shuffle as the men protest about their lost money.

Thomas finally approaches you as the others file out of the room, for sure in search of ways to better their bruised egos.

You don’t pay him any mind as you rack the balls up.

“You look like a professional.”

“You can too. Would you like to learn how to play?”

Tommy shakes his head. “No, I don’t think I can keep steady hands.”

You hum in response, eyes shifting up to meet his. “That’s unfortunate.”

He is quiet as he comes to stand in front of you, hands reaching up to brush against your cheek. “Is there someplace we can talk?”

You pour Tommy another glass of whiskey before settling on the plush cushions next to him. The office space you acquired wasn’t as glamorous as you’d hoped it’d be but it provided a sense of solace where you could conduct business without hosting unwanted people in your home.

“So, is this a visit for pleasure or business? Perhaps both?”

Tommy knocks back his drink, throat bobbing as the cool liquor coats his mouth. “Marry me.”

You sputter out a laugh, shaking your head. “Pardon me?”

“I need you to marry me.”

“No,” you hold out a hand to stop him as you notice that he’s reaching into his coat pocket. “Have you gone fucking mad?”

“I need to form an alliance with the Elephants and this is the best way in.”

He fixes you with that stare and for a moment you’re sucked into his abyss, thinking about the possibility of becoming Mrs. Thomas Shelby but as quickly as the thought comes, it fades. This wasn’t your fight and you found it hardly fair that you were being used as some sort of pawn. You were familiar with his antics and knew that anyone being used by the Shelby clan typically resulted in death. As it so happens, you were pretty fond of your life at the moment.

You stand up from your seat abruptly, pacing back and forth. “I can’t marry you, Tommy.”

“I know it’s not an ideal proposal but you’ll have full control over the wedding details-”

Stopping mid pace, you turn to face your childhood friend. “What, did the war fuck with your hearing? I said I won’t marry you.”

Tommy drops his head, reaching back inside his pockets in search of a cigarette. He gets up to lurk near you, admiring the sour look on your face. “Is this how Marcus turned you down, eh?”

You swallow thickly, resisting to meet his gaze. Of course he knew about Marcus, he knew about everything and then some. The all knowing Shelby’s with their endless amount of dirt, ready to throw it on anyone who stood in their way.

“I don’t know to whom you are referring.” you lie, terribly so. Tommy could hear the pained yearning in your voice.

“Marcus Toussaint, old money from the Toussaints of France. Made their fortune from coal. He’s the youngest of four brothers, the only eligible bachelor left. You two met in Egypt, he was financing an archeological dig and you were there on holiday. Nights spent filled with mutual lust and passion, I assume. He buys you an estate in the Mediterranean, where you spend the majority of the summer.”

Your eyes slip close at the mention of Egypt, a time where you felt you could truly be yourself and not be on guard all the time. Marcus was delicate, thoughtful. He never questioned you about your past and was very encouraging about you wanting to pursue artistic hobbies. He was the one who taught you how to play pool.

“Unfortunately, your summer was cut short when he was forced to return home and he decided to take you with him. He wanted to make you a part of the family but they knew all about you and decided that a two dollar whore from the slums of Brimingham who made her living spending long nights in the beds of men she did not know was not good enough for Marcus. You try so hard to fit in with that crowd, prancing around in your fancy gowns with your nose held up so high that you still can’t smell the shit on your shoe you’re tracking into their houses.”

A rage you had learned to smother was bubbling beneath the brim of your being, a feeling you had never thought would be directed toward Tommy. You knew what he was doing, plunging a knife so deep into your heart and twisting until he got what he wanted out of you. It was all a mistake. You have been used over and over all your life. You were not going to be used by him, even if it cost you your life.

You lick your lips which have since gone dry, forcing your face to return to stone. “It’s always a delight to see you, Mr. Shelby. Travel safely.”

With that, you turn on your heels and exit the room in silent fury. A pair of observant eyes watch you from the stairs above, then switch to regard the back of Tommy as he leaves a few minutes after you.

You normally spent most nights at the club but decided it’s worth it to leave and blow steam off at home, your head a jumbled mess. Everything Tommy said was true but what he didn’t know is that Marcus had told you his family made prior preparations for him to marry the daughter of a tycoon and that he had no say in the matter. You were silly enough to believe him.

You were so caught up in what had just occurred that you hadn’t noticed you were being followed until a hand clamps over your mouth, a black hood shoved over your head.

Tommy watches absent-mindedly as the young woman slips back into her dress, dancing leisurely to the music coming out of the bar a few blocks down. The window was cracked and she was thankful, having put up with enough of Tommy’s smoking. He was on his third cigarette since they finished fucking and she was sure by the time she actually left, he would have finished half the pack.

There’s a knock at the door and the woman stops to look at Thomas expectantly. He doesn’t move an inch but jerks his head near the sound. The woman is cautious as she opens it but cracks the door wider when it’s revealed to be a bellhop.

“Delivery for 317.”

The woman grabs the silver covered platter and thanks the boy. She smiles as she brings it over to Thomas.

“Did you order me something special?”

“No.”

His bluntness doesn’t deter her, she simply shrugs and searches the vanity for her earrings. Tommy takes the lid off to uncover a note folded in half.

The Royale. 8pm.

The hood is snatched off unceremoniously and suddenly you’re in the storage room of a butcher shop, in a chair with your hands tied behind your back. Some of the girls you used to run with when you were younger surround you, with Bobbi aka Big Red at the center.

You give your best smile. “Ladies, are we starting a sewing circle? Book club? I hear Agatha’s new mystery is to die for.”

The first punch comes from Janie on your left. You rock your jaw, hands straining against the rope. “I take it that you didn’t like the novel.”

The second one is from Georgiana. The bitch. To think you were there for her when she found out her husband was screwing her sister.

After the fourth punch, this one to your gut, you were beginning to get fed up.

“Alright, does someone want to tell me what the fuck is going on?”

“You’ve gotten too big for your britches, that’s what.” Big Red finally speaks up. She took over operations when the leader you knew, Mary, got locked up. Operations almost went to shit but you had to hand it to her, Bobbi knew how to run a tight ship. She wasn’t as popular with the women and laid down stricter rules. Several of which you had broken.

“I don’t have time for riddles, Bobbi.” you chide.

Bobbi snaps her finger and Georgiana brings a chair over so that Bobbi could sit in front of you. “I’ve been watching you for a while now, missy. When Mary put me in charge, I swore I’d keep her seat warm until she got out.”

You tsk. “Last I checked, you squeezed your fat ass in her chair.”

That earned you a hard punch. You needed to dial it back if you wanted to keep your face intact.

“You’ve been fucking one of the Shelby’s.” Janie purrs, popping her gum obnoxiously.

“Not just any Shelby, Thomas Shelby.” Georgiana tacks on.

Big Red makes a motion with her fingers and the clucking chickens get quiet, always obedient for their mother hen. “You know fraternizing with a family like theirs is off limits. Do you know what could happen to us if you were caught with him? We struck a decent deal with Sabini and the last thing I need is for you to jeopardize everything we’ve worked for because you wanted to get your cunt licked.”

You knew that a few girls were messing around with some men who worked for Sabini but you didn’t realize it had gotten so deep. Outside of Thomas and his boys in Birmingham, Sabini had the next biggest family in the area with a huge control over land. It wasn’t like anyone was stealing from them but nothing hurt men more than a broken heart and bruised ego.

“Well, since you like spreading your legs for dirty men like Thomas, poppet, you’re gonna do us a huge favor and use that pretty little face of yours to sway him into staying another night in London. Get him to this location,” Bobbi stuffs a slip of paper down your bra. “We’ll handle the rest.”

Big Red puts your cheek tenderly before snapping her fingers. Georgiana and Janie descend on you like vultures and the only sound echoing through the room is muffled grunts of you getting your ass kicked.

Thomas flips out his pocket watch once more.

8:22pm.

It was unlike you to be late but he figured it was for good reasons. Women and their unnecessary grooming. Growing up around Ada and practically being raised by Polly got him used to being late for certain functions. The waiter enters again and Tommy is ready to refuse another offer on refilling his glass but stops once he sees that you’re being escorted in.

You were mesmerizing. Your body was wrapped in red silk, the material caressing your figure in all the right places. White gloves covered your arms up to your elbows and the front of your dress drapes downward in a cowl design, showing a sufficient amount of cleavage to leave the wandering eye wanting more. To complete your ensemble, you wore a tilted hat with a veil to cover the majority of your face.

Thomas is a gentleman as he stands while you enter, only returning to his seat once you sit on your own.

“You’re late.”

You cock an eyebrow. “And yet, you’re still here.”

As if the waiter was eagerly awaiting for you to take your seat, you barely have time to set down your purse before the first course is brought out. It looked decadent but your stomach was still rolling from earlier. You weren’t sure when your appetite would return.

Thomas doesn’t touch his food either. “So, I take it you’ve changed your mind.”

You take a long sip of wine, swishing the red liquid around the glass before knocking the rest of it back. “Something like that.”

The cigarette makes an appearance. He lights it, waiting for you to continue.

“Look at us. Both came from nothing and here we are. Eating at the finest restaurants, wearing the finest clothes, sitting at tables that otherwise we would’ve been shooed from. And for what? Money?”

Thommy nods, almost as if you’d ask a rhetorical question. “Yes. Money, power, control. I’m taking care of my family just like you would take care of yours.”

“I have no family.” you state, voice a whisper.

“That’s why I’m asking you to be a part of mine.”

The door to the private room swings open and the waiter appears, yet again.

“For fucks sake!” Tommy yells at the poor fellow.

“My apologies, Mr. Shelby but your other guests have arrived.”

Tommy steals a quick glance at you. “I don’t have any other guests.”

You don’t dare turn around in your seat as the echo of numerous footsteps sound off, trailing from the hallway until they reach the dining area.

“Well, well. Looks like the gang's all here.”

The voice sends a chill down your spine. Amelio Sabini. He wasn’t head honcho but far enough up on the food chain for it to mean something.

Tommy clears his throat and puts out his cigarette. He doesn’t stand.

“What? No warm greeting for me or my brothers? Alright then.”

The vultures descend on the table, squeezing in where they could and kicking their feet up. You recognize some of the women on their arms from the club.

“Amelio. You’re interrupting my dinner.”

“Really? Cause if I remember correctly, we were invited. I know you didn’t start eating without me, Tommy. That’s bad business.”

“What’s bad business is discussing it in front of the women. You lot,” he points to the scantily clad girls. “Out.”

The girls all cling to their men, throwing each other nervous glances. You envied them just a little. To be pretty and clueless. It wouldn’t get them very far though.

Amelio gives a signal and they suck their teeth, sulking back out into the main part of the restaurant. You attempt to walk out with them but a goon keeps you firmly in your chair.

“Where are you heading off to, puddin’? You’re the main dish.”

“I take it you’re acquainted?” Tommy asks but you hear the condescending tone laced in the question.

“She’s the one that invited us. Knows the Royale is my favorite. Have you tried the raspberry and chocolate souffle?” Amelio gives a chef's kiss. “Eccellente!”

The men squabble as you mildly disassociate, understanding that this was going to end in one of two ways: you live or you die. And if you did die, Big Red was gonna get what’s coming to her, that’s for damn sure.

Your small break from reality is abruptly ended when the cold metal of a pistol is shoved into your hands.

Your hands graze the gun, a once familiar object now feeling foreign.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” Amelio coos. “Let’s not draw this out any longer, eh? We all know how this ends. I don’t want to draw this out any further. Va bene?”

You nod your head slowly, steadying your grip on the weapon. You aim the gun directly at Tommy, unblinking. “Sorry it had to happen this way.”

Tommy gives a half shrug. “Likewise.”

You’re quick to pull the trigger and watch as the bullet whizzes by Tommy’s head and glides straight into the neck of the waiter. The platter in his hands falls, the Beretta masked as the “souffle” tumbling to the ground.

And just like that, the room cascades into a full out battle. Tommy wastes no time in grabbing his own gun and you throw yourself into the heat of action, taking out two more of Amelio’s men before you get clipped in the left arm. You throw yourself down on the ground in search of cover.

Arthur and the other Blinders crowd in from the kitchen, helping Tommy to clear out the room. Finn is careful as he drags you towards the back door, where a car is waiting.

“We can’t just leave them there!” you scream through the searing pain.

“They’ll be fine, trust me!”

Before you could argue your point further, the doors to the car get slammed shut and you’re whisked away from the scene.

Making it back to a small office Tommy owned was nothing short of a miracle. You had never seen or been a part of such a gunfight. However, it wasn’t the shooting that pissed you off.

“I know this was your idea.” you murmur, wincing as Tommy pours more alcohol in your wound.

“I told Big Red to persuade you, didn’t know that meant leaving you with a bruised eye.” Tommy says, double checking to make sure he cleaned the graze thoroughly.

You shake your head. “She’s got it out for me, apparently. You could’ve just asked-”

“I did ask you. This was reassurance.”

You pull away from his touch, a disapproving look etched into your face. “It’s like you don’t even trust me! We’re cut from the same cloth, remember?”

Tommy puts away the whiskey, reaching around you to grab at the gauze. He wraps it around your arm tenderly. Satisfied with his work, he takes a pack of smokes out of his pocket, tucking one between his lips.

He saddles up to where you’re perched on his desk, spreading your legs to stand between them.

“I never doubted you once. There were things that needed to be in place and I wanted to make sure it happened.”

The deep pools of his eyes drag you under and once again, you find yourself pulled into his orbit. No matter how hard your gut alerts you to the dangers of falling in love with Thomas Shelby, you ignore the blaring alarms and steel yourself. He wasn’t like the others, happy to parade you around on their arm like some sort of trophy. You had a mind, a working spirit that was hard to break and a reputation to uphold. You didn’t want to be the dainty, seen but not heard wife.

You wanted to be his equal.

Plucking the cigarette from his lips, you take a quick puff from it, exhaling slowly. “I should go.”

“I’ve arranged for John to take you to the hotel. We didn’t have much time to grab clothing from your place but I can have Pol take you shopping tomorrow, if you’d like.”

“You got me a room?”

Tommy chuckles slightly at the question, demeanor unwavering as he takes a small metal item from his pocket, flipping it in-between his fingers like you’ve seen him do many times before with a coin.

“I got us a suite.”

You stare at the key, understanding that it signified much more than a cozy night in. Accepting this key and going to see him meant that you were tethering yourself to a man you swore was just casual. You weren’t sure if you were ready for that level of commitment.

He pries your hand open, setting the room key in it before closing it gently. Nearly forgetting how to breathe, your eyes flutter close as Tommy seals the deal with a kiss.

He runs a lone finger down your cheek, his own lips plump with the sheen of your affections.

“My proposal still stands.”

Tommy says nothing else as he exits the office, doors groaning in protest at his departure. You open up your hand again. Would you still remain the Duchess or become a Queen?

#thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x fem!reader #Thomas Shelby x female reader #fic: the Duchess of london #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x fem!reader #Thomas Shelby x you #peaky blinders fanfiction

90 notes · View notes

yandere-paramour · 8 months ago

Text

Chapter 3

“I’m not hungry,” You mumble, still nervous about the implications of that discipline thing.

She gives you a serious look, “You must eat something, love. You haven’t eaten anything all day.”

“What time is it?”

“A half-hour past eight. Perfect time for you to eat something.”

You hate to admit it, but she’s right. If you refuse food now, there’s probably no chance of eating anything again until morning, and you don’t want to take that chance, “Okay, I’ll eat something.”

She flashes you a smile of perfect, shiny teeth, “Amazing, love. What would you like?”

“Just something small. I’m not really hungry.”

“For you, nothing is an inconvenience. But, let me make you something comforting. I know today has been very tiring for you,” She gives your head a comforting pat, “Please, allow me to help you up.”

She helps lift you to your feet and supports you while you walk out of the room on unsteady legs. Immediately, you start scanning your surroundings. It is a small, dark hallway to the stairs, but when you get there, your eyes widen dramatically.

The living space is huge, easily three times the size of your apartment. It was decorated in the same blue and grey color scheme as the bedroom, and you had to admit the colors calmed you. One wall was entirely large windows, showing the oranges and yellows of the setting sun illuminating the room and a view of the city skyline. It was very clean, almost too clean, like it was more of a house being shown rather than one occupied by a living human. The furniture had no spots or creases, there wasn’t any laundry on the chair, and from what you could see, there wasn’t a speck of dirt anywhere to be found.

She notices you looking and smiles, “Do you like it? I know it is somewhat empty now, but I figured you could decorate it to your tastes. I will give you the tour tomorrow morning after breakfast. I want you to get to know your new home.”

You visibly perk up at that. A tour will show you any possible escape routes. As soon as she goes back to work, and a CEO like her will definitely have to return to work soon, you’ll be out of here. You bite back a grin.

She goes to try and lift you at the top of the stairs.

“Wait!” you say.

She freezes instantly, “What is it, my princess? Are you afraid of heights? I promise I will hold you securely.”

That statement is nauseatingly genuine, and color rushes to your face, forcing you to look away from her, “It’s not that… I just don’t want to mess up your suit.”

“No suit is worth your comfort and safety,” She says and sweeps you into her arms in a bridal carry. She descends the stairs with no trouble, acting as though your weight is no trouble for her at all. Exactly how strong is this woman?

At the bottom of the stairs, she sets you back on your feet carefully, holding your arms to steady you, “There you go, princess. Safe and sound. See? I would never drop you.”

You blush again at her gross words, and with a grin, she moves on. She helps you to the couch, gently laying you back and tucking you in with a blanket. She turns on the large tv for you to watch, and you unwittingly relax. “I’m going to the kitchen to make you something, princess. Just rest here and I’ll be back in a few minutes,” She gives you another kiss on the forehead which you try to weasel away from, and leaves.

You relax your muscles. Whatever medicine she gave you must’ve been strong. Your head is pounding with a headache and your muscles feel weak and loose, and it hurts to move around too long. The short trip from the bedroom down the stairs to the couch was enough to tire you out. Even if she’s not currently watching you, you’d never be able to make it to the elevator, let alone out of the building.

She said you’d only be on this medication for a few days. If she was telling the truth, which you have no way of verifying but this is your only source of hope at the moment, you’d be completely clean in a few days, she would go back to work, and you’d be gone. Tonight, you just had to lay back and try to keep this woman from peppering your face and hands with any more kisses.

Your brain must be slow because thinking took a lot longer than you thought. She is back, balancing a tray with two mugs and a plate of toast.

“I thought some sugar would be good for you,” she says, pushing a mug of dark liquid into your hands. It smells nice, but you don’t trust it. If she can drug you once, she can drug you again. You eye her suspiciously.

“What’s wrong? Do you not like hot chocolate?” She cocks her head like she doesn’t understand.

“You try it first,” you mumble, afraid to push her too far, holding the mug towards her.

She gives you a pitying look, “Oh sweetheart, are you afraid I put your sleepy medicine in your cocoa? I promise, I will not give you your medicine until bedtime. The nighttime dose is higher.”

You still hold the mug out to her and she sighs but takes a sip anyway to appease you.

“I wish you would trust me, Darling, but I can be patient.”

“I will never trust you,” You mutter under your breath.

Her eyes narrowed. “Darling, respectful words, please. I will not have you being rude just because you are tired.”

Whatever words you want to spit at her die in your throat. You are tired, even if you’d rather die than admit it. Starting a fight when you’re too weak to win and possibly risking discipline, whatever that means. You’re too smart to take that chance, so you turn your eyes back to your cocoa, sipping. It is honestly good, the best cup of hot chocolate you’ve ever had.

“Good girl,” she praises, and your face heats up. Even if she is your ruthless kidnapper, she can’t be saying things like that.

She holds a piece of toast to your mouth and your face burns, but you bite obediently. This is mortifying, and you’re glad no one is watching this. She feeds you toast, and by the end, you would rather have been boiled alive than fed buttered toast by your kidnapper who cooed “My Darling princess is eating so well for me” after every bite.

She leaves the dishes in the sink and carries you back upstairs. You don’t protest this time, but your face being so close to her chest makes you extremely uncomfortable. She sets you back on the bed while she readies your bedtime medication, and you eye the door, wondering if it is worth it to try to escape.

“Are you ready, Darling?” She asks, standing over you.

Your skin crawls, and you try to give her a pathetically upset look, “Do I have to? I really don’t like needles.”

She doesn’t flinch, but you can see the pain in her eyes. Huh. The thought of your pain distresses her. This information seems useful and you file it away for later.

She still has some resolve, “Sorry, love. You need to be on your medicine for a few more days, just until you feel more settled.”

You lay back and try to close your eyes to not look at it. The feeling of a needle pricks the skin over your shoulder and you shiver. How many of these does she have? Where is she keeping them? A murky blur spreads through your body, forcing you to relax. Taking great care with you, Atalanta tucks you back under the blanket. She climbs into the bed, pulling you closer to her body. You mumble at her to get away and try to squirm out of her arms, but it gets harder and harder to resist. She is warm and solid, and the medication is good stuff; it definitely is working. Atalanta strokes your hair as you close your eyes, drifting off, thinking of in a few days when you can escape and get back to your own life.

87 notes · View notes

exitpursuedbyavulcan · 24 days ago

Text

The Silver Dragon (22)

Arianwyn meets Aemond in the Godswood.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x OC (Daemon and Rhea's daughter)

Warnings: none

Series Masterlist - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

“Marry me.”

Arianwyn’s heart stopped.

“What did you say?” she asked, the question hardly more than a sigh. She hardly noticed that her tears had stopped, frozen where they fell on her cheeks.

Aemond swallowed, turning his gaze from her as if he hadn’t altered her world – her entire existence – with just two words.

Years ago, in this very spot, she had told him how she feared being married. She did not want to return to a strange castle with a strange man who may mistreat her. She was afraid she would meet the same fate as her mother. Rhea Royce had married a strange man, and it cost her not only her happiness and reputation but her life.

Marriage was not as it was in many of the fairy tales they read throughout their childhood: romantic and full of magic and wonder.

Those were always Aemond’s favorites, she knew, because in the realm of those stories, he could pretend was not a forgotten second son whose fate was limited to playing a small part in the grand tales of his more important siblings, but a valiant prince destined for greatness. And for him, she would pretend she was not a child borne of hatred, eternally haunted by the sins of her father, but the noble daughter of two ancient bloodlines fated to rule her people with kindness and grace.

No, Arianwyn preferred the other kind of fairy tale. The ones where valiant princes fought admirably against evil to no avail. Where princesses stayed locked in their towers because their keepers were too powerful to be defeated. The ones where good did not win, but endured within the shadow.

Good did not win. She was proof of it. If good won, she would have grown up in Runestone with her mother, alive and unharmed. Daemon would be dead for the crimes he’d committed. And Aemond would not have lost his eye.

But good could endure. In small, secret, bright moments. Like when he’d taken her to her old apartments, and she’d read to him. Like her having the chance to meet Helaena’s children. Like that quiet moment of contentment they’d shared at dinner before it was ripped away by the cruelty of her stepbrother. It was those moments that made life worth living.

What Aemond was offering wasn’t real. Even if she wished it could be.

He moved his grip on her chin to cradle her cheek. “If you marry me, you will no longer belong to your father.”

“I would belong to you,” she countered. Her face twisted with confusion as her heart resumed its hammering. But it did not feel like rage. Nor the all-consuming sadness that had only just threatened to overtake her. Still, her pulse raced, her face flushed, and an exhilarating chill spread through her body.

“Yes,” Aemond breathed, “but I would never command you, Aria. I would never even try. You know that. In all the ways that truly matter, you would be free.” His face was as open as she had ever seen, his beautiful eye almost pleading, begging her to let him save her.

Without bidding, the memory of him standing so close to her against the wall of books in her room flooded her mind. His hand on her waist. The warmth of his body enveloping her. Only a breath away from their lips touching…

She could name that feeling. Knew why it sent her heart pounding. Saw it reflected in Aemond’s face, as well.

“You would do that for me?” she asked. “Without permission from the king?”

He looked almost hurt that she would ask. Again, he pulled her tighter into him as he brushed the tears from her cheeks. “I would do anything for you, Arianwyn,” he whispered. “And I don’t give a damn what the king thinks.”

Gods, the raging feeling inside her urged her to throw herself at him, to abandon all logic and place her trust in the childish notion that a marriage was the beginning of a happy ending. Perhaps, just this once, it could be.

Even if it weren’t, it would be a moment bright enough to carry her through a century of misery. Perhaps even into the afterlife.

Squeezing his hand, she gave her answer. “Then I will happily marry you, Prince Aemond.”

Raising a prayer of thanks to each face of the Seven, Aemond pulled Aria into his chest in an embrace so tight he was sure she would feel his heart pounding. But he did not care. It beat for her.

He would have happily wed Aria beneath their table, but his back was beginning to ache, and she needed to have her wounds treated. So, he reluctantly released her and helped her crawl back out into the real world. Still, he held to her as if she would disappear without him holding her to reality.

“My lady?” Ser Warren’s voice drew her attention, and Aemond almost resented him for it. But the knight had known Aria all her life, and he was only concerned with her safety. “Are you well?”

“I’m perfectly well,” she replied, flashing a genuine smile. “Thank you, Ser.”

Again, it seemed she had forgotten the twin trails of blood running down her throat and the beginnings of bruises lining her jaw. But Aemond had not. And Ser Warren’s black eyes were stuck on those two lines of red.

“You are wounded, lady,” he said gently, like a father lovingly scolding his daughter. “I assume it was Daemon? What did he do?”

Aria’s hand flew to her throat, running delicate fingers over hateful marks. The first, the larger of the marks, was on the side of her neck. A trickle of fresh blood flowed as her touch grazed over it. “He was choking me,” she said simply, dispassionately. “His nail cut me.”

The second mark was smaller, akin to the prick of a large needle, and dangerously close to her throat. “I made this one, I think.” She furrowed her brow slightly as she tapped her broken skin once, twice, again, again. “The shears went all the way through his hand. I must have accidentally stabbed myself, too.”

Aemond could hardly breathe. She had come so close to puncturing her own airway in an attempt to escape from Daemon because he hadn’t been able to protect her. He had been too afraid of being branded a villain. Never again.

Warren stepped forward, his sword sheathed, and hand outstretched. “What shears? You stabbed him? Lady, what happened?”

“Brynna gave me her shears to protect myself,” she explained. Her hand went to her skirts and rifled around for a moment. “I must have left them in him. I don’t have them anymore.”

The other two Bronze Guards appeared, intuitively taking up defensive positions around the three. Aemond still didn’t know their names. He had to learn them, so he could properly thank them for protecting her all those years on Dragonstone. The rest would arrive soon. Their orders were to reconvene here if they did not find Aria.

Once they were here, and Aemond was assured she was well-defended, they could begin.

“Can you show me where you stabbed him?” Warren removed the gauntlet from one hand and held it out to Aria. She pointed to the flesh between the thumb and the first finger. “Well, it won’t cripple him forever, but I’m sure it hurt like the hells. Good work, my lady.”

She smiled a bit at the praise. “Thank you, Warren.”

They fell into comfortable silence as they waited for the others. Warren examined Aria’s wounds more closely and determined them to be minor, though the bruises would linger. Aemond combed through her hair with his fingers and whispered gentle reassurances in her ear. She said nothing in return, just held to him. Was this what she saw in him on his ‘quiet days?’

Two by two, the Bronze Guard reassembled until the last, Ser Rody Tollett and another Aemond didn’t know, arrived with Ser Criston Cole in tow. He had likely been sent to find the wayward prince when he ran into his old friend.

Aemond gave him a nod before again leaning down to Aria. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

He had never heard a more beautiful word.

“Send a man to fetch Grand Maester Orwyle,” Aemond commanded, lacing his fingers through Aria’s protectively. “And another for Septon Eustace. Bring them to the Sept. The rest of you will accompany us there.”

Warren glanced at their held hands and the flush on both their faces. “May I ask for what purpose, my Prince?”

Aemond raised his chin as he answered, challenging the knight to object. “The Lady Arianwyn and I are to be married this night.”

Rather than raise any objection or even question why they were doing this secretly, Warren only smiled and bowed his head. “Of course, my Prince. It would be my honor.”

“Ser Warren?” Arianwyn called as he turned away to gather the men. “Not the Sept. The Godswood, and the Weirwood tree.”

Aemond looked down at her with a questioning gaze, and she offered him a thoughtful, sweet smile. “I think it would be wise for us to seek the blessing of as many gods as possible, don’t you?”

They would certainly need all the protection they could manage when Daemon found out. Aemond nodded to her, then to Ser Warren. “The Godswood,” he affirmed.

The full moon set the leaves of the Godswood ablaze with silver as the ceremony began. Arianwyn lingered outside the entrance to the Heart Tree courtyard, Orwyle dabbing the last of the blood from her neck. Aemond stood before the giant Weirwood with Eustace while the Septon recited the traditional prayers.

Was she really doing this? Marrying in secret in the middle of the night? Shackling herself to one man to be free of another?

But this wasn’t just any man, she reminded herself. She was not being sold to a stranger, some second son she barely knew, or an old man seeking to use her only for her royal, Valyrian womb.

This was Aemond.

The person in the world she knew better than anyone or anything. She had known him almost her whole life. This was a man she had grown up with, played with, and studied with.

They had discovered and chased their passions together. Spending countless hours together, in the library, in her rooms, and in the Dragonpit.

He had been there the first time she rode Emrys, and she when he claimed Vhagar.

When her father ripped her away to Dragonstone, he had written to her every day, even while healing from the loss of his eye.

It was he who had held her and wiped her tears that very night after her father had come so close to killing her.

This was the man she loved, though it had taken her years to admit it.

She loved him. With every beat of her heart and breath in her lungs, she loved him.

It had been that love that had kept her alive on Dragonstone. That fed the wild hope that one day she would see him again, and they would be together until the end of their days. Along with his beautiful letters, that hope had sustained her.

But even before they were separated, she had loved him. Why else would she have gone with him to claim Vhagar? What else but love would have made her fool enough to approach such a massive beast? Could anything else have made her heart soar to the heavens themselves when she watched him finally fulfill a lifelong dream?

All her life, Aemond was there. Alicent once told her that when they first met as babes, they had smiled when they saw each other. Had they somehow known, even then, what they were destined for?

Arianwyn felt like a fool for being so blind for so long. Had she known the true identity of her feelings, she would have fought harder for him. She never would have allowed them to be torn apart.

“Bride, approach.” Eustace’s voice ripped her from her thoughts.

She took Ser Warren’s arm, and he led her into the heart of the Godswood. When they stopped at the base of the Heart Tree, he released her, but not before squeezing her hand and kissing her brow. “Your mother is not here to give her blessing,” he whispered. “But I know she would give it, were she able.”

He moved to turn away, but Arianwyn pulled him back and kissed his cheek in return. “Thank you,” she said. For so many things.

Then, she climbed the few uneven steps that led her to Aemond. She wore no veil, so there was nothing to hide her flush as she faced him.

Seeing her nervousness, he reached out a hand to take hers before remembering himself and pulling it back. Eustace spied the movement and smirked as he instructed Aemond, “You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection.”

It was a borrowed cloak. White, as her bride dress should have been. Ser Criston Cole had offered it without prompting and gave it with his blessing.

Arianwyn gazed into Aemond’s violet eye as he swept the cloak around her shoulders, taking an extra moment to arrange her hair upon the fabric, the silver curls and white cloak aglow in the light of the full moon. She could find no trace of nervousness on his face, only the slight edge of a smile on his lips. It began to reflect on her own before she could help herself.

Eustace continued. “I stand here in the sight of the gods to witness the union of man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.”

Now with the proper cue, Aemond took her hand, as he had done so many times that night and in all the years before. But this time was different. His hand was so warm against the chill of the air, warmer even than the cloak he had put around her. This time, Arianwyn could not help but notice the way his hand fit perfectly on hers.

The Septon began wrapping a ribbon – in truth, the leather lacing from one of her guard’s bracers – around their joined hands. “Let it be known that Arianwyn of Houses Targaryen and Royce, and Aemond of Houses Targaryen and Hightower are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder.”

A dangerous flash ran through Aemond’s eye at the words, though it faded as fast as it appeared.

“In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity.” Eustace let the ribbon unwind and fall to the grass below them. “Look upon each other and say the words.”

One violet eye met a shining pair of silver, and Aemond and Arianwyn spoke as one.

“Father. Smith. Warrior. Mother. Maiden. Crone. Stranger.”

“I am hers, and she is mine.”

“I am his, and he is mine.”

“From this day until the end of my days.”

They were ritual words, spoken by brides and grooms in Westeros for hundreds of years. But still, they had never rung so true as on this night beneath the Heart Tree in the Godswood of Kings.

Arianwyn did not know what the morning would bring. Whether she would remain here or be taken back across the Blackwater against her will. But it did not matter anymore. She looked at the determination and love on her husband’s face, and she was not afraid.

Dragonstone was not her home; of that she was certain. But neither was the Red Keep nor Runestone her home. Not even the library she loved so dearly was her home.

Aemond was.

#aemond #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond imagine #prince aemond #aemond x oc #house of the dragon aemond #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd aemond #aemond fic #hotd fanfic #aemond xf!oc #aemond x original female character #aemond x original character #the silver dragon

44 notes · View notes

whateveriwant · 2 years ago

Note

Hi Love, May I Please Request A Smut Where Reader And Bucky Are Making Out And He Accidentally Cums In His Pants?

A Long Night

Summary: Date night with Bucky takes a sticky left turn.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: ~2.5k

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, 18+ content (slightly sub!Bucky)

A/N: Hello! This is the first thing I've written in months so I'm a little bit anxious about it. I also wanted to try something a little different so now I'm doubly anxious lol. But anyway, thank you to the anon who sent this a while back! I'm sorry it took me so long to get to, but hopefully you're still around and you enjoy! :)

An eager tongue licks at trembling lips, mixing the sharpness of wine-stained mouths. A movie ignored in the background, volume turned low, the flickering images imprinting on closed lids. A nervous breath, an even more uncertain touch, and the mind wilts as the body takes over.

If you could retrace the steps it took to get to this point, chances are you'd get lost along the way. And yet, despite the shaky start, the months-long journey through unexplored terrain, you'd forge ahead all the same so long as it led you back to this very moment.

Because this moment has been worth all the build-up.

There's a shuffle, a small dip in the cushion beside you, and the figure to your right shifts as you taste the roof of his mouth. Another readjustment, this time a leg, and suddenly you're hearing a clink-thump as the coffee table wobbles curiously.

"Oh, shoot, I—"

But the words are clipped as you pull his face back to yours, hands cradling that perfectly-angled jaw. No distractions. Just him.

You can't remember the last time you felt like this, the last time you were in this blood-pumping position. It's been months at least for you. As for Bucky… even longer.

Hence, the slow beginnings all those months back. You were both just getting back into the chaos of the dating world and were equally as unconfident. While you were quick to find your footing again, as for Bucky, that timid shell was tougher to break – even now, there's still pieces intact.

Not one to get ahead of yourself, you let him set the pace. Nearly a month before a first kiss, another before an invite inside, and yet another before a night spent over. After more pg-rated dinner dates and movie nights than you can count, slowly but surely, Bucky began opening up to you.

Now it's all culminated in tonight. With a nice home cooked meal, a bottle or two of wine, and an agreement to spend the night behind you, you found yourselves snuggling on the couch, half-watching the television. Though neither of you had any specific ideas about where this evening would lead, with the lingering touches of hands here and soft caresses of thighs there, before you knew it, the movie was an afterthought as you were pressed up against him, shoving your tongue into his mouth.

You sigh as you let yourself get lost in the moment – the taste, smell, touch of him intoxicating; invigorating, even. Your head bobs rhythmically with Bucky's and the hulking man responds in turn, gingerly mirroring your moves as he attempts to follow your lead.

As his scruff scrapes the skin of your palms, you feel Bucky's own fingers fluttering around your body, nervous butterflies afraid to land. Undiscouraged, you release his cheeks to take his hands within your own, brazenly planting them on your lower back, permitting him to venture even lower. You return your hands to the sides of his face, and with a little more encouragement on your part, eventually, Bucky starts to mimic your enthusiasm, his massive hands rubbing, groping, pulling at you.

Emboldened, your lips and fingers explore the marble-smooth contours of his face. Plump lips lead to an angled jaw, chiseled by one of the masters himself. Soft earlobes trail down to a pulsing neck, hot and red as a flush creeps under his collar.

Your hands inch their way towards the back of his head, tickling the damp skin of his nape. As your fingers stretch out and catch the hairs at the base of his skull, you hear a moan, almost a whimper, as your fingers scratch at his exposed scalp.

You pause, unsure if your ears deceived you, before cautiously trying again. Another pull, another moan, and your lip curls triumphantly as you nip at his carotid.

The loop repeats undisturbed – tug, groan, grin – as you pluck at the string holding Bucky together, winding his limbs taut. As you connect with his mouth once again, absently, you sling a leg over one of Bucky's own, brushing a hardness at the convergence of his thighs.

A gasp parts his lips in shock. He pulls away from you suddenly, arms stiff as he holds you at a distance. His abruptness catches you by surprise and you too pull back, hands suspended mid-air.

Bucky's breathless as he takes a moment to collect himself, then two, then three, as the air gradually returns to him. You similarly steal a breath or two for yourself, your body frozen as you fear you've overstepped your bounds.

After a while, he gulps. "S-Sorry, I—" he mutters, his hands drooping by his sides. "I just wasn't… I-I didn't— I haven't—"

"It's okay," you reassure him, palm coming to gently cup his face. You know this is all a bit fast, a bit uncharted, so you can't say you blame him for being jumpy. "Do you want to stop?"

"No! No," he responds hurriedly, his hands flying back up to your waist, fingers pressing urgently into your flesh. "No, it's— I'm alright, just— Don't stop… Please."

You offer a sympathetic smile, thumb brushing the highpoint of his cheek. You nod. "We can go slow, okay?"

He wets his lips and takes a slow breath. After a beat, he returns your nod.

Steadily, you lean forward to give him the barest of pecks on his bottom lip. You pull back an inch. "Is this okay?" you check.

His eyes are already shut as you look at him, his lips red and swollen, slightly puckered in anticipation. His lashes flick open just a sliver at your question, and he nods again, his hands sliding to your hips.

You kiss him once more, a little stronger this time, and then lower your hands onto his shoulders. "How about this? Is this okay?" you repeat.

With a third and final nod in blessing, this time as you capture his lips with yours, you deepen the kiss, letting your eyes fall closed as you make no move to pull apart.

Soon enough, it's as if no disruption happened in the first place. You kiss him like he breathes life into your lungs, like his taste is one to rival the nectar of the gods. Your skin almost buzzes from an unseen force, the air crackling and sizzling as if electrically charged.

The current makes you restless as it surges through your veins, and your hands begin to wander like they have minds of their own. With your left, you trace his clavicle downwards, steel beneath silk that entices your fingertips. With your right, you descend along his torso, a steady thump beneath your palm keeping time with the clock.

The more you explore, the stronger the temptation is to roam, finding excitement in all the new discoveries you make. How the hollow of his throat vibrates as he hums, tingling the pads of your fingers. How his ribs expand and deflate as he takes in air, each thick breath headier than the last. How his hips twitch, his abdomen tenses, as your curious touch creeps lower and lower and lower.

You could get drunk off this moment if you'd let it consume you, the feeling nearly addictive as his warmth bleeds into you. It's like your mind is filled with static, your limbs with lightning, and you just can't get enough. Enough of now, enough of this, enough of him… Nothing can sate you, not that you want to be yet.

Reaching the jut of his hip bone, you're hardly cognizant of the way your wrist rocks, the dull note from his chest turning sharper. You feel him start to draw back as if he means to speak, and your body acts on instinct as he tries to halt your measures.

"Maybe we should— Nnngh," he groans as you tug his bottom lip between your teeth; animalistic, possessive, territorial.

With a hand on his neckline, you swiftly pull him back to you, delving your tongue into his velvet mouth. Now's not the time for words. Now's the time for actions; for raw, unrestrained emotions.

Silenced by your lips, Bucky can only mutter feebly into your mouth, a whiny, nearly desperate sound. He mewls and squirms as your hand drops to his thigh, kneading the junction where his leg meets his pelvis.

God, he sounds so pretty, and he tastes twice as good. You can only imagine how the rest of him feels.

Your hands continue to rove Bucky's sturdy body, searching for what, you're not entirely sure. He jolts and shakes at your blind ministrations, and soon you find you're fidgeting alongside him, the tinder catching spark in your belly.

The flames within you surge higher and higher, stoked by your insatiable probing. The fire is scorching, branding your viscera, reducing your organs to ash and smoke. And yet, despite the carnage, the boiling pit in your stomach, the burn is oh so delicious as it envelops you.

You grab at him, needy, like you can't get close enough, like you'd crawl in his skin if possible. Your fist on his sternum, collar twisted in your hold, aching fingers pulling him further into you. Your mouth against his, lips forming bruises, tongue swallowing every last one of his murmurs. Your hand at his lap, fingers outstretching, thumbnail grazing the hot, hard—

"Ahhhh."

A sharp intake of breath renders your lips alone. Dazed, dumbfounded, your eyes spring open, taking in the scene before you.

Bucky's head is tilted back, neck fully exposed, mouth propped wide open in a sigh. The couch shakes as he bucks wildly against the air, his hips rolling, pulsing, quaking. His eyes are squeezed shut like he's just stared into the sun, his hands clutching at the waist of your shirt, pulling roughly.

For a moment, you're bewildered as you gaze at him, the pinched expression creasing his face. His stuttered movement draws your attention downwards, and you look low to find…

Oh.

Gradually, sluggishly, Bucky regains use of his senses. His eyes blink open a fraction at a time, like each lid weighs a ton. His arms sag by his sides like his body has liquefied, sand and cement in the place of blood and bone.

As he slowly comes to, it's clear he's just as confused as you were a moment ago, his brows slanted in question. But then he looks down, and too discovers the large, wet splotch darkening his groin, and the realization soon follows.

Delicately, you untangle yourself from his embrace, releasing his collar from your hungry grasp. The pressure cooker in your stomach slowly lets off steam as the gravity of what just happened sinks in.

With his chin still tucked, Bucky lets out a tense breath, a huff of disbelief escaping his lips. Then he's shyly raising his head towards you, muscles stiffening in unease, blush streaking up his neck, his cheeks, his ears.

You're both silent as your eyes meet again, neither one wanting or knowing how to address the situation. You didn't intend for things to peak so quickly, and you have a feeling you're not alone in the sentiment. While it's easy enough to decipher the look on his face – embarrassment, shame, horror – as for your mind, it's harder for you to get a read on your thoughts.

Before you get a chance to dissect your own brain, though, Bucky's voice is filling your head, fragmented sentences spilling out rapid fire.

"M'sorry," he says breathily, exhaling through his words. "S'just been so long since— W-What I mean is I didn't— I wasn't expecting—"

As the apologies – the explanations – tumble forth from his mouth, you can't help how the noise diminuendos, fading to the background until you can't discern it from the sound of the television.

That was… interesting, to put it plainly.

The series of events may have had an unexpected ending, sure, but unseemly? Unprompted? Unwelcomed? That's what you're trying to unravel.

While this isn't the first you've been with a hair-trigger partner, there was something this time that was inexplicably different. In these circumstances, normally, you're left disappointed but understanding; frustrated but sympathetic; optimistic but unsurprised when your own release is lackluster, if you even get that far.

Now, though… Now you're frenzied.

You're feverish, the heat still rolling off you in waves, practically melting you from the inside out. You're frantic, your imagination running wild with possibilities, fantasies of 'What if? What next? What more?' You're free falling, body plummeting through the sky, burning a hole in the atmosphere as you try to come back down to earth.

You take a deep breath, if only to slow your racing heart. You uncurl your nails from your palms as you consider what your next move is.

Where to go from here?

Bucky's still a broken record in your periphery, apologizing profusely despite it being unnecessary. Even with that premature dip in the road, this evening has been pure, unwavering bliss, your cheeks hot with an enjoyment you can't put into words. While you'd be a liar if you said you weren't a tad upset at the early curtain call, the memories amassed through the night are enough to keep your core tightly clenched.

The dinner, the drinks, the dreamy atmosphere of it all. Not to mention the sensations, the sounds, the sinful taste of his tongue. And, of course, that alluring sight; that knuckle-tearing, lash-fluttering, positively rapturous look on his face as he…

As your mind continues to wander, your eyes follow suit, and soon enough you're drifting back to that sullied spot on his bottoms. The stain is just as apparent as ever, making a spark shoot up the length of your spine. But as your eyes find their mark at the center of his lap, your vision rapidly tunnels, another unnoticed – unexpected – aspect grabbing your attention.

You glance back up at his face, seeing but not hearing the words as they leave his mouth. If he's even aware of himself, of the still-straining fabric of his trousers – tenting, enticing, inviting – then he doesn't show it.

You take one more peer below, the gears turning in your head, the embers in your belly slowly reigniting. Past experience had deemed that the final stroke of midnight, your prince replaced by a pauper. Instead, this night seems to be full of surprises as a path ahead suddenly reveals itself.

"I swear this has never happened befo—"

Bucky's muted as you rear forward, smothering him with a fervent, fiery kiss.

"Shhh," you hush, then you're pushing, insistently so, so that he's falling backwards, taking you with him.

His back meets the cushions with an ungraceful ooof, his legs sprawling awkwardly across the couch. He looks up at you with all the confusion of a lost, little puppy, but you don't give him a chance to question your actions.

"It's okay. You don't have to worry," you promise, deftly maneuvering around his frame, planting a knee on either side of his waist.

Pointedly, you lower your pelvis until you're hovering just above his lap, one more inch and you'd be slick with the mess of it. You chase off any lingering concern with a press of your mouths together, a soft lick at the seam of his lips. Then you lean down slowly, a tease more than anything, until you're tickling the shell of his ear with your whispers.

"We've still got a long night ahead."

__________

A/N: I'd love to know what you thought! Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!

#wiw asks #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes smut #marvel #mcu #oneshot

906 notes · View notes