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sematarygirls · 1 month ago

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COWBOY!RAFE x FEM!READER

WARNINGS .ᐟ oral (m! receiving), reader is kinda sheltered, mommy issues, parental death, running away from home, getting picked up by a handsome stranger

NOTES .ᐟ this was pretty fun to write tbh. i started this like a year ago and recently found it in my drafts, which led me here, so i hope yall enjoy it as much as i do.

Your worn cowboy boots thudded against the asphalt as you walked down the deserted country road, dragging your suitcase along. The summer sun shone brightly overhead, heating the atmosphere and causing a thin layer of sweat to coat your body. Your daddy's old cowboy hat sat atop your head, shielding your face from the sun's unrelenting, unforgiving rays. A loose white sundress swished softly with every step you took, slowly making your way farther and farther from your old life.

The death of your beloved father sent your already troubled mother into a state of disrepair. You watched as the mother that had sung you soft lullabies and stayed with you until you fell asleep transformed into someone you didn't recognize.

Most nights, you weren't sure where she was or if she was even alive until she inevitably came stumbling home in a drunken stupor through the front door of your little farmhouse in bumfuck nowhere, the screen door slamming behind her and startling you awake.

On the rare occasion that you saw her, she seemed to look through you. Her eyes were sunken with dark circles underneath them that greatly contrasted how bright and full of life they once had been. She was a shell of the woman she once was.

You tried your best to be there for her, but eventually, you realized that she wasn't going to change. She didn't want to get better, and you couldn't force her to.

On your eighteenth birthday, you made a difficult decision. You had been weighing it for a long time, wondering if you were doing the right thing. You wondered if your dad would be disappointed in you, if he would've wanted you to stay, but eventually, you knew that you had to do what was best for you.

You couldn't handle the constant worrying, only to be greeted with a cold shoulder the few times you did see your mother. You felt like you'd never have a life of your own in that house, suffocated by the memories of the happy family that once lived within the walls. You needed to start fresh—to give yourself the opportunity to be something more than a small town drunk like your mom.

You were leaving, and you were never coming back.

And for the first time in a long time, you had something to look forward to. You had a future that didn't revolve around taking care of someone else. You had hope that you could find something better out there, something more than this lonely life you'd grown so accustomed to.

You grabbed an old suitcase from the basement and threw it onto your bed. Opening it, your heart ached as you saw your name written in black sharpie on the light brown fabric. It was written in your father's handwriting, little doodles of stars and hearts surrounding it. For a moment, you had second thoughts about your decision, but ultimately, you pushed them away. you knew he would've wanted you to live a life worth something. He wouldn't want you to be confined to this house, worrying whether your mother would make it home every night.

You packed an assortment of clothing and little items that held sentimental value to you. You knew you had to choose carefully because there was only so much you could bring. Rifling around in your closet, you discovered your father's old cowboy hat. You stuffed it into the way back the day of his funeral, never wanting to see it again, but now, you knew you needed it more than ever.

It served as a reminder of home—not the house you were running away from, but the home that had once been filled with life and love. It reminded you of cold winter nights spent huddled by the fire and spooky stories told during thunderstorms. It reminded you of dancing in the kitchen while the three of you prepared dinner and listening to the rock station with a popsicle in hand as you curiously watched your dad work on his truck. It reminded you of a time before forehead kisses and goodnight stories were replaced by slamming screen doors and absent mothers.

You placed the hat atop your packed suitcase and went to sleep, your plan for tomorrow already set in motion. You woke up before your mother, quickly getting dressed and gathering your things before creeping into the living room. She was nowhere to be seen, probably having actually made it to her bedroom that night, but her purse was laying on the kitchen counter, a couple items spilling out from the way she had haphazardly thrown it when she got home.

Careful to not make any noise, you rummaged through, looking for her wallet. You didn't expect to find much, but you would take what you could get. After stuffing the cash you could find into your bra, so in the event that your suitcase was stolen, you'd still have something to your name, you took one last look around. You admired the height markings your father had made on the doorway, and the hole in the wall that he always swore he'd get around to fixing after bringing in a new couch went terribly wrong. A sad smile graced your face as you said goodbye to the place that had been your only home for as long as you'd known, turning the page and getting ready to embark on your journey to a new life.

Walking through the front door with your suitcase trailing behind you was like a weight had suddenly been lifted from your shoulders. For the first time in a long time, you didn't know what would happen next, and it frightened you in a way that was exhilarating.

The sound of a car approaching made you jump a little, the sound cutting through the quiet atmosphere that had previously only been filled with the light swishing of your dress, the sound of your suitcase wheels and boots on the asphalt, and the occasional chirp of birds. It was rare to encounter people on the deserted road you were traveling down since the area you were in was secluded and a good few miles from any houses or towns, so you knew to be cautious.

You turned your head, tilting the cowboy hat up to get a better look at the approaching vehicle and it's driver. It was an old grey-blue pickup truck with a white roof, a thin layer of dirt and grime built up along the exterior. You squinted your eyes to try and get a better look at the driver as they got closer, but the glare from the sun on the windshield hindered your view.

Hesitantly, you looked away from the truck, your gaze returning forward as you waited for it to pass, but to your surprise, it didn't. You clutched your suitcase tighter as the man pulled up beside you, not stopping completely, just rolling along to keep pace with you.

When the driver rolled the window down, you turned your head to face him, continuing to walk as you studied his face. He was a handsome man; you couldn't deny that. He had bright blue eyes that shone with intrigue, his pale pink lips pulled up into a smirk that had you torn between being deeply unsettled and utterly smitten for him. His brown hair was buzzed short, and he had a bit of stubble on his chiseled jawline along with a mustache on his upper lip—something you usually wouldn't have been privy to, but he made it look effortlessly good.

"What's a pretty little thing like yourself doing out here all alone?" He asked with the faintest hint of a southern drawl, looking you up and down. It should have disgusted you—a random man hitting on you in the middle of nowhere—but for some reason, it made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

You debated on what to say. At first, you were gonna say that your mama always told you not to talk to strangers, but that sounded so childish that you immediately pushed it away. You weren't really great at talking to people. You'd often spent more time alone than with others. You simply shrugged, deciding against saying anything at all and making yourself sound foolish.

His gaze darted to your suitcase, finding himself intrigued and undeterred by your lack of an answer. "Where you headed, sweetheart?" He asked, continuing to drive beside you.

Truthfully, you didn't have a destination. You were just sorta planning to go wherever the wind took you, which admittedly, wasn't a very solid plan. "Anywhere but here," you said cryptically. It sounded a bit cheesy, but it was true. You just wanted to put as much distance between yourself and your childhood home as you possibly could.

His smirk widened into a full-blown grin as he leaned across the seat to throw open the passenger door. "Well, climb on in then. I can take you wherever you'd like to go," he offered, eyes glinting mischievously.

You didn't notice this, however. You weren't all that great at reading people due to your sheltered upbringing. You had gone to school, but it was a small one that you'd dropped out of at sixteen to try and take care of your mother.

You looked over at him, your eyes filled with hesitance as you nervously chewed your lip. You may have been a little naive, but you weren't completely stupid. You knew how unsafe it could be to catch a ride from a stranger. "That's awful kind of you, but... well, I don't think I should."

His demeanor didn't falter, an air of confidence surrounding him—like he was used to getting what he wanted, even if it took a little convincing. "I get it, darlin'," he nodded understandingly. "A pretty thing like you can't be too careful nowadays, but I promise you I ain't gonna hurt ya. Can't say the same for others, though."

Your eyes widened a bit at his words, and for the first time, you seemed to be able to look past your rose-colored glasses. You were a young woman walking alone in the middle of nowhere—an easy and vulnerable target to anyone that could have wanted to hurt you.

"Look, I ain't tryna scare ya," he said, seeming to notice the fear that his words had ignited within you. "But... well, there's a whole lotta bad people out here, sweetheart. I'd hate to go home and find that pretty face on the news or somethin'."

"Well, how do I know that you ain't some serial killer?" You asked, quirking an eyebrow. You stopped walking to face him fully, to which he abruptly stepped on the breaks.

"Serial killers don't usually offer their victim's rides now do they?" He grinned wolfishly, leaning back and draping his arm over the passenger's seat. "I reckon they usually take by force, but I s'pose I wouldn't know since I ain't one."

A frown tugged at your lips, your eyebrows furrowing in thought for a moment. "I guess you're right..." You didn't really know much about serial killers either if you were being honest. Well, not enough to know how they rounded up their victims anyway.

He grinned wider, as if he could tell that you were doubting yourself, and he found it amusing. "So, how 'bout it then? You gonna get in?"

"Promise you ain't gonna like kidnap me or somethin'?" You asked softly, apparently trusting that he would tell the truth.

His grin softened into a warm smile, and he chuckled lowly as he brought his free hand up to place over his chest. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

You nodded, seeming to accept this as an accurate description of his intentions or rather, lack thereof. You picked up your suitcase and put it into his truck bed, all the while he watched you intently, his gaze lingering on the tantalizing view of thigh that your dress provided.

You climbed into the passenger's seat, pulling the cowboy hat off your head and placing it on the dash before closing the door and buckling yourself in. You weren't really sure where this handsome stranger was going to take you, and that's when it dawned on you that you had gotten into his car without even knowing his name.

You looked over at him, finding him already staring intently at you. You offered a shy smile, your fingers playing with the hem of your dress as you softly told him your name.

"Pleasure to meet you," he said, his deep southern drawl causing your name to roll off his tongue with a warmth akin to the way the summer sun had heated your skin. He put the truck in gear, the engine purring as he continued down the desolate highway. "Name's Rafe," he introduced himself, his gaze darting to you.

"The pleasure's all mine Mr. Rafe," you said politely. The man was not that much older than you—maybe two or three years—and thus was probably nowhere near old enough to regard as Mr, but you were taught that it was respectful to do so.

He grinned at the title, his fingers flexing on the steering wheel. "Just Rafe's fine, darlin'," he insisted, casting you a sideways glance, his gaze lingering on your lips as you smiled shyly.

"Okay," you nodded, looking down at your lap as you fiddled with your dress. Rafe was awfully handsome, the hottest guy you'd ever seen by a longshot—not that that was a huge feat—and you found yourself extremely nervous with the fact that you were alone with him.

"So, what are you doin' out here all alone?" He asked, casting you a questioning glance as he took his eyes off the road briefly. "You didn't say earlier." His gaze fell to your lap, watching as your fingertips brushed the edge of your dress repeatedly, the fabric having ridden up due to your sitting position and revealed even more of your soft looking thighs.

You shrugged in response, just as you had earlier. You didn't really know how to explain your situation, and you hardly wanted to trauma dump on someone you barely knew, especially when you'd be in such close quarters for God knows how long. "I'm just... travelin'."

"Travelin'?" He echoed curiously, quirking an eyebrow. His grip tightened on the steering wheel as his gaze dropped to your thighs once more, the fabric of your dress inching up even more as you absentmindedly fiddled with it. He knew he shouldve been focused on the road and not his pretty passenger, but you were making it hard—in more ways than one. "What's got you on the road by yourself?"

"It's a long story," you mumbled, looking up and casting your gaze out the window, watching the scenery blur by as he did 80 on the interstate.

He hummed, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel rhythmically as he looked back at the road. "You runnin' from somethin', sugar?" He asked curiously, your evasive nature leading him to believe that there was more to the story.

You rubbed your sweaty palms on your dress, something your father would have scolded for being unladylike. Your gaze darted to the cowboy hat on the dash as you spoke. "More like runnin' toward somethin'."

"Toward?" He asked curiously. "So, where you headed then?" He prompted, his fingers stilling their movements as he looked over at you again, trying to read your expression.

A smile pulled at your lips as you turned to him, your eyes locking for a moment. "It's more of a... metaphorical somethin'."

His eyebrows raised, intrigued by your cryptic response. Everything about you seemed to intrigue him. You were one big mystery wrapped up in just about the prettiest package he'd ever seen. "Metaphorical, huh?"

"Yknow, you got this tendency to just repeat what I say back to me in question form," you grinned, your tone slightly teasing as you settled more comfortably into conversation with the man. You examined his side profile carefully as he turned back to the road.

"And you got a tendency to talk in circles," he replied with a grin of his own, his eyes flicking back to you briefly before returning to the road. He liked looking at you, even if for a brief moment.

You thought for a moment, deciding that perhaps Rafe deserved a bit of an explanation, given that he was nice enough to give you a ride and all. "I ain't going nowhere specific," you shrugged, your eyes finding the cowboy hat again. "Just... looking for somethin' bigger, somethin' better, I s'pose."

"Bigger and better than what?" He prompted, casting another sideways glance at you. His gaze lingered on the way your lips parted as you spoke, feeling himself twitch in his jeans. He was a man that liked understanding things. He didn't like being on the outside looking in. He wanted to know everything. He was curious; it was in his nature.

"The life I had before," you said, your tone growing solemn, gaze never wavering from the worn cowboy hat as memories flashed before you.

He noted your shift in demeanor and the way you were staring at the hat like you were willing it to turn into something. "What's the deal with that?" He asked, feeling like he needed to know.

"It was my daddy's old hat," you smiled reverently. "He um- he died a couple years back," you explained, clearing your throat and tearing your gaze away to look out the window.

"I'm sorry, sugar," he said sympathetically. He wasn't the best at comforting people, but he wanted to try. He took one hand off the wheel, placing it atop one of yours on your lap, and as much as it was not the time, he couldn't help the way his dick hardened further at the feeling of your soft skin under his rough, calloused hand.

"'s fine," you felt your cheeks warm at the feeling of his large, warm hand on yours. Despite yourself and the topic of conversation, butterflies erupted in your stomach.

He left his hand there, feeling a bit like he was taking advantage of the situation but unable to pull himself away. He liked the way your lips parted and your eyes widened ever so slightly when he touched you. "So you're both runnin' toward and away from somethin' then?"

"Yeah, I s'pose," you nodded. He reluctantly pulled his hand back to the steering wheel, readjusting himself in his seat to find a more comfortable position for his hard-on. You found yourself missing his touch, his skin leaving a lingering sensation on yours.

He was hyper-aware of every little movement and sound you made. The way you shifted in your seat, the little hitch in your breath, the way your thighs pressed together. He swallowed thickly, trying to focus on the road, his jaw clenching as he tried to get a handle on his body's reaction to you.

"So, what about you?" You prompted, glancing over at him. You had told him a bit about yourself and thought it only fair you got some information in return.

"Me?" He asked, his voice a bit gruff. He cleared his throat, trying not to let his gaze wander to the way your dress's neckline dipped, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of your chest. "Well, I'm headin' home. I've been away for a couple months, workin' on a ranch up north." He said, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel as he continued to drive.

You hummed in acknowledgement. "Did you like it?" You asked awkwardly, not really knowing what else to say. You weren't awfully good at carrying conversations.

"It was alright. Good money, good people, but it ain't home." He said with a small shrug. "'Sides, I got a lot of responsibilities back home. Family 'n all that. Couldn't stay away forever."

You nodded, listening to him explain. You were a little intrigued. You'd never been anywhere outside your home town. You yearned to travel, to see what the world—or at very least the country—had to offer beyond small town gossip and local church services.

He glanced at you, wondering what was going on inside that pretty little head of yours. He wanted to know more about you, wanted to know everything. He wanted to know what you were planning to do now, why you'd actually run from home, what you tasted like, how you'd sound moaning his name, how tight you'd be wrapped around him.

You pondered your next steps during this beat of comfortable silence. You were starving, so food seemed like it needed to be the first stop on this little roadtrip of yours. Then, you figured you'd find a bus stop and hop on the first bus outta town, letting fate decide where to take you.

As you sat there lost in thought, he was watching you intently between bouts of watching the road. He noticed the way your gaze would occasionally drift out the window, the way your hands would fidget with the hem of your dress, the way your lips would purse slightly as you seemed to be debating something in your head.

"You can just drop me at the next town," you finally spoke up, turning to look back at him as you seemed to have made up your mind. A semblance of a plan was better than no plan at all. Besides, what would this new life be without a little of the unknown. You had no idea when you left that morning that you'd run into a handsome cowboy, and that had turned out to be incredibly thrilling for you.

He frowned at the prospect of you leaving him so soon. You'd only just met, but he found himself wanting to spend more time with you. "The next town?" He repeated, echoing your words back to you again like he'd done before. "And, what's the plan when you get there, huh, sweetheart?"

"Gonna catch a bus," you shrugged noncommittally. "Go wherever the wind takes me."

He let out a short, humorless laugh, clearly expressing his disproval for your so-called plan. "You ain't never been nowhere before, have you?" He asked, already knowing the answer. You seemed so innocent, so naive. He couldn't just let you wander off alone, could he?

"Well... no," a small frown tugged at your lips. "But that's kinda the whole point of goin' where the wind takes me," you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

He shook his head, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. "That's a fool-proof way to end up in some real trouble, you know. A pretty little thing like yourself, wanderin' 'round alone. You could end up anywhere, with anyone."

"Well, thus far, I've ended up here, with you," you pointed out with a small smile. "So, I'd say my plan is workin' pretty well so far."

"That's only 'cause I'm a gentleman," he said, his eyes flicking briefly to yours. You couldn't help but wonder what if he wasn't such a gentleman. You weren't completely naive. You knew about sex and had always wondered what it was like, and now, with this incredibly sexy man before you, you found your thoughts particularly impure.

He watched the way your tongue flicked out to wet your lips, the way your breathing picked up ever so slightly. He could practically see the wheels turning in that head of yours. "What're you thinkin' 'bout, sugar?"

"Oh, um, nothin'," you said softly, your body heating up as his voice, so low and husky—definitely not helping your situation—tore you from your thoughts.

"Nothin', huh?" He drawled, not believing you for a second. He had been with enough women to know that look on your face, and he was pretty sure he had a good idea of where your thoughts were headed.

You bit your lip nervously. You knew he had at least some attraction to you because you had eyes. You could see the bulge in his jeans but had done everything you could to resist staring at it, despite the growing urge to reach out and touch it. You wanted to see him, feel him, maybe even taste him, but you were completely out of your depth here.

"You're thinkin' 'bout somethin' that's makin' you bite your lip and press them pretty little thighs together," he said, his voice low and sultry. "So, why don't you just tell me what it is, hmm?"

You looked over at him, your eyes widened a bit at his forward words, also at the fact that he had noticed. Though, it wasn't exactly like you were being discrete. "Wh- I- well, it's not very ladylike," you replied sheepishly.

"Sugar, there ain't nothin' ladylike 'bout the way I'm feelin' right now either," he said, his hand moving from the steering wheel to rest high up on your thigh.

You couldn't help but laugh at his choice of words, looking up at him through your lashes as you tried to find the words. "I don't know how to um- say it." You said, your heart beating nervously in your chest at a speed that doctors would probably find concerning.

"Then show me," he encouraged, his hand slowly inching higher up on your thigh. "You can do that, can't you? Show me what you were thinkin' about?"

You hesitated before nodding. You couldn't believe you were about to give a man you'd just met head for the first time in your life, but your body was moving quicker than your brain, unbuckling your seatbelt. You pulled your legs onto the seat underneath you, kneeling on the worn leather with your body facing him. You looked at him for confirmation before you made another move.

"Atta girl," he praised, his voice husky with desire. His hand moved to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair encouragingly. "Go on, sugar. Show me what that pretty mouth can do." He shifted in his seat, spreading his legs wider to give you better access.

The lack of center console in the old truck was a blessing as your fingers fumbled with his belt. You were already nervous, and you knew you didn't have to tell him that you'd never done this before because it was written all over your face.

He watched with an amused smirk as you struggled with his belt for a moment. He found your inexperience endearing. After a beat, you finally managed to undo his belt, your shaky hands moving to his jeans, popping the button and unzipping them with much more ease.

"That's it, baby. You're doin' just fine," he encouraged, his voice strained with barely contained desire. His hips lifted slightly to help you tug his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his hard cock, the tip flushed and glistening with precum. You took in a sharp breath, your eyes widening a little. You'd seen one before but never in person and never quite that big.

"Wrap your hand around it, sugar," he instructed, his voice low and commanding. His hand tightened in your hair as you wrapped your hand around the base tentatively. "Just like that. Now, stroke it. Nice and slow." You followed his directions, slowly running your hand up and down his hard length, coaxing a low groan from his throat as his hips jumped just a little at the feeling of your soft hand on him.

"Fuck, that feels good," he groaned, his head falling back against the headrest and his grip on the wheel tightening. "Now, put that pretty mouth on me." You wrapped your lips around his hot tip, sucking gently and coaxing his precum onto your tongue.

"Mmmm... That's it, sugar. Just like that," he praised, trying to keep his eyes on the road and the truck in the correct lane. His hand guided your head, his hips gently bucking forward as he slowly pushed himself deeper into your mouth. "You're doin' so good, baby."

Your fingers flexed around the base of his cock, your grip tightening ever so slightly as yoy took more of him into your mouth, your brows furrowing in concentration while you did. "Relax your throat, baby. You can take more of me," he coached gently, his hand tightening in your hair. You did as he said, trying to relax and take more of him into your warm, wet mouth. "That's it, sugar."

The combined sounds of your heavy breathing mingled with the wet noises his cock was making as it slid in and out of your mouth. You gagged a little as the tip of his cock nudged your uvula, triggering your body's built-in safety feature against choking.

He felt you gag and knew he should have pulled you back, reassured you that you could go as slow as you needed to and that there was no need to rush, but shit, you felt so good and seemed so eager; he couldn't bring himself to stop you.

He kept pushing forward, his cock hitting the back of your throat, forcing you to swallow around him. He could feel your throat constricting around his length, and it was the most incredible feeling. You whimpered around him, your nails digging into his thighs and eyes watering, but still, you didn't pull away.

Your little whimper only spurred him on, sending a vibration through him that had him moaning, his grip on your hair bordering on painful. "You're taking it so well, baby," he praised, his voice strained with pleasure. "Shit, I'm so close."

Not long after, his hips jerked forward, and he held you in place, his cock buried in your throat as he came hard with a groan, his hot cum shooting down your throat in thick, salty streams. The unfamiliar taste clung to your tongue, even after you forced the warm liquid down your throat and pulled off of him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

He sat there for a moment, trying to catch his breath and calm his racing heart before he tucked himself back into his pants with one hand, his other keeping the truck steady. "You did so good, sugar. Real good." He murmured, his voice still husky from his orgasm.

You felt a wave of satisfaction roll over you at his praise, but you didn't know exactly what to do from here. Your plans hadn't changed just because you decided to expand your sexual horizons in the front seat of a barely-stranger's truck. Though, it felt a little awkward still asking him to let out you out at the nearest town after what you'd just done.

"We'll be comin' up to the next town soon," he said, as if reading your mind. "How 'bout you let me take you out for a bite to eat, and afterwards, if you still want me to drop you at the bus station, I'll oblige," he proposed, willing to do anything to spend more time with you.

You smiled, nodding. That seemed like a perfectly reasonable request to you. Besides, you had already planned on stopping for food before heading to the bus station anyway. "Okay, that sounds nice," you agreed softly, buckling yourself back in because safety first.

"I know a real good diner in town. They serve the best burgers and milkshakes this side of the Mississippi," he said with a grin, placing his hand back on your thigh, his thumb brushing back and forth across your skin. Your smile widened, stomach doing flips at his touch, and you found yourself thinking that maybe your adventure could wait just a little while if it meant spending more time in the handsome cowboy's presence.

tags .ᐟ @starkeysprincess / @cometmultiverse / @iheartjjmaybnk / @all4l0vee /

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katiebblynne · 5 months ago

Text

✨Closer Company✨

SDV Sam Smut

a/n: this is my first fanfiction ever, so I’m sorry if it’s whack lol~

pairing: Sam X Fem!Reader

MDNI WARNINGS: smut, oral, praise, bondage, p n v sex

wc: 7144

Sam has been coming to the farmhouse often lately as two have gotten closer, but you don’t mind the company.

You hear your best friend humming in the shower as you fold your laundry across the hall. You and Sam have gotten pretty close in these past few months, and he’s been more apt to make himself comfortable at your farmhouse. You think back to the first weekend he stayed over two months ago. ‘It’s a good break to not be at home with my Mom all the time… I hope this is cool with you, y/n..’. You smile to yourself as you tend to your laundry. He still goes home, but the trips back are starting to become fewer and far between. As you continue your chore, you find bits of his clothing tossed in with yours. You chuckle softly.

You like his company. Sam is unlike anyone you’ve met before. He’s bright and warm, like sunshine in the midst of Spring. His laugh has become intoxicating lately – sometimes you even hear it when he’s not around. Your mind begins to fill with thoughts of sitting with him in your living room, playing games or watching movies all evening… sharing laughs and stories together. He even helps tend to your farm on mornings when he stays overnight on your couch. Your smile spreads a bit more, your arms absentmindedly going through the motions as you drift off. The squeak of the shower handle catches your attention, and suddenly your wholesome thoughts of Sam turn a bit darker for a moment, involuntarily imagining him stepping out of your shower, water dripping down his bare skin. Your hands stop moving and you stare blankly at the top of the dryer in front of you. A new, warm, almost strange feeling spreads across your chest… and drifts in between your legs for a split second.

You catch Sam walking past you in the hallway out of the corner of your eye, breaking your not so innocent train of thought. He strides carefree down the hall toward your bedroom still humming a light tune. You peek out of the laundry room subtly, catching a glimpse of his toned, damp back as he walks, nothing but a white towel draped around his angular hip bones. His low, raspy hum fills the wooden walls he strolls down, following behind him as he goes into your bedroom and closes the door to get dressed.

Your curious eyes settle on the closed door, and your cheeks fill up with air as you wisp out a calming breath. You shake your head, partly at the token casual nature he carries in your home, partly to tame the growing desire you have to go and see more. You duck back into the laundry room, finishing up what you’re doing to silence your suddenly intrusive brain.

As you place the last folded shirt down in its pile, you jump at the sound of Sam’s voice. “Your shower has really good water pressure.” You look over to see him resting against the door frame, wearing a loose band tee and sweatpants, a friendly smile on his face. His still wet hair settles against the sides of his neck, water forming to create damp circles on the collar of his shirt. You nod and smile casually, as if you weren’t just thinking of him in a less innocent light a minute ago. “Yeah, I just changed it out to a better showerhead a couple weeks ago.” You pick up a small separate stack of laundry that belongs to Sam, handing to him with a playful smirk. “Getting pretty cozy here lately, huh?”

He chuckles genially, taking the clothes from you. “I hope that’s alright… my bad for leaving these clothes in your hamper, heheh…”. You shake your head and smile softly. “I don’t mind, it’s nice having you around.” You take your personal stack of clothes and walk past him, going to your bedroom. He follows behind you in an almost puppylike manner. He comes in and sets his newly washed clothing next to his bag, plopping onto a beanbag on your floor. You start to put yours away, bending down slightly to organize some into the bottom drawer. Sam tilts his head slightly, his gaze lingering on your butt and thighs.

You can almost feel his gaze burning into your backside, and slowly turn your head over your shoulder with a mock accusatory expression. He quickly looks up at the ceiling and taps his fingers. You both share a giggle. You mutter in a teasing manner as you turn back around, “Wow… getting really cozy here.” He laughs and throws his hands up in a little surrender, “Sorry, sorry. My bad. I’m only human.”

You stand back up and finish putting your things away into your dresser. You go over and sit on your bed, looking at him stretched out on your beanbag. He meets your gaze with a casual, friendly look, his voice coming out brightly, “So, any plans tonight?”

You pull your legs up into a crisscross, laying your arms on your knees. “Nope, you?”

“You already know I don’t.” He looks at you cutely, waiting for the prompted invitation for him to stay over once again. You laugh warmly, “Why do you even make me ask you to stay when we both know you're going to anyway?” He joins your laugh, putting his arms behind his head. “I like to give you the option so you don’t think I’m a little urchin.” You both continue to laugh, an inviting atmosphere filling the room. You fall over to your side and place your head in your hand, looking over him and sighing to cease your laughter. You speak sincerely, a gentle tone taking place in your throat. “You can stay here as often as you like Sam. I really don’t mind the company, ya know?”.

You see Sam’s informal body language stiffen slightly at your kind words, a slight blush coming over his cheeks. He responds, his voice a bit small in appreciation, “Thanks, y/n. I really like being here… obviously.” He ends with a chuckle to disperse the suddenly genuine energy to something more lighthearted. You smile and a tingle flutters in your heart for a moment. This is a different feeling than you’ve had so far with Sam, but you… don’t push it away.

Sam smiles and pulls out his phone, starting to scroll through it. This happens often — you two just sitting together, silently enjoying each other's company as you do your own things. You get up from your bed and go over to your computer at a desk settled next to your dresser. You turn on some music and make your way back to your mattress, breathing in the comfortable air around you. You lay on your back and your head falls to the side, looking at Sam again. His hair is still damp, and the way his messy blond locks fall around his face make your insides stir a little for some reason. You speak up, prompting him to look away from his phone and up to you. “Do you not brush your hair after you shower?”

He grabs a piece of his hair, pondering your question. He shakes his head and shrugs. “Nah, I kind of just let it do its thing, I guess.” You tilt your head a bit, slowly getting up from your bed and pulling your desk chair behind the beanbag he resides on. You grab your brush from your nightstand and leisurely start brushing out his hair for him, starting at the bottom and gently working through the tangles. You can’t see his reaction, but you see his shoulders tense up slightly at your touch. He slowly puts his phone down on the floor and rests his hands together over his lap.

“Is this alright?” You ask, ceasing for a moment to make sure he’s okay with your somewhat affectionate gesture. He nods a bit, clearing his throat a little. “Yeah, that’s… nice.”. You smile and continue. As you make your way through his hair, your mind starts drifting back to the intimate thoughts you had in the laundry room while he was showering earlier. You stifle a moan in your throat and pretend to cough lightly to hide it.

You brush his hair for a while and end up resting your arms on his shoulders lightly as you do so. You notice Sam adjusting himself in his seat, his hands moving ever so much to cover his crotch. Your eyes widen a little, and that funny feeling comes back between your thighs. Something… almost hunger-like… creeps up the back of your neck, and you lean in slightly, letting your breath travel to the back of Sam’s ear. You put your brush down, switching to your fingers to comb through his hair. You can feel him shiver a bit. Your voice comes out, soft and a bit sultry, “Are you enjoying yourself, Sam?”

Sam lets out a small breath and nods, starting to fidget with his thumbs a bit. You smile and slowly wrap your arms around the front of his shoulders, your chin resting near his neck. He tenses up, his knuckles turning white as he interlocks his fingers together. You continue, your voice dancing across the skin of his cheek, “Be honest with me, Sam… out of all these nights you’ve been staying here, have you ever thought about me…” You pause for a moment, your voice lowering even more, “... in a way you shouldn’t?”

You feel Sam’s throat catch a gasp, and it sends pulses to your tummy. You whisper again. “You have, haven’t you?” Sam is silent for a moment, the sunset slipping through your window and casting both of your shadows on the wall opposite of you. Sam’s breath comes out shaky and small.

“...I have.”

A heat engulfs you at his answer. You smile and lean into his ear, your voice sending bolts of want down his spine. “Move your hands.”

Sam slowly moves his hands to his side, showing you the growing arousal he has been covering up in his pants. Both of your breathing hastens a bit. You lean away from him and start combing his hair again tenderly with your fingertips. He starts to speak shyly, “Uh, y/n… –”

“Touch yourself.”

Sam’s eyes shoot open as you cut him off, your request bold and unexpected. He turns around to face you slightly. “W-what?” he asks, his voice breathy, but laced with a bit of undeniable lust. You chuckle and grab his shoulders to lead him back to the way he was facing, pulling your chair up so he can relax into your thighs a bit. You whisper, a sense of plead behind your otherwise dominant tone, “You want to relieve yourself while I play with your hair, right?” you ask, your voice trailing down his neck. “Go ahead, I don’t mind. I want to see what you look like.” You lean back and continue running your fingers through Sam’s hair.

Sam shakes under your touch, his arousal building almost to the point of pain. He nods and hitches his fingers on the hem of his pants, pausing for a moment to take a small breath. He pulls down his pants just enough to let his fully erect, throbbing dick spring out. Your fingers drift gently along his scalp, a light gasp leaving your lips at the sight.

“Oh wow… such a pretty cock.”

Sam almost chokes on his breath at your flattering comment, his cock twitching in excitement. He can’t resist the urge to start stroking himself right in front of you. “Ah.. y/n…”. You watch him, an intense burning spreading from your thighs up to your stomach, and settling on your face. You watch as he strokes himself for you, biting your lip as you carry on massaging his head. You moan lightly in his ear.

Sam’s cock throbs in his hands, his hips moving instinctively as he pumps himself faster. Pre-cum leaks from his tip. He tilts his head back, exposing some of his neck to you as he moans softly, his body trembling with desire. You look at his neck and gently kiss it.

He jolts at the feeling of your lips on him, a soft gasp escaping him as he leans into your kiss. His cock is rock hard in his hand, and he can feel himself already getting closer to release. He whimpers gently, his hips bucking upwards more insistently. You stop touching his hair and wrap your arms around his shoulders again, your voice soft and sultry, “Sam, do you want me to watch you cum?” You reach your hand forward down his chest. “Or do you want me to help?”

His head melts back into your shoulder at your offer. He looks at you out of the corner of his eye, a look of pleading desire locked in his pupils. “Please… y/n… help me.” He pants, almost begging for release.

You smile and nod seductively, your hand traveling down his torso. Your hand reaches his cock and you run your fingers along his tip, gathering his pre-cum. You take your fingers to your mouth to taste him. “Mmm… delicious,” you whisper. He watches you, transfixed as you lick his pre off your fingertips. He whimpers for you, “Fuck… please… touch me.”

You reach forward and wrap your hand around him, stroking softly. Your other arm tightens around his shoulders, holding him in place against your chest. Sam throws his head back against your collarbone, his dick twitching at your touch. He gasps and moans, his body trembling with pleasure. “Yes, just like that… harder…” he pants, his hips moving in time with your strokes. You jerk him harder and a bit faster, placing loving kisses on his neck.

Sam cries out in pleasure, his body tensing as he feels himself approaching climax. The combination of your skilled hand on his dick and your gentle kisses is too much for him to handle. “Y/n… I’m gonna…!” He warns, his voice strained with ecstasy. You jerk even faster and bite down on his neck, your tongue lapping at his skin. The sudden bite sends Sam over the edge, his orgasm hitting him like a freight train. He arches his back, his cock pulsing in your hand as he cums, ropes of hot semen shooting out and coating your fingers and the slightly exposed skin of his hips and thighs. “Mmmmm… fuckkk…” he pants as he rides out his release.

You let him go slowly after he finishes, admiring his cum on your fingers. You sliver out of the desk chair and come to the side of him on the floor as he catches his breath in the beanbag. You let him watch you lick his cum off your hand. Sam studies you in awe – he can’t believe the sight… his messy, sticky cum being devoured by your tongue. His member twitches at the show and he groans, unable to help himself. After you clean off your hand, you lean forward and lick the rest off his hips and thighs.

He shivers as your tongue touches his skin, licking up the last remnants of his release. He lets out a low moan, his cock starting to harden again at the sensation. “T-that’s so hot…” You take up every last drop, even leaning over to lick off his tip. He gasps, the cool of your saliva a stark contrast to the heat of his arousal. You look over to him and swallow it all, opening your mouth afterward to show him it's all gone. He tilts his head in pleasure, his face contorting into a supplicating want. He begs, his voice ragged and husky, “Please, y/n… suck me…”

You can’t help but chuckle at his request. You look at him with a tease across your face. “But you just came – aren’t you sensitive?” Your voice is low and sultry, with a touch of playfulness. Sam nods eagerly, his dick still hard despite just having cum. He’s sensitive, but he doesn’t care – he just wants more, needs it. “Yeah… but it just makes it even better…” he says, giving a small whimper at the thought of you touching him again. You shrug and chuckle slightly, “If you say so…” You crawl in between his legs and make eye contact as you take him into your mouth deliberately. Sam can’t help but moan loudly as he feels your mouth engulf his sensitive flesh. He watches you, eyes heavy-lidded as you start to move, your tongue swirling around his shaft. “F-fuck… yes…” You bob your head up and down gingerly, savoring every inch of him. You moan.

Sam’s hips jerk up, unable to help himself as your moan vibrates through his stiff cock. Fuck, it feels so good. He can feel another release building up again, in defiance of just having done so. “Shit, y/n… you’re gonna make me cum again already.” You look up at him and a dirty thought crosses your mind, wanting to make him feel even better before he reaches his edge again. You take your mouth off of him and replace it with your hand, pumping sweetly. Your mouth travels down, and your tongue meanders up his balls at a painstakingly slow pace. Sam groans, his thighs quivering as you lick. The cool air on his aching cock makes him shudder and he looks down at you, his eyes dark with lust. “Please, suck them… lick them more…” he begs, his voice rough with need.

You gently suck them into your mouth, jerking his member with your hand as you do so. Sam throws his head back, a loud groan escaping his lips as you draw his reactive sack into your mouth. This, in combination with your hand working his cock is too much for him. “Fuck!” he gasps, “I’m…” he warns. You leave his balls with a lewd pop and take his dick in your mouth fully, cupping his testicles with your free hand.

Sam can’t hold it in anymore. He cums hard in your mouth, his eyes rolling back as his hips buck up uncontrollably. He groans desperately as he empties himself, his whole body trembling with pleasure. You take every drop into your mouth and lean back on your legs. You swallow every bit of it once more. Sam watches, panting as you take down all of his cum. He looks satisfied, but still horny. His dick softens a little, but he knows it won’t be long until he's ready for more. “You’re… so good at that…”

You finish swallowing and smile cutely at him. He stares in wonderment, breaking out into a smile. He’s never seen anything so hot, and that sweet little smile of yours makes him only want you more. “I can’t handle this… come here, y/n.” You chuckle and climb into his arms, your chest leaning against his, his dick resting against your clothed stomach. “What, Sam?” You ask with a loving gaze.

Sam wraps his arms around you, pulling you tight against his chest. He can feel the curves of your body weighing on him, and he starts to get excited again. “Kiss me. I need to taste myself on your lips.” You lean in and kiss him gently. He moves his lips against yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth to explore it. You moan softly at the new contact. His hands slide up and down your sides and back, his touch growing more yearning as you continue kissing. He groans, grinding his hips tenderly against you. You feel him getting hard again, breaking the kiss to look down between you. You say, half shocked and half flattered, “I cannot believe you’re already hard again after just coming twice in a row.” He looks down, following your gaze. He smirks, looking back up at you shyly. “What can I say? This is…” His voice gets shaky and serious, a blush forming on his cheeks. “...I’ve wanted this for a while now, y/n.”

Your heart tightens as he confesses this to you, a longing taking over your eyes. “Me too, Sam.” You see his eyes light up as he sits up a bit straighter. “Really? Like for real?” You laugh at his excitement, and nod your head slowly and lovingly. He leans in and catches you in a passionate, deep kiss. His hands travel up your back and tangle in your hair, a moan coming from his throat, vibrating through you. You part from him breathlessly, a devious smile forming on your face. “Well, I’ll let you fuck me tonight then, if that’s what you’d want…?” You offer playfully, your body filled to the brim with a mixture of exciting new emotions.

Sam’s eyes widen at your words and he swallows hard. He nods, his hand starting to stroke his cock. “Y-yeah, I want that. I want you so bad.” He leans in to touch you, but you stand up and walk away, stopping to turn around a few feet in front of him. You look at him seductively, naughtily. He smiles curiously and leans back into the beanbag, stroking himself almost absentmindedly.

Your fingers float to the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head sexily. He freezes, completely taken in by what you’re doing for him. You toss your shirt aside, your arms going behind you to unclasp your bra. It falls to the ground, your tits dropping lower on your chest beautifully. The near-completely set sun struggles to cling in your window, it’s light tickling across your skin. Sam’s eyes wander over your chest and torso, his hands balling to fists in his lap.

You hitch your fingers into your shorts and turn around as you pull them down, bending over so they have to fight to slip past your ass. You hear Sam groan lightly and look over your shoulder to smile at him, mocking innocence on your face. His head slumps to a tilt, a yearning overtaking his eyes. You let the shorts fall, pulling at the elastic of your panties while still bending over. You look at Sam questioningly, teasing him. He nods eagerly – almost anguished. You smile and sigh, tantalizing him for a moment before taking your panties down. The thin fabric clings to your wet pussy for a second before letting go, landing on the shorts pooled around your ankles. A string of your arousal follows the fabric down, releasing against your thigh. Sam rubs his face in desire, leaning forward and putting his hands together between his lap as he sighs, tortured in need to touch you. “Dear fucking god, y/n. You’re driving me crazy right now. Look at you.”

You can’t help but giggle at his adoration of your body. You stand up and face him, holding your hands behind your back sweetly. “What would you like to do next then, my Sammy?” Sam looks up at you, his mouth falling open at your words. He swallows, trying to speak without losing his mind. “I want to taste you��”

“Taste me?” You ask, egging him on more. Sam huffs and stands up, walking in front of you. Desire fully possesses him as he takes your face into his hands. “I want to eat your pussy until you cum all over my face. Now.” His vibrant plea to eat you out makes your mouth water. You smile and whisper seductively, “Good choice.” You walk to the side of your bed and pat the mattress for him to come lie down. He nods, quickly stripping all of his clothes, stammering. He practically runs to the bed. He lays on his back, looking up at you with a hungry expression across his face.

You get on the bed, swinging your legs over his shoulders to kneel over his face. You keep a distance between the both of you for a moment, looking down at his flushed cheeks. His mouth is open faintly, his tongue eager to find you. “You want me to ride your face, lovely?” Sam nods eagerly, his hand reaching up to grip the sides of your thighs as he looks up at you. “Yes, please… sit on my face. I need to taste you so bad, y/n.” He starts to lick his lips, locking his gaze to your glistening pussy.

You lower yourself down, making sure not to put too much pressure on his head. “Eat up, handsome.”

Sam moans as soon as he feels your flesh against his lips, his tongue darting out to lick at your clit. He starts to eat you out enthusiastically, sucking and lapping at your pussy while his hand grip tightly on your thighs. You bite your lip and look down at him half-lidded, your hips beginning to grind on him. Sam moans louder as you start to move against his tongue, delving deeper into your folds. He moves his hands to your ass, gripping it and pulling you down onto his face more firmly. “Mmmm..” He praises from under you.

“Oh, you like me sitting on your face like this, Sam?” You ask, your voice light and ragged from the pleasure. He nods happily, his face buried between your legs. His tongue works harder around your clit, his hands roaming and squeezing as he pleases. He can’t get enough of the taste of your pussy. He breaks his ministrations for just a moment to breathe out, “Yes, so damn much…”. Your hips buck against his mouth more, juices from your cunt dripping onto his chin. Moans leave your mouth like a song.

Sam groans hard at the sounds you’re making, the vibrations sending sparks through your body. He slurps your clit into his mouth, then starts flicking his tongue against it more rapidly. He loves the taste of your essence, eating you like it’s his last meal. Your hands run up your body, squeezing your tits hard. You ride his tongue even harder than before. “Ahhh…mmmm…!” Sam watches lustfully as you touch yourself and use his tongue without restriction. He feels his cock twitch, wanting nothing more than to fuck you right now. But he knows better than to stop pleasing you.

You close your eyes tightly as you start to cum. Sam sees this, lapping at you relentlessly. “Fuck… Sam, I’m gonna – !!” Your legs start to shake and he holds you in place. You whimper loudly and cum, squirting on his mouth and chin a bit. He moans in rapture as he feels you coat his face, his tongue still buried deeply in your pussy. He drinks down every last drop of you, feeling his cock throb with need. He gently pulls back, a string of saliva connecting his lips to your swollen flesh. You weakly swing your leg off of him, letting him sit up. You lay on your side, panting. “Oh my god… good boy. Good boy.”

Sam grins, feeling pleased with himself as he watches you catch your breath. “You taste fucking amazing.” He states, licking his lips and wiping his chin. You softly laugh and sit up, catching his eyes in yours. You smile, still trembling a bit. “What next, Sammy? I want you to have some fun.”

Sam smirks, happiness and lust flooding his eyes as he looks back at you. “Rest assured, I’ve already had enough fun to last a lifetime tonight… but I would love to fuck you now.” You smile in response, bringing yourself to your knees on the bed. You both lean in and kiss each other, taking a moment to appreciate what the night has turned into. You break the kiss and ask, “How do you want me?” He is quick to climb behind you, tapping your hips as a gesture for you to let him bring his legs to either side of you. He asks you sweetly and lovingly, “Would you want to ride me to start?” You can hear the utter excitement in his voice. You chuckle and nod, straddling his thighs while facing away from him. “Like this?”

He lets a breath out at the sight of you positioning yourself over his cock, his hand relaxed against your ass. “God yes… I want to see your ass jiggle while you take me.” You look over your shoulder at him and wiggle your ass a shade, teasing him, “You want my pussy, handsome? Tell me.” Sam licks his lips hungrily, gripping your ass cheek greedily. “Holy shit, yes. I want it so bad, it’s all I can think about… Please.”

Satisfied with his response, you smile and plunge yourself on his hard length – your ass jiggling as you slam down against him. You let out a strained moan and take a moment to adjust to his size. Sam moans ferally, his fingers digging into your hips as he feels you sink down onto his dick. He arches up into you, thrusting to meet your core while you take him in inch by inch. “Oh my god…” he urgently praises from behind you, “...you feel so good, pretty girl. Please keep going.” You put your hands on his thighs to steady yourself and start riding him thoroughly, your ass twerking as you bounce on his cock. Sam’s eyes go wide while he watches your beautiful, full backside shake for him. Lust and need take over his body. He reaches up and grabs your hips, lifting you up and slamming you back down on his length with force. He matches your rhythm as he thrusts up into you. The room fills with both of your sounds, drowning out the music still playing from your computer.

You moan and laugh in pleasure, riding him harder. Your wetness drips down his cock with each ram. “Oh fuck, you like this tight little pussy?” Sam pants and groans, his fingers melting into your hips as he fucks you with even more vigor. He gasps for breath, looking up at you with craving eyes. “God yes… I love it. You feel so good on my cock… oh god, don’t stop baby girl.”

You keep up an impressive pace, despite your thighs starting to burn and your insides becoming undone. Your toes curl next to his hips. Sam’s breathing becomes ragged, his thrusts turning more frantic as he feels himself getting closer to orgasm. He groans and grunts, sweat dripping down his forehead as he watches your body move on top of his. You lean back against his chest, fully sitting on his cock, continuing your bouncing. He wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close as he unfalteringly thrusts into you. He buries his face in your neck, nipping and sucking at your skin as he loses himself in the sensations. “Shit, I’m close…”

Your head falls back onto his shoulder, wheezing at the intensity of your moment together. “Yeah, cum in this tight little cunt, Sammy. I know you want to.” You say, your voice sultry and weak. Sam’s hips buck wildly as he feels his climax approaching, your words sending him over the edge. With a hoarse cry, he jerks up into you one final time and erupts inside of you, his cum filling up your pussy as he rides out his orgasm. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…!”

You gasp at the sensation, your legs quivering as you sit on his dick. You shake and collapse onto his front. “Oh god, good boy… so good for me.” You and Sam pant heavily, his hands running up and down your sides while he comes down from his high – still buried deep inside of you. He nuzzles his face into your neck, kissing and licking at your skin with a satisfied grin. “You look so pretty when you’re full of my cum.” You blush and laugh at his indelicate comment, nudging him in the stomach with your elbow softly. “Jesus, Sam!” He laughs along with you. “What? It’s true!” You both catch a small fit of giggles, your minds reeling at the realization of everything that just happened between you two. You slide off of him and lay by his side, staring up to the ceiling. It’s nice that the comfort sticks around, even after doing something like this together. It becomes quiet, the music coming from the computer filling the silence.

Sam rolls to his side and props his head up onto his hand. He reaches out to gently trace your arm, a soft smile on his face. You turn your head to face him, matching his warmth with your eyes. Sam’s voice trickles off of his lips, approaching his next sentence delicately. “Y/n, I… don’t want this to be just a one night thing.” He looks at you tenderly, his fingers halting to hold your arm. “I-I don’t know why this happened tonight, but I’ve wanted it for so long and I just, I dunno… I want it to be something real.”

You don’t give Sam a moment to overthink, your words coming to reassure him without hesitation. “I want that too, Sam.” You look at him deeply, wanting your sincerity to strike him as much as it can. Sam’s eyes stutter as he registers your reply, his expression melting into unmistakable joy… and love. You giggle sweetly and lean in to kiss the tip of his nose. “You think I would let you stay over here so damn much if I didn’t want to be with you?” You both share a laugh once again, him capturing your lips in a heartfelt kiss. He pulls away and takes in the sight of you, your essence, your warmth… you. A spark of everything shoots through his chest, and he is perfectly happy. As are you.

You two lay together for a while, naked, just listening to the steady flow of music that seeps into the walls of the room. You finally sit up and stretch, your body still on full display for Sam. He feels a heat build back up in him, fueled further by his addressed and established love for you. You glance over to him, seeing that an arousal is building up between his legs once again. You fall into his arms, your chest embracing his. You say, with a mischievous tone, “So, do you wanna be in control next time? I’m aching to submit to you.”

Sam’s jaw nearly drops at your forwardness, his eyes lighting up with a hungry fervor. “Wait, really? Like I could… do whatever I want?” His voice is laced with thirst for you. You tilt your head sensually, your voice coming out smooth as silk. “What-ev-er. You. Want.”

Sam suddenly stands up, like he’s on a mission. He strides to your door, leaving and going toward your living room. You sit up confused, watching him as his determination spreads through the house. You hear him getting into the utility closet at the end of the hall, and your eyes widen at realization of what he’s thinking.

Sam steps in with a length of rope, remembering you had some extra in the closet from mending some fences together the other day. A blush overtakes your face and you look at him with a surprised, amused expression. He starts to laugh as if he knows exactly what you're about to say. “You perv! You’ve been thinking about using that on me since I put it in the closet days ago, haven’t you!” You both laugh boisterously, your playfulness filling the house. You settle and take a deep breath, some nerves spreading in your chest. “You really wanna tie me up, Sammy?”

He nods, a wide grin possessing his face while drive and desire possess his length. “If that’s okay with you?” He adds, hope clinging to his throat. You roll your eyes playfully and sigh, nodding and chuckling. “Yeah, get over here, you freak.”

He practically jumps at your words, sauntering over and gesturing for you to lay on your back. He delicately moves your hands above your head and starts tying them together with the middle of the rope. He slings both ends through the slits in between the wood of your headboard. You tilt your head up to watch where he’s going with this, his hands practically buzzing with excitement and arousal. He brings each end down to either side of you, lifting your legs out to your side and securing them in place. You can’t close your legs at all, your pussy exposed completely to him. He slips his fingers in between your skin and the rope to make sure it’s not too tight for you. “Are you comfortable? It doesn’t hurt does it?” He asks, before looking down at what he’s done, a scarlet red filling his face at the erotic sight. You smile, a bit vulnerable. “It feels good, just a bit… helpless, haha…” Sam swallows hard, and you can see the moment when uncontained ardor glazes his eyes. “You look so fucking hot like this, y/n.” You chuckle shyly, “I feel hot like this. I’m excited.”

Sam’s mouth waters, taking in your flushed skin where it meets the rope. He climbs onto the bed, crawling between your legs – his cock already dripping with pre-cum. “You have no idea how much I fucking want you right now.”

“Then show me.”

His eyes flash with a dark desire. He reaches down and puts pressure on the ropes, spreading your legs even further apart. He rubs the head of his dick against your slick entrance, teasing you. “Look how wet this is for me… I can’t wait to be inside of you again.” Your body squirms at the play, hardly being able to move because of the restraints. “F-fuck, Sam…”

Sam’s grin turns wicked at your restless movements. He pushes the head of his cock against your entrance again, applying pressure. “You want it so badly, don’t you? Beg for it, y/n.”

Your tone is pleading and desperate, “Please… please fuck me… fuck your pretty little girlfriend.”

Sam’s control snaps at your words, and he pushes himself inside of you in one swift thrust, making you cry out in pleasure. He starts to fuck you hard and fast – an almost punishing pace – each thrust causing the bed to creak beneath you. “Fuck… yes…” he growls. Your body tries to instinctively tense up, but the ropes hold you in place well. Your face flushes as you better understand how truly vulnerable you are under Sam’s touch right now. Sam grabs onto the ropes for leverage, spreading your legs open and pulling them further apart as he pounds deeper into you. “You’re taking me so well.” He groans, causing your eyes to flutter shut. “You’re loving this, aren’t you baby girl?”

“Oh god…” you moan from the strain of the ropes and the pressure of his cock filling up your stomach, “...I love it. I love it so fucking much.” Sam beams with pride, picking up the pace even more. He pounds into you relentlessly, the headboard slapping against the wall with each movement. “That’s right, moan for me… let me hear how much you love my cock.”

You throw your head back and ferally moan, taking in every inch over and over again. Sam manifests a triumphant grin when he sees how much you’re into this. He starts to fuck you faster, losing himself in you. The bed groans loudly under the force of your intimacy, the headboard finding a rhythmic melody above you. “Take it all.” Sam whispers raggedly. You respond with a whimpered, pathetic moan. “Y-you’re gonna break me baby… oh fuck… shit…”

Sam’s grin morphs into a lascivious smirk as he hears your words. He grabs your hips and starts to slam into you even harder, fucking you like his life depends on it. “Good. I wanna break you. You need to scream my name.” Your body lashes in the restraints as Sam’s name forces its way from your throat, echoing through the room.

His eyes roll back in satisfaction as his name claims your lips. He pounds you with all his might, the force causing your body to bounce on the bed. “That’s it! Scream for me! Let everyone know who’s fucking you good!” Your vocal cords take on a mind of their own, “Sam! Sam! I love your fucking cock, oh my god!”

Sam’s heart swells with pride and adoration. He leans over you, pushing more on the ropes. “You love my cock? You love it?”

“I love it… I need it… every night, oh my god…” Your pussy drips with intense pleasure and you feel your walls tighten as you reach your edge. He throws his head back and moans brutally as he feels your pussy squeeze around him. He pounds you a few more times before slamming in deep and stilling, his cock twitching as he cums inside of you. “F-fuck… you’re mine… all mine.”

“Oh god, I’m all yours… fuck…” You reply as you writhe in your restraints, your body recoiling from your release. You breathe raggedly. Sam slowly pulls out of you, a satisfied tiredness on his face. He takes a moment to admire his work – your flushed face, your body trembling from the aftershocks of the pleasure, the evidence of his claim still dripping from your pussy. “Look at you…”

You look at him, all fucked out, your body still held by the ropes. He walks over, undoing your restraints with a wink. “You good, baby? Was I too rough?” “That was so… fucking good…” Your limbs go limp as he releases you, your chest rising and falling raggedly. Sam lazily climbs into bed beside you, pulling you into his arms as he slumps to his side. He kisses you softly, every ounce of his skin humming in sensitivity. “Yeah, it really was.” You two regain your breath, finding a pattern in each other's lungs to follow as you drift to a satiated slumber.

The morning comes and you sit up slowly, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. Your gaze floats over to Sam. His chest rises gracefully, a peace surrounding him… pulling you in. You move forward and kiss him gently, love flooding out of your lips. His eyes flutter open, breathing deeply and returning the kiss. You pull back. “Hey.”

“Hey” he replies, his voice raspy and sleepy.

“Don’t go home.”

“Okay, I’ll leave tomorrow.”

You shake your head and reach out to caress his cheek. You lean in and kiss him once more. “No… just don’t go home, period.”

Sam’s eyes light up, a love he’s never felt before settling deep in his chest, seeping into his bones.

“I am home.”

#stardew valley #sdv #sam stardew valley #stardew sam #stardew valley sam #stardew valley x reader #stardew valley sam x reader #sdv sam #sdv sam x reader #sdv sam smut #mdni #stardew valley smut #sdv sam x female reader

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impala-dreamer · 8 days ago

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In The Arms of Sleep

A Supernatural Story

~ Death has been hunting him, turning every moment into a painful dream of blood and pain. His only hope for a moment's rest lies in her arms...~

Dean Winchester x F!Reader

2,985 Words

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of death and show level blood, Allusions to sex. Set right before the series finale. | Originally Published to Patreon 9/11/2023

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist ~ Patreon ~ Published Works

He probably should have called first.

Probably should have at least texted.

It was too late now though.

She’d just have to deal with it.

The highway stretched out before him, undulating and twisting like so many tentacles of some viscous midnight monster. Black and unforgiving; poised to devour him should he jerk the wheel in the wrong way at the wrong moment.

Suddenly, the thought of a crash crossed his mind and he couldn’t break away from it. How many miles had he driven in his life? How many times had he transverse the country, weaving back and forth across the yellow lines; crossing state borders without a second thought. Impossible to count. And yet- he’d been in so few accidents that it was almost comical. It was statistically impossible that he hadn’t careened off a cliff in New England and plummeted into the icy waters of the Atlantic, or been mesmerized by a heat mirage outside of Phoenix and missed a turn, crashing into the rocks, his last moments spent hearing the sickening crunch of metal and bone.

For a moment, he saw himself, half alive and wheezing, chest punctured by the wreck of the steering wheel; both legs broken, face shredded and bleeding as he crawled from a mess of black steel. The Impala crumpled, smoke billowing from beneath the hood while fluids mixed on the blacktop below. He clawed at the dirt, nails breaking painfully as he struggled to pull himself from the rubble. Each movement sent white-hot pain through his body, but he kept going, desperate to save himself as flames licked at the upholstery, turning the slick, shining chrome to blazing orange.

Shaking himself, Dean cleared the vision from his mind and shifted in his seat. The soft leather cradled him perfectly and he sank into it a bit, letting himself relax even as he tightened his grip on the wheel.

Things like that had been happening more and more. Nightmares were common in his life, but bloody daydreams were a new phenomenon. They often came out of nowhere too, making it almost impossible to stay calm and on task. One moment, he was playing on his phone or fixing dinner, and the next, he was watching as bullets tore through his chest, blood erupting from the punctures in slow motion cascades of crimson. More often, it was some monster attack, something easy that he could handle on his own that caught him. He’d turn a corner in a farmhouse and be ripped apart by massive talons, feasted upon by wolves, drained by an earth-covered vampire.

Every moment now, he saw his death. Every breath he took sent images of the end into his mind. He was plagued by the sights, haunted by the feeling, exhausted and helpless. Despite his best efforts at drinking the scenes away, the whiskey only made things worse. He’d tried talking about it, but it sounded insane. Tried writing them down, but he wasn’t good with words, couldn’t get the emotions right, couldn’t describe the anxiety. Hell, he’d even tried meditating, but that only proved to make the thoughts more vivid and devastating.

He needed something that he couldn’t find back at home.

Needed something he knew would soothe him, even if only for one night.

He needed Y/N.

So, he drove. Miles and miles, wheels spinning so fast that human eyes couldn’t see the treds turning, gripping, biting at the roads. So fast that it felt as if the car would leave the blacktop and float on the wind, fly him right to her front door.

He wasn’t so lucky.

He drove through the day and deep into the night, stopping only for gas in Oklahoma and then to take a piss a few hours later. Landscapes changed outside the windows, trees growing tall and full; the earth deepening from deep yellow to rich green. The world outside passed by, but he couldn’t see it. All he could see was blood.

A little after two in the morning, he reached her street. The little blue house was set back a bit from the road, tall bushes fencing in a modest lawn. She’d inherited the property when her parents were killed; the same time she’d met Dean.

He’d saved her life that night, and many more times, she’d done the same for him. Whether she knew it or not, she was always on his mind.

Dean slowly slid into the empty space in front of her house and cut the engine. He switched off the headlights and peered up at the front left window. Her light was off; the house dark and quiet.

He should have called first.

Exhausted, he closed his eyes for a moment and considered leaving. He could drive back straight away and be home before Sam got to worrying or Miracle missed him too much and chewed up his slippers. He fingered the ignition key, running his thumb across the dull ridges, ready to jam it back into its place.

He took a breath and a muzzle flare ignited in his head; the silenced gun taking him down with a shot perfectly executed right between his eyes. He jumped and willed the vision to dissipate, but it refused, growing brighter as his soul darkened.

A light flipped on in the window above and Dean’s heart jolted out of rhythm.

He made it to the front door just as she pulled it open and green eyes flooded with tears.

“Dean?”

Her voice was like a balm to his aching soul and he slumped forward into her outstretched arms.

“I heard the car,” she whispered, chin digging into the crook of his neck. “I thought I was dreaming.”

Dean clasped his arms around her back and held on, refusing despite the cold night air that swirled around them, to let her go and follow her inside. He needed a moment. Needed to lay his troubles down before crossing the threshold.

“Not dreaming,” he answered in a sigh. “But I may be.”

She smiled and placed a hand on the back of his neck, holding him to her. “You OK?”

He laughed bitterly, body shaking against her. “Not even a little.”

Y/N pulled away just enough to look into his eyes. The green was darker than she remembered, his soul burdened with so much pain that the color was fading, growing deeper than the evergreens that lined the back of her property. She lay her hand softly against his cheek and his eyes fluttered shut. He leaned into the touch, desperate for any human connection, desperate for her. He took a choppy breath and set his jaw tight. She felt the muscles flex beneath her palm, and she pressed her fingertips into the side of his face, giving him something real to feel.

“Hey…”

Her voice was calm and sweet, hiding the worry in her heart. Dean’s lashes lifted and he looked down into her eyes. She smiled.

“You’re gonna be OK.”

He wanted to believe it, needed to put his faith in her words, but blood was dripping from the deep, imagined gashes in his mind, puddling at his feet, flooding the concrete steps.

Subtly, he shook his head. “I dunno about that.” He tried to smile, to sprinkle in a bit of Winchester charm, but he had none left. He closed his eyes again and once more, the sight of his flayed body floated by, and he shivered.

Y/N’s fingers tensed, her middle finger pushing lightly against his temple. “Dean…”

He opened his heart, but not his eyes. “Y/N, please-” His voice cracked around her name; pathetic and spent.

Y/N’s hand slid from his cheek to his hand, closing around it and pulling him along as she turned.

They didn’t speak. The only sound in the darkness was the door closing behind them and his boots hitting the old hardwood floor. The white pine planks were thin and long, stretching out down a hallway that barely seemed familiar to him. She had painted since last he’d been there, but it was too dark to see the shade of green she’d chosen.

Y/N held his hand and walked straight down the hallway and to the left. If memory served him, it was her bedroom- a small rectangular room with a big antique brass bed pushed into the corner and hand painted art on the walls. She flipped the light switch and a dim lamp by the bed turned on. It did little to illuminate the room, but it was enough to guide them across the thick carpet.

She stopped by the side of the bed and turned to him.

“Boots off,” she said firmly.

Dean’s forehead creased in question. “Huh?”

She sighed and nodded to his feet. “You’re not getting into my bed with those filthy boots on.”

He drew his bottom lip between his teeth and bit down hard. He wanted nothing more than to slide into her arms, but something was blocking his movements. A strange tightness grew in his chest, spreading outward like clinging ivy. His throat closed, his breathing quickened. Tears welled, but he refused to let them fall.

Slowly, Y/N lifted her hands to slide the canvas jacket from his shoulders. “Relax,” she whispered, tugging the fabric off his thick arms. Carefully, she folded it in half and laid it on the corner of her bed. The army green popped against the pale rose comforter and Dean set his gaze upon the contrast, desperate to hold onto it and push the phantom blood aside.

He let her pull off his flannel; open his belt. When she reached for the hem of his gray tee, his hands shot around her wrists.

He shook his head. “Y/N…”

She smiled softly. “Let me.”

His grip released and she lifted the cotton up over his head. He sighed deeply as the sweaty shirt caressed his cheeks and he emerged with half a smile.

The room was cool. A vent in the floor to his right pushed a light breeze into the air and it chilled his exposed skin. It felt good.

Y/N tried not to linger too long over his naked chest, tried to ignore his soft belly, the dip that lay across his broad shoulders. Unconsciously, she lifted her hand to cover the ink on his chest, the same design he’d insisted she get tattooed on her hip. They were connected in that strange way, and sometimes she wondered if he could feel her tracing the arms of the pentagram on her own skin late at night.

Dean stared down at her, awed by her gentleness, her shadowy beauty. The lamplight danced on her cheeks, cut out the lines of her lips; highlighted the fringe of lashes over her eyes.

She could feel his eyes on her and looked up, meeting his gaze. He shivered as her fingers slipped down his chest, sucked in a breath as her nails bit lightly into the tender flesh of his hips, exhaled slowly when she tugged his zipper down.

As his jeans sank to his ankles, Y/N turned away and lifted the thin nightshirt from her body, leaving her naked but for a pair of lilac panties. She didn’t look back as she slid into bed and tucked herself in the corner by the wall. When she was in place, she rolled over and lifted her arms, calling Dean to her side.

He kicked his boots off, let the denim rest beside them. He kept his boxers on and gracefully climbed in beside her.

His head sank into the pillow and her scent flooded his senses. The cushion was cool and comforting, the blanket heavy in a delicious way that made his body finally relax. Y/N tucked him in and then cuddled closer, pressing her flesh against his.

Dean could feel her firm breasts against his side, the soft curve of her waist, the heft of her hips. He bathed in her heat and rolled towards her, ready to unburden his soul. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He cleared his throat but no words would form.

He struggled.

She smiled.

“You don’t have to say anything,” she assured him, scooting up a bit on the bed. “I’ve got you.” She shifted quickly and Dean fell against her chest, cradled in her arms.

He pressed his ear to her heart and closed his eyes. Every beat pulsed through him and he breathed slowly with her, letting the tears finally come.

The harder he cried, the tighter she held him. She ran her hands through his hair, rubbed at his shoulders, kissed the top of his head, again and again reassuring him that he was safe with her, cared for, and loved.

Dean slid his arm around her waist and held on, feeling more like a whimpering child than a man. Forty years hung on him like lead, threatening to twist his bones and break his spirit.

He cried it all out as Y/N held him. Every hunt gone wrong, every death and resurrection. He cried for his parents, he cried for Sam. He cried for every soul he’d tortured in Hell, every life on Earth he’d failed to save. He cried for Charlie and for Eileen; for Kevin and Crowley. He cried for Lisa, cried for Ben. He cried for his youth, his wins and losses. He cried for Cas.

Y/N absorbed every tear, soothed every sob. She rocked him gently as his body shook, traced circles in his back to give him something else to focus on. She never let her grip waiver, never let a second go by without touching him in some way.

Night lifted slowly and the sun poked at the curtains. The windows glowed with pink and golden light and Dean stirred.

He lifted his head from Y/N’s arm and blinked into the growing light. She was fast asleep, chest rising and falling gently with each breath. Half circles darkened the flesh beneath her eyes and her hair was a mess, but she was nothing short of beautiful in his eyes.

Dean breathed easy for the first time in a long while. He felt lighter. When he closed his eyes, he saw the empty darkness of his eyelids and nothing more. No death, no blood, no hiding dangers. He smiled.

Daring to wake her, he slid his fingers lightly across her forehead and tucked a stray bit of hair behind her ear.

Y/N pulled in a heavy breath and her eyes fluttered open. She saw his face and smiled.

His eyes were brighter, his cheeks pink and warm.

“Mornin’,” he whispered, leaning closer to her lips.

“Good morning.” She licked her lips and looked down at his. Plump and wet, they pushed out a bit, reaching for hers. “You seem better…”

He smiled. “Thanks to you.”

She bit her lip, tugging the corner of her mouth between her teeth. Shyly, she looked up into his eyes and knew that, if only for a little while, he would be alright.

His kiss was heavy and needy, tongue pressing between her lips before she was prepared. She gasped into him, slid beneath him when he tugged her closer.

His weight was crushing and devastatingly arousing and Y/N spread her legs, wrapping herself around his waist. She could feel that he was as ready as she was, and reached down between them to pull her panties aside.

Dean propped up on his aching arms and gazed down at her. She was everything in that moment- lover, friend, nurse, savior. He licked at her lips again and closed his eyes, breathing every drop of her in. He held his breath, memorizing her taste, her scent, her warmth, and tucking it away for later.

He’d always need her.

Always love her.

They showered together; unwilling to part.

They held hands over slightly burned pancakes and chewy bacon.

They lingered in the doorway, clutched in each other’s arms.

“You sure you can’t stay?” she asked, refusing to let go.

Dean kissed the top of her head and gave her arms a squeeze. “I have to get back.”

“Places to go, people to save, right?” She laughed sadly and pulled back, giving him a faint smile. “I missed you, you know.”

He sighed and looked down for a moment, feeling the weight of everything pushing down on him again. Guilt rattled in his brain and he chewed his lip, rubbed her hand between both of his.

“I’m sorry-” His voice was deep and heavy.

She shook her head. “Don’t be. I’m just… I always miss you, Dean.”

He smiled. “I miss you too,” he confessed. “A lot.”

Y/N grabbed his hands and swung them playfully at their sides. “So… maybe don’t stay away too long next time, huh?”

“I won’t.” Dean dragged her hands to his lips and kissed the knuckles on each hand. “I promise.”

One last kiss goodbye, one last press of her body against his.

The road home was just as long but a little bit easier. He carried the feel of her home with him, kept her face in the back of his mind. She was like a soldier in his head, forever poised and ready to defend him, to cast away the visions that plagued his daydreams, to set his heart right when his faith began to dissipate. An angel there to keep him safe and guard his nights, a gentle love to make everything alright.

Death would come for him soon enough, but for now, he drove the highways and unpaved backroads home with a new sense of hope. He could watch the trees fly by, enjoy the changing horizon and let the light seep into his soul.

He felt better.

He felt strangely OK.

He was glad he hadn’t called.

2024 Tag List:

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@feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @illicithallways @jackles010378 @k-slla

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Add Yourself To The List

#dean winchester fanfiction #dean x reader #dean winchester/you #angst #hurt/comfort #spn fanfic

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hometoursandotherstuff · 5 months ago

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I was attracted to the colors of this 1900 Victorian in Salisbury, NC. 4.bds, 2.5ba, $385K.

Isn't this pretty? I love the wallpaper- it's perfect for a finely detailed Queen Anne. Cute little entrance hall.

The sitting room is right across the hall.

I always think that striped wallpaper is a good choice and it will look lovely with nice formal or casual dining room furniture.

I like the shelving in the hallway, but I don't care for the barn doors on the bottom. It's a Queen Anne Victorian, not a farmhouse.

The kitchen remodel is very cute. I like the white cabinetry and the handles. The open shelving over the fridge makes a cute accent.

There's an original swinging door to a little pantry.

The 1/2 bath is a blank slate. It needs a little wallpaper, something other than gray paint, a little decor, and it will look beautiful.

Pretty little TV room has a fireplace, and it's a cheery space.

The primary bedroom is lovely. It has a beautiful fireplace and a built-in cabinet perfect for a reading corner.

What a gorgeous sink.

Oh, this is really pretty- a true vintage bath.

This is definitely another bedroom. It would be great for a student or it could be a nice home office.

The bedrooms are spacious. I like the fireplace in this one. They got creative with the paint in here, too.

Very pretty bedroom.

In the back there's a large deck. Lovely home on .28 acre.

https://us-east.prospects.com/prospects/m.do?tk=31e449cff85d86bb0023fdf087c61847d

#queen anne victorian #victorian homes #old house dreams #houses #house tours #home tour #homes under $400K

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 10 months ago

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The Farmer's Daughter 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Walter Marshall

Summary: You notice a peculiar change in a family friend. (short!reader, sorry size kink is out)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Walter’s presence grows routine, even if it still feels peculiar. Before, you saw him now and again when he dropped in to see your dad. He never seemed very social and that sense hasn’t changed. He comes, does his work, and politely accepts his dinner.

That day, a week since your father’s homecoming, you’re due to drive into town. You need to stop by the pharmacy for your mom and pick up a few staples from the grocer. You’re excited to get out, to distance yourself just for an hour or two from the sombre farmhouse.

You grab your purse, a wicker bag with a ribbon tied on the handle, and put a hat on to block out the beaming sunlight. The birds tweet in greeting as you fold your mother’s list into your pocket and head for the garage. The door is open already. Timothy always forgets to close it.

You jingle the keys and climb up into the old truck. You don’t drive it often, mostly traveling to town with your parents or brother. You prefer to walk most places, even if it is a bit far.

You put your bag on the passenger seat and turn the keys in the ignition. The engine putters then a loud bag makes you yelp. A plume of black smoke erupts from the slits on the hood of the truck and a rackety clunking churns in the motor. You let go of the key as you sit dumbfounded and watch the cloud grow.

You hear footsteps and suddenly the driver’s door swings open. You’re pulled out before you can react, put onto your feet and ushered back into the spring hue. You cough as you get a mouthful of smoke and turn to face the garage, Walter’s hand lingering on your back.

“Timothy,” he growls before he marches forward, “told that kid he was gonna start a fire.”

“I…”

“What’s going on?” Your brother dashes up as if he heard his name, “woah, holy cow.”

“What did you do?” Walter accuses.

“What? I fixed it,” Timothy shrugs.

“Damnit,” Walter growls and paces back and forth. “You’re lucky it didn’t catch fire,” he turns on your brother, “you’re lucky your sister didn’t get hurt.”

“Huh? What?” Timothy shakes his head, “I didn’t–”

“She was in there,” Walter’s voice rises tremulously.

“I’m okay,” you pipe up, “it’s fine, I just… can you fix it?”

Walter stops and faces you. His brow twitches in anger and he crosses his thick arms. He peeks over his shoulder then back at you.

“Not any time soon.”

“I can fix it.”

“Don’t touch it,” Walter snarls, “you leave better off alone.”

“Jeez, dad, calm down,” Timothy snipes dryly. He gets a dark glare in return and flinches visibly, “sorry, I–”

“Shouldn’t be joking about that,” Walter girds and pivots his attention back to you, “where were you going?”

“Just to town. I was gonna get some stuff from the store,” you explain.

“I’ll drive you,” Walter insists.

“Oh, uh, that’s fine. I can call Mr. Howland–”

“Don’t bother,” Walter waves you off, “running low on manure around here.”

“Oh,” you chew your lip, “right. Well, thanks, I’ll just grab my purse–”

You take a step towards the garage and Walter quickly blocks your path, “I’ll get it. You shouldn’t breathe that stuff in.”

You step back and nod. Walter rolls his shoulders and narrows his eyes at Timothy as he spins, “get back to planting. No time to waste.”

Walter stalks into the thinning smoke and you blink at your brother. He mopes and throws his hands up as he looks at you, “I was just trying to help.”

“I know, Tim,” you say, “better just get it done.”

“God, he’s a grumpy gus, isn’t he,” Timothy rolls his eyes, “sorry, sis.”

“I’m okay,” you assure him, “just go.”

“Hey,” he stops himself before he goes, “can you grab me smokes?”

“No,” Walter answers as he emerges, holding out your purse, “come on, better head out.”

Timothy huffs and tramps away. You take your purse from Walter with a sheepish smile. His anger makes you nervous. You’ve never seen him anything less than stoic. You follow him to his truck, parked just in front of the house and he opens the passenger door ahead of you.

The porch door swings open and shut. Before you can climb up into the truck, you mom rushes out, “everything okay?”

“Just some car troubles,” Walter calls back, “nothing I can’t fix.”

“Right, oh,” she looks over at the wisps escaping the garage, “fire?”

“Just smoke,” Walter returns, “I’m gonna take her to town, I’ll have a proper look when I get back.”

“I can call Vol,” your mother offers.

He grumbles and offers his hand. You let him help you up into the truck, the lift even higher than your dad’s. He waits for you to settle in before he shuts the door.

“All good, Maddie,” he shows his palm, “won’t be long at all.”

“Thank you, Walter,” your mother preens, “you’re too good to us.”

He nods and goes around the front of the truck. He hops in the driver’s seat with no effort at all and shuts the door. He buckles his seat belt, glancing over at you and you do the same. You clutch your purse and swing your feet over the floor.

“You alright?” He asks as he starts the engine and shifts.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Must’ve been scary,” he comments.

“Just a bit of a surprise,” you chirp, “but I’m okay. Er, thanks for… for saving me.”

“Saving you?” He scoffs.

“Yeah, I didn't really know what to do,” you laugh at yourself, “I'd still be sitting there staring like a deer.”

“Hmph,” the noise is close to a chuckle.

“What are we getting in town?” He asks.

“Oh, uh, pharmacy first,” you answer, “then I wanted to see if the market's selling honeydew.”

He hums and backs out. You hold onto the door as the truck rolls over the bumpy ground. It's not what you planned but it's still a break.

#walter marshall #dark walter marshall #dark!walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #drabble #backwoods au #au #series #night hunter #the farmer's daughter

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spideyhexx · 1 month ago

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oct. 22nd - royal reckoning

Prince!Billy Bonney x Village!FemaleReader

mdni!!! wc; 4.6k cw; virginity loss, p in v, angst

kinktober 2024 masterlist

a/n; this was a concept we talked about a little while back and it deserved to be explored in a longer fic so enjoy :) ALSO THE BOLDED ITALICS ARE FLASHBACKS SORTA

The grassy fields leading ahead to your cottage do nothing to soothe Billy’s hammering heart. His boots hit the ground with soft thuds, as though he is trying to be stealthy. There’s no need for quiet. The fields are completely empty save for the occasional wandering little animal. He spots a bunny and smiles to himself, his hand subconsciously gripping to the hilt of his dagger tucked into a leather sheath at his belt as he treks on.

The sun is set, casting a dark glaze of moonlight over the land and although the expanse of the fields could prove daunting and hard to navigate for some, for Billy it was pure ease.

He’s walked through these plains so many times, he’s sure his feet have hit the same dirt, have brushed past the grass strands that are children to the one’s he past before. Often times, he surveys the moon, notes the phase it’s in and wonders if She recognizes him unlike someone else. She must, he thinks, staring up at the bright crescent moon. She must know me.

He’s overcome by the gesture of her all-knowingness that he almost trips over a rock embedded in the dirt. Billy catches himself before he can fall, then looks back at the rock, using the toe of his boot to push into the dirt and kick the rock out of it’s home. Then he feels bad for it and puts it back.

When your cottage begins to come into view, his breath quickens and he breathes in once, then twice deeply.

Billy grew up out in the fields near the kingdom’s village until he turned 10. He lived in a small farmhouse with only one room, but it was the home he loved. Then his life completely turned.

The King took his mother as his wife after seeing her in the village, her beauty stunning him so much, that it warranted a marriage. It was unbecoming for a King to choose a villager as his wife, but the ceremony commenced nonetheless. And Billy was whisked away from his life completely, never to see you again.

Before getting too close to the cottage, Billy does what does every night he visits, repeating the number in his head, 57. It’s his 57th visit tonight to see the lovely village girl that is you, always dressed in warm browns and earthly oranges, always a tad dirty because you take your baths late at night.

He learned it because he stayed later than he meant to just a week ago. You flushed telling him you needed to bathe and you did not want him to sit around and wait for you. But he swore to you he would. Billy would wait for ages, it seems.

The night wind rushes his face, hitting his cheeks and his nose in it’s cold. Billy says a thank you in his head to it.

His boots miss the dirt the moment they step the broken up stone path that leads your cottage. Lights illuminate through your windows so he knows you’re awake, not that he ever expected you to be asleep.

Billy stops in front of your old wooden door, the handle is rusted, and he had promised you he would do something about it only for you to say you knew how to handle rusty doorknobs, as though it was a common occurrence. It made him laugh.

His hand raises and he swallows hard, his knuckles brushing to the wood before he knocks.

Three times.

Scuffling and the sound of a pot meets his ears and Billy can’t help the warm smile that graces his lips. He leans to the doorway, setting a hand on his belt just in time for the door to open.

You slowly forgot things about him. Sure, he was the prince, and you always knew that, but Billy rarely left castle grounds (an order implemented by his stepfather The King, supposedly for his safety). So you, the lovely village girl he liked playing in the mud with never got to see him grow up into the man he is now.

A few months ago, Billy found a way out of the castle gates. And since has journeyed out into the fields and nature around, to get a moment’s peace before returning. Sometimes he thought about running away completely, but then he would be leaving his poor mother and little brother. He thought about taking them with him too, but Billy knew his mother would never agree to such a thing.

So instead, he spent whatever few hours he could sneak away outside, relishing in the small taste of freedom.

You’re there, in your modest and simple dark orange dress, an apron over the skirt and your sleeves rolled up. Billy notes that you’re a little sweaty and he can see the fire roaring in your hearth.

“Henry, you’re early today,” you greet him with a pant and a grin, swiping your wrist over your forehead to get some sweat at bay.

He remembered you. One night, he found himself walking towards your cottage. He knew the way there like he had seen you just yesterday.

Maybe it was wishful thinking, but Billy expected you to recognize him. When you did not, he got cold feet.

Called himself Henry, an old family name, and pretended to be a wandering stranger. He prayed that you somehow just put the pieces together so that by his second visit, you would point it out, but you don’t. And Billy gets wrapped up in being with you, getting to know you now and not just the you that he had remembered, the 10-year-old girl that loved kites and hated fruit.

“Ah, yeah. ‘Spose I couldn’t miss your cookin’ this time,” Billy says, his heart settling into a calmness that he knows won’t last long. It never does around you. He taps his fingers to his belt as you roll your eyes at his implicated complement.

“Well, there’s enough stew for you, so grab a bowl and pour it yourself, I’m tired.”

He chuckles and walks into your home, shutting the door behind him and latching it up. In truth, he was not hungry. The dinner at the castle was plentiful and Billy chastiszes himself for indulging in it when your homecooked stew was better than anything else he could eat at home.

Home.

“You’re tired? I don’t want to bother,” Billy says in a softer tone, watching you wipe the sweat from your face with an old rag as his hands touch to one of the clean bowls on your table.

“Nonsense. You never bother me, Henry,” you tell him, like it’s ridiculous of him to even wonder.

Henry. The name bites at him like a venomous snake, a poison that’s slowly reaching it’s way to his heart. Soon enough it would kill him.

He spends his days figuring out answers to questions you may ask about his life, but truly, he fibs small. Besides the big thing.

Otherwise, he tells you he comes from little money, loves to read adventure books and tall tales, and imagines himself as the hero or sometimes the morally corrupt protagonist. That he wishes deeply for a dog. He loves carrots but not tomatoes. All truths. Billy tells you that he wants to travel and live out in the woods, and that’s why he rarely visits in the day. His lonesome is important to him. And you’re busy anyway, it’s easier to see you at night.

He could see the skeptical look in your eye when he had to explain this, but you move on. It aches in his heart, but the more he spends time with you, he forgets himself anyway, and that’s what he longed for. To forget about Prince William Antrim. Until the reminder of sleep comes about and he has to leave your bed and make the walk back to the castle.

Out there with you, he’s Billy. It’s a shame he cannot say it.

Billy sits with his stew while you preemptively cool yourself down. You open a window to let the breeze fly in and a sigh of relief leaves your lips. If Billy tilts his head a little, he can see the moon poking Her gaze through the window. He imagines She is saying hello to him. Hello to you, maybe whispering in your ear, ‘It’s Billy! It’s Billy boy!’.

But after 57 visits, Billy’s lost complete hope that you know it’s him. You don’t. That’s the fact of this entire debacle.

He pushes it out of his head when you turn back to him, “The stew up to your standards?”

Billy takes a hefty bite and makes an overexaggerated face, like the food is truly orgasmic and in some ways it is. But he only does it to hear your laugh, which sounds throughout the small room.

“Alright, alright, good to know,” you get your words out through your laughter, then neatly fold the rag you had been using to rid yourself of the dampness on your face.

“You feelin’ okay? It’s cold out and you’re sweatin’,” Billy says. He can’t help but worry. He knows all too well how easy it is for people to get sick out here.

“Yeah, I was leaning too close to the fire making the stew, that’s all.”

He raises his brow, taking another spoonful into his mouth and contemplating your words, “Now, I’m no cooking expert, but maybe you shouldn’t lean too close to the fire, sweet.”

“Oh, hush. I won’t fall in. I promise you.”

You cross the room, bringing yourself closer to him. Billy can’t explain it, but you move so effortlessly. He could easily imagine you in one of the royal ballgowns his mother and step-cousins wear and all the ladies in waiting. You would glide on the ballroom floor with the same amount of ease you walk through your small cottage in. His heart would flutter all the same and his cheeks would tinge with red every time. Just like know.

You perch yourself on his knee as he takes a small bite of stew and your hands find their way to his belt, skimming the top of it. His breath is deeper, but he pretends to not be affected. The last two or so weeks have been more intimate than he could imagine.

He kissed your lips for the first time on the haybale out in your barn and for those few seconds, he saw the life he feels he should have had. The one where he grew up at your side and asked you to marry him once the two of you were old enough. The one that lived in this little cottage with you and worked as a farmer. He felt it all flash in his mind as he kissed your lips and your hands touched his body, but the moment you pulled away, it was gone.

Your hand stops at his dagger, which you slowly pull from his sheath, to study the hilt. “Don’t think I’ve seen you with this one before.”

Billy panics. The hilt of that dagger was by far a little more intricate than the one he usually brought with him. A mistake on his part for not switching out the blades.

“It looks…expensive,” you mumble, your tone closer to a tease rather than speculative.

“I stole it,” he blurts out.

Your eyes find his, then return to the dagger as you trace the detailing, “Stole it? Little outlaw now, are ya, Henry?”

You nudge your elbow into him in jest and slip the dagger back into his sheath as he chuckles. It’s a nervous one, though you don’t seem to pick up on that face. He rubs his thumb into your knee, a soothing gesture more to calm himself. He almost gets distracted, wanting to kneel right there and kiss your knee.

Billy finds himself asking, “You don’t care that I stole it?” Lies.

“No,” you speak quiet, your hand tracing his hair at his temple and smoothing it back, “I see no harm in stealing if it’s from the rich. They already fuck us over enough. All King Antrim’s thought, I tell ya.”

He blinks at you but nods in response, quelling his expression to a neutral territory. In his nights with you here, you scarcely have mentioned his step-father. But it’s been quite a while since the topic came up and it shot a bolt of nerves through him.

It’s a miracle that you don’t dwell on the subject.

“What did you do today?”

Billy hums at your question and leans his head more into your head, his hand tugging at your knee over your thick dress to bring you more into his lap. “I hunted…did fairly well. Though it got too cold…made sure to rest some so I could come see you.”

Billy did go hunting. There was a small section of forest on castle grounds that he went on hunting parties with, though they were much fancier than what you might be picturing.

“Mm, ever the charmer,” you mumble.

“I need to be,” he says, with more conviction than he thought he might have. His hand moves up to cup your face, “You…you’re like the stars…and I think…the stars need to be earned and…charmed and…just…given all from man.”

Billy remembers when he had his first crush after becoming Prince. There was a daughter of a high lord that he took a liking too. He would write poetry for her and speak to her in flowery language but she never understood it. Called him odd. But he could speak his oddness to you and you would always look at him like he created the entire world. Like the words he was speaking were words you’ve never heard before and you were utterly fascinated.

Your eyes tell him this now. You let out a breath, “You are so unlike any other I’ve met.”

Billy warms inside and he brings your head closer until his forehead is pressed to yours. His breath ghosts your lips and he lets his nose get smushed, “You’re all I would like to know.”

Frantic yet full of deep love movements are what gets you to your bed with Billy above you. His lips have not been able to leave your body since he uttered his words. He kisses your cheeks and your brow bone. The crease of your forehead and the crown of your head. His lips make their presence down the curve of your jaw all the way to your neck, his large hands holding your sides as your own thread in his hair.

Billy wishes he could speak a symphony to you in the moment, but he converses with his mouth. He groans at the tight strings of your bodice, as his lips kiss your collarbone and to the top of your breasts. His impatience makes you smile beyond what you thought you your lips could ever reach. You work on the ties as his mouth tries to dig down to the valley of your breasts.

Once it’s undone, Billy helps you slip off the shoulders of your dress and tug it down till it’s pooled around your waist. He hesitates on taking your undershirt off until you tell him four times you’re sure.

“I’ve never done this,” he mutters between your breasts, making himself a new home right there.

“Neither have I.”

The thought comforts him and he nods. Billy forgets the moon’s call as a breeze hits the both of you because you’re so warm. His vest and shirt are off within a couple of seconds as his mouth acquaints itself with your breasts, his tongue swirling to your nipple and mumbling to your skin how pretty you are.

He strains hard against his trousers, rutting to your thigh for the little bit of relief it provides. Billy’s touched himself before, he’s done as much as that, but nothing else besides miscellaneous kisses with the daughters of his kitchen or stable staff.

Billy’s read a lot. A lot of tales of the desires of the flesh and indulgences one can have with it. He’s seen it with his own eyes with his step-father, but the passions he’s read about and truly otherworldly nature of the act itself, in his opinion, was something that he knew he would save for love.

The love he feels now as your hands caress over the front of his trousers, desperately pulling him into you, wanting him to be just as naked you’re beginning to get, that’s right. That’s the deep pit in his stomach and the thrumming in his head that he knows he’s supposed to feel. The way you’re looking at him as though he’s the only person to exist, like he is the world you want, it sets him ablaze in all aspects of his life. Mentally. Physically. Every part of himself.

When he gets you fully naked beneath him, Billy has to sit back and admire you. He knows you embarrass easy so he coos, “No, darlin’, no…you…you’re unbelievable that’s all…I…you’re beautiful.”

His hand catches your chin and he pecks at your lips, his smile easy and comforting and the one you give him back is effervescent.

“You’re too clothed,” you pout to him and he lets himself relax with a chuckle, leaning himself back over you and letting you work on his trousers, until he can push them down along with his underpants.

Billy lets you take him in. He’s fully hard. Fully aching for you. Fully wanting to feel the love and desperate warmth you have to give him and he’ll give you his all back, he promises it silently.

A lot of small kisses fall to your face as he positions himself, bring your legs up to his hips. You smooth his hair back and let his forehead find yours.

“You’ve really charmed the stars out of me.”

Billy chuckles and shakes his head a bit, leaving a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth, “The stars will never leave you, my darlin’. Never.”

Life is forgotten when he sinks into you. No time to think things through more when he’s eased into your cunt and buried his face into your hair, breathing in you like he’s about to take his last breath.

Billy feels his approaching release too soon but holds off all he can as you adjust to him, your breaths hard and strained, but shrouded in as much overwhelmed feelings as he’s experiencing.

The thud of your heartbeat enlightens him more than he realizes in the moment. You’re alive. You’re here. He’s alive. He’s here. He’s him and you’re you and nothing could amount to the sheer content he feels when he can start to rock his hips into you.

The stretch aches you, he knows, so he he goes slow, bringing his cursed mouth to your ear and muttering almost nonstop, “lovely…lovely darlin’...everythin’ I feel right now is for you…oh fuck, it’s for you…”

Billy’s distraught when you tell him you love him. The words slip through your mouth like they’re meant to be there and meant to be directed at him. He says it back to you in a strangled moan, trying his absolute hardest to not thrust any faster into you. The pace, while slow, is still enough, rocking your crickety bed and helping to spill moans form your moan as the initial uncomfortablness subsides.

“Sweet, please,” he mumbles to your ear, trailing his lips to yours so he can feel your noises and your breath and breathe it in. So he could give you his breath.

Billy is not sure if he can get you to finish, but he tries. He’s learned enough from his books to know to touch you, reaching his hand down to find and rub your clit, which elicits more pleasurable sounds from you.

“I love you, I love you, please,” Billy repeats it like it’s all he knows. And in this moment, it is all he knows.

You say it back through moans although it’s harder to speak as your body shakes and clings to him, but he doesn’t care to think it through as his cock buries into you, spilling every bit of himself he has to give. He feels you spasm against him and he splotches kisses your jaw, mumbling a thank you.

“I love you, Henry,” you whisper, rubbing your fingers through his sweaty hair.

Billy feels sick. Henry. Henry. Henry.

Everything crashes around him all at once and he feels tears brim at his eyes. His head lifts but he is not looking at you. You clock his tears and cup his face, much to dismay, but Billy feels too weak to push you away.

“What’s wrong?” You’re so concerned, it hurts.

Billy slips himself out of you with a heavy sigh and shakes his head, which temporarily rids his face of your hands. His body did not deserve you, he tells himself.

“I…,” he trails off. Not sure what he even wants to say.

“Henry. What’s wrong?” Your voice is more worried, your brow knit and your eyes starry. Emotionally starry. Scared.

Billy moves away from you before he could start crying and he hears you sit up in your bed, pulling the sheet over yourself to conceal your body. The moment is gone and the moon is screaming at him. Berating at him through the window.

He stares at Her crescent shape through the open window, ignoring the fact he’s completely naked still, and then quickly goes for his belt, opening the small pouch on the opposite side of where his dagger sits.

“Seriously, you’re worrying me what’s-”

“Please,” he interrupts.

Once he sees you close your mouth, he stands back up, his hand clasped around something and he sits back in bed. Billy is frozen. His muscles tightened and heavy like wood. It feels like a large stone is pressing in on his chest as his fingers shakily open up to reveal the small locket in his palm.

You’re confused at first. He expected that. But then you take a closer look at it, taking the metal in your hands and studying it. When you turn it over, he feels sick again.

Billy, your thumb rubs over the engraved name on the locket, your mouth opening, then closing in confusion, “I don’t understand what this is.”

You look back at him, then the locket, then return to his face in a double take.

The moon and the candles in your room illuminate him in a different light. Casting a glow so faint, it’s so easy you could have missed it.

“I don’t understand,” you whisper.

“I’m…,” he clears his throat. He wishes he was unable to meet your gaze, but he cannot look away from the woman he loves, “Billy…I’m Billy. Do you remember-”

“Of course I remember Billy, he’s the Prince now,” you rush out, your breath quickening.

“Yeah…the Prince,” he whispers back to you, “I’m Billy,” he repeats, his heart ripping in two at your expression. You’re bewildered. The moon has enlightened you, yet you seem to be finding it hard to believe.

“I still don’t understand, I-”

“I learned how to escape the castle grounds at night and I…I always remembered, how could I not? You were…you were the stars and-”

“Don’t say that now,” you interrupt him with your voice raising. You tighten the sheet to your body, suddenly feeling way too naked around him.

“Sweet, I…I thought you’d recognize me, I recognized you! I fuckin’ recognized you after over a decade and it…you didn’t…you didn’t even recognize me,” Billy defaltes as he continues to speak while you look at him aghast.

“Why should I? You were here one night then gone. Gone to be a Prince and the Prince never shows his face, how was I supposed to…I moved on. We were 10…you became a fucking prince Billy! That’s more of a life than this!”

“It’s not!”

Billy tries not to dwell on the part you mentioned about moving on. He doesn’t want to yell at you. His jaw tightens and he lets it clench, lets himself sit with the anger for a couple moments.

“You could be lying,” you say, but the fact he had the locket, the one you would know of considering you had the same one rested to nightstand with your own name engraved on it was enough. Your late mother bought them for the two of you for a holiday. When there was a little more money than usual.

“I’m not lying,” Billy tries to soften his tone, “I’m not. I’m Billy. I’m the Billy that rolled down the muddy hills with you and caught water spiders to throw at you and…ate all your apples because you hated them…and…fucked up your kite and made you a shitty new one. That’s me.”

A silent moment befalls the two of you where the only sound is the outside wind. It’s whispering to Billy. A mix of comforts and also ridiculing him for lying. He wants to keel over. Billy can sense your anger without looking at you, but you don't yell at him.

“Why? Why lie to me? I would’ve…if you told me, I would’ve kept the secret.”

Another crack in his fragile split heart emerges, “I…you didn’t…recognize me and I…I froze and…”

“You had so many opportunities to come clean,” your voice shakes as tears well to your eyes, “and now you tell me after we’ve…after we’ve…had one another? Henry…Billy…whoever the fuck you are…you are not…who I thought you were.”

He has no words to argue with you. Billy doesn’t bow his head in shame, he takes it head on, his eyes locked to yours as a few tears slip down your cheeks.

“I do…I do love you,” is what he decides to say.

You scoff at it. He knows you love him, but this is worse. You love him and he was himself in some vein, but the part of himself he absolutely hates is something you have yet to know. An unknown part of him that reeks with disdain and hatred and anger.

“Please, leave.”

Billy silently gathers his clothes and gets them on, but he can’t bring himself to leave. His legs feel like they’ll collapse, his head swimming in a fast current he can’t escape, he’s afraid he’ll drown.

“Sweet, just-”

“Billy,” you sniffle. Clutching the sheet so tight to yourself, you force yourself to look at him, “Don’t come back here. Ever.”

He nods. He hopes to the moon that you don’t mean those words, but you spit them with a bite that hurts his soul.

“I love you,” he tells you again. He’s not hoping to hear you say it back. But Billy needs you to hear him say it. That despite the fact of anything, he does love you.

He gets to your door. But stills.

His eyes squeeze shut and he swallows hard, shifting on his feet, “I never…ever…felt more myself than I did the days I’ve spent with you. You are…not of this world, sweet. And I…I will always long for…this time and…what I should have done. I am…deeply…sorry…can’t fix anythin’, but I’m so fuckin’ sorry…I..,” his voice cracks and he risks taking a glance at you, “I am in love with you…it’s set in my body for the rest of time.”

With one more glance over your being, he opens your door, and closes it behind him.

The cold air whips his face and holds him in an uncomfortable hug he can’t escape. The moon frowns at him and leaves his presence to comfort the lovely village girl he left.

Billy realizes he left his locket with you, but he does not hesitate to keep walking to the castle.

The locket can stay with you. It has his love, the true love, that he does not believe he deserves to give to you. At least the locket and the moon can remind you while he rots in his castle chambers.

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the-pit-of-fandoms · 2 months ago

Text

Hidden in plain sight

Simon ‘ghost’ Riley x reader (Mc *main character*)

Summary: After a mission gone wrong, mc is captured and then it is revealed that ghost and mc had gotten married on a mission prior and have hidden it since. Now ghost will do anything to get her back.

Words: 8867

Warning: mentions of gunshots, blood, death, injury, hospitalization. Implied 18+ content.

The day was awful from the beginning. The air was too hot and the ac in the hummer was shot, so that put everyone in a great mood. Even with the blazing heat trapped in the car, ghost’s mask held its place on his face, his determination to keep his identity to himself. His eyes drift over to the warrant that was slumped low in her seat, sweat dripping down her temple and down to her clavicles peeking out of her protective vests and her dark shirts.

His eyes caught the silver chain that was sticking out of her shirts neck line, the metal just barely clinging to her dewy skin. Usually, the chain was for the dog tags worn by military personnel but he found himself smiling, knowing that there was more hanging on that silver gyves that only they knew about.

***

3 years earlier

To say that they were beat up, was an understatement, every move they made was met with a groan or a sharp inhale. The mission was complete and that was all that mattered. Ghost and Mc would be able to lick their wounds as long as they wanted now that everything was done. All they had to do now was wait out the next five hours till their pick-up chopper arrived for them. For now, the cover from an old, abandoned farmhouse around the southern border of Berlin would have to do.

Climbing up on the wooden porch, Mc spotted a pair of worn rocking chairs, situated next to each other. She didn’t know about the owners of the home, but she could imagine an old couple spending the morning on their front porch watching the sun rise on the horizon.

Meanwhile, Ghost was focused on getting the front door open, after a loud knock with no answer or even a sound of movement, he thrusts his shoulder into the door making it pop off the handle. Taking a careful step inside, he diligently scanned for any signs of life. Every surface was cleared and cleaned. Spots across the house looked empty, some in cabinet shelves, some on bookcases, and side tables. It was safe to assume that the people who lived here were evacuated and they took, both monetary and sentimentally, valued things before they left.

“It's clear.” he called out to her as he ventured further into the house and into the back rooms to sweep it fully. Once cleared, he retreated back to the living room, where he found Mc setting an alarm on the frame of the door, making sure that it faced the front yard. Upon seeing Ghost approach, she got to her feet again and closed the broken door.

“Everything all good?” she asked.

“Yeah, they were evacuated with the city. We can lay low here for now.”

She nodded agreeing with the plan. Her eyes meet his shoulder where a long-ignored injury had occurred. His whole shoulder was soaked with his own blood, the only thing that was pressed to the wound was a discarded glove from earlier.

“Let's take care of your shoulder. I'm sure that glove is filthy.” she said stepping towards the bathroom and not looking back to see if he was following.

Ghost smiled at her sureness. There were only a handful of people who could ever tell him what to do and he didn’t care to admit that she was one of them. Somehow, she had gotten him to listen to her without question. So, he followed her to the bathroom, where she had found a first aid kit and a few other supplies. Gesturing towards the toilet seat she had him sit down on the top, while she began soaking her utensils in the hot water filling the sink. He began stripping off his layers until he was down to just his black tank top that laid against his skin.

She also began to peel off her own layers, making sure that she had enough mobility to make this as quick as possible. She had gotten down to a long-sleeved t- shirt herself and, just like ghost, her hefty tactical pant hung off of her hips.

Satisfied with everything, she began to inspect his wound. Dry, brown and grimy blood painted the skin of his shoulder. With a damp, warm rag, she wiped away what she could, getting a better look as the gash. From a single glance she knew it would need a few stitches and without pain sedatives it was going to be painful. The gnarly gash was already red and irritated, sewing it up was only going to inflame it further.

“It’s gonna need stitches.” She said as her fingers barely brushing the area around his open wound.

“Do whatcha need to do, Ace.” Leaning over he picked a fresh dry rag on the counter before rolling it up and lifting his mask just past his lips to placing it between his teeth.

Mc eyebrows furled, he was already anticipating the pain without question.

“I’ll be as gentle as possible.” She promised.

“Don’t worry about it. I can take it.” He just barely said through the towel.

“The boys aren’t around Lieutenant, you don’t have to be so tough. I won’t tell them that you winced at some stitches.” she sassed gathering up her tools and giving them a wipe with some clear alcohol she found in the bathroom cabinet.

Ghost snickered under his breath, “I’ve taken a lot worse injuries than this, Ace.”

“I'm sure it doesn’t get any easier. So quit being such a tough guy.”

Her touch doesn’t change from her soft and careful presses.

Ghost was surprised when she began to stitch and no pain followed. He was fully ready to bite a hole into the rag in his mouth, but he was only met with light tugs against his shoulder. As the sewing progressed, a slow burn of pain began to set in but it was very manageable. By the time she was done, the rag was taken out of her mouth, he had taken to staring at the adorable concentration that took over her face.

Snipping the last bit of string, she finally looked over to see ghost's dark eyes staring into her.

“Finished.” she said softly but not daring to pull back from his gaze.

Ever since they had been assigned together, their chemistry had been undeniable. She was the only one who ignored his tough exterior and watch out for him just like he had for everyone else. How could he ever act in that? It was inappropriate for a man of his status to have a relationship with a colleague who position was beneath his own. Beyond that, he had so many other things that he couldn’t bring you into, that acting before laying it all out, would be unfair to you.

He was pulled out of his thought when you touch traveled to his opposite shoulder and up to his neck, her thumb gently caressing his jaw.

“Ace.” he says in almost a warning like tone.

“Ghost.” she echos the same tone, moving herself between his legs.

“This is a bad idea.” his mumbles into the inch of air between them.

“So? Bad ideas have never scared you before, Ghost.”

The sound of her voice as she sweetly whispered her name, made his fist tighten. He was fighting every muscle to keep his hands off of her, in spite of the fact that she clearly wanted it too.

Her lips brushed against his and he nearly lost it. He sways towards her, his lips nearly meeting hers, only catching himself at the last second pulling himself back through gritted teeth.

“Ace.” he stops trying to form a simple sentence.

Suddenly, she pulls away, leaving them both stunned.

“I'm sorry.” she says with such surprise, like she had just plunged a knife into his chest with her own hands, “You injured and, we are both exhausted from the mission. T-this was a mistake.”

She immediately gathers her supplies and leaves Ghost alone in the bathroom. Taking a breath to gather himself and pulling his balaclava down, he moves to follow her path to find her in the kitchen, cleaning the tool she had used mere minutes ago.

“It wasn’t a mistake.” he said softly and she stops but refuses to turn around.

With his initial urge dissipated, he approaches and turns her to face him again.

“If we are putting everything out there,” he lifts her chin with a finger, making her eyes meet his, “I want nothing more than to kiss you, but as a superior I have a reasonability to not overstep boundaries and do what best for the people on my team.”

He was surprised at not only the professionalism of his answer but even more so that she didn’t argue right away. Usually, she was able to debunk his bullshit rather quickly.

“I quite frankly, there's a lot about me you don’t know. I doubt you would even want to even be in the same room with me if you knew Simon Riley.”

A small smile formed on her lips and she pushed herself off the sink standing toe to toe with the Lieutenant.

“Try me.”

Present

Everything was going fine as far as a classified mission went. Ghost had yet to be detected and his team suffered zero injuries so that was all he could hope for. He checked once again on Mc who was still three paces behind him. Despite her always being there, he always needed to check to make sure she was next to him. She nodded at him, acknowledging his concern and urging him to move forward.

He signaled for Gaz and Ace to split, going to take the back entrance while him and Soap took the front. Even though Gaz wasn’t his first choice, he was a close second to himself, only tying with soap. It was hard every time you left his side during a mission but due to your agreement, he had to. If your relationship was to be kept a secret, showing favoritism wasn’t the way to do it.

Watching her walk past, he fought every bone in his body not to follow behind her. As they approached a corner a few feet in front of him, she met his eyes briefly as she waited for Gaz to clear so they could move. As she looked at him, she quickly brought her fist to her chest and tapped twice. He gave a slight nod, acknowledging her silent mutual sign they had for ‘I love you’. Ghost had suggested it a few months after they had moved in with each other. Mc was taken aback by his sweet suggestion but eagerly agreed. They came up with a tap to the chest which didn’t seem like much seeing that it was often used in the field as sort of a good luck sort of gesture. To others it would be a simple and it would likely be brushed off but to just them, it was a way to show their love in plain sight. He repeated the same small gesture to her, and her cheeks rose under her mask as she smiled.

“Be safe, Babygirl.” he mumbles low enough for only him to hear.

“Let's move Soap.” he orders moving in the opposite direction.

2 years earlier

The small polish church was all but silent with only three people in attendance. The priest had done hundreds of weddings in his life but it had been a long time since he had seen two people so in love. Even know, in this very moment he knew this was a ceremony he would remember for the rest of his days. After all, it wasn’t every day that the two people in question was both were missing the usual wedding attire. Both were dressed in military gear, with their weapons waiting outside the church out of respect. The man's face was still painted with the black paint that often adorned the soldiers that passed through on the rare occasion. The woman has a clean face that glowed as she looked at her make counterpart, and the priest couldn’t help but notice the intricate French braids that was formed into a bun at the base of her head.

They had come into the church for sanctuary but after an hour of quiet whispers they had asked the old priest to marry them under the sanction of God. Normally the priest would insist on a thorough interview before joining the two but a deep feeling in his gut told him that the love, they held for each other was strong and true so he agreed.

The evening sunset pooled through the stain glass window in front of the alter, showering the couple in beautiful multi colored rays of light. The couples held the simple gold bands that the priest had given them briefly before hand, having no rings on them in the first place, and the old priest refused to accept the idea of exchanging dog tags between them. He could only take so many unconventional requests from the couple.

Having communicated with the couple through English, the priest took it upon himself to recite the ceremony in English as well.

“We are gathered here today under the house of God to unite two souls in holy matrimony. Under gods' guidance, they have claimed their love as strong and pure so we ask you mighty lord for you blessing.” he bows his head reciting a silent prayer. Mc and ghost wait patiently, neither them being the praying sort. Their smiles grew wider as the light shifted slightly, highlighting their joined hands.

“Now before we continue, do you declare before god that you have come here of your own free will and not under the force of others.” asks to Mc first.

She smiles widely, “yes I have come here of my own free will.”

Ghost chuckled along with her, as if he could get her to do something she didn’t want to do.

“And you?” he asks towards ghost.

“Same for me, your holy-ship.” he stutters out the last part.

Even the priest couldn’t help but smile at ghosts' clear unfamiliarity with the catholic religion, and he suspected any other sort of religion. However, he continued, having been satisfied with their light hearted answers. Closing the Bible briefly his attention shifted back to the couple rather than the scripture.

“I have had the pleasure of being a part of many, many marriages in my time, so I have had plenty of practice and experiences so I will tell you what I have told many couples before you. A marriage isn't something that should be done on a whim or because others have told you it is the proper thing to do. You must do it for the love that you share. That is the only thing that can make it stand strong. Do it because you cannot imagine sharing yourself with another living soul. Love takes patience, kindness respect and forgiveness, a lot of forgiveness. I am but a humble servant of God. Whatever you so choose is what it shall be.” he finishes leaving the couple to answer.

Mc looks to ghost, with a questioning gaze no longer confident that he shared the same want for marriage.

Seeing the question in her eyes, he smiles and reached up to cup her jaw, his thumb brushing along her apples of her cheeks.

“I know our relationship hasn’t been a conventional one. Hell, we don’t even show each other affection outside closed doors but I have never, ever doubted your love for me. I know I'm a hard man to love but I will spend the rest of my life, married or not, trying my bloody hardest to love you the way you deserve. As long as you want this, I'm all in with you, love.”

Sniffing slightly and blinking away the mist from her eyes, then nodding to her counterpart.

“Please continue father.” she spoke sweetly and softly.

The priest nods and continues. Holding out the ring for ghost to take, ghost gingerly takes it placing the ring on the first knuckle of her ring finger. As the priest begins to recite the holy scripture, all the while ghost repeats it.

“With this ring, I take you, Mc Y/L/N, to be my lawfully wedded wife to have and to hold from this day forward. For better or for worse, in sickness and in health, rich or for poor. I promise to love and honor you all the days of my life.”

With that, he pushed the golden band fully onto her finger, sealing his vows to his very soon to be wife. He resisted the urge to kiss her on the lips, purely out of respect for the church but utterly hating the decision.

Next it was Mc’s turn to recite the same vows, taking the next golden ring placing it at the same lengths that Simon had just done mere seconds ago.

“With this ring, I take you, Simon Reily, to be my lawfully wedded husband to have and to hold from this day forward. For better or for worse, in sickness and in health, rich or for poor. I promise to love and honor you all the days of my life.”

Tears began to well up in her eyes as she slipped the ring onto his finger. Joining hands again, once more the priest was left to continue the ceremony.

“So, by the power vested in me through the holy catholic church of Saint Joseph, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss your bride Mr. Reily.” the priest smiles.

“ ‘Bout bloody time.” He slips out right before pressing his lips to hers. His hand comes up to cradle the back of her head, his other hand pressing to her lower back pressing her to him. Reaching up she cups his neck and grips the lapel of his thick Carhart jacket, her lips humming happily against his.

They pull apart only for the need of air, they would have continued their display if there was no need for oxygen. As they took a breath, they realized that they were still in a church, and they had yet to thank the priest and more importantly sign the marriage license the priest had so kindly provided them with.

Taking the license from the priest he gave a quick little bow of his head, “thank you father.”

“It was an absolute pleasure. Much like love, God moves the world in mysterious ways, but I am thankful for times like these. Usually when kids come in to be married it's all very decorated and extravagant but being able to marry you two in nothing, but your military garb has shown this old man that love still shines over monetary things.” with a deep yet light breath, the priest smiles contently down at the couple, “I wish you both a long marriage full of love and hope, my children.”

Present

Shit hit the fan way too quick for Ghosts liking.

He was usually able to adapt and adjust to complete the mission one way or the other but this time they were foiled at every turn.

He second guessed the probability of getting out in one piece when soap got clipped in the thigh but by some miracle, they found themselves back at their base waiting, more or less, patiently for Gaz and Mc to catch up. The last they heard from Gaz, he had informed Price that both of them were almost at the front and would be out of the vicinity within the next coming minutes. That was nearly thirty minutes ago, and Ghost was now pacing trying to keep his panic and anger under control. He had about ten more minutes left in him before he would blast his way through that building until he had his wife in hand. He was not going to lose you, not if he could help it.

The door flew open as Gaz was practically carried in by another soldier. He was beaten and bloody but the thing that concerned Ghost was that Mc wasn’t with him.

His veins flared with pure adrenaline that felt like fucking lava. Price and soap were at Gaz side before Ghost had the chance to step over to him.

“Where is Mc?” he demanded ignoring Soaps own questions.

Gaz cough grabbing his side in pain not being able to answer quickly enough for Ghost liking.

“WHERE IS SHE?” he growled grabbing the lapel on gaz jacket.

“Ghost easy!” Soap interrupted pushing ghost back.

Ghost hands were shaking. He was ready to tear someone apart and right now, Gaz was not excluded from that list of people, but he held back.

“Gaz?” he warned.

“They took her.” he wheezed.

“What the fuck do mean they took her? You told Price that you were almost out. How the fuck is that possible?” His voice was low and snarling like an animal.

“They had people stationed outside. We were ambushed as we left the building. I barely got away.” He sighed clearly upset that he had to leave you behind.

Ghost concentrated on the rage bubbling in his stomach, suppressing it as he moved to his equipment that was laid out on a table. He would use that rage to get him into that facility and to his wife.

Soap watched him with confusion. Ghost had never reacted like this to anyone on the team not even when Sheperd had betrayed them. Had the stress finally caught up to him?

"Ghost relax, we are getting her back. We just need a plan first.”

“I'm not waiting for a fucking plan. The longer we wait, the more likely it is that she is dead. I'm going and I don’t give a fuck if any of you are coming with me.”

“Ghost we all want to get her back and out of harm's way but you aren't going to if you go back in there blind.” Soap reached over grabbing Ghosts' bicep only for a second before ghost harshly ripped it out of his grip.

“I suggest you keep your hands to yourself if you want to keep ‘em.” ghost threated hoarsely.

Soap looked to Price for some sort of back up, but hesitation was clear on his face which confused Soap even more. Price had never been scared to tell Ghost off, which made him one of the few who could.

“Soaps right Ghost we need at least an idea before we attack.”

Ghosts eyes stayed on Soap for a moment more before turning away and going back to his arsenal.

“My plan is to kill everyone in my way until Mc is safe.” he stated, slid his knives into their respective holsters, then turning to Price and Soap. Both had never seen the kind of darkness that clouded Ghost eyes, Soaps confusion was now turning into fear. “I'm either going as a soldier or as a husband. Only one of them will take orders from you.”

“Husband?” Soap sounded with complete and utter confusion.

The room went silent as Price and Ghost stood off against each other.

“Suit up, Soap. We're going in.” he said still looking at Ghost before moving over to his own

“Alright what am I missing?” Soap demands as the two men began to move around.

Price grabs Soaps dragging him over to the supplies of weapons and armor jackets.

“I’ll fill in the details later, but Ghost and Y/n have been married for a little over two years and they’ve been keeping it secret ever since. I’m the only one who knows about it.”

Soap was rendered speechless, then he began to strap his equipment on in a confused haze.

1 year earlier

It was too close of a call for Y/n. She could handle a lot of things when it came to her line of work, but she drew the line today. When she had watched a rifle bullet rip through her husband's ribs and exit through the other side then was forced to act as a teammate and not his wife, that was it for her. She had watch him bleed for hours in the dirt in the middle of Venezuela, all while keeping her wife tendencies hidden under her teammate persona. Later as he was laid up in the hospital, unconscious from blood loss but stable, nonetheless, she swore she would never be in this position again. At the hospital. She was able to convince captain Price that she should stay with him at least until the mission was wrapped up, and he had to much paper work to object to her offer.

She watched as his chest rose and fell with his shallow breathing. Until he woke up, y/n had taken to reading a book and sipping on her hospital burnt black coffee.

She found herself re-reading the same line over and over again. She couldn’t stop her mind from wondering and worrying. With every person that past by the door, worried that it was Captain Price coming to relieve her. She wasn’t sure if she could lie herself out of leaving.

As Ghost stirred next to her, she was brought out of her thoughts. Slapping the book shut, she was over by his side sitting on the edge of the bed. With another groan and a small shift, when he saw his eyes opened, she felt a lift in her shoulders that she had been waiting for since the moment ghost had been shot.

“Simon.” she cooed.

He smiled lazily with the pain medication still flowing through his system.

“Babygirl.” He sings to her.

She smiles, only have heard that pet name from him maybe a handful of times.

“Hey, Big Man. How you feelin?”

His eyebrows frilled together as a disappointed look graced his features.

“Big Man? I'm your husband, call me hubby or something.” he complained rather childishly.

“Fine.” she paused to look around for a brief minute before looking back at him, “How are you feeling, my love?”

“Great.” he coos, as his eyes roll back.

“Those meds are working then. That’s good.”

“You know,” he smiles, peeling his eyes open, “a kiss would make me feel a lot betta.”

Mc sighed, yet she was unable to hide her smile as she watched her mountain of a husband acting like a lovesick teenager.

“Just a quick one, alright? Then you need to rest some more.”

He huffed but nodded his head anyways.

She leaned down, meeting his lips for a quick kiss.

Before they had started dating and got married, she had always assumed that ghost would be cold in every aspect, after all, that was what he was until she had met the man beneath the mask. Now she couldn’t imagine him being anything but warm. His lips were chapped but they were still warm. A hand found its way to her hip, giving a small squeeze making her snap out of their love bubble.

“Simon.” she warned pulling his hand away.

He hums contently pulling away from her lips, lazily, “I love kissing you.”

“I love kissing you too. Now go back to sleep.” she said softly brushing a hand down his cheek.

He smiled before drifting back off to sleep.

She sighed. She was safe for another hour or two but now she was worried that if Price came, Ghost would spill their secret while under hospital grade pain relievers, but until he conscious again and off his extreme pain meds she would have to make things up as she went.

***

A few weeks later, Ghost was finally ready to go home. Mc had managed to stay next to him the entire time convincing that she had felt responsible for ghost having been his partner for the mission. It also helped that Price was needed for a few more extensive things back at the base that took up a portion of his time. So he had no problem leaving the sarcastic lieutenant with the patient warrant..

With their secret still remaining between two of them, touches were kept to a minimum. That task being hard for ghost to adhere to. His touch brushing along her hips and the back of her hands every once and a while, to which Mc always shooed away. Even on the way home, his warm hand pressing to her knee was pushed away, leaving ghost confused, but y/n had always been a diligent driver, so he would wait until they got back to their shared apartment.

Moving through the door, Mc helped him remove his coat before going to take care of the bags of clothing and forgotten military duffle bags that were forgotten in the backseat of the car.

Simon leaned against the counter, watching as Mc was trying hard to distance herself from him. He hated that.

He smiled as he moved over to her form that was putting clothes into the washer. His hands landed on her hips pulling her into him and wrapping his arms around her in a hug. As she finished, she closed the machine and started it, making the old thing roar to life then turning around in his arms. Finding a light sheen in her eyes, his smile fell slightly.

“Go rest.” she suggested, lightly pushing him away and towards the bedroom. She moved over to the counter in kitchen.

“I will. I want to hold my wife first.” he said following her.

Taking her face between his hands, he kissed her gently. He could feel her hesitation in her as he moved his touch down to her waist where he encircled her. He deepened the kiss and she in turn wrapped her own arms around his shoulders, her fingers entangling in his hair. Parting both of their lips, he was able to slip his tongue between her lips, stroking along her own tongue as she tightened her grip on his roots.

Tears rolled down her cheek, but she was more focused on the burning in her lungs as she continued to run out of air against her husband's lips.

When they finally broke apart, she finally felt the trail of tears, for now she left them alone only worrying about catch her breath and keeping herself from having a panic attack that she had been suppressing for weeks.

Simon cradled her cheeks again, looking at her with a confused glance, “What is it, Babygirl?”

“Don’t ever make me do that again.” she heaved softly, “Please Simon. I can’t do that again. I cant.”

He knew exactly what she meant, and he couldn’t blame her. He didn’t want to think about being in her place. Watching her bleed out and laying in a hospital bed. Having to pretend day in and day out in the hospital, that they were nothing but teammates, it would destroy him.

He wrapped his arms around her, he made sure to cradle her head and plant a kiss on the crown of her forehead. His big frame always made her look small, and as she buried herself into his chest, she looked even smaller. He felt her shake against him as she cried out the stress of her week.

“I won't, I swear. I’ll tell Price as soon as I'm clear to come back.”

She nods and Simon kisses her forehead again before moving down to her lips, placing another soft kiss.

“You were so unbelievably brave, my love. I am so proud of you. I wouldn’t be able to hold out as long as you had.” Simon chuckled at his own admission to his weakness.

“I wasn’t easy.” she breathed.

Simon nodded, running his hand down her arms, continuing to ground them both.

“I think we can both use a shower. I don’t know about you, but a fuckin sponge bath is absolute bollocks.”

Mc belted out her first real laugh in over a month then nodded, allowing Simon to pull her towards their shared bathrooms.

PRESENT

Price had never seen Ghost move in such an unquestionable and efficient way before. He was cutting through people like they were nothing, all the while keeping himself silent. He wasn’t going to let the enemy know he was there until he was good and ready. Price and Soap were basically just cover; he would get the same help from a bulletproof vest.

“Ghost, we need to hurry. I'm sure they know we are here by now. All hell is about the break loss, L.t.”

Ghost stayed silent. Soap wondered if he had even heard him, but then he answered, “We’re close.”

Decorated military enemies began passing them as they hid in the shadows. They all yelled foreign instructions, pointing and flailing at their obedient soldiers.

Once the coast is clear, they move again coming to a pair of metal double doors at the end of the hallway. While Price and Soap flanked the doors ghost stood ready to kick in the doors if need be. Thrusting his shoulder into the middle of the door, they burst open to reveal a ruined control room. In the middle of the empty room was Mc strapped to a lone chair.

“Mc!” Ghost called out, charging over to unconscious form and sliding to his knees in front of her.

A bruise was already showing on one of her swollen eye sockets and blood was caked around her nose and lips. One of the more prominent injury she had endured was a knife sticking out of her thigh. There was no telling what other internal injuries she had sustained without a doctor.

Price and soap gave each other a look that was more worried than relieved, as they absorbed the state of their newly found comrade. Price turned to guard the door, opening it just a crack to see any commotion coming down the hallway.

“Mc?” Ghost spoke as he gently cradled his wife’s face, hoping to rouse her. “Baby, it's Simon.”

She groaned, as she squirmed in her chair to get away, a distinct wheeze was pushed out of her chest as she moved.

“Easy, easy.” he warned, pressing her down to relax her.

“Simon.” she whimpered her head dipping back from the lack of lucidity.

“It's me. It's me, babygirl. You're safe. We’re getting you out of here.” Ghost kneeled, taking out his own knife, and sliced through rope that strapped her down in the god forbidden chair.

“I'm going to pick you up, alright? It will hurt for a second, but I promise it will be over in a minute.”

She sleepily nodded, reaching out to hook her arms around his neck.

Being a quick as possible, he hoisted her up bridal style being sure to be careful if the knife that was still stuck into the meat of her thigh. She yelped in pain as she was moved, the look of agony on her face twisted at Ghost chest.

“I got you, babygirl.” he breathes lowly to her as she rests her head against his chest, before looking over to Soap, “Let’s move.”

Exiting out the back way they were able to escape the compound unscathed but with y/n fading in and out of consciousness in ghost's arms he was finding it hard to relax in the back of the hummer.

Trying his hardest to alleviate as much pressure as he could from her leg, but with every bump they ran over his heart clenched at her whimper.

Holding her tighter to his chest, he pressed a kiss to her forehead through his mask trying to get her to hold on just a little bit longer.

“Can you go any faster?” Ghost said it a little bit softer than he did back at the base.

“Not if you want the radiator to stay in tack.” Price answers.

Ghost exhales as he feels Mc go slack in his arms again. Dropping his touch from behind her leg and moving it to her wrist to monitor her pulse. A steady beat thrummed under his touch and he let his bubbling panic dissipate from him slightly.

“She’ll be alright, L.t. She’s a strong one if she can handle your disagreeable arse.” Soap teases trying to ease his friend.

Ghost was able hide the smile that rippled across his lips under his mask, he wasn’t about to give Soap the satisfaction of a good comment at a time like this. He was right, though. You were strong and he had to have faith that you were pulling out of this.

If you didn’t, there would be hell to pay.

The fifteen minutes that had passed getting to base had felt like 5 hours to ghost. His mind spiraled and his chest tighten to the point of being painful as he held y/n in his arms. Her heart rate slowed gradually as the minutes ticked by only adding to his anxiety.

As they pulled up to the base, Ghost was already out of the hummer before it even came to a full stop. Kicking through the doors, he was on autopilot as he made his way to the med bay as he cradled you in his arms.

“I need a doctor!” Ghost announced.

Upon hearing the intimidating lieutenant cries, the nurses and doctors snap into action. A gurney is brought to him, and he lowers her down gently to the firm thin cot. A whimper escapes her making ghost pause the nurses before they had the chance to pull you away.

“I’m here baby.” he cooed brush away the blood matted hair away from her forehead.

“Lieutenant, we need to get her to a room.”

“JUST-” Ghost began to snap but quickly corrected himself with a shaky breath, “Just give me a second, please.” he pleaded.

Her gazed over eyes peaked through her eyelids as her touch brushed to his hand that held himself over her on the gurney.

“The doctors are going to take care of you. I’ll be right ‘ere.”

She nods exhaustedly drifting off again. Ghost stepping away, allowing the nurses to wheel you away.

He wanted to feel some sort of relief in fact that you were now in safe and capable hand. Doctors were there to pull you through but he couldn’t stop the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Trotting over to the short row of chairs against the wall, he dropped down into the seat, and rubbed at the bridge of his nose trying to ease the pulsing pain in his head.

His thumbs sat in the corner of his eyes as his elbows rested against his knees. He remained in his position as two sets of footsteps approached him.

“She being seen?” Price asked.

“Yes.” he answered shortly, not wanting to elaborate.

“This never happens again.”

Ghost could hear the strain Price used to suppress his anger and he found it hard to not sympathize with the reaction. Price had gone out on a limb to back up ghost on this. If it had gone bad it would have been over for everyone, they would be lucky if they didn’t get arrested for insubordination

“Understood, Captain.”

Satisfied with Ghosts' concurrence, Price took a seat right next to Ghost, sinking low in the seat, letting out a heavy exhale. Soap sunk into the seat on the other side, also letting out an exhausted breath. Ghost looked over at his colleagues in a confused fashion.

“What?” Soap shrugged. “We didn’t go through all that just to go home right afterwards. We want to make sure she’ll pull through.”

Ghost nodded, almost thankful that he had men like Price and Soap by his side.

As the next hour or two rolled by in silence as Price and Soap don’t feel the need to agitate Ghost more than he already was.

When the doctor emerged making his way over to the three men, Ghost stood quickly to his feet, while Price was startled awake, and soap was roused from his daze.

“How is she?”

The doctor winces slightly before shaking his head lazily. Ghost heart sunk in his chest.

“She’s pretty banged up, but she’ll be alright.”

Ghost sighed with a breath of relief, and he nearly doubled over. He wanted to cry, laugh, and punch something all at once.

“Her thigh is cleaned and stitched up. She has a couple fractured ribs, a broken nose, a concussion, and some bruising around the temple. She will need to be monitored for a week to make sure that she didn’t suffer any permanent brain damage.”

“Can I see her?” he asked hoarsely.

The doctor looked down at the chart, scanning it over before looking back up, “For a little bit.”

Ghost nodded then followed the doctor to y/ns room.

As he entered the room, he bit back a tears seeing her hooked up to machines and wrapped in gauze all the while she slept peacefully in the bed.

Hesitantly he walked over to the bed side and sitting gingerly in the chair situated in the room.

Hearing the slight shuffle in the room, y/n stirred peeling open her eyes and smiled seeing her husband next to her.

“Hi, baby.” she cooed.

Ghost smiled at the use of the rare pet name that she graced him with. He met her reaching out arms to cuddle her gently, being weary of her tender ribs.

He kissed her lightly on the forehead through his mask as he pulled back still cradling her frame.

“How you feeling, my darling?”

“Fuzzy.” she mumbled with her eyebrows frilled making Ghost chuckle.

“Fuzzy?”

“Yeah, take your mask off and kiss me again.” she requested.

He giggled again, “Alright.”

Lifting his mask, he planted his lips against her own.

Pulling back, he smiled back down at her, “That better?”

“Mhm.” She hums the reaches up to pull his mask back down.

She suddenly turned serious, and worry flashed across her features as her eyes dilated.

“Is Gaz, okay? I didn’t see if he made it out? What about Soap and Price?”

“Fine. They’re all fine.” he repeated while brushing his hands along her shoulders trying to ease her.

She relaxed slumping into the bed, her eyes fluttering close as she sighed, “Thats good.”

Ghost wanted to smile but the memory of Gaz returning to the compound without his wife in toe made his anger spike and his jaw clench. Knowing her husband all too well, she peeked back at him, noticing his tight jaw and furrowed eyebrows.

Reaching out and cupping his cheeks she brought him down to her.

“I’m okay, my love. I knew you would get me out of there Simon. I never doubted you.”

“Thats not the point.” He gritted, “I know I don’t show how much I love you but if I lost you, it would break me. I have been through a lot in my life and losing you would destroy me.”

“I'm not going anywhere, Simon. I will fight with everything that I have for you. Things will happen and we won’t be able to stop it so we can't take anything for granted.”

Simon smiled at her exhausted yet wise words.

“Well then you better prepare yourself, Mrs. Reily because as soon as your cleared, you're never leaving our bed.”

Mc giggled at her husband's promise, “Why wait?”

Ghost had to stifle another laugh, “Mostly because we are in the medical bay. Secondly your on a fuck ton of pain meds.”

In her medicated stupor, she began pulling at his mask, revealing his lips again. Instead of bringing her lips to his, her attention was suddenly on the stubble forming on his chin. She giggled softly as her pointer finger ran along the underside of his lip then down to the underside of his chin.

“What in the hell are you doing?” simon smiled.

“Admiring my unbelievably sexy husband.”

A sudden throat clearing cough shattered the private moment the married couple were sharing. Both Simon and Mc looked over to see Price and Soap standing on the other side of the sheet, cutting off everyone from everyone else in the med bay.

Turning back, Simon rolled his eyes as he scooted away from his wife's bedside, trying to bring back his composure.

“Sorry to interrupt, kids.” Price says, stepping into the room and Soap falling in step behind.

“How ya feeling, Ace?” Soap asked gingerly.

“A lot better with that knife out if my thigh.”

Soap giggled trying to lighten the anxious mood in the room. “So, Mrs. Rielly, huh?”

Y/n smiled, “Yeah, sorry for the secrecy but it wasn’t necessarily allowed.”

“Oye, I ain’t complaining. I'm just surprised that you put up with this grump.”

“What can I say? It was hard for him to resist this.” Mc said gesturing to her whole body.

Ghost stifled a laugh with an abrupt cough while Mc giggled the clear effects of her pain meds starting to show.

“Alright, your getting loopy. Go back to sleep.” He found himself stopping before the word ‘babygirl’ fell from his lips. He still wasn’t comfortable calling you pet names in front of his teammates.

“Okay.” She smiled already nodding off.

“Get better soon, Ace.” Price sounded leaving the hospital room.

Soap stuck around for a moment, watching ghost place a quick kiss to the back of Mcs hand. When he finally rose from his seat, he faced John. There was a slight gratefulness in his eyes that warmed soap a little, maybe ghost was as becoming a big softy thanks to Mc.

“Let us know if you need anything L.T.” He reminded his friend.

To which, Simon nodded. As Soap turned to leave, Simon begrudgingly had to acknowledge that this may be the time to have a moment of vulnerability with his loyal teammate.

“Thank you, Johnny, for everything.”

“‘S what friends do, LT.” Johnny responded with a smile then turned to leave.

6 Weeks later

Simon and Mc had lasted pretty well by themselves for the next few weeks. Simon finally put in some of the vacation time that he never uses and stayed home to take care of Mc, to which he had no complaints. The time spent together only made this morning harder. He woke tangled against Mcs body, she still sound asleep in his arms. She had taken quiet nicely to late sleep in’s and quiet days spent together to recover from their years of nonstop military service. Simon had never thought of himself walking away from the military life that he had always known, but maybe he had changed.

As if she could hear his running mind, mc stirred next to him. Turning in his arms to face him, she gradually peeled her eyes open meeting his own.

“Morning.” She cooed with a smile.

“Good morning, love.”

“Have you been awake for long?” She asked snuggling into him further.

“No.” He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“We have to go back to the office this morning, huh?” Mc stated with a slight groan.

“Unfortunately.” He answered, supressing his laugh towards his wife’s clear disappointment.

“You know you don’t have to go back if you don’t want to. Being a stay at home wife might suit you.” He joked.

She scoffed at his proposal, “And what would I even do here all day? It’s not like we are going to have any kids.”

Simon paused suddenly taken back by the notion, “We aren’t?”

Mc looks up to her husband, confused, “i thought we weren’t. I assumed you didn’t want kids.”

“I didn’t a while ago, but having kids with you, it’s a different story. Besides, did you want kids? He asks with genuine curiosity.

A quick pause passed between them as Mc’s eyes dropped for a moment before going back up to her husbands grey-blue eyes, “I think it would be nice to have a little you running around.”

“Well then maybe we should have a baby.”

His wife’s eyebrows crinkle in confusion and she sat up straight in her bed. Simon watched in awe as her hair cascades over her bare shoulder. Holding the sheet to her naked body, she looked at her husband, trying to decide if he was being serious or not.

“You want a baby?”

“I’m aware that I have a lot of issues that I need to work through and I am terrified at the thought of being like my father but, I have you. Since I met you, I have been a better man than I ever have been. Besides if I learned anything about our last incident is that I would do anything to for you and your safety. I’ve done more than my father has ever done for the people I love.”

Mcs heart bloomed at the sound of her husband growth in confidence. The only thing that she had ever pushed Simon on was therapy, for the soul reason that she hated to see him suffer the way he did. It took him a while to come around to the idea but even Simon couldn’t deny the dividends that were improved.

“Besides,’ Simon continued, reaching out he squeezed his wife’s hips, “I think you would look bloody gorgeous pregnant with my baby.”

Mc bit her lip leaning down and kissing her husband, falling into the warmth and comfort of her husband.

Pulling back briefly she spoke again, “let’s revisit this after work.”

Giving him another quick peak, she moved off their shared bed and headed to the bathroom to go shower. Meanwhile, her husband was happy to watch her naked form walk away.

***

Mc felt very strange walking into the facilities on base as she held her husbands hand. She was used to coordinating times with ghost so they never walked in together. Driving separately, then avoiding her husband until after most of the teams morning work outs, all to keep their relationship under-wraps. Now to be holding hands and walking together, it all felt new and odd.

What was even odder, was that the base seemed to be empty for the most part.

“Did we miss something?” Mc asked outwardly.

“I don’t think so.” Simon responded unsure as he looked around. After a moment, he shrugged then continued along. “Lets go find Price.”

Coming up the captains office, they were still confused as they found his office door closed and the lights off. Movement from the other side of the door made them pause and stop them from turning around. With Simon taking the lead, he knocked on the door before opening it. As their eyes adjusted to the dark the lights flicked on making their eyes dilate to focus before they were interrupted by a flash delighted cheer.

The Riley’s were surprised to find their teammates huddled in a lightly decorated room, including a banner that said ‘congratulations’ across it.

Mc smiled noticing her husbands protective hand that reached behind him. His muscle memory wired to protect her. Seeing that it was just his colleagues he relaxed.

Soap was the first to approach with a wide proud smile. Seeing his superiors unamused look he let out a nervous chuckle.

“Sorry L.T. But we had to celebrate.” He grinned.

While ghost looked clearly uncomfortable, Mc took the reigns as she took ghosts hand gently, “Thank you, Soap. You guys are too sweet.”

“We had to do something for ya. Its not everyday two of our teammates marry each other.”

Ghost grumbled giving a quick, ‘mhm’, before soap’s attention was grabbed by Gaz across the room as he waved at soap.

“Enjoy the party.” He said with a wide smile and thumbs up.

As he walked away ghost groaned beside mc as he looked at the people surrounding them in the room.

Mc giggled at her husbands reaction and turned to him with speaking lowly to him.

“Try to enjoy yourself big guy. It’s a party for us, after all.” She tried to convince him.

“I think I’d rather be in the deserts of Venezuela again.” He groaned.

“That’s not funny.” She said seriously remembering the last time they were in that sandy hellscape.

His eyes looked to her, and upon seeing her sharp eyes his own softened.

“Your right, I’m sorry.” He apologized.

Mc smiled as his arm encircled her waist, bringing her closer. A twing of mischief ran through her briefly as a naughty thought crossed her mind, looking at her husband.

“Come on, play nice for an hour and then I’m sure captain price will let us go home. I’ll let you work on making me a mom.”

Ghost left out a small sigh, giving out a low growl, “fuckin hell” before adjusting his shoulders

“Imma hold you to that Ace.” He whispered to his wife.

#cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #mw2 smut #mw2 fluff #simon riley fluff #simon riley smut #simon riley fanfic

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jrswritings · 2 months ago

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Tingles and Giggles - Chapter Eighteen - Tyler Owens x Reader

Get caught up with the Chapters 1-17 on the Masterlist! :)

Chapter Eighteen - Mother Clucker

As Tyler pulled into his aunt’s driveway, you noticed the sign saying Daisy Dream Acres and the little hut with a closed sign on the window. You smiled slightly, knowing someday you’d want something like that. You looked down the driveway to see a light blue farmhouse with a wrap-around porch, set with a swing and a big Saint Bernard perched on top of it. You looked to the right and saw the huge garden full of fruits and vegetables at peak harvest, to the left of the driveway you saw another light blue building with a sign saying ‘Mother-Cluckers.’

“That must be the chicken coop?” You asked, gesturing to the building.

“Yeah, Auntie B loves sayings like that,” he chuckled, putting the truck in park behind her Ford F-150.

“You finally trade in that damn Ram 3500 for a real truck, Ty?” A voice called from the porch. You looked over and saw a woman with dark brown light curly hair, her gray roots showing her age. She had on yellow overalls and a dark blue shirt covered in small daisies.

“No, ma’am!” He said proudly while getting out of the truck, “This is (Y/n)’s truck.”

“Damn, and I was just starting to think you were comin’ around, boy,” she said, “Breakfast is almost ready and coffee is hot.”

While you were getting out of the truck, you noticed this flash of brown and white, and then Tyler was on the ground. You walked around the back of the truck to see him being slobbered with kisses by his Saint Bernard, Cash. You smiled, but it made you miss your pups at home.

“I missed you, too, bud,” Tyler laughed, scratching Cash’s back and hugging him tight while Cash whined with happiness.

“I can’t wait to see my boys,” you said softly, kneeling next to him to greet the dog.

“Just think, it’ll be tomorrow,” Tyler said, sitting up and brushing the dirt off his shirt, “Maybe we’ll bring Cash with us so they all can play together.”

“That’ll be good,” you said, “Hey buddy.”

Cash came over and almost knocked you over, slobbering kisses all over your face, too.

“Cash, c’mon man, I kiss that face,” he said, chuckling while standing up and holding his hand out for you.

“Like I don’t kiss yours,” you said, taking it and standing up.

“I am pretty kissable,” he said while smirking, “Let’s get inside and wash up before Auntie B yells at us.”

“On it,” you said, brushing your knees off while walking up the stairs to the front door. He grabbed the handle and pulled the door open.

“Ladies first,” he said, smiling and giving your butt a light smack while walking inside. This was new, but you were in front of someone else so you had to play it cool, but made a mental note to ask him about it later tonight when you were alone.

“I’m glad to see that you’re still a gentleman, Tyler,” his aunt said, “Your momma would be proud.”

“Well, I had two amazing women to raise me and whip me into shape,” he said, pouring two cups of coffee.

“Damn right you did,” she laughed, “So I’ll go out and take care of the horses if you want to do the chickens.”

“We can do that,” you said, “I’m sure Tyler can show me the ropes, but I’m sure it’s no different than the chickens my parents have.”

“They’re a handful and I’ve threatened to turn them into fried chicken,” she said while plating up hashbrowns, bacon, eggs, and toast.

“My dad not only threatened but then held out on that,” you laughed, “Was pretty good chicken.”

“When Tyler was younger a couple of the older chickens were chasing him around and pecking his rear,” she said, “Was pretty funny to watch from the porch.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t very fun running away from said chickens with a basket full of eggs,” Tyler said, sitting next to you and putting his arm on the back of your chair.

“You were, what, six?” She asked, placing plates in front of the both of you.

“Somewhere around that,” he said, “Definitely wasn’t old enough to know I could just kick them and they’d leave me alone.”

“I mean, you’re just pre-tenderizing the meat,” you said, taking a sip of your coffee. This made both Auntie B and Tyler laugh.

“I like this girl, Ty,” she said, “What took you so long to get her?”

“Well,” he said, trailing off.

“It was mainly my fault,” you said, interrupting him, “My past relationships left me pretty beaten up so if anyone tried I would usually brush them off or they’d give up trying.”

“Why do you say that they’d give up?” She asked, taking a bite of her toast.

“Let’s just say my heart is basically in Fort Knox,” you laughed slightly, “It takes a while before I start to trust people, men especially.”

“Good for you, know what you deserve,” she said, “It’s why I’ve been single after my first marriage fell apart.”

“Well, he wasn’t much of a man, Auntie B,” Tyler chimed in.

“Oh hush,” she said, waving him away.

“I’ve never heard anyone who doesn’t have a job, work ethic, is an alcoholic, and occasionally beat his wife who would do anything for him, a man,” he said, shoving a piece of bacon into his mouth.

“Ty, obviously she doesn’t want to talk about it,” you said, smacking his arm.

“It’s okay, (Y/n),” she said, finishing up her eggs, “He’s just protective, just like his father.”

“Can’t help it, it’s in my blood,” he said, finishing his toast.

“Nothing wrong with that,” you said, drinking the last of your coffee.

“You kids ready to get to work?” She said, taking the empty plates and putting them into the sink.

“As I’ll ever be,” Tyler said, getting up and stretching, “Been a while since I’ve done chores.”

“Been a lot longer for me,” you said, grabbing his ball cap and putting it on your head. You pulled your ponytail out the back and headed over to the door.

“The baskets are on the porch, dear,” she said, “Don’t be scared to give them a nudge with your feet.”

“Will do,” you said while cracking the door open, “Thank you for breakfast, Ms. Owens!”

“Call me Auntie B, honey,” she said, giving you a smile and a wave as she headed out the back door to the horses.

“And you were so worried she wouldn’t like you,” he whispered in your ear, putting his hands on your waist.

“Can’t help I’m a likable person,” you said, as he grabbed the baskets and headed down the stairs with you right behind him.

“More like lovable,” Tyler said, pulling you close and kissing your temple.

“Somedays,” you said, opening the door to the chicken coop to see a couple dozen chickens.

“You take one side, and I’ll take the other?” He asked, handing you a basket.

“Are you making this a challenge, Owens?” You asked, smirking and gripping the basket.

“What if I am?” He asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Then you’re on,” you said, heading over to the first chicken box and grabbing the eggs left unmanned.

“Are we doing how fast or how many?” He asked, going to his first box where there was nothing.

“Why not both,” you said, grabbing another four eggs.

“Because how many is just a chance of luck with having the good side,” he said, going to the box under it and moving a chicken out of the way to collect the one egg.

“That sucks,” you said, laughing while already being down five boxes and having around two dozen eggs.

“Ow!” Tyler shouted while pulling his hand back and putting his hand to his mouth, “Mother clucker!”

“Careful, we don’t want a repeat of when you were six,” you laughed, “But on the other hand I’d love to see that.”

“It wouldn’t be as funny,” he said from behind his hand.

“Yeah, it’d be ten times more funny since you’re a grown adult,” you said, looking over at him with a big smile to be met with an annoyed glare.

“I can’t help that chickens don’t like me,” he said, trying the next box.

“Chickens don’t like anyone, but they can sense fear,” you said, being close to the end of the row of boxes for your side.

“Okay, maybe I have an irrational fear of chickens,” he said, trying to get more eggs from under a chicken.

“Want me to help you?” You asked, trying to hold back a laugh while holding your basket of overflowing eggs, “I’m pretty sure I won.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, looking down at his basket to see maybe a dozen eggs.

Want more? Here's Chapter Nineteen!

Taglist: @fanboyswhore9 @faith719 @ummmeg @nerdgirljen @winterassassin1804 @smoothdogsgirl @xbox5angelx

#tyler owens x y/n #Tyler Owens #Twisters #twisters x reader #tyler owens twisters #tyler owens x you #tyler owens x reader #glen powell x you #glen powell x reader #glen powell #tyler owens fanfiction #twisters 2024 #tornado wrangler

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detachedminxsfics · 1 year ago

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Farmhand

Masterlist

Characters: Negan (Dead City) x F!Reader

Summary: When Negan spends a late night out in the barn and doesn't return to his room you go to convince him to turn in for the night, but Negan has other ideas.

Word count: 4K

Warnings: NSFW - Dry humping, fingering, vaginal sex, riding, choking, praise, dirty talk, negan's usual foul mouth, dom negan

A/N: I am so sorry it took me so long to finish this but I hope the wait was worth it, this one got pretty dirty but it's cowboy Negan so it just HAD to be. As they say, save a horse ride a cowboy!

The leaves beneath the soles of your boots crunched with every step, the breeze whistling through the trees as you walked through the forest. Negan was right at your side, as per usual, his eyes occasionally glancing towards you and his head lifting in search of any signs of trouble without the obscurity of the brim of his cowboy hat. You'd been on the road for a few weeks now, just the two of you. You'd first bumped into Negan a few months ago when you arrived at a small farm settlement way out in the countryside, the people there having been kind enough to offer you refuge, and you chose to repay their generosity by helping out on the farm wherever you could. That's when you met Negan. He'd already been there a few months when you first arrived it seemed, the people there having gotten pretty comfortable with him and Negan himself having gotten accustomed to his routine. And from the moment you walked through the doors of that barn and saw him hunched over a hay bale, tattoos on his arms and the muscles flexing with every movement, the veins running up the backs of his hands and forearms and his forehead glistening with sweat, you were hooked. He straightened his back with a groan and grasped the fabric at the bottom of his tank top, lifting the hem to drag the material over his forehead and mop up the sweat that had gathered there, the lift of his top revealing the trail of hair starting from his belly button and stopping at the depths of his toned lower abdomen. Your eyes travelled to the dark curls of hair at his chest, and you couldn't tear your eyes away from the deep v-lines framing his hips sitting prettily above the waistband of his low waisted jeans.

"Oh, hey." The sound of his voice interrupted the way your eyes were shamelessly roaming over his body, and you subtly cleared your throat.

He let go of his top and ran a hand through his slightly damp, dishevelled hair, slicking it in the process.

"I don't think I've seen your face before, you new here sweetheart?" He asked as he bent down and reached for something off to the side.

When he leant back up he had a beige cowboy hat in his hands which he naturally placed on his head.

"Pretty much just got here last night, feeling real out of my depth." You replied honestly, your uncertainty making him shake his head with a chuckle.

"No need, you'll fit right in. And I'm guessing you're already on the right track if you walked all the way over here to see if you could help these fine folks out."

You nodded, and Negan gestured with his head in the direction of the pile of hay he was handling.

"C'mon then, give me a hand with this."

That was all he had to say, and from that point onwards you seemed attached at the hip. Always trying to be on the same job as the other, always offering to be partnered on a supply run, so you suppose it was only a matter of time before you relieved the unspoken tension between the two of you one way or another. Negan's room was only across from yours in the farmhouse so you could hear when he opened and closed the door to his room to settle in for the night, but he hadn't yet. You got up from your bed and peered out the window, the view giving you a nice overlook of the farm. You could see some of the crops that had been planted in a plot of land off to the side and the moderately sized cornfield near the barn, the moonlight from the night sky illuminating the front of the barn enough for you to make out its slightly ajar doors, and a sigh left your lips. Negan. You threw on a denim skirt and slipped on some boots, making your way out of your room and the farmhouse to walk all the way down to the barn, carefully peering into the space in the doors and stepping into it a little. Negan was leaning over the workbench in the far corner tinkering with something. You could barely make him out in the dimness of the barn, small beams of luminescence creeping in through the occasional window. It was as you got closer that you were able to discern the cowboy hat on top of his head. It always suited him.

"Late night?" You said as you stepped into the barn, hay crunching beneath your boots with every step.

Negan lifted his head the moment he heard your voice, his eyes meeting yours. He chuckled and placed the tool he'd been grasping in one hand down on the workbench, straightening his back a little and slightly tilting his hat back to wipe the sheen of sweat that had gathered on his forehead with the back of his hand.

"Yeah, something like that."

He gave a long, exhausted sigh that prompted you to make your way over to him until you stood beside him, your eyes curiously glancing over the workbench for a moment. It just looked like scrap, at least to you.

"What you working on?" You asked, making Negan shake his head with a smile.

"Nothing really, just some piece a' shit car part that I thought I might be able to fix up. I'm not really a handyman typa guy, but I thought I'd give it a shot."

You nodded and then took hold of one of Negan's tanned forearms, the feeling of his skin on yours burning you up from the slightest touch, and gently tried to urge him away from what he was messing with.

"C'mon Negan, it's getting late. You can screw around with that tomorrow." You pleaded with him, but he stood firmly in place as a small laugh escaped his lips, his head tilting a little.

"And what are you doing up this late yourself, hm? Cause something tells me that you didn't wake up just to check whether I made it to my room or not, or are you really all that worried about little ol' me?" Negan teased, the deflection of your suggestion making you laugh.

"Okay smartass, I was already awake. I was having trouble sleeping and I gave up, so I thought I'd come see what you were up to."

Negan raised his brows playfully and placed his hand over the back of the one you were using to hold his arm, slightly holding it in his palm.

"Oh, what kinda trouble?"

You knew he was just avoiding facing the possibility of giving up what he was doing and turning in for the night, but the delay was sure as hell gonna work.

"I get dreams about this...guy."

His eyebrows quirked up even more than they had before, the shit-eating grin on his face widening in an instant and his eyes lit up like a kid on christmas morning.

"Really, just some random guy?" He quipped doubtfully.

You scoffed and tried to drop your hand from his forearm, to which you did, but he kept his hand pressed over yours.

"Yeah, a guy, Negan."

You'd piqued his curiosity, and there was something hidden in your words that had his tongue dragging over his bottom lip.

"Well, what happens in these dreams of yours?" He asked seemingly innocent enough, but it was full of ambiguity.

He reached up with his free hand and swept a strand of hair behind your ear, eyes looking you over beneath that beige cowboy hat still sat proudly atop his head, and the silver of his stubble looking as good as ever. Your eyes filled with something inviting, a coy smile on your lips as you tilted your head.

"Why do you wanna know, Negan?"

He shrugged and feigned total ignorance to the exact reason he was so obviously prying, but the grin on his lips gave him away.

"Can I take a wild guess, darlin'?"

Now it was your turn to be intrigued. Your eyes bore into his, his hand still holding yours and your line of sight occasionally getting carried away and landing on his lips before returning to his gaze. You nodded. In a calculated movement Negan gently closed his hand around the top of your throat and guided your lips to his, your lips crashing and allowing you to feel his mouth against yours. You couldn't help but moan into it, eyes fluttering closed as you tasted him. His other hand found its way to your waist to pull you in closer whilst he licked your bottom lip in an attempt to coax your lips apart, and you did. His tongue slipped into your mouth, your tongues entwining for a moment until you pulled back just enough to break the kiss, lips still barely brushing and your breath shaky as you struggled to find air.

"So?" Negan cockily teased as to whether he had nailed the nature of your fantasies yet or not, and while he was well on his way to getting there, he hadn't just yet.

"Not quite there yet, cowboy."

He paused for a moment before he let out a small, throaty chuckle. He moved his hand from where it had been resting on your throat and reached down to hoist you up by your thighs, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist and your arms wrapping around his neck. His lips captured yours once more as he brought you to the workbench and rested you on it, one of his hands sliding up to hold the nape of your neck and deepen the kiss, his groans spilling into your mouth as you tightened the grip of your legs around his hips to bring his clothed bulge against your panties; your skirt having rode up when he lifted you and now bunched at your hips. He broke the kiss and gave a small grunt as you rolled your hips slightly and created some friction, his hand reaching down to rest just above your knee and then slowly glide up your thigh, an idle grip in his hand as he did that caressed your skin as he went. Negan's hand continued even when it reached the denim of where your skirt had gathered, his hand slipping under your skirt and giving the very top of your thigh a squeeze before he moved his attention to your panties. A small gasp escaped your lips as his index finger teasingly traced a line through your clothed slit, the thin cotton damp and clinging to your cunt with how much you'd soaked your panties from the mere feel of his lips on yours.

"Damn baby, you're so fuckin' wet." He whispered gravelly against your lips, his mouth so close to yours you could feel his hot breath fanning against your lips as he spoke.

"Please." You practically choked out, your small plea making his lips curve into a dirty smile and move your panties to the side.

"Yes ma'am." He husked.

He dove beneath the fabric at the side of your panties and slid one finger in at first, the sensation making you throw your head back until you were resting against the wall behind the workbench, Negan's hand still holding the nape of your neck. He pumped his finger inside you a few times before adding a second digit, the slight stretch around his fingers making you moan and lift your head to meet his eyes again. He had that damn cowboy hat still sitting on his head as he fucked you with his skilled fingers, moving his fingers in and out of you at a fast, pleasurable pace that you could barely comprehend, your moans gradually sounding more like whimpers. His eyes bore into yours, the glazed-over look of dark lust they were filled with making you spread your legs a little further and angle yourself to get his fingers deeper. He curled them slightly as you did, the immediate unrestrained whine that would follow becoming muffled against his lips as he pressed them to yours, the hand on the back of your neck allowing him to deepen the kiss and his fingertips slipping into your hair to comb through the strands. Every touch left you feeling breathless, every pump of his fingers further clouding your mind until you could no longer care for the dangers of getting attached to someone like this in this ruined world. You had wanted Negan since the moment you saw him, and now you had him if the way his fingers were buried in you was anything to go by.

"Shit, I could listen to those pretty noises all day, sweetheart." Negan whispered against your lips, purposely curling his fingers as he did to draw another sweet moan out of you, and you knew you weren't going to be able to take this any longer if he kept this up.

Unfortunately, Negan seemed to pick up on that too. He removed his fingers from you much to your verbalised dismay, lifting his hand and slipping the two fingers glistening with your wetness into his mouth, his tongue swirling over the tattoos on his knuckles and a pleased hum of approval escaping his lips as he tasted you.

"You're as delicious as you look, y'know this farm girl get up is really doing it for me." Negan commented as he withdrew his fingers from his mouth, and you were starting to think that you might have passed out in your bed and this was another one of your dreams after all.

"Oh? I bet I feel as good too." Such crude words sounded so good coming from your mouth, the sudden confidence making his brows perk up in a mix of surprise and twisted curiosity.

"Is that so? Hell, now I gotta know."

He removed his hand from your hair and reached up your skirt to hook his fingers into the waistband of your panties and begin working it down your legs, tossing them aside when he had gotten them off the ankle they'd tried to dangle from. His hands were quick to work at his belt, the metal of his belt buckle clinking slightly once it fell loosely on either side of his fly, to which he was quick to unbutton and undo the zipper on his jeans. Negan was so impatient he didn't even bother to get his pants off, he just worked them down his legs until the denim pooled at his feet, his boxers next to join the pile. Once his top was hurriedly discarded too his hands found their way to the tops of your thighs as he dragged you to the edge of the workbench and stepped into the space between your legs, his eyes locking with yours as he pushed inside you and used the grip on your hips to further guide you onto him. The stretch was incredible, your mouth falling open and a noise you weren't sure you'd ever even heard before spilling from it.

"Is that better, baby?" Negan cooed, your only response being the frantic nod of your head.

His thrusts started off slow giving you time to get used to the feel of him, his breath getting heavier and small grunts forming in his throat with every thrust, and then he reached up in an attempt to remove his cowboy hat.

"Don't you dare." You playfully warned as you snatched his wrist to stop him making Negan chuckle and lower his hand again.

"Alright alright, guess the cowboy hats stayin' on."

You closed your legs around his waist again as he started to move his hips a little faster, locking your legs around his waist and tightening your grip every time he thrust as deep as he could go, the sensation making Negan screw his eyes shut and throw his head back slightly exposing the vein running along the side of his neck and the way his adams apple protruded from his throat. You flattened your palms against the wood as you leaned up and started kissing your way down his throat starting with the underside of his jawline, lightly running your tongue over the lump in his throat once you got to it.

"Fuuuck honey, you're gonna be the damn death of me." He sighed, his head lowering to look into your eyes when you pulled back after placing a kiss above his collarbone.

Dark hair adorned his chest, an intricate skull tattoo situated to one side as his chest rose and fell at a rate almost as fast as yours. You couldn't help but run your hand down his chest, his skin burning red hot against your warm palm.

"Well shit, I'm not as young as I used to be." Negan quipped breathlessly with a small smile as his hand moved to cup one side of your face, his thumb stroking along your cheek.

Your hand affectionately raised and settled over the back of his, though the intent in your words was not as sweet as your gesture.

"Get on the table then, cowboy."

You barely gave him time to react as you wrapped your arms around his neck and tugged him down, flipping as you did so now you were straddling him. He landed on the wooden surface with a small thud, a cocky laugh filling the air as you braced your hands onto his shoulders while he straightened his back, one hand pressing in on your waist and the other on your lower back to help you get comfortable on his lap. You adjusted slightly until you were sitting on your knees, legs resting on either side of him and hovering over his lap. His hands grasped your hips as Negan guided you down onto his cock, the angle allowing him to fill you up much more than before and the feeling of fullness once you fully sank onto him nothing short of pure ecstasy. You clung to him and tried to even out your breath, your eyes locking with his as he reached up and gently took hold of your jaw only to lift his hips a little, a sick smile spreading across his lips as his tongue swept over his bottom lip and a desperate whine came from your lips.

"Go on then my little cowgirl." He drawled, his thumb tracing across your bottom lip.

You started to roll your hips as you lifted yourself up and then sank all the way back down onto him, the sounds the two of you were making and the noise of skin slapping against skin filling the thick air of the barn, only worsening when you found a rhythm that Negan only made that much more euphoric as he lifted his hips in time with you. Negan's hands moved to cup your ass as you started to bounce, the workbench rocking from the force and banging against the wall behind it, his fingers dug into your skin hard enough to leave marks.

"God, you feel so fucking good bouncing on my cock." He rasped, the dirtiness of his words only fuelling you that much more as you rode him.

Negan wrapped his hand around your throat as you bounced on top of him, his grip firm as he squeezed just enough to allow the lack of oxygen to bleed into the immeasurable pleasure, the veins in his hands prominent as he lightly choked you. The hand cupping your ass kneaded your cheek before he drew his hand back and delivered a harsh slap to your ass, your skin stinging from the impact and the surprise of it drawing a small squeak out of you. Negan chuckled as you did and slapped the same cheek again a little harder than the first, though this time the noise that came from your lips was more of a depraved cry. He was surely leaving his mark on you, embellishing you with a stark red handprint on your now sore skin.

"Good girl." He crooned.

His praise alone almost sent you over the edge, your legs starting to quiver as he wrapped his arm around you and started to thrust into you relentlessly, pounding you as you hover over his lap.

"Negan, oh fuck." You choked out, your pleasure filled sob muffled when he crashed his lips against yours and continued to fuck into you mercilessly, the arm around your waist keeping you pressed firmly against him.

"That's it, baby, that's it." He whispered throatily between kisses, and that was all you needed.

Your lips parted but no sound came out, just your breath catching in your throat as your orgasm washes over you, the sensation knocking the strength right out of your legs as your knees buckled leaving you fully sitting on him. Finally, the moan tore from your throat as he gave a few more hard thrusts while you tried to ride out your high, his eyes half-lidded with lust when he slid his hands down to grip your hips and lift you off him so he could spill onto your inner thigh, a guttural groan leaving his lips whilst warm droplets splashed on your skin. Still catching his breath Negan removed the cowboy hat and ran his hand through his hair, placing it off to the side so he could lay back onto the workbench, the way you were pressed to his chest bringing you with him. You let your head rest against his chest and could hear the way his heart was racing against your ear, your breathing starting to even out as you briefly closed your eyes and focused on it, his chin resting on top of your head all the while. After a moment you felt his fingers combing through your hair while his other hand moved to rest on the small of your back and draw circles.

"Hey." Negan muttered softly prompting you to look at him.

You lifted your head to comply with his unspoken request, a kittenish smile playing on your lips as you moved slightly further up his body so that your face could hover above his, propping yourself up on your elbows. Some of your hair fell to obscure one side of your face as you did which Negan reached up and tenderly swept behind your ear.

"You are so beautiful, sweetheart." He whispered, the flattery only making your smile a little wider as you leaned down till your lips were mere inches from his.

"And you are one handsome cowboy." You playfully hummed, barely able to finish what you were saying as Negan pressed his lips against yours, the kiss much slower and fervent than the sloppy and heated ones you'd shared before.

You were just basking in the company of one another. The feel of your body laid on top of his and his skin hot against yours, the feel of his lips moving on yours making your mind even foggier with need for him. You didn't care that someone might wonder why neither of you had made it back to your rooms in the middle of the night, that someone might come to find you both draped over a workbench and tasting one another to your heart's content. All that mattered was that you had each other.

"And that was one hell of a ride, might I add." Negan pulled back to joke, your noses still brushing from the closeness and his crude comment making your laughter come out in the form of a snort.

"Shut up."

And your lips were on his again.

#negan #negan smut #negan smith #negan twd #negan fanfiction #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #twd negan #twd fanfiction #twd fic #the walking dead negan #negan x reader #dead city negan #dead city

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spaceshipellie · 1 year ago

Text

everything’s about you to me

ellie williams x reader

chapter two: this house is a graveyard

masterlist for other chapters *✧･ﾟ: wc: 3.7k

summary: in the midst of the apocalypse, you and ellie find each other after you’ve both lost everything. what started out as a mere safety in numbers pairing, turns into something imperishable. however, after some time you get separated, leaving you both to believe the other is dead. four years later you find a commune in wyoming.

warnings: tlou au, death, grief, burying a body, mentions of deceased loved ones, it’s sad sorry :( 18+ mdni

author’s note: i promise the next part will be less traumatic!!! it’s actually going to be very cute (i think anyway lmao) but back to this part!! thank you for all the love so far <3 lmk what you think

♪ ‘cause the world could be burning, and all i’d be thinking, is “how are you doing, baby?”

The sky was a mottled grey overhead as the three of you walked along the rural road. Nearly an hour had passed since the diner but conversations were minimal. From Ellie at least, who was reluctant to share much about herself. It was understandable, you wouldn’t be in a rush to share your life with people you had only just met. The time had allowed you to observe her though. She was wearing a blue button up with the sleeves ripped off and a grey t-shirt underneath, jeans, and converses which matched your own. Her hair was short and roughly tied up in a half up, half down.

You couldn’t help but ponder the reasons as to why she might be alone. She must have been about your age and the thought of being alone terrified you so you couldn’t imagine what she might have been through. Did she have a family? Friends? Where was she going before she met you? All of these questions swirled around your brain but you thought better of bombarding her with them. She seemed lost and forlorn and you didn’t want to do anything to upset her. Your attention was diverted when you heard coughing.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” your mom said, wiping her hand over her mouth. She then pointed up ahead to a farmhouse in the distance. “We should head towards that.”

You nodded and looked over at Ellie who looked back at you. Her lips tightened into a line as she nodded slowly. You prayed that you wouldn't find anything too terrible. Looking at the place, it almost seemed too good to be true. You mentally prepared for the possibility it was either already taken by someone or was hoarding a bunch of infected. Both of which had the opportunity to kill you.

It was another fifteen minutes before you reached the farmhouse. On approach you couldn’t hear anything, but you all cautioned yourselves as you moved towards the front door. Your mom, who insisted on going first, slowly pushed the door open with her foot, gun pointing forward. You gripped your bat and Ellie held the crowbar.

The door creaked as it opened, and eventually a jangle of cans came from above your heads. You winced at the noise, clearly set up by someone as an alarm. Nothing happened though. You relaxed your shoulders slightly as you moved further down the hall. Most of the doors were open giving you a peek at the kitchen-diner on the left side and a living room on the other.

“I’ll check upstairs,” Ellie said, shuffling past you.

You and your mom checked the downstairs rooms, each time meeting each other in the hallway and declaring nobody there. Ellie then returned downstairs.

“Anything?” You asked.

“No, all clear.”

A bang caused all of your heads to face the kitchen. You shared hesitant glances before slowly edging in that direction. It must be outside, you thought, because the kitchen was definitely empty. Your mom slowly turned the back door handle and again, pushed it open with her foot, gun looking left to right. The same noise sounded again.

“The barn,” you whispered.

The closer you got the clearer you could hear heavy breathing. It didn’t really sound like infected but why would a person be banging on a barn wall. You all slipped through the half open door, silence falling. You scanned over the room quickly.

“There doesn’t seem to be any–oh my god!” You involuntarily stepped back, accidentally bumping into Ellie. Your mom and Ellie both followed your eyes to the far corner.

“Shit.”

A man hung from a wooden beam with a rope tight around his neck. A wooden stool lay on its side on the floor beneath him. You only had a moment to take it in before the bang came again from what you now knew to be a stable door. It was followed by another rumbly deep breath. Ellie went over and slowly unbolted the door. A pinto horse with chestnut patches dashed out, neighing wildly and bucking.

“Woah, woah, easy,” Ellie soothed. Her hand came to touch its neck and the horse seemed to calm down ever so slightly. It was still very fidgety and loud but didn’t seem like it was going to run off as Ellie was now stroking its neck. You were amazed at what effect she seemed to be having on the distressed animal. You noticed something white had fallen to the ground after the door had swung open so you went over to pick it up.

“This guy left a note.”

“What does it say?”

“To whoever finds this, I’m sorry that you’re still alive in this fucked up world. If it’s any consolation, I have a pretty decent farmhouse here. Don’t get too many infected unless you go further than a few miles. There’s some food in the cupboards, ammo, first aid stuff. You should be alright here for some time if you’re smart. If you run out of stuff, there’s a town about six miles east. Though I can’t guarantee what’s left of it. And please take care of my horse, Harley. She’s a beaut and I know I’m a coward for leaving her on her own but I couldn't take it anymore. Good luck and thank you. - Jack.”

“God,” your mom breathed.

“Shit’s messed up,” Ellie said.

“Yeah,” you nodded, looking over at Jack's hanging body. “We should cut him down. Maybe bury him. The least we can do when he’s giving us his house.”

The other’s nodded. You walked over to him and picked up the stool, steadying it to stand on. You stood on the stool, your mom warning you to be careful as you reached up to cut the rope. You could see his face clearly now. His brown eyes were open and his face was sunken. His hair was matted and he was wearing muddy, navy overalls. The decomposing smell was faintly running up your nostrils. Judging by it though, he couldn’t have been dead for too long otherwise it would have been difficult to stomach.

You tried to hurry your sawing at the rope until eventually it snapped and his body hit the ground with a heavy thud. You wobbled as you dismounted the stool, searching around for a shovel. You wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. You spotted one in the corner and grabbed it before purposely walking out the barn door and round to the side of it, throwing down the shovel. Marching back in, you saw Ellie had already started to grab his arms and your mom went to grab his legs before she dropped them, doubling over in a coughing fit.

“Let me,” you said, taking his legs.

You and Ellie carried him out to where you had dropped the shovel and placed him down. You grabbed the shovel and started digging, haphazardly tossing the soil into a large pile. The atmosphere was gloomy and solemn. No one spoke as you kept digging, pausing to wipe your forehead, smearing mud on it.

“Want me to take over?” Ellie offered.

“No,” you said, a little too abruptly, “it’s okay.”

Flashes of your dad’s lifeless body cursed your mind as you ignored the ache in your arms. The way it had fallen in a bloody heap and there was nothing you could do. No way for you to reach out and touch him or tell him goodbye. Tell him everything will actually be fine and you can find him a doctor. Tell him thank you for keeping you safe. You could never go back and change your last moments with him and it killed you.

“Honey, I think that’s enough,” your mom’s voice was mellow yet concerned as she looked down at you.

She helped you out of the deep grave you had dug and you wiped your hands on your jeans, staring down at the empty pit. You and Ellie resumed holding Jack's arms and legs as you lowered him in, letting him drop the last little bit as you couldn’t reach. You looked at his face one last time, letting out a deep breath before picking up the shovel again and piling all of the dirt back in. By the time you were done, the wind had picked up and it howled around you.

“We should go inside, I’ll go and check that the horse is tied up,” Ellie excused herself as you and your mom made your way back towards the back door of the house.

“I’m gonna go upstairs” your mom said before making her way up there.

You looked around the kitchen, wringing your hands together. The last twenty-four hours had been a shit show and you could do with some peace now that you had found this place. You dumped your backpack and jacket on the dining table and started rummaging through the cupboards, remembering how the note had said there was food. Your eyes brightened upon seeing stacks of cans filled right up to the front. What a gold mine, you thought. You heard the floorboards at the top of the stairs creak.

“Hey, look at all this, isn’t it–” you turned excitedly with a can of ravioli in your hand, but your smile faltered when you saw your mom’s face. Her eyes damp and bloodshot.

“What is it?”

“Honey, I–” her voice cracked. You put the can down.

“Mom?”

“Honey, I’m sorry, I didn’t know until I…” her voice was strangled as she gestured upstairs.

Ellie then came through the door and stopped in her tracks as she noticed the tension in the room.

“Mom, tell me. Please.”

She cleared her throat.

“I was bit.”

Her words punctured a hole right through you, a lump forming in your throat.

“No, no, no, no,” your words got more rapid and desperate. This can’t be happening.

“W-where?”

Your mom pulled her top away from her shoulder and turned to show the gruesome bite mark on the back of it. You saw how the blood had run from it, some of it fresh, some of it dry.

“I wasn’t sure if it was just an injury or what until I looked in the mirror.”

She pulled her top back up and faced you again. You were crying, silently. In fact, the silence in the entire room was deafening.

“Please don’t leave me.” Your voice was hushed and weak. Your mom walked over and cupped your cheeks, brushing a tear away with her thumb.

“My baby, I’m so sorry.”

No one said anything for a moment, you just cried as she hugged you.

“I do not want to turn into one of those things and hurt you.”

You pulled back to look at her, eyes darting between hers.

“So what…w-what do you mean?”

“I mean,” she took in a shaky breath, “I’m going to take care of it myself,” her voice cracked and a sad smile stretched her lips and she nodded as if she was convincing herself.

“No,” you whispered, pulling her in for a bone crushingly tight hug.

“It’s better this way,” she said as she rubbed your back, “I’m going to take my gun, you still have plenty others here, and I’m going to walk as far as I can make it and you are not going to look for me.”

“I can’t–it’s not fair,” your voice was lost in her hair.

“I know it’s not, but hey, look at me,” she brushed your hair away from your face.

“You’re going to be okay, you hear me? You’re going to stay here, in this house, together,” she looked at Ellie as she said the last word before looking back at you. You tried to speak but she shook her head so she could finish.

“I need to know that you’ll do that for me, and that you’ll stay safe, okay?” She hugged you again, “promise me, baby.”

“I promise.”

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too, mom.”

“You’ll be okay.”

She gave you a final squeeze and pulled away.

“I probably don’t have long left so…” she dizzily looked around for her gun.

Your body involuntarily moved towards her but you stopped yourself. You couldn’t stop this. Nothing could. She coughed again and you could see her hands twitching. She shook out all the bullets from her gun except for two. You could tell she was trying her hardest to keep it together, but she could never fool you. The fear was making her face seem hollow and cold. Her fingers trembled as they clutched the gun. She looked at you one last time before leaving out the back door and that was the last time you ever saw her.

Ellie could see how your body was about to crumble and she moved quickly to grab you as you fell down to your knees. She knelt beside you and held your shaking body. Her chin rested on your shoulder and your eyes left wet patches on hers. It felt like the air had been knocked out of you. Everything you’d ever known was gone.

Even with everything you were feeling right now you felt guilty that this girl you’d only just met had to deal with you like this. But you were grateful she was there.

She stayed there until you were ready to pull away, revealing your bloodshot eyes and cracked lips. You slumped back against the counter and Ellie sat with her arms wrapped around her bent knees. Her eyebrows were furrowed, and her eyes looked glossy as she stared at the ground. Your head ached from the crying and your face felt swollen.

“I don’t know what to do,” your voice squeaked. She took a minute to answer and her jaw clenched.

“You can’t do anything,” she mumbled, defeatedly.

It was getting darker by the minute. The haunting silence was only disrupted by a moth tapping against the ceiling. You felt overwhelmed with groggy tiredness but equally you couldn’t switch your brain off. Normally you would go to bed thinking about what to do the next day but now, you didn’t care. You couldn’t think of anything to care about.

“Maybe we should try and get some sleep,” Ellie suggested. You just nodded, slowly.

Ellie got up and left the room and you heard her lock the front door, she came back in to grab a chair and propped one under the front door and one under the back door handle just in case the locks were dodgy. She also went round closing all the curtains and checking that all of the windows were shut. Meanwhile, you sat on the kitchen floor, feeling like a ghost. She grabbed as much stuff from the table as she could including half of your things before you willed yourself up onto your feet to grab the rest. At the top of the stairs, Ellie turned to you.

“Which one do you want?”

You looked at the two bedrooms and just pointed at one of them, not really analysing it. She went in and dropped off the stuff that was yours.

“Thanks.”

“S’okay.”

She went into the other room and put her stuff down whilst you put your gun and bat near your bed. You sighed a withered sigh as you looked around the room. It had a double bed which was made up with a duvet and pillows. It had a mirrored dresser on one wall and a wardrobe on the other. The furniture looked like it hadn’t been updated for several decades before the outbreak. The wallpaper was peeling off the walls in places and framed paintings of the countryside adorned them. It was a gift that you had found this place but it was a hard one to appreciate right now. Ellie came out of her room and leant her hand on the bannister.

“Um, goodnight then I guess.”

“Yeah,” you awkwardly bit your lip, “goodnight.”

Your head still pounded with the number of tears that had been shed over the past two weeks. It felt like you were going insane. You had mostly stayed cooped up in your room, not knowing how to handle the grief. Thankfully, due to the supplies that had already been in the house you hadn’t needed to go for a supply run yet. Ellie had left you alone, not wanting to interfere. The few times you had bumped into her there was a strained tension between you. You weren’t surprised considering this was an unusual circumstance for meeting someone new, but you felt strange about it nonetheless and hoped that in time, it would ease. After all, you were supposedly stuck together for the foreseeable future.

Up until this point you had been feeling a great sorrow where your whole body ached and you could barely tell that the days were passing. Now, however, you were entering a state of numbness, a complete disconnect from what was around you. It was as if the world had been chipping away at you piece by piece all these years and this had been the last hit before you had declined into nothing.

On the first night you had looked through the bedroom draws and had found some spare clothes to sleep in. You and Ellie had also managed to wash your own clothes with some rainwater you had collected and some soap you found in the bathroom. It hadn’t necessarily made them squeaky clean but it was better than nothing. It had also been relieving to have been able to clean your skin for the first time in a while. You were sitting on the bed with your knees bunched up against your chest and your cheek resting on them, eyes trailing over some of the pictures on the wall.

You sighed, pulling yourself up from the bed and slumping over to the mirrored dresser. Your devoid expression stared back at you. Your hair had been messed around from lying against the pillow for so long so you feebly attempted to tidy it before faltering towards the stairs. The floorboards at the top creaked under your weight and your hand gripped the bannister tightly, as if you would fall if you let go. With trembling steps, you made your way down and peeked through the open living room door. Ellie was slouching on the couch looking at a piece of crumpled paper.

“What’s that?” Your voice croaked so you coughed to clear it.

Her head shot to you as she was caught off guard by your presence. “Looks like instructions on how to get to the town.”

You shuffled over and sat beside her so you could see. She handed it to you, using her now free hands to rub her tired eyes. You observed the scribbles on the paper. It featured a roughly drawn map of squares and arrows, labelled with things like ‘road on the big hill’ and ‘supermarket.’

“Will be worth a try in a few days, we’re probably still alright for now,” she suggested. You nodded, putting the map down on the coffee table.

You picked at your hands in your lap, not knowing what to say. You and Ellie hadn’t said much to each other since you got here, events having not really allowed for it. You realised that you knew next to nothing about her. About her life, where she had come from, why she had saved you. Your eyes trailed down to the bandage on her right arm again.

“What happened to your arm?”

She immediately placed her left hand over it as if she was embarrassed or covering something up. “Oh, I uh, I got stabbed.”

You drew in a short breath. “Ouch.”

“Yeah,” she looked down at her arm, “it was pretty bad.”

Your sleeves were pushed up and she noticed you had a scar on your elbow.

“How did you get that?” She asked, gesturing to it. You lifted your arm, twisting it to look.

“Oh, that was from,” a puff of air escaped your nose, “it’s stupid and not as cool sounding as yours, I fell out of a tree trying to get a closer look at a bluebird.”

“Wow,” she snickered, “hope the look was worth it.”

“It was,” you looked down into your lap, running your hand over your arm, “you don’t come across many pretty things like that.”

You didn’t notice her looking at you when you spotted something behind the slightly open door of the cabinet the TV was resting on. You got up and crouched beside it, pulling the items out.

“CDs,” you mused to yourself, shuffling through them. Foo Fighters, Jimi Hendrix, Eagles, Tracy Chapman, Nirvana, Dolly Parton, Nickelback, and a few others.

“Too bad I can’t find the CD player,” Ellie remarked.

“Hm. It must be somewhere,” you said, fixing the pile of CDs, leaving them out on the coffee table as a reminder to look for the CD player. You stayed sitting on the floor, leaning on one of your hands and glanced around. You hadn’t really been in this room much. By the window was where the cabinet and TV sat then opposite was the dusty blue couch with a couple of limp throw cushions on. The walls were off white and much like upstairs, were covered in framed paintings. The windowsill was thick with dust and the moth-eaten curtains floated with the light breeze that was coming in from the open window.

“If you don’t mind me asking, where were you going before you came with us?”

Ellie stretched her hands and placed them on her knees, shuffling in her seat.

“Uh, nowhere really.”

“You didn’t have to be so nice to me that night, so thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me.”

She looked down at the ground with squinted eyes, her head shaking a little.

“Well, I want to,” you murmured softly, “you’d barely just met me and not a lot of people would have been that way.”

You looked up at her but she wasn’t looking at you, almost as if it would hurt her to do so.

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