#i think even if they were withering away when he steps into the room - the flowers would start blooming magically. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

qwimchii · 1 year ago

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𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭 (pt. 2) — 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺

playlist pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4 pt. 5 pt. 6 pt. 7 pt. 8 (10/24)

𝘨𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘧!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘦𝘴𝘵'𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘸, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘸𝘤 — 14.5𝘬

𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 — 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘸𝘦𝘴𝘵!𝘢𝘶, 141𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘨!𝘢𝘶, 𝘨𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘥𝘰𝘮!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘥!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘷𝘪𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘯!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 (10𝘺𝘳𝘴), 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘰𝘭, 𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 & 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘢 (nothing too graphic but please be warned!!), 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘶𝘮𝘢, 𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘮𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘫𝘰𝘣, 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬

note: it's here 🤲 header gunslinger ghost render by @ave661

the next morning you woke, Ghost was gone again, much to your chagrin. you were beginning to pick up on a pattern—a strong tendency to disappear without a trace. his clothes were absent from your room and the kitchen table, where you haphazardly undressed him without thinking about the evidence left behind for an unsuspecting one-four-one and Kate to see.

the only trace of Ghost’s presence in your room last night was the neat pile of undergarments and clothes on the ottoman nestled in the corner of the room. after washing up, you slowly redressed that morning. in the mirror, your neck was covered in swollen purple patches—a parallel image to the softness of your bruised inner thighs. you were lucky enough to have been lent a high-collared blouse from Kate, mulling over everything with a bitter distaste in your mouth.

it only grew when you stepped into the back room, Soap looking positively smug and Gaz avoiding your eyes. John looked undisturbed as he paged through a book, sipping at his coffee mug with his boot neatly crossed over the other beneath the kitchen table.

“good morning,” Soap sang, practically skipping to you and handing you a sticky, cinnamon bun, rolled up in a sweet delight.

“thank you,” you said with a polite dip of your head, sitting beside John at the table.

“you know, Gaz,” Soap said suddenly, turning to his friend who only paled in response, his face looking sour. “i could’ve sworn i heard something last night—”

you withered with shame, but luckily, Gaz kicked him hard in the shin to shut him up. immediately they began to bicker, and John only gave a disapproving grunt.

“where’s Kate?” you asked, meek, and desperate to escape the three men in the room.

John jerked his head in the direction of the main store room, and you whispered a quick thank you to him, wiping the last crumbs on the back of your split skirt rudely before making a beeline out the room.

Kate was tending to the shop, lounging behind the counter as two customers perused the catalog. she was stitching together pieces of leather with a wax thread and needle.

you carefully noted the absence of Ghost in the store room as well, but didn’t comment on it when she shot you a fleeting, knowing look. it was gone as soon as it came and yet it made you burn with shame nonetheless.

“Ghost is out on business again,” she explained, sewing with a practiced hand, and you frowned.

“I wasn't…” the words died in your throat. instead, you implored, “let me join one-four-one today.”

she paused her ministrations and sent you a look of grief. “why? so you can run away?”

that irked you. “you know i won’t.” in a meek voice, you added, “where would i even run too?”

she shrugged, returning to her leather pieces. “i don’t know. maybe off into your own rich glory.”

you resisted rolling your eyes. smoothing the front of your split skirt, you folded your hands politely, posture straightening.

“are you really going to ransom me to my daddy?” you challenged, and her hands paused

“because if you are, i know your secret base of operations. i know all your names, one-four-one’s, and Simon’s. i know what one-four-one looks like and that you’re working with los vaqueros.”

her eyes narrowed, brow pinching.

you continued. “i think all that information would come very handy for Turner and my daddy.”

“so what are you going to do?” she snapped, “run straight to Turner and cry at your daddy’s feet?”

“no,” you said cooly, “i think you don’t plan on giving me back to my daddy at all.”

her eyes flashed and you contented with her glare, meeting it with the strongest one you could muster.

“because if you did plan on it, i’d tell them all that and more in a heartbeat. so why’d you let me in on all that information in the first place?”

taking a shaky inhale, you hoped to god you were right. “i know too much. i think you’re planning something else for me.”

she stared at you for a long moment before heaving a long sigh, screwing her eyes shut, surprising you when her mouth twisted into a tight-lipped grin, her blue eyes crinkled with a wild look.

“Ghost said you were a smart girl.”

she returned back to the leather work, finishing off the needlework by snapping the string with her teeth, pulling it taught with a knot.

“but no,” she said with finality, and you balked.

“no…?”

“let’s say that maybe Ghost is planning something for you. something big,” she dramatized with a mocking smirk. “you’re still our hostage. you stay here, the boys ride out. simple.”

she shot you a displeased look when she finished. “if you weren’t here, i’d be riding out too.”

you swallowed, shoulders falling slowly. all that pent up energy deflated from you like a balloon, defeat curling in your stomach. looking out the front store windows, you saw Sugar dozing at her fence post. you eyed her saddle on a rack behind the store counter.

nodding, like you were deep in thought, you stepped away from the counter. “right,” was all you offered and she gave you a mixed look of pity and irritation.

as if on queue, the one-four-one boys clambered from the back room, murmuring low words to Kate so that you couldn’t hear. Soap tipped his hat to you on the way out, and he began to turn away when you clutched at his elbow.

“where are you going?” you asked, casual, and his brows raised, looking from you to John to Kate.

after a long look, she just gave him a slight nod.

“five miles north. ‘nother nearby town,” he relented with a shrug, and the way his lips tightened let you know he was leaving something else out. you cocked his head at him, pressing with curious eyes, and his mouth fell open but Gaz grabbed him by the back of his collar and pulled him out the store, Soap shouting in protest.

“be back before sunset,” John said, gruff, closing the door behind them with a resounding thud.

you watched as they saddled up in the bright noon light. Kate sighed. the look on her face let you know she was lamenting just as much about their departing as you.

you lazed about the main store room, eyes flicking between the leather crafts items. belts, wallets, holsters, a few couple saddles. the clicking of the wooden clock suspended on the opposite wall served as your entertainment for the afternoon.

when Kate finally excused herself to close the shop for a lunch break, washing up first, you knew you had to make quick haste. sneaking down the hallway, you passed by the bathroom as quietly as you could, you were surprised to find the basement door unlocked.

maybe they did trust you, a small voice spoke in wonder, but you mentally swatted it away. your desire to find out what the hell was going on burned brighter than anything else.

you descended quickly down the stairs, wincing at every creak and thud, till your feet met cobblestone. sweeping around in the darkness, you pulled out the matches you pocketed last night. lighting one with a quick stroke, the room lit up in a warm orange glow and you scrutinized the place.

in one main room, preserves of fruits and veggies, miscellaneous barrels, and leather working stations littered with various tools and supplies crowded the room. you could only assume the doors branching from the main room were one-four-one’s bedrooms, and you confirmed as much when you tried turning the knob of each one, finding them all firmly locked.

cursing, you wished you could remember that lock picking trick Tommy used at the schoolhouse to prank teachers in your childhood. you clambered through the space, squeezing between a nook of filled shelves, pausing when an old bookcase caught your eye. by it was a small circlet of space, several chairs, and a desk sprawling with papers. you walked to it, hand smoothing over the map littered with marks, lines, needles shoved into the wood at certain locations.

the writings made no sense, all in their own code. a large portion was circled in red with a big T scribbled in the middle. you squinted. Turner, most likely.

it was north of the town you were currently in, or so you assumed by the small star bead shaped from an ivory bone pinned down on the map. like Ghost said, you were on the border of southern california, your mama and daddy most likely twenty miles to the east in Arizona. below southern california lay another red circled portion, dipping into mexico and southern texas. LV, it read, in a smaller, less menacing font. los vaqueros.

blue circles stretched from the west to the east, centered around towns and cities, big and small. one location in particular was familiar—jackson county, missouri. all that blue, stretching from california to louisiana, was one-four-one territory. you balked at the physical size of it.

the more passing seconds you took to study the map, the more you worried Kate may emerge from the restroom and find you snooping in their basement. if she did, you dreaded the thought of being locked up in your room for the remainder of your possibly indefinite stay.

a piece of paper caught your eye. it was a letter addressed to Turner from your… your daddy. you poured over the note, running over the quill grooves in your hands.

Mr. T,

my darling belle has been stolen by the devil. you promised me that working with you meant no harm to my family. i want her back. i don’t want no man getting the idea that they can steal my things from me.

you shuddered. his things, he had called you.

i want your men on every one of one-four-one’s outposts. none of their towns will be safe. i’ll round up my men and join the effort in two weeks time after we conjoin at the social. there, we can talk finances.

your eyes ran over the line again. social?

if Ghost won’t give me my daughter, i’ll make him.

your daddy didn’t sign off the letter. carefully, you put it back down in its place. how did the letter even get there in the first place? had Ghost intercepted its messenger during a shootout in a northern town?

you swallowed. did Ghost find it in your own daddy’s house? your house?

the thought of your daddy, keeled over his desk with a bullet wound in his temple, blood oozing out in a puddle as Ghost loomed overhead, pocketing Daddy’s letter in his trench coat, made you sick to your stomach.

you thought of what Ghost said the night prior. i searched half the plains for your horse.

did that include your daddy and mama’s house? your breath hitched. was your mama alright?

you steadied yourself against the nearby bookshelf, distracting yourself with its contents instead. fictional literature stared back at you, and you brushed your fingers down their spines in a slow descent until you met the very bottom row. a line of small journals, so small you could squeeze them into the extra space in your pocket, stared back at you. picking one on the very edge, your eyes widened at the title scrawled over it.

GHOST.

you opened it to its latest entry, dating back to the day you were taken by Ghost. in all capital letters it read:

PICKED UP GIRL FROM ARIZONA HOMESTEAD.

beneath it was a sketch of your profile and… numbers. there wasn’t an exact order or sense of them but they littered the page.

despite the numerical mystery, you found your eyes lingering on the catch of light conveyed through Ghost’s drawing, the twinkle in your eyes and the barest smile on your lips. you admired the attention to detail before flipping through to earlier pages.

a familiar, blaring title stuck out to you that dated back several weeks ago.

PICK UP GIRL FROM ARIZONA HOMESTEAD.

there was more writing below it.

RANSOM: $25,000 REFUSAL → PHASE TWO

you flipped to the page after it to find another entry on a typical grocery list. you thumbed through more pages with a frustrated huff, finding nothing more on phase two or a ransom. just more sketches of wildlife, horses, and scribbled dull paragraphs on irrelevant business investments.

you mulled over the strange entry and its date from weeks prior. the night Ghost had taken you had been an arranged dinner out of the blue with only a few days of notice. but the date of this entry suggested that Ghost had been arranging the dinner for much longer.

more than that, Ghost had forced your daddy to make a decision at the dinner table—pay up or let Ghost steal his daughter as collateral.

Ghost didn’t necessarily know that your daddy would go with the latter. but the entry already had a resolute ransom for your safe return, and a phase two plan for when your daddy refused the ransom. which, to your knowledge, has not happened yet.

in spite of your confusion, there was a relief knowing that your suspicions from the conversation with Kate earlier had been confirmed. they wouldn’t be giving you back to your daddy.

right?

quickly, you pocketed it, hoping no one noticed its absence as you weaved out the basement and up the stairs. the door was still shut as you left it, and you blew out the match, slowly opening the door, your heart hammering. there was a silence on the upper floor, a warm draft passing through the narrow hallway, blinding light streaming in through the windows.

you noticed movement beneath the bathroom door, and let out a shaky breath. what felt like hours in the basement was only minutes.

but you knew you didn’t have much time left.

you made your way down the hallway and into the main store room. hooking Sugar’s saddle over your forearm, you made a quick haste to your horse who lazily drank at the water basin by the fence. patting her shoulder, you saddled her up in record time, hitching the cinch tightly with the grind of your teeth. untying the reins, you grabbed the horn, hoisting yourself up by the stirrup.

as you backed Sugar away from the leather crafts store, you heard Kate shout, your head whipping to see her already moving with a terrifying speed to her own horse, a burly and strong looking thoroughbred that snorted heavily.

with a slap of your reigns against Sugar’s shoulder, and your heel digging into her flank, she took off with a pitched whiny. you always thought she was a crazy wild thing, but you were more glad for it now than ever.

the rush of the wind at your face didn’t help the scramble through your mind for the mental image of the town. the bell tower pointed to the north—head on a swivel, you pressed a hand on your stetson to keep it from flying away. conveniently, the thing chimed, making it known it was two hours past noon to the town

you pulled sharp on Sugar’s reigns, spurring her on through the sparse crowd that scurried out of your way as you headed straight for the tower, and out the town. the cobblestone path underfoot quickly fell into a dusty dirt and you headed dead on into the forest.

weaving between the sparse trees, ducking beneath them, and wincing when some prickly pines brushed at the exposed skin on your cheeks, you steadied on for a gallop for as long as you could muster before you were sure Sugar needed a break.

when you slowed to a standstill, listening for the breaking of a horse through bushes and leaves, met only with chirping and the rush of the forest, you nudged Sugar to walk on.

she hung her head low, winded, and you rubbed at her neck in comfort.

Soap had said the town was five miles north. your eyes sweeping across the barren terrain, you hoped that you wouldn’t come across a different town five miles north of one-four-one’s hidden base.

after another thirty minutes of short gallops, followed by slower canters and trots, you eventually wandered far enough to spot a town on the distance of the horizon.

you startled when a big boom resounded across the land, shaking the earth beneath you. something—a building maybe—that spearheaded the sky fell with a crash. Sugar whinied wildly, stuttering backwards with jerky movements, but you urged her on ahead with clucks and a heeled boot at her flank.

you rode fast to the town, swerving around the masses of people running around it. a woman, tugging on her floral, broad brimmed hat, carried two children under her arms and ran into the woods with next to nothing. some men rode out on horses, charging ahead without a glance back.

as you neared the outer wall of the town, you could hear the ricocheting gunshots, loud shouting, screaming, crying, the beating of horse hooves.

you cursed yourself for not thinking to grab a firearm. trotting along the wall, between a stretch of two buildings a man rode past in a flying gallop, twisted back to shoot at something—someone riding after him. you recognized his raucous, wild laughter.

Soap.

you spurred Sugar forward, creeping through a break in the walls where more townspeople leaked out in a panic. on the main dirt pathway, a horse tied to its fencepost tossed its head wildly. a revolver flashed in its saddlebag.

riding around the building, narrowly avoiding running people underfoot, you flanked the horse and pulled the revolver from the horse, then leaned down to untie the poor, squirming thing so it wasn’t in the line of fire. you grit your teeth, trying to mentally will your own horse from wriggling so much. once its reins were pulled loose, the horse bucked and made a beeline for the woods.

“hey!” an older man, beard flecked with gray, ran at your horse with a wobbling, drunk ire. the owner, you presumed, by the gun he was loading in his hand.

pressing hard into Sugar’s flank, she sidestepped him and you took the butt of your newfound revolver, jamming it into his jaw hard. he slumped to the ground ungraciously.

turning your horse in a fast pan, you rode from street to street, revolver swinging as you searched for familiar faces. it was a dizzying panic. you didn’t know who was who, or what was what, in the mass alarm.

“that’s her!” whipping your head over your shoulder, a group of men sharply turned their horses in your direction. Turner’s men.

cursing, you spurred Sugar on in a wild gallop as they pursued you.

you checked the cylinder of it—it was only half full. three bullets. cursing yourself over and over again, you gave them a wild chase, weaving between buildings and people into a marketplace. a cart of vegetables went flying as Sugar lurched, last second, to leap over it.

the movement jerked you, and you slipped to the side, world turning over as you fell to the dirt and skidded a good ten feet, knocking back into another cart. your revolver lay discarded a short length away, stetson thrown somewhere else.

Sugar galloped off without a second to look back.

scrambling to pick up the revolver as the group of Turner’s men approached fast on horseback, you gasped when your ankle completely gave out on you, falling once more to the ground. the adrenaline pumping through your veins didn’t give you a second to hesitate, crawling forward to grab the gun.

you shot into the group blindly, satisfied when one man shrieked, holding his arm where crimson poured, and slipped off the side of his horse. picking yourself up, you limp as fast your could leg could let you move down a branching dirt path, thunderous hooves coming from behind you.

you checked over your shoulder. they were dangerously close now.

the closest man’s hand—a turquoise bracelet glinting on his wrist—came down and swooped for your hair, missing when you ducked. but he groped for a hold on your clothes, when suddenly, he crumpled into the dirt behind you. blood splattered across your back, and you bit back a scream when a strong arm hefted you up onto their moving horse.

“i got you, darlin’,” John gritted out, and you clambered into the front of his saddle, clutching desperately at the mane of his chestnut mare as he spurred his horse on faster through the streets with one arm around your waist.

a rider approached your right flank, trying to maneuver close enough to shoot John and not you, but John was too fast and blew his head clean off. you couldn’t suppress the scream that tore from your throat.

John barked over the roar of the wind. “i’m gonna need you to cover my blindspots, eh?”

you nodded rapidly, panning your revolver over your shoulder as another rider neared.

“deep breath,” he commanded, swerving his mare to get out of range, bullets whizzing past your head.

you took a deep breath, watching the rider edge closer to your left as he slapped the reins against his horse’s shoulder, willing it to go faster. his eyes blew wide when you caught a glimpse of his gaze under the brim of his stetson, mouth parting in shock when you fired.

the bullet hit his chest dead on, and you watched in horror as his eyes went cold and empty, whole body slack as his shoulder crumbled forward in the saddle of his horse, before slowly slipping off the side and falling to the ground with a crash. his horse thundered on without him, blood soaking the dirt in a crimson halo around the corpse.

“good bloody shot!” John roared in your ear, and you turned your attention front again. the roads were emptier now with the stragglers having evacuated the town.

John slowed as he neared the town’s center square, and one man on a grulla and the other on a bay circled the fountain square in a pan, shooting at the men who came barreling down each pathway. each one dropped like a fly.

you counted about a dozen bodies on the floor of the square.

the man on the grulla laughed maniacally, who you instantly recognized as Soap. the other rode with a tight rein with a mechanic movement.

John pulled his horse to a sliding halt, almost making you fly over the shoulder of his chestnut if it weren’t for the arm around your waist.

“picked up a straggler!” he shouted, turning into the fray as another trio of Turner’s men came down an alleyway on horseback.

Soap flanked your horse, shooting two of Turner’s men down as John finished off the other. flies were whirling around the dead bodies on the ground. you wanted to puke.

“first time gunslingin’?” Soap asked, a poisonous glint in his steel eyes.

you didn’t have time to respond because Gaz was shouting— “your left!”

John was whirled, but not in enough time before two bullets hit his chestnut with sickening thuds. she whinied, rearing, and for a second time, you were sliding to the dirt, ungracefully landing on top of John in a winded pile.

you scrambled off him and he crawled to his knees as he reloaded his revolver. your own was thrown somewhere away—obscured from view as a couple of Turner’s men slid off their horses, striding towards you at a dangerous pace.

head on a swivel, you scurried backwards, a low throb in your ankle blooming. the adrenaline was wearing off as a thickening dread seized you. Gaz and Soap were occupied, grappling a thickening trickle of Turner’s men into the town square.

a man with a gold tooth, you recognized as an affiliate of the man with the turquoise bracelet from a few minutes prior, swung his leg back and kicked John straight across his cheek.

two other men seized you by the front of your blouse to hoist you up, but you kicked and screamed, biting down hard on a hand that came to pull on your hair. he cursed, throwing you back down into the dirt, and you skidded till your back struck something hard.

eyes widening, you twised your arm behind you to feel a familiar, cool handle. this time, you let them yank you up, letting the revolver fall into the loose cuff of your loose sleeve and holding it there.

the man with the gold tooth gripped your cheeks tightly and spat at your feet. his breath was grimy, alcoholic, and made your skin crawl.

“you’ve been giving us a hell of a time, angel.” his other hand stroked down your chest.

you twisted to bite his fingers and he slapped you, the strong sting bringing tears to your eyes. the two men were holding your arms back in a bind, one pressing his front into your shoulder, mouth almost to your ear.

“he’ll kill you,” you seethed, dead serious. the man with the gold tooth laughed.

“so you really are the devil’s angel?” he leaned back, hands on his holster, a menacing look twisting his lips. “thought Mr. Tuner was bein’ dramatic. looks like Ghost’s got a pretty missy now.”

the man by your ear chuckled, hot breath down your neck and you reeled, fighting against him.

“i’ll kill you myself if i have to,” you hissed, both to the man in front of you and to the one digging his hand into your backside, squeezing.

the third man sounded considerably younger, more nervous. “whadda’ we do with her, Charles?”

your eyes went wide. you remembered the man at the cabin, the one who said—

let’s move quick. Turner said the first man to lay hands on the girl gets dibs.

that’s what he had said.

a coiling fear seized your chest, your breath trapped and lungs stuttering. you looked to John, flattened and forgotten by Charles’s feet. you internally begged him to get up. when he didn’t move, you looked up behind Charles to Gaz and Soap, bloodied and firing round after round.

when the men hefted you to your feet, half-dragging you down the dirt road, you struggled, tears welling in your eyes. “no—” Charles tried to cover your mouth but you bit his hand hard and he snarled.

“no!” you screamed, fighting even when they yanked you into an empty saloon and threw you against the bar top.

Charles held you down with an iron grip, and other man unbuckled himself with a malicious grin. you felt overcome with an intense fear, trying to squirm up the side of the bar counter, but Charles held you steady.

you should’ve never come here. this was your fault. this was your fault.

the third man was just a boy, shaking as he stared at you splayed across the counter.

help me, you mouthed, but he just turned away so his back was to you.

this was your fault, this was your fault, this was your fault.

soon, your struggling subsided, and your mind drifted to a far, far, far off place.

the cool gun tight in your grip kept you tethered to your sanity when Charles kissed your now exposed calf. you tightened around the handle, feeling its silver embroidery, the men too distracted to notice the click of the safety.

an eerie calm drifted up in you as they continued their movements, Charles’s hand slipping underneath your skirt and drawers. you noted the glass bottle half full of beer abandoned right above your head.

you waited for the second man to float upwards, till his mouth was on your neck, and you shoved your sleeve right under his chin.

his eyes widened in surprise at your compliant behavior, humming something like approval before you pulled the trigger and blew clean through his face. he fell to the floor with a thud, half of his face gone, and Charles shrieked, looking down at his body in horror. that’s when you snatched the glass bottle of beer over your head and lurched off the counter to strike him in the head—over and over and over again.

your body was a machine, moving mechanically. the bottle shattered and alcohol pooled into blood. you didn’t stop until you couldn’t see the gold shine in his gaping mouth, until two arms gripped at your wrists, pulling your back into a broad, strong chest.

the musk of bourbon, smoke, and earth cleared your mind.

“Simon?” you squeaked, returning to yourself.

the familiar cold of his mask against your neck brought you back down to the ground.

he slowly pried the shattered bottle from your hand, only the neck and jagged shoulder left behind. he folded your hands into his gloved ones, crossing over your chest in a tight bind, crushing you to him.

you should’ve felt like you were debilitated, or trapped even, but you never felt more safe in his arms as you sobbed, tears streaming down your face. he was the only thing holding together the pieces of you right now.

he shushed you, smoothing a big hand over your chest as he rocked your entwined bodies.

“it’s alright, lovely.”

“it’s my fault,” you chanted, voice raw with effort. “it’s my fault, it’s my fault, it’s my fault.”

Ghost didn’t respond to that, and instead began explaining with a calculated, low murmur into your ear. “i told the boys that there would be some Turner boys in this town. nothing they couldn’t handle. but there was an ambush.”

your breath hitched at that, cries dying in your throat.

“i was stationed with Alejandro and a lot of his boys in a town two miles west of this. we thought Turner would tear through there.” his thumb smoothed over your exposed neck. “he didn’t.”

it fell into pieces now. one-four-one stationed here, expecting less than a dozen of Turner’s men, when instead, they crawled through this town like ants. an ambush.

“Kate rode into town like a wild animal. i thought someone died.” his voice dropped to a deadly whisper. “i thought you died.”

you remembered the lashing tendrils of panic you felt in pressed against the wall in the back room, Ghost bleeding out a couple feet in front of you, the billiard parlor up in flames across the street.

had he felt the same?

“the boys,” you began instead, pushing the memory away, “how are they?”

he gripped your chin, turning your face to his and pressing his forehead to yours. the swirling darkness of his eyes was more comforting than anything you had ever known.

“they’ll live.”

you shivered at that and he soothed you with a shush, gently pulling you to your feet. wincing, he caught your wobbling body immediately.

“hurt?” he asked cooly, but you could hear a sharp edge in it.

you gave him a sheepish look. “my ankle.”

he just nodded, sweeping you into his arms like you were his bride. even if it was so improper, the exhaustion that furled around you like a fog had you curled into his chest as he stepped over pools of blood.

over his shoulder, your stomach curdled at the sight of Charles, his face a gaping wound of pink, mangled flesh. he was half-beaten into the ground, and his associate was sprawled near his shoulder. the boy was nowhere to be seen.

you closed your eyes against Ghost’s neck, pressing your nose to its steady pulse. you barely registered the light that enveloped you when he stepped outside, the light crunching of dusty dirt under his boots a mile away. there was murmuring, new and foreign voices coupled with old ones. no more gunshots. no more shouting.

you let the foggy undertow pull you somewhere softer and sweeter—right into the roughness of your mama’s hands brushing your hair by the fireplace, Daddy reading an old book aloud behind your shoulder.

it was the rhythmic clatter of steel tracks against steel rail that stirred you from a light slumber. your sweet dreams had stretched into grotesque, bloody depictions the further they ran on, replaying scenes over and over in your head.

Charles’s face split open on the floor. red running from Daddy’s temple. a knife through your mama’s heart. Turner’s wrinkly hand on your thigh as he shoots three bullets through Ghost’s heart—his eyes wide as blood poured down his maskless face. but beneath the blood, he was faceless, skin smoothed over and pale, till his face morphed into Charles's deformed flesh and it replayed again.

a soft stroking along your thigh brought you further from the murky haze, and you pushed up against a solid form. you opened your eyes to find Ghost’s, blinking down at you.

there was an endless, crushing relief to see his mask still firmly clasped to his face.

you tried to push away any lingering curious voices in your head, but they pushed through the weak pockets of your mental blockade, whispering out, what’s under it?

you prayed that you wouldn’t find a faceless form beneath the red gleam of it.

his arm was wrapped around your shoulders and back, fingers digging into your waist and thigh. you were practically half in his lap, cheek pressed to his chest, his big trench coat slung over your curled up body.

for the first time, you realized, you awoke to Ghost’s presence by your side. you would’ve happily nuzzled back into his warmth and fallen back into the nightmares that clutched at you, if you didn’t realize that you had an audience.

eyes snapping open, and sitting up straighter, you blearily tried to shake the sleep away as you met the stares of several foreign faces sitting in chairs opposing you. save for the weary one-four-one—John dozing lightly, a new splint in bandage over his nose, Soap’s face a remote grim shade, Gaz’s and Kate’s attention trained on you.

you noticed Soap’s arm in a sling with a bitterness.

shifting, you looked out the train compartment window moving through the arid, weedy forest, sun dipping far into the horizon in a crimson-purple hue.

“good morning,” Ghost greeted, pressing the nose of his mask to your hair. muffling a squeak, you tried to shift away because it was improper, but his strength held you close, hot gaze burning into your cheek.

you cleared your throat, looking to the man nearest to you. his hair was slicked back in dark curls, a toothpick between his teeth. he gave you a wild grin.

“we finally meet, chica,” he said in a beautifully lilted accent. he stood to offer his hand politely, and you would’ve stood to curtsy if Ghost’s hold on you wasn't so… possessive.

instead you put your hand in his and he kissed the back of it with a sly look.

Ghost tutted, muttering an impatient, “Alejandro.”

your brows rose when Alejandro released your hand with a laugh. he gestured to a clean-shaven, handsome man beside him.

“this is my most trusted right hand—Rodolfo.”

he smiled at you politely with a slight nod but made no move to shake your hand.

you nodded back. “pleasure to meet you, sir.”

Alejandro gestured to the other men littered around the room, leaning back in their plush seats. “and these are my men. los vaqueros.”

your breath hitched, looking around the room in a slight awe. these men were legends you heard of in childhood—iron fists of justice in the south that grappled with corrupt conglomerates and drug-dealing cartels. they also dabbled in their own bouts of illegal trouble. their hard-lined faces stared back at you.

instead you croaked, “where are we? and where are we going?”

you jumped a little when Ghost thumbed at your cheek, almost forgetting he was there. “we’re mid-way through southern california, bound for san francisco.”

your eyes ran over the los vaqueros, donned with bandoliers and sombreros, then one-four-one, looking much smaller and more meager. you couldn’t help but give them a weary smile, a warmth spreading in you when Soap perked up a smile of his own.

“why?”

Kate leaned back in her seat, arms crossed over her chest. you were eternally grateful for the comfort in at least one other female presence.

“we’re going to war.”

you stiffened. “what?”

Soap quickly followed. “against the Turner boys.” his eyes darkened. “they’re wreckin’ all our towns. they won’t stop and we don’t have enough boys to get ‘em.”

Ghost’s grip on your hip tightened. Gaz pushed on. “we’re going straight to the source.”

in san francisco?

you remembered the map in the basement, the large red circle over midwest california that included the bustling hub that was san francisco, with a scribbled T in the middle. a feeling of dread gripped your stomach. this was going to develop into a gang war—or something like it at least.

“does it really have to come to that?”

you grimaced when a terse silence followed.

“this is more than about money, lovely,” Ghost said with a thickness to his accent. “this is about revenge.”

you summed that much up from the dangerous flicker in Soap’s eyes, but you worried more about where you fit into the equation. you thought back to Ghost’s journal, a sudden apprehension for the arm coiled around you tightly.

did phase two include you? were you of use once your daddy refused Ghost’s proposed ransom? and if you weren’t?

Ghost’s journal burned a hole through the pocket of your split skirt—maybe it was selfish, maybe it was childish, but a flurrying panic rose in you at the thought of going back home. you just couldn’t.

you bit back your tongue as Kate and a half-awake John moved to discuss with Alejandro in quiet murmurs that you couldn’t hear. they circled around a table, Soap and Gaz leaning into the conversation behind them.

you felt Ghost’s hand twitch on your hip as he shifted, gaze still trained on you.

sighing, you inclined your head in their direction. “go.”

he pressed his masked lips to your cheek in, what you deciphered as, a silent thank you.

you just swatted at him with a blush as he helped you to your feet, drawing his trench coat tighter around your shoulders. Rodolfo lended you a gracious arm to lean on as Ghost neared the table, your ankle an irritable throb in the back of your mind. the crowd split, his broad form pushing through, and merged again, Ghost’s stetson half-obscured from view.

you wanted to join their circle, or lean in at least, and absorb their low murmurs, but instead Rodolfo helped you limp out of the train compartment into a plush hall.

you must’ve been in a first class sleeping car because you had not seen something so lush—springy green carpet beneath your boots and a ruby red wallpaper that crawled with patterns of roses and prickly vines. the lights overhead were gilded in gold.

Rodolfo must’ve caught your gaze because he gave you a half-smile, clarifying, “Kate pulled some strings.”

you just nodded weakly. the thought of one-four-one’s influence spreading to big railway conglomerates was staggering, but at this point, didn’t sweep you into shock.

he led you to a door with a carved brass knob and chiseled key hole, fumbling with a circlet of keys in his hand. you looked down the hall and startled when, at the end of the hallway compartment, you spotted a man staring straight back at you. he wore a fashionable black jacket with silver buttons and embellishments, a cap on his head that read pullman porter on a brass plating.

his eyes flickered from you to the door Rodolfo opened with a soft click, before he drew the hallway compartment door shut with a slam. you watched him stride away fast through the window, other first class passengers lounging lazily in the opposite compartment.

“senorita?”

Rodolfo held the door open for you and you thanked him quickly, pulling yourself together and stepping into the luscious, but cramped, bedroom. politely, he closed the door, and you were left in a relief crushing silence.

the bed bowed beneath your weight as you sunk into it, kicking off your boots and laying out Ghost’s trench coat, falling back on it. you itched to loosen the strings of your corset but it was buried beneath too many layers of clothes for you to care about that now.

instead, you emptied the pockets of your fraying split skirt. you lined up Ghost’s journal, the matches, bunch of rope, and extra ammo on the bed. at the sight of it, you couldn’t help but lament the continuous absence of a revolver in your inventory.

you wondered if it was one-four-one’s intention to keep it that way as you picked through the room. there was an oil lamp on the nightstand—a carved cherry wood piece you took a moment to admire before moving to the equally exquisite armoire. opening it with a gasp, a bright bunch of fabric spilling into your face and almost knocking you back.

the thing was stuffed full of dresses and fancy garments—dresses, skirts, blouses in silk and chiffon with lacey embellishments. for a moment, you panicked. was this your designated room?

from outside the door, you heard someone taking slow steps down the hall. the knob was hallway turned when you swept up the stolen items you had laid out on the bed and shoved them back into your pockets.

Ghost slinked into the room without so much as a word and a tired look. your heart was still beating out of your chest.

“ever heard of knocking?” you frowned deeply. “what if i was indecent?”

he huffed an amused sound at that, eyes twinkling as he sat on the bed. “i’ve seen you indecent before.”

your stomach curled at the memory. suddenly, being in such close proximity alone with Ghost felt like a sinful thing, and a heat snaked under your skin, traveling up to your cheeks till it burned in your ears.

he cocked his head at you but not unkindly. “we need to talk, lovely.”

you nodded. “yes.” then, curiosity overtook you. “but what’s this?” you gestured to the open doors of the armoire behind you.

he cleared his throat and avoided your eyes, shifting on the bed. “they’re for you.”

your brows shot up. that’s what this was?

you looked from Ghost twitching on the bed to the stuffed armoire. you could imagine him picking out dresses and blouses and skirts at a tailor shop with Kate by his shoulder as you slept away the afternoon’s traumatizing events, then boarding the luxurious train with you curled into his arms.

a romantic gesture?

before you let your thoughts run away from you, sitting beside him on the bed, you had wanted to thank him in that polite manner your mama has always taught you, but you find yourself wanting to tease the apprehensive tenseness in his shoulders instead.

“it’s going to take a lot more than money to charm me, Simon,” you called softly, leaning into his side.

even if he had plenty of it, you thought dreamily, eyes running over the expensive fabric of his black suit.

he just scoffed, turning his head completely from you, but didn’t lean away. you inched behind him to smooth your hands over his shoulders which seemed to impossibly tighten even more.

“so tense,” you said in his ear, massaging your thumbs into the fleshy parts of his back. head tipping back slightly, his slow, deflating exhale didn’t go unnoticed.

“we need to talk,” he repeated, voice gruff. you leaned over his shoulder to peer at his face, but his eyes had already slid shut beneath his mask.

humming, you rubbed circles into the back of his neck, then inching back down between his shoulder blades and along his spine. one hand on his back, you slid the other to the front, watching the way his shoulders laxed with wonder.

when your fingers fiddled with the button of his vest, his gloved hand caught your wrist, heavy eyes looking over his shoulder at you with a warning that dripped with something darker. you squirmed under his gaze, skin feeling impossibly hot, a familiar clench in your stomach.

“you minx,” he said, voice a low rumble that coaxed a whine from your throat and only darkened the look in Ghost’s eyes.

he began to push you over to the bed with a hand on your chest, towering over you with a glint in his eye, but you yelped, squirming away from his hold. the movement tipped you over the edge of the bed and you crashed into the nightstand, almost knocking over the oil lamp. your ankle screamed in protest, but the images flashing through your head cut right through the pain.

the man unbuckling his belt. Charles’s hand holding you down in an iron vice, rough lips against your skin. his hand digging into your naked flesh beneath your undergarments. both of them looming over you with black eyes, and the glint of gold—

“lovely?” Ghost steadied you with an arm around your waist—but not in a way that constricted you. his eyes searched your own.

“what is it?” he demanded, and you swallowed hard, shaking your head.

“nothing.” you laxed, curling over him and instead pressed him down so his back hit the bed with a thud. “it’s nothing.”

you clambered over him clumsily, allowing his hands to guide you to a comfortable position, legs hooked around his waist and hands braced against his chest. it was solid and warm beneath you, like a rock that swelled slowly. you bit down on your lower lip, trying to the best of your ability to ignore the sharp stabbing of your ankle.

“you sure?” from his warm grip on your hips, and the narrow of his eyes, you knew he didn’t believe you for a second. you didn’t think he was stupid enough to not know why.

but you nodded with a stuttering breath anyway. “just let me…” you searched for the words, finding your head back in the place where you laid with him only a night ago. “take care of you.”

you unbuttoned his vest as he worked on your blouse, pulling it off with an ease that sent chills down your spine. you squeaked with surprise when he pulled you flush to his chest, sitting up to throw his vest to the floor and strip off his dress shirt. untangling yourself from him, you stood to undo your skirt, letting it pool around your ankles.

you looked up to Ghost who watched you from the bed, eyes a hungry, smoky glare. you studied the muscled gleam of his torso, breath hitching at the sight of his stitches. the wound was a raw pink and dangerously loose.

huffing an impatient noise, you yelped when he pulled you back onto his lap, pressing his mask into your neck and hair. it screamed such a Simon gesture that it had you melting into him, clutching at the fabric on the back of his head.

this was Simon. any dread furling at the edges of your mind dissipated. but still, you couldn’t hold yourself back from worrying—

“your stitches?” you gasped, feeling him pull up the fabric of his mask and press his hot lips to your neck, tongue sliding out.

a breathy noise left your lips and you squirmed, bracing your hands against the brawn of his shoulders to push him back down to the bed again. he gave way easily, to your surprise.

in the low light of the day, his lips looked pretty and full as he licked them. “they’re fine.”

you ran your hands over his chest, gasping when he pressed his hips up gently into you. there was a hardness in his pants that felt delicious against that painful ache of your core.

you muffled a sigh, allowing his hands to drag you over that hardness once more, then you gasped again. your eyes snapped up to his and he smirked, teeth glinting in the light.

“feel good?”

your head tipped back, hands scrambling for purchase. you gripped tightly at his forearms.

“i’m supposed to be taking care of you,” you whined out as he rocked you back and forth.

“you are,” he grunted through gritted teeth, head lolling back against the pillows, his muscled neck bobbing with a heavy swallow. your eyes followed the movement with a hunger, feeling a strange desire to lick over it.

even through your drawers, the friction felt like heaven, and as his movements grew faster, the tightness of your corset felt constricting around the heavy pants of your breast.

noticing this, Ghost moved to quickly unstring it, your hips endlessly canting against him. you felt a wonderful burn in your core, traveling up to your chest, throat, and tingling behind your eyes that were screwed shut.

you gasped when the corset fell away, a coolness enveloping your bare skin, jolting when you felt something hot and wet at your nipples. looking down, you moaned at the sight of his tongue swirling around the hardened buds of your breast, suckling one into his mouth. it left your chest tingling, the feeling raw and sensitive and foreign, but you only wanted more.

“that’s it. moan for me, princess,” he purred, one hand trailing down your bare spine and stopping at your backside, massaging it down into his hardness, spurring your hips forward.

you barely registered his words, biting down hard on your lip to keep the growing noises at bay as Ghost led you closer and closer to an inevitable precipice. he drew away his tongue from your chest, looking up at you with narrowed eyes. you whimpered in its absence.

“louder, pretty thing.” he tugged back a bit on your hair, so your head tilted back and your lax jaw fell open, releasing a slew of pretty sighs that had him humming approvingly.

“good girl.”

his husky words sent you hurtling over the edge, and your body shook with pleasured delight, vibrating across your skin in seizing spams. you would’ve toppled over if it weren’t for the strong arms that circled your middle.

“Simon…” you whined, clutching weakly at his arms as he scattered kisses all across your jaw, neck, chest, breasts till the murky colors exploding in your vision faded.

he lowered you back down to the bed, and you collapsed beside him, panting. he stroked at your hair, turning onto his side with a warm fullness in his gaze. your lips stretched into a weak smile and you craned up to kiss his neck softly, licking over that swollen appendage in its center like you had wanted to earlier.

you relished in the way his breath hitched. eyeing over his body, there was still a bulge in his dress pants that stirred your curiosity.

sending him a silent question with your gaze, his knuckles dragged over your exposed arm. he cocked his head. “i’m alright, lovely.”

“but…” your face heated up. “i want to see.”

he shifted on the bed, black eyes darting over your face. for the first time since you’d known him, Ghost looked… nervous.

“why do you want to see?”

“because…” the words died in your throat. his lips stretched into a wry grin.

“you don’t need to. i like you like this,” he sighed, twirling your loose hair between his fingers.

your brow furrowed. “like what?”

his grin grew fuller. “innocent.”

you mustered your most bitter look and threw it at him, mood plummeting when he let out a throaty laugh.

“you really want to see that bad?” his eyes went dark again, and you nodded eagerly.

with a long look, a hand twitching at his side, he just sighed and willed you closer with a beckoning hand. you sat up with a sharp clarity to your mind, inching forward towards his pants. he remained leaned back against the pillows, one arm stretched over his body and cradling the back of his head as he unbuckled his pants with one hand.

he pulled himself out of his undergarments, the flesh heavy, swollen, firm, and drooling a thick fluid at the flushed tip. your whole body heated up with something—shame, embarrassment, longing, or something even deeper.

“oh,” you squeaked, avoiding his gaze entirely, though you knew it was burning into your cheek. he grabbed your chin, turning your head to meet it.

“we can stop here, but i don’t know if i can hold back if you just—” he swallowed hard, “watch me like that.”

“like what?” you asked, lips parting and eyes growing doe-like.

he cursed, and you watched in amazement when his hand flexed around his length, abdominal muscles flexing in time with it, tip oozing out more fluid. weirdly, saliva pooled in your mouth, and you resisted the urge to swallow it back.

you wanted to put your tongue on it.

“like that,” he rasped, throat strained with effort.

you gazed at him wordlessly, hands feeling restless. you wanted to touch him.

he cocked his head. “what’s wrong?”

when you said nothing, his lips pressed into a thin line, starting to tuck himself back into his pants, and you felt a growing panic in you. “i told you i’m alright pretty girl—”

“no!” you lurched forward to snatch his wrist away, his length straining against his stomach. his eyes snapped up in surprise and you felt your entire face go red with embarrassment. “i mean,” you inhaled deep, “no. i… i want to…”

you swallowed hard. Ghost lips twitched, a very amused expression stretching his face.

“can i…?”

his hand rubbed over your thigh, squeezing. “can you what, pretty thing?”

you whimpered, clutching at his hand. “want to put my mouth on it.”

the growl from the back of his throat should’ve scared you but it only spurred you forward, settling closer to the side of him, your thigh firmly pressed against his as you sat your backside over your ankles. one experienced a stabbing pain, but the sight in front of you cut right through the nagging sensation.

Ghost’s gaze was intense, heavier than you ever felt before, even with his body laxed back into the pillows, one arm hooked behind his head.

“go ahead, lovely.”

tentatively, you reached out, brushing your fingertips over the very tip of it where all the fluids were spilling out in rolls down his length. the hiss he let out made your core shiver, vibrating back to life in slow, hot pulses.

“what does it feel like?” you whispered, and his eyes closed.

“good.”

“how good?” you pressed, dragging your fingertips down the underside and back up again. his breath hitched when you brushed over a sensitive spot nestled beneath the tip. massaging at it with your thumb experimentally, his eyes snapped open again, snatching up your wrist.

your heart skipped a beat, a new worry clouding your mind. had you done something wrong?

on the verge of apology, you stopped short when he pressed a kiss to your inner wrist.

“you have to tell me if you want to keep going or not.” his eyes flashed. “if we do, i won’t want to stop, and i don’t want to scare you.”

even beneath the layers of his mask, the way his jaw was set in a grim clench, you could see the sincerity in his face.

“i want to make you feel good,” you said with finality, and his lips twitched up.

“i know you do.” he rubbed your cheek with affection. “such a polite girl.”

“tell me what to do,” you almost begged, squirming in his hold, and he guided your hand back down to his swollen length, gasping when he wrapped your entire hand around it.

it was wet, sticky, warm, throbbing.

“feels good when you squeeze tighter,” he said softly, eyes going hazy when you immediately obeyed. slowly, he dragged your hand up and down its length, going completely lax against the bed.

you watched in amazement, clenching your thighs together as your entire hand went up and down it in a rhythmic grind, the swells of his chest rising faster with every ministration. his eyes fluttered close periodically, sometimes tightening his hold on your hand, then going loose, altering speeds between painstaking slowness and a quick jerking movement.

“doin’ good, princess,” he panted, and you flushed at the praise because you really weren’t doing anything.

scanning over his body, you remembered the way his breath stopped short when your tongue was on his skin.

you wanted to hear those sounds again.

leaning down, you shyly mouthed over the skin at his neck, sucking there, and you were immediately spurred on with the low groan that left his lips.

your lips traveled down past his collarbones, to the plush muscle of his chest, tongue circling his nipples now, and he jolted in beneath you, hand stuttering almost to a stop.

“christ,” he gritted out as you sucked there, thighs squirming together for an ounce of relief.

you found it when Ghost snaked a hand beneath your drawers, seeking out your puffy clit and eagerly discovering it, rubbing firm circles against you.

your lips fell away from his chest, and you almost crumpled onto him, grinding down into his hand with a greediness that bloomed through your whole body. he hummed approvingly in your ear, kissing the shell of it gently, when you jerked your hand over his length on your own—matching the movements of his fingers on your clit.

“fuck, just like that,” he rasped, sounding a bit desperate now.

his hand fell away from yours around his length, gripping at your hip instead to steady you. when he sped up, so did your hand, sparks flying beneath your eyelids as you keened loud. his lips were on your neck, and your whole body went numb, but your gaze was intent on his own length that throbbed deliciously strong in your hand.

it twitched, then shuddered, and you felt Ghost muffle a groan against your neck as his hips stuttered up, watching in amazement as fluids spurted out from the tip in rhythmic pulses, rolling down over your hand in a milky substance.

you both shuddered through mutual pleasure, and once the last of the wracking waves struck you, you crashed forward into his chest, a sticky and sweaty mess.

you caught his eye, tired and half-lidded, a bead of sweat going down his neck as his chest rose rapidly, and you couldn’t help but laugh—feeling giddy from the open display of his own pleasure that Ghost had just revealed to you.

his lax face shifted into one of amusement, craning down to kiss your nose. that’s when you remembered—

“i didn’t put my mouth on it,” you realized with a cracking disappointment.

looking down to his length, now softer and still covered in the fluids, you leaned down to press your tongue to it, but were pulled back suddenly by a soft hiss.

“don’t,” Ghost rasped, and you gave him a wide-eyed apologetic look.

he just shook his head. “it’s different than this—” he smoothed a hand over your clothed cunt, and you gasped with embarrassment at the blunt movement, “—s’more sensitive after i orgasm.”

you tilted your head. “orgasm?”

he brushed the hair from your sweaty forehead. “your climax,” he elaborated in a seductively smooth voice and you blushed, pushing his hand away as he smirked. you knew what he meant.

your gaze traveled back to the pool of fluid on his stomach, a curiosity brewing in you. “is that what this is?”

he followed your gaze. “mhmm. it’s what this is, too.”

he snaked his hand back into your undergarments, and you jolted with a gasp, squirming when he pressed two fingers against your entrance. when he pulled them back to show you, there was a sticky wetness on them—similar to the one on his pelvis.

“oh,” you said, flushed with embarrassment at such blunt displays of education.

you mentally chided your mama for teaching you absolutely nothing about this. though, you assumed she would’ve told you before your marriage about… lovemaking.

before a crashing guilt could consume you, the view of Ghost wrapping his tongue around his fingers that were sticky with your orgasm startled you back to reality.

“Ghost!” you exclaimed, pulling his fingers out of his mouth.

his brow furrowed as he huffed with frustration. “what?”

“that’s improper!” you slapped at his chest. “very improper! and…” your face screwed up. “unsanitary.”

that face-consuming smirk of his stretched his pretty lips. “don’t forget i was drinking it straight from the source last night.”

with your hand to your mouth, you gasped, pushing yourself completely off the bed as he shook with quiet laughter, delirious with it, even.

“i’m done with you,” you said with a roll of your eyes as he beseeched you to come back, but you refused to comply, clasping your corset back around you.

out of the corner of your eye, you watched him mop up the wetness on his body with his balled up dress shirt before he padded over, swiping your hair over your shoulder.

“let me help.”

you felt him lace the thing back up, and tug it close loosely. you sent him a look over your shoulder, instructing him to tighten it more, but he just grumbled, barely tugging it tight and you ended up shooing him away to do it yourself.

he gave you a grumpy, reproachful look and you had to bite back a grin at his behavior—that intimidating stoicism returned as promised as a rising ocean tide.

from the armoire, you picked out a loose nightgown, bodice embroidered with small bows and lace, sleeves pulling into a wide bell shape at your elbow. Ghost was still half-naked, leaning back on your bed with a sleepy gaze. he gave you a highly approving hum when you pulled it on before excusing yourself to wash up in the lavatory.

drawing Ghost’s trench coat back around your shoulders, and stepping into the hall, you muffled a shout when the same pullman porter was stationed at the end of the hallway, eyes boring into you. in the darkness of the night, shadows were cast strangely across his face, and his eyes looked like they were a pure black.

resisting the urge to step back into your room, where a very dangerous and strong outlaw lay, you just gave the porter a polite nod to move to a lavatory in the opposite direction. the porter stood stock still in the dark, not even moving to acknowledge you.

bitten with fear, you sighed in relief when you pushed into the private lavatory, locking the door behind you. inspecting your appearance in the mirror, you cringed at the disheveledness of it. there was a dark, purpling circle of exhaustion under your eyes and a swollen pink hue to your face—not to mention the frizzy circlets of hair defying gravity on your crown.

you took your own washcloth and dipped it in the basin, turning the faucet, praying for hot water. when none came after you stripped yourself of your nightgown, you grimaced as you scrubbed the cold washcloth over yourself. you wet your hair and brushed it back, splashing your face with the icy water, toweling off, then redressing yourself in the nightgown.

a hand on the lavatory knob, you worried about the porter at the end of the hallway. what if he had moved? what if, when you opened the door, you’d open it to his face—the all-encompassing black of his eyes?

suddenly, events just hours prior came crashing down on you. men looming over you. the sickening thud of the bullet hitting that man on his horse, face going black, before falling to the ground with a crunch. the clink of a belt.

gunshots were in your ears, an intense ringing after each click, trigger, pull, boom and smoke.

“no,” your hands shook as you slid down the lavatory wall, covering your ears.

the banging became louder. with each boom another body dropped dead, blood unfurling around it like a bad omen, its tendrils snaking. snaking towards you.

“no, no.” you couldn’t stop shaking.

this was your fault.

you had killed three men today. one, on the horse, second, bullet through the face, third, beat him to death in the ground. beat him to death.

this was your fault. this was your fault, this was your fault, this was your fault—

“HEY!” you jolted back to reality, breath in a dizzying flurry. really dizzying flurry. when you stood, you felt nauseous, almost keeling over and throwing up. you pressed your forehead to the cool of the wall, swallowing back the bile hard.

there was a banging knock on the door.

“how much fockin’ longer are ye going to take’n there?” you tried to work out your voice but all that came out was a scraping rasp.

“sweet mother of mary and jesus, what does a man need to do to piss ‘round here—”

you swung the door open suddenly and Soap jumped back with a yelp, pressed flat against the opposite of the narrow hallway. the soft, yellow lighting poured out into the dark hallway and bruises you didn’t notice before littered Soap’s cheeks, his right eye a pocket of swollen, purple flesh.

his anger dissipated in a second at the sight of you, giving you a nervous, wry smile.

“sorry, lassie, didn’t know it was you—” he paused suddenly, face contorting. “are ye cryin’, lassie?”

you touched your fingers to your numb face, pulling back to find a wetness on your fingertips. you just stared at him as he fumbled awkwardly, mouth opening and closing.

you spoke for him. “i killed three men.”

he didn’t even react, expression deflating as he nodded. “it happens, lass.”

he reached out a hand tentatively, just barely brushing his good hand over your shoulder, the other still hanging limp by his chest in a white sling.

how can murder be normal?

“no, i killed them. on purpose.” something in you broke. “i wanted them to die.”

he just shook his head again, gripping your shoulder tightly now. “they would’ve done worst te you if you didn’t, bonnie.”

you chewed that, finding it indigestible no matter how you looked at it.

Soap continued quickly, “i enlisted when i was sixteen. saw things in a war i shouldn't've. luckily one-four-one and Laswell had my back…”

he smiled fondly before shrugging. “war happens. death happens, lassie, whether you wish it on someone or not. those men had it comin’ for ‘em.”

nodding slowly, you barely mustered a tight-lipped smile when he patted your shoulder brazenly, beaming with a grin. behind him, a grumpy looking blonde materialized in the hallway, her hair tousled and still in full riding attire, grip tight at her holster. Soap’s grip dropped immediately.

“what’s goin’ on here?” Kate demanded, looking from you to Soap.

you jolted, the roughness of her expression pulling you back to reality. a creeping shame rose in you—crying in front of a man you barely knew, confessing your sins to him in your lacey nightgown in the middle of the dark, narrow hallway. Kate’s gaze hardened, and you balked, struggling to find an explanation when Soap interjected.

“i was just waitin’ to use the loo!” he tossed you a smile, but there was a mischievous glint in his eyes that told you to play along. “funny meetin’ you here in the hallway, princess!”

like ice water dumped over your head, you were strung back into your body.

you rolled your eyes. “don’t call me that.”

“right,” Soap sang, “only Ghost can say it. apologies, lass.”

you stepped out of the lavatory with Ghost’s coat around you and Soap slid in after you, shutting the door. looking into Kate’s furrowed face, you could see the red-rimmed bloodshot of her eyes and the bags beneath them. she looked exhausted.

beyond her, down the hall in the compartment where you ventured from earlier, John, Alejandro, and Rodolfo were still engrossed in conversation.

Kate followed your gaze with a sigh. “don’t even ask, missy,” she warned with a warm hand at your back and you suppressed a smile.

you were grateful as she led you back down the narrow hallway to your room, the porter still in the same spot from earlier, eyes dead on you. eyes looking dead as well.

you tried your best to ignore him but his head jerked, cracking it, rolling back his shoulders from the stiff position. rushing a bit faster, you could feel Kate’s hand tighten against your spine as you fumbled with the room key.

you jolted when she called down the hall.

“what the hell’re you lookin’ at?” she griped at the porter, who finally turned his head to the window beside him.

her eyes narrowed, and she grumbled low into your ear, “don’t go venturing off in this train alone at night, as much as i know you love to explore.”

there was a dripping sarcasm in her voice that you chose to ignore as you swung the door open, bidding her a soft goodnight as she gave you a tight-lipped smile before it dropped from her face into a scowl. but the full look in her eyes made you feel as though you may have grown closer than you thought over just the past three days.

shutting the door behind you, you leaned against it, sighing out, before turning to find Ghost in a sprawled out position like before. your spent clothes for the day were folded in the corner on a plush chair as well as his own. you couldn’t help but smile at that seemingly persistent habit of neatness he had as you laid down his coat over the back of the chair.

you neared him but he didn’t turn to look at you, just leaned his head against the wall.

you crawled onto the bed and brushed your knuckles over the red mask. you were disappointed to see the black fabric beneath it pulled down over his jaw again.

“have a good wash?”

he blinked owlishly out the window on the opposing wall, desert passing by serenely, washed in a cool blue tone by the sweep of the moonlight. the rattling of the train clinked through the room.

you opened your mouth before swallowing down hard.

no one has to know about your episode.

Soap had made sure of that in front of Kate, and you felt endlessly indebted to him. how would Ghost react if he knew you were having… mental struggles? you could only pray under your breath that it wouldn’t persist, but you doubted god was listening to your meek voice after the sins you’ve committed today.

shivering, you just nodded with a smile. “refreshing.”

“good.” his face swung to you, a hardness to his eyes. your brow furrowed but you buried it with another smile. “we need to talk.”

blinking, you slinked away from him and sat on the far edge of the bed, which wasn’t very far at all in the cramped room, his outstretched foot resting against your hip. you leaned back against the window, the moonlight casting his mask in a blue gleam.

“we do,” you agreed, though about what—you didn’t know where to begin.

what exactly would happen once you reached san francisco? would you be included in their business, or would they shut you out like before? a stranger and a hostage?

you one-overed Ghost’s relaxed form, to the muscles of his torso, the veins spidering up his arms, and the distant look in his eyes.

what was going on between you and Ghost?

what exactly was phase two?

you thought back to this afternoon in the basement and what you had found—the intercepted letter from your daddy and Ghost’s journal. your eyes darted to the pile of clothes in the room.

“looking for this?”

you jolted when he tossed something onto the open space of the bed beside you, stomach dropping at the words scrawled over it.

GHOST.

a snaking dread sized you, any lingering warm feelings of your shared night sliding off your body like icy water.

your eyes snapped up to his—cold and dark.

like the porter’s, a traitorous voice in you called out, but you immediately willed it away, because this was Simon.

“you can’t blame me for snooping.” your jaw clenched when he didn’t respond. “you took me and confined me to the shop. no one told me what would happen to me. i needed to know if…”

you swallowed around your next words. “...if you were going to ransom me back to my daddy.”

Ghost made no move, didn’t even blink, hand twitching on his bare chest.

“you want the truth?” holding your breath, you gave him a curt nod.

“i was going to,” he chewed out, and you blinked. “last night i was still deciding.”

last night. when you were curled up in his arms and he had taken your first bout of innocence from you. a spark of something dark lit within you. as of recent, it seems he’s taken a lot from you in general.

your gun, your innocence, your parents. your home.

“did you go see my daddy that day?”

that day when you said you were searching for Sugar, you wanted to challenge, was it all a lie?

you thought back to the intercepted letter—your daddy’s anger seething through the note, and his promise to wrung one-four-one of everything until he got you back. maybe the proper term was rescue.

Ghost’s jaw clenched. “yes.”

you sucked in a breath, a spiraling panic coming back to you like the one in the lavatory before. you willed it away best you could, pressing cool knuckles to your temple as you closed your eyes. images flashed—your daddy dead, blood everywhere, all over his papers, letters, clothes, a bullet in his temple and Ghost with a revolver to his head. was he dead?

did Ghost kill your daddy?

“is he alive?”

you waited for the answer with bated breath.

“‘course. even if he tried to kill me.”

a whoosh of air left you, and you leaned your head back against the cool window, taking in Ghost. his head was tilted, a curious glint in them that you ignored.

his voice was cold. “anymore questions?”

you gave him a hard stare. “what changed your mind?”

“about?”

you scoffed. “not selling me away after…” last night. you couldn’t bring yourself to say it.

his foot pressed into your hip but you ignored it. he sighed out.

“i went to your father to offer a ransom.” your brow raised. “$25,000.”

this sounded familiar.

“but he refused.”

you flinched at that, somewhere between a crushing weight of disappointment and embarrassment falling on you. you wiped away a brewing wetness in your eyes. Ghost couldn’t return you if your daddy didn’t want you in the first place.

“so?”

his foot dug deeper into your side.

“he told me something else.”

you finally met Ghost’s gaze, his head tipped forward and brows furrowed. you could tell from the way his eyes pinched with a haunted glare.

after a long silence ensued, you poked at his foot. “what was it?”

the void bluntness of his voice told you it wasn’t anything good.

“he refused the ransom because of his pride, but also because he didn’t want to ransom you when…” Ghost sucked in a breath, “when you already belonged to someone else.”

your mind reeled at that.

“what?”

“he thought it wasn’t fair he had to pay. he was already working with a businessman to make you his mistress.”

your stomach curdled, heart beating out your throat. “no, that’s…” you choked down some tears, “that’s not true.”

the end of your words turned up in a weak tremble that you desperately wanted to hide but Ghost pinned you down with his eyes.

“he was going to make you Turner’s mistress. that was part of their deal.”

your blood chilled at that, body going impossibly numb. what did this mean for you now? you scrambled to find purchase in your mind, in anything that would slow the spinning of the room. what did this mean for you now?

were you still of use to one-four-one? would they abandon you in san francisco to fight a war, leaving you to the streets? and if they did, would your daddy accept you back in his home, or turn you right over to Turner as his personal whore?

you shook, vision clouded over.

even if you didn’t choose your daddy, you still wish he chose you over everything.

you were his only daughter after all.

“that doesn’t make sense,” you said thickly, “why would he do that?”

Ghost was as still as a rock, his only sign of life was the hand that came down to play with the hem of your nightgown.

“bigger investment and more money, ” he said, voice eerily empty, and an iciness passed through you.

just another one of Daddy’s business transactions.

you remember what Ghost called out at the dinner table that night.

you sell your daughter to investors for a buck. do you really want to talk about honor?

your eyes flickered to Ghost again. had he known all along? or had he just taken a great guess from doing so many years of business with your daddy—who you really didn’t seem to know at all?

a weak, strangled noise came from the back of your throat.

“but in that letter,” you groped, clawing for anything, “he said he would do anything to get me back. he said that.”

your voice rose and Ghost’s eyes slid away from you to the window behind you.

you felt like a whining, whimpering child. a mile long chasm was being torn straight through the room, and when you looked to the other side, Ghost was the older, war-torn man he always was and you were just… you.

hopeful, naive, innocent.

you.

you balled up into your chest and let the tears stream from your eyes in the most silent sobs you could muster, only the gentle clinking of glass on metal in the room, train chugging on relentlessly, dragging you in tow.

had you really thought, only five days ago, that you could become a gunslinger alongside Ghost? a cowgirl with a great shot and a tough spirit?

you felt so far from all of it that you dug your nails into the soreness of your ankle, relishing the way the sharp waves of pain brought you back down to earth.

there was a sigh in your ear, and two strong arms that wrapped you up, but you twisted in them immediately, your nails digging into the flesh of Ghost’s arms as you shoved him away.

“don’t you dare,” you hissed, pressing yourself as far as you could from him in the diminishing room. your eyes flickered to the ceiling above his head. it really looked like the room was getting smaller—the ceiling shrinking by the second.

he only watched you with an eerie calm, a nauseous feeling climbing in you.

“you did this,” you spat through tears. “a couple days ago i was with my mama and daddy and everything was fine until you showed up.”

your breath shook. “you devil.”

whether Ghost was hurt by it, you couldn’t tell, because he only blinked harshly, but you regretted the words anyways. because you knew that Ghost was telling the truth. even if you did stay with your mama and daddy, and Ghost had never taken you, you would’ve been swept away to Turner’s big estate in san francisco anyway.

but the bile poured from you like a sweltering, infected wound. “i would’ve been married,” you cried out, tears dripping from your trembling chin onto the breast of your nightgown. of Ghost’s nightgown.

liar, a voice in you hissed, but you pushed it to the furthest corner of your mind.

“you stole me from my parents, took my honor, and you’re a liar!”

Ghost cocked his head at you, eyes glazed over and mask glinting. you hated that stupid mask. you just wanted to rip it off his face.

you jolted when he spoke, grumbling out, “i didn’t mean to.”

if there was a revolver slung in your holster, you would’ve shot him dead three times in the heart by now, just like your mama said.

Mama, a little girl in you cried, i’m sorry. i should’ve listened to you that first night in the cabin when he fell asleep.

he continued with gritted teeth. “i wanted revenge against your father for betraying me and i wanted revenge on Turner.” he wouldn’t look at you now. “i wanted to steal something of theirs and make it mine.”

of all the things he could’ve said, nothing in the world prepared you then. you lurched for him, vision red and wrapped your hands around his neck, wanting to see a flicker of fear in his eyes—or something other than the cold, dead wall you were talking to.

but he just flipped you easily in a calculated movement, weight keeping you pinned as you mindlessly struggled, arms in a bind above your head.

he talked over your cries and shouts now, voice in your ear— “i knew your daddy had a daughter. but i didn’t know she was so young and full of spirit and…” your struggling subsided. the look in his eyes seemed something like defeat. “...lovely.”

you spat right onto his mask but he didn’t even flinch.

“liar,” you hissed, working up into a frenzy again, squirming against his bone-crushing hold. “liar, liar, liar, liar—”

“i thought his daughter would be some rich, prissy girl who didn’t want anything to do with outlaws. then she told me she hated her happy, small town life, and her two parents that loved her.”

“liar, liar, liar, liar—”

“she told me that she could be a gunslinger if she wanted to be. she rode like one, too.”

you tried to scream and shout over his words and block it out of your brain, but his low murmur against your ear cut right through it all.

“when i realized what’d i’d done, that i’d stolen a girl who was a thief, it was too late. you saved my life when i got shot. i thought you would’ve ran away and left me for dead.”

his voice dropped even lower, the forehead of his cool mask pressing against your jaw. “i wanted you to leave me for dead.”

at that, your struggling subsided, confusion welling up in you like a stormy cloud.

“i wanted you to leave me for dead.”

he pulled back to press your arms to your chest and loomed over you.

“i wanted to be dead for what i was doing.”

you kicked out under his legs, knee connecting with something soft, and he dropped his hips with a hiss to pin you down.

“what were you doing?”

his voice was deceptively soft. “i was using you for revenge.”

more tears ran from the sides of your face like fleeing raindrops.

then a fast anger cooked in you, a slower simmer turning to a hot boil.

“i hate you,” you seethed, staring right into the wall of his mask. there wasn’t a human being beneath there.

just a calculated animal.

“i hate you,” you said again, voice breaking.

“good,” he nodded, though his tone was broken. “honest to god, i didn’t know your father was going to give you to Turner.”

you hissed, “how can you be honest to god?”

he ignored you. “i would’ve returned you to your family if they paid the ransom. even if they didn’t, i would’ve given you back eventually. but they didn’t want you and you didn’t want to go. it was always about Turner—we didn’t care about the money. your father happened to betray us and we found the perfect bloody outlet to Turner.”

you dug the side of your face into the side of the bed, refusing to look at him as he held you there. a pool of your tears formed beneath the swollen fleshiness of your cheek.

“i needed Turner to take the first step in this war. and he did. i got lucky when i happened to steal his future mistress.” his eyes flashed. “Turner hates it when his things are taken.”

“since, you’ve gotten what you want,” you cried, voice raw “what do you still need me for?”

he closed his eyes. “i don’t know.”

“liar.” the word was becoming melded into your tongue. “you want to use me for revenge. is that all i’m useful for, then?” your throat cracked open, wide and full of emotion. “i’m just for your revenge? did you bed me for revenge?”

his gaze was half-lidded, tired. “yes.”

you fell limp at that, feeling every ounce of energy drain from you—like the devil was sucking away your life force.

you wanted that poisonous, gurgling voice inside you to breathe out another liar, to call Ghost’s bluff for what it was, but it fell silent the moment you needed it most.

closing your eyes, Ghost’s body draped over your own, warm and solid and flushed together. he pressed his mask into your hair.

bourbon, cigarettes, and the musk of wood and dirt and sweet spruce.

you couldn’t even fight it. you don’t even think you wanted to—because even if no one wanted you in the world, not even your daddy, Ghost did want you for something. one thing.

revenge.

“get out,” you whispered, and he didn’t move, a big, swelling rock above you.

“get out!” you shouted, straight into his ear, but he didn’t even flinch. after another long pause he slid off you with a gentleness, a fleeting caress of his hand against your swollen ankle before he slinked away. there was a soft click of the door closing, Ghost’s boots thumping against the floor in the hallway.

you stayed in that position for a long time, pressed to the mattress right where he had left you.

it was like, if you moved, the invisible imprint of him against your skin would disappear like his physical form, lost into the night.

maybe this is what you needed, you decided. maybe, if you could convince one-four-one of your usefulness, that you were important to them, even beyond Ghost’s revenge ploys, you would become a permanent member and carve out a space in their lives. but not Ghost’s. never Ghost’s.

a withering, squirming dread in your stomach made it known that it would be impossible. at this point, you were too tired to even try and convince them to let you stay.

so you turned over and forced yourself into a relentless, exhausting sleep.

ok that was kinda crazy. but i promise the angst will not last forever. chapter 3 coming soon.........

i hope you guys enjoyed!! <;33

taglist: @poohkie90 @kunikku @silverianni @doublesuicidewithme @cliosunshine @one17 @warenai @saturnknows @tomiesdiet @migueloharaapologist2 @keiva1000 @kenma-izhu @lilvampirina @deltottoro @maki-z @leeeenistop @danika1994 @stillinracooncity @saevitiaa @itsalwaysbetternottoknow @karagd13-blog @nattywatty @oyaoyaoyaoyaoyaoyaoyaoya @havoc973 @mr-sol

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secret-smut-sideblog · 8 months ago

Text

Devourer

Astarion x F! Tav

18+ predator/prey, adrenaline, dry humping, restraint, roughness, spit, biting, p-in-v, aftercare, scary vampire sex what can I say

Your beloved vampire has gotten very comfortable with you. But you wonder of he's been holding back some of his more supernatural tendencies...

Masterlist

"Love?"

"Hmm?" He intoned warmly, reaching out on instinct to find you as you came up behind him. A book open in his lap.

You leaned down, sating his searching fingers into yours. Kissing his knuckles softly.

"I have a question..."

He leaned his head back over the lip of the loveseat, looking up at you.

"I may have an answer." He teased, eyes round and trusting. Face relaxed. Open.

It still made your heart spin when he looked at you like that. You didn't know if you'd ever get used to it.

Which made your question all the more conflicting and potentially invasive.

"So you're a vampire..." You started.

"Ah, so you've caught on."

You gave him a withering look, only inciting a wider grin from him.

"You don't have to answer this, by the way."

"I have faith that we'll get to your question eventually."

You sighed in defeat to his laugh, stepping over the back of the loveseat. Tucking your legs next to his open lap.

"Do you ever have to... remind yourself to act mortal?" You waved your hand as you searched for words.

You didn't want to use the word pretend but that was closer to what you meant.

"Like in order to not scare people you kind of... pantomime? Gods, I don't know what I'm trying to say."

His voice was low, somber.

"Mask is the word you're looking for."

"Yeah..." You looked at him, trying to gauge if this line of questioning was too much.

"Well, the answer is mostly yes. A lot of my body's behaviors are muscle memory. But it can be a manual effort, depending on the situation."

He bent his wrist up, turning his forearm out. That little pop in the twisting joint.

"I know I broke my wrist at some point before cause there's still that clicking in there. Little remnants. My breathing, my mannerisms, it's kind of the same."

You traced gently along the thin skin on the inside of his wrist, turning to him fully. Bringing his hand to sit center of your crossed legs.

"How would you feel about letting that mask slip a little around me?"

He peered at you, many different emotions flitting across his face. Settling into apprehension.

"Darling, I don't think you understand what you're asking for."

You kissed the inside of his wrist, and he sighed in pleasure, hand settling on your jaw.

"Humor me, then." You paused, looking in his eyes. "I'm not scared, love."

He seemed to fight with himself then let out a scoff, squinting his eyes at you accusingly.

"I can't deny you when you look at me that."

You smiled, nipping at his palm.

He took a deep breath and released it. But it never returned.

His chest stilled entirely, a creaking in the back of his throat.

You hadn't realized how many tiny movements he usually made until they were gone.

It set off the natural alarm bells in your head, sharing space with this statue. Your instinct telling you to get away. You were a hare in a thicket and a wolf was staring you down.

His eyes had constricted to pinpricks, watching your minute movements it small scanning glances.

His mouth fell open as his eyes met your neck. Pupils widening fully out into saucers.

All of the air pulled from the room. His stock still body radiating contained energy.

You stood and his blown eyes watched you, tracking every breath you took, every twitch of muscle. Mouth salivating.

His eyes reflected bright in the candle light, two filmy orange discs.

He slid off of the loveseat, body fluid. Pouring into a deep crouch. Arms held out into his side.

Pupils constricting again, he uttered one creaking word.

"Run."

You took off like a shot, vaulting over the loveseat. Ducking down the hallway in a whip of hair.

There was no way you could outrun him even with your agility. Not when he was like this. But this was a game, one you were more than willing to play with him.

You could feel his presence behind you but couldn't hear it. A wraith on your tail.

Pulling the door open, you sprinted into the garden. Leaping over the rock wall, heading for the treeline.

Adrenaline rocked through you. You knew this was play, but your body didn't. Flooding you with tight coiled energy.

A shadow to your left, then your right. Cold fingers catching your wrist, then releasing. Your hair. He was toying with you.

You knew there was no hiding, your blood running too hot and fast to disguise. Outrunning was a fools errand.

Surprise was your only ally.

Stopping your feet suddenly, you ducked down.

His fingers brushed over where your head should have been.

His momentum took him a little farther, head whipping. Skidding to a stop, back foot sliding out.

He bared his teeth, smiling wide. He should've been panting like you, but he was all liquid. Sliding along the ground, hypnotic. Dipping his shoulder down, preparing to pounce.

You readied yourself, you only had one subterfuge in your book. Better make it count.

He lunged forward, a pale smear.

You ducked down again and slid feet first under his legs, twisting up behind his back.

He whipped around, laughing. His usual high lilting giggle a shriek. Sending shivers down you.

You took off again, his laugh against your back.

You caught sight of a great tree, leaping up and climbing branches in pulls of momentum.

Eyes cutting down you saw him fly along the forest floor, covering the ground in seconds.

Falling to all fours, he scaled up the tree in easy pulls of his fingers, barely holding on. Gravity looking away from him.

Crouched on the last stable branch you had nowhere to go. Effectively trapping yourself.

His eyes rose over the branch, burning orange disks. The moonlight catching his open smiling maw, sharp teeth slick with saliva.

Your heart kicked against your chest, a deep burning desire radiating from your pelvis.

Seeing him like this was dangerous for you in more ways than one. Thighs gripping the branch you were straddling.

"No where else to go." He chuckled, voice all gravel and heat. Near unrecognizable. Crawling towards you, limbs stretching luxuriously, as if he had all the room in the world.

You considered backing up but there was only a free fall for you there.

"You really tried didn't you, rabbit?" He caged over you, his body forcing you on your back. Arched over you, balancing easily on fingertips and toes. His glowing eyes flooding over your vision.

You knew he could smell your arousal, the slick forming between your legs.

"I think I deserve the spoils now, don't you?"

In one pull of his hand, he ripped your blouse open, the fabric tearing. Your breasts springing free to the cold night air.

You gasped and almost lost your balance, gripping into the side of the branch.

"Careful, we don't want you slipping." He purred, pinching a nipple between his long fingers.

You groaned, you wanted more and could tell he was holding back again.

One one motion you pulled his maw open and shoved your wrist inside.

He went statue still again, eyes flashing into yours.

Fingers digging in, he reared back, sharp mouth opening wider than you've ever seen before. A deep cracking from his jaw as he arched open and snapped down on your wrist. Getting in as much of you as his jaw could take.

You craned your head back, whimpering. Hips starting to rock against nothing. The pain pushing into a near unbearable pleasure.

His eyes were crazed, darting across your body in pulses. His mouth salivating obscenely against your wrist, the fluid pouring in rivers down your elbow.

Fuck, you needed him to touch you but you didn't want to break the spell.

You bucked your hips unconsciously, a silent plea.

His eyes zeroed in on that movement and in one motion lifted you by the waist and caged you against the trunk of the tree. Grinding his hips into yours.

Your head fell back, and his mouth latched on. Dragging fangs and suckling down hard on the flesh.

You gripped onto his forearms and he caught your hands and pushed them above your head, snaring them down in one hand.

He pushed your thighs out with his legs, splaying you open. Ripping the crotch of your leggings open, hips rutting into your soaked underclothes.

You were already a mewling mess, panting hard and arching. Just the friction of his cock against your cunt already dancing dangerously close.

Stepping up the trunk, he pushed you even higher.

You were now both suspended in air, only his body keeping you against the world.

Your legs threatened to give out, wrapping them tight around his hips.

He hissed, a clicking sound accelerating in his throat. Pushing your hips back far enough to get his cock out.

Without warning he yanked your underclothes aside and slammed fully into you.

Stars bloomed across your eyes, straining your wrists against his hand. Oh Gods it was too much, but not nearly enough.

His other hand came to your throat, looking at you with his head cocked. Watching every micro movement of your body as he rolled into you.

You could see the strain on his face, clearly trying to reign himself in again.

Taking your blood-stained wrist you smeared it across your face, your breasts. Red painted and defiled for him.

He leaned his head back and bared his teeth, a deep rattling growl reverberating through his chest.

Rutting into you viciously he began biting. Indiscriminately puncturing any flesh he could reach. Hard. Fast. Frenzied. Licking the wounds closed in the same ferocity, his saliva pooling again. Dripping down your neck.

It was all too much, your legs shaking in warning.

Erupting against his all encompassing body, you arched so hard you saw white. Shrieking out indignant pleading moans. The pleasure so agonizing it stole the air from your lungs. A crushing wave pulling you under, water pouring in your open mouth. Writhing helplessly against him.

He bit hard into his own arm, his dark blood dripping down his forearm. Restraining himself from ripping your throat out.

His face crumpled in pleasure, releasing his already bruising arm to push hard against your sternum. Holding you in place. Thrusting in hitching pulses.

As his end hit him, he started breathing again, something close to a death rattle pulling through his chest. Fingernails biting into your hips. A cry between a whimper and a scream ripping through him as soon as his lungs refilled. An obscene amount of his spend already leaking out of your joined bodies.

You held his head in your hands as he lowered you back down. Anchoring him back.

"I need you to breathe with me." Your eyes held his. Breathing in big diaphragm breaths in encouragement.

He followed, eyes still wild. Your breathing a deep tandem.

Breath ragged but slow, he checked over your body. Kissing softly along the bruises and bites. Removing his shirt and wiping you clean of his smeared love.

Fully back to himself, he cupped over your hand against his cheek.

"We probably should have set up a safety word." He sighed.

Smiling cheekily, you pulled him in for a soft kiss. "There's always next time."

He nuzzled into you. A purring sound as he let the air hiss through his throat.

You were delighted by this development. But the bigger question.

"How are we going to get down?"

"Well I'll be spider climbing, you have fun with that."

"What if I pushed you off. What then."

"You could try, little rabbit."

(this is my first time doing the you/yours format. let me know what you guys think! yeah woo!)

#yes i know he cant spider climb in canon. but he SHOULD #let that man on the ceiling it'll be cool i prommy #astarion smut #astarion x tav #bg3 smut #screenshot by @cybersdead

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x-gabrielle-x · 13 days ago

Text

Withered Cards | IV

Pairings: Jason Todd x Reader.

Warnings: Blood, gore, violence, murder, swearing, major and minor injuries, death.

Summary: Despite the many different problems you overcome with Jason Todd, you always eventually make it back to each other. Even after his death, how could you still love a man who changed so much? Even when you made a turn for the worst.

Series Masterlist

Your body still ached from the hits that Joker had blown at you only a week ago, the scab forming over your split lip leaving a metallic tang on your tongue. The bruises still had yet to heal, the purple blemishes littering your skin and serving as a fresh reminder of just how cruel and nasty the Joker really was. It had been a week. A week since your failed mission, and a week since you had last seen Robin.

You had found yourself mostly staying hidden away in your tiny room back in the warehouse, finding that it was much greater comfort than having to be around the tantalizing grin Joker always sent in your direction, like a lion baring its teeth to its prey. So of course, when you had heard a loud bang on your door with the Joker bidding you farewell, claiming he had 'unfinished business to attend', you were more than relieved to finally stretch your limbs and let your guard down; just a little.

Though even without the Joker there for the few days you had, your heart would leap into your throat whenever you thought to hear something similar to his maniacal laughter. You were constantly on edge even without him there, and Harley seemed to be mourning his absence just as much as you were enjoying it.

Sitting on a random rooftop with the glimmering city lights below did little to ease your running thoughts. The familiar chill of the freezing air pricked at your skin to which you folded your arms against your chest for a sense of warmth. Gotham had seemed to be a lot quieter tonight, a very rare occasion. Crime was low, and the usual distant sirens were quiet. You could even hear the occasional laughter and cheers from the bar just down the street.

You wished to bask longer in the silence, in your own company, but it was quickly gone when you heard the soft thuds of boots on the floor behind you.

You didn't need to look over to know that he was staring directly at you, observant and intrigued. In any other situation, you would have found yourself reaching for your knife and defending yourself against the charging enemy, fists flying and weapons drawn for blood, but this was different. Very different. There was no harshness to his steps, no attacks thrown at you, only silence.

The silence dragged uncomfortably long, and you kicked your legs back and forth over the edge of the building as you let out a long breath.

"I didn't think the Robin would be paying me a visit tonight," you kept your gaze trained below. "If I had known, I might have put on my better shoes!"

The pounding in your chest grew with each word you spoke, but if he had come to fight you, he would have done it by now.

He ignored your comment and instead came up beside you. It was then you finally turned your gaze up at him, noticing his yellow, red and green costume. The dominoe mask shadowed his face, though you could see little due to the dimmed lights of the city. He was staring right back at you, a little too much for your personal comfort.

He slumped onto the edge of the rooftop with a huff, maintaining the safe distance between you both. You had to resist from smiling a little to yourself at the silliness of it all. Robin, your enemy, the one who had made you fail your mission and make the Joker’s anger flare was currently sat five feet away as if nothing had happened.

He was playing a dangerous game, yet you were curious to see the reason of his arrival. If he wasn't here to start something, why was he here at all?

The tension was thick with something you couldn't place, but the feeling was oddly unsettling. Not because you were fearful, but because you were oddly excited for this coincidental meeting.

"Tough week?" he questioned in a tease, pointing to your split lip and the yellowish bruise poking out from under your mask. You merely scoffed at the boy before subconsciously licking the cut on your bottom lip.

"Maybe. It would have been a hell of a lot better if you had left me that vial, though," you looked at him, catching the smile that had appeared on his face triumphantly before he quickly disguised it with a bored look.

"What did the Batsy say when you handed it in," you continued. "It better have been good, considering the Joker wasn't too pleased when I returned without the one thing he had asked of me." You gestured to your eye again, his gaze lingering there for a few moments too long.

He tensed at the mention of Batman, lips twitching into a frown.

"Nothing you need to know," he mumbled out, irritation laced in his voice. You quirked a brow.

"I think I do," you laughed, though it was obviously fake. "Considering you're the reason I got my ass beat."

He ignored you, instead shifting himself so that his leg was now propped up on the edge of the roof. He tilted his head in question.

"What are you doing here, anyway? Another Joker deed or dwelling in your failure," he taunted.

"Having a breather," you were quick to reply in defense, and you noticed the way his eyes widened in surprise. He let out a soft laugh, something that surprised you considering you didn't hear laughter too often where you were, or perhaps too much from the Joker.

"Something that we have in common," he mused, and for the first time you felt a strange sense of welcoming with Robin. With anybody, for that matter.

The both of you remained at a safe distance, but his presence alone was one that confused you. Tonight, even with him a mere five feet away, you weren't worried about having to fight him, worried about hiding away, or worried about who you were raised with. It was nearly as if in this moment, you had somebody who didn't pose you as a threat. Or at least, not much of a threat.

Robin's movements were relaxed and composed, abandoned of any tension he may have held before regarding your presence.

“I’m guessing you don’t do this often,” Robin concluded. “If not at all.”

You frowned at him, slightly offended by his comment. “How would you know?”

The corner of his lip tipped into a smile, and he shrugged, flexing his shoulders in a way that caused for his suit to stretch.

“I’m here nearly every night, and I can positively say, I haven’t seen you out here once.”

“And I bet you wish you could see me, little birdy,” you fake pouted, watching him closely.

He breathed out a laugh, his eyes squinting under the dominoe mask that concealed his identity.

"Believe me, if it didn't end in you nearly breaking my nose last time, I might have considered it."

You just stared at him, your mind trying to figure him out. In all honesty, you don't remember the last proper conversation that you had with somebody. much less around your age.

"How old are you?" the question had slipped out before you could stop it.

Robin glanced back at you; a brow raised. "Not much older than you, I'd guess," he looked you up and down. "How old are you?"

"Thats not an answer," you deadpanned, ignoring him. "For all you know, I could be a sixty-five-year-old woman with insane plastic surgery."

"But you're not," he clarified. "No old woman would be able to jump off rooftops and work for criminals like him."

You cringed at the mention of the Joker.

Robin let out a low hum, and the city lights from below flickered across the right side of his face in what seemed to be like a dance.

You opened your mouth. "You're not-"

"Stop." He cut you off.

You paused. "Excuse me?"

He held up a hand, his gaze going past you. It was only then you heard the quiet grunts and rummaging from a nearby alley. You were already on your feet and moving toward the sound, steps cautious. Robin was right on your heel, and by the time you were both on the ground hidden by the shadows in the alley, you could see a hunched figure leaning against the brick wall, digging through what seemed to be a purse.

You turned to Robin, a mocking smile gracing your lips. You gestured an arm out.

"Well? After you, Wonder Boy," you said.

He frowned. "Is that some way you're going to get me distracted and then knock me out when my backs turned?"

You rolled your eyes. "No, do I look like a hero who fights purse thieves?"

He looked you up and down. "Honestly, no."

"You didn't have to answer, bird brain. Just go!"

The man who had been distracted for long enough suddenly snapped his head toward you both, snarling.

"What the hell?"

The man stood abruptly, stepping closer, though Robin was quick to move from the outstretched hand of the man. With a swift kick, the man was doubling over with a grunt and spilling the contents of the purse onto the floor.

The man growled in annoyance, lunging for Robin again, but he was quick to duck down away from the mans clenched fist before it could make contact. You, however, watched on with amusement.

"You could have been a bit more original rather than a purse thief," Robin called out to the man.

The grunts exchanged between the two continued, and you cringed at the few hits Robin had received. You had to admit, he put up a strong fight.

"Little rat!" The man yelled, holding his head where a punch managed to land before he stumbled out of the alley, disregarding the purse he previously held.

Robin huffed, brushing a dark stray of hair away from his face. He looked over, meeting your gaze as you clapped mockingly, stepping out from the shadows and closer to him.

He stooped down, picking up what looked to be an ID.

"Do you know a Lora Johnston?" He said, flipping the card in his hand.

"Can't you search that up on a special little gadget or something?"

He mumbled out something that you failed to hear.

There was a pause.

"I think you could improve on your movement," you said, and his eyes snapped to yours. Something changed in his features that you couldn't place.

"Teach me, then."

Your mouth ran dry. "What?"

"If you teach me, then ill teach you some stuff." He was quick to add, but you shook your head quickly.

"I don't need your help."

You went to turn, but you let out a yelp when you were suddenly tugged back and landed onto the hard floor.

"You let your guard down too easily," Robin teased. You only glared up at him with annoyance.

You stood back up to your feet and wacked him on the shoulder, pushing past him and walking toward the alley entrance to leave, but he quickly called out to you.

You ignored him, but he called out again.

"What do I call you?"

You stopped and turned to him, eyes wide.

There was a long pause. "Nothing," you said. "I can't give you a name."

"Well," he thought, a suggestive smile gracing his lips that you knew you'd see again. "I guess I'll just have to decide myself."

You turned again, waving a hand this time. "Until next time, birdy!"

He let out a chuckle. "Until next time, Princess!"

You remain silent the rest of the walk, your interaction with Robin nothing like how you would have imagined it. He confused you more than you'd like to admit, but oddly enough, tonight was a change, and you liked it.

You couldn't remember the last time you had spoken to somebody so casually, the sense of normality something you craved more of. Though the two of you barely knew each other, much less trust, you had hoped it wouldn't be your last interaction.

@annabellelee @stormz369

©x-gabrielle-x. Do not steal, copy or translate my works.

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0omillo0 · 3 months ago

Text

DANCER! LEE KNOW X EX DANCER! READER

Warnings!: None! Fluff and Comfort <3

masterlist

… In this familiar place, the practice room, with Lee Know in front of you, something stirred—a memory of who you used to be, and maybe, just maybe, who you could be again…

The soft lights of the practice room reflected off the polished floor, casting a gentle glow across the space as Lee Know moved with fluid precision, his body in perfect harmony with the music filling the room. Each step, each graceful turn, seemed effortless as if the rhythm coursed through his veins. You sat quietly on a bench by the mirrored wall, watching him dance like you always had, with awe and admiration.

He was mesmerizing, lost in the music, and every movement was filled with passion.

For you, though, dancing had become a distant memory.

It had been months, maybe even years, since you’d last felt that same passion. Your love for dancing had slowly withered away, suffocated by the weight of insecurity and self-doubt. You’d stopped looking in mirrors because every time you did, you no longer saw the dancer you once were. The confidence you once held so tightly had slipped through your fingers, leaving you feeling like a shadow of your former self.

Lee Know finished his routine, breathing heavily as he wiped sweat from his brow, turning to you with that familiar smile—the one that always seemed to reach his eyes, the one that had always made you feel a little less lost.

“So, how was the performance?” he asked, a playful edge to his tone as he walked toward you.

“You were incredible, as always,” you replied honestly, though there was a hint of sadness in your voice you couldn’t quite hide.

He stood in front of you, towel draped around his neck, and gave you a thoughtful look. “You know, I still wonder why you stopped dancing.”

The question made your stomach knot, a familiar ache settling in your chest. It was something you asked yourself often but could never seem to answer fully.

You lowered your gaze to your hands, fiddling with the hem of your shirt nervously. “I… I don’t know,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I guess I just… lost confidence. Or maybe I was scared I wasn’t good enough anymore.”

Lee Know crouched down in front of you, bringing his face closer to yours. His dark eyes searched yours, full of warmth and sincerity. “You were never ‘not good enough,’” he said softly, his voice firm. “You were one of the most talented dancers I’ve ever known. You still are.”

His words hit something deep inside you, stirring feelings you’d tried to bury. “I don’t feel like that anymore,” you whispered, the doubt heavy in your chest. “It’s been so long. I’m not the same.”

Lee Know stood up, reaching out his hand to you with a determined look. “Come on,” he said, voice steady.

You blinked, confused. “What? Where are we going?”

“Just come dance with me,” he repeated, not letting you shy away.

You shook your head quickly, panic rising in your throat. “No, Minho, I can’t—”

“I’m not asking you to be perfect,” he said, voice calm yet insistent. “Just dance. Like we used to. Just you and me.”

You hesitated, looking at his hand, feeling the weight of everything holding you back. But the sincerity in his eyes, the quiet reassurance he always carried, gave you the courage to take his hand. He pulled you up gently, leading you toward the center of the room. His touch was warm, familiar, and comforting.

Lee Know pressed play on the stereo, and a slow, familiar melody began to drift through the room—a song you both knew well, one you’d danced to countless times in the past.

He looked at you, his gaze soft, filled with something deeper than just friendship. “Don’t think,” he whispered. “Just let your body remember.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to drown out the doubts in your head. When you opened them again, Lee Know was there, moving with ease beside you. Slowly, hesitantly, your feet began to follow the rhythm, your body remembering the motions. At first, you felt awkward, rusty, but then something clicked. And suddenly, you were dancing.

You felt it—the freedom, the joy that you’d missed so much. The weight of your insecurities melted away, and you found yourself moving with him, your steps flowing with the music, with the familiar beat of the dance. It was like nothing had changed, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you didn’t feel broken.

When the music ended, you stopped, breathless, but light. The relief, the joy, coursing through you was something you hadn’t felt in so long. You looked at Lee Know, who was watching you with a smile that made your heart skip a beat.

“You haven’t lost anything,” he said quietly, his voice full of pride. “You’re still you. The dancer who could move like nothing else mattered.”

You felt a lump form in your throat, but it wasn’t from sadness this time. It was gratitude, relief—hope. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice shaky. “I don’t know how you do it, but you always make me feel… like I’m worth something.”

Lee Know’s smile softened, his thumb brushing gently across the back of your hand. “Do you want to know why?”

You nodded, your heart beating fast, unsure of what he would say.

“Because you are,” he said softly, eyes locking with yours. “You’ve always been special to me. Not just because of how you dance… but because of who you are.”

His voice was quiet, but the weight of his words made your breath catch in your throat. You stared at him, trying to process what he was saying, but your heart was already racing ahead.

“And I wasn’t going to tell you like this,” he continued, a hint of nervousness in his voice now. “But… I love you. I have for a long time.”

The world seemed to freeze around you. His words hung in the air, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. You searched his face, looking for any hint of doubt, but all you saw was honesty, a vulnerability that made your heart swell.

Without thinking, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him, pressing your face against his chest. “I love you too, Minho,” you whispered, feeling his arms wrap around you in return. “I always have.”

His embrace tightened, and in that moment, with the soft glow of the practice room around you and the echoes of the music still in the air, everything felt right.

For the first time in a long time, you felt whole.

#lee know x reader #lee know #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x reader #stray kids #skz x reader #skz #lee know fluff #stray kids fluff #lee minho

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fanwarriorfictions · 8 months ago

Text

Not Again- Part Four

Summary: With the discovery of a special book, Y/n is one step closer to home. The inner court learns even more about her family back home. And Azriel needs a babysitter of his own

Series Masterlist

-Part Four-

Amren found them in the kitchen, food had been waiting for them on the counter before they’d even arrived, the house it seemed was sick of her not eating as well. She’d simply laughed at the nagging presence and started filling her plate. Azriel had entered moments later, a small scowl on his lips from being left in her dust. He’d huffed and quietly filled his plate, he wasn’t kidding when he said flying worked up his appetite.

“I have use of your stray, boy. Go find somewhere else to be.”

Azriel gives the small female an unimpressed look, “nice to see you too, Amren.”

Y/n pushes her half eaten plate away, waving off the wisps of shadows that angrily dance around her at the action, “Did you find something?”

“I had that insufferable songbird pull any books she could find with your Wyrd marks,” Amren says, snapping her fingers.

A pile of books fall onto the counter, old withered pages that look like they hadn’t been opened in many many years. A plume of dust flies off them and Y/n wisks it away with a small breeze.

“Can you read them?” Azriel asks, eyeing the pages one book that’d fallen open.

“I thought I told you to find somewhere else to be?” Amren snaps, though there’s no threat behind it.

“My babysitter here is vigilant in his task,” Y/n sighs ignoring the withering look Azriel gives her, she takes one of the books into her hands and flips through some of the pages, “My mother taught me what she knew of the marks. Protection, locking, unlocking, many things like that, but we never covered gates, it simply wasn’t possible, and she didn’t want me testing fate.”

“Well to bad, it would’ve been useful to know that now,” Amren sighs, picking a book out of the stack, shoving it towards her, “Gwyn said this one practically jumped off the shelf at her.”

Y/n eyes the title and almost drops the book in shock. Azriel takes a casual step closer to peer over her shoulder at the book, a shadow finds her arm and gently wraps around it, a comforting touch.

“You know it?” Amren asks, giving that wisp of shadow a curious look, “I couldn’t read it, what is it called?”

“The Walking Dead,” Y/n answers breathlessly, “in my native language.”

Azriel couldn’t read the book, but he still looks over her shoulder periodically as she flips through each page. She’d been at it for hours, taking notes on the scraps of paper littered over the dining room table. Amren had taken the remaining books to look over, most had been fae scholars from this world musing over the marks, nothing quite as useful as the book in Y/n’s hands it would seem. Amren would also look over the Book of Breathings, see if anything jumped out at her.

Y/n had barely spoken to him the whole time, quietly mumbling to herself once in a while as she wrote. Azriel noticed that her notes switched between his language and her own in sporadic patterns, sentences switching back and forth, one word in one language then the next in the other. Swirling letters that connected in long strokes of her pen. The words were close together, she hardly lifted the pen as she finished one to write the next, like her brain was moving faster than her hand could keep up.

She was so focused that she didn’t notice Azriel slip out the door, didn’t notice when Rhys had appeared and waved him towards the hall.

“How’s research going?” The High Lord asks, “Amren has yet to find anything useful.”

Azriel turns an eye through the door, at the female still engrossed in that book, “nothing yet, though it seems Y/n may put Amren to shame in relentless focus. I don’t think she’s looked away from that book for more than the few seconds it takes to write something down.”

“I’ll be sure to tell Amren she has the competition,” Rhys chuckles, “I hear you two went for a flight today. All over Velaris people are talking about the almighty Shadowsinger chasing after a bird all afternoon.”

He gives Azriel a shit eating grin and Az scowls back at him, “she was determined to leave her babysitter in the dust.”

His scowl deepens when Rhys just laughs, “what? Don’t like chasing after pretty females?”

“I’m sure his ego is just bruised cause he can’t keep up,” Y/n’s voice calls out from the room behind them, “Big strong males tend to dislike being shown up by us pretty females.”

Azriel glares over his shoulder at the female who hadn’t even looked up from her notes, “I can keep up just fine.”

“Sure you can,” she laughs, turning a page, “I won’t hold back next time if that’s what you wish.”

His shadows laugh in his ears and he turns his glare on them. Rhys next to him grins as he walks into the room, eyes taking in the mess of papers full of Y/n’s half put together thoughts. She finally looks up then, acknowledging the male with a small nod of her head.

Her eyes are tinged red, like she hadn’t even blinked in the time she’d been sitting there. She glances at him, grinning at the scowl still on his lips. He glares harder, shoving his shadows down as they continue to laugh at him.

Rhys looks between them, “found anything useful?”

It breaks their stare and her smile falls. Azriel gets the strangest sense that he wants it back.

“Yes and no,” she sighs, “I recognize a lot of it, this was the book my mother learned a lot of what she knows of the Wyrd marks. She used it to open a gate to the place souls rest once to talk to… a friend. I’m sure it’s in here somewhere, I just need to keep looking.”

He notes the pause, the shift of her tone, whoever Aelin had tired to talk to, it was a sore subject. Take a break, she’s sad again, sad, she needs to rest, working for hours, hours, break. Azriel is half tempted to hiss at the nosey little shadows. They’d been at it for the last hour, as soon as the sun started to dip below the horizon, it’s like they switched into nanny mode. He wasn’t sure why they were so concerned anyway, she was more than capable of taking care of her damn self.

“The gates are the tricky ones,” she continues, grabbing pages of notes, “I’m close to figuring it out, I could probably open a gate, but to get to the right place is the hard part is opening one to the right place. I could just as easily walk right into a hell realm as I could into my own. And as fun as that seems, I’d rather not test my luck.”

“How many realms are out there?” Azriel asks.

“Who knows,” she shrugs, “my mother remembers falling through many, she couldn’t even describe most of them because of how fast she was falling. Give me a day and I think I could figure this out-“

“You’ve been at it for hours,” Rhys cuts in, “surely you could take a break. Maybe join us for dinner? We’ve all stewed up more questions for you, Cassian has a list.”

Yes, yes, yes, dinner, she didn’t eat enough, yes. Mother above, he wished he could get the shadows to shut up.

Y/n hesitantly glances at the papers surrounding her on the dining room table, “I seem to have commandeered the space. I’d hate for it to get stained.”

Azriel could tell that what she really wanted to say was, I need to keep working so I can get home. It was written in the longing glances at the book, in the way she flew towards the horizon like home was on the other side, the way she looked at the sky expectantly, searching for something he couldn’t quite figure out.

“We’ll eat at my home,” Rhys shrugs, “your research will be here, exactly where you left it when you return.”

She looks ready to argue, to deny, to beg to stay, but instead she sighs, “Is dinner a casual affair, or does your lot like to preen?”

Rhys laughs, “It’s whatever you like, preen as much as you wish.”

She hums, “My babysitter and I will be there shortly then.”

Mother, give him strength. She pushes to her feet, giving him that saccharine smile as she walks past him towards her room. Her scent lingers as she leaves, that hint of embers stronger than usual. He can’t help the subtle intake of air, nor the shadow that grazes her wrist like it would wrap around and make her stay.

She’s barely out the door before Rhys is clapping him on the shoulder with a quiet chuckle, “do you need a babysitter? I’m sure Cassian would like to return the favor.”

Azriel snarls at him, “We’ll see you at the house brother.”

Rhys just laughs again, throwing a wink over his shoulder as he moves towards the door, “take your time. I wouldn’t blame you for being a little late.”

“Get out.”

Azriel waits for her in the living room, she’d still been in her room when he’d gotten dressed, which wasn’t surprising since it only took him a few minutes to change into a slightly nicer shirt, he didn’t bother with the preening, Rhys did that enough for all of them.

Heel clicks on the floor alert him to her approach, she turns the corner into the room and Azriel couldn’t stop the way his body goes absolutely still.

He thought night court black suited her but he was wrong, she looked good in it but it didn’t compare to the way she looked in this dress. Deep green of a forest, the silk fabric flows with her body like water, showcasing each of those curves like currents, with accents of silver thread and shining jewels that glow in the light like the stars above. She’d lined her eyes with kohl, giving them that sultry look that could drive a male wild. And her lips, Mother help him, her lips were painted a deep wine red, so dark it could’ve been black.

Gorgeous, she was absolutely gorgeous. He’d known she was pretty, he wasn’t blind, he’d noticed when he’d found her laying in the moonlight, even covered in blood she was beautiful, but it didn’t strike him till now exactly how attractive she was.

“You like what you see shadowsinger?” Her grin is feline and lethal, voice dripping with honey, “I told you I was your type.”

He doesn’t respond, simply continues to look her over. There’s a fire in her eyes that has his shadows whirling around him and when her head angles in that predator way, he’s almost willing to be the prey.

House wasn’t a good discriptor of the giant building that sits before her. Manor maybe, but Azriel had called it the River House. Rhys and Feyre’s personal residence that Feyre had apparently designed herself. The garden in the back had been where she’d fallen into this world, she’d been to frantic to really appreciate her surroundings. It was absolutely beautiful.

Azriel led her through the front door and the interior was just as magnificent as the outside, intricate and elegant, yet it still felt warm and lived in. A multitude of paintings lined the walls as they walked to the dining room. From their conversation earlier, she assumed they were done by Feyre herself. The High Lady had mentioned her art studio, she had a class this afternoon that she would be teaching. Y/n had leaned towards musical arts, but she always loved going to galleries with her aunt Lysandra. According to Rhys, there was a section of Velaris called the rainbow, the artist quarter of the city. She assumed she’d flown through it today with Azriel, the place had been alive, filled with music that she couldn’t help but be drawn to.

As they moved down the hall she could hear the sounds of the Inner Court, as they called themselves, growing closer and closer. Their laughter reminded her of home, of dinners with the cadre and her uncles visiting from Adarlan, or even Nesryn and Sartaq all the way from the southern continent. They were never quiet affairs, always full of laughter and teasing, usually from Fenrys and Dorian on the later.

The last dinner like that had been little over a month ago. She’d dressed up in a gown this exact color. Her aunt Elide had helped her do her makeup, she’d practically had to hold her down in her chair so she could finish, to excited to sit still. It was her favorite nights of the year, these dinners, seeing her family come together all in one place. Sometimes they’d even convince Manon to join them, never aunt Manon, though she’d gotten away with that once when she was a child. It was always magical seeing her and Dorian dance around each other as if they weren’t desperate for the other.

She would sit there and watch her family, watch the way everyone loved each other. How her parents would stare into each others eyes and grin like someone had told a joke. How her uncle Aedion would dance with her aunt Lysandra to music only the two of them could hear. How uncle Chaol and aunt Yrene would bicker together with smiles still on their lips, to the utter annoyance of her cousin, Josefin. She watched them all, and hoped one day she would have someone who would love her just as fiercely

“Where’d you go, princess?”

Her mind drifts back from that far away place across the stars, finding Azriel’s gaze on her. Stoic as always, but she could see the bit of concern behind those whiskey eyes. It warms something in her, just barely, just enough for her to give him a small but genuine smile.

“Home,” she says quietly, “I was home.”

“So you’re telling me, a demi fae is one of your strongest warriors,” Cassian says, throwing quotes around the words, “and the guys power is death, just pure death? And he’s how tall exactly?”

Y/n laughs, “My uncle Lorcan has described it to me as death, I’m not sure what that means exactly, it was a gift from the old God of Death, Hellas. It looks like Azriel’s shadows, though they’re not sentient little creatures more like whips of shadow that he controls. I don’t know how tall he is exactly but he’s taller then you, he’s taller than all three of you males, actually. You should see the height difference between him and Elide.”

Azriel couldn’t help the small grin on his lips as his brother continues to pester Y/n over the apparently giant uncle of hers. It’d started with him asking about her father, and then the rest of his cadre. She’d told them all about the mighty warriors. Fenrys, who she could only describe as very very pretty, he could shift into a giant white wolf, and winnow, though not quite as much as those here could. Lorcan, the giant shadow wielder, who’s name is apparently Lord Lorcan Lochan, to everyone’s utter amusement. And a mysterious figure named Vaughan, who she admits wasn’t around a lot when she grew up, usually away in Wendlyn, he could shift into a massive osprey.

“There’s no way, he’d have to be like seven feet tall,” Cassian argues, mouth opening to ask yet another question.

Nesta elbows him in the side, “I want to hear more about the shapeshifter.”

“Lysandra,” Y/n supplies the name with a warm smile, “Her favorite form is a snow leopard, lethal creatures, but the softest fur you’d ever felt in your life. When I was a child she’d let me cuddle up next to her by the fire to take naps.”

“You’d mentioned a sea battle earlier,” Mor chimes in, “what was the creature she shifted into.”

Y/n’s eyes light up, “One of my favorite stories, I would beg to hear it again and again. It’s called a sea dragon, the companions of the Mycenians of old Terrasen. When they were banished from their home centuries ago the sea dragons all died out and it became legend that once the dragons returned, so would the Mycenians.”

Azriel watches her, enraptured by her stories. It had been like that the whole night. She’d been stolen away by Feyre as soon as they’d arrived, more and more questions being thrown at her throughout dinner. He’d taken a seat across from her next to Cassian, who had by far asked her the most. But she met each one with a story, that look in her eye from out in the hall hidden but not gone. She’d seemed lost, far far away, and so sad. He’d almost turned around and brought them back to the house of wind just so she could keep looking for a way home, just to erase that look. But when she’d smiled at him, all he could do was stare.

“During the war my mother had traveled to Skulls bay.” She talked with her hands, Azriel noticed. “One of the missing Mycenians was there, she’d figured it out a long time before that when she was still an assassin, when she’d wrecked the whole port to free hundreds of slaves. Captain Rolfe, the pirate lord, was not happy to learn the assassin who’d ruined his island was actually the long lost Queen of Terrasen. He refused to send aid, so my mother did what she does best, she schemed. Her and my aunt devised the plan to bring the sea dragon back. The battle didn’t go quite as planned, the valg had sea wyverns, vicious and powerful. But that sea dragon form, huge and magnificent was stronger, smarter. She used them against the valg forces, sending those beasts straight into the hulls of their own ships. My mother tells me that she could barely keep up with Lysandra’s speed, if you blinked she was gone. It was close, she was badly wounded, but she won.”

“Wow,” Elain breathes, eyes sparkling, “That’s amazing.”

“My uncle Aedion tells it better,” Y/n shrugs, smiling at the memory, “He always told me that it was then that he decided he could not live without her. When he saw her bleeding on that beach still in that huge form, half wild from the fight, he wasn’t afraid of her even though she looked ready to bite his head off.”

Cassian laughs, hooking an arm over the back of Nesta’s chair, “I know the feeling.”

Nesta looked half tempted to bite him right then to prove his point. Cassian simply grins at his mate, that telltale look in his eyes that would usually have the pair leaving early at any moment.

Azriel rolls his eyes at the pair, looking towards the female across from him. To find Y/n already looking right back. She’s got that overly sweet smile on her painted lips that she knows gets under his skin. He gets the sense that she enjoys it, the way he glares at her, it’s like a game. See how much she could push before he finally pushed back.

Rhys leans forward, that knowing grin on his lips again, “How fast can you fly in that hawk form? You said you went easy on poor Az earlier.”

She laughs and somehow he doesn’t care that it’s at his expense, “Very very fast, I can shift the air under my wings to go even faster. I could make it to the house of wind in less than a minute if I wished.”

“Impressive,” Azriel says, rolling his eyes.

“Oh don’t be a sore loser, Az,” she taunts.

It’s the first time she’s called him that, he quite enjoys the sounds of it, “Is it really losing if your competitions got a boost?”

“Only using what’s in my arsenal,” she shrugs nonchalantly, taking a sip of her wine.

Azriel’s eyes zero in on the motion, appreciating the way her lips rest on the edge of the glass. He was right, that color stained.

Careful brother, Rhys whispers in his mind, Or I really will send Cassian to babysit you.

He glares at the high lord, I do not need a sitter.

That’s what Cassian said, Rhys shrugs, Now look at him.

And it’s like a timer goes off on his patience, Cassian stands from his chair, taking his mate’s hand in his own.

“Well I think it’s time for us to go,” Cassian declares, he’d lasted longer than Azriel thought he would.

Nesta turns her eye on Y/n, “We train at the house of wind every morning, 8 am sharp, be there.”

Y/n grins, baring those sharp canines, and Azriel has the good sense to be wary of letting those two near each other in a sparring ring.

Tag List- Anyone in white could not be tagged. Let me know if I got your tag wrong!!

@inloveallthetime , @microwaveallthedemons , @nayaniasworld , @thecraziestcrayon , @fightmedraco , @blackgirlmagicforever , @nikt-wazny-y , @fangirlloza010 @fussel9913

#there’s some tension here and it’s mostly coming from azzie #hot lady wears some lipstick and this man is on his knees #acotar #acotar x reader #azriel #azriel x reader #rowaelin daughter #rowaelin

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gremlinmodetweeker · 4 months ago

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A Mysterious Culprit

A very short fluffy story, I promise.

A Mysterious Culprit

SFW

“Tell me. Where is he?” König snarled as he leaned in close to his captive.

“I’m not telling you anything,” the poor victim sniffed and turned away defiantly.

“Do not hide for him, girl,” König sneered, “it will make things worse for both of you.”

She shivered, but held strong against the giant man before her.

“We didn’t do anything! This is just a big mistake” the captive whined as she struggled against his hold on her.

“Oh it's a mistake alright,” König rolled his eyes before locking eyes on his prey.

“Let me go!”

“I will when you tell me why the kitchen floor is covered in flour and chocolate milk.”

König’s daughter looked up into her father’s eyes, blue matching blue for a painstakingly long moment before she huffed and turned her head away.

“I didn’t do it,” she snipped.

“I didn’t think so,” König nodded along, “there were no stools.”

“So you know it wasn’t me,” Holly relaxed in her father’s hold.

“Of course,” König reassured her gently, “I know it was your brothers. I saw their footprints in the flour.”

“I told them they should’ve covered their tracks,” Holly mused, squeaking when she realized what she said.

“So you were helping them?” König’s eyes sharpened, “kleine Rotznase!”

“I just told them to clean it! I didn’t try to make the cookies!”

“So you were making cookies, ja?” König chuckled darkly, “and you thought you were going to try and sneak this by me?”

Holly winced, but she stood strong under her father’s withering glare.

“Kinda?” she shrugged helplessly.

König sighed and let his daughter go. He ruffled her hair softly as he muttered a curse under his breath before turning back to the war zone that had made its way into the kitchen. Holly scurried away as fast as she could, most likely warning her brothers, the little snitch. König listened to her feet pitter-patter up the stairs before predictably hurrying over to her brothers’ rooms. He’d need to deal with her later.

He sighed and leaned against the doorway to the kitchen when you came up to him.

“What happened here?” you asked as you took in the utter state of your kitchen.

“Apparently die Kinder wanted to make some cookies,” König grumbled bitterly.

“Couldn’t they have waited until I got home?” you sighed as you put the groceries on the only clean spot on the counter.

König walked up behind you and hung his body over you, making you stumble a bit under the sudden weight.

“You’re so heavy,” you huffed, “have you been to the gym lately?”

König huffed , "That's why I'm heavy."

Thankfully, he relented with a tender kiss to your cheek and dragged himself off of you to give you some space to relax and take in just what you’d stumbled into. You let yourself rest back in his arms with a hum.

“So, should we get to cleaning?” you asked tiredly.

“Nein,” König growled, “they will clean it.”

“Have you figured out the culprit?” you looked up at your husband.

“Somewhat,” König spat, “they’re colluding against me. Me! Their father!”

“You’re also the one who’s trying to deal out a punishment,” you pointed out.

König grumbled as he pulled away to get a better look at the mayhem your children had let loose upon the kitchen. Wordlessly, he threw up his hands before looking back at you.

“How’d they even get the time to do this?” you asked.

“I was reading a story to the baby,” König explained.

You nodded and walked up beside him, taking care to avoid stepping on a puddle of milk.

“I love you,” you muttered, “but no more.”

“No more?” König asked.

“No more kids,” you laughed dryly, “Anna is the last.”

König looked between you and the kitchen, then crossed his arms over his chest. He snorted, and agreed, “No more.”

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logansargeantsbabymom · 4 months ago

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I'm Sorry

Lance Stroll x Fem!Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

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My heart raced as Lance stormed out of our apartment after our explosive argument. The slamming door echoed in my ears, leaving a hollow ache in my chest. Tears blurred my vision as I sank onto the couch, trying to process the hurtful words we had exchanged. I never expected him to call me that name, never imagined he would suggest breaking up.

Hours passed like an eternity. I paced the living room, my anxiety mounting with every unanswered call and text message. Where was he? Why wasn't he answering? My mind conjured up the worst scenarios—accidents, emergencies, anything to explain his absence. Fear gripped me like a vice, squeezing tighter with each passing minute.

When Lance finally returned, the relief that flooded through me was quickly overtaken by a surge of anger. He looked tired and defeated as he stood in the doorway, his eyes avoiding mine.

"Where were you?!" I demanded, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and worry. "I've been calling and texting you all day! I thought something had happened to you!"

Lance sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "I needed some space, Y/N. I'm sorry for worrying you."

His apology only fueled my frustration. "Space?! You disappear all day without a word, and you think that's okay? I thought… I thought you were dead, Lance!"

The weight of my words hung heavily between us. Lance looked stricken, his expression pained as he realized the depth of my fear.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured, stepping closer. "I didn't mean to scare you. I should have let you know I was okay."

Tears streamed down my cheeks, my emotions raw and tumultuous. "You can't just… disappear like that," I whispered, feeling the hurt and fear spill over. "I was so scared, Lance."

He nodded, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I know. And I'm sorry. I messed up, Y/N. I messed up."

Silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken apologies and regrets. Lance reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. My breath caught as he opened it, revealing a key fob with the Aston Martin emblem.

"I got this for you," he said quietly. "It's not to make up for what I said or what I did today. It's to show you how much I regret hurting you."

I looked at the key fob, its significance not lost on me. It was more than a gift—it was a plea for forgiveness, a symbol of his remorse.

"Lance…" I began, my voice wavering. "I don't know…"

He stepped closer, placing the key fob gently in my hand. "Please, Y/N. I love you. I never want to hurt you like this again."

I closed my fingers around the key fob, feeling its weight and the weight of his words. Could I forgive him? Could I let go of the hurt and anger that had consumed me all day?

"Lance," I whispered, looking up at him through tear-filled eyes. "I love you too."

He pulled me into his arms, holding me close as we stood there in the doorway. The tension between us slowly melted away, replaced by a tentative hope for reconciliation.

The Aston Martin sat outside, its sleek lines reflecting the streetlights. It wasn't just a car—it was a promise. A promise to communicate better, to cherish each other, and to navigate the bumps and curves of our relationship with more care.

As Lance held me, I knew that forgiveness wasn't easy, but it was possible. And as we stood together, embracing the fragile yet resilient bond we shared, I dared to believe that we could overcome even our darkest moments, stronger together than we had ever been apart.

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taglist:

@luckyladycreator2 @itsmiamalfoy @jeffs77 @ilivbullyingjeongin @forevercaffeinated-lee @daemyratwst @gulphulp @callsignwidow @f1wintermoon13 @teenwolf01 @victoriassecret101 @hiireadstuff @formulaal l l @kazza72584 @zabwlky1999 @dark-night-sky-99 @rougekiki @xoscar03 @jess-wither @bountychanti @dhanihamidi i @tellybearryyyy @a-panseuxalmess s @love-simon @tallrock35 @iiaik0ii @Milkyymelanine @ilovsyou3000morgan @styl1shl1v @eddieharrington @hellowgoodbye

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imshymorph · 9 months ago

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Here’s soft!price, i’m sure you missed him or at least i did. Of course as soon as i say i’ll write and post about ghost i get ideas for everyone and their mother and write those instead.

I believe that sometimes, when John is away for a mission and struggles to fall asleep, he thinks back to moments in your relationship.

Like now, it had been at least an hour since he had left the rec room where the rest of the task force had been chatting after supper. He had gotten ready for bed and finally found a comfortable position. And yet here he was, still awake despite how tired he really felt.

And just like any other time he had the chance to, he let himself think of you. First he was thinking about how you'd probably be knocked out by now, for sure falling asleep while the two of you watched a movie on the couch and cuddled.

- - - - -

How he'd pause it so you wouldn't miss anything, pick you up carefully to not wake you and carry you to bed. Hold you close and pull the covers around you both before pressing a kiss to your forehead and whispering a soft "i love you".

A little amused smile appeared on his lips when those three little words made him jump onto a different memory. One that you referred to as "the unofficial first i love you".

It had started when John received a call from the hospital, not giving the nurse the chance to say more than your name and at what desk he should ask to see you before he was fleeing base and coming to you (even if at that time you hadn’t been together for that long).

To this day you defend how overly dramatic he was, sure you had been in the ER, but it had been "just" because of a minor concussion. You had wanted to snack on some chocolate covered almonds while watching your show, but when you went to get them you had realised the little container had been pushed to the farthest part of the cupboard. Even in your tiptoes, your fingers only grazed the container, not getting enough of a grip to pull it forward.

Determined to have your snack you had gotten a step stool (which John had been happy to hear because he had worked really hard on getting rid of your dumb habit of climbing on the counter). What you hadn’t noticed was that the damned kitchen faucet had been leaking again. So when you got on it and leaned forward, the stool slid back, the movement making you bend forward and smack your head on the cupboard’s edge. After feeling dizzy you had called for a cab and gotten to the ER. And there you were, waiting for him to pick you up.

He had gotten leave for the first few days and kept to deskwork for a couple weeks after to make sure he was available were anything else to happen. He was glad he had done so, as the first week had mainly been you on bedrest with a killer headache, feeling dizzy nearly every time you sat up, almost nauseated whenever you had to walk to the bathroom.

He now was able to admit to himself without guilt that, despite how much he hated the circumstances (the faucet didn’t have the chance to be leaky again from then until you moved in together to the house you now share. And your step stools have grippy stickers on the feet) he loved the perfect excuse it gave him to baby you and hold you all day. Which had led to the memory that made him smile every time.

“John, I'm bored… Talk to me about something.” You murmured, your head resting on the crook of his neck to shield your eyes from the light that managed to filter through the curtains. “Anything, really.”

“Hmm, let me think.” He murmured, his gruff and low voice surprisingly being of help with your headache, giving you something to focus on instead of the pain. “I actually thought about this last week… You haven’t been to France, have you? Maybe when you recover we could plan a weekend trip to Paris.”

He couldn’t help but smile when he heard you chuckle, although it withered a bit when a small pained whimper followed, the pair flaring at the effort. “I’m okay.” You reassured almost instantly, “I just hadn’t expected the topic to be France.”

A low chuckle left him as well, “well, you said I could talk about anything, love.” He justified it with a small self-pleased smile before pressing a kiss on your forehead. “Need me to bring anything to help with the pain?”

“No, it’s fine.” You reassured softly, adjusting a bit in his arms. “Don’t change topics now, you were promising to take me on a trip.” you say lightheartedly, earning a small laugh from him. “I’m making a big effort here to recover, I better get something good after.”

He chuckled again, one hand moving to rub your back, making you smile against his neck. “Making the effort for me or for the trip, doll?” He teased, but he froze when your answer came, his heart beating faster than he could admit and the warmth on his cheeks luckily hidden by his beard.

“For you, of course.” It had been so simple, and yet he had to stare at the ceiling for a full minute to recover from it, feeling like his heart could jump out of his chest at any moment. And before he could realise, he had gently held your chin and pulled back a bit to look you in the eye.

“I hope you don’t tease me for the rest of our lives for saying this now, but… I love you, I love you so much.” His words had left in a soft murmur, his eyes matching your widening ones as you both processed the moment.

A small shaky breath left you and despite your prominent headache you lunged forward, pressing your lips to his in what he still considered one of the best kisses he had ever received (the list was pretty long but all of them classified after the one on your wedding). “I love you too.” you had said softly as you pulled back, just to immediately slap his shoulder. “But why tell me now, you twat. I’m stuck in bed, we can’t do anything cute like a date night.”

It had caused him to chuckle then and it did now as he adjusted his pillow and pulled the covers a little higher. The official version according to you was a month later, when you both had snuck away for a weekend to the Paris trip he had promised. You had planned an incredibly cliché day out but pretty much none of it had worked out when a storm had drenched the whole city. Somehow you had found yourself taking cover in a quaint and cosy jazz club where you had spent all night chatting away in a small booth.

He could still remember the adoring look in your eyes when he had turned back to you after ordering new drinks for you both. And when you had leaned in and said those three little words, he had known he had been right to say it a month before. His heart soaring and his whole body thrumming in delight when he whispered it back before kissing you.

With a soft smile and a quiet murmur of I love you, John passed his thumb over the wedding band that hung around his neck along with his dog tags before finally falling asleep.

#cod x reader #x reader #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #captain price cod #captain john price #cod mw2 #captain price mw2 #captain price x reader #john price x reader #soft!price

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papipedroo · 1 year ago

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Newcomer (Joel Miller x Reader)

Part Two of Whiskey Tears.

Summary: You, Joel, and Ellie have been a trio from the start. You were a family, but you find your relationship with Joel withering when he starts to pull away. Now a new comer makes her way into Jackson and into Joel’s heart…

You were the first one up. It has always been that way with your quiet steps and peaceful mornings filled with silence.

Your favorite part of your new home was your kitchen free from broken cabinets and rusted faucets. Curtesy to Joel of course. It wasn’t terribly warn down when we first moved in, some dusty bedding, peeled wallpaper throughout the house, but the kitchen had it worse. You mentioned it once to Joel, wondering how the two of you could bring this kitchen to life. A place where you felt most at peace. You were contempt with what you had of course, working around it as you cooked for your family.

Until one day you walked into your house to find Joel replacing them with ones the he had carved and pieced together himself.

You remember crying and him telling you not to. But how could you not? When the man you hopelessly love does something like that for you?

Joel only knew how to bqq something and Ellie was too impatient to follow directions and so since the beginning you were the designated cook and you were proud of it too.

So to find someone in your kitchen banging your precious cabinets and disrupting the system you had made… Well your ears were practically turn red and you swore if anyone would look close enough there would be steam coming out.

But you were an adult person and an adult handles everything with a sense of calm… Right?

“I’m sorry but what are you doing?” You asked as you stood in front of the island counter to keep yourself from pouncing on her.

Heather turned around with a startled jump, “Oh! Good morning! Don’t mind me, I’m just making breakfast.”

“Breakfast is my thing. Cooking for my family is my thing.” You stated clearly with a sense of calm.

I think Joel would be impressed that I haven’t stabbed this lady yet. I’m being an adult. That’s what he wanted right?

“Well I think I can handle the cooking today. It’s the least I can do.” She stated with an edge to her tone.

Stay calm. Be an adult.

You took in a sharp breath and smile, “Being as you are a guest in my home, the least you can do is take a seat and let me cook in my kitchen.”

You watched the way she dug her nails into her skin before giving you a sharp nod, “Alright. Then cook.”

“Gladly.” You muttered before making yourself at home and cooking Joel and Ellie’s favorites.

Pancakes for Ellie and scrambled eggs with deer bacon for Joel. You didn’t have pigs for regular bacon and so this was the next best thing in the apocalypse, that and Joel’s famous deer jerky.

You easily fell into your routine, humming a tune that you created for Ellie one night when she was scared. You didn’t care how Heather sat at the island and watched you like a hawk. You did what you did best. You provided for your family.

While the last bits of deer bacon was frying, you started on making the coffee before set the table with the plates and food already prepared. You also made sure to add an extra plate even if you didn’t want to.

But you were going to prove to Joel that you were an adult.

The last item left in the kitchen was the deer bacon and as you piled it on a plate you heard Joel’s drawl muttering a good morning and Ellie’s loud yawn in the dining room.

You smiled and filled a mug of coffee for Joel, holding it in one hand while you held the plate of deer bacon in the other.

“You made this?” Joel asked looking at Heather.

“I did! I wasn’t sure what you usually eat for breakfast so I asked your other daughter and she told me pancakes, eggs, and deer bacon is the perfect morning breakfast for everyone.” Heather explained as if it actually happened, she would be convincing to anyone else… Anyone who wasn’t Ellie that is.

Ellie’s brows furrowed as she stared at the table. It was plated exactly how you would plate it for them each morning. It didn’t look new and Ellie knew that…

“She did?” Ellie finally asked skeptically.

“Yep!” Heather smiled without a hint of guilt.

The way that Heather said such a lie with ease made your blood boil as you stepped into the dining room with a glare directed towards the officially unwelcome newcomer.

“Oh! Thank you for being a dear and getting those for me, I couldn’t carry everything here on my own.” A sweet smile was planted on Heather’s face, on that made you scowl.

Who says I have to be calm to be an adult?

You took three steps to the table, standing directly between where she was sitting in your seat once again. You tossed the plate of deer bacon down in front of Joel with a thud before slamming your hand down resonating a loud smack against the wood, coffee mug held tightly in the other hand.

“What the hell.” Joel exasperated at watching you loose your temper.

You didn’t care about Joel’s opinion of you. Not right now and not with this conniving witch in front of you. Your fury was centered around the horrid lies spilling out of the temptress mouth.

“First of all, I am Not his daughter.” I seethed lowly, “Second. You better tell them the truth before I cram these pieces of deer bacon that I cooked not you, down your throat you lying piece of—”

“Enough!” Joel’s voice boomed causing you to steady your hand to keep from spilling his coffee.

Your heater gaze quickly flickered to Joel who seemed angry, but not at the person you thought he would be angry with… No. his anger was directed towards you.

“Who gives a fuck who made breakfast. Will you stop causing a scene so early in the morning and just sit down?” Joel sighed.

His sigh was clearly directed towards you and you were angry that he couldn’t see whatever game Heather was trying to play.

“Are you serious? She is clearly lying to you. How are you not more pissed off about this?” You yelled.

“I don’t know what I did wrong, but I’m sorry if I caused any trouble. If it will make you feel better, I won’t make breakfast again from now on.” Heather’s voice sounded so fragile that you wanted to smother her with a pillow.

“Oh piss off!” You turned towards her, ready to give her a piece of your mind.

“Excuse me? I much older than you—” She began and you cut her off.

“Clearly.” You scoffed.

“Dear I’m just trying to help. Maybe your too young to understand that respecting your elders is important so please— Ouch!” She yelled out in pain.

It all happened so fast. One minute she was talking and the next second you felt a sharp pain in your ankle causing you to spill Joel’s coffee on her arm.

Ellie’s eyes widened, “Shit.”

“Are you kidding me right now!” Joel’s voice boomed as got up from his chair.

“I—” You didn’t know what to say and apparently Joel didn’t want to hear it because he roughly shoved you out of the way to check on Heather.

His shoved made you spill the rest of the coffee over your hands causing you to hiss out in pain.

“Are you okay?” Ellie quickly jumped out of her seat to check on me.

“Yes… Yes. I’m fine. I— I don’t know what happened.” You said quickly as Ellie took the cup from you, “I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“I’m going to go get some ice.” She said as she quickly rushed off into the kitchen.

“Ow! Ow ow ow. It hurts Joel.” Heather had tears in her eyes and he cleaned off her arm with a towel.

“I’m sorry… I really didn’t.” You weren’t even sure why you were apologizing, but you felt that Joel would be even more pissed at you if your didn’t.

“You— I can’t believe you— you reckless over excessive little girl.” Joel seethed at you, “Did you know she was constantly burned by the raiders that held her hostage? No. Of course you fucking didn’t.”

Ellie stepped in at the moment with ice wrapped in a towel. Joel took it out of her hands and motioned to the door.

“Tommy’s waiting for you by the barn to talk you about your new job Ellie.” Joel grunted yet his glare never left your face, “You should go.”

Ellie looked over to you in concern, “But—”

You shook your head, “It’s okay, go. I’m fine. I promise.”

Ellie left soon after and an unnerving silence between you and Joel filled the air. Your hands welre turning red because the ice that you needed was currently being used for Heather’s arm. You felt too ashamed to get another one and too scared to wonder if she had actually kicked you.

You watched Joel, an aching feeling settling in your chest at the way he was attentive to her. The way he held her gently and asked her if her arm was still hurting while you stood behind him cradling your own wounded hands. That made tears draw to your eyes.

“Joel—” You tried to call out to him, but he didn’t want to hear any of it.

“You can’t just throw a fucking tantrum whenever you want… God… I didn’t think you were this much of a brat.” He shook his head.

That left a sharp feeling in your chest as your eyes casted down to the floor in shame.

“Leave.” Joel muttered and when you didn’t move he raised his voice, “Fucking get out of my sight right now!”

That had you running up the stairs and slamming the door to his room. Sobs wracked through your body as you slid to the floor, your blistering hands long forgot as tried to calm yourself down.

“He thinks I did all of this on purpose? How could he believe her over me? …Why won’t he believe me?” You whispered into the silence.

That sinking feeling however didn’t leave your chest. The deep hatred that you felt towards a woman you’ve barely known for two days was beginning to boil and you just knew she was up to something.

You angrily wiped away your tears and changed into some warmer clothes. You didn’t care about the puffiness under your eyes or your red nose, you could blame that on the weather. After you finished getting ready you went downstairs to leave the house and start your day at work.

It was your turn to help string up some lights anyways so that made it easier to get out of the house. You could only hope that things would change before the upcoming holiday, Winter’s Hollow. A day that everyone could celebrate.

“Where you going?” Joel’s asked from behind you.

You ignored him as you slipped in your boots.

“Your hands are red…” He continued and you turned away from him so he couldn’t see them anymore.

He let out a deep sigh, “Firefly please.”

“Don’t call me that.” You finally grumbled, “Not right now.”

“You’re hurt.” He pressed.

You looked up at him with a glare as you slipped on some gloves, “Like you care. You’re the one who did it.”

“I…” He looked directly at you, “Didn’t realize I hurt you.”

His expression was one of worry and guilt. Two emotions that were very rarely shown on Joel’s face in front of anyone except for you, Ellie, or Tommy. You almost crumbled… Almost.

“Joel!” Heather called from the dining room and his head immediately turned towards her direction.

You rolled your eyes and grabbed your jacket remembering why you were leaving in the first place.

“Have fun with your new girl.” You swung the door open and left.

***

“Morning.” Maria waved you over to her.

She stood by a box of lights and a lamp post.

“I was wondering when you’d show up.” She teased and usually she would get a snarky reply and a smile from you, but when you remained quiet she began to worry.

“Hey… Are you okay?” She asked and placed a hand on your arm and when you fully looked at her she knew, “You’re definitely not okay. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You tried to say, but she gave you an unimpressed look.

She raised an eyebrow as she looked at you, “Something is. Your nose is red and you’ve clearly been crying.”

“It’s just the cold, I’m fine.” You tried to explain, but she wasn’t having any of it.

Maria rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, “Like hell you are.”

You sighed, “Joel and I got into an argument.”

“Over what?” Maria asked.

She was concerned of course. In the three months that you and Joel have lived here she has never heard you and Joel argue.

“Heather.” You said her name as if it were poison.

“Oh…” She nodded her head slowly, now beginning to understand the story, “It’s going that bad huh?”

“He’s been taking her side over everything these past two days and he lets her kiss his cheek and I don’t… Fuck I hate it. And she lied this morning about cooking breakfast and I swear she kicked me or something. I didn’t mean to spill coffee on her and Joel got… He got so angry.” Tears welled up in your eyes, “I didn’t mean to make him angry.” You cried.

Maria pulled you into a hug and you clung to her like a lifeline. She was slowly starting to grow on you as these past couple of months passed by.

“I’m sorry, that must be so stressful.” Maria tried her best to calm you down.

“I was so worried about him when he disappeared. I couldn’t even sleep without checking the driveway every hour to see if he was walking up those damn steps and now it hasn’t even been a week and it’s like he replaced me.” You sobbed.

“I didn’t realize they were that close…” Maria’s voice trailed off. She didn’t want to loose you, you were the closest thing to a sister-in-law she’s ever had, “I’ll talk to Tommy. See if there’s a house available that she can live in. Maybe it’s just a savior complex thing and he feels like because he saved her, now he’s indebted to her or something.”

You sniffled into her shoulder, “Thanks.” Your voice was muffled in her jacket, “I don’t want to be that person, but I think she’s a real bitch.”

Maria chuckled, “Seems like Joel is too.”

You pulled away from her hug, “He said it was because of our age… That it wasn’t right to be together.”

“Well that’s bullshit otherwise he wouldn’t have been with you in the first place.” Maria scoffed.

“Do you think there’s more to what he’s telling me?” You wondered and honestly you wouldn’t put it against Joel if he was.

“It’s Joel we’re talking about, of course there is.” Maria shook her head and you watched as she reached down to grab some of the lights, “The Miller brothers are as hard to get close too. I swear there one of those endless jawbreakers.”

“Jawbreakers?” You asked her in confusion.

“It’s like a candy that you have to continuously lick until you reach the center. I’ll find one for you one day.” She said and you couldn’t help, but snicker.

“That’s quite an analogy.” Your snicker grew into a laugh and Maria joined you.

She nudged your arm, “Oh shut up and help this pregnant woman with these lights.”

“Yes ma’am.” You laughed as you reached into the box.

Maria made it easy for you to take your mind off Joel. It was as if she had a secret spell to make you forget your worries. I guess that’s what all good friends do.

“Phew!” Maria wiped her hands in her jeans as you finished hanging up a few more lights, “I think it’s about time for dinner, don’t you think?”

You nodded your head as you stepped down from the ladder, “I’m pretty sure I can eat an entire pot of stew right now.” You said causing Maria to laugh.

“Well as long as you share then I’m cool with that. Lets go.” She said and the two of you made your way to the lodge to grab some lunch.

“You know what I’m really craving?” Maria said as the two of you stepped into the small restaurant bar, “Pickles and ice cream.”

You raised an eyebrow at her in question, “Pickles and ice cream? That sounds…”

“Absolutely amazing I know.” She was practically drooling at the craving, “One day we’ll have ice cream and you’ll understand what I’m talking about.”

“Over here!” You suddenly heard Ellie yell and the two of you turned to find her, Tommy, and Joel already sitting down at a booth.

You were relieved to not see Heather with them. You don’t think you’re ready to see her coming up to Joel right now. The two of you quickly made your way over.

Before you can even say hello Maria smacked Joel on the back of his head.

“Ow…” He grumbled as he rubbed his head, “What was that for?”

“You know what.” She said before taking her designated seat beside her husband.

Tommy gave his wife a confused look to which she said, “I’ll tell you later.”

You then took your designated seat beside Joel, a small smile on your face from Maria’s protective side.

Maria sat by Tommy on one side of the booth with you by Joel with Ellie on his right, closest to the window on the other side of the booth.

“Well it took you girls long enough to get here.” Tommy joked as he wrapped an arm around Maria to warm her up, “We were waiting to surprise you both with dinner.”

“Hey the lights can’t hang themselves.” Maria replied, but fell into his embrace, “But thank you for waiting for us.”

You watched the two with longing wishing that Joel would treat you that way, but all you received was his arm pressing into yours.

“Tell them about the horses Ellie. I swear this girl is going to be a cowgirl one day.” Tommy chuckled.

“You would not believe the day I have had!” Ellie practically shouted as she launched into her story.

You listened, laughing at most parts as her story slowly became over exaggerated, but you loved every second of it.

It was halfway through her story about how she threw herself over a fence when you felt the warmth of his hand slide over yours. Your breath quickened at his touch and the way you were suddenly hyper aware of his breath hot on your ear.

“How is your hand?” He asked barely above a whisper as to not draw attention to the both of you.

“I think I’m safe from amputation.” You jokingly said to slow the way your heart was racing.

He ran his thumb along the back of your hand muttering a, “Hm..”

The moment was nice, something that you have missed deeply from him these past few months.

“Joel…” You spoke his name softly and when his attention was solely on you, you spoke up, “I—”

“Sorry I’m late!” A shrill voice made your entire body cringe.

You didn’t turn to greet her as Maria and Tommy spoke light hello’s and Joel said no worries.

“I didn’t know you were invited.” Ellie stated with that attitude of hers and it made you snort in amusement.

“Joel invited me. To celebrate my first day at work here.” Heather explained with a smile that you knew was directed towards Joel.

“Um… Where can I sit?” She asked and her gaze fell on Joel’s again as if he would immediately get up.

As if you would let him.

You squeezed his hand just as he was about to respond. Maria saw the desperation in your eyes and she quickly spoke up instead.

“You can sit on our side.” Maria said as she nudged Tommy to scoot down the booth before she follow suit.

Heather looked less than pleased at not being able to sit by Joel, but accepted the off nonetheless with a warm smile.

Ellie carried on with her interrupted story with Maria listening intently. Your hand relaxed its grip on Joel’s while his grip in turn tightened around your hand. You knew he felt awful about this morning and he was trying to apologize in his own Joel way.

You leaned into him as your gaze read the menu that sat in front of him. It was a paper with big hand writing that contained half of what a normal menu would with only two meal options for tonight. Rabbit stew or potatoes, beans, and vegetables.

You glanced up at Joel, “What did you order?”

“The potatoes.” He answered.

You could feel Heather’s heated stare on you, but at this moment you didn’t care. You were going to fight for Joel and show her that he’s yours.

A grin pulled at your lips, “Of course you got the potatoes.” You leaned back from the menu and made yourself comfortable into his side, “I’ll get the stew then and we can share.”

His brow furrowed, “Who says I’m sharing my potatoes?”

You scoffed in mock defense, “You always share your food with me. I am irresistible.” You joked.

Joel shook his head as he chuckled deeply in amusement.

“How have you been settling in?” Tommy asked, pulling Heather away from the conversation that only you and Joel were having.

“Quite well actually, this place is lovely. I can see that you all take very good care of it.” She answered.

It was then that Lily walked to the table with three more glasses of water for Maria, Heather, and I. She then pulled a small pad of paper and a pencil out of her pocket.

She pushed her short blonde hair out of her face as she smiled, “What can I get started for you tonight?”

It was potatoes for Joel and Tommy and stew for you, Ellie, Maria, and Heather.

“Coming right up.” Lily smiled before walking away.

“You never guess what happened.” Maria quickly leaned into the table to spill some gossip, gossip that you knew very well and were more than happy to indulge in.

“What?” Ellie asked already intrigued.

“Well.” You started with a low tone to keep anyone outside from snooping in on your conversation.

“Here we go.” Tommy joked with an exagerated sigh.

“Might as well get comfortable.” Joel said to his brother, the two of them holding back their grins.

Tommy and Joel settled back into their seats, letting the girls gossiped while being interested in the gossip as well… Silently of course.

“I heard from Lorraine at the town meeting last week that…” Maria started to which you finished.

“Apparently Lily has been hooking up with the preachers daughter.” You stated matter of fact, remembering the night Maria knocked on your door right after she was told to keep it a secret.

“No!” Ellie gasped, “But isn’t that like blasphemy or something? Hooking up with a preachers kid?” She asked.

You thought for a moment before shrugging, “I don’t see how it could be.” You turned to Joel, “Is it blasphemy?”

“How should I know?” He grumbled back.

“Well…” You motioned your hand towards him, “I figured if anyone would know it would be you.”

He huffed and pinched your side causing you to squeal, “Funny.” He muttered.

“I’ve been around long enough to know that marrying someone who is related to a pastor isn’t blasphemous. I think the only thing that would be a large age gap between two especially when one is so young with their life ahead of them.” Heather mused as she took a sip of her water.

You felt Joel’s hand tense against yours before it slipped away, moving to rest behind on you the booth. This left an aching feeling in your chest that you couldn’t quite shake off especially at how specific Heather’s words were as if she were directly speaking about you and Joel.

You looked directly at Heather, “I think when they are both consenting adults then age shouldn’t matter. Love should.” You stated.

“And that is why you are still too young to understand dear.” She smiled as if she almost felt bad for you.

The booth was quiet for a moment before Maria spoke up to ease the tension.

“All I know is that they may or may not be secretly eloping.” Maria cheered.

“That seems wonderful.” Heather agreed quickly, “I don’t know them very well personally, but I wish them all the best.”

“Aww, I’m really happy for them.” You leaned back in the booth, trying to stay in the conversation and not have your mood ruined, “I can’t wait till my Ellie gets married.” You sighed happily at the thought, “It’ll be such a cute wedding and I hope my daughter-in-law will be as nice as Lily.”

“Excuse me?” Joel raised an eyebrow as he looked down at you, “She is not getting married. Ever.”

“Hey who says that I can’t?” Ellie leaned over to look at the both of you, “Not that to want to or anything, but still.”

“I say you can’t and it don’t matter if ya want to or not. It’s not happening.” Joel said gruffly.

Joel’s dad mode made everyone laugh while the food was being served. The booth once again fell into a calm atmosphere and you felt your body release some tension the moment you got warm food in your belly.

You were eating your soup peaceful. At times you would place rabbit meat on Joel’s plate while stealing a potato as payment. He didn’t seem to mind and the small chatter and clinking silverware against dishes was heard throughout our small group.

This was how it used to be and a sense of calm washed over you…

Until Heather tried to do the unthinkable.

“Can I try yours Joel?” She asked and began to reach over when Joel nodded, but you were not going to allow that.

Only I can eat off of Joel’s plate and of course Ellie too, but not Heather. Especially after what happened this morning. You thought. I haven’t forgiven her and why should I? She hasn’t even tried to apologize to me after lying to everyone.

You blocked her spoon with yours just as she reach Joel’s plate. Sharing food was your thing with Joel and no one else’s.

“No.” You said without a second thought.

“And why can’t I? It’s just food dear.” Heather had a condescending tone to her voice, another thing that you didn’t like.

You glared at her, “You have your own food.”

“And so do you.” She rolled her eyes.

You were about to say something when Joel squeezed your thigh as a warning.

He gave you a stern look, “It’s fine.” He said as he pushed his plate towards Heather.

You could only look up at him in confusion. He never shares his food with anyone. It was only ever you and Ellie.

“It’s just food.” He said as if it was the most simplistic thing in the world as he took his hand from your thigh.

It’s just food. You scoffed softly at his answer as you glared at Heather.

And maybe it was. Maybe you were over exaggerating, but being together on the road for months with barely any food, it was more than just food to you. It was the silent care that was shown between your little family as you shared the small amounts of food you had.

“Wow! This is delicious! I think I like yours better Joel.” Heather complimented.

“You can have more if you’d like.” He responded with a casual smile, one that had Heather glancing at you with a little smirk.

That made you grind your teeth in humiliation and anger.

It’s your food now and then you later. Why can’t you see that Joel?

You glanced down at your soup with a defeated look.

Do you even want to see it?

#joel miller #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel tlou #pedro is daddy #pedro pascal #pedro x reader #pedroispunk #pedrostories #zaddy pedro #joel angst #joel miller angst #joel x reader #joel the last of us #joel and ellie #papi pedro

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mushies-stories · 1 year ago

Text

Grimmjow: Fantasy come true

Grimmjow X FReader

SMUT18+

what happens when Grimmjow notices how flustered your get around him and he comes across you touching yourself and whining his name?

Warning: Smut, pnv, unprotected sex, creampie, oral (Freviving), no use of Y/N

This is my birthday fic to myself! I hope everyone enjoys!

Word count: 3135

Grimmjow’s new favorite thing was to tease you. He realized after only a few days of being at Kisukes that you couldn't keep your eyes off him. He loved finding little ways to watch you squirm. Reaching for something above you while standing too close, grabbing your hips to get by or calling you pet names he sees you respond too with a blush.

It was when he heard you from outside your door while you thought everyone was gone, your voice whiny with soft moans. Grimmjow however was asked to stay back as well. He was just going to bug you for entertainment but once he heard your sweet desperate moans echo from behind your door he was frozen in place. He listened for a moment and thought about what he was going to do, there was no way he was keeping it a secret and was going to just walk away, it was just too good. The face you'd made when he brought it up later, how bright red and flustered you'd be.

“Grimm-mhh Grimmjow~” you whimpered his name, breathless and needy.

A low growl made its way through his chest. You were thinking of him while you touched yourself, how… delicious he thought. A new desire rose in him as he listened to you beg for him, thinking of how you were pleasuring yourself to the thought of him. He wanted to see you, he needed to.

Without a second thought he slid the door open and took a step into the room only to lock eyes with you. You lay at the edge of the bed with your legs spread and one hanging over the edge. For a moment you couldn't move, shocked that Grimmjow was looking at your naked body while your fingers were buried in your cunt and completely naked.

Grimmjow stared down at you with a wide grin, enjoying the sight he gets to witness. “Well, didn't know you were such a dirty little girl.” he chuckled and his words brought you out of your daze.

You quickly tried to cover yourself, sitting and turning around so your back was to him. “Grimmjow! What are you doing?!” you shouted.

Before you could manage to scoot any farther away or grab a blanket he was behind you, grabbing your hips and pulling you back enough so your ass was over the edge of the bed now. “What am I doing? Oh little human, I'm not the one touching myself so desperately while everyone is away.” he chuckled.

He held you in place as you struggled to get out of his grasp. “It has nothing to do with you, now get out!” you whined.

“Oh?” Grimmjow cocked a brow at your statement. “Sure about that? Because if i'm not mistaken that was my name i heard you calling out so wantonly a moment ago, right?” Your face was burning at his words. You shook your head and buried it in the sheet below you. Another chuckle came from behind you. “Oh little one, it's okay. I'll help make you feel good.” he cooed.

Before you could even look back at him to protest he was lowering himself before you and was face to face with your dripping core. He kept his hold on your hips as he stuck his tongue out and licked a path through your folds. You moaned involuntarily and jerked in his hold. “Grimmjow what-” you were cut off by a choked moan. Grimmjow’s tongue sliding along your clit and his teeth grazing your sensitive nub had your breath escaping you.

“You taste sweet little human.” his hot breath fanned your thighs as he spoke. Again, before you could protest he was back to lapping at your cunt. Teasing your clit with his teeth and licking at your dripping core. Pressing his tongue flat against your heat he licked up to your sopping hole before sliding his lounge in as far as it could.

A desperately needy moan ripped out of you as you withered in his hold. “Grimmjow! No-not there!” you cried out. Your brain is still trying to catch up to everything happening and he has his tongue in your pussy, causing more fog to fill your head space. Grimmjow ignored you however, having already tasted you enough to fuel his own desires. Instead he brought a hand down to rub fast rough circles to your sensitive clit while his tongue insisted to see how deep it could reach inside your pussy. He was sending more jolts of pleasure ripping through your body than you could keep up with. “Wai-t! If you keep doing tha-'' you choked on a moan, his tongue hitting your sweet spot at the perfect pace with his thumb.

Your eyes screwed shut as you felt your climax knotting up inside you, ready to release at any moment. Grimmjow could feel it, the way your pussy was throbbing and clenching around him. Pulling you back by the hip so he could reach just a bit deeper had you arching your back at the same time his tongue flickered across your bundle of nerves.

It took only a moment for your orgasim to wash over you in a powerful wave.”Grimmjow, fu-uck.” you gasped out, becoming a quivering mess around his tongue as you panted and whimpered into sheets. He lapped at your pussy as you came, making sure to lick up all of your sweet slick onto his tongue. A low groan came from him when he pulled back and looked at your pulsing cunt, watching how slick still dripped from your needy hole.

Smirking he looked past your ass to see your eyes fighting to stay open as you catch your breath. “Fucked out already?” he boasted, proud of himself.

You shook your head into the sheets before pushing yourself up. “I'm just fine!” you defend yourself. Not wanting to show him just how much of an affect he really had on you.

He smirked and came to stand behind you again, both hands gripping your ass to keep you in place. “That so? Looks like I didn't do my job correctly then.” he said, bringing a hand to the waistband of his pants and sliding them down agonizingly slowly as he watched your eyes widen at his implication. “Got to make sure I live up to your fantasies. What are those by the way?” he inquired, bringing the head of his cock to glide through your folds.

You almost let out a needy whimper but bite it back. His cock teases you and when he pushes the tip at your entrance you fall back to the bed and hide your face into the sheets as best you could. You were embarrassed Grimmjow had heard you and now he wanted to know what you thought about when you touched yourself to the thought of him? How could you say those dirt thoughts out loud?

This made Grimmjow tisk and pull back and released your hips. Before you could even move to see why you were being flipped around and onto your back. “None of that hiding shit sweet thing.” His legs caught your thighs and held them apart as he stood above you with his trademark smark.

Your arms came up to cover your chest as his eyes seemed to take in your whole body at once. “Grimmjow…” you said. Your whole body felt like it was on fire under his stare.

His grin turned into a softer kind of smile. Still holding his cockyness but much pleasester, more calming. He leaned now, letting his cock glide through your folds as he hovered above you, just a few inches from your face. His arms boxed you in on both sides as he rested them above you. “Tell me little one, do you imagine my cock filling your tight little pussy?” his voice was quieter, lower than before. “Dont be scared, tell me how much you think about me fucking you. Do you think about it at night while everyones asleep?” he pushed. When you struggled to get any words out Grimmjow frowned down at you. He pulled back and grabbed your arms, bringing them to hold his shoulders. “Hold on.” He commanded.

You knit your browns together in confusion but do as he said and loosely grip his shoulder. All confusion was resolved when he hooked his hands around your thighs and hoisted you up. “Grimmjow!” you squealed, now clinging to him out of fear of falling back. He holds you with both legs at his hips and his cock nestled between your lips.

“Look at your dripping pussy, want my cock stretch you out and fuck you until you come?” He asked, smirking at you as his cock lined up with your waiting entrance.

You couldn’t deny how wet you were and how this was really turning into a fantasy come true. His words were making you forget your own embarrassment over the situation bit by bit, allowing the cloud of need and desire to start swirling around in your head.

You looked at him through half lidded eyes and nod sheepishly. He smirked and slowly popped the head into your overly excited pussy. He hissed as your pussy gripped him, even with just the tip you could feel how big he was. You gasped at the stretch and clung tighter to his jacked. “Watch sweet thing.” He said. “Watch my cock stretch you out and fill you up.” he cooed into your eyes.

Your face flushed when you did as he said and glanced down at his cock slowly sinking into you. He just started and there was still so much of him left and he was thick. You gulped and let out a shaky moan when he got halfway in. “b-big, Grimmjow.” you squeaked out as his cock inches in slowly.

He leaned into your ear and coaxed you through the pain of him. Going slowly and allowing you to catch your breath and adjust when you made a particularly strangled sound. “That's it, little one, relax for me. You're taking my cock so well. Just a bit more. see, there we go.” he soothed attempted to sooth you as his cock felt like it was going to split you in two.

You watched the whole time, his massive cock pushing into you was a sight indeed and you almost couldn't believe it. Your forehead fell into the crook of his neck, just enough so you could still see his cock burying itself in your pussy. You clung to him, panting and gasping as he bottomed out in you. “So full.” you whimpered against him.

Grimmjow took a minute himself to adjust to your tight warm pussy clenching relentlessly around him. You were so tight and the slightest movement had your pussy gripping him like a vice. “Hey, relax please.” His voice was soothing in your ear, calming and low. “You pussy is so tight my cock cant move.” he said, trying to pull back but being met with resistance.

You took a few deep breaths and let your body relax, letting him pull back just enough to get some friction going. For a while that's how he stayed, slowly rocking you into his cock, not pulling out more than half way before sinking back in as deep as he could. Once your whimpers turned into moans of pleasure and he could feel your pussy flutter around him he picked up the pace. “Your doing so well, i think your ready for me to really fuck you now, dont you tink?” he asked, bringing your attention back to him. He grinned and gripped your thighs a little tighter. “I hope so because I can't hold back much longer.” he chimed.

Youmoaned, feeling his thrust getting harder and faster slowly, working you up to just how much he wants to really ruin your pussy. “Please Grimmjow.” you said, ready for him to do whatever he wanted. He was making you feel so good already, your pussy was making the lewdest sounds in the quiet, dum lighting of your bedroom.

He smirked and slowed his hips, now slowly rocking into you again. “Please? So needy now, why don't you answer my question from earlier. How much do you think about my cock, how much do you want it?”

You shake your head and hide it in the crook of his neck, a soft whimper leaving your lips. “Grimmjow, please!” you begged.

He chuckled and stilled you on his cock, keeping himself fully pressed against you. you wiggled in his hold. “You know how to beg me, but you answer a simple question?” he teased. He held you tight as he brought himself to kneel on the bed. He laid you down on your back and came to hover over you, cock still fully buried in your pussy. “Tell me little human, and I'll give you what you need.” he husked, rolling his hips against you and hitting your sweet spot at the same time.

Your pussy fluttered around him as you let your dirty confessions out, no longer able to hold on to any embarrassment. His cock was just too much and it felt too good to deny. “Since the first day.” you felt his cock twitched at your words. “I think about you every night.” you tried to sound more confident but it still sounded like a whimper.

He brought a hand up to cradle your cheek as he took in your disheveled appearance and rosy cheeks. “Oh sweet thing, should have told me sooner.” he grinned down at you. “I could have made your sweet little pussy feel so good a long time ago.” he said, now starting to thrust his hips back into you at a steady pace. “It’s okay, I got you now.” he cooed as his hips sped up, his hands came down to hold your hips so he could find the best angle and when he did your face contorted into one of pure pleasure. The longer he watched you wither under him and the loader your moans got the more he was fueled to fuck into you faster and harder, never stopping his assault on your sweet spot. The way your pussy pulled him in and strangled his cock was intoxicating and his only goal was to make you cum on his cock so he could feel your pussy around him when you came undone.

You had tears streaming down your face as you gripped his forearms for support as he pounded into you. You babbled nonsense, barely making out more than a few words at once. “Mo-ore, please. So fuu-Aahha~ Grim-mjow!” his breathy name falling from your parted lips was like music to his ears.

He leaned down with one arm holding himself above you. His lips grazed yours before pushing against them and kissing you. Your eyes blinked shut as he deepened the kiss the same time his cock pressed impossibly deep. You let out a loud needy moan that he eagerly swallowed with his own mouth. Now with full access he slid his tongue past your lips in a claiming kiss.

Your fingers dig into his arms as you feel your pussy begin to spasm. Grimmjow pulls back at the same time with a hiss. “Fuck, gripping me so tight little one, need to come?” he asked, watching you attempt to focus back on his face as your chest heaved and your thighs wrapped around him, locking him in place and allowing him to hit just that little but deeper. He growled and came back down to the crook of your neck. He sucked and bit the skin in a frenzy, wanting to mark you but his own mind was focused on feeling your pussy and listening to your sweet sounds. “You can do it little one, come for me. Let me feel your little pussy squeeze me cock.” he groaned into your neck before sucking particularly hard on a mark he just made.

Your eyes screwed shut, before you knew it your oragism was hitting you like a ton of bricks. “Grimmjow!” you couldn't help but cry out his name, he was the only thing in your mind as your pussy spasmed around his cock.

Without slowing down he continued to pound into you. “Fuck, you can take me cum right little human? You’ll let me fill you up?” he practically growled, face still hidden in the crook of your neck. Truly he didn't want you to see just how pussy drunk you were making him.

You whined under him, feeling overstimulated as his cock continued to thrust into you, though his movements have become sloppier, more erratic. “Please, cum in me, want to feel it.” you managed to choke out.

“Fuck” he grit his teeth and slammed his hips into you a few times for you felt his hot seed coat you walls ins spurts. You clung to him, arms holding tight and legs locked firm as he rutted his hips against you, forcing his cum as deep as he could. “Fuck, so good. Taking all of me.” he praised. He ushed himself up with one arm and smirked down at your fucked out face. “Look at you, a mess on my cock.” he mocked but you could tell it wasn't meant to be mean.

Your eyes focused and your head slowed down. You looked down between your bodies and almost whimpered at the sight of his cum leaking out around his cock. You did whimper when he began to drag his softening cock out of you slowly, letting it drag along your walls as his cum flowed out. He let out a low groan when you were finally empty, your fluids mixing and dripping out of you.

“Fuck, i cant wait to do this again.” he said, eyes fixed on your glistening pussy.

Your head snapped to full attention. “Again?” you asked quietly, not sure you heard him right.

His eyes snapped to yours with a growing smirk before shifting back to your sopping cunt. “Mhhmm.” he almost growled. With two fingers he slid his dripping cum back up and stuffed back into your pussy, pushing in deep as you let out a soft sigh. “I want to see your pussy full of my cum every night.” he said, pulling his fingers out and bringing them to your lips, waiting for you to open them. “Would you like that pretty thing?” You parted your lips slightly and let him slide them between your lips and onto your tongue.

Your only response was a needy moan around his thick fingers as you tasted your mixed climaxes. How could you say no? This was a fantasy come true.

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