#somehow both not as bad as i thought it would be but also somehow worse? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jeonsweetpea · 8 months ago

Text

Will It Fit?

Roommate!AU | Roommate!Jungkook x Reader

genre: fluff, smut, comedy, lil angst, slight idiots to lovers

rating: explicit

description: So what if your roommate caught you masturbating? At least he forgot about it the next day. But he can’t exactly forget the big dildo you left in your shared bathroom…

word count: 6.7k

warnings: size kink, JK has a big dick (no, really), slight pain kink, light choking, dirty talk, Dom!JK, flustered/shy JK at first, unprotected sex (this is fiction, we all wanna be raw-dogged by JK okay), lube, JK loves OC’s panties a LOT, fingering, mentions of masturbation, OC gets embarrassed at first but JK is sweet about it, oral sex (male & female receiving), cursing, Soft Dom!JK, JK is overly concerned with how big your dildo is, embarrassing moments from both parties, spanking, prone bone, creampie, confession scenes,

a/n: As soon as I saw JK’s OJO face from that GCF, it kicked me into gear to write this. I’ve had this idea for SO long, but never had the motivation to finish it. I was supposed to release it last winter, so hope you’re all excited for it! Asks and reblogs are much appreciated (I read them all!). Also, much love to @jkeuphoriadreamland for bouncing ideas around with me.

“[Y/N], I can hear you in there.”

The muffled, disgruntled voice came from the other side of your door. Your eyes fluttered open and your hand stilled in your panties, your heart rate spiking. Maybe if you didn’t move a muscle, he’d go away.

“I know you’re up,” he added. You rose up from your bed.

“Um… exactly what did you hear?” you squealed, face burning up at your terrible acting skills.

“Unlock this door.”

You didn't know what compelled you to saunter over and open the door a mere crack, but oh the sight before you was almost worth the humiliation. Jungkook was in nothing but gray sweats that sat dangerously low on his hips. He had a bad case of bedhead, but his locks looked so soft that you wanted nothing more than to grab onto them and make out with his beautiful lips, which were captivating you just as much as that intense gaze of his.

“Hey… you…” you said with a meek smile, which he did not return.

“It’s 2 AM in the morning. I have work at 5. As hot as you sound, we either do something together so we both get satisfied or you let me get my rest because I am incredibly frustrated right now.”

Your eyes widened at his curt response. You’ve never seen him so tense, his tongue prodding the inside of his cheek as his glare bore into you. He leaned against your door frame with one arm, leaning in close enough to make you break eye contact. He tapped on the wooden frame with his index finger, awaiting your response.

“Sorry…”

God, you sounded absolutely pathetic .

“Is that all your pretty lips are good for? Apologizing?” Before you could respond, he let out a tsk sound and retreated back to his bedroom. You stood there in a trance until his door shut loudly, snapping you out of it. You wondered if he realized how much worse he left you than when he found you.

Fuck, was he always this hot when mad?

You went back to your room after closing the door. Climbing into bed, you got under the covers and laid flat on your back deep in thought. The only reason you were masturbating in the first place was because your room was freezing cold. You thought the heater was fixed, but your room was somehow still the coldest one in the apartment. You knew you’d never be able to go to sleep at this rate, so you decided to do something that would tire you out and hopefully lull you into the rest you craved.

It was supposed to be simple. You, your hand, your phone, and sweet, sweet release. Damn Jungkook for interrupting you. It’s bad enough his room was nice and toasty while you were suffering. Yeah, you heard his loudass snores. You assumed he was deep in the REM cycle so how the hell did he catch your moans? Ugh.

If he was so annoyed with you, then he should have warmed you up instead!

You shook your head and got under the covers, groaning at your lewd thoughts.

He’s my roommate. And he’s too good of a roommate for me to fuck things up.

“Is that all your pretty lips are good for? Apologizing?”

Those words echoed in your mind. The way he changed his tone to a lower register with his Busan dialect slipping through was incredibly sexy. It was the perfect mix of frustration and anger and made your thighs rub together in want. Leaning over your nightstand, you opened the drawer and grabbed a velvet drawstring bag. Slipping off your pajama shorts, you pulled out your trusty dildo. Impatient, you closed your eyes and imagined Jungkook taking you right then and there. However, the moment you allowed the tip of the dildo to touch your entrance, all pleasure was lost. It was cold!

“Damn it…” you muttered. “I gotta warm it up. Ugh!”

You left your room in frustration and entered the bathroom, turning the sink on to the hottest setting and running it over your toy.

This might’ve been the most desperate masturbation session you’ve ever had, but you didn’t care. This was all Jungkook’s fault!

The next morning was Saturday. You were eating your breakfast on the kitchen island while mindlessly scrolling on your phone when Jungkook came out of his room. As soon as you two locked eyes, you almost choked on your food and had to chug some water to calm down. The man, confused, ruffled his hair and watched you through drowsy eyes.

“Are you okay?” he said, followed by a yawn.

You nodded as you beat your chest with your fist to get everything down. “Yeah… I just… didn’t expect you to be home. I thought you had work.”

“Oh,” He sounded more awake now. “I read my schedule wrong. Turns out I’m off every other Saturday now.”

“... Oh. Cool.”

He circled around the kitchen island to get to the fridge and you recalled last night’s events, mortified he had heard you. Should you apologize again? After all, you’re both two grown adults; there’s nothing to be ashamed about. If you didn’t say something now, that icky feeling would only fester inside you.

“Hey Jungkook.”

“Yeah?” he said from behind the fridge door.

“About yesterday… I hope you can forget all about it.”

As the refrigerator door shut, you were greeted by the sight of the most adorable man sipping a carton of banana milk. His eyes were wide and brimming with curiosity from your words.

“Did something happen yesterday? I was knocked out.”

You blinked at him twice. “Do you… not remember talking to me last night?”

“Hmm? I did? I was fast asleep, don’t remember a thing.” He took the seat next to you. “Why? What did we talk about?”

Pure relief washed over you like a tidal wave as you shook your head. “Oh, nothing much. My room’s a bit too cold. It was hard for me to sleep.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll talk to the landlord. Do you want to sleep with me?” You shot him an incredulous look and he began to stutter. “I-I mean! Sleep in my bed! Not with me in it. Unless you wanted to—ah—fuck me!

There. That’s the Jungkook you knew. He’s never crossed the line and flirted with you, so you didn’t either out of respect. But… It was too hard to resist teasing him. This was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

“Unless I wanted to… fuck you?” you repeated innocently. This was new territory for you—teasing him. His flustered reactions were so damn adorable though. The way his nose scrunched and his eyes darted around everywhere except for your face. If anyone was watching you, they’d swore you had hearts in your eyes.

He set his drink down and proceeded to cover his face with both hands, panicking at his poor choice of words. “That didn’t come out right. Oh god… this is embarrassing.”

You covered your mouth to stifle your giggles. “It’s okay. I don’t want to peg you—I mean, take your bed.”

Jungkook dropped his hands, speaking the next sentence in pouts. “Hey, I don’t want to be peg—not the point. No, seriously. My room’s really warm.”

“I mean… if you really want me in your room, all you have to do is ask, you know,” you remarked. Jungkook’s cheeks were flushed with a tinge of pink, adding an extra charming element to his already cute self. Were you being too bold?

It didn’t matter because seeing how his lips trembled and how he could barely hold himself together was fun to watch.

“I didn’t realize it was that easy…” he mumbled, more to himself than you. You tilted your head at him and he noticed how you crossed one arm over another “Not that I’m calling you easy!”

“Uh huh. I’m watching you, Jeon Jungkook. Hmph.”

“No, wait. I’m sorry.”

You placed your index finger on his lips to shush him, even going so far as to tap his lip piercing teasingly. “Is that all your pretty lips are good for? Apologizing?”

You watched as his eyes widened once more and that caused you to realize what you were doing. My god. Using his own words against him was satisfying, but all this newfound confidence was going to get you in trouble. You cleared your throat and withdrew your hand, grabbing your breakfast plate and heading over to the sink before things could escalate.

“Uh… I’m gonna go to the gym. Run some errands or something,” Jungkook stammered as he got up, nearly toppling out of his stool. You bit your lip to hold in your laughter as he recomposed himself. Walking in the same direction, he flinched when you got near his proximity. “W-What are you doing?”

He’s so cute when nervous.

“Nothing. Grabbing my keys. I’m heading out too.”

“O-Okay.”

Your smile made his heart rate escalate. “Okay. I’ll see you later.”

You spent the day with your closest friends on a brunch date, followed by a trip to the mall, and then hot cocoa in the evening. It was much needed after the week you had and after bidding them farewell, you went back to your apartment. Upon entering, you took off your shoes and put them on the shoe rack.

“Jungkook? Are you home?” you called out.

“Yeah! I just finished showering!” he called back in the distance. You went further into the apartment and plopped down on the couch.

“Damn,” you muttered, rubbing your arms. “Wish I could have showered with him. It’s so cold outside…”

As if on cue, Jungkook called for you again. “[Y/N]? Could you come here?”

You took off your purse and slowly rose up from the couch, hesitant. This had to be a dream. Why would he need you to come to the bathroom? He must’ve forgotten a towel. Or a t-shirt. Or pants. The specifics didn’t really matter because your hormones were going berserk at the possibilities.

You walked through the narrow hallway and stood in front of the bathroom door, excited at the thought of teasing him again. “I’m here. What’s up? Did you forget your towel or something? Silly boy.”

The door swung open and the shit-eating grin you had on your face dropped to the floor in an instant.

“Why is there a dildo in the bathroom, silly girl?”

Shit. Quick, say something. Anything. Don’t just stand there like a gaping fish! Oh dear, how many seconds have passed? You must look like a total idiot.

Fuck! I forgot I left it here!!!

“Well…” you started to say, “I’m assuming it’s yours.”

Out of all the things your roommate could be calling you for, this was not on your radar. The awkwardness was more suffocating than the steam from his blazing hot shower minutes ago and you wished it lingered around long enough to make you disappear.

Jungkook made a puckered face at your accusation, picked up the object, and shook it side to side, the bendy silicone material flopping everywhere. His big doe eyes were the highlight of his classic OJO face, the blatant confusion so adorable if you weren’t absolutely mortified. For the second time this week.

God, and how could you even focus when he was dressed in nothing but a towel, his hair still slightly damp. The bulging muscles of his biceps were a feast for the eyes as well as his tattooed sleeve. You yearned for the day he’d use his arm as your necklace, but of course that shouldn’t be a priority at the moment. If anything, it was his fault you had to use a dildo anyway.

“[Y/N], you know damn well this isn’t mine.” He met your gaze and flashed you a soft smile, biting his lower lip. “I like mine bigger.”

You covered your face in shame, wishing the floor could open up and swallow you whole. “Good god, Jeon.”

“You still didn’t answer my question. Why is it in the bathroom?”

You gulped, finding enough strength to not die of embarrassment. “It’s getting colder outside and the heater doesn’t reach my room as well as it reaches yours. So…”

“Yeah…? But I’m not following.”

“The… thing in your hand—”

“Dildo?”

You visibly cringed. “Yes, okay, THAT. It got cold and I don’t like cold objects... Inside me. So I took it to the bathroom to run hot water on it to warm it up.”

“Before you use it?”

“No, to melt it. Yes, to use it!” you snapped, feeling the humiliation burning through your body. “I wasn’t aware you weren’t working today, remember? I clean it after each use so please just give it back!”

You ran over to yank it out of his hands, but he lifted it up high out of your reach. While cackling. That motherfucker. “Hey, maybe I want a turn.”

You had to bite back. “I knew you liked being pegged.”

“I do not!”

“Then give it back!”

“This thing is huge though. It fits?”

“I’m not having this conversation with you right now.” You jumped up but failed to reach it due to his quick reflexes.

“Doesn’t it hurt? Because if something this big went up my—”

“Jungkook!”

“I’m just saying!” he said with his arms up in the air like you were about to tase him. “I find it hard to believe, that’s all. It’s really big. Like damn.”

Without thinking, you ripped his towel off his waist and he gasped, scrambling to shield his privates while you seized the opportunity to get your toy back.

You stormed out of the bathroom and ran to your room, locking the door afterwards. Falling to your knees, the embarrassment caught up to you, causing you to hang your head low in shame. You could hear the soft shuffling sounds of his footsteps approaching your door, followed by a gentle knock.

“[Y/N]? Are you okay?” He pressed his ear against the door to hear small sniffles. “Shit. I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to make you upset. I was teasing, I thought you wanted to tease me back and—I guess I took it too far.”

“Go away, Jeon,” you said, throwing the dildo at the door. Jungkook nearly had a heart attack at the loud thump and jolted back, clutching his chest.

“Holy shit, that scared me,” he said, which earned a small chuckle from you despite the tears. “Hey… come on out. Please. I’m not judging you.”

“No. I’m humiliated. You heard me yesterday and now caught me today. I can’t face you ever again. It’s over!”

He placed a hand on your door, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “I didn’t even know we started, so how could we be over? You’re cute.”

That made you snap your head up. You quickly wiped away your tears and rose from the floor. “This isn’t fair… I’ve been embarrassed twice now.”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“You heard me masturbating yesterday!” you exclaimed, frustrated at his obliviousness. “You woke up and told me I had pretty lips or whatever and suggested we do something about it together!”

“I mean, you do have pretty lips. Yup. That sounds like me, yeah,” he said, nodding to himself. “But I really don’t remember. Come on out. I wanna see you.”

“No.”

“Would it help if I shared something embarrassing about me?”

You narrowed your eyes at the door, considering his offer. “... Go on…”

He sighed, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “Well… you know how I’ve been doing your laundry for you?”

“Yeah…”

It was your most hated chore. Putting the clothes into the washer and dryer wasn’t your issue, but folding them was so tedious. So you and him made a deal. You were in charge of dishes and he would do the laundry. However, the one thing you refused to let Jungkook wash for you were your bras and panties. Those you handled yourself.

“You… left a pair of panties in my basket once by mistake.”

“I did?”

“Yeah. I washed them for you but um… before that, I might’ve… sort’ve… jerked off with them.”

Your doorknob jostled for a second as you unlocked it. Jungkook waited as the door swung open and was greeted by a displeased you, hands on your hips and all.

“What? They were really pretty…” he added. “They were pink and had lace—”

“You… PERVERT!” you shouted, hitting his chest repeatedly. Of course, you were aware your feeble punches did nothing to his insanely toned pecs. Jungkook stared at you fondly, catching the hint of a smile that threatened to spill from your lips.

“Oh, I’m a pervert? Says the girl who has an 8-inch dildo,” he countered, snatching both your wrists.

“At least I’m able to take 8-inches!” you retorted, laughing at the situation. He joined in your laughter and then said,

“Good! That means you’ll be able to handle me!”

Your brain fizzled out at this point as the laughter subsided. “... What?”

Jungkook’s Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he gulped. “... You heard me. Go ahead, take off my towel again. See for yourself.”

He guided your hands downward to the soft fabric, which was already on the verge of unraveling itself with his prior movements. You stared at his pelvic lines, excitement bubbling beneath the surface while you tried your best to maintain a calm expression.

“... Pervert,” you mumbled. Jungkook chuckled, taking one of your hands and placing it directly on his boner.

“Maybe. But only you can make me feel this way.”

You bit your lip, feeling the heat radiating from beneath the fabric and your curiosity peaked. Tucking a finger into the towel, you pulled it down and let it fall to the ground.

A loud squeal came from your lips as you covered your mouth. “Holy shit!”

Jungkook covered himself after seeing your reaction with both hands, embarrassment crawling up his spine. “Sorry, I’ll put it away.”

“No, no, no!” you said, putting your hands out in a stop motion. “Sorry, I just… you… you weren’t kidding.”

“Does it scare you?” His tone was sincere, his eyes genuinely showing concern. “Because… I don’t want to hurt you. And I know it can hurt. That’s why I was so curious about the dildo. Will it fit? Will I fit…?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at how he phrased it, but quickly stopped when you noticed the fear in his eyes. Your thoughts wandered to if he had slept with someone prior and if it wasn’t a pleasant experience. Truth be told, you’ve never been with anyone as big as him so it’s all new for you.

“Well… if I’m prepared well enough, I can take it. The dildo fits but sometimes not all of it goes in. Um… man, this is embarrassing to talk about, ahhh. I feel like I keep making a fool of myself in front of you.”

Jungkook’s gaze softened at your vulnerability, taking your hand and placing it on his chest. His heart was beating just as rapidly as yours if not more. Then he put his other hand on the small of your back, pulling you close.

“That makes two of us. But you make me crazy.”

He was so close that your senses were intoxicated with the fresh scent of eucalyptus and cotton wafting off him. His eyes shifted to your lips for a split second before meeting your gaze once more.

“I really want to kiss these pretty lips of yours… If you’ll let me,” he said, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb and whispering the last part.

You begged him to kiss you already, so he leaned in and finally pressed his warm lips against yours as you closed your eyes. It started off as a gentle smooch, like a little tease to test the waters. When he pulled back, you leaned forward and chased his lips urgently. You felt him smiling into the kiss as he moved in tandem with you, deepening the kiss while switching positions to press you against a wall. One of his hands pinned your wrists above your head while his free hand slithered down the side of your body until it rested on your hip, giving you a firm squeeze.

“Jung—mmph—Jungkook…” you moaned. He used that chance to ease his tongue into your mouth and the kiss went from passionate to messy. When you moved your wrists in the slightest, he asserted dominance and pinned them back down into place.

“You think I’m going to let you go so easily now that I have you?” he asked, the hunger in his voice evident. He carefully tugged your bottom lip in between his teeth and pulled it back in a seductive motion, which turned you on even more.

Once he broke the kiss, the only thing that remained was a string of saliva that broke seconds later.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” he said in between pants.

“Since you’ve jerked off to my panties?” you teased while catching your breath.

He rolled his eyes. “Like you’ve never rubbed one out to me before.”

You scrunched up your nose at his response, unable to counteract his statement right away. “Hey… I wouldn’t have had to rub one out if you warmed me up in this cold weather.”

He smirked. “All you had to do was ask, you know.”

Releasing your hands, Jungkook went into your room and grabbed the dildo off the floor. He left you for a short moment and you waited there, confused, until you heard the sound of running water. He came back a minute later and then grabbed your hand, leading you to his bedroom.

“Had to wash it. Don’t worry, I’ll warm you up properly for the real thing.”

He guided you to his bed and helped you remove your jacket, blouse, and leggings. His grin was extra toothy because the set you were wearing was the exact set he jerked off too before.

“What?” you asked, amused.

“N-Nothing.”

When your back was turned for a second, he mouthed the words ‘Oh my god’ and pressed his hands together as if thanking the universe for this very moment.

Now left in your bra and panties, you laid on his bed and he climbed on top of you, his lips latching onto the side of your neck. You mewled at the sizzling contact, pulling him close by his soft locks so that his hot skin was pressed against yours. He trailed his searing kisses down to your collarbone and then settled between the valley of your breasts.

“The bra is pretty… you’re so pretty,” he said, full of admiration. He pulled one of the cups down to gain access to your breasts, capturing your perky nipple between his lips. He sucked tenderly, swirling his tongue around before tugging on it hard enough to elicit a moan. His other hand was greedy, slithering into your already soaked panties. His middle finger dipped in between your folds and he rubbed in circular motions to coax some more slick out of you.

As you arched your back and moaned his name, he dipped one finger into you and began to pump it slowly. He added another one when you begged for it, sounding so desperate that he had to oblige.

“Please fuck me already. I can’t take it,” you breathed. Jungkook only curled his fingers deeper inside, grazing your sweet spot while shaking his head.

“Patience, beautiful. I need to make sure your sweet pussy can take it, remember? Gotta prep you well.”

“But I can take it, I can, oh god please.”

“If you’re a good girl for me. Can you take another finger?”

You nodded eagerly, so he added a third finger and you squeezed your eyes shut from the delicious burn.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asked, observing your expressions carefully. You clutched onto the pillow and panted heavily.

“Y-Yeah, I—god—your fingers feel good…”

He began to finger you with all three digits, the tightness of your walls bringing some resistance to his actions. But with a few more neck kisses to relax you, it became easier and you became more undone.

“You’re doing so well,” he whispered into your ear, his heavy breath tickling it. He finally removed his fingers and grabbed the dildo at the end of the bed, bringing up to your lips.

“Show me what those pretty lips of yours can do.”

You stuck out your tongue and licked a long stripe on the toy in a tantalizing slow motion, causing Jungkook to grunt. That damn smile of yours was going to kill him. You were the perfect minx—sweet and naughty. He didn’t have to tell you to suck it because you already were.

“Such a good girl. You’re going to handle my cock so well.”

He removed the dildo out of your mouth and reached into his nightstand to pull out a bottle of lube. You stared at it like it was foreign to you and Jungkook was quick to notice.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I can take it. I know it.”

He chuckled, admiring your determination. “Still, I want to take my time. Besides… it’s not every day I get to fuck someone so beautiful.”

He popped open the cap and squeezed a decent amount of lube onto the toy. Then he got back in between your legs and slowly began to insert it into you. You squirmed from the slippery, cold contact but Jungkook captured your lips into a deep kiss, igniting your body with fervor.

He thrusted the dildo as deep as he could, stopping when there was resistance from your panties. Which you were more than thankful for because you already felt full. But then he began to pump it in and out of you at a steady pace, only accelerating when your moans became more constant.

“Shit, shit,that feels so—“ Your words were swallowed by his lips and that stirred something within you, allowing Jungkook to easily glide the toy back and forth. He soon increased his speed, the obscene sounds your pussy was making the only thing that could be heard in the room.

You broke away from the kiss and began tearing up from the intensity.

“J-Jungkook, I think—“

You couldn’t, actually. Your orgasm crept up on you and made your entire body convulse. You shut your eyes to only see white, your ears were ringing, and your pussy surrendered to the pleasure.

Jungkook removed the toy out of you gently and then kissed your sweaty forehead, giving you a bunny-tooth smile as you calmed down from your high.

“Did you cum?”

You smacked his arm playfully. “Did I cum… pfft. No, actually. I’m waiting for a real man to make me cum. With a fat cock.”

“Well not to toot my own horn but…” He grinded his swollen cock against your thigh. “I think I meet the requirements.”

Now that things slowed down, this was the first time you really got to look at his cock properly. He wasn’t kidding about needing to prep you. It was as big as your dildo but much more girthier. It was a mouth-watering sight.

Flipping the switch, you got on top of Jungkook this time. His eyes widened in surprise but then eased into a smile. You leaned down and kissed him on the cheek.

“Let me take care of you now.”

“But I want to fuck you so bad.”

“You can wait, darling. My pussy is yours.”

His dick twitched at that. You giggled as you got in between his thighs, stroking his member a few times to hear those cute, breathy moans of his.

Will it fit…? God, I hope so.

“Are you afraid you can’t take it?” Jungkook asked with concern. Shit. Did you say that out loud???

“I can. I will.”

“We don’t have to if you don’t—“

“Jungkook,” you said, squeezing his dick tightly, almost like a warning. “I can take it like a good girl. And if not, I’ll tell you. Okay?”

He closed his eyes and nodded as you began to suck him off. There was no way you could take all of him in your mouth but you’d be damned if you didn’t at least try. You went as far as you could and stopped when your gag reflex kicked in. Using your hand to stroke the area you couldn’t reach, you swirled your tongue and bobbed your head up and down.

Jungkook’s abs clenched and unclenched at the action and he rested on his elbows to watch you. The way your bra cupped your breasts at this angle was enticing, your pretty lips working so hard to please him, and the view of your ass in those panties could make him cum right then and there.

“Fuck, you’re so good at this—don’t stop.”

You smiled at the praise and continued, loving how he took a sharp inhale of breath when you cupped his balls. He put his hand on your head and pushed you down gently, not wanting to overdo it with his size. You controlled the pace, but he just wanted to touch you and admire you.

“You’re too good to me…”

You released his dick with a satisfying pop sound, kissing the tip and smiling. “Teach me what you like.”

“I love everything you do,” he said, grunting when you began stroking him again from the base to the tip. “Your hands are so much softer than mine.”

You stopped momentarily to spit on your hand before resuming your lewd actions and he threw his head back.

“Fuck [Y/N]. That’s so hot.”

“Yeah? Have I been a good girl? Are you going to reward me?” He snatched your wrist, his eyes darkened and full of lust.

“Can you handle it?”

You turned around on all fours, shaking your ass side to side to tempt him. “Take me, baby. Raw.”

His OJO face returned from your bold suggestion and you flashed him a wink.

“I’m on the pill. Promise,” you informed.

A burst of energy surged within him as he grabbed the bottle of lube and hurriedly squeezed some onto his cock. You giggled when he squirted a bit too much, haphazardly trying to divide it between two hands and spreading it evenly. But things turned serious when he grabbed your hips, yanking you closer to him.

He pulled your panties to the side and ate you out from behind first, loving how delicious your backside looked with them on. You moaned in delight and he placed a hand on your upper back, forcing your face down into the mattress. His tongue dipped into your folds and he flicked it on your clit a few times, loving the whiny sounds you were making. Then he pressed his entire mouth onto your pussy and sucked hard.

You were overwhelmed with pleasure and were on the verge of cumming when he removed his mouth and replaced it with something else.

“Are you ready?” He teased his tip at your leaking entrance and you shuddered.

“Yes, please fuck me.”

“Breathe baby. Relax as much as you can.”

You obeyed, feeling him push himself into you smoothly, knowing he prepped you more than enough. At least, that’s what you thought until he got in halfway. From there on, it felt like he was invading your walls and stretching you to new limits.

There was a mild discomfort and Jungkook kissed your back lovingly to relax your tense muscles. You sighed and allowed him to bottom out, feeling the wind knock out of you when he did.

“God!” you shouted, fisting his bedsheets.

“F-Fuck… you feel amazing I—can I move? Does it hurt?”

“It doesn’t hurt… I just feel really full.”

“Okay,” he said in a restrained voice. “I’ll go slow.”

He gripped your hips tightly, like he needed something else to focus on or else he’d lose control and fuck the living daylights out of you. He eased himself out of you but only half way, wanting to savor your warmth a bit longer. Then he pushed himself back into you, making sure to go as slow as possible.

“Your ass looks amazing in these. You should wear them again.”

Your heart fluttered at the thought of doing this with him again. “Maybe if you spank me.”

He stilled his hips. “You really want me to?”

You began rocking your ass back and forth on his cock. “Yeah. I’m not that fragile… I can take it rough when I want to.” You swore you felt his cock twitch at this. “Hmm, looks like that excited you. You wanna fuck me rough, Jeon?”

He delivered a spank on your cheek, the sensation sending waves of pain and pleasure through your body. Your pussy tightened from this and it made Jungkook hiss. He spanked the other cheek and then both cheeks and you moaned, the slight pain distracting you from the girth of his big cock.

“You think you’re in a position to be a brat?” He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you up so you were on all fours again. Laying on top of your back, he whispered in your ear, “Do you know how badly I want to fucking ruin you?”

He bit the shell of your ear and you let out a content sigh as he slowly thrusted in and out of you.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he reminded you. “But god, you feel so good. So tight. So slippery and wet. I just wanna have my way with you.”

You couldn’t wait anymore. “Please do. Make my pussy remember the shape of your cock. It’s yours to wreck.”

Jungkook got off your back and grabbed a nice fistful of your hair into a makeshift ponytail, forcing your head up as he thrusted into you to the hilt. That feeling of being full hit you full force and you submitted, letting him rock his hips back and forth to the pace he deemed fit. He undid your bra with his free hand, letting the undergarment fall onto the bed as he cupped one breast.

Your moans came out unashamed and full of whiny desperation. The intensity was becoming too much, but it felt too good to stop. There was no more discomfort, only lust and the desire to be fucked so hard that it had your eyes rolling. And Jungkook was more than willing to deliver.

He then grabbed a nearby pillow and placed it under your stomach, pushing your back down until you laid flat.

“I’m not sure, but I read this makes things feel better on Reddit,” he explained quickly as he helped remove your panties. “But let me know if you want me to stop.”

You’re smitten by the fact he cared this much about you but also trying hard not to laugh at how he admitted to going to Reddit for sex advice. He was too precious.

“I will.”

With your ass propped up higher thanks to the elevation of the pillow, Jungkook eased into you once more and you bit into your pillow. He started to slam his hips into you, gripping onto the headboard to steady himself.

“Fuck!” you said through gritted teeth.

“Am I going too fast?” he breathed, slowing down his thrusts.

“No, it’s okay. I want it. I want you.”

Your words unleashed his primal urges to finally give it to you. He shoved his cock deep inside you, each thrust making your ass jiggle, the sight so unbelievably sexy that he had to spank you again.

“Yes, yes, yes! Fuck me harder!” you shouted. Jungkook laid on top of you, wrapping his bicep around your neck and planted a kiss on your cheek as he fucked you harder. You begged him to choke you and he obliged, squeezing your neck just enough to make you slightly dizzy.

It was euphoric having that slight danger while being used for his pleasure. Your pussy tightened so much that Jungkook felt he was going to cum.

He slowed the roll of his hips and then pulled out, quickly flipping you onto your back. Thanks to the pillow from earlier, your hips were propped up at the perfect height.

“Spread your legs for me. Wider. Hold them open.”

You were so drunk on lust that you did everything he asked. He held onto your thighs and inserted his cock into you again, the new angle making your moans come out strangulated. He was so huge, you swore his tip was brushing against your cervix. Picking up the pace gradually, you took the abuse of his fat cock and screamed at how good it felt.

“I can’t get enough of you,” Jungkook said through pants, wrapping a hand around the column of your neck. “I’m gonna cum.”

His hips began to stutter and you felt your pussy growing sore from the stretch. Anymore and you’d be in tears. You wanted to cum too, so you snuck your hand down to your clit and rubbed in circular motions. Jungkook used the last remaining bits of strength to fuck you for a few more minutes, which was more than enough for you to reach your climax.

Cumming a second time was more painful than the first time due to the over sensitivity. But somehow it was more enjoyable because you had never felt something so intense. Jungkook kept coaxing you with sweet words, promising he was almost finished.

He rutted into you for the last few seconds, counting 3, 2, 1 before spilling his seed inside you. His body laid on top of yours, the two of you sticky and sweaty but it was comforting just being in his embrace.

“Jungkook?”

“Yeah?”

“Get off. We gotta pee.”

He laughed at your serious tone. “I think I need another shower. Care to join me?”

Your roommate literally just fucked your brains out 5 minutes ago. Why were you feeling self-conscious in the shower with him? It didn’t make sense!

With the hot water on, you took a deep breath before feeling a pair of arms wrap around you from behind.

“Questions, comments, concerns?”

Oh my god, you had to marry this man. “Um… I think I’ll be sore for the next few days.”

“I’m sorry.

“Don’t be. I enjoyed it a lot.”

He turned you around, so that you were facing him. “Enough to do it again?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Tonight?”

“W-Well… I mean—“

Look at him fumbling over his words. Adorable. “You’re such a pervert.”

“I can’t help it. You turn me on.”

You covered your chest, feeling shy. “Is that all I’m good for…?”

He immediately understood what you meant. “Of course not. Look at me,” he said while tilting your chin up. “Don’t you know how I feel about you?”

Your lips curled into a smile. “Well I learned today that you jerked off to my panties and you count down before you cum.”

You couldn’t help but explode into laughter at his OJO face when he heard you say that.

“Hey! I do it to let you know when it’s coming!”

“Yes sir,” you teased with a salute. “I appreciate your punctuality, sir!”

“Oh my god, you’re so cheeky.” He hugged you again and booped his nose into yours. “I like you. You know, when a boy likes a girl and they go out on a date and then—oh shit, I did things backwards.”

You giggled. “I think I prefer it this way. I like you too. I’ve… liked you for a long time.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because! I didn’t want to make things awkward. But I guess things ended up being awkward anyway…”

“Because you were masturbating to me?”

He had such a proud smile on his face.

“Whatever! Panty thief!”

“You left them there.”

“You should’ve told me!”

“I did!”

“After you had your fun! You are so—”

He gave you a surprise peck on the cheek to distract you.

“Awesome?” He smooched you again. And again. You couldn’t help but giggle.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Mmhmm. So… do you want to stay in my room tonight?”

“As long as you warm me up.”

“Oh, for sure. I’m great at that.”

“Because of experience or Reddit?”

There was his OJO face again. “Hey~!”

I truly hope you enjoyed the fic! Thank you for giving my writing a chance. :) Also I have an AO3 if you're more comfortable commenting there. Thanks!

#ggukienet #jungkook #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook #jungkook scenarios #my scenarios

6K notes · View notes

wheres-mylove · 2 months ago

Text

ice-cold revelations - modern!cregan stark x fem!velaryon!reader

Summary: You are in a risky secret relationship with your brother's best friend. What happens when Cregan's unexpected injury exposes your feelings? Well, isn't there somebody you forgot to ask?

Disclaimer: English isn't my first language!

Word count: 2.8k

The wind tore through the streets with a biting ferocity, tugging at (Y/N)’s skirt and making her instantly regret both her outfit choice and this entire trip to the bus stop.

“Stupid winter has to be coming,” she muttered, yanking a colorful scarf up to cover her nose. Her phone chimed in her pocket, vibrating with the familiar sound of a new message. She fumbled with one hand to pull it out, her fingers stiff from the cold.

🐺: jace wouldn’t stop bugging me about that earring under my bed

🐺: i convinced him sara must’ve left it when she crashed at our place lmao

(Y/N) raised her eyebrows, her breath fogging the air as she sighed. The last thing she needed was her brother playing the part of a suspicious rom-com wife, finding random jewelry in odd places and jumping to conclusions. At least he hadn’t figured out where he’d seen that earring before.

Jacaerys Velaryon, as much as she adored him, had a habit of being a little too protective. He was always there when she needed him. But he was also the kind of brother who, despite being only a few minutes older, seemed to think that fact gave him full control over her dating life. Any guy who so much as glanced her way was either a potential threat or one of his friends. And friends were off-limits. Too much drama, he’d say. Too awkward if things went south. Even more awkward if things somehow worked out. Conflict of interest. Absolutely not.

Which was precisely why, in the grand scheme of things, the most logical solution was for her to start dating his best friend and his hockey team captain, Cregan Stark.

Cregan was wonderful. The kind of guy who would do anything for her, no questions asked. That's what had brought them to where they were now. Hiding their relationship from her dramatic brother and quite literally gaslighting him.

Did she feel guilty? Absolutely. Did she know it would be a hundred times worse if Jace found out? Also yes.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a bus speeding past the stop, tires screeching as it flew by. Her bus. Of course.

With impressive force, she pressed the green phone icon.

“Hey, sweetheart. What’s up?” Cregan answered in three seconds. Her irritation melted a little at the sound of his deep voice. Down bad.

“Hey, did you guys finish practice?”

“Yeah, just now, I couldn’t cut the boys any slack before tomorrow.”

“Any chance the strict captain could give me a ride home? I missed the bus. Or more like the bus missed me.”

“You’re kidding,” Cregan said, sympathy already thick in his voice. “Of course I’ll come get you.” He paused for a beat, then cleared his throat. “Only thing is… Jace wanted a ride too.”

“The gods are punishing me today,” she groaned.

“Call him. It'll be the same ride. Just, you know, he'll think it was his idea,” Cregan suggested.

“Are we bad people, Cregan?” she asked, half-serious now.

“Nah. He’ll find out eventually, just better if I’m in full hockey gear when it happens.”

“Fair enough,” she said, the corner of her mouth lifting in a smile. “Thanks. Love you. Bye.”

She hung up and immediately dialed her brother, requesting the same exact thing.

“Sure, you owe me one though,” he said cheerfully. “I don’t have my car today, so we’ll have to go with Stark. Is that a problem?”

“Nope.” No, her boyfriend wouldn’t be a problem.

(Y/N) Velaryon paced back and forth under the shelter of the bus stop, her boots crunching against the thin layer of frost that had already formed on the pavement. She rubbed her arms, trying to keep the cold at bay, when the familiar growl of a black Jeep Wrangler cut through the quiet. It rolled to a stop near the curb.

She jogged toward the car, her breath puffing out in small clouds, as the driver’s window slid down.

“Your chariot awaits, princess,” Cregan announced with a mock flourish.

“More like a toad,” Jace quipped from the passenger seat, his grin unmistakable.

“One more word and you’ll get my bag to the head. I’ve got half my textbooks in there,” she threatened playfully as she slid into the backseat.

The backseat of this car had witnessed many events, and that was the first thought that crossed her mind. One look at Cregan in the side mirror, and she knew he was thinking the same.

She pretended to be very engrossed in buckling her seatbelt.

“How was practice?” she asked out of politeness.

“Not bad. Stark was all business today, but it was necessary. Big day tomorrow,” Jace replied, fiddling with the radio. Cregan slapped his hand away as he slowed down for a red light.

“Great,” the girl muttered, not trusting her tongue around the two of them together.

An awkward silence fell, broken only by some random song. How long can a red light last?

“So, (Y/N),” Cregan began, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. His voice wavered, but Jace was in his own world, watching pedestrians crossing the street. “How’s it going? How was your day?”

“Pretty good,” she replied, playing with the hem of her skirt. “Though the classes dragged on.”

The devil on her shoulder won an uneven fight with the weak angel. She smirked.

“‘M absolutely knackered.”

Cregan inhaled slowly through his nose.

“Dude, it’s green,” Jace informed him, just before the car behind them honked.

“I can see,” Cregan reassured him, finally moving forward. “I’ll need your sister’s address since I’ve never been there before.”

If Jace had one more brain cell, he wouldn’t be so easily fooled.

“Sure thing,” her brother agreed, typing the info into the GPS on his phone. “Hey, kid, are you coming to the game tomorrow?”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?” (Y/N) asked angrily, kicking his seat. “Baela’s taking me.”

“You know what I think?” Jace started, spreading his arms dramatically. “A girlfriend in the stands is such a power boost. Such a boost… I never play as well as when Baela supports me from the bleachers.”

“You never play well,” His sister muttered under her breath, but Jacaerys was currently listening only to himself.

“Cregan wouldn’t get it,” He patted Cregan on the shoulder in the meantime. “If you combined your skills with that support, if you brought a girl, trust me, your performance would be a hundred times better.”

“Talented people don’t need superstitions to play well, Jace,” (Y/N) chimed in, leaning forward. “Besides, Cregan is single.”

“Because he’s too serious and broody, girls don’t like that,” her brother declared in a know-it-all voice. She gave him a side-eye. “He is afraid of women.”

“Are you afraid of women, Stark?” she asked seriously, barely holding back laughter.

Cregan shot her a look in the mirror, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Terrified,” he deadpanned. “That’s why I’m thinking maybe your sister should be my good luck charm tomorrow. Just as a friend, of course.”

“Eh, it’s not the same,” Jace protested, scrunching his face.

“Don’t you believe in the power of friendship?” the driver asked with full seriousness.

“Can I get a jersey with your number?” (Y/N) batted her lashes playfully at her boyfriend.

A jersey with his number was already hanging in her closet.

“Alright, you’ll see, you need deeper feelings for it to work, otherwise it just won’t…”

Jacaerys continued his monologue all the way to her apartment. The girl sighed with relief once she was back in her room, the familiarity of it a welcome escape from the tension.

Two new messages.

🐺: you looked so pretty today

🐺: but next time wear a damn coat, or you’ll catch a cold!!!

The fluorescent light above (Y/N)’s head flickered ominously, casting creepy shadows across the cramped janitor’s closet. She swore that if the bulb died completely, she'd either pee her pants or spiral into a full-blown claustrophobic meltdown. Leaning back against the wall, she tried to focus on the neatly arranged rows of brooms and mops. Soon, the door creaked open, revealing Cregan in all his glory.

Full hockey gear? Check. Helmet? Tucked under his arm. That goofy, ridiculous smile? Definitely check.

“You look so good,” she admitted, grabby hands already in the air. “Come here.”

Cregan shut the door behind him with a soft click, casting a glance at the flickering light overhead. He sighed, took one of her hands, and kissed her wrist softly.

“We have to tell your brother,” Stark said, his voice serious as he placed his helmet on the wooden shelf beside them. “It’s not right that my girl has to sneak me a good-luck kiss in a smelly closet. You should be able to strut right into the locker room.”

His girl grinned. “You’ve got your gear on,” she pointed out. “We can tell him after the game. Besides, Baela’s softening him up for us. I asked her to.”

Baela Targaryen was known for sniffing out secrets, and the second she spotted (Y/N) wearing Cregan’s jersey before the game, she didn’t even need to ask. Her knowing look said it all, and within minutes, Velaryon girl spilled the truth, enduring Baela’s delighted squeal that had probably echoed for miles.

“I knew you had high standards, girl. Going straight for the captain!” Baela teased, laughing. “Jace obviously doesn’t know? He hasn’t said anything... and Stark’s still breathing.”

Thankfully, Baela had been more than willing to help, distracting Jace so Cregan could sneak away after the pre-game pep talk. Now, Cregan was looking at (Y/N) with pride, his eyes lingering on the jersey she wore.

“She’s a real one for that,” he mused. “But seriously, we have to tell him. I want a picture of us on my lock screen, and that asshole keeps looking over my shoulder.”

She laughed, pulling him closer and kissing him hard, savoring the way his rough stubble tickled her skin.

“For now,” she murmured against his lips, “just focus on the game. You’re incredible. An amazing captain. And it’s going to go great. I believe in you.”

Cregan grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Maybe one more kiss. Just to make sure we win.”

“The power of having a girl in the stands,” she teased, poking his chest playfully.

“Jace definitely exaggerated that theory,” Cregan confessed with a chuckle. “But honestly... I’m just glad you’re here.”

With butterflies in her stomach and a grin she couldn’t wipe off her face, (Y/N) found herself in the stands minutes later, sitting next to Baela. Her friend was watching the silent exchange of glances between her and Cregan with thinly veiled amusement.

“I always knew Jace was blind, but this is just tragic,” Baela remarked, elbowing her in the ribs. Jace, oblivious as ever, waved enthusiastically from the rink. Both girls waved back, cheering with the crowd.

“You’ll boo with me when the Dornish Spears come out, right?” (Y/N) asked.

Baela gave her a mock-serious look. “Technically, we shouldn’t. Obviously, I will,” she promised.

The game was fast, brutal, and nearly deadlocked until the very end. (Y/N) had never yelled so much in her life, though her shouts were lost in the deafening roar of the crowd. Cregan played like a man possessed, commanding the ice with his usual grace. At least twenty times during the match, she found herself holding her breath, her heart leaping into her throat with every risky play. But she knew he had it under control. He always did.

Of course they won.

The victory rippled through the stands like a wave, and (Y/N) screamed herself hoarse as the crowd erupted around her. Cregan pulled off his helmet, his eyes scanning the stands until he found her. His smile—tired and breathtaking—was for her, and her alone. She didn’t regret the ringing in her ears or the scratch in her throat for a second. Moments later, he was swept up in a sea of celebrating teammates.

“Girl, are you crying?” Baela asked, pulling her into a hug.

“I don’t know,” She sniffled. “I’m just emotional. I just like that boy so fucking much, Bae.”

“I know, honey. Come on, they’re heading off the ice. Let’s congratulate them, and then have a crazy party or something. No time for tears.”

Cregan was one of the last players to leave the ice, trailing just behind Jace. But before he could step off, the captain of the opposing team, his face twisted with anger, skated up to him. For a moment, it looked like they might talk it out. But then, it all happened too fast.

The player from Dorne shoved Cregan hard against the wall. Stark, ever the calm one, simply raised his hands in a peaceful gesture.

And then he took a fist to the face. The sickening sound of bone cracking echoed across the rink.

“What the hell is going on? Jace!” Baela shouted, holding her friend back as she tried to rush forward.

Jace jumped back onto the ice, but by the time he got there, the other team had pulled their enraged captain away. Cregan stumbled off the ice just as (Y/N) reached him.

“Are you okay? Oh gods, let me see,” she fretted, her hands hovering near his face.

“What a fucking jerk!” Jace nearly screamed, skidding to a stop by the exit. “I called for help, they’ll be here in a second.”

(Y/N) carefully moved Cregan’s hand away, revealing the damage. His face was a swollen mess, his nose clearly broken.

“Do you think they’ll make me lie face-down on the ice?” Cregan joked weakly, leaning on her for support.

“Does it hurt a lot? Maybe you should sit down. Oh shit, I can’t believe—”

“Hey, sweetheart. Calm down,” Cregan murmured, his voice soothing despite the pain. “It hurts like hell, but I’ll live.”

Just then, the medic arrived, momentarily distracting Jace. But despite the chaos, he had clearly heard what Cregan just said. For a moment, Jace stood there, his face pale as the words and the image before him sank in.

“Sweetheart?” he echoed softly, but no one paid him any attention.

“Jace, maybe now’s not the time,” Baela said gently, stepping up beside him.

“I feel physically sick,” Jace muttered, staggering to the railing for support.

The medic handed Cregan an ice pack. “Hold this to your face for a bit. I’ll get you something for the pain right away, but a doctor’s gonna have to set that nose.”

Cregan winced but smiled through it. “You might wanna check on my friend first,” he said, gesturing toward Jace. “I can wait. He looks like he’s about to pass out.”

Jace did, in fact, end up passing out.

Cregan had to take a break from sports after that little adventure. He’d recovered, but now sported a slightly crooked nose—something his girlfriend found oddly hot.

(Y/N) saw his temporary recovery as the perfect chance to manipulate him into watching Teen Wolf with her every evening. After all, the title worked in her favor.

They were nestled on the couch, wrapped together in a soft gray blanket. It was their first time lounging in the living room of the apartment Cregan shared with her brother, rather than hiding behind the securely locked door of his bedroom.

It would be perfect, really. If it weren’t for Jace’s constant, deliberate trips to the kitchen and bathroom, each one an obvious reminder that he was keeping an eye on them.

“Dear Jacaerys,” (Y/N) said, her patience wearing thin, “you do know we don’t need a chaperone, right?”

Jace barely paused, shooting her a sidelong glance before muttering, “You need someone to knock the stupid ideas out of your heads,” as he slammed the bathroom door.

Cregan chuckled softly, pulling her closer. “Give him some time,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. “To be honest, I thought it would be worse. He’ll come around eventually.”

They’d already gone through several long, tension-filled conversations, with Baela stepping in as the voice of reason when things got too heated. They were careful now, avoiding anything that might provoke Jace further.

But Cregan was right—Jace was slowly coming around, even if he was still stubborn. The days of silent treatment had finally passed.

“This is on us for hiding things from him,” (Y/N) sighed, watching her brother embark on yet another purposeful long journey to the kitchen. “No more secrets now.”

“Your brother’s just looking out for you,” Cregan called out, raising his voice slightly so Jace could hear. “He doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you, and I respect that. I don’t know anyone else who cares like he does.”

Jace stopped, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, eyes narrowed. His lips curved into a sweet, mischievous grin.

“Yeah,” he began, drawing out the word. “So tell me sister, when are you introducing him to Mom?”

#cregan stark #modern cregan stark #cregan x reader #cregan stark x reader #hotd #modern hotd #modern jacaerys velaryon #cregan x you #cregan x y/n #cregan imagine

1K notes · View notes

sofiawritesstuff · 4 months ago

Text

Apologise

pairing: oscar piastri x norris!reader

based on the most recent race day events

warnings: a little bit suggestive towards the end but nothing major, lando being an ass but he makes up for it

(I love Lando and Oscar both, this isn’t to make Lando look like a bad person)

You knew it would somehow end up being tough at one point, although you didn’t realise how bad it was going to be.

Your brother and your boyfriend. The two most important men in your life, other than your father of course.

As teammates you would think it would be easier, but not when it was their own team that had created tension in the air.

Waiting in Oscar’s drivers room, your legs bounced with the thought wondering how on Earth you were going to support both of them.

The door flew open and Oscar stood with a proud smile, holding his P1 trophy in hand.

“I’m so proud of you baby” you smiled, opening your arms for him, you felt him sigh and he hugged you tightly, him nuzzling his head into your neck “Thank you” he mumbled against you.

“Is everything okay?” you asks pulling away from him “I’m happy, I really am but I think Lando is mad at me”

“Baby, Lando isn’t mad with you, he might be mad but he is mad with the team. Never you. It was team orders and he had to follow them. He’s probably just annoyed that he didn’t get another win, but he will come back and get another. Just like you will. Let’s go out for dinner tonight. We can celebrate!”

“I don’t know, it feels a little disrespectful to Lando”

“Oscar”

“Alright, sounds good. I’m going to get a shower before we leave. Maybe go check on Lando, he will want a little comfort right now”

“I’ll go see him now, call me when you’re ready” you kiss him gently before leaving, making your way along the hall to your brothers room.

Lando could get mad, yes. Just like anyone. But you knew today he was really mad. With the look on his face after the race. You knew you weren’t walking in to your cheerful brother.

You knocked the door before entering, you seen him throwing all of his stuff into his bag “Shouldn’t you be celebrating with your boyfriend?” he asks bitterly without glancing at you

“Lan-“

“No Y/N. I don’t want to hear it. Go away. Celebrate with the race winner”

You scoff causing him to look at you “Don’t you dare do that to me Lando, you know it was the team’s fault today. Not Oscars”

“Yeah take his side! I’ve been embarrassed enough today i don’t need a pity speech from my little sister. He probably waiting for you right now to go out and celebrate. Don’t worry I won’t tell him you were here!” he begins shouting

“Stop shouting at me! It was actually Oscar that told me to come talk to you. He feels guilty enough for what happened today he doesn’t need your bad attitude getting in the way either! If you’re going to blame anyone blame your stupid team and not my boyfriend”

“So you’re choosing your boyfriend over your brother? Okay”

“Stop twisting things! Have you actually lost your mind? Oscar did nothing wrong. He was hesitant on even going out tonight because he felt guilty towards you! Oscar looks up to you Lando, he’s done so much for you in races before. I’m done with this conversation. Come talk to me when you decide to be an adult and when you want to apologise to my boyfriend” you tell him, slamming the door behind you.

It was rare for you and Lando to have an argument, what made it even worse is you felt like you had to pick a side. Lando or Oscar. You knew what your brother was saying what out of anger, he would never actually mean disrespect towards his younger teammate.

But you couldn’t help but let the tears fall. It was a short lived argument, but also one of the worst you had ever had.

“Baby?” Oscar asks confused, popping his head out of the bathroom “What happened? Is everything okay?” he rushes over to comfort you, putting on him clothes while he does

“I’m okay, just a silly fight with Lando” you smile, wiping away your tears, he stops you holding both your hands with one hand and moving the other to your cheek, wiping the fresh tears “Let’s go back to hotel and go out for a nice meal”

“I’m not bothered about that right now, I’m bothered about you. It must have been a bad fight if you’re crying”

“This is your night Osc, let’s ignore everything else” you nod trying to stop the topic of conversation “Alright, I understand that you don’t want to talk about it right now but I hope we can when you’re ready, if it’s tonight or tomorrow. I hate seeing you cry”

“I’m sorry, I’m ruining your special moment”

“Hey, come on. You’re not ruining anything. Here’s a better idea. We will go back to the hotel, order room service and have a movie night with a bottle of champagne. Sounds like a perfect way to end this night of an eventful day”

“If that’s what you want”

“All I want is to spend time with my beautiful girlfriend. Come on” he stands up, taking your hand.

Leaving the paddock felt weird, usually you would have both McLaren drivers either side but tonight you only had one. But you had to remind yourself that this was Oscar’s night and nothing was going to ruin it for both of you.

He swayed your hands back and forth walking towards the hotel, he stopped for the few fans waiting close by for him, signing the notebooks and hats held out to him.

You smiled to yourself as everyone congratulated him, trying to ignore the sympathetic smiles a group of girls gave you as you waited.

As you got comfortable in your room and turned on a movie you heard a knock at the door, Oscar quickly got up to answer it

“I’ll get it, it will probably be room service” he kisses you, leaving the bed “Oh hi mate” you head Oscar stutter.

You knew the stutter, the same stutter that came from Oscar when Lando first found out that his teammate was dating his sister.

“Can I come in?” you hear Lando’s voice asks before the door closes. Oscar sits next to you on the bed while Lando stands at the end of it, playing with his fingers.

“I owe you an apology, both of you”

“Osc I’m sorry that I was rude to you earlier, I was so frustrated with the team and I took my anger out on someone which was wrong of me. I am disappointed with myself but I’m also really happy for you and I’m proud of you. It’s great points for the team and you”

“Thanks Lando, I appreciate the apology. I think we need to have a meeting with the team to discuss a better strategy so nothing like this happens again in the future”

Lando nods agreeing with him, before turning his eye contact to you “And to you, I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you, you were defending both of us and I took it the wrong way and I knew it. Thank you for being an amazing sister, I wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for you”

“You’re so lucky that you’re my favourite” you smirk, getting up to hug him “I love you” Lando whispers “I love you too, even if you are Dad’s favourite”

“Thats false, you are definitely your Dad’s favourite” Oscar jokes “See! you are Dad’s favourite” Lando agrees “You’re his favourite! Remember when I was 13 and I got grounded for a week because you threw and egg at me and it hit Dad’s car? I got grounded for that because he didn’t think that you would ever do that”

“Or the time when we had your birthday dinner and you were feeding the cake to the dog and you blamed it on Lando later on in the day when the dog was pooping everywhere”

“Alright, I don’t need the two of you ganging up on me! Thank you for coming to apologise Lan”

“Yeah and all is forgiven” Oscar nods “Good to hear, are you guys staying in tonight?” Lando asks pointing at the TV

“Yep, a good night full of room service and sex!”

“Ew! That’s disgusting! Why am I related to you!” Lando rushes out the room

Laying in bed a few minutes later, you hear a second knock at the door. You pull away from Oscar’s kiss, storming to the door

“Lando I didn’t realise you wanted to send Oscar naked so bad-“ you stop once you realise it was not in fact your brother standing on the other side of the door, it was room service and a poor innocent old man now knew that your boyfriend was naked on the other side of the door

“Sorry” you apologise, pulling in the tray and closing the door.

You hear a loud laugh from the bed and you rush over jumping on him “It’s funny”

“Oh it is! You’re never living that down baby” he smirks, flipping himself on top of you.

#lando norris #oscar piastri #mclaren f1 #mclaren #mclaren racing #P1 #P2 #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri smut #brother lando

806 notes · View notes

forestshadow-wolf · 5 months ago

Text

Soap has a bad habit. But he doesn't think it's... that bad. Just a joke between him and Ghost that he'd started, really. Well- it wasn't completely a joke to him, but it was to Ghost, so it didn't really matter. Or, it did but that was kinda... it was his own problem to deal with. Not that was the real bad habit of his, he jumps head first into everything and has to do damage control after.

It was him and Ghost on watch tonight, price and Gaz were soundly a sleep in the other side of the safehouse. They'd been tracking a target for the last three days, and hopefully wouldn't have too much longer before they could go take him into custody. That's not to say they haven't been busy, infact it would be more accurate to say they've been a little stretched thin between this target, and taking out a seperate enemy warehouse.

The night was quiet, interrupted only by the incessant frog chirps and cricket calls. Somehow it felt both tired, and restless. And like always, he opens his big mouth to break the tension that sprouts from somewhere he can't see.

"Go out with me, L.T?" He asked, tying the straw wrapper in his hands into a finger sized ring, and presenting it to the man.

"I don't want to do this tonight, Sargeant." Ghost says curtly. Ouch, he got ranked? In all fairness, soap supposes, Ghost is tired, worked to the bone like the rest of them. Soap doesn't fault him. So he drops it.

But ot does get his mind spinning. In two years, Ghost hasn't snapped at him about this stupid joke once, not like he just had anyway. Sure it wasn't harsh, but soap could read between the lines just fine. Ghost was tired of it, or maybe just too tired to deal with the uncomfortability of it. He's gotten that Ghost didn't want him the first time he rejected him, but he'd also laughed it off as a joke, so he'd been keeping his alibi ever since. Not that those attempts were ever disingenuous either, just that he was expecting the Answer. But he wouldn't have kept it up if he'd known it made Ghost uncomfortable. Maybe he should have known. He definitely should have with how much he studies the man. Looking at him now he can see the way Ghost's eyes flick to him, then away as he does an uncomfortable little shift, so small that if you weren't looking for it you wouldn't see it. But he does see it now.

"Ahm sor'y, Ghost." It takes him a very generous amount of time to put together the words he needs in a way that sounds genuine enough to his own ears. Longer still for him to speak them. "I hadn't meant to make you uncomfortable, I should have known." He rips at the straw paper as he speaks, "it never meant anything, if that makes you feel better." Then he falters a little, but he plows on, "ah'll um- ah'll stop joking about it." The once paper ring, now just a scrap of litter on the wooden table beneath his hands.

Ghost doesn't respond, just looks at him silently, and he feels a pit drop in his stomach. He wishes the ground would just swallow him up so he wouldn't have to deal with the repercussions of his own actions. The tension in the air pulls tight, tight enough to strangle them so he opens his mouth. Again.

"So.. did you hear about the kidnapping at school?.... he woke up." Soap chuckles, answering his own joke. It does not solve anything. If anything it makes it all worse, if the way Ghost doesn't even acknowledge it had anything to say about it. "Okay.." he resigns himself to a silent and uncomfortable watch for the night, he'll sleep it off tomorrow, stop making the jokes, and it'll all be fine.

I'd be fine for them. For him it wouldn't be, it wasn't since the first rejection, and it wasn't for the 83 other accumulated attempts, but he'll live. He has been, so he'll keep doing so. Even if it ached to breath around the thought. He'll just... not think about it.

"So it never meant anything?" The question catches him off guard and leaves him floundering. Ghost is looking at him when he glances up now. Yes! Yes! It did! It does! Everytime! All the time! His mind screams.

"No- never." He chokes out instead, the lie tastes sour on his tongue, and he's so sure Ghost has noticed. He's gonna get visibility uncomfortable with soap any second now. Soap knows it. Braces for it.

"You're lying?" But it sounds more like a statement. Almost sounds offended. Like Ghost is hurt that soap would try to lie to him. Which, quite frankly, doesn't make sense. Why couldn't he just accept it and move on, why does he have to torment soap about it.

Soap can't muster up another ill-tasting lie, so he just looks away.

"You did mean it." That one is a statement, one which soap cringes internally at. "Did.. did you mean it the first time?"

Soap doesn't want to answer. He really really doesn't. But he forces himself to nod, just once. The first one had meant the most to him.

"I thought you were joking... messing with me to have a laugh." Ghost admits quietly.

"I was. Kinda," he sighs, folding his arms on the table and dropping his head onto them, he mutters, "not... not really. I- I um- it was just... easier to laugh it off." His finger dejectedly traces idle shapes on the table. "This'll make an even 85, suppose that's as good a number as any to stop." He laments to himself.

"Ask me again."

"What?" He head shoots up in surprise.

"Ask me again." Ghost repeats.

"O- okay..." he picks at the skin around his thumbnail, "uhm.. I- uh.. would you.. gooutwithme?" He rushes the question out, not really wanting to drag out the inevitable answer.

"Ok." He said it so simple.

"I- huh?" He freezes.

"I want to go out with you." Ghost looks him in the eye. It makes soap's heart do a weird thing.

"Okay." He can't help the smile that spits his face, his knee bounces with giddiness, and he can't help but nudge Ghost boot with the toe of his own. Ghost does it back.

Tags: @queermentaldisaster @spottlessspectre @27potatochips @opiumprincess @canyoubethestalkertomytango @unhingedpolycule @bluebrryice @softberrybi @coquetterie-dancer @stuffireadandenjoy

Prolly gonna shove this on ao3 later

#el rambles #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #ghost x soap #soap x ghost #call of duty #cod #cod mw2

648 notes · View notes

qqueenofhades · 6 months ago

Note

Is it foolish of me to sympathize with how marginalized people on the far-left are incredibly frustrated that the Democratic establishment isn't as scared of/desperate to please them as the Republican establishment are toward the MAGA fringe? I guess from their perspective, voting feels like begging - most of the people who hear you won't even glance at you, let alone drop you a coin. But you still have to do it, or else you (or worse, your family) are *guaranteed* to starve.

Okay, a few thoughts here. Note: for you and the other people who have recently sent politics asks, I have been very deliberately NOT talking about it for the last few months. I had to break it yesterday because of the Orange Menace finally getting fucking convicted, but I do want to go back to not doing that (at least for the next few weeks/months/until whatever else stupid happens). So while I will answer this, I am generally not going to answer others and my apologies for that, but yeah. It's just so much and I have GOT to keep myself sane until November somehow. (Or God forbid, afterward, but you know.)

First off, most members of the American far left aren't actually marginalized people, or at least not marginalized enough that their personal well-being seems in any way likely to be affected by their loud and ceaseless campaign to tell other people not to vote. Actual marginalized people who have lived in America for any length of time are *well* aware of how the government and the state can be weaponized against them; witness how black community organizers will voice well-deserved criticisms of the Democratic establishment or other aspects of American party politics that are frustrating for everyone, but they will still always tell people to vote. Black people are also extremely aware that earning the right to vote was an incredibly long, difficult, and bloody battle that they were never given it for free, and the white power establishment fought them having it at every turn. They are thus far more aware than your average white online leftist that voting matters, because they had to work so hard to get it (and still to defend it as various red states launch openly racist assaults on voting rights, especially aimed at disenfranchising people of color). Witness how Bernie also got literally zero traction with African American voters, despite being the darling of the (white) online left.

Hispanic people are also (rightfully) frustrated at how both American parties can use Latino immigrants as a political football, but they're still backing Biden by 30-point margins. We hear a lot of chatter about Trump supposedly gaining ground with voters of color -- maybe he has, though I doubt it, but that's still incremental gains from the massive holes he was in before, and where he generally remains. Arab Americans are (rightfully) angry with Biden over Gaza, but even in the much-hyped Michigan primary, he got roughly the same amount of "uncommitted" voters as Obama did as an uncontested incumbent in 2012, and most of them have said they'll grit their teeth and vote for him in the general election anyway. Yes, a few of them have decided not to, but they are not the size of the Black and Latino populations in America insofar as electoral power, and many of them have grudgingly decided that as bad as Biden might be on this particular issue (though far less so than the social media groupthink would paint him) the alternative (i.e. Trump openly promising to deport everybody who's not white and crack down on pro-Palestinian protests and anything else) is much, much worse.

And yet, white leftists seem utterly incapable of making these same calculations. Frankly, I'm not sure they actually care about Gaza, let alone anything else they say, because if so, they wouldn't be slavering at the mouth to let Trump back in there to "teach a lesson" to Biden, Democrats, and everyone else who was not Smart And Clever Enough to sanctimoniously sit on their hands and let the fascists take over. I know this because they spent all their time lying about Biden and distorting his record and insisting people not vote even before October of last year, and then it only got ten thousand times worse. I'm not saying that all leftist or leftist-identified people are white, but they are disproportionately predominant in leftist spaces and in pushing the idea that there's "no difference" between the parties and somehow Trump and Biden are morally equivalent or will have the same amount of impact on what will happen after one of them is elected. That is, yes, because they are white and they have the privilege of assuming that a weaponized fascist government will not go after them for that reason (even though Trump and his surrogates are now claiming that "everyone" who opposes Trump has to be "dealt with.") As such, when you say that marginalized far-left people are frustrated with the Democrats, I'm... not entirely sure that's true. Marginalized people AND the far left are both frustrated with the Democrats, but one of those groups has generally still decided not to voluntarily disenfranchise themselves, and the other is pumping out Vladimir Putin-wet-dream anti-voting propaganda at every chance they get.

There is also the fact that America is not a left-wing country in any sense of the word, and that while it's easy for the MAGA Republicans to go ever further far-right and promise to be even more outrageously cruel and stupid and fascist than ever before, but that's not an actual policy or a plan. It is also a strategy of diminishing returns; witness the fact that for all the cruelty and stupidity Republicans have pumped into the public arena since 2016, they haven't actually been that good at winning elections, and most of their major successes have come from Trump winning in 2016 and thus being able to stack SCOTUS and the district and circuit courts with hand-picked right-wing nut jobs, who are functioning exactly as they were designed to do. (Which Hillary Clinton warned about, along with everyone else, and yet she was taken out by the exact same dirtbag leftist disinformation moral purity machine that is working overtime to handicap Biden for the exact same reasons.) Mainstream Democrats warned about this before the 2016 election and were scorned and laughed off. Indeed, the entire Online Left continues to resolutely deny that the extremist SCOTUS is responsible for anything (It's Biden's Fault) and thus are likewise identical to Trumpies. And since they also want Trump to get back in there and teach a lesson to the Democrats, they're just as anti-democratic, dangerous, stupid, and deliberately short-sighted as actual MAGATs, and can by no means be considered allies to the singular movement of keeping fascists out of power. That is our only present goal.

If Democrats bent over to everything the far left asks for (which is often a combination of tankie gobbledygook, various vague ideas about Communism utopia where capitalism magically vanishes with no consequences, half-baked revolution cosplays, and other stuff that is functionally equivalent to the wildest lunacies of MAGA) they would never win an election again, and that would be exactly what the fascists want. Witness how they struggled when they were branded "defunders of the police" and "socialists" and other effective responses to the mildest milquetoast efforts for reform or accountability. And the political climate right now is just far too dangerous to throw everything to the wind and prance out some pipe-dream perfect-utopia plan. I'm sure you've heard about Project 2025 and how the far-right Heritage Foundation is planning to systematically implement fascism at all levels of the country, the instant they have a compliant Republican president and congress. I would take all these people crying about Biden even a fraction more seriously if they weren't openly jonesing for something that is so unbelievably, incredibly worse.

For example: I currently have major beefs with literally the entire foreign policy of the Biden administration right now. I think they're being too hard on Ukraine (forbidding them to strike targets on Russian soil with American weapons, which would end the war faster) and, despite some promising signs and open displeasure, still far too easy on Israel. They looked foolish after insisting that Rafah was a red line and then essentially making up an excuse that what's going on now is not a "major operation." Secretary of State Blinken floating the idea of helping Congress censure or neuter the International Criminal Court arrest warrants issued for Netanyahu and co. was also one of the fucking stupidest things I've heard from a serious (i.e. non-Trumpist) American diplomat in a long time. So we respect the ICC when it issues warrants for tyrants we don't like (Putin), but when it issues one for tyrants we still do, apparently (Netanyahu), then bingo, it's back to the bad old habit of ignoring international law like we're special and it doesn't apply to us, and allows all the other bad actors around the world to do the same by pointing at America and correctly pointing out that we ignore it when it doesn't suit our purposes. I think this is wrong and I don't agree. So? What am I going to do?

Well, you see. I'm going to vote for Biden and I am going to give him money and I am going to remind everyone I know that they have no moral option but to do the same. I do this because I am aware that despite my disagreements, Biden is acting from a cautious anti-interventionist standpoint and does not want to throw American military might around recklessly or dangerously like good ol' George Dubya or Trump or even Obama and the drones. He is listening to sober mainstream advisors who have (however incorrect and useless) ideas about "avoiding escalation" and trying to bring conflict to a managed end. He is doing this with a realistic appraisal of the power of the office of American presidency and he's not going to capriciously end democracy and become a full-blown fascist dictator on day one, as Trump has openly and repeatedly promised to do. Yes, if there was a viable option apart from Biden, maybe I would think about voting for them, but there is not, and literally everyone who does not actively vote for him is helping Trump. I do not care about any other contrived and disingenuous online squealing. I know that Biden does not want the war in Gaza to go on for no reason and for maximum carnage; Netanyahu and Trump both do. That is just to name one thing.

So: yes. I absolutely understand being frustrated with the Democrats and wishing they would push harder and etc. But I am also aware that they can be pushed, that they are the only option right now, and the people who huff and puff and whine and groan about how it's such a moral imposition to vote for them are literally doing the fascists' work for them, and that is not acceptable. If they want a better system or a better world that isn't just useless internet fantasies about magical end-of-days Raptures fixing everything, also a la the crazy fundamentalists, they will have to get off their ass, do the work, and create that change. I will be happy to vote for that candidate when or if they arrive. In the meantime, I will continue to do my damndest to ensure that we even have a chance to get there. So yeah.

#anonymous #ask #politics for ts #okay back to Not Talking About Politics i go

422 notes · View notes

coichii · 20 days ago

Text

101 DEGREES FARENHEIT - LEE KNOW

pairing - bf!minho ♥︎ fem!uni student!reader

genre: sickfic, angst, and comfort

word count: 1.9k

warnings: cursing, unhealthy habits, self deprecating behavior & thoughts.

A/N : i made this while tiptoeing on the edge of sickness and feeling well..😭 also originally was not going to be his birthday fic but uhm.. i lost motivation….

You grab a sip of your water for what feels like the 1000th time tonight.

Somehow, throughout the day, you had picked up a cold. You knew there was some strain of flu spreading throughout your school, but man this one spread quicker than ever.

There’s no time for that though, especially not with midterms coming up right around the corner. So with heavy eyes and a sore throat that you swear is getting worse within a matter of seconds, you continue studying.

You didn’t live on campus. In fact, you lived in a small apartment with your boyfriend, Minho. It was close enough to both your university and his company, so it worked out perfectly. Not having to deal with pesky, disgusting roommates and getting to live with the love of your life instead was the dream.

The sound of keys ringing and the door cracking open was enough to pull you out of your thoughts. Your lover had just came home.

You smile gently as you hear his quiet footsteps grow ever closer to the door, heart bubbling with same excitement as it had when you first moved in. The feeling never went away, not even a little bit.

“Hi baby.” He says, walking in to your shared bedroom and sitting down on the bed behind you. “Still working this late?”

“Well yeah. Couldn’t sleep.” You reply. You wonder if your voice gave your illness away, because you can see his eye brows furrowing as you speak. “Are you sick y/n?”

“I just came down with it. My throat hurts, that’s all. I may not even be sick.” You try not to worry him, lying as you speak. If you’re being honest, your throat hurts like a bitch. But you know him well enough to know that if he knows how bad your feeling, he’ll focus all his energy on making you feel 110% and push off practically everything else.

He hums in response, eyes still searching yours before he’s moving to stand up. “Let me make you some tea then hmm? that should make you feel better.”

“Are you sure? It’s still super later Minho.” You respond, but you know it’s a loosing battle. He could be stubborn when he needed to be, and he is when it comes to you and your health.

“It’s fine. Besides, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t take care of you. Do you want chamomile?” He asked, not taking no for an answer. You smile as you feel yourself giving in, eyes feeling even more agonizingly heavy.

“Please” you groan out, and he’s leaving to the kitchen. You feel grateful for him as the day and pain catches up to you, finally deciding to close your textbooks and change for the night. Thankfully, you had already showered and brushed your teeth, so there was no worrying about that.

You grab the book you had been reading from your nightstand as you tuck your self into bed, silently waiting for the tea your boyfriend had prepared.

Even though you put up a slight fight about it, you can’t help but enjoy when he treats you like this. You love when he takes care of you, it makes you feel special and loved. It fills you with a special kind of warmth that can’t be described in words. Just pure love.

Just as the pain in your throat felt as if it was getting impossibly worse, your boyfriend came in with a steaming cup of hot chamomile tea, placing it down on the coaster next to you. “It’s really hot so be careful okay? I’m going to go shower now.” He dotes on you, placing a chaste kiss on your cheek.

“Ok, thank you so much baby. I’ll probably be sleep by the time you’re done.” And he hums in response, giving you one last kiss on the cheek before heading to the bathroom, clothes in hand.

The tea does a good job with soothing your throat, the sweet, honey taste dripping down your throat perfectly remedying the itchy, scratchy feeling.

You decide to finally get some shut eye as midnight comes around quicker than you thought, placing your book back on the nightstand and trying to get comfortable.

Key word : Trying

It’s hard, especially with the small cough that creeped its way into your throat all of a sudden. It’s keeping you up, the hacking noise disrupting the peace your body needed to finally fall asleep.

It takes longer than you wish it did, but eventually the tea is able to coax your body into sleep, eyes finally getting the rest they desperately needed.

Moments later, Minho joins you in the bedroom, clad in nothing but breezy pajama pants. Getting into bed with you and snuggling close, he knows you’re asleep, but he can’t help but begin to pepper small kisses upon face and hold you tighter.

“Get better, my love.” He drifts off, falling into sleep alongside you.

And you wish you could say you did.

You woke up smoldering hot but shivering at the same time. You look at your clock, groaning as the bright light amplified the small headache that had spread through your entire face. 10 am. You’re usually up by seven.

You silently say a quick “thank you prayer” that you don’t have classes on Wednesdays. Taking a day off of school during exam season is a whole death wish. But with how things are progressing, you’re not sure if you can even go tomorrow without getting 9-1-1 called.

You open your phone, groaning again as the light messes with your headache, but reading who the message is from still causes a weak smile to take form on your face.

—

new message from “linoo❤️🐰”

linoo❤️🐰: Good morning y/n.

linoo❤️🐰: Are you feeling better?

linoo❤️🐰 : I know you don’t have classes today, so you should take it easy.

linoo❤️🐰 : If you want to call or need me to come over, tell me. You know I won’t mind.

you : hey, I just woke up❤️ im fine though.

he texts back within less than a minute

linoo❤️🐰 : your symptoms are gone?

you : well no… they’re worse. but I’m fine !! i promise

linoo❤️🐰 : you’ll call me if it gets worse right?

you : yes :) I promise

linoo❤️🐰 : okay, have a good day. I love you

you : I love you 2 !!

—

You sigh as you place your phone down, mentally deciding to go take a shower. Surely that’ll fix the headache right?

Your head spins as you get out of bed, the world looking blurry and dizzy with specs of gray. It’s hard to walk.

“How the actual fuck did it get this bad so quickly?” You mumble to yourself, stumbling towards the bathroom and turning on the water.

The steam helps a little bit with the tension in your head and the congestion of your nose, but it’s not doing much. Atleast not as much as you need. Your throat was still burning for some relief, and the dizziness hasn’t stopped either. You’re thinking if it gets any worse, you’re probably going to have to go to the hospital.

The shower itself helps a little bit more with alleviating the pain, the warm water cascading down your skin and warming it up inside. But you can still feel it.

You can still feel the pounding of the headache you swear is forming into a migraine practically tearing your head apart, your throat is still screaming you for something warm, and to make matters worse, you think you’re developing nausea too.

Yup, definitely the flu

The flu never stopped anyone though, and midterms are still right around the corner. So with a dry cough and constant sneeze, you were popping advil, and taking a seat at your desk.

“A little sickness can’t me from doing this” you thought to yourself, but it was much harder than you thought.

Suddenly the sun had already set. The moonlight creeps its way inside through the slits in the blinds, but you hadn’t seemed to notice. You didn’t notice the way your eyes were blurred with unshed tears either. Your mind was absolutely buried in the thought of midterms.

I’m not prepared. Im going to fail. I’m a disappointment. I’m so useless, one fucking cough and I end up like this? I don’t even know why I try anym-

“Y/n!” Minho’s voice cuts through the mess swirling through your brain. You look over to where the voice came from and you swear you can see his face crumble the moment he looks at you.

To be fair, you hadn’t looked in the mirror since you took your shower in the morning, but Minho saw something different. He saw disheveled hair, droopy and tired eyes, beads of sweat drooping down your shivering body, and most importantly, tears.

“You told me you would call me if it got worse.” He bitterly spoke, and you felt that cut right through your heart. “I-It didn’t. I’m fine min-“ but he’s cutting you off immediately.

“You’re not fine y/n. You’re literally crying!” He booms, and you can’t help but feel extremely guilty. “Have you ate today? Or at least took medicine?!”

“Uhm, once at like n-nine. Look min I’m sorry! I’m so sorry for not calling you when I was supposed to. B-but my studying. If I stop, I’m not going to make it. I can’t fail min.”

His expression softens at your admission, eyebrows de-furrowing and eyes being replaced by compassion instead of anger and hurt as he walks closer towards you.

“Baby, you don’t need to push yourself so hard. I get it, I love that you want to study. But baby, is it really worth your life?”

Crack

“I know it means a lot, but so do you and your mental health. You can’t push yourself this hard and expect good results. You need to rest.”

Crack

“I love you so much. I can’t stand seeing you like this. Please let me take care of you okay? That’s all I want to do for you love.”

Shatter

You’re sobbing all of a sudden, burrowing your head in his sweatshirt as tears pour as of your eyes like faucets. It’s making your head hurt more, but you didn’t care. You just needed him.

He let you stay there for a while, he knew you needed it. He shushed the small sorries coming out of your mouth, telling you that you didn’t need to apologize. He only pulled you away when you calmed down completely.

“I’m going to get the thermometer. Stay here, my baby.” and he’s off to grab the thermometer you kept on hand from one of the cabinets in the bathroom, coming back with a concerned look on his face.

He quickly rubbed the thermometer along your forehead, reading out your temperature with a sharp ‘beep!’

“101 degrees.” He sighed. “Baby, if this gets any worse, you’re going to have to go to the hospital.”

Your breath hitches and tears spring to your eyes again, which Minho notices immediately.

“Hey, look at me.” He says, using his pointer finger to make you face him. “I’m not going to let that happen. I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you feel better okay?”

You nod along, resting your body back into his comforting arms as he massages your tense shoulders. He’s whispering small praises as he does this, and you swear you can feel your headache dissipating slowly.

While even though it’s going to be a while before you’re completely better, or even a little bit, you knew with him, it would all be okay.

As long as you have him taking care of you, comforting you, and loving you, you know you’ll be okay.

back to masterlist

#stray kids #skz #skz x reader #skz fluff #stray kids x reader #straykids x reader #stray kids fluff #lee know x reader #lee know fluff

210 notes · View notes

ramblingautisticman · 27 days ago

Text

I love the Logan-stabbing-Wade-during-a-nightmare-trope as much as anyone else, but I also think Logan would actively avoid anything that could cause that to happen.

When Wade says that they will be sharing a bed, Logan's eyes widen, looking over at the small couch. They would be close- pressed against each other- and even if Wade will heal from being stabbed in the chest, he doesn't want to hurt him.

It's different if they are fighting or something, but because of a shitty nightmare? Logan wasn't okay with hurting Wade in that way. He had already grown too fond of the other (not that he would say that too Wade yet, they had only just saved the world, give him at least a few days to verbalise any emotion) and the fact he might injure Wade when he isn't consenting (let's be real, they both wanted the previous fights), he isn't doing it.

He politely says he will sleep on the floor, and as much as Wade protests, he still does as he said. Logan gets given a blanket and some pillows, throws them on the floor under the window, and lays down to try and sleep.

Even then, he can't get the idea out of his head. Rogue hadn't been sleeping next to him, and he still managed to stab her, what would be different with Wade?

But he manages to push the thought away and fall asleep. And yeah, he does have his usual nightmare, but he manages to not stab anyone (or anything- atleast nothing important) and he doesn't see any sign of anyone waking up, which he takes as a win.

The second night is the same. And the third.

It isn't until a good month later that Logan trusts himself to even nap on the couch with Wade sat next to him, but he slowly manages to build himself up to that, and after another month, the idea of sleep next to Wade isn't so bad. His nightmares were alittle less intense and his claws were coming out less, but he still doesn't say yes to the invitations (every night, ever since the first, Wade has invited him to sleep in the bed with a promise of keeping his hands to himself) because there is still that chance, and Logan can't take it. Especially not now he is attached to Wade.

Eventually, when they all move out into a slightly bigger place, there is an option to share a room (Al gets her own, she told Wade and Logan to either share it, or one of them was sleeping on the couch, and if they fought then noone got the room). Not a bed, just a room- and to Wade's suprise- Logan takes it. Their beds are at either side of the room, as far apart as they can be, but this is a good step for Logan. They are still closer than they were in the old place (this one is still small, just has another room) and slowly Logan finds that he feels alot better sleeping in the bedroom. It feels safer and before he knows it, he has gone a week with no nightmare.

It's only a good three months into dating Logan decides that maybe they can share a bed. Wade hasn't pushed him once- he had actually opened up about the whole thing without much prompting, wanting to make sure Wade knew it wasn't anything to do with him of the way he looked (because he kne Wade would think that eventually)- and he had been very understanding of it.

So one night, when they both decide to head to bed, Logan hovers for a second and shyly asks if maybe Wade wants to cuddle tonight, and before he knows it Wade is jumping into his bed with a huge smile on his face with his arms open and waiting.

That's somehow making him feel better and worse- because now if he somehow has a nightmare then Wade's happiness about sharing a bed is going to be all he thinks about after- but he swallows the anxiety and crawls into the bed, cuddling up to Wade's chest with a small sigh.

Wade obviously can tell he's anxious, and is quick to rub soothing circles on his back and whisper that everything is okay, makes a few jokes about how he likes getting stabbed, then kisses his forehead and tells him to get some sleep.

And for the first time in years, Logan feels calm and safe enough to do just that, fall asleep with someone else right there.

Yes- he wakes up in the middle of the night in a panic purely because he thinks what if he had stabbed Wade?- but he hasn't. There is no blood. Nothing indicating injury. Wade is still sound asleep with his arms draped over Logan, no wound visible, no holes in his Hello Kitty night shirt.

He can't help but sigh in relief as he realises that everything is fine, and quickly manages to fall back asleep, waking up a few hours later to Wade burying himself closer to his chest.

It feels wierd. Someone trusts him enough to sleep so close to him, and he feels safe enough to sleep so close to someone, but it also feels good. Feels nice. Feels like progress. And even if it's something small, even if it's just cuddling in the same bed as his boyfriend, it's progress. Logan couldn't be happier.

#deadpool and wolverine #poolverine #wade wilson #deadpool 3 #deadclaws #logan #wade winston wilson #deadpool #wade x logan #they are all i think about #the stupid gay babys #i love em

346 notes · View notes

serawritesthings · 4 months ago

Text

WHERE THE DEERS REST, first part

Pairing | LowHonor!Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader Summary | How can we do good when all we were raised to do is bad? A cruel fate, indeed. Yet when your past, and a certain outlaw, finds a way to set its claws in you once more, perhaps you'll soon find there is a way to change fate's design. Tags | sexual content 18+ minors dni, smut, heavy description of violence and wounds, angsty Word Count | 22k A/N | Oh god, I'm so nervous about posting this. First of all, thank you SO much for the love you showed to Our Dear, Green Little Friend. It has completely warmed my heart that so many of you like it, and even though it's taken me very long to post my next fic, it was one of the key motivations for me to continue writing on it. So thank you very, very much! <3 Also, like I said earlier, I'm very nervous about posting this fic since it's very long and perhaps quite different than what I've written before, but I hope to god you like it! I haven't been in the best mindset when writing it since I've dealt with some stress both privately and at work. I will let you know that I will soon go through it once more and edit it slightly, but I felt like I had to get it out to you guys since I feel bad that I haven't posted in a while, and I'm honestly quite sick of rereading the story time and time again. Please let me know if there are any serious misspellings, and I'll fix it directly! Anyway, sorry for the long text, and I hope you like it!<3

For some, it might’ve seemed cowardly, yet you couldn’t bear to unravel some memories, for they hurt too deeply–wounded too far. However, the thought of letting them fade was somehow worse, and while you feared the pain they would surely bring when confronted, you hadn’t been forced to face them until now. So, it turned out to be quite the coincidence they would come to haunt you now that time seemed to be at a standstill; the world around you had never been this calm before.

“Miss, would you mind taking these back?” A hearty voice broke your thoughts, speaking in a mumbling fashion as the loud sound of books hit the wooden table. Wading through the dust that floated around you that stirred from Eustace’s sudden motion, you found his ageing eyes gazing at you amusedly, chuckling at the sour expression that formed on your otherwise soft features.

“I don’t mind,” you said, giving him a small smile that turned vicious once the heavy pile of books was cradled in your arms. “If you don’t mind taking a round with the whisk.” You didn’t get the chance to see the irked look on his face, disappearing quickly into the towering bookshelves.

“Don’t forget to dust the higher places as well!” Chuckling warmly at the man’s miffed mumbling, you walked on carefully, making sure not to stumble on the ratty carpet as his grumbling grew distant.

The bickering that seemed constant when you conversed with the older man was by all means with no ill intent, more so done in jest. And, while your friendship might seem rather unusual, there was no doubt that his presence brought you an undeniable comfort in a world that had done you more wrong than right. Sure, it might sound dreary, but you recently concluded that you grew more and more content with the thought of staying here.

You loved how a sense of calm always seemed to rest over the building, the smell of old books filling your senses, although an ever-so-poignant whiff of hot steel and grease found its way in from the open window as the train chugged to a stop and steam billowed through the surrounding air. Sighing, you took the liberty of closing the window, the sharp whistle making you cringe as it brought you out of your solitude.

Eustace had taken you under his wing when the bearings of your life had become too heavy, giving you a roof over your head and warm food in your stomach. It made you wonder how sparse kind souls like his were in this world, never having met one quite like him. While your compromised situation originally had been the reason for his kindness, he had found your fascination and vast knowledge of books intriguing and, therefore, refused to take no for an answer when he asked you to start helping him around his bookstore. Yet, despite how much you appreciated it, you couldn’t flee from the unease that still hooked its claws in you when you pondered the reason you had ended up here in the first place, the tendrils of it creeping into the sanctuary of the bookshop like ivy upon ancient stone. Despite your dislike of it, you bore the weight of it every second, and although well hidden, you had become tethered to the memories that followed your past.

Like shattered glass, memories pierced your heart with sharp edges at every twist and turn. Distant echoes of laughter that had long since faded into silence, the faces blurred by time yet etched into your very being passing before you as your pace slowed down, the wooden panels creaking something so terribly under your weight.

With a heavy sigh, you moved among the hundreds of books, fingers deftly tracing the spines as you sought their rightful place amongst their brethren. Arranging them on the shelves, you tried to distract yourself from your thoughts by humming quietly in the otherwise quiet room. The shop had been empty for quite some time now; the townsfolk’s interest in the subtle words on the pages dimmed in their struggle to survive their daily life—only pretentious men stepped inside at times who, by crook or hook, imagined they would leave a mark on this world with their clever words and supposed hierarchy in society. It lessened, though, as they went for bigger–more extraordinary–things than this muck of a town, wherever that might be.

Amidst the quiet rustle of pages and the soft creak of wood–and your less than favourable words, the air suddenly turned congeal, thick with a sudden tension that tickled your senses with its uncertainty. A chill coursed down your spine as you felt an ominous presence looming behind you, casting you in its shadow as the weight of something cold and unyielding pressed against the tender flesh of your temple. With a tremble, you froze, the books once held tightly against your chest cascading to the ground in a tumble.

Your heart was hammering against your chest, beating against your ribs like a caged bird as its frantic beat drowned out the world around you. You grew too fearful to move, the clicking sound of a gun daring you to resist.

“Easy there, miss,” a gravelly voice spoke, vibrating dangerously in your ear as warm breaths turned cold on the bare skin of your neck. “No sudden moves, and I won’t have to hurt you.”

You remembered that voice, feeling it dance just beyond the reaches of your consciousness, its familiarity almost touchable. How could you not voice it when the name lingered on your tongue, teasing and beckoning you? There had to be a mistake; there was no other conclusion to be made, for if it happened to be someone you had known, they might be less agreeable than the common bypasser.

“What do you want?” you managed to whisper, voice barely above a breath.

“Money, jewels. Whatever you got,” the voice replied, words heavy with a certain kind of roughness only a man holding a gun to a woman’s head could possess. “Just keep quiet and do as you’re told, and we’ll be on our way.”

Your mind raced in a jumbled mess of fear and uncertainty at the sudden intrusion you should have known was a high possibility in such a city as Blackwater. Yet, the thought only made your heart heavier against your chest, knowing all too well what kind of men hid in the darker corners of the alleyways. For one to threaten a woman in broad daylight, though, seemed very daring yet not an ounce less terrifying.

Summoning every bit of courage you possessed, you tilted your head to glimpse at the man pushing his head against the side of your face, opposite where the cold metal touched your temple dauntingly. As you did, you met the eyes of the man who held your fate in his hands–and in that fleeting moment, as your gazes met, you saw something flicker behind the hardened exterior of the outlaw.

Recognition dawned like a bolt of lightning. What stared back at you was not the face of a stranger but the familiar features of a man you had once known—a man whose presence had once held the promise of escape amidst the terrible deeds that clouded your life. Arthur Morgan, that’s who was standing behind you. His name echoed in your mind like from a long-forgotten dream, memories hidden so well you could barely remember them.

Two broken souls, trying to find what others seemed to have handed to them on a silver platter: warmth and solace, the comforting thought of finding a home–somewhere to belong. Yet, the relationship wasn’t made to be perfect, and in your despair, nothing good could’ve come from it. As many things go, it became too fragile. It couldn’t—didn’t—last, and what you once saw as a light beyond the heavy curtains of darkness was quickly swallowed up.

Instead of the kind ones you remember, dark, dangerous eyes stared into yours, the swirls of blue coated in a rich black that ran like coal through his acidic gaze. So harsh and cold were they, burning through yours as thick brows fell like a shield over the dark pools, hiding behind his squint and hostile snarl. Almost unrecognizable, he was seemingly both older and larger as the lines on his face were more defined and wrinkles on his nose nearly etched onto his face.

As your fearful eyes stared into his stoic yet calculating ones, you felt your body shiver in fright, every bell of alarm that once sounded so clearly in your mind turning quiet, now only the clock ticking discernible as blood rushed in your ears like a flood. The gun cocked dangerously, dread creeping through you at the wordless threat when you stayed quiet for longer than he had the patience for.

“You deaf?” His growling voice burned deep in his throat. A warm breath brushed against your cheek as he kept your gaze wholly, completely disregarding the unmistakable fear in your expression.

“I-”

You stumbled over your words, voice thick before a gasp left you. Between the disbelief of seeing Arthur’s face once again, although more weathered than you remember, and the thought of having a gun pressed to your temple, there was not a single word you could utter that would seem sensible.

Suddenly, you were turned around, hands pushing you against the bookshelves in a hasty motion, never minding their grip on you. Your head craned as the gun now found your neck, trying desperately to get away from it but instead having it digging harder into your skin.

“Now, are you going to do as I say?” You could feel the tendrils of disgust burn through you, face contorting as you twisted in his arms, proving futile against his leverage.

“Nah, none of that. You hear me?” His grumbling could be heard from deep within his chest while his face soured, the sharp lines of his frown growing darker under the shadow of his hat. Tightening the grip he had on you, his arms wound themselves like vices around you, daring you to make another move.

He was close now, his hot breath chilling the skin on your face as the smell of sweat and leather filled your senses–tears almost welled up in your eyes from the stinging feel of smoke emitted from his clothing. Every calm yet strained breath that left him was audible, contrasting heavily with your hectic breathing that filled the now-empty room.

It was daunting yet all too familiar as memories clouded your mind of the same man who was now threatening your life. Did he even recognize you? Or was he too far gone? Had the devil set its claws so deep inside him that he couldn’t longer differentiate friend from foe? It would seem so, you concluded, gazing again at his hardened face, which only recognized a stranger before him–a puppet to get what he desired the most.

“We ain’t got much.” Your voice strained against your throat, thick with unshed tears that lingered in the corners of your eyes. All you got in return was a faint squint of his eyes, gazing at you cautiously as he looked behind him calmly before returning his eyes to you.

“Do as I say.” Not a word left you, and whether it was from stubbornness or fear, you couldn’t be sure, but the look you were given made sure to convey that crossing him would not end well for you.

That was until it changed. Arthur’s features softened after he observed your face, running his eyes over your eyes and the slope of your nose until they reached your lips, quickly averting his gaze as he turned his head away momentarily. Did he remember you, you wondered, finding no other explanation to make sense.

It was a long time ago, too long for you to consider the shadow of a man standing before you a friend, yet you had never remembered him to be quite so harsh. So, brutal, perhaps? You had undoubtedly missed a few chapters, but the years were far apart, and time had a funny way of doing its worst to those who deserved it the least. Like wet paint, it spreads, leaching onto good people like a virus–just like bad fosters bad, and good fosters good.

“Please…” You pleaded with him, fright seeping like syrup into your shaking voice, pathetic and childish. “I-”

There was no time to finish your sentence. The loud thundering of hooves broke through the room’s tension, audible even through the closed window. Loud calls could be heard, as well as swear words further into the building that you did not recognize as Eustace. Worry filled you when you realized Arthur hadn’t come alone in his business to rob you blind, and now you were fearful that your companion might be in an even worse predicament.

The frown on his face deepened, the hold on his gun softening just enough as he pushed you hastily back towards the bookshelf, your legs weakening underneath you as you fell towards the ground. In long strides, he marched towards the window, hiding behind the wall as he peered out, almost blending into the shadows as the light from outside shone brightly. You could see people running past it, in too much of a hurry to peer inside as the shouts grew louder.

“Arthur!” A voice called out, recognizable as the rich timbre echoed through the corridor, gravelly yet smooth. “We have to leave!” As the last syllable left his mouth, you jerked as the first sound of a gun going off could be heard, hands quick to cover your ears as the noise punched a hole in your gut. “Now, Arthur!”

Everything after that became a blur, your whole body growing rigid as the world turned into chaos. Bullets could be heard going off left and right, rather like a thunderstorm than a gunfight echoing outside the room that now held you in prison. Your body stiffened, muscles tensing as you were brought back to the sounds that filled you with dread, memories flooding you, both unbidden and unwelcome.

Faces twisted in fear, the acrid smell of burning flesh, rising smoke, and gunpowder–sounds of screams echoing in your ears. You wished for it to cease, for the images to disappear, searching every corner of the room for an escape, somewhere you could go to to rid yourself of the horrid thoughts.

Momentarily, amidst your glancing around in stress, you found a pair of calculating eyes boring into yours, seemingly undecided as they stayed planted beside the window. Your breath came out in ragged gasps, the staccato rhythm of gunfire echoing through the building, mingling with shouts of panic and the sound of breaking glass.

Arthur’s gaze was fixated intensely on you, and a sense of uneasiness settled when you realized. It was heavy, and your heart raced as your eyes stayed plastered to the others–the urgent shouts from outside pierced through the silence as danger lurked outside the room’s walls. Yet, you couldn’t help but feel as if he was searching for something in the depths of your soul, piercing you with a scrutiny that left you barer than if he were to strip you of all your clothes and examine you naked. You found yourself unable to look away, moved by the indescribable way he didn’t seem to be either.

“Arthur!”

Barreling through the door in a flash of binges breaking loose and dust clouding your vision, a pair of men fell roughly onto the ground a few meters before you, blood seeping through their clothes like a rich, red paint. Splattering on the ground, it almost reached your clothes as bullets rained after them, shooting holes in the walls the few times it missed their targets.

Frantic eyes searched the now corpses in front of you, expecting to see Eustace's body among them. Yet, you found none–and hadn’t you been too preoccupied with the currants of relief coursing through you, you would have seen the young faces of the poor boys who had found their doom that day only because their perpetrators wanted to fill their pockets.

It didn’t seem that Arthur paid any mind to the mess that transpired in front of your very eyes, more so, still focusing on you like you were the only one in the room. Visibly distressed, it didn’t seem to deter him, his fingers flexing as his gaze burned dangerously under the shadow of his hat.

That was until he suddenly tore his attention from you in annoyance, seemingly finding the dead bodies in front of you a menace, a simple block in the road. That was until a faint grunt seemed to leave one of them, a grunt filled with pain as frantic eyes flickered around while the rest of his limbs appeared paralyzed, only able to stare at the roof.

Rounding him immediately, Arthur stepped around the man, walking with his dirty boots and rattling spurs into the blood that loitered the floor as the sound of the thick, wet fluid reverberated in your ears. Without a single word, he gave you one last glance. You stayed on the floor, clutching your shoulders with your hands as he bent over the man and stared him unapologetically in the eyes–the only sound after being the loud bang of his gun.

The sight was gruesome, and to think a man could do something like that without a blink of an eye, you considered even more cruel. You had seen your fair share of malice and anger, anger that turned even the kindest of men into herds of both sheep and wolves, meaning you couldn’t possibly be surprised. Yet, it reminded you too terribly of a time you thought you now would get the chance to lay behind you, never more having to stare these horrible men in the eyes any longer but instead keep them closed.

And you did keep your eyes closed this time, waiting for the moment pain would fill your chest. Yet, it didn’t come since only silence followed, and when you opened them again, the room was devoid of any life except your own; Arthur now only seemed to have been a figment of your imagination if it weren't for the poor victim, his blue eyes staring lifelessly into yous, wide open and terrified, seemingly having turned to you in the last second, hoping you would save him from his terrible fate.

—

Some would say you were of the quiet sort, choosing the words that fell from your lips carefully, both pondering and cautious. It came from a life where those assets were vital, a simple way to keep your tongue in check and do what you had to survive –which you would like to say wasn’t easy when it felt like your mind ran a thousand miles a second, never resting and finding it troublesome to make sense of the world that unveiled itself before you.

With your mother gone, you found yourself thrust into a world of uncertainty, your father's callousness only serving to worsen the fate you seemed to have been handed as he appeared indifferent to your loss, attention consumed by the demands of those around him. But alas, he was affected too, and you had come to learn that different people react differently to whatever hardships they come by–and those who don’t respond at all seem to be the ones that eventually act the harshest.

That was at least how your father had acted; you perceived his anger as something only a daughter could experience from a father. It was brutal and sudden, only appearing after a silence that rang like sirens in your ears–then grappling and choking. What could possess a man to harbor such anger, you couldn’t say, and while you knew he had it worse when he was little, you wondered if the thought of you only being a child ever crossed his mind.

You should be filled with anger and resentment, so much it could consume your life, fuel every action, and affect every choice you make. You should’ve been immersed in sadness, crying until your voice gave out and tears dried up, yet you couldn’t. They were inside of you; you could feel them leaking into your chest, and as you stared into your own dry eyes, you could only see the malice of your father reflected in them–the malice that seemed to be reflected in most eyes these days.

It didn’t matter if it was the ladies who sometimes passed by the dusty town of Blackwater or the lone man begging for coins in the corner of some run-down store. Deep-seated anger was in them all, rooted so gravely it felt like the air blackened when you stepped outside. Like a curse, it seeped into the very bones and festered there.

Why? Perhaps that’s just how humans work, always needing something to prove that the inhabited anger they felt had a cause, always searching to direct it to someone else less deserving of it. So, perhaps there wasn’t anyone to blame for the whole thing—maybe it was just the nature of humans–just like happiness or sadness is a natural way of expressing oneself. It seemed more manageable for you to grapple with it when thought of that way, for it became more of a fact than somewhere to cast your blame.

That’s why, when the bodies being dragged out the door left their track of dark, red blood, you could only gaze at Eustace, who spoke to one of the officers, refusing to look at the bloodshed around you. It turned out that your old man had been fine, answering in irritation while he told the sheriff that the outlaws probably hadn’t found him big enough of a threat as they searched every cabinet and shelf, taking no care to be careful of the things around them as it tumbled in heaps to the floor.

You couldn’t be sure if you felt relieved or not to have been further away from Eustace than you had been, wondering how your fate would have been decided if the lot of them had found you instead. Perhaps it had been your saving grace to see that the man from your past reached you first, but you couldn’t possibly say. Or maybe your saving grace was the officers who reached you just in time, for there was no telling what Arthur would have done with you had they not arrived when they did.

When you thought about it, he’d always been unpredictable. While his face was familiar to you, he was unrecognizable in many ways. His movements had been calculating and menacing, and his eyes looked right through you as if it didn’t matter who was standing before him. The only thought reflected in his eyes was the hope of shiny gold and glittering diamonds. But there was also greed–greed and hunger.

You could tell, for you had seen it before. There was a time when that was all you saw, and for a long while, you wondered how far a man could go to satiate his needs–if greed only could grow, worsen like a drug. The more you got, the more you needed, the high never enough, and the thought of gaining more pleasurable to the point of doing anything to receive it.

However, it was never a look you had seen coming from Arthur when you’d known him, as he’d been more prone to emit a childish want for justice and righteousness, pride, and a strong sense of doing what was right though the act was considered wrong. But it was a long time ago, and you realized that your vision might be clouded by a young girl's naivety that the world was a good place–that people could be wholeheartedly good.

“Dear girl.” Your thoughts were broken by Eustace’s low, seemingly now more careful voice, walking over to where you stood amidst the rushing forms of lawmen. “Are you alright?”

Were you? It was hard to tell, so you had no straight answer to give him. It was too crowded, and since you had nowhere to gather yourself, you weren’t in the right mind to devise a sensible response. So, instead, you answered in a way that would get you the least amount of questions–even though it might have been considered lying.

“Oh, I’m alright, Eustace; they never got the chance to find me.” Giving him a tight-knit smile, you touched his arm, grateful for his concern. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

You glanced up at him, finding his sharp eyes doubtful. You should have known. He never took kindly to lying and had an incredible knack for noticing when someone did. It would indeed be your doom one day–and many others, no doubt.

“No, I suspect they didn’t find the old man much of a threat.”

“Well, I’m glad they didn’t.” His eyes softened, and he heard your words despite your mumbling. Your gaze stayed stuck on his shoulder, deep in thought.

Even though the danger had passed for some time, it still felt like your heart resided somewhere deep in your stomach. Your thoughts and the looming dread–the slightly metallic smell of blood filling your nose—were heavy. It didn’t help that Arthur’s face became more prone to showing up after that incident, his grim expression wearing a sharp nose and piercing eyes cutting through the yellowed paper plastered on the city walls, surrounded by his unlawful friends that didn’t look any less menacingly.

5000§. That was the price for a man taking what he deemed his own, countless murders and robberies on his hands, blood heavy on his mind, and dollars flooding his pockets. It didn’t help your case that the poor boy selling newspapers in the corner outside the bookstore had pipes to last for days, reminding both you and the townspeople of their latest misfortune of having a gang hiding in the shadows.

Since trouble always seemed to find you, there wasn’t much for you to chastise yourself with, all too familiar with the thought of being at the deep end of one conflict or another. It was laughable, really, that one person could be doomed with such a case of bad luck and an increasing magnetism towards people who fought with bloodied knuckles for power and status. But, in the end, maybe the weak belonged to the strong��just like flies sought feed from the skin of rotting corpses to consume the waste left by those who always strived forward, no matter their intentions or values. Perhaps it was an unspoken law of nature, an inevitable dance between vulnerability and dominance, where the fragile were snared in its horrid embrace.

What could you possibly do against nature’s firm grip on the world? It wasn’t as if it was an imagined force you could call upon when needed—it was just how it was, and no amount of will or strength could make that fact undeniable. You came to terms with that realization long ago, but the gnawing feeling in your chest was more stomach-twisting than anything you had felt before. What you were scared of, you possibly couldn’t say. Perhaps it was the leftover tremors that still coursed through you or the dampening feeling of nausea that persisted, yet somehow, it was something else, a faint sense that the danger wasn’t over yet.

Could Arthur be the one causing the cold sweat to run down your back even though the room was boiling from the heat outside, making you twist and turn in your bed as you prayed that the wind that sometimes passed through the slightly open window would carry an ounce of coldness so you could feel anything but the enclosing heat that now seemed to warm you to the bone? Your eyes closed tight as if you pressed them hard enough; you would fool your mind that you were asleep, the gnawing voices in your head ceasing so you could, perhaps, finally rest.

There was no doubt about it—you were frightened. It was unusual, this feeling, since while you’ve had many instances in your life where fear was the key factor, after some time, your body—or mind perhaps— grows familiar with it, so familiar that it washes away with the wind. Some fare well when scared, responding automatically as if their minds grow clearer when faced with the means to survive. In others, which is the category where you fit in, grow blank, like a heavy fog settles, keeping you from sensing left and right. A perfect prey, indeed.

And a perfect prey you were, the open window inviting anyone who happened to pass by, and in excellent condition for someone to climb the two stories to reach the wooden frames and then slink into the room with their grubby fingers and glinting eyes—stupid girl, to think so carelessly as if the streets were safe and people were kind.

Clothes rustling into the quiet night could be heard if you focused your ears hard enough, the floorboards creaking under the soles of muddy boots and clinking metal. Whoever could it be, one might wonder—and you grew paralyzed as the thought hit you, only able to stare at the tapestry that covered the wall in intricate patterns. The room’s darkness lets you hear every slight sound that would otherwise blend into the background, your senses heightened.

Perhaps the perpetrator thought you were asleep, your dreams already taking you to a land where you were dancing among clouds, not a single thought of the fright that would soon take over and turn the clouds so dark you couldn’t differentiate them from reality. Then, you thought, maybe you had been asleep as the sounds disappeared, all too familiar with waking up along the frantic beating of your heart, wide awake as horrible nightmares chased you till morning.

Your laboured breaths were the only thing that could be heard now, only a fool mistaking them for sleeping as you tried to steady your erratic heart. But you would soon find that the cold chill that ran up your clothed arm wasn’t the wind from the window caressing you but the hand of something more foul, riddled with scars that seemed insignificant in contrast to its owner’s sin.

Creaking under you, the bed groaned from the sudden weight, bedsheets rustling slightly as you closed your eyes tightly shut. The figure loomed over you, its large hand carefully moving further down your arm. You wondered, perhaps, if you stayed still long enough, you would be left alone or maybe dismissed as dead if you held your breath long enough. The thought seemed more appealing when you felt the cold skin burn through the garment, the smell of smoke so strong it felt as if you took a drag of the tobacco and let it scald its way to your lungs. It was vile, and in the presence of the sweat that bit its way through your nose, your eyes watered, your body begging to escape the horrid stench.

That was until the pressure lessened, and the room stayed quiet for a while, your heart beating so heavily it felt like someone held it right up to your ear, breath shaking with every small intake. But then, as the silence continued, you felt a warmth spread slowly down your arms, the substance thick like syrup as it made its way through the cotton of your shirt, spreading til the white fabric darkened to a deep, unsettling red. The scent of iron filled the air, subtle yet unmistakable as the shirt clung tighter to the skin beneath.

You shot your squinting eyes wide open just in time to feel a heavy weight falling over you, unmoving and grim as what you now saw was a man gasping for air. Your first instinct was to scream, but you didn’t get the chance as a hand roughly placed its palm against your mouth, leaving the terrified noise that escaped you muted while your eyes flickered around wildly, trying to make sense of what was going on.

“Quiet now,” a rough voice spoke, removing its hand from your mouth when you became quiet, too shocked when recognizing who it was that spoke. It only grew heavier when your eyes got more familiar with your surroundings, the heaviness that lingered over you being in the form of a man, the warmth you had felt turning out to be from the deep cut across his neck, blood seeping like a waterfall from the paling flesh.

Another scream left you as you struggled to get the limbs away, squirming and trashing as you pushed the hand off you in the process as you begged for the suffocating smell of iron and sweat to disappear. When it did, you crawled backward, body bathing in the slick, blood-soaked sheets. Pushed to the floor, the man was left in a lifeless heap, eyes staring vacantly into the distance.

Those eyes–the sharp nose and squinting eyes—seemed familiar, reminding you of someone you couldn’t quite put your finger on, not while the room remained dark. However, you didn’t have the chance to ponder any longer as more harshly than before, a hand covered your mouth as you remained pushed up against the bedframe, coddling your hands to your chest.

Wet eyes stared into a pair of dark pools, once blue eyes now appearing black in the obscurity of the night as its facial features bathed in the light from the moon. Even still, it was hard to make out who it was, but his voice alone was enough for the realization to set in, now undoubtedly aware of who held your mouth with one hand and the shining blade of a knife in the other.

“Keep screaming, and you’ll damn us both.” A familiar, grumbling voice spoke out, hushed, yet the warning of danger lay smoldering underneath the surface.

“Arthur?” Your voice was hoarse when you spoke, riddled with shock when you realized that the man you had feared was in your bedroom, unwelcomed and unwished for.

“Wh-” You didn’t get to finish your question before he ripped his hand from you, casting you a dark look as he stepped off the bed, the floorboards groaning awfully at the sudden weight.

“Quiet.” There was no need for him to say anything else as you complied, the rattling anger in his voice only fueling his hasty, rigid movements as he bent down, checking the pulse of the man bleeding out on the floor.

The sight was gruesome, blank eyes shining in the moonlight as if they were somewhere far away, lost in a dream. A dream, you pondered amidst your shock. Yes, this could all very well be a dream—a bad dream, perhaps, yet the thought of it maybe not being real brought you a sense of comfort. But how could it be? It felt too real, and you could vividly recall every moment as it played out in front of you, feel every touch, and smell every scent.

Lost in a haze, you stared down at your body, the thick, red blood more visible as your eyes got used to your surroundings. Closing your eyes, you cast away the faint memories that grew bolder as the smell of iron crawled up your nose, almost gagged by the sight and the imposing smell that grew stuffier, fuller somehow.

Your eyes shot open, watching the dead body heaved on Arthur’s shoulder being thrown over the window sill, the impact noticeable with a loud thud. You could only stare at him as he leaned over, looking around quickly before turning towards you again, nodding his head towards the window.

If you had been in the right mindset and not scared witless, you would have laughed at his blatant naivety for thinking you would dive head-first into the darkness of the night, with him no less. There might have been a time when you knew him, but that wasn’t the case anymore—the dark eyes cowering behind his hat were unrecognizable, and the unkind tone of his voice was entirely someone else’s.

“Shit,” you heard him mumble when you made no motion to move from your spot, only cradling your arms tighter around you. Rubbing his eyes in stress, he glanced at you again, almost scoffing at you when you gave him a blank stare.

“Come on then, I ain’t got all day.” As you made no further movement that would give him the impression you were complying, he sighed and, with heavy steps, stalked towards you as the bed rattled slightly from his movements. You only held out your hands when he grabbed your waist roughly, fingers betraying you as they trembled wildly against his chest.

“What are you doing, Arthur?” His movements halted, his leatherbound hands stopped around your middle, and his eyes twitched when he heard his name being spoken. Along the ridges of harshness, you could see a faint confusion lingering in his stare, blatantly staring deep into your eyes unabashedly as he lifted you from the bed.

“Wha—” You pushed against his chest, and while it didn’t succeed in making him back off, it only made his brows furrow deeper.

“Listen here,” he said darkly, grabbing your upper arms and shaking you slightly. “Do as I say—follow my every word, and you won’t die.”

You stopped for a moment, bewildered by his words. You couldn’t make sense of it—none of it. Questions were brewing in your mind, but you couldn’t find the words to speak them, couldn’t find the words to scream for help. It might seem funny to be scared of a man you once knew to have a good heart, but you have known men your whole life, and it never takes much for them to see right from wrong and still do the wrong thing.

“What’s going on, Arthur?” you breathed shakily, glancing at his hands, which gripped your arms when they tightened. It was hard to imagine that they had once been so gentle, the thought seemingly miles away as you returned your gaze to his squinting eyes, so close now that you could feel his breath against your skin. “Why are you here?”

Your voice had grown quiet as the question hung loose in the air. Shuddering, the wind flowed wildly into the room, banging the windows against the wall.

“Come on,” Arthur curtly said as he pushed you in front of him. You quickly realized you could hear footsteps from the stairs behind the shut door—Eustace, you thought, a cold chill running up your back as you gasped.

When you stopped before Arthur in protest, he only gave you a mean glance when you gazed back in concern, telling you all you needed to know. Disbelief was written on your face when you realized his cruelty, feeling it reverberating in your head a few moments before you could make sense of it.

“Don’t-”

“Then do as I say.” He whispered harshly, pushing you forward to make you move, and this time, your feet strode hastily toward the window. Two stories high, the room was, and before you could glance back in protest, Arthur pushed past you quickly, landing with a heavy thud against the dusty ground, clouds of it forming as it danced in the falling glow from the lamppost.

The street below was bathing in darkness, the sullied street more daunting from this high up and saddening when Eustace’s voice could be heard echoing through the hallway, his worried tone reverberating through the walls. It was hard to leave and listen to him calling out for you, yet you realized there wasn’t a choice for you now, and a big part of you refused to see him come to harm. If Arthur would’ve stayed true to his threat, that is.

You couldn’t say why you were so scared, having faced dangers more bone-chilling than this. But perhaps you feared to once more fall into the wrong arms, the arms of a man who reminded you of a past you’d rather lay behind you. But that might’ve always been the case for people who lived a hard life, feeling it better to put it to rest than reawaken it.

Without casting a glance behind you to see the shadow in the hallway flicker wildly as a stressed cane could be heard audibly hitting the wooden floor; you climbed over the window frame, the chipping paint sticking to your tightly gripping hands. It wasn’t until the trashing of air surrounded you that you fell into a pair of arms that immediately embraced you, hands gripping under your waist to ease your landing.

Quickly, before his hand could linger, you backed away, relieved when you no longer felt the tight hold he had managed to capture you in. His gaze remained heavy on you, and you did your utmost to avoid him, letting your eyes falter, not daring to meet him. How he could act so carelessly, you couldn’t possibly justify, yet his presence alone made you take a few steps back.

His movements were harsh as he adverted his eyes, and you could see how his body was rigid and tense, as if he’d been bathing in ice-cold water. He glanced towards the window, walking towards you as he motioned you to turn around and walk through the streets until the building disappeared behind tons of others, his grip on your arm tight like he worried you would slip out his grasp—or attempt to. Most likely, you thought, knowing exactly what he would do if you tried when considering his earlier threat.

“Where are you taking me?” You applauded yourself for dampening the tremble in your voice when you spoke, somehow finding the simple thought mildly embarrassing while aware it would be entirely valid if you did. This time, you found yourself getting an answer to your question, and although harsh and hasty, it gave you reason to question its meaning.

“Somewhere safe,” Arthur grumbled under his breath before pushing your back against the local general’s store wall, your figure hidden behind his large frame in the deserted alley. You made another attempt to question him further, only managing to open your mouth before the leather of his gloves covered it, hushing you as his eyes found yours, a threat lying deep within them.

A few moments passed in silence, the brick wall against your back cold as the small stones pressed uncomfortably against your shoulder blades. Moving slightly, you turned your head to gaze out towards the street, finding Arthur’s hand turning your face back instantly, shaking his head.

It wasn’t long before loud footsteps could be heard through the streets, metal clanking and murmurs echoing as their shadows grew taller from the orange light of the lamppost.

“Be still,” Arthur whispered under his breath, the sound of his gun cocking slowly as if to make as little noise as possible. Stepping away from you, he motioned you to step further into the alley, where the darkness would almost swallow you whole. “Stay there until l come back, and keep quiet.”

You didn’t get the chance to follow his command, though; the sharp sound of a gun went off, the noise so bone-rattling in the quiet, sleeping town it likened to the sound of thunder—a thunder turning into a full-blown storm as it didn’t even take a millisecond before bullets rained through the air, shooting holes into walls and shattering surrounding windows.

Your back found the brick wall again, Arthur’s back meeting your front as he shielded you with his body. Peeking from behind the building, the sound of his gun went off booming in your ear, his face growing even more grim, cursing under his breath as a bullet flew right past him. His weight pushed against yours when he once more took cover, taking the chance to reload as you gazed at the small cut on his neck where the bullet had grazed him—happy that it hadn’t been you.

Your hands turned pale as they gripped Arthur’s jacket, eyes screwing shut as the noise around you only grew nearer, each intake of breath shallow and rapid, as if the air in and of itself had turned hostile. Desperation clawed at your mind, begging you to slip away from the man holding you back and make a run for it, but you found that you couldn’t, damning yourself for staying still when all you wanted to do was get away.

Although warmth suddenly enveloped your hand, the rough leather and warm fingers wrapped around your sweaty ones. You opened your eyes, breathing erratically as you were once more met with the familiarity of Arthur’s jacket. As you glanced down, you caught a glimpse of his hand encasing you before the sight disappeared just as the feeling passed. You wondered if the hard, cold man in front of you had been the one to do it or if you’d imagined it.

With no more time to ponder, Arthur hastily stepped out on the streets, wildly looking around him with his gun raised as he turned his body in all directions. All dead, you presumed, as no more shots were being fired, yet you could hear more footsteps coming your way, alarmed voices shouting as doors slammed open in the distance.

“Shit,” Arthur muttered, a loud whistle cutting through the air before he returned to you, casting a glance your way as you gazed worryingly towards the direction of the loud calls, stumbling towards Arthur, feeling like the ground was tilting beneath your feet.

“What’s happening?”

“Law,” he stated, grasping your waist and hoisting you up what you discovered was his horse. The strong muscles flexed under your weight as you sat behind the saddle, and the chestnut coat softened under your fingers as you tried to find stability.

“Hold on,” Arthur said after heaving himself onto the saddle, casting a look backward when you took too long to follow his words, only setting off when your hands crawled tentatively around his waist, gripping the material under your hands firmly.

You wanted to ask him where he was taking you, but fear choked up your words and rattled your brain as you tried to comprehend your current predicament. So, instead, you held onto his jacket til your fingers turned a paler shade, closing your eyes as you wished that with it, you could disappear—perhaps wake up in your bed once more and feel the morning sun shine brightly upon you as it had done now for quite some time, instead of the cold, harsh air blowing against you, seeping through every garment you were wearing.

You had happily laid the unknown fate behind you when you found Eustace, not knowing the past from the present—not knowing what lay before you. As a child, it had been everything you’d known. And, being brought up always moving, you’d grown used to a stable home, a far-off dream, if even that, since you had never known that stability existed. Food on the table, clean clothes that didn’t reek of sweat and were stained with dirt, and clean water that would surely do you better than the burning alcohol you often got as a substitute for liquid.

All in all, finding a home with Eustace had been a blessing, no matter how absurd your situation may have looked to others. Therefore, suddenly, having to leave made everything ten times worse—you didn’t want to go, and you cursed the man in front of you, cursing him for disrupting your peace, for taking you away for—well, you weren’t quite so sure yet.

Although it itched inside you to ask him, you hadn’t missed the part where Arthur seemingly wasn’t the man you had once known. Therefore, you kept your mouth shut, not daring to speak a word while you gazed behind you as the city lights dimmed with time, buildings replaced with trees, and people with animals that scourged away into the woods surrounding the path when the clacking of hooves grew near.

You rode for a long while in silence, and with every chance you got, you glanced behind you, expecting to see the sheriff’s men closing in on you despite Arthur’s brutal pace—to see the pistols aimed at you in a way you’d thought you’d laid behind you after all those years on the run. But no, no galloping horses followed you, only darkness engulfing your sight as you looked back, the only noise the huffing of the horse beneath you.

Night turned to day, and you never stopped to regain your breath, to make sense of your surroundings. It was consuming, yet you took the chance to feel the now brisk air of the morning caress your cheeks softly, smell the bracing dew and the carrying of fresh air before the heat would set in a few hours. For a long while, you’d forgotten how good it felt to be outside of the city map with no walls confining you, no bustling crowds jostling for space. Nature’s gentle, soothing sounds replaced the constant hum of urban life—machinery and voices. The rustling leaves, the chirping of birds, and the distant call of wildlife may have once done their best to soothe your rattled nerves, yet it didn’t ease now, and you found yourself only growing more nervous.

—

“We ain’t got no other choice but to stay here tonight,” Arthur said as the horse slowed to a trot, examining the area as he squinted against the sharp evening sun. “Reckon, we’ll be safe enough out here. If they ain’t following us, of course.”

A small sigh left you, almost letting a groan escape you as you moved slightly behind the saddle. Feeling the muscles ache deep within, you were unwilling to face a second longer seated atop the horse. You didn’t even register his last words and their hidden threat, trying to remind you what heap of danger you were in—as if you weren’t aware, as if he didn’t already make you more at edge.

As the horse finally stopped at a place Arthur found agreeable, you didn’t wait a second to glide down towards the ground, feeling your feet planted on firm ground, the grass underneath them heavenly as you stretched with your newly-found freedom.

“Don’t run away,” Arthur muttered as his gaze stayed on you, warning laying deep in his voice.

“And where would I go?” Raising your arms, you gave him a frustrated look, not understanding how he would even make the assumption that you could, the landscape stretching on for miles with only vegetation and no roads as far as the eye could see, only lurking animals awaiting you with open mouths and greedy arms.

“I don’t know, just don’t do it,” he grumbled, sliding off the saddle before throwing you a blanket. As he crouched down, making you believe he was setting up a fire, you walked closer to him, carefully watching the guns on his back, like devil horns sprouting like bone from his shoulders.

“Arthur,” you began, hugging the blanket to your chest. “Will you tell me who those men were?” His mood was terrible, yet somehow, the words left you before you could stop them. There was, of course, still lingering anger at him inside of you, the underlying tones of sorrow that stung its way through you. Yet, you had to know—had to understand why he had turned his visit into a raging bloodbath and who that man was whose blood had dried up your clothes as the fabric had now grown thick and pasty.

“The law, I already told ya,”

“I know that,” you sighed, trying again, finding it easier to look at him when his back was turned. “But the men before that, and the man in my bedroom….” you trailed off, recalling the horrid moment and the consuming smell of blood, the lifeless eyes once again staring straight through you, brows still furrowed while the eyes stayed wide open.

He halted slightly in his motions, casting a glance sideways yet not entirely looking at you as he rubbed his eyes. Sweat ran down his face as he lowered his hat to rid himself of the still-blazing sun, cursing under his breath at the damned warmth that almost felt torturous when the wind laid to rest.

“Jesse’s men,” he said, continuing his earlier action. Your stomach plunged, shock traveling through your body as you froze, wishing sincerely he’d said any name but that.

“And the man in my be-”

“Jesse.”

“Oh.”

Backing slightly, you could feel your throat constricting when the familiar name left Arthur’s mouth. It had been a long time ago, yet now it seemed so near, almost too near, being able to grasp the memories that made your heart lurch and stomach turn, something waxy and cold lining your insides at the thought.

Although, with it being given more thought, wasn’t this just your luck? Had it not always been your luck? To find yourself amid everything terrible, of all that was rancid and chaotic—entangled in the embrace of men who, above all else, desired more, strove towards gaining what they deemed necessary. Because of this, there had been many instances where you had felt greed, the familiarity with currents so strong there was no other explanation than rendering yourself no better than others when it came to it. And, unfortunately, it was consistent, for it appeared in everyone—everywhere—whether consciously or not, there had been no way for you to unsee it.

“But I don’t understand,” you said, your voice quiet as you spoke to yourself, gaze far off as you absentmindedly stared into thin air. “Jesse already killed Charlie. Why would he go after me, and now of all times? He couldn’t possibly be that greedy?” Silence followed, Arthur’s eyes finally meeting yours with reluctance, as if your question bothered him more than he wanted to let on. “Could he?”

“It ain’t—” he trailed off, eyes flickering as if pondering how best to form the words soon to be said. “Well,” he said more directly this time. “Death ain’t enough for some, I guess.”

As his words sunk in, Arthur avoided your gaze, the silence from you enough to tell him that he’d struck a chord in you with his admittance. Horrifying, yet how could it surprise you when you had faced the inner turmoil of men many times, knowing the ways of honor and respect they so desperately clung to? Although there was an underlying dread to his words—like someone had wrapped a bag over your lungs when you thought of what could’ve been—where you could’ve been if Arthur hadn’t been there that night.

When you were both smaller and much more naive than today, you’d seen the bullet that flew right through your father’s skull with both eyes by the hand of Jesse, wide open and undoubtedly too young to stand witness to such a thing—no less it being a parent. You’d been too little; you simply didn’t understand it, and while you can honestly say it didn’t impact you then, being too used to seeing things like that firsthand and not particularly close to your father, it plastered itself onto you like a stamp whether you liked it or not.

Charlie, your father, had grown too careless and brave to think himself above others, particularly Jesse. All in all, that didn’t sit right with him, and as your father went through the grief of losing your mother, growing both colder and meaner with time—an image of his former self—he didn’t have much to care for except the gluttony that grew more consistent as the years passed. Sometimes, you’d ponder if any man could be blamed for it, for it seemingly was engraved in our bones, perhaps a fundamental part of the human mind.

You’d concluded you couldn’t cast that blame at your father when he tried to usurp Jesse, for then greed battled greed, and you had to choose which one was more deserving of understanding. Yet, you soon came to realize it didn’t matter who was more deserving, for power played a bigger part, and it didn’t care for either justice or discernment—only in which hands it could grow stronger, in which mind it could spread its dark tendrils until it grew satisfied. The only problem was that it never did, and you deemed it the downfall of many, both great and horrible men, those who deserved it and those who didn’t.

After that, you didn’t have much more to say, continuing the late evening in silence as your mind raced terribly after your conversation. You couldn’t help but stay unsurprised by Arthur’s theory, somewhere deep down knowing they probably did have much more in the plan for their leader’s revenge. Death, all in all, might not be so horrible after all when you’d imagine all the other vile and stomach-wrenching things one could do to deem their revenge agreeable—righteous.

It was impossible to imagine yourself being the one to endure it. You almost felt lighthearted at the thought of men’s grabby hands and hungry eyes, conjuring up bone-chilling scenarios that would make any sane person’s face pale and skin gray. The slap of a harsh backside of someone’s palm was, of course, humiliating enough for you. Still, with time, it somehow felt less personal, as if the memory healed with the bruise, while someone infringed on the fleshier part of yourself, not quite humiliation, for it stretched farther than that—scarred deeper. Pure rot and filth would surely spread through your body and mind, growing until it became a part of you, your past, and your future.

Your fright for Arthur did lessen as you pondered, growing thankful when you deemed his company much more preferable than the men who sought after you. It reminded you of a time he’d been the safest point in your life—perhaps the first since you laid in your mother’s arms, the warmth only a child could feel from a parent. Safe and undoubtedly free, his arms around you not encasing you—caging you in—but pushing you forward so you could feel the air of the wild blow through your hair, showing you there was more to life than death and violence, that there could be more to a man than his demons.

Of course, you had known what he was capable of—the brutality he wielded with his hands, the blood that tainted them, tainted him. In some deranged way, that thought had always made him even more comforting than he would be without it. It was what you’d known your whole life, and there was no hiding it. It drew you in, but never once had he made the slightest incantation of hurting you, and that’s what made you stay.

God, you’d been so alike, you and Arthur, and your childhood likewise. It felt like he’d been explaining your life when he told you of his. It didn’t help, for it glued you together, and you wondered if it could even be undone, knowing the rip of the glue, if you ever did, would strip away both skin and bones—take so much from you you were unsure if it could ever heal again. To think it would be horrifying indeed, and in the end, it was; the bruising went so deep you’d wanted to dry-heave when you left, almost ripping your heart out with everything else as you pushed him away.

You wondered, the saddest smile almost showing on your lips, if he had realized how carefully he had handled you since you first laid eyes on him, thinking not of his threats and harsh demeanor but the thoughts behind his actions. Ever so thoughtful and very unbecoming of him, yet somehow entirely expected of his character. You lowered your head, letting your hair fall around you as you tried hiding how the corners of your lips suddenly turned into a frowning smile like you were in on a sad secret only you knew about.

As you tried forcing your lips to maintain their straight appearance, you raised your eyes carefully after some time, observing Arthur through your lashes as he gazed into the fire. Leaning against an oak, he sought shade from the sun after providing you with something to eat. He seemed deep in thought as the flames caressed his face in the darkening evening, highlighting his sharp, harsh features. A heavy shadow cast over his eyes, hiding what thoughts lay behind them.

He looked no doubt like a man to fear, with features just as deadly as he was, like the guns resting on his hips and the twitching of his fingers ready for even the slightest inclination of danger. It looked like he was sleeping, yet he was vibrating with tension, like his mind was resting without his body, as if it ran on auto, already aware of every danger that could occur upon you as if it was plastered in the back of his eyelids.

You conclude that living the life he did would surely do that to a person. You’re not sure what he’s been through since you last saw him but deem it nothing good. Your eyes wandered over his face, gazing over the slightly suntanned skin, watching how the evening breeze made his roughly cut hair tickle his face. The trail of beard started to form, littering down to his neck, where a cluster of chest hair took over, disappearing invitingly into the unbuttoned part of his shirt.

Lingering over the bare skin that glistened with an inclination of sweat from the still humid air and fading sun, they followed over the expanse of his chest that stretched the fabric of his shirt, rising steadily in harmony with his breathing. The faint feeling of his skin under your fingertips ran through your mind, the slight memory so far away that only the feeling persisted. The sharp, musky smell of smoke was almost burning under your nostrils as the feeling persisted, coupled with a smoldering scent that was hard to word; you could nearly feel the warm skin underneath you—the faint sense of hair tickling your cheek.

It calmed you to watch him, the slow breaths that left him making your eyes grow heavy as time ticked on, the chilling fog of night settling in, accompanied by the warmth of the fire you so desperately relied on. It wasn’t until you were at the brink of sleep a pair of darkened eyes met yours, bathing in the glow from the fire, that your eyes faltered, a scorching blush fighting its way up the skin of your chest till it covered your cheeks wholly—shit. It grew hotter, the air suddenly turning stuffed as embarrassment from your delirious, wandering eyes had been caught red-handed.

You could only stare at the ground in shame, the small pebbles suddenly turning interesting as your eyes stared in false interest. You blamed it on your worn-out mind, the fatigue that had overtaken your body, trying to justify it to yourself. You felt the brutality of another pair planted on you, unwavering, hoping to higher powers they would dissipate so you could pity yourself without an audience.

“Cold?” Arthur’s gruff voice broke the silence, the words still quiet, making it sound more like a statement than a question.

Did he mistake your blushing cheeks for you being cold? Or, had your distracted mind kept you from realizing that the cold air had done so when the darkening sky fell upon you, too? Crossing your arms over your chest, you felt a shudder run through you, hairs raising as if on cue.

“I suppose so,” you mumbled, inching closer to the fire that had begun to falter. The embers around it were glowing red as they crackled loudly into the night, the sudden noise making you jump slightly.

“Mmh.”

You stared into the flames as silence followed, refusing to meet his eyes. Your pulse was still pounding quickly, and your mind was caught in the horrible moment. Hell, you’d say it bordered on humiliating, throwing off your facade of irritation directed at Arthur and his actions that you were so dead-set on keeping up as well as your walls—so high he couldn’t peer over them the way you couldn’t look over his.

“Come here.”

Your eyes fitted to his, in an instance, baffled by the words that left his mouth, if even that was what he said and not something your sleep-deprived mind made up.

You could only stare at him for a while, trying to decipher the hidden meaning behind his words. Your face was straight as Arthur stared back at you with an expression that could rival yours, arms crossed over his chest, and he leaned against the tall oak. You damned his ability to keep his face so unreadable, eyes still as sharp as they always seemed. His voice was calmer, perhaps slightly warmer, heating like embers glowing in the hearth.

“What?” you mumbled tiredly, voice laced with a sleepy confusion.

“You’ll die of hypothermia before I even get the chance to get you out of here.” His tone was laced with annoyance, grumbling irritably as if the mere thought of the conversation you had bothered him immensely—as if the words leaving him were reluctant and bothersome.

He didn’t continue, staring at the flames flickering wildly when the wind suddenly picked up—if it was a means to avoid your now wakened eyes or the nonchalance in his spoken words, you couldn’t tell.

The irritation that had been simmering in your mind grew at his words. Your throat constricted with words you wanted to speak, wanting to tell him that there wasn’t a single fiber of your being wishing to be close to him, to give him such a privilege. Had the world turned his head that daft, or had he simply stopped caring what effect his words and actions had on others, no less you?

A few moments passed, and you stared at him, eyes growing hard and sharp like glass, where confusion and fear were replenished. So, to rid both of you from the onslaught of feelings coursing through you, you turned around on the hard ground, bringing your arms tighter against you for warmth as a shudder ran through you.

“When did you grow so cruel?” you asked quietly into the night, watching the warm air leaving your mouth become clouds when you breathed a shaking breath. You weren’t sure if you were speaking about his sudden audacity or the change in his character that so starkly contrasted the one you had known. Nonetheless, you didn’t expect an answer, but you did get one, and a humorless laugh accompanied it as if the truth was some masochistic joke.

“If you only knew.”

—

The night continued in silence, and you woke between the hours from the cold, staring heedlessly into the darkness, ears taut as every noise made your breath hitch, almost expecting to find prying eyes staring back at you when you got the guts to open them. But, as sunlight found its way to you behind the trees, rising warmly over the cliffs, you could finally feel yourself relaxing against the hard ground, bringing the jacket that lay over you closer as you breathed in the scent of smoke and something warmer, muskier.

Blue orbs, hidden beneath the surface of anger and hatred, gazed at you through squinted eyes as the orange tendrils hit the skin of your cheeks just above ĥis jacket. They followed along the strands of hair that ran down your face, tickling your skin slightly as you shook them away from your face in deep sleep.

For far too long, they had only seen gruesome sights—things that would make even the strongest men empty their stomachs. So they stayed a while longer, feasting their eyes on something lovelier—a forbidden fruit laid out before them. The steady breathing lulled them closer as if calling for them, begging them to stray nearer until skin touched skin.

The skin he had once known so well, so well the mere thought of it had become less of a luxury and more of a second nature, a constant need. You might’ve let time do its part in receding the memories, but not him—not when every thought of you had become his way of finding something good in this world—his world. Whatever was left of it gnawed at him, clawed at the inside of his flesh, the scars with age growing visible, larger to only himself; only the aftermath of anger and resentment was what was shown to the world.

Embedded in the darkest corners of his mind, you laid like a hidden haven, formless yet shaped by recollection. He rarely touched it, for every time he did, he found the flesh of you that was once so bright, so warm, turned colder and grayer, rot spreading its way up your delicate skin, his disease only managing to span through your body. The eyes had grown too lifeless to be associated with yours, the sunken eyes dull and almost bordering on hateful. He couldn’t stand it, so he let it be after some time, outmost refusing to taint your memory with his cruelty and violence, refusing to cover you any longer with his filthy hands.

It was a part of his life he’d had to lay behind him, a chapter that he had looked upon so fondly laid to rest, only for the next to take form. Oh, how it was riddled with filth and violence, the edge of the papers burnt and soiled. It was simply how it was, he’d concluded at the time, all too aware that it was what lay before him, what had always been destined to be his life.

What once was a heroic attempt, a means to do good, had been overtaken by gluttony, the constant want for more. A bare and raw sin was what he had turned into, a hungry wolf, led by his brutality and fear—a fear of realizing what he was, what he had always been.

So, he couldn’t help but just for once take you in now that your watchful eyes weren’t gazing at him in fright—a fright he had grown all too used to when others looked at him, whether it was by the end of his gun or in the final short few breaths of their life. You had turned in your sleep, chin resting against the hard ground, when his eyes fitted over you, resting in the soft curves of your face and lashes that lay delicately on your skin.

The gentle rise and fall of your chest was a lullaby of sorts, a contrast to the storm inside of him. He wondered what dreams might be drifting through your mind, hoping they were far removed from the darkness that often clouded his own, hoping he wasn’t turning them vile.

Arthur gazed over the plump cheeks that seemed fuller, akin to his memories, a soft glow over them as the morning sun washed over you. You had always looked prettier in the sunlight; it was something he had always thought, for it was like two twins meeting each other again, laden with the same light and warmth. The ghost of a wistful smile begged to tug at the corners of his mouth as he indulged in this rare moment of stillness—the rough edges of his hardened soul seemed to soften, if only for a heartbeat.

He wanted to reach out a hand, rough and scarred, and try to let it hesitate above your cheek as he thought it would break the spell of sleep that enveloped you. He could feel his breath caught in his throat, a mixture of awe and sorrow, for deep down, he was aware that the world he lived in had no place for such beauty and peace. He was a ghost in your serene world, an intruder with no right to stay. Still, he would linger, savoring the moment like a condemned man savoring his last meal.

A dream was all it was, to imagine a different life where you could bask in the sun’s glow without fear and violence. But, as the sun climbed higher, reality would begin to seep back in, and he would reluctantly pull his hand away, the humid air now filling the spaces between you. The weight of his choices and the path he’s walked pressed down on him, so for now, he’d indulge in the simple act of watching over you as you rested—not sure where to go where the men now seeking your death couldn’t find you yet promising to himself he would keep you far, far away from them.

—

When the sun’s warmth began to cover your skin in a faint layer of sweat, you awoke, being met with the smoking of a dying fire and a soreness in your body that only laying on hard ground could create. You had almost expected to awake in the comfort of your old bed, feeling the soft wind caress your face as it blew through the open window, curtains fluttering in the air as the far-away sound of people chattering could be heard, and the constant chugging of the train.

Homesickness, you thought. It was strange; never before had that feeling grappled you so intensely; never had the thought of being back with Eustace seemed so wishful, so desperate. It pulled something inside of you, and as you sat up, you could only find yourself wishing the feeling away, rubbing your eyes as you set your gaze forward, refusing to ponder over it any longer.

“No sight of Jesse’s men yet, so I think we’re good,” a voice called out nearby. Looking behind you, you found Arthur going through the saddlebag, his back facing you as you slowly stood up.

“Do you-” You cleared your throat, still riddled with sleep, both rough and quiet. “Do you think they’re still after us?”

“Sure,” he drawled, fastening the bag before patting his horse encouragingly. “We just killed their leader; I don’t think we’re off the hook that easily.”

“You,” you stated, dragging your fingers through your hair as you felt the various knots get stuck in your hand. You tried to sort them out but found your effort unsuccessful.

“What?” he said.

“You killed their leader, you mean.”

“Yeah, I guess, but they’re still coming for you nonetheless.”

“And the law?”

“If we keep away from Blackwater, we’ll be fine,” he said, turning towards you.

“Then where do we go now?” you asked, staring at the ground as you grieved at the thought of not being able to head back to Blackwater, back to Eustace. He only glanced at you, the slight movement of his shoulders indicating he wasn’t so sure either.

You walked tentatively towards him, meeting his gaze as he leaned towards the tree where his horse was stabled. He watched you cautiously as if he had any reason to be careful around you.

“How did you know Jesse’s men were after me?”

Arthur shifted uncomfortably, his eyes narrowing as he considered his response. “I have my ways,” he muttered, eyes darting to the horizon. “Words travel fast in these parts, and I keep my ears open.”

You only gazed at him for a while, hearing him sigh when you didn’t let your eyes waver, his eyes narrowing as he studied you, measuring how much truth to reveal. He adjusted his hat, the shadow casting a veil over his expression. “We heard things. Rumors in the towns. Jesse’s men have a way of making themselves known.” You nodded, absorbing the information. It made sense in a twisted way; your past seemed to chase you no matter where you ran or how far you went.

Arthur shifted his weight, his voice dropping lower, more serious. “And when we ran into some of his boys a few days back, well,” He stared at you hard. “They mentioned you.”

“Me?” Your breath got caught in your throat, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded.

“How did you know I was in Blackwater?”

Arthur’s eyes darkened slightly, a shadow crossing his face. He took a moment before answering, his voice low and steady. “I’ve been keeping tabs on you,” he admitted tersely.

You blinked in surprise, the revelation catching you off guard. “Why?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper, your tone betraying none of the turmoil.

He only sighed, glancing away briefly before meeting your questioning eyes again. “Because I had to make sure you weren’t getting yourself killed,” he retorted sharply, his words tinged with frustration. “Especially after everything that happened all those years ago.”

Many emotions flooded through you—confusion riddled with anger, a strange sense of relief you wanted to cast far away. Anger at his presumption, a deep ache for the man he once was when he mentioned the past. “So you’ve been watching me all these years?” you countered, your voice carrying a cutting edge.

Arthur’s jaw clenched, his temper flaring. “I’ve been trying to keep you safe,” he mumbled, his voice growing snappier.

The reality of his words sank in, and you struggled to process the implications. You met his gaze, trying to keep your composure, refusing to let his anger shake you. “Protecting me by keeping me under surveillance?” you shot back.

“Call it what you want, but I had to make sure you wouldn’t end up lying dead somewhere,” he said gruffly, staring stubbornly at you. “Jesse’s men aren’t exactly known for sending love letters.”

“And did it ever occur to you that I might’ve been wanting to be left alone?”

“You don’t get it, do you? They’ve been after you this whole time; they still are. You think you can just walk away and be fine?”

The air hung tense between you and Arthur, his words cutting through the warm air like a sharp blade. “You had no right,” you hissed, your voice low but filled with simmering anger. You knew you were right, and you were sure Arthur knew as he quieted down, grumbling as he strode past you, stepping on the fire’s dying embers to put it out, his movements stiff and rigid.

“We’ll keep moving, get you out of the wild for a bit.” You stayed facing away from him when he spoke, only moving when he extended his hand, motioning you towards the horse.

“Listen,” he murmured, turning you around before you could sit behind the saddle. “I didn’t—” he turned his head away from you for a moment as if thinking about his following words, hands gripping your shoulders carefully, flexing slightly. “I know how these types of men work, and you would thank me for keeping an eye on you if I told you what they would’ve done to you.”

“And how are you so different from these men you talk of, Arthur?” Your voice was accusing and bitter, and only silence followed from his side. “I used to know a different man,” you murmured. One who was understanding,” you finally said, your voice barely a whisper as your walls crashed, a somber look glazing over your eyes. “Kind.”

You felt him stiffen before you, and he didn’t respond immediately, as if surprised by your words. “Things change,” he replied curtly, his voice devoid of sentiment.

“I can see that,” you said, lifting your hand as if to move his hat out of the way but faltering at the last second. “ I barely recognize you.”

You hadn’t failed to realize it, and it had consumed your thoughts fully since you first discovered it was him when he held that gun toward your head. Never did you imagine he would be the type of man to wield such a dangerous weapon towards a woman—towards you—yet that’s precisely what he’d done.

“You don’t understand the world we live in now,” he said, his tone hardening. “Things aren’t as simple as they used to be.”

“Maybe not,” you replied, feeling the weight of your disappointment settle in your chest. “But I didn’t think you’d let it change like this; I didn’t think you’d become-”

“What? Like them?” he interrupted, his eyes narrowing. “You think I had a choice?

“There’s always a choice,” you shot back. “You used to be a different man.”

“And what good did that ever do me?” he snapped, stepping closer. His breath was warm against your cheek when you lowered your face, staring at the fabric of his shirt.

“The world is cruel, whether you want to acknowledge it or not, and I had to make sure to keep the gang safe, and I still do.” The last part, he muttered to himself. “And since you decided to leave me-”

“Leave you?!” you gasped, appalled at his choice of words. The familiar stabbing pain gripped your heart when he accused you, and you stepped backward slightly only to find his hands rooting you in place. “I had no choice!”

“No choice, huh?” He said, his lips curling into a bitter smile as if your words were ridiculous and filled with lies.

“I asked-, no begged, you to come with me, but you refused! Talking all sorts of rubbish about loyalty and Dutch this and Dutch that!” It felt like a stone the size of your fist was plunged down your throat while the muscle could only constrict around it, twisting your body slightly so he would let go of you.

“I realized there wasn’t a place for me there, with you, any longer, so I had to leave before I went insane!” you said. “I couldn’t bear it, living that life anymore. My whole life had been filled with cruelty and violence, and I needed to feel as if I was the one living it instead of watching myself from the sidelines!” Flashes of faces, both grim and cruel, passed your vision, the image of a younger you looking for somewhere to hide but only finding broken souls wandering around you.

Like lost in a maze, you had tried left and right, but with no guidance, it proved useless as you kept wandering, trying to make sense of the world that you grew up in, parentless and abandoned in a gang whose hearts had been ripped out of their chests and feasted on by the devil. His pupils were all that was left, and you, a lost child, were made to endure a world that had been stripped of both kindness and care.

“But you-” your voice was choked up, trembling as your frenzied eyes flickered around you. “You didn’t care enough to see that, and now I can see why.”

“You’re just like them.” As your words ended, the onslaught of feeling simmered underneath your hectic breathing, and you finally felt the pressure loosen on your shoulders. Taking a few steps back, you passed the back of your hands over your eyes, feeling the warm liquid rub into your skin.

Those years felt distant now that they were brought up, and you had done your utmost to keep them far away until one day, you woke up feeling like that life hadn’t been your own; the person you were hadn’t been you and the memories entirely someone else’s. It had become too much, the air around you thick and nauseating when it felt like none of it would stop, like you were in a loop that never ended, only bringing you back to where you first started but with different people this time.

You soon realized that since you managed to remove yourself from Jesse and his men, you’d only wound up sleeping on a hard ground once more, the twigs and sticks poking you through your back like they’d always done. However, the people around you were new, but they were still the same lost souls as you, and the thought terrified you. You couldn’t handle the idea of that being your life, of always following someone who strived towards a goal that, when reached, would only be replaced by another one.

You didn’t dare glance at Arthur, yet you felt his eyes on you. As you tried to calm your breathing, you wondered why he didn’t say anything, defend himself, or retort and fight back like you thought he would. Yet, his lack of words made you second guess your revelations, shame soon filling your body when you realized how much of yourself you’d given a man who no longer cared to understand, who was so far gone your words meant nothing, just like the men he killed in cold-blood—a menace and an obstacle.

“Let’s go,” was all that he replied with after some time, avoiding glancing at you before grabbing your waist carefully to sit you behind the saddle, stomping one last time at the dying fire before sitting before you, no doubt noticing how your hands ghosted around his waist as if touching him alone was a vile and horrid thought.

—

You couldn’t help but ponder over what transpired this morning, all too aware it had to be spoken about sooner or later, but you wished he’d tell you more, explain why he’d acted the way he did and why he’d changed so much even though the words might’ve been said in anger. Yet, perhaps, that is a ridiculous exception, for who can say why they’d change if they even stopped enough to notice they did? Still, you realized what he had to say might not be what you wanted to hear, and the thought didn’t fail to make your heart sink.

It’s terrible what time can do to one person, but you could not understand how it could wound its way into Arthur so firmly, as if not considering his past self that had been so different from who was before you now. Perhaps being young and in love had made you fail to realize that maybe the man he was now is only an older version of who he’d been then and that he’d only shown the sides he felt deemed to you. Why, you wondered. Had it been shame or fear, knowing very well the cruel place you came from, not wanting to admit that he was a criminal—that he did exactly what every other man would do when following another blindly?

Bringing yourself out of your thoughts, you observed that day had once more turned into night, the familiar setting sun casting its warm gaze over the landscape as the horse huffed underneath you in exhaustion from running all day—tired from the lack of rest and the growing tension that was heavy between its riders.

Rising your gaze to look at his back for the first time since you set off, you let the follow along the chestnut tone of his hair, trailing over his tense back, eyes focusing on the various scratches and stains on his clothing, the blood that had been rubbed so many times it had turned into a lighter shade, yet the slight pinkness still resided, marking him unknowingly, as if his clothing represented his being.

It was so unfair, you concluded, yet you felt angry at him, furious at yourself and the world for being unpredictable, for never making anything easy, and more so for laying trouble over minds that from the start were pure, a blank canvas now to be trifled with. But there was also a tinge of sadness over the people you had turned out to be and grieving over the man you seemed to have lost behind smokes of black and anguish.

The pit of darkness that now filled you turned into thunder, and as the rain began to pour, the cold drops doing nothing to wash away the hollowness you felt, you failed to hear the hooves that could be heard from a distance. Arthur, though, had sensed them for some time now, trying to make his abrupt, faster pace less noticeable, hoping to gain some distance before you could see their dark figures form behind you.

Unfortunately, they only gained on you with every minute that passed, reaching out for you with their slinky arms and wild gazes, bullets vibrating in the metal, begging to be released so they could bury themselves into your flesh. Yet, it was hard for them to see, the heavy downpour blurring their vision of you, the fading sun offering them no help, and the galloping of their horses dizzied their sight.

A gasp left you as the horse suddenly stopped abruptly, the reigns held tightly as it skidded across the slippery ground. You didn’t get the chance to be surprised, hastily brought down to the ground, Arthur’s hands almost lifting you with the way he pushed you as you clumsily glided across the ground, grasping onto his arms to find stability as you walked up the small stairs that appeared on front of you.

A small porch, desolated and lonely, spread out around you; from the hasty look you could get, the windows seemed dark and lifeless—not a single light shining through them. The two-story structure seemed to stand on the outskirts of a forgotten, overgrown field, its once-white paint nor a peeling, weather-beaten gray where ivy and wild vines clung to the sides, creeping through the cracks in the wooden boards. The roof sagged precariously, shingles missing in place, revealing patches of rotting wood underneath.

“Shit!” You could hear Arthur shout as the loud weather dampened his voice, grasping the handle as it refused to open.

“What’s going on, Arthur?!” you said loudly so he could hear you, but you got no answer to your question. He pushed you to the side with one motion, trashing his shoulder into the door, and rusty hinges groaned in protest; the flimsy wood bent slightly before he bolted against it again. With this attempt, he opened it, and it smashed against the wall; the smell of something musty reached your nose as it escaped the house, contrasting heavily with the freshness of the rain.

“Get inside!” he shouted, and as you hurried inside, you heard the door slam shut. Your back pressed against the wall beside it, and Arthur stood before you, peeking out carefully from the window beside it.

It grew quiet the minute you stepped inside, the rain reduced to a slight humming as it splattered against the one-story house that seemed long abandoned, the faint smell of mold and neglect traveling through the air–the stale, dry air left a metallic tang in your mouth, the taste of dust was ever-present, gritty and unpleasant, seemingly coating your tongue and throat with each short, terrified breath you took.

“Arthur,” you whispered, craning your neck so you could gaze up at him where he leaned against the window, his eyes scanning the storm outside as his hands squeezed your arms gently but firmly.

“I gotta hide you,” he said, his voice low, his throat straining around the words when he finally looked into your eyes.

He pulled you from the wall, leading you deeper into the cabin. The floorboards creaked underfoot, threatening to give away with each step you took. Moving through the tiny parlor, past the broken chairs and sagging sofa, you moved into the kitchen where the cabinets hung open, their contents long since scavenged or rotted away.

As you gazed back, you found Arthurs’s eyes darting around the place, searching for a place where you would be hidden from the gruesome and horrible event that would soon take place in this already damned building. A small pantry, its doors hanging loosely on its hinges, seemed to be the only hiding place he deemed approvable.

“In here,” he said, guiding you towards it.

“Why?” you asked, hesitating to enter the small space.

“They caught up to us,” he murmured, watching your hand grasp his shirt. “Jesse’s men.”

“What about you?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“I’ll be fine,” Arthur replied, momentarily passing his hand over yours. “I’ll handle them, just please-” he trailed off, grasping your cheeks between your hands so you would focus entirely on his and his words. “Please don’t come out until I tell you.”

A few moments passed before you tentatively nodded, feeling his hands leave you so you could squeeze into the pantry. The small space was barely big enough to hold you as the doors were closed gently, slightly ajar so you could breathe through the thick, consuming air.

A few moments passed, your eyes wide in the darkness as you took in his words. It surprised you there were still so many, remembering the night in Blackwater where it seemed like bodies littered every corner of the streets when you passed them, lifeless and now soulless. How many, you wondered, were outside now, and how had you not managed to feel their presence before, to catch sight of them behind you, yet Arthur could without a glance?

As the first sign could be heard, you held your breath, the beating of your heart almost audible in the small space as it fought against your chest, your hands covering it as if it would give away your position. That was when the door burst open, and you could only clamp a hand over your mouth to stifle a gasp that escaped against your will, listening tentatively at every noise that could reach you.

You could only make out Arthur’s voice, low and steady, even though you couldn’t make out the words that left him, almost wanting to cover your ears as if it would help against the terror you knew would soon erupt, praying-no begging Arthur would be alright, that you wouldn’t have to be dragged away from there a weeping mess as Arthur lifeless eyes stared into your own, bullets imbedded in his flesh as you awaited your fate.

The sound of struggle filtered through the storm—the clatter of boots, shouts of men that boomed through the cabin, and the crackle of gunfire. Each noise made you cringe, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to block out the terrifying reality, hands shooting up to cover your ears as the loud sounds lessened; instead, the more vile noise of flesh hitting flesh ensued, the noise bones made when broked and the bloodily smack of skin against skin.

It ensued for a while, the disgusting sound of grunting and groaning making you remember the many times you had to hide your smaller self and only listen. Listen till the danger was over, examining every sound that could be heard to tell if you’d be alright stepping out or whether it would lead to your death—which had most of the time been the biggest possibility. You felt like you had traveled back in time, with not an ounce more courage than you had lacked back then, quivering like a fool while others fought like madmen around you, wishing you could be somewhere else—for someone to swoop down and save you like in some sad fairytale.

Minutes felt like hours as you waited, heart pounding in your ears as you didn’t dare to peek out from the cracks. Then, amidst the chaos, you heard a voice—Arthur’s voice, calling your name as you heard him breathing heavily, your name strained as he spoke. A sense of relief coursed through you, now knowing he was alright, yet you still lingered for a second, hand hesitating at the door as you feared what sight you’d be presented with. Yet, as you pushed it open, you stepped into the cabin again, taking small steps leading further into the house, trailing over the dark red liquid as you closed your eyes at the bodies it came from.

“They won’t hurt you no more,” Arthur murmured.

He stood there, hands at his side, his eyes as blood-filled as his hands, the red liquid dripping onto the wooden planks, staining them til they flowed beneath the cracks. Fitting to yours, you could only gasp, taking a step back as you were filled with dread over what he just did, the brutality of his actions, and the lives that now lay devoid of it around you. There had been too much death over the last few days, and although it was either their life or yours, you couldn’t help but detest the constant smell of the deceased resting just under the tip of your nose.

You gazed over the chaos; the broken glass shattered on the floor, blinding you when the sun was reflected on their surface. The white porcelain was stained red, and the walls had been painted the same color. You felt his eyes stay on you, unmoving and seemingly not bothered by the brutality he just possessed—always had possessed—but not making any attempt to move, as if he was waiting for you to make the first move, speak the first word.

He looked tense where he stood, and despite his horrible deeds, he looked at you as if he searched for your acceptance, as if trying to convey that he did this for you, that he dirtied his hands only to keep you safe, just like he’d always done. And, as you stared at him, you could almost see his hand flex slightly, as if it wanted to reach out to you, yet was held back, rooting him to the spot.

It might surprise him what you would do next, as the first tentative step towards him—although riddled with a faint fright and shaking hands—never wavered, carefully stepping over the bodies in your way until you stood in front of Arthur, ignoring their deathly, vengeful eyes that almost followed you, rolling into the back of their heads when you went out of sight.

His hands were still shut tight, knuckles white against the suntanned skin that flexed slightly when your fingers ran over them, bringing them higher as you felt the callousness that bruised his hands. They contrasted so heavily with your own, soft against hard, the veins beneath his skin protruding til the blue shades created valleys, irritated and angry. The warmth of your touch contrasted starkly with the cold reality of his actions, a shiver running down your spine when the blood on his hands painted your untouched skin. Arthur didn’t attempt to push away from your touch but stood like a statue, eyes cautious when you brought his knuckles to your lips, closing your eyes as you ghosted over them.

Every breath you took was heavy; each inhale difficult to make as his gaze remained locked onto yours. The bluish shade grew molten on the edges, warming up the coldness of the otherwise sharp hues, staring into yours like he was waiting for something or perhaps fearing something. It made the ache in your heart settle daftly, staring into the eyes you could now recognize from the ones you had known many years ago, see the man you hadn’t been able to remember till now rightfully.

You pulled away slightly when you realized that man wasn’t standing before you but a figment of him, perhaps a vivid remembrance yet not reality. Your fingers lingered on his skin, though, as if afraid to let go, afraid you might’ve lost him as you’d done before even though he wasn’t whole—the pieces of him scattered wherever he went, falling away like fragments with every step.

Brutally and cold, the devil resided in his eyes, each glance laden with sin and searing pain that engulfed like wildfire, encircling and trapping in its flickering, scorching embrace. It was a warmth that turned cold, caressing with its chilling touch, raising the hairs on your skin in protest—an unwelcome sensation that one dared not wish for. Yet, amidst this, your heart beats heavily–not in fear, but in yearning for his touch to linger.

How could your heart betray you so? How could it stray so far from reason, captivated by a man who made you unable to tell between reason and desire? Traitorously, it thudded heavily within, not out of fear but wishfully. It created an ache that settled so deep in your bones it hurt, a pain born of longing—a desire that scorched like a fever. Every instinct screamed for you to flee, to turn away against your now abandonment of all sense and sensibility—to run far away from the life he reminded you of, a life you’d so desperately feared.

You were caught between shame and confusion as if he could sense your pulse racing against the barriers of cotton and leather. Did he notice your heart’s betrayal and the quivering of your lips as your shaking breath rose like wisps of smoke in the cold air? Maybe he did, for as you closed your eyes, unable to handle the downpour of emotions coursing through you, you suddenly felt his breath against your lips as his presence enveloped you, casting a shadow over the world when he drew closer. Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes opened in protest; the space between you dwindled, narrowing to nothingness until you could feel the heat of his breath mingling with your own.

His eyes burned like smoldering coal, holding you captive as every voice in your head told you to run, hit, scream–anything to get away from him—only to silence when his lips brushed against yours in a feather-light caress. It was far away and fleeting, the small touch of skin almost ghostly as they moved over your trembling lips. His breath was warm, so warm it made heat crawl up your neck, spreading slowly throughout your body.

His careful touch made you wonder when the world turned him so cold. To carry the burns of his soul, hideous and bare, with not a single kindness seemingly left inside him. Was he ashamed of his skin, which wrapped so harshly around his bones, scarred yet strong–cold but fond? Was it right for you to fear the hands that once fell so delicately on your skin, porcelain never having been touched as carefully as he had touched you? There were days you now could remember so clearly, the warm look in his eyes as they caressed over your skin, the naivety and desperation that shone so bright within them—a want so fundamental it made you wonder if it was even possible.

The years had passed now, and you were both older and saner, but through the shades of blue in his eyes that were covered with darkness that rested like a veil over them, you thought you could still see the same man you had once known, and as his lips met yours firmer if felt like the past washed over you again. And it was good, so good you felt your knees almost give out, stumbling backward slightly but finding yourself not falling heedlessly towards the ground. Instead, the pressure of standing on the ground disappeared as your felt fingers worm their way under your thigh, lifting you in the air.

Softly, your back met the planks that creaked audibly when Arthur pushed you against them, the material groaning and protesting when he leaned more of his weight against you as if the pressure was too much to bear. You were trapped in his embrace that spoke only of desperation—desperation so raw you wondered if it spread from his skin to yours like a disease, if it traveled through your body, infecting everything it passed in its way.

A certain rigidness could be felt in the hands that held you, their grip tight yet unmoving as if he battled against letting them touch any other part of you. They were there, yet somehow unwilling, like he needed to touch you but couldn’t bring himself to go any further. Perhaps, you thought, he shouldn’t. Maybe it would be best to end it here, not to get any more pain that would surely hurt more than do good. Yet you missed him, missed Arthur so much it felt like a part of you had returned when he was this close as if you could imagine him being who he once was.

You chastised yourself for it when his lips caressed you softly, letting them push further against yours. The distant sound of chattering and calls beckoned you from afar, the clanking of pots loud in your ears as he had you pushed up against a tree, far and hidden from curious eyes, all your senses focused on him. It had been so simple then, such a warm, inviting touch, the feeling differing strongly against the violence and pain that had followed you until you met Arthur. It was the only reason you’d stayed with him for as long as you had, for never had hands handled you so carefully, so tender; never before had you stared into a pair of eyes that, without a blink, promised to keep you safe and sane.

It felt different yet the same; for now, those feelings mingled together, the brutality shining so strongly within him. Yet, his hands were so gentle, his means to keep you and cradle you in his arms til no one else could touch you so palpable it made every fear you had for him dissipate with the wind that flew through the cracks in the wall. It felt like you held a giant in your grasp, a lost soul seeking the goodness of his past, wishing to erase the bad and expel the vile, monstrous thoughts that he’d been forced upon—expectations he grew up with. How could you possibly blame him? How unfair was it for you to tell him he was wrong, that he acted wrongfully?

Your hands shook as you brought them up to his cheeks, claiming< them in your grasp, feeling him sigh when your fingertips ghosted over him as if the feeling alone chilled his blazing—scorching—skin. Following that means of human nature, his hands that kept you lifted from the ground raised one, caressed its way over the swell of your hips, letting it feel the warm flesh emitting from under your clothes until it followed the path of your sides til it found the valley which where your waist sunk in, letting fingers grip under the harsh bones of your ribs.

A gasp left you, lips parting as if to speak but only inhaling his warm breath, pushing your head away, yet your grasp on his cheeks making him follow you—ordering him to chase the pink, swollen skin that begged for the sensation of more—demanded it. You realized soon that you didn’t have to, his imposing frame pressing you further into the wall, no longer needing to hold you by the tight to keep you from the ground as his lips sensually now found yours again, a deep, dark rumbling—like thunder brewing—could be heard deep into his chest.

It was sickening, the air thick and pasty, like breathing into sourdough bread, the swelling yeast filling all spaces around you, making it difficult to breathe. When you needed air too much, begged for the oxygen yet displeased with the thought of parting with Arthur, he pulled his head away slightly, eyes opening to gaze at your closed eyes, the warm tint of red rising from your chest to your cheeks.

Opening them, you’d only be given a moment to stare upon his face until he leaned in again, his lips finding their way to the dip of your collarbone, rising to cover the space where your shoulders dipped up to the slope of your neck. Inhaling, exhaling, he breathed in the dizzying warmth of your neck, groaning when he let his tongue taste the humid skin that was scorching under his wet, slippery touch.

So divine, yet so dangerous to touch what wasn’t his anymore, what couldn’t be his—but he couldn’t deny he longed for you, couldn’t deny that your smell alone awakened the man he had been, your hands reaching out to him like the gates of heaven shining with its door wide open. A cruel joke was what it was, but he had no want to dispel it, to turn it away. It taunted him, laughed at him, giving him a fair bit of pleasure so the rest of his living days would turn to torture, a small taste of what he could’ve had before dooming him to an eternal defeat—dooming him to live the rest of his days a hollow shell.

Your hands found the back of his head, fingers threading through the strips of hair that felt like velvet under your skin. You couldn’t help but push on the back of his scalp to bring him even closer, dismayed when you realized he was as close as he could be, fingers gripping his hair so tight you feared you would leave tufts of it when you released your grip. You only got a hum of satisfaction in return, the feeling of a wet muscle traveling down your collarbones til they ghosted over the swell of your breasts carefully, like waiting on a signal before they could devour, let their touch consume you.

“Arthur,” you mumbled, lost in what was wholly him, the very fibre of your being begging for him never to stop, wishing he’d never done all those years ago.

You only got a low, appreciating groan in return, only gained the feeling of cold air hitting your legs as he snaked his hands under your skirt, hitching it up as he let them run over the bare skin like a starved man, not even an inch of you left untouched. The wind’s chill lessened when his rough, warm hands caressed you, soothing your aching, quivering legs. Almost, it seemed, he mended every bruise and hurt, internally or externally, replacing them with something that felt so divine you were nearly sure you were dreaming when he returned to your lips, his once guarded eyes bare before you.

He took a few steps back, letting your feet hit the floor as you followed him. You did not let him back away further as you walked with him, rising on your toes and writhing your arms around his neck. You were now the one to cage him in—cage him with your want and desire, your love and hope. It would be a terrible defeat if he stepped away from you, and your stomach twisted at the thought, the familiar pang of sadness only love could create.

“Don’t go,” you whispered, feeling his arms wound around your waist as he stumbled backward, his tall frame big and clumsy in the tiny house. He frantically ran his hands over you before hoisting you up again, seating you on the dark wooden table in the kitchen’s front of the sink. Your mind had grown clouded, his whole being morphing into the man that had once caressed you so gently—and when he did now, it made you dizzy, wondering if they were so unlike as you thought.

“I won’t,” he mumbled against your lips, the words hasty and muted when he didn’t want to waste a second of feeling you against him.

“I won’t,” he spoke once more, this time the words only coming out in nonsensical grumbling as he pushed you softly towards the poorly sawed planks after pushing the various knickknacks of it, plates falling audibly to the floor to join the rest of the mess, burying his face into the nape of your neck to once more take a final breath before standing up.

The mess around you turned vile and filthy compared to the wondrous look on your face as you watched him, the familiar pang of pleasure beating so heavily in his stomach he thought he might puke—coupled with the still warm, wet blood now lining the skin of your legs from his hands. A few moments passed where he stared at you, ignoring your hands that reached out to him as the horrid monster clad in black garments and poisonous fingers got to him first, digging its claws into his back, wrapping its fabric over his mouth till he felt himself suffocating.

It wasn’t until he felt nimble fingers ghosting over his hands, running along the inside of his wrist until they intertwined with his, that the small, supple kisses on his cheeks became his saving grace. Diminished the cruel and twisted devil that rested on his back, all he could think about was the gentleness of your hands, gazing to watch your furrowed eyes filled with understanding—yet a gracious knowledge at that.

“I know you, Arthur,” you whispered, laying your head on his chest. Listening to his wildly beating heart, you found comfort in his erratic breathing.

“No,” he mumbled, resting his head on top of yours. His arms were slack on his sides as your hands passed over the broadness of his back. You gripped the dark leather of his haunches as you slid them down his arms, letting them hang in the stuffy, thick air. “Not anymore, you don’t.”

“Well, you’re still as stubborn as you used to be,” you said softly, the corners of your mouth rising slightly when a grumble left him, acting like you couldn’t feel his slight smile against your head. “Still as warm as you were then,” you mumbled, hands slowly running over his arms that flexed slightly at your touch, mouth opening slightly as they came to rest on the table, trapping you beneath them. “Still as strong,” you gasped when he leaned over you, pressing his weight into you.

He closed his eyes as you spoke, basking in your quiet, warm tone, which he missed hearing. “That don’t matter anymore,” he said, feeling you snake your arms around his neck, arching your body against his, as one of his hands naturally found sanction on your waist. “What I’ve done—” he trailed off. “What I am, it’s not something I can run from.”

You felt your brows furrow, grief finding you at his words that rang so melancholy into the quiet air, the heaviness of his voice alone ripping the tapestry and breaking the windows. As you were about to tell him he was wrong—that although his actions had been so blood-filled and vile, you knew who he was deep down, for you had seen it, seen it in his eyes when he looked at you, seen it in the way he still cared about you—he instead laid you back down on the table carefully, covering you with his body as he hitched your legs around his waist.

Your breath hitched when you felt the rigidness rest against your warmth, feeling it lay heavily under the fabric of his pants. “Yes, you can,” you gasped, hands finding his shirt as you searched for something to hold onto, wishing it away so you could see the skin underneath it and feel it against your own.

You didn’t gain an answer, only the tugging of your undergarments, the chill from being bare cold against your skin, yet Arthur’s hands warming them straight back up when he tenderly caressed your inner thighs, stabilizing their trembling although never letting his palms stray too far, ignoring the way your legs tightened around him, trying to chase his touch as they attempted to chase his touch but finding his hips pressing into yours further, leaving you no place to go but stay in place.

The motion made a groan, quiet and unprepared, leave him, yet you had heard him. As your hands wound their way beneath his shirt to palm over the broadness of his chest, hips moving against him with the bit of space you had in protest, you looked up to find his gaze planted on you, head raised. Yet, eyes looking down at you, like he was trying to hold himself away, failing to escape from the softness of your touch.

He was too deep into it now. He felt the restraints that once were so tight around him lessen as he kept staring into your eyes, those deep and fascinating eyes that he didn’t deserve—that no one would ever get the chance to deserve. It was selfish for him to continue, but he wished to feel you one more time so he could restore his memory of you until he turned viler, meaner, the black poison coiling around his heart til he faced its death wrapped up in its grasp.

So, he found himself leaning into you once more, focusing on your hands that now had seen the planes of his back, his muscles flexing involuntarily as you did, his hand hitching your dress up further, letting it go past the delicious curve of your waist, groaning internally when he realized he couldn’t rise it further. So, he let his head rest between your breasts, pulled out from the tightness of the fabric, letting his tongue run over the warm skin.

You felt the arms of your dress hastily go over your shoulders down your arms, breath hitching when you felt his mouth able to travel lower until it caressed the inside of your breast, his rough stubble like sandpaper against the sensitive flesh. It was addictive, his whole persona making you desperately cling to every bit of him you could manage, grasping wildly as if he was made from thin air, trying to find something that would turn him back into a solid form, something you could touch.

The slight feeling of him grinding into you made you clasp harder. Your hands found his biceps as the back of your head hit harshly against the table, and your hips wound tighter against his waist. The roof above you blended, the colors of brown and ashen blond mingling as the morning sun shone through the windows, the tendrils of the light casting the room in a way that almost looked ethereal—too good to be true.

And it was, the whole moment was, and you memorized the touch of his hands and traveling mouth, imprinting it in your mind so you could remember it forever. It still, despite his words, felt like he would somehow dissipate, and it turned into your worst nightmare, like the last pages of a book that would send you reeling, biting at the corners in despair and slamming yourself against the wall in anger. It was pitiful, the way you were brought to your knees in front of the man you had not nearly long ago feared—more so wondering if you feared his actuality or feared how long a time had passed, how time changed and ruled people's character, how you didn’t know him anymore.

Or perhaps you feared the way you knew it had been doomed from the start, always known, the very first day he had planted his brisk, blue eyes on you, full of life yet the underlying promise of something that could only be transcribed into pain—of hurt and blame. Perhaps you were afraid of knowing that it didn’t matter how often you’d come upon one another; it would always end the same way, for you were both too broken by the life you laid upon you. The chance of redemption was maybe possible once when you were younger, but you feared that it was lost. And, while Arthur reminded you of a past you’d rather lay behind you, prayed and prayed through years of peril and hurt, wished you could run from it, you perhaps had reminded him of what he’d once had and what he could never deserve to have again.

As Arthur lifted his head, you could see in his eyes that he knew, knew there might not be a time when you could live out your life together, for he too was aware that it might be too late, that the world's grip on the both of you was too firm. Yet you both ignored it, entangled with one another as your limbs melted into the others, your motions becoming erratic and desperate, wishing—no, seeking desperately to bring the other back to life, back to what you once had been.

“Please, Arthur.” Clawing and almost beating his chest in desperation, the tension so ripe it felt like you might combust, you begged him to let his skin lay upon yours, bare and exposed, as close to each other as was humanly possible. It felt like a border, keeping you apart in a pitiful, almost laughable way.

“I know, honey,” he murmured, his voice steady, yet the beating of his heart speaking more than his tone ever could. “I know.”

Rising from you for the slightest of seconds, he hoisted his pants down his hips and over his thighs, dark, desirous eyes never taking their gaze off you where you lay breathless on the table that, compared to you, looked like rotting wood. He damned himself for letting you lay upon such misery, to unveil you in such an appalling space that now reeked of death and foulness.

When your hands reached out to him, he let them bring him back down, watching the way your eyes fluttered when he graced upon your pulsating warmth, his own eyes closing for a second before opening again, looking away so he could regain his senses, regain his clouded vision that only flashed with pictures of you beneath him, as if you had surrounded him. That is, only for a short while, not taking long before he had to—needed to— return to you once more, to slip through the warmth of your walls that wrapped around him, the palm of his hands slamming down the table as you clenched around him, the sheer bliss that left your throat burning like embers inside of him.

There was no outlet for him, nowhere to go, so he hitched you further up the table, pressing into you so he could feel you closer. The feeling of your hands in his hair was nauseating, the taste of your skin intoxicating as he kissed the corner of your neck, burying his head into it as he felt your strands tickle his cheek. Slowly pushing out to then enter you once more, he grew greedy, not wanting to spend even the slightest of time away from you.

It was tender the way he moved—careful—and you could only follow his movements as he stayed on top of you, the strokes desperate and short. The small moans that left you rose into the quiet house, your breathing hitching with every thrust of his, almost feeling like the air was being punched out from your chest as you slid further up the table. Arms wound themselves under your shoulders, one hand grasping the back of your head to keep you in place—to avoid letting your head hit the hard surface.

It wasn’t enough; how could it ever be enough? Wrapping your arms around his neck, you gasped audibly when his hips moved faster, now almost grinding into you, his breath shallow and erratic, white knuckles grasping on the end of the table, as if he was controlling himself, unsure what to do with the pleasure that was riding through his body, bleeding into his very bones.

“Come here,” he murmured, gently lifting you so you were seated upon the edge of the table, looking up to meet his eyes. Continuing his tender thrusts, your lips sought him, finding his eyes not closing but planted on you, eyes lidded and chest red from exhaust. A sheen of sweat dripped slowly down his neck to his chest, disappearing through the unbuttoned shirt, the material sticking to his skin like glue.

Pushing your hips further against his, he groaned, resting his head atop of yours when you placed mindless kisses on his exposed skin, mumbling nonsense as he hugged you closer, his breath hot and ragged. Every movement sent a jolt of pleasure through you, sharply white and burning red, coiling tighter and increasingly tighter within you. The sound of your mingled breaths filled the room, and you could feel his muscles tensing beneath your touch, almost seeming to tremble.

You whispered his name, a plea and a promise all at once, and he responded with a low rumble that resonated deep within his chest—a guttural groan escaping his lips as he pushed deeper, the table beneath you creaking with the force of his movements. The room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, just like you were before, just like you once had been—Arthur guiding your movements as if he was determined to merge his body with yours.

His arms tightened around you when you straighten your back to reach his lips, capturing them in a kiss that left you more breathless than you had already been as his pace quickened. The friction, heat, and sheer desperation were too much to bear, yet you craved more. His eyes were wild, almost desperate, as he responded to your plea, every thrust, every gasp, every whisper filling up inside you as you begged to god it would never end, hoping and demanding that nothing would take it away from you.

Yet, you knew it wouldn’t last, and therefore, you felt the tears burn at your eyelids, the hot liquid falling slowly down your cheeks as you found your back pushed against the surface of the table once more, Arthur’s hand softly wiping away the tear that fell from your eyes as despair filled his own.

“Don’t cry,” he mumbled, a low groan leaving him when you tightened around him, unable to ignore the way you sucked him back in. “I can’t-” He ground his teeth when the familiar coil spread through his stomach, wrapping itself around every organ and bone. “Please, honey, I don’t want you to cry.”

“I miss you,” you gasped under your breath, words choked up as you focused on the way he dragged himself in and out of you, feeling like someone was twisting your guts inside your stomach when you thought once more about him disappearing from you hold like ash, only leaving faint memories before blowing away with the wind. “God, I missed you, Arthur.”

He struggled to catch his breath, his hand finding your thigh as he pushed it further up the table, the new angle making your breath hitch. “I know,” he groaned. “God, I know-”

Was it all a dream, he wondered, would fade away from him as his evil deeds caught up to him, for once letting karma do its part? Would you vanish right before him, leaving him to face the consequences of his actions alone? He only held you closer as the thoughts passed, keeping you tight in his embrace as his elbows encased your head. Capturing your lips on his own, his eyes shut tightly as he tried to memorize the feel of you—the warmth of your breath, the softness of your lips, the way your body moulded against his.

The time seemed to stand still, yet it passed too fast, the coil wrung so tight it felt like your stomach would combust, pleasure so raw filling you it felt more like torture than anything else, and as you felt his hips ground themselves into you, one hand stroking so tenderly over your brest it felt like shots of electricity zapped its way through your body, you thought yourself tightening around him, gasping for air.

“You’re alright,” he murmured against your lips, consoling you as your moans left you without your allowance, desperate and bordering on pitiful as your whole body felt like it was burning up—like the very flesh was set afire with gasoline.

“Please, Arthur,” you gasped, not knowing what you were pleading with him for, yet the words left you involuntarily. Perhaps you wished for him to remove the hollow feeling that resided deep within you, to soothe the pain that never seemed to go. Or, possibly, it was deeper than that as you pleaded for him to return to you, to show that he was the man you’d remembered.

“That’s it,” he cooed at you, kissing your forehead softly as you clenched around him. Your hands found his shoulder as they gripped tightly, head knocked back against the table as a long, drawn-out moan left you. Staring up at the ceiling as the world grew dizzy around you, the bliss that traveled through your body was like no other.

His movements didn’t slow as you relaxed slightly on the table, now running your hands over his skin soothingly, gazing into his eyes as he groaned audibly, chest heaving heavily as he frowningly stared into yours, observing you like you held something he couldn’t have that he strived for, pushing and pulling you closer to him.

Lost in pleasure, it felt like he was gasping for air, the sound of his skin slapping against yours echoing through the now quiet house, only the splatter of rain still audible from outside, yet his ears were focused on something else entirely as you whispered his name, beckoning him to your as your eyes were tired yet warm in the afterglow, looking like something not quite real—more or less surreal—or perhaps ethereal.

With one final thrust, he buried his head in the nape of your neck, hands grasping the edges of the bale as he grimaced, taking a few seconds before letting a guttural groan leave his chest and travel through his throat, muted into your skin as he gritted his teeth. Pulses of pleasure wound themselves through him in intervals, the warm, wet feeling of your walls encasing him, wrapping around him wholly as he, with one last movement, buried himself deep, so deep there was no way out—and god, he thought as his breathing stayed hectic, god how he wished there wasn’t.

Especially when he rested against you, trying to catch his breath, revelling in how you hugged his head closer to you, pressing small, quiet kisses against his jaw as if you tried not to disturb him, letting him regain his senses. Letting a hand travel down your sides, he caressed your skin, feeling the softness underneath it as it went further down to then rise back up again, finding pleasure in the way your breath hitched from the sensitivity as he passed a thumb over your breast.

You didn’t speak much, for there was so much you wanted to say that it became overwhelming, leading to you saying nothing. How could you, when you weren’t even sure how to describe your emotions, which seemed still but then everywhere at the same time, running through your mind endlessly with no sense of direction or heading? Where could you go from here that would satisfy you both and let you stay with one another despite your differences?

You wished you could drag answers out of Arthur, torture his mind and soul until he had no choice but to respond, yet you doubted he could even know what to tell you, for he wasn’t sure, and you could see it in his eyes, feel it in his touch that contradicted his mind starkly. Every motion and caress was soft yet reluctant, and you could hear the slight sway in his voice when he spoke to you as if he battled against his will and obligations. It tore you apart to realize he struggled against himself, struggled against his beliefs and wants.

You realized that whichever hands managed to strangle your relationship before would surely do it again. To be quite honest, it did scare you, more than you dared to admit, for you knew you were two different people now, and when your bond wasn’t strong enough all those years back, how could it be now that you both had your inner anguish that clawed itself inside your walls, thrashing and screaming. More so, changing for someone else is a terrifying thought per se, and there was no mistake in thinking that would be the case for both of you. A cruel, horrendous fate, indeed.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan imagine #red dead redemption imagine #red dead redemption

268 notes · View notes

hxney-lemcn · 7 days ago

Text

Late Night Chaos — Daisuke x gn! reader

summery: things aren't looking too good, so the crew decides to open the cargo hold and find out just what you were delivering.

tw: nothing that isn't in the game.

a/n: Updates might be a bit more spaced apart, but I'm gonna see this to the end. I refuse to give up on it.

wc: 2k

Master List

“I didn’t even wanna do this stupid internship.”

An admission into the night you're sure you weren’t meant to hear. Your insomnia grew worse, unable to get Curly’s painful screams out of your head or the plight you all found yourself. Only two months have passed, and you weren’t sure if anyone was even looking for you. Did Pony Express even have any tracking system to see if ships were down? Would they search when it was already too late?

Your pessimism was shining through, but you tried to keep it to yourself, not wanting to smother Daisuke’s hope. It seems even he was prone to dark thoughts, but you’d be more concerned if he wasn’t worried at all.

“If I just told my mom no I could be home right now,” Daisuke continued to mutter to himself. “Who am I kidding, I could never tell my mom no.”

“I wish you did,” you replied, eyes still closed and curled up in a ball.

“Y-you’re awake?” Daisuke gasped, but you made no sign of movement.

“Hmm,” you hummed, pressing your face farther into your pillow. “I wish you weren’t here.” Your words were harsh, causing the brunette to hesitate. You had gotten harsher after the crash, becoming more blunt.

But you had also gotten softer somehow. Sending him mixed signals, your harsh words softened when you gently stroked his cheek, eyes finally opening to meet his own. Anger, fear, sympathy, regret, so many emotions spun in your jewel colored eyes he almost felt dizzy.

“I wish we met before this,” Daisuke said, voice cracking as he felt pressure form behind his eyes. Shit, he didn’t wanna cry, he had to be strong, for you and the rest of the crew.

Your fingers brushed under his eye, catching a tear that was threatening to fall. Your silence felt warm, inviting, your gaze broke him, the dam breaking as his wishes spilled past his lips.

“I wish we were back on Earth. Hanging out in my room and this all just ended up being a bad dream. My mom calling us for dinner and everything is okay.”

He was crying now, fat tears falling down his cheeks as you continued to stroke them. Daisuke wrapped his arms around your form, burying his face in your neck as he let out strangled sobs, not wanting to wake the others.

“I’m sorry,” You murmured into his hair, gently running your nails up and down his back in a soothing manner. “You don’t deserve this, none of us do.”

…

“We ain’t touching the damn cargo,” Swansea argued. “The hold is locked down for a reason. The only thing worse than dyin’ slowly is not gettin’ paid.”

The whole argument seemed redundant. It seemed that Swansea was the only one against opening the cargo hold. He was a stubborn old fool in your opinion. If your speculation is right, and you won’t be looked for until your ship doesn’t come on time, then you’ll all have died from either starvation or lack of oxygen. Both those options seemed terrible to choose from, but a long, drawn out death was worse than a short painful one. For all you knew, you all were shipping food, or water, or something that could keep you all going just a bit longer. Especially since the cryo chambers were out of commission (not like there were enough for the six of you anyway. Besides, Curly had no chance to survive the freeze due to his wounds).

“But it could be something useful,” Anya argued back. “I think-”

“Could be what?” Swansea cut her off. “Hopes, dreams and marzipan? Hah!”

“Could be food,” You interjected, glaring at the oldest of the crew. “Protein bars, chips, hell maybe we’re lucky enough to be carrying canned goods.”

“If it helps us survive it’s worth it,” Jimmy added with a nod.

“Man,” Daisuke spoke up. “Pony Express bosses really aren’t chill at all, huh? C’mon, a quick look won’t hurt.”

You nodded in agreement before Swansea brought up a good point, “How exactly is this group therapy committee planning on gettin’ in there?”

“Oh, right here boss,” Daisuke pointed to himself with a smug grin. “You’re looking at the meanest swing of the regional junior baseball team! Nearly straight up corked a kid once! I can take the utility ax-” You couldn’t stop the snort that came out of you, hiding your face behind your hands as everyone looked at you with various emotions.

“You were goddamn born fully corked,” Swansea glowered, face twisted in a harsh sneer.

“That’s enough, Swansea,” Jimmy intervened. “There has to be an ‘in case of emergency’ way inside.”

“If I remember correctly from reading the safety protocols…” Anya trailed off. “The doors should have an alternate access code, but it can only be uncovered using a code scanner device.”

“And only the captain has access to the scanner,” Jimmy continued.

“Of course! Go ahead, just ask him all about it then,” Swansea mocked. “Maybe he’ll sing ya the blues too.”

“We can just look for the scanner,” You brought up. “It’s probably either in the captain's quarters or the cockpit.”

“I’ll figure it out,” Jimmy waved you off. “For better or worse, I’m captain now.” You tried your best to hide the offended look that fell on your face, but it was hard to do so when Jimmy rubbed you the wrong way. Sure, it made the most sense for him to be acting captain since he was Curly’s co-pilot, but you didn’t like the way he acted like he had to do everything himself. It was giving you ‘I need to do everything my way and feel better about myself’.

“Right on!” Daisuke cheered, before you all split your ways. Anya ran off to medical, Swansea stopped Daisuke from following him while Jimmy probably went towards the cockpit. That left you and Daisuke to sit in the rest area, the led screen shone an image of a warm sunset, permanently stuck after the crash.

“You really think there might be food in the cargo?” Daisuke asked, resting his head against the top of the chair.

“It’s probably wishful thinking,” You grumbled, taking the seat across from him.

“Damn,” He sighed. “I was kinda hopin’ for something other than soup.”

“You dissing soup?” You asked, raising your eyebrows. “I’ll take your portion too if you don’t want it.” Wait! No!” Daisuke exclaimed with a chuckle. “I take it back, I mean I love love love soup and want to eat it every day!��

“You’re such a dork,” You laughed, gently kicking his foot.

The door slid open, halting your conversation as Jimmy walked up to you both. He stared at you both intently, and you felt a bit uncomfortable at the irritable stare in his eyes. You slowly realized he always looked that way.

“Looks like it’ll be soup again for dinner,” Daisuke spoke up first. “You wanna rock paper scissors for the chicken noodle?”

“That’s my favorite,” You pouted. Daisuke tended to make you feel more relaxed, no matter the situation. “Ah, nevermind then,” He sighed. “It’s theirs.” Gosh, he never failed to make you feel warm either, even in your dire circumstances.

“How much food do we have left?” Jimmy cut in, ignoring your banter altogether.

“I’d say four months-ish,” Daisuke replied.

“Hmm, less than the remaining air supply, but we can make it last,” Jimmy muttered to himself holding a hand up to his chin. “In theory. We’ll be poking new holes in our belts to pull that off.” The thought of starving unsettled you, but it was an unfortunate possibility. But then the question is how much air supply is left? That was something you couldn’t conserve…well, unless someone died…but even then it wouldn’t be much.

“Man, my mom will straight up stuff me when I get back,” Daisuke laughed, trying to keep the atmosphere light. “I’ll look like Swansea!” You chuckled bittersweetly, shaking your head amusedly. “We’ll have a rad story to tell,” Daisuke continued, looking between you and Jimmy with a strained smile. “They might even write articles about us. We could be on TV!” Once again there was a pit in your stomach. No matter the outcome, you were sure to appear on TV…

Jimmy also seemed uncomfortable, eyes shifting, and posture ridgid, “Uh, it’ll impress the ladies too.” You nearly broke out laughing at how awkward Jimmy was, coughing into your fist to hide it. Even funnier was it seemed he didn’t realize you and Daisuke were already in a relationship.

Daisuke looked confused, glancing at you briefly before uttering a confused, “Uh…yeah…the real problem is running out of toilet paper. Fatal stuff, man.” This time you couldn’t smother your laughter, hiding your face from the two men before you.

“Seriously!” Daisuke emphasized, grin turning brighter at your laughter. “We should leave that part out for the press.”

“Totally,” You agreed. “Wouldn’t want the ladies to know.” This time Daisuke snorted, Jimmy nodding uncomfortably before leaving. The two of you cackled for a few more seconds before calming down.

“I thought everyone already knew we were dating,” Daisuke said, confused. “Not like we’ve been hiding it.”

“Just goes to show how much he cares,” You shrugged with a sigh.

“You think he got the code scanner?” He asked, tilting his head slightly.

“I’d think so,” You nodded. “Wanna head to the cargo hold?”

“Yeah.”

…

Mouthwash.

You were hauling fucking mouthwash.

It felt like a tiny bit of your sanity slipped away. You weren’t the only one though, everyone looking at the contents of the box in disbelief.

“Mouthwash?” Anya asked in a shaky voice.

“Un-fucking-believable,” Swansea cursed.

“There’s gotta be an ocean of the stuff in here!” Daisuke exclaimed. “The room looks freakin’ endless!” You felt dizzy staring at the rows upon rows of shelves, boxes stacked to the brim on each one.

“This is what they’d have six people hauling for over a year?” Jimmy scoffed in disbelief. “All of this…for mouthwash?!” You tensed slightly at his shout, but quickly focused on Anya as she spoke up.

“The sugar content probably offsets any potential as a disinfectant…” Anya informed, reading the ingredient content. Great, this was completely and totally useless-

“Disinfectant? What’re you-” Swansea grumbles. “Let me see that!” Snatching the bottle Swansea reads the contents as well. “Fourteen percent ethanol.” Suddenly he bursts out laughing, seeming a bit manic.

“Haha?” Daisuke gave a confused laugh, clearly not understanding the implications. “I s’pose we’ll smell good at least…?” “That’s right kiddo! You can bet your ass on that!” Swansea continued to laugh.

“W-what are you doing?” Anya stuttered, eyes wide in concern. “Stop that!” Instead, Swansea starts to chug the blue liquid, causing your stomach to churn.

“Whew-whee,” Swansea, sighs. “Ohhh, shut up. I’m just an ol’ codger taking care of his dental hygiene.”

“You hear that?” Swansea continues, glancing at you all. “That’s the sound of fifteen years of sobriety popping like a cyst. A glorious, magnificent, red hot cyst. Good riddance and cheers! To Captain Curly! Hear, hear!”

“Guess anyone could get seriously blasted off of this stuff,” Daisuke mutters loud enough for us all to hear.

“Yeah, and give you a seriously bad stomach ache,” You grumbled.

“And kill you in the process,” Jimmy huffed.

“This can’t be real,” Anya bemoans. “I-There’s no way…”

“Now we can go out in style,” Swansea grins nihilistically. “Daisuke! Come here! Anyone ever teach you how to drink like a man?”

You felt your stomach drop, one alcoholic was bad enough, you would be damned to let Swansea drag Daisuke down with him.

“C’mon,” You muttered, grabbing Daisuke’s hand and dragging him past the rest of the crew, head down.

“Somthin’ wrong?” Daisuke asks once you're both back in the main hull.

You blinked at him like he was dumb, “Seriously? This whole situation is wrong! And now Swansea’s out of commission if he’s gonna nurse that goddamned mouthwash!” You let out a frustrated sigh, running your hand through your hair.

“And he’s trying to take you down with him.”

“I won’t drink it if that’s what you’re worried about,” Daisuke mumbles softly, eyes filled with concern.

You side-eyed him, feeling anxiety claw at your chest, “And how do I know you’ll keep that promise?”

Daisuke opened his mouth, but nothing came out, confirming your fears.

#mouthwashing x reader #daisuke mouthwashing x reader #mouthwashing daisuke x reader #mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing #mouthwashing daisuke #x reader #daisuke

141 notes · View notes

mythicmanuscripts · 3 months ago

Note

I hope you know that this blog is my new obsession. You’re so right about everything you say I am OBSESSED. I read your sub!jace stuff and I noticed that you mentioned both that he gets super super sensitive after his orgasm and also that he gets emotional and vulnerable when sex is over and I just… I need more info!!! Info on both of these and info on them together!!!

Of course!!! Sensitive!jace is quite possibly my favourite headcannon of mine so of course!! Somehow this ended up being both smutty and angsty? I swear I didn’t start off thinking of angst but clearly the angst thought of me and now we’re here.

NSFW sub!Jace content below the cut :))

So obviously Jace realised pretty quickly that he got super super sensitive after an orgasm. But I also think that Jace tended to fall victim to a drop in all the feel good hormones even on his own?

It’s why Jace used to view masturbation as bad. It wasn’t because of any religious view or anything like that. It was just because every single time he got himself off, it would feel really really good until suddenly it didn’t and then not only could he not even manage to clean himself for a good 20min afterwards but also he just felt this awful drop in mood. More often than not he’d end up hugging a pillow and crying softly every time.

This is why Jace decided he would remain a virgin until his wife. He told people it was because if his wife would be expected to remain pure, then he would do the same for her. And yeah the thought of saving himself for his wife is appealing, but the main reason he waits is because he has no idea how to tell a woman that he’s going to get super sensitive afterwards and probably cry.

So he tries to avoid it. But of course he’s a young man, he’s not gonna be able to avoid horniness forever. That only gets ten times worse when his mother introduces him to his future wife. You’re sweet and kind to him, of course, but you also rile him up so easily. He gets so turned on he doesn’t even know what to do with himself and he wakes up hard thinking of you all the time.

I think maybe you discover this before the wedding even happens?

You have plenty of fun teasing Jace, stealing kisses from him when you’re alone and listening to his little whines and whimpers when you tug his hair. Everything about him is intoxicating, and you can’t wait until you get to experience all of him. You’d sleep with him before the wedding no questions asked, but Jace made it clear waiting was important to him so of course you never pressed the issue.

That’s not to say you didn’t sneak into his room and kiss him and lay on his bed and talk about your future. Jace genuinely loves every single moment of being with you, and he’s not as scared or nervous about things being sexual as he thought he’d be.

Until one day when things get really heated. You’re not quite sure how it happened but somehow you’ve ended up with Jace pushed against the wall of his bedroom, your thigh between his legs and he’s desperately trying to grind down against it. He looks so pretty like that, his flushed, his curly hair sticking to his face as he pants and whines.

You just have to see him come undone. There’s no way you can leave without seeing that. And bless him he’s so sweet that he asks if you’re okay with that. As if letting him hump your leg wasn’t indication enough.

You hold his hips, helping him get a proper rhythm and press kisses on his neck. You can feel him shake against you, and pretty soon he’s whines are getting louder and he says he’s close. You just tell him to do it, and god he’s so pretty. He flings his head back against the wall and gasps, his whole body going stiff before he collapses against you, shaking softly.

You catch him easily, wrapping your arms around him and telling him how hot that was. That genuinely might have been the most attractive thing you’ve ever seen.

As you speak, your leg moves a little and suddenly Jace is flinching and whining, mumbling “Please, no more please.”

You step back for a second, making sure your leg is nowhere is crotch anymore before pulling him back into your arms. But just the movement of him taking a step forward makes his cock rub against his underwear and the harsh fabric of his pants. It’s all too much, he’s way too sensitive and he can’t take it. He ends up collapsing against you, clinging to you and mumbling that it’s too much.

You’re confused, because you aren’t touching his crotch anymore but he still seems to be shaking and his hips are bucking up every now and then.

“Jace,” you say, your voice soft and concerned, “can you tell me what’s wrong? I can’t help if I don’t know.”

He says it’s starting to hurt, and then his hand falls down to his crotch. Only he actually pulls his pants one way ever so slightly and that causes even more friction.

Thankfully, that motion was enough to realise what was wrong and how to help.

You help him walk to the bed, wincing every time he whines and had to stop walking for a moment. By this point you’re so worried. You’ve never seen or heard of anything like this. You worry you may have seriously hurt him somehow.

When he gets to the bed, he tries to undo the buttons on his pants but his hands won’t stop shaking. You stop him, telling him to let you do it for him. It’s a testament to just how overwhelmed and sensitive he was that he didn’t even protest being naked in front of you before the wedding.

You’re as gentle as you can as you slowly pull down his pants and underclothes. And thankfully, his cock seems fine? Well, it’s not red or bleeding or swollen so you thankfully realise that means you probably didn’t manage to hurt him somehow.

His entire demeanour changes once the pants have been removed. He flops down onto the bed like all his strings have been cut. You lean over and press a kiss to his forehead before going to pout his soiled clothes in the washing pile and then wetting a rag with warm water to clean him a little.

When you get back, he’s crying? He’s hugging a pillow right, silent tears running down his cheeks. When he sees your back he tries to hide the tears but it’s too late.

You ask him if you did anything to upset him, and he shakes his head. Then you ask if you can help in anyway. He ducks his head for a moment and then quietly asks, “Stay? For a little? Please?”

There’s no way in hell you can deny him so remove your shoes and join him in bed. You tell him you’ve put a wet cloth on his nightstand if he wants want to clean the now dried cum that’s on him, or you could do it for him. To your surprise, this question makes him whine and turn to hide against your chest. He clings to you and shakes his head before finally mumbling, “Still too sensitive.”

That’s when you start to put together what happened, or at least a likely version of what happened. You’re heard of men who liked to be tortured by keeping stimulation on their cock after they finished, you know men are supposed to feel exponentially more sensitive after an orgasm. You realise that for whatever reason, Jace seems to be even more sensitive than most, so much so that his clothes were too much to handle after his orgasm.

And then he also seems to be very emotional? He’s just hugging you and crying softly, his grip on you as tight as possible.

You stay like that for a while until Jace recovers enough to form full sentences. Jace, of course, thinks he’s blown with you and that you’re about to go to his mother and announce that you won’t marry him. No woman could possibly want something like this.

That never happens of course. You just ask Jace what happened and why. You ask if you pushed him told hard, if you made him do something he didn’t want. He’s quick to promise that’s not the case. He absolutely loved what happened, right up until he came and then suddenly his pants were too much stimulation.

You just kiss his head and give him a little squeeze, telling him that the two of you will figure out what he needs together.

He sleeps easy that night.

(Good lord that was so long. I intended to write in general how this concept would work through the relationship but somehow ended up with this? So uh, I’ll make sensitive!jace a tag and then if any of you lads want to see more or add your own thougnts, you can send them through and I’ll add them all to the tag)

#sub!jacaerys #sub!jace #jacaerys x you #jacaerys valaryon x reader #jacaerys smut #jacaerys x reader #jace velaryon #jace targaryen #jacaerys targaryen #prince jacaerys #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd

227 notes · View notes

supernovafics · 19 days ago

Text

series masterlist | last part — next part

pairing: modern!college!steve harrington x fem!reader, bestfriend!eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 6.7k words

warnings: explicit language, lots of fluff, smut (18+), fingering, protected piv sex, a bit of praise kink, mentions of reader’s strained relationship with her parents, alcohol consumption (drunk!reader and drunk!steve moment)

summary: the semester comes to an end

a/n: this turned out so much longer than expected wow but last chapter! wooo!!! (simultaneously happy and sad woo) epilogue coming next week !!

CHAPTER NINETEEN | ❝𝒄𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖❞

Fall Semester 2017

“I’m gonna come over here all of the time.”

“When we actually get a couch, feel free to be our honorary fifth roommate anytime you want, Munson,” Robin said, which made you laugh as you also nodded in agreement.

It was the first night in the apartment and it definitely showed— there were boxes everywhere, lifeless walls, and nothing in the living room aside from said boxes and a TV (courtesy of Vickie’s mom) on the floor that you all were currently surrounding. Your bedroom was also nothing but a mess, and so was everyone else’s, which was the main reason why camping out in the living room for the night became the immediate consensus.

At first, you expected it to be a night of watching bad movies and ordering takeout, but Talia— now deemed as one of the coolest people you’d ever met— was adamant about making an actual meal for you all. She said something about how nice it would be to have a real meal on your first night, and who were all of you to deny an actual home-cooked meal?

Eddie came over right when you mentioned spaghetti to him over the phone. His own shared apartment was also in a state of disarray, but he was fine with setting unpacking to the side for the time being.

“Okay, the food’s done, but I’m so sad that I forgot to get garlic bread,” Talia said. “Next time, though.”

“I can’t believe you’re already thinking about next time. You’re way too good to us,” Vickie said and the rest of you hummed in agreement.

Talia only laughed in response as you all joined her in the kitchen to grab some food and then once again settled on the living room floor. Eddie left afterward, but promised not to “eat and run” next time; none of you were entirely sure if you actually believed him.

The rest of the night felt equivalent to the kinds of sleepovers you imagine you would’ve had if you had close enough friends when you were younger. There was a mass of blankets and pillows on the floor and you were watching probably one of the cheesiest romcoms to ever exist.

The four of you already felt like a little family. And perhaps it only already felt that way because you’d been craving a feeling like that for the past few years, maybe even for as long as you could remember. In your eyes, it was somehow so easy to immediately call the apartment your home.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Spring Semester 2018

Anyone else would’ve deemed it as horrible timing— it was the middle of finals and all that should’ve been on both of your minds was studying— but neither you nor Steve saw it that way. You two had been through worse timings, you figured.

It was hard for both of you to focus on what needed to be focused on, but you and him made it work. Mostly.

You could admit that there were probably too many moments where you were in the middle of working on an essay and you stopped to text him a random thought that came to mind, and then there were other moments where he was calling you when you knew that he was supposed to be studying for one of his many tests.

Even in this instance, it probably wasn’t the best idea to be at Steve’s apartment instead of in your own space, and yet here you were anyway— “writing” an essay that was due by midnight, the last one you had to do actually, as he “studied” for the last test he had that was tomorrow.

“Okay, we should really get serious,” You said when you pulled away from Steve, maneuvering off of his lap and settling back on your side of the couch.

“What? We were just taking a quick break.”

“Yeah, and five minutes turned into fifteen,” You responded, and then proceeded to say the words that you really didn’t want to say. “I think I should go.”

Steve frowned; it was probably the cutest thing you’d ever seen. “No. Stay.”

“We’re just gonna keep distracting each other.”

He considered your words for a second. There was no way that he could deny them; you two were inadvertently distracting each other and had been for the past hour that you’d been at his place.

“Okay, what if you stayed out here and worked on your essay, and I went to my room to study. We wouldn’t be able to distract each other then.”

It was endearing how adamant he was about you staying that you were nodding along to his suggestion instead of saying how kind of silly it was, like you were little kids that needed to be separated in school; but maybe that was actually a pretty accurate description of you two in this moment.

“Okay, yeah, that works,” You told him, biting back your amused smile.

“Okay,” He nodded and smiled, giving you a quick kiss before he stood up from the couch and gathered his stuff off of the coffee table. “See you in a few hours.”

You managed to finish your essay in what felt like record time, and you hadn’t even been trying to rush through it. You proofread it two times before you submitted it and it was only a little after eleven when you closed your laptop, placed it on the coffee table, and then headed over to Steve’s room to see how he was doing with studying.

“I’m done.”

You gave him a skeptical look because the timing seemed a little too perfect. “You sure?”

“Yup, you can even test me if you want,” He said, giving you a teasing smile.

You laughed a bit as you nodded and went to sit across from him on his bed, crossing your legs under yourself. He handed over his notebook and you spent the next fifteen minutes “testing” him and, much to your happy surprise, he knew everything.

“You are, in fact, ready for this final, Harrington,” You smiled at him. “I see an A+ in your future.”

“Thank you,” He said, smiling back as he reached out to pull you into his lap and the notebook became discarded to the side.

You rested your hands on his shoulders and his settled on your hips.

“I’ve missed you,” You told him before you thought about what you were saying, and then you were quickly shaking your head at yourself. “Sorry, I know that probably sounds so dumb to say because, before this, the last time we saw each other was only three days ago, and it’s not like we didn’t text and stuff… But, I don’t know—”

He cut off your rambling with a quick kiss. “It’s not dumb. I’ve missed you too. I’m so glad finals are gonna be over tomorrow.”

“Me too,” You said and then thought about something. “Well, I’m technically already done with everything, but you’re gonna ace your test tomorrow. What time is it at?”

“One.”

You nodded at that and then looked over at the digital clock on his nightstand and took note of the time; it was only a few minutes past eleven-thirty right then.

“Okay, good, so you don’t have to kick me out yet?”

He immediately shook his head at your question. “I’d never kick you out. Even if the test was at eight in the morning.”

There was a playful tilt to his words, but you could also hear how true they were, which warmed something inside of you. You kissed him instead of saying anything else in response.

Your hands settled in the hair at the nape of his neck as you pushed yourself closer to him, getting rid of the little bit of space between you two.

It wasn’t the first time you two had been in this position— you in his lap or just simply being this close to one another. However, this was the first time that it finally felt right to do more, and you suddenly really wanted to do more.

Other times, you and him had been at your place and things were noisy and it felt as if you two could be interrupted at any given moment, so you always slowed things down instead of pushing them forward. This time, though, you didn’t want to keep things slow or ease away from him. There was no need to— no potential interruption a few feet away, or random noises that carried through thin walls.

You had never cherished the quiet as much as you did in this moment in Steve’s bedroom.

Slowly, you moved yourself against him, searching for any sort of friction, and the soft groan you received from him in response made you smile and do it again and again. You could feel him growing hard beneath you with every teasing stir, straining against his sweatpants.

“Shit,” Steve’s hands immediately went to your hips again and gave them a quick squeeze as you continued your slow movements.

“Is that okay?” You had a feeling that you knew what his answer was going to be, but you still asked it anyway and tried to sound as innocent and normal as ever.

He let out a contented sound. “Much more than just okay.”

“Good,” You responded and then leaned into his ear as you softly said your next words. “I want you, Steve.”

He gave your hips another squeeze. “Yeah?”

He was sort of guiding you at this point, controlling your movements; making you move a little quicker and then slowing you down again. It was subtle but so fucking hot and you could feel your arousal pooling in your underwear. You desperately wanted to slip out of the simple pair of leggings you were wearing so that there could be one less layer between you two.

“Mhm, yeah,” You answered his one-word barely heard question and then pulled back to meet his eyes. “Please.”

Steve didn’t need to be told twice.

He shifted things with ease— switching positions so that you were pressed back into the bed and he was settled between your now parted legs.

His fingers teased the hem of the t-shirt you were wearing, and you expected him to push it up and off of you, but he instead slipped beneath your shirt and found the waistband of your leggings so that he could pull them off of you.

The cool air hitting your now bare legs sent a chill through your body and your eyes slipped shut for a moment. When they opened again, you expected to immediately meet Steve’s eyes, but he was instead focused solely on the wet spot on your underwear.

“You’re soaked, aren’t you?” He asked as he started stroking your inner thigh, another action that sent something equivalent to a chill through your entire body.

You nodded shyly, closing your eyes again. “Yeah…”

You felt his hands find the bottom of your t-shirt again and that time he guided it off of you, leaving you in just your black bra. He leaned down to kiss you; it was slow and sweet like you two had all of the time in the world and it genuinely felt that way. “What do you want?”

“Mmm,” It was hard to answer when your brain could barely form any coherent sentences. You could feel his hand traveling upward, getting closer and closer to where you needed him to be, but it was too hard to verbalize that right then. “Fuck…”

“Go on, pretty girl, use your words,” Steve said, and the sweet term of endearment made your heart flutter wildly in your chest.

His middle finger ghosted over your clit through your soaked underwear and your hips bucked upward, but he pulled his hand away before you could feel anything and you suddenly felt so close to crying. “Fingers— Your fingers, Steve. Please.”

“Mhm,” He hummed softly and your eyes were shut but you could tell he was smirking. You were close to playfully calling him an asshole for all of his teasing but your brain was still practically running on autopilot, and then he was speaking again, anyway. “Anything for you.”

Your underwear was pulled off of you in one slow movement and you whimpered when you felt Steve’s middle finger trace through your soaked folds, gathering your slick and leisurely circling your clit. His other hand came up to firmly squeeze one of your breasts through the thin material of your bra that was the last piece of clothing left on your body.

“Take this off for me, honey,” He told you and you listened almost embarrassingly fast; bra gone and tossed somewhere on his floor in a matter of seconds.

“Good,” His finger continued teasing your clit, and the thumb of his free hand moved to rub your now exposed nipple. “Good girl.”

You barely had time to process the soft praise and what exactly it did to you before two of his fingers finally entered you and you sucked in the sharpest breath, all thoughts suddenly gone again.

“Steve…” Was all you could manage to say in the quietest voice as your eyes slipped shut and you focused on the feel of his fingers inside of you, somehow quickly finding and hitting the most perfect spots.

“You look so good like this,” Steve whispered, fingers slowly picking up speed and making you softly whine at every movement. “Spread out for me and squeezing my fingers so tight. Fuck.”

A part of you wanted to say something back— match his words and tell him how fucking perfect all of this was, how perfect he was— but your brain was effectively mush and all you could do was moan and whimper and mewl in response to him. Lucky for you, that all sounded like music to his ears.

He added another finger and his thumb found your clit, which made your body jerk harshly off of the bed.

“Steve, fuck. Right… Right there, yeah.”

The rough strokes against your clit pushed you so close to the edge, you could feel the pressure starting to build in your lower stomach. You turned your head, burying your face into his pillow and trying your hardest to hold back the scream you wanted to let out.

“Shit,” He said. “You gonna come, honey?”

You quickly nodded. “Yes, yeah.”

“Go ahead,” He told you, voice low. “Come for me.”

Your eyes opened and you met his gaze as you did. He looked completely enamored by you, which only made your orgasm hit you a thousand times harder. You could feel your heartbeat pounding in your ears as Steve continued fingering you through your orgasm, trying to prolong it for as long as possible. He withdrew his fingers when he could tell that the overstimulation was becoming too much for you.

“You’re so good for me,” He said, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “That was so fast.”

Finally, your brain was able to form coherent sentences. “You’re so cocky.”

Steve let out the softest laugh. “Mm, but you love it.”

He was a thousand percent right, but you still shook your head. “Hate it, actually.”

“Doesn’t feel that way,” He said as he pressed the most featherlight touch against your sensitive clit and all you could do was softly whine at the feeling.

He was smiling as he lay down next to you and pulled you close to him, the side of your head pressing against his chest and one leg tangling with his. It was quiet as your breathing continued to return back to normal and your mind became clearer. After the briefest moment, your hand moved to dip beneath his sweatpants and boxers.

Steve let out a low groan when your hand found his hard cock before he softly said, “We don’t have to.”

“I want to,” You told him and then moved so that you were straddling his lap again. Your arousal was practically dripping down your thighs and making the hottest mess against his sweatpants. “I need you inside of me.”

“Fuck,” His eyes slipped shut for a brief second as if imagining what was about to happen. “You sure?”

“Very sure. Really sure. Super sure,” You answered, smiling at him.

Your hands went to grab at the ends of his t-shirt, pushing it upward, and he got the hint and quickly pulled it off. You then lifted your hips so that he could push down his sweatpants and boxers, and when his cock sprang free you let out a soft sound that slightly resembled a gasp. Your hand seemed to take on a mind of its own as it reached out to wrap around his hard length again and your thumb brushed against the tip.

He let out a strangled noise. “Shit, shit.”

“Is this good?” You asked softly as you slowly started moving your hand.

“So good. So fucking good.”

It was nice seeing him become a mess due to your teasing like you’d been because of him a few minutes ago.

After barely a minute, he placed a hand on your wrist to stop your movements. You were about to ask him what was wrong, but then he was leaning over to his nightstand and rummaging through the top drawer to pull out a condom. You quickly grabbed it from him and did all of the work of slipping it on his cock, which he immediately thought was the hottest thing he’d ever seen and he was close to cumming right then and there, but he somehow managed to hold back.

He so badly wanted to let his eyes fall shut as you slowly lowered onto him, but he kept his gaze on you and he promptly decided that that was probably one of the best decisions he ever made. There was nothing else that felt more like heaven to him than watching you throw your head back and let out the loudest moan as you took him inside of you completely.

“Fuck, you’re taking me so well,” Steve groaned, still not taking his eyes off of you, and you could only nod in response.

You didn’t move for a few moments. Instead, you savored and got used to the feeling of being so full of him. When you did finally start moving, lifting yourself ever so slightly and then sinking right back down onto Seve’s length, you let out a string of curses that morphed into soft moans.

Your hands became lost in his hair at some point and he had a near-bruising grip on your hips as he guided your movements, helping you ride him.

He flipped you two over when he couldn’t take it anymore, hand finding your hip as he pushed deep inside of you.

“Fuck, Steve!”

The thrusts were rough and quick but surprisingly didn’t feel as such.

“You feel so good,” He told you. “You’re so fucking perfect for me.”

You could feel yourself clenching around him when he said his words and he squeezed his eyes shut for a second.

“You gonna come?” You mumbled, brain barely about to form a coherent sentence, but Steve nodded wildly.

“Yeah. Yeah, honey, so close.”

You mewled. “Mm, me too.”

Upon hearing that, he let one of his hands slip between your bodies to find your clit. He started circling the sensitive nub, bringing you closer and closer to that edge with him. You clenched around his cock again and your back arched off the bed, hard nipples brushing against his chest.

You came when his lips abruptly found yours in the messiest kiss; it was a mix of tongues and teeth that was perfect and pushed you over the cliff. You cried out his name again and again and again as your orgasm abruptly hit you, it almost sounded as if you were saying some sort of prayer. Steve followed suit moments after, spilling into the condom with a loud groan after a particularly hard thrust.

Your heart pounded wildly in your chest and it barely felt like it was slowing down, but eventually it did. Steve’s weight crushed you in the most soothing way possible and he buried his face in your neck, placing soft kisses against the skin.

You had no idea what time it was and you felt too exhausted to turn your head and look at his nightstand.

“Do you have to kick me out now?” You asked, mostly joking with your question.

Steve pulled away from your neck then, eyes meeting yours. “You’re staying the night.”

You were too tired to play into your joke further so you nodded your head at his words and simply tilted your head up to kiss him instead. You two fell asleep just like that for the time being, exhausted bodies and tangled limbs.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You smiled when Steve opened the door and you fought the urge to greet him with a hug and kiss like you normally did because in this instance you were holding something behind your back. “Hi.”

“Hi,” He smiled back before giving you a curious look when he noticed that you were hiding something. “What do you got there?”

“A surprise,” You answered as you stepped inside his apartment. “A very important surprise, actually.”

“Really?”

“Mhm,” You nodded and he looked at you expectantly but you let a silence linger for a few beats to make things more dramatic. After what felt like way too long of a pause, you showed him what you were holding, which at first didn’t look like anything special since all he saw was a gray plastic bag, but then you pulled out the package inside. “They’re curtains for your living room!”

Steve smiled at you immediately and you could tell he was trying to hold back a laugh. “Finally.”

“Do I get the ‘best girlfriend ever’ award now?”

He couldn’t help but laugh a little then as he reached out to pull you into his arms and then he pressed a kiss against the top of your head. “Yes, a thousand percent.”

“And they’re black too so they’ll block out the sun perfectly in the morning,” You told him as you returned the embrace for a brief second and then pulled back. “Come on, let’s put them up now.”

It took an hour to put the curtains up— the directions were a lot more confusing and meticulous than expected— but once it was done they looked great.

“Now we can fall asleep out here whenever we want,” You said when you and Steve were settled on his couch.

His hand mindlessly stroked one of your legs that were resting in his lap. “I think I’d much rather be in my bed with you.”

You looked at him, a teasing smile on your lips. “We haven’t had sex on the couch yet, though, and now it’s a possibility because we don’t have to worry about the people across the street looking in.”

“That’s a great idea,” Steve said, smiling back as his hand moved up to slip beneath your shirt and rest on your waist.

You were slightly tempted to lean into his touch, but you shook your head instead.

“Wait, no, let’s save that for later. We have other important things to do right now,” You said, and when he gave you a confused look, you leaned over to lightly poke his side. “You said you were gonna show me your favorite movie. That was the reason why I came over. Aside from gifting you your curtains, of course.”

“Oh, yeah,” He nodded as he leaned over to grab the TV remote off of the coffee table. “I haven’t seen this movie in a long time, probably since I was a kid, but for some reason it was the first thing that came to mind when I was thinking about movies I really like.”

Seconds later, he was pulling up Big Fat Liar, which you didn’t at all expect, but it was the best surprise. The smallest part of you had thought that he was going to out himself as a film bro and force you to watch some Martin Scorcese movie with him. This outcome was a thousand times better.

“I love this movie,” You told him, smiling. You also hadn’t seen it in forever, but in your eyes, it was still a classic. “It was one of the three that would play on repeat in my house when I was a kid; the other ones were Mulan and the second Spy Kids movie. At one point, my parents hid the DVDs away from me since I played them so much. I did manage to find them, though.”

Steve gave you an amused smile. “Now I’m imagining a five-year-old you ruining your entire house to find the movies.”

You let out a laugh. “Whatever image you’re coming up with is probably very accurate.”

“Hey, since we’re on the parent topic, I feel like I need to talk to yours.”

You immediately laughed again, assuming he was joking, but when he didn’t join in on your laughter or give you a playful smile, you stopped. “Oh, you’re being serious.”

“As your real boyfriend this time around, I think I should probably meet your parents before we go to a different country again,” He said, playfully smiling at you, but you were certain that he was actually being serious. If it weren’t for his abrupt mention of your parents, you would’ve happily smiled at him bringing up your and his plans for the summer; plans that actually managed to come together pretty fast.

The day that Steve finished his last final, he came over to your place and you two spent hours upon hours figuring out your plans for the summer; the places you both wanted to go, specific things to do and spots to eat in said places, where to spend the most time and where to spend the least, etc. All of the research was exhausting— you had ended up falling asleep around three in the morning with your head on Steve’s shoulder and your computer opened up in your lap— but it was the good kind of exhausting if that was even possible. The entire thing was impulsive and abrupt, two factors that could’ve easily made the whole thing be deemed as a bad idea, but you truly felt like it wouldn’t be.

You were quiet for a few moments, processing Steve’s previous words, and then you gave him a quick nod. “Okay, yeah, um, sure.”

He was easily able to pick up that something was at least a little wrong. “Yeah?”

“Yup,” You nodded again, looking away from him then and focusing on the TV. You were about to shift the conversation back to talking about the movie, but he started talking before you could.

“If you don’t want them to meet me yet, that’s okay.”

“No, no, you’re right. It would make sense if you met them. Like, if we did a quick phone call or whatever,” You said and then let out a sigh. You got quiet again and tried to figure out the best way to say what you really didn’t want to; talking about your parents was a hard feat. You had barely gotten to the point where you felt like you could easily do it with Eddie or Robin or anyone else.

Your eyes were still on the TV when you spoke again and decided to be entirely honest with Steve. “It’s just… It’s really hard talking to them sometimes. Like, talking about myself with them. Life stuff. It always feels like they won’t care.”

Steve’s hand found yours, intertwining them and giving a light squeeze. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“You’d be surprised,” You told him and then finally met his eyes again. There was a soft look on his face that you wanted to get rid of, so you quickly tried to make things lighthearted and a lot less serious and sad. “You don’t need to talk to them. The only parental approval you need is from Robin, which you have, so everything’s fine.”

Steve nodded and didn’t push you further on everything, even though you could tell he kind of wanted to. Weird and strained parent relationships weren’t foreign to him, but you could tell that he was wondering if it really was only just about that. It was a thought that you quickly wanted to shut down.

“And I promise this really isn’t about you. It’s completely about them. If I had actual good parents, I would love to tell them about you and how much I adore you, and how I can’t wait to spend the summer with you. And I’d probably go into an annoyingly deep amount of detail about what all of our plans are,” You rambled and the smile he gave you warmed your heart. “But, I don’t have good parents, so we don’t need to worry about telling them anything.”

“So, if they randomly call when we’re in London, that’s when you’ll break the news?” His question was playful and lighthearted and just what you wanted to hear right then.

“Yes, exactly, that sounds like perfect timing,” You answered, laughing a little. “Y’know this whole parent conversation is making me realize that your parents are probably gonna hate when you tell them that we’re together, or I guess, “back” together. Your mom really didn’t like me.”

It was a weird set of circumstances that you weren’t entirely sure how it would be solved. Even before Steve told them that you two had broken up because you “cheated,” you could tell that his mom wasn’t at all a fan of you and wanted Steve to be with anyone else. Probably a girl handpicked from a specific list.

“Remember when you told me that it’s my life, and I should do what I want because I have to live it?” He asked, and you nodded, the smallest smile on your face.

“I’m what you want?” It was a question that you were certain of the answer to, but you still had the urge to ask it.

Steve nodded as he pulled your intertwined hands up so that he could press a quick kiss to the back of yours. “Always. You just got the ‘best girlfriend ever’ award, remember?”

You smiled wider as you nodded back. “Ah yes, you can never break up with me, no matter what your parents say, because of the curtains.”

“Exactly.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

The party had been an idea since mid-March. Robin randomly suggested it to you and Vickie one night— “How fucking cool would it be if we threw a graduation party for Talia?”— and you both immediately agreed.

And now, a month and a half later, here it was. Over thirty people were crammed into your guys’ apartment, but everyone was having fun— especially Talia, which was all that really mattered— so it made the mess that you’d all have to clean up in the morning worth it.

It was pretty safe to say that you were drunk. It was actually a statement that could’ve been said just an hour into the party, but it was even more certain now as the second hour moved into the third.

You currently lingered by Eddie who, right at the start of the party, had appointed himself as the one in charge of the music, which didn’t surprise any of you. He was sitting with your laptop that was connected to the speakers set up in the living room. Every few minutes you jokingly suggested songs for him to play and he kept playfully shooing you away and vetoed all of your suggestions. When he actually did play the Pitbull song you requested, you laughed for what felt like five minutes straight.

Eddie shook his head at you, but there was a smile on his face, like he wanted to laugh at your current antics. “You’re so drunk right now.”

You had enough self-awareness to know that you couldn’t argue with his words, so you simply stuck your tongue out at him instead.

He couldn’t hold back his laugh that time. “And that confirms it.”

You started walking away then and gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up when he told you to “Stay safe!” as you wandered off. You headed into the kitchen for no particular reason— a part of you wanted another drink, but you could also recognize how bad of an idea that would be. You considered grabbing some food; a room-temperature slice of pizza didn’t sound like the worst thing in the world right then.

A pair of hands abruptly grabbing your waist made you jump and yelp. The touch didn’t feel entirely unfamiliar, though, so when you turned and saw Steve in front of you, you were quick to smile at him even though your heart was still racing.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen him tonight, and you also couldn’t remember how exactly you two had gotten split up in the first place.

“Sorry for scaring you.”

That was suddenly the last thing on your drunken mind.

“Hi,” You said, practically jumping into his arms. “Where’ve you been?”

He laughed a bit at your enthusiasm. “Talking to Robin. She was rambling about this one summer class that she signed up for, and then she roped me into playing a drinking game version of Uno with her and a couple of her music major friends.”

“Oh, that makes sense. That’s one of her favorite things to do at a party. It gets very intense so I always stay away,” You said, and then noticed his flushed cheeks and lazy smile which made you laugh a little. “How much were you forced to drink during the game?”

“A lot,” He admitted and then proceeded to give you the most exaggerated sad look that you’d probably ever seen. “Turns out I kinda suck at Uno.”

You let out a soft “Aw” and leaned in to kiss his cheek, playing into how “sad” he was. “You should’ve let me warn you how good Robin is at that game. That’s why we never play it at game night anymore.”

Steve’s hands settled on your waist and he pulled you close. You so badly wanted to kiss him at that moment, and there was so much going on around you both right then that you were certain that nobody would’ve paid attention to the two of you making out in the kitchen.

Instead of doing that though, you pulled away from him abruptly. Your hand found his and you started pulling him out of the kitchen.

“Where are we going?” He asked, and you weren’t looking at him, but you could hear the amused smile in his voice.

“I need to show you something in my room,” You answered and then took a quick glance at him. “It’s super important.”

When the door was closed behind you two, you looked at Steve and he gave you a certain look.

“What did you wanna show me?”

“Hmm, weirdly enough, I completely forgot,” You gave him a quick shrug and a small smile before getting closer to him and circling your arms around his torso.

“Oh my god, did you bring me in here to seduce me?” He asked, returning the embrace immediately, and the playfulness in his tone made you let out the softest laugh.

“Maybe a teeny tiny little bit.”

“That’s very cute.”

You lifted your head from his chest and finally kissed him. It felt like it had been years since the last time you’d kissed him and it was definitely your inebriation making you so hyperbolic and over-dramatic because the actual last time was definitely just a few hours ago, but you still savored the feeling of his lips on yours.

Steve’s hand found your cheek and he deepened the kiss immediately. You inwardly sighed in contentment and your hands fisted themselves in the shirt he was wearing and pulled him impossibly closer to you.

It was when he started guiding you back toward your bed that the tiniest bit of logical thinking suddenly sunk in and you broke the heated kiss. “Wait, shit, anyone could walk in.”

Steve considered your words for a moment and then walked over to your door to lock it. “Problem solved.”

The door being locked didn’t change the fact that you could still be interrupted by any sort of harsh knock against it, but who were you to deny his logic in this moment and the stupidly happy smile on his face?

You let out a breath of a laugh as you nodded in agreement. “Problem solved.”

It was a blur of movements that led you two to laying on your bed— Steve on top of you and settled perfectly between your legs. Your skirt had ridden up into oblivion and his jeans-covered hard-on was rubbing against you in the best way possible.

“I can’t wait to spend the summer with you,” You mumbled at one point. Steve’s mouth had moved from your lips to your jaw and then down to your neck.

“Just the summer?” He mumbled against your skin. “You planning to get rid of me after that?”

You mock gasped. “Oh no, you caught me.”

He nipped harshly at your neck, which made you giggle.

One of your hands came up to find his face, pulling him away from your neck so you could meet his eyes in the darkness. “I can’t wait to spend the summer with you, and also many, many days and years after that.”

“Mm, that’s what I like to hear.”

You two were very drunk and it was obvious that most of your words were exaggerated, but your previous statement didn’t entirely feel that way.

Steve’s lips found yours again and you let out a happy hum in response. His hand moved higher and higher on your thigh which made you moan softly, and you felt so tempted to grab his hand and guide it right where you needed it to be.

Before you could do any of that or even contemplate it further, there was a loud knock on your door and then you heard Robin’s voice. “Are you two in there?”

“No!” You yelled out loud enough for her to hear. “Nobody’s in here.”

“We’re about to do the cake, so your presence out here is very importantly needed!”

The smallest part of you wanted to say no and resume what you were doing with Steve, but you couldn’t.

Your eyes met Steve’s for a second before you shut them. “Okay, we’re coming!”

“Thank you!”

Steve pressed a quick peck against your lips and then rolled off of you. “We’ll pick this up later.”

You followed suit and stood up from your bed, readjusting your skirt in the process. “I can’t promise I won’t pass out before then.”

“In that case, I’ll make sure to carry you back here and tuck you into bed,” He said with a smile as he circled an arm around you.

You sighed dreamily and leaned into his touch. “Ugh, you��re too good to me.”

He laughed a bit and then pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “You’re also way too good to me. Remember last night at the arcade? You actually let me beat you at air hockey.”

You quickly shook your head. “Shh, you weren’t supposed to know that.”

“I’m sorry, but you made it very obvious,” He said, laughing again, and that time you couldn’t help but laugh too.

You got the sudden urge to pull him back into your bed. Not even to do anything that would lead to both of your clothes coming off in the process, but to just simply talk to him. About nothing and everything until you fell asleep and woke up with what you assumed would be the worst headache. It had only been a few weeks, but you had quickly gotten to the point where you wanted to tell everything to Steve; every one of your random thoughts or whatever else was on your mind. And you always did, and he did the same.

Of course, you knew that you couldn’t do that right in this moment because another knock from Robin was inevitable. So you instead laced Steve’s hand with yours and led you both back into the noise of the party.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

next part!

taglist (lmk if you want to be added or taken off<333); @eddiernunson , @loulouloueh , @the-aster , @blckburd , @totally-bogus-timelady , @yujyujj , @irhdifartzamfyaa , @mochminnie , @munsonssweets , @blckbrrybasket , @xprloki , @definitionwanderlust , @dwcode , @sun-fiower-seed , @keerysfolklore , @damon-loves-pie , @lodeddiperrodrick , @bisexual-and-intellectual , @munsonburn3r , @negomi123 , @khena , @facexthexsunshine , @seatbacksandtraytables , @suckerfordylansstuff , @lilacccs , @thehairington86 , @welcometohellsock , @dreamerjj , @newyorkangelbaby

(if your user is crossed out it means i can’t tag you</3)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #eddie munson x reader #bestfriend!eddie munson #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #stranger things imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington series #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things series #stranger things fic

158 notes · View notes

hidtired · 3 months ago

Text

Unfortunate Timing [Part 4]

(Daryl Dixon x Reader) Masterlist

Description: You found out your pregnant early into your relationship with Daryl Dixon. To make matters worse? The apocalypse happens a few days later! (not fully canon)

5.6k words

Warnings (Pregnancy, gore, abuse, violence, fluff, walking dead stuff, ect.)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 etc.

Silence… the hum of the RV engine you now sat in filling the air with something other than thought. Daryl was now on what used to be Merle’s motorcycle. You ditched his truck in an effort to save gas. Somehow that is what you were upset about. Not the fact you almost died in an exploding building or that the reason there was room in the RV for you was Jaquan choice of staying in that building. No, it was that dumb rusty truck that had you upset. The truck you had first seen Daryl working on. The truck you took to your first date and shared your first kiss. The start to your romantic relationship happening in those very seats. What a dumb thing to be upset about. You sigh finally turning to see what others in the RV were doing.

Andrea sat across from Shane. She was pouting, not getting her way of trying to kill herself. Dale had saved her yet she seemed like a child denied of a toy at the store. Your sadness about the truck flipped like a coin to detain and a little anger toward her. Mood swings were something you had while on your period. Always quick to realize why you had seemingly flip to one emotion and then the next a little to easily. Just took that first sign of blood to feel a sense of understanding to those emotions. But being pregnant was something else. You elected to practically sow your mouth shut because you were sure to pop with emotions at anyone or thing.

Your eyes moved back to the dirty RV window. Except now everyone had there attention out the windows to. Cars lining and blocking the highway. Some displeased grumbles rolling out of Dale’s mouth, Glenn and T-dog also looking displeased. Daryl rolled up to Dale’s driver side, “M’ gonna go ahead to look for a path, just go an follow me.” It wasn’t even a little while after that the constant hum of the engine spluttered and died. Now that got Dale to slump down in his seat cursing as he hobbled out of the RV opening the hood. While still seated inside the RV you saw a smoke cloud puff out floating up past the wind shield. Didn’t look too good, meaning it would take more time to fix. You took the lead of leaving your seat. If you were going to wait might as well stretch out your legs.

The sun hit you warming your skin. You heard Dale, “Yup dead in the water, don’t know how many times I have to say it…” You knew the thing could only take so much more tape. Rick appearing past one of the many cars, “Problem Dale?” You elected to ignore the conversation when Daryl rolled back in between cars. Walking straight to him he had a smirk and leaned back seeing you approach. You stood to his side putting an arm around his waist. His arm falling over your shoulder, “Piece of shit died again huh?” You sighed, “Thing is more tape than machine at this point.” Daryl chuckled electing to hop off the bike, also coming to the conclusion it would take a while to fix. You and him making your way back to the now gathered group.

“We will resupply up here.” Rick pointed to Dale and Glenn, “You both try and get this thing moving again.” He turned to T-dog and Daryl, “Maybe you both can start siphoning for gas. The rest of you try looking through the cars for anything useful.” It seemed like a good plan to you but before you could turn to start looking for things Lori spoke up, “This place is a graveyard.” Carol also chipping in, “This doesn’t feel to right to take from the dead.” Call you crazy or a bad person but you were looking forward to siphoning through all this stuff. Rick looked thoughtful but continued firmly, “We have to, remember to still have your guards up.” That left you to go about your business. Andrea seeming to head in the direction you were. She walked a little behind you and accidentally kicked something that was at her feet. The thing slid perfectly into your view. A baby bottle…

You and Andrea stop in your tracks. You both look around taking notice of other small toys splattered around and a baby carrier. A baby carrier that’s dirty with blood. You both look up catching the other’s eyes. Yours blank and her’s with a dreaded look. You left her there to contemplate as you went to go search a car. It was farther away than the one Andrea originally went for. Not wanting her to even try to talk about anything. You didn’t want to get in your own head. The car you went through was a small mini van. Looked like a quirky teens first car. Opening the trunk there was a duffle bag and suitcase. A empty tote bag fluttered to the ground. Going through clothes you found what looked to be a band shirt that was an extra large. Something someone would wear to bed maybe. It would make for a good maternal shirt down the road at least. You found new socks and a pair of heavy duty work boots, steal toed and all.

You decide after a while to look through the glove box. While moving around to go to the passenger door you tripped slightly on the bag you dropped. This caused you to turn and kick it off. Lo and behold in the corner of your eye you saw movement, walkers… There were so many of them. Far enough to have not seen you but to close to move any where. You slide down to the ground shimming under the low mini van. You didn’t want to lay on your stomach so you went on your back using your legs to scoot back. You felt jammed in but you needed under farther. Using the bottom of the car to push yourself with your legs. Your foot caught in a gap under the car. You couldn’t pull it out without making a lot of noise. The pressure of your foot was beginning to hurt. But the sound of a hundred feet stilled you. The smell of rotten flesh in the hot sun making you want to hurl.

A few walkers bumped into the car shaking it ever so slightly. It was enough movement however to twist your stuck foot. Now jamming it even farther into where it was. Hot metal touched your skin but you remain quiet. It seemed that there were still a few stragglers left so you wouldn’t have to bare this uncomfortable position for much longer. A few minutes of silence pass, that gave you the permission to start to free yourself. Now it would seem even more unwilling to let go of you. You tried to slip out of your busted running shoe but you didn’t have much of a distance to pull back with you laying down. A sharp object would dig into your ankle if you pulled. Then you started to hear a worried Daryl desperately calling your name. Well this was a little embarrassing…

Daryl POV

While he was on his motorcycle he couldn’t help but think of you saying I love you. Then seeing you happily approaching him when he rolled up on his bike further drove this feeling in his stomach. It was heavy, weighing on him but he couldn’t lie if he wasn’t enjoying it. You were already something new for him but, this was new. He was a fool for you. So when something threatened that it felt 10x worse. A horde from a direction they themselves just came from. He had no clue where you were and if it wasn’t for T-Dog needing his immediate help he might have gotten himself killed looking for you. He needed to remember that you could handle things, you’ve proven that much to him. But after the horde cleared he practically dragged a bleeding T-dog with him in search of you. “Y/N!?” While the yell wasn’t at the top of his lungs like he so wish to do it was still loud.

T-dog leaned against a car as Daryl looked over and under cars. But then T-Dog yelped making Daryl whip around in search of danger. A hand grabbed for T-dog, but your voice sounded from it as well, “A little help?” You sounded strained causing him to dropped down to his knees and lean down to look at you, “Are you hurt?” While you looked uncomfortable you still smiled at him, “Just stuck, think my foot is in between the suspension.” He sighed looking down farther to see where you were snagged, but when he looked back to your face it was pale in shock. Moving his eyes to your line of sight he saw a growing pool of blood on the ground. It came from a slumped T-dog, “He’s not bite, just cut himself on-“ a scream ripped through the air making the hair stand on his neck. Everything still for a second. Because that scream sounds like a little girl. Your voice cut through that stillness, “Go! Take T-dog with you, I’ll be fine down here a little longer!” Daryl didn’t like the idea of leaving you when you’re so vulnerable, but T-dog wasn’t looking to well and something had happen with the others. So he did as he was told. Though he didn’t like it. “Alright’ don’t go anywhere.”

While he lifted T-dog along his shoulders he heard you from under the car, “Yeah, ha ha…” He quickly shuffled back to the group with T-dog being tugged along by him. Faster he got whatever done sooner he could return to you. Dale took notice of them approaching first. However he could only focus on how Lori seemed to be holding Carol back. Dale had gotten closer why he stared off to the alarming situation, “Did he get bite.” Daryl set him down, “He got snagged by a piece of metal.” Carols cry’s made his skin crawl in an unpleasant way. Shane stood pacing near the forest. T-dog was the one to mumble out slightly slurred, “We heard a scream what happen?” Glenn spoke up while Dale tended to him as best he could, “Sophia got chased off by two walkers. Rick ran after her. Just hope they come back.” A sinking feeling of dread boar down inside Daryl. One thought drilled into his mind, ‘This world is not for a child.’ That didn’t feel to good to think. Dale after bandaging T-Dog looked around before worriedly questioning, “Where is Y/N?”

He was about to explained and take back off toward you when shuffling from the forest made everyone perk up. It was just a panting Rick, confused that Sophia wasn’t there. Panic quickly followed, Sophia was missing. Who better to look for her then a tracker, that’s why when people turned to him to find her he paused. You still needed his help and so did a little girl. The burning feeling in him told him to help you first but he knew that he himself didn’t have to be the one to help you, but Sophia did. You had said just at the beginning of the quarry that,

”Where there is people, there’s power.”

He didn’t trust anyone to keep you safe like him but this was exactly what you had been talking about. So before he got pulled along with Rick, Shane, and Glenn. He stopped Glenn, “My girl is stuck under a car, T-Dog can show you which. I can’t do this if I know she still needs help.” It was obvious by Glenn’s face he was surprised he was given such a task by the Dixon. Glenn gave him a determined look, “Ya man I got it.” Now he could only hope you were ok by the time he got back, hopefully with the little girl.

Your POV

When you had said you could stay down here a little longer you didn’t think 15 minutes would pass. Through all that time you still tried to wiggled your way out. All the twisting and pulling making your ankle feel raw. If you could only get your shoe off this would be so much easier, but you were literally pinned under a car. “Y/n?! Is it this one?” Glenn’s calls made you sigh with relief you saw two pairs of feet, “Glenn! Over here!” You saw the lower half of T-Dog slump against a car, least he wasn’t leaving pools of blood. Glenn’s face quickly appeared blocking your view. Your expression was probably very apparent to your discomfort and overall displeasure with the situation. Your voice came out in a slight pant due to being hot,

“What happened? Where is Daryl?”

Glenn looked down to see where your foot was before speaking, “Sophia got chased by a few walkers, Rick had killed them but now we can’t find her. Daryl is the only tracker we have so…” Ball of emotion stuck in your throat, Sophia had already had it bad and now she was in danger. It’s good Daryl went to go after her. Glenn now focused on your stuck leg not wanting to stare at the sad expression you wore. He slide under closer to your foot finally getting to see what your foot was stuck on. Glenn’s disgruntled mumbling told you nothing good, “Shit… Looks like car owner ran something over making a gaged edged hole.” You felt Glenn slide a hand around your ankle causing you to hiss in pain. Glenn winched but spoke with apology, “I can cover the sharp edge but you’re just going to have to pull back as hard as you can.” You sighed, “Try pulling the heal of my shoe off first.” Feeling his finger wiggle its way down your heal to slightly pop it out, then he moved your pant leg but paused and gasped.

“Your ankle is turning blue and purple.”

You needed out fast… while you did feel like you could feel it pulsating the thing that worried you was the throbbing was slowly replaced by a cool tingling. You brace your fist into the asphalt, “Then I need out now, I’m ready.” Glenn started to count down while blocking some of the sharper edges. When your foot original went through it pushed that metal back with. Now you had to pull against it, that is what had you stuck. You felt the pull on your skin before it ripped, that caused you to scream as you still pulled back as hard as you could. When your foot popped out of your shoe the release finally freed you. Glenn helped pulling you out from under the car. The first thing you noticed when the light hit you was the blood. Some scraps on your hands while pulling back on the road and blood running down your ankle into your sock. Glenn pulled your pants leg up as it too was ripped now. “Holy shit!” T-dog exclaimed while catching sight to the contrasting colors of red and the deep blue color of your skin.

You were lightheaded while now sitting up right. Your previous screaming had got the attention of the others, Dale followed by Andrea came hearing your pained screams. Your face felt flushed and you felt like you were sweating buckets, you started to slump slightly but Dale now was in front of you. You were dazed but Dale wrapped something around your leg snapping you back into some kind of alertness. Your eyes felt heavy but you still didn’t protest when Dale and Glenn held you from under your shoulders. Andrea helping a paling T-dog walk after you.

A headache started to form but the longer you were upright the more you got used to it. Maybe you were just a little too warm and the slight blood loss wasn’t helping. When you were sat in the shade next to the RV the breeze hit you immediately making you feel better. You heard voices asking questions but water was put in front of you which you gladly took. You felt slightly swarmed by people but Dale now had your pant leg rolled up and foot bandaged. Everyone moved closer to where Carol was by some metal guard rail as a figure came out of the woods behind it. It was Shane coming back alone, “Daryl and Rick are on her trail. She seemed to get spooked and took a wrong turn.” Carol just nervous shook and continued to stand starring out into the woods that you assumed Sophia ran off into. Shane now commanded people to get back to what they were doing previously, pushing out commands in a way that after hearing Rick’s way of leading made Shane seem less in some way. Not really bad but not good by any means. Oh boy and when he say you sitting on the ground next to the RV with an equally busted T-dog you wouldn’t like what followed from his mouth.

“Daryl just left you out there injured? Tsk, not surprised…”

He mumbled the last bit but you caught it. The fury you had to have a lock on seemed to chip a little, “Watch your mouth.” You sent a glare up at him as he gave you a surprised look not expecting any bark back. Even when it looked like you wanted to you never had. You’ve never really had a problem per se with Shane but he was starting to pull a feeling from your the reeked danger. Shane just tsked before bossing everyone around again. You glanced over to T-dog who was starring at you with his eyebrows raised which got you to chuckle. You leaned back closing your eyes. The air was nice but you now felt the ache back in your foot. Dale spooked you while you drifted off with your eyes closed. He helped move you into the RV, you pass a new stain on the floor but you lay down in the back choosing to ignore it. You were relaxing laying down, exhausted and now in pain. With you being pregnant you had only little experience with your ankles swelling, hence why you used to dip your feet into the quarry. Now this was just adding to it, Daryl isn’t going to like it that’s for sure.

Commotion happened outside, they had come back and by the sounds of it without Sophia. Carols cries and screams attributing to that, then you over heard the flutters of your name. Heavy steps came to the RV door before it creaked open with force. You could only hear heavy breathing as they moved to the back where you were lying down. Daryl’s frantic eyes landed on you searching your body for something. His hand moved to your face as the other rested on your stomach. He had came in so fast it took you a second to notice the blood on him.

Now here you are both worried about each other, “Are you ok!?” It was Daryl to get the first words out shortly after you, “Your covered in blood! Are you hurt?” You moved gripping on to his shirt now leaning into a sitting position. His arms pulling you into him, “is’ not mine.” He moved is words quickly while asking again, “Your both ok right?” You blinked up at him, taking in his words before stuttering out another concern, “I’ll be fine. Is… is Sophia?” You pointed down to the blood that ran down onto his pants as well. He sighed confirming you were not in such a bad shape as the others lead him to believe, ‘You should go look for yourself.’ With faces that said say your goodbyes. “It’s from a walker. Gettin to dark, don’t want to ruin her trail.” His eyes moved down to your foot, covered in bandages. “Picking up the search at dawn.” His eyes flicked back to yours questioning your injury. The look in his eyes reeked of guilt.

“It’s swollen, maybe sprained. The blood is from scraping in on metal, nothing deep I promise.” You saw him gulp and the way he was beating himself up inside. You knew he struggled with feeling like he was doing right by you. So you tapped him to look at you, “Hey, it would have been the same outcome if it was you dragging me out from that car.” He inhaled nodding while looking to you sheepishly, “Your in a shit ton of pain aren’t you?” You wrinkled your nose at him with a ‘no shit’ smile. You lean back laying down again, “Couldn’t even take the kind of medicine I would need while pregnant…” He sat close to your legs looking down to you his thumb went to his mouth and he chewed on it.

You turn you head looking at him knowing it was his nervous thinking habit, “Daryl…” His hand moved from his mouth, “Can I do anythin’ for ya?” He needed to feel helpful so you thought for a second before giving him an awkward smile, “Yes actually, something that I think I’d only let you do.” Now that was something that peaked his interest. He quirked an eyebrow at you expectantly so now you took a step in your relationship you’ve had yet to cross, “I’m gonna need your help going to the bathroom.” You had yet to really get into that part of the relationship, the weird stage you would say. Closest you’ve come is when on the rare nights where Merle was out of the house and you stayed over an he would watch you frantically get ready in the morning to open the store. He would sit back and just watch, simpler times he supposed.

He didn’t even say anything before dragging his arms under you and lifting you into his arms. Her wish is his command. He knew the RV bathroom hadn’t worked for a while so someone would’ve have to hold you while went about your business. Ya definitely a him only thing. The others only glanced seeing him carry you off somewhere. You’re not gonna lie this was embarrassing. He set you down on your good foot helping you balance. You watched his eyes glance around the wooded area he took you. You giggled causing him to look back to you. You smiled, “This is weird…” He ended up having to hold both your hands as you crocheted down. Daryl just scoffed completely nonchalant, “Nothin’ I haven’t seen before.”

5 minutes later Daryl was seen carrying you back just before it became truly night. In the RV Carol now was laying in the spot you once were. She faced the wall in an attempt to hide her cries. Daryl looked uncomfortable but you put a finger to your lips before trying to wave him back. You would sleep that night in a car you cleared out. With a window crack to let in some fresh air in. But throughout the night Carols cries was to much for the Dixon next to you. You would sometimes wake at the sound only to see Daryl still awake next to you. But you couldn’t help the exhaustion that pulled on you. You felt him move next to you leaving you to groggily open your eyes to look if something had happened. In the morning it took you a moment to put together it actually happened and Daryl left to go look for Sophia. He had whispered, “Can’t take it, M’ go lookin’.” Which you guess you mumbled a tired, “Be careful.” and knocked back out. The next time you woke up he was next to you again seeming to not even had left your side.

In the early morn the search party was formed. You, T-dog, and Dale being the only to remain at the highway. Before Daryl left he personally cleaned your wounded ankle. Seeing for himself gave him peace knowing the swelling was the problem and not the cuts. You told him you would stay off your feet and you did. Sitting in the shade next to T while Dale stayed on watch. You hasn’t really talked to them personally only knowing things from them that others have asked and you just heard. So here you were talking trying to pass the time waiting for the others to come back.

“So you don’t mind me asking if he was a one night stand?”

You had told them you really didn’t mind any question. You chuckled replying to T-dog, “Oh trust me this-” You point to the small bump of your stomach, “Did not happen over night.” You raised an eyebrow suggestively at the implication. That got Dale laughing with T-dog making a face like he didn’t like the image going on in his mind. You shift back leaning your head on your hand in thought, “Honestly the reason I even met Daryl and started dating him was because I was running away from getting in a relationship in the first place.” They both look at you to continue seeming interested in you and the Dixon. “My parents thought I was throwing away my life by not being pregnant and married by 20. Very religious…. So I left not wanting to conform to there ideas.” You slip a hand to your stomach, “Guess they got what they wanted in the end. At least I got to pick the man.” You smiled fondly at the thought… ya you got the man you wanted.

Other then T-Dogs high fever and possibly infected arm, there wasn’t much to do so you took a nap in a quest to quell the deep rooted exhaustion in you. You woke up hearing unhappy voices. They were back and your guess no Sophia. You hopped you way to the RV door opening it gaining everyone’s eyes. You noticed that it wasn’t only Sophia to not be with them. Daryl looked stressed and when he saw you balancing on a leg in the door he moved to help you. You worriedly asked, “What’s going on, where is everyone else?” By your count Lori, Shane, Rick, and Carl were gone.

Daryl had his hands around your waist keeping you balance. The look he had was a mix of pissed but also upset. His teeth unclenched before he spoke giving a strain to his voice, “No sign of Sophia, worse Carl has apparently been shot.” You gasp slightly wobbling leading him to pull you to regain balance. A ball of pressure was felt in your throat but you choked it down to speak, “Where are they?” Daryl could hear your attempt at holding in your emotions, something he knows you have been struggling to do. He sighed running a hand down your arm, “Some lady on a horse took Lori after saying Carl was shot. They have a doctor treating him at there farm.” Your grip on him tightened, ‘another kid…’ no you couldn’t finish that thought a second further. Daryl’s face however looked like he had more to say, more to say that he was not happy about. He bite the edge of his lip before speaking.

"Glenn is taking T-dog to that farm for the doctor, I said you were going with him."

His face reeked of guilt, and the unpleasant feeling left in your stomach probably didn't translate well to your face. He at the sight of your obvious dislike to the idea tried to sputter out why, “Just don’t need anythin’ happen to you… and them.” You sighed, you weren’t planning on arguing about it with him, “I know you’re right I should go. Just don’t like us splitting up, makes me nauseous at the thought.” You eyes behind to form a slight sheen, before Daryl could say anything you beat him to it, “Said I was going to follow your lead didn’t I?” Daryl’s shoulders unclench from tension, he slide his arm under your legs and picking you up by your thighs. The sudden action making you panic and grab around his shoulders. “What are you-“ he walked inside the RV mindful of your head not wanting to slam it on the doorframe.

Before you knew it you were sat down with him at your side, he moved his handed on top of yours. His shy approach reminding you of your first date. “It’s ok you know. To scream, to cry, get mad. You’re gonna burst.” Your lip trembled, so it had been clear to him your battle with yourself. You sigh leaning on his shoulder, “I know… I just can’t seem to do it in front of everyone in fear we will be cast out. We were already outsiders once.” That comment surprised him, not expecting your reasoning. His arm circled around your shoulder, “I’ll take you out hunting when your better. Scream and cry all you want then.” You chuckle, in all honesty most of the time you go frustrated or overwhelmed with sudden emotion Daryl unknowingly helped ease everything. Silence fell comfortably between you both simply enjoying your remaining time together before you part.

Now you find yourself in the back seat of a truck. Glenn in the driver seat and T-dog in the passenger. You watch him pull up to a gate next to a mail box ‘Greener’ written in faded paint. After getting through and closing the gate, the road lead to a farm house. The porch now filling with people at the sound of your guys car. You were left in the back seat while Glenn rushed a declining T-dog, pill bottle bag that you learned was from Merle in hand. Surprising he had useful drugs with him, and not so surprising that he had drugs with him. It was a long time before you decided to get out the car yourself Glenn be damned. You hopped until reaching the porch leg throbbing at the use, it was tired of being the only one keeping you standing. You sat on the stairs to the porch. It sounded like something had happened inside but the commotion was just now subsiding.

You looked on to see open space filled with animals and not a walker in sight. You sat there in thought until a loud, “Oh shit!” broke your peace, Glenn stumbled out of the front door only to stop seeing you sat on the steps. He moved closer to you offering a hand to get up, "I'm so sorry, everything was moving so fast and I forgot you couldn't walk." He sighed with a twinge of remorse, "T-dogs all patched up so lets get you looked at." You sat up with the aid of Glenn and got into the house. Glenn was moving to sit you on a chair but you were lost in thought at the sight of a lamp on. It felt weird seeing a light on now. An older women appeared from a hall, "Hello dear, My name is Patricia." She approached gently, looking down to your legs noticing you were missing a shoe and for good reason. You foot was swollen and a ring of black formed around your ankle with purple spreading from it. She gasped before you could even introduce yourself. She turned looked back to the hall and called out, "Maggie! I need you to get some ice!" She knelt down raising your foot to rest on another chair.

A younger women came quickly around the corner. "Could only find a frozen bag of- who is this?" You looked like a deer in headlights then you hissed and flinched as fingers moved around your foot. A scab that had started to tried and form now knocked off your skin causing blood to slowly drip down. Patricia turned to the girl you could only assume to be Maggie, "Another of there group." Glenn was stood sheepishly off to the side, "I kinda forgot her in the car." The sterile smell of alcohol reached your nose before you felt the sting to your injure. You lean back with a hiss, before Patricia could mumble out an apology you spoke through the pain, "How ah- How's Carl? Is he ok?" A second of silence followed for Glenn decide to speak, "Alive, semi-stable. Shane and one of theirs is out looking for the stuff to fix him. Hershel is the doctor and is with Carl right now, he- he had a stroke few minutes ago."

A bandage had been wrapped around your leg while you listened. You let everything sink in only looking back up when a rag follow by a cold weight being laid over it. Looking down a zip lock bag filled with peas adding a relief in the constant burn that was your ankle. You sigh leaning back into a slump the diner room chair backing pressing into your back. A door opened somewhere in the house, then you see Rick. Lori at his side almost as if she was the sole reason he could stand. He was pale but also sweating making his hair stick to him. He wobbled to a couch with Lori, not before you catch a sight of the bandage wrapped around his inner arm. It was strikingly clear now why he wasn't with Shane. He was Carl's blood source. The depth this man is going for his son is admirable if not heartbreaking. Close to having blood lose it seems.

Why is it so hard to keep these kids safe, and what were you and Daryl going to have to do to keep yours alive.

Part 5

Feedback welcome and requests open!

Got diagnosed with depression and put on anti-depressants. So hope my story writing will become more frequent. Sorry for stalling on uploads. They also took 5 out of 7 vials of blood…. They stopped because I passed out at 5.

Do you want to be on the taglist? Then leave a comment saying so! Taglist

@daryldixmedown @aureolinb @the1eyedmonster16 @lettersfromyourlove @felicisimor

@daryl-dixons-left-hand @sokkasimp101 @darylssextoy69 @ddixon99 @itwasntaphasema

@snailss @iluvme9 @lunajay33 @twisteduniverse5 @thestonedwriter

@ghostboneswrites2 @avabh12 @marcysbear @twistedprincess-92 @felicity1994

@holb32 @let-love-bleeds-red @tiny-mari @tally335 @xxmileyrosexx

@thatswitchy @sydrogerspotter @thisisntmytardis @evanpetersmood @queenmizuki

@coldlamaspersonspy @underrated-jellygirl @heidilan05 @madhatter-97 @keileighr

@secretsicanthideanymore @luulaloops @nonna267 @flomrpus @boywivlove

#daryl dixon #daryl x reader #twd daryl #daryl x female reader #daryl imagines #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #norman reedus #angst #fluff

195 notes · View notes

hellodropbear · 3 months ago

Text

Drawing.

mapi leon x ingrid engen x child

this is based off two requests so I hope you enjoy!

please keep sending requests I’m loving writing them :)

~~~~~~

Elena was with Camila when it happened, completely unaware of what was happening down on the training pitch.

She had been drawing all day, a new hobby she had picked up, trying to copy Mapi as she sketched in her notepad.

And as usual, Isabel wanted to be just like her Mami, so she had picked up a dropped pencil and started drawing on a receipt she found on the floor.

Ingrid would have thought she had found the new Picasso, the way Mapi was cheering.

"My baby is an artist!" It was the first time Isabel had drawn without being prompted. It was a circle on the receipt, with lots of lines in the middle, but Mapi couldn't have been prouder.

Isabel lived off Mapi's pride so she told Camila she wanted to practice her drawing that day and they had done just that, sat in the same spot - shaded from the sun but still outside - and drawing since she had been dropped off.

Isabel had just finished a drawing when it happened, although she had no idea, holding up the page and waving it in front of her babysitter to see.

"It's me! And Mami and Ingrid!" She pointed at the yellow blob with four legs. "And this is the puppy I want! I asked santa for a puppy this year, Camila."

Camila smiled, staring at the page intently.

"It's so good, Isabel! You're getting so good!"

She smiled proudly, trying to stop herself from grinning to much but entirely unable to shake off how good she felt from the praise.

"Thank you, Camila." She replied quietly, swinging her legs beneath her on the seat. "Your drawing is good too!"

The blonde looked down at her own piece of paper, somehow the cat she had been drawing was worse than the toddler's sketch of her family. She laughed, shaking her head.

"Not as good as yours though."

Isabel blushed awkwardly, not wanting to be rude but also not wanting to lie.

"We are both good." She nodded, proud of her decision to say that.

~~~~~~

Mapi had fallen harshly, hitting the ground with a deafening thud after landing awkwardly on her knee.

The scream she released was almost chilling and the training field fell silent immediately, time stopping as the medics raced over to the groaning defender.

It was the most pain she had ever been in, physically, and she had given birth to a full child not long ago. It was excruciating and she couldn't stop the tears in her eyes from slipping down her cheeks and onto the grass.

She winced as they poked and prodded at her knee, quickly coming to the conclusion that she would not be walking off the pitch and getting out the stretcher to get her to the medical room.

It was as she was being lifted that she saw both Ingrid and Alexia standing over her, worry etched deep into their features. Their worry made Mapi feel sick to her stomach, because it meant there was actually something wrong.

It wasn't just in her head like she had been silently praying for. It was real.

The prospect of missing out on another chunk of her career was almost sickening, and the thought of having to go through that intensive physiotherapy program after a knee injury was almost worse.

But nobody had mentioned an acl yet, so she thought she was ok.

Surely there aren't many other serious knee injuries that can take you out for so long, right?

Except Frido had a knee surgery not three months ago and she is far off her return. And there are so many other people who have had knee injuries that aren't acls - injuries that have forced them to retire.

She banished the word from her mind as soon as it appeared. It wouldn't be that bad, surely?

But as much as she tried, the thought that it might be the end simply would not leave her brain, taunting her as she became more and more hysterical in the physio bed.

It was only when she was loaded up into the ambulance that she began to question the whereabouts of her daughter, wondering why she hadn't been brought over as soon as Mapi had asked.

The staff said they would sort it out, only one of them stepping into the ambulance with Mapi, the rest hanging back at the facility as the ambulance drove away, an inconsolable Mapi laying in the back.

"It's just a knee, please, just go back and get Isabel!"

They had shaken their heads, apologising and telling her that she would see the toddler soon.

~~~~~~

She was confused when it was Alexia who accompanied Ingrid to come get her, because usually Mapi was the first person she saw when their training was over and they could go home.

She was confused by the look on their faces, almost anxious, both looking sad.

"Hey Is." Alexia ruffled her hair as she put her pencils down, observing the pictures in front of her.

"Where's Mami? I want to show her my drawings!"

She brandished two of the pieces of paper towards the blonde, who smiled sadly and knelt down beside her goddaughter.

"Mami fell over in training today."

Isabel frowned.

"Mami always falls over! It's so silly, Ale, she's always on the ground!"

Her frown was quickly replaced by giggles, picturing her mother falling over all the time, something she would usually laugh about after the game.

Alexia nodded, her smile diminishing.

"It was a bad fall, Is, Mami had to go to the hospital."

The toddler's face switched again, back to her frown. The hospital is big and scary, where you go when you're really really sick or really really injured.

People die in the hospital, when they're sick enough to be taken there.

Her lip trembled.

"Is Mami dying?"

She started to whimper and Alexia was quick to draw her into a hug.

"No! No, Mami is going to be ok, Isa, she just has a sore knee! She will be completely fine soon, she just wants to see you."

Isabel nodded, sniffling quietly.

"Can we see Mami?"

She looked up at Ingrid behind Alexia, who nodded easily.

"That's where we're going now, Is. We're going to see Mami."

Camila, who had been busily packing away their drawing tools, said a quick goodbye to the trio, smiling as Ingrid thanked her and walking out, waving goodbye to Isabel as she was hoisted onto Alexia's hip.

The toddler was quiet as they drove across the city, her fingers tight around the pieces of paper that Camila had left on the table as she stared out the window until the car parked.

Her spare hand was used to grip onto Ingrid's as they got out of the car, walking into the big and crowded building. They had to wait for a bit before they could see Mapi, so Isabel sat herself on Ingrid's lap, relishing in the comfort that the Norwegian's arms gave her as she held her close.

Her hand remained tight in Ingrid's as they were finally allowed to go see Mapi, slowly trailing behind as Alexia opened the door.

But Mapi only had eyes for her daughter, lighting up slightly as she spotted the curly brunette head tucked away behind Ingrid's leg.

"Isabel, come here." She smiled as the little face popped out from behind the leg, looking around anxiously before stepping forward and hesitantly standing beside Mapi's bed.

It was when she was lifted up to sit beside Mapi that she started crying, big and terrified sobs wracking her entire body.

It was so scary for someone so little, seeing her mother so sad and weak in the hospital bed, her usually bright features dulled and her usually enthusiastic voice more sullen.

The hospital was so big and the room was smelly. Mapi was sick and there was nothing Isabel could do about it.

So she cried into her mother's arms, scared about what was going to happen and scared about where she was.

"It's ok, it's ok." Mapi tried to reassure her daughter. "I'll be ok, Is. it'll all be ok."

It was a few minutes before Isabel calmed down, wiping her eyes and taking a deep breath, holding out the little drawings she had chosen to bring.

"You did more drawings?"

Mapi smiled excitedly, like a child on Christmas morning about to open all her presents.

Isabel nodded, pointing at the first one.

"Me and you, and Ingrid." She pointed at the yellow blob again. "My doggy."

The Spaniard shook her head, smiling and planting a kiss on the top of Isabel's head.

"What about Bagheera?"

Isabel shrugged.

"My doggy is more important."

Ingrid, on the other side of the room was taking deep and controlled breaths, much to Alexia's amusement.

Maybe a month ago now, they had been on their daily walk in the park and Isabel had seen a little puppy, a baby golden retriever and had fallen in love.

Thankfully, the owner was nice and allowed the toddler to pet her dog, but Ingrid had stood there with silent frustration on her face because unlike Mapi, she knew they were going to have to deal with a dog obsessed three year old for the foreseeable future.

And she was right, because every day since, Isabel had asked over and over when she was going to get her puppy, even writing it in her note to santa as Ingrid had been her scribe, silently fuming at the inane request.

But while the Norwegian had been reasonable and realistic, Mapi had been overly enthusiastic at the idea of a new puppy running around the apartment, clearly forgetting that they had an excited toddler and cat to deal with already.

They had taken the argument to training, Ingrid shooting daggers at her girlfriend as she complained about Ingrid stealing Isabel's childhood happiness by refusing the puppy, targeting the younger girls when she was asking who thought a golden retriever would be a good idea.

The brunette didn't want Isabel to be sad, but she just didn’t think it was a good idea.

Mapi on the other hand thought a puppy would be the best possible addition to their family.

"Your doggy is so important." The Spaniard pointedly smiled at Ingrid, who rolled her eyes and shook her head.

~~~~~~

Isabel was happy in Mapi's lap as the doctors returned with the news.

Mapi was even more happy to have her daughter to hold onto as she received the news that she absolutely did not want to hear.

She allowed a single tear to slip from her eyes, before wiping them and smiling.

Nobody has died, she realised. Everyone she loves is alright, everyone she loves is happy.

Since the death of her best friend, Mapi has found that her reaction to bad news has become a lot more positive, learning to look on the bright side.

There's always a silver lining to every cloud, no matter how dark.

The dark cloud that came with Luis' death came with a blindingly bright silver lining - her baby daughter.

This injury would no doubt come with one too, but she has to give it time to figure out exactly what that might be.

Because everyone is ok.

Everything will be ok.

And when Isabel stood up beside her, bending down to wrap her arms around Mapi's neck, planting a kiss on her cheek and wiping away the singular stray tear, she realised that she had everything she possibly needed right there.

Alexia could see that too. She knew Mapi would be ok which is why she felt it was alright for her to leave, to go home.

Unlike last time she was in that bed, the centre back was happy. She had Isabel, she had Ingrid. She had what she needed and it was so clear how appreciative she was of her two girls.

So Alexia placed a kiss on Mapi's head, gave Isabel a cuddle and Ingrid a hug and she drove back home, disappointed with the news but perfectly certain that her best friend would be alright.

Mapi was allowed home that night, so long as she used her crutches until the surgery in two days. It meant not really moving except to go to the bathroom and to move between her bedroom and the lounge room but they would make do.

Ingrid could live upstairs in the Spaniard's apartment for a bit to make sure Isabel was alright. To look after Mapi who wouldn't be able to look after herself.

"Ok, Is. Mami has to be careful with her crutches now." Ingrid took the toddler's hand, using her spare hand to help Mapi up and onto the crutches.

Isabel looked on wearily. It was weird, seeing that her Mami couldn't really walk. The toddler had always seen her mother as such a strong and brave woman, it was hard to see her so helpless.

Her face remained downtrodden until Mapi used the end of one of her crutches to softly nudge the back of Isabel's head, smiling and winking when the toddler turned around in shock.

"Mami!" She giggled softly, her spare hand coming up to cover her mouth to hide the laughs.

"What? I didn't do anything!"

She laughed more, shaking her head and leaning into Ingrid's leg.

"Mami is so silly, Ingrid!"

The Norwegian chuckled, agreeing with a nod.

~~~~~~

It was only the second time that Isabel had slept over at Ingrid's place, the last time was when Mapi had driven all the way to Zaragoza overnight just to surprise her father on father's day.

She liked it though because there was no spare room which meant she could sleep in Ingrid's bed with Ingrid all night.

And after the scary day, she was in desperate need of some serious cuddles.

They had to wake up early in the morning for the surgery but Isabel had fallen asleep in the car journey there, only waking up in Ingrid's arms once they had entered the hospital.

Mapi was back in that hospital gown, her face void of piercings and the little beaded necklaces that they had made together a few months ago. She forced a weak smile on her face as Isabel looked at her, trying to reassure her daughter that she was ok, that everything would be ok soon.

The toddler wasn't convinced, burying her head in Ingrid's neck and mumbling incoherently about being scared.

She remained put in the Norwegian's arms as her mother was rolled into the operating room and as they waited for the doctor to bring them the good news once it was all done.

Even when Mapi was back in the regular hospital room, she clung onto Ingrid, worried that she would hurt her mother even more if she touched her.

But when she woke up, all Mapi wanted was to see her daughter, to see she was ok.

"My lion cub." She mumbled groggily, her eyes only half open but able to see where Isabel was sat, her eyes darting anxiously around the room. "Come here, Is. I missed you."

Dutifully, the child walked over to her bedside, hesitantly placing her hand in Mapi's outstretched one.

"Hello Mami." She frowned at her mother's pale complexion, quickly retracting her hand from her mother's cold one.

"Hey, hey. Come back, Is. I'm alright, see! Just a bit tired, that's all."

She looked up uncertainly, watching as Mapi shuffled over and patted the space beside her.

"Here, come on. I need my girl." She smiled down at Isabel, who bit her lip and slowly climbed up onto the bed.

"I love you Mami." She lay her head on Mapi's chest, her legs to the side of her. "I don't like that you're sick."

Mapi just smiled, chuckling lightly.

"I don't like that I'm sick either, Is. I love you too."

Isabel smiled easily, her worries squashed as Mapi drifted back to sleep.

Ingrid joined them quickly after Mapi fell asleep, sitting on the armchair on her other side and promptly falling asleep with her hand holding Mapi's arm, clearly exhausted from the stress of the day.

Isabel wasn't far behind, drifting off easily in the safety of Ingrid and Mapi.

It was what the Spaniard woke up to not long later, both of her girls right there with her, fast asleep but somehow still comforting her, still reassuring her that everything would be alright.

It was the first time she had been in a hospital bed but so sure that everything would be ok.

As long as she had her two girls, everything would be perfectly fine.

She remained certain as she said goodbye to them later that evening, watching as Isabel held Ingrid's hand tightly as they walked out of the room and headed home.

And Isabel was sure that everything would be alright later that night, warm in Ingrid's arms as they both wondered how Mapi was doing.

~~~~~~

The next few days were a whirlwind of emotions for the whole family.

Ingrid was hovering, so Mapi told her to go back to her apartment for the night. She regretted it of course, she missed the Norwegian as soon as the door closed behind her.

Isabel didn't know what to do now that her routine had changed so much.

There was no more going to training because she could just stay home with Mapi.

Except her mother had just had a surgery and was exhausted, always sleeping and if she wasn't sleeping she was too tired to move, too tired to entertain Isabel, no matter how hard she tried.

There were no more bedtime stories or bedtime cuddles. Mapi couldn't move enough to get off the sofa, let alone down onto the floor of Isabel's room where she used to kneel.

Instead, the toddler got her cuddles on the sofa and Ingrid would tuck her in and read the story.

But Ingrid's Spanish wasn't very good, and her voices weren't as funny as Mapi's.

She struggled to sleep for the first few nights, feeling worried, feeling sad.

Mapi struggled to sleep because she had been sleeping all day and when night fell she was suddenly overcome with an intense guilt that she couldn't care for herself or her child; that Isabel had to sit around all day just playing with the cat for entertainment.

The toddler tried the bedroom first, expecting to see Mapi and Ingrid asleep in there like usual. Her lion was in her arms, ready to curl up between them and fall fast asleep, comforted by their warm bodies.

But the bed was empty and made perfectly, so she continued down into the lounge room where she had said goodnight to Mapi a few hours earlier.

She didn't expect for Mapi to still be lying on the sofa and she didn't expect her to be wide awake, staring straight ahead in the distance.

"Mami." Isabel got her attention, the Spaniard's eyes immediately softening as they fell on her daughter.

"Hey Is. Come here.” She patted the sofa beside her, noticing the toddler's hesitancy.

She nodded, smiling weakly and running over to jump up on the sofa, immediately snuggling into Mapi's side.

"What are you doing awake, my lion cub?"

She wrapped her arm around Isabel's small form, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"Couldn't sleep, Mami." Her voice was quiet, muffled by the fabric of Mapi's shirt.

"It's alright. You can sleep right here with me."

The child fell asleep quickly and Mapi wasn't far behind.

It was how Ingrid found them the next morning, wrapped up in each others arms on the sofa.

Not wanting to disturb the peace, she quickly began cleaning up around the house, putting everything away before getting started on some breakfast.

Isabel woke up first, the scent of pancakes cooking enough to rouse her, her eyes snapping over to the kitchen where Ingrid was stood, her back facing the toddler.

"Ingrid!" She smiled softly, unwrapping her body from Mapi's arm and hopping off the sofa, walking over towards the Norwegian who spun around at the sound of the toddler’s voice.

"Morning Is. Sleep well?"

She shook her head, leaning into Ingrid's leg.

"Couldn't sleep, so Mami helped me."

The Norwegian frowned, using her spare hand to stroke Isabel's head.

"That's nice of her. Do you want the first pancake?"

She nodded easily, grinning as the small pancake was handed to her and eating it quickly.

"Should I wake up Mami for breakfast?"

Ingrid hesitated, softly shaking her head after a moments thought.

"No, Mami is still tired. We can make her some pancakes when she wakes up and I'll let you decorate them with the fruits that she likes, alright?"

Isabel nodded sadly, resting her head on Ingrid's leg and palming the hem of her shorts.

"When will Mami be better?"

"Soon, Is. She'll be better soon."

~~~~~~

Isabel was relatively quiet as she ate her pancakes, barely consuming half of them before she pushed the plate back to Ingrid who stood up and took it, placing a kiss on the crown of her head.

She was worried about her, to be honest, and had half a mind to take her to training and get Camila to watch her.

Mapi was a good mother, that was never a doubt, but Ingrid began to question whether it was good for Isabel to stay inside all day with her as she fell in and out of sleep, unable to get up from the sofa without help.

But bringing up that issue to the Spaniard would send her down a long spiral of self doubt and upset, so she made the decision to leave it, instead deciding to just come back as soon as training was over and seeing what she could do.

The problem was, as Mapi woke up and Ingrid tried to leave, Isabel seemed set on going with the Norwegian, her backpack full of colouring and some snacks she gathered from the cupboard, her shoes on and her bedroom tidy.

"Is, you're staying here today, staying here with Mami." Ingrid knelt down, brushing the hair from her face. "And you'll be good for her and give her all the cuddles she needs until I get back in a few hours, alright?"

She shook her head, frowning.

"I draw! With Camila!"

Mapi sighed quietly from the sofa, intervening.

"Camila's not there today because you can stay at home with me!" She mustered on a smile and Isabel looked up at her, nodding sadly.

"Ingrid will be right back after training though, you're not stuck here with me for too long."

The Norwegian could practically hear Mapi's heart break, she was already thrown deep into the pool of self-consciousness and doubt. It was as if a single word could change her whole perspective and Ingrid had seen the clear flip over and over again.

And the self-doubts that Mapi carried would never be understood or accepted by Ingrid, who spent every day trying to subtly prove to her that she was a good mother, that Isabel loved her.

This incident wouldn't support all the progress she's made.

"Is, go give Mami a hug alright? I'll be back soon." Ingrid smoothed out the toddler's hair, nudging her softly towards the sofa and watching as the child jumped on and lay down, resting her head on Mapi's shirt.

The Spaniard's arm snaked back around the child, her spare hand waving at Ingrid as she walked out the door, her attention turning back to her daughter on her lap as soon as the door was closed.

"I'm sorry I'm not very fun at the moment, Is. And I'm sorry that we can't go to training like usual, I know how much you like your days with Camila."

Isabel nodded, shrugging.

"It's ok, Mami, you didn't fall over on purpose." She leant further into her mother's arm. "You don't have to be sad though, I don't like when you're sad."

"I don't like being sad either! But it's ok because when you're around, I'm always happy." She smiled softly. "You make me so happy, my lion cub."

"You make me happy too, Mami. Even when you can't play with me!"

She giggled and Mapi knew exactly where she was going.

"But when I get my doggy you won't have to play with me because I can play with her. Or him. I can play with my doggy."

The Spaniard smiled, running her hands through her daughter's hair and humming quietly.

"You still have to convince Ingrid on that one."

Isabel huffed in a way that was entirely too serious for a 3 year old.

"I don't know why... why doesn't Ingrid want a doggy?"

"She thinks you're enough work as it is, my lion."

She looked up, completely outraged.

"I'm not work! I am a good girl, even Ingrid told me that!"

Mapi just laughed, adjusting her position on the sofa.

"How about you run and grab your pens and paper and I can show you how to do some drawings today?"

The toddler's face switched from outrage to excitement in a split second as she bounced down from the sofa, running to her room and grabbing her supplies.

She was used to drawing with Camila who tried her best, but was not very good at all. Getting to draw with her Mami, who was the best drawer that Isabel had ever seen was a novelty and the way she practically bounced back to the sofa emphasised just how excited she was.

It was how Ingrid found them when she got home, Isabel wedged in an entirely uncomfortable position on Mapi's lap but it didn't look like she could care less - she was completely enthralled by Mapi's drawing of a puppy on the paper, her own pen and paper long discarded on the sofa beside her.

Isabel's eyes lit up as the door opened, immediately beckoning Ingrid over, completely disregarding her post-training exhaustion and discomfort.

"Ingrid! Look at Mami's drawing! It's a doggy."

The Norwegian shook her head, walking over to the duo on the sofa and sitting down beside them.

"It's a good puppy, isn't it!"

She nodded, looking over at Mapi with a glint in her eyes.

"I was thinking on the way home." She paused, her eyes flicking between the mother and daughter, each of them wearing equal expressions of suspense and interest.

"I think that you've been so good, Is, since Mami got hurt."

Mapi started to understand where this was going, a smile growing on her face while Isabel remained completely in suspense.

"I think that you've shown to us that you're responsible and I think you've shown us that you deserve a dog too."

The child's face lit up immediately and she almost knocked Mapi over with the speed she threw herself out of her position and right into Ingrid.

"I'm getting a doggy!"

~~~~~~

It was the three month anniversary of Mapi injuring her knee.

Christmas had come and gone, and Isabel had tried desperately hard to hide her disappointment when a puppy hadn't shown up in her stocking.

They had wanted to give it to her then, but couldn't justify taking it to Zaragoza for Christmas, nor could they justify buying a puppy right before their trip to Norway for new years.

Ingrid also hadn't wanted to buy a puppy when Mapi was still on crutches, still not entirely able to look after her child alone, let alone a new dog as well. Ingrid was mostly around, but the away trips would be almost impossible with a dog and a toddler if Mapi still could not walk.

So Isabel had been surprised and excited by her other gifts, things that had been used to death already. The thought of a dog never really left her brain, but she managed to push it to the side as she opened her Christmas presents and ate the Christmas food that her Grandmother had provided.

But now it was March. It was finally getting warmer and Mapi was finally returning to the pitch for training.

Off the pitch, she was completely recovered, back to kneeling by Isabel's bed every night for bedtime stories and cuddles, back to running around with the toddler on their (almost) daily walks to the park.

Ingrid had dressed her this morning, making sure her favourite dog shirt was clean the night before, sliding it over her head with a pair of jeans and sneakers, pulling her crazy morning hair back into braids.

The toddler had pointed down at the dog on her shirt, babbling in an incoherent mix of Spanish and Norwegian about how much she loved dogs.

Ingrid could only smother down her grin, thinking about the hidden stash of dog toys and supplies they had been building over the past couple of months - shoved into the ensuite of the master bedroom.

Not a week after she had agreed to buying a dog, Ingrid had signed her name on an obscure package addressed to Mapi, watching on with amusement as the Spaniard opened it up and admired the leash and dog bed that had arrived.

She was bored, apparently, sat at home alone and unable to participate in the walks that Ingrid was taking Isabel on. The boredom materialised as online shopping and she had guiltily admitted to Ingrid that she was expecting a whole lot of packages in the next few weeks.

They had kept an eye out for ads advertising golden retriever puppies, almost giving up when it seemed impossible to find one anywhere.

But three weeks ago, Mapi's mother had seen an ad up in her hometown and immediately sent it off to the couple and the next day, they had confirmed their purchase of a brand new golden retriever.

The Spaniard collected it from Zaragoza alone, under the guise of visiting home to clean out her old bedroom - an excursion that she was sure Isabel would have zero interest in attending.

The dog had been left with Alexia over night and they were surprising the toddler that day in the park.

And the little girl had absolutely no idea what would be awaiting her at the end of her walk.

~~~~~~

Isabel swung her arms happily between Mapi and Ingrid, a grin on her face as she chattered excitedly to Mapi about what she and Ingrid had gotten up to yesterday, explaining her experience of drinking a hot chocolate in such depth that Mapi wondered how long she had been concocting this story.

They stopped in at a small café for lunch on the way, trying to stall their walk so Alexia would be there before them and also so they wouldn't have to try feed her when she was inevitably excited about her brand new puppy that she had been thinking about for months.

But the anticipation was worth it as soon as she saw her godmother holding a lead that was attached to a little golden puppy, running around excitedly with it's ball.

The expression on Isabel's face was worth more than anything they had ever brought, her entire face lifting up, a smile that showed off her complete set of teeth as she spun around to look at her mother and Ingrid.

"Mami, Ingrid, is that-" It was like she didn't want to tempt fate by asking the question, just in case the dog wasn't hers.

She didn't think they would have done that to her, not in the slightest.

"Ale has your new puppy, Is. You can go say hello."

But the child didn't run to the puppy immediately as the couple had expected, instead charging into her mother first, wrapping her arms around the Spaniard and thanking her over and over again, moving to do the same to Ingrid not long after.

"Of you go, Is, go meet your puppy!" Ingrid grinned as she nudged her away, watching on with joy as the toddler practically sprinted down to the puppy who immediately jumped up onto her, covering her face with wet kisses.

"I think we made the right decision." Mapi looked at Ingrid hesitantly, aware that this still wasn't ideal for the Norwegian.

But the expression on the brunettes face said something completely different, a huge smile stuck on her face as she watched Isabel squeal with delight at her new dog, the happiest she had ever seen her.

"No, Maria, this was the right decision. Definitely."

Mapi beamed, leaning into her girlfriend's side and wrapping her arm around Ingrid's waist.

"She's so happy."

Alexia approached them not long after, her hand still holding onto the leash.

"I believe this is yours now." She smiled, holding it out to Mapi. "I can't believe anyone tried to deny her of this."

Mapi rolled her eyes, grabbing the leash, completely sick and tired of Alexia's argument about how dogs are so much better than cats.

"Is loves Bagheera too, she's just a dog person."

Alexia chuckled, shaking her head.

"No goddaughter of mine will ever be a cat person."

They continued to watch Isabel with the puppy right until she walked back over to her three adults, the dog following dutifully behind her.

"Mami, I want to call her Baloo, Bagheera's friend! Can I call her Baloo?"

Mapi smiled easily, using her spare hand to stroke her daughter's head.

"Of course you can call her Baloo, I love it."

~~~~~~

alright hope you enjoyed!

(I may or may not have given up on editing this after five minutes so it’ll probably be edited in the morning)

let me know what you think and let me know what else you want to see

have a good day!!

#mapi leon #ingrid engen #mapi leon x ingrid engen #woso #woso fanfics #barca femeni #fcb femení #alexia putellas

216 notes · View notes