#the way he breaks down seems like hes already clinging to her before she gets much of her response in. theyre all just so beaten down

[s1x-foot-deep]

scene from the radio drama+Great Soft Jelly-Thing concepts

[athenamikaelson]

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader!Soulmate x Elijah Mikaelson PART 7

Word Count- 5.3k

Warnings- Swearing, stabbing, Elijah wanting to hold hands, witch trials

A/N- KLAUS NEXT CHAPTER BABIES!!!

“I don’t understand why you grown men keep dragging me into your shit,” I groan to Alaric as he parks his car. I cling to my seatbelt and regret ever answering my phone this morning. I really just have to throw my phone away at this point. 

“I don’t trust him around Jenna, Y/n. I have a bad feeling about the guy,” Ric says as he undoes his seatbelt and begins to exit the car. 

“That or are you just jealous?”

I raise an eyebrow and purse my lips at him and he leans down to stare at me with an annoyed look.

“Get out of the car Y/N.”

I watch as Ric makes his way from his side of the car to mine, but just as he’s about to open my door I press down the lock from the inside. I smirk at him as he tries to open the door but it doesn’t budge. He stares down at me annoyed and then presses his key fob unlocking the car. He tries to open the door but I mimic my actions from before and lock the car again. We continue doing this for another 2 minutes before Ric gets the better of me and throws open my door. 

“Seriously, Y/n!”

I huff and practically crawl out of the car. 

“For the record, I would rather jump in front of a train than be here,” I say matter-of-factly to Ric as we catch sight of Jenna and Elijah walking up a grass path together.

“For the record,” Ric waves at them and then turns his head towards me, “I don’t care.”

Once again I groan as we make our way towards Jenna and Elijah. I lock eyes with the latter and he sends me a warm smile. I don’t reciprocate and quickly turn my eyes towards Jenna. I can still feel Elijah’s eyes on me, as always, as we stand in front of Jenna and him.  

“Uh, Elijah, this is my friend,” Jenna, who seems to be annoyed, introduces Alaric to Elijah, “Alaric Saltzman. And you’ve already met Y/N,” Jenna turns to me and seems much more happy to see me.

Ric who can’t seem to catch a clue speaks, “Ya, I got your, uh, message about walking Elijah here through the old property lines. I thought I, uh we,” He gestures to me, “would, uh, tag along. You know us being history buffs and all. Where to next?”

An awkward silence follows for a moment before Elijah breaks it, “I’m pretty curious about the freed slave property owners. Some say, you know, the descendants of the slaves are the true keepers of American history.”

I am almost one hundred percent sure Mr. Suit and Tie has an ulterior motive but Jenna doesn’t seem to catch it as she tells him she has the stuff in her car and that she’ll go grab it. I watch as she walks away and then turn back to the two men next to me. Elijah stands about a foot's width away from me while Ric is to my right. Ric must’ve noticed Elijah’s staring as he moved himself in front of me. If you didn’t want me to be around Elijah why bring me here? Dumbass. 

I can still see Elijah from over Ric’s shoulder and the movement Ric made doesn’t seem to sit well with Elijah as a small twitch in his upper lip presents into a snarl. He drops back into a neutral look almost instantly. 

“So you’re one of those people on Elena’s list of loved ones to protect,” Elijah says to Ric. Even though Elijah is relatively shorter than Ric the aura Elijah protrudes makes up for it. Anyone could tell that even though Ric is trying to put up a macho front, he’s afraid of Elijah. 

“So is Jenna.”

Elijah smirks at Alaric and then shakes his head slightly, “You don’t have to be jealous. I don’t really pursue younger women,” Elijah’s eyes trail to mine momentarily, “Most of the time.”

Elijah turns back to Ric and they stare at each other for a moment before Elijah pats Ric on the shoulder, “It’s a joke, Ric, lighten up.” 

Ric rolls his eyes and nods. 

“Wait,” I speak and turn to Elijah, “Technically isn’t every woman younger than you? You know, since you’re like old. Really old. ”

Ric just brings a hand up to massage the tension between his eyebrows and sighs deeply, but Elijah lets out a small chuckle that sends shocks down my spine. 

“I guess you’re right Y/N. I am really old,” He mimics my tone with a small smile on his face. 

—

35 minutes. We’ve been walking in this dirty ass forest for 35 minutes. I should be in bed asleep right now. But nope, here I am following behind three adults as they talk about history. It’s not that I don’t like history, I do, it’s just that it’s a Saturday. I shouldn’t be learning things on a weekend. 

I half-heartedly listen to what Jenna is telling Elijah as we cross over a bunch of fallen tree logs. Alaric helps Jenna over one, and I don’t miss the dirty look she looks she shoots him, making me try to cover my giggle with my hand. The giggling instantly stops though when I see Elijah standing by the front of the log with his hand outstretched towards me. We haven’t talked in these 35 minutes since Jenna has been occupying him, but that hasn’t stopped him from turning back every few moments to catch a glimpse of me, as if he thinks I’m just going to disappear into thin air. Honestly, I wish I would.

I’m not going to use Elijah’s help but realize that my clumsy ass would probably fall over the log if I didn’t. So I lightly place my hand into his, which results in him closing his hand over mine. Locking our hands together. Our hands are locked for a long moment before Ric clears his throat from the other side of the log. I quickly look away from Elijah and use his hand to get over the log carefully. I soon as I get over it though I wrench my hand away from his and walk over to Jenna who sends me a warm smile. 

“Seems like someone is fond of you,” She whispers to me as she raises his eyebrows suggestively.

I can already feel the redness making its way onto my cheeks as I stare at her horrified. Jenna just laughs at my face as she starts leading us farther down the trail we’re on. Sadly though, Alaric has occupied Jenna, which leaves Elijah to walk next to me. 

Elijah’s quiet for a moment, seemingly just enjoying my company before he starts speaking, “Is it true what Alaric says,” I turn to him confused, “That you’re a history buff?”

I sigh slightly as I shrug my shoulders realizing that just talking to the guy might make this little trip go by a little faster.

“I wouldn't call myself a buff,” I use my fingers to make air quotes, “but it’s also not something I dislike. Learning about how our world was made and all the small factors of why it was made are quite intriguing. I also like weird history.”

“Weird history,” Elijah questions me with a frown.

“You know, like the unexplained, or the odd things in history that many don’t understand,” At the still confused look on his face I continue, “You know like the dancing plague of 1518, D.B Cooper, or Oh! The lost colony of Roanoke. That’s probably my most favorite.”

Once I realized that I had just gone on a tangent I went to apologize to Elijah but when I look at him all I can see on his face is pure adoration. The type of adoration that makes the beating in my chest stops. He smiles at me and from being so close to him I notice the small dimple on his left cheek. 

“I understand now,” Elijah says, “You seem to be most interested in The Roanoke Colony. Why is that?”

I ponder his question for a moment, “I’m not sure, it’s just something I’ve always been drawn to. Maybe because of how mysterious and odd it is. I’m not sure, I know that some people say it was aliens or cannibalism but there isn’t a known answer. It’s amazing to me that so many people, an entire village, can go missing and there are no clues. Other than the word Croatoan!”

Elijah nods his head along but the look in his eyes and the smirk on his face tells me he’s hiding something. Wait. Holy shit.

I whip around to him stopping us, “You know, don’t you! I mean you’re old enough but I didn’t even think you would…,” I stop and stare at him in awe for a moment, “You have to tell me.”

Elijah opens his mouth but then I shake my head and throw a hand up to his mouth stopping him, “Wait! No, what if you tell me and it ends up disappointing me.”

I go through all the possibilities in my head at what he could tell me and then fight myself on whether I should have him tell me or not. I can feel Elijah’s smile behind my hand and bring my hand back.

“Sorry,” I wince embarrassed. 

“No worries, I enjoy seeing you so full of life,” I blush at his words, “Would you like me to tell you?”

I think about Elijah’s question for a moment and then shake my head, “No. I think the reason I love that moment in history so much is because of the mystery behind it. I don’t want to lose interest in it by knowing.”

Elijah seems pleased with my answer and nods, “Very well.”

We continue walking for another moment before Elijah chimes up again, “What else interests you?”

I shrug my shoulders, “Nothing much, I’m not a very interesting person.”

“I highly doubt that.”

I smile slightly at his comment, “Well I like reading. That’s actually something Elena and I have bonded on. I used to get bullied for being a book nerd but now having someone who likes it too is comforting.”

At this mention of Elena, Elijah’s smile drops slightly but then turns into a small frown. 

“I’m sorry that you were bullied for reading, as a literature connoisseur myself I find it quite depressing how reading has become something so rare in these past decades. What types of books do you read?”

I nod along to Elijah’s words until he asks what books I read. At this, I instantly get red and look anywhere other than him.

“You know,” I try to find a socially acceptable answer. Not really wanting to tell this 1,000-year-old man I spend my free time reading smut, “Literature.”

“Literature?”

Elijah looks at me with a smirk on his handsome features and I just nod and clear my throat, “Yep, literature. Just all the literature.”

“What about you? What literature do you like?”

Elijah laughs slightly at my change in subject, “Literature in general as well,” I roll my eyes at his joke, “But also I appreciate all types, Historical, the classics, thriller, even romance.”

“You read romance,” I ask surprised. 

He nods his head, “On occasion. There’s something so unique about how different authors portray love and devotion. Where some show it as a neverending, intense emotion others show it as one’s demise.” 

“And which do you believe?”

This question has Elijah pausing momentarily, thinking, “I’ve lived a long time, Elskan. Seen people start wars in the name of love, and seen people kill and die in its name aswell. To choose just one thought when it comes to the idea of love is something I can not do. What about you, what are your thoughts on love?”

“I want nothing to do with it.”

Elijah goes quiet for a moment at my answer. I face back forward and we keep walking in silence for another moment.

“I understand your reluctance towards it. But still young why cut off something like love at your age?”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes at his words. My age has nothing to do with my hatred and distaste for love. 

“Don’t tell me all that romance you read is getting to your head, Elijah,” I say to him slightly snarky.

“I’ve struck a nerve,” Elijah says as he nods his head. 

“Nope. No nerves struck here,” I tell him picking up my speed and walking away from him. He doesn’t have to try hard to meet my speed though as he falls back into step with me. 

“Even though there have been no nerves struck,” He tries to lighten the tension with a joke, “I must apologize for overstepping. As I’ve said before, making you uncomfortable is the last thing I’d ever want to do.”

I move my gaze from Jenna’s back, who is currently in a small argument with Alaric, and turn to look at Elijah. Once again his face has no signs of malice or ill intent.

“It’s fine,” I shrug at him, “Like I said no struck nerves.”

Elijah slightly laughs and then nods his head. We walk for another 5 minutes in silence, Elijah helps me over logs and rocks whenever we come up to one. 

“Y/N and I should be heading back now,” Alaric tells the group as we get to a clearing. 

I nod, happy to be getting out of these woods.

“Well, thank you Y/N for coming today, I’m sure you had more exciting things to do today,” Jenna smiles at me and jokes.

“Just sleeping. But it was nice to see you Jenna,” I reluctantly look over to Elijah who hasn’t left my side, “You as well.”

This has Elijah’s deflated shoulders rising again. He almost reminds me of a dog that is happy someone is finally giving it an ounce of attention. 

“It was a pleasure to be able to spend this morning with you, Y/N,” I’ve noticed that Elijah calls me by my actual name when other people are around. But, when it is just him and I, he uses that stupid nickname. 

I nod as I go to follow Alaric back to the car but stop and turn back to Elijah, “I guess I’m not one-hundred percent against love,” This perks Elijah up, “I mean I totally loved the dress I wore to the tea party.”

Elijah lets out a deep chuckle that rattles his broad shoulders, “You weren’t the only one.”

I almost choke on my saliva at his words. Elijah’s smirk deepens and I put my lips together and nod my head fast.

“Well, um. I’ll be going now,” I don’t give Elijah time to respond as I speed walk past him and Jenna and grab Ric’s forearm pulling him roughly behind me.

“Keep up,” I whisper yell at him as we speed walk our way to the car. 

—

The original plan was that Ric and I would go on that stupid history walk and then after 30 minutes he would bring me back to my house, but of course, no one in this god-forsaken town follows any type of deal. So that’s why I am currently sitting in front of Demon and his “girlfriend,” and next to Ric who are talking about Elijah and how they don’t trust him. Thankfully Damon bought me fries so this whole trip hasn’t been an entire waste. I half-ass listen to their conversation but don’t really care so I don’t process a word they’re saying, at least not until Damon perks up.

I’ve come to learn from my time in knowing Demon that if I see him getting excited about something, someone is going to get hurt. 

So that’s why I follow his line of sight and see Elijah and Jenna walk into the Grill together.

“Ah, there Jenna with her new boyfriend,” Damon says. I know he’s just trying to get a reaction out of Ric but something about that sentence makes my skin crawl. 

Damon calls over both of them. Jenna welcomes all of us with a smile and wave while Elijah trails behind her looking complacent. As always his eyes find mine and his complacent smile lightens. 

“So I hear you two had a meeting of the historical minds today,” Damon speaks to the two.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” Jenna smiles looking up at Elijah who is now looking down at Demon. 

“Well, as much as I’d love to continue this, I, uh, I’ve got papers to grade and a teenager to get home,” Ric gets up from his seat and he gestures to me. I frown as I see my fries still half full and quickly grab a fist full and fill my mouth trying to get away with as many as possible, almost choking myself in the meantime. The adults around me watch me with a mix of amusement and slight disgust, but I don't care. I’m not wasting free food. 

“No, you know what,” Alex or Stephanie or whatever Demon’s girlfriend is named, chirps up, “We should continue this. Let’s have a dinner party!”

Hell to the no. 

“Ooh, my girl. Full of good ideas,” Damon looks over to her before turning back to us, “I’ll be happy to host. Say tonight. Maybe?”

“It’s good for me. Jenna,” Where Alessia agrees Ric tries to disagree. 

“Yeah, I’m free,” Jenna talks over Ric. Yikes. 

“Will the lovely Y/N be there,” Elijah asks me and I try to tell him, “Hell no,” but the fries in my mouth have left me mute.

“Of course, she’ll be there,” Damon exclaims as if there isn’t any other place I’d rather be. I send him a nasty glare which earns me a wink in return. 

“Then it’d be a pleasure.”

Damon’s smile is all but welcoming as he responds to Elijah, “Great.”

This is going to be a horrible night. 

—

This is a horrible night. 

First I get a nasty grade on my modern art project. Not my fault, since modern art is a crime against humanity. 

Then, I try to find a dress for this stupid dinner and the only half-decent dress that I have now is two inches too short.

And then after I said screw it, put the dress on and finished getting ready. I went down to my car only to find out that my front tire had gone flat. Honestly in this case I was happy about it because I had a reason to cancel, but when I called Jenna and told her the “upsetting” news, she told me she’d come pick me up. Great. 

So now I’ve been sitting on my front porch waiting for Jenna. After waiting for fifteen minutes I was close to just calling it quits and telling Jenna the fries from earlier made me throw up on myself. But, right when I stand up a dark sedan pulls into my driveway. Wait. I know that sedan. Damnit. Why the hell is Elijah here?

As if he could read my thoughts Elijah pretty much glides out of his car looking practically god-like in yet another five-thousand-dollar suit and smiles at me. 

“Good evening, Elskan,” Elijah walks up the walkway to stand before me, “Miss. Sommers so kindly asked me if I could escort you to the dinner tonight. To which I happily obliged.”

“Right,” I sigh, “Let’s just get this night over with.”

I walk to Elijah’s car as he follows me, just like before he opens the door for me. I send him an appreciative nod and get in. After another moment we’re driving down the dark road towards the boarding house. 

“You look breathtaking, Elskan,” Elijah says to me from his position in the driver’s seat. 

“Thanks,” I turn to him and look at his usual attire, “You look the same.”

He chuckles, “Yes, you always seem to remind me of my attire. Thank you for that.”

“Always here to help.”

We drive in comfortable silence for the entirety of the trip until we get to the Salvatore’s driveway.

“How are you feeling about tonight,” Elijah’s tone is flat but as he looks at me his eyes are filled with what I believe to be suspicion.

“You mean, do I think something bad is going to happen?”

Elijah’s upper lip twitches, “Aren’t you a smart one? But yes, I am not going to threaten you Elskan. I would never do that, but,” At that, I’m tensing in my seat, “I need to know if your friends are planning something, unbecoming, tonight.”

At Elijah’s serious tone, I shake my head, “I don’t know anything. Promise,” Elijah doesn’t seem to be entirely pleased with my answer, and something in me wants to fix that, “But, I do know that Damon is not one to have friendly dinner parties so,” I look at him uneased but speak in a strong voice, “Be on your guard tonight.”

“Thank you for your honesty, Elskan.”

— 

Elijah and I stand side by side as he knocks on the front door. We wait only a moment before a smirking Demon opens it up,

“Thank you both for coming,” Damon says a little too nicely, “Y/N don’t you look adorable. Come on in!”

Elijah places his hand on my lower back, “Just one moment. Can I just say that if you have less than honorable intentions about how this evening is going to proceed, I suggest you reconsider.”

“No, nothing, nothing dishonorable. Just, uh, getting to know you.”

“Hmm, well, that’s good.”

“Yeah,” I watch this back and forth waiting for something bad to happen. 

“Because, you know, although Elena and I have this deal if you so much as make a move to cross me I’ll kill you and I’ll kill everyone in this house,” And there it is, “Except Y/N and Miss. Sommers of course. Are we clear?” 

“Crystal,” Damon eyes Elijah wearily. And then Elijah leads me into the house as Jenna enters the room.

“Jenna, wonderful to see you again. How are you?”

“I’m seriously getting whiplash from you man,” I whisper so only Elijah will hear. The only response I get is a slight squeeze to my waist as he pulls me closer and away from everyone else who has entered the room to greet us. His right-hand stays resting on my upper hip. 

“Let’s eat.”

—

“I hate to break it to you, Damon,” Jenna says to Damon as she pours him a glass of wine, “But according to Elijah your family is so not a founder of this town.” 

“Hmm, do tell,” Damon responds. Damon sits at the head of the table sipping his wine as he stares at Elijah, who is currently sitting next to me on my right. Alaric sits to my left and Jenna and Abby sit across from us. I should really learn her name. There’s also this balding white man who is sitting across from Damon at the other end of the table but no one here seems to want him here.

“Well, as I mentioned to Jenna earlier a faction of settlers migrated from Salem after the witch trial in the 1690s. Over the next hundred years, they developed this community where they could feel safe from persecution.”

“Hmm, because they were witches,” Jenna chimes in.

“Yeah, there’s no tangible proof there were witches in Salem.”

“Andies a journalist. Big on facts,” Oh, so that’s her name. I liked Andrea more.

“Well,” Elijah sets down his fork and starts talking again, “the lore says that there was this wave of anti-witch hysteria. It broke out in the neighboring settlement. So these witches were rounded up. They were tied to stakes in a field together and, uh, burned,” Elijah says as if it’s something anyone wants to hear while they’re eating steak dinner, “Some say you could hear the screams from miles around us. They were consumed by the fire. Could you pass the,” He gestures to the salt and Ric passes it to him wearily. 

“I wouldn’t repeat this to the Historical Society,” Jenna says which has me wanting to roll my eyes at the mention of those bags.

“Maybe you should,” I say to myself but have seemed to catch the attention of the table. Shit.

“I’m just saying it would knock them down a peg, which is clearly needed,” I whisper out the last part, “Even though there is no proof of witches being burned at the stake during the trials. It was mostly done from self-drownings and using rocks.”

At my contradiction to Elijah’s statement he raises an eyebrow, “Is that so?”

“Self-drowning and rocks? How would that work,” Jenna questions with a slight stutter clearly having had a little too much wine.

“Well with the drowning it was more of a test,” I use fingerquotes at the word, “So to speak. The witch in question would be tossed into a body of water and if she was able to stay afloat she was condemned as a witch and was killed. But if she didn’t float, well. Y’know. So I mean either way it was just a way to punish women for being women. They used the rocks though to stone the people to death. Interestingly enough one of my ancestors was actually killed that way. R.I.P.”

I laugh at my little joke at the end which has earned me a few stares from the people at the table.

“Ok, moving past whatever that was,” Damon says as he turns back to Elijah, “So why do you want to know the location of these alleged massacres?”

Elijah thinks for a moment before smiling, “You know… a healthy historian’s curiosity, of course.”

“Of course,” Damon replies to Elijah who has already gone back to taking a bite out of his steak. I bring my glass of water to my lips and take a sip but start choking on it when I feel a hand gently grab my other one from under the table. 

“Y/N! Are you ok,” Jenna exclaims from her side of the table as Ric pats me on the back, I put up a thumbs up and try to smile.

“Yep all good. Just,” I cough out a bit more, “went down the wrong pipe. Don’t mind me.”

Even though I almost choked, Elijah still hasn’t moved his hand from mine. Instead, his fingers have begun tracing shapes into my skin. I know I should feel disgusted, but I can’t seem to want to move his hand away. He looks at me momentarily as if to check I’m ok. To which I send him a small nod. This in return makes him smile and grab a hold of my hand more firmly now.

Damon's standing distracts me momentarily, “Does anyone care for some cognac? I have a bottle I’ve been saving for ages.”

God, me, please.

“None for me, thanks. Nine bottles of wine is my limit,” Alaric says as he downs yet another glass of wine. Jesus dude, try water sometime. 

This has everyone standing from the table. Ok then, guess I’m done eating. 

“The gentleman should take their drinks in the study,” Anna says. 

“How 1950s of you Alice,” I smile at her sarcastically.

“My name is Andie,” She says back.

“Is that not what I said,” I smile at her as I walk past her into the study. I don’t even want to go in here with them but I’m doing it to stand on principle. And that I’m kind of an asshole. But that’s not my fault since I was awoken this morning before I was able to get my full 13 hours of shut eye.

—

My fingers graze the dozens of books I walk by as Damon and Elijah converse behind me. It surprises me that Damon has so many books, when he’s so dumb. Weird. 

“Are these Stefan’s?”

Damon spares me a moment's glance, “No, they’re mine.”

I hum. Weird. Maybe he just doesn’t have comprehension skills.

“So, let me guess, in the addition to the moonstone, the doppelganger, the lion, the witch, and the wardrobe… You need to find this witch burial ground.”

“Because I feel as though we’ve grown so close, Damon,” Elijah’s words have me chuckling as I flip through a book that seems to be at least one hundred years old, “I’ll tell you yes. Do you know where it is?”

“Maybe,” Damon’s answer has Elijah walking over to him, “Tell me why it’s so important.”

“We’re not that close.”

Damon getting rejected has me snorting which catches Elijah’s attention as he smiles up to me. He notices the book I have in my hands and speaks again to Damon.

“It’s quite a collection you have here. It is a funny thing about books. Before they existed people actually had memories.”

I go to make a snarky comment at Elijah’s words but Ric comes storming into the study. 

“Gentlemen,” I clear my throat and Ric looks at me, “And Y/N. We forgot about dessert.”

Addison comes over to Elijah and raises a hand for him to take, which has a nasty feeling starting in my gut. But before it goes too far Elijah turns to me instead and reaches out his own hand, “Y/N.”

I have to fight back a snort as we walk by Amelia Bedelia as Elijah leads me into the dining room where Jenna is.  

“Sorry, guys, dessert is taking longer than I thought,” Jenna’s words have me physically deflating, “I usually just unwrap food.”

Elijah leads me to a chair and moves it so I can sit down. He sits next to me and Audrey sits across from us. 

“So, I know this is a social thing but I, I would really love to ask you some more questions about the work that you’re doing here,” She asks Elijah who agrees. I’m quite interested in what he’s going to say since he’s created this big lie surrounding, Elijah Smith.

“Great,” She continues as Damon enters the room, “Oh, that’s so great. Ric, would you do me a favor and grab the notebook out of my bag?”

She instructs Ric as Elijah’s hand finds its way back to my hand.

“Elijah, did John tell you that he’s Elena’s uncle/father?’’

Damon’s question has me sitting up right.

“Huh?!”

I look between Damon and the balding man next to me and wonder how he was able to produce a girl as pretty as Elena. Also now I’m pissed and kind of sad no one has told me this before.

“Yes, I’m well aware of that,” Even Elijah knows?!

“Of course, she hates him, so there’s absolutely no need to keep him on the endangered species list.”

Now I don’t feel bad for thinking he looked like Charlie Brown earlier. 

Adeline says something to Ric but now my full focus is on Elijah's fingers which are now grazing up and down my hand that lays on my thigh.

I can hear Dead Beat saying something to Elijah but the words won’t focus as I try to calm my breathing. Elijah’s deep voice enters my ears as I hear him threatening the two men but the soft touching hasn’t gone away. 

I’m almost comforted by the feeling now until the once soothing feeling is replaced by his hand crushing my thigh. My yells are mixed with what I’ve just now realized are Elijah’s as he crunches up in pain. A loud scream escapes my lips as I see a dagger protruding from Elijah’s back and can only watch in horror and pain as Elijah’s once soft and light skin turns to grey and veining flesh. 

I blink rapidly as everyone moves around me but all I can focus on is Elijah’s dead body. Dead. Elijah’s dead. Oh god. 

I feel someone grab my upper arm and drag me out of my seat, “What’s wrong with you?”

My breathing halts. My vision goes black and, my body hits the floor. 

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Objects in Motion

Part 4!

Alpha! Billy Russo x Omega! Reader

No warnings this is wholesome lmaoooooooo

His scent lingers on you when you walk into work on Monday. Despite how hard you'd tried to wash it off, it clings to your skin, seemingly unwilling to let you go.

Secretly, that delights you, emphasizes the strength of whatever there was between the two of you. It’s equal parts giddy, and terrifying.

That an alpha like him- that he could be interested in you, you have to resist a groan of delight as you wait for the elevator to get to your floor.

The doors slide open and you let out a long sigh, making your way slowly to your desk, smiling and forcing yourself to greet your coworkers.

You were already exhausted by the idea of working, wishing you were still in bed, hidden under piles of blankets to shield you from the world. Maybe a certain alpha would be willing to join you.

Or maybe… maybe you were better off never thinking about him again. 

Honestly, you'd probably be doing him a favour, your situations couldn't be more opposite, you couldn't imagine him ever seeing where you lived, it might hurt you to see the pity written across his face.

Worse, you'd just be a burden to him, he'd probably feel obligated to take care of you, and if things didn't work out- you shudder- you didn't even want to think about it.

But God, you were so attracted to him that it hurt. You couldn't stop thinking about him, and the ways he would touch you, the ways he might feel, the size of him-

You blink in surprise, feeling a small flush of pheromones around you. Damn, work was the worst place for this.

At the same time, you catch sight of Renée, the only other omega in the department, making her way toward you, her desk situated nearby.

She glances at you, gives you a subtle nod while dropping her stuff, before pausing, and turning to you.

“You smell like an Alpha.” She says, no question in her tone.

Renée was the type of person to speak somewhat kindly to your face, the perfect facade of caring, but you knew people, and you knew that she would find a way to work this interaction into office gossip.

“I made a friend.” You answer inexplicably, trying to keep a poker face, knowing that shyness would do you no favours here.

She raises her eyebrows, turns away, you knew she was thinking one of two things, wondering how you managed to befriend an alpha before her, or that someone you called a ‘friend’ would let you scent them. Basically, that you were a slut and she was better than you.

“Well, I hope you have fun.” She says, smiling over at you sweetly. 

“Thanks.” You mutter politely, tugging your headset on, and getting ready to start your day.

Your phone pings in the middle of the morning peak hours, and you pause speaking to glance down at it, seeing yet another message from the alpha himself.

He’d been sending texts all weekend, texts that you had been ignoring, though you weren’t exactly sure why.

You shake your head, apologising for your pause, before resuming your work.

When the call ends, you take a bathroom break, pulling down your notification bar to see what he’s said.

You catch sight of all the other messages before, sighing as guilt fills you.

I hoped you had a nice time, sweetheart, I’d like to see you again.

Omega?

Please don’t feel shy about the car, I wanted it too.

Are you ignoring me?

Good morning, sweetheart. Let’s have dinner.

Are you really going to make me beg?

It was almost hard to breathe, the way he seemed so desperate for you. You could almost feel his desire through the phone, like an ache in your chest, sticking like tar to the back of your throat.

Denying him might be the hardest thing you've ever had to do, but it was for the best, you decide as you lock your phone. You would not be played for a fool ever again.

He calls during your lunch break, you swallow and flip your phone over, muting the call while you eat your small packed lunch.

Why wasn't he getting the message? Would it really be that hard to free yourself of him?

You don't get any more messages or calls after that, and you assume he gives up when you hear nothing else from him for the rest of the day.

Your transit home is bitter, the thought that you'd successfully chased an alpha away hurts, like you knew it would.

He might have been amazing, he might have been warm. You tip your head back on the bus, taking in a deep breath and exhaling agony.

Worse, his scent fades even more the next day, and where you'd been trying to scrub it from you over the weekend, you cling to it now, wishing it would stay just a few days more.

You stop, surprised, when you see a single sunflower sitting on your work desk in the morning. 

It's in a little transparent vase, and your heart gives a violent uptick as you approach, reaching for the little card you see pressed under the vase, raising it to your nose, taking a deep breath.

Your eyes roll back in your head at the pure scent of him. He'd probably rubbed the harsh little card against his scent gland, trying to get your attention by any means necessary. 

You go so weak in the knees that you're forced to brace a hand against your desk to support you.

You draw back, flipping the card open, finding one word written neatly in his hand.

Please

You bite down in the corner of your lip, smiling. Guess you hadn't chased him away after all.

Was this good? Was this bad? You didn't know, all you could feel is your chest fluttering at the idea that you'd pushed this Alpha away as hard as you could and he was still here, trying to calmly approach, not overwhelming you by physically getting into your space, but letting his actions speak for him, reminding you that he was still here.

Could you hope that his feelings were real? That he really cared about you, where other Alphas had only themselves in mind?

“From your friend?” Renee's voice breaks into your head.

You turn, dropping your hand as if you've been caught.

“Yeah.” You breathe out, turning to busy yourself with work, feeling her eyes glued to the back of your head.

When you finally settle in, staring at the flower, you frown, remembering the way the second alpha you'd been with had used your own desires against you. He'd twisted your need to be cared for, making it seem like your only purpose was to serve him. Adam had left you aching for crumbs and hating yourself for it.

You could almost cry from the memory, that alphas could be so cruel, so manipulative, that it was always a game and you needed to keep your cards close to your chest.

Why, would William be any different?

Why were you wishing with everything you had, that he was?

You bring the card up to your nose, breathing in his scent, hoping.

.

You’re staring at his unopened messages yet again, trying to figure out what to say to him when the phone on your desk rings.

You straighten, grabbing your headset, tugging it on before answering, giving your quick, jovial greeting.

There’s a long pause, that alerts you to the fact that this call might not be totally normal.

“Omega.” The voice finally says, and your mouth drops open in surprise.

“William?” You ask, almost choking on your words, “You- these calls are recorded for quality purposes.” 

“You’ve been ignoring me. This was the only way I could think of to hear your voice.”

Jesus Christ, you could feel your heart palpitating in your chest.

“We shouldn’t be talking on this line.” You respond shakily.

“Did I do something wrong? Tell me what I did sweetheart, so I can fix it.”

Ohmygod, you clear your throat, adjusting yourself in your seat with the way his voice is affecting you.

“William-”

“-I can’t stop thinking about you. I need to see you again, even if it’s for you to tell me you want me to leave you alone. I’ll beg if I have to.”

You blink, mouth parting, unable to speak.

“We shouldn’t.” You try.

“Please.” is his low, grovelling response.

Your breath hitches as he continues on repeat, slow, drawing out each word with his voice echoing through your headset, sending shivers over your spine.

“Please, please, please, please, please-”

“Okay.” You stumble out, “Alright.”

You hear him sigh a breath of relief.

“Let’s have dinner tonight. My treat.”

“I don’t-” You start before cutting off, cheeks aflame with embarrassment, “-I have nothing to wear.”

“Don’t fret little one, I’ll pick you up after work. I’ll take care of everything, you just have to withstand my company for one night, and if you really want me to, I’ll leave you alone after.”

“I’m holding you to that, alpha.” You answer, whispering it so that Renée doesn’t overhear you.

He hums over the line, a little laugh after a few moments.

“Thank you, omega, see you later.”

You mumble your goodbye, ending the call on your side.

It warms your core for minutes after, unbelievably turned on by him, unable to deny the way you were feeling, you bring the card up to your nose once more, breathing him in.

.

He sends you a quick message a few minutes before your work day ends to tell you that he’s waiting in the lobby for you.

You feel a nervous twist in your stomach as you close your files, and pack up your things, glancing over to see that Renee hadn’t come back from her trip to the bathroom just yet, normally bidding her goodbye before you leave.

You wonder if you should bring the sunflower with you, but you figure it would be fine here and you can just take it home tomorrow. On the other hand, seeing it here really did make the day more bearable. 

You decide to think about it later, heading for the elevator, your bag in hand.

You catch his scent as the doors slide open, smiling wistfully as bergamot surrounds you, tugging you to him.

You round the corner and stop short in shock.

You'd never thought of Renée as a friend in any means, but you'd never seen her as any type of adversary until this very moment, as you watch her smile up at William, her neck tilted to the side slightly in offering.

It's a very bold move, to openly present your scent gland to a possible stranger, and you glance up at his face, noting his expression.

His eyebrows are pinched, mouth turned down into a frown, confusion maybe, perhaps a hint of distaste.

You didn't know you were good at reading lips until this moment as well, but you know without a doubt that he says the words ‘I'm sorry, I'm not interested.’ despite how far away you are.

 Then, he turns, eyes meeting yours as if he knew exactly where you were.

He mutters something you think is ‘excuse me,’ before he begins walking in your direction.

In a well pressed white shirt, tucked into charcoal grey pants, he approaches you with even strides, never breaking eye contact, making you feel the intensity of him as he draws near.

You feel your spine stiffen, head angling upward the closer he gets, until he's standing before you, drinking you in.

“Hello, sweetheart, thank you for giving me another chance to see you.”

You gulp.

“D- don't make me regret it.” You stutter out, trying to stand your ground on your boundaries.

“Never.” He promises, extending his elbow out for you to take. You eagerly oblige, reaching up to grip his bicep securely, maybe a little bit more than necessary.

You keep your head down, not wanting to make eye contact with anyone on your way out.

He's not driving this time, guiding you toward a very big SUV, with blackout windows and a cozy leather interior.

There’s so much room, enough for him to extend his legs when he slides in beside you, closing the door and tapping twice on the partition separating the two of you from the driver.

“Wow,” you murmur, looking around, even noticing a small fridge in the space across from you, “This- is this yours?”

He hums.

“Technically, they belong to the company, but I get to use it when I need to.”

You blink, realising that he was trying to be humble about it.

Smiling, you turn to look at him, eyes widening when you realise how close he’d gotten to you when you were distracted.

“You smell like me, omega.” He whispers into the space between you, his dark eyes searching yours, leaning in, he presses his nose to your hair.

You hear the soft inhale, your body stiffening, trying to resist your own instinct to present your scent gland to him. His own scent fills the space around you, and his shaky exhale brushes your ear as he leans away.

“I won’t lie and say I’m not pleased by it. You have power over me, sweetheart, I hope you know that.”

Your breaths sharpen, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth, you bite down harshly trying to recenter your thoughts.

How could he say something like that so easily? As if it were in his nature to be so… devoted.

His gaze dips to your mouth, lingering there for a long moment before he smiles softly.

“How was work today?” He inquires, leaning back further, taking a few deep breaths, in what you can only assume is an attempt to calm himself.

It was great, you want to say, but the words won't come out with the way he's looking at you, as if you're his next meal, or his deity.

You can't decide.

“Omega?”

“Good.” You blurt, losing control of your thinking, did you even really have a good day? You don't have the brain power to remember.

You turn your head away, blinking, trying to… think. It was hard to focus on anything other than him, the way he was filling your head with primal static, the urge to obey, to succumb washing over you.

“I’m sorry,” You finally say, dropping your head into your hands, “being around you isn’t easy. It’s hard to control myself.”

You feel pressure in your throat, tears springing to your eyes, a dam on the brink of bursting.

His hand presses securely between your shoulder blades.

“Breathe,” He says calmly, you turn your head to find warm, encouraging eyes.

Oh, you think to yourself as you follow his instruction, breathing in softly, feeling those primal desires soften under the guidance of the very man causing them.

“There you go,” His voice makes your stomach flutter, “There’s nothing to be sorry about, little one.”

There he goes again, making you want him.

What would it cost, to reach up and kiss him? To press your fingers into his jaw while your mouths meet, to feel him like that, to exist with him in that way?

You let out a soft sigh, relaxing, living in that thought for a few moments.

When he’s sure you’re calm enough, he smiles.

“Now, let’s start over- was your day actually good?”

You feel amusement rise inside of you.

“Yeah,” you utter softly, “No one yelled at me, so I call it a win.”

He blinks, his expression turning sorrowful.

“People often yell at you?”

You nod.

“Customer service… is an excuse for small people to make someone else feel small.”

Something changes in his eyes, sorrow moulting into something else- his jaw tightening.

“I don't like the sound of that.” He admits.

You offer him a wry smile.

“That's just how things are, I guess. This is what I have to work with.” You stop yourself from complaining more, worried that it might upset him to hear the way people treated you, to hear them make derogatory comments, to question your intellect as if you'd personally inconvenienced them.

His hand moves from your shoulder, tracing its way up to the back of your neck, and then to the side, his thumb in perfect reach of your scent gland and your brain goes hazy at the thought.

Instead of your gland, his thumb reaches up to stroke the edge of your jaw calmly.

“What happens if someone is too aggressive? What's the protocol? Do you transfer them to a manager?”

You gulp, remembering one time that happened, you'd gotten reprimanded after.

“Yeah that's the protocol, but I think it's best if I solve the problem myself, and get approvals on my own. It's not usually good to waste my supervisor's time.”

His thumb gently stroking your cheek lulls you, fits you into a space where you feel safe to talk about these things.

“Does anyone at your job yell at you?”

“Not… yell,” you hesitate for a moment, enjoying his caress, “they're just… warnings. I'm- I try to do my best to avoid that.” You huff out a breath, “I guess I got yelled at once, when I first started, but not after that.”

You gulp, glancing at him, the soft fire in his eyes as he studies you, his thumb dipping, circling the spot right above your gland.

Your lips part, your mind begging you to reach out to him.

The car slows to a stop.

You take a deep breath, eyes widening when you scent the mixture of pheromones in the air, you might as well be begging him on your knees with how potent it was. It sort of surprised you that he was able to resist it.

You want to say something to him, anything to fill the silence that swarms in as your eyes meet his, but your brain is blissfully blank, not a single cohesive thought other than how badly you wanted him.

He gives you a patient smile.

“We’re here.” He says.

“Where?” You ask softly.

“Hotel,” He answers softly, “I rented a room so you can get dressed and meet me in the restaurant for dinner.”

Renting a room? On a second date?

“Oh…” You mumble, trying to figure out if you needed to clarify your boundaries for him again.

You don’t get the chance, the door opens and you have to busy yourself with stepping out instead of addressing your concerns.

He extends his hand for you to take, and you do so eagerly, aching even more when you feel his large hand interlocked with yours.

It’s almost like you’re his omega, walking beside him as he confidently guides you into the hotel, nodding at reception and heading straight to the elevators.

The doors close and you can feel your body throbbing. Was he expecting more from you than you were ready for?

“William?”

“Yes, Omega?”

You blink, looking up at him, unable to voice the words, the topic of conversation is too sensitive, the words can barely leave your mouth. Your mind races to find something else to ask.

“Do you- um- live around here?”

He tilts his head for a moment, maybe sensing your hesitation.

“Not really, I live close to where I work, home to office you know?”

You nod, smiling, before facing forward once more, a slither of discomfort in your spine.

You can feel his eyes on you, no doubt trying to read you while you debate whether this was a good idea or not.

When the doors slide open, he begins speaking again.

“I hired a stylist, to help, if that’s okay, I didn’t want to overwhelm you.” He guides you down a well lit hallway, and stops at a door before turning to face you.

“Is this okay? Or is it too much?” He questions softly, and you dip your head, unable to meet his eyes.

“It’s a bit much.” You mumble, looking down at your shoes.

He bends his body, smiling as he manages to fit his head into your line of sight, it pulls a small smile from you too.

“If you could bear with me, omega.” He whispers so softly that the words kick off a yearning need in your head, “I have a surprise that will hopefully make up for it.” 

You tilt your head up, and he moves, straightening his body to remain in your line of sight.

“Okay.” You surrender, trying to allow yourself to be swept up by him, even temporarily.

He gives you a pleased smile, hindbrain preening in response that you’ve made alpha happy. He turns, knocking on the door.

After a few moments, an omega with a kind smile opens the door. He introduces her as Maria, and you spare him one more glance before you step into the room, nodding when he says he’ll see you on the roof in two hours.

.

The elevator plays soft music as you travel upward, the sound of your own breathing heavy in your ear.

You weren't sure you'd picked the right dress, a little self conscious that you'd chosen something that might be too juvenile.

The strawberry dress had been too beautiful, your eyes had been drawn to it the moment you saw it, and no matter how hard you tried to convince Maria that it was a bad idea, she'd insisted that you picked the dress you most loved. 

You really did like it, the tulle and the colour, and the cut of the dress going so low that you'd skipped your bra and used boob tape to hold your cleavage in place.

You weren't sure how painful removal would be, Maria had suggested baby oil, you just hope you had some at home.

She'd fixed your hair into soft curls,  and she was really nice about what you liked and didn't, and by the end of it, she felt more like a friend helping you than a stylist being paid to do so.

The elevator doors open, and you cautiously step out. You take a deep breath through your nose, catching the faded scent of him, and following it.

Down a short hallway, and into a large open restaurant space. It was quiet, void of anyone, tables and booths empty.

You frown a little, confused as to why a restaurant this opulent would be closed. Sure, it was still daylight out on a weekday, but it didn't make sense to you on a business level.

The entire restaurant is surrounded by floor to ceiling windows, with a large pane of glass in the middle of the room, blurry with falling water.

The soft sound invites you, and as you get closer, You make out a wavy silhouette behind the glass.

You step around it, finding William facing the window, looking down at his phone.

He's dressed pristinely in a dark blue shirt, black pants and shoes, though the top buttons on his shirt are open, giving off a more casual vibe than his work shirt from earlier.

You watch him take a slow breath, and then lift his head in realisation, turning to look at you.

You smile at him as he turns, fitting his phone into his pocket in one swift moment, slowly approaching you.

He doesn't say anything, and you're too afraid to see repulsion in his eyes to keep looking at him, so instead you study his attire as well, admiring the way he looks, noticing the delicate silver chain shimmering around his neck as he moves.

He says your name, and you glance up at him with wide eyes as he stands before you.

He takes another slow breath, and raises a hand to push some of your hair away from your scent gland, the tips of his fingers just gently brushing it, eliciting an almost violent shiver of pleasure. 

“You look…” He lets out an amused breath, shakes his head slightly, “I can’t find the right word. Beautiful? Divine? Bewitching. Radiant...”

Delight bubbles inside of you until you can't resist a pleased smile.

“Thank you, Alpha, you look very nice too.”

When you say his title, you watch his eyes darken, his scent growing a little stronger in the space between you as his body calls out to yours.

You can feel it, the heat between you, the promise that he would take care of your every need no matter what.

“Hungry?” He asks, and you swear his words have a double meaning.

You nod, because you can't say it out loud, that you were starving, famished, not just for food but for the pleasure of his company, for the pleasure of him.

He guides you to the far end of the restaurant, towards a secluded corner, where there's a table waiting for you. 

You don’t get a chance to study the table because you’re distracted by a large… object covered in a velvet shroud. 

You walk around the object, preoccupied with it, turning to look at William with your eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

“It’s my surprise,” He explains, stepping closer to you so that you can breathe him in, “I hope you like it.”

You look at it, the velvet shroud going up high, hanging precariously from the ceiling you think, one firm tug might bring it down.

When you look back at him, he’s got his eyes on you.

“When can I see what it is?” You ask eagerly.

He blinks, as if coming back to himself, glancing at the object as if he’s just remembered it.

“Take a step back,” He instructs, waiting until you comply to give another directive with a low voice.

“Close your eyes.”

Your heart pounds, excitement and anxiety war within you, the former winning over as you let your eyes close.

You hear footsteps, and then a tug, the sound of the shroud falling and the wind it generates as it does, caressing your face.

There’s a moment of silence, where your impatience fights you to open your eyes before he says, but you try your best to wait for William’s permission.

“You can open them now.”

You gasp in shock when you recognise what you’re looking at.

There’s so much gold, the painting glimmers in the light of the falling sun, you take a step forward, unsure of where to begin your examination. 

You tilt your head, studying the little flowers first, eyes roaming up to examine the clothing of the two subjects in the portrait, then the hands, the different colours, the flowers in her hair, the leaves in his.

A larger, male subject, pressing a kiss onto his lover’s cheek.

The Kiss, by Gustav Klimt.

“It’s beautiful, so much like the real one.” You murmur absentmindedly.

“It is the real one.” 

You pause, unable to register his words, before turning to him in shock, lips parted.

The alpha’s pleased expression grows into a smile.

“What do you mean this is the real one? The real one’s in Europe somewhere.”

He nods, as if to agree with you.

“Vienna, yes.”

You turn to examine the painting once more.

“...How?...Why?”

“I think you’ll find that there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make your eyes glitter like they are right now.”

Me? You think in shock, looking away, down, towards the floor, unable to process the implications of his words.

He takes a step closer to you, catching your attention, you turn to him just as he reaches you. 

For a long moment, all you do is look into each other’s eyes. You take a slow breath, breathing in his citrus smell, the bergamot chasing after you.

You turn your head back to the painting, studying it while you feel his eyes on you.

“It’s gorgeous, Alpha, thank you.” You feel so much emotion, that it fills your throat and threatens to spill out.

Your lip wobbles, glancing up at him for a moment, and then turning away when you realise that he can probably see the tears in your eyes.

You feel his hand on your arm.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Why the tears?”

“It’s stupid, sorry.” You take a deep breath, sighing when he extends a handkerchief to you that you accept gratefully.

His hand moves, to wrap around your back, pulling you into his chest.

“Talk to me.” He whispers, his breath disturbing your hair.

“No one’s ever-” You let out a little laugh of delirium, “-No one’s ever done something so thoughtful for me.”

He hums, as though he understands, sympathizes with you, he wraps his arms around you, tucks your head into his chest.

His scent wraps around you, soothing you almost instantly, your eyes flutter shut as you register the beat of his heart below your ear.

“I just wanted to see you smile.” He says.

You do.

.

Dinner comes in a few moments later, and he guides you to the table just behind, with soft, comfortable chairs to settle into. He even checks in on your level of ease, inquiring about the brightness, and whether or not it was satisfactory. You smile softly, calmly reassuring him that the area was perfect, the tint on the windows keeping the intensity of the light low. Dim and comfortable, you can’t really ask for anything more.

The first course is a light broth, and you're a little confused that they brought this out without having you look at a menu.

It's definitely refreshing, to not have to struggle with a decision on what to eat, but you're not sure if to ask William about it, in case it's just some rich person custom that you're unfamiliar with.

In any case, this arrangement pleases you because it means you can stare at The Kiss in admiration while the sun sets, casting a soft orange glow around the room, enhancing the mostly gold painting.

“Will you tell me about it?” William asks, and you spare a shy glance at him.

He tilts his head in the direction of the painting. You swallow your food, gathering your thoughts to answer.

“It's inspired by the painter and his lover, it's one of the most popular paintings of an alpha and omega pairing. There was a… speculation that they were soulmates, but I'm not sure how true that is. Some people think that because the omega is turning away, that the kiss isn't consensual… but I don't think so, she seems… happy to me.”

“You don't think they were soulmates?”

You turn to William.

“Not really, I don't… believe in the soulmate theory.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“No?” He says curiously.

You shake your head.

“It's a little unreal to think that there’s some kind of perfect match for a person.” 

“It's not necessarily a perfect match like in the movies, it's a suggestion of… compatibility really.” He says.

You blink, studying his expression, wanting to express your disbelief that he would believe in something so farfetched but not wanting to be disrespectful.

“It's not even a perfect match, it's the way the theory specifically targets alpha and omega pairings. As if omegas aren't already bound by their biology enough, someone had to come up with an idea to hold us back even further by romanticising the concept of an alpha match.” You keep your tone calm, so that he understands you're not upset.

He tilts his head in contemplation.

“You don't like the idea of being with an alpha?”

You swallow.

“That's… not what I mean. I just don't like being forced into thinking that it's my only option in search of companionship.”

He makes a face of contemplation, seeming to understand where you were coming from.

Plus, it was a trick alphas had used with you in the past to encourage you to stay in toxic environments.

Don't give up on us, omega, we're soulmates, I can feel it.

You had been fooled before, it would not happen again.

William studies you for a long moment, and you gaze back evenly, before he smiles, tilting his head once more to lighten the mood.

“You make a good point, but still, I can’t help but point out the ways alphas are made for omegas, of course a pairing between them would be stronger.”

His words take you aback, it's the first time someone has ever made the comment that alphas are the ones made for omegas, usually they say it the other way around.

“Maybe…” You concede, unable to stop yourself from thinking about his words. You wonder for a brief moment if he was made for you.

It sends a warm feeling across your chest.

You turn your head, looking up at The Kiss.

“My past experience has made me skeptical about the entire theory, Alphas before have used it to keep me compliant.”

He lets out an audible breath, and when you turn your head to look at him, you find his fists curled and his head dipped low.

The scent of anger hits you, spicy in the air, like a mix between smoke and hot peppers.

“Alpha?” You whisper in concern, worried that his anger is directed toward you.

Tentatively, you reach out, fingers shaking slightly as you touch one of his clenched fists.

He relaxes the fist, turns his hand upward so that his palm is pressed upward into yours. Your palm tingles where you touch.

“Angry on your behalf, omega,” He tries to explain with a low voice, “You shouldn't have had to go through that.”

Realisation washes over you. The smell of his anger excites you now that you understand it's not directed at you.

You feel butterflies, you feel warmth, you suck in a deep breath to get some semblance of control over your hindbrain.

“Thank you, Alpha.” Your voice, almost a purr.

He blinks, studying you,  his eyes shifting from surprise to pleased as he realises the effect he has on you.

The sound of footsteps coming your way makes you draw back.

The second course is lobster pasta, creamy and delicious and you try extra hard not to make yourself messy while eating it.

“What do you think?” He asks between bites of his food.

You look up, eyes wide as he gazes back at you.

You swallow your food, thinking hard about what to say.

“I'm still skeptical about the soulmate theory, but maybe you're right that it does exist. Looking at the painting up close, you see that gold aura surrounding both of them? I think that's supposed to represent their bond. They loved each other, there's no question there.”

You watch a smile pull onto his perfect face.

“I meant the meal, sweetheart.”

Your face grows warm.

“Oh… It's good!” You look down at the plate shyly, “Yeah.”

He chuckles. 

“You're very cute when you're shy.”

You bite the edge of your lip, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

He grins down at you and something warm settles in your stomach. You wanted to kiss him.

Maybe you could, maybe he would let you. 

In this beautiful dress you feel like you're not yourself, your insecurities washing away under his gaze. For the first time, you’re just an omega, enjoying the company of an alpha that you hope could be yours in time.

You think about being in his arms, the way he makes you feel, his ability to soothe you, the ways you hope he would sate you.

You suck in a deep breath, trying to calm yourself before your pheromones give away your needy state of mind.

Should you take him up on his offer to be his Omega? Would it be possible to balance that? How would it even work?

“William?” You say softly.

He pauses his movements to look at you.

“Earlier- Maria called you ‘Billy’- made me wonder if you were friends?”

The corner of his lips pull into an affectionate smile, you try really hard not to worry about the other omega.

“Maria is mated to my brother, Frank. She owns a small salon on the east side, I thought she would help you feel comfortable.”

That's so thoughtful, you think.

“Yes, she was amazing, thank you.”

If this was a trap, then it was well set, you couldn't see a flaw, you didn't have any reason to think he could be like other Alphas.

“Everyone has called me “Billy” for as long as I can remember. My real name had never really appealed to me until I heard you say it.”

You give him a warm smile, your stomach fluttering at the privilege you didn't realize you had until now.

You wanted this so much that it terrified you. To be his Omega- what would it be like? To have unrestrained access to him, to be able to scent him as you please, to be scented in return.

He sucks in a sharp breath, leaning away, it catches your attention. Your eyes widen when you realise your pheromones are heavy in the air.

His eyes roll shut, he lets out a shaky breath, fingers curling because of you for the second time tonight.

It doesn't help, the look of him, barely restrained, fighting his nature with every ounce of self control only makes you want him more.

“I'm sorry.” You whisper, scared to break his focus.

He lets out a breath, a smile pulling the corner of his mouth. The look of leashed delirium in his eyes when he finally opens them.

“Don't be.” He responds, his voice so deep that it almost makes you shiver with how pleasing it sounds.

You suck in deep breaths too, to calm yourself, eyes drifting to the painting to let it distract you.

You certainly were a match, there was no question about it, the urge to tear at each other was there, the only thing holding you back was social etiquette, and your internal reservations.

The effect your heat must have had on him- you almost feel sorry for what you might have put him through. 

Dessert is a caramel drizzled pecan cookie, soft and chewy, the right amount of spices and sugar that makes you lick your fingers afterwards with the knowledge that it was the best cookie you've ever had.

You catch him looking at you with kind eyes and you try your best not to shy away from his gaze.

When you excuse yourself to the restroom, you try to look like you know where you're going, at least until you're out of his eyesight, and then you wander around the empty restaurant until you find a sign pointing you in the right direction.

You’re in one of the stalls when you hear loud voices and footsteps.

“-my god! That is literally the hottest Alpha I’ve ever seen in real life.” A first voice says, on the side of a little too high pitched for your sensitive ears.

“I knoooow,” The other person responds, “I would literally do anything he asked me to do.”

You pause, feeling a little strange to interrupt their obviously personal conversation by stepping out.

“I heard from Tim that he rented out the entire restaurant for the night just to impress some omega.”

Wait, were they talking about William?

You hear the stall next to you open and close, the taps turning on.

“No, I think they had to clear the restaurant for the night because of the painting and something about security.”

“Oh, that makes sense, the amount he must have paid to get all that done in one evening. God, I would jump him literally after dessert.”

You hear a groan, the sound of water as the taps turn on.

“I know right? I’ve been totally scenting the air in hopes that he gives me a second look. Nothing too obvious, only subtle enough for him. I really, really hope…”

The rest is unintelligible as the voices fade.

You wait a few more moments to make sure they’re really gone before you unlatch the door and step out.

It’s a lot of information to have overheard, and you’re not really sure what to think.

You step up to the sink, washing your hands methodically, reaching for a little towel to dry your hands, before looking up at your reflection in the mirror.

You smile at yourself, hindbrain preening that Alpha had gone through such lengths to capture and hold your attention. That maybe, Alpha wanted you, really really wanted you and no other omega would do.

He’s standing at the painting when you see him again, the table has been cleared, and you watch him as he focuses on the canvas in front of him.

He turns to look at you when he catches movement in his peripherals.

You’re very skittish to approach him, your mind spinning at a mile a minute, trying to both overthink and under simplify the actions you want to make.

The expression on your face must worry him, his eyebrows draw together as he studies you.

“Is everything alright?” He asks calmly, and you lift your head, studying his face of concentration.

You part your lips, trying to speak, no words able to leave your moving lips.

He dips his head, trying to make sense of the nothingness escaping you.

His scent fills your nose, the citrus, the bergamot, a very new touch of spice that pushes your hindbrain into desperation.

“Alpha.” You whisper softly, a touch of yearning in your voice, tilting your head up to press your lips to his.

It’s an instant, and total erasure of any higher thought. The way his mouth feels against yours, like something ancient and primal finding its way back to each other again. A familiarity that your mind and body has been searching for from the day you presented. 

It’s over too soon, even though it feels like it lasted forever. Time slows as you lean away, looking up at him, searching his eyes for any sign that you’ve made the wrong move, the ghost of his touch tingling at your lips.

You listen to the depth of his breathing, your heart hammering anxiously in your chest, awaiting his reaction. You catch a flare of his scent, the citrus notes deepening and your hindbrain eases your anxiety, a response that tells you that Alpha is pleased.

Finally, he makes a low hum, stepping forward, one arm winding around your back so that your bodies are pressed flush to each other.

“Omega.” He rumbles in response, fingers under your chin to tilt your head, guiding your mouth to his once more.

His mouth is insistent, pressing back, meeting every move of your desire with a response of his own. He moans, his warm breath on your tongue as the kiss grows into something… more.

Losing yourself, your hands cling to his shoulders, finding balance as you rise onto your toes, desperate to taste him, to feel the ache of yearning ease with each move of his mouth.

His lips are soft, sinful, you can feel his barely restrained movements, his hand gliding to grip the back of your neck, trapping you in place as if you could ever think about departing from his embrace.

Your scent gland tingles, spilling your need into the air, your body trying its best to entice him.

His mouth grows more insistent, demanding, and you find yourself responding, lips parting, tongue reaching out to gently graze along his bottom lip. 

His hold on you tightens, fingers gripping your hip deliciously, desire pooling low in your stomach in response.

Both of his hands cup your face, kisses slowing as if he's trying to find the strength to stop but unable to.

You smile into the kisses, each one more meaningful than the last, until finally he pauses, looking down at you with a pleased expression on his face.

His thumb glides along your lips, the scent of both your desires intermingling heavily in the air.

“I take it then, that you don't want me to leave you alone after this?” 

You huff out a laugh, almost rolling your eyes.

He grins too, before leaning in to get one more kiss.

“Maybe,” you murmur softly, “Maybe I don't.”

He hums in agreement, dipping his head, unable to stop himself from getting yet another kiss.

Your heart feels so full in your chest, it feels like you're going to burst with the flood of emotion. He doesn't push you into anything, avoids touching your scent glands though you know you both want him to. You can feel his fingers tightening their grip on your cheek and jaw, trying their hardest not to wander.

His scent grows more potent in the room, and by the time you leave, the betas in the restaurant are giving him their largest doe eyed stares.

It's a shame for them that he barely spares them a glance, his hand settled on the small of your back to put you at ease by making you feel protected.

His scent overwhelms you in the car, but you've been aching and wet for a while and you've just kind of gotten used to the discomforts of unresolved desire. You know without a doubt that you're going to have to relieve this ache inside of you by yourself tonight, and it's definitely going to be his name on your tongue the entire time you do it.

You take a long look at him beside you, and you wonder if he would be doing the same.

Tucked into his side, it's easy to tilt your head up, and press your nose to his scent gland, breathing him in, hearing him groan in response, your body tingling.

He doesn't stop you, and you have to bite down on your bottom lip hard to stop yourself from kissing the spot on the base of his neck.

It's surreal, the time you spend with him, that when he stops at the wrong building, it's like a punch to the gut.

This is where you'd lied and told him you lived… because you were ashamed of your real address.

“Can I walk you to your door?” He asks politely, warm reassurance in his eyes that he simply wants to make sure you're safe.

“No.” You answer hastily, smiling in an attempt to put him at ease, “I'm alright, thank you.”

You glance down at your strawberry dress, anxiety filling you at the thought of being seen in something like this, that it might catch attention you didn't want.

“It's cold outside, do you want my coat?”

You blink up at him in surprise.

He gives you a teasing smile, reaching for a garment on the seat in front of him, producing a familiar coat and extending it to you.

You swallow, accepting the coat on autopilot, face heating as you remember the things you did with this coat during your last heat.

You bring it up to your nose, hindbrain in control, taking a slow inhale of his scent.

Fuck, it was delicious. Your mouth waters as you meet his dark eyes.

“Thank you, Alpha.” You purr, sliding the coat on, over your dress, watching his eyes darken further at the sound of your voice.

He reaches up, trapping a lock of your hair between his fingers, twisting it, tugging on it gently as his hand slides down.

He looks like he’s deep in thought, but you’re just not sure about what.

“Goodnight, Omega.” He finally says, after a few moments of silence.

Stepping out of the car, leaving him behind, your limbs grow heavy with protest the further away you get from him.

When you make it into the building, you finally see his SUV drive away.

.

There’s an ache to leaving you behind that leaves Billy both confused and captivated.

He lets out a slow breath, sinking into the seat, head tipped back. 

Keeping himself in check had been the most difficult thing he’d ever experienced. To look at you, was to want you, and to want you, was to need you. Every look, every touch, every smile on your mouth was a lesson in self control. 

He was unbelievably afraid of scaring you away, that his control would slip, and his desires would show, and they would terrify you into leaving.

The ways he wanted you, the ways he thought about you. He lets out a soft groan, tugging at his shirt to get himself more air, but all he can smell is you.

He wants the feel of your bare hips in his hands, the taste of your skin in his mouth, his lips over your scent gland, your pitiful little whines filling his ears as he takes his time with you, discovering every way one human can make another fall apart, so that he can put you back together again.

Thoughts, that were maybe too insane to be thinking after a second date. Thoughts that would make you run if you knew just how close he’d been to actually carrying them out. No Omega, had ever made him hurt with the fear of rejection quite like this before.

That solid ache in his chest to be in your presence was only getting stronger, and then you'd kissed him.

He lifts a hand, pressing it to his mouth, remembering the way your lips had felt, the way your scent had sweetened. He resists a groan, your scent calling out to him like a beacon in the dark.

With his eyes closed, he could feel a pull, drawing him in the opposite direction of where he was going.

His apartment is lonely. The silence is loud, the smell is all wrong. He fits himself into his single sofa chair, large enough that his pretty Omega could fit herself into the space beside him, or on top of him if she’d like. He sips on the whiskey in his hand, an attempt to ease his nerves, to make the wrongness of his place feel a little less so.

He lets the silence fill him, wonders what you’re doing, thinks about texting you. He opens his phone and sees all his sent messages.

Billy hesitates.

Maybe he should wait, let you reach out this time, whenever you were ready. 

Puts his phone down, thinks about you more, groans when he catches your scent on his clothes.

It hurt to wait. It made his chest burn with the notion that he couldn’t just reach out to you, because you might draw back.

He presses a hand to his chest, tries to take a deep breath and be patient.

The whiskey is almost finished when he feels his phone vibrate.

He picks it up, and smiles.

.

.

.

[seelie-regent]

Omegaverse CorrodedKing au

So Steve was close friends with the whole group throughout elementary and middle school. You literally never saw Steve without at least one of them. They did everything together and knew everything about each other. They didn't keep secrets from each other and were never apart for more than 12 hours at a time. When they formed Corroded Coffin in sixth grade Steve was their vocalist.

Steve's parents didn't exactly like it but didn't do anything about it. Figuring Steve would grow out of them. Mature and realize they weren't up to par to be around someone with the status of a Harrington. Figuring that when Steve presented as an alpha like they expected their little group would fall apart. Except Steve doesn't present as an alpha. He presents almost a year later than he was expected to as an omega less than a month before he's supposed to start high school.

His parents are furious. Especially since the rest of the band has already presented as alpha's. His parents forbid him from seeing them again. Steve tries to argue but it's shut down almost instantly with a threat to have him sent to an omega finishing school out of state. Not even a week after Steve presents his parents are looking into ways to hide his designation while seeing if there are any alpha's to marry Steve off to once he's of age that will benefit them.

So with no choice but to bow to his parents wishes he's forced to cut contact with the band and go on suppressants and wear false scent patches to make him seem like an alpha. He's forced into befriending Tommy and Carol who are the kids of his parents 'business partners. They force him to toss everything related to the band. Pictures, clothes, gifts, books, and everything related to D&D.

On top of everything Steve is made aware that Tommy and Carol are to report everything he does back to his parents. So he knows he won't get a chance to explain anything to the band.

Come the start of Steve's freshman year and the bands confused and devastated for Steve's "abandonment" of them. Their hurt turns to anger that they take out on Steve in whatever ways they can. Constantly talking about how they should have expected it given Steve's parents. Steve, desperate for a distraction, throws himself into sports and partying. Which the band uses as further "proof" of Steve being evil.

It doesn't take long for Steve to develop rejection sickness from the bands constant taunts. Not that he blames them. He knows how it looks. He wishes he could explain. But he can't. Better to be around them and see them even if they hate him then to never see them again.

It doesn't take long for Carol who's also an omega to realize what's happened. And to Steve and her own surprise she does her best to help him. They might not be able to go against their parents but they can redirect Tommy and his friends attention. They can be there for each other.

Steve does end up dating Nancy still. Seeing bits of the boys in her. She's nerdy like them, albeit in a different way. She's got the same big eyes and fluffy curls Eddie has. She's got Gareth's anger that she desperately tries to hide. She's got Jeff's determination. She's got Doug's sense of humor. And Steve misses them so much. And at this point Nancy may as well be as close as he'll ever have to having his boys, his alpha's, back.

Things still fall apart. Steve finds the courage to break away from Tommy except this time Carol goes with him. And he still tries to cling to Nancy, to the pieces of his alpha's that she has, and it's still bullshit come Halloween. What Steve isn't expecting when he comes into school the day after Halloween though is for his secret to be out. For Tommy to have told Billy as revenge when he saw Carol leaving with Steve and trying to comfort him. For Billy to have told the whole school. He and Carol leave as soon as they hear people talking about it. Scared to deal with the fallout of this.

The band started putting the pieces together as soon as they heard what everyone was saying. The more they think about it the more pieces they realize they're missing. It's when they really start to think about what they remember of Steve's parents. That they finally look back and think about Steve constantly looking at them. The longing in his eyes every time. How the looks of pain they always agreed were just wishful thinking when he would watch them. How they had written off the look of Steve's face every time one of them made a comment. How Steve always seemed a little off. How he seemed sick more often than he ever was when they were kids. And all the pieces they're putting together make them almost sick with regret. Desperate to fix it but horrified to realize they don't know how.

Dustin still stumbles upon Steve however Carol is with him this time. So it's Steve and Carol who face the demodogs to protect the kids. When Billy shows up and Steve tries to make him leave he propositions Steve. Steve laughs in his face, because seriously who did he think he was, which only serves to further piss Billy off as he storms into the house. Steve still gets beat to shit but Carol breaks Billy's nose when throwing things at him to try and get him away from Steve giving Max the distraction to knock him out.

Come school the following week everyone has heard some version of the story or another. The band can't decide which version is worse. The one closest to the truth, that Billy attacked Steve while he was babysitting after he turned him down, or that it was Steve's parents furious that the secret had gotten out. Steve's fairly certain the only reason that one isn't true is because he parents still haven't returned home. The band is desperate to apologize but still can't figure out how. Even if they wanted to the Party is keeping Steve so busy that they wouldn't be able to get a minute alone with him. Which might have been Carol's fault. She had accidentally let slip that the band was why Steve had rejection sickness while at the hospital and the kids had misunderstood and taken it as the band had done something to hurt Steve. Any time one of them tries to get Steve outside of school one of the kids suddenly pops up needing something. Dustin, Max, and surprisingly enough Mike are the worst ones about it.

Meanwhile Steve has no idea. He has no clue the party is keeping his away from Corroded Coffin. And he has no idea that his boys are trying to apologize. After several weeks Corroded Coffin starts to think Steve does know though. That it was Steve's idea. (It was Mike's) That Steve really doesn't want them around anymore and that this time it's their fault for being so casually and constantly cruel to him. So they back off.

Then comes summer. Steve and Carol working at Scoops. Carol falling for Robin. Robin oblivious and falling for Carol. And Steve and Robin becoming Steve&Robin one day early in summer when Steve accidentally tells her about Corroded Coffin and the truth of his rejection sickness. Then come the Russians. And truth serum. And Carol and Robin getting together. And Steve talking about how he dated Nancy because of everything she reminded him of. Completely unaware of the fact that his boys were right there.

Eddie has smelled Steve a scent the whole band was familiar with thanks to school and hanging around Scoops. Eddie had followed and seen Steve once more beat to shit and rushed to get the rest of the band so they could try and help their omega. Because maybe Steve didn't want them around but they couldn't just leave him like that. So the band walks in at the perfect moment. To hear Carol and Robin pull the full story from him. They're overjoyed to be proven wrong and devastated to hear what Steve says.

The rest plays out more or less the same and the band drags Steve to the hospital. Once he's released they finally talk things out. Steve refuses to accept an apology for any of it and they refuse all of his.

It's not till they tell the kids that the band learns complete truth. The kids are pissed that Steve would date the band much to Steve's confusion. He ends up learning about the small misunderstanding sprouted from Carol's poor explanation. After that the kids are completely on board with the relationship. Dustin latching onto Eddie and Will deciding Gareth is his favorite.

A year and a half later Steve's parents show up having finally found out about the last several years of Hawkins chaos. However they can't do anything. Steve had mated the band and moved out almost year before they show up leaving them with nothing to hold over Steve's head.

Steve can't imagine a timeline where he's happier. He has his boys back. His alpha's. And he gained a best friend, platonic soulmate, and a small pack of chaotic teenagers. There's nothing more he could imagine wanting.

[writingsofwesteros]

All of these thoughts are delicious, but I can immediately imagine it being Viserys. His daughter with Alicent was always ambitious, though this particular occurance was born from the necessity to protect her family. They had all seen just how little their father cared for them when it came to his prized daughter and it was enough to create a divide within the family, a deep cavern that would be nearly impossible to fill. Alicent's daughter learned from the world around her, always more of an observer than an actual player in life's game, a fact that made her a different type of dangerous. Perhaps if she were interested in someone that could match her head on, she would've paired herself with Larys, or more appropriately, Aemond. But alas, her cunningness led her down the path of "greatness", as in the words of Otto Hightower.

Borrowing a trick from her mother, the daughter hatches a plan to strengthen her claim to their father's heart and secure their future through seizing the throne. She feels like a cheap whore the way she dumbs herself down to pretend like she wasn't vastly more knowledgeable than Viserys in regards to their history, or any other subject as he seemed to be severly lacking in several areas. It takes no time for her to worm her way into his bed, playing innocent and allowing him to mount her the first few times, moaning wantonly and clinging to him like he was her only lifeline. As he thrusts inside her desperately, all she can do is feel self satisfied over her amazing acting skills. It was evident that Viserys never remembered anything regarding Alicent's children, especially since it was a big ordeal within the castle when the servants had found blood on her sheets from an unexpected late night hook up with Aegon in their youth. Even after facing Alicent's wrath and ridicule, that didn't stop them from enjoying the occasional romp.

One night she whispers cutely to Viserys that she had recieved a dirty book from her handmaiden and wished to test out the position. He was immediately on board, though worried about how his "innocent" daughter would fare doing something so lewd. He's quickly shut up when she ties him down like a professional and wastes no time slowly torturing him with the thought of fucking her. She blindfolds him and rubs her tits in his face, climbing on the bed and teasingly rubbing his red cock through her folds and chuckling when he attempts to enter her. Alicent's daughter isn't going to let him get away with treating her the way he did her mother when she is his new wife, teaching him patience and making him eat her out from behind, her creamy pussy suffocating him. She doesn't let him get a break, making him work hard to learn her sensitive areas and the quickest way to make her cum.

Once she believes he is decent enough at the job, she slowly slides his cock in her sensitive pussy and gives him the ride of his life. His fragile heart stutters as she fucks his cock in and out of her tight cunt as if she had to rush to do something after she finished. His poor cock is abused by her tight grip and unrelenting pace, Viserys swearing his daughter is going to snap his cock in half with her vigorous movements, though says nothing and enjoys his slice of heaven. Alicent's daughter is going through it as she finally takes the liberty of fucking him, honestly feeling disgusted yet turned on by how submissive she had him already. She always loved when Aegon would let her take her frustration out on him instead of their usual wrestling match that left the servants extra busy come cleaning time. Feeling him start to pulse inside her helps bring her closer to her edge as her plan is that much closer to being achieved and she races to the finish line by swirling her fingers around her clit.

Alicent's daughter fucks him like he's her bitch a few more times before untying him and leaving him covered in their combined juices, his face red from embarrassment and vision blurry as he watches her slip her dress on and walk out like nothing had happened, his cum dripping from her cunt still. Viserys can't tell if he got punked, but he definitely knows that 1. He's not unhappy she fucked him so hard he wasn't able to walk to dinner, and 2. He's going to definitely need to marry her since it's obvious he wouldn't be able to stop thinking about her after that night 👑💀

SO DELICIOUS !!

[dollwrites]

ᴍɪsғɪᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇ ! ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ᴘᴀᴍᴇʟᴀ ɪsʟᴇʏ

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!robin!reader, established relationship, predicament bondage ( plants ), blood mention ( mind the thorns ), improper use of Pam’s powers and plants in general, it’s kinda dub con, suggested age gap, praise kink, maybe a very small amount of sex pollen if you squint. all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰 ∣ act six [ object stimulation ]

“Well, well, a little birdie got caught in my trap.”

vines slither up your legs, coiling like serpents around your thighs and squeezing tight. Pam’s voice sounds like it’s all around you, but you know better than that. she’s just a pro at playing up the villain bit. “Ivy,” you break out into a subtle smile even saying her name, but attempt to hold it at bay by nibbling on your lower lip. “We have to stop meeting like this.”

“Isn’t that what you said last night? And the time before that?” Pamela’s voice only grows softer as she gets closer, practically materializing out of the darkest shadow at your back, until slender fingers drum against your shoulders, and glossy lips smack against the shell of your ear. “Oh, and the time before that?”

“Heroes make mistakes,” you remind her, but you’re happy it’s her causing chaos in Gotham and not that looney tune Joker. “I have just made… a lot of mistakes this week.”

and you wanted to make another. just one more, terrible decision before Batman ruined all your fun.

“Pamela—“ you reach for her, wanting to run your fingers through her fiery curls or caress her face long enough to guide those tantalizing, glossy lips to your own, but more vines got in the way. snapping around your arms, they pin them tight to your sides, looping several times around your midriff. this is when you notice the thorns, angry and red, nipping at the spandex of your uniform around your belly, tearing several, minuscule holes in the threading and pressing into your soft skin beneath. “Ivy.” you say, more firm this time. the fabric that clings to your thighs like a second skin is also being torn at by her dubious, thorned ‘babies’ as she called them. “Now’s not the time for your little games. Batman is—“

“Shh, sh, shh,” Pam cuts you off, allowing her hands to careen over your shoulders and down your front, caressing your chest as her lips tickle the column of your neck with tender kisses. you moan out loud when she teases a particularly special spot that she already knew was there, and her svelte, razor sharp nails slip beneath your neckline, severing quintessential threads that hold your top in place. the seams snap with a soft sound, and part to expose your cleavage. “I know Bruce is probably scouring the rooftops of Gotham right now, searching for you, little bird. But you and I can still have our fun before he finds you.” both of her willowy hands envelop your breasts through your top, running her thumbs along the shape of your budding nipples, and you moan, your resolve slipping, as you allow your head to fall back, simply enjoying the attention. “There you go, my little pet. Such a good girl for me.”

but you can’t ignore the thorny vines that are vice-tight, digging into your arms, waist, and legs. shredding the integrity of your outfit. “Time to call off your babies, Ivy.” you tell her in a mew, but they only seem to tighten their grip at that, twisting against you. some of the sharp edges find your skin beneath the costume and liquid rubies bead up from you at the contact points. you let out a sharp hiss at the sensation of so many cuts at once, and tilt your head back further to look up at her, demanding to be released.

but Pamela is simpering wickedly at you as she peeks up from your neck— the visage of a heroine, usually so strong, reduced to a damsel in distress. “Mm, nn-nn.” she denies you simply, “I think I’ll have my fun with you all tangled up this time.” as she speaks, the two tips of the vines incapacitating your legs meet in between your thighs, their bulbous buds stiff and oozing a nectar-like substance as they begin to rub against you. it was sticky and warm, but not unpleasant, the smell of a honey-arousal cocktail wafts in the atmosphere the longer they tease your sensitive cunny through your suit. you were almost worried the two, determined little buds would rip a hole in the crotch of it with all their furious, hard scrubbing, and you would have a difficult time explaining to your mentor why your private parts were exposed. the injuries from the thorns you could probably explain away without raising much suspicion. however, the edges of these buds were slick enough to lubricate the fabric ( and you, of course, taking care of the interior the more they pleasured you ), so the majority of the integrity of the suit tonight remained in tact.

your gloved hands ball into fists at your sides, but you can’t deny it feels good. the flowerlets seemed to be ribbed in all the right places, writhing in tandem to toy with your cunt— pushing the spandex around until your nerherlips slot around them, and they can worm their way, instinctively, to the more sensitive parts, like your throbbing, little button that swells further. “Ah, uh—!”

one of the sprouts blossoms, the flower mimicking the shape of a small mouth, and latches itself in place with several, microscopic teeth-like thorns impaling through your suit. the seal creates a suction against your clit hard enough to make your eyes cross and your knees buckle. it felt like Pamela’s mouth when she ate your pussy, the way it sucked hard on your nerve-bundle. that’s how you knew she was in complete control, aware of the sensations that bring you the most pleasure and channeling them into these, little minions. the bubbling in your belly, a brewing orgasm, flares at the sudden ferocity, and your mouth hangs open, half in shock and half to simply allow your needy moans to flow freely. “P—Pam, oh, god, this feels… Good!! Don’t stop…!!”

your pleading nature elicits a giggle from the vixen fondling your breasts, further overloading you with pleasure, and she traces her name along your throat with her tongue, as if claiming Batman’s young, pretty sidekick for herself. “You’re always so sensitive, so responsive. Taking whatever I give you, doing so well.” she croons softly, her thumbs and forefingers pinching at your pert nipples to intensify the pleasure her plants are giving you. the still-closed floret has taken to prodding against your hole as it clenches, helplessly, behind the flimsy defense of your suit, teasing you with fantasies of tearing its way through and impaling you. right now, you were intoxicated by the pleasure ( or perhaps, that sweet-scented sap that seemed to envelop you in a warm, tingling sensation ), and you wanted nothing more than that to happen. but Ivy knew there wasn’t time to ravage you, not like you both wanted. “My pretty, little bird. My favorite.” she emphasizes the word favorite, by allowing one hand to flee to your jaw, grasping it, and turning it to capture your lips in a steamy kiss.

you can’t help yourself. you’re teetering on the edge of orgasm, and all this praise is only throwing gasoline on an already-raging fire. so you kiss her back, as fervently and hungrily as you can manage. your tongue tangling with hers in a dangerous dance as her suffocating kiss muffles the higher octaves you reach when your orgasm hits you like a sack of bricks.

you come undone, your hips bucking back and forth, riding the waves of intense pleasure because you can do little else, your fists balled so tight that your knuckles hurt, and you whimper when Pamela sinks her teeth into your lower lip, tugging on it. your eyelids flutter when you release, and then, without so much more as a second to torture you further, the vines retreat. Pam breaks the kiss, kicking her lips, smirking with her arms crossed as she steps back.

without the vines’ support, you are more than a little wobbly on your feet. you manage to stay standing, only barely, and pant, chancing a glance down at your suit. the chest is ripped open, exposing more cleavage than normal, it’s riddled with small, puncture holes, and the aromatic slime mixed with your own release creates a thick, damp patch in the crotch. Explaining this to Batman might be a little harder than you anticipated, but you would figure it out. your eyes flicker over to her, watching the vines retreat into the darkness behind her, and she only stands at the edge of escape. she looks stunning, irresistible, and in your post-orgasmic state, still riding the high, you want to grab her and insist on a round two. bury your face between her thighs and drink her in. but you couldn’t, and you both knew that. not yet, at least. “Don’t look so sad, baby.” Pamela speaks first, reading your pouty expression, and she reaches out to caress your cheek and trace your jaw with the very tip of her nail, smiling fondly. “We’ll see each other again soon. You just have to find some time to sneak around Bruce. Keep him distracted a little longer, and then I will really and truly ravage you.”

your heart thumps harder at the idea. you’ve been at the mercy of Poison Ivy and her insatiable appetite more than once, but it’s always a place you want to be. “Yeah, just stay out of his way in the meantime, okay?” you plead with her, tilting your head to kiss her fingers, mumbling softly, “It’s a pain in the ass to sneak into your cell at Arkham.”

[shomatoriashi]

08/10/24; 04:00pm

sung jinwoo x reader / sung jinwoo x cha hae-in

{ oneshot - angst to fluff }

- the academy arc -

{ we can’t be friends | but i’d like to just pretend | you cling to you papers and pens | wait until you like me again | wait for your love | love, i’ll wait for your love… }

perhaps you were destined to suffer with this unrequited love, you think to yourself while sneaking glances at jinwoo, watching as he turned the pages of his textbook while jotting down notes within the confines of his notebook.

currently, you were both studying for your upcoming college entrance exams. jinwoo had invited you over to his place, and you were settled within the quiet sanctuary of his room. surrounding you were pieces of jinwoo that made your heart turn even softer for him, and you swore you would never get used to how his scent seemed to permeate at the air. taking a break from your own studying, you decide to admire the various trophies he had won during his time spent on the track team.

of course, such winnings came as no surprise for you, since he had always been shockingly athletic. that fact has never changed-

however, his reasoning for joining track in the first place was what made your heart clench painfully within your chest. you recalled that day like it was just yesterday...

it was the first day of high school, and you recognized jinwoo from your elementary school years. gathering your courage, you decided to sidle up to his desk, earning a smile from him when you disclosed your identity to him. as you struck a conversation with him (reminiscing on old times), some rambunctious guys began heckling jinwoo while they surrounded both you and him. they made you incredibly nervous, and as one of them reached out to you, jinwoo immediately stopped them from grabbing you, standing from his seat as he spoke in a stern tone.

"leave her alone. if you want to get to me, then talk to me directly."

your eyes go wide when the boys seem to freeze up before moving stiffly away from you, their steps shaky and uneven, like they were puppets being controlled on a string. seconds later, they were all tumbling into the hallways, making your eyes go wide. a soft chuckle was heard coming from jinwoo, and once you looked back, you saw the secretive smile on jinwoo's face.

you may have had a crush on him at that very moment.

after that day, you cling to jinwoo like a lost puppy, having stars in your eyes at the mere sight of him. you comment on how much taller- on how much braver he had gotten since you had last seen him. while you gushed on him, he simply gives you a kind smile in response.

"thanks... i guess you could say i've worked out a little bit since i've grown."

"a little bit? jinwoo, you practically tower over everyone here! you must have plans to join an athletic club or something, right?"

jinwoo ends up considering your words with a hum before smiling back down at you. "i suppose i'd like to give track a try... after all... there's someone i'd like to meet."

his admission makes you stop dead in your tracks, your heart clenching just the tiniest bit when you see the warmth within his stormy gaze. he was clearly thinking about someone achingly special to him... and that made your throat close up as you struggled to get the words out.

"oh really? who is she?" you were surprised at how even your voice came out, unsure of why you were feeling this way over meeting an old friend again. jinwoo meets your gaze from your periphery and gives you a kind smile. "she's someone that's special to me... and i've waited a long time to meet her again."

that final confession was what ultimately stops you in your tracks, your heart aching at the fact that you would never get such a chance to be with jinwoo, especially when his heart had already been captured by another.

he notices the way you stop walking next to him and stops as well, eyes appearing wide when he asks if you were okay. you manage to let out a forced laugh, not wishing to admit the truth to him when you told him how you forgot you had a meeting with an advisor (a lie you had made up on the spot).

jinwoo ends up believing your lie and nods, walking closer to you so that he was now settled directly in front of you. amusement was seen in his gaze, and you could feel your breath become taken away by the sheer beauty and kindness of his smile. his large hand reaches out to you, and he ruffles it before stepping back, "okay, i'll see you tomorrow then. i'm going to head to the track field and talk to the coach about joining."

you nod and lift up your hand in a wave, watching jinwoo as he walked away from you with a heaviness felt in your chest.

since then, you tried to avoid him, or at least, tried to put some distance between you and him, yet jinwoo could never seem to take the hint. ever since that first day, he had already deemed you his best friend, further trapping your heart with the tendrils of love and affection you felt growing for him.

you spent the next three years remaining by his side, studying with him while supporting his efforts with each tournament he attended. yet instead of growing out of your crush for him, it grew to genuine feelings of love for him.

and this fact did little to hide the pain and envy you felt each time he answered her calls or eagerly replied to her texts, sometimes even going as far as meeting her during weekends to take her out on cute little dates-

looking back at him now, you felt your heart ache with the sheer amount of concentration was seen on his face. he was working so hard to be with her, to build a future with her-

a future that you were certain you could never be a part of.

in the midst of your reveries, jinwoo meets your gaze and gives you a smirk, "what are you looking at? is there something on my face?"

you shake your head and look back down at your textbook. since jinwoo admitted his feelings for this young woman named cha hae-in to you, you threw yourself into your studies and managed to make incredible grades. due to your own heartache, you decided to study abroad to get away from south korea, wishing to attend university in the united states, within the city of new york, to be exact.

you didn't think they would accept you, yet by some miracle, you were chosen to spend 4 years at a university there, hence why you were currently studying up on english grammar. however, there was a catch-

you had yet to tell jinwoo about your plans for college.

letting out a deep breath, you give your best friend a tiny smile before beginning to speak.

"jinwoo, i'm so sorry, but there's something i have to tell you."

he ends up frowning at your choice of words. "okay, what is it?"

with a heavy sigh, you shut your books and tell him, all while stuttering along the way, "uhm, w-well, you know h-how our school offers a s-study abroad program for u-universities we wish to a-attend?"

jinwoo's frown seems to deepen. "yes, i know about it."

"w-well, i signed up for the program a-and got accepted... i'll be moving to america soon."

hearing the news makes jinwoo drop his pen in response. "w-what? you're going to america?"

you could feel the anxiety coursing through your veins, "y-yes... i got accepted into a university in new york city and plan to leave near the beginning of january."

"NEW YORK CITY?!" jinwoo suddenly jumps out of his seat, his eyes widening so much that it seemed to bulge against his features, "t-that's so far away from here... why did you choose to go so far?"

to be as far away as i can be from you and the woman you love. but you don't tell him the truth, choosing to tell him a half-truth of sorts when you answer, "i've spent my whole life here, jinwoo. i think it's only natural for me to wish to expand my horizons and experience new things."

"y-yeah but... it's four years... what if you decide to never come back here?" jinwoo's voice becomes quiet all of a sudden, with his fists remaining clenched against his sides.

you let out a soft laugh, packing up your belongings one by one into your backpack. once everything was neatly in place, you stand back to your full height and meet with jinwoo's gaze. "it's okay... i'll be sure to keep in touch by texting you or calling you... but, i-i hope you'll forgive me if i forget or am too busy to call..."

an unreadable expression was seen in jinwoo's eyes, and for a brief moment, you could have sworn that his eyes flashed purple before going back to its original slate grey hue. not wishing to cry in front of him, you cling to your backpack and quickly excuse yourself, not even able to find the words to apologize to him for telling him such news of your departure so suddenly.

while you made your escape from his room, you were unaware of how jinwoo's intense gaze focused on your shadow, seeing loyal, glowing purple eyes looking back at him in understanding...

{ ... }

why was jinwoo such a mess now that you were no longer here?

after working so hard to pass the entrance exams for the last few months, he had plans of spending some time with you before you left for america... yet when he arrived at your place, you were nowhere to be found as your parents had told him that you had already departed for new york-

it had only been november at the time-

so you had lied to him as well?

and why did jinwoo's heart felt like it was on the verge of breaking?

your sudden departure coupled along with your obvious deception made jinwoo's heart clench with an unknown emotion. here you were, thousands upon thousands of miles away from him, leaving jinwoo feeling like he was drowning.

all of those shared laughters and inside jokes-

the times you spent remaining by his side during each and every one of his track meets-

and those late nights spent studying together, falling asleep together within the comfort of his bed-

had everything been all for naught?

with your absence drilling a hole within his heart, he found that not even hae-in's calls and texts could bring him out of this slump. jinwoo admits to how her beauty and awkward kindness had once ensnared his heart, making him think of nothing but meeting her again once he reset his timeline-

yet now, with you so clearly gone from his life, he found that he could not focus on anything but the memories he had of you-

memories of your smile and the way you would snort each time you tried to hold back your giggles while in class-

memories of how you would hide your face within his shoulder each time you watched a horror movie together, as if trusting him to shield you from all the monsters-

memories of how he could spend hours on end simply watching you sleep-

and it was only when you left him that he realized the truth of his feelings-

that you were the one he felt the most comfortable with... that by the end of the day, he would always need you and you alone...

with thoughts of you pushing him forward, he decides to finally come clean to hae-in one late afternoon on christmas eve. he wears his usual coat with a dark pair of jeans, expression forlorn as he felt conflicted with potentially breaking her heart. while walking across the streets of the city, he stops walking, already sensing her presence when he turns around to face her.

hae-in's hands were outstretched, bewilderment painting her beautiful expression. "there you are." jinwoo manages to smile at her, making hae-in take a step back as she brushes a hand across her golden strands of hair.

"it's like you have eyes in the back of your head, jinwoo." she hums and steps closer to him, "you took your college entrance exams last month, right? congrats. are you still going to the university you chose before? you got really good grades, so why are you set on going to that university?"

that was when things began to feel awkward on jinwoo's end. he coughs and was unable to meet hae-in's curious gaze. looking away from her, he shakes his head, "no, unfortunately, my plans have... changed since then."

hae-in seems taken aback by his confession, and jinwoo feels a wave of empathy coursing through his veins when he notices her expression, "i-it's not because of a woman, is it?"

jinwoo tears his gaze away from her, unable to give her a truthful answer without hurting her. yet, it seemed as though his silence was more than enough, making tears fill at her grey eyes as realization dawns within her tearful expression. "o-oh..."

with a shake of his head, he steps closer to her, "i'm sorry, for breaking our promise so suddenly. i thought... i thought i knew what i wanted... but... looking back on it now, she was the one who was by my side from the start."

hae-in's shoulders began to tremble in response, further filling jinwoo with guilt. "she was my best friend... and... she left me to pursue her dreams in america. now that she's not here, i feel... lost without her..."

"y-you wish to follow her?"

jinwoo closes his eyes before giving hae-in a nod. "i do."

a sob was heard escaping from hae-in, and jinwoo could feel the way she shoves him away from her, body trembling as she ran back home. his expression was filled with regret, watching hae-in running away from him. the soldier he had placed within her shadow lengthens in response to her movements, and jinwoo knew that she would be protected even if he wasn't around.

{ ... }

there was an odd sense of freedom felt coursing through your veins when you moved into your dorm, ready to start the semester. you were still surrounded by suitcases that held each and every one of the items you had deemed important to you.

as you took out each item from your suitcase, your eyes go wide when they saw a thick photo album you had no recollection of packing. taking it out, you watch as a note fluttered out of it, recognizing your mother's handwriting as it read:

i just wanted to pack you a little surprise; memories of your home, of family and friends who wish for nothing more than to support you. come back home and see us soon. love, mom

with tears filling your vision, you open up the album and flip through the first few pages, laughing at each picture before turning the page once more-

this time landing on a photo that had you and jinwoo smiling at the camera.

seeing his handsome face makes your heart well up with emotions you thought you had tossed aside. as your fingertips shakily trace at his handsome features, a sense of guilt filled you. you had purposely ghosted him, wanting nothing more than to leave south korea, just to put some distance between you and the man you had always loved-

a man who you believed with all your heart would forever remain an unrequited love.

unable to handle the pain of seeing jinwoo's face, you slam the album shut and let out a shaky breath. hot tears were felt streaming down your face, and your sadness was so potent- so palpable that it made the blood rush to your ears.

in fact, you were so distracted that you didn't hear the knocks at your door for several minutes. you gasp and look toward your front door, taking shaky steps toward it as you unlocked it.

"s-sorry, i was distracted, are you my roommate?" you spoke in english, earning a grunt from the person you assumed would be your roommate.

a deep hum was heard, "damn right i am." his face was covered by a huge box in his hand, and you saw the way his long legs kicked his suitcase inside, with your head tilted in response. you notice how he also spoke in english, yet there seemed to be a hint of an accent in it. a strange sense of familiarity fills you, and when you close the door was when your roommate puts down his box-

revealing himself to be sung jinwoo.

your breathing comes out in uneven breaths, with you taking a step back while meeting jinwoo's annoyed gaze. "jinwoo?!" you speak to him, reaching out to him with trembling hands. "t-there's no way... is it really you?"

jinwoo remains silent, simply taking casual steps closer to you, effectively trapping you against the wall. "who else would it be?" his reply was casual, and you flinch slightly upon feeling the way he brushes back your hair. with both hands settled against the wall, jinwoo prevents you from moving as he looks down at you, grey eyes shining with amusement.

your heart was felt pounding within your chest, making the heat travel all the way up to your cheeks when you shakily ask, "w-what are you doing here? aren't you supposed to be with hae-in?"

the jerk had the nerve to smirk at your question! he ends up humming in response, taking a hold of your hand to press a kiss against the back of it "are you jealous?"

you end up sputtering in response, "are you teasing me?"

he hums, "and what if i am?"

before you could answer, jinwoo ends up taking you directly within his embrace, chuckling as you struggled to get out of his powerful arms. "jinwoo!"

he simply hums once more before settling himself on the couch with you, hands already delving themselves into your hair as he leans in to give your cheek a kiss. such a sudden display of affection was enough to make your head spin as jinwoo tightens his hold on you. "when you left was the moment i realized you had taken a part of me with you... a part of me that i never wish to have returned."

his words manages to stun you, all coherent thoughts ceasing as pure and utter hope fills your gaze. he smiles down at you in a loving manner, choosing to frame at your face while continuing, "it hurt me, realizing how you chose to leave so suddenly without even telling me goodbye... but shockingly enough, it was thanks to your absence that i realized the reasoning for your departure was because of me all along."

"jinwoo..." tears fill at your vision, making jinwoo slowly lean down to press you against the couch in response. his gaze was intense, and he brushes back your hair before telling you, "you left because you loved me... yet i was too stupid and blind to realize it... until now..."

your breathing hitches when jinwoo leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. you eagerly respond to him, kissing him back with a fervor (pouring all of the yearning and heartache you felt for him building up within those 3 years). jinwoo groans against your parted lips, deepening the kiss momentarily before pulling away from you.

jinwoo's handsome features were all you could see when he smiles down at you, and you allow his large hands to delve themselves into your hair when he kisses your forehead once more, "i love you... i realize that i cannot live without you... so please... will you promise to remain by my side and never leave me again?"

his question makes you giggle, eyes filling with absolute adoration for him when you lean up to press a kiss against his lips all while reassuring him, "i promise..."

that was the moment the years spent yearning for him (along with your heartache) vanished completely as jinwoo captured your lips in another breathtaking kiss, swallowing the sounds of your laughter completely…

end notes: this is so self indulgent for me (⺣◡⺣)♡ but it was so worth writing. currently unedited, but i'll make any necessary changes once this is posted. once again, i don't trust tumblr to keep my drafts for long 😭 🙌🏻

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[stargirlrchive]

This is Simon and his daughter when she wants to do dance and has one of those recitals where the child’s parent dances with them. He gladly walks up there with his little princess and does the dance with her. And obviously you would be recording the entire thing to watch over and over.

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPRc6C9tc/

this made me ascend out of my body !! and i word-vomited a little

like you’re a little hesitant to bring up to simon that there’s a father-daughter dance because you know it would break his heart if he couldn’t make it. and when you do bring it up, he’s so quiet.

you can see the cogs turning in his brain, the turmoil he’s feeling clear as day in his eyes before he’s blinking and it’s gone. giving you a small nod and mumbling something along the lines of ‘i’ll make it work.’

you don’t hear much about it after that. especially because the week practices are starting he gets deployed. you’ve honestly thought he’s forgotten all about it.

so for father-daughter practice you show up, not wanting to let your little girl feel left out.

weeks of practice go on, and you’ve both gotten the steps down. you’re so happy that your little girl doesn’t seem to be too bummed out that simon won’t be able to make it. she understands, even at such a young age, that dad’s got an important job!

but unexpectedly on week three, little riley’s ballet teacher comes up to you beaming. “i’m glad to hear mr. riley was finally able to get the recordings i sent over.”

and you’re so confused because you have no idea what she’s talking about. you hadn’t been able to speak to simon since a few days after he left. but as she explains that simon had asked her to send over a video of the routine so he could practice while away, your heart warms. tears pooling at your waterline as you give her a watery smile and bid your goodbye.

it’s about half an hour later that you’re both home and you get a facetime call from simon. instantly little riley is reaching for the phone and babbling away over all the things she’s done since he’s been gone.

reluctantly passing you the phone when simon asks to speak to mama. your eyes tracing over his masked face, smiling softly as you remember his hidden features. your heart lurching in your chest because you miss him so terribly.

“so, you’ve been practicing.”

the way he scratches at the back of his neck, you know he’s blushing under the mask. a bright smile blooming on your face as he nods.

“ask’d johnny to stand in h’r place to get the movements right.”

and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of your throat, “gaz ‘nd capt’n been giving me pointers, but i’ve got most of it down.”

you sigh softly, just hearing him speak makes your heart thrum in pure happiness. but as your eyes flicker over to your daughter, you feel it plummet.

“m’not gonna tell her you’ve been learning the dance. it’ll get her hopes up and i don’t want her to be disappointed if you can’t make it.”

“i will be there.”

the conviction in his voice causes the sadness swirling in your chest to simmer down because you know he will.

but it’s only the day before the recital that simon gets back home. your daughter clinging to him desperately the whole day.

babbling excitedly about how he’s gonna be home to see her and mama perform. you both decided to let her find out it would be simon dancing with her until she was on stage.

which you are then sitting front row, camera ready and already recording as your little girls brows furrow in confusion as she sees you sitting in the seats. but before she can think too much about it, simon is coming out from the side of the stage, dressed in all black, a black tutu and a simple black balaclava.

the smile on your daughter’s face is the brightest you’ve ever seen and you have to force down the tears that are threatening to fall.

before the music starts you see little riley tugging on his arm, and after simon bends down to hear her, he barks out a laugh. your daughter’s giggles filling the room before the music starts and they start dancing.

her eyes shining brighter and brighter because her dad knew the dance. and caught her anytime her slippery shoes slid a little too much on the stage.

when she’s finally able to get back to you, she’s bolting into your arms. her words jumbled and excited over the fact that she got to dance with her dad, just like all her other little friends.

and when she finally calms down, simon is wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you in closer as he presses a kiss to your temple and you can feel how fucking happy he is.

“what did she tell you before the performance started?”

a warbled noise left his mouth, his eyes full of mirth as he tried so hard not to laugh, “she asked me to not step on her cause mommy always does.”

[ixtaek]

They were all incredibly kind.

Zelda watched them as they helped the former residents of Skyloft—moving supplies, crafting tools, teaching the patrols how to defend themselves from the dangers of the surface.

The Hero of Hyrule demonstrated how to tell if water was safe to drink. “You want water that’s moving, and ideally deep.” He grinned as he ladled out of a bucket. “It’s best to boil the water and let it cool. That will get rid of any toxins and germs that might be lingering in it.” He tried to take a sip but the water poured out faster than he expected, pouring down his front as Kukiel giggled at him.

A vision flashed through Zelda’s mind, overlaying the scene. The Hero of Hyrule gripping a sword, blood dripping down his tunic as he struggled away from a monster clawing for his face. The beast cackled as the Hero tried to swipe at them while his shield arm hung limp, shield dragging—

She blinked, Hyrule’s laughter as he dumped a spoonful of water on Kukiel as well breaking through the vision. The girl squealed and shook her head to send droplets flying.

The Hero of Twilight and Time lifted a log into place, letting the builders work to secure it in the new cabin wall. The two seemed to have a bet going about who could hold it up longer. Their arms both shook from the effort of—

A boy, barely reaching her knee, breathing heavily as he shoved his shield forward to block a blow by an undead monster. The boy lowered his defense to fumble for his sword. The monster took the blow without flinching, long teeth slavering as it unhinged its jaw and screamed—

The scene dissolved into a long bridge. A snarling boar pawed at the other end, tusks stained with blood. The monster astride its back howled a battle cry, a small child held aloft on its spear. The hero to her left gasped in horror, his blue eyes locked on the child. He spurred his steed forward, sweat dripping down his face as—

“I yield, I yield!” Twilight yelped. The wall was already secured as the hero fell back, giggling. The Hero of the Wild accepted his ten rupee bribe from Time before continuing his tickle assault on his mentor.

A mere boy staggering as the lasers hit him in the chest, the side of his head gushing blood, arms still trying to hold up a shield to protect—

“Zel?”

She turned, almost falling against Link’s chest. Sky’s eyes were soft as they traced over her face. “Are you… What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She tried to smile, ignoring the wetness in her eyes. “I’m fine, Link. Just a little out of sorts.”

The divine blood in her burned. Link smiled and pulled her closer, hugging gently.

Soft hands wielding a flaming sword, lighting crackling through his body. Fighting a demon that should have been slain ages ago by the gods, by— by—

“… By me…”

“What?” Link held her at arms length so he could look at her face. “Zelda, what are you talking about?”

“All of you… none of you should have had to go through what you did!” Zelda could feel the tears on her cheeks. “Hylia shouldn’t have put you through all of that. She—I—used all of you! It’s all my fault for not defeating Demise sooner, before you ever had to step in and clean up my mess!”

She pushed away. Many people were staring now, villagers and heroes alike.

Falling from the cliffs as a giant bird became a smaller and smaller speck in the sky, the screams of his sister like—

—hounds baying in the distance, knights brandishing swords as his short legs fled—

—waves of foes overwhelming their defenses, his brothers in arms falling around him, the weapons clattering as they fell from their limp hands—

—the blade his grandfather made going flying as the blow meant for Zelda hit him head on, the wind ripping at his tunic as he heard the curse strike his friend—

She couldn’t stand it. Her feet were moving before she knew where she was going.

“Zelda! Wait!”

She kept going, the visions buffering her every which way. A mask clamping—his body fracturing—a traitor’s blade in—the island fading into—the malice clinging to his—tentacles lurching forward—his own face rendered in dark—reaching for her as a tornado sucked her away—

Zelda blinked, looking up. The impassive face of the goddess stared down, without a trace of pity. Hylia. The divine protector of her people. The holy maiden. Her.

The one who had failed, who had sent them all to—

—dark magic suffocating his split mind—sparking a flame so they wouldn’t claim his blood—the magic of the woods stripping his flesh—the dark water—the endless fighting—the intrigue—the—

“Why?!” She screamed. “Why would you do it to them? Why make them suffer?! They are just boys, and you—I—we break them down and don’t even care that we do! They must hate us for—“

“Why should we hate you?”

The voice made her wince, spinning around, covering her mouth. The heroes, all of them, stood a careful distance away, Link at the head of the group. It wasn’t him who had spoken.

The Hero of Legend ambled forward, looking up at the statue. His sharp eyes scanned the goddess, and he sighed.

“I was 11 when my uncle was killed. He held my hand as he died.” He closed his eyes, grimacing. “He wasn’t killed by Hylia, or the golden three. He was killed by a wizard called Agahnim.”

“When I was 12, my best friend got turned into stone.” Four shuffled his feet. “It wasn’t Hylia who did it. It was a sorcerer named Vaati.”

“When I was 10, I was trapped in a time loop trying to stop the apocalypse.” Time ignored the whispers by the others at this admission. “It wasn’t Hylia or the goddess of time who started that disaster. It was a demon named Majora.”

“And my sister got taken by the Helmaroc King!”

“My village children were taken by Zant.”

Legend looked at her sidelong. “And guess who was behind most of those threats?”

“Ganon.” whispered Hyrule, running a finger over his gauntlets. “It’s almost always Ganon.”

“But—“ Zelda scrubbed at her face. “But it’s my fault! Why didn’t I stop Demise before he could do that to you? What sort of goddess sends children to fight her battles?”

Time snorted, moving closer to her, careful not to invade her space till she nodded weakly. “Zelda, do you think we wouldn’t have done those things?”

She blinked. “What?”

“Ya think I wouldn’t have gone after my sister? No one had to make me!” Wind grinned. “In fact, nothing would have stopped me!”

The others nodded.

“But I saw it, the terrible things you went through! Hylia watched, and you suffered!” She gestured at them all. “What you’re still suffering! This quest—“

“Sounds to me like we have a goddess literally lookin’ out for us, even now.” Twilight crossed his arms, smirking. “Probably wouldn’t have ended as good as it has without you protecting us.”

“As good as it—“

Smiling and blushing as the newly awakened princess kissed him on the cheek—gripping the rails as the new land swung into view over the horizon—watching the reflected world bloom back into life as Lorule’s Triforce was restored—hugging the children as they rode back into the village—fields of blue flowers blooming underfoot as he rode along and watched the reconstruction—the proud smile of his father as he worked with the squadron instead of going rogue—joining Zelda and Lana as they stood before the cheering troops, Hyrule free once more—Malon looking radiant as she walked down the aisle—clutching their daughter, the first Princess of the newly founded Hyrule—

Link took her hands gently. “If Hylia didn’t care, why would she—or you—have watched out for us the whole time? If you didn’t care, why would you be so upset by what we’re going through, if our own free will?” Zelda sniffled, letting him hold her. “We don’t blame you. It’s Demise’s fault, or Ganon’s. Not Hylia’s. And not yours.”

She squeezed him, looking up at the statue. Her smile was gentle, her wings spread overhead, sheltering them all. She swore she always would watch over them.

Till the very end.

[thollandneedy]

Princess Leia Situation- Peter Parker

A/n: I always wanted to write this one, since i watched Friends for the first time. I hope you guys enjoy!

Warnings: Sexual but not a smut; Cursing; Awkwardness

Summary: Y/n tries out a sexy costume for Valentines day, but it goes wrong

Don’t forget to share, like, comment and leave your ideas here

Bellah’s Masterlist 🪻

Peter's bedroom door was closed, as he needed privacy at that moment. Peter's mouth descended slowly between wet kisses and hickeys on his girlfriend Y/n's neck, while the girl guided his head down her sensitive body with her hand. The girl could feel the slight pressure between her legs, and her boyfriend's heart beating hard against her chest.

The sexual air was very palpable, but lately Y/n seemed to be preoccupied with routine sex. Apart from the fact that it had already been an argument with her boyfriend, the girl had been searching every day for ways to improve their sexual relationship, but no idea seemed to be enough.

They had tried positions like 69 or a tantric massage, but nothing seemed to please Peter very much. Since they had started having sex in their third month of dating, he had always tried to show off his skills or introduce different objects to stimulate his girlfriend better. The brunette wasn't hard in bed, but he liked to learn more about his tastes every day by trying different things on his own or with Y/n.  St. Valentine's Day was approaching, as was the anticipation of a fuck he would never forget.

"'Babe?" Peter caught the eye of his girlfriend, who seemed to have lost her way.

"Hmm?" Y/n focuses her eyes on Peter, who looks at her with a slight smile.

"What were you thinking?" The boy uses one of his fingers to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, then kisses her. 

"Just about your Valentine's Day present. I want our night to be perfect."

"My darling." Peter looks at her lovingly. "Don't worry about it. It's already going to be perfect because it's you, so whatever you have planned, don't put so much pressure on yourself." 

"I know." The girl let all the air out of her chest as she replied, still staring at the image of her boyfriend with a white blouse clinging to his muscles. 

Fuck, he was so damn hot

"Sorry to break the mood. Can we go back?" The girl asks, receiving a silent affirmation in response.

Peter melted into Y/n's lips once again, bringing one of his hands up to the girl's exposed thighs and squeezing. His fingers were dangerously close to her crotch, causing a sly moan to be uttered. Y/n's body seemed to vibrate at her boyfriend's touch, making her raise her waist in search of the intimate touch she so desperately needed.

"I'll take care of you, love." The brunette slid his fingers between the girl's legs, letting all her worries go to waste when he found that perfect spot. 

(...)

Valentine's Day, and she still hadn't thought of what to do.

It seemed like everyone on earth had an idea for later, but she hadn't planned anything much, since Peter was going to cook for her in his apartment. Y/n woke up mentally yelling at herself, because as well as being in finals week, she hadn't liked the present she'd bought for her boyfriend. The white bag on her desk in front of the window was a reminder.

I shouldn't have bought a Grogu mug, Y/n thinks.

The silence in her house was customary, but she realized that she had woken up two hours before her lesson, giving her time to watch television and eat cereal like a child watching a cartoon. The girl in the pink sweater and slippers got out of bed, headed for the kitchen to prepare her cereal and watch Friends, as she did almost every day. Letting the streaming channel choose a random episode, she ran to the cutlery drawer to get a spoon, and finally settled down between pillows and a warm blanket. 

At the end of the episode, and the cereal, his brain exploded with the best idea he could have come up with. With an optimistic smile, Y/n kissed the television and laughed.

"Rachel Green, you're a genius. I love you" The girl in pajamas says to the screen, and runs to her room to change.

Later that day, in the apartment left by May so that Peter and Y/n could spend the night alone, the girl was tapping her feet frantically. The spaghetti bolognese seemed to go down her throat like water, not even giving her time to chew it properly. The lights were off, with only a few candles that smelled of pine cones. Peter, with a worried frown, asked:

"Are you in a hurry?" The brunette laughs to himself, and can hear Y/n's heart beating faster when she is asked.

Y/n brings her eyes up to his, staring at him with her mouth smeared with red sauce. The girl silently denies it, letting out a laugh covered by a napkin. Peter leans against the table, reaching out with the napkin to wipe the rest of the sauce off his girlfriend. The girl smiles, looking down at her black-heeled feet and long-sleeved burgundy tube dress. 

"You look beautiful today, you know that?" Parker compliments her.

The girl lets out a nervous laugh, looking down at her handbag on the kitchen worktop. 

Oh, fuck me

"You look wonderful as always." Y/n returned the compliment to her boyfriend, who was wearing a black polo shirt.

The student picked up the glass of white wine in front of them, raising it with the intention of making a toast. Coughing dryly, Y/n copied his boyfriend's action, smiling forcedly at him. Parker had never been much of a drinker, but he couldn't deny that wine always helped him calm down before sex, or even put him in the mood when he wasn't.

"Here's to us. May we spend every future Valentine's Day together from now on." The brunette said, causing a shy smile from his girlfriend, who still had her legs flapping under the table.

"To us" The girl clinked glasses, then drank the wine in one swallow.

"Shall we go and exchange gifts?" Peter stood up, picking up the two empty glasses and empty plates from the table covered in a gray cloth with gold details.

There was no escape

"Umm, of course! That's it, let's get to the presents. Of course" The girl straightens her babylissed locks and puts them to one side. 

Peter sits down in front of her at the table once again, but now with a small black and white bag with a red handle. As much as he would have liked to hide the brand of the bag, any woman could recognize that it was from Sephora. 

"I snooped through your Sephora bag, but you had more than 100 items curated and I still haven't been promoted to work in another area with Stark." Y/n laughs. "So, I preferred to give you this" Peter hands the bag to his girlfriend, watching her expectantly as she opens it.

"Peter! I really loved it." Y/n smiles as she finds a highlighter and a Fenty gloss. The girl stood up, walked over to her boyfriend and hugged him.

"Well, yours..." Y/n looked once more at the bag that held the mug. "It's not here right now." Y/n tries to explain.

"You can give it to me later, love. No problem." Peter nods.

"No! It's not that, I need you to wait in your room, so I can give you the present."

Peter makes a curious face, but not for a million years would he turn down a sexual offer as a Valentine's Day present.

"All right" The brunette heads for his room, closing the door and waiting for the gift his girlfriend has prepared. 

Shit! Fuck!" Y/n looked in her other bag for the mysterious gift she had rented from the costume store the afternoon after her last lesson. Stumbling over her own heels, the girl locked herself in the bathroom at the end of the corridor, cursing herself for coming up with such a miraculous idea at the last minute. 

Her hands tried to add a bun to her hair, securing it with bobby pins that fell to the floor because of the cramped room. 

"Shit!" Y/n curses as she loses the clips on the floor, then bangs her head against the sink.

The gold bikini seemed small in relation to her breasts, so she tried to make them fit without them slipping out of the factory. Her hands tried to make them fit, but every now and then, the knot on her back came undone, or one of her breasts slid to the side. When she looked in the mirror, her hair still didn't look the way it needed to. The side bun looked more like a bird's nest than a space bun. Groaning in discontent, Y/n grabbed her cell phone from the closed toilet and tried to do another type of hair that wouldn't cost her soul to make it perfect.

Peter, on the other hand, was undressed on his single bed, trying to find some position to receive his girlfriend. He didn't want to look like a sexy fireman on a calendar cover, but he didn't know where to put his hands, or even if he was going to cover himself with the rumpled sheet on his bed. 

A few minutes later, he was distracted by his cell phone, which was vibrating with Twitter notifications. As long as Y/n was taking, his lack of concentration meant that 15 minutes passed too quickly. Lying on his stomach with a pillow on his chest, the brunette commented on posts and was distracted by memes that appeared on his timeline every five minutes he slid further from the beginning.

"Peter?" Y/n's voice called his name, causing the boy to drop his cell phone and leave the shooting game he was playing on his cell phone.

"Yes?" The brunette lay down on the bed, covering most of his body as if he were already ready for bed, and switched off the main light in the room so that his lamp would be the only source of light in the room filled with posters and books.

Peter's bedroom door slowly opened, revealing his girlfriend's body in the most iconic Star Wars bikini. His girlfriend's breasts were perfectly embraced by the golden part of the bikini, while her waist was covered only by a long red skirt with golden details at the top. Her hair was in a messy braid, but nothing really said how Y/n looked. Even though many of the details were poorly finished, and especially the top was too small for her breasts, Peter looked at her as if she were too perfect for him. The boy cracked a slow smile, and his eyes seemed to pop out of his face with every step closer to his girlfriend.

"Y/n" Peter said, processing the surprise his girlfriend had given him. And without even realizing the movement of his body, one of his hands went to his mouth in an expression of surprise.

He hated it

Oh my God

He hated it or he thinks I'm pathetic

"I know! I know, it was a stupid idea, I'm sorry." The girl closes her eyes in frustration and shame. "I bought you a grogru mug, but I wanted to do something better because you always make everything for me so perfect, and I know how much you like Star Wars and I thought it would be cool to do the same as Rachel did in Friends and" The girl is cut off by a quick kiss.

"I don't have the hots for Princess Leia, but you look stunning." Peter holds both of the girl's hands, looking her up and down.

"Really?"

" Yes." Peter smiles. "And by the way, I broke my favorite mug last night. I really needed another one." The brunette smiles, which is answered by a loose laugh from his girlfriend.

"Aren't I an idiot?" The girl shrugged, looking at herself once again.

"Not at all." Peter replied, using his index finger to lift the chin of the girl, who watched him with innocent eyes. "Are you going to let me put my lightsaber on you now?"

"PETER!"

[wlntrsldler]

Three Hundred and Seventy-One Days | Luke Castellan

a/n: not canon-compliant! i hate this actually but i needed to write something to get me back in the zone! sunshine reader because i wanted a broody luke lol.

i. Three days.

Right before the sun sets behind the hill at Camp Half Blood, there's a chill in the air that hits Luke's skin in a way that makes him feel like he's back on the roof of his house in Connecticut. He found out about it when he returned from his failed quest when he was searching for a moment of solace, away from the pitiful eyes of the campers, away from the voice that haunted his dreams. Perched on a branch, hidden by the shade of the leaves, leaning against the bark of the tree with sticky amber clinging to the material of his orange shirt, Luke sits there until the sun disappears for the day.

It reminds him of the days he would crawl out of his bedroom window to escape the sounds of his mother's incoherent mumbling. He would sit there in nothing but a thin t-shirt and his cargo shorts, goosebumps rising on his skin, as he talked to himself. It was a bad habit he picked up in his younger years. He kept himself company at home because his mom didn't talk to him much, not really, and when she did, when her words made sense for once, all Luke could do was count down the minutes until he lost his mother again.

Before he was old enough to understand his heritage, who his father was, he used to pray to an entity he didn't believe in to give his mother moments of clarity, slivers of coherence so he at least knew something, anything, about the woman he called mom. But after the first time Luke's wishes were granted, he stopped praying. Somehow it was more painful watching his mother drift in and out of consciousness than it was living with a stranger he knew he loved, but knew nothing about.

For a year, that spot on the tree was a secret. Nobody knew that Luke would climb up there every day just to feel the breeze against his skin. Nobody questioned why the Hermes head counselor would disappear at the same time, until you came along.

"Whatcha doin' up there?"

Luke nearly lost his balance on the branch at the sound of your voice from under him. He looked down to see you smiling up at him, hands laced together behind your back. You were eighteen, the same as him, and when he first heard of your arrival, Luke was jealous. You got to have 18 years of childhood, while he was only granted half of that. It didn't seem fair.

"You should be at dinner," Luke replied, leaning back against the tree. The sun made the sky a soft orange color. The darkness of the night was creeping in through the corners of the sky, the chill he searches for each night engulfed him.

"To be fair, so should you, head counselor," You replied, analyzing the indents in the bark of the tree trunk that formed from Luke's constant climbing. You slotted your feet in the crevices, making your way to the tree branch beside Luke's. The two branches were close to each other, growing steadily until they almost touched at the tips. "Woah, this view is unreal."

"Be careful," He mumbled, clenching his jaw. "I'm not gonna take you to the infirmary if you fall and break a bone."

"Relax," You chuckled, situating yourself. "I can handle myself."

Luke nodded once and turned his attention back to the skyline. In this light, the scar across his cheek was prominent. It's healed well enough, but it still left a bump across his flesh that made Luke queasy every time he looked at it for too long. The two of you sat in silence as the sun disappeared. Luke tilted his head to look at you, only to find that you were already staring at him. He rubbed the side of his face against his shoulder as if trying to wipe away the scar on his shirt, "What are you doing here?"

You shrugged, "Not really into the whole offerings thing, to be honest."

"So you decided to wander into the woods alone?" Luke asked, "That's dangerous. There's a lot of things out here that you wouldn't believe. You can get hurt."

"But it's okay when you do it?"

"I know how to fight," Luke found himself taking on a defensive position. "You just got here."

"That doesn't mean I don't know how to fight," You replied. Your voice was calm, despite the slight bite to Luke's tone. "Just because I didn't spend my childhood playing with swords and bows and arrows doesn't mean I don't know how to fend for myself, y'know."

"The things out here are different from schoolyard bullies. I don't think you understand that."

"Are we going to ignore that I fought a hellhound on my way here or...?"

"You fought a hellhound?"

Luke wouldn't have guessed that by the way you walked into the Hermes cabin, all smiles and golden flecks of color in the irises of your eyes. You spoke in a preppy tone and he nearly had to grab his siblings by their ear to drag them away from you. If he was a betting man, he would bet that you were a child of Aphrodite.

"Mhm," You hummed, "See, I'm not so helpless."

"I didn't say you were."

"Yeah, but you implied it," You shrugged, not deterred by his tone. "Anyways, are you gonna tell me what you're doing here?"

"Well, I was trying to get some privacy," He replied. He should've been annoyed at the intrusion, but he couldn't bring himself to be upset with you as much as he should've been. "But that didn't go as planned."

"Sorry, sorry," You chuckled, putting your hands up in defense. "Didn't know keeping you company was a no-no. Maybe I do have some things to learn about camp after all."

He scoffed, "Hanging out with me should be the least of your worries."

"I dunno, I always seem to gravitate towards the broody types."

"I'm not broody."

"Right," You laughed. You turned to look at him, jaw dropping when you realized he was serious. "When was the last time you smiled? And not those fake, polite smiles you give to strangers trying to make small talk in the grocery store line, you know?"

No, he didn't know. He didn't go out much, much less to the grocery store to have conversations about the rising prices of produce or the lack of real milk options due to the infiltration of the non-dairy industry.

"I smile all the time," Luke replied, eyebrows furrowing in thought as he tried to remember the last time he smiled at someone. "I smile at campers."

"That's because it's your job, silly!" You giggled, shaking your head. "When was the last time you smiled just because?"

Luke pursed his lips, countering, "When was the last time you didn't smile?"

"When I was fighting the hellhound."

Luke felt his lips quirk up at that. It was a quick-witted response, he'll give you that. He stopped it from becoming anything more and cleared his throat.

"Okay, I'll leave you to it," You sighed, carefully stretching your legs down to the first indent on the tree. You skillfully climbed down and landed on your feet with a thud, "See you around, Luke."

Luke's mouth felt dry at the sound of his name leaving your lips. He was never a fan of his name before. He thought it sounded generic and unoriginal, but when you said it, it didn't sound half as bad as he thought it was. His stomach churned in a way that was foreign to him.

"Hopefully, not here!" He called out, watching as your figure retreated back to the main grounds. "Privacy, remember that!"

"I like the broody types, remember that!" You called back, waving to him before you disappeared into the maze of trees.

ii. Twelve days.

"You lied."

You looked up from your book with an eyebrow raised as you stared at the counselor at the foot of your bed. Luke was standing there, the signature stern look etched on his face. You placed your bookmark in your book, sitting up on your bed as you smiled at him, "Excuse me?"

He had his arms crossed over his chest, the beads of his camp necklace resting on the tops of his knuckles, "You lied. You didn't fight a hellhound."

"Okay, so I didn't fight a hellhound," You said, dragging on the word 'fight' for emphasis. "But I encountered a hellhound."

"Which you befriended."

"Which I befriended," You confirmed, "I named him Stanley. Wanna meet him?"

"No," Luke replied quickly. "That shouldn't even be allowed in here."

"He's sweet," You tutted, slipping your feet into your shoes as you stood up. "Give him a chance, I swear you'll love him."

"You're keeping a hellhound as a pet?"

"He's just a baby," You cooed, jutting out your bottom lip.

Luke felt his face twitch in half-annoyance and half-fondness. He didn't know if he found your naivete dangerous or charming, or both, but he was scared for you. You were too trusting for your own good, "He is not a baby. He's a monster."

"Don't talk about Stanley like that."

Luke rolled his eyes, falling into the same rhythm as your steps, "You don't realize how dangerous this is, Y/N."

"Here you go with the danger thing again," You teased, nudging him. Luke's breath got caught in his chest. Your simple touch seemed to burn his skin. Sparks erupted across his entire body. "Told you, I'll be fine."

"Not every monster you encounter can be defeated by the power of friendship. You can't rely on some kumbaya shit."

"Kumbaya?" You snorted, looking at him with an unreadable expression on your face. You scrunched your face up, a tiny smile tugging on your lips. "You're so...."

"I'm so what?" He questioned, planting his feet on the ground.

"Odd."

He tried not to take offense to that because while your words were like a dagger to his heart, the way you said it showed that you didn't mean it in a bad way. You seemed to be trying to figure him out, pressing his buttons, trying to see what made him tick. And you were succeeding. Luke never ventured to talk to new campers unless he was forced to by Chiron, but he couldn't fight the pull you had on him.

"Broody and odd," He said, resuming his steps, "I'm swooning."

The full belly laugh that escaped you made Luke's steps falter. Campers surrounding you looked at you, confused as to what Luke could've said that made you react that way. Surely, the Hermes Head Counselor wasn't that funny. He wasn't known to crack jokes, not since he returned. You couldn't help it, though. He said it in such a deadpan way that made your sides hurt from laughing so much.

"Just my type," You teased.

Luke didn't like how his cheeks were warming up at your comment. He's not one to flirt or be flirted with. He found girls attractive, sure, but most of them were too intimidated to talk to him so he never really had experience in that department. But he supposed since you grew up in the world, you were used to doing things like this. He wondered if you knew the effect you had on him.

"Dinner is supposed to be good tonight," He said, changing the subject. He was looking everywhere but you, trying to hide the blush on his cheeks that seemed to not want to subside.

"Oh, no you don't," You shook your head. "You are not gonna tempt me into going to dinner just so you can hide away in your tree. I'll be there, Castellan."

He grimaced. He was hoping that you'd fall for the trap, but he was learning quickly that you weren't as gullible as he hoped you'd be. Luke sighed, accepting defeat. "Fine, but can you just be careful? You've been lucky that there weren't any creatures lurking around."

"Why don't we just go together?" You asked, "So you can stop worrying about my safety and all."

"I'm not worried about your safety," He lied through his teeth. The idea wasn't bad though. It would keep him from wondering if you were attacked on your way to meet him. A shiver ran down his spine as he thought about it. He didn't like this weird protectiveness he had over you. He didn't even know you. "But fine. Meet me at the Hermes cabin after they ring for dinner."

"You got it," You saluted him playfully as you walked away, skipping to meet up with members of the Apollo cabin. How did you manage to make so many friends so quickly? And why did you insist on sticking with him when it's clear that you had other friends you could be bothering instead of him?

Luke tried not to think about it too much as he continued on with his day, but no matter how hard he tried, his mind kept pulling him back to you. During his lessons with other campers, he took mental notes of what moves he should teach you, just in case anything happened so you'd be prepared. During arts and crafts, he found himself reaching for the gold glitter because it reminded him of your eyes. This caused raised eyebrows from other campers since it was well-known that the counselor didn't like glitter post-Glitter Gate where he was shaking out glitter from his curls for days.

By the time dinner rolled around, he was thankful he stopped thinking about you, but soon realized that it was worse now that you were in front of him, all smiles and banter as you always were. It was getting harder to contain the redness of his cheeks as you complimented him in your own way.

"Lead the way, Castellan," You grinned.

Luke couldn't help but return your smile.

iii. Sixty-six days.

"Stanley, down," You instructed, leaning over to scratch the hellhound behind its ears. "Good boy."

Luke's sword was raised in a fighting stance as he watched you giggle as the hellhound nuzzled into your touch. You somehow managed to make him agree to meet the monster. Pathetically, it didn't take much for Luke to agree. It took you batting your eyelashes at him with a small pout and he reluctantly agreed to meet Stanley.

"Luke," You called him over, still petting the hellhound. "Come on, he won't do anything to you."

"I'm good right here," He grunted, holding onto his sword. "If he tries anything, one of us should be ready and you obviously have your guard down."

"He won't," You assured, "He's sweet."

"Nothing from the underworld is sweet, Y/N."

"You don't think I'm sweet?"

Luke rolled his eyes. You'd been claimed by your father, Hades, a few days ago. It made sense the more he thought about it. The hellhound wasn't sent to attack you, but to protect you. It was sent by your father to guide you to Camp Half Blood. "You're not technically from there."

"Same shit," You shrugged, patting the spot next to you on the grass for him to join you. "Come on, Luke. Come meet Stanley."

It was against everything he believed in. He shouldn't walk over to you to pet a monster like it was a stray dog on the side of the road, waiting to be rescued. But his feet seemed to have a mind of their own because before he knew it, he was walking over to you, sword tossed somewhere beside him to keep his hands free to touch the surprisingly soft fur of the hellhound.

The hellhound purred under Luke's touch, gentle and loving. If Luke ignored the scary color of its eyes, he would confidently say that it was just a dog. Luke's shoulders relaxed, "Okay, he's not half bad."

"Told you," You said, leaning against him. Luke's hands froze for a second, making the hellhound whine. He resumed his scratches, not wanting to take his chances and angering the dog. "See? Not all of us from the underworld are scary monsters."

"You're not from there," He repeated, "Stop saying that you are."

"Hades is my dad, Luke," You whispered. "So I am. I am a part of him."

"You're nothing like the gods."

There was something in his voice that made your heart pound in your chest. It was no secret that Luke's relationship with his father, and all of the gods for that matter, was strained. Luke saying that you were nothing like them with such sincerity made your head spin. It felt definite. It felt like a fact that he could never think of you as that.

"Could be nice though," You joked, trying to cover up the swell in your chest with humor. "Immortality and all."

"Nah, this one life is enough for me, I think."

"What? You're not shooting for rebirth?"

If anyone else would've asked him the same question a year ago, even a few weeks ago, he would've said no. If any of his other lives were like this one, he would decline the request if he could. All that he'd gone through in this lifetime was enough.

But now you were asking him that question with a twinkle of hope in your eyes that made him wonder if he'd judged this life too soon. Maybe there was more to life than fighting and running. Maybe the moments of life when he sits on a tree branch watching the sunset, or when he's yelling at his siblings to stop running in the cabin, or hell, even when he was petting a goddamn hellhound, were enough to make him wish for another shot at this life thing.

Maybe he just needed to learn a thing or two from you. If he could continue to know you in each lifetime, maybe he'll turn out fine.

"Maybe," Luke poked his tongue out the corner of his mouth. He blinked, "I don't know."

"Keep an open mind to it, is all I ask," You said. "I wanna find you in every universe just so I can annoy the shit out of you in each one."

He chuckled softly, not missing the smile that widened on your face as you watched him crack. "I changed my mind. No rebirth for me. I can only handle you in so many lifetimes."

"You'll grow to love me."

I know, Luke wanted to say, and that's the part that scares me the most. Throughout his years at Camp Half Blood, Luke prided himself in knowing that when push comes to shove, he can do what's necessary to succeed. It's what made him the perfect Head Counselor, the best swordsman that Camp Half Blood has seen in years. It's what made him a hero.

But now he didn't feel like that was the case anymore. He was growing soft, weak. He'd spent so much time trying to protect you and keep you from danger that he forgot about protecting himself. You found his Achilles heel and well, Luke was just waiting until he surrendered to you.

He opened his mouth to speak, "If Stanley doesn't kill me first."

If Luke could bottle up the sound of your laughter, he would.

iv. Three hundred and sixty-five days.

"Who is that?"

Luke followed Percy's eyes to the other side of the field. His lips turned up at the corners as he saw you waving at him with a smile on your face. Luke waved back with the same enthusiasm, confusing the boy beside him.

"That's Y/N," Luke responded, picking up his steps to meet you halfway. "That's my girlfriend."

"You have a girlfriend?"

"I know, shocker!" You teased, placing a kiss on Luke's cheek. Luke wrapped an arm around your waist, tugging you closer, completely oblivious to the grimace that graced Percy's face. "Mr. Stick-in-the-mud head counselor has a girlfriend."

"Hey!"

Percy scrunched his face up, "You kinda are a stick-in-the-mud. No offense."

"Offense taken," Luke scoffed, poking your side. "Y/N, this is Percy. He's new here."

You stretched out a hand in greeting, "Nice to meet ya, Percy. Welcome to Camp Half Blood."

"Are you always this preppy?"

"She is," Luke said, shrugging. "Nice change of pace from the rest of us, don't you think?"

"Sure," He nodded, eyeing the both of you. Luke's arm didn't move from your waist and you didn't seem to mind. He was too young to understand why you and Luke didn't want to have any personal space. "Are you joining us on the tour that Luke is giving me of Camp Half Blood?"

"Wish I could, but the Stolls are planning to TP the Ares cabin as a prank and I should probably stop them before someone gets maimed at Capture the Flag tomorrow," You cringed.

Luke sighed, dropping his head to your shoulder. You tangled your fingers through his curls, trying to offer some comfort, "I told them not to do that."

"When have your siblings ever listened to you?"

"They used to before you came along!" Luke groaned, "But now they only listen to the pretty counselor."

"Must run in the family," You teased.

"Shut up," Luke grumbled, lifting his head up. Percy could see the blush on Luke's cheeks and he cringed. He hoped he'd never end up like this when he became a teenager. It was obvious you had Luke wrapped around your finger. "Go stop them before Lee gives us a lecture on the dangers of resorting to violence. Again."

"I'm going, I'm going," You laughed. You placed a quick kiss to Luke's lips before waving goodbye to the two boys. Before you were out of earshot, you turned around, "Tree later?"

"See you there!" Luke replied, grinning at you until you made it across the field. He turned to Percy, scratching the back of his neck, "Sorry about that. Where were we?"

"Archery."

"Ah, right! Archery," Luke nodded, continuing his steps, "It's down this way."

Percy followed Luke through the field, staring at the signs that pointed in different directions. Camp Half Blood was huge. This tour was definitely going to take longer than he anticipated. Not wanting to continue with a lull in the conversation, Percy spoke up, "How long have you and Y/N been together?"

Percy figured that Luke would have a lot to say about you which would fill the silence. He was right. Luke smiled at the boy, "A few months. She got here last year and it's been us two ever since. Took me a minute to ask her out, though."

"Well if you liked her, why did you wait? That doesn't make much sense."

"It was complicated," He replied, "I didn't really accept that I liked her until way later. Kinda kept my feelings to myself for a while."

"Is this what being a teenager is like?" Percy asked, cringing at Luke's words. He always imagined that falling in love with someone was easy. If two people liked each other, they should be together, right?

"Yeah," Luke laughed, patting Percy on the back. "Enjoy your early years, Perce. It gets worse from here."

"Geez, you really know how to inspire confidence in someone."

The laugh that escaped Luke reminded him too much of you. There were parts of you that weaseled their way into him. He didn't understand why you laughed so hard at his deadpan comments before, but now that he was on the receiving end of it with Percy, he saw why.

Percy reminded Luke a lot of himself, back when he was younger. It was a weird thing to meet a foil of yourself, someone who you could've been if things had been different. Luke wondered if he'd be like Percy if his life hadn't been so cruel. Not that Percy's life was all sunshine and rainbows, either. Luke heard through the grapevine that Percy lost his mom during the battle with the minotaur, but at least he had a mom that he knew. He had a mom that cared for him.

Luke was dreading the day Percy got claimed. Something told him that it would cause a ripple effect. Start things that Luke wasn't ready for, not yet. Maybe he'll never be ready for it. Had he known that he'd meet you, maybe he wouldn't have said yes to it. Maybe if you had stumbled into Camp Half Blood a day earlier, he wouldn't be facing this.

Luke faked a smile, shaking away those thoughts, "Come on, archery's just around the corner."

v. Three hundred and seventy-one days.

"Thought I'd find you here."

Luke closed his eyes at the familiar voice that joined him on the tree branch. The separate branch that you used to it on morphed into his own. Two branches intertwined, a simple work of nature, but it felt like a symbol. An omen.

The fireworks illuminated the night sky. Luke had never been up here this late before. The air was cold.

"What are you doing here?"

You let out a dry chuckle, "Dejavu for a second there."

"Y/N."

You gulped, slowly inching towards him. There was a crease between his eyebrows as he stared ahead. You sighed, "I came looking for you."

"Why?"

"Luke, don't do this."

He sniffed, rubbing his eyes with his balled-up fists. He winced as he put too much pressure on his cheek, his scar stinging at the contact. It's been more sensitive lately the more he spoke to Kronos. He shook his head, "I have to."

"No, you don't," You pleaded, placing a hand on his arm. "It's not too late."

"It is. Don't you understand?" He sobbed, "It's too late."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"I didn't want to break your heart," He whispered. He felt silly saying it out loud, but it made sense to him at the time. He couldn't bare to see your face when he told you about everything. That's why he was going to leave without saying goodbye.

"How's that going for you?"

How you managed to make him laugh even during this, even during the end, was beyond Luke's understanding. He wished you didn't have an effect on him like this. It would make things so much easier.

"I'm sorry."

"For breaking my heart or for betraying all of us?"

Luke licked his lips, "Both."

You removed your hand from his arm. Luke shivered without your touch. "I'll see you again, yeah?"

"I don't know."

"I know," Tears pricked your eyes. Maybe it was the shock of it all, but you were calm. Too calm. It didn't feel real that just a few steps away, camp was in disarray because of the boy beside you. "Rebirth, remember? In every lifetime."

"Sure," He said. Maybe the hope of it all will be enough to get him through this. "I love you."

"I love you, too," You said, leaning over to place a last kiss on his lips. You pulled away as you felt your tears mixing with his, "Go, they'll come looking here soon."

Luke nodded and made his way down the tree. You watched him fade away in the distance.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Lonely Souls Club 9

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as stalking, loneliness, noncon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Two lost souls cross, but not all those are lost, want to be found.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: in my feels.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Reader

Bucky leaves a dark blue towel on the bar for you. When the door shuts, you stay as you are. You sit on the lid of the toilet and contemplate the walls. The tub laps with running water, lulling your tired mind and body. 

You sigh. Embarrassment nips at the base of you skull. You close your eyes. You don’t even let your doctors see you like that. When you try to describe your pain, they don’t seem to listen anyway. Yet Bucky, he sees more than you want him too. Things you don’t realise. 

Well, you guess he is a hero. He saved you before and it’s his job to help others in trouble. This feels like more. It feels like too much. You don’t deserve any of this. 

You glance over at your cane, another reminder that you can’t give as much as he can. That you can’t ever pay him back for this. Does he get that? 

You strip off your shirt and fold it. You put it on the counter and roll your bra up your torso. You wear the ones without hooks. You can pull them on and off easy. Then the real taste faces you. 

You use the corner of the granite to push yourself up. You grunt and whimper. You get your socks off and your pants. You have to stop. You’re out of breath. The pain is like a red hot iron in your thigh bone. You manage to get your underwear down and step out of them clumsily. 

You catch yourself against the tub. You need another break before you get yourself in. You splash into the water and barely keep from fall over completely. You let the hot water steam over you and lean back. 

The tub is deep and spacious. You cling to the sides with your hands. You shudder and your eyes tinge hotly. The tears fall before you can stem them. You don’t notice until they dribble off your chin. 

All of it, the pain, the stress, the uncertainty, the prospect of being left without a home, it boils in the water with you. You don’t know how much more you can take. You stifle your sobs with your fist, inhaling deeply to keep them in your throat. You can’t break all the way. 

You moan as you sit forward and shut off the faucet. You lean back and shut your eyes. Right now, you don’t need to think about it all. Not about how to get more money or how your stomach is aching or even how you’ll pay Bucky back. You just need that moment to forget. 

Bucky 

Bucky sits on the bottom stair and listens. He can hear her clearly as he focuses above. He can hear her heartbeat chugging as she struggles to move herself around. She grunts in agony and he flinches. Then the water splashes below her staggered movements. He wants to go up and help but he knows he can’t. He’s already pushing it. She’s stubborn and he knows how self-defeating that can be. 

He closes his eyes as he keeps his ears pricked. She sniffles then heaves. And another sob follows, swallowed up as the water stirs. It’s as if he can feel her despair and pain. He knows those kind of tears. The exhausted ones. The ones when you just want everything to stop. 

She shuts off the faucet with a whimper. He drops his head into his hands and splays his fingers wide. He combs them through his short hair as he blows through his lips. His phone is buzzing. Whoever it is can fuck off. 

She doesn’t move for a long while. Only long enough for the water to cool. She sits up, her skin squeaking against the porcelain and she pulls the stopper. He listens to the water drain. 

More grunting as she lifts herself up. He shifts and tilts his ear up the staircase. There’s a tense silence, dangling as she holds her breath. Her heart is pumping wildly. 

*Crash* 

He’s on his feet in an instant. He races up the stairs and slams into the bathroom door. It’s not locked. He bursts in without a thought. She squeals as he slides to a stop before the bath mat. 

She on her side, the towel is haphazardly across her wet skin, her thighs are exposed but she hides her stomach and chest. She hugs the cotton and wheezes. Her eyes find his in horror. 

“I’m sorry,” she says. 

“Are you okay?” He bends to touch her shoulder. 

“I... just wanted the towel,” she murmurs. “I was okay... I can do it. I... I can’t do it.” 

She’s arguing with herself. He looks around. Her cane is all the way by the counter. He rubs her bare skin and recoils, stopping his touch from straying too far. His eyes are tugging toward her exposed body as it is. 

He reaches to help her adjust the towel, “can I help you?” 

She nods and hides behind her eyelids, covering her face with her hand. He hesitates, trying to figure out the best way to do it. First, she needs to be comfortable. 

“I’m going to get the towel around you,” he explains. She gulps and dips her chin furiously. She’s horrified. 

He gets the towel wrapped around her as best as he can. A zing sparks in his fingers as he touches her thigh. He holds his breath and hooks his hand under her side. 

“Alright, I'll sit you up first,” he continues. 

She makes a noise. She's too mortified to speak. He sits her up and she moans. He leans her against him and wrap his right arm around her back. 

“Okay, I’m going to get you off the floor now. I need you to tell me if it hurts too much,” he instructs. 

“Always hurts...” she mumbles. 

He slides his arm under her knees. He lifts her, first on his knees, then he plants a foot, then the other. He brings her up and he turns to the door. 

“The bed is made,” he assures her. 

She sits in his arms stiffly. He carries her out and down the hall. He puts her on the bed, the towel hanging open at her back. His fingers tickle her bottom as he pulls away. He didn’t mean to. Really. As nice as she feels, he didn’t mean to. As much as he wants to touch all of her. 

“I’ll get you some clothes,” he clears his throat and backs away. 

He goes to the dresser and opens a drawer. He pulls out the grey shirt with military font that reads US Army. With that, he grabs a pair of his plaid boxers. He takes the tautly folded stack to her. She hugs the towel again and stares at the ceiling. 

“I’ll let you get dressed. I’ll check in shortly.” He assures her. 

She sniffles. He understands. He looks down at his vibranium arm. He should take it off for her but he also needs it to help her. 

“Right,” he turns. 

He walks out and shuts the door gently. He goes downstairs reluctantly and grabs his phone from his jacket. Sam called. Several times. And sent a dozen messages. The phone rattles again. He doesn’t have time for that dumbass. 

He answers anyway. 

“What?” 

“So, you were in a hurry,” Sam snorts. 

“Sam.” 

“It’s that girl.” 

“Shut up.” 

“I get it, dude. She’s cute. But I really think she has enough problems--” 

“Leave me alone.” 

He hangs up. Sam is so nosy. He should have never asked him to help out. He shouldn’t have ever let him know about her. She needs to be protected from the world. He doesn’t get that. He can’t understand that. He doesn’t know what it’s like to be different. 

He scrolls through the menu. He taps the icon and waits for the app to open up. How... alright, um... American? That sounds like normal food. He taps the category and scrolls through the options. There’s a chicken place. Chicken and veg, can’t go wrong... 

He picks out a Meal for Two deal and adds it to the cart after the third try. Right, checkout... tip... Too many steps. 

He should get her something in the meantime. He goes to the kitchen and fills a glass of water. He looks around aimlessly, shuffling through the cupboard and fridge. Granola? It will do. 

He goes upstairs. He knocks with his knuckles as the bag of granola rattles. Her heart flips. 

“Yes?” She calls out. 

“I brought you some water.” He replies. 

“Okay,” she says. 

He takes the weak invitation. He enters and finds her under the covers. She sits against the pillows, her arms crossed. 

“Do you need more pillows?” He asks as he puts the glass on the nightstand. 

“I’m fine,” she barely whispers. 

“I brought you a snack. For now. Food is on the way.” 

She doesn’t look at him. She stares at her lap. “You didn’t have to.” 

“Stop. Let me help,” he insists and gently places the bag by her leg. “I have a heating pad.” 

She shrugs, “thank you. It's... a lot.” 

“It’s the right thing to do,” he says. “I can bring you some books or something to do? I have a tablet. Never use it.” 

She shakes her head. 

He shifts on his feet awkwardly. He wish she wasn’t so scared. He wish he could just tell her everything. That he knows exactly what she’s feeling. That they are the same. That he will do anything to make her feel better. To keep her safe. To take care of her. 

“You’ll let me know what you need,” he says. 

“I don’t need anything,” she squeaks. 

“But when you do,” he sighs. 

She nods. 

He stares at her. She’s trembling. She’s in pain. All because she fell. Because he let her fall! He should have been adamant. She needs help or it will all be worse. 

“You know, it’s okay to need help.” 

“I know I need help,” she snips. He’s never heard her speak so sharply. “I know that I’m broken.” 

“I didn’t say that--” 

“I’m broken and I’m a loser. I have nothing to give you, Bucky.” She lifts her head, her eyes hooded with pain. “I can’t pay you back for any of this.” 

“I know.” 

She frowns, “so why are you doing all this?” 

As much as he wants to tell her the truth, to tell her how he feels, that he has nothing else in this world that makes him care. Only her. He knows he can’t. Not yet. She’s not ready. 

“You know, I was alive during The Great Depression. All sorts of people needed help. Including me, my mom, my dad, my sister,” he explains. “They needed help but they also helped others. My ma, she used to make these big pots of stew and when some beggar walked by, she’d hand over her bowl. She thought we didn’t know that her bowl was full of water, but I did. 

“I used to steal canned tomatoes and leave them in the pantry for her to find. She always thought she forgot because she was so hungry...” He shrugs and sniffs. He doesn’t talk about his family. “My dad came and got me from the base when the MPs caught me sneaking around the mess. He almost lost his job but he never told her. And those government issued crushed tomatoes kept going missing at the camp.” 

She looks at him intently. Her face softens and her eyes gleam. She wiggles her nose and lowers her head. 

“You must miss them,” she says. 

“Sometimes,” he admits. “But I keep them close by doing what I know they’d want me to. Like helping those who need it.” 

She doesn’t say anything. He watches her for a moment before he snaps himself out of his trance. He inhales deeply a scratches his neck. 

“I’ll go wait for the food,” he says. 

[penelopepine]

I just read your "If the world was ending..." story and I LOVED it! I saw that your requests were open and I was wondering if you could write something similar to it. 141 x reader and them reacting to their kid breaking a bone.

THANK YOU!!! ❤️ I'm so glad to hear that you liked it; I hope you like this as well too!

141 reacting to their kid breaking a bone:

Price:

He was in his home office doing some paperwork when the call from you came in. Your panicked voice had him instantly on edge; it wasn't until he got you to explain the situation did his mind stop thinking that the two of you were being taken from him.

It turns out that their son had hurt his wrist while trying to skateboard. Price knew that that skateboard would eventually cause trouble for him as soon as he saw his son walk through the door with it.

Price was of course still very worried about his son, and was already in the car by the time the call ended. It only took him a few minutes to arrive at the skatepark where you and their son were waiting for him.

You were fretting over your son the entire ride. His wrist was definitely broken, and the doctor quickly confirmed that after arriving at the emergency room.

An hour later the three of you were driving back home. Their son sat in the back with a dark green cast on his left arm, and an ice cream in his right hand.

Gaz:

Gaz was on the sidelines of the field with you when it happened. His and your daughter was playing in a juniors football game; acting as defensive center mid. She was running trying to get the ball back, and ending up tangling her feet with another girl's.

This caused both girls to fall to the ground; the only difference between them is that his daughter immediately starts to wail. It took everything you had to make him sit down, and wait for the coach to say if you both were needed out there.

He watched nervously from his seat; all he saw was his baby girl sitting on field with tears running down her face.

As soon as the coach started to wave them over Gaz was already up and rushing over to his daughter; you were of course one step behind him. Upon inspecting the scene before him it was clear that her ankle was badly hurt. Very carefully Gaz lifted her into his arms to car, and made your way to the hospital.

Unfortunately it turned out that her ankle was broken. She was of course very disappointed that she wouldn't be able to continue playing football until next season.

Soap:

It was late in evening, and he was making dinner with you. A sudden loud scream from your son alerted you both that something was very wrong.

You both look towards each other for a moment before running out of the house. Your son is still yelling and crying while lying on the ground under his favorite tree.

Soap is the first to reach him, and is quick to kneel down beside him. It's very obvious just looking at his leg that it is broken. Your son clings on Soap; crying into his shoulder. When asked what happened he says fell out of the tree.

Soap hauls him into this arms and into the car. Making sure to do his best to not jostle his leg very much. You choose to sit in back, and comfort your son as Soap speeds his way to the hospital.

He hates seeing his son cry; Soap wishes that he never had to feel pain. He also can't help but feel guilty right now. He is the one who encouraged his son to play outside, run around, and even climb that damn tree.

You seem to know how he's feeling cause as soon as you three are waiting in a hospital room you squeeze his hand. While whispering to him that this wasn't anyone's fault; it was just an accident.

Ghost:

Ghost and you were sitting on a park bench while your daughter ran around the playground playing with some of the other kids. As soon as your daughter screams Ghost is immediately on his feet. You both look just in time to see her hit the ground, and another boy pointing and laughing from the top of the playset.

Your daughter cries in your arm telling you that her arm hurts, and that she can't move it. You tell her to not try and move it anymore or else it could cause the injury to worsen.

Looking around to were Ghost is you see that he is standing to the side of the playset next to a woman. The boy is now standing behind the woman's legs as well. It's clear from her face that Ghost is tearing her to shreds; probably even threating her. You don't care to know though, and before you can even try to walk over there Ghost is turning to were you and your daughter are.

Silently he picks her up out of your arms, and you two go to the car. Ghost sits in the back with her while you drive everyone to the hospital.

Ghost refuses to put her down; not wanting anything else to hurt her. Only letting go when the doctors need to get x-rays and examine the arm. It is unfortunately broken, but your daughter is actually very excited to now have a pretty bright pink cast on her arm.

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Hi! Can you do a Bang-able drabble where he has a glitch in his programing (he's a computer after all), and he shuts off. She has to call the company to help fix him, but it takes a few days. She's miserable without him and when he's working again, she's all over him and he's loving all the attention from her. He could even say something like "wow I should shut off more often" because he just loves how much she missed him. Thank you!

Okay so this is a little different and a lot less excitable but I thought it was cute 🥰

I hope you like it!

(And sorry it took me so long 😅)

~~~~~~

"How long has it been?" Ava ask, sitting down on the couch and handing me a glass of wine, helping me drown my sorrows of being away from him. 

"A couple of days" I say and she hums, trying to hold back her clear need to make fun of me and when I glance up at her after my attention had been on my wine she breaks.

"A couple day's without robo-dick got you down this bad?" she snorts, not being able to sympathize with me any longer. 

"It's not just that alright. Although I won't lie in saying that's been on my mind, but I'm worried. What if they reprogram him on accident and we have to start all over? What if they break him and try to replace him with a new model? What if-" 

"Y/n, it's fine. I read up on what's going on and it looks like it's a normal defect that's happened with most of the models that were made around that time and from the looks of it, it seems like it's an easy fix" she interrupts, having looked it up beforehand to quell my worries.

"Yeah, you're probably right...but I've never been away from him this long. I mean he's barely been out of my sight since he got here" I say, making a valid point as to why I'm feeling like this. 

"You really miss him, don't you?" she sighs, realizing that the sex bot part of him, although very prevalent from how often I decide to stay home most weekends, has become a secondary thought for me. "I do" I say, not needing to point out the elephant in the room but still wanting to voice my feelings. 

"He's my best friend...besides you" I admit and she scoffs "Thanks". 

She rolls her eyes and gets up to grab the other half of the second bottle she had forgotten on the counter but before we can change or even continue the subject there's a knock on my door. 

She looks over at me but I shrug, deciding to let her answer it since it's almost ten pm and let's admit it, she's a lot more fearless than I am. 

Getting up on her tip toes she looks out of the peephole and when she's realized who it is she turns around, a smirk splayed across her face. "You're gonna wanna to answer it" she says and steps aside, waiting for me to do as she says and when I stand up and cautiously make my way to the door I look out the peephole as well and it's like I can't unlock the door fast enough. 

"Took you long enough" he smirks and braces for impact since I'm literally clinging onto him as soon as I open the door. "I missed you" I say, burring my face into his neck and breathing in that familiar scent I bought him. "Missed you too baby" he chuckles, wrapping his arms around my waist, pulling me in so there's no space between us. 

"And that's my cue to leave" Ava interrupts, her bag already on her shoulder and her shoes on her feet. "Wait you don't have to lea-" "I'm going before the tension gets too high between the two of you and I feel like even more of a third wheel than I already am" she interrupts, parting her way through the both of us and throwing a half ass wave our way. 

"Thanks Ava" Jungkook smirks, looking down at me and appreciating the unspoken agreement they have.

"Yeah yeah whatever lover boy, just don't leave her for that long again. Mopey y/n is a pain to deal with" she sighs. "Hey!" I call out in protest but she's already at the elevator when that simple word leaves my lips. "Bye" she waves again, a devious look in her eyes since she knows I'll be thanking her later. 

"Don't you ever leave me for that long again!" I scold him, as if he had a say in any of this. "I've literally been out cold since they took me back y/n, I had zero concept of time until I 'woke up'" he says with air quotes, slipping inside the apartment and closing the door. 

"Ew don't call me that" I say and walk further into the living room with him trailing behind me. "That's your name isn't it?" he says so matter o' factly that I whip around way too fast, scared that my fears might've become a reality.

"No no no no! Don't tell me they reprogramed you! Your memories are all gone aren't they? I knew I shouldn't have let them take you! The glitch wasn't that big of a deal! I thought you spacing out all the time was really cute. I jus-" 

"Baby" he says in a way that convinces me I was wrong, making me let out a breath. "I haven't forgotten about you and I sure as hell made sure I came back to you as soon as possible" he reassures me and that alone is enough. 

"Really?" I pout, having stopped the nervous pacing I had been doing since I started my short lived spiral. "Really really" he assures me, pulling me in by my waist, making me place my hands on his shoulders in turn, looking up at him and seeing that same expression he gives me when he's trying to convince me that everything'll be okay. 

"Come here" he says, taking one of his hands off my hip and placing it on my cheek, angling my face just right so he can kiss me. That same familiar feeling hitting my senses when he kisses me perfectly, matching with the pace he knows always makes me dizzy. 

"Believe me now?" he chuckles once I pulled back, looking up at him suspiciously. "Maybe" I say, narrowing my eyes, still not fully convinced but enough to know that my Jungkook is back. 

Not a new and improved one, my Jungkook.

"There were a few things they changed though, well more like added" he admits and I step back, leaving his embrace, skeptical and scared about what it might be. "What is it?" I whisper, and he chuckles before stalking towards me, telling me everything I need to know but with every step forward he takes, I take one back. 

"No no no I'm not in the mood for that right now" I say and he sighs, reeling in that predatory gaze. "Didn't you say you missed me though?" he huffs and I scoff, realizing how nosy he remains, another sign that he's still the same. 

"How long were you spying on us?" I cock a brow at him, crossing my arms over my chest and demanding an answer. "First thing I heard was Ava making fun of you for missing my robo-dick" he grins making me roll my eyes, sitting down on the couch, crossing my arms and feeling embarrassed that he heard all of that.

"It's cute to know that you missed me so much…and my robo-dick" he smiles and sits down next to me, pulling me under his arm even through my stiffened protest. "Whatever" I pout, not wanting him to know how hopeless I am without him, although I'm sure he could've guessed since I'm not good at hiding my emotions around him. 

"I missed you too" he chuckles and lays my head down on his lap instead, caressing my face and tracing all my features, almost as if he hadn't committed them to memory already...literally. "You sure you don't wanna..." he asks, the new features he had hinted at before clearly being something the company is wanting to get feedback on. 

"I just...I just wanna be with you" I confess, laying on my back with my head still in his lap, looking up at him and just enjoying the fact that he's back. "You're so adorable, you know that?" he coos, pinching my cheek just the slightest bit but I don't mind it. Not this time. 

I continue to study him, completely silent for a while watching him look down at me, looking just as fascinated in me as I am with him. Maybe it's just a feature for data collection but those are things I've come to ignore now. 

"Come here" I whisper and use one hand to slowly encourage him to lean down and kiss me, the angle awkward but it doesn't matter, with him all that matters is the here and now...

and that's enough for me.

~~~~

Read the full One Shot here 💜

[pimosworld]

Push

Pairing- Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary- Joel never gets pushed too far, except when it comes to you.

CW-18+,MDNI,NSFW, jackson era Joel, established relationship, Ellie is a menace, reader is a bad ass, canon typical violence, blood, wounds, minor character death, protective Joel, protective reader, Angst, Smut,unprotected piv,Joel needs a big ol hug, no description of reader, no use of y/n.

WC-3.5k

A/N- Joel has inspired me lately and I may be procrastinating too much with him but I just can’t help myself.

[Main Masterlist][Joel Miller Masterlist]

Not beta read

Maybe you should’ve pushed back a little when Ellie suggested you travel a little further to the pond just outside of the patrol area. Some small part of you was still trying to bond with the teenager despite you knowing how much she admired you. It was a little selfish to want to impress someone that knew next to nothing about what the world had been. 

  She was so persistent and just like Joel you couldn’t resist those eyes and her smile. 

  “Please I promise it will be quick.” Her face was fixed in a pout and you thought what harm could it be to let her live a little. 

  You’d spent months on this route, many times with Joel,Tommy or Ellie. You hadn’t seen a living soul out here in so long that you forgot what you were even patrolling for. 

  You feel a push in the direction down the tall grass path as the sweat drips down your back. The first really hot day you’ve had in a while and it makes you dizzy. Unable to form a coherent thought. All poor excuses for not being able to make the right decisions. 

  You suppose the horses need a break too as the pond comes into view like a mirage. Ellie trotting a little faster when she sees the ripple of the water calling her name. You can hear it faintly in the distance calling out to you as the shade from the willow casts a perfect shadow onto the landscape in front of you. The lush green, tiny leaves still flowing in the light breeze before the heat has them give way to yellow and orange. 

  She’s already off her horse, socks and shoes discarded as she steps boldly into the water up to her knees. Joel would kill her for being so careless with her clothes but you know he often forgot how impatient children could be. 

  He was equally as impatient with you when you’d return from a long day of not seeing him, not being able to run your fingers through his soft curls at the nape of his neck. Not wanting to waste another moment with your body pressed up against his. He’d take you in the hallway when Ellie was gone, practically tripping over himself to get to you. 

  You try not to think about that now as you strip your boots off next to the water. Unlike Ellie you don’t fancy wet pants so you take those off too, laying them gently along the horse's back. You try not to think about how nice it would be to dip into this pond with him, bare as you float with your legs wrapped around his waist while he holds you safely under so not to expose you to the elements or any prying eyes. 

  Perhaps the prying eyes you would’ve seen had Ellie not pushed you into the cold water. It takes your breath away at first. Despite the heat outside, the last remnants of snow seem to still linger in this private sanctuary. The water is colder than anything you’ve felt. You come up gasping for air as she stands before you keeled over in laughter and you can’t help but join her when you look down at your disheveled state. 

  “Wow you’re so clumsy.” She says as she feigns innocence. 

  “That was a dirty trick.” You splash her as she screams running back to the water's edge. “I’m gonna tell Joel you’re afraid of water.” You yell back at her as your body acclimates to the frigid temperature. The oversized shirt you borrowed from Joel clinging to your skin as your hands skim along the tops of the water. 

  “You wouldn’t dare loser. I’ll tell him this was your idea.” You know she would too, and he might’ve believed her had the circumstances been different. 

  Ellie’s already lacing up her boots when you hear it. A disturbance in the trees too loud over the sound of your heart beating faster. The hair standing up on the back of your neck as you turn around and lock eyes with two men on horseback. Two men who’ve never set foot in the little community you’ve built into a family. Two men who don’t look like they want to ask for directions. Two men sizing up the competition while you scramble for a way to get Ellie to safety because you know Joel would kill you if you contemplated any less. 

  “Well aren’t you just an angel in white.” The younger man says as he takes you in. Your shirt soaked through leaving nothing to the imagination and your damn pants draped neatly on your horse. 

  You can hear your name being called again as you turn to Ellie, wide eyed across the pond. 

  “Go!” 

  “What the fuck no, I’m not leaving you!” She yells back, the ever overconfident spit fire that she is. 

  A quick whistle behind you and you’re moving to the water line before they cut you both off. It’s save Ellie or none of you. 

  “Ellie so help me god, if you never listen to me another day in your life listen to me right now and go!” She starts to protest but the horse beside her is getting restless. “I promise I’ll be right behind you.” 

  Even if it’s not true you say it all the same. She mounts her horse with tears in her eyes as she takes off through the tall grass. 

  “We got a runner.” The man not much older than Joel juts his chin on Ellie’s direction. You’re grateful she’s far out of your eyesight with her horse that’s much faster than yours. 

  “Want me to go after her?” The other man snarls as if you’re not standing right there. Enough of a distraction to at least make it near your horse. 

  The last thing you want is to be stuck between these two desperate souls. Without pants…that’s not how you expected to die. Wading through this cool oasis only to be met by the devil. 

  “No loose ends.” He smirks at you as you retrieve your bow from the pack on your horse. You don’t suppose he knew those would be his last words, but he pushed you to this. 

  You raise your arm high, steadying the bow as you feel the tension of the string beneath your fingers. Joel always said you were a better shot with this than a revolver and he could never figure out how. 

  “Now what are you gonna do with that besides piss me —“ . It’s only the sound of the whoosh next to your ear before he’s clutching his hands around the arrow lodged in his throat. His partner's momentary shock buys you enough time to at least get half dressed before you mount your horse. 

  His dramatic fall to the ground causes his horse to skitter off as you give chase in the opposite direction of Ellie, the opposite direction of the safe town that you love so much that holds the man who loves you just as hard. Who will be cursing you for being the savior when you could’ve been selfish. 

  ****

  Joel hates these days. Bright, beautiful, sunny days. It’s days like these where things always seemed to go wrong. Like the universe knows to throw a little chaos into something otherwise so perfect. Nothing in this world is allowed to be that perfect. Except you. 

  You were the reason he started drifting away from the gloom and overcast and started to bask in the sun. Let the warmth of the rays wash over him like a golden flame bath. 

  When he’d catch you laying in the yard just glowing and he never wanted to disturb you but you always seemed to know when his presence loomed near. Maybe his scent or the magnetic pull you both had on each other as you pat the patch of grass next you. He’d grumble about his back and his knees later but in those moments he didn’t care. Not when you smile so sweet next to him as you block the sun with your hand. 

  “Where’s Ellie?” You already half know the answer. If she was anywhere near she’d have been out here grumbling just like Joel about you laying in the sun all while joining you in the activity. 

  “She’s at a friends…why’d ya-.” He can’t even get the words out before you’re up. Throwing one leg over his waist as you push him down. He grunts and lays back rolling his eyes at your theatrics. 

  He doesn’t really think you’re gonna do what it looks like you’re doing and he’s proved right when you scoot down just enough to settle onto his chest. The front of you all warm against him as you breathe in the smell of his flannel. Your arms come to rest on his shoulders as you wiggles your ass a little more to find the right spot. He just looks down at you curiously as you tilt your head to the side and sigh. Finally content with your position on top of him, listening to his steady heartbeat. 

  His heartbeat has picked up a little at the close proximity of you. A position you’ve been in much more compromising in your shared bedroom with much less clothes. He can see it now as he closes his eyes, your naked body on top of his as you take from him what you want. You chuckle as you feel his cock twitch beneath you as he lets his mind wander a little further. That earns you a pinch which makes you laugh even harder. 

  “Quit squirmin’ honey or I’m gonna have to do something’ about this.” His hands grip your waist as he pulls you in closer and a shudder runs through your body. 

  “M’ not squirmin’.” You mumble into his chest. 

  “Mhmm, ya comfortable enough?” His voice is low and slow like he’s drifting off to sleep. 

  “Ya Miller, I’m comfortable.” 

  ****

  The sun is still high in the sky, but he can tell it’s later than it should be. He stands with his arms crossed against the gate staring off into the open plains. You and Ellie were always punctual with morning patrol returns. Or maybe he should say you. The routine you grew to love when you were first assigned. It left you the day to do what you wanted. Take a nap, read a book, make dinner and visit with Maria. 

  He’s growing impatient as he watches the horizon for any signs of you. His eyes playing tricks on him when he thinks he can procure an image of the two of you laughing about something as you approach the town. He squints even more and he can hear your voice now telling him in another life he’d need an optometrist. 

  He pushes off the gate when another image threatens to make him think he’s lost his mind. He thinks he has when his heart drops into his stomach at the sight of Ellie on her horse. Kicking up dust and riding faster towards him than he’s ever seen in his life. The two of you aren’t racing or playing some sick joke on him. It’s just her coming into view, panicked eyes as she locks onto his. 

  He doesn’t wait for Tommy, doesn’t wait for backup that may slow him down anyways as he mounts his horse to meet her in the open. Not bothering to tell the patrol past the gate what he’s doing and where he’s going. 

  He can see the dry tears and the fresh ones too as he gets closer to her. “Where?” He doesn’t have time to worry about the what, why or how. 

  “The pond.” She chokes out as he curses under his breath. “It was all my fault…I just -.” 

  “Save it.” It’s said harsher than he intends but he still can’t help himself. Knowing whose idea it was to go beyond the chartered territory. Knowing you had a weak spot who happened to be named Ellie. His quick bite is enough of a punishment as he takes off in the same direction she came from. He knows she beat herself up enough on the way here and probably made up time with the way she pushed her horse. 

  He leaves her in the dust as the sound of hoofbeats pound the dry ground beneath him. His chest burns like he’s running as he grips the reins tighter with each passing second. The sweat drips down his back that aches with the pressure of not having ridden this hard in years. He got too comfortable in this town, too used to the mundane way of life. He hadn’t been reminded of what it felt like to have that dread creep in. To feel the rush of adrenaline that he grew so used to in his past life. 

  He’s gone soft. 

  The relaxed fall turned into a lazy winter with no murmurs of trouble or infected. Spring made it feel like some utopia that they’d stumbled upon and he’d let the universe pull the wool over his eyes. 

  You shouldn’t be here…a bright sunny day as it beats down on him. Taunting him with how beautiful the landscape is around him as he barrels through the trees into the undesignated area. 

  The one rule he told you never to break because trouble lurks near water. People, animals, monsters. 

  He comes to an abrupt stop at the edge of the water searching for any sign of you. There’s an unfamiliar horse next to an unrecognizable body. He does recognize one thing jutting out of the man’s throat. An arrow. A clean shot, cutting off his airway. He likely died slow as his throat filled with blood and he choked on it until he couldn’t breathe anymore. 

  He tears his eyes away from the nameless bastard and locks onto your boots. His chest tightens even more at the sight and he’s trying hard to fill his lungs with air. He’s suffocating much like the lifeless body next to him. 

  He hears your shriek of his name as he whips his head around and sees nothing. Just the trees blowing in the wind. He shouts for you as the weight piles on. The horse beneath him grows frantic as your cries echo in his mind. 

  This is quite possibly the worst time to be having a panic attack but that’s all he feels as he bellows your name. Each call a heavier weight on his chest until  no sound escapes at all. He clutches at his shirt trying to rip it free from his body, it’s too hot and clingy and he can’t get any air. 

  “Joel!” Nothing, just blackness behind his eyes. “Joel, honey, wake up!” 

  His hands are shaking as he blinks trying to figure out where you are. 

  “Honey, look at me.” You’re straddling his waist with your hands on his chest. Fresh tears rolling down your face with wide panicked eyes. 

  He pushes you off him so fast it startles you. You’ve switched positions now as he traps your body between his arms. You’re not entirely sure he’s fully aware of the situation and that scares you a little. The sweat dripping from his brow and the way his chest heaves with every breath. 

  He pulls your face back with his large palms and grips your chin in his hand. Frantically tossing it side to side. “Are you hurt?” His voice is wrecked from yelling for god knows how long. 

  “No Joel, I’m fine.” You say as a tear that’s not yours drops down onto your face. 

  “Did he hurt you?” It’s strained and shaky as he pulls up your shirt, his that he lets you borrow at night. Inspecting your body for any signs of damage. You just shake your head afraid of answering in a sob, the lump forming in your throat at the sight of him still so worried. 

  He breathes in deep through his nose and lets out a small sigh of relief. His head drops to the crook of your neck as he lets the full weight of him fall into you. You’re both exhausted for completely different reasons. It was starting to scare you not being able to pull him out of this nightmare. He just kept screaming your name as you tried to shake him awake. You didn’t want him to endure any longer what was plaguing his mind when he was supposed to be sleeping peacefully at your side. 

  It’s a moment before he speaks. You rubbing his back as you kiss him softly reassuring him that you were right where you needed to be. 

  “Don’t you ever do anything like that to me again.” He murmurs into your neck in all seriousness. “You come straight home next time.” 

  “Yes Miller, I’ll always come home to you.” Now’s not the time to tease so you just agree to never commit whatever atrocity it was that had him gripped with fear. Although you can take a wild guess that your name will be scratched from the patrol board for a few weeks. 

  He sits up a little to look down at you. His eyes are still red but a little more of your Joel in them. He plants a long kiss to your forehead as you place your hand over his heart. The steady thump under your palm much calmer than before. 

  “Where’s Ellie?” 

  “She’s at a friend's house, remember?” 

  Faintly he recalls her asking and you telling her yes, that must have been hours ago. All he knows now is that you’re alone and that he didn’t wake her. 

  You’re alone

  As his hands drift under the hem of the oversized shirt. Your soft skin raised with goosebumps as his fingers trail up higher until he reaches the underside of your breast. 

  “Joel.” You gently stop him and search his eyes in the dark room. “Are you sure?” 

  “Please baby, I need you.” Joel groans out, his plea much different at this hour. He needs to feel that you’re real, that you’re here. The strongest soul couldn’t resist Joel Miller begging for you like his life depends on it. 

  When you oblige it’s frantic, his hands pulling the shirt over your head while your foot hooks into his boxers dragging them down. His mouth is all over you, kissing and biting and breathing you in. He’s growling in your ear that he needs to be inside you and you know he’s desperate when he normally takes his sweet time with you. 

  This isn’t like one of those times and you don’t need it to be. You just need him, all of him all the time. 

  A groan leaves his lips as you grip the base of his cock, rubbing it between your folds. You’re so wet already at the sight of him above you, his arms bracing his weight so you can like him up. 

  It’s sinful the sound that leaves your mouth when he pushes in,burying himself to the hilt in one fluid motion. “Shit sweetheart, so tight.” His words are slurred as he braces his hand on the headboard behind you. His other hand gripping your thigh over his waist. 

  You don’t have a chance to respond. Only moans and whimpers of his name as he punches the air from your lungs with each thrust of his hips. The sound of skin on skin as you cling to his biceps and shoulders, anything to keep you from tipping over the edge too soon. 

  He’s babbling above you about how perfect you feel and you just clench around him at the praise. 

  He’s close and he can see just as much as feel how close you are by the way your eyes practically roll in the back of your head when he angles your hips up, hitting that spot deep inside that only he could seem to find. 

  He reaches between your sweat soaked bodies trailing his hands down but you stop him. He thinks he’s done something wrong briefly until you place his hand back on your thigh and that look of longing flashes in your eyes. “I want to come like this.”  

  He grits his teeth at the filthiest thing you’ve ever said. Fucking you with vigor as his hips begin the falter. 

  “Can I?”

  “Fuck yes Joel, come inside me please.” 

  The pressure boils over at your words. The way it comes out all rushed and desperate. You’re arching your back as you fall over the edge with him. You’re clinging to him like a life vest as he groans in your ear. The light flashing behind his eyes at the most mind blowing orgasm he’s ever had. 

  He pushes down that feeling that he almost lost you. The one that isn’t real because you’re right here beneath him, looking at him as you brush the hair back from his face like he hung the moon. He kisses the corner of your mouth and down your jaw as you sleepily humm to yourself. 

  “I’m sorry for wakin’ ya darlin.” 

  “It’s okay Joel, don’t have patrol for a couple days.” 

  Tommy can bitch all he wants, you’ll never have patrol again. 

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

[animasolaoriginal]

I n f a t u a t e d ♦️EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE◾️TEN ELEVEN◾TWELVE◾️THIRTEEN◾FOURTEEN◾FIFTEEN SIXTEEN◾SEVENTEEN EIGHTEEN NINETEEN◾TWENTY

They start the day as normal as she's ever experienced with him, but in the end it's all just a ruse when he reminds her of her role, of his rules, and of the consequences should she break one...

ruthless nightclub owner ❌ innocent young woman with a crush

WARNING: NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Age gap. Size difference. Dubcon elements. Dom/sub dynamic. Public fingering. Humiliation. Sugar Daddy behavior. Sex toys under clothing. (For more tags, check it on AO3!) // WORDS: 8.9k

SEVENTEEN 🟥 EIGHTEEN 🟥 NINETEEN

She's still tired when he wakes her the next morning. Whether he used her during the night or not, she can't tell, she feels sore, but that's how she already felt when she fell asleep on him on the couch. Everything after that is gone from her conscious mind. And it doesn't matter either way. It's his right to do to her whatever he wants, if it makes him happy, she's fine with it.

What she's not fine with, but tries not to show too much, is how exhausted she is, and frankly a little hangry too, her stomach rumbling emptily, her limbs barely able to move. He pulls her out of bed, makes her brush her teeth and wash her face, superficially cleans his cum and her juices from between her legs. He also pulls the plug from her ass, finally. She can't even tell how long she's had that in there. The sudden emptiness feels weird, but she prefers it over the constant pressure.

He then dresses her in her pastel pink dress and nothing else because he either forgot about her panties in his pocket or doesn't want her to have that extra protective layer. While he dresses in fresh clothes he finds in the closet (a pair of jeans and a hoodie that looks good on him but strangely unfamiliar, too casual almost), he lets her use the bathroom, before he puts on her socks and sneakers, then drags her out of the cabin and into his car.

She feels like the doll she is, handled into place, buckled in, and with her head heavy and sleep still clinging to her, she lets him, kind of likes it even. It's easier that way.

If she would have been alone, she'd stay in bed for the rest of the day (or week). But he seems to be the more active kind of guy, always ready for the next adventure. Luckily the first thing he takes her to is a diner at the side of the road, somewhere rural, and the smells that assault her nostrils as he walks her into the heavily air-conditioned room, his hand tight around hers, make her almost drool in anticipation.

They sit down at a booth in the far back, she's in the corner, he beside her, and while she rubs her arms, he scans the menu, then waves the waitress over and orders something of everything. Unconsciously moving closer to him under the cold air, she flinches slightly when she bumps her shoulder into his arm, blushing when he looks at her. His arm moves around her shoulders and pulls her even closer before he kisses the top of her head.

“Are you cold?” he whispers. She nods, acutely aware of the shortness of her sleeveless dress and the lack of underwear. “We'll get you some clothes later, okay?”

She purses her lips. “What about... my backpack? It's still in your car, isn't it? I could wear something I brought...” It feels like forever ago that he asked her to pack up something she may need from her old apartment, but it was only yesterday, twenty-four hours ago, when her life changed completely.

He shakes his head. “I'd rather dress you up in something new,” he tells her quietly, giving her a wink.

Exhaling loudly, she looks away. “Why did I even bring anything then?” she mumbles under her breath, folding her arms over her chest, not just to underline her pouting, but to cover the goosebumps on her skin as well.

“What was that?” The sudden change in his tone makes her flinch, and she looks back at him, eyes widening, arms falling away. His gaze is dark, face stern, his body tense even with his arm around her in a casual manner.

“I... I, uh...”

“Speak up,” he says quietly, but with a demanding edge.

For a moment she's forgotten their roles, they've been so close, so comfortable around each other, but seeing him now, she can only duck her head, breathing harder, knowing she shouldn't have said anything.

“I –”

Footsteps sound behind them, and without breaking eye contact, she notices the waitress approaching their table. She presses her lips together and witnesses how his dark face lights up when he looks away and towards the woman carrying their order.

Suddenly he's smiling at the woman as she fills their table with various plates of different food items, and he thanks her with a soft voice, and she could swear the woman blushes, she even giggles when she nods her head and leaves again. Was he just flirting? In front of her?

She's pulled from one extreme to the next when he suddenly looks at her again, eyes narrowed, the darkness back in his gaze. She blinks in confusion, trying to make sense of the conflicting emotions.

“We'll talk about this later,” he tells her sternly, retrieving his arm from around her shoulders, before he pushes the plate of pancakes towards her and puts a fork next to it.

She swallows hard, lowers her head. “Yes, sir,” she mumbles, focusing on the deliciously smelling food under her nose.

Her stomach tenses, but not in anticipation of nutrients. Suddenly she's back being bent over the back of his car, his belt whirring through the air and landing blow after blow on her soft skin. (And that was when he didn't have a reason to punish her.) The welts still burn, but she is sore all over so it blends into her other aches as she shifts on the seat.

She feels him looking at her, and the cold isn't just in the air around them, it's growing inside her. Poking at her pancakes, she tries to ease her breathing and the beating of her frantic heart. Was it disobedient to question his ways? To go back on his generosity to let her pack something from her old life, even if he doesn't allow her to use it anymore? It's not fair, but this has never been about fairness. He takes what he wants, she has to do what he says.

And she even has to endure if he flirts with other women, because why shouldn't he? But it still stings, to see him smiling at that waitress while he glares down at her now. It doesn't matter that she's the girl he decided to fuck, but maybe she'll like to see that smile as well? It's selfish, and a want she shouldn't have, she reminds herself as she chews on the first bite of pancake.

“I thought you were hungry,” she hears his low voice, and quickly looks up, straightening her shoulders.

“I... I am, I'm sorry,” she whispers, looking at him as she picks up another piece, but the fork misses her mouth slightly and pokes her cheek, smearing syrup all over her skin. A little whine escapes her, but before she can panic more, he's grabbed her hand and puts the fork down, then wipes at her soiled cheek, holding her gaze.

“Relax,” he says quietly, bringing his syrupy finger to his lips and licks it clean. She swallows and nods, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

“I am sorry, though,” she urges out.

He gives her another stare, even though his face isn't as dark anymore. “Eat,” he tells her and motions towards her plate.

She nods quickly and focuses back on her breakfast, picking up the fork with a shaking hand. Trying to keep her head empty (trying to think back to the times she's felt good and comfortable with him), she eats in silence, barely registering how he finishes his plate of bacon and eggs.

He's sipping on his coffee when the waitress returns, and she stares down at her emptying plate, breathing harder when another giggle comes to her ears. Stupid woman. Go away, she thinks darkly, a deep shiver that's not from the AC crashing through her.

“Can I bring you anything else? Maybe a juice for your daughter?”

She almost chokes on her pancake bite, coughing roughly as she feels her cheeks burning up. His hand is on her back, patting it gently, but he's still facing the waitress.

“No, thank you. I'd like the check though,” he replies, not even fixing the woman's mistake.

She doesn't look that young, does she? Well, she is still wearing that stupidly cute dress with the modest collar and the stupid flowers, and it's pink, and ugh, this can't be happening. If only that stupid woman could see the state of her thighs and the bruises on her neck and that she's not wearing any panties because he took them from her because he probably wants to keep easy access to her cunt so he can – oh god, what is she even thinking?

She bites the inside of her cheek so hard she's tasting blood, the sudden sting distracting her from her erratic thoughts. Breathing rougher through her nose, she shoves the last of her pancake into her mouth, chewing aggressively, still trying to ignore anything around her. The waitress just walks away, and as soon as she does, his hand moves under the table and dips right under the hem of her dress, eagerly slipping between her legs and poking at her folds, as if he's had the same thoughts just now.

She gasps softly and stares at him, swallowing hard to get the pancake down. His eyes are darker, pupils blown, and so intense she can't look away. He's moving his finger up and down her slit, and she can't help it, she's wet, and her thighs twitch, and –

Suddenly the waitress returns, check in hand, but he keeps his hand right where it is. She clamps her legs together in panic, but he doesn't care, just turns to the woman and hands her his credit card with his other hand – and another smile when she leaves them again. She squirms against him as he pushes his finger deeper, teasing at her entrance, but the more she protests, the rougher he gets, eventually forcing his way into her, adding another finger, curling them.

She's aware that her cheeks are burning, that her breaths are too fast, her shoulders shaking slightly as she tries not to move against his ministrations. The woman returns to the table and hands him his card, which he accepts with a casual nod of his head, another damn smile, and an infuriatingly nonchalant air around him as if he isn't fingering the girl the waitress declared his daughter in this very moment...

Luckily the skirt of her dress is long enough, the table positioned just so nobody can see the scene, but she still cannot completely halt her reactions. He leans against her when he slips his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans, allowing him to push his hand further and his fingers deeper, and she croaks out a muffled moan, immediately putting a hand on her mouth as she stares at him with wide eyes.

His eyes hold her hostage, dark and intense, but only for a moment before he sits back and focuses on the waitress gathering their empty plates. The woman looks at her then, a frown on her face.

All she can do is clear her throat and lower her hand, face flushed even more.

“Are you alright, dear?” the woman asks, and she blinks, forcing a smile with tight lips, and nods. The waitress pulls her eyebrows up but doesn't press it any more before she leaves their table, plates balancing on one hand.

“You gotta learn to keep quiet,” he whispers, leaning back into her, his voice low in her ear, his breath hot on her cheek, his fingers deep in her cunt.

“M'sor-ah!” she chokes out, swallowing another moan when he curls his fingers and scrapes his short nails over her soft flesh, teasing that special spot. Her eyelids flutter, her stomach tenses, her head spins from the onslaught of sensations. Knowing that they're in a public space only adds to her heightened senses, and she can't help it when her walls clamp around his fingers, causing her to sit up in her seat with a jerk.

“Shh,” he makes, increasing his motions, now also teasing her clit with every deeper push. She furrows her eyebrows, pressing her lips together, forcing herself to remain calm and quiet, which seems absolutely impossible to achieve with her insides positively aflame by now.

“P-please,” she breathes through tight lips.

“Please what?” he whispers back, leaning casually in his seat, free arm draped over the back of the bench, eyes scanning the room while his fingers pump into her with reckless abandon.

“P-please... st-stop...” she gasps, squirming more against him, hands grasping at his wrist.

“Are you telling me no?” he asks, his tone as casual as his demeanor, but she can tell there's a darkness behind his words.

She whines quietly, clamping her thighs around his hand, trying to stop him. “N-no, I... I mean... please... not here...” she mumbles, looking at him with pleading eyes.

He meets her gaze, tilting his head. “You are telling me no,” he says. “And you know what that means.”

A cold shiver runs down her spine. She's so tense, sweaty and teetering on the edge, but she doesn't want to let go here, and somehow facing punishment for disobeying him sounds better than climaxing in a diner full of people. Even if he'll belt her again. In this moment, humiliation burns brighter than any pain he can inflict.

He stops, resting his fingers in her clenching cunt, and she breathes deeply, her body shaking as the impending release slowly deflates again. “You sure?” he asks again.

And to her own surprise, she nods.

His eyebrows shoot up, and he pulls his fingers from between her dripping folds, the quiet squelching sound the last bit of embarrassment she hopes to endure. Pressing her thighs together to keep her juices to herself, she sinks into the seat, exhaling loudly in relief.

He stares at her as he brings his wet fingers to his lips, casually licking them clean. The heat crashes through her again. Before she can fully recover, he stands up and holds his hand out to her. She takes it hectically, not wanting to add even more disobedience to his list. He pulls her up, his free hand finding her face before he tucks her hair behind her ear, fingers tracing the bruises on her neck.

She shivers, stares up at him, her heart beating out of her chest. Her thighs are sticky, and she's aware that the back of her dress might be a little wet as well. But she focuses on him, tells herself she doesn't know these people and will probably never see them again. Then his hand smooths down her dress, curves around her rear, pushes the fabric slightly between her legs, gathers her wetness, and before he eases it out again, he presses against the back of her thigh, right against the stinging welts.

She jumps, barely able to refrain from crying out. He stares down at her, shaking his head threateningly. She's close to crying now, and even more so when he sighs loudly, gives her butt an audible pat that makes her wince and grabs her wrist to pull her after him, not to the exit, but to the restrooms.

Stumbling after him, she's acutely aware of the many pairs of eyes following them. The waitress gives her a sympathetic smile, probably thinking she had an accident or something. Stupid girl, chokes on her food, can't control her bladder, what a disgrace...

The first tear slips from beneath her lashes when he pulls her into the room and closes the door behind them with a click. Breathing heavier, she squeezes her eyes shut for a moment, lets more tears spill from them, before she finds the last bit of strength inside her.

He's about to pull her into a stall, when she puts her feet down, making him look back at her with a frown, then she closes the distance between them and puts her free hand on his face, looking up at him pleadingly.

“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice low and dark, the creases between his eyebrows deepening.

“I... I want to say that I'm sorry. I... I didn't do as you wanted, and I'm sorry, I am, really, please believe me,” she stammers, voice a desperate little hum, leaning against him, hoping that physical touch and closeness may ease his bad mood, may save her from whatever punishment he has in store for her.

He stares at her, jaw clenching under her palm. “Are you bargaining with me?”

She blinks.

“You said no to me,” he starts, letting go of her wrist to grab her throat, fingers digging into the bruises, aligning with the marks the same hand has left before. “And you know you are not supposed to.” She nods frantically. “And I told you I will punish you if you disobey me. You disobeyed me, so I have to punish you, isn't that right?”

She pulls her eyebrows together, sniffling helplessly. “Yes, sir,” she whimpers, swallowing against his hand. “But –” she keeps going, knowing it'll only get worse, but she has to try.

He shakes his head, cutting her off. “No more bargaining. I decide what I do with you, when I do it, and where I do it...” He pushes her backwards by her throat until her lower back slams into the sinks. She lets out a breathless whine. His gaze darkens.

“P-please...”

His hand tightens around her throat, it hurts, but whatever he wants to do to her next will probably be worse. Her fingers brush against his wrist as she looks up at him.

“What did I say?” he hisses, leaning closer until he presses his nose against hers.

“Y-you... decide...” she stammers, barely able to get the words out.

“I do,” he whispers, staring her down. She shudders under the intensity in his eyes, the fluorescent lights above them only amplifying the darkness within him. “And if I want to spank you in this very bathroom, I will do it.” She whines pathetically. “And if you don't keep quiet, I will most definitely do it...”

She freezes, frowning slightly. He leans back then, letting go of her throat. Watching her for another moment, he sighs, then swiftly pulls his hoodie over his head, revealing a tight black T-shirt beneath that emphasizes his strong arms, muscles and veins shifting under his tight skin. She stares at him, confusion washing over her. He looks down at her, then pulls her away from the sinks by her elbow and turns her around.

She meets his gaze in the mirror, but whatever she has feared he would do, he doesn't do it, instead he wraps his hoodie around her waist, turns her around once more and knots the sleeves together in front of her stomach, ultimately covering up the wet stain on the back of her dress. She sniffles as a strange kind of pressure falls off her.

His hands find her shoulders, his gaze dark as he looms over her. “Do you really think I would spank you in the restroom of a full diner?” he whispers, a malicious little smirk dancing around the corner of his lips.

She swallows whatever remark wants to break free from her clouded mind and presses her lips together.

“I've done crazier things, but I am not that stupid,” he adds with a sigh and straightens up again, wiping his fingers over her wet cheek. “But don't worry. I won't forget. You'll get your punishment.”

A cold shiver runs down her spine, a strangled sob escaping her throat. He watches her for another moment, then nods towards the sink behind her. “Wash your face,” he orders, and she turns around quickly, opening the faucet with shaking hands and lets the cool water run over them, then splashes it carefully onto her burning face. He hands her a paper towel from the dispenser, and she dries her cheeks and forehead with it, focusing on the task instead of her frantic breaths.

Wiping the rest of the water away with her hands, she then turns around and looks up at him. He reaches towards her and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, nodding contently. Then he grabs her wrist and pulls her after him, already opening the door, when she tugs gently on his hand. He turns around, giving her a glare, but she bites her lip and whispers “Thank you” as she curls her fingers into the hoodie tied around her waist.

He relaxes slightly and gives her another nod, then continues to drag her through the diner. Again she's aware of the eyes on her, but she tries vehemently to ignore them and keeps her head low when she follows him.

“Have a lovely day!” the waitress calls after them, and while she ducks her head, he slows a little and turns around slightly, replying, in a friendly tone she's rarely heard from him: “Thanks, you too, Nancy.” He even raises his hand to wave at the woman who probably blushes again, giggling like the school girl she hasn't been in decades. Stupid Nancy.

Something cold mixes with the heat of embarrassment churning in her stomach. They leave the diner under the soft ring of the bell above the door, then step into the bright sunlight. He pulls her right to his car, opens the passenger door and lets her get in. Despite everything he still leans over her and buckles her in, but he doesn't look at her when he does so. She sinks into the seat when he slams the door shut and walks around the hood to his side, leaving her to stew in her own mind.

The first punishment he gives her is silence – and after what feels like forever, she thinks it is worse than any pain he could inflict upon her. He's not looking at her, one hand is curled around the steering wheel, the other resting on the gear shift, close to her seat, but he's never touching her either. He just drives, eyes on the road, there's no radio to distract her, just her own dark thoughts.

But she doesn't want to go down that path again, so she keeps squirming on her seat, feeling the stickiness between her thighs, that empty feeling in her cunt, remembers his fingers there, his cock, his mouth, and in the end she feels she's getting even wetter, probably now also staining the hoodie he gave her.

Her fingers play with the sleeves, feel the soft material, she can smell the subtle scent on it, and of him, of course, right next to her, and more than once, she looks to her side, almost longingly, pleadingly, hoping to catch his eye, but he never indulges her. So she just watches him, lets her eyes wander over his toned torso, those strong arms, follows the veins down to his hands to then stare at the tendons moving under his skin when he moves his fingers.

He looks so casual in just that T-shirt, not as intimidating as in a suit, but he's still that big wall of muscle next to her, unapproachable, almost scary. She wonders what punishment he'll show her whenever they arrive wherever he wants to go, and then she thinks back to why she deserves it.

That comment about her uselessly packed backpack has been ungrateful, she knew it the moment it left her mouth, but in a normal conversation it wouldn't have been that bad, nothing to be angry about, really. But normal doesn't define what they have, what he pulled her into. There's nothing normal about taking a girl from a club and keeping her as his own personal sex doll or whatever he sees her as.

But that is what she is, isn't it? These last days have been so intense, so physically and mentally straining, she can't even recall all the different things he made her do, forced her to, pushed onto (and into) her. It is all a blur, and her body is as confused as she is, no longer distinguishing between soreness from within and from outside, it's all one big pain as her muscles try to adjust to the unfamiliar sensations.

Shifting on her seat again, she looks away, out of her window, but she can't see the landscape rushing by, the small towns they drive through, her eyes are unfocused, remembering him even though he's right next to her. Remembering his fingers under her dress, in the diner, remembering how she denied him.

Did he really expect her to be okay with being forced to have an orgasm in a public space, surrounded by people who were already staring at them, because they were strangers, because he's that grown-ass man and she's that girl looking younger than she is, apparently. Making them believe she wet herself was only part of the problem. It was the forcing her to say no to him, knowing fully well that she's not allowed. But what was she supposed to do?

A sigh escapes her, but he still doesn't acknowledge her. And now she's not only left dreading whatever comes next, but also feeling the ache inside her, the itch that needs to be scratched, that she denied herself...

Her fingers flex around her knees, gripping the hem of her dress, tracing the little flowers. She's stewing in her own thoughts (and juices) for a while longer, before it all gets too much, and she looks back at him, opening her mouth – only to freeze when he suddenly looks at her, eyes dark, face stoic, and she realizes he's pulled the car into a parking lot and has killed the engine.

She blinks in confusion, looks around, before she feels his large hand gripping both of hers, holding them tightly. Staring back at him, she holds her breath in anticipation (while also savoring the warm touch, no matter how demanding it is). His eyes wander over her face, looking her up and down.

“You'll behave in there, won't you?” he then says quietly, his voice that low hum that goes straight into her tense stomach and lower.

She nods eagerly, happy that he's talking to her again. “Yes, sir, of course,” she replies quickly, licking her lips.

“You'll do as I say, no matter what?”

“Yes.” There was a little hesitation but she still got the word out.

“No matter what,” he repeats, squeezing her hands. She nods again, breathing a little harder.

“No matter what,” she whispers, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

“Good,” he says and lets go of her, then unbuckles his seat belt and gets out of the car to round it. When he opens her door, he points to the buckle of her own seat belt, and for the first time doesn't lean over to open it himself.

She fumbles with it nervously, then pushes the seat belt away and follows his nod to get out. He's not offering her his hand. Once she stands outside, next to the tall man looking so grim she feels tears prick at the corners of her eyes, she notices they're in a large parking lot of an even larger department store. People stream in and out of the building constantly.

Suddenly she feels nervous and slouches her shoulders in an attempt to make herself even smaller. Her heart beats faster. It's not just the threat of him making her do whatever right here in public, it's the people themselves. She hates crowded stores, people are loud and stressed and everywhere. Swallowing hard, she blinks the tears away, focuses, but in the end the need for comfort is bigger and she reaches her hand out to touch the side of his leg.

He looks at her, so tall but slightly less intimidating than facing all these faceless people, and he seems to sense her nervousness, seems to pity her for it. With a loud exhale he slips his hand around hers and holds it tightly, then gives her a nudge and pulls her after him. She follows immediately, eager to stay as close to him as possible.

The walk through the giant store is a blur, she focuses on his warm hand, on his confident steps, his tall body blocking her from most of the things that make her nervous, but the more they walk, the more anxious she gets of the man beside her. What is he planning? What will he do?

He pulls her into the clothing section and heads straight to the changing rooms in the back, small boxes separated by thin sheets of wood and a flimsy curtain in the front. She watches him when he looks around the section, then pushes her into one of the stalls and steps in behind her, pulling the curtain shut.

She's pressed against the wall, he is right there in front of her, chest to chest, and when she looks up at him, her heart racing, he tilts his head and studies her for a moment, then leans down a little and unties the hoodie from around her waist. She holds her breath, timid and afraid, too nervous to move much. She doesn't even stop him when he grabs the hem of her dress and pulls it over her head, leaving her completely bare (except for her socks and sneakers).

Shivering badly, she doesn't dare to pull her arms around her chest to cover herself, just stands there, thighs pressed together, hands by her sides, fingers twitching. He holds the hoodie and the dress in one hand, then raises the other to slide his fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her shoulder, exposing her bruised neck. There's a large mirror to her left, and she can see the dark red and purple marks, his fingers scorched into her pale skin, a reminder of his strength, of his unpredictability.

He moves his hand down her arm, gives one breast a gentle nudge, then closes his fingers around her waist, pulling her against him as he leans over her to whisper into her ear: “You'll stay right here until I come back, understood?” She nods, breathing harder, feeling the warmth of his chest pressing into hers, the heat of his breath on her sensitive skin, the unspoken threat in his words taking root in her heart. “You wouldn't want to be caught like this, right?” he adds in a mocking tone, then leans back to rake his eyes over her naked body.

She swallows, nods again, looks at him timidly from under her lashes. “No, sir. I'll stay right here...”

“Good girl,” he whispers, giving her the hint of a smile, though it doesn't reach his eyes.

His praise, no matter the circumstances, still hits its mark and makes her clench around nothing, and she squirms slightly on the spot with her thighs rubbing together.

He notices the movement. “Do you have to pee?” he asks bluntly, and she blushes deeply, shaking her head vehemently. His hand is moving around her rear, teasing between her legs. A soft but dark chuckle escapes him as he dips a finger between her wet folds. “I see,” he whispers and leans in again, brushing his lips against her ear. “Do you want to come, baby girl?”

She gasps, squirms more, unconsciously grinds against his hand. But before she has to deny him once more (which she almost wouldn't have as she considers that there weren't too many people around), he leans away and wipes his finger along her hip. Looking down at her darkly, he gives her a wink, then steps back.

“Be right back,” he tells her and slips through the curtain, leaving her alone and naked and completely flustered.

He takes his sweet time, doing whatever he does, and she just stands there, shifting from one foot to the other. She's managed to cross her arms over her chest, rubbing her forearms against her hardening nipples. The AC seems to blow right into the stall, but it's actually quite nice, because the heat coursing through her body seems unbearable otherwise.

Her core is aching, and for only a moment she is tempted to slip her fingers between her legs and handle the situation on her own, but shame and fear pushes that thought away again. Inhaling deeply, she listens to the noises around her. The faint music playing in the back, voices of passing customers, footsteps coming closer and leaving again.

One time, someone steps really close to her stall, and she quickly grabs the edge of the curtain and holds it closed, mumbling “Occupied!”, and a grunted “Sorry” comes back. Her heart is racing, and, still holding the curtain, she leans against the wooden wall and tries to catch her breath, ease her nerves.

Eventually she relaxes, slips into the furthest corner of the small square room and stares at herself in the mirror for a bit. It's a frightening sight. She's bruised all over from where he's grabbed her, held her tightly, choked her, and she remembers the situations, remembers the hard thrusts of his cock, the strength in his arms, the weight of his body, the warmth, the noises when he came deep inside her...

Covering her burning face, she groans into her hands, squirming on the spot again as her cunt clenches in a need she never felt before. Is it because he hasn't fucked her yet? She woke up and he dragged her away, to the diner, to this store, and the last time she's felt his cock inside her has been... she squints as she tries to remember... on the table, before he choked her into unconsciousness. She gave him head after that and he fingered a few orgasms out of her, but the kind of sex where he just takes and uses her, where she's that pliant thing in his arms, that feels like a very distant memory (even if it wasn't).

She's gone all her life without sex before he took her away, and now, after only three days of intense... sexual exercise, for lack of a better term, she feels the need to do it all the freaking time, and even a few hours without makes her feel itchy and restless and desperate.

What has he done to her? What has he turned her into? What has she become?

A sudden noise rips her from her thoughts, and then he's back, standing tall inside that tiny cubicle, towering over her, several pieces of clothing draped over his arm. The sight of him makes her feel both calm and anxious, and her core is just happy to see him, shedding a few drops of moisture that slip slowly down her inner thigh. She doesn't even care anymore at this point.

He looks at her for a moment, waits for her arms to fall to her sides, then starts putting the hangers on the hook on the wall. She sees many different colors, soft pastels mostly, but also some whites and blacks. Dresses, skirts, blouses, shirts. Obviously no underwear.

He makes her try on everything, and even if she was a little apprehensive at first, she moves almost automatically when he makes her strip over and over again. While she slips into the different outfits, he observes her silently, barely shows any reaction to the tight dresses, the short skirts, the revealing blouses or form-fitting shirts. He has a good eye, managed to find her size almost perfectly.

Whenever she's done, he takes the clothes, puts them back on their hangers and separates them into two sides, and in the end he chooses two black skirts for her (a pleated one that's really short, barely fits over her butt, definitely shows the red welts on the backs of her thighs and most definitely will flash anyone who stands behind her if she has to bend down, and a flowing one that's covering at least the middle of her thighs) and a soft pastel yellow, long-sleeved blouse that's tied in the front, showing off the flat of her stomach and the hint of her boobs with a plunging neckline (she hopes he'll buy her a push-up bra too, but he seems content with how it is).

He also decides on a long dress that brushes along the floor with how short she is, black with white accents in the bust, a belt on the waist and a large bow in the back, sitting right on the swell of her rear, letting the dress flare out a little. She feels most comfortable in that, it looks so fancy, and she can imagine herself standing next to him in his elegant suit, holding onto his arm, beaming up at him like the women do in those old movies.

For now she is again just the naked girl in the way too tight changing room, waiting for the man next to her to give her something to wear so they can finally leave the store. But he doesn't seem to be done yet. He takes the clothes he didn't choose, gives her another pointed look, and leaves through the curtain once more. She sighs and brushes her hand along the black dress hanging on the wall.

He probably expects her to be grateful for this, and she is, of course she is, nobody has ever gone through the hassle of buying her clothes before, but she wonders how she can repay him, what he wants from her in return. She's already doing (almost) everything he asks of her, what could he possibly expect now? What if he asks her to suck him off in the middle of the store? To spread her legs on one of those display tables? Bend over those clothes carousels? She shudders just thinking about it. Not the act itself (because her cunt is still weeping for him), but to be surrounded by people watching them...

How would she react if she'd see a couple doing it in public? Hearing those moans and grunts, seeing their bodies moving together? It's definitely not something one would see while shopping for clothes or groceries, it's frowned-upon, forbidden for a reason. He wouldn't do that, would he? It wouldn't be good for his reputation as well, she'd assume.

She has no idea where she is now, certainly not in the city she met him, but maybe they know of him here too? He's a popular bachelor, she's seen his face on those fancy business magazines displayed in dingy newspaper kiosks, he's known, he wouldn't just throw that away to humiliate her in public, right?

She's again ripped from her frantic thoughts when he returns, this time carrying a bunch of shoes with thin leather straps, skillfully balanced between his fingers, some high heels, some wedges, some flats. He immediately bends down and grabs her left foot, and she has to hold onto his shoulders for support as she watches him take off her sneakers and socks, then slips her feet into each pair, one at a time, lets her balance on them (again he's picked the right size on instinct or accident), his warm fingers always in contact with her ankles, a comforting touch that fuels the need within her.

He's surprisingly patient, calm and collected, and his cool demeanor makes her feel safe – despite those nagging thoughts of what may happen after they are done shopping. For now she enjoys the moment, the gentle touches, the way he looks at her. When she's tried on every pair of shoes, he puts them all back between his fingers, then gathers the clothes he chose for her over his arm.

But as he turns around to leave again, she feels the sudden urge to grab him, hold him back, and her fingers brush against his back before digging into his shirt. He stops, turns slightly and looks down at her over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows questioningly.

She shifts on her naked feet, rubbing her bare arms, biting her lip. “What am I supposed to wear?” she asks quietly, suddenly afraid he may force her to streak through the department store.

“I'll be right back,” he only says, not answering her question, and before she can do anything, he's slipped through the curtain once more, leaving her behind, naked, shivering under the AC, confused as ever.

More time passes (and she's back in her own mind, thinking about things that already happened, that could happen in the future, that hopefully will not happen anytime soon), and when he returns this time, he's holding three large shopping bags – and her pastel pink dress and his hoodie in the other hand.

“Put on your shoes,” he tells her, and she quickly crouches down and does so, happy about having something to do, and when she's done and stands back up, he hands her the dress. It feels softer and a little warm. “I had it cleaned,” he replies to her quizzical look, and the warmth from the fabric seeps into her body, warming her heart, melting away the doubts she's had before.

“Thank you,” she says quietly, smiling up at him before he makes her lift her arms and pulls the dress over her head, smoothing his hands along her sides, then frees her hair from the collar. She doesn't even mind the lack of underwear anymore.

He's been so good to her, giving her these new clothes, being so gentle about it, having her dirty dress cleaned and dried. Spending money on her. Treating her like a human being, like a girl wants to be treated, like she wants to be treated anyway. She feels so grateful, she's even considering thanking him right then and there, her eyes already moving down his body, her cunt clenching as she thinks about putting his cock into her mouth, but he stops that train of thought by grabbing her hand (not her wrist) and pulling her out of the changing room.

She inhales deeply as she follows him, finally out of the constant AC blast, and she isn't even mad about the many people around them when he walks with her through the store. She's focused on his hand around hers, on the shopping bags he's carrying for her, how her heart swells contently. When they pass the food court, he buys her a large pink milkshake that she happily slurps as they continue their way.

This feels normal, she thinks as she watches him with the straw between her lips, smirking softly as the sweet drink runs smoothly down her throat. Just a girl and her... boyfriend? The thought makes her blush deeply. A strange word for him, maybe... gentleman caller? Lover even?

Something cold crashes through her as the deeper parts of her mind shove themselves to the forefront. Abductor. Abuser. Manipulative asshole who forces her to do things she would never have agreed to, who doesn't allow her to say no, who'll punish her for disobedience or without any reason at all. She swallows hard, blinking away a sudden tear.

But, she reasons with herself, he's also a man who gives her a chance at a new and better life. A man who spends time with her and money on her, who gives her his attention, and food, whose strong arms make her feel safe and protected. Whose cock fits so perfectly into her cunt she cannot live without it anymore.

That last thought makes her choke on the thick milkshake, and he looks at her with a frown as she coughs into the crook of her arm. She swallows, clears her throat, looks up at him with a nervous giggle and burning cheeks. He squeezes her hand and keeps walking.

When they reach his car, her drink is halfway finished, her mind is a complete mess and her blush has crept all the way down to her chest. He takes the shake from her and empties the cup with a few sucks, and she's too stunned to protest, too mesmerized by the way his lips close around the straw, how he watches her as he does so. He lowers the cup, still watching her, and takes a step closer, his hand wandering up her arm, then around it to snake along her waist before he presses it to her lower back and pulls her against him with a smack.

She gasps, and he uses the moment she parts her lips to bring his head to her level and press his lips to hers, or rather his whole mouth to hers, because his tongue, strawberry sweet, dips straight into it and tangles with her own. She mirrors the motion instantly, her hands reaching out to hold onto him, eagerly, hungrily, her pussy weeping all over again. His kiss is short but intense, and when he leans back, she still tastes the milkshake – and him, and it almost makes her drool.

He watches her with a soft smile, licking his lips, and she just stares up at him, oblivious to the people walking around them, the cars coming and going, it doesn't matter. If he'd ask her now to suck him off, she'd be on her knees in an instant. Head empty, head filled with him.

The moment passes, and he lets go of her again to throw the empty cup into a nearby trash can, before walking back to the car and opening the trunk to put the shopping bags in. He rummages around a little longer while she leans against the side, legs trembling slightly and crossed, fingers playing with the hem of her dress, waiting, savoring the soft moment.

The thud of the trunk startles her, and when he returns to her, he's holding a smaller bag, one of the outfits (she can't tell which), and another bag she hasn't seen before because it's not a shopping bag. He then takes her hand and pulls her back to the building, but instead of going in again, he steers her to the public restrooms on the side.

Her heart beats faster. What is he going to do now? The answer comes when he maneuvers her into a stall, but instead of following her only shoves the shopping bag into her hands. “Put these on,” he tells her, then closes the door and seemingly leans against it from the other side, waiting for her to finish.

It's the high-heeled wedges, the very short black skirt and the pastel yellow blouse. Still, no underwear, and as soon as she puts the pleaded skirt on, she feels exposed, basically naked, the fabric barely enough to cover her butt. If she just stands in it, fine, but she has to walk in it, move, turn, possibly stretch or bend, and everybody will see her bare cunt then. She shivers, but continues to dress.

The heels give her at least two more inches to her height, and she sways on them for a moment before adjusting. The blouse is soft, plays around her curves nicely, even accentuates her small bust a little with its plunging neckline. Once she's done, she knocks softly on the door. He opens it immediately, his eyes raking over her form, no reaction on his face, just a little nod.

She watches him look around then, before he steps into the stall as well, crowding the tiny space, pushing her back against the wall beside the toilet. “Turn around and bend over,” he says quietly, and a little surprised whine escapes her.

She's been too comfortable with him, blinded by his generous gestures, completely forgetting about what else he can do to her. The idea of his cock is one thing, the need for it, the hunger to be filled, the way her cunt clenches just thinking about it, but knowing he might fulfill her hidden desires right here, right now, makes her anxious, turns the tension in her stomach into an actual ache.

She still does as he tells her, without much hesitation, turning around and bracing her hands on the toilet lid as she bends forwards, feeling the little fabric of the skirt slipping up over her rear. His hand is on her soft skin, following the gentle curves, dipping between them and downwards, and she flinches slightly when she feels his finger pushing straight between her folds, deeper, a quiet squelching sound making goosebumps ripple over her exposed skin.

“Perfectly wet,” she hears him whisper, and she isn't sure if she should feel shame or pride at his words. “Shouldn't hurt too bad then,” he adds, and those words make her stiffen, her heart beating faster.

She suppresses a whimper when he pulls his finger away and replaces it with something hard and cold, and before she realizes what it is, he nudges the object into her clenching cunt, slow and steady, not forced and rough, but it still makes her knees shake beneath her, even more so on the high shoes. He keeps pushing, against her tight muscles, and she whines quietly when it reaches the far end, or so she thinks, because then his fingers are on her clit, rubbing it hard, making her gasp and shiver, relaxing her muscles enough for him to be able to prod the item even further, and the last inch causes her to groan deeply.

She feels full, stuffed, like she's been stuffed twice before, and somehow she is glad he's only shoving a dildo up her cunt, but she should never count her chickens before they are hatched, as they say, because suddenly he nudges his leg between hers, holding her open and also the toy in place, when he presses a cold, wet finger to her sphincter.

She arches her back, bucking her hips to get away from the sensation, and suddenly she remembers the slim fingers of the woman in the sex shop, Mistress, feels those long pointy nails poking into her tense muscles, though his finger feels very different, wider, longer, harder, and he's equally unrelenting, shoves it in and out, easing the tight grip of her hole. She's fighting her reactions, tries to keep the noises down, though she doesn't even think about the possibility of other people entering the restroom.

She's too focused on the pressure inside her ass. And it gets only worse when he adds another finger, pumps them harder, deeper, faster. Her arms are shaking as she leans on them, her head hanging low, lips pressed into a tight line, breaths rapid and heart frantic. And amidst it all, she can't believe he's doing this, here, now. Not that he cares.

His fingers vanish after a moment, leaving her empty (well, half-empty) and gasping for air. Then she feels the cold tip of the plug pressing into her, and when the first ball shaped bump tries to squeeze through her tight muscles, she cries out in a choked croak. He nudges his leg against her core, only making it worse, and it's really hard to keep her composure, to keep quiet.

She's biting the inside of her cheek, whining helplessly, wishing he'd prepare her better. It burns when he forces the toy deeper, her muscles are too tense to let it in properly, and yet he keeps shoving, really putting his strength into it, one hand pushed against her stomach as he holds her in place. She would have probably sank to the floor already without his strong grip.

After a bit more fight and more tears and muffled wails, the plug sits inside her, the base gripped by her clenching hole, the other dildo brushing against it through her protesting walls, and as soon as he lets her go, she stumbles, shaking badly, barely noticing how he puts his hand around her mound, then pulls something up her legs. The harness. That she notices. She winces when it scrapes over the welts on her thighs, then whimpers when the hard leather straps press against the toys to hold them in place.

He secures the belts around her legs and hips, checking every strap before leaning back and grabbing her waist to pull her into a standing position. He flattens the skirt over her rear, turning her this way and that, and she lets him because she's frozen in shock, suddenly realizing that she has to leave the restroom in a short skirt that shows off everything, from the bruises on her legs to the black leather harness holding not one, but two dildos inside her. The people will see, they will know, they will whisper, point fingers, they'll think she's a... slut.

Another tear rolls down her cheek, and he catches it with his finger before he cups her face fully and leans down to look at her. “This is just the beginning of your punishment, darling,” he tells her with a dark smile.

She sniffles, swallowing hard. She should have just let him make her come in that freaking diner. At least she would have felt good about it in the moment.

SEVENTEEN 🟥 EIGHTEEN 🟥 NINETEEN

End notes: Will she ever get a break? Nope, not yet. But at least he finally fed her real food in this one! That's something, right?

Thank you for reading! Next chapter on Sunday!

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CHAPTER / / / ONE◾TWO◾THREE◾FOUR◾FIVE

SIX◾SEVEN◾EIGHT◾NINE◾TEN

ELEVEN◾TWELVE◾THIRTEEN◾FOURTEEN FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN◾️SEVENTEEN EIGHTEEN NINETEEN◾TWENTY

AO3 / / / MASTERLIST