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shegatsby · 2 months ago

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Silent Obsession

Summary; After he became a civilian Bucky's mind, body and soul was trying to adapt to his new life. He swore to himself that he was going to live the rest of his life alone, until he saw her. His distroted mind and broken soul ached to be with her, to be around her all the time. Could he manage it or ruin it for both of them?

A/N: Hello guys! Not me being consistent lol! I'm enjoying this very much and I hope you do too. Let me know what you think.

This is the playlist I made for the series;

TAG LIST IS OPEN!

Warnings: Dark Romance. Stalking.

Words: 2.691K

Chapter Two

It had been a week since the game night, Sam had mentioned a mission coming up, it wasn’t soon but Sam didn’t have to hear him say yes, he was always ready for a mission. A mission was an only thing that made Bucky comfortable, he had been so use to being a soldier and a killing machine that it made his mind calm and relaxed, he liked planning and following the plan, getting the bad guys behind bars or under the ground was something he knew how to do, getting a new life? That was something else. He had woken up in cold sweat, on the floor of his living room, he had a thin blanket on him, covering his bare chest and he could feel his dog tags stuck to his wet chest, he was hyper-aware of the sweat, the dog tags, his navy blue shorts and the blanket on him, he sat breathing heavily.

He woke up before his alarm which was set to 6 am. It was 5.38 in the morning, the nightmare felt too real, as if he were there pulling the trigger. He huffed and got to his feet, he marched to his bathroom to start the day a bit early. As he took a shower with warm water his mind drifted to the girl he had seen a week ago. Was she also getting ready for work or was it a day off? His mind already making a plan to ride the bike near her workplace, maybe Mrs. Rodriguez needed groceries and he could pick them up, on his way he could also take a tour around a certain flower shop. He left the shower, dried himself with a towel and walked to the bedroom to get dressed. He wore a dark grey hoddie, black pants, boots and leather jacket with leather gloves. Alpine was content, not moving a muscle on the couch, he put some cat food and water in her bowls and got his house and bike keys from the kitchen counter, ‘’See you later Alpine.’’ He said and rubbed her head before he left his apartment. He first knocked on Mr. Nakajima’s door, they were on the same floor, ‘’I’m coming!’’

he heard the old man’s yell, he was moving slow due to his age. Mr. Nakajima answered the door with a grumpy look as usual, ‘’Hey Mr. Nakajima, I’m heading out do you need anything that I can get you?’’ every time Bucky saw the old guy he felt this sour feeling in his stomach, the sour feeling of regret and punishment. Bucky was punishing himself, in his mind he murdered Mr. Nakajima’s innocent son and Bucky had to pay the price, to him it didn’t matter if he was a brainwashed solider at the time. ‘’No, thank you but do ask Mrs. Rodriguez.’’ He was a simple man with few words, didn’t like to talk too much and always straight to the point, Bucky saw himself in him. ‘’Will do. Have a great day.’’ And the door shut to his face.

He used the stairs as usual and reached Mrs. Rodriguez’s door and knocked softly, soon the old lady answered, ‘’James!’’ her brown eyes got brighter with seeing him, ‘’Such a handsome face to start my day.’’ She added and Bucky smirked, ‘’I have some errands to run, do you need anything from outside?’’ The old lady smiled kindly, ‘’Ah, you’re a life saver James. I need eggs and flour. Here let me get my purse.’’ But Bucky stopped her, ‘’Please Mrs. Rodriguez, I’ll get back with those soon. You always share what you bake so let me.’’ He raised his gloved hands in protest, he learned from his ma that he should be a gentleman and help women all the time. ‘’Dear James! You’re such a sweet boy, not many left like you these days.’’ She looked sentimental, maybe she remembered the times where men were real men. ‘’See ya later.’’ Bucky said and headed to the stairs again to leave the building. He didn’t have any errands to run, he just needed and excuse, an excuse so that he could justify his actions to his rational side of his brain. He got onto his bike, these past 7 days all he could think about was her. Her kind smile, skillful hands, soft demeanor, she represented everything he wasn’t and that draw his attention, on his bike he tried to focus on the road, his first stop was the market, he got some flour and eggs and then he left the market, few blocks down was the Floral Fantasia, his main goal. In his one hand he was carrying the bag and marching the pavement like a soldier in his heavy boots. A man on a mission. As he saw the place his heart started to beat faster than normal, the shop was open, it was 2 pm, the city was busy per usual. Cars and bikes were passing by, life was flowing for everyone around him. A kid passed, probably 7 or 8 years old, holding his mother’s hand and in his other hand he had candy, they stopped at the lights, the kid looked up to Bucky, his green eyes went wide, Bucky knew the kid recognized him. He was wearing a Captain America t-shirt of course he knew who was the Cap’s childhood best friend. Even though Bucky’s hair was short and he covered his metal arm at all times his face was the same, he had to leave before the kid made a scene but something happened that he couldn’t understand. The kid with green eyes smiled at him ear to ear and then his mother urged him to walk. He froze for a second, didn’t know what to do and then he saw the green light so he walked. His feet took him to the shop like a trained memory even though he had been here once. Carefully he pushed the door and walked in, the bell rang as he got inside, the same fresh smell hit his nose and his distorted and dark mind associated the sweet scent with her. This time she wasn’t at the back, she was at the front, behind the cash register and her head lifted as soon as she heard the door being opened and that damn beautiful smile, deep down he knew that she had to smile like this to everyone who came in and it didn’t sit right with him. She was wearing blue jeans, a bit baggy, maybe she had lost some weight but

didn’t buy a new pair, and she had a white tank top and a blue shirt on top, her golden name tag on her left side, Y/N… what a name, a certain feeling of possessiveness washed over him, he wanted no one but himself to say her name. His eyes wandered on her chest and up her face. ‘’Hello Sir, how may I help you?’’ she asked with that soft voice, he approached, he placed the bag he was carrying on the white counter and he leaned on it with his two hands, towering over her, with broad shoulders, ‘’I would like to have a bouquet of red roses please.’’ He said with a flat tone but his eyes weren’t flat at all. His ocean eyes found her Y/E/C eyes and dared her to look at him directly. The other girl was watching the scene unfold and didn’t make a sound. ‘’Of course.’’ She nodded and Bucky noticed the pink dust on her cheeks, his eyes followed her every move. She got the roses and everything she needed to make that bouquet, Y/N noticed the flour and eggs inside the bag, ‘’Do you bake?’’ she asked out of curiosity, he didn’t look the type, with her question he paused, observing her first, was she interested? Maybe or maybe not. Her hair falling from her shoulders and covering the side of her face, he wanted to reach and tuck a strand behind her ear and he had to struggle with himself to not do it. ‘’No.’’ he said and then the stillness followed, she looked up for a second to meet his gaze and when he didn’t continue explaining she lowered her head to do her job, he felt bad, very very bad. ‘’Uh- a neighbor of mine does. She needed the ingredients.’’ He shortly explained and it made her look at him again, if it meant that him talking would make her look at him, Bucky would never shut up, even though that wasn’t characteristic of him at all. ‘’How kind of you to get her groceries.’’ She commented and for once in years Bucky blushed, he lowered his head, he didn’t know what to do with that strange heat in his cheeks. He bit his bottom lip in desperation. ‘’Please praise me more..’’ his mind begged in silence, even though this was the second time he saw her, Bucky knew he was getting hooked but in silent obsession.

‘’All done.’’ She announced later, till then he noticed he watched her like a predator and to their audience it must have been a good show. ‘’That’ll be 40 dollars.’’

Bucky reached to his wallet inside his leather jacket, got 40 USA dollars and extended to her with his non metal hand again, just to feel that tiny touch through his gloved hand. A sudden rush of worry washed his entire body when he saw a red hand mark on her delicate wrist, and then rage followed. His blue eyes looked at the bruise and then up at her pretty eyes, she realized what was happening and quickly got the money and placed it on the cash register. ‘’Have a great day Sir.’’ She said with a quick breath, ‘’Thank you. You too.’’ He said slowly as his mind was contemplating on what to do. He got the roses and his bag and then unwillingly left the flower shop.

Why did she have a bruise on her wrist?

Why did she look apologetic as if it was her fault?

Did she fell or…

He didn’t want to think further, he placed the things on his bike’s small compartment and got onto the bike, the Harley’s engine was heard by the girls inside the flower shop and he rode the bike, not knowing a pair of pretty eyes watching from the window of the shop. On his way back home his mind didn’t give him a rest, he exhaled deeply as he parked his Harley and got his things, with a stern look he got inside the building, climbed up the stairs to Mrs. Rodriguez’s door and knocked. The woman was surprised again, she didn’t expect Bucky to give her another bouquet of red roses but she was happy, thanked him so many times and promised to keep baking for him. Her presence gave him comfort and he liked that. Later he climbed up to his place and unlocked the door, Alpine greeted him with meows and rubbing herself on his legs, he closed his door behind him and locked it. ‘’Hey baby girl.’’ He greeted, he was grateful that he had Alpine, she was the one who kept him alive and gave him a reason to wake up every morning and recently there was another reason to wake up from his nightmares... as Bucky remembered her he remembered the mark on her wrist. He flung himself on the couch which was covered in Alpine’s white fur but he didn’t mind.

‘’Come here sweet girl.’’ And Alpine jumped on his lap, he removed his gloves and started petting her, she was purring and he loved the sound of that. ‘’It’s stupid.’’ He found himself taking to his non verbal cat, ‘’Why do I even care? She is no one to me..’’ he was rather chatty today. Alpine was rubbing herself and body on his palm and meowing softly as if she was trying to give her ideas, he chuckled, ‘’I’m going insane aren’t I Alpine?’’ He got up and looked at his silver watch on his wrist that was non vibranium. It was 6 pm, he was hungry and decided to eat outside. There was a small Japanese place nearby, a place he usually went with Mr. Nakajima but tonight he wanted to go alone and eat some sushi, maybe a bowl of ramen. He liked Asian food and even though that place was small it was the best. He never trusted big restaurant chains because the food was mediocre in those places, however in small business, especially a family restaurant had the most tastiest dishes. ‘’Alright alright, I’ll get you something extra!’’ he protested to Alpine who was protesting as he left his flat.

The place was crowded and it was easy to blend in the crowd, a trick from his Winter Soldier times. It was a rather dark place with small dark brown tables and a bar place, one could see the chef making the dishes behind the bar, the delicious smell of soy sauce made his stomach growl, he sat behind. It was an old style restaurant where they had a menu book and order, he liked it very much. He decided to order a plate of sushi and a beer so he raised his hand, the waitress and she was also the bartender Leah came to get his order, they got used to each other, he was a regular customer here. ‘’Where is your pal?’’ she asked smiling, ‘’Oh, he was tired so you have me.’’ He replied and gave is order, ‘’Thank you.’’ Didn’t forget to thank her, the service workers were the backbone of this country and he was careful to treat them with respect.

He could hear half Japanese and half English words from the customers, most were also regular, he could speak Japanese thanks to his training under HYDRA he could speak so many languages. They were talking about mundane life problems, how they’re paying their mortgage, their kids and wives, the restaurant had mostly male customers so topics were sports, their wives and kids and their debts. He felt an outsider every time he heard the conversations, he never had a wife to complain about, hell he didn’t even have a proper long term relationship, yes he was popular among the ladies back then but mostly short term and then the war happened, the rest was history. Now he was 106, didn’t look like it but felt like it in his every fiber. His order came as he was thinking about his life and having a crisis, he thanked again to Leah. ‘’Let me know if you need anything else.’’ He nodded and she walked away. As he took his first bite he imagined Y/N sitting before her, eating together, it was such a simple daydream but felt so far away and out of reach.. he shook his head and focus on his plate.

It was maybe around 9 pm when he left the restaurant, he had few beers and talked to couple of guys, ‘’Damn, I forgot!’’ he talked to himself, he promised Alpine to get her a treat so he hopped on his bike and rode to nearest convenient store.

He walked inside the store, no one was around, it was getting late. He walked the aisles and found a treat for Alpine and marched to the front to pay and he dropped the can. It was her, now she had a blue uniform, a name tag again and she also froze when she saw him but she was the one who quickly shook her head and smiled, ‘’How may I help you?’’ said looking up at him, Bucky picked up the metal can and placed it on the counter, she scanned it, ‘’That’ll be 5 dollars.’’ She replied, his mind was hazy. He gave the 5 dollar bill, ‘’Thank you. Have a great night.’’ She smile and said, but he could see the realization in her pretty eyes. ‘’Thank you.’’ He managed to say and left in hurry.

Thank you for reading. :)

Chapter Three

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dreadsuitsamus · 18 days ago

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Kept | Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez x Reader |

author's note: this has been in the wip graveyard for two years now and i finally found the urge to finish it!

pairing: grimmjow jaegerjaquez x fem!reader

warnings: dubcon, stealthing, forced breeding

His blue eyes shine over the rim of the glass, the whiskey passing his lips inconsequentially as he searches the room. It's yet another networking gala and he's on the prowl again, and perhaps this time luck will strike. He's looking particularly handsome tonight, he knows, and the lighting in the hall, the season, the times… May they all line up and lead him to his prey.

Grimmjow catches a glimpse of his reflection and he smiles broadly, a hint of his maniacal energy in his eyes, smoldering still as he swipes away the wetness on his lips. This suit is his favorite—all black, crisp and tailored specifically to his measurements, four buttons undone to show off his chest and just a little bit of the rock solid, toned abs he works so hard to maintain, and the black and gold watch on his wrist is just the icing on the cake.

He's more than hot, and the way he wishes he could laugh in all the naysayers' faces again, the ones that said a face tattoo couldn't be sexy, especially not the one he had in mind, though he's frankly not down to linger with scum for even a moment more. Up is the only way.

Grimmjow's lip curls as he catches a curious eye— as per usual. The tattoo, which sits on the right side of his face, has an almost smoky affect to it. Finding an artist that could make a jawbone tattoo work so well took years; the wait, the suffering in the meantime, all the times he went hungry and cold and thought he'd die, was all worth it in the end. He's a made man through his relentless prowls, and tonight is no exception.

It's not the same, however.

The life of a sugar baby isn't guaranteed and he's looking for something a bit more permanent, though unconventionally so. He's not the type to settle down and never will be, but there's a few common threads that weave together his targets; wealth, success, and loneliness.

A mischievous blue eye winks as he sets down the tumbler, shiny black shoes clicking on the floor. Each step lights your heart as this gorgeous man moves closer to you, scaling the room in hardly any time at all to stand before you, at just an arm's length away. His stare is hungry and in turn proves you bashful, much more so than you've ever felt. High-profile lawyers can't afford a lick of doubt or insecurity, after all.

“Buy me a drink and I'll tell you my name.” Grimmjow’s never been the type to beat around the bush and makes no exception even with this new direction of his. His handsome smolder stares down your consideration and, with a smirk and a tongue swiping over his pink lip, you hum with a response.

“That doesn't seem a very fair trade.”

“Poor thing.” Grimmjow moves in closer, taking your chin between his forefinger and thumb, holding your gaze as his minty whisper fans across your mouth. “Still believing we live in a fairytale world.”

A bold hand rests on his waist, feeling the way his body curves underneath that attractive suit. “Sweetheart, I know everything about the art of the deal. And your deal isn't worth the trouble.” Lips meet in the briefest, most vague of kisses, but before you get the chance to saunter off into the sunset and leave your predator to stalk elsewhere, his grip firms and you're connected again with the greediest, sloppiest kiss.

“Going once.” Grimmjow taunts once you're breathless against his chest, sinking those sharp teeth harshly into your lip. “Going twice.”

The tip of your coffin-filed nail drags across the sharp cut of his jaw, admiring his tattoo as you succumb to the dark magic of the escort. “Sold.”

“Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. Tequila.”

More than a few drinks are shared and spilled before Grimmjow is backing you against the door of your apartment, his mouth aggressively on yours. He doesn't take much time to get familiar with the penthouse; he'll be quite familiar soon enough. Not that you know that yet.

Pulling your head back doesn't dissuade Grimmjow, as he just follows you to kiss and suckle at your throat. “G-Grimmjow… Ah, fuck…”

“Quiet.” The schemer growls against the softest part of your throat, his hands scaling up your curves and to your breasts.

Despite his insistence you shut your mouth and let the professional do his job, you moan out your request for a condom. Even drunk, you at least have enough sense to protect your body from an absolute stranger.

How responsible of you, Grimmjow thinks.

“‘Course I do. I'm a professional whore.” He slips the golden packet from the front pocket on his suit, proving falsely his commitment to the cause.

Giving you only a short moment to see it, Grimmjow is quickly back to business and you're hopeless in stopping him. Not that you want to; you could use the stress relief of a one night stand.

Grimmjow has to hold back his laughter, only able to shield his maniacal look in his eye due to having you on your stomach as he plows into you from behind. You're drunk and cock and alcohol, and it's an unruly combination that'll change your life as you know it.

He's so close to laughing that he idly wonders if a god of death lingers nearby. But he just can't help it; he's so, so close. His skin slaps against yours and in a smooth, fell swoop he pulls out completely and swiftly swipes off the condom, penetrating you deeply again as he cums. Thick ropes of white fill you and you don't even know it, are entirely unaware as his seed trickles further and further in, in search of the egg your body is bound to produce, and two lines will soon provide Grimmjow with the spoils he's earned.

#grimmjow jaegerjaquez x reader #grimmjow jaegerjaquez x you #grimmjow x reader #grimmjow x you #bleach x you #bleach x reader #bleach imagine #x reader #x you #fic

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brainrotbee · 4 months ago

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Paynleand Promptfest Day 5: Flowers

"Just once, I would like to have a case where no one is trying to harm us," Edwin huffed as he ran down the winding country road.

"Where's the fun in that?" Charles replied, equally out of breath. He glanced behind him and his eyes widened. "Duck!" He nearly pushed Edwin to the ground in order to protect him from the arrow that whizzed above his head a moment later.

"Nice reflexes," he panted, pushing himself off the gravel. "I knew Viking spirits are usually violent but this seems unnatural." He looked behind him at the small cottage they'd mirror traveled to only five minutes earlier. Blokes with long beards and different cool-looking but deadly weapons were clambering their way out of the windows and the front door. "There seems to be something else at play here."

"Are they corrupted?" Charles asked. He paused to elbow a man who had caught up to them in the face. His helmet clanged as he fell to the ground.

"No. Their forms look far too solid."

"Territorial then?"

"That is what confuses me," Edwin said. The Vikings gang was getting closer. A spear flew over the boys' heads and landed in a field to their left. Whoever threw it gave a roar of anger. "The cottage was empty until we arrived and then they all appeared out of nowhere." He frowned in thought, though his stride never broke. "This case is quite baffling."

"Right," Charles said over someone screaming in Norse. "Let's worry about that once we get to safety."

"That sounds like-"

Edwin was cut off by a flash of red hair and the biggest battle axe Charles had ever seen. Its wielder sliced in between the two boys, nearly taking off Charles's arm. His face was slack and his eyes were glowing blue. They would definitely have to figure that out once they were done running for their afterlives.

Charles ducked as the Viking swung at him again. It was terrifying to fight a ghost five times his size but he had no other choice; he needed to protect Edwin. After a few more ducks and dodges, Charles managed to land pretty good punch. Unfortunately, it didn't phase the Viking one bit. Just as Charles was getting ready to accept his fate, black cords began wrapping themselves around the Viking's body and he fell to the ground, red-faced and cursing.

"Thanks, mate," Charles said, catching his breath. "New spell?"

"It's a variation of my normal binding one," Edwin explained, stepping over the Viking. "But I do not want to see how long it lasts."

"I'm with you there."

They took off running once again. Ghosts didn't seem like they should get tired but that wasn't the case at all. Charles felt like his legs had turned to jelly by the time he finally spotted a decent hiding place. He grabbed Edwin's hand and the two of them dove into a ditch, near the end of the road.

Charles leaned back on the grass. They hadn't had a case go that badly since Port Townsend. He scanned their surroundings to make sure that they were hidden well enough for the Vikings to pass right by them. Luckily, the wildflowers and grass was tall enough to cover them, as long as you weren't looking too hard. Flowers?

Charles reached out and plucked a cornflower out of the ground. There was something he'd supposed to remember about flowers, and Friday. Wasn't Friday a special day? Flowers, special day, Edwin...

"Oh," he said aloud. He pulled out another cornflower and handed it to Edwin. "Happy Valentine's Day."

Edwin stared at him in disbelief before taking the them. He shook his head a soft laugh escaped his lips. "Thank you." He tucked one into his breast pocket. "I hope you'll forgive me for not having a gift for you. It seems I am a bit occupied at the moment."

Charles grinned and they stood together. "How about once we sort out this mess, you and me go on a proper date, yeah?"

"I would love nothing more."

They shared one last smile before standing up to face the Viking horde.

#payneland promptfest #dead boy detectives #dbda #dbda fanfic #dead boy detective agency

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thedevilsoftruth · 2 months ago

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Romania, I'll Be Back

Chapter One: I learned about myself today

B. Barnes x f! Reader

Sum: Bucky Barnes escaped Hydra and fled the country to Romania. He finds moving in and trying to adjust to his new life difficult until he meets a baker who asks him if he wants a free sample of her famous dish.

Warnings: set after the events of CAWS. panic attacks, anxiety, love at first sight?? Mentions of Hydra, slightly sad themes. 3rd person pov.

Tags: @homiesexual-or-homosexual ( I love the username, btw )

W/c: 2.5k

A/n: I would like to give a big thanks to @shockercoco for being my beta reader for this chapter. I've been thinking of writing this for a very, very, very long time, and to be able to say that it's something that's actually happening now makes me very happy. Please enjoy. I have a lot planned for this fic.

Entry 1,

I ran. Really far. I ran and ran, and I couldn't stop. My feet kept carrying me, and I didn't stop until I fled the country. I took buses, trains, anything, anywhere--I didn't care. I needed to get out of there.

And here I am. Safe. Finally, I hope.

It had been nonstop storming where I had been, but the skies here were clear today, so that's nice.

I found an apartment, finally.

I don't think I can rest my head fully after visiting that museum. But I needed to see it, and it's because I saw it that I learned about myself today. A few things, actually.

The museum said I was a sergeant during WWII? I don't feel like a sergeant. Sergeants are strong and good leaders. They have good hearts. I do not.

And Steve? I'm curious about him, really. I don't think we will ever meet again, and if we do, I think he'd be really upset with me. I think there are a lot of people out there who are upset with me. But that's okay. I'm not too happy with myself, either.

I went to that museum today to learn about Steve, but instead, I learned about myself. I guess that's good. I still don't even know who I am.

Anyway, I have a thumping headache, and my anxiety is through the roof. I think I'm going to go lay down, but I will be back.

-- James Buchanan Barnes.

...Or Bucky.

Bucharest, Romania 2016

It had been a day since Bucky had moved into his apartment. All of his "unpacking" was done on the same day he moved in, not that he had anything at all to unpack in the first place. His first thought when he had woken up that morning was that he needed new clothes. And gloves.

Gloves would be crucial for him if he didn't want to be given any funny looks with his metal arm out in public, or worse: be found by Hydra.

When he went out that evening, he had on a simple black button-down and dark blue denim jeans that might have been a bit too big on him. Sizing charts were something he wasn't expecting to look out for at the time he bought the jeans. He wore a baseball hat to hide his face and had on his backpack. The backpack was more of a home to him than his apartment.

The apartment was cheap and worn down, but the backpack carried everything he needed–Cash, a few weapons, the old dog tags he found a long time ago as the winter solider that he was somehow able to hide from hydra for the many years he had it. It also held his journal–the most important item.

The journal would act as a guide to him in case he somehow found himself losing his memories again. He was hoping he would fill it with more memories once they came back to him.

He didn't know where he was going. He wasn't familiar with the layout of the area he was living in, but he thought that if he had stayed near the apartment complex, he'd be able to find it again quickly. At this point in his life, his biggest fear was losing himself again and forgetting things.

As he crossed the street and walked down the sidewalk near a train station, he passed by beggars, buyers, musicians, and other pedestrians just trying to get to where they needed without bothering anyone.

It was the middle of the day, and as Bucky passed by people cooking things on the street, he realized he hadn't eaten all day. He couldn't remember the last time he ate something that wasn't liquidized. Maybe he had his last actual meal in the 40s? The day he fell off the train, he hoped. Every day before that, he also hoped.

Food places should have been easy to find, but it was hard for him to know what he really wanted. He didn't even know what kind of food he liked. He walked by at least three different restaurants until he came across a little stand selling a variety of produce items. Tomatoes, grapes, cabbage, bananas, you name it, and it was there.

He looked through the assortment with his backpack slung over his shoulder for easier access to his cash in case he actually did buy something.

He had his eyes on a certain fruit–They were little purple balls that were no bigger than his fist. He had noticed a few people around the stand with the fruit in their hands. They were golden inside, and they looked incredibly juicy. Bucky could feel his mouth watering at the idea of it.

" How much for 2 of these? " He asked the clerk, picking up two of the purple fruits from the bamboo basket they were settled in.

The clerk, short, chubby and older with streaks of silver running down his dark curled hair, gave him a quick glance.

" For the plums? " The clerk asked him, looking between the basket and Bucky.

Plums. So that's what they were called. Bucky nodded his head at the old man, unzipping the front pocket of his backpack.

" 30 ron. " The clerk told him, clicking a pen open in his shirt. Bucky rummaged through his bag and fished out 3 sets of 10 ron and gave them to the clerk. He was given a tiny white plastic bag for his fruit, and the second he was given them, he was rushing back to his apartment complex.

That was Bucky's first time purchasing plums in Romania, and from that day forward they would become his favorite fruit.

Bucky had a simple objective; go in, grab some plums--maybe some bread too, then get out.

But god no. He'd barely even been there for about a minute, and he was already overstimulated.

It was the first day of the town's local homemade goods market, and the event was going on for about two weeks. It was just a little thing they did; where small businesses came together to share what they sell for slightly cheaper prices. That was the synopsis of the paper he picked up and read on his way home the day before. The produce shop Bucky had bought his newfound favorite fruit day before was going to have a stand in the little market. Or so he thought.

He could not for the life of himself find the shop he was looking for. He walked and walked along the market in hurried repeating circles, looking up and down for the stand, but he just could not find it! Perhaps they weren't set up yet? Maybe the owner got sick?

He wondered anxiously about the infinite possibilities of what could have happened. He didn't see the shop open when he passed by where it was the day before on the street.

He wasn't leaving the damn place until he bought his stupid plums!!

As Bucky walked past the crowd in the street, he bumped into at least four people as he searched for the stand. He was just so annoyed and upset about the whole situation. Maybe he'd try again tomorrow?

Great. Tck. How freaking great.

His gloved hands gripped the white bag full of bread he was holding tighter, and he turned his heel to walk back to where he came in. As he made his way up to the front, he was getting more and more irritated by the second.

His chest felt heavy all of a sudden. a dark cloud of anxiety began circling above his head before it violently started pouring down conflicting emotions and memories that had nothing to do with each other. He didn't understand why he felt so panicked all of a sudden, but what he did understand was that all he wanted was to go home.

But right as he was about to leave, he heard a voice speaking to him as he held his head down and walked towards the exit.

It was a soft voice. A rather quiet one that didn't quite fit with the loudness and chaos of the rest of the market. Yet, it was a voice so beautiful and pleasing to his buzzing ears that it made him stop in his tracks immediately and turn his head to where he believed it was coming from.

" Would you like a free sample, sir? " The voice said. When he raised his head, he made the figure out to be a woman, standing in front of him with a red apron around her waist and a tray in her hands. It turned out that the voice matched the face.

She was beautiful, and that was the first thought he had when he laid his eyes on her. She was so tiny, it was like she could fit within the palm of his hand, and her smile was softest one he'd ever seen in his life.

He didn't know why, but he found himself frozen. Unmoving and still.

" These are my famous plum dumplings. " She told him, holding the little round battered dessert that was set in a tiny white paper cup.

His eyes flicked from her, to the desert, then back at her face. He was unsure whether or not he was allowed to take it. She noticed his hesitation, and she suddenly felt bad for putting him on the spot. He looked like he had places he needed to be, after all.

" Are you not interested? " She asked, her smile all of a sudden a frown that sent his mind into a panic.

He began stammering, shaking his head frantically. " No--I--sorry I--" He blinked, holding his hands out and waving them chaotically. He took a moment to gather himself together, his chest heaving up and down as his panicked mind searched for the next words to say and how he could frame them correctly.

" I would like one. " He told her, his eyes repeatedly flicking from her to the gravel on the concrete. He held out his shaking gloved hand nervously, and when she put the tiny pastry in his palm, he almost flinched like she was going to hurt him. He knew she wasn't a threat, but he might be one.

She looked at him with a growing smile as he picked up the round pastry from its holder. He was an interesting fella to her. She'd only known him for barely a minute, and he was already her most interesting customer that day–By far the most handsome, too.

As he bit into the pastry, she waited in anticipation to see his nervous frown turn into a delighted smile. And to her surprise, it did not take long for that to happen. The moment the tip of his tongue came into the soft, sugary, and crunchy taste of the dumpling, his eyes fluttered shut, and a pleased moan left his lips.

" It's good, isn't it? " She asked, tilting her head to the side while leaning into him a bit.

Bucky found himself smiling rather foolishly as he wiped the crumbs from the corner of his mouth.

" It is. " He responded almost robotically, his voice coming out scratchy and pitched from his lack of speaking during the day.

The cute baker didn't realize it, but her cheeks were glowing with a light tinge of pink. It looked good on her, and Bucky couldn't stop himself from catching her eye. It was the first time during their entire encounter when the eye contact didn't feel awkward.

" Sorry, " he chuckled, looking down at his feet once he realized he had been looking at her too long. " I don't get out of the house often. " He said, rubbing the back of his neck with his left hand, his right holding the remaining half of his pastry.

" That's alright. " She told him. " But I hope to see you back again tomorrow or some time soon. " Now it was time for her gaze to fall on her feet, and for his gaze to fall on her face. He looked at her for as long as he could, trying to memorize every detail of her for the next time he would come back.

" Yeah, yeah." He whispered under his breath mindlessly. " Me too. "

She lifted her gaze, and their eyes met once more. She searched him, and he searched her. They didn't quite know what it was, but they felt drawn together somehow. The path that was set for the both of them differed drastically.

They were two strangers who met on a chain of very unlikely events that somehow got laid out in a very strange yet perfect way. It was almost like they should have never met in the beginning because their stories were so different, but like people always say, ' everything happens for a reason. '

For several moments, they stared at each other, unsure why they were staring but certain that it could mean something. That was until she had broken up the silence.

" I just realized I never got your name. " She told him, squinting her eyes at him, fiddling with her fingers rather anxiously.

Bucky stumbled over himself for a moment, her words breaking him out of his dazed trance. He suddenly became embarrassed by how long he had been staring at her.

" I--Its Bucky. " He told her, sheepishly averting his gaze from her. She nodded her head. Not only was he an interesting fella, but he had an interesting name. She gave him her own name, and once he had it, he was on his toes to zoom out of the place due to how fast his heart was beating. He could feel sweat beading at his forehead.

" So, mister Bucky, " She began in a rather cheesy sense, " See you sometime soon? Have a nice day. "

Her words were making him feel such strange things, things he was sure he hadn't felt at least since the 40s. He had no idea how to handle things, and he exhaled deeply to try and calm himself down.

He didn't look at her at all for the rest of the time he was there with her. If he looked at her, he was going to fall in love. And Bucky Barnes didn't know how to fall in love. At least not anymore.

" Yeah, yeah. " He muttered, pursing his lips and running his gloved hands down his thighs. " I'll be back. "

And just like that, he was off, speed walking as fast as he could to get out of there before something terrible happened.

As he walked back to his apartment, his mind kept racing and spiraling. He was dealing with the worst conflicting emotions he had ever had in his years. He couldn't go back. He just couldn't. Bucky knew that all good things come to an end, and whenever he would ever get the smallest bit of something good In his life, it would be snatched out of his hands before he could be able to savor it.

But even though he told himself that he wouldn’t go back the next day, when he woke up, he couldn't seem to get his feet to stop.

Maybe that was a good thing? no. It was the best thing he could have done because that one singular decision he made would change his entire life. He just didn't know it yet, and neither did you.

#marvel #marvel mcu #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfic #mcu fanfiction #bucky #bucky fanfic #james bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #caws #the winter soldier #captain america winter soldier

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2-dsimp · 1 year ago

Text

Monster rule 101: Don’t play with fire around your Mothman!—————-:—:————

Mothman! Dabi x monster hunter! Fem reader

—————-:—:——————:————:————-:——

🔞MDNI🔞

C w: Humiliation, asphrodiasic, slight mind break, degradation, praise, NFSW, monsterfuxking, overstimulation, breeding, impregnation, usage of cunt

—————-:—:——————:————:————-:——

You were on a mission.

A very dangerous mission that was a code gold also known as Legendary. Meaning that the monstrous threat was equivalent to a whole country being wiped off the map. However, due to certain circumstances only one solider could be dispatched to deal with the golden threat.

The reason for that being because of how hyper sensitive the Mothman is to overcrowding within its territory. The team dispatch leader decided to proceed with the utmost caution lest they trigger its frenzy mode. Which would ultimately result in the loss of lives country wide, burning underneath the raging pure blue flames of the otherworldly demon.

<< Have you located the Mothman? Over >>

“Yes I’ve got eyes on the area sir, permission to proceed?”

<< Permission granted. Over >>

You were chosen out of a select few individuals for being the cream of the crop, to carry out this dire mission to save all of mankind. If you could succeed then you’d be set for life! Having the fame and the riches that come along with it, all in exchange for exterminating the deadliest bug humanoid in existence. You’d say that’s a fair trade, since it was high risk high reward type situation.

But as you approached the abandoned cave you could feel a sense of dread wash over your entire being.

You were being watched.

You could feel the sweat accumulate upon your lush chocolatey skin littered in goosebumps. Then you heard a sharp chuff that echoed off the walls, seemingly the Mothman enjoyed watching you squirm from his focused attention.

Venturing even deeper into the unknown you tightly grasped at your equipment, a tool of reassurance you could say. That happened to be a flamethrower. Yes, out of all the weapons you chose a hazardous contraption that resembled a dragons breath.

Why? Mostly because you thought it’d be cool to go out in a blaze of glory should you happen to fail in your conquest to get the target in check. But it was also strategic in a way, since moths were attracted to light. You’ve had to find some kind of way to draw them out.

Too bad you didn’t get the chance to use it before you’re snatched into furry arms that secured you to the monsters chest. Which vibrated from his snarky greeting.

“You took too long enough for my liking doll, now shall we get down to business already? “

You could feel his bulge press up against the your ass, rubbing between your cheeks.

“I’m feeling a bit pent up”

He rasped impatiently into your ear, boy did his voice do wonders as it spiked your arousal. But you had a job to do, unfortunately. Gathering your composure you asserted yourself to the monster.

“You already know why I’m here right? Mr. Mothman.”

You could feel him chuckle darkly against your neck, highly amused by your sense of professionalism. Even while having his dick steadily grind against your back, covering you in clear fluids. Making your thighs shake in excitement.

“Obviously, but just call me Dabi, dollface. You’re gonna wear it out in a few moments might as well get a lil practice in ya?”

You were dumbfounded. Could he be implying what you’re thinking—

“Judging from the look on your pretty face, I’m guessing your little agency didn’t fill ya in on our little inside deal huh?”

He purred

You could feel his loosened grip completely leave your body. Allowing you to be able to face the Mothman hunched over in all of his 7ft glory. He had tuffs of black fur covering his toned ripped chest, arms, and legs. His overall body type was lean and slender. The dark colored wings sprouting at large from behind, before being folded back neatly into place. To avoid you from seeing his jagged scars littered across them.

“All I can say is that you’re in for one hell of a ride once I get my hands on you Baby. So Outta the kindness of my heart I’ll give you a 5 minute head start—”

He paused, as you gave him an warm embrace of your own. Grinding against his bulge that continued to grow even further against you. He looked down at you in disbelief, but it wasn’t before long until he connected the dots.

“ Don’t tell me, You’re one of those monster fanatics aren’t ya?”

To be quite frank yes. You were an absolute fan of monsters, you fantasized about getting close and becoming friends with one. But now you were gonna be the mate of a code legendary?? You couldn’t believe your luck. Plus it was the mission you were given, so as the loyal solider that you are. You gratefully accepted your fate with no questions asked.

The Mothman merely laughed in the irony of it all, a monster hunter wanting to be fucked by a monster it was so priceless. A devious smirk planted on his face As he bended over down to your height charred lips barely touching the shell of your ear only to whisper darkly of a precautionary warning of what you’re getting into.

“ You do realize that I’m in heat right doll?”

He reached his hand down running his tempered claws down the fat of your thick ass giving it a tight squeeze before hooking your leg up to leave some room for him to freely press his huge twitching bulge against your moist mound.

“I’m barely hanging on by a thread, so Don’t hold anything against me if I lose control got it?”

It wasn’t long until you were on the brink of being fucked to death by the Mothman of your dreams. face pushed down into the cocoon like nest he prepared in advance as his extended feeler limbs sprouted out from his sides, to grasp at you from behind hooking onto your waist. Keeping you grounded on his intrusive dick. While his primary arms wrapped around you tightly to play with your breasts that jigged violently from his ruthless thrusts from behind.

“You’re sucha pretty lil thing for me aren’t ya?”

The strong pheromones that wafted off from his wings made you feel so vulnerable and helpless within his smoldering embrace. You couldn’t keep count of how many times you’ve came alone from him just penetrating your cervix. It was as if you were on cloud nine enjoying the way his cum covered cock kept digging even deeper inside your snug snatch trying to ensure that you’d get pregnant with his brood.

“Your slutty pussy just can’t seem to get enough of my dick, don’t worry doll I’ll make you take all of it”

He murmured eyes staring down dangerously at the way your pliant body bended to his ministrations. He payed close attention to the way his dick continued to be devoured by your juicy cunt. That sucked and messaged his thick cock inside the hot mesh of your inner walls determined to be flooded with his baby batter.

“ Mmh D-Dabi please I can’t—!”

You babbled dumbly with drool hanging down from the corners of your fucked out plump lips. As the intensity of his rapid heavy thrusts began to increase its assault against your quivering quim.

You tried to crawl away from yet another approaching high that was dead set on crashing down on your senses. But his firm grip on your neck yanked you back into reality.

“ Aye Dollface don’t ever try to fuckin crawl away from me again, you’re mine you got that?”

Dabi hissed, giving you a sharp tug on your butterfly locs and a harsh bite on your shoulder as a fair warning.

The cave was emitting loud strange sounds from the inside, alerting to anyone from around the area to vacate the premises immediately. In case the Mothman were to come out of his home and start wrecking chaos. But little did they know that Stowed away deep inside the cave for a whole week did you lay beneath the Mothman in all your naked glory.

Freshly fucked all the way to Sunday during his still ongoing heat cycle. Where the only thing covering you was his semen that painted your caramel skin from your breasts down to your overused cunt stuffed to the brim with his cum that trickled out from your puffy pussylips. Only to be pushed back in by his long veiny dick just to ensure that the next of his kin would live on inside your womb.

Hey At least you prevented a worldwide tragedy, right?

#dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi smut #bhna smut #mha smut #mha x poc!reader #mha x black reader #mha x female reader #dabi imagine #dabi scenarios #mothman #Mothman!dabi #yandere dabi #smut imagine #smut drabble #smut scenarios #thought I already posted this but apparently not? so here’s this repost XD

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jrstales · 5 months ago

Text

Stephen heads to the gym

All characters 18+

---Stephens pov----

After the shower Ricky dressed and headed home. He worked some shifts at one of the coffee shops by the beach and had some the next few evenings and wanted to get his stuff ready for it.

I changed, heading to the gym to do some back and biceps. It was empty when I got there, neon motivational quotes stamped onto the wall. I stood for a few minutes, checking myself out in the mirror beside a luminous green, 'Never give up!'.

I felt cute. I had put on a powder blue gym tee, a black pair of shorts. I was starting to like the way I looked, appreciating the small amount of muscle growing on my arms. My legs had started to gain definition, I was starting to admire my ass -

'Looking good man,' called out a voice from the entrance. I looked around and it was the same guys who had rescued me from the bench my last visit.

I felt the blood rush to my face , as I looked down at the ground, giving them a thumbs up, 'Cheers' I shouted back, my voice not quite as solid as I would have liked. 'Fuck. Why did the hot guys at the gym have to see that. Probably laughing at me flexing.

'Give us a shout if you need a spot on anything! Have a great workout!' the shorter of the two called out.

The paranoid part of me wondered if they were laughing at me. 'No,' I reassured myself, ' they don't know you, so why would they. They're just being nice. Don't get in your head' I squeezed my fists and took a calming breath before moving over to the low row, a little unnerved it was in front of the squat rack where these two guys were getting warmed up.

I steeled myself, and did my warm up set, focusing on contracting my scapula like Jake had taught me. Making the motion good and controlled. Taking my break after the first set I looked at them.

The pair of them were lean, but well defined muscles were obvious even in their loose tops. They couldn't be older than 25 I thought. The taller had one side of his hair cut short, the longish almost viking blonde hair swept to the side and styled, aN almost rugged face, faint gold stubble highlighting the shapely jaw.

His friend though had much neater brown hair, a slight fringe flicked to the left. His face was slightly rounder, big eyed, slight button nose. Cute.

The taller one stepped behind his friend as he took the weight and started squatting. I had a moment of jealousy as I saw him warm up with my finishing weight.

As they both bent down, the taller almost spooning his friend, their arms were on obvious display. Both of them had quite intricate sleeve tattoos. The smaller had what looked like a flock of birds going up his arm, black and white, with beautiful shade work making each one stand out. One small bright red one flew in the middle of the flock seeming to weave between the birds. The larger was some kind of sea scene, with large tentacles grabbing onto what seemed a boat, bright and filled with colour.

They re-racked and switched places. I returned to my workout. Tired and sore, I headed to the cardio area. I took off my shoes and began to do some kicks on the bag, working on my turning and half turning kicks. It wasn't long before the other pair popped in.

'You were looking strong today,' he said,his voice deep, almost gravely. 'You had good form, good range of motion'. He and his friend took off his own shoes and they put on a pair of straps.

'Thanks,' I said shyly, ' I think you were warming up with my finishing weight'.

The younger one laughed, his voice a little higher and full of warmth 'I wouldn't compare yourself. We've been doing this for a bit longer. And Peter is a bit of a fitness freak - pushes me hard'

He stood by the bag as Peter began to start a timer on his phone, 'You never complain Micky' he muttered, signalling for him to start. Micky's foot slammed into the bag at full force, loud echoes filling the small room. I took this as a good time to continue, adding the sound of my own kicks to the racket.

A small bell chimed, and Micky stopped, sweat staring to break on his temple. I paused at the same time as Peter took Micky's space, kicking what seemed even harder, but not quite at the same speedy pace.

Micky jogged over to me, panting. 'Hi,' he raised a hand, panting, 'I'm Micky. I've seen you here a few times'

' Stephen' I gasped, raising my own.

'Hi. Sorry, tell me to fuck off, but thought you might like some advice. Sorry I run a taekwondo club.' he said half smiling, half apologetically. 'Try putting your knee across the bag when you kick. ' He raised his knee, chambering it and flicking his foot out. 'You're stopping here, at the edge of the bag, so I makes a loud noise, but it's really just a slap.

He moved his knee a few inches to his left. 'If you try from this position, you'll actually kick into the bag, not slap the surface' demonstrating a second kick that didn't make quite so much noise that time, but seemed more solid. He waved again, ' Sorry again for interrupting, hope it was okay.' as he slunk back to his own bag as the timer went off again, jumping into another flurry of kicks.

Nodding I decided to try it. I paused and steeled myself, pushing with all my night, twisting my hips, bringing my knee against the target and extending -

My foot slapped against the target and I bounced off, leaving me sprawled on the floor. Peter gave me a hand up, 'Dont worry, ' he reassured me, ' it takes practice.' he chuckled. 'That's happened to me a few times as well - you're okay yeah?'

I nodded, getting back up and trying again, bracing my core a bit more, and getting some more moderate success. 'Thats more like it,' Mickey laughed as he spun into a back kick on the bag.

I enjoyed the rest of my time there, Peter and Micky giving me a few more tips. Eventually though I waved them off. 'We're here most afternoons' Micky shouted after me, drenched in sweat and smiling 'feel free to join us if you see us'

I went into the changing room, grabbing some paper towels to wipe the sweat on my eyes, and spent ten minutes just catching my breath. As I came out I saw that Peter had taken his top off, wiping his brow from the sweat. The man was ripped, his chest covered in dark hair, sweat dripping down him. Micky finished his set and walked over to him, placing his hands on his chest.

Micky whispered something to Peter, which he grinned at. Micky kissed him, deeply, his hands rubbing over his chest. Peter broke away, grinning. He looked around and grabbed Micky's hand, walking through the gym towards me.

I panicked, I didn't want them to think I was watching. I mean I was, but I didn't want them to know.

I ducked into the changing room jogging to one of the toilets and closing the door over. I peeked through the gap. The two of them burst in, Peter kicked off his shorts and threw it in a pile on the bench. His dick was huge, fully erect, it must have been like 8 inches. He began kissing Mickey's neck

'Wait,' Mickey paused, 'what if someone's here?'

'Theres no one here' Peter said, still nibbling Mickey's neck, 'Now get naked'

Mickey kicked off his own shorts and shirt, revealing his own toned figure. He ran to the shower, almost slipping on the wet tiles. 'Oh shit,' he laughed, 'Peter get the lube'

Peter reached into their bag and grabbed a bottle following him in, the two of them laughed as the curtain closed. After a few minutes laughter turned to moans.

I looked down, to see there was a wet patch bit on my boxers, but on my shorts. I felt dirty, this was their time, I shouldn't be listening.

That didn't stop me moving closer, listening. I pulled my dick out, behind the partition, listening to the moans behind the curtain.

Faint groans, 'Peter, fuck. Just like that. Your dicks hitting just right. Don't stop.'

A sound of bare skin being smacked filled the room, as the groans got louder. I was jerking along to this, as fast as I could. The image of the two of them together in the shower, Peter holding Mickey down and fucking him. I covered my own mouth as I started groaning, spewing into my own hand.

I took a moment to pull myself together realising I hadn't caught it all in my hand, and had stained the front of my shorts. I grabbed some toilet paper and crept out, leaving them to finish.

----------------------------------

Hi all, thank you so much for reading. I will always continue to post here, however if you want up to date content, some exclusive works, or even just to support me please consider checking out my Patreon below.

https://www.patreon.com/JRSTales?utm_campaign=creatorshare_creator

#gay smut #gay #male x male #straight to gay #gaysmut #experimentation #gay story #gymsex

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karltface · 5 months ago

Text

Well, I just turned 42. I'm celebrating by reviewing a toy. Specifically, I'm solving a 20-year mystery.

Behold, Mutant Spawn. At a size and image quality we didn't have at the time. I loved me some monsters even then, but this never appeared in my area. I puzzled over this photo again and again, trying to parse what I was even looking at. Why is the armor vomiting his face? Why is there half a bear trap hanging off his kidneys? And bug wings?

Not that I was looking very hard, but this had bothered me ever since. This year, I pulled the trigger. And boy howdy, was it cheap.

Okay then. The card only makes things more confusing. Somehow Spawn (or an alternate timeline version thereof) has become a "dual being", a poisonous (and deadly!) predator that poses as a harmless bug to trick evildoers. I guess this is post-Armageddon, then. Let's do this.

Ah... hmm. I'm enamored with the way that head just sort of oozes out and dangles. It wobbles around a lot too, which is doubly hilarious. What I took to be a serrated metal jaw is in fact a textured, fairly smooth... Well, a friend of mine said it looks like an... adult swing. The four tongues lolling out of the mouth don't help, nor does the spiky toilet bowl collar. The jaws (and mechanical blade-tentacles, boasting a whopping two hinge joints each), are blatantly pegged into a plain black hinge jutting from the sternum.

Articulation is minimal: swivel hips and shoulders, and the head can stand at half-mast if you wedge it up there real good, but no turning it at all. It also retracts into the armor. The aforementioned tentacles have their hinges, as does the tail- which is just another tentacle. On another obvious hinge. The jaw can actually hinge all the way up over the head.

The hands have holes for accessories, but none are present. The holes are the super tiny kind, too, which makes 'em pretty useless, eh? Not sure what might have been planned there, really. He could probably carry the original Spawn's nail-board, though.

Now, "mutant" I get. "Spawn", sure. There'd already been a few odd permutations. But I'm not sure how much of this thing is even organic. All that red and black mostly has the pebbly texture of the chunky armor bits Al was rocking at the time, but there are several portions- the forearms and torso, chiefly- that are purely mechanical, with a stylized endoskeleton look.

In fact, if you lift the bug wings (and we'll touch on those momentarily), the only recognizably organic parts are the head and this hideous lump of alien-looking meat. Almost as if this is just a suit construct housing the little undead tentacle monster that used to be Spawn. The lump is actually soft rubber, and kind of fun to touch.

The wings are a point of contention here. Boxed, mine had them mounted on the forearms. Fortunately, there are holes on the back that will let them rest against the back, where they nestle snugly over Mutant Spawn's apparent mutant slug butt. Some shipments had four wings, but I didn't get that lucky. They were reused for Manga Violator, which is surely even cheaper, but I don't even want half of that thing clogging the parts bin. I'm fine with just rear ones for now.*

And now, the harmless looking insect-like creature. A golf cart sized cyber bulldog with rhino skin, bug wings and a bladed tail. And two shorter bladed tails. "Harmless". The future must be pretty bad if this doesn't set off alarm bells anymore.

A bit of research tells me this started life as Chameleon Spawn. When color-changing paint didn't cost out, they reworked a few small touches and released it this way. And also with four wings. And later, with four organic bendy tentacles, and blue patches on the armor. There may have been a solid silver version too.

And with that, I think I can officially proclaim this the Worst Trainwreck in the original Spawn line. Everything from the design to the engineering, from the odd variants to the terribly vague (and yet oddly specific) backstory, stumbles across the finish line sideways with drinks in hand. Sculpt and Paint did their best with the ingredients they were given (apparently you can polish a turd), but garbage in, garbage out.

Well, that's my bit. And remember, kids: always research before you buy. If you can't find more than one source, nobody else wanted it either.

* I had ordered the four-tentacled one, but there was a mixup. The seller didn't even want this back, so it's getting harvested for wings when that shows up, and this uniquely awful piece will take it's place on the shelf.

#90s toys #mcfarlane #monsters #spawn #toys

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kylorengarbagedump · 9 months ago

Text

Playing Solider: Chapter 9 (NSFWish)

Read on AO3. Part 8 here. Part 10 here.

Summary: You're really good at making really good decisions under pressure, especially decisions that don't forever alter your relationship with the one man who holds, at noosepoint, everyone you consider dear.

Words: 8800

Warnings: Naughty language ahoy

Characters: William Tavington x Reader

A/N: WHOOP there it is! I almost felt tempted to apologize for the time this chapter took, but I genuinely won't. It is obviously a monster and we were desperate to get it exactly how we wanted it. SO here you go!

This weekend we met Jason Isaacs and we're still kind of reeling from that. He's literally so handsome and unfortunately we are both in love with him? Sadly I hear tell that he has no plans to divorce his wife for a couple of random lesbians who write horny fanfic about him.

WE HOPE YOU ENJOYED, we genuinely are so grateful for every comment, it literally makes our day when we get them, to know that people engage with the story in ways we do! <3 We love you all so much, see you soon <3

Distant thunder churned the surface of your sleep. As you sat up, blinking against darkness, it softened to a roll. Suffused the ground. Became hoofbeats. Outside, men shouted.

A musket fired.

Leaping from your bed, you wrestled yourself into your skirts and bodice, stepped into your shoes, and ran out into the night.

The air tasted sharp, sweet with the coming storm. Through the blackness, torchlight bobbed against the treeline that edged camp, more shouts coming from its direction. You headed toward the noise.

The sounds of fighting swelled as you wove your way through a maze of tents, keeping low between cover until you reached the border of the camp. A supply wagon stood between you and the combat. You pressed yourself against it, peeking around.

Another musket flash cast men into relief, red coats clashing against blue. Your heart seized.

Continentals.

A shout, and a line of horsemen thundered from the trees, sabers drawing like silvered bowstrings across silhouetted necks. Screams rent the night, dark shapes crumpled to the earth. You could just make out the ripple of red and green coats atop the horses as Tavington’s cavalry peeled around to rejoin the regiment of foot at the treeline. One horseman circled around your wagon. In the dark, you just glimpsed his shape. The solid red of his infantry attire.

“Goddard!” you screamed. His head snapped to you, saber raised, eyes shining with terror.

He stuttered your name, reining his horse to a halt. “W-what are y—”

“What’s happening?” you demanded.

He glanced back up to the battle.

“Continentals waylaid us on our march,” he spluttered. “We tried to regroup but they—we couldn’t—” He ducked over his horse as a sparse musket volley crackled within the trees.

“So you led them back to camp?” you asked, incredulous.

“There was nowhere else to go!” Goddard almost sobbed. “We had no orders, I thought the colonel was right behind me but he—”

“Where is the colonel?”

Just then, a riderless horse loped out of the trees. A passing flicker of torchlight revealed Tavington’s chestnut mare, her coat streaked black with sweat. Your insides lurched. As you watched, she veered around a cluster of fighting men, then barrelled straight toward you and Goddard.

You stepped out into her path.

“Don’t!”

You ignored Goddard.

“Whoa, easy.” You held your hands wide, hummed low in your chest.

The horse slowed, dropped her shoulders to sidestep you, eyes rimmed white. With a quick lunge, you grasped her reins, pulled her by the bit into a tight circle around you until she halted, snorting and quivering.

Panic speared you. Without Tavington’s command, if the Continentals were retaking ground—the regiment was done for. You might be done for, if captured by rebels who could very well decide to string you up as a Loyalist. There was no time to overthink this. You gathered the reins at the mare’s withers, slung your foot up into the stirrup, and hauled yourself into the saddle.

“What in God’s name are you doing?”

You spun the mare around to face Goddard. “Where did you last see him?”

The sounds of fighting began to recede farther into the trees. The Continentals were being driven back. Perhaps that would buy you time. You choked down a wave of guilt, an image of your father among the dead or routed soldiers. You shook it away. You had to stay focused.

“You can’t possibly—”

“Goddard,” you snapped. “Where?”

“I don’t know, ah—a couple miles back up the road, maybe?” Softened in the shadow of night, he looked even more like a boy. “There were more soldiers—militia—they’re holding a bridge crossing.”

“I’ll find him,” you said, turning toward the trees.

Goddard spurred his horse up next to you. “I’ll come with you.”

“No,” you said firmly. Thick drops of rain began to pat your shoulders. “Defend the camp. Get yourself to safety.”

“You can't go alone, it’s madness!”

You grit your teeth. There was no time for this.

“I’ll not be a target on my own, Goddard, but I certainly will be with a redcoat escort.” You nudged the mare forward. “Stay here.”

With one last glimpse at the bewildered Benedict Goddard, you tore toward the trees.

As you skirted the fighting, trunks whipping past you, your only compass was memory. After foraging these woods for weeks, though, you knew them well.

Your eyes scoured the darkness. Caught the shape of the big magnolia tree. You swerved. The road should have bisected the woods north-northeast of it.

The mare took a few more stuttering strides beneath you, crashing through brush. Then the ground dipped, the trees cleared, and you broke out onto hard-packed dirt. Blood singing with triumph, you placed the sounds of battle behind you and pressed into a dead gallop.

Raindrops stippled your face, stinging your eyes as you ducked and squinted. Hooves gouged the dirt, thunder carved its approach through the sky. Beneath your skirts, the saddle bit your thighs raw, but you didn’t slow. Your calves stayed locked against the mare’s ribs until apparitions of men appeared through the thickening sheet of rain, spread across the road ahead.

A flash of lightning, and they were made corporeal. In that brief radiance, you could make out around fifteen. Behind them, a black chasm—water—and the bridge, its planks shining over the river. You could hear the roar, its current churning with the storm’s fury as it rushed past the bank.

Heart hammering, you deepened your seat in the saddle, slowed to a canter. As the shapes of men slowly grew solid edges, dread snaked like cold fingers down your spine. A handful of Continentals, two on horses, turned toward you.

“Halt, there!” one of the cavalrymen shouted. “Halt!”

Trying to avoid the soldiers would result in a chase, something you didn’t need. You cursed under your breath, slowing the mare to a trot. Darkness and rain would help obscure the saddlebags and tack of your mount, but you tossed your skirts around your seat anyway. A horse breaking away from an area of known altercation in a gallop was suspicious enough.

As you approached, one of the foot soldiers advanced. In the darkness, you just made out the shape of his musket as he raised it. You snatched the reins, slamming to a halt.

“Apologies, madam,” said the soldier, lowering his firearm as he drew closer and squinted at you. “We can’t allow you to continue down this road. It’s—”

“We’ll need you to answer some questions.” A cavalryman spurred his horse up, glared at the foot soldier before sidling closer to you, examining you and your mount. “Where are you coming from?”

Deception and conversation were both luxuries that time could not afford you. Without the latter revealing what these men knew, you could not attempt the former. Your only option was to try and sidestep both entirely.

“Please!” you gasped. “My husband! He’s—I have to help him!”

The cavalryman flinched, his attention drawn from your tack to your face. “Your… Madam, where is—”

“Please!’ you screamed, urging your horse forward. “He’s militia, he may be wounded, you must let me go!”

“Calm down, madam!” He seemed to steel himself, tilting his chin higher. “Your husband is in the militia.”

You nodded emphatically. “Yes!”

“They’re stationed north of here, and you’re riding in from the south. Perhaps, and I don’t mean to keep you, but perhaps you can help me understand?”

He’d been disturbed by your performance, but not enough to let you go. You silenced a growl in the back of your throat and then promptly began to openly wail.

“Our home is south, I just thought he might have—” you cried, sniffling with such strength you snorted. “I’ve—I’ve just, I’ve been riding, and looking, and riding—” You choked on your own dramatics, wiping the rain from your stinging eyes as if they were tears. “And, oh, he could be hurt, please, I must find him!”

“I’m sorry, madam,” he said, a grimace flickering over his face. “Many were slaughtered here but moments ago.” He nodded toward the riverbank. Your chest squeezed as lightning revealed several dark shapes laid in a row. “I pray he is not among them.”

Deception it would have to be. But you could make this quick.

“Let me see!” You sprang forward on your horse, making for the bodies.

The soldier cursed, whipping his own mount around to follow. Some of the other soldiers began to raise their guns as you broke away from the two who had stopped you.

“Stay your arms!” the cavalryman shouted from just behind you.

They paused, casting glances among themselves, then lowered their weapons. You reined your horse in, and side-stepped up to the corpses.

The humble pastiche of militia attire stood out in the gloom, maculate with gore. That would explain Goddard’s account of the bridge’s defenses. Now, though, they stared through glass eyes at the sky, its heavens just as violent as their deliverance thereto.

Hunching over the saddle, you studied them. Mostly, it was an extension of your act. But part of you, a part that you would surely enter vicious battle with later, sagged in relief to see that none bore a red and green coat.

You straightened, turned back to the officer who had followed you.

“He’s not here!”

“Madam, how can you be s—”

“He’s not!” you shrieked.

“Christ, let’s just let her go,” said the foot soldier, puffing as he caught up.

The cavalryman's eyes widened. “Oh, well… I mean, I didn’t…” He winced. “I only mean to suggest that perhaps we can escort—” Thunder struck as he spoke, and he jumped.

“God above, you two are the only cavalry we’ve got!” said the foot soldier. “Let the woman go and get shot if she wishes!”

The cavalryman glanced with clear discomfort between the both of you—you, with your hysterical sniveling, and his fellow Continental with his disregard for their duty—and threw a hand from his reins.

You didn’t wait for his verbal permission. Your shouted thanks drowned in the downpour as you charged past them and across the bridge.

The area was swarming with men on edge and ready to kill. If—or when, you’d say when—you did find Tavington, you prayed your return would be significantly less crowded. But if the Continentals were driven back by your camp, you’d run straight into them while carrying a superior officer of the British army.

You’d worry about that later.

The road stretched on in the darkness, the river’s din fading in your wake. Again, your only company was the steady drum of rain, the steaming beast beneath you, the sharp rhythm of your own breaths in your ears.

If you couldn’t find Tavington, if the bastard had gone and gotten himself killed—

You shook your head, trying to dislodge the thoughts as they arose. But they clung like wasps to sap, shooting you through with an unwelcome fear. Strange and loathsome as it was to admit, there was no denying that Colonel Tavington had claimed a position of some vile necessity in your life. That he was the mast to which you must fasten like a sail, if the winds of this war were to ever see you reunited with your father. If that outcome were ever to exclude your father’s death. Or Grace’s. Or yours.

Something reared up within you, lodged in your throat, lashed the back of your nose like rising tears. It left you in a gritted screech, and as the wind whipped it away into the storm, you recognized it as anger.

You were angry.

At your father, for allowing his quixotic obsessions to drive him into peril. For leaving you alone, leaving you to slink like a stray dog to the British army and beg, whimpering, to crawl into its lap. You were angry at Tavington, for being right about all of that before. For seeing through you when you refused to see into yourself.

And you were angry at yourself. For clinging to the sick bulwark that was William Tavington. For not being strong enough to hate him.

For fearing that he might be dead.

Driving on through the rain at a brisk trot, you focused on the road ahead. On what you could do, rather than what might be. As you searched the dark, you spotted a body slumped along the roadside. Then another. Lightning flashed. Three more scattered the road.

Militia.

With any luck, your colonel was close. The horse stuttered for a step, hopped over one of the bodies.

Lightning again, then thunder. In the distance, movement, a single heaving shadow hunched above blackened brush, a demon rising in the dusk. Hell’s fire flickered in the clouds, suspending the earth in time. Light revealed the demon, a fiend in a crimson coat, his blade buried in blood, his victims shucked of their souls at his feet. Thunder shattered the vision, smothering him in darkness again.

Tavington ripped his sword free from the man he’d stabbed, spotting your approach. His eyes narrowed, struggling to identify you through the night and rain. You trotted closer, and now you realized that some of the crimson you’d spotted earlier hadn’t been his coat. His chest, his stomach were smothered in blood, and it became apparent that his hunch wasn’t from demonic inspiration.

He was hurt.

A flash of light, and he frowned, realizing that not only was it you, but you were on his horse. His face twisted in a welcoming mixture of shock and disgust.

You waved him forward. “Continentals are headed this way!”

“I’m aware,” he replied, sheathing his sword. When these two words didn’t magically cause you to vanish, shook his head, continuing, “I’m waiting them out.”

You snorted. “Don’t be absurd. You’re wounded—multiply so, might I add!”

“Return to camp,” he said, walking in a direction that was not toward your horse and therefore irritated you further.

There was no way you were leaving this stubborn goat of a man bleeding from God-only-knew and returning to the damned camp without him. You pushed the mare forward, cutting him off. He glared at you and spat out your name in frustration.

“Orders were given,” he said. “Leave.”

You growled. “Your men ail in your absence. You must return with me.”

His eyes met yours, mirrored the clouds as they pulsed with lightning. Water pelted his face, slipped down the curve of his nose and into the bow above his mouth. He cleaned the rain from his lips with his tongue and set his jaw.

“Must I?” He stalked forward a step. The horse shifted beneath you. “I believe you’ll find I must do nothing,” Tavington spat. “You, on the contrary, are a parolee who has fled your guard, and now act in contempt of an officer.”

The urge to roll your eyes was only suppressed by a tiny pulse of fear as he advanced another step.

“Then mete me what lashes you will,” you said, swallowing. “But I’ll drag you back before I stand by while you succumb to your own bloody pride!”

Tavington snarled, then lunged for the horse’s reins. Anticipating him, you drove one leg into her ribs. She leapt sideways. Tavington doubled over, clutching his bleeding chest, eyes as wild as a wolf with its foot in a trap.

“Colonel Tavington,” you pleaded, “we’ve little time for this.”

He gave a pained huff, straightened just enough to pierce you with his stare. “Then leave.”

“No!”

Thunder cracked the sky. Your gazes clashed with equal force. Fury rolled in Tavington’s shoulders, and you made ready to evade another lunge from him. Then, a new rumble broke through the storm.

Your heads both snapped in its direction at once. Hooves. Pounding and splashing, this time approaching from the north. You were about to be flanked on both sides by the Continental army. Tavington’s lip rose in a snarl.

“Get off,” he said, rounding on you. “I’ll ride in front.”

“What? No! Just get on!” The storm crashed above, illuminating the bright red of his jacket. “And take your coat off, you're a walking target!”

If he’d looked indignant before, he now looked insulted. “I issued you an order, and your response is—”

“Colonel, get on the damn horse!”

Up the road, a horse whinnied. Hoofbeats grew louder. Tavington cursed.

Sneering, he whipped his jacket from his shoulders and tossed it to you. With relief, you stashed it under your skirts before vacating your left stirrup and holding your hand out to him. He stared at it like you’d presented him with the body of a dead rat before electing to ignore it completely. His teeth grit, he stuck his boot in the stirrup and hoisted himself behind the saddle, a stifled grunt escaping him.

He reached around you, grasping for the reins. Scoffing, you thrust your hands out, wheeled the horse around, and gave a sharp kick. The mare surged forward, and Tavington’s arms captured your waist, sealing you flush against his front with a hiss.

In the chill of rain, his body was lit coal, firm and warm against your own. You felt the rise and fall of his chest, still hurried from the rush of violence and pain; heard the graveled depth in his throat wash against your neck with each breath.

At your speed, the bridge would be approaching quickly. Despite your hope that the Continentals might have decided to abandon it before your return, they stood proud guard. And, unfortunately, having been successfully routed, you could see even more of them arriving from the south. You slowed from a canter to a trot, and Tavington’s breath caught in your ear as his horse stumbled on the sodden ground.

“An expert in these lands and this is the route you choose,” he grumbled.

You exhaled, biting your tongue. “Well, perhaps if you were better at dodging swords, we’d enjoy the luxuries of time,” you replied. “Unless you’d prefer trying to jump the river.”

“I’d prefer not approaching a group of Continental officers while sliding off a horse’s arse.”

“Oh, are you uncomfortable?” you cooed bitterly. “I am so sorry for the inconvenience, Colonel.”

“No,” he said. “What I am is experienced. Do you imagine they’ll allow you to walk right past them?”

“Of course not,” you replied. “I have a plan.”

“Words that have always brought me comfort.”

If you weren’t concerned that elbowing him in the stomach would result in organ damage, you would’ve done it.

The horse connected with the first plank of the bridge, and you straightened in the saddle. Ahead, a wave of routed Continentals staggered up to join the bridge guard, their annealing forces pushing fifty, perhaps ten of them cavalry.

In another world, you could be nestled in your bed at home, Mr. Mouser curled at your feet, the rain rattling your roof. Instead, more horses advanced behind you, their numbers unknown, the sound of their hooves rattling your nerves. Continental soldiers flanked you front and back. And a despicable, delicious bastard was strapped to your middle.

It occurred to you that perhaps getting struck by lightning would be an improvement to this situation.

“Hold there!” The voice was familiar. The same cavalryman from before came into view between the opposite bridge posts. “State your business before crossing!”

You cleared your throat. “It’s me!” you called out. “I found my husband!”

Tavington’s hold on you tightened. “Your hus—”

“Play along,” you hissed.

“Go ahead and approach, madam,” the soldier replied.

The horse trod forward, both of you rocking with its stride. Each hoofbeat knocked in your ears. Your hands felt slippery on the reins. You thanked the blessed God above that no one would be able to tell if it was rain or sweat.

“Your plans rival those of military generals in their brilliance,” Tavington whispered.

“There won’t be an issue so long as they don’t recognize you,” you replied. “But I suppose that massive head of yours begs remembrance.”

“Ah, yes, there’s the conduct I’d long desired in a wife.”

“Wonderful,” you growled. “Now shut. Up.”

The cavalryman adjusted his horse, fully blocking your way as you arrived at the other end of the crossing. If you were to ever count on a man’s tendency to underestimate you, it would be now.

“Please, let us through,” you said. “He’s injured, I need to get him back home.”

“So he is injured?” The cavalryman gestured toward one of the men on the ground. “Corporal, go ahead and take a look at—”

“Sergeant Fleming!”

The voice came from behind you. Craning around, you glimpsed a line of cavalry that had advanced to the foot of the bridge. Scanning briefly, you counted twenty. An officer rode ahead, sealing off the way you had come. Tavington’s fingers dug into the soft flesh of your belly.

The officer in front of you—Fleming, presumably—squinted past you through the rain. Then he raised a hand to hail the other horseman. “Captain Pearce! By God, you’re a sight for sore eyes, sir.”

The bridge began to knock with the rhythm of hooves crossing. Fleming, blinking as he once again noticed that you were present, shifted aside and waved you forward. Releasing a held breath, you rode past him and onto solid ground again. The road, however, was still choked with men. The corporal that Fleming had previously addressed approached your horse, moving to take her reins.

“No!” You jerked her head up and away from him, and he flinched in confusion before looking straight past you and addressing Tavington.

“Sir, we’ll have a look at your wounds here.” He stepped around toward the saddle. Both you and Tavington stiffened. “Come morning, we shall escort you back to your post.”

“Please, sir,” you said, casting your arm aside as if to shield Tavington from him. “We have supplies at home, he—”

“Would you mind telling us your name and commanding officer?” he said, again to Tavington. You blinked. “We’ll see that your wife is escorted home as well.”

Tavington shifted behind you, his voice ground between stone. “That will hardly be necessary, Corporal.”

The corporal frowned up at him. “If your wounds are too grievous, sir, perhaps leave can be approved…”

As they spoke, your attention floated to the cavalry now filing across the bridge. To the conversation between Fleming and Pearce as they met. Their voices were drowned by the rain and the river. All you could make out was what you could read on their lips.

British encampment… over three hundred… routed… don’t have the numbers for an engagement.

You squinted, studying them more closely.

…fall back… focus efforts… Camden… intelligence to General Gates… arrive next week with reinforcements…

“...Wilksburg company—”

Your attention snapped back to the corporal with a full-body jolt.

“—will be joining us in a matter of days with more militia, you’d need only hold out until then.”

The Wilksburg company? Here? But that would mean your father—

“I’m afraid my wife is rather insistent that I return home,” replied Tavington, sounding as if he were being forced to say it while dangling over a pit of eels. “You know how wives are, Corporal.”

Your teeth set.

“Indeed I do,” he said with a laugh, “However, I cannot abide desertion. We need every fit man—”

“Fit,” you spat, and the corporal looked at you with a start. “How about I cut you from stem to stern, Corporal? How fit might you feel when I’m finished, hm?”

The corporal opened his mouth, closed it again. Then found his voice under your glare. “Madam, I understand your distress—”

“You understand nothing,” you replied. “We will be going now.”

Your raised voice had drawn the attention of a few other men milling about. One of them paused, his eyes hovering on your horse, your tack, then narrowing as they raised to Tavington. Your heart leapt into your throat.

Below you, the corporal made another attempt to seize your horse’s reins. You yanked her head away from him, and a flare of waning patience threatened his face. The soldier who had stopped to regard you approached the corporal’s shoulder, leaned to whisper something in his ear. Tavington’s fingers burrowed into your hips. His mouth drifted to your ear.

“Move.”

You nudged the mare with your heels. The corporal leapt to intercept, his hand moving to the pistol at his belt. “Hold there. I’m going to need to ask you some questions, sir.”

“Go,” Tavington muttered.

“That’s him,” said another soldier.

“Go.”

“That’s Colonel Tavington!”

Tavington slammed his spurs into the horse. You squealed, launched forward.

With a crack of thunder, chaos burst like a dam. Men shouted, scrambled, sound and movement blurred in the rain. Your horse crashed through the corporal where he stood, trampling him into the mud. A voice cried somewhere above the cacophony.

“Halt! For God’s sake, halt! Stop them!”

The road was still swarming with men. Most parted like silk to scissors at the horse’s advance. Some, either too brave or too slow, fell beneath her hooves. Then the mass of men broke. The road lay ahead, a black, yawning tunnel. As if as one, you and Tavington both leaned forward, and the horse beneath you flattened out into a dead sprint.

Behind you, a rifle cracked. The rain whistled beside your ear, raising the hair on your nape. Hooves thundered in pursuit, and the demon on your back dug his claws into your hips, your belly, his breath ragged in your ear.

“You won’t outrun them,” he said.

“I know, just—” You swerved as a cavalryman advanced into your periphery, saber drawn. “Just try to stay out of the way.”

With that, you drove your shoulders back into Tavington’s chest, sinking into the saddle. He cursed, leaned back with you as the horse slid to a halt, gouging long slashes into the mud. Four cavalrymen shot past you, shouting as they wrested their mounts to a halt. Behind you, more fought their way through the thick web of foot soldiers to join the chase. But you were already moving, pivoting your horse like a dancer on her haunches and making for the cover of the trees.

Blackness swallowed you as you rode into the forest. Slowing to a trot, your eyes hunted for shapes in the dark, your legs shifting like rudders to steer around trunks as they loomed. A spear of lightning scattered shadows in your path. Behind you, brush crashed and cracked, horses squealed as they collided with trees and each other.

“Find them!” a man shouted.

Another voice: “This way!”

More grunting and shouting as men and horses alike flooded the trees, spread out in search.

You pressed straight on into the belly of the forest, slid down a steep bank, splashed through a swollen creek. The sounds of the blundering Continentals grew slowly fainter in your wake, their shouts increasingly desperate. The rain had soaked you through to your skin, and you shivered at its chill contrasted with the solar heat of the man pressed to your back.

Some delirious, danger-drunk part of your mind wondered, briefly, what he might do if you turned on the saddle and wound your legs around his waist.

You shook yourself sane. You still needed to be focusing on preventing your real deaths, instead of seeking a little one.

A glow poked through the trees. Blinking rain from your eyes, you squinted, and spied the forest’s edge silhouetted against open, stormy sky. Lightning illuminated a wide field that stretched up to a farmhouse, candlelight cradled in its windows. Your heart leapt with triumph. That meant you weren’t entirely lost in the backcountry.

You pushed into a canter again as you emerged from the forest, turning to follow along the field’s open edge. Presumably, you’d be able to find…

Yes.

A path divided the field, trailed down from the house and disappeared into the woods. Which meant the other end likely led out to the road. And if you were on this side of the road, traveling more or less parallel with it, that meant you had to be moving—

“Have you any idea where you’re going?” Tavington growled at your ear.

Your teeth locked together. “I do, in fact.”

“Oh, splendid.” You hated the way you could practically hear his eyes rolling in his skull. “Do continue to take your time, then.”

With a scoff, you thumped your heels into the horse’s sides. Then immediately regretted it when she spurted forward, forcing Tavington to seize you closer, a low grunt brushing your ear. Heat flooded your cheeks.

What had you been trying to determine?

South.

Yes, you were surely headed south. Would surely come across the camp soon. With any bloody luck, that was.

Your southward path carried you back into the forest, trees ticking past you like warped clock hands. On and on, until their shapes suddenly grew familiar. A slight left here, then curve around a thicket and ascend that ridge.

Rows of tents emerged from the darkness. You slowed the mare to a trot, bracing yourself on her neck as you arrived at the camp perimeter. If there had been danger before, it was gone now—the rain had scattered every soldier to shelter, the only evidence of the battle a brightly lit medic tent filled with bustling shadow.

Panting, you pulled to a stop, and Tavington’s hold on you loosened. Before you could turn, or even speak a word, he slid from behind you like a limp doll, dropping to the ground with questionable balance. He used the mare’s hindquarters as support, taking a deep breath before stumbling toward camp.

Your teeth ground together. If you’d ever known of a man more frustrating, you couldn’t name him. Grumbling, you threw yourself from the horse as thunder rumbled, following Tavington in a furious splashing haste.

“Colonel,” you said, “you’re injured.”

He said nothing, continuing to stalk toward his tent. The weight of water in your skirts slowed you, slapped to your skin like paste. You bunched the fabric above your knees, mud splattering your thighs as you marched after him.

“You must let me see your wounds.” When he was again silent, you continued, “At least let me check and make sure that you haven’t damaged anything vital.”

Without acknowledging anything you’d said, Tavington found his tent, whipped the flap aside, and allowed it to flutter closed between you. You stood, storm swallowing you, watching as candles flickered to life beyond the canvas. The fury you’d stomped into submission rose renewed, gnarled in your stomach, burned in your fists.

Responsibility had never been granted to you, or bestowed like a gift on your unworthy hands. You’d always encountered it, a stray on your doorstep, starving and seeking a master, and you had always, always taken it inside. Never had you been resented for discovering it. Never had you been begrudged for your charity until meeting William Tavington.

There was no way, after everything you’d done, that you’d allow him to lie down in his bed and bleed to death.

You stomped off, tromping through the rain toward the busy medic tent. You threw open the flap, greeted with a gust of warmth that would’ve been a relief if you hadn’t been halfway suffocated by the heavy fabric hanging off of you. Wounded men not occupied by pain glanced at your entrance before flopping back onto their beds. Lottie poked her head free from dressing a soldier’s abdomen and gasped in delight.

“Oh! Oh my goodness!” she cried out, waving you over. “There you are! Where have you been? I’m—we need your help over here!” She paused, scanning your sopping silhouette. “Oh, my. Where have you been?”

“Very sorry,” you said. “No time to talk right now.” You pursed your lips, trudging through the tent to find your suture kit. “Or help.”

She wilted. “But… What’s going on? Is everything all right?”

“Perfectly.” It wasn’t where you typically left it. Sighing, you turned one of the supply tables and found a pile of soaked jackets. The kit was probably under there. You started tossing the coats on the ground.

“Oh.” Lottie sucked in air through her teeth. “Ah, the mud…”

“Hm?” You continued to throw everything off the table. “Did you say ‘the mud’?”

“Um.” She paused. “Well, I wanted to perhaps prevent their—”

“There you are!” It had been buried under all that clothing. You grabbed it and gathered several bundles of bandages and lint under your arms before turning back to her. “Sorry, what was that?”

She offered a strained grin. “Nothing,” she said, before nodding toward you. “Where are you going?”

“Colonel Tavington is of a mind to die bathed in his own blood.” You turned, heading to exit the tent.

“Do you—” Lottie whinged. “Do you think you’ll be able to come back? To help? Once you’re finished?”

You nodded. “As soon as I can.”

“The colonel is all right?” called one of the men.

“If I have anything to say about it, he will be,” you called back, and darted into the rain.

You hunched over your supplies to keep them as dry as possible as you ran until you stopped at the foot of Tavington’s tent. The candle was still lit. There was no movement inside. You chewed on your lip.

“Colonel?” You waited. “Colonel Tavington?”

Lightning struck the sky, thunder followed. Why were you waiting for this bastard’s permission to save his stupid, worthless, stubborn, beautiful hide?

You flung the tent open. Tavington was laid in his bed on his back, his eyes closed, his hand on his forehead. At the sound of your entrance, a muscle in his jaw spasmed.

“Don’t bother,” you said, “I’m not leaving.”

“I believe our charade is at its end,” he said. “I require no more of your audacious excuse for aid.”

He was impossible. “Actually, I believe I am to thank for getting you here, and without further injury.”

“It was despite your rancor that we arrived here, not due to it,” he replied. “The shadow of a gallows inspires greater solace than your very name.”

You rolled your eyes, walking over to him.

“So hungry for lashes, are you?”

Grabbing a stool, you pulled it close to his bedside and sat down. An eye cracked open to watch you as you piled your supplies at the head of his bed.

“Sit up, Colonel.”

He stared at you.

“Please.”

A long moment passed as he held you in consideration, the rain pattering the top of the tent. Candlelight cast his face in dour shadow. He searched your expression, his focus wandering down, following your neck to your heaving chest and your eager hands, to the medical items pushed into his space. He glanced down at his stomach, rubbed his temple, and sighed.

“Very well,” he mumbled. He rolled to his side, baring his teeth as he pushed himself to sit. “Satisfied?”

You studied him. The rain had stained his shirt pink with blood, but new bright swatches bloomed since he’d laid down. It was so wet it was still transparent, still clinging to his shoulders, his arms, revealing the tightly laid muscle underneath.

It now became apparent to you that treating William Tavington would involve removing this shirt. It would involve touching parts of his body that you’d never imagined you’d actually ever get to touch. Your throat thickened, and you met his eyes.

“Yes.” You would be as composed as possible. “I need… your wounds. Access to them.”

He raised a brow. “You what?”

You shook your head. Composed. “I need access to your wounds, Colonel,” you said. “Could you remove your shirt? Or lift it.”

Tavington sat straight, pulling his shirt from his body and shoving it in your lap. You stared at it for a moment and threw it over the footboard of his bed before looking back at him. Your mouth dried.

He was so broad. His shoulders spanned wide over his powerful chest, the trunk that was his stomach. Patches of dark hair met in the center of his torso, trickled down to below the waistline of his trousers. You felt your head float for a moment before you regained control of yourself and focused.

Two. Three wounds. One was the bayonet wound from last week, which was thankfully healing fine, despite your lack of intervention. Two were new: a gash across his side and a slice underneath one of his pectorals. You could start at least with the stomach—it looked larger, more severe. Probably wouldn’t need suturing though. At least for now.

“Do you plan to stare at my wounds all evening?” he asked.

You huffed. “It’s called analysis,” you replied, as if you’d spent more time analyzing than you had staring. As you reached for the lint, your hands trembled. You inhaled in a bid to steady them.

Tavington clucked his tongue. “Losing your nerve?”

“No,” you said quickly, glaring at him. “Long evening.” Not necessarily a lie, since despite your physical response to him, he was still grating your patience. You grabbed a wad of lint and a roll of linen. “We’ll start with your stomach.”

Swallowing, you kept your attention on your hands and pressed the lint to his wound, packing it tight to soak the blood. Tavington’s abdomen tensed, he exhaled, but was otherwise stoic as you unfurled the bandage and began to wind it around his waist. You shifted to reach around his back, and as you moved, caught something colorful out of the corner of your sight. A book.

Il Principe - di Niccolò Machiavelli.

Your irritation with him vanished entirely in the wake of your curiosity. For some reason, you'd never imagined him as a reader. Nor as a speaker of more than one language. But you supposed you’d also never imagined him as an admirer of wildflowers, either. And a small bundle of those laid drying next to the book.

“You speak Italian?” You started wrapping the linen around a second time.

He sought your gaze. “Yes,” he replied, almost suspicious. “Why?”

“The Prince.” You nodded toward it. “In its original language.”

Tavington’s head tilted. You sensed him staring. “Yes.” He watched as you tore the bandage. “Italian, amongst others.”

“Which ones?”

It’d come out almost automatically. Warmth rushed your face, like you’d asked something about his sexual history rather than his linguistic one.

“Latin, French.” He paused, drawing in a slow breath as you tightened the wrapping around his stomach. “Greek.”

You huffed. “So they do teach something other than warfare at your pompous British academies.”

His lip curled, you thought, in a smirk. “I’m astonished that you even know how to read.”

“Yes,” you replied dryly, grabbing another handful of lint, “though it was difficult when all of our books were made of bark and all our pens were sharpened stones.”

“Ah,” he said. “And your schoolmasters? The wolves, I imagine?”

You bit your lip to stop yourself from laughing. Why was he making you laugh?

“The owls, actually.” You placed the lint against his chest, held it as you reached for another roll of bandage. His skin was warm, almost hot to the touch, and you found yourself wanting to linger, wanting to trace your way to his heartbeat. “Much more wise.”

“They must be, to introduce you to Machiavelli.”

“That was my own idea, actually.” You grinned proudly before glancing at him.

There was a disarming lack of malice in his gaze. More heat gathered in your cheeks. You picked up the second roll of linen and held it against his chest with one hand, rolling it around his torso with the other.

“Is he less cruel in Italian?”

Tavington’s attention flicked across your face. “Cruelty is a weighty criticism often levied against pragmatics.”

“A criticism.” With every inch of skin you touched, your tongue grew drier, your belly tighter. He seemed too close, too far. “It sounds as if you take that personally.”

“Of course.” He shifted, you thought—or imagined, or hoped—closer. Tipped into the hand putting pressure on his chest. “Would you not similarly dismiss such a comparison?”

“I…”

It was difficult to think. His proximity had become dizzying. Your head felt heavy with something greater than hunger, more primal than need. But even the most ravenous part of you knew: given your scheming, bargaining, and deception together? He was right.

“I suppose I would.”

“As I suspected,” he murmured. His voice brushed the depths of his throat. “The vicious creature cannot deny its own nature.”

A shiver ran to your thighs. “You really consider me vicious.”

You brought the bandage to your teeth and tore it in two. His chest rose and fell in a quiet breath.

“Utterly.”

Finishing with the dressing, you glanced up at him. His eyes devoured you.

“Were I truly so,” you breathed, “I would sunder all I touch.”

Despite your shaking hands, racing blood, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away. Couldn’t even take your hand from his chest. His skin felt like a wound under your touch—raw, hot, thrumming with his pulse. You held your breath, fingers skimming over his breast until you grazed the fine, dark hair, hovered over his pounding heart.

“Yet here you are, still whole.”

“Entirely.” Tavington leaned forward. Before you could retreat, he pinned your hand with his own, holding it to his chest. “I do not fear vicious things.”

His gaze dipped to your mouth. Your chin quivered. Your fingers curled against his sternum. Someone breathed—a short, sharp intake of air, punctuated by a clap of thunder—and he tugged you toward him, capturing your lips with his own.

Desire and panic flooded you with lockstep urgency. Your head spun with the rush, thoughts running from one into the other like spools of tangling thread.

He’s kissing you your first kiss he’s your first kiss his mouth is so soft and warm more more oh God if he wants more do you even know what you’re doing—

Tavington exhaled through his nose, pulling you closer, tilting to catch your mouth at a different angle. He tasted of rain, of salt, of storm. You found courage, this time, pressing yourself into the kiss, reveling in the glide of his lips on yours, the sensation cascading like fire to your cunt. Even if you’d never done this before, you’d allow instinct, your ever reliable mentor, to guide you.

You leaned closer, and Tavington adjusted again, one of his hands snaking around your waist to draw you in. You gasped at his touch, shivering. His tongue flicked into your parted mouth, earning from you a delighted, longing groan. It was an unfamiliar sound you’d never heard yourself make. The fabric of your dress seemed now too cold, too sticky on your warming skin.

He chuckled and pinched your lower lip between his teeth, releasing it in a deliciously painful drag before soothing it with the caress of his mouth. Whimpering into him, your free hand found his shoulder to steady yourself against the speed with which the world whirled around you. Tavington growled, grappling your hips to hoist you to a new seat on his lap.

You panted, grabbing both of his shoulders as you settled, instantly feeling the growing evidence of his desire grinding against your center. It tore a moan from your chest, made your eyes flutter, made your heart skip.

Tavington busied himself with your skirts, throwing them up your thighs to expose them. Cold skin was smothered by warm palms—he squeezed, groped at each inch revealed to the air. If you hadn’t been possessed by that ravenous ache before, you certainly were now.

So possessed were you, in fact, that it didn’t even occur to you that the man you were kissing was a British soldier, that he was still hunting your father, and that he would happily place all of you at the end of a hanging rope had he the evidence and ability. All that occurred to you, really, was how firm he felt underneath you, the heat of his chest against yours, the imprint of his fingers trailing closer to the crux of your thighs.

Tavington’s grip tightened, and he kissed you again, drove your pelvis downward, bucking his own to meet it. You gasped, nearly toppling over if not for his strength keeping you upright. Like a conductor, he led you in rhythm, rolling your hips together over, and over, the bulge of his arousal sparking pleasure from the little hill at your center with each beat.

You broke away, tossing your head back with a quiet groan. Tavington’s hand caught the back of your skull and steered you back to his lips, ravenous, parting your mouth with his own. A frenzy birthed within you to match him—your tongue melted against his—and he fisted your hair, his other hand clutching your jaw to hold you in place.

It hit you, then. William Tavington had wanted you.

“I was right, wasn’t I?” you mumbled against his mouth. “You would’ve taken me at Dorchester.”

Tavington held you fast. He avoided a response while he licked his way along your jawbone. “Is that right?” His teeth found your ear, worried the lobe. “On the contrary,” he breathed, voice wrought with need. “I believe you’ve taken advantage of my vulnerability.”

Gooseflesh erupted on your arms, your thighs. “Vulnerable, are you?” You slipped your hands down his back, smoothed over the ridges of his shoulder blades, painting a memory of his body. “No longer impervious to the temptations of whorish writhing?”

He huffed, catching your gaze. “You admit to tempting me?” His eyes glittered with amusement.

You snorted. “As if your pride needs the satisfaction.”

“My, my,” he said, craning your head to expose more of your neck. His tongue, then his teeth, found your pulse. “Rather irreverent for a girl on the precipice of satisfying far more than my pride.”

The implication made your cunt clench, and you exhaled in part-laughter, part-fear. Would Colonel William Tavington—the Butcher—really be the man to whom you gave your virginity? Could he even tell you still possessed it? Perhaps your age had earned you the presumption of more experience than you truly had.

With another jerk of his hips, his erection teased your swelling, throbbing cunt, and that more than halfway convinced you that none of that mattered. The thought of being able to see, touch, feel his cock inside of you was all the promise you needed.

“You seem confident about that,” you managed to murmur. “Pride.”

A low sound rumbled in his throat. He hooked his hands under your thighs and ripped you from his lap. With a grunt, he flipped you onto his bed, following to straddle you, his legs caging yours, his palms planted on either side of your head. Bathed in the flickering fire, he resembled the beast you’d pictured so many weeks prior—heaving, hungry, salivating.

Salivating for you.

Tavington’s gaze raked over your trembling body. A hand slid up your naked calf, teasing its way toward your inner thigh. “Almost appealing like this.”

A deep pulse in your core. “You are a complete bastard.”

“I hear no protest.” He settled between your legs, and his lips found yours.

You relaxed into his dampened sheets, a soft moan escaping you, your hands coasting around his bandaged torso and around to his back. Tavington deepened the kiss, a moan of his own echoing in his chest. One of his hands pawed your breasts, kneading them from over your bodice. A thumb ghosted over your already-firm nipple, and you squealed, back arching toward him.

His tongue glided into your mouth, hips beginning to rock into you again, again. The mimicry of the movement, the reality of his erection—hard, prodding your entrance beyond the barrier of clothing—spurred you to meet his urgency and throw yourself against him.

He groaned again, trapped your pelvis to the mattress with a brutal thrust. His cock was flush with your cunt, so close you felt it pulse inside his trousers, felt it throb at the suggestion of finally breaking you open.

Lust bewitched you. Your nails dug into his back, scraped down his spine, and he shuddered, shook above you before he snatched your wrists and tacked them above your head. He broke the kiss with a gasp.

“You,” he said, staring into your bewildered eyes, “are going to regret every attempt you’ve ever made to deceive me.” He gathered both wrists in one of his hands, while his other moved to clasp your throat. “I will ruin you so completely that neither another man nor another allegiance will tempt your errant cunt again.”

Your heart tripped over itself, unable to decide if it was exhilarated or terrified. Its beat split between your chest and thighs. You remembered his promise—the next time my hand seeks out your throat, it will be to pinch the life from your eyes—but when meeting his gaze, found nothing but manic, consuming lust.

You needed to tell him that you’d never done this before.

“Colonel—”

His grip on your neck tightened. “Colonel?” He lowered himself, chest flattening you to the bed. Lips skimmed your jaw, your ear. “William.”

“Colonel?” came the word again. This time, spoken from beyond the tent.

Both of your heads swung toward the flap. Tavington pushed himself onto his knees and seized your shoulders, flinging you in one swift movement from his bed straight into the ground. You smacked the damp dirt, groaning as your head swiveled like a wind vane in a storm.

What in God’s sweet, holy, unsullied heaven just happened?

“Colonel Tavington?” The voice sounded familiar. “Are you all right, sir?”

Tavington’s brow dropped, a deep sigh of frustration escaping him as he adjusted to sitting on the edge of his mattress. “Yes, Bordon.”

The tent peeled open a foot, and Bordon peeked through, his attention falling to your still-splayed form on the ground. “Um.” He looked between you and Tavington. “Sir?”

You blinked, still trying to orient yourself. “I…” You glanced down at yourself, then back to Bordon. “Fell.”

“Yes,” Tavington said. “Just as she'd finished treating me.”

“Slipped in the mud.” You forced a laugh, clambering to your feet. “But, ah. Yes, I’m finished. Finished treating Colonel Tavington now.”

Bordon’s eyebrow raised. “Very well, madam,” he said, clearly wondering, just as you were, why you were talking so much. “May I come in, sir?”

Another long, excessive exhale left Tavington. “You’ve already availed yourself of my privacy, Captain,” he said. “Why not avail yourself of my time?”

“Of course, sir.” He stepped into the tent, around you, his arms held behind his back. “I bring a report.”

You looked to Tavington. The guttering need in his eyes had been supplanted by indignation. Your own guttering need, however, was falling from your body like snakeskin and evolving into a sheath of horror.

What had you just been doing? Kissing, nearly bedding the colonel of the army seeking to destroy you and your family’s lives? Had you been so distracted, so divorced from your goals that you’d allowed yourself to be seduced by a murderer?

The realization doused your passion like rain to a torch. This could’ve resulted in you endangering your father’s life. Endangering Grace’s life, perhaps, too.

You were not only a fool—you were a capricious fool.

Bordon had begun to speak, but you ignored it all. Clearing your throat, you gathered your supplies in your arms, dismissing the cry from between your legs to stop this nonsense.

Stupid, stupid traitorous desire. That would be the last time you’d entertain its whims, the last time you’d allow it to rule your mind.

“Ah,” Tavington chided. “I believe we had one more matter of business.”

You scurried between them both and glanced back at him a final time. “No matters,” you replied, a bit too quickly. Straightening, you continued, “I’ve done all I can for you, sir. In fact, I need to leave. My responsibilities would see me to the medic tent.”

Tavington’s mouth twisted in a tiny, confused frown.

You bowed your head toward them both. “Captain. Colonel. Goodnight.”

The rain smacked your skin as you escaped into the night. There was no undoing what you’d done, but you needed to refocus. The medic tent was still lit. Perhaps Lottie still needed help. Perhaps you’d start there.

#william tavington #colonel tavington #colonel william tavington #jason isaacs #the patriot #fanfiction problems #playing soldier #writing this chapter made me have serious issues functioning in life

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rasenkaikyo · 1 month ago

Text

This contains elements of story from 7.1 and 7.2.

“Ah, Laz! Well, what d’you think?”

Lazuli had stepped into one of True Vue’s bars. As one of Solution Nine’s more popular districts with no small number of joints, there were plenty of calls of service for machinery from proprietors and patrons alike – especially for Air-Wheelers. In this case, many citizens preferred the human hand over automated systems wherever they could, and Lazuli had built her rapport accordingly.

The bartender, a purple-haired Eldite-Hyune, looked expectantly from behind the counter toward the blue-hued woman.

“Oh - All clear,” Lazuli replied with a dismissive wave. “The battery wasn’t making proper contact, so I just cleaned the nodes and swapped out some minor connectors - made sure the battery was well charged, for good measure. Your wheeler’s good to go.”

“Ha! That was it, huh? You’re good, alright. Come on – next one’s on me!”

And thus Lazuli took a seat at the counter while the barkeep poured her drink.

“The ‘Wicked Thunder’, Thy?” Lazuli smirked.

“That a problem? Sure supplanted the ‘Brewed Bomber’ as the customer favorite for a reason!” The barkeep grinned and handed Lazuli her glass.

Thy then sighed. “Really though, thanks as always, Laz. Probably would’ve handled that one had I the time, but I knew I could count on you. Best news I’ve gotten in a minute!”

Lazuli looked on as she had her first sip. “Rough time, lately?”

“You kidding me? I’ve been having hells of a time holding the line with how doom-and-gloom everyone’s been lately. Not that I can blame the lot of them but– hold on.

Oi! That’ll be enough for you, Natron. You can go now.”

Thy had abruptly pointed at a nearby Milalla patron stumbling to reach over the counter.

The patron in question cringed and fumbled to stay upright, clearly a little bit inebriated.

“I– but– hold on– but I–”

“Leave.” Thy gave a shallow but solid punch to the counter, her electrope fist threatening to dent the surface easily.

At that, the patron fell off his stool entirely. Upon staggering to his feet, he spewed.-- “BAH! Piss in your coffee, Thyone…” – then brushed himself off and went on his way out.

“...So anyroad, it’s a lot of that.” Thyone turned back toward Lazuli, who calmly continued to drink her Wicked Thunder.

“You’d think it would be great for me as I’m getting a surge in business, but so many of these poor sods faced some kinda trauma from that asshole king’s attack, and the regulators ain’t doing their cloud business anymore. Suddenly they have to deal with these feelings and they don’t know how.”

“And the bit with the Queen, too, I take it?” Lazuli pressed.

“Oh, yeah, that’s just mucking things up even more.” Thyone folded her arms in consternation. “You're telling me that Sphene came back with a new opportunity that only some of the people can even seize? Like, those new regulators are suspect as all get-out, given people with them seem to have forgotten Sphene died at all! And what in the godsdamn is an Endless, anyway?

“Ugh, utter rroneek-shit…” She shook her head.

Lazuli glanced around, curious if there were any patrons who had their attention turned to Thyone’s outburst.

“Yeah, you got that right…”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Lazuli strolled down the streets of True Vue, having departed from the bar – although not before Thyone vowed to pay for her next drink as well as apology for enduring her rant.

She understood the bartender’s frustration, all the same. She too – while helping other clients – had seen her fair share of people on the down and out over the loss and pain they were dealing with, and the conflict of information made it all the more vexing. The artificially pure air of Solution Nine was unnaturally tense, and it did not appear it would blow over soon.

It was when she started to make her way back to her own wheeler that something caught her eye.

On a bench, a man in black and yellow sat hunched, bereft. At his side, watching him intently was a woman with… horns?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“...I recently got his belongings from one of the ushers,” the man muttered. “I just… I don’t know what to do with any of this.”

He looked up with a furrowed brow. “I died in that attack, and my regulator saved me. Why did I have to go on and not him? And moreover, why do I have to remember?!”

Hinako frowned and took a moment of silence.

“Perhaps you can use your memory to honor him, and his memory. What did he like to do?”

The man’s expression softened. “I… painting. He was passionate about art. Hells, he was a fan of Sugar Riot at the Arcadion… he would convince me to make art with him, too. I never really felt I was good at it, but it was nice.”

“Art is a beautiful thing to be able to make,” Hinako said with a smile. “Quality is irrelevant. So maybe you can keep creating for his sake, and it will help you handle these feelings.”

“What good would it do to do the thing that reminds me of him the most, when he’s gone…?”

“No one’s ever gone. The soul, the spirit, carries on. He would see you happy, and perhaps art would make him happy, too. And keep him ever closer.”

The man let out a little gasp at that, looking at Hinako, and then away. “...Souls… oh, gods, our ways must seem like an abomination to you… yet you still take the time to offer me pity.”

Hinako’s smile seems a little sadder, as the man straightens up and reaches up to touch his regulator.

“What do you think about the things the Queen has been saying? About the neo-regulators and becoming Endless?”

“Mm…” Hinako thought about it… “I’m not sure I quite understand what it even means… but the claims of limited numbers strike me as coercive, and it sounds like an easy escape from reality. Too easy.

“Death is… frightening to have to confront, but to accept that it exists is the best way to know how to live.”

Hinako places a hand above her breast.

“Supposed constants have changed, but you deserve to be able to look forward to the future and find joy in it, as well as in the now. At your pace. It may take time to process that pain and that’s okay, too. Perhaps painting won’t be the way to go about it, either, but it is also an avenue worth considering for that first step.”

The man’s eyes widened before he shut them in reflection, getting to his feet… and then looking back to give his listener a small smile and nod.

“I see. Thank you, Hinako.”

She smiled back. “Kami keep you, Rizon.”

And she stayed at that bench for a moment as she watched the man leave. Until…

“...Hinako??”

The Auri woman turned to see an approaching Lazuli.

“Oh!"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“I have to say, this has taken quite a turn.”

Hinako smiled a little and nodded. After their chance encounter, Lazuli had invited her to catch up back at her apartment, where she had a change of clothes while Hinako got comfortable – Naturally, Hinako quietly stuck an ofuda at the door on their way in.

“Although,” Lazuli continued, grinning. “I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised. I did meet a friend of yours, already. Maelstrom Lieutenant Nivelth Ajuyn – or just Nive?”

Hinako’s eyes grew wide with awe. “Ha, really! …I guess that doesn’t surprise me much, either. Her drive for knowledge borders on ruthless, sometimes.”

“I can believe that,” Lazuli acknowledged, as she handed Hinako some tea in a Mosaic-style cup. “And what of you? I wasn’t sure if I’d see you in the dome, let alone here. You look great, by the way!”

Hinako scoffed as she took the tea – scanning it for a moment to understand how she was supposed to drink from it.

“Thank you… I’ve wished to gain further understanding of the state herein, and talk with the people… I’ve had no small number of little sessions with those still grieving events.”

“Just like you were doing in Tuliyollal.” Lazuli flopped in an armchair with her coffee. “You’re a good one, Hinako. What about Mozu?”

“Oh, I wasn’t sure about how well she’d fare around all of this lightning, given she leans toward the lightning element herself. We’re passing the time separately, for the moment.”

That wasn’t quite the truth, but it wasn’t necessarily a lie, either.

“That’s fair.” Lazuli reached over and grabbed a remote control, activating the holographic screen and projecting what appeared to be the Alexandrian news.

“What do you think about it all, anyway? Now that you’re here to see it yourself.”

“It’s… a lot,” Hinako said, as she gazed over at the screen and sipped her tea.

“What this society has accomplished through electrope is something to observe with curiosity and fascination… But the system that has been upheld with the regulators, the use of souls, I can never truly approve of.”

“Gods, yeah…” Lazuli took a drink of her coffee. “Damnable things… With all that’s happened lately, someday soon Alexandria will have to accept a life without the regulators… I hope.”

Lazuli sighed as she glanced at the news being streamed. “It’ll take them being receptive… As long as one has to live in fear of being struck by lightning outside of Everkeep, I can't expect it’s exactly easy to say ‘get rid of them’ either.”

“Whatever happens, they’ll have to, eventually. They simply can’t sustain themselves on the soul system. Especially not after the toll it’s collected from Tuliyollal and Alexandria.”

“You’re so right. What a mess of a situation, though.”

Silence hung in the air for a small moment as the two watched the holodisplay…

“By the way, what is that?”

Hinako had pointed out what appeared to be one of the Everkeep sentries just standing in the corner. Notably, however, it had been given a blue color scheme.

“Oh, that’s just Lapis. I took it off the streets after the king’s siege and repaired it. I figured, what’s the new baby-servant gonna do about it?”

Hinako could only laugh softly at that. It was very reminiscent of…

“Ah! Speaking of stealing,” Lazuli gestured with the hand holding the coffee. “How’s your company faring with that stolen electrope, anyway? Your Riskbreakers?”

“Eh?” Hinako stared at Lazuli. “What do you mean by that?”

“Hehe,” Lazuli leaned forward, cheekily. “Well, Nive mentioned it, after all. Plus the way she talked about you, I imagine you’re part of that outfit, no? I had to figure that more pressing matters brought you here than simply ingratiating yourself with the people.”

She then leaned back again. “Sorry, I don’t mean to presume, but…”

Hinako shook her head. “No, it’s all right. You got me there. But… I hope you understand that I’m really not at liberty to discuss it.”

“Gotcha…” Lazuli continued to sip her coffee. “That tight, huh. That’s on me, really. Just know this – if you need anything, I can work with you, too. With the graces of your boss or whatever, of course!

“The least I can do for you, Hinako, for helping me.” She shot Hinako a wink.

Hinako smiled wryly and nodded back.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

As she departed alone from Lazuli’s residential radius, Hinako couldn’t help but feel that some manner of eyes were upon her.

She looked and spotted one of those large, egg-like machines gently floating about but remaining affixed in her direction. Something she had recognized at that point as a camera.

And she leered with a raw intensity that could be felt from even behind her fox-like mask.

A slight gesture, and abruptly the camera plummeted like a rock, vanishing into the mist-ridden abyss below. Before it could even know what hit it.

Hinako continued on her way.

#ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #hyur #au ra #gposers #writing #screens #lazuli kaina #hinako daigo #the artificer #dawntrail spoilers

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emisprocrastinatingbywriting · 1 year ago

Text

Alone and Forsaken

Chapter 12 Summary:

Healing takes time and Joel has been making sure that you have tons of it. However, when something goes bump in the night, the bubble of security that he has carefully constructed pops. With the cabin out of the question, where will the two of you go? Fearing the two of you being stuck in the frozen wasteland, Joel wants to stay but you need to leave the place that's been trying to kill you for the majority of your life.

Warnings: Past Trauma, Healing From Some Pretty Intense Injuries, Joel and Reader Need a Hug, Soft!Joel, Arguments, Joel is a Nervous Wreck, Angst, Fluff, Confessions, Smut.

A/N:

Hello y'all! Sorry this update took me so long, I've been in Spain and then got lost - ended up spending a solid week in Albania but that's besides the point.

We are back! This chapter is all about healing, in every sense of the word. Joel is scared of losing you but you need to leave your childhood home. Mentions of the injuries that Joel and you have, as well as an attempt on Joel's life. Also, because both of you are feral for each other despite the injuries - SMUT!!! Although, there is a bit of awkwardness and self consciousness given both of your vulnerable states but the you work it out. Enjoy!

Chapter 12/20

Chapter 12: Healing & Hope

The next few days spent in your old home were awkward, to say the least. Joel’s instincts were in overdrive, making him spiral anytime you so much as moved a muscle. He spent his days coddling you, forcing medicine and food down your throat before he swiftly tucked you back into bed.

There were times when he would slip in beside you, holding you in his arms until you drifted off, but rarely did you wake up to him still in the room. It seemed like he was constantly finding reason to be out of the house, despite the fact that you were the only two in town. The memory of him distancing himself after you first met was fresh in your mind, leading you to believe that there was something that he was afraid of, something that you would have to tease out of him before he exploded.

His sleep had slightly improved, but you knew that he only slept as much as he needed to in order to keep going. It was worrisome watching Joel bend over backwards to care for you, especially since he himself was battered and bruised. Although, he was either a skilled actor or used to getting banged up pretty badly because the man showed nearly no sign of slowing down aside from the occasional grunt of pain.

The need to care for his injured mate was understandable, given the severity of some of your bruises. The first time Joel had managed to get the old generator going in the basement, he had helped you limp down the hall to fully wash the ash and dried blood from your body. After several discombobulated attempts to disrobe, he carefully undressed you in front of the long mirror that hung on the back of the door.

Shock didn’t even begin to cover what you felt at the sight of the bruises. The skin stretched over your ribs was a kaleidoscope of purples, blues, greens, and blacks. The bruising on your chest was extensive, spanning from your navel all the way to the handprints on your neck. Aside from that, there were small burn marks along the backs of your calves where the skin had been brushed by the flames. Staring into the mirror, a wave of nausea washed over you at the sight of all the damage.

It was only when Joel heard the beginnings of a muffled cry that his head had snapped up. Looking between the mirror and you, he had sighed and kissed at the backs of your teary eyes. You whimpered at the contact, scared of what he was going to say about the injuries. Although he was trying his best to hide it, you knew Joel was still angry with you over the attempt at self sacrifice but the fear of his rejection at such a vulnerable time was too much to bear.

“I’m so ugly,” you finally said, your voice barely a whisper as he lovingly doted upon you.

“Hush now honey, don’t say that. You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, honest,” Joel cooed, thick fingers cupping the back of your neck and pressing into the tense muscles until they relaxed.

You sniffed and shook your head, “Look at me. That’s a fucking lie and you know it. You’re only saying that because you have to.”

Joel vehemently shook his head. The lines in his forehead deepened while his big brown eyes were swimming in grief at the notion of him lying about such a thing. Two enormous hands cupped your face, softly brushing at your cheeks as Joel’s gaze turned buttery and sweet. It was insane how easily him looking at you could affect your mood. He looked at you like you were the air he breathed, like he would pull the stars from the sky just to see you smile, like he would tear off his own skin to keep you warm. It was intense but you relished it and you missed it desperately.

“I ain’t ever found no one as beautiful as you baby, that’s the god honest truth,” he paused, “Now, I know you’re upset about the bruises but they’ll go away. Just let me take care of ya and you’ll be back to your regular self in no time, I promise.”

You weren’t sure about “regular self”. The person you were before you left the cabin, or even the slightly more feral person you were in the time before Joel found you outside the chapel, was gone. The experience had reduced you to nothing more than Joel’s patient. There was no autonomy anymore. If you wanted to get up to walk around or even simply go to the bathroom, he had to help you.

Of course, he was more than happy to, nearly falling over at the chance to provide for you in any way, but it grated upon you to be unable to complete mundane tasks without his help. The first time Joel had tried to squeeze into the small bathroom down the hall while you peed, you had to basically shove him out into the hallway to retain a small semblance of dignity. Even still, you had felt his presence inches from the door the entire time. Which, given the fact that you clung to him like a koala for most of the day, you didn’t mind but you were still wary of him being involved in your time in bathroom tasks.

While your body slowly mended itself, your self confidence remained low. Whether it be from a nightmare, a flash of an uncomfortable memory, or simply finding Joel missing from his side of the bed when you woke, the tears that forced their way out of your eyes were a constant reminder that everything was in fact, not fine. Joel took it like a champ, either comforting or distracting you until the storm passed, but you constantly worried about how tiring it must be for him to have to disable so many ticking time bombs each day.

When Joel had eased you into the first tepid pool of soapy water, careful not to let your shaky legs sweep out from under you, it was supposed to be a peaceful moment. Or at least he had tried his best to market it as such when he pulled you from the confines of your bed. He had managed to find some expired yet salvageable bubbles amongst the remainder of your mother’s things but after he soothed your tears about your bruises, you couldn’t stand the small separation of the cream colored acrylic wall.

Over and over, Joel had tried to assure you that it was okay to be separated by the walls of the tub and that he would help you wash from mere inches away. He insisted he wasn’t going anywhere, but it didn’t help. After more tears and unintelligible pleas, you finally convinced him to get into the water.

With a dramatic sigh, Joel began to undress. He had tried to hide the worst from you, turning to the side so that the view of his back and left side of his body was obscured, but you clocked the damage immediately. The fact that Joel thought he could hide it from you was ridiculous. As if you wouldn’t notice the damage on the body that you had mapped out countless times before.

Angry bruises covered one side of his body, as did his back. There were other bruises here and there, like the ones on his face that had quickly faded into an increasingly lighter shade of green or the more tender spots on the back of his head or neck, but his spine and side had suffered the greatest. His injuries were almost as bad as your own, making guilt bubble up from deep within your soul for allowing him to baby you for days on end.

“Baby,” you gasped with fresh tears already forming.

Joel shook his head, looking almost bashful as he stepped into the tub. With a groan, he slowly lowered himself down into the water. The space was smaller than the cast iron beauty waiting back at the cabin, forcing Joel to bend his knees in order to fit behind you, but he made it work. He didn’t say anything about your reaction, just slowly began to scrub the filth caked onto your skin.

His eyes met yours when you turned, making you smile despite the grumpiness that darkened his features. For a second, you didn’t know exactly what to say to him. If you tried to apologize or barter with him about him taking time to rest, he would be quick to shoo you away. Nevertheless, the pink that dusted his cheekbones from you simply looking at his nude form needed to be addressed.

“You’re pretty too Joel. They’ll go away and you’ll be back to your regular self. Maybe even a bit sooner if you stopped to rest every now and again,” you murmured, reaching your good hand back to scratch at the overgrown beard he was sporting.

The soft pink that glowed over the highs of his cheekbones and the tips of his ears darkened, making Joel appear almost boyish as he tried to muscle down his reaction to your flattery. He shook his head quickly, trying to urge you back into position but you stopped him. Joel Miller was not one for compliments, you understood that, but you needed him to hear this.

“I’m serious, baby. They’re rough lookin’ right now but with some rest, they’ll heal pretty quickly. You’ll be back to smoking hot in no time. Well, I mean you’re smoking hot now but maybe in just a less wounded warrior type of way and more in your usual rugged southerner sort of way, ya know,” you joked.

A soft chuckle from him had made you smile, accompanied by a stern yet playfully gruff plea of, “Would you shut up and let me finish please.”

Having Joel joke around and allow you to push his buttons made you feel some sense of normalcy, despite the circumstance. Given everything that had happened in the past week, you called the chuckle a win. It had even deluded you into thinking he might begin to soften, maybe even stay in bed with you for the entire night sometime soon, but you were mistaken. Instead, every night Joel tucked himself behind you for a couple hours until he was sure that you were in a deep sleep, then he ran off to do whatever it was he did at night. It was maddening.

With every day, you were building up strength piece by piece but still weren’t strong enough to follow him outside for extended periods of times. After the bath you had taken with Joel, it took another day for you to even limp to the bathroom without his help. Simply throwing on a coat and following him out into the frosty air was out of the question, especially with the snow that had accumulated during your stay. Trudging for long periods of time through the frozen mess was simply not feasible for the both of you.

Nevertheless, your mobility was challenged on the tenth night spent at your childhood home when three shots rang out in the stillness of the brisk air. Bewildered as you tried to figure out whether the noise had simply bled into real life from your dreams or not, you looked around for a possible source. When Joel wasn’t at your side, your heart clenched and you waited a few seconds until a fourth shot burst through one of the windows in the front of the house.

Before another could ring out, you quickly jumped from the bed, injuries be damned. It wasn’t that you couldn’t feel the aches in your bones, it was the fact that Joel wasn’t beside you that had a sense of urgency bubbling up from within. The fear of losing him was beginning to feel like some sick joke, with the same shit seeming to unfold in front of you time after time to keep the two of you apart. A lump formed in your throat as you neared the front door. If Joel was taken by someone again, you weren’t sure it was in the cards for you to chase after him.

Carefully, you pushed open the door in time to see Joel standing in the snow with a gun in his hand. He was dressed in just his dark jeans and a coat, his shirt having been abandoned when he slipped into bed earlier that evening. Looking down, you noticed the boots he wore were undone and numbly wondered if the snow leaking through the tongues of them were freezing his sockless toes.

The wind howled through the street, kicking up the most recent layer of flurries so that they danced around his figure as he squinted into the distance. Despite the fact that he never wore them unless it was necessary, you could tell he had been missing the chunky glasses that had a permanent spot on his bedside table. Joel’s nose scrunched up as he strained to see further into the night and you had to fight the urge to tell him how cute he looked. Now was not the time.

“Joel? Baby? What are you doing?,” you called out to him.

His body turned instantly, mouth opening to respond before he was cut off by another shot. The bullet whizzed right past him, tearing through the air where he had been standing just moments before. You screamed, covering your mouth with both hands as he whirled around and lifted the gun with practiced ease.

Time slowed down as you stumbled out of the house, ignoring the way the snow bit at your feet as you trudged towards him. A voice yelled something in the distance before it was cut off, Joel’s bullet tearing through whoever it belonged to. Another shot whizzed past your head but he was too quick, his movements smooth as he shifted his stance and fired once more. After his last shot, silence blanketed the entirety of the area. Nothing but the sound of the wind and your quiet huffs of exertion filled the night.

“Joel,” you called again.

He didn’t answer, too busy staring off into the night in search of any other possible enemies. It was like you weren’t even there with his mind too scattered at the thought of an unknown threat lurking in the shadows. When Joel’s soured scent drifted over to you across the icy terrain, you began to walk faster.

The moment that first bullet missed Joel by a fraction of a second, it was like you had come to life once more. Adrenaline pumped through your veins, narrowing your focus to him and only him. If he was out here fighting, there was no way you would let him fight on his own. To lose him again and to admit defeat after surviving so much was unthinkable.

Joel turned to you just as you reached him, swearing as he stuffed the gun down into his pants and quickly lifted you from the frozen ground. After gathering you in his arms, he practically sprinted back into the house.

You tried to protest, first to his manhandling and then to his scolding but it was like talking to a brick wall. He rambled on about the cold, your safety, the need for rest, declaring that anything other than sleep was simply not in the cards for you. As Joel carried you towards the bedroom, you grew increasingly irritated until you finally snapped.

“Joel! Can you stop talking for two seconds and put me the fuck down?!,” you demanded.

He stopped in place, looking down at you with a strange expression before he marched into the bedroom. Despite your weak escape attempts, Joel dumped you onto the bed without breaking a sweat. You flopped back against the old mattress with a groan, your wrapped wrist aching from the way it smacked against the bedside table. By the time you managed to slowly prop yourself up again, Joel had already begun to leave without any explanation. That pissed you off even more.

“HEY!,” you shouted.

The muscles in his back tightened at the tone of your voice, shoulders rising in defense as he whirled back around. His face was crumpled in a scowl. Heavy eye bags easily complimented the brooding look that sharpened his features. Joel waited, crossing his arms over his chest as he cocked his eyebrow along with his hip. His stance was a dare to try him on his previous statements, as if he didn’t already know that you would fight him on it.

“Are you just not going to say anything? What the fuck was that? Who are those people?,” you asked incredulously.

The hinge of Joel’s jaw worked hard as he ground his back molars into nubs. You resisted the urge to wince, knowing that a migraine would be gathering in his skull from the tension. However, if he thought that HE was frustrated, you were practically breathing fire as he stood before you in complete silence. Exasperated, you threw your hands up in the air and waited for any sign that Joel was even listening.

He cleared his throat, “Just some stragglers passing through, wanted some supplies and things got sticky. S’all it is honey.”

You scoffed.

Joel was lying. It was as clear as day to you. From the moment he had found you stuffing his expired chocolate in your mouth by the handful, Joel’s eyes were constantly trained on you. It only got worse after you were mated, with him suddenly given the free pass to gawk as much as he liked.

The fact that he stared at you so openly and so frequently meant that you were keenly aware of when he was looking elsewhere. As you stood before him, those beautiful eyes that held you so softly in their gaze were looking anywhere but towards you. There was not a single doubt in your mind that Joel was lying.

“Tell me the truth.”

He sucked his teeth, “That IS the truth.”

“Then why are you itchin to go out there and check?” you grilled him.

The awkward silence that filled the space after the question spoke volumes. Caught red handed, Joel shuffled his feet and looked out the window instead of meeting your eye. The silence stretched on and anger bubbled up from deep inside of you, soon morphing into hot tears of frustration.

When Joel finally glanced at you from the periphery of his vision, he winced and marched towards your bedside. He tried to soothe you, with one of his hands coming up to brush off the moisture that rolled down your cheeks, but you slapped it away.

“Stop it! No! Tell me what the fuck is going on right now!,” you yelled at him.

Joel paused, hand falling to hang limp at his side as he tried and failed to think of another lie. You watched as he brainstormed some elaborate fib that would make up for his erratic behavior and shooting a stranger in the street.

“If you lie to me again, I will walk out of this house and straight into the woods myself. If there’s really nothing out there, then I have nothing to worry about. Right?,” you warned him.

He sucked in a breath, his eyes finally meeting yours in a fiery battle for dominance as both of you waited for the other one to crack under the pressure. To your amusement and his dismay, it was Joel that broke first.

“You wouldn’t fucking dare,” he snapped, his tone accusatory while his eyes were pleading with you to not go through with the threat.

Squaring your shoulders, you smiled, “I think we both know that I fucking would. Now, how about you tell your mate what the fuck is going on before she goes out there to deal with it herself, hm?”

He glared at you, his eyes growing dark at the thought of it. You matched his energy, squaring your shoulders too so that you could glare back at him properly. After a few moments of this, he broke again. He had no other choice.

“The night after I found ya, it was real quiet. But after that, they started coming. At first it was just two, then the next day three, then nobody for two days after you woke up, then five since then, they just keep coming,” he explained.

“Who are they? What do they want?”

Joel scratched at the back of his neck, “Uh, well… Darling, I know you haven’t said much about the church but I assume Paul is a goner.”

You scowled at the reminder of the person you were actively trying to not to think about. His hands were still imprinted around your neck in varying hues, making you unable to forget about him despite your best attempts. Even without the handprints, Paul’s presence was like a poison that seeped into everything from dreams to the vague feeling of awkwardness when Joel’s hand accidentally brushed past one of your injuries.

“And I mean, that’s great! That’s a uh… Well, m’glad you got to do that,” he offered, scrambling to save the conversation before you got even more upset.

The urge to roll your eyes was strong. Of course you knew that Joel wouldn’t be particularly upset about the killing aspect of your rescue mission, his ledger was likely ten times redder than yours. Still, you held back. The reassurance was sort of sweet, although it was slightly awkward and forced.

“Okay, so I killed him and a lot of other people. So what?” you chuckled.

It was amusing to witness his attempts at accepting your murder spree, especially its main star. Of course, Joel was no one to judge when it came to killing so you knew it wasn’t necessarily judgment per se but you could see his discomfort in the notion of you having to protect yourself. There was some innate part of Joel that was convinced that he had to be responsible for every part of your security that was likely telling him that he was bad for not being able to provide.

“Uh, so those people he was with clearly liked him enough to follow him. And those people well, I mean, they had people too so… Let’s just say, you’ve got some fans darling,” Joel said.

In the quest to save Joel, and later yourself, you had never once considered that these assholes might have had people that actually cared about them. Given the general pigheadedness of the group, that seemed a bit ridiculous. Who would care for these assholes? Other assholes probably, you thought to yourself.

“What do they want? Me?,” you questioned.

He nodded, “Me too. I sorta, well I mean, I had help but I maybe had a bit of a prison break with some friends of yours. They let the prisoners out and then a horde came. The whole place went down in minutes so they aren’t fans of me either honey.”

You smiled weakly, giving a shaky thumbs up as you said, “Perfect match then.”

Joel laughed, some of the tension dissipating as he murmured back, “The perfect-est.”

The corny sentiment made you chuckle alongside him for a moment before the air grew tense as the laughter tapered off into silence. Just then, a thought struck you.

“Wait… What friends? You said you talked to Cooper, did you see anybody else?”

Joel nodded solemnly, sighing as he moved towards the bed. The mattress dipped as he sat down on the edge, close enough that he could grab your hands with his own. Joel kissed the backs of them softly before he squeezed them and began the story.

He told you everything, from being knocked out at the river, to meeting Jake and being comforted by the similarities you shared, to his first round in the arena. You tried to imagine how he managed to survive that place, with the constant killing and despair but came up empty. The story itself was heart wrenching however, when he began to explain his last stint in the pit you were shocked to hear who he had met there.

“My… My fucking mom was there?,” you asked.

“Yeah, she… She was there for a while, I think he might’ve had her this whole time. I don’t know really, she didn’t talk much about anything except for making me mind my manners. Don’t think she liked me much, but she was asking about ya,” Joel stammered.

She had asked about you? The thought of her doing such a thing was so bizarre that you would have laughed if it wasn’t all so damned depressing. From the moment your father died, she had been nothing but diminishing and controlling. Constantly monitoring your every move and change in behavior, while allowing herself to become a shell of what she once was; she was everything you hoped to never be. And she had asked about you.

Rich, you thought to yourself.

You could still feel the pinches she gave to the softer parts of your body as they grew, reminding you of every way in which you should change to acquire a worthy mate. The feeling of her slapping your face if you asked a question too risque was still fresh, along with the pain of being the only teen not allowed to socialize with the others.

“Did you kill her?,” you asked casually.

Joel guffawed, “What? No! Of course not. Jesus fucking Christ, I wouldn’t do that to ya baby.”

Absent-mindedly, you shrugged, “If it was between seeing you again or killing your mom, I’d probably kill your mom.”

His mouth popped open. The surprise on his face was palpable as violently shook his head, like he was trying to erase your statement from his memory altogether. Finally Joel stopped, pausing before he laughed.

“I just - fuck - you know what? I’m not even gonna go there with you right now honey because she’s been dead for damn near 30 years. Just know, I didn’t kill your mama. I just seen her there and we got out together. S’all I’m tryna say,” he replied.

For the year that you were on the run, followed up by the time at the cabin, you had believed that your mother was dead. A part of you had mourned the mother that you had as a child but there was a larger part that knew that the woman that slow danced with your father in the kitchen by night and ruled the courtroom by day was gone. She had died upon the death of her mate, only to be replaced by a ghost that haunted all of the most memorable years of your life.

“What did you think of her?”

The question came out of your mouth before you could stop it. Dread filled your chest, making it heavy as you kicked yourself for asking it. She was a hard woman with a sharp tongue that could make the most lively flowers wilt in her presence. To ask Joel what he thought was basically asking him to lie to his mate about her mother, it wasn’t fair.

“She’s uh… Interesting. Very headstrong and opinionated but I could tell she had been through uh, well it looked like they had put her through a lot,” Joel explained nervously.

You scooted closer to him, “Put her through a lot? Like Jake? Did they beat her too?”

He shook his head, a dark look coming over his face as he tried to think of the right words. It didn’t matter, you knew what the answer was before he said it. Unfortunately, knowing did nothing to ease the sting of hearing it.

“They had the arena for us but for the omegas, they had a separate place to… Well, to use em how they please. That’s where they had her. She was pretty banged up when I saw her but she got out with us. I left her with Jake and Cooper. Gave ‘em instructions on how to get to Jackson.”

Dread filled your gut, weighing it down until bile rose in your throat. Despite the psychological torture and neglect she had subjected you to, there was no part of you that would have wished that on her. Or anyone, for that matter. If you could, you’d raise Paul from the dead just to kill him again for shoving her in some shoddy brothel filled with other poor souls.

“I’m sorry. I needed to get here, I couldn’t bring her with me. Or any of them. All of them were banged up. Jake had just got his pup back and there was NO WAY Cooper was going to leave his family. I had to leave them so I could get to ya baby, m’sorry,” he babbled.

You shook your head, “No, no, you did the right thing. She’ll be… I don’t know, alive I guess. Probably not fine but… she’s alive so that’s… yeah.”

Joel squeezed your hand and you uncrossed your legs, scooching over until you could lean your head on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around you, pressing a kiss onto the crown of your head as you snuggled into his chest. The room was quiet again as you melted into his firm body, allowing the heat of it to soothe your anxious thoughts.

“So, what now? We have to get out of here, right? They are just gonna keep coming if they’re anything like Paul,” you asked.

He sighed, “Yeah, I’ve been trying to prolong our stay a bit.”

“Why? This place sucks, I don’t want to stay here. Why can’t we just go home? We could take some supplies and the car and just-”

Joel interjected, “That wouldn’t work though darling. These men know ‘bout our place. We need to wait a bit, just until this blows over and then we’ll go back. Might be some time before that happens, but we’ll make this place home for now.”

“Ok, fine. No going home, got it, but we have to get out of here. We can’t keep fighting them off, I’m too weak and you are only one person. We need to go, don’t you see that?,” you insisted.

An exasperated sigh came from him, making you roll your eyes at the rebuttal he had before it even came. The sight of your annoyance made him scowl.

“And where, pray tell, do you propose we go? Do you have any idea what’s out there?” Joel snarled.

You guffawed, “Do I fucking know what’s out here? HA! Last time I checked, I was the one who DIDN’T get kidnapped. I was the one that took down the majority of Paul’s alphas ALONE, while you sat in a cell. I was the one that directed the horde towards the camp. And I was the one that killed Paul. Not you, me.”

The second the harsh words reached their target you regretted them. Joel’s face dropped and guilt thickened the lining of your throat, as you were sure they were pulling at his heart strings. You knew that what you said wasn’t fair, but the babying was beginning to feel like belittlement. His nostrils flared as he glowered at you, the fury on his face almost covering the hurt that lingered in his eyes.

“Well, I’m sorry you feel that way baby but that don’t change nothing,” he said, his southern twang coming out and slurring his words together.

Joel clicked his tongue and met your gaze as he hissed, “You ain’t going nowhere ‘till I know that it’s safe and that’s all there is to it honey.”

You resisted the urge to back down at the sound of your alpha’s command. Shoving down the biological instincts that typically ruled your kind, you gave him the most withering look you could muster.

“What are you going to do? Tie me to the bed like some kept omega? Let me out for special occasions? Because if that’s your plan, that sucks and I won’t be partaking in it. Thanks anyways though,” you said, the sass evident in your voice as you glared at him.

Joel groaned, “Could you just listen to me? For once?! If you have a better idea, then fucking say it but if not, we stay. It’s as simple as that. I ain’t dragging your beaten up ass, or mine, out of here just to freeze to death. We live for eachother, we already agreed on it.”

The urge to argue with him was strong but you shoved it down as tears brewed in the corners of your eyes. The reminder of the promise, along with the realization that the both of you had nowhere to go forced a terrified whimper from your lips. Any fallacies you had dreamt up about returning to your shared home for a lifetime of peace during the past few days were dashed in an instant.

The walls began to feel like they were closing in. Your rib cage suddenly tightened around your lungs as they tried to suck in air, making your heart begin to pound in your chest hard. Paul was dead. He was dead and Joel was right in front of you. Those two facts had become your mantra and you repeated them over and over in hopes that your body would begin to believe them.

“We need to leave here but we can’t get out - oh my fuck god, Joel! We can’t stay here,” you said through shaky breaths.

Joel straightened up, turning so that he could pluck your head from his shoulder. You whined but it was cut off when he manhandled you so that you were in his lap facing him. The look on his face was loving, yet slightly crumpled along the edges with exhaustion.

He needed sleep and you needed him to be at your side. Neither of these tasks could be accomplished in the mausoleum of a house. Every moment within its haunted halls felt as though it sucked another year off of your time sheet and Joel was growing more anxious at your moods. He could sense the storm that was brewing and it had taken a while but finally, you had broken down.

“I’m sorry baby. I didn’t mean what I said at all, I swear. This place, it’s just…” you cried.

He sighed and nodded, “I understand darling. S’okay, we’re okay.”

Joel’s hand came up, brushing the hair from your face before he dug his fingers into the mussed strands to scratch at your scalp. His other hand reached forward snake under your shirt, rubbing careful circles into your hip until you hummed and slouched into him. Diving face first into his chest, you rubbed your face across his pecs before you moved to snuffle at his neck.

It was obvious that he was trying to distract you so he could go back to whatever task he had given himself. The way Joel so carefully eased all the stress from your muscles, pulling you into a meditative state, was down to a science at this point. In seconds, you were a pile of goo but two could play at that game.

With the softest pressure possible, you moved your face to start a loving trail up and down the column of throat. Kissing all the way down to the collar of his jacket before making your way back up to his mark, you made sure to give extra attention to the sensitive area each time. When Joel finally groaned, releasing all the pent up stress from his body in a long sigh, you knew you had him.

“Baby, we can’t stay here. We gotta go. Maybe not to the cabin, but they are just going to keep coming until they get what they want. You can’t stay awake forever,” you murmured against the warm spot under his ear, breathing in his spicy aroma as you nibbled on the skin.

“Fuck baby, I uh… Well, we can’t. You just got up and moving, I’m not ready to risk you out there in the - shiiit,” he shakily replied, stopping again when you bit down with more pressure.

Despite your best attempts at keeping everything innocent and loving, you couldn’t help the way warmth gathered in your core at the sound of his strained panting. With the bruises and aches still present throughout your body, Joel’s touch had remained completely PG. If you were a stronger woman, perhaps that would have been fine. After all, you had almost died just a week earlier. However, as it turns out, even a near death experience and multiple unhealed injuries couldn’t stop you from wanting to jump his bones.

The tension in the room rose as you bit him again, this time directly over the mark you made on him. The pressure made him groan almost pornographically, his hips jolting subconsciously beneath you. The air grew hotter with each moment, sweat gathering in between your bodies until your mouth was torn from the hollow of his throat.

Joel’s eyes were blown wide, with the brown pools shrunk into small slivers around an ocean of black. His gaze was fiery, a combination of lingering anger and sexual frustration reddening the highs of his cheeks. Nevertheless, the bulge that poked against your ass with every slight shift of the hips made it hard to take him seriously.

“The hell are you doing?” he snapped.

The words started off harsh but turned breathy near the end as you rolled your hips against him. When none of your injuries protested at the movement, you ground down harder, pulling a curse from Joel’s pursed lips as he moved to still your movements. With a pained voice, he tried desperately to reason with you.

“Baby, we can’t do that right now. There’s still a lot to talk about and you aren’t in the right shape to be - ha, oh my f-”

The fire between your legs was muddying your thoughts, making you desperate for him as you ripped his hands from your hips and laced your fingers with his. While Joel tried hopelessly to keep his tone steady, you swiveled until the fly in his crotch rubbed against your throbbing clit. Slick poured from your entrance, dampening the fabric of your panties and creating a wet spot on his pants as he panted beneath you.

“You spend all day trying to distract me, trying to care for me without letting me ask questions because you think it might upset me,” you moaned as his cock twitched against the seam of his jeans, “Now when I actually want you to distract me, suddenly it’s time to talk?”

The condescending tone in your voice riled Joel up, you could see it in the way his hips lifted absentmindedly to chase the warmth of your covered core. Your scent mixed with his in the air, driving the both of you crazy as the room grew hotter and hotter. Just as it felt like you might have won, with Joel’s face beet red and his cock straining against the confines of his jeans, you were gasping as he flipped the both of you over.

“No,” he barked.

And just like that, the bubble that had surrounded the two of you popped. All that was left was the way your ears rang from the coldness in his voice. Every bit of self consciousness returned with a fervor, making you whimper beneath him as he glared down at you. The tears started to fall in fat globs, leaving wet trails down your face and dampening the sheets.

Of course Joel wouldn’t want you. With the bruises discoloring your skin and your sudden need to always be around him, he was probably sickened. You choked on the realization that he wasn’t attracted to you like this. It was so stupid, Joel would be back to fucking you once you were healed. And logically, you knew that he was just trying to be gentlemanly and care for his injured mate but it didn’t matter. There was no logic to be had when it came to a jilted lover.

It was the way Joel reacted that felt like a rejection. The feeling of rejection was not unusual for you, but this was different. Fears about him thinking you were ugly, about him not wanting to touch you in fear that any remanence of the other alpha remained, about him never being able to bring himself to be intimate with you again because of everything, all clouded any rationality that remained.

“Hey, no sweet girl, hush. We just - I can’t… I just really think that in your state, it’s not a good idea but maybe we could…” he stopped, his face getting even redder than before.

You sniffed, wiping the snot and tears from your face until you looked semi presentable once more. Joel smiled as your vision cleared, cooing as you nuzzled the hand that wiped off the remaining mess. He let you breathe for a moment, waiting patiently for you to come back from the spiral as he continued to brush his hands over your skin as lovingly as he could.

“We could?,” you finally ventured quietly.

He paused and swallowed, eyes flitting to stare at the baggy shirt he had dressed you in. Blush spread out from his cheeks, reddening the tops of his ears and splotching down the side of his neck. Joel coughed, clearing his throat gruffly before he looked back at you.

“Listen darling, m’not so keen on being with you like that when you’re hurt. It makes me feel like… I just don’t want you in pain, okay? If I hurt you ever, it would just kill me,” he admitted.

You sighed petulantly, “Joel, you aren’t going to hurt me. I feel better than I have in days just fuck m-”

Joel leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours, silencing your requests with one hard kiss. He was holding back, but he still made sure to use just enough pressure to make you feel the desire he felt. More slick dripped from your core, making your legs glisten as you squirmed beneath him. By the time Joel finally pulled away, the both of you already looked fucked out. It had been too long since either of you had each other.

“I’m not going to fuck you,” Joel reaffirmed, giving you a look as you began to protest before he continued, “You’re in bad shape and I ain’t much better, it’d just hurt us more than anything honey but…”

You blinked, wrapping your legs around him in a way that had him pinching his eyes closed as you asked sweetly, “But what daddy?”

Joel growled at the obvious trap, snatching your chin in between his thick fingers so that your eyes were forced to meet his own. The expression on his face was somewhere between desperate and pointed. The need to provide for you, in this case to provide a biological duty that was ingrained into his very being, was at odds with his need to protect. Despite his chivalric restraint, he was just a man with a cock that ached to be buried deep inside of your silken walls.

“You are a minx darling, you know that? S’good at riling me up, aren’t ya?” he grunted as you ignored the ache in your calves to use them to pull his hips until they were molded to yours.

“Me? No, I would never,” you giggled.

Joel laughed alongside you, his body jostling against your own. He sighed and rolled off of you, hissing at the feeling of his bruised spine bouncing against the old mattress. Since the bath you had taken with him, the bruises had grown lighter and the edges had even began to fade entirely but the reminder of his fall into the wretched torture ring Paul concocted was still there.

“Damnit baby, I swear that I want to. But I ain’t up for it with my back and you aren’t either,” he breathed out.

You groaned but nodded, feeling how the aches in your body almost surpassed the throbbing in your core. If Joel were to press himself into you, or if you were somehow able to sink down onto his thick length, there was a solid chance that it would only end in frustration and pain for both parties. Of course, you were still willing to try but you also respected his decision to opt out of it. Luckily, Joel had a compromise.

“Let’s do something else, hm? Why don’t you get comfortable right here beside me, shimmy off those PJs and show me how much you missed this cock baby,” Joel taunted, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

The moment your brain fully soaked in the request, you were nodding quickly and moving to undress. He chuckled darkly, kissing you once on the cheek before he backed away and turned on his side. Looking down at you with darkened eyes, your face grew hot as you carefully slipped the PJs from your body.

If he minded the way your skin was still discolored and puffy, he didn’t say a word. Instead, Joel carefully pulled his pants down and kicked them away. His cock was steadily dripping precum, which he used to ease the glide of his hand as he began to steadily stroke up and down. Your mouth watered and without even realizing it, you were reaching forward to grab it.

“Easy there honey,” Joel huskily chuckled as he batted your hand away, “Thought you were gonna give me a show.”

There was a part of you that wanted to whine at the fact that you couldn’t touch him but it was dwarfed the heat that gathered between your legs. Pushing away any hesitation, you skimmed down the valley of your breasts and stopped to touch your nipples. Joel’s eyes turned dark as he watched the way you squirmed and moaned at the bolts of electricity that ran throughout your body.

“Yeah, just like that darling. Good fucking girl,” he praised.

The praise ignited something in you, making you pinch the hardened buds until you could feel wetness beginning to coat the inside of your thighs. The moans that you were letting out were loud, with days spent away from Joel making you desperate for any form of physical contact. Already, you felt like you could combust at any moment.

“Christ baby, look how desperate she is. Fucking cryin’ for attention. Why don’t you play with her for me, hm? Fuck yourself with those little fingers babygirl,” Joel said through gritted teeth.

The filth that spilt from Joel’s mouth would be the death of you someday, you could feel it. Moaning loudly at his instruction, your hand dropped to slide against your seam. Slick dripped down your fingers and rolled off of your wrist as you moved them up and down, over and over. A sharp cry rolled off of your tongue, making Joel’s breath hitch beside you as you found the bundle of nerves that poured liquid ecstasy into your veins.

“Give me your hand honey,” he pleaded, snapping your attention back to him in an instant.

Hesitantly, you pulled your dripping fingers from the heat and held them out for him. Joel smiled wolfishly, winking before he grabbed your wrist and sucked them into his mouth. The feeling of his tongue cleaning your arousal off had you keening, making him speed up his motions on his cock in response. After a few more swipes with his tongue, Joel popped them from his mouth and smiled at you.

“There, now put these in that pretty pussy for me. I know she wants something inside darling, I can fucking feel it,” he groaned.

There was a moment of hesitation at the request. It was so miniscule that anyone else would have missed it, but not Joel. Just as you began to shakily reach down to heed his request, he had already snatched your hand back in his and raised your chin to meet his gaze.

“What is it darling?,” Joel asked softly.

An uncomfortable feeling settled in your stomach, making you squirm under his gaze as he studied your sudden shift into awkwardness. Redness flooded your cheeks, making his eyebrows pinch together as you tried to find the words to explain yourself. Fortunately for you, Joel always seemed to know what it was that you needed. The feeling of his hands cupping both of your cheeks grounded you and slowly, the palpitations that tightened your chest dissipated.

“If you ain’t ready yet or if you don’t want to do this anymore, all you have to do is say babygirl. I ain’t gonna be mad at ya, it’s only fun for me if you’re having fun too,” he murmured against your lips before he gave you a soft kiss.

Humming into his mouth, you let all the tension in your muscles release. Still pressing your mouth against his, you rolled onto your side so that the two of you could be chest to chest. Joel was like a solid wall of heat and you clung to the feeling of it, throwing one leg around his hips and gripping the back of his neck to bring him even closer. The proximity was intoxicating and you felt Joel’s neglected cock twitch between your soaked folds.

“Fuck, wait a minute baby. I meant what I said before, I’m not-”

“You’re not fucking me, I know. I heard you the first time,” you snipped, rolling your eyes as your lips attached themselves to his throat.

His cock jumped as you found the mark on his neck, nibbling and licking at it until he moaned. The smell of him was too much and somehow not enough, making you suck at the tender skin as your hips began to twitch from the rising tension between you. Thick fingers gathered the hair at the crown of your head and you whined as they carefully pulled at the strands. It felt like he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to pull you into or away from him, so you made the choice for him.

After giving one sharp bite to his skin, making his hips cant up until the cradle of yours, you gently kissed at the spot before lifting your head to meet his gaze. Pink tinged every inch of his face. His curls were messy, the overgrown locks making him look somehow even more beautiful as they laid strewn across the musty pillowcase. You smiled at him, pushing back a few strands before you softly caressed the contours of his jaw.

“I don’t want to do sexy stuff without feeling you close. It’s… scary without having you near me,” you whispered, averting your eyes to study the scar on his nose rather than see his reaction.

Joel grabbed your hand, pulling your attention away from the small imperfection to watch as he pressed his lips against the bruised knuckles. His eyes met yours and instead of seeing pity or disgust, all that was there was love. The deep brown of his irises warmed your insides and butterflies erupted from within.

“That’s alright honey, I like having you close too,” he said sweetly, leaning forward to kiss your cheek.

You sighed as he nuzzled at your neck. The scruff of Joel’s cheeks against the open skin brought goosebumps to your arms and you moaned as he laved his tongue over his bite mark. There was nothing more you would rather do that shove his face deeper into your skin, to make him clamp down his teeth angrily against the delicate skin until you bled but you knew he wouldn’t. Not with the healing bruises that were smattered against the column of your throat. Instead, you had to settle for Joel’s soft ministrations.

“Joel,” you pleaded, trying to rock against him as the pressure between your legs grew with each gentle caress.

“I know honey, I gotcha,” Joel mumbled, hiking your leg up around his waist before he began to grind himself against your seam.

His cock slid through the wetness, collecting slick before the head of his rubbed against your throbbing clit. Your tummy clenched at the feeling, making you moan as he repeated the motion again and again. With the slow but steady movements of Joel’s hips, mixed with the feeling of his warmth and his big hands skimming every inch of your body, you could already feel the tension rising.

“Oh honey, she missed me, didn’t she? I’ll tell you what darling, I missed her, missed my sweet little pussy. God - shit, feel that? She’s soaking me baby,” Joel moaned, picking up his pace as your bruised bodies writhed together amidst the sheets.

“Daddy,” you whimpered, making Joel growl and increase his speed again.

The feeling of the head of his cock catching on your pulsing hole made you both groan, the temptation becoming harder and harder to neglect each time he slid through your slick soaked lips. All it would take would be one miscalculated thrust and he would be swallowed by your cunt, the slick ensuring that he would slide home in one thrust. Joel leaned in, kissing you again as he groaned at the feeling of sliding past your entrance over and over.

“Please, I need it. Need you,” you cried, weakly pushing your hips to meet his.

He made an unintelligible sound, pace faltering as his hips twitched at the invitation. The man’s resolve was strong, but who were either of you kidding? The moment his bare cock was against your slick soaked seam, it was over for both of you. There was no alternative to the feeling of his thick length rubbing against the inside of your walls, the tip of it pushing against something so devastating that you had no choice but to milk him dry every single time.

“Fuck baby, okay. Just tell me if I’m hurtin’ ya, okay?,” Joel asked hopefully.

You nodded enthusiastically, “Yes daddy, I promise.”

Joel’s eyes rolled into the back of his head for a second, his Adam's apple bobbing in front of your face as he swallowed and you leaned forward to lick a stripe up the open skin. The taste of his musk, mixed with a slight tinge of salt, made your mouth water and you nipped the underside of his jaw.

Like two puzzle pieces coming together, the feeling of absolute tranquility filled you as his cock began to breach your entrance. Joel captured your lips in a searing kiss, muffling your whines as he slid deeper inside of you. Although it had only been a few days, it seemed like you had greatly overestimated your abilities. You whimpered, struggling to take the solid weight of him carving a space for himself inside your walls. Just as it began to be too much, you sighed as calloused fingers came down between you to rub steady circles over your throbbing clit.

“Oh my god, Joel! Fuck, feels s’good,” you whimpered as you finally felt him slide home.

Joel took up every inch of space inside of you, the overwhelming fullness making your legs shake around his waist already. You tried to stay focused on him, clenching your teeth at the overwhelming pressure gathering between your legs, but it was nearly impossible. How could one simply remain calm with Joel’s huge cock burrowing itself deeper and deeper, with his southern drawl whispering the dirtiest words in your ear, with his arms pressing closer and closer until the two of you were nose to nose and panting into eachothers mouths.

“Fucking shit, I love you baby. So fucking much, you don’t even understand,” he panted, the feeling of his lips brushing up against yours making tingles shoot down to your core.

“I do - umph, fuck Joel - I do understand and I love you just the same,” you answered, reaching forward to place one hand over his heart while the other cupped the back of his neck.

With your fingers scritching at the curls along the nape of Joel’s neck and your thumb pressing down hard against that one soft spot on his neck, Joel whined and greedily increased the strength of his thrusts. It stung a little, with your blistered leg pushing against his backside to urge him on and your bruised ribs crying out as your breathing increased, but it was worth it. The feeling of Joel finally slamming into you, knocking loose a couple of tears from your eyes and lighting up every pleasure center in your body, already had your core beginning to twitch as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

The fire that erupted under your skin was stifling and had you shaking uncontrollably in seconds. It was all too much. The smell of him, his rough fingers sliding along your clit, the feeling of him pushing against your back to bring the two of you closer, was all so overwhelming. Panic began to bloom in your chest at the intensity of the release that barreled towards you. But Joel wouldn’t be Joel if he didn’t know you, and he quickly moved the hand on your back to pinch your chin between his fingers.

“Hey darling, be a good girl and look at me,” Joel commanded softly.

Blinking rapidly to clear the fog from your eyes, you were happy to find him smiling down at you when your vision cleared. He smiled back, the warmth of it making your heart thump harder against the walls of your chest. The bruises along his face and body disappeared in the moment. It was just him and you, the both of you wrapped in each other's arms as the world raged on around you. Nothing else mattered.

“There she is, doing so good my sweet girl. Taking me so well, look at it,” he grunted as he tilted your gaze downwards.

The sight of his cock slamming into your core made your head snap back, your pornographic mewl making Joel laugh as you cried out. He was quick, wrenching your face back down so you could watch as he pushed more and more arousal from you. Slick dripped from your core, wetting the patch of hair at the base of Joel’s cock and spreading out onto his thighs.

The sounds that bounced off the walls were downright filthy, the cacophony of moans mixing with the sounds of his balls smacking against the curve of your ass as he drove into you over and over. Just as quickly as he had snapped your gaze down to watch him fucking you, Joel snapped your gaze back at up to meet his.

“See that? That’s us darling, looks so fucking beautiful doesn’t it? Fuck, cum for me honey - shit ah - want to feel you fucking milk me before I fill you up,” he growled.

The way he was staring directly into your soul as he pounded away at your poor cunt and commanded you to cum, mixed with his fingers pinching your clit harshly, had you flying off the edge in seconds. A high pitched wail came from your mouth. Black dots clouded your sight as your core clenched around his cock hard, sucking him in as you rode the waves of your orgasm. Joel never stopped, continuing to fuck himself into you and playing with your poor clit until a second orgasm was chasing the tail of your first.

“Daddyyyy, oh my god Joel, fuck! Umph, so good. Love your fucking cock, oh god please, please cum in me. I want your cum inside please, want it to take - shit!,” you babbled.

Joel groaned so loudly that you were sure that anybody within 2 miles would have heard it, the sound of him driving you closer to what felt like it was going to be an even more brutal end. He picked up the pace even more and you choked on your own spit as you tried to heave in oxygen. Your lungs protested the increase in pace, bruised ribs beginning to toe the line of uncomfortability, but you ignored it. All that mattered was the feeling of him cumming inside, filling you up as your pussy swallowed it all.

“Yeah baby? Need my fucking cum in you? Fuck, of course you do. S’all for you, my pretty girl. S’good, so strong, so fucking smart, and all mine, isn’t that right? God fucking dammit, cum for me and I’ll give it to you. Gonna fill you up until it takes and everyone knows you’re MINE,” Joel groaned.

The whine you let out was garbled, half a plea for his cum and half a warning that you were going to cum yourself. He answered it by pressing his lips into yours, capturing all the pretty noises you were making in his mouth as you finally released all over him. Slick poured from your core in short spurts, making Joel break away to watch as you squirted all over him. He cussed and pinched your clit again, rolling his calloused thumb over the squished nub to prolong the release. You screamed and shook, eyes rolling back in their sockets as you felt his knot slam into you as he began to spurt ropes of hot cum as deep as possible.

“Fuuuuck baby,” Joel moaned, his tone laced with neediness as he continued to grind the both of you well past the point of overstimulation.

When the waves of pleasure finally subsided and his knot began to go down, Joel finally calmed himself to wrap his arms around you. He gently turned the two of you so that you were sprawled out over his chest. With your ear pressed against his pec, you listened to how his heart rate slowed to a steady rhythm as he snuffled at your hair and carefully slid his hands along your back.

“I meant it, ya know,” you mumbled against him.

Joel yawned, blinking heavily as he asked, “Meant what?”

“I love you the same. I meant it. You’re the only person that I would do anything for, ANYTHING Joel. You love me like that and I love you like that too, I understand,” you replied, swirling your fingers in his chest hair as you spoke.

A beat passed and then Joel leaned forward to press his lips against the top of your head.

“Thank you darling,” he whispered.

You laughed and pulled yourself up as much as you could, while still being connected at the waist. The best you could manage was to hover over him with your forearms on either side of his head, looking him directly in the eye as you spoke.

“Why are you thanking me?,” you chuckled.

Joel shrugged and brushed the hair from your face before he spoke.

“Just for, I don’t know, being you. For loving me, for everything that… fuck, for everything darling. I love you and I would do anything for you and just… thank you for doing the same for me, even if I don’t always appreciate it,” he said.

When your lips pressed against his this time it was no lust fueled make out session, just two people sharing breaths and using all their might to show how in love they were with each other. It was slow and sweet, leaving the two of you panting when you parted. The smile Joel gave you afterwards was worth every single bruise that did and would ever discolor your skin. At this point, you were pretty sure he could make the sun itself jealous if he wanted to just by smiling at it the way he smiled at you.

“Sook,” you teased, pinching at his cheek playfully.

Joel chuckled and nipped at your fingers, “Only for you darling.”

You smiled back and leaned in to peck at his lips one last time before you moved to shimmy back down his body to rest against his chest but he caught you.

“Hey uh, did you want to talk about before? When I asked if you wanted to um, put your fingers in and you froze. Is that? - I can - I mean, I’m here if you wanted to maybe talk about it,” he babbled, getting mixed up and anxious as he struggled to find the right words.

Dread filled your stomach but you pushed through it, reminding yourself of every sweet moment that had passed between the two of you in the last few moments. Joel loved you, just as you loved him, there was nothing to be ashamed of.

“Um, okay so… Well, I’ve never really done that to myself before and I wasn’t really sure um… how to do it like… good as you do, or whatever. And um, well, I was always told it's wrong for anything to go up there if you’re not married so there’s that,” you stammered.

Joel blinked and your chest tightened, panic rising within you at the fear of more rejection.

“Then I met you and you changed the game for me, so props? I guess? But uh, going after Paul and his group was rough. A lot of them almost… and none of them did but it felt weird touching myself and I knew I wouldn’t feel weird if you were touching me. It’s dumb, forget it.”

“Stop,” Joel pleaded, holding your face with both of his hands so that you had no choice but to look back at him.

He breathed in deeply, motioning for you to do the same and you did. In and out, in and out, Joel had you follow his breaths until you were calm once more.

“S’not weird babygirl, I’m sorry that it made you feel weird and I’m so fucking sorry that those assholes tried to touch you. Thank you for telling me, it means a lot that you trust me like that,” Joel said earnestly, making you melt even more into his lap.

You sniffed, shaking your head as he tried to shush your cries but you weren’t crying because of the memory. It was the soft look on your mate’s face that was making you dissolve into a puddle of tears. The way that Joel looked at you with such devotion, it was nothing short of pure worship.

“Happy tears Joel, I just love you so much,” you laughed tearily, voice cracking at the end.

“And I love you too, so much. Maybe a bit more but who's counting,” he stopped to smile at your scoff before he continued, “And I think I have the solution to your problem darling, if you’re up for it.”

You were nodding before Joel even finished, at this point you were ready to take on the whole world with him if so much as asked. He smiled and wrapped his arms around you tightly, expertly rolling the both of you over as he slipped his half deflated knot out of your pussy. Joel cooed at you as you whined, smiling as he looked down to watch fat globs of his cum pouring out onto the sheets.

“Joel!,” you snipped, frustration growing as he stared at your gaping hole.

“Hush darling, let me admire ya for a sec. Pussy looks so good filled up with me like this,” he murmured, reaching forward to scoop up some of your combined release.

Before you could react, he was already shoving two fingers into your mouth to suck. You obliged, moaning as you choked on the weight of them against your tongue. Joel pulled them out, capturing your mouth in a heated kiss that had you digging your fingers into his shoulder until he groaned. He broke the kiss, smiling at your disheveled state before he leaned down to press a chaste kiss to your forehead.

Pulling away, Joel softened for a moment as he tentatively asked, “You trust me, right baby?”

“You’re the only person I trust Joel,” you admitted, blushing at the way he lit up at your response.

“Give me your hand,” he instructed, looking like a kid in a candy shop as he held out his own as an invitation.

With raised brows, you accepted his hand, allowing him to guide it back between your legs.

“If ya never done it, let me teach you how to play with her. We can do it together, that way you can fuck that pretty pussy for me sometime. Fuck, you’d look so fucking sexy honey” Joel cooed, his tone a stark contrast to his filthy words.

As usual, any reservations you had went out the window the second Joel’s thick drawl was heard. His words were syrupy and sweet, yet filled with lust and unbridled passion, it was a wonder to you that he had never been married or mated before the outbreak. He deserved a ring and a bite from the dirty soliloquies he grunted and moaned into your ear alone. Before you could reach up to pull him back in for another kiss, Joel quickly moved back and slipped off the bed, yanking you so that your ass was hanging off the side of it.

“Okay, now I’m gonna stick my finger in and show you what to do. Then, I want you to put one in right beside me when I say, got it?,” Joel instructed, his face wide open as he looked up at you hopefully.

You nodded, moaning as one of his thick fingers sunk deep inside of you. With Joel’s impressive length having just split you in two, it was easy for him to slide right in.

“Alright. Now feel how my finger curls up and rubs over this little rough patch right here?,” he asked, hooking his finger against that one spot that had you dropping your head back against the pillow.

“Yes,” you whimpered as Joel continued to press against your walls with expert precision.

He smiled and grabbed your hand again, leading fingers back down to your drenched core as he kept fucking you with his own.

“One finger, just follow my lead baby,” Joel cooed, praising you as you stretched around both his and your own finger at the same time.

Missing the thickness of his cock, you stealthily slipped in another to join your first. The sudden feeling of fullness had you whining, babbling at Joel as he looked down at you in awe. His smile was wicked as he reached for his cock, stroking it back to full mast as the both of you began to thrust your fingers up against your front wall.

“Two wasn’t enough for ya, huh? Greedy little thing is all stretched out from daddy’s cock,” he chuckled, leaning forward to bite playfully at your hip.

Panting at your combined efforts, you had no words to answer him with. The sight of Joel kneeled between your legs, stroking his cock so desperately while the both of you rubbed against that one spot just so, was mind breaking. He laughed again when you bucked your hips, eager for more but unsure of how to ask as you picked up the pace. Joel followed your lead, fucking his finger into you faster and speeding up his strokes to match your own.

“Need more, please,” you whined pitifully, making Joel’s cock twitch noticeably between his thighs.

Joel groaned, “Fuck darling, take your thumb and rub that little clit for me. Slow circles to start but then adjust your speed when ya get comfortable. Oh shit honey, just like that, so good for me.”

The moment your thumb pressed down on your swollen clit, your fate was sealed. Following Joel’s orders, you started off with slower circles before slowly gathering up speed. Within moments you were dripping slick down both of your wrists as you rubbed fast and tight little circles over your bud. Your eyes were snapped shut, head thrown back on the pillow in complete awe at the feeling of pure pleasure.

“So beautiful,” Joel whispered.

Your eyes open at the sound of his voice, face warming at the sight of him giving you that devoted look again. Sweat dampened the edges of Joel’s hairline. His lip was caught between his tith, with his eyes completely back as he stared at the way your pussy swallowed all of it. When he finally looked back up at you, he smiled again and winked, making you feel giddy for a moment before he slid another one of his thick fingers inside.

“F-f-f-,” you stuttered, eyes blinking heavily to stay open at the sudden fullness.

“F-f-f- what honey? Four fingers? Is that what you’re trying to say? Good girl darling, you’re right! There are four fingers fucking your pussy right now,” Joel teased.

The pressure gathered in your core once more and a layer of sweat broke out across your skin. When your thumb faltered on its rhythm against your clit, Joel’s thumb came down to press into yours, guiding your movements as you choked on the feeling. Your heart slammed against your chest, making it feel like it was nearly impossible for you to suck in enough oxygen. He hushed you, whispering soothing words as you neared the finish line.

“So fucking pretty for me baby. Fuck, look at you. Love you,” he sighed.

The sight of Joel was devastating. With his hair askew, eyes dark with desire, and his perfect cock steadily leaking onto his fist as his hips jolted up into it, the sight was enough to make anyone cum. Still, you felt the need to answer him before you did.

“You’re pretty too J-Joel - ha, shit - Could cum from just looking at you. Fuck - love you too,” you whined, watching as he smiled at your words.

He kissed your thigh in response and the feeling of his stubble rubbing against the sensitive skin had you keening. Your vision blacked out, your cunt throbbing and spraying so much slick that it forced all of the fingers that were inside of you out. Moaning and crying desperately, you could barely hear Joel grunting as he fucked his fist harder at the sight.

Before you had time to recover, Joel was already shoving three of his fingers back in to milk you of as much slick as you could produce. In seconds, he was violently sending you off another peak so fast that your entire body shook with the force. He groaned as another torrent of release rushed out of your abused hole, moving so that his face was directly in the splash zone. While noisily lapping up your release, Joel whined into your folds, the vibrations of it making you shiver as he neared his own release.

“Cum for me please, want it so bad,” you weakly whimpered.

Joel lifted his face and the slick that covered every inch of it mixed with the way he panted against your ruined cunt made you moan. He groaned in response, panting even harder as he met your gaze.

“Darling,” he whined, his cock angry for release as he stared at you.

“Cum Joel,” you instructed.

And that was it. Joel managed two more strokes before his dick was erupting within the embrace of his own hand. Cum spurted from him, splattering over the side of the bed and the floor as he leaned forward to plant his face back inside your folds. He didn’t make any move to make you cum again, perhaps sensing that you had reached your limit, instead he just nuzzled his face into your dripping folds as he came hard.

When Joel was done he groaned, hauling himself off the floor before he abruptly turned to trudge out of the room. You lifted your head, ignoring the way dizziness threatened to slam it back against the sheets as you watched him go.

“No!,” you croaked as tears gathered in your eyes again.

As quickly as he left, he was back. Leaning over to hush you, Joel brushed his lips over your face until he found the right place to nuzzle his face against your neck. You sighed as he kissed and nipped over the area, the feeling of security that the action provided making you forget any previous fears of abandonment.

“S’okay darling, just going to get something to wash ya up. Won’t be more than a minute, I swear,” Joel soothed with his words muffled by the soft expanse of skin he sucked at.

“Okay baby,” you sighed, completely docile from his careful touches.

He chuckled, giving you a wet kiss on the cheek before he stood and left the room. The house was freezing but the combined heat of your passionate night kept the tiny bedroom heated enough that you began to doze as you waited for him to return. As you fought against the fog, you barely had the time to remember why the two of you had fought in the first place. Instead, you sank deeper into the abyss, allowing yourself to drift into a deep sleep.

- Joel -

By the time Joel got back, you were asleep. The sight of it made him smile, knowing that you had been having a rough time sleeping with nightmares chasing you or the fear of not having him in sight pulling you from slumber. He understood the fear, he didn’t like not having eyes on you either. But what could he do? With the hunting parties becoming more frequent, he needed to continue his rounds lest the two of you be attacked.

He knew it had been time to leave for days, yet he held off. The thought of you hauling your unhealed body across a frozen wasteland in search of some safe haven that didn’t exist made him sick. There were not many options left available and he knew it, but the obvious choice was another factor that had him dragging his feet.

As Joel carefully wiped you free of any mess, gently placing you under the covers before he leaned down to kiss both of your cheeks, he knew where the next destination would be. The thought of it made him want to hurl, but you clearly needed protection that he couldn’t provide. Joel was only one man and his luck couldn’t go on forever.

Jackson was where the two of you needed to head in order to get free. Thinking about going back to the place he had scorned twice, first when he visited with Ellie, only to leave for the Fireflies, and again when he had been found at the gates in such psychological pain that they had to carry him in, only to disappear in order to embark on a path of loneliness soon after. He knew Tommy would be glad, given the fact that his little brother had continuously begged Joel to come back with him. And Maria… Well, she would probably greet you with open arms and withstand him for Tommy’s sake. However, none of that changed the way he felt.

A pit formed in his stomach as he began to plan, dreading seeing the faces that watched him in his nearly catatonic state after the death of his pup. Joel even dreaded seeing his brother, which he felt guilty for but he wasn’t sure what Tommy would think of the whole situation. He would love you, anyone would, but would his brother call his bluff? Joel knew that he was a tired old grump, and he also knew that you loved him for it, but would other people be able to see that? Or would he be doomed to being the social pariah for tarnishing such a pretty young thing? He could live with that, if only they’d accept you despite your connection to him.

Carefully, Joel tiptoed out of the room. Shutting the door behind him, he sighed before making his way down the hall towards the supply room. If this was going to work, he needed to be prepared for anything. There was no way he was losing you, to anyone or anything. As his mind sped through every possible scenario while he sorted everything into bags, he took comfort in the fact that you were resting.

While sleep clawed at the backs of his eyelids, trying with all its might to yank them down so that he may finally get a decent rest, your body had a bit more time to recuperate. Who knew that fucking you to sleep would have been the cure for all of your sleep troubles. Had you been healed enough, he would have done that days ago.

As the night slowly softened into the first hints of morning, Joel kept his ears peeled for any signs of danger while he readied everything that the two of you would need. It was only after piling everything into the car that he finally rested, crawling back into bed with heavy limbs that you wrapped yourself around in slumber. His gaze traced over your face, watching as your soft breaths puffed from between your chapped lips.

The sun shone through the windows and Joel sighed. Soon, you would be stirring awake beside him and it would be time to leave for the place he swore he would never return to. He pushed any thoughts about failure from his mind, focusing on the thought of you sitting in the meal hall with your now shared family to calm himself. Joel hummed, thinking about how good it would be to sleep somewhere with you without worrying about being attacked all the time. He missed that. The thought of it soothed him and despite his best efforts, Joel was out like a light in seconds.

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