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azzibuckets · 2 days

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Paper Rings [Part 1 | Paige Bueckers]

Paige Bueckers x fem!reader

summary: very angsty friends to enemies to lovers told through flashbacks & current day

a/n: this is my very first fic + i’m still pretty unfamiliar with how to use tumblr so pls forgive me in advance 😭 but lmk what you think!

warnings: drinking, angst, paige as a player

word count: 1.9k

masterlist w/ all parts

FLASHBACK: 1 YEAR & 1 MONTH AGO

It was the night of the Big East championship game, and the entire UConn women’s basketball team was piled into Paige and Azzi’s apartment to celebrate with drinks. At first, you’d been hesitant to come, as you would be the only non-player there. Which usually wouldn’t be a problem, but since it was a celebration for something as special as a tournament win, you wanted to let the team have their moment. But Paige insisted, saying that you were basically one of them at this point, and that everyone loved you and would want you there.

So here you were, sandwiched between Paige and KK on the sofa. There were so many people squeezed onto the sofa, though, that you were basically half in Paige’s lap. She didn’t seem to mind though - one hand was holding a red solo cup filled with dirty Shirley while the other was firmly wrapped around your waist, holding you in place next to her. Not a typical look for best friends, but both of you attributed this intimate position to physical touch being both of your main love languages.

Paige’s fingers were absentmindedly brushing up and down your hip, alternating between playing with the fray at the end of your shirt and scratching your hip. You tried not to think too much of it. Paige was constantly moving, and she always needed something to play with or else she’d get bored and distracted. She definitely wasn’t touching you because she had feelings for you. Paige made it clear that she wasn’t interested in anyone romantically, with how quickly she moved from woman to woman. But that was how she chose to live her love life, and you respected that! And didn’t care….at all.

KK suddenly lurched up from next to you. “Ayoooo, we should play spin the bottle,” she crowed, as if this was the best idea she’d ever come across.

“Nah, girl, I’m good,” Nika teased, shaking her head at KK’s antics. “Geno said he wants us to be close, but I don’t think he meant that close.”

The rest of the team hooted in laughter. KK pouted. “Well, Azzi just texted the guys’ team to come, and they’ll be here soon. That way I don’t have to kiss any of y’all’s nasty lips.”

At that, Paige sat up a little bit straighter, her grip around my waist tightening. “Ain’t no one playing spin the bottle with the guys. Especially Y/N.”

“Why, Paige? Jealous?” Ice teased. Ice always gave you a hard time about Paige, wiggling her eyebrows at you every time you walked Paige to practice or dropped off food for her during their recovery sessions. You suspected that she was onto you, but you always shrugged off her teasing in order to seem nonchalant.

Paige rolled her eyes, although her grip on you didn’t loosen. “Nah, bro. They’re just weird. They don’t know Y/N like that. She’d be uncomfy.”

You tugged on one of her Dutch braids. You loved whenever she put her hair into two full braids. She looked so cute. Although you’d never tell her that. “What if I wanna play, hmm?” You were testing Paige’s limits, and you knew it. And as much as you wanted to chalk it up to her being jealous, you knew she was probably just being a protective friend.

Paige shook her head. “It’s such a middle school game, Y/N. You don’t wanna do that.” With those words, you felt a surge of drunken defiance rise in your chest. Paige was bossing you around, as if she knew what was best for you. But you refused to be seen as the innocent and meek type. And now you wanted to play. Because if you couldn’t have Paige, you weren’t gonna let her limit you from having someone else.

You raised your chin. “No, I think I’m gonna,” you declared.

Paige’s eyes flashed. There was a hint of surprise in the way she leaned back and studied you. “Okay,” she responded coolly. “Whatever. Do what you want - Imma top up.” She briskly slid the part of me on her thigh off, and got up, disappearing into the kitchen.

Soon, the guys piled in, along with some of their buddies that weren’t on the basketball team. You all agreed to do a mix of spin the bottle or truth or dare. It was either answer the question, or kiss. Except those who were players insisted that teammates were off limit. To be honest, you didn’t wanna play. You, like Paige, thought the game was childish. And more importantly, the only person in the room, or frankly anywhere in the world, whose lips you wanted to kiss was Paige. But Paige didn’t want you, and you had to move on.

Paige returned with a full cup, this time of beer, just in time for the game to start. A couple of the girls had gotten up to sit with the guys on the floor, so there was more room on the sofa now, meaning that Paige and you were no longer touching. Instead, there was a sizable gap between the two of you. The lack of her warmth was upsetting to you, and another reminder that Paige was only touching you because of how crowded the sofa was. Not because she craved your touch the same way you craved hers.

Just your luck, the bottle landed on you the first spin. You vaguely recognized the guy who spun it as one of the players on the basketball team. He had dirty blonde hair and a cocky smile. The top buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, and he had a rumpled look about him that would be messily attractive if it weren’t for the fact that you had almost zero interest in guys.

“Which guy on my team looks like he’d be the best in bed?” The guy’s wildly inappropriate question barely registered before Paige leaned forward, sliding her hand protectively over your knee.

“That’s a fucked up question,” she snapped. Her eyebrows were furrowed in that way that happens when she’s really angry, and her cheeks were flushed, likely from the alcohol. Tipsy Paige meant a Paige with much more intense emotions, and you knew now that she would be even more unashamed now than she is sober, which says a lot considering how she’s already pretty free willed sober. “Don’t be an ass. Give her a decent question so she’s not forced to kiss you.” Paige snarled.

The guy’s eyebrows shot up. “Chill out, P. It’s just a game,” he laughed arrogantly.

“Yeah, P.” The words, laced with malice, were out of your mouth before you could stop yourself, and you wanted to die as soon as they came out. Paige looked like a puppy who was just kicked, confusion and embarrassment in her eyes. Shame rose in your throat like bile - Paige was just trying to protect you from a creepy guy, a guy who you didn’t even want to kiss, and you were taking this random stranger’s side. In front of all these people.

But words kept piling out of your mouth, even though you didn’t mean it. “Stop babying me,” you hissed. This time only Pauge could hear, but you internally kicked myself again for the harshness of your words. It was the alcohol in you, running hot through your veins, exacerbating all the bitterness and jealousy you’ve been feeling towards Paige for so long. You wanted to get back at her…but for what? It wasn’t her fault she didn’t love you back.

You were thrusted back to reality when you realized everyone was staring at you, waiting for you to make a move. It was an almost out of body experience, in the most terrible and awful way possible, watching yourself move like a robot to where the guy was sitting. You kneeled down, planted a kiss on his lips to the cheering of all the people around you, then got back and returned to your seat on the sofa.

And for the rest of the night, Paige didn’t speak to you.

—————————-

“I can’t find them.” You were digging through your purse, trying to find your keys. Paige was standing next to you, her face stone hard.

You were so drunk. After the whole kiss incident, you’d started going wild with the drinks, putting back shots as if your life depended on it. The alcohol made you feel numb, softening the ache you felt whenever you thought back to earlier that night when you had hurt Paige, embarrased her in front of all those people. You felt like the worst person in the world, and the more you drank, the more that guilt disappeared.

And now you were drunk out of your mind. You’d expected Paige to ignore you completely after, and she had, until the celebrations died down and you had to go home. You had walked to the apartment because your dorm was only 10 minutes away, and now with how you couldn’t even walk without staggering, someone needed to escort you back.

You hated how good Paige was. How she immediately got up without hesitation when Nika requested for someone more sober to walk you home. You knew she was angry and hurt, yet like always, she looked out for you first.

“Paige, I can’t find them,” you pouted. Paige exhaled through her nose and grabbed the purse from you, sifting through it before she found your keys, tucked into one of the side pockets. Opening the door, she rested her hand on the small of your back to guide you inside.

Once inside, you grabbed Paige’s hand, tugging her into your room and flopping on the bed. She stood there, still and silently watching you. She was unamused, and rightly so.

“Are you mad?” You giggled, sitting up to poke her in the stomach. When she stared back at you, still in silence, you stopped laughing. Sobering up a bit, you grabbed her hand and pulled her closer. “I’m really sorry,” you said quietly. “I don’t know why I did that earlier.” She was between your legs now. You weren’t thinking straight, your mind a muddled mess, and so you wrapped your calves around her, pulling her in until there was no space between you two. She looked down at you, bringing her hand to lightly touch your jaw.

You both stayed there for a moment, the tip of her finger running back and forth along your jaw. Your eyelids fluttered closed. Paige’s touch was so gentle, and you wanted to lean into it and stay in it forever. You didn’t understand why she was being so kind to you when you had been so cruel to her earlier, especially on a night as important as this.

“I’m sorry. For ruining tonight,” you told her, shifting to lean your forehead against her toned stomach.

“You didn’t ruin anything. But I was trying to look out for you,” she said quietly from above you. Paige. A golden heart, and a reminder of why you didn’t deserve her.

“But you kiss a lot of people. Why do you have an issue when I do it?”

Paige’s hand stuttered. “You should really get some rest,” she said gently instead of answering your question. She backed up, looking at you closely before shutting the light off. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Good night, Y/N.”

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn wbb #wbb #enemies to lovers #friends to lovers #huskies #uconn #wcbb

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purple-babygirl · 3 days

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in the far corner of the forest VI

Pairing: Orc!Bucky Barnes x human!f!reader

Word Count: 7,498 (my excuse is this is the last one)

Summary: For the longest time, the kingdom has used Bucky as their number one fighter, forcing him to win their wars for them. The only thing he asked for in return after he was done was that they give him a wife, and they did. They handed him the orphan he picked on a silver platter; it wasn't like anyone would miss her. It would've been perfect if she actually wanted to be there though.

Warnings: 18+ content, smut, dirty talk, oral (m receiving), female masturbation, so much cum, cum swallowing, Bucky is a lil filthy, multiple orgasms, pregnancy.

A/N: aaaand our story with our favorite orc comes to an end. I've certainly had a lot of fun writing this one and I loved you reading it even more. Thank you to every one who has been here since the beginning I love you with my whole heart. also if you see this, please wish me good luck on finding a job, your girl is broke and too weak for the streets. please enjoy xx💜💜

“I wanna talk to you about something,” she said, her gaze nervous as she set down a mug of green tea for Bucky on the dining table.

He was reading a bit while she finished up the kitchen work and he didn’t ask for tea, which meant she wanted something and was probably bribing him. It definitely made him curious to know what she was going to ask for.

Life with Bucky was an absolute dream. Their relationship was stable and solid and she thought it would be a good time to finally tell him about everything that has been occupying her mind lately.

“Is it that I need to lose weight?” Bucky teased, gesturing to the green tea before him.

“Bucky,” she whined, “I’m serious!”

Bucky laughed, “okay, okay,” he put the book down instantly, “I’m all yours, sweet thing.”

She smiled timidly, “promise me not to get mad.”

“I promise?” Bucky said, unsure what to think of this conversation.

What did she do?

“No, like, say the whole thing…”

“I promise not to get mad?”

“Thank you.” She sighed.

“What is it, my love?” Bucky held her hand in his, rubbing the back of it gently.

“I— umm I know that women working is frowned upon in our kingdom, but— um—”

“First of all, that’s just a human thing. Our females can do whatever they want. Second,” Bucky brought his other hand to her cheek, “you can talk to me, little human. Don’t be afraid. What is it that you want? Be sure that I’ll make it happen.”

She sighed again as she briefly leaned into Bucky’s touch before pulling away, “please don’t say no.” She pleaded.

“I have to know what you want first.” He chuckled lightly.

“Remember when you said that Sam and Sarah liked the strawberry jam I made?” She asked, chewing on her lower lip.

“Yes, and we’ve been their jam suppliers ever since.” Bucky laughed, holding his tea mug to take a sip.

“You also liked it, right?” She tilted her head anxiously.

“I loved it.” Bucky licked his tusks seductively.

She blushed, biting back a smile, “and— and the girls back at the orphanage would always tell me they liked my jams too.”

“As they should.” Bucky nodded, boosting her confidence, making her smile.

Gods, she loved him so much.

“So I was thinking maybe… maybe I could try and sell them?” She finally said the words, her voice hushing by the end of her question as she gauged her orc’s reaction.

“Sell them?” Bucky asked, setting his mug down.

She nodded, nervous again now that he didn’t seem to like the idea very much.

“Like in the market?”

“Yes.”

He stayed silent for a beat, a frown forming on his face as he thought about her request.

She put her hand back in Bucky’s, “if you say no, I won’t bring it up again, but—”

“I’m not gonna say no, sweet thing. I’m just worried,” Bucky said lowly, appearing to be deep in thought as he squeezed her smaller hand in his.

“Worried about what? I have saved money for everything! You would always give me a lot of money before we go out to the market and I’ve saved most of it. You’ve already gotten me everything I needed, so I didn’t really spend much. You don’t have to worry about buying materials! I know they would give us the fruits for a cheaper price if we buy in bulk—”

“Little human, that’s not what I’m worried about, and I’m not about to let my wife start her business with her savings. Your money is yours.” Bucky interrupted firmly, shaking his head at her.

She smiled warmheartedly as she hugged her orc’s hand to her chest, “then what are you worried about?”

“I’m worried about the people in the market. We don’t know how they would react to you putting up your own stand in there. There are no women there, sweet thing. As you said, it’s frowned upon.”

“There is Martha, the jewelry lady!”

“Yeah, but have you seen any other female besides Martha?” Bucky gave her a sad smile.

“No,” she mumbled, disheartened at the thought that she might not be able to bring her small business idea to life.

She knew that Martha was only working because she was a childless widow and the stand was originally her husband’s. She was the only one left to inherit and run it or else she wouldn’t be able to afford food.

“I’m not saying we’re not gonna do it,” Bucky brought her gaze to his by her chin, “but I can’t not worry about you.”

“I know.” She dipped her face to kiss Bucky’s palm, “what are we gonna do?”

“If a jam stand in the market is really what you want, then I will support you all the way until your booth is standing high in the middle of that market.”

She smiled fondly before feeling anxious once more, “what if the men in the market don’t like it?”

“Then they can take it up with me,” Bucky reassured her, his chest puffing involuntarily as he imagined having to fight for his wife.

“I don’t want any trouble, Bucky. I don’t want our peace to be disturbed. I don’t want you to have to fight again, at all.”

“At least then I’d be fighting for something I actually care about, and someone I’m knees-deep in love with.” Bucky sat her on his lap, his blue eyes gazing into hers.

Heat rose to her cheeks and tears to her eyes before she pressed her lips to Bucky’s, “thank you, my love.”

“Copycat,” Bucky teased, “you got nothing to thank me for, little human. I got your back. Always.”

“I’m still grateful,” she pecked his lips, “and even if I don’t end up having a stand in the market, your support will forever be enough for me, Bucky.” She gave him a passionate kiss, trying to convey her feelings through it.

She couldn’t believe how lucky she had turned out to be.

How many human husbands would support their wives’ dreams like that? How often were women even allowed to think about doing something for themselves or being financially independent in this kingdom?

She slowly slid off her orc’s lap and down to the floor, making Bucky tilt his head.

“What are you doing, sweet thing?”

“You promised you would teach me,” she said, her voice small as she let her hands massage up Bucky’s thighs.

“Oh, you feeling brave tonight, little human?” Bucky asked lowly, eyes growing dark as she brought her hand to his cock over his pants.

She nodded even though she internally had no idea what to do, but she was trusting her desire and Bucky’s guidance.

“Get your orc’s cock out then,” Bucky instructed, making her pussy clench before her eager fingers started pushing his pants down, revealing his big cock to her eyes.

Her hands hesitated, reaching for his length before withdrawing and looking at Bucky for help, shifting on her knees.

Bucky got up from the chair and she looked at him worriedly, afraid she had turned him off with her reluctance.

He returned to his seat after a second, pushing the pillow he brought with him under his wife’s knees as he helped her get comfortable.

She smiled gratefully at how loving and attentive Bucky was. He had his cock out but all he cared about was that her knees weren’t hurting on the wooden floor.

Gods, she got lucky.

“You can touch me, sweet thing.” Bucky encouraged softly.

She mustered up her courage and finally let her fingers wrap around Bucky’s cock. Well, try to wrap around his cock.

He was too big for her to be able to wrap her hand around him and it made Bucky’s cock twitch, seeing how small her hand was compared to his size.

She couldn’t believe she had managed to take all of him in her pussy every single night for the past week.

She had to use both of her hands before simultaneously squeezing them around her orc’s cock like he had previously shown her; it was the only thing she knew how to do.

Bucky’s jaw went slack as he threw his head back at the simple touch, “move your hands up and down, little human.”

“Like that?” She asked as she slowly followed the instructions.

“Yes, yes, oh fuck yes,” Bucky moaned, wrapping his hands around hers, pumping himself harder with her hands.

She watched as Bucky closed his eyes in pleasure, deep groans leaving his chest and pre-cum the tip of his cock because of her touch.

She wanted to ask permission but her instincts moved faster than her mind as she cautiously let her the tip of her tongue swipe against the head of Bucky’s cock, aching to know what he tasted like.

And oh did he taste good; a bit musky, a bit salty and a bit of something she could only identify as Bucky. It was addictive and she wanted more.

Bucky jumped above her, his cock jerking in her hands as he opened his eyes at the tiny lick he felt her give his cock.

“Was that the wrong thing to do?” She asked, unsure of her moves, “I thought it was okay for me to put my mouth there?” she hesitated shyly, suddenly embarrassed of her neediness.

“It is. It is more than okay, my love. Please do it again,” Bucky begged, his hand coming down to cup her cheek, thumb stroking her skin adoringly as he brought her face closer to his cock.

He was sure she and her innocence were going to be the death of him, yet at the same time, he couldn’t wait to ruin her; make her his dirty little cock slut of a wife.

She tentatively let the tip of her tongue lick against the head of Bucky’s cock again, keeping her eyes on him.

Bucky groaned, his abdomen tensing as he felt himself already close.

He couldn’t believe how embarrassingly ready to burst she had managed to have him every time she touched him or as much as moaned for him. He could go for hours before, but with her it was like she knew exactly which buttons to press to get him drooling and leaking for her, and yet, she didn’t. Not at all, really.

She gave a bigger lick, letting herself savor her orc’s taste this time, moaning as she put her mouth on his tip, suckling ever so softly.

Bucky was huge and getting him inside her mouth like she felt she wanted to was going to be a challenge, but she wasn’t one to back down from challenges. Not anymore.

She was going to make Bucky feel good and she was going to do it with her mouth.

She could barely get the tip past her lips and it was already too much for her untrained mouth. Tears gathered in her eyes when Bucky involuntarily jerked his hips forward, making her gag on his cock.

“I’m so sorry, my love—” Bucky quickly pulled out of her mouth, worry written all over his face.

“Don’t be, Bucky. I— I kinda liked it.” She confessed, heat spreading on her cheeks.

“Oh, you liked choking on my cock, little human?” Bucky teased darkly as he pumped himself and she nodded shyly.

“Can I try again?” She asked, voice small and timid.

“All yours, sweet thing.”

She put her mouth back on the tip, feeling proud of herself as she managed to properly suck on it without her teeth getting in the way.

Bucky’s cock was so big and it was certainly testing for her to take another inch into her mouth but she did it, softly moaning on her orc’s length as she tasted more of his precum on her tongue.

“Keep using your hands, little human,” Bucky instructed, her mouth feeling heavenly on his cock.

She listened right away, her hands pumping up and down the inches she couldn’t yet fit into her mouth.

“Good girl,” Bucky groaned wantonly, “you’re so good for me, sweet thing.”

Bucky’s encouragement made her want to do better, to do more for him.

She pulled off of him for one second, taking a long breath as Bucky watched her with hooded eyelids.

And when she was ready, she opened her mouth as wide as she could, taking half of Bucky’s cock down her throat all at once.

“Gods, fuck!” He exclaimed, barely holding himself back from lurching over and shoving the whole thing down her warm wet throat as his hand flow to cup the back of her head.

She kept one hand on Bucky’s length as the other moved down to touch her own heat.

The sounds coming out of Bucky, his taste and the way his cock was making her drool as she choked on it were driving her up the wall with need.

She has never touched herself before and she didn’t know what has gotten into her as she slipped her hand down her panties, trying to imitate Bucky’s touches on her clit. Her fingers couldn’t compare, but she was throbbing, every sound that left Bucky’s chest vibrated in her clit; made her ache needily.

Bucky was turning to putty in her hands and it was the hottest thing she has ever witnessed.

She whined on Bucky’s cock and it made him open his eyes, realizing that she had now one hand only pumping him as the other disappeared under her dress.

“Are you touching yourself, little human?” Bucky chuckled breathily, making her whine in embarrassment.

Yet, her hand rubbed her clit even faster.

“Is sucking my cock making you all needy, sweet thing? Hmm? Can’t be around this fat cock without aching for it?”

She moaned in agreement, basically gurgling on Bucky’s fat cock as she forced herself to take another inch of him down her throat, making him grunt.

“Atta girl!” Bucky shouted in pleasure as he started to move in and out of her mouth, her allowing him to give her a little more of his thick cock every time he would slide back down her throat.

She continued breathing through her nose and circled her clit faster, feeling herself get closer to her release as her lower stomach tensed and tightened.

“Relax that throat for me, little human. There you go, good girl.”

Bucky was holding her head with both hands now, trying not to crane her neck back too much as he angled his hips just right for the tip of his cock to hit the back of her throat.

She gagged harshly and Bucky pulled out to give her a chance to breathe, “take your time, sweet thing. Doing so good for me,” he reassured, rubbing her back lovingly as she coughed and heaved.

“Again,” was all she said before she took his cock back in her mouth all the way down her throat that her nose was almost touching Bucky’s abs.

She let Bucky fuck her throat again, grateful for his gentleness as his balls hit her chin with each thrust.

“Fuck, you’re too good to me, sweet thing. So pretty taking my cock all the way down your throat like that.”

Bucky knew the exact second she came as her whines hummed on his cock while she let her orgasm take over. Her jaw went slack in his hand and he took the chance to quicken his pace, chasing his own orgasm.

“Fuck, little human, you’re a natural. Taking me so well— ahhh fuck. Just like that.”

Bucky almost roared as he came down her throat, smirking appreciatively as he felt her swallow around him, spluttering a little as he slowly pulled out.

He couldn’t be prouder of how hungry for his cock he had managed to make his little human as he watched her swallow every drop she could before the rest of Bucky’s cum ran down her lips, chin, neck and dress, his cock still throbbing at the sight of her covered in his cum; willingly claimed.

She let her butt touch the pillow underneath her knees as her body sagged, gasping and trying to catch her breath.

Her jaw was hurting like a bitch but she didn’t care. She has made Bucky lose it with her mouth and her mouth alone.

She suddenly felt her face go hot as the hand in her panties reminded her of what she had done while sucking her orc’s cock. She took her hand out of her underwear, quickly hiding it behind her back as if that would make everything she just did disappear.

Bucky laughed, putting his pants back on before cupping her cheeks as he got down on his knees before her, “what did I say, little human? Never hide from me.” He took her hand out from behind her back and brought her fingers to his face.

Bucky obscenely smelled her fingers, closing his eyes at the scent of her before wrapping his lips around them, lewdly moaning as he tasted the remnants of her juices on them.

Her face burned up as her lust was sated, leaving shyness to gnaw at her cheeks.

“Did— did you like that?” She croaked out, her voice hoarse, as he finished sucking on her fingers, desperately wanting to change the subject.

“Oh, sweet thing, I loved it.” Bucky smiled, satisfied and amazed by her, “you almost sucked my soul out of my cock there, little human.”

She giggled, blushing.

“And you touching yourself while giving me head? Damn, sweet thing! Who would’ve known?!” Bucky teased, making her sigh and hide her face in her hands.

“No, no, little human, it’s a good thing,” he laughed, taking her hands in his, “it was so fucking hot.”

“Really?”

Gods, how were her eyes still so innocent after what she had just done to him?

“Really.” Bucky smiled, kissing her knuckles.

“Thank you for letting me do it, Bucky, and for guiding me,” she said sincerely before throwing her arms around his neck, hugging him as she released a happy sigh.

Bucky just couldn’t wrap his mind around how perfect she was or how blessed he was.

She was thanking him for agreeing to ravish her with his cock. Truth was, he was the one who should thank her every day just for being his.

Bucky, the half-orc, seemed to have found and claimed jackpot.

“Thank you, little human.” Bucky turned his head to kiss her hair, “thank you for everything.”

True to his word, Bucky had done everything in his power to make her dream come true. He worked hard to get her a permit from the kingdom for a new stall in the market, using his previous status in the army to get them to sign and stamp those papers as soon as possible.

He had also designed and built her stand all by himself, making sure to make her a smooth counter for her elbows and real sturdy shelves to hold her jam jars.

And he knew exactly what he was going to engrave on the sign for her tiny shop.

Meanwhile, she and Sarah were browsing the nearby markets to pick a fruit supplier with which she could be comfortable. They had managed to find a kind old man who always had a display of the seasonal fruits in his shop. His fruits were ripe and fresh at all times and they had come to a fair agreement regarding the prices and the monthly supply they would need him to provide.

Then it was time to shop for utensils and Sarah had insisted on dragging Sam along for that one because there was no way the two women could carry that much stuff on their own. He left Bucky to continue working on the final touches on the stand and reluctantly joined the ladies.

She was the happiest as she picked new pots and sauce pans with Sarah as well as the cute little glass jars she would need to put the jam into.

Her life was coming together and she couldn’t be more thankful for everything and everyone she had.

She had an amazing husband and supportive, kind friends; a little family to call her own other than the one that had abandoned her long ago.

The group tried their best to haggle the prices on everything because she didn’t want Bucky to have to spend too much, seeing that he had insisted on paying for everything.

“I’m not negotiating, it’s either the price I asked for or we won’t take anything from you!”

Her head snapped up, dropping the ladles she was browsing when she heard Sam ‘haggling’ with the seller.

She had found things here that she couldn’t find anywhere else and she really liked them. Why was Sam sabotaging her shopping plan?

She grabbed onto her favorite pot as she walked over to the siblings.

“Sam, what are you doing? I’ve already picked like a billion things,” she whispered to the man, afraid that he was ruining a good bargain.

“Watch and learn,” Sarah whispered back to her with a reassuring smile, “you’re right, Sam. Let’s go. Thank you, we won’t be taking those. You can put them back, thanks.”

Her mouth was wide open as Sarah forcefully took the pot out of her hand, setting it down and grabbing her, dragging her to walk away.

“Guys, what are you doing?” She scream-whispered as they kept walking, leaving everything that she had carefully hand-picked behind.

“Okay, fine, wait!” The seller called for them before they could get too far, “you can have them— I’ll give them to you at the price you wanted!”

She looked at the Wilsons with an impressed smile and they smiled back, raising their eyebrows simultaneously as if to say “told you so”, making her laugh.

When they were finally done with everything they needed, they had made Sam carry most of the bags as she and Sarah waltzed back to a more feminine shop.

When they were finally done, Sam wanted to run back to his and Bucky’s shop before they could buy anything else, but he was carrying way too many things so he only made both ladies laugh as he looked like a pregnant penguin hoping over to the truck.

“You look happy. Did you get everything you needed, my love?” Bucky asked with a chuckle as she excitedly wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek as soon as she entered the shop.

“Yes.” She nodded with a smile, pecking her orc’s lips.

“Were these guys any help?” He nodded to the siblings, teasing them.

“We can hear you, you know!” Sam yelled from the supply closet as he set the last bag inside.

“Sarah and Sam were great help.” She softly slapped Bucky’s chest, “I don’t know what I would’ve done without them.” She smiled at Sam gratefully before running to hug Sarah.

“Anything for you, bestie. I’ve been around boys for too long and I’m so glad I get to have a fellow woman around here now.”

She giggled as Sarah hugged her back, imagining how lonely it must have been for her to only be surrounded by males.

“Hey! We’re great company!” Sam said, waving a finger at his sister.

“Sure you are, Samuel.” Sarah nodded until Sam had turned his head away, “I swear if I didn’t work here I wouldn’t have forced myself to put up with all the burping and farting.”

She chocked on a laugh as both Sam and Bucky glared at Sarah before she decided to dissolve the ‘tension’, “okay, okay, let’s eat!”

She got out the food she had prepared for everyone, chuckling as she handed Sam his meal after he made grabby hands at the wrapped box.

“Bucky, leave it for now and come eat,” she called for her husband when he saw he was too busy working down a plaque of wood.

“Almost done, sweet thing,” he mumbled, still focused on what he was doing.

Bucky looked like a masterpiece with his hair back in a low bun and the tip of his tongue out, hanging on a tusk as he fixated on the work at hand.

She couldn’t help but walk over and wrap her arms around him from behind, lovingly kissing his back.

The orc stopped his movements, smiling when he felt her tiny mouth press kiss after kiss to his back.

He turned around to face her, encasing her in his strong embrace as he leaned down to kiss her sweet lips.

“Your food is gonna get cold,” she whispered against Bucky’s lips.

“Let it get cold,” he said before deepening their kiss, holding her by the back of her head to bring her closer.

“Some people are trying to eat over here!” Sam shouted with his mouth full as Sarah playfully made gag noises.

Bucky groaned as she shyly pulled away from his lips, making her laugh when he whispered “I hate you” to Sam.

Things at the market have gone exactly like Bucky has feared.

It was her very first day, her stand was in place like Bucky had put it and she and Sarah were organizing the jars on the shelves as the men watched them with scowls.

She tried her best not to care. The wooden sign saying “Sweet Things” on top was shining in the sunlight and with it her smile.

Everything was going smoothly until both she and Sarah left the stand for a minute to go get the rest of the boxes off of Sam’s truck.

It was just one minute but it was enough for those who didn’t want her there to make it known.

When she came back, her glass jars were all on the ground, smashed to pieces, the jam she had spent last night making staining the gravel.

She was speechless, hurt and confused at some people’s ability to be so venomous and mean.

She saw Cole holding as many jars as he could in his arms, sighing when he saw her, “I tried to stop them. I’m so sorry.”

She felt her chest tighten as her eyes welled up.

“Don’t let them see you cry,” Sarah whispered in her ear as she could see tears gathering in her lash line.

“I would never,” she replied strongly, setting the box in her arms down on the counter of her booth with a clenched jaw.

“Who did this?” She asked, her voice loud and powerful.

She got no answer so she decided to provoke whoever had done this into coming forward, “so what you’re manly enough to smash down jam jars, but not so much when it comes to owning up to it?”

“We all did it!” The man from the clothing stall shouted.

“Yeah, we don’t want you here! Women weren’t made to work!” The man from the key cutting stand continued.

“And who decided that exactly?” She yelled back to them, hands on her waist rebelliously.

“It’s just how the world works, sweetheart. Work just isn’t for women,” the man from the clothing stall replied with a challenging smile as he gestured to the broken glass by her feet.

“Oh, it isn’t? That’s weird! Because last time I checked, women worked their butts off all day long cleaning, cooking, and taking care of children at houses that aren’t even their own just to go back home at the end of the day and do it all over again for free while you sat on your lazy asses!”

Everyone stood there stunned, her response crushing them into silence. None of them could remember the last time a woman had dared use such a tone with them, let alone use curse words in her speech.

“But it’s fine when women don’t get to take the money for their work, right? Women can work as long as you receive their pay money each month, no? They’re allowed to work as long as their money isn’t their own and their dignity is kept under your shoes, aren’t they?!” She lashed out, surprising herself, Sarah, everyone around and a very impressed Bucky, who was standing at the end of the market as she let her voice get loud, talking back to men.

He just thought he would stop by, unable to keep his worry at bay. And when he heard the men’s voices get loud in her face, he thought he would intervene; defend her, but his little human didn’t seem like she needed any defending. Not one bit.

She was putting those assholes in their places all by herself.

“Lower your voice, woman! Or have you been around that savage brute of yours too much that you’ve forgotten how to properly speak?”

“Hey!” Bucky barked, stomping over to the man who had dared disrespect him and his wife, his fists already balling.

“Oh you’re gonna come for my orc now?!” Her shout stopped Bucky before he could punch the man’s nose off, “where were you again when my orc was fighting for this kingdom? Where were you when he took it upon himself to keep everyone here safe? Oh, wait, right! Sitting on your lazy ass!”

“How dare you talk to us like that? You think you get to be this audacious because you let a half-orc bed you?!”

“Watch your tongue when you’re talking to my wife,” Bucky snarled in the man’s face before she gently held him back.

“At least he knows how to take care of a woman!” She said proudly, “my orc is more of a husband to me than any of you pathetic wimps could ever be to your women!”

Bucky couldn’t help the warm smile replacing his scowl at her words. He couldn’t believe she was defending him like that, saying such words about him, in the middle of the market.

“He treats me like a queen. He has never laid a hand on me and when he makes me scream, he makes me scream for all the right reasons.” She growled, looking the rude man right in the eye as she stressed every word in the end of her sentence.

The man swallowed hard, her words clearly hitting him where it hurt.

She smiled victoriously, “now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a jam stand to run and if any of you as much as thinks of pulling anything like this again, my husband here will have the rest of the kingdom hear your screams for a change.” She warned fearlessly, her gaze running over each and every seller in the market.

“For all the right reasons.” Bucky promised, harshly squeezing the man’s shoulder in his flesh fist.

She giggled, nodding with a wide grin before walking to the truck to get the sweep she had packed beforehand.

“Now I know why you insisted on bringing that with you!” Sarah laughed in amazement.

She laughed with her best friend as they both walked back to her stand where a very proud Bucky was still standing guard.

It was sad that she had expected such actions; that she expected that someone was going to try and destroy her work, but she was still glad they did it early enough for her to set them straight. She now had a place in that market, and she wasn’t leaving any time soon.

Once she reached the booth, Bucky took the broom out of her hand and threw it to Sarah, settling his hands on her waist.

“Hi,” she smiled, finally able to properly greet her husband, slipping a loose strand of hair behind his pointed ear.

“Hi,” Bucky replied fondly, leaning her back in a tender dip, making her laugh before he claimed her lips in a passionate, lingering kiss in front of everyone watching.

They had lost themselves in the kiss so much that when they finally pulled away, Sarah had finished sweeping away the glass, Cole helping her get rid of the shards so that they wouldn’t hurt anyone.

Bucky grunted when he noticed Cole standing there, the man shivering under the orc’s intense gaze.

She squeezed Bucky’s hand in hers before giving Cole a grateful smile, “thank you for everything you’ve done, Cole. We appreciate it.”

“No need to thank me,” Cole blushed, “it wasn’t right what they did.”

Bucky snarled, teeth and fists clenched as he silently told the man to back off.

“I’ll— I’ll be by the flowers if you guys need me,” Cole said hastily, practically running out of Bucky’s face, the orc’s gaze following him until he was gone.

“Bucky,” she said, shaking his hand in hers, “he was just helping!”

“We don’t need his help,” he growled, still angry that another man was able to offer his wife help before him.

“I don’t and will never need anyone but you,” she told him, getting on her tiptoes to peck the orc’s frowny lips.

“Promise me not to talk to him again,” Bucky grumbled like a kid on her lips, refusing to let her kiss him.

She shook her head with a smile, “I promise.”

“No, say the whole thing.”

She laughed aloud, hiding her face in his chest, “I promise not to talk to Cole again. Happy?”

“Very.” Bucky finally smiled again, kissing her properly.

The next few days were very busy for both of them. She was trying to build herself a good name in the market and Bucky had this huge bulk order of chairs and desks for the new school. It didn’t help that Sarah was helping her with her jam stand because that meant that Sam and Bucky had to get everything done on their own.

She and Bucky barely saw each other all week, meeting only on the bed to exhaustedly fall asleep in each other’s arms at nights. They couldn’t even have breakfasts together because Bucky would be up and out way earlier than her.

Which meant he never saw her during her morning sickness.

And as much as she craved Bucky’s care, she was still happy in a way that he wasn’t here for the daily puke because that meant she could surprise him with the news she so bad hoped to be true.

She had told Sarah when it happened for the third day in a row, unable to keep her happiness or nervousness to herself.

She was probably pregnant, with Bucky’s baby. All the signs were there and she couldn’t be more contented.

They didn’t tell anyone, but today during lunch time, Sarah was accompanying her on her visit to the midwife just to make sure before she went ahead and broke the news to Bucky.

And when the midwife had confirmed hers and Sarah’s suspicions, the whole world couldn’t contain her happiness if it tried.

She was carrying Bucky’s baby inside of her. She was making a family with the orc of her dreams!

She was too excited that she wanted to just run to the shop and tell Bucky right away, but no, this had to be special. As special as the news itself.

And that was how she found Sarah and herself walking towards Cole’s flower stand.

“You’ll ask for them.”

“Why me? I’m not the pregnant one!” Sarah argued, stopping.

“Please, Sarah, you know I promised Bucky,” she whined, giving her friend the best puppy eyes she could pull.

“I’m sure Bucky didn’t mean that literally! He just didn’t want you flirting with the man.”

“Oh believe me, he meant it literally.”

“Still no.”

“Please, Aunt Sarah,” she begged, rubbing her flat belly.

“Ugh fine, but only for the sweet orcling inside of you!”

She giggled, giving Sarah a hug before they continued walking to the flower stand, “thank you, Aunt Sarah.”

“Good afternoon, Cole,” Sarah started, “we’re gonna need one of you freshest—”

“Mom!” A smaller voice called out, making Sarah turn around at once.

“AJ! What are you doing here, boy? Where’s your brother?” Sarah asked worriedly.

“He fell down— we were just playing soccer—” AJ stuttered, scared of his mom’s reaction.

“Where is your brother?”

“He’s at the infirmary. The doctor asked for you…” AJ replied faintly, his head down in shame.

“Oh my— I’m so sorry. I need to go.” Sarah told her as she ran with AJ out of the market.

“It’s okay, go. I’ll come with Bucky later to see how he’s doing,” she replied with a worried nod.

“So,” Cole broke the silence and only then did she realize that she has been standing there by his booth watching Sarah and AJ leave for at least 30 seconds.

“Oh— well…” She fumbled with her hands, not sure if she should talk to him.

She knew she promised Bucky, but this was kind of for Bucky too, and neither she nor Cole were flirting, so what was the harm?

“I need your freshest forget-me-not, please.” She gave the man her order with a polite smile.

“You got it.” Cole nodded before kneeling down to fetch her the prettiest, most alive forget-me-not plant she has ever seen, “how about this gal here?”

“She’s perfect!” She smiled, almost jumping in place because she could see Bucky’s face when she gave him the flower with the news she had.

She was too busy paying for her plant to notice Bucky watching her from a distance or notice him leaving at the sight of her smiling while talking to the one man he made her promise not to talk to.

“You came back early!” Sam commented upon seeing his friend reenter the shop less than 15 minutes after he had left.

“Yeah, couldn’t find her. Probably went to lunch out with Sarah,” Bucky lied, setting his packed food down before picking up his axe.

“We don’t need any more wood—”

“I don’t care.” Bucky stormed off to the lumberyard, ready to take his feelings out on the dead trees.

“Those chairs aren’t gonna make themselves ya know! I’m not a machine!” Sam yelled after him but it all fell on deaf ears.

Bucky was angry.

He just wanted to have a sweet lunch with his wife, but instead he was welcomed by a scene from his worst nightmare.

Did she do that all the time? How many times has she broken her promise to him? Was it because he was busy those past few days? He thought she was busy too; he didn’t know it could be affecting her that much…

But no. She wouldn’t do that. She promised him and Bucky trusted and trusts her.

Bucky shook his head as he stopped in his tracks, turning around as he flipped his axe in the air. He trusted his wife.

He wasn’t going to be that husband because they were not that couple.

When Bucky had walked back to the shop, she was there, waiting for him with her heart pounding in her throat.

He wanted to take the frown off his face, but he couldn’t do it fast enough.

“Where’s Sam?” He wondered, trying to hide his feelings.

“He had to go to Sarah and the boys. Cass got hurt while playing.” She explained in a hurry, the news she actually came for pressing on her.

“Bucky, I need to talk to you,” she said before she could change her mind, nervousness etched all over her soft features.

Bucky’s heart sank. Was she leaving him?

“I wanted to wait until we got home, but I couldn’t wait!” She smiled, eyes lighting up as she spoke.

Okay, maybe she wasn’t leaving him. She wouldn’t be this joyful about leaving him, would she?

“Is everything okay, sweet thing?” Bucky asked, becoming nervous himself.

She took his hand and led him to his chair before making herself comfortable on his lap with a bag in her own.

Yeah, she wasn’t leaving him.

“I wanna confess something first.”

“I’m listening,” Bucky said, his voice strained because he could guess where this was going.

“I broke my promise to you today, but only today, I swear. And I’m sorry,” she held his hand in one of hers, eyes begging him not to be upset with her, “I had to speak to Cole.”

“Really? You had to? Why did you possibly have to speak to Cole?” Bucky snapped, unable to control his anger.

“I understand why you’re upset and I’m so sorry.” She squeezed his hand to her heart, “I asked Sarah to do it for me, but AJ came and got her because Cass got hurt and so I had to ask Cole for this.” She brought out the potted forget-me-not, “all on my own”.

“If you wanted blue flowers you could have asked me and I would have planted millions for you,” Bucky mumbled, shaking his head.

He was happy that they had a healthy relationship where she felt safe enough to come and tell him about this, but he wasn’t happy with what she was telling him.

He could be a farmer!

“That would’ve been too late and too early at the same time.” She shrugged with a small grin.

“Little human, you’re not making much sense right now.”

“Forget-me-nots take from a month and a half to two months to grow. It would’ve been too late for me to tell you the news I got them to tell you and too early for—”

She got up and set the plant on Bucky’s desk before resituating herself on his lap with her dress up so that she was straddling him.

“It would’ve been too early for the baby to come.”

“What? What baby?” Bucky asked dumbly, his brain short circuiting at the news.

“I’m pregnant, my love,” she whispered, her eyes tearing up.

“You’re— you’re pregnant?”

She nodded, tears rolling down her soft cheeks, “I’m pregnant.”

“With my baby.” Bucky pointed to himself, making her chuckle.

“With your baby.”

Without introductions, Bucky pressed his lips to her in a kiss so passionate that it left her dizzy.

“Our baby,” Bucky whispered on her lips, cupping her cheek as he put his forehead to hers, letting his tears run.

Bucky’s flesh hand moved to caress her belly, “you have given me everything, sweet thing. Everything.”

“I love you, Bucky.” She wiped her orc’s tears before wrapping her arms around him, burrowing her face in his neck, breathing in his calming scent.

“I love you even more, little human.”

“We’re gonna have an actual little human soon and the name won’t be exclusively mine anymore,” she joked, chuckling on his warm skin.

“You will always be my little human,” Bucky told her seriously, bringing her gaze back to his, “we’re just gonna have a littler human.”

She laughed aloud as Bucky wiped away her tears.

“We’re gonna be so happy, aren’t we?” She asked with a big smile, her heart full.

“Yes, we are.” Bucky promised, sealing it with another kiss.

“You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me,” she told Bucky the second they broke the kiss, making him smile like an idiot.

“Ditto.”

“Oh my gods, you’re so human!”

Bucky laughed with her before asking “forget-me-nots?”

“Yeah, I didn’t want you to forget about me between the hills of chairs and desks and they could also symbolize a sense of permanence, commitment, and familial bond. It was in one of the books you got me when we first got married.” She pretended to flip her hair away as she spoke confidently.

Bucky smiled, her words reassuring his heart more than she could ever know. She didn’t say when you first took me or when they first sent me, she said when ‘we first got married’.

She had fully, lovingly accepted Bucky and this marriage and it was time for Bucky to accept it all himself, too. It was time for him to accept that he was loved and chosen and cared about by this woman in his lap.

“I could never forget about you, sweet thing.” Bucky kissed her forehead, silently thanking her for way more than just a potted plant.

“I got you something else.” She rummaged through the bag, bringing out an amethyst male ring.

“What’s that one for?” Bucky asked, looking at her fondly.

“That’s for protection, so you wouldn’t hurt yourself while working again,” she told him with a smile as she slipped the ring on his flesh finger.

Bucky looked at her, all the love in the world held in his stare, “thank you, little human.”

He kissed the ring on his finger and after it her lips.

She loved Bucky and that was the only truth he needed to believe in.

Bucky loved her and that was the only fact that mattered to him.

She and Bucky were expecting their first baby and that was the only reality any of them wanted to live.

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heavenlyysstuff · 3 days

Text

Flower Girl

NETEYAM.s x fem! omatikaya! reader

summary . Whenever in battle, he always had someone to fight for, and he was always going to return to her at the end of the day.

language . syulang ‘ flower . sevin ‘ pretty

a/n . I apologise for the no content recently, kinda lacking ideas rn, so feel free to drop any idea you have in my asks!

The war cry’s and yelps of his people around him became a blur, the sky people relentlessly try to kick at their defence.

Since the loss of home tree, the Omatikaya never seemed to know peace again, not with these creatures invading their land and homes.

Neteyam can only watch from afar as his people fight for what’s theirs, set with the task of being a watcher, making sure to alert his father for any more incoming sky people.

He wants to fight, protect his land… the ones he loves. But he knows that at his age, war shouldn’t be something he should have to prepare and participate in.

He can see the difference between the numbers in his people and them. It looks like they are winning this battle, but at what cost?

He knows his people will be leaving with scars, bruises and cuts, he just hopes he can help his family stay clean.

“We gotta get down there bro!” Neteyam hears his brother beside him on his own ikran.

“Dad will skin us.” His reply is stern, and in Neteyam’s mind he knows any of what happens to his brother in the next few moments, it will be up to him to take the blame.

Lo’am shakes of his worry with a tilt of the head and his ikran soars down onto the battlefield.

“Lo’ak! You…Ughhh…” Neteyam yells out, grunting at his brother’s rebelliousnes, but also commands his ikran to chase down his brother.

Back at camp, you help to organise some herbs you and other apprentice heaters had gathered.

Your fingers brush through each herb and help to put them into its designated bowl. You and the other young women have created a circle around a total of 5 bowls, each of them sorting through their own sections of herbs.

Not only did this job help the people of the clan, it helped that the apprentices were always chatty, and when you bring a handful of chatty young women into one place, information is bound to spread.

The women frequently discuss any of the latest happenings in the clan, usually small playful stuff, it helped to keep the group entertained.

You never did much talking, only listened, occasionally giving your thoughts when asked but you don’t mind much, you’re more of a thinker, so when working you usually just zone out into your own little world.

“Aah, Y/n… you have more of those in your hair.” A passing female states when handing a bowl of salve to another woman, she crouches behind you and begins to peck at your hair with her fingers.

“Ayyie.” You lift your hands to shield your hair and lean forward. “I like it like this…” she giggled behind you and gives your hair one minor adjustment before standing up to move around the circle.

“It is quite pretty you have to admit, Ayyie.” Another girl in the group says while looking up from her work. “I just don’t know how you do it everyday, Y/n.”

“The reaction she gets from Neteyam every time seems to keep her going.” Another states, and the circle begins giggling at the fact.

You bring your head down to avoid the confrontation, heat pools at your cheeks and your tail is brought high up next to you. “What are you talking about.” You reply rhetorically.

She giggles more at your clearly flustered reaction, “oh nothing just how he always compliments it and that smile you have all day when he does.” This causes hums of agreement and laughter to flow through everyone in the circle.

“He doesn’t…it’s not like that.” Your words contradict your actions, as your tail sways hurriedly behind you, ears pinning to the sides of your head which of course makes the women around you giggle to each other.

“Oh leave her alone, she can hardly think about him without getting so worked up.” Tee’ron spills out half in your defends half to tease you.

You decide it’s be best if you just stopped talking to avoid getting deeper into your pit of embarrassment, you keep your head down and continue sorting through herbs.

The girls remain giggling for a bit before Tee’ron puts a hand on your shoulder, “sorry, Y/n.” She says in a between quiet laughs, quick to calm her breathing.

“The war party is back!”

Those words were what broke you out of your working frenzy, immediately your head shoots to look outside and your ears perk up.

You are first to stand from the circle of women, hastily making your way outside the hut and out to see the returning warriors, to see him.

You walk slowly and look at every man and woman in hopes to find him, and once you look forward, he’s there.

You wanted to run to him, but with seeing him came seeing his father, and the rest of his family. You didn’t know weather to get any closer, but you decided to take the chance.

You slowly walk towards him, and once close enough you can hear the tone of his fathers voice when speaking to him, he seemed to tone it down once Neytiri spoke though.

You don’t think Neteyam noticed you when you stood behind him, but his father certainly did “Y/n, could you help Kiri with the wounded.” He tilts his head to gesture to his daughter who stood on the other side of Neteyam.

“Neteyam is wounded.” You speak with a somewhat sharp tone, your quick to bite your tongue though and quickly lower your eyes to look to the side.

The Olo’eyktan sighs and looks between you and his son, “go on then.”

You can see Neteyam’s shoulders visibly relax and you bring a hand to grasp his arm, pulling it to lead him away from his family and toward an empty healing hut.

On the way you look behind you, only to meet Neteyam’s mothers eyes. You could never really read that woman, mostly silent and stern. The look in her eyes was nothing new though, she looked between you and her son and a small smile crept out of her, you didn’t see it for too long, as you turn to guide Neteyam into the hut.

You let go of his arm and he instinctively takes a seat of the ground close to the herbs set next to him.

He slowly sits down with one leg sprawled out and the other perched closer to his chest, hissing at the strain the movements cause him.

“Shhh..” you’re quick to calm him, coming close to his side and placing a bowl of salve informer of you. He glances at you before looking back down to the ground in front of him, and he goes silent. Tilting your head, you ask “how bad was it?” While scanning over his form to take in any hidden injuries.

He rolls his shoulder and fixes his posture, “could’ve been worse, I suppose.” He huffs, and fixes his gaze on you. “Hey,” he tilts his head, raising a hand to poke at your hair, “where’d you get these ones?”

You move your own hand up to you hair, grasping his hand in the process, “secret.” He scoffs at your reply and looks offended.

“I’ve been almost everywhere in this forest, I’ll find them soon enough.” He brings your clasped hands down to rest on his knee. You only smirk and roll your eyes. “Sevin syulang.”

You hum at his words, “yea I thought so to.” Agreeing with his words, without thinking he may not have been talking about the flowers… “let me fix you up, okay?”

He huffs in fake annoyance, but smiles once you lather salve onto a wound on his shoulder, your hands warm to the touch.

He closes his eyes, enjoying the feeling of your hands gliding against his slightly scarred skin, feeling as you make your way from his arms, massaging the muscles up to his shoulders.

Then to his face, where you apply smaller amounts of ointment to the wounds. Your hands gliding across his forehead and along the bridge of his nose, under his chin.

He opens his eyes, and realised how much closer you’ve come, only a small distance between your two faces, but he can still feel the slight circular motions you continue on a scar across his jawline.

Exhaling slowly in thought, he grabs your hand to pause your movements, causing you to look into his eyes with what at first was confusion, quickly turning into a realisation.

You both stay eyes locked on each others for a moment, Neteyam’s unoccupied hand coming up to caress your own cheek, the both of you leaning into the others palms.

In what felt like forever, the two of you get closer, eyes dropping low and foreheads touching. Your eyes drop before he follows, heads tilting in sync and lips finally touching, a gentle and passionate kiss shared.

Pulling away slowly for breath, and then moving back in for another in usion, the two of you entranced by each others touch and addicted to the feeling of your hearts beating together.

After three long and loving kisses, foreheads part and you both slowly open your eyes to what had been in front of you all along.

“I see you, Y/n.” Neteyam speaks after quietly catching his breath, bringing you closer into an embrace, arms around your waist to lift you into his lap.

You relax into his body, arms coming up to wrap around his neck and shoulders, “I see you, Neteyam.”

#neteyam sully #neteyam sully x reader #atwow neteyam #neteyam x you #neteyam #neteyam sully x you #neteyam x reader #atwow x reader #atwow #atwow fluff

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pelova4president · 20 hours

Text

Why so shy?

Jessie Fleming x Reader

summary~ Crushing on someone was a whole lot to deal with, especially when your crush is your teammate and your other teammates are all on it.

You grew up supporting the red side of London. Your father and his father had supporter Arsenal so it was logical for you to be a gooner at heart too. That was until you got scouted by Chelsea.

You didn’t really have to hide that you were an Arsenal fan, you just didn’t bring it up, ever. Your dad and grandpa had already found a solution, supporting Arsenal’s mens team and Chelsea’s women’s. It wasn’t ideal, you knew that but they’ll support you everywhere you’d go.

And even though they did support you in a blue kit, they’d never wear a blue shirt themselves. Whenever they would go and watch your Chelsea games they were dressed in a neutral shirt, your England shirt.

When you got into the blue academy you were a bit shy. You weren’t scared or anything, it was just all new, you didn’t know anyone and well, kids are scary.

But there was Aggie. A blue through and through. She was extroverted, funny and outgoing. Aggie helped you get into the Chelsea spirits and loved to tease you.

Aggie was meant to be Chelsea’s stargirl, you weren’t but somehow you became one alongside your best friend. You were the young blues, the future lays in your hands.

A few months in Beever-Jones found out you were a die hard Arsenal fan and couldn’t stop pestering you about it. You begged her to keep it under wraps, nobody needed to know you pleaded. She wasn’t really about to let it go until you threatened to call her by her real name, Agnes.

So the both of you kept your mouths shut. A good deal for the both of you.

Aggie made her debut when she was just eighteen years old. You were sat in the stands but you might’ve been more nervous and excited for her than she was herself. Aggie kept her cool, she always did but you were stressing away. Your nails had been bitten away by the moment she got subbed in.

After the final whistle had been blown you ran towards her, a bright smile appearing on her face. “You did it Beever!” you cheered jumping into her open arms.

“You’re acting like i scored the winning goal in the Champions League mousey.” Aggie laughed.

“Well, i feel like you just did.” you reacted offended.

Jessie had been part of the senior squad before Aggie and you even got to train with the first team. You were a fan of the midfielder, even thought you would never confess it. You weren’t only a fan of her game but also her beauty. She is very pretty.

Aggie fit right in. She walked into the training ground with you behind her and made some small talk. Erin, Niamh and Aggie seemed like the best of friends. You were used to be by her side at all times and especially now it didn’t help she wasn’t.

Jessie walked over towards you and introduced herself. “Hi i’m Jessie.” she smiled. Jessie Fleming was talking to you and you might melt away.

“Hey- hi i’m mouse, well you know, it’s not my real name but they call me mousey- well you can call me whatever..” you mumbled the last part. God you made a fool of yourself.

Jessie laughed at your rambling and placed her hand on your shoulder. “I know your name mousey.” she smiled.

Jessie Fleming knew your name, your year was made.

“I know who you are too.” you said. Okay that sounded creepy, like stalker creepy. “I- i didn’t mean it like that, not in a weird creepy way. I just know who you are, ‘cus we both play for Chelsea you know?” you tried to recover.

The Canadian only laughed harder at that. “I know what you mean mousey.” she grinned.

And before you could make an even bigger fool of yourself you were stolen away by Aggie. “What were you just doing mouse?” she asked with fake curiosity.

“I was talking to Jessie and i don’t know, it went wrong i think?” you sighed, disappointment shown on your face. You had one job, act normal.

“Yeah well i definitely saw that. Maybe someone’s got a little crush huh?” Aggie winked.

“Ag- Aggie, i don’t have a fucking crush on my teammate.” your brows furrowed.

Your bestfriend backed off. “Okay okay whatever you say mousey.” she shrugged.

Two months in it only got worse. Aggie had forced you to go out with the girls, ‘‘cus that’s what winning teams do’. You never really were a party animal and still aren’t but you’d try your best.

Millie Bright had taken it upon herself to get you a little looser and by that she meant drunk. You were drunk after only a few drinks. You might’ve been embarrassed at how fast you got drunk if you weren’t wasted already.

Getting up from your seat at the bar you made your way to the dance floor, where most of your teammates were located. Aggie was cheering you on as you walked towards her with an excessive swing in your hips.

“Look out everyone, drunk mousey is on the dance floor!” she warned the girls.

Jessie looked up from where she was sat to take a look herself. You were doing all kinds of dances and somehow your very stiff robot was your best.

“What is she doing?” the Canadian asked her Swedish goalkeeper.

Zećira shrugged. “I don’t know, i think she’s trying to dance?” she laughed.

Jessie hummed to herself. She hadn’t seen you like this, ever. The midfielder hadn’t expected you to be such a party animal. You were really shy whenever you talked to her and she never really saw you as an extroverted type.

Jessie had her eyes fixated on you and when an unknown girl came walking towards you her eyebrows furrowed. The girl slipped behind you and began to dance with you. It disturbed her. Why was that girl touching you and why weren’t you telling her off.

“Didn’t know she was such a party girl..” Jessie scoffed.

The goalkeeper looked up from her phone and took a look at you on the dance floor and back at a slightly angry Jessie. “You jealous Fleming?” Zećira asked with a smug grin on her face.

“I’m not jealous, that girl just shouldn’t be touching her. Plus we’ve got training tomorrow.” Jessie answered, her eyes still on you.

The girl behind you was getting more handsy by the second and Jessie wasn’t having it. “And so what if i am?” the older girl grumbled under her breath.

“Then you should do something about it don’t you think grumpy?” Zećira told her.

Jessie took her advice and speed walked towards the heated dance floor. She was pushing through some of her teammates and finally made it towards you.. and that girl.

“She’s not really interested.” Jessie deadpanned.

The girl looked towards you but you just stood still, your cheeks getting even redder than they were before. Jessie was staring her down and she eventually left.

“I think you’re done for tonight mousey. I’ll get you home.” the brunette told you.

It wasn’t like you could argue with her, especially not in your state. You were way too scared to let any words out, in fear that you would say something embarrassing. Nodding your head she escorted you through the crowd and into her car.

“You’re gonna sit there while i’ll say goodbye to everyone.” she ordered you, pointing to her passenger seat. You looked at her with glossy eyes.

“Got it? Don’t do anything stupid please.” you nodded your head and she walked back to the bar.

You weren’t planning on doing anything stupid. It was just that her car horn looked so cool. You couldn’t just sit there and wait until she was back without pushing that button. So you got into her car seat and pushed the button.

You just didn’t expect her to be back so soon. Jessie opened the car door and looked at you. “What did i say mousey!” she grumbled.

“I’m sorry Jessie, i didn’t mean to it just looked so fun.” you pouted at her. She couldn’t be that mad at you right?

Jessie started the car and drove to her apartment. “Where are you taking me to Jessie?” you asked, your eyelids getting heavy.

“I’m driving us to my apartment so i can look after you. Hopefully you won’t do anything stupid this time.” she whispered the last part.

“Jessie jessie you are just like a little bear sometimes. You’re very sweet and soft an- I really like teddy bears so i really like you.” you rambled.

Jessie was intrigued. “Oh yeah? Tell me more, why do you like me mousey?” she asked curiously.

“You’re so nice to me and when you came up to me you were so sexy. You’re so beautiful and stunning and fit.” Jessie was enjoying this way too much. A smirk was appearing on her freckled face.

Jessie parked her black Mercedes. “Hmm, you’re cute.” she hummed.

“You really think so Jessiebear?” you mumbled.

“I really think so mousey.” Jessie said softly before carrying you inside.

#woso fanfics #woso community #woso x reader #engwnt #chelsea women #chelsea wfc #aggie beever jones x reader #aggie beever jones #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming

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mountainsandmayhem · 1 day

Text

Tess's Treasures

18+, MDNI

Pairing: Tess x Joel x OC!Female x Female!Reader Summary: After perfecting the art of pickpocketing, you’re invited to join Tess’s Treasures. They’re infamous around the QZ and the initiation process is not what you expect, but exactly what you need. CW: If you’re not into foursomes/bi girl shit then you are in the wrong place. MFFF, bisexual females, fingering, masturbating, oral, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation kink. Unprotected p in v. Overstim and squirting. Please read this at your discretion. If this isn’t for you, that’s perfectly fine. AN: You can thank @mermaidgirl30 and @littlevenicebitch69 for being good little girls and filling my mind with depraved and twisted thoughts. This fic has truly been a labour of love, taking me almost 6 weeks to put together and edit. I'm not the least bit sorry about the word count, grab a snack, probably some electrolytes and maybe some spare batteries lol. Special shoutouts to @pedritoferg for their kind words when my imposter syndrome had the best of me. As always, dividers and support banners by @saradika-graphics. Friendly reminder that I'm phasing out my tag list, follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates for new fics.

Word Count: 9005

Becoming one of Tess’s Treasures seemed like a fallacy, a pipe dream. A fairytale life only reserved for the most vicious females that prowl the shady streets of the Boston QZ, and you aren’t a killer. A thief, yes; but not a killer. Truthfully, you weren’t even sure if the organization existed. Sure, Tess was a real person, but did she actually have a horde of women she called her Treasures?

She was infamous in the seedy underbelly of Boston, her and her henchman Joel. Granted, no one ever seemed to see Joel, unless he was about to kill you. And sometimes not even then, he was often hiding in the shadows, shadows darker than the demons that allegedly haunted him.

Outbreak day happened when you were just little, you don’t remember much of the journey from your old hometown to Boston. Everyone here is poor, doing what they can to get credits to buy basic human needs; making trades and swaps were what most people did. You, however, were much more clever. After discovering a book detailing the art of sleight of hand you started practicing, and now you can take anything, right in front of someone's eyes, without them noticing.

Or so you thought. After stealing a pistol from a FEDRA officer and replacing it with a banana, all while having a conversation with him in broad daylight, Tess approaches you.

“Come to my apartment next week. I wanna see if you have what it takes. Mum’s the word.” It’s a hushed whisper as she passes you, slipping a small card in your back pocket as she goes.

You follow the cards' instructions, arriving at the exact time, going up to the top floor and then doing two quick, sharp knocks on the worn out door.

“Enter,” Tess says from inside. The door creaks on your way in. It’s the hottest day Boston has seen in years, and even in your small sundress, the room is stifling hot. The air is thick with the smell of gunpowder and something else that you can’t quite put your finger on. There’s a fan oscillating in the corner, the paint chipped off the cage that protects the blades. As it blows warm air past you, you realize that the other smell is sex.

Tess is sitting on the couch to the right of the door, two mismatched wooden kitchen chairs in front of her. Straight ahead from the door is a small kitchen, and to the back left of the studio style apartment is the bed. Unmade, sheets tousled like someone just woke up, but based on the heady taste of the air in the room, the messy sheets are definitely from two people rolling around in them.

“Come sit,” Tess says firmly. You click the door shut behind you and head to the empty chair that’s waiting for you. The other chair is occupied by a small brunette woman. She has long slender limbs and doesn’t look like someone who would hang out with raiders, poachers and drug runners. Her hands are folded in her lap, ankles crossed under the chair. She doesn’t look over at you.

Tess leans forward, spreading her denim clad legs wide and resting her elbows on her knees. “Do you two know who I am?”

You both nod slowly. Up close, Tess is terrifying. She could have you killed with just a snap of her fingers, and Joel would do it however she wanted. From what you’ve heard, very slowly was her favourite way to have people eliminated from this earth. Quick deaths weren’t something she enjoyed when someone had fucked her over.

“Speak!” she commands. The brunette jumps and even though you’ve mastered the art of pushing your fears down and masking your emotions, a small butterfly flaps its wings behind your navel.

“Yes,” you say hoarsely as a meek ‘yes ma’am’ sounds beside you.

“Good. So then you know the….perks of being one of my Treasures,” Tess’s eyes twinkle as she says perks like she knows something you don’t. Like it’s more than the better living arrangements, food and medical care. Better than a sense of family and belonging.

She continues, “I’ve seen both of you at work. You,” her steel grey eyes are laser focused on yours, “With your quick hands, and you,” she adjusts her attention to the petite woman beside you, “With your ability to talk a man into almost anything. Before you can officially call yourself my Treasures, there’s a small matter of your…” Her voice trails, mouth ticking up on one side as she cocks her head and drags her eyes across both of your bodies.

“Well, your initiation.” She leans back onto the couch, knees falling wider. One arm drapes across the back, the worn cushion deflating slightly. The other rests on her thick, toned thigh. “I take care of my girls, but they need to show me that they can listen.”

The air seems thicker, and harder to fill your lungs with. Every move of her eyes is suggestive. Is she saying what you think she’s saying? You feel yourself begin to soak through your panties at the possibility of getting to fuck.

You aren’t left wondering for long as she points a long finger at the girl beside you, “Stand up, take off your clothes.”

“W-what?” the girl sputters.

“I said to stand up and take off your fucking clothes,” the words almost seem to burn as she repeats herself.

The girl stands so quickly that the chair falls, making a loud crash against the worn hardwood flooring. She stares at Tess for a moment, unsure if she should pick up the chair before she decides against it and pulls her blue cotton baby tee off, revealing a lacy white bra underneath.

“That’s it,” Tess groans. “Take off those little shorts next.”

With shaky hands she moves to the button fly, each drag of the metal on denim seems to echo in the silent room. Tess licks her lips as she slides her shorts down her legs and kicks them to the side. “Come here,” Tess says, her voice already husky and deep. The woman walks over to Tess, stopping between her spread legs. Tess’s strong fingers grip the girl's hips and she gasps. “Turn around,” she urges, dragging her fingers along her hips as the mystery girl spins.

“What’s your name?” Tess asks. The girl's bright green eyes land on you and you see her breath hitch in her slender throat. She’s petite, probably a few inches shorter than you and at least a foot shorter than Tess. You’ve always been attracted to both men and women and there’s no denying that this little stranger is absolutely stunning.

“Lydia,” she croaks.

“Are you nervous, Lydia?” Tess asks, cupping the globes of her ass in her hands, kneading and squeezing. Spreading them gently, exploring what she’s about to claim as hers.

She nods her head and lets out a shaky moan of agreement.

“Go pick up your chair and sit down, Lydia.” Tess swats her bum as she walks away and Lydia yelps quietly.

Tess’s eyes now come to you. Staring straight into your soul. I’m sure if she could, her eyes would incinerate your clothes right off of you. It’s intoxicating. You, unlike Lydia, are not nervous. Not in the slightest. If anything, Tess’s attention on you only makes you wetter. Your panties are practically soaked through already. “And you, my little thief. What’s your name?”

You say your name confidently and squeeze your thighs together, trying to ease some of the ache that Tess’s newfound attention is bringing to the apex of your thighs.

Tess whispers your name back at you and it sends a shiver down your spine. She continues, “Get on your hands and knees and crawl to me.”

Lydia swallows loudly beside you as you drop to the floor, crawling seductively to Tess, head held high. The worn hardwood planks creak under your weight. Even the floor is warm and sticky from the weather. You make it to her, sitting back on your heels like the good little girl you are. She leans forward and tugs on the hem of your dress and her syrupy voice says, “Arms up”. You lift your ass slightly and she slips your dress up and over your head. It was too hot for a bra today so you’re left in just a lacy pink thong.

“Mmmm, look at those pretty tits,” Tess hums, her fingers gliding along the plush soft skin of your breasts before ghosting over your nipples making the arm whoosh from your lungs. “You like that? Me touching your nipples.”

You breathe out a yes, eyes shutting as she pinches your pebbled buds roughly. “Oh god, yes.”

The old worn couch groans as Tess sits back, “Go take her bra and panties off.”

You climb to your feet and walk over to Lydia, holding out a hand and helping her stand. You move behind her and trail your fingers down the soft skin of her spinal column before popping the clasp of her bra. Lydia slides it off her body, arms crossing to block her now exposed breasts. Goosebumps rise across her from head to toe. You shush her and rub up and down her arms. Lydia relaxes under your touch and she drops her arms, Tess nods at you once, a silent encouragement to continue. You get down on your knees, hooking your index fingers in the waistband of her panties and sliding them down. Her round ass is in your face, she smells like fresh linen and rain. You fight the urge to kiss the sensitive little spot right where her ass crack starts.

“So fucking beautiful. Sit back down, Lydia.” Tess says and you want to cry out in protest. Her body is so enticing, soft and warm. She focuses back on you and says, “Stand in front of Lydia so she can take your panties off.”

You stand gracefully, biting your bottom lip as you maneuver yourself in front of Lydia. “Spread your legs,” you whisper, determined to help her so you can put on the best show for Tess. Lydia parts her knees and you twirl to face Tess, gathering your hair in one hand as Lydia slides your soaked panties down your legs. You kick them to the side and seductively drop your hair, smiling sweetly at Tess.

“Sit,” Tess barks. Lydia gasps behind you, but you like this; being told what to do. Commanded. Used. Tess continues after you sit, “I want you both to touch yourselves. Show me how you like it, but don’t come. You haven’t earned that yet. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am,” Lydia says, looking down at her hands. You nod eagerly, already sliding your ass to the edge of the chair and spreading your legs wide for her. Tess stares at your glistening core hungrily, leaning forward again to rest her muscular forearms on her knees. Her hair falls forward and frames her face. Her expression is hard, like you don’t want to disobey her in these moments. Brows are slightly knit together, lips in a thin line. She looks beautiful and dangerous, but as you bring your pointer and ring fingers to your entrance she softens a little, cocking her head to the side slightly.

Lydia keeps her legs closed, slipping a finger down her slit and rubbing slowly from side to side. She whimpers silently beside you, glancing at you nervously. Your fingers easily slip inside of your soft, dripping hole.

Tess’s eyes dance between the two of you. “Two very different girls,” she says to the room, neither of you stopping what you’re doing, both determined to become a part of her Treasures. “One of you seems shy, but I can work with that. Help you get out of your shell. And then there’s you,” her focus locks on you as she gets up with a grunt and saunters over to you. “You are a little whore, aren’t you? So eager to please.”

You feel yourself getting wetter at her attention and mean words. She pets your head lightly a few times, laughing quietly at how you lean into her touch, your eyes fluttering closed. Just as your lashes hit your cheeks she grabs a handful, pulls hard and gets within inches of your face. “You’re going to be a problem, aren’t ya?”

“No,” you gasp, your orgasm right on the precipice, so you slow your motions. “I’ll be good, Tess.”

“Did I say you could slow down?”

“I - I’m gonna come,” you whine.

“No, you’re not. You just told me you’d be good. And good girls don’t come until they’re told.” She releases your hair and you suck in a breath. Tess’s presence is palpable, she seems to take up all the space and air in the apartment by just being here. “Do NOT come, that’s an order.”

Just as the last sentence leaves her mouth the door opens and the apartment gets smaller, like your whole existence is being put in a vacuum sealer. The deep chuckle that comes from whoever just entered makes your scalp prickle, but you keep your focus on Tess.

“What’re we doin’ here, Tess?” The voice is deep, with a slight southern accent highlighting an occasional word. It can only belong to one man, the only man allowed near Tess’s Treasures. Joel Miller. He’s feared and revered in the Boston QZ. Runs the drug trade that keeps both FEDRA and the seedy underbelly running. You’ve never seen him before, but you’ve heard stories.

“Recruits,” Tess says, walking over to Lydia, crouching in front of her. “This one is shy. The other one - well, I might need your help with her.”

Your clit feels like it’s zapped with electricity at her threatening promises and you moan loudly, pausing your fingers that have been plunging in and out of you as per Tess’s requests. “See,” she says flatly, hands massaging Lydia’s plush tanned thighs.

You hear Joel’s heavy footsteps as he walks towards you, you can feel his heat and smell the tobacco coming off his skin. When he steps into your line of vision everything blurs. He’s beautiful and dangerous, but overall he’s the most incredible specimen you’ve ever seen. Your brain seems to go blank, like a hard reset, until all you see and smell and care about is Joel. You keep your eyes locked on his face, his brows crease, lips pressed tightly together. He plants his hands on his hips as his coffee and whiskey eyes slowly trail down your body. When he gets to your soaked and swollen pussy he licks his lips. “You gonna let her come?” He asks Tess but doesn’t take his eyes off you.

The fog clouding your brain clears and you glance towards Lydia and Tess. She has her legs spread and Tess is smiling encouragingly up at her, hand on top of hers, teaching her where to touch.

“She can come when she’s earned it. Lydia’s earned it though. Haven’t you?” She nods at Lydia as she squirms in the wooden kitchen chair. “That’s it, show us.”

Lydia speeds the up and down motion of her hand sloppily, you can hear the wetness as her movements become more erratic. Joel’s eyes haven’t left you, still watching you fuck your fingers in and out of yourself, almost mesmerized by you.

“Tess,” Lydia murmurs.

“Go ahead, baby. Come for me. Let me see that pretty little pussy twitch.”

Lydia’s body starts to shake as she cries out, her hand slowing as she whines and moans, “Oh god. Oh god. Yesyesyes.”

You peel your eyes away from her and squeeze every muscle in your body as tightly as you can, holding on, not letting yourself come. Looking at Joel makes it nearly impossible not to tip over that very tantalizing edge, so you clamp your eyes shut. “Tess,” Joel says, his voice a baritone whisper. “You’re torturing this one, look at her.”

He’s right, she is torturing you; but, what Joel doesn’t know is that you love it. You love being denied just as much as you love being used. You love being pinned down or tied up. You love having your throat or pussy or ass fucked in any and all positions known to humankind. The world is a dark and horrible shit show, but sex? Ya, sex makes you feel alive.

“Torturing her would be not letting her touch herself at all. She should be thanking me.” Tess turns her attention back to Lydia, helping her stand up and pulling her to the couch. “You did such a good job for me. You looked stunning as you fell apart.”

You open your eyes at the movement of them. They stop and stand facing each other in front of the couch as Tess removes her shirt, her breasts are small and perky with light pink nipples. Joel looks away from you, staring appreciatively at the woman he’s sworn to protect. She pops the button on her jeans. “Take them off her, Lydia. Tess shouldn’t have to work this hard,” Joel commands.

You whimper at the timbre of Joel's voice when he’s giving instructions and his eyes whip back to you. “You like that, don’t you? Being told what to do.”

“Yes, oh god, please can I come Tess,” you cry, eyes still locked with Joels.

“Lydia is going to lick my pussy, Joel is going to move out of the way so I can see you, and when I say you can come I want you to be loud. I want to hear those slutty little moans. Got it?”

Joel doesn’t hesitate, stepping behind your chair. He must be leaning over you because you swear you can feel his breath on the shell of your ear. Tess sits on the couch and tugs at Lydia’s wrist gently, encouraging her to kneel in front of her. “Come on,” she whispers and then places her finger at the top of her pussy. “Just lick and kiss right here. You can do it.”

Lydia moves slowly, giving you a knowing glance over her shoulder as she gets into Tess’s desired position. You suddenly realize that she’s more clever than you initially thought. She’s not shy, she knows exactly what she’s doing. Tess likes to lead, so she acted like she needed the guidance. And now she’s come and you haven’t. Tess’s head falls back, jaw going slack as Lydia tastes her.

“Does that turn you on?” Joel whispers, his warm breath hitting your neck. “Seeing Tess being eaten out. She deserves that every day, you know. She’s gonna take such good care of you, so you better care for her.”

“I will,” you mumble. “I’ll do whatever she needs. Whenever. Fuuuuck.”

“Look how wet you’re getting, I don’t think you can hold it for much longer.” He’s taunting you now. “Little thing loves to come, doesn’t she?”

“No, Tess gets to - oh god - she says when,” you’re squeezing as tight as you can, holding back the orgasm that’s right there, like a seesaw teetering, so close to tipping to the other side and slamming through you.

Lydia slurps at Tess, you can hear her sucking at her clit as Tess moans and tangles her fingers into Lydia’s hair. “Yes, that’s it. Fuck, right there.”

You let out a breathy whine and Tess’s eyes come to you. “Ssshh, not yet. Oh shit, Lydia. So good.”

Joel laughs into your ear. “Just come, what’s the worst she’s going to do? Spank you? Let me fuck your throat? I bet you like being punished.”

You shake your head, trying to block out all the lewd mental images he’s creating. “No, Joel.” you huff, refocusing on holding it in, thinking of all the unsexy thoughts you can as you watch Tess, waiting for your time.

Tess’s legs begin to shake, “get ready, baby. We are going to come together.”

Your wrist begins to ache, it feels like you’ve been fucking yourself for hours. “I need to, please. You look so - “

She cuts you off, “Joel, take over for her. I’m gonna come.”

Joel practically leaps in front of you, grabbing your wrist and pulling your drenched fingers out while slipping his two thick fingers into your mouth. You bob up and down on his fingers still looking at Tess. Her eyes are glazed over, and a bead of sweat slides down the line of her toned stomach and lands in her belly button.

“Now, Joel,” she whines and Joel wastes no time slamming his fingers inside of you. You cry out at the stretch, pleasure mixing with pain before he pumps his fingers forward. “Come right now,” Tess says.

You look down at Joel, his thumb coming to caress your swollen bundle of nerves and you cry out, the room filled with your loud moans just like she wants. You hear both her and Joel encouraging you. Joel’s Texas twang washing over you, “that’s it, fuckin clenchin. Fuck you’re so tight.”

Joel is relentless, curling and dragging his fingers in and out of you as you writhe in your chair. “Tess, oh god, yes.”

Joel's other hand slaps the inside of your thigh, “LOUDER!” he demands.

You squeal at the hot pain that splashes along your thigh, “hhnnngg, thank you. Fuck.” Your pleasurable moans turn into whines of pain as the overstimulation starts to seep in. You try to pull back and bring your knees together and Joel lets out a growl. He looks up at you dangerously and your stomach clenches. This is the wild, animalistic Joel Miller that everyone fears.

You start to panic, he’s not stopping and you don’t know if you can take much more. You’re so wrapped in his onyx gaze and a mix of fear and arousal that you don’t notice Tess behind Joel until she speaks. Her voice is soft yet firm as she cards her fingers through his greying curls, “Joel, that’s enough.”

He blinks hard, seemingly coming out of some sort of trance, and then slips his fingers from you, strings of milky arousal coating his fingers. “Good boy,” she whispers. “Help her up, but you don’t get to touch either of them until I say so.”

He nods and then stands, helping you up. Lydia is lounging lazily on the couch, her face still glistening with Tess’s juices. Your knees shake underneath you and Joel wraps an arm around your waist. You’ve had plenty of orgasms in your life, but never one that deep and strong. Your pussy is aching and you just want to sleep.

Tess sits on the chair that Lydia was on and spreads her legs slightly. “Lydia,” she crooks her fingers at her, calling her over. “Turn around, pretty girl. Straddle my thigh.”

Lydia follows Tess’s instructions, that fake nervous pout of her lips on display for Joel. Clever, very clever, you think through heavy eyelids.

“Joel, help her on the other thigh and bring that chair.” Joel guides and steadies you as you sit on Tess’s thigh, then places the extra chair in front of the three of you. “Use the chair for balance,” Tess instructs, her hand running up and down your spine gently.

You both lean forward, your sweaty palms slipping slightly against the wooden chair. You both gasp quietly as your swollen clits press into her muscular thigh, as she caresses your backs and hips. Joel sits on the couch across from you, one arm draped across the back and his legs spread. He watches you intently, eyes blown out and curls sticking to his forehead. It’s not lost on you that he hasn’t focused much attention on the other girl. You look over at Lydia and she’s smiling flirtatiously at you. Your faces are just inches apart and she nudges at your nose with hers.

“Ladies,” Tess starts, “this is the part where you show Joel what you can do. He’s going to kill people for you, and when he does, you need to repay him.”

You graze your lips against Lydias, her skin tastes like peaches and Tess’s cunt.

“Pretend my thigh is Joel's cock, show him how you’ll ride him.”

You flick your attention back to Joel, and his expression shifts from hard to a tortured need. You rake your eyes down his strong chest, still concealed by that fucking denim button up that you want to rip off with your teeth. He’s dangerous and could easily snap your neck with two fingers, but fuck, if that doesn’t make you want him more. Lydia presses her lips to your throat and you start to grind back and forth on Tess’s thigh.

You continue to take in Joel’s body, stopping when you get to his lap. Your eyes widen at the distinct outline of his hard cock pressing behind the zipper of his jeans. Your bottom lip slips between your teeth as you lock eyes with him again. His coffee coloured irises are almost onyx as he shifts in his seat. He wants you - just as much as you want him, and you just hope that you can break him enough so Tess lets him have you.

Tess’s strong hand travels up the smooth skin of your back, tangling her hands in the hair at the nape of your neck. “Tell Joel how good it feels, baby. Lydia, keep kissing her.”

Lydia’s lips suck at your skin. “Mmm, fuck Joel. Feels s’good. Wish it was your big cock filling me up, sliding in and out of my tight, wet pussy.” Tess tugs at your hair to open your neck more for Lydia and you yelp.

“Keep talking, baby girl,” Joel says, his hand moving to palm himself over his jeans. “Tell me what you want.”

You grind harder into Tess’s thigh, between the sting in your scalp from her hand, Lydia’s soft lips on your neck, and Joel’s intense stare, it almost becomes hard to breathe. Every bit of their attention is on you.

“I-I want you to, mmmm, to pin me down,” you take in a shaky breath, never taking your eyes off him. “To f-fuck me…from behind. Want you to f-fill, oh god, fill me.”

Joel pops the button of his jeans, reaching down his pants to grip himself through his tight grey boxers. You continue breathily, “Wanna feel you spank me. Slam inside of me. Dominate me.”

“Good girl,” Tess says, releasing her grip on your hair and pulling Lydia off your neck, before pressing in between your shoulder blades until you’re flush with her thigh. You crane your neck to keep your eyes on Joel, looking at him through the wooden slats of the back of the chair in front of you. “Your turn, Lydia. Tell Joel what you want.”

She clears her throat before beginning, “If he killed for me, I wouldn’t make him do any work. I’d lay him down, lick and kiss every inch of him before sliding him in my mouth. Taking him deep, cradling his balls with my hand. I’d swallow every drop.”

Joel lets out a noncommittal grunt, almost like a secret language between him and Tess. Joel leans forward and removes his denim button up and t-shirt in one swoop. His tanned and toned chest makes your mouth water. His chiselled pecs and soft belly have trimmed salt and pepper hair dusted across them, he toes off his shoes and then lifts his hip, sliding his jeans down his legs. His skin glistens with sweat and you want to lick it all off of him, drink up his salt and musk, his innate Joel-ness.

“Come here, Joel.” She says.

“Sit up,” she says softly to you. Joel stalks forward like he’s about to claim what’s his and your pussy clenches around nothing in hopes that it’s you.

“Ride my thighs, girls. Whoever cums first, Joel gets to fuck.” You spit into your hand and reach between your legs, gently spreading your lips and coating yourself in saliva.

A deep, “holy fuck” leaves Joel's lips at the sight of you. Yes, he definitely wants you just as much as you want him. You move your hands from the chair to Tess’s knee and grind your hips in small, slow circles. Your arms push your tits together for Joel. Beside you, Lydia stops moving. She sits as still as a statue, looking over her shoulder seductively at Tess. A loud slap fills the room, followed by a lust filled moan that you didn't think Lydia was capable of.

“Tess,” she says, all airy and breathy. Her tone feels sweet on your skin. “I don’t like sleeping with men.”

You keep grinding, your focus on Joel. He’s so close that you could reach out and grab one of his muscular forearms. You’re going to fuck him. You want to fuck him. Any way he wants. Any hole he wants. None of it matters, you just want to feel him, smell him, taste him.

Tess lets out an impressed sigh. “You’re even more amazing than I thought, Lydia. Had me telling you how to lick a pussy, how to touch yourself. But you already know. Don’t you?” She slaps Lydia’s ass again and the loud noise even has you clenching. Fuck, you want Joel to spank you. Or Tess. Even Lydia at this point.

It’s wrong. And taboo. But who can say what’s right or wrong in this new world anymore?

“You are going to have to do things for Joel, little temptress. It’s part of the deal.” You see Tess’s hands come to Lydia’s hips, encouraging her to grind at the same pace you’ve set. “So ride me. Let me feel that slick little pussy, let me feel it quiver on my thigh.”

Things are quiet for a moment, just the squelching sounds of both your cunts gliding along her smooth thigh. You lean into Lydia, desperate for more. More what, you aren’t sure. Just more.

She responds to your touch, her nose brushing your cheek before you turn into her and kiss her deeply. Slanting your head to taste her tongue against yours. She’s sweet, like strawberry jam. Lips so soft they almost don’t feel real. Her teeth clamp onto your bottom lip and you cry out. The perfect amount of pain to increase the pleasure between your legs. When she lets go you’re panting.

“She’s close, Tess,” Joel murmurs like he knows your body so well, but he’s not wrong. He continues speaking casually to Tess as if you aren’t in the same room. “Do I really get to fuck her if she cums first?”

You grind down harder, kissing Lydia again. You love them talking about you as if you aren’t here. Making the decisions for you.

“As soon as she cums, you take her to the bed.” Tess’s strong hand lays a sharp slap on the meaty globe of your ass and you crumble.

“YES!” You scream, convulsing as the pleasure courses through you. You look up at Joel through your lashes, jaw slack, voice weak and desperate. “Joel. Please. Please.”

He drops his boxers and his thick cock spring free. Slapping against his belly. The tip is smooth and leaking, he’s bigger than you thought and somehow your throat dries out as your cheeks fill with saliva. As you come down from your second orgasm you realize that you can do this. You are going to do whatever Tess says and become one of her Treasures.

“Think you can take him?” Tess hums as Lydia falls apart beside you, moaning sweetly. Tess adds, “Good girl, Lydia. So perfect when you cum.”

You decide to take a page out of Lydia's book and act innocent. “N-no,” you stammer. “It’s…I don’t…it’s too big.”

Joel snorts, “You’re not a very good liar my little slut.”

Before you can respond he’s lifted you up and over his broad shoulder. His skin is warm against your belly. You giggle mischievously as his hands dig into the plush skin on the back of your thighs. He can so easily overpower you, so easily destroy you - mentally and physically. And you’d let him, and to make it worse, you’d thank him afterwards and probably ask him to do it again.

He drops you on the bed. “Don’t move.”

You nod and swallow the dry lump in your throat. You definitely want this, even if you shouldn’t. Even if that logical voice inside your head is screaming at you to put up the wall, block him out like you do with everyone else. But the infinitesimal hint of softness in his face that can only be seen by the two of you keeps you sucked in. He won’t hurt you, no. Something in his eyes gives him away, he wants to please you with those hands that have brought pain and torture to so many others.

He walks back over to Tess and Lydia who are completely entranced with one another. Lydia is now sitting fully in Tess’s lap. Her back pressed to Tess’s front, both her legs draped over Tess’s as she pressed kisses along the tops of one of her shoulders and rubs her fingers gently from her pussy up to Lydia’s. Joel kneels in front of them, both of their legs spread, wet pussy’s glistening and on display for him. The sight of Joel Miller on his knees does something unexplainable to you. He’s so goddamn delicious.

He looks over at you again, that softness still coaxing you deeper into his web, tangling around you, claiming you. His large hands cup Tess’s inner thighs and then he dives into both their pussy’s. Jealousy swirls in your stomach as he draws a sloppy wet line from Tess’s entrance to her clit, then up to Lydia in the same manner.

“Oh, fuck Joel,” Tess cries as Lydia whimpers.

“Too much, baby?” he says gruffly to Lydia who nods before burying her face into the crook of Tess’s neck. “Little more, m’kay?”

He licks at them again, Tess’s moan ending as Lydia’s starts. Joel doesn’t stop. He uses long languid and lazy strokes of his tongue as he eats at both of them.

“J-Jo - fuuuck Joel!” Tess murmurs, her head falling back and mouth falling open in a silent scream. She wraps her arms tightly around Lydia as her legs start to tremble. Joel’s deltoids and biceps flex as he pushes to keep her thighs apart.

“Fuck, Tess.” Lydia purrs, “You look so goddamn hot when you cum. Suck on her clit, Joel. Make our girl squeal.” You can hear him slurp her swollen and twitching nub into his mouth. As it slips along his soft and puffy lips her pained sounding moans start to become mumbles of pleasure. Joel works her through her orgasm, not stopping until he knows she's good and sated.

Lydia reaches back, twisting to kiss Tess deeply and then whispers into her lips. Whatever she says gets Joel's attention and he releases her clit with a pop before looking up at the two women. You haven’t moved from where Joel left you, as fun as being a brat is, he could probably dish out a punishment so intense that even you would break and use whatever safe word he gave you. Lydia whispers more, Joel smirks at whatever she’s saying and then the three of them all slowly turn to look over at you.

Fuck

Joel stands, his hands coming to the outsides of Tess’s knees and guiding her as she closes her legs, then he gives a hand to Lydia to help her stand before repeating the same with Tess. He stands tall and broad, completely naked and fully erect between these two powerhouse women, linking his fingers with Tess and smiling over at her. She gives him a little nod and your stomach flips as your pussy clenches.

This is it, you think.

“Little slut,” he says deeply, “‘M’gonna fuck you now, while they hold you down. Understood?”

You try to say yes, but just air seems to leave your lungs. Tess and Lydia climb along each side of you, hooking their arm under your leg and pulling back to open you for Joel. Your arms are trapped under their bodies as they lay beside you. You’re pinned and exposed; fully at Joel, Tess and Lydia’s mercy.

The bed dips as Joel settles between your thighs, his large body looms over you, resting himself on one forearm beside your head, his other hand wrapped around his cock, running it up and down your folds.

“So wet for me. So soft,” he presses the fat tip of his cock at your entrance and you gasp. “Shit! S’tight too, baby girl.”

Tess and Lydia nuzzle into you, lightly dragging their noses along your neck and jawline. “J-Joel, fuck me. Pleaseplease. Fuck me”

Joel presses his hips forwards, and the thick, smooth mushroom head of his cock pushes at your weeping cunt again. “Look at me, little slut,” he rasps. You don’t hesitate, look at him with big innocent eyes, biting your lower lip. He spits into his palm and then coats his throbbing dick with it, fisting himself up and down. He raises an eyebrow at you cockily, “Say it again.”

“Fuck me, fuck me, please!”

Without warning Joel slams into you, stretching you painfully and your body jolts. You try to slam your knees together but the naked women on each side of you keep you spread open widely for Joel. “Shit baby,” he says through gritted teeth as his body folds over yours, his hands caging all three of you in. Tess nips at your neck, while Lydia sucks at your earlobe after whispering, “Relax, little slut, we all got you.”

Your lungs slowly come back to you. You take a deep, full breath in, and it feels like you haven’t taken a proper breath since seeing Joel for the first time. As you exhale you’re completely surrounded by Joel Miller. His large body is all you can see and feel. Meanwhile, all you can taste and smell is his tobacco scent and the salt of the sweat that coats his tanned skin. You’re addicted, you want to be able to inject him right into your veins. Your pussy relaxes around him and the pain ebbs into pleasure, and you need more.

“More, please more,” you murmur into his neck.

“There she is,” Tess whispers in your ear and you whimper.

“Say it again,” Joel commands.

“Fuck me, Joel,” you cry. “Please, fuck me. Make me your little slut for real.”

Lydia giggles seductively in your ear, pulling you into her tighter.

“Open her all the way for me,” he says to the other two. “S’too tight for me.”

He sits himself up and your knees are pulled open and back. Joel keeps his eyes locked on yours as he tilts his chin a bit and splits on your already soaked pussy. His veiny hands come to the back of your thighs, squeezing and massaging at your sensitive skin.

“Think I should fuck her, Lydia?” He starts, and soon they’re talking about you again as if you aren’t even there, the slick walls of your cunt fluttering as they speak.

“She's been good, hasn’t she?” Lydia says in a syrupy aroused tone.

“No she hasn’t,” Tess says between kisses along your jawline. “She’s a thief. She’s a bad girl.”

Joel slaps the inside of one of your thighs, with just enough of a flick in his wrist that it immediately sends a zap of pleasure toward your clit. Lydia feels you relax more into her grips, “She likes it when you hit her, Joel”.

“Of course she does,” Tess moans. “She’s a little slut.” She hits the t at the end of the word hard and Joel slaps you again. Right in the same spot, precision that you’ve never known before from a man who kills without being seen.

“Should feel how tight she is, maybe she had us fooled,” Joel says, eyes shifting between the two women, wholly avoiding your gaze. You’re so desperate for his attention, and the humiliation of him not returning it arouses you so much more than it should.

“What’d’ya mean, baby boy?” Tess asks, her warm breath hitting your neck, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

“Like a virgin, squeezin’ me like a vice.”

“She’s shakin,” Lydia adds. “Poor girl.”

“You two don’t stop kissing her while I do this,” they both nod and he flips his attention back to you. “I wanna hear you screamin’. Got it, little slut?”

You shudder under his intense stare. “Yes, yes, Joel. Please, just fuck me. Pleeease!”

He pulls halfway out and then slams back in, his heavy balls slap at your taint and asshole, your needy high pitched moans filling the room. Your whole body constricts around Joel and as it relaxes it feels like heaven. No one has made your body feel like this. “That feel good?” Joel says tauntingly, his hands gripping into the back of your thighs.

“Please - fuck, yes. More,” you mumble, almost incoherently.

“Show our girl, Joel. Show her what he can have once she’s my Treasure.” Tess commands.

What’s that saying, ‘You say jump, I say how high’? Well, when Tess says jump, Joel is already mid jump, doing it exactly how Tess wants it. He’s already dragging his cock out slowly, all the way to the tip, before slamming fast and hard back into you.

“Harder,” Tess growls, biting your neck as Joel repeats the motion. Lydia squirms against you, her soft warm skin slipping along the thin sparkling layer of sweat that coats your body. “Look at her. Pliant, soft. Letting Joel do whatever he wants.”

“That’s cuz she’s a good girl,” Lydia moans, kissing the sensitive skin under your earlobe.

Joel brings one of his hands to cup your chin, his thumb running around your bottom lip softly. “Gotta relax for me, little slut.”

You take a breath and as you exhale you can feel the grip your pussy has on his thick cock loosen. “That’s it. That’s my girl.”

“Good job, baby girl,” Tess whispers, kissing at your throat again.

“Fuck her now, Joel.” Lydia says, “We got her.”

Joel sets a quick pace, slamming in and out of you. His name and a string of swears leaving your lips with every thrust, just the screams of your pleasure and the squelching of your pussy filling the room. Tess and Lydia whisper praises as Joel is possessed by your cunt. Pounding and pounding into you without pause. Over and over, he’s relentless. A man possessed. You can’t help but wonder if he’s like this with all other women or if this is just for you. His hand falls from your chin, landing beside Tess’s head on the mattress, the other still gripped to your thigh. His short nails dig into your skin, leaving you marked with signs of him.

“That’s it,” Lydia hums. “Taking it like such a good girl.”

Tess’s teeth lightly scrape at your jawline. “Come on, baby. I wanna see you come again.”

“So fuckin’ pretty when you come,” Joel says each word at the end of his harsh thrusts. His voice is gravelly and deep. Seeping under your skin and into your DNA, the very fabric of your being. You belong to him, no questions asked.

“M-more. I - more - please.” You aren’t sure what you mean by more, but Joel seems to know your body better than you as he sits himself back up and brings his thumb to your clit, teasing it gently and you writhe under him. It’s almost too much but you need it, and even more, you need Joel not to stop.

He hammers into you again, slower this time, but still with an intense flick of his hips at the end. The leaking tip of his cock pressing against the perfect spongy part behind your clit.

“Can see you in her stomach, Cowboy.” Tess moans. Both the women feather long, lingering kisses along your neck. The juxtaposition of their soft actions and the bruising dance of Joel’s hip is just as confusing as it is arousing.

“Rub her clit a little harder, Joel. I think she’s getting close.” You clench around him at Lydia’s words and cry out loudly.

He swirls his thumb easily along your lubricated clit, the mixture of both of your arousals and his spit making it slippery. “Ohgod, hnnnnggg, J-Joel pleasepleaseplease.”

“Sssshhh, baby,” he soothes, pausing with his hips pushed flush to your ass. “Gotta relax, remember?”

You whimper in agreement, nodding your head as you try to slow your breathing and your heart rate. “There she goes,” Joel moans as your pussy walls flutter and then relax.

He starts to fuck you slowly, circling your swollen velvety nub with the rough pad of his thumb. His other hand leaves your thigh, massaging your breast, pinching at the nipple with his thumb and forefinger. “Fuck, you feel so good. So tight. Gonna fill you one day.”

“Today, please!” you protest through a salacious moan.

“Tell her,” he says to the women holding you in their arms, speeding up the circles of his thumb.

“Lydia,” Tess whispers, like it’s a secret just for the three of you, “Tell her your plan.”

You’re lost in a daze as Lydia says your name into your skin. When you don’t respond she nips gently at you and says, “Baby? You with me?”

“Y-yes. Fuuuuuuck,” you say wantonly.

“Joel is gonna make you cum, then pull out and cum all over our faces. After, we are going to lick it all off each other.” She says it with a hint of mischief and lust in her voice.

The three of them praise and encourage you as Joel keeps fucking you and rubbing your clit at the same time. You have no idea how long you’ve been in this apartment, how long you’ve been floating on a vibrating fluffy cloud of pleasure and craving. Whispers of “Good girl”, “so pretty”, and “fuck listen to how wet you are” travel through you.

The electric currents of pleasure that sizzle along your skin all come to the base of your spine. Pressure building, so very close to exploding around all of you. “Come on, little slut. Let go for me.”

Lydia and Tess say ‘Come on’ and ‘relax into it’ at the same time.

“Shit, J-Joel,” you whimper. A tear runs down your cheek.

“I know, I’m here,” he says, voice slightly softer than earlier. “I know.”

The pressure becomes unbearable and then everything snaps. Your pussy flutters as the pleasure starts to consume every single inch of your being. Your vision blurs, every muscle going lax as you twitch unconsciously underneath him.

“Good girl. Yes, that’s my good little slutty girl,” he growls. Your orgasm continues to tear through you, ripping you in half and you know when you come down only Joel will be able to stitch you back up again.

Joel presses his large palm to your mound, and just as you feel yourself start to come down you’re on the precipice of another orgasm. “Got another one for me, baby?”

“Yesyesyes - yeeesss,” you’ve forgotten words, you’re just a bundle of pleasure. No muscles or bones or thoughts of your own. Just a pliant body, that’s fully under the control of Joel Miller.

Your second orgasm hits you hard, tearing anything you had left in half. “She’s gonna squirt,” Joel mumbles.

“Just let it go,” Lydia whispers, suckling on your earlobe.

You push into the feeling, letting it overtake you as liquid gushes from your cunt, coating Joel's pelvis and pooling on the bed below you. It splashes as Joel keeps up his pace. You scream out in pleasure. Lydia and Tess talking you through it quietly, “Good girl. Stay relaxed for me,” Tess says as Lydia adds, “Let it take you, we’re right here.”

The pleasure starts to ebb, it’s becoming too much as Tess whispers, “Breathe, baby girl. Just breathe.”

“Can’t, Tess.” you whimper, turning your face towards her. “Please,” you plead. If you learned anything from earlier, it’s that only Tess can make him stop.

“Ok, baby, you’re ok,” she hums. She looks up at Joel above all of you and drops her voice, “That’s enough now, Joel.”

Joel pulls away from your clit and you sigh in relief, both his hands coming to your breasts, squeezing them roughly as his thrusts become sloppy. “Get ready,” he huffs through gritted teeth. Both Tess and Lydia scoot up so their faces are pressed against yours.

Joel slips out of you with a lewd pop and practically bends you in half to get over your faces. “Open your mouths and look at me,” he commands. The three of you obey, anything for the man who is going to kill for you or defend you to the very end if need be.

His hand is tight around his cock, pumping himself quickly, the cords of muscle and veins along his forearm start to pop. His balls are full and heavy, tight against his body as he edges closer to his release. You stare at him, soaking in how wrecked he looks as he gets closer. His brows pinch together, onyx and whiskey flecked eyes looking only at you before his face goes lax and he lets out a deep, loud moan. Warm ropes of opaque white cum paint your faces.

As soon as he’s done he pulls away, Tess and Lydia letting go of your legs as the three of you kiss and lick at each other's sticky faces. Joel tastes better than you could have imagined, a heady mix of saltiness that leaves you insatiable for more.

Joel sits back on his heels watching the three of you slurp him up. He has a proud smirk on his face and when your eyes find his he winks at you before getting up and grabbing a towel off the top of the small dresser near the bed. Tess says something hushed to Lydia as you and Joel look at one another. Lydia pressed a kiss to your cheek before getting off the bed and following Tess into another room, the unmistakable sound of the shower alerting you to where they’ve gone.

Joel climbs beside you, looking down at you hesitantly. “You ok?” he whispers.

“Ya,” you sign sleepily. “I’m ok, Joel.”

He brings the towel to your thighs, soaking up your arousal. “I didn’t hurt ya?”

The towel ghosts along your swollen folds and you gasp, turning your head into Joel’s strong upper body. “I know, sorry.” He hisses, hating that he’s causing you discomfort. “But I gotta clean you up.”

He dabs gently with the soft towel causing an aftershock that shakes through your body and you feel yourself squirt again. Not nearly as much this time but a euphoric moan leaves your lips. Joel tucks the towel between your legs and guides your face up to meet his. His brown eyes burn themselves into your soul, “do you need more, baby? Just tell me.”

“It’s sensitive,” you whine.

He lifts an eyebrow slightly, “does it hurt?”

You stick your bottom lip out and nod sadly.

“Need me to kiss it?” he asks gently, his hooked nose rubbing against yours.

You look at him hesitantly. Of course, you want Joel’s plush lips on your pussy, but a flap of a butterfly wing could probably cause you to implode at this point.

“You can say another time,” he whispers, lips hovering over yours. He doesn’t know where this side of him has come from. Joel Miller is a simple man. Murder who Tess says, fuck any one of her Treasures that offer to get the adrenaline out afterwards, then leave them in their apartment pumped full of his cum. He usually can’t wait to rush back to his apartment to take a shower and shoot back a mix of whiskey and sleeping pills. But with you, he feels the need to care for you afterwards, and he has a strong feeling that you’re going to be a very large distraction in his life from now on.

I’m fucked, he thinks to himself.

You lean forward to sponge your lips against his. He kisses you sweetly, pulling you in tighter as you hum contently into his lips.

“I don’t think I can tonight,” you say softly after breaking the kiss.

“That’s ok, little slut.” He rolls onto his back, pulling you with him so you’re resting on top of him. Legs straddling his hips and your head resting on his chest. You shiver against him, tucking your arms into your body. His hands scramble for the blanket, wrapping it around the two of you, kissing the top of your head. “Tomorrow, after Tess officially makes you her Treasure, that will be your gift from me.”

You nod into his chest, he smells like gunpowder, fresh sawdust and sweat as your eyelids become heavy and the world seems to slip away. You have trouble sleeping normally, I mean who wouldn’t in this fucked up new world you’re all in, but with Joel, it happens almost too easily. Sleep just takes you to a deep and uninterrupted place for who knows how long. But when you wake you’re in a large grey t-shirt in a small bedroom, not the same one you fell asleep in. You hear the peaceful and melodic breathing of someone beside you. You move slowly, peeling open your eyes to see Joel sleeping beside you. The moonlight dances softly along his face, grey hairs glinting in the light. He looks so peaceful, nothing like the man that was crazed by your pussy early. He’s still visibly dangerous, but fuck is he beautiful.

I’m fucked, you think to yourself.

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ladyloveandjustice · 3 days

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When I checked to tag to confirm his favorite food that in the tag I see people arguing "Shuro's not a misogynist!!! He's not sexist!!! he said he loves Falin's mind!!!" and guys. he's sexist. That doesn't mean you can't like him or anything, or that he's irredeemable, I wouldn't call him a misogynist as in "he hates women", but:

"ORDINARY WOMEN HATE BUGS AND THINK THEY'RE GROSS AND ICKY AND SCREAM...YET FALIN LOVES BUGS? THE SPECIALEST GIRL IN THE UNIVERSE!" #notlikeothergirls

(very funny to say it about a caterpillar too, since those are not bugs people are most commonly scared of or disgusted by compared to other ones)

He again shows a kind of condescending sexism even in post-series comics:

Pretty rich for a guy with an all female group of bodyguards! He's talking to someone who's very capable of defending herself. It's a weird cognitive dissonance he has here, one that's not really shown by other people in the manga! One thing that's cool about Dunmeshi is there's really not much "women are like this, men at like this, women have to be protected" language and women are casually treated in a fairly equal manner...except when Shuro is talking. It's pretty clearly a deliberate thing.

On top of that, he really did make Falin his manic pixie dream girl, and that's undeniable. He says he likes her mind and that's great, but in reality he barely knows her and his view of her is very founded the ideal he's built her into. First of all, he doesn't really seem to accept Laios would be part of his life if they got married, because he seems to assume Falin would leave him and everything she cares about behind, which she definitely wouldn't have done at this point in her life. Nor does he tell the two most important people to her about his plan to rescue her. He does a lot of things we know Falin wouldn't care for in her name. I think he matures a bit over the course of the manga, but I don't think he sees her actual quirks and flaws (which he might find annoying) the way Laios and Marcille do.

I've seen people excusing this with "he's repressed/ he's Japanese" which uuuuh. Not a great look to say we can't expect a Japanese man to be as "enlightened" as their European friends. Again, Shuro has grown up with a ton of women around. His indirect nature and issues with his childhood might be why he keeps his distance from them, but odds are one of the ninja girls doesn't mind bugs, or another one of his allies in the dungeon world. He did grow up in a fairly patiarchal household, but he is surrounded by women he could get to know, and very capable female fighters both in his adventurers party and his homelife. So theres no excuse for him to treat Falin as delicate or put her on a pedestal compared to his assumptions about other women.

Again. this doesn't make him irredeemable. I'd call it subconcious sexism rather than actively hating women, a thin line sometimes, but significant in the likelihood of capacity to change. I feel like if someone pointed it out to him he'd at least give it some thought or maybe try to reconcile with it. But excusing the flaw doesn't do anything for his character. Just because you like him doesn't mean he doesn't have issues.

#dungeon meshi

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arctrooper69 · 3 days

Text

As Iron Sharpens Iron

"As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another." Proverbs 27:17

Chapter 13:

Previous // Next

Warnings: Pheromones, sexually suggestive scenes (nothing explicit), major misunderstandings.

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

Hunter threw the essentials into his bag and secured his armor with a satisfying click as the magseal activated, locking the plates into place.

“Hey you,” a warm voice sounded from the hatch.

Hunter looked up to see Tara standing on the ramp, leaning against the hatchway with her hand on her hip. She smiled.

“Ketch and Bozo over there let it slip that you were going after your friend. Need an extra hand?”

Hunter grunted halfheartedly, “No, not really.”

“You sure?” she asked, smiling coyly, taking a step inside, “Because you look like you could use all the help you can get.”

He frowned, “I told you I’m fine. We don’t have time for this right now, Tara.”

She sighed, “Hunter, she ran away from you. You got into an argument and she left!”

“I know!” he growled.

Tara sighed, “Hunter look, do you really think you should be going after her?” she asked gently, “She needs time.”

Hunter shook his head. “I can’t,” he snapped, “She needs me. She could be in trouble!”

Tara smiled softly, folding her arms, “Hunter, trust me. You need to give her time. That’s how women work! She’s a perfectly capable adult. You know this. Just give her some time. You need to rest too, you know.”

Hunter sighed, She is capable. Am I overthinking? Too overprotective?

Omega had said that to him before. He supposed he did have a bit of an overprotective nature, but he chalked that up only as his role as the team’s Sergeant during the war.

A good leader protects his squad.

“Nothing good comes from rushing headlong into things, Hunter,” Tara continued, “You and I both know that.” She paused tentitively then spoke softly, “I care for you too much to let you just run in blind.”

“I’m not running in blind!”

“Oh yeah? What’s the plan then?”

“Get to the coordinates. Find her. Bring her home.”

Tara nodded, “Okay, then what?”

I don’t know. Tell her I love her? Tell her that I can’t live without her?

Hunter didn’t know what to say so he was silent.

“Hunter…” Tara began, taking another step forward, “I…”

Hunter growled, “What is it that you want me to say, Tara? That I don’t know what I’m doing!? I...”

He could feel his heart beat pounding. The air felt different. He'd never said it aloud before. His mouth felt dry, almost as if he said the words it would mean that his feelings were real and that he’d be forced to face them head-on.

“You don’t understand, Tara. I love - “

She stepped forward placing a hand on his arm - a smile speading across her face.

Hunter froze at the touch, quickly turning away. He could smell her - the sweat on her dark skin, the relaxant in her hair. The pheromones in her perfume. It seemed to grab ahold of his senses, begging him to face her - to give her his full attentions. He stilled, taking a breath to steady himself.

“Do you like that, Hunter?” She said softly, tapping the panel beside the ramp as the hatch hissed closed.

Hunter felt himself begin to sweat. The scent enveloped his senses - warm and sweet. Intoxicating. It slipped through the cracks on his armor, pooling in a heat below his skin. It felt so good - so easy to relax. He bit back a groan as her fingers skimmed the skin below his chin, lifting his face towards her own. He felt his codpiece tighten.

So good. You’re so good to me.

He closed his eyes and there you were - eyes lit up in wonder at seeing the purrgil dance around the ship in hyperspace. There you were - dragging him to cover in a firefight, eyes full of concern. There you were - holding a cup of caf out to him, eyes glittering in the dim cockpit lighting.

“There you go, Hunter.” Tara murmured, “Relax. I bought this for you. For us.”

He inhaled slowly, feeling lighter than he had felt in a long time.

“I knew you’d like it,” she whispered, “Can I touch you?”

Hunter moaned - the throbbing beneath his codpiece felt stronger than ever. He wanted this - your fingers, your voice.

So good. So right. So… not you.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

His eyes flew open - alarm bells blaring dizzily through his skull - the scent too thick. Too much.

Not you. Not you. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

He gasped and stumbled backwards. “Stop!” he panted, holding up a hand. “I don’t… What the kriff are you doing!?”

Tara stood up, tearing her hand from his chest, nearly falling as she stumbled backwards, hand forcefully slapping the bulkhead behind her until she hit the exit ramp and it hissed open.

“Oh my gods!” she gasped, hands flying to her face. “I thought… I thought you wanted this! I thought…” she sputtered horrified, “You said…you said… I thought…. Oh gods… I’m so sorry, Hunter!”

Tara backed down the ramp as Hunter stumbled into the open, gasping for air. He shook his head, guilt springing to the forefront of his mind, shame sprouted in his gut making him feel sick.

How could I have let this happen?

It was the essence of you, not Tara, that had blossomed up through that musky haze. It was your hands that had touched him, not hers.

Did I tell her that I wanted this? Did I inadvertently lead her on?

He looked up, seeing her stood frozen on the bottom of the ramp, eyes wide in embarrassment, heart beat still rapid in the aftermath of horror.

She shook her head.

How could I have been so stupid? The thought was written all over her face.

“It was never me, was it.” The words came as a quiet statement rather than a question.

Hunter stood up, gritting his teeth as he composed himself. “No, Tara. It wasn't.”

“You love her, don't you.”

Hunter paused.

Saying it aloud makes it real.

Saying it aloud would prove beyond a doubt that you belonged to him and he to you.

Tech's words echoed through his brain. “According to this, you are in fact, in love.”

He took a breath. “Yes. I do love her.”

Tara nodded and turned away, “Then you should probably tell her.”

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

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ithebookhoarder · 1 day

Note

Hiiiiiii, Could i request an Anthony Bridgerton x wife!reader fic where Anthony married reader who is from a lower class (basically like Theo) and they end up having a fight because reader did something that would be considered out of class or simply wrong while she’s trying to learn to be a viscountess. Sorry if it didn’t make any sense English isn’t my first language 😭😭😭

All's Fair in Love and Cricket (Anthony Bridgerton x Wife!Reader)

Synopsis: After getting into a fight with your new husband you decide to settle your differences in a 'sporting' fashion, whilst reminding Anthony once and for all just who he married.

A/N: Ohhhhh boy did I enjoy this one. I'm sorry if it feels a little rushed or clunky in places, I may make some more edits at some point. I struggled with the flow of writing so much action but I loved it too much not to post it. So yeah, anxiety be damned else this would join the rest of the unposted drafts I have stashed away. I hope you enjoy it. 💕

Warnings: Anthony being a stupid idiot, class references (discrimination), reference to illness

Masterlist

It was late summer and as the sun beat down on the green lawns of St James’ Palace the lords and ladies below began to wilt. Many a woman held her parasol above her head in a desperate attempt to remain cool, which was hard when you wore petticoats and had nothing to do but sit and watch the men play cricket for hours on end.

Even Her Majesty looked like she was struggling to make it through the afternoon's entertainment, her attendants desperately fanning her where she sat under her canopy. They looked close to melting in their ornate gowns, however they were clearly willing to endure if it allowed them to continue admiring the game - and more importantly, those playing it. It was like waving a bone in a dog’s face as they watched all the eligible young men of the court sprinting about the green, their physique and athletic talents on clear display.

No wonder the Queen had her opera glasses with her, despite her proximity to the field.

You almost felt bad for them, watching as the men were subjected to the same treatment as the young ladies were night after night at social functions… hence the 'almost'. After all, there was a sense of satisfaction watching them preen and dance about like show ponies on display. That, and the view wasn’t exactly a terrible one when your husband was one of those playing.

You’d have endured sitting on that blasted green a thousand times over, baking in the afternoon sun and surrounded by swooning women, just to watch Anthony Bridgerton as he captained his team.

Being one of Anthony’s oldest and dearest friends, his competitive nature was well known to you (for which you had one too many games of Pall Mall at Aubrey Hall to thank), but it seemed to be out in full force today. You’d simply lost track of how many times he had dashed back and forth, working up somewhat of a sweat as he barked orders at his teammates in a desperate bid to ensure victory. It was no surprise to you that he had subsequently been forced to remove his jacket and roll up his sleeves, exposing his rather sculpted arms to those watching.

As you said, there were worse ways to spend an afternoon - and normally, you’d have been smugly lapping it up, however, today you were unable to truly enjoy yourself. Not when all you wanted to do was march over to him, take that cricket bat and give him a good whack or two. Maybe that would knock some sense back into idiot…

That was the issue with being in love with your dearest friend: those who knew you best also knew the best ways to hurt you, and Anthony’s behaviour at dinner the following evening had proven just how true a statement that was.

It had all started after the entire family had been summoned to the townhouse for a dinner, to toast you and what had so far been a successful first Season as Viscountess Bridgerton. At first, everything had appeared normal, with the usual laughter, merriment, and ease that one would typically experience at a Bridgerton gathering. It was what had first endeared the family to you, back when you had been but a small child, living at Aubrey Hall as the only daughter of their Stable Master.

They had never been anything other than kind to you, inviting you to play with their children, and join them in their daily lessons. They had also bought you gifts on your birthdays, invited you to join them at events, and even paid for the finest doctors when your father had fallen unwell several years ago. It was as if, to the Bridgertons, your family was their family - an attitude that they extended to the all members of the staff that kept their ancestral seat running. It didn’t matter if you were Head House Keeper, or the greenest of scullery maids. Everyone was counted and cherished, and the Bridgertons had earned utmost loyalty in return.

The rigid rules and divisions of high society didn’t appear to exist within the wisteria covered walls, and it had been that way well into your young adult life. In fact, it had been you that had initially rejected Anthony when he first declared his love for you one day, after taking you along with him on one of your many afternoon rides.

You’d been the one to remind him who he was and that society expected him to marry someone they deemed worthy of him and his title - and that wasn’t you. You didn’t have a penny to your name beyond the small sum you’d saved from helping with the younger Bridgerton children as a governess. You didn’t have a title or an estate or anything to bring to a marriage.

“Except the most important thing!” Anthony had pleaded. “Love… I love you, and there is no one else for me in this life except you. Life is short, terrifyingly short. Look at my mother and father… to be without the person you love most in the world is an agony and I cannot bear it. Please. I can’t lose you. I will not spend my life without you, knowing love is within both of our reach but that we were too afraid to grasp it? If I cannot spend my life, no matter how long it may be, with you then I will have no-one. No-one. My brothers can have the title. I don’t want it. I only want you.”

He’d continued to insist that for the following 6 months, even after his family had moved to their London house for the Season. It didn’t matter how many beautiful, eligible, wealthy heiresses he was introduced to. He would entertain none of them. He would have none of them. Only you.

It’s what he’d continued to insist until you’d eventually accepted, realising that he was right; Love was the most important thing and you both deserved to have it in your lives, come what may.

So, you’d said yes.

You’d become engaged and gradually made your way out into society as the new Viscountess Bridgerton, armed with the support and guidance of the Bridgertons.

Which brought you to last night and the dinner that had been organised to mark the end of the most challenging, but rewarding, Season of your life - and the dinner had started so wonderfully. Yet, somehow it had all gone to hell in a hand basket in the mere blink of an eye thanks the well meaning, but ill timed, teasing of Colin and Benedict.

Your brothers-in-law had both decided to raise a toast to your first Season as an ‘official’ member of the family and they'd got off to a rather complimentary start, if you were being honest. However, they had somehow moved from their praise on to reminiscing about the many years and many adventures you had had since joining their family.

Whereas every anecdote had caused the rest of the family to spiral into more laughter, your husband had looked more and more infuriated. In fact, Anthony had warned them not too kindly to ‘sit down’ and ‘shut up’ about your childish behaviours, which of course had only encouraged them further.

“Oh, hush, brother,” Benedict had quipped, raising a glass to your successful debut. “She knows we mean it all in good fun. After all, she once had a phase where she refused to wear shoes and would walk barefoot around the estate, traipsing mud everywhere! I think we’re allowed to be surprised by how far our dear darling Y/N has come.”

“It’s true - It’s a miracle,” Colin added, wiping the tears of laughter from his cheeks. “The transformation is remarkable. Who knew she would go from feral ragamuffin to lofty Lady Bridgerton.”

Anthony’s only response had been to tighten his grip on his glass to the point it looked like it would shatter.

Whether it was the residual stress of your busy social calendar, or something else entirely you had no idea. All you did know was that Anthony was angry, and even your gentle touch would not soothe him.

In a desperate attempt to calm him, you’d pulled Anthony out onto the terrace shortly after dessert had been cleared and asked what was happening. Much to your surprise, he had turned on you, venting about how childish his brothers were and how embarrassing it was that they were discussing things unbefitting someone who was a Viscountess.

“They’re just joking, my love. They were doing it to get a rise out of you.”

“Well, it wasn’t funny,” he’d growled, causing you to bristle. “They’re so immature. They need to grow up and realise we’re not children any more. That… that you’re my wife and joint head of this family.”

“So? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t, Anthony,” you snapped, the warning clear in your tone. “What are you trying to say?”

“Nothing, I just - it - they’re… it’s embarrassing.”

“So, you’re embarrassed? By what? Your family? Or me? Because everything they said tonight is true. I did do those things, as did you. I may not have been born a noble lady but you knew that when you asked me to marry you. So don’t suddenly act like you're ashamed, that you are somehow better than your family - than me.”

Somehow the argument had only spiralled from there, with both of you saying things you didn’t mean, and with both of you storming off and slamming the doors behind you.

Even now, sat on the edge of the cricket pitch, the thought made your blood boil. How dare he? How dare he act ashamed of you and the wondrous memories of your youth together? It wasn’t as if you hadn’t grown and matured since then. You had done everything within your power to be worthy of him and his family, and yet all it took was one mention of the girl you had once been to make him upset?

As if sensing your silent fury, Eloise had been glued to your side since the moment you'd left the house. Her company had been a blessing, with her numerous whispered remarks and jokes, making the day almost bearable. One remark in particular from Eloise had caused you to burst out laughing in a most undignified fashion after watching Anthony trip over one of the opposite team - the Duke of Hastings of all people.

You still weren’t quite sure how they had been positioned on opposite teams, but you were sure there was some kind of wicked divine intervention responsible. Who else would think it a good idea to put two competitive men against one another? Your hosts, perhaps? After all, Lady Danbury and Her Majesty had organised the game and you had learned long ago not to underestimate the women - especially when they decided to conspire together.

“How long is this delightful game again?” Eloise’s polite remark oozed with sarcasm as she leant back against the tree behind her.

It was obvious she was bored senseless. In fact, you half suspected she would have already left had her mother not been sat on the opposite side of the green, watching her like a hawk.

“I’m not sure,” you groaned in reply. “I lost count of who was winning about an hour ago.”

“So, we’re to be trapped here for eternity?”

“Pretty much, considering this part will not end until either Simon or Anthony lose, and we both know that neither one of them will concede defeat easily.”

Eloise rolled her eyes. “And I thought they were bad at Pall Mall-”

“-LOOK OUT!”

The cry interrupted both of you as you turned in surprise. Given the so-far sedimentary tone of the day, neither of you had expected such excitement as numerous Lords and Ladies began to hurl themselves out of the way as a stray cricket ball rocketed through the air, towards the crowd.

“Good god!”

The exclamation seemed apt as both you and Eloise ducked, watching as the ball sailed past, causing several yelps and groans from the people around you. You were pretty sure you also spied a glass of lemonade flying through the air in all the chaos. However, your attention was drawn to the figure charging towards you to retrieve the offending item as it rolled to a stop.

Anthony.

“Pardon me, Y/N,” he murmured, reaching down to collect the ball that now lay a small distance from your feet. You nodded in greeting, aware of the many eyes watching but you elected not to say anything, not trusting yourself not to make some snide remark.

As it was, you both had barely said more than a handful of words to each other since your argument last night.

Clearly sensing the lingering tension between you, Anthony quickly turned to address his sister instead. “Eloise.”

“Ah, brother," Eloise cheered. "Splendid play so far. Tell me, when did the object of the game become the decapitation of the ton? I would have attended far more cricket matches had I known that was the aim of the game.”

“You can blame Simon for that one,” he replied, his taunt hidden beneath his neutral smile. “Still, good dodging back there. I thought he might have nearly caught you both.”

“Almost.”

“But alas he missed, like most of your players today,” you quipped, enjoying the way Anthony seemed to redden at the reminder of his team’s less than stellar performance. “Still, good effort. You’ve almost caught up with Her Majesty’s team. I believe that’s better than last year.”

“Well, that might have had something to do with the fact that she does have Simon,” Anthony grumbled.

It was true, no one could out-run Simon - even if Anthony always gave it a damn good try: hence why the Queen often had him captain her team when he was in London for the season. Besides, the head of the other team was usually Lord Duval, due to his position as the Queen’s chief administrator. However, it seemed his brains and financial strength were all he had, due to the fact his social skills, and athleticism were sorely lacking.

“Touché, and who is up next?” Eloise asked.

“I don't actually know. The other team seem to be taking remarkably long to sort themselves out.”

Just then, almost as if on cue, three men began to hurry towards them.

A quick glance revealed that one of the gentlemen who was approaching was Colin Bridgeton, and the other the Duke of Hastings; that much you knew. The third was rather unfamiliar to you, however, you were pretty certain he’d been playing on Simon’s team. Regardless of his identity, neither he nor any of the other gentlemen now stood in front of you looked very pleased. Rather, they looked as if they had all sucked on a lemon, their frowns were so deep.

“Sorry to interrupt ladies, but I must reclaim Lord Bridgerton here for a moment. It appears Anthony will be needed to bowl again,” Simon sighed by way of explanation.

“What on earth for?”

Colin was the first to answer. “Lord Dingby is unable to bowl on account of the heat, and the Baron will not play.” His skepticism was clear as he shot the so called Baron a disapproving look. “He ’twisted his ankle’ or so he claims, thus we are down a bowler and the other team is down a player.”

You all rolled your eyes.

“So then, who will bat?” questioned Eloise curiously. “If Anthony is bowling you still require one more man to take their place on the other team?”

Wasn’t that the question of the hour. However, no one appeared to have an answer, and by the disapproving glare steadily growing on the Queen’s face, they didn’t have long to come up with one.

“Maybe Lord Stevens?” suggested the third man hastily, staring around at the crowd.

“No. He injured himself riding the other week,” Simon replied. “And unfortunately our hosts only saw fit to invite enough male guests as were playing. We aren’t exactly spoilt for choice regarding possible options.”

It was true. There didn’t seem to be any visible answer in sight given that those most suited to the game were already positioned on the field.

“What about female guests though?”

Your question hung in the air for a moment, causing everyone around you to turn in surprise.

“Excuse me?” Anthony looked at you suspiciously as you began to rise from your seat. He was well versed enough to know when mischief was afoot. A fact that was proven right a moment later as you held your hand out towards a shocked - and excited - Colin.

He was only too happy to oblige your silent request as he placed the bat in your grip. It was rapidly becoming the most exciting event of the season and lord knows he wasn’t about to spoil the fun - especially if he got to rub salt into Anthony’s wounds at the same time.

After all, given his display the previous evening, it was time you truly gave him something to feel embarrassed about. Losing.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Perfectly,” you smiled. “You’ve seen me when we’ve played Pall Mall. I have a decent enough swing. Besides, you said yourselves you need an extra player and there isn’t exactly anyone suited left - not anyone male, anyway.”

“Anthony?”

To his credit, your husband was also smiling, even if you could see the sudden tension forming behind his perfect smile. “I see no problem with it. I’m sure our hosts would prefer the game finished rather than called off because we ran out of players.”

“Agreed. Well, it’s settled then.” Simon cheered, clapping a hand on Anthony’s shoulder as they looked back towards the field. “It seems she will be taking his go.”

Then they noticed the rain cloud of a man next to them.

"She can’t play!” protested the third man. Everyone looked at him in silent disbelief. “This is a gentleman’s game. A Lady can not play."

“Her Majesty seems to have no objections,” Eloise commented smugly, glancing across the field. Indeed, it was true Her Majesty seemed to have no objections to the turn of events, choosing instead to exchange a wad of pound notes with the man beside her. If anything she looked exhilarated by the prospect. "Besides, I doubt a feeble female such as ourselves will pose any threat to your team, your Lordship.”

“Well… I… Bridgerton, I still don’t think-”

Thankfully, Anthony was all too busy gazing at you to take any notice of the pompous oaf’s objections.

It was a look you were more than familiar with, the unspoken desire and encouragement obvious in the way his gaze softened. It was the same look he always gave you when you’d done something amazing (and most things were amazing in his eyes). It didn't matter if it was taming a particularly unruly horse, solving a maths problem that left the rest of them scratching their heads, or daring to step onto the dance floor at your first ball, knowing not another soul in that room other than him.

It was a look that made you feel invincible. That you could do anything and everything you put your mind to as long as you had Anthony cheering you on from the sidelines... you were a team. Always.

"Anthony?" you asked, the challenge obvious - but also your sincerity. If he truly did not want you to play then you'd have marched back to your chair and sat right back down.

You'd meant it before. You loved your husband and wanted nothing more than to be the best partner you could be. Your hurt from last night had stemmed from the fear that, for a moment, that wasn't enough for him anymore.

Fortunately, it appeared you were wrong. Your husband wasn't embarrassed by you. If anything, he looked ready to kiss the ground you walked on as he leaned over and whispered in your ear, "If you can get four runs, I will personally pay you 5 pounds."

"You have a deal," you laughed. "As it is, women and ladies alike play cricket up and down the country. It’s high time we had a chance to show you boys up."

The other man began to protest again. "My Lady, my La-"

He never got very far. You simply stopped, turning and handing him your parasol and shawl.

"Thank you," you cheered marching away.

He paused, taken aback. It didn’t help that Eloise was only too eager to firmly pull him back into your now vacant seat with a glare that could have melted ice.

All around applause broke out as the players resumed their positions on the field. It took a moment or two for them to prepare for play but now everyone seemed to be watching intently.

Oh well, if you were to dare to play at all then you may as well dare to achieve something from it, you mused, gripping the bat handle and aligning yourself with the wicket. Victory seemed a rather good start, especially given the fact you had no idea what Lady Whistledown would make of this turn of affairs. You’d already had a shocking enough entrance into the world of the Ton, what was one more daring display?

"Go easy, Lord Bridgerton," the referee cautioned from the side of the green.

Anthony nodded obediently at the crowd’s titters. You could see the restraint he was demonstrating, choosing not to hurl the ball at you the way he would had you both been in the privacy of your home. Instead, it took all his will power to grip the cricket ball and resume his position on the field.

Unfortunately, you never knew when best to desist from poking proverbial bears. That, and Anthony was too easy a target.

"Yes, do go easy on me," you jibed. Everyone who knew you could hear the sarcasm buried in your voice as you took the bat and fluttered your eyelashes at him. "I’m only a delicate woman, but I must endeavour to ensure her Majesty’s team at least has an opportunity to best you, Lord Bridgerton. You’re only losing by what? A few wickets?"

Oh. You were in for it now.

Anthony’s grin was devious as he stepped back a few paces, weighing the ball in his hand till finally he charged at you, swinging his arm over in the perfect bowl.

It was then you brought up your bat to send the ball back in a high arc.

There was a moment of stunned silence as everyone followed the ball with their eyes. It was as if they couldn’t believe you’d actually managed to hit it. However, the shock quickly wore off as everyone remembered the point of hitting the ball in the first place.

"GO!" came a yell from the crowd as excitement began to spread.

So, you did.

Hitching your skirts in one hand, you began to sprint towards the other set of wickets, grinning as your partner passed you along the way.

Of course, you would have liked to protest that you could have indeed run faster had you not been encumbered by your stays and petticoats. Your slippers were also rather terrible for any movement. What you wouldn’t have given for a pair of trousers right then.

"Come on!" came another yell - it seemed as if everyone was forgetting their dignity in all the excitement as you tore back and forth across the grass in a mad blur.

Had it been anyone but you, it would have been a terribly scandalous moment. Yet, your name - and the status of your betrothed - meant this was all merely seen as sport. Besides, from the way Her Majesty was whooping from her perch by the trees, it was clear where her loyalties lay.

"Come on Y/N!"

"Anthony! Run!"

"Over here!"

"Come on!"

The cries blurred into one as you finally turned at what you planned on being your final run, only to spot Anthony as he came sprinting back towards you… and the wicket.

"Oh no, you don’t," you laughed, charging onwards in a final burst of energy.

You could hardly catch your breath as the world slowed around you.

All that remained was you, Anthony, and the closing distance between you.

You could see his desperation laced with delight as he watched you stagger towards the wicket… just as the ball he’d thrown hit it.

"IN!"

The referee’s declaration initiated an eruption of noise as all around the green, men and women celebrated the spectacle they’d just witnessed, and the victory you had now ensured. Within seconds you were swarmed, mobbed by well wishers and triumphant team mates. There were so many hugs and snatched ‘well done’s that you were quite at a loss what to do other than stand there and accept it. Thankfully, Anthony seemed to have read your mind and was at your side as soon as he was able to fight through the jubilant throng.

The moment he reach you he took your hand in his. His expression was a mixture of awe and contrition, clearly unsure what to say to you.

"Good game," he praised. "Simon better watch out - I think Her Majesty will be asking you to captain her team next year."

"What a tremendous idea, Lord Bridgerton. I may just do that."

As if summoned by the very mention of her, a voice rang out clearly from behind you. Without even turning you knew exactly who was standing behind you, as the throng suddenly fell silent around you and parted like the Red Sea. In all the excitement you had failed to notice the Royal party making their way across the field to join in the celebrations.

With a gulp, you turned and dropped into the most respectful curtsey you could manage without falling flat on your face. "Y - your Majesty."

The Queen chuckled. "I must thank you, Lady Bridgerton, for providing such excitement to our proceedings today. I also must thank you for the twenty pounds I just procured off of Brimbsley - that’ll teach him to bet against me."

You merely dipped your head in gratitude, unsure whether this was actually happening or not. After all, the closest the you’d ever been to monarch was your hasty presentation several months ago and that had barely earned you more than a curious glance, like you had been some exotic animal on parade at the Zoo. And now, the Queen was addressing you? A lowly Stable Master’s daughter?

It was enough to make you feel as if this was all some kind of surreal dream.

"Anyone who bets against your Majesty deserves to be relieved of their coin."

"True, True," she preened, gesturing for you and everyone else to rise. "I gather you have played this game before?"

"Growing up around the Bridgertons ensured I had little alternative," you confirmed, relieved when the Queen proceeded to chuckle good-naturedly.

"I dare say you didn’t, my dear. Well, it certainly makes for a rather entertaining afternoon, as well as a victorious one. Perhaps we aught to have women playing more often." She turned her head and chose to direct her next words directly to your husband. "You’ve chosen quite the bride, Lord Bridgerton - you are to be congratulated on choosing such a spirited partner. I hope you realise how lucky you are."

"Indeed, your Majesty," Anthony replied, the earnestness clear in his eyes. "I’ve realised just how truly unique and remarkable she is… and how lucky I am that she chose to be on my team, even if not on the cricket pitch."

Another round of laughter echoed out at his declaration but you knew it was more than just a jest. In fact, by the all-too-clear pride radiating off of the eldest Bridgerton you knew what he truly meant with his honeyed praise.

It was all the apology you could need and had you not been in such company you’d have dragged him into the bushes and shown him just how much you forgave him. Besides, your victory on the Cricket pitch was enough pay-back for both of you.

As if sensing the amorous tension steadily rising around her, the Queen chose that moment to make a well-timed departure, in search of a refreshment. She barely gave you all a final nod before marching off to greet the rest of her guests, leaving you stood there with a rather gobsmacked expression on your face.

"Well… that really happened," you murmured, struggling to maintain your newfound confidence now that the whole saga had come to an end. "Did I actually just do that? Did the Queen actually just … talk to me?"

"She really did," Anthony confirmed, hands grazing yours nervously, as if unsure whether or not you’d accept his touch. However, your hands accepted his readily, fingers intertwining as you squeezed his palm in an obvious attempt to ground yourself. "You truly were incredible today - I know you don’t need to hear it but, for what it’s worth, I am proud of you."

"Thank you."

"And I truly am sorry for being such a world class fool, last night," he continued swiftly, clearly keen to make his apology whilst you were willing to receive it. "I didn’t mean to make you feel as if I was embarrassed by you. I never could be. It couldn’t be further from the truth. I was vexed with my brothers and because of several other trivial matters, but I allowed my temper to get the better of me and I handled it poorly. I lashed out at the wrong person - the one person who deserves nothing less than to be told how incredible she is, every single day. I am unworthy of you, Y/N. I know no one else in the entire world so awe inspiring and to let you think otherwise for even a moment was my failing entirely. You are brave and smart and funny and kind and beautiful-"

"Ok, Anthony. I get it."

"-and I am unworthy of someone with such skill on the cricket pitch-"

"Anthony," you squealed, trying to hide your laughter as he pulled you into his arms and smothered your face in kisses. "It’s fine. I forgive you. After all, I also lost my temper and said some things I didn’t mean. Can we just agree we’re both sorry and put this mess behind us?"

"Yes! God yes," he sighed, looking like a weight had visibly lifted from his shoulder. "Because I really do not like fighting with you. Instead, I think we should be enjoying your victory parade. Today is your triumph, after all - the Queen’s champion."

"Hmmm, I rather like that title," you purred, gazing up at him. "But between us? I prefer being your wife, much much more."

#ithebookhoarder #masterlist #thesilentmage #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton fanfic #benedict bridgerton #colin bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #Bridgerton

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aestheticaltcow · 2 days

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Love Story

Carmen Berzatto was a stranger to love, at least until you walked into his restaurant.

Growing up with the Berzattos was difficult, to say the least. Donna wasn’t the most affectionate doting mother, Mikey would express his affection to his baby brother by teasing him, and Natalie tried her best to compensate for the two of them. Carmen understood what love was, it was just something that he thought he’d never have. Expressing his feelings to Donna or Mikey was met with an undesirable response, to say the least. Natalie was a haven but as Carmy got older and distanced himself from her, he almost forgot what it was like to have someone say they were proud of him or that he was loved. That sentiment was translated into his love life during his time in New York; when the girls he ‘dated’ got to the stage where they wanted to define the relationship, Carmy got distant. The idea of someone loving him was unsettling and he’d run away.

Moving back to Chicago, he started reflecting on why he behaved the way he had and does. His short-lived relationship with Claire, a girl he thought would never give him the time of day, was the catalyst to his revelation of sorts. He noticed the women who would give him a second glance at the farmer’s market or while they waited for the subway. Richie encouraged him to ‘get out there’, but the stress of owning a new restaurant and managing his celebrity status took up much of his emotional, mental, and physical energy. He was growing increasingly content with being the fun uncle instead of starting his own family.

At least until he met you.

There was something about the way you carried yourself. You were effortlessly elegant yet relaxed. You were all of the traits he thought he was missing within himself, the yin to his yang. The night he met you, he started seeing his future as more fruitful.

The night the two of you met was burned into his memory. You’d come into The Bear with a group of friends to celebrate one of their birthdays. There had been an issue with one of the sauces, and Sugar insisted that Carmy went out to deal with it; Richie had been more than capable of handling the situation himself, but Sugar insisted explaining that it was the right call. Carmy was never a fan of dealing with angry customers, but your group seemed level-headed enough. As he talked to the birthday girl, you’d returned to the table from the bathroom.

You were the most beautiful woman Carmy had ever seen. There was an ethereal energy surrounding you, Carmy tried to be professional, but he kept glancing in your direction. One of the girls noticed and started giggling, which made him self-conscious. As he stood there with a face redder than a tomato; you couldn’t help but look at him. Carmy was a pretty man with high cheekbones, eyes as blue as sapphires, and golden brown hair that you desperately wanted to play with. As he explained the process he’d used to cook your friend's entree, you smiled at the obvious passion he had for cooking.

When Carmy began walking back to the kitchen, he looked over his shoulder to see you watching him. Somehow his face got redder as he scurried back into the kitchen. Richie was curious about what had gotten him so flustered, but Carmy couldn’t risk anyone snatching you away.

As the night came and went, a part of Carmy hoped that the interest had been mutual and that you’d be waiting for him after closing, but that hope was short-lived. He knew he’d never see you again.

When the birthday girl tagged The Bear’s official Instagram account in a post she’d made, Carmy felt his hope renew. You were tagged in one of the pictures. When he clicked your handle and saw a public account, he felt the corner of his lips turn to a soft smile. You were an up-and-coming actress with a few cats and an art degree. As Carmy scrolled through your account you appeared to be single and after a quick Google search, it was confirmed when you’d talked about your love life in a Buzzfeed video. There was no way he’d go for a guy like him.

You never paid attention to new follower alerts from Instagram, as you’d started doing press for a summer rom-com you’d starred in - there were a lot of notifications. When you say another verified account had followed you, your curiosity was peaked. Carmen Berzatto… that was his name. After you’d left The Bear on Thursday night you couldn’t help but wonder who he was since you’d missed his initial introduction. You scrolled through his account to realize he was a pretty private guy, even in the few interviews you’d managed to find online; he was aloof and you needed to know more.

Following Carmy back felt inconspicuous enough, what were the odds of him even noticing the notification? It’s not like you’d turn on posts or story notifications. He probably wasn’t even going to notice.

Oh boy were you wrong.

To say Carmy was a little obsessed with you was an understatement. He felt like a creep stalking your account and watching old interviews you’d done but he needed to know you. When you’d posted about needing a good pesto recipe, Carmy shot his shot. He didn’t expect you to reply so when you did, it was a surprise.

When you confessed to not really knowing how to cook, he jumped on the opportunity to offer you a cooking class at The Bear whenever you were free. You agreed and quickly planned a night to come in on a night The Bear was closed.

The two of you were the only people in the restaurant. Carmy was sweating bullets making sure to make you comfortable and not over-explain any errors. By the end of the ‘lesson,’ you’d made a halfway decent pesto and managed to learn more about Carmy. You wanted to learn more though; the two of you exchanged phone numbers and agreed to go on an actual date in the next few weeks. When you kissed his cheek before leaving; he fought his instinct to grab you by the waist and give you a real kiss.

One date turned into two, two turned into three, and then three turned into the beginning stages of a relationship. Carmy didn’t know how to ask you to be his girlfriend, was that something you really needed to do in your thirties? It felt somewhat juvenile, at least until you referred to him as your boyfriend in an interview. The woman interviewing you had asked about a rumor of a budding romance between you and your male counterpart. You laughed and said “I have a boyfriend back in Chicago. So no. Miles and I are just friends- he’s also a really bad kisser if anyone was curious.”

That was just the start of your love story, Carmy didn’t know how it would end or what the middle would consist of but as long as he had you; anything felt possible.

#the bear #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto #carmy the bear #carmen berzatto one shot #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto fluff #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmy berzatto fan fiction #carmy berzatto fan fic #carmen berzatto fan fiction #carmen berzatto fan fic #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x you

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hubbvrd · 11 hours

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Love letter | Quinn Hughes

summary — in which quinn is in love with y/n the social media worker for the canucks.

pairing — quinn hughes x reader

words — 2955

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You couldn't choose who you fell in love with.

It usually happened so quickly that you hardly noticed and couldn't do anything about it.

It was actually a nice feeling to be in love. You had the feeling that the world suddenly became carefree and you walked around with a good feeling.

You were happy to see the person again and to be near them, while the warmth shot up your cheeks and your stomach tingled.

That's exactly how Quinn felt at the moment. He was in love.

A few weeks ago, he had fallen in love with the young woman y/n, who worked in social media for the Canucks.

In a joint video, in which the young woman had asked him countless questions to create content for the Canucks fans, the two of them had had a lot of fun and occasionally got a little closer to each other, so that the odd physical contact was inevitable.

Since then, Quinn had been thinking about the young woman almost constantly.

His teammates Elias and Brock would often catch him looking over at the young woman during training, who would take photos or videos and then post them on social media channels.

This was the case again today. Practice was in full swing as Quinn gripped his racket tighter and scanned the ice ring for the woman who was turning his head.

It took him a few seconds to spot her. She was standing there with a young man Quinn had only glimpsed so far and seemed to be laughing happily about something.

Every now and then, the stranger would touch her, causing Quinn to unconsciously tighten his grip on his bat and his eyebrows to furrow slightly.

"Hey man, you're staring again." Elias came to stand next to Quinn on the ice, so Quinn saw Elias adjusting his helmet out of the corner of his eye.

Quinn knew he didn't need to give Elias an excuse, because his best friend knew about the young woman and Quinn's feelings.

A few days ago, Elias had caught Quinn staring and then confronted him, but Quinn had folded not long after and told Elias everything.

After all, there were no secrets between the two best friends.

"You should finally ask her out."

Now Elias stood in front of Quinn so that he could no longer look over at the woman who had taken a liking to him.

"Elias, I-I..." Quinn began to give his team colleague another excuse, as he had done the last few times.

But he raised his gloved hand to indicate Quinn should be quiet.

As Elias began to speak, he gave the captain a serious look.

"Quinn, you have a different excuse every time. I can see how smitten you are. But the longer you hesitate, the less chance you have. I hate to say it, but I guess that guy over there is trying to get to her himself."

With a nod, Elias gestured over to the young woman and the red-haired man, who had come a little closer to her and kept grabbing her by the arm.

From a distance, Quinn couldn't interpret the expression on the young woman's face, as she was standing with half her back to him.

"And how am I supposed to do that? Just run over and pull her away from the redhead?"

A nervous expression formed on Quinn's face. The thought of simply walking over to her and approaching her made him start to sweat.

He wasn't good at approaching women, so the thought of talking to the young woman made him want to flee.

"That's actually how you do it, yes. But I have another idea." A grin formed on Elias's face as he stepped a little closer to Quinn and then whispered something in his best friend's ear.

And this idea appealed to Quinn so much that he decided to put it into practice.

"Good morning" a smile came to your lips as you greeted your colleagues and then slipped inside.

"Good morning, y/n! Good to see you." One of your colleagues, Lucy, ran up to you beaming and then pulled you into a tight hug.

Ever since you'd taken the social media job with the Canucks, Lucy and you had become instant friends.

Since then, you've been more or less inseparable. Lucy also worked for the social media team.

She usually took over the press conferences or was there for the post-match interviews, while you took care of the social media channels and shot the occasional content video.

The brunette put her arm around you as you walked side by side through the building to the small office where you had made yourselves comfortable.

The office wasn't very big, so only two desks fitted in opposite each other and two small, cozy armchairs had found their place at the other end of the wall.

Despite their small size, you loved the office more than anything, even if you spent more time on the road than in the office.

"What's on your agenda today?" You checked in with your colleague and best friend as you opened your office door and slipped into the light blue room.

On the wall behind your desk was a huge Canucks logo painted on the wall, while on the other blue-painted walls were some pictures of the team that you had taken yourself.

"I've actually just got some paperwork today and need to make a few phone calls for upcoming interviews, you?" Lucy dropped into her desk chair while you carelessly threw your jacket onto one of the chairs and then walked over to your desk.

Before you could even begin to reply, a white envelope lying on your desk caught his attention.

It wasn't unusual for you to receive mail in the morning, but this letter was different to the mail you usually received.

You could feel that directly. Slowly, you walked over to your desk as you answered Lucy curtly.

You didn't want your colleague to get suspicious.

Your name was written on the letter in curved handwriting. There was no sender or indication of where it might have come from.

This led you to conclude that this was a personal letter.

Your curiosity grew as you began to examine the letter, but made no attempt to open it.

Who wrote you a letter?

You carefully picked up the letter. It was quite light and you could feel a note through the thin envelope.

"Who did you get mail from?" You suddenly heard Lucy's voice, who had more or less caught you in the act.

"Oh, just from a customer, nothing important," you babbled and opened a drawer in your desk to carefully put the letter inside.

Your curiosity wouldn't diminish over the next hour, but you wanted to read the letter in peace and quiet, so you had to wait until Lucy left the office and you could finally be undisturbed.

But you didn't know how agonizingly slow the time would be until then.

Four agonizingly long hours passed before Lucy finally made the effort to leave your shared office to have a conversation.

After the door had slammed shut behind Lucy, you jerked out the letter, which you carefully opened and pulled out the neatly folded paper with your heart beating faster.

With trembling fingers and increasing nervousness, you unfolded the paper before placing it on the desk in front of you and began to read.

Dear y/n,

I keep looking at you, but can't touch you.

You don't know, how much l want to. want to be near you, want you to look my way.

A moment alone with you, would be beautiful. A moment alone with you, would feel eternal.

You skimmed over the words again and again. Your heart kept leaping in your chest as you read them.

You had never received such words before. In the past, you had always found it very cheesy when your friends told you that they had received love letters or wrote them themselves.

But now that you had your first love letter in front of you, it warmed your heart.

It was really sweet to read these words that were addressed directly to you.

You didn't know who this letter was from, but you wished it was a special person.

This one particular player called Quinn Hughes.

The first time you had made a video with him for social media, you had immediately noticed how well you Both got on and you had even gotten a little closer to each other at times.

Since then, you've often thought about the captain and occasionally caught yourself looking over at him and staring at him for a few seconds, lost in thought.

But what if the letter wasn't from Quinn at all, but from Alex? Alex had been very close to you recently and you had caught him looking for physical contact again and again.

Alex was a really nice young man, but you just wasn't attracted to him.

The thought that the letter could be from Alex made your face contort slightly and you put the letter aside.

Your fingers reached for the envelope, which you began to shake and shortly afterwards a small Post it note in the shape of a heart fell out.

You had completely overlooked the post it so far, so you reached for the pink note with a pounding heart and turned it over to reveal the writing.

If you're brave enough to find out who I am, meet me in the parking lot at 7 tonight.

Once again, no signature under the message. There wasn't even a single letter that would have given you any idea who had written you this sweet letter.

Your heart was almost pounding against your chest as you glanced at the bottom of my computer screen to see what time it was.

By now it was 6:30pm and so you still had some time before you would meet the unknown love letter writer.

Nervously, you started to slide around a bit on the black office chair.

You were really curious to find out who was behind the sweet lines.

But even though the message was really sweet, you were afraid that it might just be a joke.

After all, the Canucks boys had the occasional challenge and banter amongst themselves.

But had you really become one of her victims? With the best will in the world you couldn't really imagine that, as everyone was incredibly nice to you and treated you as if you'd been part of the team for ages.

Of course, you never know what makes other people tick and even though you couldn't imagine for the life of you that this letter was just a joke, you decided to be careful.

But despite all this, you wanted to know who was behind the letter and so you decided to go to the place where it was said and find out who it was.

Your heart beat a little faster against your chest with excitement and nervousness.

You hadn't mentioned the letter to Lucy once, so you had to come up with an excuse to more or less get rid of Lucy at the end of the working day an hour ago, as she was desperate to have a drink with you.

The last hour that you had spent alone in your office had gone by rather agonizingly slowly, even though you had already prepared a post or two for the next few days on social media.

But now it was time to find out who had written you the letter.

With every step you took closer to the parking lot, your heart began to beat faster and faster, making you feel like it could jump out of your chest at any second.

You buried your hands, which had become sweaty again, deeper into your jacket pockets, where your right hand played with your bunch of keys.

You were incredibly nervous, so your hand needed something to do and you were a little more distracted.

When you arrived at the parking lot, your eyes wandered nervously back and forth.

In addition to your car, there were four other cars in the parking lot, but you couldn't identify their owners.

Since you didn't know exactly where to wait in the not-so-small parking lot, you positioned yourself a little more centrally in the large parking lot so that the unknown person could easily spot you.

A glance at your cell phone display showed that it was still five minutes until 7 pm.

You used the time to take a few more deep breaths and try to calm yourself down as best you could.

Luckily, it wasn't a dark time of year, so you didn't have to be afraid of the parking lot, which was usually only dimly lit by a few lanterns in winter.

Although the weather was pretty gloomy today and the clouds were increasing, it was bright enough that you had a good view of all the creepy corners and only had to run a few meters to your car if necessary.

Your eyes scanned your surroundings and every time footsteps came closer, you looked hopefully in the direction they were coming from.

But none of them paid any attention to you and shortly afterwards, all but one of the other cars pulled away.

So the last car, which was not too far away from yours, had to be the car of the man who had written you the letter.

A few more minutes passed, during which the nervousness began to creep up inside you again.

And then suddenly the time had come.

From a distance, you could recognize someone. The person was wearing a dark blue hoodie that clearly stood out.

His hood was pulled over his head and his gaze was slightly lowered, so you couldn't tell who it was yet.

On his shoulder was a sports bag, on which you could see the Canucks logo from a distance.

So it was a player, you thought, as the stranger came closer and closer to you and your nervousness grew so much that your heart began to pound in your chest again.

He seemed to be moving in slow motion and took forever to get to you, so you started moving without thinking twice and ran towards him.

When the two of you finally came face to face, the stranger slowly lifted his head and pulled the hood off his head, revealing thick brown hair.

And your heart literally skipped a beat as you struggled not to clasp your hands over your mouth.

Because standing in front of you was none other than Quinn Hughes.

The man you had gotten a little closer to some time ago.

The man you got on well with straight away.

The man who made you laugh.

The man you couldn't stop thinking about.

"Quinn..." His name left your mouth in an almost whisper.

The person opposite you nodded in response, a shy smile on his lips and he began to clutch the handle of his sports bag like a lifeline.

Suddenly he seemed so shy and embarrassed. Very different from your video shoot.

He cleared his throat. "Hello, y/n."

"The...the letter...it's from you?" To be on the safe side, you checked again. There was a little fear in your voice because you wanted the letter to be from him.

"Yes, I wrote the letter."

Embarrassed, Quinn looked at you and ran his free hand through his thick hair, brushing a few strands that had fallen into his eyes out of his face.

"Wow...I mean...those words really touched me" You babbled on, which made Quinn's cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

"Really?" he asked hopefully. He couldn't seem to believe that you were reacting so positively.

You began to nod eagerly. "Yes, really!"

Quinn began to almost beam and seemed to spend some time searching for the right words, which made you slightly nervous.

"I'm not really good at talking, that's why Elias gave me the idea of the letter. I thought you thought this was just a joke and you weren't even going to show up, but I'm really relieved you're here."

Now it was Quinn who was babbling nervously as his left hand moved to the back of his neck, where he began to scratch himself in embarrassment.

"Really? I thought it was a joke too, since the name wasn't signed. But I was too curious and wanted to see who was here."

A nervous laugh leaves your lips, causing Quinn to start laughing as well.

"Wow...that's really something."

Quinn smirked slightly before gathering all his courage and finally the sentences he would have loved to ask you already left his mouth.

"Y/n I know this might be risky because you work for the same team as me. I don't know exactly what the contracts and agreement are here, but I think you realize there's something between us too, don't you? Would you...would you go out with me?"

His eyes looked at you with an almost hopeful expression, while your heart stumbled again and you began to feel the warmth rush to your cheeks.

And it actually didn't take you long to give Quinn a suitable answer.

Because the answer has been on the tip of your tongue for a long time and you were finally able to say it out loud.

"I would love to go on a date with you, Quinn."

#quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #nhl x y/n #nhl oneshot #nhl fanfiction #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl #nhl hockey #nhl players #vancouver canucks #canucks hockey

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dfortrafalgar · 7 hours

Note

Hi, saw that your request were open so I was thinking on asking you for Law X fem reader where law has a crush on reader and starts hanging out and sees that one of reader’s guy friends is being way too touchy and starts touching her butt, he is also being mean to her and at one point even hits her in the head.

How would he react, I was thinking of a fluff ending.

thank you so much for your request anon!!! i really loved this one, it was super fun to write! it was definitely a bit of a struggle though, as much as i enjoy writing heavier topics, physical abuse is tricky for me to deal with, but i hope the fluff at the end delivered some resolutions <3

also, i actually really really like Bellamy as a character. i think he's super cool, but i couldnt think of anyone else who could really fit in the role he's playing in this fic LOL

Rectify

Law x Fem Reader

Law’s feelings for you are forced to clash with a loathsome person in your life.

Warnings: descriptions of brief physical abuse, implications of past abuse, very mild suggestive language, modern setting, hurt/comfort, fluffy ending

By the time Law realized his crush on you had surpassed its normal, healthy limit, it was far too late for him. It certainly didn’t help to see you sitting next to Bellamy, tossing joking remarks back and forth. All of you were in the same friend group, so it was truly impossible to avoid your interactions with the much larger, stronger, arguably more handsome man. And the thought began to make Law’s blood boil.

Because Bellamy was everything Law wasn’t.

You and Law had been friends since childhood, growing up in the same neighborhood and running with the same crowd. You were familiar with his best friends and his dad, just as Law was familiar with your closest peers. Law liked to think that, as the years went on, the two of you grew closer and closer. You were always far nicer to Law during his awkward teenage years, and there were a few times where the raven-haired boy grew hopeful that you might one day return his budding feelings for you, but that day never came. And then you started college… and then you met Bellamy.

On the contrary to the black-haired medical student, the blonde was known around the entire campus as ‘The Hyena,’ and for good reason. He was ruthless in every sport he played, a malicious, sadistic grin constantly pulling at his thin lips striking fear into the hearts of his opponents. He was strong, freakishly so, with muscles that could rival that of an Olympic weightlifter. His blonde hair was a hit with the ladies, and partnered with his darker skin tone and his assortment of badass tattoos, it seemed like a no brainer that women would be falling all over him.

Law just internally hated that one of those women seemed to be you.

Despite you having confirmed on multiple occasions that you and Bellamy were simply friends that you met in one of your classes, and that you truly had no interest in men like him, Law couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in his chest.

Bellamy certainly seemed to like you. A lot.

Law watched from across the room, a plastic cup still completely full of an unidentified cocktail in his tattooed hand and the large group of friends you shared laughing and chattering around you in the living room of the house party, as one of Bellamy’s large, strong hands began to circle around your waist, gripping the soft flesh of your ass through your pants. The sensation made you jump, trying to scurry away from him with a nervous smile on your soft lips as you awkwardly laughed at the feeling, but Bellamy tried to pull you in closer. The couch cushions sunk under his weight, creating a deep divot that made it hard to stand up.

You lightly shoved Bellamy’s chest, mumbling something about standing to get another drink, before you were finally able to haul yourself up from the warm sofa and make your way toward the kitchen in the back of the house. Law stood from his metal folding chair, abandoning his cup on a random end table. He followed you diligently into the kitchen.

“Hey,” he muttered.

“Oh, hey, Law!” you returned his greeting, mild surprise filling your eyes. “I didn’t hear you behind me!”

The man shrugged, leaning against the counter. You awkwardly fiddled with a glass bottle of beer, using the edge of the counter to pop open the metal cap. Law eyed you suspiciously.

“You don’t drink beer,” he stated, watching as you simply held the chilled bottle in your hands without making a move to drink it.

You smiled in response, but the gesture didn’t reach your eyes like it normally did. “I know… I just needed to get some air away from the living room for a little bit.”

Law couldn’t hold back the question fighting on his tongue. “Is Bellamy bothering you?”

Pointed stares were shared between the two of you before you finally, lightly, shook your head. “No.”

“Are you sure?” Something told him you were lying to his face.

“Yes, I’m sure,” you groaned. “Law… I know you don’t like him… but he’s really not that bad.”

“You didn’t seem to like it when he touched your ass,” the med student grumbled.

“Law, I don’t want to fight,” you retorted, firmly. “I don’t like it when Bellamy touches me, anywhere. I know he’s into me but I’m not into him, but I don’t want to cause a scene at a party I was graciously invited to.”

You had a point. Liquor was running as free as tap water within the stale, stuffy walls of the house, and saying or doing something that could potentially cause a fight wouldn’t be ideal. Especially since the police had already been called multiple times to a house just a few steps down the sidewalk from this one.

Law wished he could open his mouth and just tell you, tell you everything that had been on his mind, how he realized just recently (and yet somehow far too late for his liking) that he’s madly in love with you, how he doesn’t want to see you be treated poorly by someone who you call a friend, how he wished so desperately that you would see him in the same way, how he longed for your touch. But instead, he stayed silent, watching as you anxiously eyed the brown glass of the untouched beer bottle you still gripped in your hand, as if the bottle was the only thing keeping you glued to reality.

“I’m fine, Law,” you blurted. He hadn’t said anything more. With your eyes cast down to the floor, you left your beer bottle sitting open on the countertop before retreating back into the thick of the party.

The raven-haired student waited a few moments before returning as well, his metal folding chair unfortunately having been taken by two sweaty economics students locked in a very passionate, very inappropriate, makeout session. He pushed his way through the mingling crowd back toward the couch where he spotted you perched on the arm of the sofa this time, Bellamy practically flush against your body on the end cushion, his palm on your ass, fingers squeezing intermittently. The blonde was locked in an intense conversation with the man in front of him, and the look on your face screamed uncomfortable. Law felt his stomach flip over. Your eyes caught him again, and you frowned. A frown so deep that it left shadows under the creases of your lips. You looked… aged. Stressed. Afraid.

But Law kept his distance.

You didn’t want a scene to break out. You could handle yourself on your own.

Bellamy’s hand trailed from your ass down your thigh, your skin still protected by the rough denim of your jeans, but that didn’t stop his fingers from crawling around the front of your body and dipping between your thighs. The feeling of his intense hand trying to pull you apart in front of another man, without your consent, made you visibly tense up and pull away from him. Your motions finally made the blonde’s attention snap to you, his dark eyes narrowing and somehow becoming even more villainous.

“Don’t run off,” he snapped. “You’re sitting right here with me, all pretty like that.”

You steeled yourself. “Then I don’t want you touching me like that. We’re not an item, Bellamy.”

“I don’t care,” he huffed back. “I’ll touch you however I want.”

The music of the party, the chattering voices slurred with alcohol, faded completely around Law as he watched the argument unfold before his eyes. The only sounds entering his ear drums were the disgusting words leaving Bellamy’s mouth, the demands, the insults. The dim lights of the living room did very little to hide the way your face contorted in discomfort, trying to pull away from the blonde athlete even more.

“Bellamy, I said no,” you snapped.

No one seemed to be paying any attention to what was happening, all eyes everywhere but where they should have been. When you were being closed in on by a man much larger than you, no one was looking. You were alone.

And Law was somehow so far away.

“I don’t remember ever needing to listen to you,” the hyena chortled, his voice gravelly and nasally. “You should be lucky that you have a guy like me who’s into you. You’ll never be able to do better than me.”

You opened your mouth once more to shout a retort, but you were cut short. Bellamy’s clenched fist connected with your lower jaw, swiftly knocking you to the ground in a stunned shock. You fell like a lead brick, hitting the ground with a force that Law somehow felt through the soles of his shoes, rattling his bones and making his head spin. Your hands blindly scraped against the floor searching for your bearings, completely disoriented from the blow that had just met your bone. You brought one of your hands to your mouth, cupping your palm over your lips as your eyes closed, trying to block out every overwhelming color and sound filling your brain with a nuclear buzz.

And yet. No one. Noticed.

Law cleared the floor in an instant, just as Bellamy was yelling something about your worth being determined by your partnership with him. The fist inked with DEATH clocked the blonde in the temple, the short, stubbly blonde hairs leaving phantom singing pain on Law’s fingers. The hyena stumbled backward, catching himself on the arm of the sofa you were previously sitting on.

For a brief moment, the med student was gloatingly proud of himself. His father was a retired marine after all. Law knew a thing or two about a good punch. His thoughts were quickly retired, however, as he crossed the crowded floor to your side, quickly helping you to your feet and pushing through the crowd with you hunched over in his arms, tripping over your heels as he rapidly escorted you to the door.

Don’t cause a scene.

Bellamy didn’t follow, and Law counted his blessings. “Hey, your apartment’s on this street, right?”

With a hand still cupped over your mouth, you nodded. Your eyes were barely keeping themselves open, what was visible of your face contorted in a muted agony.

If Law was any less collected, he would’ve stomped that hyena’s face in with the heel of his boot.

The two of you were barely getting anywhere with your afflicted state. Law scooped you into his embrace, your legs wrapping around his hips and free hand clenching the soft fabric of his shirt as he carried you back to your apartment with one of his arms carefully supporting your rump. Thank goodness you lived so close, in a converted townhouse on the corner of the same street. Law still lived in on-campus housing across town, which was less than ideal for his tastes. He helped you fish your key from the pocket of your pants, keeping you in his grasp while he pushed the door open and entered the narrow entryway of your home. Your roommate was gone for the week visiting family on the other side of the country, so your place was completely dark and quiet.

Law flipped the light switch on just in time to watch you scurry to the first floor bathroom as soon as your feet touched the hard wooden floor, leaving the door open as the light in the smaller space flicked on as well. He quickly followed, standing in the doorway as you finally pulled your hand away from your mouth.

A few droplets of blood were dotting your palm, but when you opened your mouth, a worryingly large glob of bright crimson exited past your lips and splattered in the white porcelain of the sink. Law’s stomach lurched as he watched you try in vain to spit out the metallic liquid, your entire face scrunching up as the nauseating sensation and taste. Your shoulders shuddered with the feeling of your gag reflex bobbing in the back of your throat, forcing your stomach to hold its contents as you released drops of bright red into the white porcelain of the wash basin.

The med student’s first thought was that one or more of your teeth had been knocked loose or even came out permanently, but nothing solid landed in the sink. As you began to calm down from your spitting into the basin, your eyes began to well with overwhelmed tears. You gazed at Law in the mirror, his golden eyes locked on yours as a small dribble of blood and spit slid down the skin of your chin.

Wordlessly, your friend stepped into the bathroom with you, grabbing a wad of toilet paper and wetting it with warm water from the tap, wiping away the bloody drool that left your lips.

“I know it hurts, but I need you to open for me,” he muttered, gently holding your cheek in his hand as the other one balled up the toilet paper and discarded it into the open toilet bowl.

When you opened, Law reached into the back pocket of his speckled jeans and procured his phone, clicking on the flashlight without looking at his screen. He shined the light into your mouth and, to his relief, didn’t see any chipped, broken, or missing teeth. He did, however, see a substantial gash on the side of your tongue. You must have clamped down hard on the muscle with your teeth thanks to the force of the punch. The thought made a silent rage build in Law’s gut. He turned you around and closed the toilet lid, sitting you down and proceeding to rummage through your medicine cabinet.

He handed you two pieces of gauze wrap from below your sink. “I need you to hold these against the cut on your tongue, okay? Don’t remove them until I say so.”

You diligently followed his orders, taking the dry cloth from him and inserting it painfully into your mouth to rest on the stinging wound that cut your muscle. You watched as he continued to rummage through your supplies, pushing aside boxes of tampons and toilet cleaning chemicals and finally finding what he was hoping he would see- a brown plastic bottle. He stood from his crouching position, the bottle in his firm grasp. He spun the item around to gaze at its expiration date and hummed approvingly under his breath. He quickly exited the bathroom, leaving you alone for a few fleeting moments.

While he was gone, you were able to take a better look at your face. While one of your cheeks was puffed up slightly with the clump of gauze against your tongue, you could still make out the swelling of your skin on the same side. A large, black and blue bruise was quickly blooming along your jaw and up your cheek, your fractured capillaries leaking into your epidermis.

Law finally returned, a very small cup in his right hand and a bottle of diluted bleach in his left from the kitchen. You watched as he poured a small amount of clear liquid from the brown bottle into the small cup before running the sink tap and filling it the rest of the way with plain water. He handed the cup to you with no instructions before lightly spritzing the porcelain basin with the diluted chemical, running the tap once more and washing your blood away, making sure to scrub the entire bowl. He finally turned around to face you.

“I need you to swish that in your mouth for a few seconds, and then spit it out in the sink,” he directed. “It might taste kind of bitter.”

You carefully pulled the gauze out of your mouth, wincing as some of the light fibers pulled against your wounded muscle, but followed his directions and tossed the contents of the small cup back into your mouth, swishing with your cheeks puffed, trying to focus the liquid onto your wound. Just as Law warned, the taste was bitter, vaguely salty, but definitely not pleasant. Law finally stepped aside from the sink after a long 30 seconds and let you spit. Both the gauze and the clear solution you rinsed your mouth with were lacking blood, meaning your wound was already on the clotting and healing path.

After sputtering for a few moments, the faint smell of diluted bleach filling your nose from the sink, you placed the cup down on the counter and gazed at Law, who watched you with a keen eye. “What was that?”

“Hydrogen peroxide and water,” he uttered. “To disinfect your tongue. Luckily, peoples’ mouths tend to heal much faster than other body parts, so after a day or two of discomfort, you should be back to normal.”

Cleaned and disinfected, you finally started to let your mind sink on the gravity of the situation, your heart rate increasing and your eyes once again growing heavy and blurry with impending tears. You watched as Law, avoiding your gaze with a deep frown on his lips, grabbed your rinse cup from the counter and turned to head back to your kitchen. You quickly grabbed the fabric of his shirt sleeve to stop him in his tracks, the fuzziness of your vision causing the colors of his form in front of you to waver and warp, but that didn’t stop you from wrapping your arms around his lean torso in a hug, the warm wetness from your eyes soaking the cotton of his clothing.

“Please don’t leave,” you uttered into his chest, your body trembling. With the adrenaline finally subsiding, the pain radiating from your jaw grew more and more noticeable. Every movement seemed to irritate your bruised bone, and talking felt like trying to articulate with a lead weight attached to your mandible.

With your face smushed into his clothing, you didn’t see when Law placed the cup back down on your counter, only hearing the soft tap of the plastic against the linoleum surface. His arms carefully, as if to not shatter you where you stood, wrapped around your waist, one hand coming to rest comfortably in between your shoulder blades, his fingers sprawling out over your spine before retracting and collecting some of the fabric from your own shirt into his inked fingers. It felt like his hand was made specifically to bring you comfort.

—

It took some time for you to calm yourself down enough to relocate from the bathroom doorway to the small living space you typically shared with your roommate when she was home. You listened with your head resting on a soft pillow and an ice pack nursing your jaw as Law busied himself between your bathroom and kitchen, washing the cup, cleaning off the bathroom counter and sink for a second time, and disposing of the small garbage bag where your bloody gauze had ended up. Your living room was dark, with the only light coming from the kitchen, just enough to catch glimpses of Law’s shadow moving about the space. Your face ached from the force of crying against your bruised jaw bone, your eyelids uncomfortably sliding over your corneas, dry and fragile after expelling what was easily the rest of the water in your body.

After what felt like an eternity, Law finally emerged from the kitchen, carefully approaching your laid out form on the couch. He kneeled in front of you and adjusted the ice pack against your cheek slightly, the tenderness of his fingers ghosting over your own. Your heart galloped in your chest.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into that mess,” you groaned, forcing your dry eyes closed to avoid Law’s pensive stare.

“You didn’t drag me into anything. I acted on my own,” he replied stoically, his hand remaining within close proximity to your own. His tattooed fingers flexed a few times, eager to take your hand in his, but he eventually relented and let his limb fall back to his side.

You shifted uncomfortably on the couch, curling your legs up toward your chest. “But you could’ve gotten hurt.”

Law bit the inside of his cheek at your words, his own chest clenching in disdain, not for you, but for the hyena that had left you feeling such a way. “I don’t care if I get hurt if it means you stay safe.”

When your eyes opened, they were small. Weak. Like you had been fighting some unknown battle in your skull for as long as you could remember. You truly looked tired and ragged, and Law wanted nothing more than to hold you in his arms until all your life’s woes flushed away like the aftermath of a rainstorm.

“Law…” you began, your mouth opening and closing a few times, at a loss for what to continue with. “I never really liked Bellamy.”

The man stayed quiet, his lips pulled in a taut line.

“But sometimes, when you get really uncomfortable, all you can do is laugh and smile. Because you hope that acting friendly and cordial and cute will keep you safe from danger.” Your voice was so fragile, your words mumbled as you continued to cradle your jaw with the thawing ice pack against your skin. “I never wanted to hang out with Bellamy, but he scared me so much and I just… didn’t know how to say no. I didn’t want to get hurt.”

Again.

Law’s own jaw clenched, suppressing a bubbling rage as he relived the blonde’s actions from a few hours prior. A deep-rooted maniacal side of the medical student wished he could gut the D-1 athlete in his sleep, but what good would that do? It certainly wouldn’t help you in the way you needed it. And the fact that your attempts to protect yourself had only led you to getting attacked in the first place made his blood boil in his veins. But he needed to stay calm for you. Anger solves no issues. He learned that from Cora, his best friends, and now you.

A bout of anger got you out of the situation you were stuck in, and now you needed comfort.

“What…” he began, stumbling. “What do you want from me? To help you?”

After a few brief moments of silence, the only sound cutting through the darkness being the faint wrrr of your air conditioning unit, you finally spoke up. “Can you spend the night with me?”

Law blinked once, then twice. “Here?”

“Yeah. In my room.”

He gazed at you through the darkness, his golden eyes widened. “Are you sure you’re okay with that?”

You emitted a small gust of air through your nose. “I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t.”

Fair enough. “Do you have anywhere you want me to sleep?” he asked, helping you sit up against the couch cushions and carefully easing the ice back off of your jaw. The swelling had gone down substantially, but it would still take a week or two for the bruise to fully heal.

One of your hands remained planted against his shoulder, gripping the cotton of his shirt. “In my bed. I feel safe with you, Law. It’s really okay.”

After receiving your words of affirmation, Law stood from his crouched position and guided you to stand through the darkness, his hand in yours and the other clutched around the ice pack. He discarded the item on your kitchen counter to be dealt with in the morning, keen on getting you comfortable under your secure blankets. You gladly followed him, stepping carefully through the dark home into your bedroom where you blindly navigated to your bedside lamp, pulling down on the cord to activate the light. The warm orange glow flooded the room, making the two of you squint your eyes.

Law could finally see just how bad your bruise really was. A large, black and blue swollen welt tinged with red the exact size of a harshly clenched fist was carved across your skin. The sight of the impact was much more swollen compared to the other side. You had taken a hit most street thugs hadn’t ever dealt with.

“It’s really bad, isn’t it,” you asked, voice still paper-thin and anxious.

“It’s… definitely a decent injury,” Law responded bluntly, inwardly cursing himself at his awkward language.

You didn’t hold it against him, however. Instead, you stripped off your clothes, crawling into bed and leaving the other side open for Law.

“You’re really okay with this?” he asked, one more time.

You nodded. “Yes.”

Law followed your initial lead, taking off his jeans, followed by his shirt and socks, leaving only his boxers covering him. He carefully crawled into the space in your blankets you had left open for him, laying on his back like a plank with his hands awkwardly draped over his abdomen. You pulled down on the cord to your lamp once more and flooded the room with darkness.

The med student felt the mattress dip as you moved closer to him, effortlessly draping yourself over his body, as if you were made to fit into the crevice of his neck. His hands found their position around your back and waist yet again, surrounding you in the comfort you had been longing for all night. You nestled your face into the soft skin of his neck, slow, deep breaths setting a hypnotic, drowsy pace for the both of you to fall into slumber.

No words had to be exchanged, not until the morning at least. Your legs tangled together and your hearts beating in sync did all the talking for now.

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