#i dare you to stay: chapter 12 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

livingemkayde · 8 months

Text

ch vi. bruises

joel miller x f!reader x unrequited!tommy miller (no outbreak AU)

chapter six of chaser

warnings: 18+ minors please dni. ooof okay where to start, smut unprotected p in v, mentions of bruising from sex? fighting like actual real life fist fighting, rough but sweet sex, grinding, lowkey some cockwarming?? kinda unwanted kissing, tommy being annoying and somewhat overbearing, and unwanted touching, but not sexual. caroline. just, caroline. because she deserves her own warning for this one. no use of y/n.

summary: everything comes to a head at tommy's birthday party.

a/n: this is genuinely the longest part/chapter thing i've ever written so enjoy. tommy is really annoying in this one, im still deciding if he's going to have a redemption arc. sorry this took so long. as always, i love you all so much. MY TUMBLR LITERALLY SHIT ITS PANTS WHEN I TRIED TO EDIT THE TAGLIST SO IM SORRY IF YOU GUYS GOT TAGGED LIKE 400 TIMES.

if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!

“What’s goin’ on?” Joel says, almost a whisper. You’re still not sure if he’s talking to you or Tommy. You can't take your eyes off Tommy’s gaze. From the looks of it, Joel’s question makes Tommy more angry and way more confused. “Joel,” you say, trying to look for any indication in Tommy’s face that he’s not going to go bat shit crazy. “‘S fine. We’re okay.” But Joel doesn’t listen. Because he’s Joel Miller and maybe you can’t see it right now, but you can hear the concern dripping off his tone—an indication that he won’t ever leave. Not now. So he stalks towards you both and you try to shake your head no, and he doesn’t listen.

You can almost remember it like it was yesterday.

A few weeks back, the first time you invited Tommy in for a drink after dinner. Sarah was asleep back at the house, Joel was doing — god knows what. The sun was set, the mosquitoes were probably out, and there was a quiet, even maybe too quiet silence when Tommy pulled up to your house.

He had asked what the rest of your plans were for the night.

You had said nothing much, not knowing it was an invitation — he stayed till 2 a.m. that night.

But it was okay. Because he made you laugh and you enjoyed his company. He was interesting. Tommy told you about how he never wanted to go into contracting in the first place. About his broken bones, his all time biggest regrets, how he was smitten with his old high school flame turned mean cheerleader until graduation.

It was the first time you ever realized he was — well — his own person in the sense. Not just Joel’s younger brother. But Tommy. Tommy Miller.

Maybe in another life Tommy might’ve even been good for you. A perfect pair — a match. He wasn’t mean and brooding and he certainly didn’t have 12 years on you.

And he made you smile. And he was genuinely—genuinely interested in your life. Your post grad prospects, college, books, and even how you played soccer just like Sarah when you were younger.

But when he leaned in that night, closer to you than ever before. You froze. Like genuinely frozen, and you couldn’t even dare to look down to his slowly approaching lips, let alone how his arms caged you in.

“First kiss?” you remember him asking.

You had just stuttered out nonsense, not wanting to breathe too hard and run the risk of pushing your lips flush with his.

“I — um —” you nervously laughed. You couldn’t even think—not in the way you should—not when the first person that comes to mind when Tommy says, kiss is his brother.

He had leaned in closer then—more tentative. Like you were a scared deer in headlights or a frightened kitten and he was inching forward, wanting to move closer.

But you didn’t really do — anything.

And he had pulled back a bit, gave you a teasing look and a ruffle on the head and continued with the conversation.

In all honesty you were scared that he might've been inching forward to kiss you. The small fear settling through a slightly erratic heartbeat and nervous laughs.

You were scared then, but can’t really remember the last time you’ve felt this kind of fear.

Hurt, discomfort, shock, maybe.

And although it was being quickly replaced with anger, you don’t remember this feeling — this kind of fear. Not even the kind you get from watching a scary movie — where you can feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins and then dissipating when the screen goes dark, and the lights turn back on and all you have to worry about is if the scary nun from the big screen will appear in your dreams.

You can remember all the last times you’ve gotten mad, sure. Mainly at the Miller brothers.

But never fear — well, not until right now.

Because whoever that Tommy was is definitely not the same guy staring back at you right now, with a bruised fist, an angry look swirled with hurt marked permanently on his face and one emotion that you can definitely place behind his eyes — jealousy.

Some hours earlier.

You spread colorful tablecloth over the mismatched tables in Joel’s backyard. The string lights are being hung up, Joel stands on a ladder towards your right, the sound of a hammer echoing through the small backyard.

You pick your phone out of your back pocket, checking the time. You also find it in you to check Tommy’s texts again, but no other messages have been sent since last night. You look down at your phone — at the messages — and sit against one of the tables.

Yesterday:

You: can we talk in person?

Tommy Miller: I’ll see you tomorrow at the party?

You hadn’t seen the text until this morning, when Joel and you found it in yourselves to get out of bed, have a shower, and start setting up for the party. So when you saw it, you would be lying if you said your heart didn’t skip a beat.

You’re a bit nervous at the prospect. You did not want to talk to him at his party—honestly just trying to text him so that the air would be cleared for the party.

But his words echo in your mind.

“Just think ‘bout it before you say no.”

You let out a cursed sigh.

Tommy had to know. Right?

If he knew the dreaded ‘no’ was already braced on your lips he had to know. That this thing between you and Tommy would never work out. That you’re way better as friends. That it would ruin everything — the dynamics of it all — that you were smitten with his brother and you guys had just slept together for the second time without Tommy’s knowledge and that—

“Alright?”

Joel stands in front of you, dipping his head to see a scowl marked on your face. You quickly — maybe even too quickly — forget about the messages, hell, forget about Tommy.

Because Joel looks handsome. He’s always handsome, you’ve thought since the moment you met him at the bar. There’s something intoxicating about him, his arms, the curve of his neck. His brooding nature does him justice — a uniqueness about him that makes you want to uncover more, learn more, see more.

You remember last night—very vividly through small ebbs and flows of sleep. The moonlight seeped into your skin as you both rolled around in gray sheets.

It makes your cheeks heat a bit at the thought.

You remember everything. Every little detail. You don’t think you’ll ever forget.

You tuck your phone back into your pocket.

“Yeah, sorry. ‘S just…” you trail off, he nods his head in understanding, coming closer to you.

He braces his hands on either side of your body, caging you in. Your faces study each other’s mere inches apart.

“Tablecloth givin’ you trouble?” Joel teases in a soft whisper, looking down at your lips, then back to your eyes.

“Funny,” you say with a grin and run your tongue over your lips.

“You need help, baby, all you gotta do is ask.” Joel’s small smile plays on his lips for a fleeting second. You miss it as soon as it’s gone.

“Duly noted. But I’m not the one who’s been hanging up string lights for the past hour.”

He pats your ass a bit, teasing you and pushing out a playful sigh.

“Perfection takes time.”

Joel’s beginning to dip his head to kiss you, but you find it in you to bite back.

“And yet the left side’s still lower than the right,” you whisper, pulling your head back slightly. He turns quickly to look at the fence, but gives you a harder slap on your ass when he realizes the lights are, in fact, straight.

Joel chuckles, pushing off from the table, you turn back around to continue fixing the cloths, and look back at him over your shoulder.

He’s looking back at you too.

“You’re killin’ me,” he says, and you smile to yourself when you turn back around.

You look around the backyard and check your phone for the millionth time since the party started. You can hear Sarah running around, screaming a bit while jumping into the pool. But your brows furrow when you find that Tommy still hasn’t texted you.

You spot a tuft of red hair swinging through your vision and spin to find Janet Baker squeezing through the crowd.

“Janet!” you say, approaching her quickly. You’re happy to see her—Tommy didn’t invite many people you’re familiar with.

“Hey, Doll. Thanks for the invite!” she says, pulling you into a quick hug, but when she sees the look on your face, her mouth drops into a frown. “Sweetie, you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. I—Tommy didn’t…I don’t really know anyone here,” you reply while sheepishly looking around the small, bustling backyard. It’s the kind of feeling you try your best to avoid. Like everyone is in on some secret joke that you have no clue about. Or everyone knows each other and you can’t even put faces to names because you don’t know any names—like right now.

“‘S fine—I’m happy to see you made it,” you let out a defeated chuckle.

“‘F course, baby. Charlotte really wanted to see Sarah,” she nods towards the girls in the pool, Charlotte’s red hair looking strikingly similar to the woman standing in front of you. Janet seems to be on her second drink of the afternoon, you saw her tipping back a solo cup out of the corner of your eye earlier.

“What are you drinking?” you ask her, nodding at her cup.

“Someone brought a fancy lookin’ wine I popped open,” she says, giving you a sly smile. “Why don’t we get you a drink? You’ll like this,” she says, you don’t have much time to react, she’s already pulling you towards the drink station.

You both settle into a comfortable silence, looking around the backyard while Janet pours your drink.

“So,” she says, giving you a wink.

“So…” you echo, sending a nervous laugh her way.

“Who’s that girl,” she nods towards Caroline while passing you a cup, you take a big sip, Janet fills it back up to the top without a second glance.

“Caroline,” you say looking at her and Joel. They’re talking to some other people, a small group of them congregating by the barbecue.

“Caroline…” Janet tests out on her tongue, willing you to continue.

“Caroline—Joel’s,” you can’t help but chuckle. “date. I guess.”

“That bother you?” she says, finishing the bottle of wine while the two of you walk back towards the edge of the pool so she can watch Charlotte and Sarah.

“Nope,” you say, and it’s not a lie. Sure, it might be a little weird to see another woman clinging to his arm after yesterday. But you know now. And that’s all that matters.

“Joel can—” you laugh again, “—Joel can do what he likes.”

Janet stops walking suddenly. You tear your gaze away from Joel and look at her with a confused furrowed brow.

“Sweetie…” she says with eyes that look way too knowing for your comfort or peace of mind.

“Janet…?” you say, though her gaze just intensifies.

“You mean to tell me it happened since I last saw you?”

Your eyes widen, a shocked look crosses your face and you quickly try to replace it with a bad mask of confusion.

“W-what? I—”

“Don’t lie to me, doll,” she warns, and she looks like she really means it.

“Janet…” you say in a not as effective and halfhearted warning tone back.

“Don’t you dare,” she wags her finger—a final warning.

What has gotten into you and why can’t you find it in yourself to lie to this woman?

“Don’t te—” she gasps, “Janet, I mean it. Do not tell anyone.”

She shuts her half open mouth and makes the my lips are sealed motion across her face. You laugh while stealing a glance at Joel.

“I told you,” she whispers to you in a hush, joining your eyeline towards Joel.

You stay silent for a moment, just taking everything and everyone in—but at the same time just looking at Joel. when you finally break the silence you’re a bit shocked at your question. You’ve never talked about Joel like this with someone who actually knows him. Everything has always been a secret—like you were supposed to be ashamed or something. You never were.

“How did you know?” you ask, hushed. You’re not sure she’ll even hear you.

“Would love to say it was intuition, sweetie—but—it was him. It was written all over his face.”

You stayed with Janet for the better portion of the hour, all through silent peaks at your phone to see if Tommy had texted you. When it was getting to the point where people were getting curious, you’ve just about had your limit.

You approach Joel quickly, you don’t miss Caroline’s stunned face but you really can’t be bothered with—that—right now.

“Joel?” you ask, pulling at his arm a bit, he excuses himself from the group and follows you towards the backyard's edge.

“Where the hell is your brother?” you whisper.

“He’s not here?” he asks, the same hushed tone also pushing through his voice at your question.

“No! I called him, but he’s not responding,” you pipe back while pulling out your phone. Though the lack of notifications from Tommy—just as before—tells you enough.

You both look at each other for a fleeting second. But the same worried look is probably etched on both your faces — fuck.

“This fuckin’ guy,” Joel mutters under his breath while pulling out his own phone and then putting it up to his ear.

You pace around the small area you and Joel are in, observing the unfamiliar faces.

“Nothin’,” Joel grovels, taking a peak over the fence towards the street to see if Tommy's truck has pulled up. “I’ll try ‘im again — just — you should mingle,” he says, still looking down at his phone.

“‘S fine. I don’t really know anyone here anyways,” you say absentmindedly, looking through your phone for Tommy’s contact and putting your phone up to your ear.

You hear yelling and shouting from the entrance to the backyard. You slowly lift your head, reluctant to tear your eyes away from frantic texts.

You spot him, in all his glory. Tommy Miller. Two hours late to his own birthday party—though he looks like he couldn’t care less, hugging old friends and new ones. He spots your eyes in the crowd and you can’t even be bothered to smile, a frown is almost permanently placed on your face—Late to your own birthday party?

He nods his head toward the house, a silent invitation to talk when he’s done greeting the guests. You nod back and turn to Joel, Tommy turns to everyone else.

“He’s here,” you say, pulling Joel out of his own phone, he does a double take towards the entrance and huffs out a groan.

“Goddamn idiot,” Joel says, running his palm over his eyebrow.

“I’m gonna go—” you say, nodding towards the house, towards Tommy.

“Yeah. Alright,” he replies, though he looks a bit concerned and unfocused, looking towards Tommy, then back to you, “You need me, ‘m there.”

“‘M not telling him about us on his birthday and It’s Tommy, Joel.”

Tommy—harmless.

Though Joel’s look sends a sweat to your palms for some reason. You don’t know why he’s worried.

It’s Tommy. It’s fine.

Right?

You hope as much as you make your way through the crowd. You beeline for the house and slip past the sliding doors into the kitchen where cups and bags of chips lay open and equally sprawled.

You can hear the door slide open and shut again behind you as you try and salvage the mess.

“Baby,” Tommy says, rounding the corner and coming close to you, “‘M sorry. The concrete guy was supposed to drop off the shipment tomorrow but he came today and needed a signature—”

“Tommy, it’s okay,” you almost have to will yourself to say. You also have to remember it’s his birthday.

He looks down.

“‘S okay. It’s your birthday. Happy birthday,” you reassure with a small smile.

“Looks great out there,” he says, fiddling with his phone in his hand.

“Thanks.”

You’re suddenly a bit nervous. You hadn’t really thought about everything that had happened when Tommy being late to his own birthday party was blanketing all the drama. But he’s here now, and you have no idea what to say. Maybe it would be better to not say anything at all—not address the fact that he asked you out, or you and Joel. But that guilty gnawing feeling eats you alive the longer you stand in silence.

“Joel helped you?”

“Yeah. I went shopping yesterday and dropped off the stuff here then we set it up this morning,” you say, nodding towards the backyard and then your car parked out front.

“You went shopping on your own?” he almost sounds offended.

“I wanted to go on my own.”

Tommy doesn't look convinced.

“Really, T. ‘S fine,” you brush off, leaning back against the kitchen counter and crossing your arms. He stares at you from the other side of the kitchen.

“Caroline here?” he asks, a hesitant look on his face as he switches from looking at the ground to your face—almost like he’s looking for a reaction.

“She’s out there somewhere,” you nod, keeping a neutral face masked with a small smile. “You should mingle. Just wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

But he doesn’t move, he just keeps fiddling with the case on his phone again, looking down to the floor—his feet.

“I— you said you wanted to talk in person.”

Shit.

You both look at each other, waiting. A game of cat and mouse.

“It can wait, T. Enjoy your party,” you say, gesturing to the crowd outside.

“Is it about—is it about what happened Friday?”

“Tommy,” you say, almost warningly. This situation is shitty enough as is. You really don’t want to spoil everything—even if there’s nothing left to spoil.

He doesn’t say anything. His thumb fiddling with his phone is the only sound coming from inside the kitchen. He looks at you, waiting for you to continue. Almost unbearable. You crack way quicker than you’d hope to last.

If he wants it like this, at his own birthday party, then so be it.

“Fine. I just—I wanted to…” you scramble for words but they jumble in your mind.

“I’m—” you fall short again. “About what you said. What you asked me. I don’t think that it’s…something I want. I’m—sorry.”

“You don’t think it’s something you want? Or you know that—”

“Tommy,” you say, giving him an awkward stifled laugh. Like he’s being childish with his response. Because he is. “I don’t—I’m sorry.”

He turns away from you suddenly, towards the window above the sink and just stares at it for a long time. You can see his chest puffing. When he finally turns back around, it’s different. It’s the Tommy you know.

“‘S okay,” He says.

Maybe he’ll get over it quickly—you hope.

“Are you okay? I’m—I mean I hope that this doesn’t change anything since I’m still gonna be around—” you lift your arm up to run a ragged hand across your forehead and through your hair, you don’t even notice that your shirt riding up, “— I just don’t want it to like—”

“What is that?”

Your eyes snap to Tommy’s, confused. You think he might be looking out the window again but his eyes trail to you, but lower. Like he’s looking at your hips—because he is. You’re still confused for a second, before examining your shirt, looking for stains or anything out of the ordinary. But you don’t find anything, your top spotless.

“What? I don’t—”

“No—” he takes a couple quick steps forward, into your space, you try to find his eyes—yours blown out with confusion and shock but his are trained and laser focused to your waistline.

“What’s—” he tries to pull up your shirt, you shove him back out of reflex. “You’re hurt, what happened t’you?”

He almost pins down your hands to see your skin under your shirt, dipping his head to look at your waist and hips and you suddenly know. You know there are hand shaped bruises littered across the skin of your waist, turning it deep purple. Handprints that match Joel’s exactly—almost like they’re burned into you. You saw it this morning. It’s why you didn’t bother to put on a swimsuit and decided to keep a top on instead.

What’s even worse is you know Tommy saw it too.

“Tommy!” you’re yelling now, fighting his grip.

You slip up, unable to get a good hold on his wrist like he now has on yours and he pushes the shirt up to reveal the bruises.

“What the hell is that?”

“Fucking—get off!” he backs away with your second shove, a different kind of look on his face. “Jesus,” you huff out, yanking your shirt back down.

You both stand there. A pregnant silence between you. You can almost hear the gears turning, he stares blankly. Putting it all together. Like maybe you’re not hurt, but you wanted it—wanted it from another man. Somewhere in the back of his mind he might keep wishing someone hurt you so he didn’t have to feel so betrayed. So when he asks, it’s like he doesn’t want to admit that it’s true—the quiet possibility of someone else in the picture.

“Who,” he says slowly, pointing down to your waist, “did that?”

“Tommy—” you say, but footsteps cut you off, you both turn your head to the entrance of the kitchen as Joel rounds the corner. He looks out of breath and his eyes flicker from Tommy and his finger pointing down at your waist then back to you.

“We alright in here?” Joel stands, hesitant, his fingers play with the bottom hem of his shirt in an anxious way. Like he doesn't know what he’s just walked in on—you’re not entirely sure you know the answer to that either. You aren’t sure if he’s talking to you or Tommy so you stay silent, waiting for the man in front of you to respond.

“Yup,” Tommy replies, too angry to be believable.

Joel looks at you but he doesn’t say anything. Not out loud.

No. You try to say with your eyes. We are definitely not alright in here.

“Joel,” you say, trying to look for any indication in Tommy’s face that he’s not going to go bat shit crazy. “‘S fine. We’re okay.”

But Joel doesn’t listen. Because he’s Joel Miller and maybe you can’t see it right now, but you can hear the concern dripping off his tone—an indication that he won’t ever leave. Not now. So he stalks towards you both and you try to shake your head no, and he doesn’t listen.

He stands beside you, putting a flat sprawled palm on Tommy’s chest and silently tries to push him backward. But Tommy breaks first, pushing Joel’s hand off him, staggering back while looking at you and Joel.

And maybe he gets it then, you think. Because Tommy lets out a deep chuckle—like you’ve got clown makeup on. Like he’s never seen anything more funny. He’s a lot of things but he is not fucking stupid. So he looks past Joel to your eyes. To your face, almost covered—ridden—in guilt and he can see everything.

“Really?” Tommy says, not sparing Joel a glance.

“You put your fuckin’ hands on her?” Tommy says, almost at a whisper which makes it all the more intimidating. You can see Joel’s back puff, his anger rising. But you also know Joel would never hurt his brother. Not on purpose.

But you’re scared. You’re really fucking scared in this moment because Tommy is entirely too worked up and you know whatever excuse Joel is going to say won’t help.

“Easy,” Joel says, his voice cutting through the tense silence.

You’re sweating. The hot summer of July in Austin getting to you. They stare at each other for a long time. Like at the kitchen table, like when you all first met. But this time, Tommy breaks, and his eyes flicker to yours, he takes a tiny step to the side so he can see you better.

“Is this why? Is this why you’re fuckin’—jesus, fuck. ‘S this why he went to get you a tire?” you stand, you can’t really say anything, your stunned figure doesn’t move.

“He hurt you,” Tommy breathes out, his voice almost breaking if he wasn’t so angry. You shake your head.

You both know that the bruises aren’t from hurt. That they’re far from it.

“He didn’t,” you reply.

“No, no, baby. He’s—you’re—” Tommy almost looks like he can’t believe it, shaking his head, switching between you and Joel. The look you give him shuts him up, and makes him back away, until Joel unclenches his fists and relaxes his shoulder a fraction.

“I didn’t really want to tell you like this, I was—”

“Fucking my brother?” he bites back, interrupting you.

That makes you a bit mad. You’re not in love with his attitude, nor his tone. It’s not like he has any right. It’s not like either of them do.

Joel moves to speak but you do it first.

“Don’t give me that,” you say, almost laughing, though the situation is not funny, not in the slightest. “We’re not dating, Tommy. We never were.”

Caroline strides in at that, looking at the scene unfolding in the kitchen. She stops short of the three of you, her mouth slightly agape. You roll your eyes, fucking perfect. Let’s just bring the party in here instead. You’ll give it to the woman. She has impeccable timing.

“Needed some napkins…” she trails off, holding the empty napkin stand in her right hand up so everyone can see. “I—I can come back.”

“Did you know?” Tommy turns to her, gesturing to you and Joel.

“Tommy,” Joel says from in front of you, a warning. Tommy ignores him.

“Did you know?” he asks again, Caroline stares back shocked. But she does consider it, rolls the idea around in her head before speaking.

“Them two?” Tommy nods. “Her?”

Okay. You really don’t love that tone. You silently chastise yourself for thinking she was nice at the bar when your first instinct was that she was a bitch—because she is. You were waiting for her snarky undertones or spoiled takes to show. You knew it was coming, you just didn’t know when.

“No, ‘f couse not.” She’s almost laughing, like it could never be possible. It hits you harder than you’ll ever admit. “She’s — you’re…young,” she says, looking at you.

Tommy gestures to you and Joel like he’s saying, well believe it, because it’s true.

Joel moves faster than you can comprehend. He’s got a tight grip on Tommy’s arm. He probably doesn’t even have to say anything, Tommy knows what’s happening. But Joel warns him anyway—again.

“Quit,” he growls. You’d guess this might be the point where Tommy usually backs down. But this situation is far from usual.

“Or what?” Tommy bites back. When Joel doesn’t respond he continues. “You gonna mark me up? Leave me all black and blue?”

Tommy doesn’t stop there, you try to move past Joel but he stops you, turns his head to you slightly, a hardened look in his eye.

“Oh, I forgot you’d probably like that, huh?”

Joel remains frozen for a couple fleeting seconds before whipping around and pushing Tommy into the back counter. You’re rooted to your place, you don’t even care that Caroline is still in the corner, holding the fucking napkin holder in the air.

“What’d you say?” Joel barks in Tommy’s face.

“Look at her fuckin’ stomach, dude!” Tommy throws the words in his face, pushing him back slightly and making a vague gesture in your direction, it causes your feet to move towards the brothers before you can think.

Joel backs off then, sneaking a tiny glance at you out of the corner of his eye, like he really is thinking about the marks he left on your waist. He had seen them this morning, ran his fingers over them too, and saw how the notches matched the curves of his fingers perfectly. But you kissed him, and told him it was okay. That it was more than okay. Maybe even whispered that you liked it between muffled groans. So when a glint of guilt flashes in his eyes it makes your heart break more than it already has.

“She said no,” Joel says, looking back at Tommy. A tense silence follows—like you’re not sure if Joel is going to continue or Tommy is going to bite back.

“Get back to your party,” Joel growls after a while. You bite your lip.

Tommy looks at Joel with unwavering eyes. His glance turns towards the window where he can see the bustling crowd—can almost hear the laughter. Then he looks down to his hand, outstretches it, undoes his gnarly fist, and when it curls back up again, you finally bite.

“Tommy!” you say, moving closer. But it’s too late. Joel’s figure knocks to the side and his hand instinctively grabs his face, his nose, his eye. Maybe the worst part about it all is that Joel doesn’t even look remotely surprised, or that he wants to fight back—he just stays there, a little hunched over when you yelp in shock and Tommy groans, shaking out a now bruised fist.

“Fuck,” you almost yell, your body doesn’t know what to do between bending down to see Joel’s face and looking at Tommy—at his face—because you don’t recognize him.

Joel almost huffs out a laugh, and to shut him up, to get him to bite his tongue, you speak again.

“Okay. We’re done here,” you say, pushing Joel towards the entrance of the house, towards your car.

And Caroline is there, pushing Tommy towards the couches and for the first time, you’re grateful for her.

The ride back to your house is silent after a short and quick bicker about who can drive. You think Joel might want to sit in the driver's seat so you can’t see the quickly forming bruises on the left side of his face but you make a decent argument, enough to settle him in the passengers—looking out the window.

You send Janet a quick text, asking if she can watch Sarah for a few hours. Brother emergency. Janet replies back and says the girls haven’t gotten out of the pool since you left. It makes you smile a bit, despite it all.

When you park in your driveway, you hop out quickly, Joel following closely behind. He waits there, right behind you, when you pull out your house keys, and waits when you unlock the deadbolt and waits when you push through the door.

“Make yourself at home,” you say, nodding towards the couches and dropping your keys in the bowl.

You disappear into the kitchen and brace your arms on the counter, your head hanging between your shoulders. You let out a deep, ragged breath and try to control your heartbeat.

“Fuck,” you mumble, shaking out your wrists, grabbing two advil from the bottle on your counter, a glass of water, and peas from freezer.

Joel’s sitting on the loveseat, looking down at his hands. You don’t say anything. He doesn’t either. He just takes the water and pills from your hands and swallows it silently. You extend the peas to him, he thinks about it for a while and when you shake them again, huffing, saying—just fucking take them. He finally obliges.

You get a good look at his cheek when he turns to set the water down on the table and you have to stop yourself from gasping.

“Joel,” you murmur, reaching for him, bending down, he stops you, grabs your wrist, then grabs your hand. But he’s gentle. Not like Tommy. Joel’s gentle.

“‘S fine,” he says, and winces when the peas touch his face. “‘M fine.”

You settle in between his legs, looking down at him. He’s got one hand on his face, holding the peas, and the other, wrapped around the back of your thigh. He doesn’t even want to look up at you. It breaks your heart.

“‘M sorry,” you say quietly, his hand on your thigh trails upward. He plays with the hem of your shirt and lifts it enough to take a peek at the purple that lies there.

He doesn’t say anything, just sits there, running a gentle, ghost-like touch across the bruises.

“He — saw it. I don’t…” you look down to your stomach. You can see the shape of his fingertips so clearly. It’s no wonder Tommy reacted how he did. “It was an accident.”

He doesn’t nod. Doesn’t shake his head. He tosses the peas onto the table and pushes the cotton of your shirt up further, to where he can see all of it—all the black and blue there.

“Are you mad?” you whisper, hesitantly, as he stares at his own hands, his own branding.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbles.

“Don’t be,” you say, begging, “Please.”

“He did that cause—,” you breathe out, taking his chin in your pointer finger and thumb and getting your first good look at his cheek, “—it’s-’s my fault, I should’ve—”

“C’mon. Don’t do that,” he says, cutting you off, nipping your apology in the bud, “I should be the one who’s sorry, this is — I hurt you.”

You shake your head.

“You know that’s not—you know that I—” you stifle a short chuckle.

“That you what?”

You let out a couple hot breaths, looking down at him, the purple around his eye slowly taking shape.

“That I liked it.”

Joel bends forward then, and you gasp. The dull scratch of his beard is the only thing keeping your eyes open. He trails his hot breath across your stomach, and leaves gentle kisses on your sides, on your bruises.

“Joel,” you mumble, and you hate how your voice sounds so breathy, maybe even desperate. You tangle your hands in his hair, grasping at the nape of his neck he pulls you down, closer, so you’re slotted in his lap, straddling him. Joel pulls back and looks at your face, brushes the fallen hair from your eyes.

“I meant what I said,” you start, he furrows his brow, “Still—mean it.”

From the look in his eyes he knows what you’re talking about. The words you slipped into his ear last night.

‘S you, Joel — it’s-’s always been you.

“But if this is—if Tommy—” you cut yourself off, correcting your words, “If I messed it up—”

“Sweetheart,” he says. Your heart pulls, you almost put your hand on his cheek, but you see the rising skin and settle for his shoulder. “‘M not goin’ anywhere.”

“Are you sure?”

He pulls you down further, so you’re flush against him. He studies your eyes and rubs at your waist, your hips. It sends a little fire down between your thighs.

“‘M here—‘M…I’m right here,” he mumbles, and shakes his head. Like he’s telling you no to any silent thoughts of doubt that might be floating around your head.

And then he pulls your head down to kiss you.

It’s needy, and hot and everything you want at this moment. He’s everywhere and you can feel his growing arousal between your legs. You both needed this—you think. After everything, after—fucking—Caroline and Janet Baker and Tommy Miller. You both needed each other so bad that when you grind down onto him he lets out a little desperate groan into your mouth that spurs you on.

Joel slips his hand under your shirt and finds the hardened peak there. He pinches it and rolls it between his fingers, it sends your hips forward and suddenly he’s sitting up, and shucking your shirt off.

He grabs your hips and moves you against him, your most vulnerable spots grinding against each other. Giving you both blown out eyes and puffy lips and panting breath.

“Sh–it,” you gasp when your shorts catch on your clit perfectly.

“Pretty,” he says, grasping at your tits, at anything he can find while you grind against his length. “fuckin’—pretty like this.”

You claw at his belt and before you know it, he’s lifting you up so you’re on your knees and he’s pulling his pants past his hips. You get the memo and take your shorts off, tossing them behind you. When you sink back down onto his lap, you can feel his cock slip between your wet lips down there.

“Fuck, Joel,” you say, gliding along his cock, soaking it. You can feel all of him now—grinding along his hardness—the girth of him fitting perfectly between your swollen lips.

“Angel,” Joel pants out, through sloppy kisses. You look at him. He’s got a desperate look on his face. Like he couldn’t wait just like you. Not even to get upstairs to your bedroom or to get all his clothes off. Like he’s been wanting this all day. Just like you.

You move up and reach down, feeling the wet mess you’ve both made down between your legs. You find his cock, hard and wanting, and position it at your entrance. The head sinks past your walls, enveloping it somewhere deeper and you both groan at the feeling.

You sink down on him slowly, you’re by no means physically ready to take him. But you can’t wait any longer. He kisses you, and down to your neck, making it easier to ease yourself down onto him, and when you finally reach the end, and you’re seated fully in his lap, you both gasp.

Your walls clench around him, eliciting a quiet groan from Joel somewhere near your neck. Your eyes roll back in your head, your forehead drops onto his shoulder. You both just sit there, waiting for the other to make a move.

It’s kind of like a game.

See how long you can both relish in each other’s warmth — the first person who moves loses.

Your walls tighten again and he lets out another groan, “Jesus,” he mumbles, nipping at your neck. You’re slowly adjusting to him, relaxing around him. It makes you shudder.

You realize he’s not really touching you. He’s got his hands on your thighs, but they’re just resting there. Not squeezing or gripping your hips like you know he so desperately wants. Maybe he’s scared, you think. From everything that’s happened today. From the consequences his touch barred.

But you didn’t care about the consequences. You liked his touch, needed his touch, just as much as he needed something to hold him back down to earth, anchor him to you—in you. And afterall, you just want him to feel good. Feel better.

“Touch me,” you gasp out, reaching down to his hands.

“Am touchin’ you,” he forces out, panting near your ear. His thumb absentmindedly pushes down on the skin of your thigh a fraction harder and then eases up, like he’s saying this is the best I can do.

“No, Joel,” you moan, rock your hips a little, moving first, moving frantically and suddenly, “touch me,” you say into his neck, reaching down to usher his hands to your hips, your waist, you.

Joel gets it then, the silent permission. The it’s okay, and grips you harder, but not as hard as you know he would like. It’s good enough for you because he moves your hips, rocking you up and down onto his length—having enough of the senseless grinding.

“Fuckin’ good—” Joel groans, your hands fly to his shoulders, his hair. “You feel good.”

Your legs grow tired, he can tell. You try your best, but you’re sweaty and tired and fucked out, and when he hits a spot deeper inside you that makes you moan out, louder than before, and you almost collapse onto him. He ruts into you a little. Meeting you halfway. Fucking you deeper—maybe even a bit faster.

Your legs ache and you feel a sheen of sweat wash over both of you. And Joel’s eye is fucked up, his cheek too. Tommy is sitting back at the house—or god knows where—with a possible broken hand, Janet baker is watching Sarah instead of you or Joel, Caroline is still back at the house, and everything is a fucking mess, but it’s so right. He feels so right. He’s — he’s right.

You’re close then, the coarse hair on him inching you toward your climax. He knows, he can feel it from the inside. You don’t even have to say it this time, your question for his permission. He can see it already braced on your lips but he shuts you up with a kiss, a sloppy one, where he sticks his tongue into your mouth and your walls tighten around him again.

“Yes,” he says with a moan into your mouth, “yes, yes—ah.”

“Fuck,” you say tightening around him, becoming breathless and boneless, but Joel holds you up. He always does.

He grips you tighter, like how you know he wanted to, and you relish in the feeling. His thrusts become desperate and you brace yourself on the back of the couch so he can rut up deeper, chasing after his own orgasm. You can’t really breathe. Not when he’s everywhere.

“Shit,” he says, rocking into you.

Joel cums hard, holding onto you, wrapping you up in his arms as he groans somewhere near your temple. You let it spread through you, the mess of it all. He keeps you locked in his arms, even when you think he might pull away.

He finally pulls you off him, when he says it becomes too much and you sit on his lap, playing with his curls. When you both settle from your panting you can’t help but ask.

“What are we gonna do?” you say quietly to him.

“I dunno,” he grabs your hand and gives it a quick kiss. The bruise on his face is turning an ugly shade of purple. And the peas have gone warm, creating a small puddle on the coffee table. And your phone keeps buzzing from the entryway.

“We’ll figure it out,” he says, running a hand on your thigh.

taglist! comment or message me if you want to be added. kisses!

@going-to-californiaxx @gintheginger @daddy-din @earthtogrogu @rooney-verse @ratoonstown @skysmiller @pedritosdarling @lovely-ateez @pluzo @spongebobspooploop @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @tsunamistorm123 @awhoreforalotofshows @disassociation-daydreams @violinchick @rhoorl

@yoongjennie88 @untamedheart81 @noisynightmarepoetry @joelsversion @vanillen @brujitafantomatico @cartoon-garbage04 @jpbplvr @whattownheadshake @beccerjune @pedrotonin @sen-mirjahaal @awesomebunnyqueen @bluetattoos

@siimiasoi @fandomscollide @lizzie-cakes @paleidiot @sunnywithachanceofjavi @koshkaj-blog @sunnysaphira @bbyanarchist @casa-boiardi @anavatazes @joeldjarin @l0vem3n @lmariephoto37 @turtles-all-the-way-d0wn @withasideofmeg @dinwifey @brinabees @sofiparallel @akah565 @defnotashifter @missgurrl @anoverwhelmingdin @rainbowcosmicchaos @pedropascalissofine @purplemechanics @suzmagine @hellaradd @josephine1837 @lawh0re @medic332 @lisaneedsbraces @angelmather1 @kirsteng42 @poodlebae @lunxramour

357 notes · View notes

onestepbackwards · 26 days

Text

Love That Bites Pt. 12

Hiii! It’s been a while! Sorry for such a long wait, my life has been chaos non-stop with one bad thing after another, but I was determined to finish this chapter! φ(・ω・｀ ) Forgive me if the pacing and formatting is a little off, but I finally got it done, even if I didn’t get to stuff everything I wanted into this chapter. But that just leaves more for the next one. I do hope you all Enjoy!

Summary: You begin to seriously dwell on your situation, but it seems even as much as you would like to stay, home comes calling. With home on the other line, it seems your fantasy must eventually come to an end. Though it seems Dracula may want a few words…

CW: Anxiety, budding feelings, dark thoughts, brief thoughts of murder, mentions of toxic family

Word Count: 5367 Words!

Like my work? Please consider checking me out and supporting me here: Link

Likes and reblogs appreciated!

Tag List: @tilldeathripsusapart @thedeadlynights, @pumpkinvampie @bethleeham @mshope16 @sixsixtwenty @haleypearce @rvautomatic @tinystarfishgalaxy @marshmelloe @maorizon @ursamajor17 @sapphicsfordracula @dame-sunflowers @sleepyendymion @starrlo0ver @onewiththebeanbag (i’m sorry, sometimes the @ doesn’t work?? ;~; )

First: Here

Last: Here

Next: ?

—

If you were being honest, you were beginning to wonder if staying in Dracula’s castle was driving you mad.

It had only been about three days, give or take, and yet…

How else would one rationally explain why you were actually enjoying your stay here at his castle? Or enjoying his visits with how tenderly the Dracula treated you?

Answer was, you didn’t.

At the moment, you were pressing your face into one of the soft pillows on the bed of your room. Outside of the castle, you could faintly hear the sounds of rolling thunder, and raindrops hitting the window.

Somehow, what normally would have been an eerie atmosphere had also become a comfort for you.

You weren’t as tense here. Despite being in Dracula’s castle, and that someone had already tried to kill you, you didn’t feel like you were in survival mode 24/7.

Not like how you were at your old home.

Clutching the pillow closer, you inhaled the pillow’s scent, before letting out a muffled groan.

There was also something you didn’t want to admit. The fact you were beginning to feel really weird about Dracula himself.

And it wasn’t even a bad weird.

It’s something you had been wanting to just shove into the back of your mind and never think of again, but it was beginning to be really hard to do that with how gentle and careful the Vampire Lord was with you.

Especially with the way he oh so gently held parts of your body when overseeing your healing injuries.

Your mind wandered to when he first picked you up, how he held you so effortlessly, holding you against his large frame as he carried you across the castle to this guest room.

Or how his large hands carefully cradled your midsection as he looked over your stitches that you had accidentally messed up. How his cool hands sent electric tingles across your skin-

Heat rushed to your face.

His voice had been so low, and those gorgeous ruby eyes looking at you with genuine concern.

And then his smirk.

How he smirked at you as he teased you, no malice to be seen on his face.

“I’m such a fucking goner, holy shit.” you mumbled into your pillow as heat flushed through your body.

You didn’t dare admit it out loud, but deep down, you knew what this meant.

Heart thudding in your chest, you gripped the pillow tighter.

You had a crush on Dracula.

It wasn’t something you could keep denying, not when your heart fluttered when he gave you such tender looks, or when his lips curled into an amused smirk when he teased you.

The urge to yell was strong.

“I must have really hit my head.”

Of course, that was an excuse you could only use so much until it was just a convenient lie. With the potion Dracula had made for you, the injury to your head had mostly healed.

With the injury to your skull no longer an issue, you knew deep down these feelings you had were unfortunately very natural.

Lifting your head from the pillow, you looked over to the window, idly watching a few flashes of lightning followed by thunder.

Swallowing thickly, you thought back to how he was just so… kind to you.

Even when he was being truthful, it was kind. Dracula didn’t have to tell you that the first batch of potions had been tampered with, but he wanted to be honest with you. It was clear he was putting his cards on the table so you could make your own decisions.

When had someone last been so… open with you? Willingly?

Just the thought had your heart pounding.

Was it really that simple? Someone just had to show you basic kindness for your heart to grow fond of them?

Another flash of lightning struck outside the castle, and you rolled onto your side.

Your mind idly wandered to something Dracula had told you while trying to make conversation. Something about how even the weather was connected to him, to a degree.

Despite the lightning and thunder, it wasn’t angry, like a beast lashing out. Not like it had been earlier.

Another part of you wondered if that heavy storm had been when Dracula found out the potions meant for you had been poisoned.

An even smaller part almost wanted to believe it, imagining how angry he could have possibly been on your behalf. Just like he had been when he broke free, how he wanted to know who had hurt you.

In truth, it was the storm earlier that had caused you to trip and tear some of your stitches.

A loud crack of lightning had shaken the castle earlier, all while you were getting up to use the restroom connected to the room you stayed in. It startled you enough to make you trip over your own feet, and collapse on the floor.

If it had been Dracula’s doing, you didn’t blame him. You doubted he was aware you had been up walking when he had been so angry.

…And because of it, you got to feel his hands on your body, even if it was brief.

A moment passed.

“Am I really that down bad?” you asked yourself, eyes drifting to the ceiling.

You wanted to scream.

This was not fair. Not fair at all.

Why Dracula of all people? The very man you were ‘destined’ to fight?

Deep down, it wasn’t hard to figure out the answer.

You were lonely.

Lonely, and a bit broken.

To have someone, even your biggest ‘enemy’ treat you with respect and kindness… Looking at it from an outside perspective? It wasn’t particularly surprising your heart was trying to latch onto him.

It didn’t make things any easier, though.

Especially when he gave you such fond looks. Looks you could almost imagine a good friend or lover giving you.

“Yup, I’m losing it.” You spoke, your eyes narrowing.

If anything, this made things way more complicated.

What on earth were you going to do now?

You’ve toyed with the idea of maybe politely asking Dracula to, you know, not destroy all of humanity in a attempt of mass genocide.

But would it be that easy?

Just because he seemed to respect you, did not mean he would give the same pardon to the rest of your kind. Especially how he didn’t seem too pleased when you mentioned you got your injuries from personal business.

It wasn’t a lot of info, but you had a feeling Dracula suspected it was humans that had done this to you. No doubt that wouldn’t help you with pleading your case.

Still… You also found your mind wandering over possibly trying to talk Dracula out of killing all humans, despite the odds.

It was something you had wanted the moment you found his statue, though you never really thought you’d get this far.

Could you really do it? Convince the Lord of the Night to leave humanity be?

Perhaps you could make a compromise? You knew he had to drink blood to live, perhaps he’d be interested in the few supernatural blood drives that existed?

…Or even your own blood?

You quickly shook your head, trying to get the image of Dracula intimately biting into your neck out of your mind.

That image pleased you a lot more than you’d like to admit…

With a huff, you brought a hand to your face, and rubbed your eyes.

“What was I thinking about again? Right! Compromise…”

It wasn’t like you could just stop hunting, either. Even if Dracula agreed not to kill humans, that didn’t mean other people who lived independently of him would follow such a lifestyle. If a beast or something of paranormal nature was out causing harm to innocent people, you’d have to put a stop to it.

But, perhaps… Perhaps you could convince Dracula at least to leave humanity be, unless someone personally spites him?

In that case, you could hardly feel the desire to stop him. Fuck around and find out and all that.

You would no doubt though have to give something up in return, no?

Not hunting Dracula wouldn’t be enough, you were sure. The King of the Night had sworn to destroy humanity for killing his wife. You doubted he would simply just stop in his crusade because you asked nicely and swore not to kill him for it.

“Perhaps if I added his castle and the covens that follow him…”

So long as his underlings weren’t out hunting innocent people, you generally had no reason to hunt them. The life of someone from the paranormal was tough, that you knew from the few supernatural acquaintances you had.

Not every dark being wanted to kill, they simply had to for survival. More often than not, it was humans that didn’t give them any options, hunting them down for being a dark being, or not helping them control their hunger.

On one hand, you understood the human perspective, to a degree. Why help something that needs to feed on your lifeblood to survive?

But on the other hand… If humanity helped them instead of scorned them, they would have no reason to hunt humans in the first place. Such as the blood banks to help feed vampires, so they were fed and didn’t have to give into their instincts.

Unfortunately, those weren’t incredibly popular as you’d like them to be. At least some of humanity was giving it a shot though…

Blowing a tuft of hair out of your face, you scowled. It really was an unending battle.

Didn’t help humans and many of the supernatural thought themselves above the other. No doubt if Dracula miraculously agreed not to kill humans, others would just find that stupid and do it anyway.

And you also figured others would come to hunt Dracula themselves. Even if the man agreed to leave humans alone, you doubted humans, let alone the church would take kindly to him just existing.

Hell, was his son even still alive? Alucard, you think his name was?

You had read about him from different journals of different Belmonts. It was clear the man was immortal, despite the human blood running through his veins

How the man was Dracula’s son, who had sworn to kill his father any time he should rise.

Swallowing thickly, you suddenly felt a bit sick.

Would you… Would you have to fight Alucard? The same man your ancestors thought so fondly of?

Somehow, that thought made your stomach churn.

You didn’t even know if the man was still alive. Could he be? Could Alucard really have hidden himself, even in modern times?

Or perhaps he had put himself to eternal rest until Dracula had awakened once more? You read something about him doing that in one of Richter’s journals. Something about how Alucard awoke to the call of Castlevania after Richter had risen the castle.

You felt your heart tick up a beat. Did that mean Alucard might come here and fight Dracula himself?

Turning onto your other side, you reached out and gently gripped your whip. Its old presence brought you a small comfort.

Chances were, you don’t think you’d have it in you to fight Alucard yourself.

Just like how you didn’t want to fight Dracula, just a little different in reasoning.

Would Alucard even listen if you tried to tell him Dracula didn’t want to kill humans? That is, if you even got Dracula to agree?

No, you doubted it would be that simple or easy.

Perhaps you could just stay out of it? Or at least try talking to him?

“Hah, am I really debating this?” You whispered to yourself, thumb running over some of the grooves of the whip.

You hadn’t even talked to Dracula yet about him leaving humanity alone, and here you were, thinking ahead as if you already accomplished such a feat.

Heaving a sigh, you slid the pillow out from under your head, and placed it on your face with a groan.

The weight of the world was still very much on your shoulders. Even if you didn’t have to fight Dracula now, you still had a job to do.

Protect humanity.

But…

Was it really that bad you were hoping you didn’t have to fight Dracula to do that?

Not just because of your complicated feelings, but would it not be better just to have him be neutral again?

If you did end up fighting and killing him, he would simply come back within a hundred years! It didn’t matter what you would do, fate would no doubt put your family through the ringer once more to defeat him.

Or at least have someone step up to the challenge if not your own family. Perhaps someone from the Morris clan?

Though, if you could make him no longer a threat because he wants to stay out of it, would that not be better for everyone involved?

Of course, you could only hope it would be that easy. Your life had never been simple, and it loved to screw you over time and time again.

However, you found some of your mother’s words echoing in your head.

‘Expect the worst, but hope for the best.’

Moving the pillow on your face to the side, you sighed.

“I can do that. I guess.”

You sat in silence for a few moments, idly listening to the thunder rolling overhead. You still couldn’t get over how this castle seemed to have a peaceful ambience your own home seemed to lack.

A buzz brought you out of your thoughts, and your eyes narrowed.

Hand flinging to the side of the bed, you patted the sheets until you felt the familiar shape of your phone. Picking it up, you felt your heart drop into your stomach.

‘When are u coming home? Dad’s not happy.’

Your mouth went dry, and you felt your body beginning to shake.

That’s right. You have been gone for several days now. It was only a matter of time before someone at home contacted you, asking where you were.

“Figures I couldn’t even have a week…” you mumbled, staring at your screen with badly veiled disdain.

Putting your phone down, you ignored the urge to puke your guts up. Just thinking of heading back to your family home made you nauseous.

Especially if Jason was growing upset you were gone.

“Upset if I’m there. Pissed if I’m away. Bah.”

It wasn’t incredibly surprising. Anytime you had injuries or were sick, you were always expected to ‘pick up the slack’, as they’d say.

Maybe they’d leave you be for a day or two at best if it was noticeably bad. However, you never got your hopes up, especially when it came to injuries.

In their eyes, if you could walk, you could work. If not doing the dirty jobs, then you could at least clean the house while they did the ‘real’ work.

A flare of irritation and anger rose in you.

Sure, you were always annoyed with them, but especially now after everything you have been through over the past few days.

Nearly dying because of your step family, having a manic episode and accidentally reviving your nemesis, said nemesis then caring for you better than anyone has before since your mother passed…

And… you had admittedly enjoyed the past few days, even if you were in enemy territory.

Dracula kept a slight distance with you, that much was obvious. It was clear, however, he was doing so for your comfort.

Even then, he still regularly checked up on you every few hours. You could technically even leave if you wanted, he said he would not stop you or hurt you for doing so.

Just yesterday, he had offered to bring you some books if you needed them, which you had declined.

It had shocked you more than anything that he was willing to offer entertainment, though you suppose you shouldn’t have been too surprised either. Declining had been a gut reaction from surprise, but you made sure to let him know you appreciated the offer.

You weren’t sure you could really even read anything he gave you, given you didn’t know what books he had. You would have had to see for yourself, and you didn’t want to bother him about it.

Though… It wasn’t like you could have gotten too much reading done with how much you had been sleeping and thinking. The few times you did need a distraction, you still had your phone too, which miraculously still somehow had a data connection.

Given how you were healing though… You wouldn’t mind a book now. A bit too late to ask for it though, you supposed.

Letting out a shaky breath, you looked at your phone once more.

The text almost seemed to taunt you.

They wanted you back, after hurting you, nearly killing you. All over ‘training’. As if nothing had happened.

Granted, you did tell them as you left to pretend it never happened. You think. Your memory of that fight was a bit hazier than you would like to admit.

Probably bloodloss.

Still…

Did they think they could just make demands? Just like that?

A part of you wanted to call Seth, the one who had texted you, and chew him out. Tell him about the hell you endured because of them, and how you almost died because they didn’t give a single shit about you.

How you wanted to rip into them, unload every single thing they have done to piss you off and ruin your life.

How a part of you wanted to go home and cut them to pieces slowly and-

You froze.

The grip on your phone was tight, and you felt your breathing grow heavy.

Carefully, you put your phone down on the bed, and took a deep breath.

You were angry, but you hated when those thoughts began to show. It never led to a good place mentally when you thought about killing them.

It wouldn’t be worth it.

Even if you did feel a sick satisfaction from it, which you know you would have, you would still suffer.

Being a Belmont only protected you from the law so much. The city you lived in didn’t know what went on behind closed doors. To the city, your little step family did everyone a favor by keeping the ‘beasts’ away.

If you killed them, you would be arrested. You would lose everything you worked hard for.

Your home, your heirlooms, your whip.

Sure, you could survive on the run for a while… But it wouldn’t be worth it.

The whole reason you put up with those jackasses was because you wanted to keep your home safe. You couldn’t exactly do that if you couldn’t go home.

Life really sucked right now.

But at least… you found temporary peace.

Idly, you clutched your phone again, wondering if you should answer Seth, or ignore him like you wanted to.

Given just looking at your screen and seeing the message made pricks of anxiety and frustration bloom in your chest, you decided to ignore it for now.

You couldn’t ignore it forever. Things would get worse if you did, and you already dreaded what the house must look like since you’ve been gone.

No doubt Jason’s attitude has been foul, you wouldn’t be surprised if he took it out on your home, just for you to clean up.

Scowling, you let out a small noise of annoyance.

After another moment, you decided to sit up. The soft sheets slid to your hips, and you winced as some weight shifted to a wound.

Hand twitching, you resisted the urge to open your bandages to look at your injuries.

Most were beginning to heal rather nicely since Dracula had brought you a potion. However, you still had a long way to go before you were fully recovered.

At the very least, maybe it wouldn’t be that long if Dracula truly intended to keep having potions made for you.

Yet another concept that floated around in your head that still managed to surprise you.

It’s almost funny. If you had been any other Belmont, you were certain you probably would have been mocked and tortured for having injuries. You doubted he would have extended the same kindness as he had you.

This didn’t help the fuzzy feeling in your chest when you thought about him, in an odd way.

You were special to Dracula, at least right now you were.

He wanted you alive for now. Alive and well.

Wringing your hands close to your chest, you tried not to sigh again.

What were you going to do?

As you tried once again to think over your options, your eyes caught your figure in one of the mirrors in the room. One near a dresser meant to look over outfits, you presumed.

Though you couldn’t help but scrunch up your face when you noticed your reflection.

You looked awful. Felt it too, even if your injuries were doing better.

Despite this, Dracula still treated you so gently, and with respect.

As you were deep in your musings, you ended up jumping a bit when you heard the familiar brisk knock at your door.

You knew right away who it was, having memorized just how particular Dracula had been knocking on your door.

Perhaps it was on purpose? A knock you would grow to recognize in case someone else knocked on your door?

Regardless, you didn’t keep him waiting, telling him to come in.

You would admit though, you never got over the slight surprise you had as he entered your room each time.

His presence alone was intimidating, even as he made a point to try and not be as such. How he seemingly called for attention as he entered a room, even if he didn’t utter a word.

It was both impressive, and you weren’t entirely sure how to feel about it.

Nervous? Sure. Into it? You had to mentally smack your brain a little to avoid your thoughts going in that direction as he was in the same room as you-

“Good afternoon.” He spoke as he closed the door behind him, his voice deep and quiet. You know for a fact he had a voice that could lead an entire army, or gently put you to sleep.

A dangerous voice, one you liked a bit too much.

-Nodding to him, you gave him a small smile. It was strange, how relaxed you were becoming around him with each visit.

A part of you still yearned for it to never end.

But your phone weighed heavy in your hand, a solid reminder you couldn’t stay. Unspoken consequences idly rolled around in your head, which was beginning to make you grow queasy.

Dracula’s eyes seemed to see through you, and you wondered if he could read your mind with how his gaze seemed to look at your very soul.

You certainly hoped he couldn’t read your mind, otherwise things would be pretty awkward with all the suggestive thoughts you have been mentally fighting off with a bat that floated through your head.

Thankfully, Dracula didn’t say a thing about that, simply sitting down in the chair you decided to keep next to your bed.

“Are you feeling well? Has the potion helped?”

He asked, bringing you out of your thoughts.

Heart pounding slightly, you smiled a bit wider.

“Yes! It has helped tremendously. My head no longer feels as if someone hit it with a hammer, and I’m mostly just sore at this point.”

Granted, that didn’t mean you were out of the woods yet. Your pain tolerance was higher than most. Just because you felt better, didn’t mean you were greenlit to go do any serious activities or hunting.

Despite your inner musings, Dracula seemed pleased.

“Good, good…”

He then reached into his cloak, and pulled out what you assumed to be another bottle filled with potion.

It had been a little while since he gave you that first dose, so it should be safe to consume more..

Potions could be taken in large quantities, but it wasn’t exactly recommended.

The concoctions filled a person’s stomach, but didn’t offer any nutritional value other than healing wounds. It could even make a person sick if consumed too much without a break or food in between major doses.

Not that it stopped you before. You didn’t exactly have the luxury of being picky at home when constantly fighting illness and injury. Growing sick from too much potion was a risk you often had to take.

You decided to keep that thought to yourself as you took the bottle from Dracula’s hands.

“If your healing continues to progress, you should be completely healed in less than a week. Maybe even sooner once those other potions are finished.” Dracula spoke, drawing your attention back to him.

A week? You didn’t think you had that kind of time. You’d probably need to be home at most, three days from now.

Dracula gave you an odd look.

“Is that not satisfactory?”

You blinked, eyes widening slightly.

“Oh, no! That… that isn’t the issue at all. It’s… It’s just…” you stumbled over your words, running a hand through your hair as you tried to figure out how to explain without seeming unthankful.

Dracula remained patient, letting you figure out what to say. His gaze was cool, yet curious.

A part of you also swore you saw amusement as you fumbled your sentences together.

Nervously, you began to wring your hands together, and fiddle with your shirt.

“…I just… I’m uh, I’m expected to be home soon…”

Dracula raised a brow at your small explanation.

Immediately, you also felt the temperature of the room drop. Enough to make the hair on your neck stand on end, and send a shudder down your spine.

You hoped you hadn’t pissed him off by saying that…

The gaze on Dracula’s face shifted, going from barely concealed amusement, to something… darker.

Old instincts began to wake, and you seriously hoped this wouldn’t be the end of the small little bit of peace you have had up until now.

The last thing you wanted was a fight.

An intimidating silence took hold of the room, and you forced yourself not to reach for your whip out of nerves. After a few moments, Dracula then broke said silence.

“This home of yours…”

He leaned close to you, his eyes bearing into your own.

“…Is it the same place where you received these injuries?”

For a moment, it felt as if the wind had been taken out of your sails.

“…Huh?”

You were confused. Was he… not upset with you?

Dracula tilted his head, those same ruby eyes flickering over where you were still injured.

“Forgive me for being presumptuous, but is that not where you were attacked? Was it within your own home?”

The question had your eyes wide.

“I uh-“

Dracula leaned back, though the odd feeling in the room didn’t settle.

“Of course, you don’t have to answer. But if I am right, is it that pressing to return before you are fully healed to handle whoever, or whatever dealt such blows?”

His questions had you pausing, and you felt your mouth run dry.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say Dracula seemed apprehensive about you returning home where you were hurt.

Almost as if he cared.

The very thought had your mind whirring in overdrive. If someone had told you months ago that Dracula himself seemed to care about you, you would have laughed in their face.

But with everything he has done for you… was it really that far fetched?

If anything, you could at least argue he’d hate to see all the hard work done in healing you go to waste, but you were certain it was more than that.

Again, not good for your conflicted feelings on Mr. Lord of the Night himself.

Rubbing the back of your head with a sigh, you felt yourself droop a little.

“It’s… complicated, but yes. I have to return home soon, or things might get messy.”

The very thought of what might happen if you disappeared too long left a sour feeling in your stomach.

Your eyes flickered up to meet his, and he held your gaze for a few moments.

“…I assume you can’t put this off then? That it must be urgent?” He asked, his voice low.

Nodding, you tried to keep holding his gaze, not wanting to seem weak about it.

“Unfortunately. I… I risk a lot if I wait too long.”

Dracula’s eyes narrowed on you, before he closed them with a sigh.

“Like I have mentioned before, you are my guest here. You are free to leave at any point you wish, nor are you to be attacked as you do so. However…”

Your head tilted slightly, heart picking up at the end of his sentence. However…?

“Are you… certain this is wise? That there is nothing else that can be done?”

Shaking your head, you finally looked away.

“…Will you be hurt again?”

You stayed silent, telling Dracula all he needed to know, even if you refused to elaborate.

Why bother making an empty promise? Even if you don’t get hurt this time when you head home, what about the next? You knew all too well it was practically a waiting game until you were sick or injured again.

With your silence, the room somehow became increasingly colder.

Daring to look up, you were surprised to see the red of his eyes glowing slightly, much like how he had found you.

He really didn’t seem to like the implications you left him with.

But what could you say?

‘Yeah, my step family might try to beat the shit out of me or leave me the rotten leftovers to eat, or even make me do the yucky missions. No doubt I’ll be injured or sick again by the end of the month!’

Yeah… that probably sounded a bit pathetic. Some Belmont you were, allowing your own ‘family’ to use you as a punching bag.

Dracula eventually let out a sigh, and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He looked frustrated. Or worried? You couldn’t be too sure.

A moment passed. Then another. You weren’t entirely sure what to say.

Another sigh left his lips, and when he moved his hand to look at you, his eyes briefly glowed once again, before returning to their same ruby red they were before.

The room remained cold, though the look in his face wasn’t quite as scathing or irritated.

“Very well then. It seems this is personal and important to you. Whenever you wish to leave, I will personally escort you out of the castle.”

A part of you grew warm and fuzzy at that. And they say chivalry is dead.

However, before you could bask in that warm, fuzzy feeling, his voice rang out once more.

“Before you leave however, we have much to discuss.”

You blinked.

“Huh?”

As if a switch had been flipped, his entire posture seemed to shift.

His back was up straighter, and he crossed his legs. He then rested his elbow on the arm of the chair, resting his head on his fist.

His eyes seemed to sharpen as his gaze then zeroed in on you.

Your mouth went dry.

It was as if his entire demeanor changed.

Hair on your neck stood on end, and out of nowhere, it was as if a stone settled uncomfortably in your stomach.

“You had mentioned wishing to talk back when I was… imprisoned. If you are going to leave, I imagine you would wish to discuss this before you do so.”

You felt your blood run cold.

Ah. That.

Now you understood why his demeanor had changed so much in a matter of seconds.

No longer were you just talking to Dracula, your polite host.

You were now discussing terms with Dracula, King of the Night.

#castlevania #vlad dracula tepes #dracula #dracula x reader #castlevania x reader #x reader #reader insert #vlad dracula țepeș #reader x dracula #zed.writes #love that bites #belmont!reader #long post

114 notes · View notes

finnsbubblegum · 1 year

Text

I’m Sorry (Joel Miller X Reader)

Pairing: no-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

Warnings: car accident, miscarriages (let me know if i missed any)

Summary (Series): reader as Joel’s neighbor. Joel’s wife left him so Joel asked his neighbor for help in babysitting Sarah.

Words count: 1.7k

A/N: I’m trying to make this as a rom-com, hope you like my new series! This is part 15 of Where It All Starts. But it can also be read as a standalone. I'm so grateful for all of you! Thank you for your comments, reblogs, and likes ❤️ There are still more chapters for this series so stay tuned! Love you!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Epilogue

“Should we go to my parents house this weekend and tell them?” You were sitting on the exam bed while waiting for the doctor to print your sonogram picture.

“Yeah, that’s a great idea.” Joel nodded.

“Sorry it took so long. Here, I printed five for you. And don’t forget to get the vitamins at the pharmacy before you leave.” The doctor passed you the sonogram pictures and a prescription.

“Thank you, doc.” You and Joel thanked her.

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you on our next appointment.” She smiled.

“Do you want to wait here and sit while I get this?” Joel raised the prescription.

“I’ll come with you.” You linked your arms to Joel’s.

“Hi, Joel.” A familiar woman and man stopped in front of the two of you.

Joel sighed. He didn’t expect to meet his ex-wife and her boyfriend again. At the obgyn in all of the places?

“Hi.” You greeted them with a forced smile.

“Congratulations to both of you.” She pointed at the sonogram picture in Joel’s hand.

“Thank you.” You looked at her while you rubbed Joel’s arms.

“Congratulations to you too.” You pointed your eyes to her protruding belly.

Joel’s ex-wife was pregnant with her current boyfriend. She was bigger than you so it was obvious.

“I hope you’ll be a good mom this time.” Joel sarcastically said to his ex-wife.

Even though it had been a few years, he was still hurt by her and he still hated her. He could never forgive her for what she had done. She failed her daughter but why did God give her a second chance to be a mother? He wondered. Life was not fair.

“It’s okay.” She grabbed her boyfriend's wrist as he stepped forward to Joel almost starting a fight.

“I will, Joel. I’m sorry. I hope to see Sarah sometime.” She brought up Sarah.

Joel groaned and rolled his eyes. You rubbed his arms with your thumb to calm him.

“Sure, we can set a time.” You smiled at her.

Joel turned his head to you and widened his eyes. He wanted to make his ex wife suffer by not allowing her to meet her daughter.

“Thank you, (y/n). I hope you and your baby are healthy.” She put her hands on your upper arm.

“You too.” You smiled and parted ways.

In the car

“You okay, there?” You asked Joel as he was quiet since your meeting with his ex-wife.

He stayed quiet, not answering you.

“Joel, baby?” You called him.

He only hummed and looked straight while driving.

“I get it. You’re mad at me.” You nodded, holding the seatbelt on your chest.

“Yes, I’m mad at you. What the fuck was that?!” He raised his voice.

You trembled. Hands gripping your seatbelt tighter.

“You’ll let her see Sarah?!” He hit the steering wheel.

“I’m sorry. I just thought-I’m pregnant now and I know how a mother is connected to her baby. She grew Sarah inside her for 9 months, Joel.” You started sobbing.

“Don’t you dare cry now.” Joel growled.

“Joel, please. I’m sorry.” You cried.

“Fine, I’ll call her and tell her she can’t see Sarah anymore. If that’s what you want.” You took out your phone.

“Don’t.” Joel started driving faster.

“What do I do? What do you want me to do?” You sobbed.

Joel cleared his throat and didn’t answer you.

“Joel! Slow down! You’re gonna get us killed!” You screamed.

He kept on pressing the gas pedal and speeding up.

“Joel! Please! Stop the car! Stop it!” You cried as you screamed.

Joel hit the brake suddenly as he saw the red light. You panted as the car stopped so suddenly. Then the light turned green and Joel pressed on the gas pedal again.

"Baby, I'm sor-" Joel didn't finish his sentence.

*car crash*

A speeding car suddenly crashed from the left side. Joel’s reflex tried his best to turn the car avoiding the crash but the car turned in circles. You screamed as the car turned. Your hand instinctively wrapped around your belly protecting your baby inside your belly. You hit your head as the car crashed. You and Joel blacked out for a moment.

“Baby..” Joel opened his eyes and groaned at the pain.

Joel turned his head to you but you were unconscious. He panicked and hurriedly took off his seatbelt. He was shaking.

“Baby, can you hear me?” His bloody hands cupped your cheeks.

“Baby, open your eyes. Open your eyes for me, baby, please.” Joel tapped your cheeks with his palms and sobbed.

Your ears were ringing and your vision was blurry. You blinked your eyes a few times as you heard his voice. All you could see was him, blood and pieces of glass everywhere.

“Where are you hurt?” Joel looked up and down to your body.

“J-joel..” You called his name.

“Baby, you hurt? Tell me.” He cupped your cheeks.

“Wait here. I’ll get you out.” Joel immediately got out of the car and ran to your side.

He was in pain but he ignored it. Your safety was his priority. You were more important than him.

“Come here, put your arms around me. I got you, baby. I got you.” Joel put his arms around you to help you out ignoring his pain.

“J-joel. I’m in pain.” You shakily put your hand on your abdomen and squeezed it.

“I know, I know. I need to get you out first. Come on.” Joel tried to lift you.

“Joel, the baby.. I can’t lose the baby.” You cried as you felt warm liquid flowing to your thigh.

“Shit.” Joel looked down to your skirt and saw blood.

“Joel..” You cried looking through his eyes.

“Eyes on me, baby. Eyes on me. Don’t look down.” He tried not to panic so you didn’t panic.

“Joel, everything hurts..” You cried on his shoulder as he dragged you out of the car.

“Somebody call the ambulance!” Joel shouted.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry.” Joel cradled your head as he laid you on the ground.

Thankfully, a stranger called an ambulance and they came right away. The paramedic laid you on the wheeled stretcher and Joel’s heart broke. He blamed himself. He didn’t know what he should do. He followed you inside the ambulance and held your hand throughout the way to the hospital. You squeezed his hand in pain and he brought your hand to his lips.

“Please help my wife. She’s pregnant.” Joel begged the nurse as she brought you inside.

“Sir, you need to get treated too.” The nurse invited him to the examination bed to get treated.

Joel’s head was bleeding. His bones probably dislocated or fractured but he didn’t care. His focus was only you. He felt extremely guilty and his chest hurt.

“Sir, we’re sending your wife to the operating room. It’s best if you get treated while you wait.” The nurse repeated again.

“Save her, please.” Joel sobbed.

“We’ll try our best.” The nurse smiled.

Then Joel followed the nurse and got treated. He called Tommy to watch Sarah for a while but he told him not to tell Sarah what happened. Then he waited for a few hours and shook his legs in anxiety. Joel stood up right away when you were brought out from the operating room.

“How is she?” Joel asked the doctor with his casted arm.

“Sir, I’m so sorry for your loss. We couldn’t save your baby. And your wife needs a lot of rest. We need you to stay strong for her.” The doctor felt bad for telling Joel such bad news.

Joel cried as he looked at your weak body laying on the hospital bed. The nurses pushed your bed to your room while Joel followed beside you. Joel stayed beside you all the time when you were still sleeping because of the drugs. He slept resting his head on the bed beside you, holding your hand, never letting you go. In his mind, he kept thinking how he would tell you when you regain your consciousness.

“Joel?” You whispered as you opened your eyes a little.

Joel raised his head right away when he heard you call his name.

“Hey, I’m here, baby. I’m here.” Joel stroked your head.

“Where am I?” You tried to remember what happened and your head hurts.

“You’re in the hospital. We got into a car accident.” He explained the main points.

“My head hurts.” You put your hand on your head then your stomach.

“Joel- The baby. Please, tell me it’s okay.” You started panting as you panicked.

“Baby-I-” Joel couldn’t find his words.

“Joel-please-” You sobbed.

“I-I’m sorry.” He cried.

“Joel! No! Please!” You cried gripping his shirt.

“I’m sorry, baby. It was my fault. I’m sorry.” He cried and buried your head to his chest hugging you tight.

You cried so loud. Your tears wet his shirt. You didn’t expect this would happen.

“Bring him back! Bring him back, please!” You screamed and tried to get out of the bed looking for the doctors.

You used him for your unborn child because you could feel it would be a boy. But now he’s gone. Your baby boy was gone. Your heart was shredded into pieces at the fact you couldn’t protect your baby.

“Baby, you need to lay down. You need rest.” Joel held you from standing up.

“Don’t touch me!” You threw his hand away from you.

“It’s all your fault! None of this would happen if you didn’t speed up!” You yelled at him. Tears falling down your cheeks.

“I hate you! I hate you! And I hate myself!” You took off the IV needle that was inserted on the back of your hand and stood up.

The nurses came inside as you tried to leave the room. They held you and put you back to your bed. Your heart rate was rising and they decided to give you sedatives to calm you down. Joel cried as he saw you like that. He was guilt-ridden and helpless. He never wanted to hurt you and now you hate him.

To be continued…

A/N: I wasn’t planning about this but when I was writing for this chapter my hands kept typing it this way. I don’t know if you like it but I hope you like it!! ❤️

Taglist:

@lovelyygirl8 @skysmiller @moonlightdivine @crocodiile @angie2274 @pulchritudinousrogers @peqchsoup @msecho19 @happinessinthebeing @nyotamalfoy @nakedmoondiaries @dzaga890 @pa1g3-t0mm0 @prettysbliss @wanniiieeee @one-sweet-gubler @x-ap0llo-x @feministfanboi @ordinarylokix @afterglowsb-tch13 @padgraysonssram8re @tomorrowseverything @hummusxx @iranispunk @mrsyixingunicorn10 @likeanimagepassingby2 @mediocrewallflow3r @pedr0swh0r3 @mxtokko @dorck26 @cascactus28 @cheyxfu @stupidthoughtsinwriting @undermoonlightwalk @bigmoodyjoody @humanbug @sarahhxx03 @krisviciousx @quixscentsposts @dgct2 @dgraysonss @heybabyshae @fluffyspaceprincess @toottmblr @avengersfan25 @xixxala @dianaffddz @onzayhe @violetwitchmcu @welcometomyworldwithoutrules @kelh27

551 notes · View notes

justagirlwholikesadam · 1 year

Text

The Wolf Among Men

WARNING: RATED M, smut, death, mention of almost SA, act of violence, Themes of Religion, alcoholism

A/N: This will be my first GOT fanfic, I will being going along with the plot on the show with my own twist. I haven’t read the books so if I get something wrong or the plots are all over the place. Let it be. My story my rules. Please note comments are welcome. Enjoy! -L

Summary: Jon was told that his eldest sister, Y/n arrived to Castle Black. He was surprised when Y/n arrived with The Hound, Sandor Clegane.

Word Count: 11.9K

━ ◦ ❖ ◦━

Chapter Two

Months Later After The Fall

A cup of ale was given to Sandor by his father when he killed his first man. Sandor was only 12 and he gagged at the taste of it but his father told him to drink up since he was a man now. Sandor did what any 12 year old would do. He listened to his father and drank it all. He was 15 when he noticed the drinking was the only thing that helped him sleep. It helped him ease the nightmares he had of his older brother. As Gregor grew, the maids in their house disappeared along with a sister, he doesn't recall.

He has a rough time remembering anything before Gregor did what he did. It was like he had lost his memory after that but it came back in nightmares. Nightmares of his older brother shoving his face in the fire, horrible screams and sounds of a girl choking echoing in the hallways of their home. The news of his father’s death was said to be a “hunting accident”. When he was told of his father’s death it scared him because Gregor stood behind the maesters with a stone cold stare. No one mentioned the blood stain on Gregor’s trousers, no one even dared to say what they were thinking.

The drinking helped Sandor sleep and not care. He didn’t care what anyone thought of him anymore, not like when he was a kid. He didn’t mind the names or the snickering behind his back but he did have his moments. Sandor was just 16 when he was in a tavern minding his business and drinking by himself. No one dared to bother him but a drunken knight decided to bully him. He ignored the warning and walked towards Sandor shouting about his face. The knight was so drunk out of his mind that he didn't notice Sandor had a knife in his hand. The people in the tavern screamed while others stared in horror as Sandor rammed his knife at the knight's face repeatedly.

Sandor was on him, pinning him to the ground with his weight. He noticed the blood and chunks of brain had stained the white cloak the knight wore. Sandor scoffed at the sight of it. White cloak, a knight’s garment. The white signifies purity, virtue, and innocence. Knights are supposed to be good but all the knights around him were pieces of shit who used and abused their powers on the weak.

Being a knight was a dream for him when he was small. That dream broke and disappeared when Gregor was knighted by Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. Sandor didn't understand it.

“How can he be a knight?’ He asked himself. His brother is a monster, evil with legs and a face.

The awful truth that Sandor learned was knights protecting the good and the unfortunate were all fake. In the real world it’s the strongest who survives, the strong prey on the weak to live. You need to kill to survive.

Sandor stopped when the knight's head was completely smashed. He wiped his knife on the knight’s cloak and rose up from the ground. He ignored the people around and sat back down to finish his cup of ale.

He learned that day he was pretty good at killing and he liked it.

When he became Joffrey’s guard, he started drinking more. Since he was paid well, he drank wine. Wine made him feel good and yearn for a woman's touch. He would spend his nights at a whore house where some rejects from little finger’s establishment stayed. He drank until he couldn’t feel the tip of his fingers anymore. He drank until he couldn’t see the woman’s face and paid for her time. He kept it simple and quick. Bend them over then have them bring him a pitcher of wine when he finished.

He would wake up the next day with a slight headache and cotton mouth but he slept the entire night without any nightmares. His eyes would open and stare up at the multicolor fabrics hanging from the ceiling of the establishment.

Sandor never told you but when he first talked to you when you arrived at King's Landing that night he drank and he dreamt for the first time in a long time. He dreamt of you and your sweet smile that you had given him when you saw him. The dream became a nightmare when Gregor appeared behind you. Gregor was going to kill you and Sandor without a thought grabbed his sword.

He shot up in a sitting position when he sliced Gregor’s throat wide open in his dream. It was the first time in his life he had dreamt or even thought of killing Gregor. Sandor was now bigger and stronger. He had more experience in fighting now. He knew if he tried his hardest he might be able to win against his brother. The only thing that was lingering on his mind was, when will it be his chance to get his revenge on Gregor.

Sandor found out that he might be able to defeat his brother when he protected Loras Tyrell from him during the Hand's tournament. A rush of energy came at him when he saw Loras on the ground, his brother was about to strike the younger man.

He did hold his brother off and King Robert commanded them to stop. Sandor was the only one who obeyed and kneel, showing his loyalty to the King. Loras thanked him graciously as Sandor stood up. He raised Sandor’s arm up declaring him as the winner. He saw you quickly rise from your seat beside your father and clapped for him. You cheered his name loudly, not caring who was looking at you. The crowd followed and cheered for him as well, making him tense up since these were the same people who ridiculed and despised him are now cheering for him.

He made a decision as he walked up the steps to take his place behind Joffrey. He was going to kill his brother and get revenge.

Sandor started to gain consciousness and he thought he was back in the whorehouse. He will wake up like always and see the multicolor fabrics hanging above him. Sandor opened his eyes and stared up and saw a wooden ceiling. He let out a hiss when he tried to get up, he couldn't do it. He looked at his surroundings for a moment. He realized he was inside of a wooden shack. Everything came rushing back in his mind at once. He fell off a cliff and you were crying over him as you tried to pick him up.

Y/n. He thought to himself. He let out a grunted as he tried to get up again but it was no use.

“You’re up.” Sandor's eyes widened at the sound of a man’s voice. He tried to sit up on the bed to see who it was but fell back down on the makeshift bed. An older man with a beard walked inside the shack with a small bowl and a cup.

“Y/n?!” Sandor called out in a raspy voice.

He looked down at himself to see his clothes were gone. He wore a brown tunic shirt. He was bare from the waist down under thick blankets.

“Wow! Relax.” The man said putting the bowl and cup on the small table near the makeshift bed when he saw Sandor trying to get up again.

“Where is Y/n?!” Sandor shouted as the men sat down on the bed with his hands in front of him showing Sandor he meant no harm.

“She’s eating supper now. She’s done with work.” The men helped Sandor sit up as he spoke.

“What?” Sandor said not understanding as he leaned against the wall.

“You should eat too.” The men said, grabbing the bowl.

“She will be happy that you’re awake. Poor thing was starving and tired. Told her I’ll feed you today.” Sandor watched as the man took the spoon from the table, he was about to feed it to him like he was a baby.

“I can fucking do it.” Sandor said, grabbing the bowl from the man’s hand. The man laughed while Sandor gave him a glare.

“She said you were a mean one.” Sandor quietly moaned as he drank the warm soup straight from the bowl. He was starving.

“Who are you? What’s this place?” Sandor asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I’m Ray. Some people call me brother Ray. We are here building a sept in the hills. We found Y/n in the mountains. Poor thing was crying and asked us for help. She offered to work in exchange.” Ray said with a smile as he looked around the small shack. Sandor frowned.

“What is she doing? What kind of work?” Sandor asked. Millions of thoughts were running inside of his head. Sandor didn’t believe Ray. He knew men like him. Sandor has always been good at reading people. Ray seemed to catch on what Sandor was implying and frowned.

Ray shook his head. “No! We really are building a sept. At first she would cook and clean. Clean clothes of the people here but some people thought it wasn’t fair because food and shelter was being given to you.”

“Y/n is something. She yelled at men twice her age and said she will work with them, cutting trees down just to shut their mouths.”

Ray rose up then made his way to the table filled with bowls and candles. Sandor watched as Ray started to mix some powder and made a paste. Sandor continued to finish his soup as Ray kept talking.

“Never seen a girl her size cut down wood before. I think she has been through a lot, she hasn’t said much about herself. Every time she’s chopping wood she said she imagines it’s the face of the people who hurt her.”

Sandor was lost for words. You haven’t left him. You kept your word and stood by him. You worked for him. Sandor felt his heart was about to burst as Ray kept talking about you.

“You gave us all a fright.” Ray said as he lifted the blanket up to Sandor’s knee. Sandor saw his leg was straightened out. He can see the nasty large scar across his knee. His knee bone was pushed back in and he was stitched up. The stitches looked red and angry but Sandor was happy about that. It means the wound is fresh and healing. Sandor held his breath for a moment when he tried to move his toes. Ray let out a chuckle when he moved them.

“Scared the fuck out of Y/n when you started to move them in your sleep.”

“You were in and out of death so many times. Never seen a woman pray so much like Y/n did by your bedside.” Ray said as he carefully spread some of the paste on Sandor’s knee. Sandor tried to keep a moan of relief when he felt the cool paste on his stitches.

Ray wrapped some cloth around his knee and covered him back up with the blanket.

“I’m glad you’re up.” Sandor watched as Ray grabbed the empty bowl from his hands and started to walk out of the shack. He looked over his shoulder at Sandor and told him he will tell you that he's up.

Sandor was left alone and he stared at his hands on his lap trying to wrap his head around the fact that he’s alive thanks to you. He looked up at the sound of someone running. He froze when he saw you by the door. You stared at him with wide eyes and a big smile. You looked different. You wore dark trousers with a beige tunic instead of your usual dress. You looked slimmer, and you looked like you had been out in the sun for too long.

“Sandor.” You cried as you walked inside and sat on the bed close to him. Sandor didn’t say anything when you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and hugged him.

“I’m so happy you’re up.” You said looking at him, cupping his face with your hands. Sandor tried not to cry, he really did but you were there in front of him, alive and he was alive too.

“It’s okay, my love.” You whispered as you kissed his cheeks. You caressed his burned cheek while he looked at you.

“Thank you.” He softly said.

“Thank you.” He repeated as tears ran down his cheeks.

He kissed you gently and laid his forehead against yours. You pulled away when you heard him let out a sharp breath, he bore a grimace look on his face.

“Are you in pain? Ray said he put the paste on your leg. I’ll give you some milk of the poppy.” You said leaning forward to the table, grabbing a small vessel and the cup Ray had bought.

“Where did you get that?” Sandor asked as he watched you put a few drops in his cup. Medicine is not cheap.

“Ray took me to a town a few miles away. I have been chopping wood and selling them there. I got enough money for medicine.” He was about to take the cup from your hands when he froze at the sight of them.

He grabbed one of them when he noticed the bandage wrapped around your palm. Your hands were different as well. Not the hands of a lady anymore. Your hands were rough and you had dirt underneath your fingernails.

“It’s just a cut. It’s healing.” You told Sandor as you gave him the cup and removed your hand from his grasp.

“Let me see.” You shook your head.

“Drink first. Please.” Sandor didn’t say anything.

“Please. I’m alright.” You said pushing the cup towards his mouth. Sandor didn’t want to anger you so he did what you told him. He was ashamed that you had to work to take care of him.

You told him about Ray and the group as you helped him lay back down. You told him how Stranger was outside as well. You didn’t have the heart to sell the horse and his sword, you thought if Sandor died then Stranger and the weapon would be a reminder of him. However you did have to sell his armor for a maester to come all the way up the hills to check up on him.

Sandor was drifting into sleep from milk of the poppy when he noticed he took almost the entire makeshift bed. He wanted to ask where you slept. He was going to ask when you started to hum softly to him. He felt your hands on his head, you brushed his hair with your fingers as you continued to hum.

Sandor got his answer in the middle of the night when he woke himself up from a cough. He opened his eyes slowly, still feeling the effects of milk of the poppy. He saw a small candle on the table near him burning. He looked around as best he could. He stopped when he saw you on the ground sleeping. He wanted to get up to get you in bed with him but he winced at the pain in his knee. You were in the corner with a pillow under your head and a blanket over you. Sandor can see you were holding one of his knives in your hand while you slept.

He tried to call your name out, trying to fight back the sleep but he lost and shut his eyes. Days passed and Sandor got better and stronger. He was in a foul mood every time you left for work and came back. You spoke to him telling him you did this for him because you love him.

“I know you would have done the same for me if I was the one in that bed.” You told him. Sandor nodded as he agreed with you.

Sandor tried to have you sleep in the makeshift bed with him. He had shouted until you laid with him every night. As soon as you heard him snoring, you carefully got off. You didn’t want to tell Sandor the real reason why you chose to sleep on the ground. Some nights you would sit on the ground by him and stare at the entrance of the shack.

Days turned into weeks and Sandor was finally able to walk with the help of Ray and a teenager boy named James who wasn’t afraid of him.

Sandor already had a reputation among the group and they weren’t to kin at the idea of the tall man with half of a burned face around them. Sandor walked a few steps before sitting back down. Ray told him it was normal and to have him walk more to get the strength of his legs back up again.

Sandor was up and walking in no time. The sept you were helping build was done. Sandor and you went with Ray along with his group to another place to do the same. Since the group changed location it wasn’t too far from the shack. Each morning, Sandor and you rode Stranger to work then back again in the afternoon to the shack to rest.

You ignore the talk and the stares people did whenever they saw Sandor and you. Sandor impressed many when he was able to carry a log by himself, a log that took at least five people to carry. Sandor began to chop wood and he made you get a job that didn’t require so much manual labor. You didn't want to at first, since you got used to the work but Sandor pleaded with you. You started to help the other woman with the cooking and the cleaning.

You ignored the snickering you heard behind your back from the women who talked about you being with Sandor. Some were afraid of him, while others were repulsed by his face and some were jealous of you for having a man like Sandor. Tall and strong is what you heard from them and for the first time it made you feel jealous.

Sandor and you have been traveling alone for so long that there weren't other people to make you feel that way. You knew Sandor wasn't like that, talking to other women or even looking at them. Even on the road and going inside of a tavern he never once looked at women.

The woman in the group wore dresses while you wore trousers and a shirt that Ray had given you. Your hair that was once brushed and braided is now tangled and greasy from being out in the sun and working. Insecurity and jealousy seeped into your body.

You were unaware that Sandor heard how the men spoke about you. Just like you, Sandor knew the rules not to fight and not to steal from each other. Sandor didn’t want to be the reason to be kicked out of this place. It was good, no one knew who both of you were, both of you had somewhere to stay and had food.

Sandor was surprised when Ray came around the corner and spoke out when he heard one of the men start to speak about you. “Perhaps if you pray hard enough to the gods, they will bless you with a lass like her. Hardworking and pretty.”

Ray looked over to Sandor who walked away to get another log.

“Y/n didn’t tell me what happened to you.” Sandor heard Ray behind him following him deeper into the woods to his chopping area.

“It was a fight.” Sandor replied.

“Wow, I don’t want to see what the other guy looks like.”

Sandor shook his head. “It was a woman. A tall, big fucking woman.”

Ray chuckled. “She wanted to take Y/n away from me.”

“Well, I’m glad she didn’t.” Ray walked closer to Sandor. “Me too.” Sandor said as he sat on a log stretching his leg.

“Many people say you came back from the dead. Some said it was fairies that healed you.” Sandor scoffs at the idea of little fairies over him.

“I know Y/n helped but it was up to you to survive. What made you survive? I didn’t have the heart to tell Y/n that you were done for. No man can come out of the state you were in.” Ray said.

Sandor thought about it for a minute, why was he still alive? Perhaps it was for you, to keep you safe. Before you, he was alive to have his revenge on his brother. “Hate or maybe I’m just a hard fucker to kill.”

Ray shook his head not believing him. “No, there's a reason. Gods aren’t done with you yet.”

“Heard that one before.” Sandor said as he remembered Beric telling him that the gods wanted him alive before leaving with you after his win. Sandor didn’t believe it at all.

“Why would the gods want me alive? I have done hateful shit before. You don’t know the things I have done.”

“If you are what you say then why is she with you?” Ray said, looking behind Sandor.

Sandor followed his gaze to see you walking towards them along with two bowls in your hands. “I believe you're alive for a reason.” Ray said, patting Sandor on the shoulder then left.

Ray greeted you as you walked past him.

“Hey.” You told Sandor as you passed him a bowl with rice and meat.

“Thanks.” Sandor said while you took a small leather wineskin off your shoulder.

“Your favorite, water.” You told him before giving it to him. Sandor snorted a chuckle, he was telling you this morning how he would chop every fucking tree in the forest for some ale.

You used your fingers to grab the meat and rice as Sandor took a drink of water. It’s been a while since he had ale or wine. He was alright without it just as long he was with you, he thought to himself. He closed the wineskin and looked down at the bowl. He was still thinking about those men talking about you. It wasn’t the first time he heard men speaking about you. In King’s Landing, he saw how men looked at you. He heard what the knights and lords said about you. The Lords were all over your father asking for your hand but your father kept telling them how you were already promised to another. He never found out who it was though and he didn't want to think of it. Another man with you, another man touching you and looking at you. He was able to give one look at the knights and scare them off but he didn’t know what to do about the men here.

He didn’t want to cause a problem. He didn’t want both of you to get kicked out. Ray seemed nice enough. Ray never looked at you like you were a piece of meat.

Sandor trusted Ray with you, he knew why Ray helped you heal him. It was after a tale Ray told to the group one afternoon. Ray had told the group that he had gotten into a fight when he was still in his misfit ways with a couple of smugglers. At the end, the smugglers sought out where he lived and killed his daughter because he wasn't there.

“ I can not bring back my daughter. I regret that fight so much but I know I can make a difference now. I can bring back a bit of good into this world.”

His story was cut short when three men rode into their camp looking for trouble. Sandor had gently pushed you behind him when the men started to stare at the woman of the group. He knew who they were, they were from the brotherhood and followed the Red God. They didn't recognize him, Sandor had longer hair that touched his shoulders and was much lighter in color. The beard that he kept short was now fuller. You hid behind Sandor, your forehead was pressed against his back as you listened to the men asking Ray if they had any gold or weapons. You gripped the back of his shirt when the leader of the men told Ray to be careful because the night is dark and full of terror.

Sandor didn't sleep that night, he stayed up with his sword in his hand in case they came. Ray told him that he wouldn't fight them because violence is a disease. He kept looking at the entrance of the shack. Sandor knew Ray was right about violence being a disease but it was the only way to make sure you were safe.

Ray helped you because you remind him of his daughter. Ray couldn't do anything to help his daughter but he was going to make sure to help you and he did. Sandor was alive, breathing and walking again.

Sandor swore to himself that he was going to do the same as you did for him. You helped him, you saved him from death. He wasn't going to let anything or anyone hurt you. You showed how much he means to you. You showed him everyday how much you loved him.

“I love you.” He mumbled without a thought. His eyes widened at his confession, he quickly turned away from you.

“What?” You asked when you heard Sandor mumble something. You were too busy eating to hear what he said.

Sandor shook his head and kept eating, avoiding your gaze.

“I want you to tell me if anyone is bothering you. Alright?” Sandor finally spoke after a few minutes. You looked over at him with a strange look. Did he find out?

“What are you talking about?” You asked softly, trying not to panic.

“I heard some of the men talking about you.” Sandor said, looking over you as you wiped one of your hands on your pants. You let out a small sigh of relief.

“I don’t know if I’ll need you to save me. I’m pretty good with an ax.” You said, giving him a smile. He didn't need to know, you thought to yourself. It was over, he’s safe. He is alive, that's what matters.

Sandor grinned at you. You were good that he had to admit, he had seen you chopping wood. At one point he had to leave when he got a hard on from just watching you. He got aroused by the look on your flushed face, the sweat dripping down your forehead and neck. He liked it, it reminded him whenever you rode him. Your body would be covered in sweat as you moved your hips, your breasts bouncing. Your sweaty face reminded him of the time he pounded you from behind. Your pretty face looked at him over your shoulder mewling with each thrust.

“The women talk about you too. You know?” You said as you brought a piece of meat to your mouth. Sandor shook his head at you as he ate.

“He’s the tallest man I've ever seen in my life. He’s so strong.” You said mimicking in a high pitch voice making him chuckle.

“Pretty soon I'll have to swing my ax to keep them away from you.” Sandor chuckled looking at you. He stopped when he noticed you looked a bit annoyed. This was new for Sandor, he had never seen this side of you before. You’re jealous and he didn't like seeing you like this. He didn't know what to do to make you stop feeling this. Sandor wasn't good with emotions, he knew that. You were the first person to ever make him feel something that wasn't hate. He was nervous about what to say, last time the words came out of his mouth without a thought. Those words back in the barn, he regretted because of the face you made when he mentioned your family.

In his mind he wanted to say, stop being stupid. I don't want those broads.

“There's only you, Y/n. I only want you.” The words that came out of his mouth washed away the insecurity and jealousy you felt. You looked at Sandor and saw he was being sincere, you looked away licking your lips.

“Y/n. Look at me.” Sandor spoke, you looked over at him. He had gotten closer to you.

“I only want you. You’re all I want.”

You bite your bottom lip as Sandor kisses your cheek. It’s been so long since you felt him, since you felt his touch. You wanted him so bad but you knew he had to heal. You didn’t want to hurt his knee but your fingers weren't the same as his, your cunt was used to his rough and large fingers. Your body craved his touch and cock. You yearned for him. It’s been months without him.

You felt Sandor kiss the corner of your lips. You dropped your bowl to the ground to kiss him on the lips.

Sandor dropped his bowl as well to grab you, he wanted to be closer to you. He wanted to feel you. “Are you sure?” He heard you asked him as you kissed his neck.

“Aye.” He said standing up from the log, pulling you up to follow him further into the forest. He didn't want anyone seeing you.

“You?” He asked. You nodded, “Yes please” He grins at your response.

He found a large enough tree to keep both of you hidden behind. He pushed you gently against the tree as he leaned down to kiss you on the lips. His hands grabbed your ass, squeezing it over your trousers. You let out a moan as he nipped your neck.

“Sandor.” You cry his name. His large fingers made their way to the rope tied around your trousers to keep them from falling down. He untied it and pulled your trousers off along with your boots.

He let out a moan when he came close to your mound, he kissed it. Enjoying the scent of your musk. He was about to eat you out when you begged for his cock.

Sandor felt himself grow hard at your words. You told him how much you missed his cock, and you missed how he fucked you. He quickly pulls his own trousers down, jerking himself a bit.

Sandor manhandled you and picked you up roughly. Your back was against the tree, legs wrapped around his waist. Your fingers digging into his shoulder as he slipped himself inside of you. He groans as he feels your cunt on him. You were so tight, it’s been so long since he felt you. He was shocked how wet you were. You were wet just by kissing him.

He held you tight as he thrust inside of you. He held your ass in one hand while his hands held onto the tree.

“F-F-uc-k.” You cried into his neck as he fucked you. You heard Sandor grunting as he thrust into you hard and rough.

“You’re mine.” Sandor moaned into your ear. “You hear me?”

“Mine.” Sandor said as he felt you clench around his cock by his words. He hated hearing the other men talk about you. Didn’t they know that you were with him, that he’s yours and you’re his.

“You like that? Knowing you’re mine. You’re fucking mine.” Sandor grunted as he felt you cum around his cock.

“Yes.” You moan as he kept fucking through your orgasm. You held him tight as he reached for his climax. He let out harsh grunts against your neck as he fucked your cunt. Thrusting in and out rapidly, the sound of your ass hitting against his thighs can be heard.

“You little minx.” Sandor tells you as he feels your wetness dripping down his balls. Letting out a whine when you felt your clit against his stomach. The feeling of his happy trail rubbing against your throbbing clit made you lightheaded. You were about to cum for a second time.

“Say your mine.” Sandor cries out about to cum.

“I’m yours. I’m your woman.” You tell him out of breath.

“Only yours.”

You kissed him harshly and sloppy. Your tongue slipped in his mouth as you moaned. Sandor bit your bottom lip when he felt you cum again on his cock. He grunts as he pushes you completely against the tree. His hand leaves your ass to hold both of your legs open as he cums deep inside of you.

You ignored the pain of the tree bark digging your back as you felt Sandor cumming inside of you. You felt him thrust softly making you whine while he grunted.

“Fuck, Y/n.” Sandor says as he holds you. He moans as he kisses your neck. He held you against the tree for a moment. He held you, enjoying your warmth and scent. He had to stop to admire you. Your eyes were bright and your lips turned upwards in a smile.

He wanted to remember you like this. He wanted to say those three words again so you could hear him but fear filled him. What if he said it and he would wake up in that place again. He didn't want to wake up to see the multicolor fabrics on the ceiling.

He winces as he pulls out from you softly so he doesn’t hurt you. He brings you down to your feet. You lean against the tree, your cunt throbbing and legs wobbly. Sandor quickly pulls his pants up. He grabs his handkerchief from his back pocket to kneel down in front of you.

He looks up at you as he wipes his cum dripping out of you, he’s so tender as he wipes. Grabbing your discarded pants, he helps you to put them back on.

“Thank you.” You said as you sat down on the ground to put on your boots. He waits for you as he catches his breath while leaning against the tree. He looked around for a moment, he hoped no one saw. He knew he was going to kill someone if they mention seeing him with you fucking.

“I missed you.” Sandor heard you say as you got up and walked in front of him.

“Me too.” He said as you leaned against him, hugging him. You laid your head on his chest, he wrapped his arms around you placing his chin on top of your head. Sandor had come to be comfortable doing this with you, hugging you.

He wanted to tell you that you were the first person to ever hug him. He thought what his brother would say if he saw him hugging right now. Gregor, without a doubt would’ve punched him in the face and called him a pussy.

After some time both of you walked back to retrieve the bowls then back to the main camp. You talked to Sandor about what the people from the group wanted to build next.

Sandor nodded when you mentioned their plans, walking back to the main camp to bring the bowls back. You froze when you saw the body of a woman a few feet away from you laying on the ground. You looked over at Sandor who began to look around for anyone else when an arrow was sticking out of her chest.

You quickly began to sprint further into the camp and cried out when you saw the group was dead, all of them. Their throats had been split open, others had an arrow in their chest or in their head.

“Sandor!” He heard you cry out as he walked towards you. You were kneeling over James. The teenager had an arrow in his chest. He was gurling blood out of his mouth as he tried to speak. “They came back.” You looked up at Sandor who’s eyes darkened at his words.

“The men on the horses?” You asked as you held the boy's hand.

“Y-y-ye.” James tried to speak but his eyes closed. You looked up at Sandor and your face fell at the thought of Ray. He was the one who spoke to them.

“Ray.” You shouted looking around. Sandor quickly walked further to find Ray as well. You got up to follow him, you looked ahead to see Sandor standing still in front of the unbuilt sept.

Sandor heard you behind and turned around. “Don’t look.” He told you but you didn’t listen.

You cried as you saw Ray hanging from the half build sept. Sandor continued to stare at Ray. He didn’t deserve to die. He looked away from the body and kept looking around in case the bastards were still around. He had to keep you safe.

“We have to go.” Sandor told you as he grabbed your arm. Sandor needed to take you back to the shack, he will stand guard all night again.

“Aren't we going to find them?” You asked him, making him stop in mid step.

“What?” Sandor asked.

“I want them dead for killing Ray.” You told Sandor as your face grew angry with furrowed brows.

You wanted revenge. Sandor nodded, he wanted the same thing. Ray did not deserve it, not after everything he did for you and him.

“Let’s get our stuff first.” He told you.

Packing as fast as you can while Sandor got Stranger ready to ride, making sure his sword along with his ax was strapped on the horse. You wiped your tears quickly and walked out of the shack. You handed Sandor another pack. Sandor was about to help you saddle when you did it all by yourself. He sometimes forgets that you have changed. You weren’t the same lady that he left King’s Landing with. He noticed a knife strapped by your belt.

Sandor rode behind you on Stranger who let out a neigh as it began to walk out of camp. Sandor knew they couldn’t be far. The wounds on the people were still fresh. It was 20 minutes later when both of you heard people talking.

“Is it them?” You asked Sandor as he got off the horse first a few feet away from. Sandor grabbed his sword.

“Stay on the horse until we know for sure.” Sandor told you before walking towards them.

“Oh shit.” You heard from the other members of Brotherhood without Banners. You looked around to see them staring at you and Sandor.

“Clegane. What the fuck you doing here?” Thoros said, looking at him then at you.

“My lady.” You didn’t respond to him.

“Chasing the men who killed the group that was building the sept. We were helping build it. They killed a friend of ours.” Sandor told him.

“You have friends, Clegane?” Thoros asked, surprised.

“Not anymore.” Sandor snapped back.

“No need to chase.” Beric said then looked back at the three men about to be hanged in front of them.

“They did it. We are going to hang them.” Beric said. You grabbed the reins on Stranger, signaling the horse to walk forward.

“I’m surprised you’re still with Clegane, My lady.” Beric said as you got off Stranger and walked towards them ignoring Beric.

“Who killed him?” You asked the three men.

“Who the fuck killed the man in charge?” You yelled. The left one shouted it was the one in the middle.

“You fucker!!” The middle man shouted as he looked nervously at you and Sandor.

“I want him.” You told Beric who looked shocked.

“Give me this one.” Sandor said, pointing the one to the right since the man was eyeing you.

“My lady.” Beric spoke but you cut him off. “I want him. I’ll slit his fucking throat.” You grabbed your knife from your belt and Sandor was about to swing his sword.

“Whoa! Whoa!” Thoros said to both you and Sandor, stopping both of you.

“It’s the brotherhood's good name-“ Beric said standing in front of Sandor.

“Fuck your name. They are ours to kill. I have killed you once before. I’ll be happy to do it again.” Sandor cut him off quickly and got close to him, staring him down.

“These are our men. We will kill them. Lady Stark, this isn’t you.” You frowned at Thoros.

“These men killed our friend. Ray helped us, feed us and cloth us. These fuckers came and killed him.” You hissed looking back at the middle man who looked like he was about to shit on himself.

“Alright, we will give you two out of respect for your friend.” You looked over Sandor who gave you a nod.

Sandor raised his sword but was stopped by Beric who told him not to chop off a body part. Only hanging. You continued to stare at the man as Sandor cursed them out about being weak and how he would have killed everyone just to kill the three how he sees fit.

You sighed as you pushed the barrel softly so it could be longer for him to die. Sandor did the same, you heard Beric and Sandor talking behind you while the three men hanged to their death. All you did was watch them. Their faces turned red while their legs swung around. Sandor looked over at you when you didn’t move or even flinched when the legs of the middle guy got close to you.

What made you change? He thought. This had to be the first person you killed, right?

“Y/n?” You turned around at Sandor, he gave you a look.

“You alright?” He asked. You nodded.

He watched as you walked back to Stranger, the nod you gave him made him feel unease. He looked back at the middle and started to rip his boots off along with his belt so he could have his sword strap to his hip. He knew both of you would need better supplies for traveling up north. Both of you decided to continue the journey again to see Jon. He took the cape from the man next to him as well. Winter is coming and both of you have to be prepared for the cold.

Beric was kind enough to spare some food for you and Sandor. You kept to yourself as Beric and Thoros spoke to Sandor about the gods bringing them back together for a reason. Thoros looked over you and passed his pouch full of rum towards you. You thanked him with a nod and took a drink.

“What about you?” Beric said, looking over at you. His eyes watched you carefully then at Sandor. He was a bit worried that you had been this long with the hound. He noticed you looked different as well.

“What about me?” You asked, passing the pouch back to Thoros.

“You’re alive. Most highborn ladies aren’t cut out living like this.” You sighed at his words.

Sandor looked at you as you stared at the fire when you didn’t reply back to Beric. His words cut deep into you, you knew if it wasn’t for Sandor you would have died or worse kidnapped and raped. You would have been at the end of the cliffs sitting next to Sandor’s corpse if it wasn’t for Ray.

You shut your eyes as you kept seeing Ray swaying back and forth from the half built sept. You missed him. He was the only one who talked to you when Sandor was still sleeping. He stood by your side whenever you tended Sandor’s wound. He stood up for you when the group threatened to kick you for not contributing more when Sandor was still injured.

You felt so hopeless because you always needed someone to come to your rescue. You wished you could have protected Sandor from Brienne, you wished you could have saved Ray from being hung. You wished you were able to save your brothers, your mother and father. You were so weak and you hated yourself for it.

The only time you felt strong was that night Ray found you in the shack. Sandor was quick to place a hand on your back when you broke down in tears in front of them. Beric and Thoros stood quiet as you wept.

“I’m sorry. I miss Ray.” You told them as you wiped your tears with the back of your hand.

“I would have been dead a long time ago if it wasn’t for him and Sandor.” Beric nodded, giving you a sympathetic look.

“The gods have a plan for you as well. Think about it, you have come so far even with the help of them.” Beric said as he looked over at your shoulder when he noticed a few men from their group noticing you crying. They began to stare at you as they talked among themselves.

Sandor followed his gaze to the group a few feet away from them. Sandor moved closer to you. His legs practically pushed against yours. He was ready to kill any fucker that would come close to you.

“Why don’t you join us? Both of you. We need your help. Something is coming this way. We are part of something larger. We need good people to help us.”

Beric watched as Sandor passed a piece of jerky to you when you finally calmed down. Thoros and Beric shared a look. Sandor Celgane, the hound is being nice.

“I need to go to Jon.” You told them.

“Jon Snow, he’s Lord Commander of the night watch.” Beric said, making you smile at your brother's accomplishment.

“He’s the only family I have left. We were going to see him.” You didn’t know if your sisters were alive, Jon is your last resort.

“We want to go beyond the walls. Let’s travel together since we are headed in the same direction.” He suggested. You let Sandor decide, you knew he would pick what was best.

“Any of your men touch her. I’ll gut them alive.” Sandor said to Beric and Thoros.

“I do the same if they do.” Thoros admits looking between Sandor and you.

Riding alone was something you had to get used to quickly, they had extra horses since the hanging. You missed the heat Sandor gave when he rode behind you. You missed the conversations and being close to him. Sandor had told you that he would prefer to have you ride in front of him where he can see you. Beric rode beside you while Thoros rode next to Sandor. You couldn’t help but laugh as they bickered like children behind you.

Sandor swore that Thoros’ top knot was a wig while Thoros gave Sandor the nickname grouchy old bear. Vulgar insults were thrown at each other.

“Beric?” You called out to the man as you both rode next to each other.

“Yes, my lady.” He answered looking over at you.

“Do you truly believe in the gods?” You question him as you try to ignore the bickering behind you.

“I do. I have been dead 6 times and brought back.”

“I want to tell you something.” Beric looked at you worried but nodded.

“Sandor was hurt. Really bad and I felt his heart stop beating many times but he always came back. There was a woman in the group who said she saw the children of the forest. Everyone thought she was crazy but I didn’t. My father believed they were real but went extinct a long time ago.” You said remember the girl and how her face lit up when telling you stories about them. You felt sad when you remembered seeing her on the ground with her throat slit open. She was the only kind person to you beside Ray.

“She found me one day and said she spoke to them about Sandor. They gave her something. A flower, they told her to make a medicine out of it. A paste.” Beric watched as your eyes got teary.

“I did it and Beric it worked. Sandor had his bone sticking out his knee. I thought the scar would have never healed but it did. If you see it, it’s just a line now. I’m telling you this because I don’t know what to believe anymore. If the gods were real, why was my father, a good man, beheaded? Why was my mother and brothers murdered but I was spared?”

“The gods almost took Sandor away from me. They would have if it wasn’t for the children of the forest.” You said.

Beric was quiet for a second before speaking. “Y/n, it’s alright to feel conflicted about believing in the gods or something else. It’s what makes humans. Who knows why the children of the forest helped or why you were spared. I ask myself the same question everyday, every hour. Why me? Why am I alive? I’ll tell you something, I knew we were going to cross paths again, Clegane and you.” Your eyes widen by his words.

“I saw it in the flames. Us riding together going up north.”

“When I tell you, my lady. That we are part of something I was not bullshitting, maybe it’s the new god, old gods, every fucking god there is and the children of the forest working as one. Now that we are together, we need to find out why. ”

“You know, Ned talked about you a lot.” He spoke after a brief moment of silence.

“He loved you dearly. He always said that the new and old gods bless him with a child like you. The men and I didn’t think anything of it at first. We just thought it was because you were his first daughter but seeing you now alive after everything. I believe him now.” Beric told you, your heart grew heavy at the thought of your father.

“You girls done gossiping? Let’s set up camp?” Thoros shouted from behind.

Sandor and you sat together away from the group for some privacy. Sandor rubbed his hands together as he stared at the small fire a few feet away from him. He wanted to ask you something that's been on his mind for a while now. That night he saw you sleeping on the ground with a knife in your hand. He wanted to know what made you change while he was asleep.

“I can hear you thinking.” He looked over you, seeing you smiling at him as you stretched your legs. You were sitting on a log next to him.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, grabbing his hand that was on his knee.

“Have you killed anyone else?” He asked you, making you pause.

You wanted to lie and say no. You didn’t want to cause any problems but you knew Sandor would just know you were lying. You didn’t want to get him angry.

You nodded, “Aye, I have.”

Sandor turned to you with a look that made you remove your hand from his. You grew worried.

“You were still asleep and some man from the group thought he could have his way with me. He came one night.” Sandor frowned and started to breathe heavily.

“He tried to kill you first and I knew right then and there. If I didn't kill him right away we both would have been dead.”

“I remembered what you told me, aim for the heart. I grabbed a knife where I kept your sword and rammed it into his chest. I didn’t stop until I heard Ray calling out for me.”

“Your hand?” Sandor asked, grabbing your hand to see the healed scar on the palm of hand.

“He tried to kill you. I wasn’t going to let that happen. I grabbed his knife and pushed him.” Sandor traced the scar with his thumb.

“You changed, little wolf. I’m sorry. I wasn’t there to help.”

“Without your teaching, I would have been raped or dead.” You told Sandor.

Sandor was about to say something when you spoke something that was troubling you.

“I liked it. The killing. The look on his face, his blood, the scent of it. The power I felt and all I can see was Joffrey, Ceresi, the Freys, and fucking everyone who betrayed or hurted us.”

“I thought of your brother as well for hurting you.” You told Sandor as you looked at him nervously.

“I know you never told me but I know. Little finger told me. I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“What else do you know?” Sandor asked, ignoring the apology.

“Your fear with fire.” You said softly. “I've seen it.”

Sandor nodded as he looked at you. He kinda already knew that you were aware about the story of his face but he didn’t know that you knew about his fear of fire. He tried to keep it hidden from you.

“The night of the battle of Blackwater. Everything was on fire and all I thought about was you. I was so scared that the fires would get to you in the castle.”

“You still want me?” Sandor asked nervously.

“What?!” You asked..

“Do you still want to be with a man who's afraid of fire?”

“Of course, I do.” You told him, going between his legs, kneeling in front of him.

“What about you, do you still want me? I don’t look like a lady anymore or act like one now.” Sandor grinned as he shook your head at your nonsense question.

“Your lady is a murder now?” You added.

“You aren’t! You protected yourself. It’s defense.” Sandor told you tugging you closer to him.

“I’m proud of you.” Sandor said with a nod. Sandor wasn’t a man of many words but he really was proud of you.

“So do I get a reward for keeping my man safe?” You asked as you pulled Sandor down to face you. You kissed scarred cheek making him chuckle.

Your man, Sandor, loves the sound of that.

“What do you want, little wolf?” He asked as your lips started to head towards his neck. He quickly looked at his surroundings making sure no one was looking. Most were already asleep or talking among themselves. He let out a soft whine when you pulled the collar of the tunic shirt down to kiss his chest, your fingers touching his soft chest hair.

“What does my little wolf want?” Sandor asked again as he grabbed your chin making you look up at him. He stared down at you with hooded eyes, you let out a shy giggle under his gaze.

“I want you.” You whispered to him. Sandor immediately leaned down to kiss you on the lips.

Snow started to fall and the air started to get colder as the group made their way up north Each day you got more excited to get to Castle Rock. You longed to see Jon. You wanted to hug him and tell him about everything. You wanted to tell him about Sandor. You hoped Jon knew something about your sisters. You hoped Sansa was alive as well as Arya. You forgave her a long time ago for wishing your death. You couldn’t be mad at her. Sandor took her friend's life but you understood that he did because the King ordered him too.

Death was something you thought a lot about even before Kings Landing. You were glad that your father told you about it when you were younger. He didn’t shield you from the world as your mother shielded Sansa.

“It happens to everyone. We must not fear death. For death comes to everyone.”

You told Sandor the exact same words that your father told you. It was after Joffrey showed you and Sansa your father‘s head on a spike. He found you on the balcony again later that day, Tears rolling down your face as you stared at your father and Sansa’s septon. The older woman was kind even when Sansa wasn’t.

He immediately gave you a handkerchief as he stood by you. You grabbed it, giving him a nod of thank you.

“You’re not afraid.” He said looking at you. You didn’t flinch like Sansa did when she first saw it. You repeated your father’s words to Sandor.

“Your father was a smart man.” You shook your head.

“If he was smart, he wouldn’t have gotten himself killed.” You said looking at Sandor who looked shocked at your words.

“He was up to something and he didn’t tell me. I don’t know why. I would have helped him. Now he’s fucking dead, leaving my sisters and I in this shit hole.” Sandor watched as you turned around to face the wall and played with his handkerchief in your hands.

“You aren’t like the little bird.” You chuckled at him and agreed. You were nothing like Sansa. She was mostly with your mother while you were closer to your father.

“Unlike her I learned how the world works at a young age. I learned what my place would be the moment I bled for the first time. That was the moment I realized that the stories I read when I was a child about kind, merciful kings and honorable knights were really just fantasy.”

Sandor listened attentively as you spoke. You were perhaps the only lady he ever met that spoke the truth and for some reason it made him feel sad. You weren’t a horrible person, you were kind to everyone, especially to him. You deserve the honorable knight and the kind and merciful king. He thought to himself. You’re tough and he liked it but sometimes it bit you right in the ass when it came with Joffrey. Sandor realizes at the moment near the bridge that he likes you and he will protect your sister and you from the monsters living in King’s Landing.

You knew you should have told Sandor something was not right with you as the days passed. You noticed your moonblood hasn’t started for a while but you didn't think anything of it. Your mother has told you when a lady is under tremendous stress and hasn't been eating properly. Her moonblood would often not come.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had a good meal or a good sleep. Sandor would give you his share but you always decline. You knew Sandor needed more than you. He wouldn’t let you lift a finger when both of you joined the group. He hunted for food at dawn with a man who was good with a bow and arrow. He chopped up the woods for the fires every night and morning. Sandor had you stay with Beric and Thoros most of the time.

You haven’t been able to sleep at night as much as you tried to snuggle with Sandor. Sleep wouldn’t come to you. You began to worry as cold chills ran through your body.

“What’s wrong?” Sandor asked when he saw you haven’t eaten your ration yet. You had placed the bowl on the ground as you hunched over near the fire. You tugged the fur cape around you when your body started to shake.

“I’m not hungry.” Beric overheard you and walked toward Sandor and you.

“What do you mean? You haven’t eaten this morning and last night.” Sandor knelt down to get close to your face.

“I don’t feel good.” You whispered as you felt the tears welled up in your eyes. You felt like shit, your body was aching. Your fingers and toes felt like they were going to fall off from the cold.

Sandor stood up and looked over his shoulder to see Beric walking towards him.

“She’s sick.” Sandor told him as Beric got closer.

“Fuck, we past by the only town five days ago. It should be a week until we reach the wall.” Thoros came walking in listening to them.

“I didn’t see a maester in the town we passed.” Thoros told them since he was the one gathering supplies for the group. Sandor let out a sigh, he didn’t see one either but that didn’t mean there wasn’t one for sure.

Sandor came back to you, kneeling down in front of you again as Beric and Thoros stood a few feet behind him.

“Y/n.” Sandor said your name softly trying to catch your attention but you kept staring off into the distance.

“We are a week away from the wall. The town we passed by was five days ago. We don’t know if there is a maester in that town for sure. Are you able to hold on for a week?” When you didn’t answer he grew nervous. He noticed you were dozing off.

“What do you want to do?” He asked, cupping your face trying to get your attention.

“I don’t feel so good.” You mumbled. Sandor felt his stomach drop when he touched your forehead, you had a fever.

“I’ll go back to town and come back as fast as I can.” He said as he got up. His words snapped you right out of your disorientated trance.

“Don’t leave me. Please.” You pleaded, grabbing his hand.

“I’ll be fine. We keep moving forward.” Sandor looked over to Beric and Thoros. You took a deep breath and rubbed your eyes with the palm of your hand. You didn’t want to be away from him.

“Try to eat something.” You shook your head. “For me.” Sandor pleaded.

He grabbed your bowl of warm soup and he sat next to you. Sandor tilted the bowl in your mouth so you could drink straight from the bowl. You didn’t realize you had slept after he fed you. The men from the group watched as Sandor warmed you as you slept, rubbing your arms and back as you leaned against him.

The second day you weren’t able to ride anymore. You were looking ahead when you felt lightheaded. You let go of the reins and fell off your horse onto the cold snowed ground. Last thing you heard before passing out was Sandor yelling your name. The group knew Sandor was at his last wits when you still hadn't woken up on the fourth day. Sandor wiped the sweat off your forehead and kept the fire burning near you. He rubbed your freezing hands with his warm ones. They helped Sandor, carrying you up to get on top of Stranger, Sandor kept one arm around you so you wouldn’t fall off as they kept riding to the wall.

The fifth day, the weather was horrible. The cold wind blew harshly and the horses were growing tired. Beric decided they should set camp when one of the men in the group announced he knew a small cottage ahead. Sandor kept quiet when the familiar cottage came to his view.

Sandor wanted to keep going for your sake but another harsh wind blew and it made him shake. He had given his only fur to you but the fever was growing stronger. Sandor would be up until dawn wiping the sweat from your face. Every hour he would place his head on your chest to hear your heart making sure you were still alive.

He would be anxious as he held you closer to the fire during breaks. His eyes would look away from the flames and stare down at you. He had to be close to the fire to warm your hands and feet. Beric noticed the look Sandor had whenever he was near the fire. He offered to hold you near the fire but Sandor would always tell him to fuck off.

At night he hugged you from behind as he sat on the ground. His back against the tree while the small fire Thoros had made for him was near him. Sandor’s body shook behind you, his forehead pressed against the back of your head. He didn’t want to look at the fire not while he was this close to it.

He knew he had to get over his fear for you, every night he tried his best. He wasn’t going to let you freeze to death so he knew he had too. He tried his best to calm his shallow breathing. He shut his eyes and his mind tends to wander off that night in the tavern where you confessed your love to him.

He didn’t understand why you were sick. Beric and Thoros threw around ideas about your illness. Something you ate, perhaps the water. Ideas were said but in the end they weren’t maesters, they didn't know much. Sandor held you tighter when they got near the cottage. He wondered if the farmer and daughter were still there.

“Let’s stay for the night.” Beric said, the group agreed. Thoros held the door open as Sandor carefully carried you inside. Beric grabbed the blankets from the packs to lay it on the only bed in the room for you.

The rest store the horses in the stable for the night, one by one they enter the small place. Thoros started a fire in the fireplace. He looked over at you in pity as you slept. He shut his eyes and recited a little prayer for you.

“The weather will set us back at least three days.” Beric said as Sandor took off his cape to drape it over you. He sat at the corner of the bed with a sigh.

“I wonder where the farmer went.” Beric said loudly as he placed his pack on the table looking around at the place.

Sandor kept quiet, ‘somewhere safe.’ He thought. At that moment, he looked over to you when you started to moan in pain as you moved around in the bed. Sandor was quick to get up and lean over you. He called your name out as he grabbed your hand but as soon as he did you stopped. Sandor took a deep breath as he tried not to get angry. He felt so useless that he couldn’t help you.

“I can go to the wall now. I’ll take my horse and won’t stop until I bring a fucking maester back here.” Sandor said. He was about to take his cape when Beric shook his head.

“You won’t make it, not in this weather. Be realistic.” Beric told him. Sandor grew mad at his words.

“Then what the fuck do I do?! She hasn't woken up in days. She hasn’t broken the fever. What do I do then? Why don’t you ask your fucking lord of light?” Sandor hissed at him.

“You said we were part of something but she’s dying now.” Sandor cried out as he looked between Beric and Thoros.

“It was probably just a fucking lie you told us. You knew since she’s a Stark that Snow would grant you access to pass through the wall. So you can do whatever the fuck your lord told you to do.” Sandor said.

Sandor didn’t notice but Beric flashed a look of anger. He wouldn’t have done that to Ned’s daughter, he respected him. He respected you.

Thoros looked away from the fire then at Sandor. “Clegane.” He called out.

“Come here. I want to show you something.” Thoros said when Sandor didn’t move Thoros told him, “Don't worry, the fire won’t bite.”

Sandor rolled his eyes as he took a deep breath. If it wasn’t for you being sick he would have killed everyone in this room. He can imagine you trying to calm him down.

“It’s my fucking luck. I ended up with a band of fire worshippers.” He said as he stood up and walked towards Thoros.

“Almost seems like divine justice.” Beric spoke, making Sandor scoff as he stood a few feet away from the fire.

“There’s no divine justice, you dumb cunt. If there were, then you would be dead and Y/n would be well.”

“Look in the flames.” Thoros said Sandor shook his head.

“I don’t wanna look in the damn flames.” Sandor answered back. Thoros sighed.

“You saw me bring him back from the dead after you killed him. Don’t you want to know what gave me the power?”

“Well, I keep fucking asking and no one wants to tell me.” Sandor answered, looking at him and Beric.

“We can’t tell you. Only the fire can tell you.” Thoros told him Sandor rolled his eyes as he walked closer towards the fireplace.

“What do you see?”

“Logs burning.” Sandor blatantly said.

“Keep looking.”

Sandor was thinking about pushing Thoros into the fire for a second but he relaxed and kept looking. He watched as the flames grew. Sandor felt the hair on the back of neck stand up when he saw an image of ice, a wall of ice, the wall that meets the sea. He held his breath when the images started to move.

“Ice, the wall that meets the sea. Thousands of dead people are marching past.” Beric rose up from his seat and walked toward him.

Sandor flinched when the log broke and the fire got bigger. “There’s a wolf.”

Beric and Thoros look at each other. “A big fucking wolf on a mountain staring at me.”

Thoros was about to speak when you started to cough. The men jumped at the sound of it. Sandor quickly walked over to you.

“Y/n!” He calls your name out as Beric hands him a pouch of water.

You felt Sandor’s warm hand on your face as he helped you pour some water in your mouth. You greedily drank the water. You opened your eyes to see Sandor staring down at you worried as he wiped your mouth with his thumb.

“Sandor.” You say his name. “I’m here.”

Sandor can see your chest heaving, you were moaning in pain as you laid back down. He grabbed your hands with his.

“I saw my father.” You croak out.

“And mother and Robb.” You cried to him.

“I miss them so much.” You sob. Sandor bit his bottom lip hard to not cry with you. The sight of you sick and crying. He didn’t like it one bit. He felt so hopeless.

“Tell Jon I love him.” Sandor heard you say. He shook his head and he squeezed your hands.

“You’ll tell him yourself, you hear me. We are almost there.” Sandor tells you firmly. Sandor feels your hands shaking in his. He brings your hands to his mouth and blows into your hands trying to warm you up.

“I love you.” You whisper at him, Sandor freezes when your hands go limp in his grasp. Sandor was quick to lay his head on your chest when your eyes closed. He can still hear your heart beating, it was slow. The group of men stayed silent as they heard soft sniffling from Sandor. They were smart enough not to say anything, for they knew Sandor would kill them for even speaking about you. Sandor laid with you on the bed keeping you warm, he couldn’t stop the silent tears rolling down his face.

Beric was right, the storm caused them to delay for three days. Sandor walked those three days as Stranger pulled the wagon they found in the barn. You laid there with furs and capes given to you by the men of the group. They were 10 miles away when one of the wildlings found them. Sandor had told them who you were and they were quick to let the group in.

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Taglist: @abbiesxox @fruitymoonbeams-blog

#sandor x reader #sandor clegane x reader #sandor clegane #sandor clegane fanfic #sandor the hound clegane #games of thrones fanfiction #games of thrones #rory mccann #Sandor Clegane #smut #sandor clegane smut #Sandor Clegane x reader smut #games of thrones x reader #the hound #got the hound

569 notes · View notes

eddiemania · 2 years

Note

OMGGGGG CHAPTER 2 OF BABYSITTER PLEASE AND THANK YOU

Babysitter (part two)

Part one of “Babysitter„

Description: As your mother's punishment for returning home late that night, you had to work for at least two more weeks. Your body froze when you learned that you had gotten hired to look after your ex-boyfriend's baby sister, but little did you know that Eddie planned to give you a small shift visit (in your exe's bedroom)

Warnings: Unprotected sex, p in v, grinding, blowjob, hair pulling, switch Eddie.

"Oh yes, Mrs. Carver, that won't be a problem," you faked a smile while looking at your mother's death glare. You could swear she was about to snap any minute now, but you tried to be calm and apologetic.

Your ex's mother booking a babysitting appointment with you was certainly something you did not expect and you couldn't understand whether it was because of her trust in you to look after Maya, her youngest, or because Jason wanted to make your life more of a living hell than it already was.

After hanging up, you sighed, your gaze slowly raising to meet the woman's eyes in front of you, "9:00pm to 12:30am, twenty an hour," you tried as much as possible to hide the slight excitement you felt the moment Mrs. Carver announced your payment.

"You were rude, y/n. You should have asked her to lower the budget!" your mother rubbed her eyelids after shooting a glare at you, "I tried but she kept insisting!" you defended yourself, finally able to sit back down on your bed.

"You don't get to keep all that money," your mother argued, following behind you. Your eyes widened, eyebrows connected with confusion. "What? Why?" you questioned as you observed anger flowing through her eyes. "Are you joking? You are punished. Pu-ni-shed." she raised her voice.

"You came home at two in the goddamn morning!" the woman shouted, pacing around the wooden floor of your room, "I told you I fell-" you immediately tried to speak but she cut you off, "Oh so you expect me to believe that?! That you 'fell asleep while working?" she let out in a sarcastic tone, scoffing loudly.

You groaned, giving her a confused look, "Why would I lie to you?!" you raised your hands in the air, "I don't know y/n! That's what I am asking you myself!" your mother groaned before rushing outside your room, with much force closing your door shut.

You heard her intense footsteps walking away before a shout followed, "If you're late this time, forget your friends!"

You rolled your eyes. As if you cared. The only real company you got to have this Summer was your neighbor Bonnie's dog and some of the babies you got to have multiple appointments with.

Truth was that your friend group wasn't dead during summertime. A lot of parties had been held at which you had been invited, multiple times, but ever since you dumped Jason Carver, the entire group looked at you differently.

Maybe deep down they still liked you, some of them at least. You were always kind and polite to them, but some others loathed you, calling you ungrateful and picky as if they were the ones sleeping with him (not that this wasn't their only wish)

And as much as you wanted to worry about the awkward encounter that was about to follow that same evening, having to face both your ex and his entire family, stay in his literal house, your thoughts wandered elsewhere...

His kisses, his fingers, and his tattoos were everything that made you feel the need to squeeze your thighs together at random times that day.

You hadn't seen or heard from Eddie for a week. You specifically asked him to not even dare call your house's telephone. The last thing you wanted was for your mother to find out about how your night involved.

She obviously suspected the likely scenario of what could have held you back that two full hours, but since nothing was confirmed, your subconsciousness was clear.

"y/n,"

You let out a sigh, glancing at the door you had not realized was once again open. Your mother held out a plate that contained a cake, the same one Jason always enjoyed eating whenever he came over.

"What even is this?" you rhetorically questioned the woman as you rolled your eyes, "Is it bad that I want you to bring them something? It's been a while since I had the pleasure of speaking to that sweet boy or his family," she responded, feeling the messages she was sending you behind that sentence.

"I told you me and Jason are over," you repeated for the tenth time this month, a sentence that made her scoff, "Teenagers really don't know what they want," her words made you stand up, grabbing the cake before leaving it on your desk, "I'm actually an adult now," you raised your eyebrows, "Then act like it,"

☾

At 8:55pm you were already standing outside the infamous Carver residence after approximately two months. The plate in your left hand slightly shook as your free one rang the mansion's bell.

A few minutes of you waiting passed before the familiar female figure opened the detail-carved wooden door for you, greeting you with a warm smile on her lips, "Hello sweety!" Jason's mother beamed, gesturing you inside.

"Mrs. Carver, this is for you," you let out a slightly awkward laugh before handing her the cake, her face expressing surprise and admiration towards your mother's action.

"You grew so much since the last time I saw you! What a gorgeous lady my goodness," she placed her hands on her cheeks, making you widely beam, "Thank you so much!"

"Hey y/n" you pressed your eyes together before internally groaning, pulling yourself together in order to turn around and look at his face.

He looked exactly the same ever since schools closed: cock-ish "role model boyfriend" grin, perfectly styled blonde hair, a polo t-shirt, and a pair of white pants.

"Hey Jason," you forced a smile, knowing he would soon leave you alone. Was the thought of staying in his house unpleasant? Yes. Was the thought of staying in his house (a freaking mansion) also entertainingly good? Double yes.

"You better take care of that little demon," he tried to crack a joke to which you did not react, causing his mother to get between you two, "So y/n; Jason and we will go out for dinner. We expect to be back by twelve, but I hope you can understand why I had to add that extra thirty minutes in case we're late or caught up," she explained.

"Despite the time we return, you're gonna get paid for that thirty minutes nonetheless!" the woman shook her hands, making you react instantly, "No you seriously don't need to do that!" you spoke but she softly chuckled, "Oh come on now, sweetheart! Look..."

After taking a sip from her water bottle the blonde looked at you, "Why don't you go wait with Jacy upstairs while I wait for my husband?"

No. No way in hell you would let this happ-

"That's a good idea," Jason plastered that annoying grin all over his face before beginning to step towards the stairs, turning around only when he realized you didn't run after his ass, "Are you coming or...?"

Despite the choices you genuinely wanted to make, there you were, sitting on his bed while glancing at the wall in front of you awkwardly.

If you could choose between ripping your skin out or remaining in that situation, your dermatologist would actually have the pleasure to hear from you very soon.

One thing you did actually notice that was quite entertaining was the fact that he still had the pictures where you two were together hung on the wall.

"So, how have you been?" he broke the silence, the moment your gaze traveled towards him. "Pretty good, how about you?" you questioned, trying to hide the embarrassment you felt.

He beamed before shrugging his shoulders, "I could be better you know," his face approached yours, making you slightly flinch back, "Right," you raised your brows.

"I still don't get it, by the way," the boy groaned, standing up off his bed in order to look at you directly, "What the hell did I do wrong?" he wasn't even mad, it sounded almost like he was offended, "People don't always feel the same chemistry Jason, it doesn't mean you did something wrong," you sighed, really needing to get out of this situation.

"Still. I was perfect to you and you still dumped me like fucking garbage," the blonde raised his voice, making you rub your temples, "Can you just stop-"

His door opened, both your heads turning to look at his father standing against the frame, "Hey kiddos, sorry to interrupt, I knocked but you didn't listen," he explained, his eyes finally following Jason, "You coming?"

He immediately grabbed his basketball team's jacket, placing it over his shoulder before rushing out of the room, leaving you alone with his father.

"You know Maya. If you need anything don't hesitate to call," the male said as you nodded in response, getting off his son's bed, "Have fun," you beamed before he returned it.

Handling Maya wasn't as easy as you expected. Even if she was, or at least used to be a calm child, feeding her was one hell of a ride.

You had been trying to make her shallow her baby cream for over fifteen minutes now, with no result at all. The only thing your "solutions" ended up causing was the girl to throw up all over your top.

You groaned as you stood over the sink, maniacally attempting to get the blouse clean by scrubbing it with dish soap and water, "You little shit," you breathed rapidly, quickly switching between the washing and feeding.

"Bad," the baby mumbled, trying to push your hand away right before it reached her mouth, "Maya, I'm literally begging you, sweety, please!" you were on the verge of tears, about to give up when a loud noise made you jump off your seat.

You looked around, trying to locate the ringing before realizing it came from the living room.

You carefully raised Maya off her seat, taking her into your arms as you walked towards the phone on the wall, which had been ringing for almost a minute now.

"Hello?"

"Do I have to set up an entire master plan to see your pretty face?" your eyes widened, glancing around the room rapidly before your brain signaled your mouth to finally speak.

"Are you crazy?!" you whisper-yelled, making the boy on the other line chuckle, "Are you alone?" his voice was low and playful. You slightly bit your lower lip, trying to sound calm. "Yes, and I'm working. How did you even know I was here?" you asked him as you bounced slightly, trying to calm down the child in your arms.

"Oh well, you know..." you could see the grin he had on his face, "Mr. Munson wanted to reschedule since he was so pleased by your services, Mrs. y/l/n,"

You couldn't help but smile, trying to respond without him catching your guard down, "And?" you asked, "And I was told the number I should dial to contact you. I'm outside, open the door,"

You almost choked at the boy's words, your eyes quickly shifting around at the windows, "I can't do that Eddie! I'm literally working," you argued, "Don't you want an extra hand?" God, you wished you could slap his face right there and then.

"Wait right there."

You hang up, quickly placing Maya back at her food seat. You rushed to the mirror, fixing your hair as a knot began developing in your stomach.

Letting him wasn't right, and you knew very well that it could cause you huge trouble, but the other side of your brain begged you to walk towards that door and open it and soon enough you did so.

"Why does that asshole get to see you babysit shirtless and I don't?" was the first thing he said when he looked at you. You instantly rolled your eyes, looking at the amusement on his face, "Because his sister is a brat and throws up her food, unlike your brother, perhaps," you scoffed, about to rush back in when his arm grabs yours, pushing you against him while his leg struggled to shut the front door.

His lips found yours, making you walk towards the living room with his mouth against you and your neck. You could smell the weed in his breath the minute his tongue entered you.

"I'm glad to see you too, Munson, now let me move," you grinned, pushing him away before running towards the baby waiting for you in her seat.

The boy approached you, exchanging a few looks with Maya and your displeased expression, "It looks just like him..." he scrunched his nose, causing you to slightly chuckle, "Your turn,"

He didn't have time to process your movements before a towel came flying right on his head. "Huh?" Eddie widened his eyes, glancing at you with confusion.

"You came all the way here, so be my guest, plus..." you smiled, approaching him only to place a slow kiss on his neck, "I really, really need a helping hand..." you smirked watching him shut his eyes.

Half an hour and an empty bowl later, Maya had fallen asleep on the table. You quickly ran upstairs, gently putting her in her crib before leaving the room as quietly as possible.

Once you returned, your gaze fell upon Eddie with a cigarette in-between his lips. He sat on the couch, not noticing your return.

You approached from behind, carefully placing a gentle kiss on the softness of his neck, making the boy sigh, "You can't just go M.I.A. on me y/n," he pouted, reaching his hand behind his neck to hold yours, gesturing you to come sit next to him.

You did so, but before you sat down the boy held you, patting his lap while looking at you with pleading eyes, "You know my mother almost murdered me when I came back home," you whispered against his ear, placing affectionate kisses on his face.

The boy simply hummed before connecting his lips with yours, lustfully leaning on the front, his hands securing your back. You couldn't help but let out a small whimper, your hands traveling inside the roots of his hair.

Eddie groaned, holding you even closer to his body, "Did it have to be you to look after that kid?" he spoke stiffly as he kissed you, "There are tons of babysitters in Hawkins,"

You giggled, feeling his hands lowering, "They trust me Eds," you explained, the smile on your face not fading away, "Just because you smooched their son's forehead-" before he could continue his sentence, your hand was placed over his lips, preventing him.

You lowered your head, slowly sucking and marking his collar bone. Eddie's eyes were shut, and his breathing was heavy. "Since there are tons of babysitters in Hawkins," you paused, securing your hips on his, "Why did you hire me then?"

He rolled his eyes, not responding to your question.

"What's upstairs?" he turned to ask you after a little while, a confused look on your face, "The bedrooms, why?" you immediately inquired, observing the misbehaving expression he had on.

"Alright..." he threw you on the couch, kissing your bare belly as he stood over your body. Your hands kept on caressing him, pleasure and guilt both taking over your mind.

"Come here," he groaned, taking you into his arms before approaching the stairs, catching your guard down, "What are you- Eddie!" you whisper-yelled, once again getting no response from him, "Don't even think about it!"

He did, he thought about it.

"Let's see..." the curlyhead smiled widely, opening one of the doors after placing your feet back on the floor, "Parents' bedroom," he uttered, observing the place.

You ran after him, trying to pull him back downstairs, yet with no result, "What's in here?" he ignored your pleads, pointing at the door with his thumb, "It's the baby's room!" you groaned.

"Third room... Three is a lucky number, but not for Carver apparently," he winked, opening the door before pulling you inside, "Eddie we shouldn't be in here!" cold sweat ran down your spine as you looked at the boy wandering around, observing Jason's medals and pictures.

"Aw, look at how happy he is! Was that before or after he shoved me inside that locker?" he spoke sarcastically, causing you to lower your gaze.

His eyes were fixated on one particular polaroid on the wall, where he was kissing your cheek, a big smile across your face. You grumbled, trying to snatch it away when his hand seized yours.

"Poor him," he whispered, lowering his head to meet your eyes, "Right sweetheart?" his words made your cunt ache, your palms grabbing his face in a matter of seconds before you began kissing him.

You started touching him under his shirt, your fingertips brushing the top of his jeans, teasing their way inside. Eddie whimpered, immediately sitting down on Jason's bed, only to drag you down with him.

"God this is so wrong," you shook your head as you carefully got down on your knees, unbuckling his belt, "Jesus at least buy me a drink first y/n," he joked, making you roll your eyes.

As much as he tried though, nothing he said could change the fact that his breaths were slow, and his dick ached the closer your hands got. He observed you quietly, focusing on a small droplet of sweat traveling across your chest, falling right between your breasts.

He raised his hips slightly, helping you take off his jeans, followed by his underwear. When you suddenly acknowledged what had been hidden inside those jeans this whole time, you audibly gasped. He was so large and hard. It seemed heavy. On the tip of his dick was a shiny pre cum droplet.

The hip tattoo you had seen the other day gracefully developed until his upper thigh, portraying a sword.

Your hand grazed over it while he watched your moves with anticipation. "You don't need to do this," Eddie finally spoke quietly, his hand stroking your loosely tied up hair. You leaned against his touch, smiling, "I know."

You frowned as you carefully took hold of him. "What caused all this mess, baby?". You wanted to hear him say it, admit he had been losing his mind the past week he was away from you.

"Please y/n," Eddie begged, which was just enough for you. Your hand began stroking him carefully as you listened to all his moans and praises his mouth let out.

His eyes spun around the room, focusing on the pictures the jock had of you on his walls. How could a piece of paper turn him on so much?

"y/n," he kept panting the faster your pumping became. You raised your eyes up, looking at him with a smile plastered across your face, "What is it, my pretty boy?" you baby-talked him, "Put it- please," Eddie kept shuttering, thrusting his hips at any chance you gave him, "Oh Jesus, please just suck it," he threw his head back, his long hair touching Jason's mattress.

"Hm, I don't know..." you teased, circling his creamy tip with your thumb, "Please baby..." he sighed, making you blush the moment your tongue touched the base of his cock, licking a strand up to the top.

He was red and flustered.

It felt so wrong, but the pleasure you got just from knowing how desperate he was for your touch only increased the wetness inside your panties. You were certain he hadn't done this before, just by the look inside his eyes, and that turned you on.

All the days he had to watch your practice from a distance, feeling that slight attraction towards the cheerleader who definitely saw him as the school's clown and made fun of him together with her jock boyfriend was just overthinking that had finally gone wasted. You were between his legs, sucking him off, and he was enjoying every single second of it.

As your tongue rolled around him, your left hand stocked what you couldn't fit while the right one slid down your abdomen, straight inside your panties in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure you felt.

"Oh sweetheart, first you make me seem desperate and then you start playing with yourself in front of me?" he says, making you realize his head was up, eyes pinned on your movements.

Obviously, he had noticed the change in your pumps after they began weakening and shaking. The moans you let out vibrated against his dick, his fingers caressing your pink cheeks.

"Carver was quite the lucky man, hm?" he grinned, lifting your chin up to make you look into his eyes. Your mouth was wet, a strand of salvia connecting your lips to his dick.

"Eddie please just fuck me," you blurted out, your eyes glossy as you gave him an innocent look, "You are making me paranoid, you know that?" he whispered, a misbehaving smile catching him off guard, "Oh you wanna act slutty around me?" he asked, pressing his cock against your lips.

"Finish me off pretty eyes, inside your mouth."

Your heart beat faster, hands tired and shaking as you began taking him inside your mouth once again. This time the curlyhead grinned, thrusting his hips against your head, making your eyes tear up.

You kept on gagging, his praising leading your hand to move faster inside your panties, "My sweet pure girl..." he breathed, listening to your cries, "Sucking off the freak inside Jason Carver's bedroom," he laughed, "Who would have thought?"

"Eddie-" you tried to say, yet the boy shushed you, "Oh sweetheart I'm gonna- shit," he moaned, "Keep going..."

You did as he told you, the hand in your panties sliding up his thigh for your fingertips tingle his soft skin.

"Holy shit!" his last moan was loud, Eddie's head being thrown behind as you felt his warmness release inside your mouth, pulling away from him.

His eyes fell upon you, quickly shifting towards your spot, "What's wrong baby?" his bangs were slightly stuck on his forehead from the amount of sweat he had developed.

You had never done this before, and as much as you wanted to please him, your teary eyes made him understand your discomfort, "Shh, pretty it's okay, spit it out," he kissed your forehead, rushing towards Jason's desk to grab the trash can.

"I'm sorry," you wiped your mouth, finally able to speak, "Nothing to be sorry about, come here," he hugged you, pulling you up the bed.

His arms slowly guided you to lie down right before he got on top of you, placing sloppy kisses all over your neck, and chest until he reached your lower tummy.

"Eddie..." you spoke, slightly stroking his cheek, " We might get caught," your shame took over your mind, eyes looking around the familiar four walls, "I want to make you feel good, right here."

How could you say no? You needed him and his puppy eyes to remain on top of you, do whatever he wanted to your body.

"Will you let me?" his whispers against the crook of your neck made you wrap your legs around his nude waist. Eddie flinched at the sudden contact before his left hand started lowering the elastic of your sweatpants.

To help him out, you immediately took his shirt off, tossing it on the floor. Eddie's back was to die for. Heavily defined, the chain of his pick necklace getting caught up between his upper muscles.

You were left with your panties and bra whilst he was utterly naked.

You sunk against the soft mattress as the curlyhead kissed the top of your panties, his tongue making its way under the fabric.

"May I?" he questioned, to which you nodded in return, softly placing your hands around his neck. Eddie slid your panties off slightly chuckling, "I can't put them in my pocket this time," he smiled, making you scoff, "I'll still steal them though."

"Eddie."

"Mhm?"

"Behave,"

He grinned, leaving a last kiss on your belly button before crawling higher on the bed. "If you need me to stop, just tell me, okay sweetheart?" he asked, and you instantly nodded.

He sighed as he took his cock into his grip, holding it outside your entrance. The boy slowly entered his tip inside you, enjoying every single sound that came out of your lips.

Eddie reached back down to play with the smooth folds of your cunt. He ran his impatient fingers up and down the tender spot, spreading your spit and arousal.

"I'm begging you, Eds," you sputtered. He was taking his time. You took it upon yourself to push back onto him and rub your cunt against his tip since you were so desperate for his dick.

The boy groaned, catching you unprepared the second he pushed himself all the way inside you, "Ed- oh my- fuck!" you kept moaning, your nails leaving visible red marks all over his back.

"That's it," he breathed, "Take it all, beautiful," his voice was so low and hoarse, you swore it brought waves of pleasure down your needy cunt.

You were struck so deep inside that you could not control your actions. "Look at him," Eddie groaned, grabbing a picture from Jason's bedside table. "I'm the one who's fucking you on this dick's bed."

"I can't wait for the moment you'll have to look him in the eyes, knowing how well I laid you up. How you'll have to admit that Eddie the freak filled your little pussy so well, no one would be enough for you ever again."

You could already feel the pressure in the pit of your stomach tightening. No man, not even Jason, has ever made you want to cum so fast.

Eddie kept thrusting his ink-filled hips against you, your skin slapping and your moans filling the entire room. You loved the contact your two bare bodies made.

"God! Please don't stop!" your pleading went straight to his cock, making him even harder. He loved listening to your whimpers and begs so much that he only wished you two had done this a long time ago...

His desires eventually took over him when his hand flew down your head, making you quickly stand up on your knees. The brunette then grabbed your hips, turning you around before pushing your ass against his hardness.

Your back remained on his chest when suddenly, the emptiness you felt was immediately replaced by his cock. A few hard thrusts later, Eddie slid two fingers on your folds, quickly rubbing your clit as he kept on fucking you.

You couldn't take it anymore.

Your thighs began shaking, a numbing feeling taking over you as you felt that knot in your belly release, pleasure washing your entire exhausted body.

Eddie then immediately pulled out of you, his hand quickly jerking himself off as you watched his cum slowly release, both of you falling behind on the bed.

Curses and prayers both were repeated under your breaths, a huge grin on his face unlike yours. You felt your eyes shutting close from the tiredness, but Eddie noticed immediately.

"Come on sweetheart," he softly laughed, picking up your clothes from the floor before carefully beginning to dress you, "I'm not a doll Eds, I can dress myself," you roll your eyes playfully, "I need a month to recover from the heart attacks," the boy spoke.

"You know what, Munson?" you question as he slides your panties back on, "What?" the boy smiles, "In that case I'll give up babysitting for another career," you laugh, pressing your lips against his nose and forehead, "And what would that be?"

"Cardiology. Now put your clothes on before both you and I get arrested."

TAG LIST:

@natashaashleymarvelromanoff @emmettcullenswife @lunar-flwr @eddiesgirlfrien @irishboobear1d @thxtmarvelchick @cigarettebitch3 @wren-2-d @treedivaeden @apolloapricot @bellasfavoritesweatpants @sarahivi @lsillygirl-blog @fuggiamodaqui @vulcrum332

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic

2K notes · View notes

lovehotelreservation · 4 months

Note

Wait wait the sample prompt sounds real fun tho, if we're still good to request them then I know my vote.

A week in the dog house after an argument has Gintoki at his neediest. If trying to make amends with strawberry parfaits wasn't gonna cut it, then giving you the dicking of a lifetime on Sunday starting at 9:23 AM will !!! (Makeup sex, creampie)

"Man, even a week away from the bed with you has me feeling like K*rito from Sw*rd A*t Onl*ne in that one light novel chapter..."

Upon chugging the last of his Pokari bottle and tossing it over his shoulder, Gintoki rubbed at his eyes with a yawn.

Being awake before 12 in the afternoon was rather early for him, especially on a Sunday.

However...

The moment his hands reached for your thighs once more, the soft plush sensation of your skin against his palms reignited the fire that was usually dulled in his maroon irises.

He did not dare to waste a moment longer, soon sheathing his hardened cock back inside your sopping core, a mess of your slickness and his seed already flooding out from the countless times he had cum inside of you within the morning alone.

Grateful as he was to have a taste of this sinfully sweet sensation, he was most thankful to be able to press his chiseled body right onto yours, his lips hungering to smother down onto yours. Before he went on to indulge himself with kiss after kiss, his eyes met yours--one shutting in a quick wink as he cheekily grinned.

"I'm real sorry for being a moron, but damn after night after night on the couch, I can't wait to stay on top of you all day long!!!"

#gintoki x reader #sakata gintoki x reader #gintama reader insert #gintama x reader #reader insert #7 Days We Freak #Fic #super freaknasty writing

83 notes · View notes

pursuitseternal · 4 months

Text

Give young Astarion “Everything” in this nsfw, loss of innocence update to “Our Blood is Thicker”💞🗡️

Astarion xF!OC (Cordehlia) |E| 3.8K to lose their virginity

Summary: flashback dream to their last night together, their first time together, and the gift they give one another of everything…

CW: losing virginity, outdoor sex, flashback angst, present day wet dreams, and elven recall returning.

Previous Ch | Ao3 link | Masterlist

Chapter 12: Everything

💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞

“Astarion!” Cordehlia called, leaping off her couch in her antechamber and flying into his outstretched arms. He strode in, so comfortable and welcome in his intended’s home. Cutting a fine figure in his doublet of blue and burgundy. The colors Cordehlia always said brought out his violet eyes. He stopped quick as she saw him, waiting and braced to hold her the moment the door to her chamber opened.

He only gave that low, lingering chuckle as he spun them both around. “My darling,” he caressed her ear, planting a kiss on her smile, always so big to see him.

Even five years later since their betrothal. She was just as happy, nay, happier now, than the day he said she would be his.

He breathed, a self-satisfied smirk on his full and handsome face. Releasing her from his arms, he clutched her hands, both in his. Those fingers so smooth and tender and refined. Like the silks and satins she wore. “I just received word…”

“I just got…” she said at the same time.

“You go, my lady,” he faked a gentlemanly bow, pressing her fingers to his lips. “I shall wait with my news.”

“My dress, it has arrived, all the way from Baldur’s Gate. I think even your parents will approve of it. I can’t wait for you to see it, the stitching, the colors, the jewels, it’ll be perfect for our wedding…”

His eyes narrowed, brows softened. Guilt and regret twisting his face in ways he could not hide. Not that he had ever really been good at masking his strongest feelings.

“What’s wrong, Astarion?” Cordehlia held her breath until it burned.

“I… just received word…” his long, pale fingers held a neatly rolled scroll, red wax seal already slit and message already read. “They want me to start my studies to be a magistrate…”

“No…” she shook her red braids so hard, one fell. “I thought they didn’t accept you.” Her smooth voice choked.

“Mother and Father called in a few favors…” he kept his eyes on her face. “This will be good for me, for us. The chance to forge my own way, to make a name for myself out of their shadow. To gain connections and power and perspective so I’ll be twice the High Lord they are once they…”

“Good, cause you sound just like them,” she spat, folding her arms. “And you come bursting in here like that’s astounding news. Like I’ll be happy.”

His hands grabbed for her again, and despite the frown on her beautiful face, she let him. “Don’t you see, I’m doing this for you too. First, my beautiful betrothed, then my wife, the spouse of the most powerful Magistrate in the greatest city in Faerûn, and finally, High Lord and Lady of our people,” he gave one of his sultry, velvety smirks. “There won’t be a soul who wouldn’t kneel at your feet then, my love.”

She stayed rigid before him, those sweetened words teasing at more brilliant hopes and dreams than she dared to envision. “Astarion,” she warned.

“Just think, my darling, you’re in awe of one beautiful gown from the City,” he purred, bringing her closer into his arms again. “Now imagine a whole trousseau, a whole wardrobe brimming with the same or finer clothes for you, one for every day of the year…”

She stepped closer without truly realizing it. Or resisting it. Stopping only once they were belly to belly, hip to hip again. “Perhaps,” she breathed, her tone softening again.

“You would be the talk of the Patiars, the envy of all, my beautiful bride on the arm of the most powerful Magistrate, a title I finally deserve, deciding life and death, freedom and punishment…” his hands stole over her smooth, silken skirts, pressing her pelvis against his, pressure on the sweet curve of her ass in his hands until she could feel his growing arousal.

His desire for her, and for the future he had long dreamed of. It made him… hungry.

“I suppose my gown will hang waiting happily to be joined by other such finery. It’ll only take you a small matter of time to complete your studies and begin, I do not doubt,” she smiled again. Smaller and fainter, but brimming with pride in him.

“No doubt,” Astarion flashed his toothy smile back at her. “But…” he paused, growing still again. “…I leave in the morning.”

Her fingers clawed into the thick fabric at his elbows. “What?” she snipped.

“Term has already started, I can’t delay any longer,” he replied so matter of factly, her stomach sank to her toes.

“So, you’ve come to say… goodbye,” she breathed, face falling into despair before she buried her face into his chest.

His hand swept into the mess of braids on her head, petting through them softly. “We have tonight,” was all he could say, trying hard not to make his voice waver as it was wanting to as well.

She sniffled, hiding her slightly swollen eyes from his sight. Not that he had never seen her cry before, but… tonight felt different. Solemn. Significant.

“Well,” she swallowed, suddenly feeling very warm, very close to his body. “I don’t want to waste a minute of it then getting your clothes all wet.”

That rakish grin curled his lips. “Not with tears, anyway…”

Cordehlia choked on a laugh. “Maybe… we do something… special,” she barely spoke above a whisper. “Maybe… just maybe…”

“What do you have in mind?” he purred, hands sweeping over her back, down her ass to hold her by her hips against him again.

“You sneak into the larder, grab us a feast,” she flicked half a smile in his face. “I’ll take care of the rest. Meet me back here in five minutes.”

“So short a time,” he face screwed in humor.

“I said we won’t waste a minute of it.”

And she disappeared through the door to her inner chambers.

Astarion hurried on light and silent feet. He knew every inch of her house, the fastest ways in and out, the way to the pantry least likely to be seen. And just where the General kept all the good stuff. He grabbed a cloth, stuffing it with dried sausages and cheese, fruits and finally a bottle of Ithbank to share. Enough to sustain them… if they were about to do what he thought.

What he hoped. And indeed, it would certainly be… something.

His heart pounded, hands, usually so skilled, fumbled to tie the cloth into a sack without dropping a thing. Peeking around the corner, he slunk quicker and quieter than he ever had.

Despite the way his cock had grown stiff down one of his trouser legs at the mere thought of what this… something… might be.

He beat her back to her chambers. Setting down his parcel, he took a moment to… adjust himself. Swallowing the groan that came out as he pulled his length against his belly instead, he had to wipe his hand from how much he was already leaking. “Gods,” he cursed to himself.

“Something the matter?” she softly called from behind. He turned slowly, breath catching and eyes wide as he saw her. And he giggled. Her arms were full, blankets and flint box and a bundle of kindling weighing her down. But underneath, she wore that dress…

“You look so… beautiful,” he breathed, and he rushed to her to relieve her of those goods.

So soft as he brushed against her sleeves, the palest green of spring, studded with little pearls and gems bright and small like the stars. Thread, silver like her eyes, wove in patterns all about her body, like little clusters of constellations in the sky.

Cordehlia blushed as he met her gaze, her look was eager, excited, and… nervous, he thought.

“By the looks of things, we are going camping, roughing it, sleeping in the dirt?” he taunted mischievously, arching one of his rakish brows.

“Well,” she purred, clutching the blankets against her breasts and grabbing the pack of food he prepared before heading to the door, “I wouldn’t dream of giving you this… gift under my Father’s roof…”

Astarion groaned, hiding its source by shifting the weight of the kindling and flint box in his arms. But really it was the way her words sent the sharpest, hottest pang right to his groin. And he prayed to every one of the gods he wasn’t leaking into the cream of his tunic before he got to remove it at this rate.

Swallowing he followed her silently, recovering what senses he could as he trailed behind her hem. Once they slipped from the kitchen door, he took a breath of cooling summer air. “So, my darling, where are you absconding with me?” he crooned over her shoulder as they made their way through the gardens towards the trees.

“Not totally sure… maybe just a little patch of nowhere, just for us…”

Not as if she didn’t know every mossy bed in the trees around their homes, as if they hadn’t already stolen kisses and pleasured each other under almost every tree’s boughs in their five years together. As if the grasses hadn’t all been flattened by one or both of their backs as the other sucked or licked their lover in the moonlight…

But such thoughts were not helping the increasingly damp stick inside his trouser’s waistband.

She cut sharply to the left, deeper into the forest, just as he thought she would. Her favorite little spot, a gentle stream nearby, ready access to waters for when they would have to clean up after themselves. This time, he let his heavy-breathed sigh sound for her to hear.

Cordehlia turned, a knowing and desirous smirk on her full and pink lips. The moss here was extra lush, and she quickly began spreading her blankets around in a neat little bed. “Why don’t you start us a fire to keep warm?” she grinned, starting to lay out the provisions he had snatch.

He had never stacked wood or struck a flint faster in his life. Once the fire had taken hold, he wiped his hands together and turned. She stood bathed in starlight and flickering flames, her back to him, hair parted over one shoulder, her eyes soft and beckoning.

A silent ask for him to help her disrobe.

“Oh, my love,” he breathed, closing in on her, hands clasped at her bare shoulders where her gown already began to slide down her ivory skin. He lingered his lips against her neck, pulling her back and rear to brace against his stomach. His hips gave an unbidden roll against her ass. “What will it be then…?” his voice dripping with his desire as his fingers quickly tugged lace after binding lace from the stitching down her back. “My tongue between your legs?” he purred, a heavy sigh making her shoulders rise and fall beneath another tender kiss from him. “Your pretty, pink lips sucking my cock?”

This time she moaned, helping ease her dress from her arms and over her hips. Step by step, she turned to face him, kicking her dress out of her way. “I thought I said something special, something I haven’t done with you before, but… I’d like to…”

He wrapped his arms around her bare back. “You don’t have to, you know,” he said, steadily gazing in her eyes. “I would hate to leave you tomorrow with… regrets.”

“I think I would regret it more if I didn’t give you my…” she paused and blushed and turned to hide her sheepish smile against her shoulder. “My everything. Especially if we will be parted for a time.”

Astarion let his held breath ease slowly, his belly clenching at her coyness, his cock throbbing at her words. “Well, then, my love,” he stroked the breadth of his palm down her supple curves and rounded hips, “your… maidenhead is a gift I have been waiting for, and one I will cherish forever.”

“Cut the silken words, Ancunìn, and disrobe,” she giggled. She turned and thrust her chin at him, that same taunting, defiant smirk on her face he recalled from their youth.

“With pleasure,” he leered back at her, those deep violet eyes locked into her stare as his fingers flew through his clasps and buttons. He watched her chest rise and fall, her own gaze sinking down his front the more of his chest came into view.

She breathed his name the second those long fingers started to free his cock, already the thick pink head prodding out of his waistband.

“Cordehlia,” he returned the amorous tone. One hand tugged off his trousers and kicked off his boots. The other wound into the back of her head, pulling her panting lips slowly to caress his own.

He nearly tripped on his own pants, hurrying to get freed. Especially once those smooth, gentle hands of hers wrapped around his cock and softly palmed his balls. All at once. Tugging up, she steadied him with a laugh that tickled down his throat. “Easy, Astarion,” she whispered into his mouth, “we have all night, remember?”

“One we will never forget…” he growled, his voice so thick, it even surprised himself. They melted as one into the blankets, the scent of her skin and woodsmoke filling his every breath. Her body seemed to cradle him, wrapping him in her arms, clenching his middle with her thighs. That ivory skin even smoother than the Baldurian silks she stripped off just for him.

He wanted to taste her every lick, inhale her every breath, wanted to watched her every reaction to his touch all at once. His mind raced, years of waiting to finally join like this, and he couldn’t help but wish he had read more… done more to ready himself.

But her hands were already pulling him over her hips, her mouth already panting greedily for air as she bucked against him. This embrace was nothing new, he knew the press of her body, the warmth of her mouth and the grip of her hand. He was ready for more. She was ready to give him more.

Everything.

He stole his hand between her thighs, catching her drenched folds, wetter than ever as he parted them. But this time, after a few languorous circles of his thumb over her clit, he delved two long fingers inside her.

Her pulse raged, her muscles clenched taught at the welcome intrusion. They had played little games in their passion, just the brush of his cock against her entrance, just a shallow dip into its heat and warmth once or twice each time before she would squeal nervously.

But not tonight. He groaned to feel her shifting inside, around his fingers, hotter as he sank them deeper, as he withdrew them to thrust them back in a little faster.

As he joined a third finger to stretch that virginal thightness just a bit more before he…

“Gods,” he groaned, resting his head for a moment on the pillow of one breast.

“How does it... feel?” she sighed, her own voice shaking almost inaudibly as he kept a slow and steady pump of his touch.

“Perfect,” he groaned. “Tight and perfect…”

“And all yours,” she breathed and laughed. Her fingers gripped into his ass, urging him closer, so close his cock pressed into those seeping folds. He coated his length in her slick, holding his breath as he guided his own drenched head against her entrance.

He paused, looking into her face, her eyes half-shut, her teeth biting her lower lip, sight glued to watching the small space where they would join. “Please, Astarion,” she moaned, a slight buck of her hips, “I’m ready.”

He gave a slight nod, a gentle kiss into her panting belly, and then rolled his hips. Slowly, her wet and heat swallowed him. The pressure of her core on his head making his breath hitch in his throat, gripping him so tightly, he stopped. Glancing up, he drank in the blush on her cheeks and neck, the way her face squinted in that twist he had seen every time she came undone.

Cordehlia groaned, breath rapid. “Mmm, just a moment…”

He pulled back an inch, slowly sliding in more… and more. His thighs shook, his hips and body craving to fuck deeper, to bury himself to his balls and thrust until he felt nothing but her warmth and wet and pressure was his whole world.

Her hands braced on his shoulders. “Slowly,” she panted, hips screwing beneath him, wriggling for release. “But don’t you stop,” she moaned.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he managed to reply, sliding back easily once more. Half-way in, and he pushed against that pressure that resisted on his head one last time.

Until it eased.

Until she sighed, arching her back, wrapping her legs. “There now,” she panted, trying to steady her voice as if she wasn’t being split apart by his cock. “All mine… all yours…”

Until morning… She pushed the thought from her wandering mind. Easy to do as he hung his head between her breasts and began to gently roll his hips once. And again.

His throat shook each time, little growls as he dragged inside her, back and forth. His breath was hot on her skin, shaking and unmeasured. As if he had been running uphill, but instead he gave little undulations of his hips that sent her careening toward pleasure so quickly through the stretching pain, that fire in her nerves as his cock split her thighs impossibly wide just to fit him inside.

He restrained himself, she could tell, fighting hard to control every little roll of his body between her thighs, every rock of his hips and slide of his belly across hers. Every thought in her mind focused on matching his movements, letting her muscles heat and open and relax to be finally so completely filled.

To ride one another so naturally, fit perfectly, pleasurably.

Arms wrapped around his neck, leveraging her strength as she arched when he hit some spot inside her channel. The cry from her lips made him pause, eyes wide at first in terror, easing to a smile and low laugh as he noticed how her own lips hung slack in a grin. Totally enthralled and consumed.

It was enough to throw him over the edge. But first….

He lowered his mouth, catching her nipple in his lips to give her a long, teeth-dragging suck.

“Ah…” she gasped and quirked and bucked as her whole body shook beneath him. Around him.

Every spasm of her channel squeezed him, sucked him harder than her mouth. Divine pressure that he fucked against, all control, all restraint gone. His own breaths deafened his ears, his own body riding into the ground beneath her, the pulse of his cock against her walls as he finally reached his climax. Too much to control now.

He groaned so loudly, chest collapsing on hers as he spilled into her, groaning and shaking and sweating until every last drop of cum emptied at last.

Still so hot and tight and wet. She sighed, grieving that splitting pressure the moment he pulled away. But he clung to her tightly, face buried in the crook of her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of meadow grass and sweet flowers that covers her skin. He managed to purse his lips on her collarbone for a kiss between dry pants. “I never want to do that with anyone else… not in this lifetime or the next,” he rasped, and he could feel her smile bloom across her face.

“Me neither,” she whispered a reply into the soft silver curls near her face. “But I do want to do it again… now…”

He barely lifted his head, that cunning, desirous smirk canting his handsome features. “Let a man get a drink first, insatiable vixen that you are…”

Astarion jolted awake, the thick air of the Cursed lands still in his nose. Not sweet meadow and woodsmoke. His back was ridged with scars, not nail marks from her clinging to him. His stomach growled in perpetual hunger for blood, not just the aching throb that did still exist between his legs.

But somethings were just like his dream… or was it his memory… was it her memory?

Cordehlia still laid beside him, their skin pressed against one another as they rested in trance. And then, there was the stick of his cum that covered his stomach and thighs.

Cum from his sleep, from his dream of their first time.

Silver eyes batted open, a smile on her face until she looked at his embarrassed grimace. “Oh, Astarion…” she cajoled softly, “did you… did you see my dream too?”

“What do you think?” he tried not to snap, hand trying to hide the way his erection still seeped his seed onto his belly. “That was… our first time…”

“Mmhmm, and I’m ever so glad it wasn’t our last,” she purred, flashing him that same little smirk of seduction before she stuck out her tongue, licking that trickle of cum from where it hung midair from his slit. He groaned, so close to needing more than that to find his release if he wasn’t careful. But Cordhelia gave him another sly little glance as she got up. “Let me help you get cleaned up, my love.” She went for the basin and a rag, wringing out the water before kneeling at his side.

The mighty vampire was still too mortified to watch, to take his arm from where it hid his face in the crook of his elbow. “I can’t believe I just did that…. Last time this happened was the last morning you had snuck into my rooms in the manor… how you had to borrow my cloak that morning to hide yourself as you snuck back after dawn since we got so carried away that morning after…” he waved his dexterous hand over his hips, “…this.”

“Astarion Ancunìn,” Cordehlia froze, rag mid-swipe over his balls, “are you… remembering?”

It smacked him from the inside. The perfect recollection of that morning, covered in his own cum, burning off his morning lust with her lips sucking him clean until he came again…

“Yes,” he replied, lifting his arm and sitting upright. “Yes, I am remembering…”

A sad, relieved, joyous smile danced over her lips. She fell on his body, trapping his face between her palms. Kissing him until he couldn’t catch a breath between her lips, not that he needed one to survive.

Not in the same way he needed her to survive now.

But he had one last little memory. “You never did give me that cloak back, did you?” he chuckled low in his throat, feeling her answering smile.

“Guess I can’t lie now that you are remembering…” she teased, keeping his face so close to hers, she never wanted to let go.

“No, you can’t, my love. You can’t…”

85 notes · View notes

olivexii · 2 months

Text

⁀➷ ┄─ ˑ I . ☆ ──ㅤ Knee Socks

Joseph Descamps x reader

Chapter 1

Masterlist

Warnings: none i don’t think. a lot of awkward eye contact..

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

The radio was blaring through my small bedroom, a mix of song, news, and adverts played as I looked at myself in the mirror. My baby blue dress that landed just above my knees swayed slightly in the wind from the open window.

Starting a new school is always difficult, especially when the one you’re joining is the first co-education school in France. Being one of the only 12 girls joining the school was going to be challenging, but it was the only school my parents would allow me to go to, my older brother already going there.

“Y/N! Hurry up or you’re going to be late.” My mother called as I pulled on my white cardigan and turned off the radio, the September breeze giving me goosebumps.

Making my way downstairs I throw my satchel over my shoulder clumsily before apologising.

“Stay close to your brother today, I don’t know how well you’ll get on in a school like that.” My mother instructed, smoothing out the shoulders of my cardigan.

I nodded in agreement, turning my head to look behind at my brother.

“And you, look after her, I don’t want anything to happen that could stain our name.” Mother said sternly to him.

He rolled his eyes, chewing on a piece of toast and walking past us to pick up his coat.

“Come on then.” He said reluctantly while opening the door.

My mother let go of my shoulders before giving me a re-assuring smile and I left the house with him.

“Don’t talk to me unless you need to, don’t provoke anyone, don’t get into trouble.” My brother, Michael, said as he pulled on his jacket.

I nodded at him before looking down at my feet, black shoes clanking against the pebble road.

The street wasn’t very quiet, a few people walking past with groceries, or riding on a bike. The soft hum of cars from a close road filling the street along with distant chatter.

Soon we arrived at the gates. I stopped as soon as I realised how many boys there, Michael looking back at me in confusion.

Scanning the grounds I noticed two girls stood by a board and relief washed over me. I followed slightly behind my brother in an attempt to shield myself as I walked through the crowd of boys.

He walked over to his friends, greeting them, while I walked over to the only two girls there, no longer able to hide behind my brother.

I felt all eyes on me as I walked towards them, my eyes looking at the ground but occasionally looking up at where I was going.

“Go talk to her!”

“How many are there going to be again?”

“She’s pretty.”

My eye was caught by a boy a few feet away from me, he was tall, had glasses, and was standing with a couple of other people.

I immediately looked back down at me feet once I realised he was looking back at me, his eye brows slightly raised.

“I was scared for a minute, I thought I was the only girl.” I giggled once I had reached the two girls that were looking at the board.

“So did I, I just waited by the gates until Michèle here turned up!” The girl with short black hair exclaimed, “I’m Simone.”

“I’m Y/N.” I smiled back at them both as they nodded their heads.

“It feels like everyone’s staring at us!” Simone says nervously, turning her head slightly to look around.

“They are.” Me and Michèle say in unison before giggling slightly.

“Who was that you walked in with Y/N?” Michèle asks me, tilting her head.

“Oh that was my brother, Michael.”

“That’s handy, having a brother in this school, I wouldn’t feel as scared.” Simone turns back to us with a small smile.

I hear foot steps coming up behind me in the distance, “I think a boys coming over here.” I whisper to the both of them, not daring to turn around.

They both look behind me quickly before trying to make themselves look busy, turning back to the board.

The foot steps still behind me.

“Oh no…” The boy sighs.

“Is there a problem?” Michèle questions him as we all turn to look at him curiously.

“My home room teacher is Bluebeard.” He states, turning to look at us and the board nervously.

“Bluebeard?” I ask.

“Yeah, we all call her Bluebeard.”

“Her? I thought you were talking about a man.”

“I thought Bluebeard would have a beard, but now it seems ridiculous.” Michèle giggled beside me.

The chatter from the boys around us got louder and we turned to see what was happening.

A girl with long blonde hair and a dark blue dress walks through the grounds, her hair and dress swaying in the wind as she carries her coat in her hand.

“Do you know her?”

The boy just shakes his head softly.

Out of the corner of my eye I see the boy from before stand up, his friends encouraging him, and looking our way.

Just then the bell rings, and he stands awkwardly.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

After what felt like an hours long speech from one of the teachers, we finally made our way into our classrooms.

Luckily I was in the same class as Simone and Michèle, which made me feel much more relieved.

They sat down at a desk near the window, me taking a seat close to them as most of the tables were already taken.

The girl from before was one of the last ones to walk in. She stopped at the front of the class, scanning for a place to sit.

We made eye contact quickly before she looked away. She went to sit in front of me, next to the boy from the billboard before.

His feet shuffled against the wooden floor as she placed her things down.

The classroom was bustling, everyone waiting for the teacher to walk in.

I picked up on a conversation to the left of me:

“You can talk to her at lunch?”

“I will, I don’t need you telling me what to do.”

Curiously, I turned my head to look at who was talking before making eye contact with the boy from before. He was leaning on his desk, arms folded as he looked at me through the rims of his glasses. His eyes were shadowed and dark as he looked into mine.

I quickly turned away, embarrassed that I was caught looking at him.

Just then the teacher walked in, an old woman woman with straight posture. The class goes silent as I zone out.

“What’s your name?” ‘Bluebeard’ calls out sternly. I snapped back into reality, scared she was calling on me, but she was looking at the desk in front.

“Annick Sabiani.” The blonde girl stated as she stood up.

“And do you think it’s okay to sit next to a boy? Grab your things.”

Annick reaches down for her bag, but is quickly stopped.

“Not you! Pichon, grab your things and move to the back.”

“Mrs Giraud, I can’t see from the back.” Pichon complained while hesitantly picking up his bag.

“Back row, now!” Her voice pierced.

Annick sat down as he stood up and walked towards the back. I gave him a look of sympathy before he tripped up.

The boy with the glasses laughed with his friends and they watched Pichon. I glared at him and he turned to look at me, his laughs quietening slightly before he raised his eye brows at me.

“Quiet!” Mrs Giraud shouted before I turned back to face the board.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The next class was no different. I still sat alone, Michèle and Simone at the desk to my right.

There was soft laughter and chattering on my left again, except I didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

I zoned out again and next thing I knew Michèle was standing up for a boy named Laubrac.

“But it’s not his fault, he didn’t do it!” She exclaimed as she stood up.

Soon they were both sent out of the classroom, and I turned to look at Simone. She was already looking at me with a nervous smile.

Looking back at the board I felt a pair of eyes on me. Slowly I turned to look, and it was the same boy again, chewing on the end of his pen as we made eye contact.

This time he was the first one to break it, looking back at the board quickly when he realised he had been caught.

I slowly turned away, admiring his features as I did so, before focusing back on the teacher.

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

A/N: i have a habit of writing two chapters then disappearing so hopefully i carry on with this one 😭

#mixte1963 #joseph descamps #vassili schneider #joseph descamps x reader #x reader #reader insert

104 notes · View notes

grottylittlefox · 8 months

Text

How could I ever forget you? Chapter 18

Sebastian Sallow/Professor Sallow × f!MC / reader

Slow burn/fluff/angst, aged up characters 18-mid 20s

Somehow it had taken until your final day at Hogwarts to finally show Sebastian how you felt, and by then it was too late. Years pass and your distance grows stronger, despite your many efforts for him. A surprise encounter at a new job could change things forever. Finding each other once again at the very place you first met, Hogwarts.

Chapter 1: "I guess this is it"

Chapter 2: "Oh how I missed you"

Chapter 3: "Goodbye, Sebastian"

Chapter 4: " think it's time you move on"

Chapter 5: "Professor Sallow?"

Chapter 6: "Welcome Home"

Chapter 7: "You're my good luck charm"

Chapter 8: "I'm more of a butterfly person"

Chapter 9: “What have you become?”

Chapter 10: “I have something for you”

Chapter 11: “Curious”

Chapter 12: “I can never stay away from you”

Chapter 13: “Meet me in the undercroft”

Chapter 14: “Shall we dance?”

Chapter 15: “Maybe I’m just as messed up as you”

Chapter 16: “I need you”

Chapter 17: “Isn’t this a nice surprise”

Chapter 18: “I suggest you quit while you’re ahead”

The days leading up to Christmas couldn't have gone any faster. Before you knew it you were waving the students goodbye on the Hogsmeade station platform, sending them off to the warmth of their families.

You however, were welcoming your family home.

"There it is!" Professor Onai grinned from beside you, pointing ahead at the face of a train pushing through thick white smoke. With a loud toot, the chugging machine came to a halt, the carriage doors springing open.

Out onto the platform stepped your best friend, the person you were missing most in the world, Natty. Wrapped up in a red woollen jumper and her braided hair floating in the wind, she was glowing. Her mother stepped past you, pulling her into a hug, causing you to beam at their joy. However it wasn't long before you were pulled into that hug too, giggling in the cold with your favourite person. Well, second favourite person.

It meant everything to see Natty again, to know she was safe. The admiration you felt for her went beyond words. She was the one person you could really use some advice from right now, but you dare not ask. To run the risk of Sebastian's life was too much. In fact, you hadn't told Natty a thing about his condition, nor the details of your new found closeness. The last Natty heard you were dating Garreth, Merlin you'd better update her on that too..

You hadn't managed to get a word in the whole walk back to the castle, she had plenty to tell her Mother which you of course understood. Besides, something else had your attention as the three of you stumbled through the snow. The lake. Every time you passed it you found yourself hypnotised, it was all but impossible to focus knowing that what you needed could lie beneath the thick ice that still remained in place of rolling waves.

A tight clasp suddenly grabbed your wrist.

"Don't."

Professor Onai's word rang deep, echoing in your skull. She knew something.

Natty turned to her mother, completely baffled at what she was doing.

"What's going on?" She said cautiously, aware that clearly her mothers gift had come to use.

"I don't know what you're thinking of doing down there, but don't." The Professor paused for a moment, slowly closing her eyes. "I sense only danger, the darkest and coldest kind. Happiness being snapped away in an instant. You.... And someone else."

There was a silence between the three of you. A real dampener on the joy that was ringing just moments ago.

"Mother, please not now-" Natty broke the silence.

"No-" you interrupted. "I understand, I- I won't," you lied.

The Professor nodded to you, snapping out of it in a instant.

"Don't look at me like that!" She said to Natty with a chuckle, as the two of them made their way towards the castle walls. You lingered behind them a couple of paces, your mind spinning about what this could all mean, attempting to process.

"I uh, have somewhere I need to be. I'll see you at dinner?" You called out with a smile as they approached the door.

Natty nodded and waved, mouthing the words 'I'm sorry!" as she closed the door behind her.

You went to the only place you knew could provide any solace right now, the undercroft.

~~~

As you sat in the corner of the candlelit chamber, your thoughts scoured for any kind of answer.

Did you even believe in divination anyway? Sebastian always insisted it was a load of rubbish.

But what Professor Onai said, it was so.. specific. 'You and.. someone else' that someone else obviously being Sebastian. Danger in the lake, it was all.. worrisome.

There was nobody to confide in, you certainly couldn't tell Sebastian. And Natty, oh Merlin would you be in trouble for dabbling in all of this if she found out.

Perhaps you shouldn't dabble at all?

But Sebastian.. he'll...

It was an endless cycle, a cycle with no answer. And somehow you had let this cycle eat away at you for hours, as before long it was already time for dinner.

~~~

Wandering through the practically empty halls, you tried everything you could to push it all to the back of your mind. To enjoy one nice evening with your friend was all that you needed, and this gruesome prophecy was not going to ruin that.

You thought for a moment that you might have missed it as you stepped into the Great Hall, before remembering that most of the students had left for the holidays. Despite the room being completely empty, rows and rows of delicious food still remained, completely untouched.

A soft touch graced your waistline, luring you back in to the little room that stood between dinner and the halls of the castle. You didn't need to turn to know who it was, this gentleness had become oh so familiar, like returning home. Breath tickled your earlobe as a chin arrived on your shoulder, guiding you behind the door to remain out of sight.

"Sebastian.." came from under your breath. He said nothing, but you felt a grin stretch across his face at hearing his name. His fingertips exploring your waist further, you gave in, turning to face him as he pressed his forehead to yours. Interlacing your hand with his, you played with his fingers, letting out the smile you'd been trying to hold back.

"What is it?" You whispered with a blush, as if nothing of note had had you in crippling despair for the past few hours.

"Spend Christmas Eve with me?" He whispered back, his eyes begging you to say yes.

You were melting into him. It was hard to believe that this was the same man who was ignoring you just a few months ago. But you knew it was too good to be true, after all. He could be ripped away in an instant if you didn't hurry up and find this item. You wished more than anything that you could enjoy a single moment with him without reality plaguing your mind. A harsh reminder of how much you had to cherish this, before it was too late.

A quick 'ahem' interrupted your reply.

"What an interesting development," said a smug looking face, eyes filled with thrill.

"Natty-" Sebastian replied awkwardly, stepping back a little but keeping your fingers intertwined with his. "It's good to see you again."

By now you were looking like a tomato, blushing the deepest red, your eyes still glued to Sebastian.

"Come, MC. We have much to catch up on," Natty teased, gesturing you to follow.

Reluctantly you pulled your hand away from his, turning to Natty as she wandered into the hall.

Sebastian however, wasn't having it. With a gentle but powerful grip on your forearm he pulled you back in, bringing his hand to your cheek.

"I didn't get my answer."

"I think you know it's always yes."

~~~

"FINALLY!" Exclaimed Natty, a little too loud over the table, absolutely thrilled at the news that you and Sebastian were at last... something.

There was however a slight issue with the news, the entire story you just told her was a lie. You couldn't exactly tell her the truth, that Sebastian was cursed under an unbreakable vow, that his whole engagement was a sham. A little fluffed up story about how he had a change of heart would do much better in Natty's ears.

You'd become a bit of a frequent liar recently, which before all of this, was entirely out of character.

But was it? You'd spent a good portion of your life lying about, or to Sebastian. Lying about being completely fine with his engagement, pretending you'd never even had feelings for him in the first place. And now you're here, lying to your best friend because of those feelings. Lying to Garreth, lying to Sebastian again about not getting involved and now lying to yourself. Telling yourself it would all be okay, telling yourself you can save him.

Professor Onai's voice whispering in your head.

Can you really save him.. or are you doomed to fail?

~~~

It was Christmas Eve at last, and you stood outside Professor Sallows office door, balancing a tray of cookies atop a neatly wrapped gift.

Before you could even reach to knock, the door swung open. Sebastian stood before you, grinning ear to ear at the sight.

"Come in."

He lead you through and you carefully placed the cookies and gift on his desk. Candlelight flickered through the cinnamon smelling room as the fireplace roared in front of blanket covered sofa. With the same pile of books you'd left there sitting on a coffee table accompanied by two mugs of swirling hot chocolate.

"Is that for me?" Sebastian whispered eagerly, pointing to the gift like a little boy on Christmas morning.

It killed you to be a disappointment, but you had to tell the truth.

"The gift is for Anne, but the cookies are all yours," you said, perching on the edge of the sofa.

Despite your expectation, hearing the gift was not for him but for Anne only sent a soft smile across his lips. He sat down on the sofa beside you and took a breath. His hands traveled up towards you waist, closing you in as he pulled you forward. Before you knew it you were piled on top of him, laying across the sofa with his hand buried in your hair.

Your ear to his chest, the only thing breaking the silence was the rhythmic beating of his heart, and his slow breathing that raised your body ever so slightly.

"Thank you," he whispered, so quietly you weren't sure you were even meant to hear it. You also weren't sure what exactly he was thanking you for. The gift for Anne, or for just being there?

The Sebastian you knew before had entirely crumbled to dust, the hard exterior was no more. This man needed someone, someone to confide in, someone to hold him, and that someone was you.

You lay in bliss, intertwined under the heat of fire. Focusing only on the here and the now, making every attempt to forget the stakes that brought you here.

"As much as I'm truly enjoying this," Sebastian said softly. "I'd really like a cookie."

You sat up, beaming at him. He was absolutely adorable. His hair all disheveled from your fingertips, his freckles highlighted under the warm light. Tonight felt different, like you were seeing a side of him you hadn't yet, or at least not since you were students.

He reached over the cookies and took a bite, his eyes glowing as the taste hits his tongue.

"You did good."

And once again that smile left you a red stuttering mess.

Your eyes wandered over to the pile of books you still hadn't read, the ones Sebastian had forbid you from opening.

"May I?" You asked, reaching over to the top of the stack.

He chuckled, crossing his leg over the other.

"You don't need my permission. But treat yourself, since it's Christmas," he winked. "Besides, like I said.. there's nothing in there of note. And I know what you're looking for."

"What makes you so sure?" You said back, a hint of tease on your lips. You were certain he didn't know, not the specifics anyway.

He rolled his eyes with a smirk.

"Unless you have a sudden passion for archaeology, I think I know what you're doing."

"And I think I know more than you realise."

Sebastian leaned forward, his lips hovering yours, his eyes jet black.

"Then I suggest you quit while you're ahead."

Something in your brain switched in that moment. The tone of his voice seeping with desire. There was something so wrong about the way he just spoke to you, and there was something even more wrong about the way it made you feel.

Was it protective, was it a lack of faith? You didn't know. You only knew it filled you with fire, a need to keep going, a need to disobey his wishes.

The hunger inside of you only allowed for one thing, and that was pushing your lips against his. He met yours with a bite that travelled down to neck as he lowered you under him.

You were finally alone, no consequences, no interruptions. Nothing but pure desire that reflected in the heat of the fire beside you. You were all of each other, and nothing in the world could stop you.

~~~

Your eyes fluttered open as streaks of light soaked through the stained glass window. Quickly your mind began to piece together the memory of where exactly you were, which was all confirmed when the strong arm wrapped around your body tightened. Sebastian.

Cramped together on his office sofa, you lay in nothing but his button up shirt that he was wearing when you arrived at the door.

Merlin, this was not how you expected the night to go, but you were not even a little bit mad about it.

Sebastian whimpered in his slumber, his bare chest pressed firmly against your back. If only you could have stayed there forever. But you couldn’t, it was Christmas Day, and Anne was waiting for you.

You shuffled under the blanket, rolling over to face him. Your eyes followed the freckles across his face, you’d never had the chance to admire him so close, and somehow at such a distance he was even more perfect.

“Sebastian,” you whispered. “Merry Christmas.”

You placed a gentle kiss at the tip of his nose, prompting his eyes to blink open. Sebastian sighed out a smile as he focused on you, taking in the reality of you wrapped in his arms.

“I don’t think I could have dreamed of a better gift than this,” he chuckled under his breath before leaning his lips towards your collarbone and placing a soft kiss upon you.

As he did so, your gaze floated across the room, eventually landing on the clock above the fireplace.

“Merlin, we’re late!” You said, sitting up and attempting to cover yourself with the shirt hanging from your shoulders.

“Noo” Sebastian whined, trying to pull you back down into his arms.

“Stop it,” you giggled. “We have to see Anne.”

Sebastian’s eyes widened as he remembered the reason you were there in the first place. Nothing in the world would allow him to let down his sister, not even another day with you.

~~~

You had planned to take the floo system to Feldcroft from just outside of Hogsmeade. Originally however, the plan was to fly, but the heavy snowfall was simply not permitting.

Sebastian dragged you out of the castle, hand in hand and giggling. He couldn’t get enough of you, and the memory of you at his mercy the night before was fogging his rationality entirely. The emptiness of the castle grounds had given you both a sudden confidence, a chance to just be without the prying eyes of students.

All that consumed your mind was him, him and only him. That was until you stepped foot onto the crystallised path of ice that lead the way over the place you’d tried your hardest to forget about. The lake.

Once again that prophecy rang in your ears, causing your eyes to shift out of focus and your arms to stiffen. It was as if you’d forgotten entirely what was really going on.

The muffled sound of Sebastian’s voice lingered past the ringing, not quite able to reach your train of thought.

“MC…MC?”

You snapped out of it, suddenly facing Sebastian head on with his hands gripped upon your shoulders.

“MC? Are you alright?” His eyes filled with worry.

“What? Yes- sorry, I just zoned out there,” you stuttered.

Sebastian’s arms quickly reached under you, scooping you up like a princess. You had no idea what compelled him to do such a thing, but it was just what you needed to bring you back to reality. The warmth of his cheeks was so enticing in the icy wind, luring you to place your frozen lips against them.

Suddenly he picked up the pace, and started running away from the castle with you still clinging onto him.

“Sebastian!” You cried, unable to contain your laughter. Although you weren’t quite sure why, as you were certain this would end in disaster.

And you’d be right, he barely made it 10 metres before sliding on the frozen path. Squeezing your eyes tightly shut you buried your head into his neck, preparing for impact.

Sliding down he somehow maintained balance before coming to a halt, standing deadly still on a slope as you hung on for dear life.

“See, I’ve got you,” he panted with a smug expression.

Oh how he’d eat his words.

With one little step he came tumbling down, gripping you tightly as he slipped backwards. With a roll, he landed directly on top of you, cheeks flushed and hair covered in snow.

You stared at each other for a moment, before erupting into laughter. Collapsing into each other with such warmth the ice around you could have simply melted away.

This, this was how it was supposed to be.

~~~

You finally arrived at Feldcroft, covered head to toe in snowflakes. Still feeling rather giddy from the events of the day, you turned to Sebastian with bashful smile, hoping to be met with his in return.

But you were not.

What was a confident charming man just moments ago, had been replaced by a haunting sombre figure.

“Sebastian..” you began, gently touching his arm compassionately.

“I’m alright, it’s just hard… being here.” He rubbed his face with his palm, avoiding any eye contact. “Do you mind if I, go in first?”

You nodded.

And so you watched Sebastian approach the Sallows front door, the first time you’d seen him here since… then. He hesitated his knock, but was met with the door opening and being greeted by the nurse he had mentioned.

“Sebastian,” you heard her say in the distance, behind the whistling of the wind. You watched as Sebastian slipped inside, leaving the door slightly ajar for you to follow.

You weren’t really sure how long you should wait, a minute or two? Maybe longer? Standing in the snow for a while, you took in the sights of the sugarcoated highlands, reminiscing on a time when things somehow seemed much simpler.

You couldn’t wait to see Anne again, you’d missed her dearly. And you certainly couldn’t wait to see the look on her face upon finding out that you and her brother were now an item. Despite your eagerness, you waited longer, not wanting to intrude on their private time despite how bitter the temperature was becoming.

As you zoned out into the views, a little voice called out to you.

“Come in, dear! You must be freezing out there!” It was the nurse, huddled behind the door.

You approached, thanking her as you reached the warmth at last. After closing the door behind you, you spotted the back of Sebastian’s head sitting at a bedside, the snowflakes still sitting in his messy locks.

“Anne!” You called out excitedly, gift in hand.

You were met with the turning of Sebastian’s head, his expression a look you’d never seen on his face before. An expression you hoped you’d never see.

And then you saw her, Anne. Or what remained of her.

The air swept out of your lungs as you approached the corpse like figure sunken in the bed before you.

She was unrecognisable, her skin a colour you couldn’t even describe, her hair the texture of wire. The Anne you knew was far gone, all that remained was the shell of a person who was too weak to even be. To even communicate. Just looking at her triggered the picture of inferi that you’d buried deep in your memory, something she now resembled more than a living human. It was utterly sickening to see somebody you once knew become… this. To know she was still suffering.

And then it hit you. You knew completely and truly why Sebastian did it all. In fact, for the first time you agreed with him.

This wasn’t about just saving him anymore, this was about Anne.

You had to do it for Anne.

#sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #harry potter #harry potter hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x reader #hogwarts legacy fanfic #fanfic #professor sallow #harry potter fanfiction

148 notes · View notes

shewhohangsoutincemeteries · 4 months

Text

once again, we've reached a new year, and while I can't guarantee a new me who might actually release new fanfiction with some semblance of regularity, I can promise that I will keep writing and posting as often as my life allows. I want to thank all of you who read, like, respond and especially reblog my work, and I hope that you enjoy anything on this list you may of missed, and keep enjoying the new work I keep on posting. happy new year everyone!

full content warnings and content can be found on each individual post, and each fic is labelled for length. follow me on bartonstark to find all my fic in one place, or check out my ao3. smut/sexual content: *** personal favourites: ///

BRUCE BANNER:

interlude (ficlet) *** you steal a heated moment with bruce in the lab.

BUCKY BARNES:

keep quiet (ficlet) *** /// against his better judgement, bucky lets you seduce him in a public place.

warm embrace (ficlet) bucky takes pity on you in the cold.

CLINT BARTON:

appreciation (oneshot) *** /// you borrow clint's shirt and he shows you just how much he approves.

make your move (oneshot) /// you discover clint's real feelings for you and dare him to do something about it.

stay still (ficlet) clint comes to your aid after you're injured on the battlefield.

whatever you need (ficlet) *** /// after a mission gone wrong, clint gives you everything you need.

MARC SPECTOR:

bubble bath (ficlet) sometimes, self care includes bubbles.

starving (ficlet) *** marc has alternate plans for dinner.

NATASHA ROMANOFF:

smile (ficlet) you distract natasha in the middle of a meeting.

PETER QUILL:

chilly (ficlet) /// you're not quite used to just how cold it is in space.

rom-com moment (ficlet) *** even a storm can't convince quill to keep his hands -or his feelings- to himself.

STEVEN GRANT:

raindrops keep falling (ficlet) a busted umbrella leads to a meet cute.

TONY STARK:

downpour (ficlet) *** tony has his way with you against a window as you watch the rain.

favor (ficlet) you convince tony to finally get some rest.

ink (ficlet) you surprise tony when he finally comes home to you.

missed you (ficlet) tony wakes you up in the middle of the night.

most people (oneshot) /// tony can't believe you're the kind of person who doesn't like hugs.

pride (ficlet) *** tony takes a lot of pride in what he does to you.

voice of reason (ficlet) in a reversal of roles, tony's the one to convince you to go to bed.

waking up with you (ficlet) *** tony has only one thing on his mind in the mornings.

THREESOMES/POLYAMORY:

ladies first (clint barton x natasha romanoff x reader) *** /// natasha has strict rules when it comes to play.

plaything (tony stark x marc spector x reader) *** /// you invite an old boyfriend to help teach your new one a lesson.

SERIES:

just to be nearby (peter quill x reader) *** /// months after the battle of earth, peter is still wallowing in his loss of gamora. he begins to find comfort in you.

just to be nearby

closer still

to ashes chapters (full series, this year's chapters in bold) *** /// after the snap, you volunteer to track down clint and bring him home. instead, you join him on his mission for blood and find yourself growing closer to him... prologue - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 - 28 - 29 - 30 - 31 - more coming soon

tag list: @lovely-dreamer19 @wittyforachange @wefracturedmotivation @january-echoes @glossyloner @capitalnineteen @youclickedthislink @s0ftness @castieltrash1 @drakelover78 @queenoftheunderdark @fandoms-pizza-wifi-ym13 @lol-you-thought @sebbystanlover-vk @trekkingaroundasgard @mikariell95 @csigeoblue @abrunettefangirlnerd @babyblues915 @aar-journey @moistpotatobear @bellamyblakemorley @diesinspanishbcimhispanic @sentimentalalien @agustdowney @akumune @xxboesefrauxx @ccbsrmsf1 @patheticallysentimental @loki-is-loved @blue-chup @darsynia @katsies @youralphawolf72 @maenji @rhymesmenagerie @gwianasky @melaclintbartoncorner @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @marvelwomen-simp @bombardia @bellarkeselection @hollymac79 @dragon-chica

134 notes · View notes

agent-cupcake · 3 months

Text

Flashbang

Chapter 3 - My Ugly

Spotify Playlist / All Chapters / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 /Chapter 7/ Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 pt.1 / Chapter 9 pt.2 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12

Pairing: One Piece Live Action Buggy x f!Reader

Synopsis: You have a lot of uncomfortable, complicated feelings about yourself, your life, and Captain Buggy. Buggy has a lot of comfortable, uncomplicated feelings about using you for cheap entertainment.

Word Count: 7.8k

Notes: My dearest says that this is her favorite chapter so far and I'm inclined to agree. It's almost 8k of sexual harassment in the workplace peppered with reader being Not Okay and Buggy riding that line of silly goober and sexy bully. Hope you like it as much as we do~

“I don't care if it hurts meI want to be worthyThe world to be thirsty for meI will grind night and dayLike a cosmetic slaveTill you're 6 feet down bad for me”

Dad liked to go out at night. More often than not, the big grandfather clock’s little hand hovered in the uneasy in-between of eleven and one before he got back. Drinking, usually, although you knew that wasn’t all he did when he was gone. He said it was business. Now that you were older, you understood that the two of you lived beyond the means of a retired Marine, but you never cared to know how. Dad wouldn’t have told you anyway. It wasn’t your place to know. Your place was curled up on the hearth as the fire burned down to cinders, dutifully waiting for him to return in case he needed something from you.

This wasn’t at all the same. This was a job. A duty rather than an obligation. The sense of hot determination from earlier had yet to fade. You were going to make yourself irreplaceable. You were going to be the best. You would not fail Captain Buggy or Cabaji—you would prove everybody wrong. You had to. There was nothing else.

To that end, Captain Buggy’s bed was made, the room was tidy, you knew what to use when removing his makeup, you knew where everything was kept. That didn’t stop nerves from buzzing in your stomach like angry bees, or keep your skin from crawling at the idea of being alone with Buggy after everything Crina and Cabaji had said. You tried, as surreptitiously as possible, to find Crina’s missing dress, but to no avail. It left you thinking that maybe you were just confused. Even the parts of last night that you could remember were hazy, and then there were the many, many things you didn’t dare to remember. So how could anyone—let alone people who weren’t even there—assume something inappropriate happened? If anything, you were the one in the wrong for imposing on the captain like you had.

Another reason that you had to prove your worth. You repeated that over and over to keep yourself from spacing out, to remain focused so that you would be ready when Captain Buggy came back. It made the span of minutes feel like days, but paid off because you were on your feet before he even had the door all the way open.

“Good evening, Captain Buggy,” you said respectfully.

He kicked the door shut, not acknowledging you. Too busy mumbling under his breath as he stomped through the antechamber. You followed quickly, a sick pit forming in your stomach. It seemed the poor mood from earlier had not only returned, but gotten worse.

“-buncha talentless idiots. Good for nothing, rotten lot of-” Buggy paused, shrugging his coat partially down his shoulders. He stayed like that for a moment before snapping. “Well?”

“Well?” you echoed nervously. You hadn’t prepared for this.

“Don’t just stand there looking stupid, take my coat.”

“Right, of course. Sorry, sir,” you told him, rushing over to take his coat as he roughly shrugged it off.

“I hope you’re not as useless as everyone else on this ship,” he said. “I can’t deal with another failure.”

“I’m sorry, Captain Buggy,” you said, hanging up his coat while he removed his gloves.

When you turned, he threw them at you without looking. You tried to catch them, but missed. Only having one eye made it difficult to judge where things actually were, and your fist closed around empty air while his gloves thumped to the floor. Buggy seemed too lost in his own world to call you on it as you stooped down to pick them up.

“I’m a clown, not a goddamn miracle worker,” Buggy continued, pulling off his hat and headscarf. Finally free, his hair flopped down, creased from being up all day. To your surprise, the bits of what looked like ribbon were entwined with his hair, only adding to what looked like an absolute nightmare to try and sort out. Absently, Buggy smoothed and tied it back. “Nobody is prepared. Rehearsals start tomorrow and, frankly, I’m not optimistic.”

Scowling, he tipped into his chair, legs outstretched, elbows on the rests, and his chin resting on his fist.

“I could put out a casting call next time we make it to port, replace some of the dead weight,” he muttered.

Since he didn’t sound like he was talking to you, you remained silent as you knelt to remove his boots. What you realized right then, what you hadn’t stopped to consider, was that his boots weren’t the kind with laces, they needed to be pulled off. You frowned, grabbing his foot and getting a solid grip around the heel.

“-check their egos,” he continued, paying you no mind as you tried to wrestle his boot off. Unfortunately, Buggy didn’t seem at all inclined to point his toe and make it easier for you. “I really can’t stand divas.”

You adjusted your grip to get better leverage, bracing the sole against your chest and pulling at the ankle.

“Every idiot with a deformity and shitty act thinks they’ve got what it takes to be a star. They’re lucky to have the chance to be in my show.”

Taking a big breath, you pulled hard. His boot finally came off, but the amount of force you had to use nearly knocked you over. Luckily, you managed to avoid that particular embarrassment. Setting it aside, you grabbed his other boot, mentally and physically bracing yourself to wrestle it off.

“They have no idea of how much blood, sweat, and natural talent goes into perfection,” Buggy continued, continuing to ramble to himself. This time, you avoided falling, but only narrowly. It was good that he was so distracted. “Without me, they’d be nothing. They’ll be nothing anyway, if they keep this up.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, you stood up to set his boots aside. The next part was the one you had been dreading ever since Cabaji told you about it—removing the captain’s makeup. Oil remover first, then soap and water. Mind the lashes, don’t get anything in his eyes. Mentally, you added Crina’s reminder about not drawing any attention to his nose.

Your problem with the idea of it at first was that standing so close to Buggy seemed intimate, but now you worried about his reaction. Buggy was still muttering to himself as you washed your hands and filled a bowl with water, angrily staring at the wall. So far, his ire hadn’t been directed at you, but that could change. Very easily, that could change, and you knew what happened after that.

If you worked quickly and didn’t mess up, then everything would be fine. Telling yourself that over and over, you took everything to his desk. That drew Buggy’s attention just like you feared, but his muttering had stopped.

“I still don’t know what I’m going to do with you,” he said.

You froze. “Captain?”

“It’d be nice if you had some sort of skill. Anything, really… You sure you’re not holding out on me?”

You set down the bowl and bottles before holding out your empty hands with your fingers splayed, showing him the fronts and backs. “I’m not holding anything, sir.”

“No kidding,” Buggy said. To your relief, he finally cracked a smile, pressing his hand against yours. “How could you hold anything with those tiny little doll hands?”

You drew back with a frown, your shoulders curling. He sounded like he was teasing, but it reminded you of what Crina said about stunted development. Pushing that thought from your head, you picked up the cloth, but he stopped you.

“Ah, ah, ah. That shit’s messy. Clothes first.”

“Clothes?” you asked.

“Yes, clothes. My clothes,” Buggy said slowly, like you were stupid. Your only response was to look at him uncertainly. “Take them off.”

“Right, of course,” you said with a little shake of your head, stepping in closer. Standing between his legs. He was so indifferent to personal space, yours or otherwise, so it wasn’t as if it was a big deal. It wasn’t. It was fine. Completely fine. It wasn’t as if there was anything strange about this. There were many nights when your dad was too drunk to take off his clothes and you had to help, this was the same thing.

Except that it wasn’t.

With Buggy sitting, you were a tiny bit taller, finally seeing eye to eye. His were so pretty. Disarmingly so, their color divided between the ring of blue encasing the green haloing his pupil. You tried to avoid them, tugging your bandana down a little more to cover the scar before undoing the loose knot of his cravat. Last night, before the alcohol really even set in, you remembered wishing to see more of his neck. Now you were almost afraid of it, overly aware of your awkward, fumbling fingers as you tugged the fabric loose. His neck was pale and smooth, nothing like the wrinkled, leathery tan your father had after years as a Marine. You couldn’t help but let your gaze slip over the pronounced shape of his Adam’s apple, following the strong lines of tendon that descended into his shoulders, down the valley between his collar bones to the trail of hair that disappeared into the deep V of his vest.

“This isn’t a peep show,” Buggy said.

“No, I…” You cleared your throat. “I’m sorry, sir.” With careful hands, you folded the scarf and set it aside. He wasn’t wearing an undershirt, so the vest was all that was left. Buggy leaned back so you could undo the front, saying nothing. Part of you wished he would, just to break the tension. It wasn’t weird. You had seen shirtless men before. Cabaji hadn’t been wearing a shirt and that was fine. You were a pirate now, you had to get used to seeing skin.

It was different though, with him. Of course it was, because you made it different. Wiry as he was, Buggy wasn’t boyish in the way you almost hoped for. The word your brain supplied was adult, not because of the difference in age or size, but because he physically existed in a way you didn’t. There was no curious dip where his neck met his shoulder, and hair trailed all the way down his torso. He was solid. A man. Standing in front of him instilled a very odd sense of vertigo within you, like drowning. A wave of nausea rolled from your stomach all the way to your head, the sickness of shame and something else, something worse.

“I’m sorry,” you said again, your face burning as you turned to put his vest aside.

“I was just kidding. It’s not a crime to admire a work of art,” Buggy told you with a lopsided grin. “You’ve only got one eye anyway, it barely counts.”

“I wasn’t… I don’t mean to,” you said, wishing to be anywhere else. You tried to distract yourself by dousing the cloth in oil, but you could still feel his eyes on you, watching your awkward movements.

“Jeez, relax a little,” Buggy said, grabbing your shoulders to give you a shake. “I know it’s a huge honor to serve me and you’re scared you’ll mess it up, but I’m not gonna bite your head off or anything.”

“I know,” you said, unable to look him in the eye and knowing better than to look at his nose but also unable to look down at his body. The middle ground was to look behind him but that was just as awkward as anything else.

“Just be careful, I wouldn’t wanna end up with an eye like yours,” Buggy said, tapping the bottom of your chin playfully before closing his eyes. Being spared of his gaze helped, at least.

“Yes, sir.”

Taking in a deep breath to steady yourself, you held his head in place with one hand and began to clean his face, starting at the top and working down. You could only imagine how long it took to draw on the crossbones, but the oil made quick work of them. And then the blue, cleaning up the sparkles. You took extra care to be gentle around his eyes, but he didn’t react at all, sitting still as you peeled off the lashes with the aid of more oil.

Without anything else to distract you, your thoughts of last night only spiraled. Now that you were so close to him again, you had vague flashes of sitting on his lap, although you weren’t sure if that was real or not. Hopefully it wasn’t. The embarrassment would eat you alive. And then there was your conversation with Crina. In your head, you had tried very hard to imagine what he might do or say, how he might react if you asked what happened. It was just in case. You needed to know that Crina was wrong, that the entire crew was wrong. You knew, and Buggy knew, that he would have no interest in you. So you would say what you needed to say, confirm that you were right, and move on.

“Captain Buggy?” you asked, pausing to adjust the rag.

“What?”

“About last night… I had too much to drink, and I know I was being annoying and I know that we… um… and that I…”

“Does any of this have a point?”

“Oh! I’m sorry. Nevermind,” you told him, shaking your head and refocusing on finishing your task.

He opened one eye to give you a flat look. “No, no, you can’t just leave me hanging.”

You sighed, carefully working on the corner of his red smile. You remembered, distantly, having drunk thoughts about his stubble, and you were right about it being rough. “It’s just that I can’t remember everything that happened last night,” you said, “but I remember enough to know I embarrassed myself. I’m really, really sorry if I put you in an uncomfortable position.”

“What are you talking about?” Buggy asked, his voice distorted from the way he had to hold his mouth taut for you to wipe off the makeup.

“I want to apologize if I was too forward and you felt pressured or, um, uncomfortable. I’m really sorry.”

“The only thing I felt pressured to do was carry you to bed. My bed, by the way. You’re welcome for that.”

“Thank you,” you responded quickly. “I’m really sorry, truly, but thank you.”

“Sure thing, kiddo,” he said, opening his eyes as you cleaned up the last smears of paint from his jaw. “I couldn’t stand the thought of anybody else taking advantage of you.”

Your breath caught with nerves. He probably didn’t mean that in any way, but the phrasing made you blush. Blush more.

“By the way, um,” you said, “do you know what happened to the dress I was wearing?”

Buggy opened his eyes and stretched, yawning loudly. You didn’t want to, but you couldn’t keep your eyes from wandering down for a moment before you caught yourself. “When?” he asked. You busied yourself with the water and soap before he could catch you looking.

“Last night, I was wearing a dress that Crina lent me.”

“Really? I didn’t notice.”

“That’s fine! I was just wondering if you know where it is?”

“Why would I?”

You looked up, but Buggy looked as innocent and bored as his tone would indicate. It was a stupid concern in the first place, there was no way he would have done anything. Shaking your head of the annoying thoughts, you raised the cloth to wipe off the oil and any remaining traces of makeup. He watched you this time, only closing his eyes when you were cleaning them. Very studiously, you avoided his nose—avoiding even looking at it. What you were left with was a very regular, if handsome, man. Pink lips, a cleft chin, beautiful eyes. Maybe that was part of why the nose upset him so much. Before the accident, you liked to think that you had been pretty enough, losing that made your injury that much more hideous.

“Come on,” Buggy asked, still staring at you as you put the rag back into the bowl, “aren’t you going to ask me?”

“Ask you what?”

“You wanna know if we fucked,” he said, dragging out the words in a slow and mocking way. You gasped at his childish use of vulgarity, your stomach twisting up. Buggy grinned. “Don’t look so scandalized, I know you were thinking it. Well, we didn’t. Trust me, you’d remember that. You did get a little handsy, but I didn’t mind it. I don’t feel weird about it or anything. I managed to fend off your advances until you passed out.”

You shook your head, staring at his shoulder. “I am so sorry, Captain Buggy.”

“Aw, are you embarrassed?” he asked, putting his hands on your hips to sway you back and forth. The casual touch made you jump, more aware than ever of his state of undress. But it wasn’t weird. People touched all the time. It wasn’t weird. “I promise I won’t tell anybody how badly my little one-eyed monster wanted my one-eyed monster.”

It took a second for you to realize that he was saying what you thought he was saying, and that was your limit. You stumbled away from him with a choked squeak, covering your face with your hands. They were still wet, but you didn’t care, only wanting to hide from him as he laughed at the joke.

“You are just a treasure trove of new and exciting sounds, aren’t you?”

You slowly lowered your hands, still shaking your head. “I… I didn’t mean…”

“Hey, hey, do you think if I squeezed you real tight and let go it’d sound like a squeaky toy?”

“Um… I’m… I don’t…”

“God, don’t look so scared, I wasn’t gonna try it,” Buggy said, leaning back. “Yet. You’re way too squirmy and I’m tired.” He yawned again to make the point, causing you to yawn in turn. “You too, huh? I’m surprised, you only slept in for half the day.”

“I know,” you said, averting your eye. “I’m, uh, I’m sorry, sir.” You were glad to have the excuse of cleaning up to avoid his eyes.

“From now on,” Buggy told you seriously, “you’re an early riser. I could need you at any time, so you better stay on your toes. That’s the only way you’ll ever be able to reach anything.”

You blinked, realizing too late that he was poking fun at you. At least it was about your height this time. Buggy’s grin fell, disappointed with your lack of reaction.

“We’ll have to work on that,” he said. “Now make like a tree and… Well, more of a stick. Maybe a stump… It doesn’t matter. Get out of here and come back bright and early tomorrow. Don’t forget.”

“I won’t,” you said, relieved that he wasn’t going to ask anything more of you after making that comment. “Goodnight, Captain Buggy.”

“Sweet dreams, babydoll.”

Despite how tired you had been all day, you couldn’t fall asleep. Since you often only got a few hours to rest, it wasn’t usually that difficult. It was a talent, mom used to boast about how good of a baby you had been, sleeping through the night while other infants screamed and wailed to be fed. A small and quiet child, so easy to mind.

But you didn’t want to think about that.

You shifted, curling up beneath the uncomfortably thin blanket you had been given. The beds for the crew were dormitory style, set into the walls. You got the top bunk, sleeping above a woman named Pippa. She had heavy eye makeup and clipped words. Her big steamer trunk laid by your feet, she claimed you were small enough to fit with it on your bed. Everybody slept in the same area, men and women. Crina told you to get a knife to sleep with, although you had forgotten to heed that warning. Maybe it wouldn’t matter, you wouldn’t know how to use one. You never had before.

Except for once.

But you didn’t want to think about that either.

Rolling onto your back, you stared at the ceiling. The ship creaked and people snored and coughed and snorted. Footsteps above and waves below, the ocean was a place of endless motion and noise. A constant reminder that you were on a ship with your crew. Which was what you wanted, wasn’t it? Not only that, but you had been given a respectable job. You should have felt a sense of accomplishment. This was far better than what you had hoped for when you left home.

Maybe it just hadn’t set in yet. Maybe you would feel better after getting some rest. Maybe you just had to get used to being here.

Maybe you had made a terrible mistake. Maybe you couldn’t handle this. Maybe you were exactly as weak as Crina and Cabaji accused you of being. Maybe it was only a matter of time before you disappointed Captain Buggy and he cast you out with nowhere to go. Or maybe it was that intangible monster that people called fate, the rusty ladder you had trapped yourself on. The only way down was to take each rung at a time, to obey the gravitational weight of inevitability. That’s what took you northside, that’s what made you beg to join Buggy’s crew. And now you were a murderer, was that inevitable too?

There was something within you that screamed, that thrashed, that bled. Something with gnashing teeth and clawing fingers. The thing that existed in the hollow pit when you were half conscious, the one that took over when you were smothered. She didn’t understand why you acted the way you did, she was different. You made her skin crawl with disgust for letting a man touch you and hated you for what you had done, the betrayal you perpetuated with every mile put between you and the remains of your town. She was a familiar host, always there, always agonized and angry and bewildered by your behavior, holding onto your worst feelings.

Once, you were in love with Randall. He was the neighbor boy, the son of a carpenter. He wanted to be a Marine. You wanted to leave Barley, actually leave, not just the short trips like dad sometimes allowed you to go on with him. But then the accident happened to your mom and Randall inherited his father’s business. He told you it was a matter of responsibility. You had yours, and he has his. And then he had a pretty girl from a nearby town, and you only had your dad. You hated him. Didn’t you? If you hated him, that would be better. You had to hate him.

Eventually, you rolled onto your side and, an eternity after that, fell asleep.

Days began early on a ship, a shift change rather than a good morning. Not that you would know what time it was, buried in the ship’s stomach like you were. The hour didn’t bother you as much as the cold did, it was the first thing you were aware of before your circumstances snapped into place. The facts came easier than they had the previous morning, your reality slightly more real. You sat up slowly, crusty eyed and with a headache, looking around to orient yourself.

Privacy was a foreign concept to the pirates, they all went about their business without any concern for anyone else. To your surprise, the women were as casual as the men in regards to their modesty. Averting your eye, you awkwardly got dressed under the covers before climbing down, fixing your bandana over your eye and breathing deep to try and wake up. Pippa was still sleeping, sprawled across her small bunk with one toned leg sticking out.

Although others were eating, you didn’t join them. Captain Buggy got his breakfast first. The cook made no comment, although you did get another look. Lots of people had given you looks. But nothing more. Cabaji said that having an official position among the crew would keep you safe. Keeping your head down and fighting the dizzy pain of your worsening headache, you hurried to get the food to Buggy’s chambers. After serving him, you would eat. Maybe Crina would give you something to help you feel better again.

You knocked on his door and then waited, listening. On a ship, there was never silence, but there was a sort of hushed equivalent. You knocked again, a little louder, calling his name. And again.

Deliberating for a moment, you decided that it was best to use the key Cabaji had given you. After knocking and calling out your intentions, you awkwardly balanced the tray to unlock the door and enter. The dining area antechamber was empty. You set the tray on the table before venturing further, peeking your head into Buggy’s bedroom. The captain laid in a sprawl of pale skin and blue hair, face down and fast asleep.

Were you supposed to wake him up?

“Captain Buggy?” you called softly. “I brought your breakfast.” He didn’t move, but you could see the steady rise and fall of his breathing. You walked a little closer. “Sir? Are you awake?” Nothing. Carefully, slowly, you approached him until you stood at the edge of the bed. “Captain?” you asked, daring to reach out and touch his shoulder.

“Not now,” he said, slapping your hand away. “‘m very busy.”

“Sir, you told me bright and early,” you said, frowning. With the amount of light peering in through the curtains, it was certainly bright outside.

“Bright and…” Buggy began, his words eaten by a yawn. He finally opened his eyes, rolling onto his side and blearily looking up at you with a smile. Illuminated only faintly and obviously sleepy, the expression was shockingly boyish. “Hey there, babydoll. I knew you’d come crawling back to me.”

“No, I um… I brought your breakfast, Captain Buggy,” you told him, flushing.

“Oh. Right, you’re…” He groaned, exhaling harshly.

“It’s going to get cold, sir,” you told him nervously.

He blinked alert suddenly, sitting up. “Why didn’t you say so? I can’t stand cold food.”

“I-”

Buggy snapped his fingers, gesturing to the side. “Get my robe,” he ordered. He barely opened his eyes as he snatched it out of your hand and stood up, stretching as he left his room. “If it’s inedible,” Buggy called, “I might have to eat you instead.”

While it sounded like a joke, his tone was not at all humorous. You didn’t respond, hurrying so you could pull out his chair for him. Buggy dropped into it heavily, yawning without bothering to cover his mouth. There was something slightly funny about the way he was huddled beneath his robe with a sleepy scowl, his hair a disaster and face scruffy. He ran a hand over his cheek and chin, frowning.

“I could help you, if you wanted,” you offered. “You know,” you gestured to your face, “shaving.”

Buggy blinked at you. Then he burst out laughing.

You shuffled self-consciously. “What’s funny?”

Taking in your confused expression, his laughter came to an abrupt halt. “You’re not serious.”

“I am.”

“You think,” Buggy said, “that I’m gonna let you,” he pointed at your left eye, “anywhere near my neck with a sharp object?”

“I’m very good at it,” you insisted. “Dad… His hands are shaky, so I help him with it.”

“With one eye?” he asked incredulously.

“Yes,” you said, a hint of defensiveness in your voice.

“Yeah, I’m probably gonna have to say no to letting the one-eyed new girl anywhere near my neck with a razor,” Buggy said with another yawn, taking the lid off the tray.

“Is there anything else, sir?” you asked, knowing better than to push it.

“Yeah, go get something to eat,” he told you. “You’re too scrawny.”

“Yes, sir.”

The rest of the day passed like the previous afternoon. Crina agreed to give you something for the headache in exchange for fetching supplies she needed, and Cabaji continued his lessons from the previous day.

Eyes followed you wherever you went. Regardless of what Buggy said yesterday about you being a member of the crew, you knew that some of it was hostile. You couldn’t fight, you couldn’t perform the basic tasks of a sailor, you didn’t dine with the crew, and you had no talent to add to Buggy’s show. Many of the pirates were already working on their acts, it was just as likely to have to avoid a stray juggler as it was to weave around men minding the sails. There was no strict order like there had been on Marine vessels, but colors and noise and movement of every variety, and you weren’t involved in any of it.

Ostracization came as a natural consequence of who, and what, you were. In some form or another, you knew it very well. What you couldn’t handle was the fear you felt sometimes when you passed other crew members, or when you were too far from the captain or Cabaji or Crina. Sometimes you caught sight of Ivo. Rather, sometimes he caught sight of you, and his expression would darken. Cabaji said you shouldn’t worry about it. You weren’t worth the risk.

The duties Captain Buggy expected you to fulfill, at least, were not difficult. It seemed like Cabaji’s warning was for nothing because the tasks given to you were standard. Delivering meals, cleaning, taking messages, and anything else he needed. By the end of your second night, you felt like you had a handle on it.

Until the third day came and you learned a new lesson. Buggy’s moods were as fickle as the sea, calm as glass one moment and riled into a frothing swell the next. A man with a temper wasn’t very new to you, but Captain Buggy’s rules were entirely different. Where your dad misinterpreted your behavior to be in opposition to what he wanted from you, Buggy had a way of misunderstanding any behavior he didn’t like as direct insults to himself.

The afternoon had been wearing on and on, and Buggy didn’t dismiss you from his office while he worked on the logs, leaving you to sit across from him, just waiting. You had a habit of losing track of yourself, your mind wandering whenever you were left to idle, to seek some distraction instead of having to contemplate your own life or thoughts. It wasn’t always that foggy nothingness. Actually, you were thinking about a story you’d nearly forgotten about. A girl whisked away on a grand adventure by a boy who descended from the clouds, one conjured from childish whimsy. So it wasn’t as if you were looking at anything in particular, you were barely aware of anything until Buggy snapped at you.

“What are you looking at?”

You blinked, shaking yourself free of the cloud filled daze. “Sorry, sir. I-”

“You were staring at my nose, weren’t you,” he said, his voice hard.

“I wasn’t,” you told him, shaken by the cold anger of his random accusation. And you didn’t mean for your eye to flick down to his nose, it wasn’t like you had been staring at it in the first place, but Buggy clearly noticed, a muscle in his jaw ticking with barely contained rage. Your heart dropped, your tongue clumsy as you tried to desperately placate him. “I wasn’t looking at anything, I was thinking about a book I read-”

“Red?” he shouted, abruptly standing up with enough force to knock his chair over. “You were staring because you think my nose is red?”

“No,” you said, shrinking back. “I wasn’t, I swear.”

“I saw you doing it and, unlike you, I’ve got both eyes. Pretty soon, that’s gonna be two more than you’ve got.”

“Captain Buggy, I wasn’t-”

“Get out,” he demanded. “Right now.”

“Yes, sir,” you said, bowing your head and scurrying out of his office, carefully sliding the door shut before escaping into the bright afternoon.

There weren’t many places on a ship to hide, but you were small enough to fit in between the large crates of supplies in the cramped storage room beneath the forecastle. Luckily, you managed to avoid any attention until you were safely hidden. You didn’t cry, but it took you a while to stop shaking, composing apology after apology in your head. When you emerged from there, you returned to your chores, and you kept waiting for him to summon you again, to hit you and get it over with. That’s what the aggressive posture he’d taken always led to. A black eye, sore ribs. And you were prepared for it.

But he didn’t.

You weren’t summoned again until you were informed that Captain Buggy decided to dine in the officer’s mess and you, of course, would serve his meal.

When you entered from below, the colorfully decorated room was abuzz with activity and laughter. You recognized Crina and Cabaji, of course. The former was in deep conversation with a red-faced officer you thought was called Newt. Mohji sat in the corner with Richie at his side. Buggy sat in the center of it all. The star. Having an audience didn’t do much to set you at ease, Buggy had no reservations about dealing out punishment in front of his crew. Nobody would dare to stop him. You kept your head down, taking Buggy his food and desperately wishing to be invisible.

“Is there anything else you need, Captain Buggy?” you asked softly, staring at the floor rather than risk meeting anybody’s eye.

“Yeah, sit down,” Buggy said, pointing to the chair next to him. You peeked up at him, confused, but he was far more concerned with his meal than you. After earlier, you expected red hot vitriol, but Buggy was relaxed, and you didn’t see any anger in his eyes. That was another lesson about the captain. His temper flared at the slightest provocation, but burned out fast.

You sat down nervously, looking around again. The other officers were only just being served, but that didn’t stop Buggy from immediately digging in.

“I heard that you don’t eat enough,” he casually said, talking with his mouth full. There was only one person who would have been able to tell him that. You looked over to where Crina sat, but she seemed to be reading Newt’s tea leaves. “What kind of message does it send about me if my little protégé is starved half to death? From now on, you’ll eat when I do.”

“I’m sorry, captain. You really don’t need to…” your words died out, withering away beneath his hard stare. “Thank you, Captain Buggy.”

And so you were served with the rest of the officers, given a larger portion than you usually took. Buggy insisted you eat every bite. And then, after that, he insisted you stay in the officer's mess while they all drank and talked. Ale, mostly. A few bottles of the harder stuff were broken out, but nothing that interested you. The mere scent of it was sickening, let alone the taste. You wouldn’t want to drink anyway. A liquor-loosened tongue could very easily upset Buggy again.

Cabaji began to idly juggle after a little while, which caught your interest far more than any talk about the winds or raids or treasure. He made it look so easy, tossing and catching the balls without any added tension in his posture or change of expression.

Very abruptly, he caught the balls, looking at you directly. “Do you need something?”

“Oh, no,” you said, embarrassed at getting caught staring. “No, sir. It’s just so cool to watch, that’s all. I can stop.”

“Maybe you should give that a try,” Buggy said, leaning in to catch your attention. “It could be your secret talent. Cabaji, hand those over.”

“Captain Buggy, I don’t think I can juggle,” you said. “With my eye-”

“That wasn’t a problem when you were watching Cabaji,” Buggy said, handing you the balls Cabaji had just tossed over. “Nobody’s gonna laugh at you, I promise.”

You weighed them in hand, your stomach twisting because you knew that this wouldn’t end well. At the very least, the only people who were watching were Buggy and Cabaji. You let out a big breath and, with all of the grace you could muster, accidentally threw two balls in the air while dropping the third. You tried to catch one, but your hand closed around empty air to the side of the ball where you thought it would be, a common occurrence when you only had one eye. They all hit the floor with dull thumps, rolling away in different directions.

Almost immediately, Buggy cracked up, leaning back in his chair with how hard he was laughing. Ducking your head, you got up to hunt down the dropped balls, your cheeks flushing red.

“You’re supposed to catch them, genius,” Buggy said, breathless from laughing. “Here, hand ‘em over. I’ll show you.”

He set down his bottle and you gratefully let him take the balls. Buggy straightened out, lining them up in his hands. He did far better than you, smiling at his own success, but slipped up when his eyes flicked away for a second. One of the balls escaped and hit the floor for the second time.

Buggy scowled, tossing away the other two in exchange for his bottle of ale.

“Clearly there’s something wrong with those ones. I think they got broken or something when she dropped them.”

“I am so sorry,” you said, meeting Cabaji’s dark eyes.

“I have more,” he said, unconcerned.

“How about cards?” Buggy asked you, quick to move on. “Do you know any card tricks? You gotta be hiding some sort of talent.”

To nobody’s surprise, but Captain Buggy’s immense amusement, you were not.

That seemed to be the point because, rather than be upset about your consistent ineptitude, Buggy laughed at each failed trick just like he had with the juggling. At a certain point, you began to feel a bit less insecure because at least he was entertained by you. Not to say it wasn’t humiliating, but you could accept that as long as Captain Buggy was happy. You liked his laugh, mean or amused or raucous, you didn’t think you’d ever get tired of it.

When he finally called it a night and your decided lack of talent was exhausted, the full moon had reached its highest point and Buggy was more than a little drunk, needing you to steady him on the way back to his cabin. He was heavy and hot, singing a song you were pretty sure was entirely made up and you worried that if he collapsed, you would both go down, but you managed to get him all the way into his cabin and onto his chair.

Buggy told you stories as you fixed his hair and got his clothes off, drunkenly meandering between his prowess in combat, awkward encounters with fans, and tricks he’d effortlessly pulled off on idiot nobodies.

When you stood in front of him with a washcloth, Buggy blinked a few times, his eyes focusing on you with more clarity than you expected. “You and me, babydoll, we’re the same,” he said seriously, the words muddled by his drunken slurring. “Like, obviously you’re way more pathetic and less talented, but both of us were kept down by people who didn’t see our value. People who wanted to—to stifle our light, to keep us from ever shining the way we’re destined to.”

“Do you believe in destiny, Captain Buggy?” you asked, beginning the process of washing his face.

“Of course I do,” he said, his eyes closed. “I’m destined to find the One Piece, to become King of the Pirates, to be loved by everyone. You agree, right? That’s why you wanted to serve me.”

“No, I wanted to serve you because I-” you cut yourself off, realizing that now probably wasn’t the time for you to start talking about your feelings.

“Because you… What?”

You sighed, kicking yourself for saying anything. “When I saw you and your crew northside, I remembered my dad mentioning you a while back. You were involved in a raid on a town he had been staying at,” you explained as you removed and set his false lashes aside. “He called you a freak. There are a lot of weird pirates, but only you were a freak. Buggy the Clown, the Fool, the Jester—I’d never seen or heard anything like that. And then I saw you and your crew and it was just… I had to. No matter how scary or difficult it would be, I didn’t see any other option. I know you’re going to do everything you say, but I ran away and all of that because I wanted to serve you, Captain Buggy.” You shrugged even though he couldn’t see, shaking your head with a nervous smile. “If that makes sense.”

By now, you had gotten to his cheeks, but his growing smile made you stop.

“I knew it,” Buggy said with a huge, manic grin.

“What?” you asked, dismayed.

“You’re in love with me,” he said. “I knew it the whole time. I mean, the signs were all there, I just figured you were too shy to say it. But this… sheesh, you’ve got it bad.”

“No!” you exclaimed. “No, that’s not what I meant. You’re my captain, it’s not anything like… like…”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he told you, grabbing your shoulders, “it was bound to happen at some point. I’m willing to help you out, I’ve just been waiting for you to get desperate enough to ask.” He released you, sitting back. “Okay… Go ahead.”

“Go?” you asked softly.

He huffed, rolling his eyes. “Strip, idiot. Take off your clothes.”

You stared at him in pure shock. “I can’t… I can’t do that.”

“There’s no point in being shy now. I’ve already seen you in your undies.”

You shook your head fast. “Captain, it’s very late, and-and you’re drunk.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem. I was drunk the other night and that didn’t stop me from coming my brains out thinking about how you’d look—”

“Please stop!” you interjected in a desperate whine.

Your reaction made Buggy erupt into hoarse, drunken laughter.

“You’re… you’re teasing me?” you asked.

“Of course I am. You didn’t seriously think I wanted to fuck you tonight.” He slumped back into his chair, yawning widely. “Don’t get me wrong, I thought about it but, frankly, I’m exhausted.”

Your shoulders tightened, a pit forming in your stomach at how stupid you felt for assuming he would mean that. You were the one who insisted over and over again that you knew Captain Buggy didn’t want you in that way. To think that he would was nothing but undeserved ego. You couldn’t be surprised. You especially couldn’t be hurt.

“You gonna finish or what?” Buggy asked, opening one eye. “I’m falling asleep over here.”

“Sorry, captain,” you said, glad to throw yourself back into the task.

Buggy didn’t talk very much after that. The liquor set in heavily, and he was half asleep by the time you were done. You helped him get up and into bed, and you very, very, very professionally ignored how hot his bare torso felt, even through your own clothes. You decided after a moment that you could not handle removing his pants, but you took his belt. And then it was a familiar ritual to get him to lay on his side, tucking a pillow behind his head to keep him like that.

“Is there anything else, Captain Buggy?” you asked as you covered him with his blanket and put a cup of water on the table.

“You do love me, don’t you?” he asked, his eyelashes fluttering so he could look at you with bloodshot, filmy eyes. Compared to earlier, he just sounded vulnerable, his voice fried and sleepy.

“Of course I love you, Captain Buggy,” you said, unable to keep yourself from brushing his cheek with your thumb. He sighed, his eyes drooping shut. Part of you wanted to stay and watch over him, to make sure he didn’t throw up and choke, to force him to drink water, to ward off any alcohol induced nightmares. To stay by his side and just be. Be with him.

It was a silly impulse. He didn’t need that from you, and you doubted he would accept it anyway. So you left, and you hoped he could sleep through the few hours of night that remained.

Despite how late it was, you didn’t feel very tired at all as you climbed into your bunk. You wrapped yourself in a cocoon of blankets—the only way you could stay warm—and stared up at the ceiling. Thinking. Just thinking. Every day was a barrage of new information and activity like you had never experienced, but today felt like more. Being yelled at, being made fun of, but also taken care of. You knew better than to read too far into anything Buggy did or said while he was so drunk, but that didn’t stop you from shivering with a brand new type of warmth and disgust when you thought about it. Pure, blazing, white-hot, and unambiguously terrible because you knew it was stupid. And wrong. And gross.

Captain Buggy teased you about sex things because it was easy, because you reacted so strongly to it. That was the only reason. You knew that. Really, if you thought about it, the way he treated you wasn’t all that different from your dad. At least in his gentler moments. That was kind of the role of a captain, wasn’t it? If you only thought about it like that, then you could condemn and ignore the weird things you felt.

Huffing with irritation at yourself, you turned onto your side. You were being stupid, it had only been a couple of days. The love you felt was the love of a servant for their master, and it was the only kind of love that actually mattered in any measurable way, not any of the jittery anxious feelings in your gut, or the heartache you felt when you thought about your dad. Love through respect. Love through obedience. Love through service.

And to serve, you needed to sleep.

#opla buggy x reader #opla buggy #buggy x reader #one piece live action #opla #my writing #flashbang

71 notes · View notes