#i’m so tired my eyes are closing whoops | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gay-dorito-dust · 2 months

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Hii sweetie, how are you? Are requests open rn? I'm soooo sorry if they arent and i'm botherig you, but can i make a sugestion please? How would batboys (including bruce if possible) would "react" to missing you while on a mission? And maybe in the end the reenconter? Just an idea❤️

I’m sorry that it’s taken me this long to write this and I hope that it’s everything you want and more.

Dick; sits and sulks as he stares at his phone.

I’m joking…or am I?

He’d be mentally counting away the hours before he came back home to you once more. He tries to act professional and keep a level head seeing as how leaders aren’t meant to have room for errors, he’s learnt that the hard way many times. But he can’t help but yearn to be in your arms and fall into the deepest sleep ever knowing that you were close by and above all safe.

He would use this as motivation to get through the long, long night of patrol in hopes of making time take pity on him and go just that little bit faster, just for his selfish convenience. He just so desperately wants to see you and Hayley cuddled up together on your shared bed, or watching a movie together if you were still awake this late at night. You held a piece of his heart without even knowing it.

So when he feels the patrol come to an end, he’s gleefully beating the piss out of the goons he’s come across with a smile across his face. It’s borderline terrifying image that will forever remain burnt into the deepest parts of his teammates memory for a good long while.

The minute Dick came home and you so happened to be waiting for him, he was already scooping you into his arms and holding you close to his chest as he buried his head into your neck.

‘I missed you.’ He murmurs.

‘I’m pretty sure that’s my line you’ve just stolen.’ You joked as you ran your hand through his dark hair, relived in seeing him home safe and unharmed.

‘Well it’s my line now because I really did miss you,’ Dick said, tightening his hold on you, ‘you we’re all I thought about tonight and how much I wanted to come home and be where I want to be most, in your arms.’ He adds tired and you couldn’t help but coo softly at him.

‘Aww Dickie bird.’ You began. ‘You sound about ready for some much needed sleep.’

Dick lets out a deep sigh as he practically slumps against you. ‘That sounds like a good idea. Is Hayley in bed?’

‘Yes.’ You answered, rubbing his back soothingly.

‘Her bed or ours?’ Dick asks.

‘Do you even need to ask?’ You reply with a chuckle and from that alone did Dick get his answer.

Jason; he’s a little impatient with having to wait to come back home to you, so much so that it tends to end with him brutalising his adversaries more then usual.

Whoops.

He doesn’t apologise at all.

He was so use to coming home to a empty apartment after patrol that long nights like these never use to bother Jason, as it often meant he had something else to do other then stare up at his ceiling, waiting for sleep to catch up to him. Now that he had you however, all Jason wants to do was come home as soon as possible just to catch a glimpse of your sleeping figure on his -now your- bed.

He’s grown addicted to being at your side no matter what that being apart from you for prolonged periods of time made Jason feel hollow, as though he was missing a vital part of himself somewhere and that vital part was you.

So when he gets home he’s already dropped his helmet off somewhere and kneeling before you as you held his face in your hands and groaning as he presses his face further into your hands.

‘I’ve missed you so much tonight chipmunk.’ He admits.

‘I’ve missed you too jay bird.’ You replied, pressing a kiss to his nose, squealing when he stole a quick peck from your lips as you smacked his bicep shortly after. ‘Someone’s feeling particularly loving tonight.’ You add.

Jason groans as he looks up at you with his pretty, pretty eyes that never fail to take your breath away. The mere image alone of this six foot something man kneeling before you was enough to make you feel like the most powerful being in existence. ‘Is it blasphemy for a man to show his partner how much he’s missed them now?’ He asks and you couldn’t help but laugh as you pressed another kiss to his nose, pulling away enough to see him smile dopily at your kiss.

‘No, but it would be great to be warmed ahead of time before you try to steal another kiss.’ You said and Jason smirks. ‘So you’re telling me there is going to be a next time?’ He says teasingly.

‘Don’t let it go to your head hotshot.’ You reply, grabbing one of his hands and pulling him towards the bedroom.

‘I think I already have sweetheart.’ Jason says with a smile, happy to be home.

Bruce: keeps tabs on you during patrol whilst also remaining vigilant and dedicated to the task at hand.

Bruce was a master at multitasking.

He would always make sure you were safe and decried whenever he got a couple minutes to breathe on his own. He even has a special alert made for you in the instance where you were in danger walking home.

He even finds himself looking at shops you’ve told him about going to, but never doing so due to scheduling conflicts and making a mental note to take you there as a treat to spoil you rotten.

Bruce had more experience in neglecting his own wants and needs for the betterment of Gotham and everyone living in it. So while he may miss you dearly, he knew that his dedication to bettering Gotham’s crime rate one villain, underground drug syndicate, crime lord at a time outweighed that greatly.

So the moment he comes home to you he smiles softly as he allows you to remove the cowl from his head, gently place it down elsewhere, before moving on to wiping the black makeup clean from his eyes.

Bruce knows he could easily done it himself but much rather prefers it if you were the one to do it instead, as it often allows him to have a moment alone with you. No interruptions nor distractions could make him break his gaze away from yours.

‘You’re doing Gotham a whole lot of good Bruce.’ You tell him as you finished wiping off the last of his eye makeup that he puts on under the cowl. ‘ Not many people would be willing to try to keep a dying city alive. Im so proud of you for doing the unthinkable.’ You add as you press a kiss to his cheek.

‘Someone’s got to shoulder the responsibility of this town and I’m more than willing to shoulder that responsibility everyone else who can’t.’ Bruce replies as he takes your hands in his own, kissing the backs of them as his thumbs caressed each of your knuckles. ‘But coming home to you reminds me I’m not alone in this endeavour and I don’t know how to thank you enough for standing by me.’

You smile. ‘You don’t need to thank me at all, just take care of yourself alright? We don’t want the Dark Knight running on fumes now when he’s just getting started.’

Damian: naturally goes by his father’s example and remains focused on the task at hand.

He was trained for long nights like these but you’ve become somewhat of a problem during them.

Damian had often found himself sat on a rooftop somewhere, looking down at two people enjoying the other’s company, and immeditly starts to imagine that it was him and you instead.

He hates how easily his mind drifted towards you during patrol with his father or his other siblings but he just can’t help it but crave for your presence. It makes him feel weak and vulnerable but ironically he doesn’t hate it as much as he probably should’ve. He’s even found himself wanting to count stars with you at one point during patrol until he got him act together to take down a few goons.

He doesn’t admit this to anyone as he’s already felt embarrassed enough that he didn’t needed to be embarrassed even further by the miscreants he’s made to called his family. For he knew they’d never let him live it down for being so caught up on you, they’d called him everything their small minds can come up with for the sake of teasing their younger brother.

So when he comes back to you, he doesn’t say anything other than hugging you uncharacteristically tight against his chest.

‘Someone’s missed me.’ You joked but when Damian didn’t say anything but tighten his grip on you and huff did you change your tune. ‘Oh you did. If it’s any consolation I missed you too.’ You add as you both stayed there in each others arms.

‘Just…hold me will you…please.’ He said softly as he sunk further into your embraced and he closed his eyes, secretly happy to be back home with you.

‘I’m fine with that.’ You replied as you concede to his wishes, just happy to see him home in one piece.

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gentlyweeps-world · 3 months

Text

Irregular occurrences

sequel to regular occurrences

SMAU / fic

summary: You managed to balance a relationship with a driver whilst being a Sky Sports interviewer- but you’re old affair isn’t a fan.

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of cheating | suggestive tones | toxic Pierre

genre: fluff-ish

notes: I did itttt

LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO

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charles_leclerc 🤍🤍🤍

youruser 🫶🫶

skysportsf1 ??????

youruser whoops?

scuderiaferrari ??????

user7392 the reactions are killing me 😭😭

user9293 SAME OMG

francisca.cgomes cuties 😘😘

youruser 🤍🤍

francisca.cgomes you’re welcome 🫶

youruser thank you kika 🫶

user632 has anyone noticed that Pierre unfollowed Y/n AND CHARLES??

user632 He hasn’t liked any of her or Charles posts lately 🤨

user3729 I always thought he acted suspicious with Y/n

user0018 Y/n would never do anything with him, her and Kika are friends plus her and Charles are together

user632 still suspicious 🤷‍♀️

landonorris Hey guys…this is a little bit too random

youruser oops?

user7483 how tf is she with Charles

user7483 she’s not even pretty wtf

user7483 she’s such a pick me

user3391 And who’s the one leaving hate comments on Y/n L/n post?

user3391 So stfu and get a life 🫶

lissiemackintosh Congrats baby!!🤍

youruser tyyy 🫶

“Hey Charles..what I posted to instagram was okay right?” You ask, looking up at him from your phone, admiring how he looked basking in the sun.

You two hadn’t put out anything official, especially since you hadn’t told anyone- well Pierre knew, and Kika…but that was different.

It was sometimes nice that Charles knew about what happened with you and Pierre, but there were moments that you knew he didn’t fully trust you, which was reasonable!

But you assured him many times you only wanted him, you were tired of being the other woman, tired of empty promises from Pierre, tired of being casted aside.

“Yes it was okay cheri..you don’t need to ask..” Charles says with a chuckle, glancing over at you from his spot.

“Half of the media speculates that we were together anyway..” He adds on.

“Yeah..that’s true” You say with a small chuckle. You continue to scroll through some of the comments, mainly focused on the hate ones.

Charles catches onto that quick, and yanks your phone from your hands. “No need to care what others think..” He says, placing your phone by his, far out of reach from you.

“But…” You start to say, although Charles has you stopping mid sentence with a single look.

“Let’s just relax, yeah? Nice beautiful day out on my yacht okay?” He says with a smile, wrapping an arm around you to pull you close to his side.

“Alright..” You mumble out, leaning your head on his shoulder as you two bask in the sun, the rocking of the boat slowly relaxing you.

“Yeah- yeah definitely..” You mumble out, heart racing a bit, you and Charles hadn’t really been intimate, sure you two have kissed but that was really all. You guys have only been together for maybe three months, and to be honest you were scared to do anything- after Pierre.

Mostly because with Pierre it was different, it felt great, amazing even- but it was wrong.

That was the issue, you felt guilty constantly.

“Are you still worried about Pierre?” Charles asks softly, his eyes meeting yours. You instantly feel like you’re on a different planet, his eyes are soothing and warm.

“You can tell me cheri…don’t be afraid….I’m here for you...” Charles adds as he squeezes your hand softly.

“I don’t know Charles…with him I felt so guilty, I felt like I was always the second option..”

“He’d say all these things, promise me he’d tell her and change- but he never did…”

“And I’m happy for him and Kika! I am, they are an amazing couple..but it still hurt, y’know?” You say softly, fidgeting with Charles fingers as you open up to him fully about that situation.

“I know Y/n…it’s understandable..” Charles says softly and wipes away the small tear from your cheek gently. “I will never make you feel like a second option.”

Charles smiles softly and caresses your cheek, it feels nice, it feels like he’s appreciating you for everything you have to offer.

“Thank you..” You whisper out softly with a smile, leaning into his hand.

But the tender moment is ruined- because of course it is. You can hear Charles phone vibrate with a call, and you’d only have one guess as to who it would be.

Charles lets out a sigh, moving away from you to grab his phone, “It’s Pierre..” He grumbles out, quickly answering it and getting up, starting to mutter some phrases in French to Pierre, none of it you could understand- but you did understand that it sounded heated.

After a few minutes the conversation starts to die down, but starts to get heated back up. You could tell Charles wasn’t having any of it.

“Leave us the fuck alone” Charles grumbles out then hangs up, quietly muttering a curse as he sits down next to you.

“What did he want..?” You ask out softly, sitting up. You were unsure what to say- or do. It all felt tense now.

“Don’t worry about it…it’s just Pierre being Pierre” Charles replies with a small sigh, looking out across the ocean and closing his eyes.

Charles looks over and smiles softly and the moment is back, the tension is gone and life is somewhat normal again.

“Alright…” You say with a soft smile, knowing it’s better to forget that, and move on from Pierre.

——

“What time do you think you’ll be back?” You ask Charles, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he puts on his coat.

“I’m not sure cheri…I’ll text you though” He says with a smile, placing a kiss to your lips as he leaves his apartment, going to do some sim work.

You smile to yourself, it was nice with Charles. He was sweet and considerate, it was really nice.

You decide to busy yourself with some extra work you had to get done. Clicking away and your computer you’re pulled out of your daze when you hear a knock at the apartment door.

“Coming!” You say, moving off the couch and to the door opening it.

“Didn’t Charles tell you to leave us alone?” You say as soon as you open the door and see Pierre.

Pierre looks at you with a smug smile, his hands in his pockets, and he leans against the wall. “Well this is awkward…me here, you home alone…” Pierre replies with a smirk, his voice was like butter but there was a hidden underneath.

“Listen you should leave Pierre- what happened between us is in the past..” You say with a sigh.

“You’re with Kika and I’m with Charles, just move on please” You add on.

“Is that so?” Pierre asks raising and eyebrow and he steps in closer to you to close the distance.

“But you know how it is…I have a habit that is hard to break of coming to you when I need a bit of…stress relief.” Pierre replies with a grin, his voice is sultry and you can’t help but get butterflies.

“What we had was regular..I liked it, it’s simpler with you” Pierre adds on with a grin.

“Pierre what we had was a mistake, it can’t be regular anymore! I enjoyed it in the moment, but I felt guilty constantly!”

“You would promise me that you’d tell her, that you would break up with her! But you didn’t! So move on!” You say, your frustration growing.

“Guilt isn’t always a bad thing cheri..” Pierre replies with a smirk, wrapping his arm around your waist as he pulls you towards him, the smell of his cologne was intoxicating.

“Why do I have to let her go? Why not have more fun with you and keep her?” Pierre asks softly as he places his hand on your neck.

You feel a sick feeling start to form in your stomach, “Why- why are you doing this?” You say, grabbing his wrist and pulling his arm away.

“Please just leave me alone Pierre, I don’t want you anymore, I don’t want to be casted aside anymore”

Pierre chuckles. “I like this side of you cheri.. the one where you’re feisty and defensive.” Pierre takes your hand and places it on his chest.

“How can you say you don’t want me when we have such great chemistry..all those times we spent together felt amazing…” Pierre adds on and you notice a smugness in his tone and on his face.

“You’re just jealous Pierre, now fucking get out” You say, moving him towards the door.

Pierre scrunches up his face in annoyance and looks at you. “Okay fine, I’ll leave…but I hope to see you soon cheri.” Pierre replies softly and leaves.

You’re glad he was out of your life now, but a part of you still misses him and the chemistry you two have.

No! No, you have Charles, you like Charles!

You let out a sigh and collapse onto the couch, deciding sleep was a much better option than work.

“Cheri? You awake?” You hear Charles whisper out, you feel his hand brush through your hair.

Charles’ gentle touch was soothing and peaceful, and you start to relax under his touch.

“Mhm…” You mumble out softly and your eyes flutter open. You see the smile on his face and you couldn’t feel anything but content at that moment.

Yeah. You’re happy with Charles.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

notes 🪩: I’m back and taking requests!🫶

taglist: @cixrosie @amajixi @i-wish-this-was-me @nelly187 @hannahwsworld @sltwins @peachbly @minkyungseokie @minseok-smaus @zahhh709 @redcloudedelk @itsprashimusic @janeholt3

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cosmos-coma · 4 months

Text

My Sun, My Star- Part 2

A/N: Thank you all SO MUCH for your great comments on part one. I couldn't have asked for a better crowd to receive my work! Because so many people asked for it I've finally written a part 2! I honestly can't tell how good it is any more cause I've probably read it through 12 times in the last two days lol, so enjoy!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 7476 (whoops)

Warnings: Pregnant reader, Otherwise GN reader (no pronouns), Occasional use of "Y/n", Injury, Bucky's kind of an ass when hes upset (but redeemable), arguing.

Summary: Bucky finds out that you met the Winter Soldier and he is Not happy.

Part 1 | Part 3 | Epilogue | Bucky Masterlist

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________

“Doll…?” you heard the familiar voice call, rough and gritty from its recent use but still carrying that same soft tone he used with you.

Your heart swelled as you lowered your hand from your face “Bucky...?”

He looked tired, so so tired. What was once sweet blue eyes were now diluted with exhaustion, no longer the brisk gaze you had learned to find comfort in. But still, a smile of relief eased onto your features at the mere sight of him and slowly the spark in his eyes began to return.

“Bucky!” You rushed to the thick door separating you, your hands eagerly jiggling the locked knob as you tried to get in. All you wanted to do was hold him, to hold his face, his hands; you wanted to feel and squeeze all of him just to know that he was truly back.

“Sheesh, hold on!” Tony complained, “At least let us take the wiring off first, we can’t have you coming in and messing up- hey! HEY, stop smudging the glass!” Tony shouted as he worked quickly to detach the wires of various machines from his head.

Bucky laughed a bit as he sat up carefully, rolling the pain out of his shoulders and arms when something didn’t feel right. He winced as he felt his soft shoulder complain against the movements and looking over he spotted the bandage taped tight to his skin- a small dot of blood peeking through the solid white; before he could ask about it Tony was already sending a technician to unlock the door.

“Alright, alright, we’re opening the door, stop your jiggling…” the billionaire griped.

As soon as you saw your opening you ran straight for him, your leg be damned as you stumbled into his waiting arms, “Bucky, my heart...” you whispered with relief as you hugged him as close as you possibly could. It was times like these when you cursed your body’s rotund transformation as it refused to let you get that much closer to him. But none of it mattered as his strong arms wrapped around you in turn, flooding you with the familiar scent and warmth of his amber-like musk.

“Hey, Doll…” The super soldier rasped softly in your ear, his voice still a little rough from the muffled shouts of pain just minutes before. His brow tightened and he held in a wince at the impact of your hug, refusing to let you see him falter as pain jolted his shoulder.

“What are you still doing up?” he asked with a smile, the roughness finally easing away and slipping back into the smooth rumble of his natural voice. His eyes trailed down your face and body, stopping abruptly at the bandage wrapped around your calf. He frowned as his brows creased together uneasily, “What happened to your leg? Who-” he started to ask, but before he had a chance to finish Tony interrupted with his usual reminders.

“Alright, I’m sure you remember-” He paused a moment, shrugging, “well, maybe- that although you may not remember anything now, it should all come back over time,” Tony said as he typed updates into Bucky’s file. “Given that this wasn’t a very long recession- just a few hours- you should remember everything in a couple of days,” he decided with a firm nod, looking over to the disheveled man. “Do you remember anything from last night?”

Bucky shook his head, “I remember the basement and the flashing lights…I remember following Sam back out to the jet, but it starts getting fuzzy there,” he said as he ran his fingers through his hair. His mind was exhausted from switching back and forth and he really didn’t have the energy to delve into it much longer. “I think I remember coming back to the tower, but it’s not clear.”

“Hm, Interesting,” Tony remarked as he typed in a few more long lines into the already lengthy files. Bucky couldn’t quite make out the words on the pages and pages of information on himself and the Winter Soldier, but then again, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know anyway.

“Well,” continued Tony, looking at you now, “seeing as I’ve heard that your front door is in a state of disrepair-”

“-Kicked in,” you corrected swiftly, making Bucky’s concern rise.

“Semantics, ” Tony disregarded with a wave of his hand, “-you two are welcome to stay in the tower until we get it fixed. Barnes’ old room is still open; I trust you two remember the way there?”

----

You stepped into Bucky’s old room, a few personal items still scattered around here and there, but barely anything significant. Strong arms snaked around your waist, careful of your belly as they pulled you close against their firm frame.

Soft laughter bubbled from your chest as you gazed up at him, your head leaning back against his solid build, “Just like old times, huh?” You mumbled happily as you rubbed your hand up and down his forearms.

“Mmm, back when I used to sneak you into the tower every other night?” his body rumbled with a gentle laugh, remembering the fond moments. The two of you lingered in the peaceful space for a moment, both of you happy to have finally put the stress of the past few hours behind you. Large hands smoothed down your rounded belly, inching the fabric of his sweatshirt up so he could feel his little girl properly.

You hummed softly, contentment easing into your every pore as you let out a big yawn. You were finally feeling the full weight of the day and you wanted nothing more than to collapse onto the small mattress. You pulled back, bringing his knuckles up for a quick kiss as you stepped away, “I’m gonna get ready for bed. I’m beat…we both are,” you said with a gentle pat to your belly.

Bucky nodded as he watched you leave his arms, your gait just slightly uneven as you tried to hide the extent of your limp, “Doll…” he called, causing you to glance back.

“You never answered me earlier. What happened to your leg? And what did Stark mean by our door being broken in…?” he asked, watching closely as you stood with your back to him. Your shoulders tensed the slightest bit as he asked, your gaze turning away as you searched desperately for the right way to tell him.

“I… It was an accident….” you said, trying to ease him into it as you started explaining from the beginning “I was at home in bed when-” You started, but he had already begun connecting the dots. The basement, the blood, the lapse in memory, only to finally find himself awake in Tony’s lab? It was all too familiar.

“You met him, didn’t you?” He asks quietly, “The Winter Soldier….” The room went silent as you hesitated to answer, only the tremble of your beating heart to be heard in your ears, but it was all the reply he needed.

He could feel the growing heat of anger simmer beneath his skin. He had failed you- he couldn’t frame it in any other way. He had tried so hard for so many years to keep you from meeting him, to keep you safe, and now- in your most vulnerable state- he had failed. Deep in his heart, he knew he was only angry with himself, but knowing it still didn’t seem to stop the way his words bubbled over and burned, “Why didn’t you tell me? Did he do this to you?” He pointed at your bandage, his anger was simmering into a rolling boil when it suddenly crashed into an icy panic.

“Shit, did he-” He gulped and continued with the faintest shuddering his breath, “Did he try to…? ” He couldn’t even finish the sentence, the thought too scary to speak into existence as his hand fell to your bump in worry. As an assassin his targets had always been adults in the past; would the Winter Soldier really target a child? Bucky couldn’t say for certain either way and that was enough for him to worry.

“What...? Bucky, no. He would never-“

“Do not tell me what he would and would not do, Y/n,” he seethed, using your name for the first time in what felt like forever. You had always been his doll….

“You think I don’t know the things he’ll do? You think I don’t see them again and again at night? No one is an exception to him, not even you-“

“But I-“

“And if you truly believe that-” his voice grew lower, his anger coming out in slicing breaths as he spoke, “-then maybe you’re not as smart as you let people believe you are….”

You suck in a sharp breath as his last words hit you. You felt like a bucket of ice was thrown directly over your head and your brain reeled as it tried to make sense of it all. ‘Did he… did he really just say what I think he said?’ you questioned, but your brain just played those thorn-covered words on repeat, rubbing the truth into your open wounds. You tried not to take them to heart, you knew it had been a long day for the both of you, but how could you not?

You took a shuddering breath as you looked down, tears welling in your eyes that you willed him not to see. You were too tired for this.

“Y/n..” he sighed as he watched you wordlessly gather his old clothes, long forgotten in the drawers from when he first moved in with you all that time ago. “Y/n, Where are you going? Come back here…”

“I’m going to find another room.” You explained simply, forcing calmness into your tone, but you still couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Doll, I’m sorry-”

“No.” You said firmly, causing him to raise his eyebrows a bit as slowly you turned to face him, “I'm far too tired for this tonight, James. it’s been a long night, we’re both in pain, and you obviously need some time to cool down, because the Bucky I know? He would never speak to me like this,” You struggled to hold in your venom as you harshed out those last words, “Goodnight, Bucky.”

You let the welled-up tears finally break free as the door clicked closed behind you. Sniffling back the onslaught you wiped away your tears to peek around the hall, eventually settling on the room just across from his. “FRIDAY? Open up the door to room 7 please…” you asked, relieved when she did exactly as you asked- you’d have to thank Tony for that later.

“Shit,” Bucky sighed into the empty room, now far too quiet for his liking. He always did everything he could hold to keep his anger in check with you, and it had been easy for the most part. Loving you had always come easy to him, and so he rarely had anything to be upset about. But this? This was new for him…. everything the Winter Soldier did was a means to an end. He was a deceiver, it was programmed into him over the decades and he couldn’t bear to let you fall prey to his games too.

Sleep eluded you for a while as you tossed and turned. You weren’t used to sleeping without him by your side, especially when you knew he was just a step and a knock away. But eventually, through your exhaustion, sleep finally came and you dreamed about your star that very night.

You dreamed of his eyes. Those intense blues that had rattled you so unexpectedly just hours ago. You were sure Bucky was wrong. Those eyes didn’t hold malice when they looked at you. No, they held knowing, like he had finally figured out a piece of himself. As if he had finally seen an aspect of what he could- no, what he would be.

You also dreamed of his smile. As awkward and unpracticed as it was you still loved it. It was nowhere near as bright as Bucky’s, but it held reverence for you all the same.

You dreamed of the promises he made against your belly. While you couldn’t distinguish the words he had said, you knew exactly what they meant; protection, strength, and the promise to return….

When you finally awoke your heart rang with a pang of guilt. Your dream-state comfort had been that of an assassin, an engineered “weapon”- and your heart’s blood-stained other half…. You sighed as you rubbed the sleep from your face. Was it right to be finding comfort in his icy blues instead of Bucky’s warm ones? Your thoughts fought each other for barely a minute more before you were brought back to the “talk” you and Bucky had yesterday. ‘He wouldn’t even listen to me! And then he’s going to go and call me stupid?! AGH’ you huffed as you slammed your fists down on the bed, your hands bouncing in an unsatisfying manner.

Rolling out of bed, you got changed into Bucky’s old clothes, smoothing down the oversized items as you poked your head out of the room. All was quiet in the hallway and only a couple of distant voices could be heard from the kitchen and living area. Holding your belly you hobbled out, your leg searing with each step as you kept your head on a swivel for a certain super soldier. You weren’t quite ready to talk to him yet, all your frustrations still pumping through your blood in a slow but consistent course, However, your heart still found itself craving his familiar presence.

A fleeting disappointment hung over you when you realized he was nowhere to be found, instead discovering Natasha and Sam as they chatted over breakfast.

“It was.. weird, Nat. I know my interactions with him in the past have been limited, but I’ve never seen him like that before” Sam said and you knew they were talking about last night.

“Hey, you two…” You interrupted, causing them to pause as they watched you enter, but neither seemed uneasy as you butted in.

“Y/N…�� Sam greeted with a small smile, pressing a few buttons on the coffee machine to get something started for you, “How’s it going? It looks like your leg is still bothering you…”

“Yeah... it’s burning more than last night, ” you rubbed your hand gently over your bandages in an attempt to soothe it, but it only stung more in retaliation. “Ah..” you hissed as you immediately retreated, “Yeah, it’s just a little sensitive….”

“We have some topical anesthetic and fresh bandages in the first aid kit if you want. I can grab them if Sam Is okay finishing off the rest of the pancakes?” the redhead proposed, holding the spatula out to him in an offering.

“Oh?? I, Sam Wilson, get to finish making Natasha’s famous pancakes? What an honor,” He laughed as he feigned his esteemed admiration, taking the spatula and flipping the few already sitting in the pan.

Nat grinned brightly as she made her way down the hall, whispering as she went past, “Truthfully? It’s a box mix. I just add vanilla and nutmeg and they never know the difference.”

You chuckled as you watched her go off to fetch the kit, truly thankful for the break in tension you were already feeling. You hadn’t gotten to know Natasha very well yet, on the off chance you visited the tower she was usually busy with missions, training, or paperwork, yet she welcomed you all the same. Part of you wondered if it was the former assassin in her that let her find friendship in you. After all, if you could love Bucky despite the Winter soldier, then surely you could be her friend despite her past, right?

You took a seat at the island's raised stools, watching Sam as he tried not to let the pancakes overcook. “So, Where is Bucky this morning?” You asked him, trying to be casual as you crossed your arms over the counter, thanking him as he placed a cup of decaf in front of you.

But Sam paused; you always knew where Bucky was, sometimes more than they did at this stage in your pregnancy. He even swore sometimes that you two were attached at the hip. The fact that you didn’t know means something must’ve happened last night after he got reset.

“He joined Steve on his morning run,” he answered as he leaned against the island opposite you, rolling his eyes as he continued, “It’s always ‘on your left…!’ when I run with him. I hope he gives Steve a run for his money this time…” he shook his head and smiled a bit as he watched you, trying to check in, but you just laughed, your face cracking into a small smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Speaking of your elusive super soldier…” Nat started as she returned, getting straight to the point as both her curiosity and old spy ways got the best of her, ”I heard the infamous Winter Soldier made an appearance last night...” She eyed you as well as she set the first aid kit down.

You tried to keep your smile, but as the conflicting thoughts and feelings of just last night resurfaced it was no time before it slipped away. You frowned at your mug, watching the dark swirls that lingered amongst the cream you added, “He did… he showed up at the house last night unexpectedly.”

Natasha’s frown matched yours as she spoke, “That bad, huh?”

“No, not at all. I mean, besides the almost getting shot part-“ you motioned as you began unwrapping your leg, your gash now open for the world to see. Though It was still a blazing red, it didn’t seem infected and for that you were thankful.

Her eyebrows shot up as she looked over your wound, it was a good-sized graze and a very near miss, “Y/N do we need to have a talk about toxic relationships?”

“What? No, Nat-” You waved her off, trying to get back on track as you began carefully cleaning it, “he’s not the one who shot me.”

You didn’t miss the way Nat’s eyes darted to Sam, surprise written on her face for just a moment before her collected expression came back. “He didn’t? That seems….”

“I told you…He was different last night, he was on the defensive this time.” Sam chimed in, tying back to their earlier conversation that you had interrupted.

You nodded in agreement and continued, “It was the security team that shot me, some new kid. I didn’t recognize his number or his face,” You explained. You couldn’t even be angry at that poor dumb soul either, he more than got what was coming to him. All you could hope for was that he learned something when he was dangling so uselessly in the air.

Sam thought for a moment, back to the bristling frustration he saw written all over Bucky as he left this morning, enough that he worried the Winter Soldier might have made a second appearance. His concerns dissipated when Steve managed to pat the man’s shoulder without receiving an immediate knife to the throat, but now it made him wonder, “Does Bucky know this?”

Your expression softened and you continued to frown as you took a small sip, “No… I tried to talk about it with him last night, but he didn’t want to hear anything after he learned who I met,” you huffed with annoyance, not even bothering to hide it from your two friends.

Sam nodded and held his hand up, “Well, I can’t say much since we only came in on the end, but maybe Bucky would listen to the body cam footage?”

You paused, blinking a few times as you processed what he said, “Body cam footage?” You questioned, setting the roll of bandages down, “What do you mean?”

“The security team is always required to wear body cameras when they go out. They should be reviewing it now,” Natasha explained.

You nearly jumped out of your chair, the pain in your leg the only thing holding you back. This could be it! If he wouldn’t believe your words, then maybe he’d believe his own eyes. Bucky deserved to know what kind of man his other side of him really was; he deserved to know that you loved him wholly, finding comfort in both sides of the coin.

You were determined not to give up on your star, because while Bucky had his friends to back him up, your Soldat had no one. No one, but you.

“Where can I get it?” You rushed to ask, looking back between the two, who in turn exchanged glances with one another.

Natasha took over pancake duty as Sam slid a plate in front of you and said, “It should be available sometime tomorrow, I can let them know you want a copy. Since you were the one caught in the crossfire they shouldn’t have a problem giving you access.”

You nodded quickly, excitement and relief easing into your shoulders as you took your plate, letting out a breath you didn’t you were holding.

This was it.

--------

Bucky’s feet hit the pavement in time with his steady heart, maneuvering past people like boxes in crowded alleyways. He was supposed to be on a run with Steve, but his mind had been wandering the whole time. ‘The Bucky I know? He would never speak to me like this,’ you had told him, so calm and so even that he honestly wished you had just screamed at him. His legs went into autopilot as your words rattled around his head. You were right, never in his waking minutes would it have ever crossed his mind to say those things to you. He was just so tired, so scared, and to top it all off it seemed like you had completely forgotten his warnings on the Soviet assassin. Or worse- that you purposefully went against them.

“Buck? Bucky!” Steve’s voice finally reached his ears as a hand grabbed his shoulder.

“What? What is it..?” The brunet shook himself from his thoughts as he slowed to a stop, looking back at his friend.

“Where are you going? The tower is this way,” Steve shot a thumb over his shoulder in the opposite direction, the tower in plain view above the surrounding shops.

Bucky stopped, blinking as he tried to process his surroundings. Where was he going? There was nothing in this direction except-

The apartment.

Bucky sighed as he quieted the subtle itch at the back of his mind, “Nothing, nothing. Just lost in my thoughts. I’m here now,” he assured, to which Steve nodded, but obviously did not believe. He was always too smart for his own good.

“Let’s head back to the tower, okay? It’ll be our final mile. We can even stop by the bakery on our way.”

Bucky willed himself to keep his thoughts in line as they ran their last mile, the tension in his body slowly unwinding only as they came to a stop and stepped into the sweet-smelling bakery. His senses were hit with a deluge of warm bread and spices that seemed to quiet his nerves for the time being.

“What can I get for you, sugar?” the older woman behind the counter asked. Her smile was tired as she nursed an old cup of coffee and Bucky assumed she had been there since its opening hours ago.

“Oh, um…” Bucky hummed as he looked through their displays, his heart really wasn’t in it like he wished it was. He was about to step back without getting anything when he spotted a fresh tray of cinnamon rolls coming out of the back. Cinnamon rolls had always been one of your favorite treats and he had rescued many a bad day with a surprise from the bakery. Maybe he could turn this bad day around too.

“Three cinnamon rolls, and three of the blueberry lemon rolls too. Uh, and a black coffee…. Please.” He asked, pulling his wallet out.

“Sounds like you’re having quite the party,” she commented with a little chuckle as she filled up a box with fragrant pastries.

“Ah, almost…I’m trying to make it up to someone,” He admitted sheepishly.

“Hm…” She hummed, looking right through him with practiced eyes, “You want me to throw some heart-shaped sprinkles in there or is that too much?”

A tiny smile lifted the corners of his mouth, “I think it’s gonna be just right.”

Bucky rehearsed the whole walk back, running his apology through his head dozens and dozens of times until it felt perfect. You still didn’t seem to grasp the level of danger you were in or how lucky you were to get out with just a scratch, but he knew you wouldn’t be able to listen if you were still angry with him. Maybe this would smooth things over enough for him to explain- for him to tell you all the things he did, all the things his hands will forever be stained with.

You knew the gist of it of course. Bucky had made it a point to let you know exactly what had happened to him over those years and exactly what his job as a living weapon was. The last thing he had wanted was for you to resent him for tricking you into loving him. But you deserved to know more, and these gooey pastries going to be his entry point.

Yes. He’d give you the treats, say his well-thought-out apology, and then he could finally explain. Hopefully, then you’d understand.

Well, that was the plan anyway.

As the doors opened up to their desired floor, Bucky could hear you before he even saw you. Your laugh rang like bells as you chatted away with Natasha and Sam, his heart bolstering with hope that your good mood would only make it better as he stepped forward.

“Hey, Do-“ he started before his eyes landed on your leg. It was propped up on the stool beside you as you were obviously in the middle of caring for it. He hadn’t had a chance to see it yet, part of him not wanting to know just how bad it was, but now there was no ignoring it. It was bright red, yelling its ferocity and pain as you tried to air it out. The wound itself was still trying to heal over, its soft vulnerable flesh showing barely any sign of scabbing. Blood stained your old bandage and it all made his stomach twist without mercy.

His mind couldn’t negotiate with him how bad it was anymore. Even though it was just a graze, he could see how painful and uncomfortable it was for you. He had failed you. What if it had just been an inch over? What if it had hit your bump? What if it had hit your heart?

He didn’t even realize he had crushed the flimsy cup in his hands until Steve stepped back, saying something about getting paper towels. Scorching coffee steamed up from his metal hand where it continued to drip into the puddle below it.

You looked over in surprise as you heard the splash, seeing your Bucky standing there with an intensity so adamant that you almost mistook him for someone else. But his eyes aren’t staring at you, per se, but your leg.

“Bucky, It’s okay, really-“ you tried, but he would not hear you; He wouldn’t hear anyone as he dropped his cup, the loud clattering in the quiet room almost more jarring than anything he could have said back. “Buck. Bucky, wait-!” but he was already walking away, forcing his gaze ahead as he passed by you like a ghost.

You tried to reach out, to grab his sleeve, but he slipped right through your fingers.

“Barnes, come on…” Natasha gently scolded, but he still refused to react.

You blinked back your shock, willing the threat of tears to subside when you heard the loud thud of his door closing behind him. You let out a shuddering breath, your hands rubbing down your face and you wondered just how long this was going to last.

After taking a few minutes to re-wrap your leg, hoping maybe he had cooled down once more you made your way down the hall. “Hm?” You mused wordlessly as you saw the small white box placed on the ground before your door. Being careful of your protruding bump, you squatted down- earning a small kick of protest- and lifted up the lid.

‘Cinnamon rolls… my favorite. And he even got us a special flavor…. ‘

With utmost care, you closed the box again and turned to face his door. “Bucky? My heart…?” You tried as you knocked on his door, putting your ear against it as you listened in.

Silence.

You tried again, louder this time, “Bucky, are you in there...?” But were again met with nothing. Was he really ignoring you now? “Please, can we just talk?”

Quiet.

Your skin couldn’t help but burn as you tried to hold in your frustration. ‘So now he doesn’t want to talk to me? What did I even do?!’ You thought as you dug your nails into your palms, using the sharp pain to ground you once more.

With a deep breath, you turned, picked up the white box, and left him to his begotten silence.

---------

Bucky’s ears were deaf to your calls as the shower rained over him, washing off the coffee and grime of the whole morning. His breath broke through the steam as he sighed, dipping his head under the rush of scorching water as if it would wash away his worries too; It almost worked until a searing headache made itself known.

The pain rippled in violent waves that came out of nowhere, consuming him suddenly and causing him to reach out blindly for the support of the slick wall. It was worse than getting kicked straight in the head, but he knew from experience that fighting it would only make it hurt more.

Squeezing his eyes shut against the pain, he made the perfect dark theater as flashes and snippets of memories played behind his eyes.

“Bucky…?” A vibrant grin spread across your lips, lighting up the room brighter than the phone on your bedside table. Someone was calling you, but he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away and the more he watched, the more your face changed.

Your eyes squinted as you looked deeper into him and for a moment he could swear you saw the heavy weight of loneliness that ached in his chest. He felt the coldness of his expression, emotionless and lifeless save for the way his brows knit together, eyes searching yours with confusion and… wanting? Your brows knit together, almost a reflection of himself he thought, as you seemed to consider who you looked at.

He could feel the smooth cold weight of the knife in his hand as he took a step closer, his head shaking slowly.

Then suddenly your gaze took on a horrified expression, your eyes darting to the phone to see who was calling.

“Soldat…” You whispered. You tried to steel yourself, but he heard the way your nervous voice shook- he saw the way your pulse thrummed rapidly in your neck. As the phone went dark he took another step- quiet, so as not to send you running.

Your phone buzzed again, lighting up the room once more as he stood above you now and you looked so scared, but his expression did not change. Did he feel anything as he saw your cowering form below him? Or was he just another husk of a weapon? Could he ever be anything more?

He glanced at the phone; his time with you had been interrupted again- your attention was drawn from him again. And he couldn’t have that. A low growl rumbled from his chest as you tried to reach for it, and immediately you recoiled again. He would take care of this. He would take care of you.

Wordlessly he declined the call and left you in darkness again. While his knife slipped away, his metal hand reached out. Something in him called desperately to feel your skin beneath cool unforgiving metal. He needed to see all the ways your soft scared body reacted under his touch.

He would take care of you.

“Please… Just don’t hurt her..” you begged.

Bucky sucked in desperate breaths as the memories of just yesterday finally faded. The headache lingered, but it was nothing compared to the incessant twisting of his heart in his chest.

What did he do to you…?

-----

You found solace in the quiet of your room after Bucky refused to answer the door, wrapping yourself in the comfort of your duvet rather than his arms. You sighed, looking about the empty room as you leaned your head against the armchair you sat in. “Hey there, baby…” you cooed quietly to your belly, your words immediately met with excited kicks. “Enjoying the rolls as much as I am?” you laughed a bit as you took another bite of your pastry.

You were lost in the one-sided conversation between you and your belly when a knock came at your door. You furrowed your brow as you sat up a bit wondering who it could be, only to sigh and lean back again, “Nat, I’m not sure I’m really in the mood for-”

“It’s Bucky…”

You paused, your mind at war with whether you ignored him like he ignored you… when you received a swift kick to the ribs, your baby firmly letting you know you were acting stupid. “Ah, ow- Okay, okay. You win… nice kick….” You mumbled to the inevitable bruise forming inside you.

“FRIDAY, Unlock the door to room 7, please?” you requested, to which she gladly complied.

As the door let out a soft click you watched your boyfriend’s head slowly peek inside, a faint smile growing on his features as his eyes finally settled on you. “Doll…” he breathed as if the simple action blessed him with life.

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your features before you quickly pulled it all back in. You were still frustrated with him and you weren’t going to let him off so easily. You had to be strong and stick up for the Winter Soldier, after all, it was the least you could do.

“Do you like them…? I know they’re your favorite,” he smiled as he motioned to the box of pastries, taking a few steps closer until he stood an arm's reach away. You wanted nothing more than to feel the warmth of him against you and the tight safety of his arms, but that would have to wait.

“I do… Thank you,” you smiled faintly down at the box as you pulled the blanket tighter around you.

He nodded, the ends of his lips remaining curled in a small smile, “I’m… I’m sorry about last night. I didn’t mean to say those things, or imply that I don’t think you’re the smartest one in the room because you are.” His eyes cast down in shame before moving back up to you. He looked worn, as if he had been beating himself up for hours and you wanted nothing more than to take it all away.

“I was tired, and in pain, and scared...” He tried to hide the slight tremble in his voice as he remembered the way his thoughts raced when he first learned you had met the Soldier. He frowned as he fought off the memory that had resurfaced just a short while ago as he continued, “I don’t mean to make excuses, and it won’t happen again, I just-,” he frowned, his jaw setting as he steeled himself and took a breath, “I can’t imagine the ways he must’ve hurt you, or the ways he intended to. It makes me sick to think that I wasn’t there to do anything, and even sicker to know I was the one doing them….”

But it was your turn to frown now, “Bucky, My heart. I keep trying to tell you he didn’t hurt me, He would never….” You assured, but this argument was beginning to look all too familiar.

“Doll, you can’t tell me that you really believe that…? You know the things he’s done, the indiscriminate blood on his hands-” he sighed as he also felt the argument beginning to go around in circles.

Just as you were about to open your mouth FRIDAY interrupted, “Guest Y/N, Sergeant Barnes, Miss Romanoff has requested your presence in the living area. She asks that you do not delay.”

You sighed as you looked at Bucky, who seemed to be just as confused as you were. Nevertheless, you peeled yourself from your blanket cocoon, steadying yourself on the chair’s arm briefly before heading toward the door. You could feel him following behind you, trying to stay a few steps back both in punishment to himself, and the urge to give you space.

You glanced back at him, offering your hand as you slowly made your way down the hall. Bucky took it immediately, holding your hand like it was a lifeline and you gently tugged him closer, urging him to fall in step beside you as you leaned on him for support; he has never been happier to be your crutch.

As the two of you walked into the living space you saw Natasha standing firm in front of the TV with the remote in her hands. Sam and Steve looked back from their place on the couch, waving a bit at each of you as you joined the group.

Before either of you could ask any questions Natasha got straight to the point, “Alright, I’m done feeling the tension between you two in the tower… you two have been arguing about something that- all in all, you two should just be happy went as good as it did..” she motioned for you two to take a seat before continuing, “But because you two are still at odds with each other I’ve asked to get the body cam footage expedited. We have the best of what they’ve gone through already and Barnes? I really think you should watch it…” she said with a pointed look and clear knowing.

He cast an uneasy glance at Sam and Steve, but when he received a simple nod in return he nodded too, tugging you gently onto the seat beside him. With a sigh, he nodded at Nat to start the video. He wasn’t sure he was ready to see it, but he was on a mission and he fucked up, he deserved to know just how spectacularly he did it.

You also motioned to Natasha, and she started the video. However, you could barely keep your eyes on the screen, instead, your eyes were glued to your beloved soldier’s face, waiting with bated breath for his reaction.

Bucky tensed as the video started with the security team breaking through your door, leaving it broken and barely on its hinges as they rushed their way through the house. He took in a sharp breath as the video continued and he saw himself standing over you, the bunching of the sweatshirt making it evident that your baby- his baby- was fully exposed. But it wasn’t until he turned that Bucky’s body started to unwind, his expression still a mask of confusion as he saw you grab the assassin’s hand, his grip giving a comforting squeeze.

“He…”

Bucky’s heart twinged with conflicted feelings as you called out to the team, begging them not to shoot, while still pleading with him to stand down. He could see the look in the Soldier’s eyes, but it wasn’t one he recognized… It was tangled; a war between gentleness, vulnerability, and the unrelenting fight he had had beaten into him years and years ago. The Soldier stood unyielding, shielding the most vulnerable parts of you with his body as he brandished the small knife.

“He was… protecting you…?” Bucky whispered as he looked away, turning his eyes to your teary ones. Despite trying to blink them away, a few still found their escape down your cheeks.

“It’s all he wanted…” You nodded, trying to fight back the renewing well in your eyes, but you knew how it all ended, and though you knew he was still alive you couldn’t help but feel the loss of him still. “ He just wanted a place to call home, a place to be safe…”

Bucky’s hand gripped yours, giving its own reassuring squeeze as he turned back to the screen. ‘My Sun…’ he called you, pure reverence and love in his voice that Bucky had never expected to hear from him. ‘My Star…’ you had called him back, desperate and pleading eyes as he turned back to you.

The security team shouted at him to comply again, and the body cam shifted, showing a young kid whose gun trembled as if he was in the middle of a terrible earthquake. The woman wearing the camera recognized his anxiety and tried to talk him down, but he couldn’t listen and his gun went off with a bang. Bucky could see the kid’s surprise as he accidentally pulled the trigger, and the fear as you clutched desperately to your wounded leg.

He winced as he saw the assassin’s cold expression return and again as a shot lodged square into his shoulder. He knew what was coming before he even lifted the kid in the air, your begging and crying out for his life ringing loudly in the background. No wonder you had been so adamant about defending him, he had done just the same for you.

When the kid was dropped, yet still breathing and the Soldier returned to you Nat finally cut off the video, sighing a bit at the overbearing air of the room.

Everything was quiet for a moment as Bucky took in the weight of the video until Sam and Steve broke the silence.

“We were able to convince him to come back to the tower to be reset after that…”

“He was the one who patched up Y/n’s leg, and vice versa…”

You nodded in agreement, wiping your dry cheeks as you felt tears beginning to return, “He knew he had to go… and he was happy to do so. I think…” You took a breath as Bucky reached over to wipe the falling tears, “I think he was just happy to know he finally had more, more than one purpose.”

Quietly Natasha waved everyone else from the room, giving you two much-needed space.

“That’s why I’m so sure, Bucky... He would never hurt us,” you rested your hand on your belly, “He took bullets for us, just like I know you would- and I have no doubt that he’d do it again. And god, Buck- he loves her so much,” you choked out a sob as you spoke, “He promised her the absolute world and he can’t wait to meet her…”

“Doll…”

“And I can’t wait either,” you said firmly despite your current teary disposition, “I’m glad I finally met him, Bucky. Because despite the separation you and the team refer to him with he is still a part of you.” You looked into the softening eyes of your beloved as you continued “And I know he’s not a part you’re proud of but that won’t make him disappear. I know the things he’s done, and I know that you blame yourself for them, but his actions are not yours….” You said.

“I can’t condone the things he’s done, but I know what he’s doing now, and I know that no matter what you think of him I love every part of you, James Barnes. Even the parts you don’t want me to see.”

Bucky’s eyes blinked as they looked down trying to contain the swell of emotions creeping dangerously close to the edge. Slowly he lifted your hand to his lips, kissing your palm like it was worship, “I love you so much, Y/n… I’m sorry I didn't listen before. And though it still makes me hesitate, I’m glad you finally know who he is. He- We are beyond lucky to have you, and even luckier that you somehow manage to love the both of us. I was worried you’d hate me for him...”

“Oh, my heart… I could never stop loving you in any way that would last.”

_____________

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tripleyeeet · 9 months

Text

I'M STARVING, DARLING (8)

SUMMARY: For the first time in a long time, you and Astarion find yourself experiencing a sense of normalcy through the chaos.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 3,346

WARNINGS: Sexual tension (there always is with these two, whoops), a bit of bloodsucking, mentions of past abuse, angst if you squint.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry this took so long! I'm back from vacay at work and died for four days straight but now we're back! Sort of!

Updates from now on might not be as frequent but I'm going to try and post weekly; maybe on Saturdays?

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

“Don’t you dare.”

At this point, you’ve been lying there for what feels like hours, locked inside his arms —unable to bring yourself to move thanks to the comfort you feel surrounding your frame. A comfort you haven’t felt in a long time as you listen to the raspy way his voice tickles your neck, prompting you to sigh and give in, knowing that resistance is futile.

“They’re going to kill us, you know.”

Shifting awkwardly to face him, you try not to smile when he peaks one eye open, quickly closing it when he catches your own. “I’d like to see them try considering I’m already dead.”

“Yes, well I’m not.”

He huffs, clutching you further into his chest. “And that’s my problem?”

Rolling your eyes, you playfully smack his face before wriggling from his grasp, moving to sit upright with a groan. As you do, you quickly remember the events of last night and slowly roll your bare shoulders, feeling them click in and out of place before you raise your arms to the sky with a yawn.

Despite your better judgement, you stayed up far too late, enjoying the ever-growing intimacy the night had to offer. All of the lingering touches and longing gazes mixed between small bouts of passion and a rather lengthy dip in the tub were nothing short of worth it. In fact, if you were honest, it was better than anything you could’ve imagined. A proper break from the chaos you’d been unwillingly thrust into as of late.

You knew because of that it’d be hard to wake up. To let your mind move from fantasy to reality as the sun hit your face and the reminder of the oncoming doom filtered through your tired mind.

What you weren’t prepared for however was Astarion’s lack of restraint as his curious fingers begin to slip across your back. Carefully drawing up and down your spine, his fingers move in delicate motions, sending an onslaught of shivers down your spine that have him chuckling under his breath, shuffling closer toward your frame.

“If you told me last night I’d be enjoying such a delicious view…”

When you turn to give him a narrow-eyed look he trails off, looking at you with feigned innocence as he kisses your shoulder blade, allowing his lips to linger as you stare him down.

“You’re lucky you're cute.”

“And you’re lucky my blade’s still attached to my clothes. Otherwise it’d be at your throat threatening you back to bed.”

“Kinky.”

Immediately he snorts, pressing his forehead against your back. “For fuck sakes— come back to bed, please. I won’t ask you again.”

Biting your lip, you look around the room for a moment, picking apart the disaster of discarded clothes and muddied floors mixed between half-opened packs of supplies. Somehow despite the disarray of it all you still manage to smile as you crane your neck back, knowing that you should get up but ultimately give in to temptation, shuffling around Astarion’s frame to rest your head back on your pillow.

“Fine. You win.”

“Win?” He slips effortlessly into your side, leaning over to place a chaste kiss to your cheek before tracing the edge of your jaw with his finger. “And what pray tell is my prize?”

“My company.”

He scrunches up his face in false disgust, softly taking hold of your chin. “I was hoping for something a bit more exciting.”

It’s apparent then that he’s looking for a repeat of the hours prior. More moments of shared ecstasy before the inevitable shift in focus occurs and you’re most likely left wanting for another few weeks.

It’s tempting for sure. Especially when he slips a leg between your own, gently pushing his thigh against that spot that has you swallowing hard as you close your eyes.

“You and I both know—“

He cuts you off with a long kiss. One that’s devoid of anything other than the hunger of a starved man, reaching for that initial bite. It’s all tooth and tongue —a mess of movements that have him shifting upright to straddle your leg, breathing hard against your open mouth as he slots his teeth against your lower lip, making you groan.

“Sorry darling, what were you saying?” His grin is wicked when he pulls away, using the moment of dazed confusion to stroke your cheek as you open your mouth to speak. When nothing comes out he merely chuckles and places a much softer kiss in the same spot, resting against you for a second or two before pulling away.

“You’re awful.”

“And you’re easy,” he muses, moving his thigh against you. “Desperate even.”

Immediately, there’s a part of you that wants to argue that the feeling of your legs suddenly tightening around his own as your breath begins to falter isn’t the result of your desperation, but his. That you’re merely just a victim to his charms like always. However, the bigger part of you knows he’ll probably make you feel otherwise. More than likely, he’ll retort with something far too clever and make you second-guess your words.

So instead, you merely give in to his claims, humming quietly as he explores your frame, quickly laying waste to your neck with an open-mouthed kiss that makes you crave that feeling again. The cold nothingness brought on by his teeth latching against you.

Despite its somewhat violent cause, you still long to remember the feeling. The incomparable bliss of that icy jolt before total numbness occurs, leaving you lightheaded and empty. Suddenly, it takes over your mind, flashing amongst the current movements of his mouth trailing down your torso.

All of it’s enough to say his name. Quietly through the haze of desire, you feel him pause and look up, raising a brow at your heavy chest as you cup his cheek. “Are you hungry?”

He looks at you confused. “If this is some sneaky way of trying to get out of bed, I can assure you—“

“No.” You shake your head, moving it slightly to the side to showcase your throat. “Are you hungry?”

For a moment there’s an undeniable tension that grows. Festering amongst naked skin and scratchy sheets, it builds by the second, making your chest ache with the kind of nervous anticipation that has you wondering if maybe you shouldn’t have spoke.

He may be a vampire but thus far he’s managed to keep himself from feeding on you since that first time. Something you were both surprised and disappointed by, considering you had expected him to ask for more. Especially after the reaction of his previous feed. It was obvious that it was enjoyable. A moment of pure decadence that left him wanting more despite the consequences.

“Wait a minute, am I dreaming?”

His face is suddenly inches from yours, his breath wafting against your face through a grin that makes you chuckle. “No.”

“Are you sure? Because I’m sure I’ve dreamt of this exact scenario once or twice.”

“Have you now?”

He hums with a nod, leaning forward to kiss your cheek. “Yes. However, the only difference is that I was in a castle and Cazador’s head was on a stick in the corner.”

You snort and wrap your arms around his head, pulling him closer. “Sorry to disappoint. Hopefully you can consider my offer the next best thing?”

“I suppose. But only because you were my first.”

First?

Immediately, you wonder if it’s a slip of the tongue —another one of his flirtatious lies sent to woo despite already having you. Given the nature of his past, it wouldn’t be all that surprising. Considering his role under Cazador’s thumb was to charm and lure, you know that lies like this are still second nature. A mechanism of lust ingrained into his psyche.

Plus, it’s not like it’s possible for you to actually be his first. Having spent most of his time in spaces like this, a bit of bloodletting was bound to happen at some point. It was inevitable really when you think of Astarion’s voice and face and overall ability to manipulate.

Surely it’d be hard to resist. But then it dawns on you —the severity of his abuse. The tightened leash so carefully tied around his neck for hundreds of years. There’s no way Cazador would’ve allowed him such pleasantries. Despite his efforts —despite the countless opportunities to take his fill, it quickly becomes apparent that he wouldn’t.

Because he couldn’t.

Because despite the allowance to explore the city, he was still considering nothing.

It makes your heart simultaneously skip and break, watching the sudden nervousness that clouds his features. The way his cheeky grin sort of falls out of place, showcasing an underlying fear that has him licking his lips and searching your face.

“Is that true?”

All he does is nod his head, looking at you with such sincerity that the only way you’re able to respond is to inhale slowly. To stop and stare and subtly nod back, hoping that he understands.

When he does you’re met with nothing but anticipation. A breathless series of moments leading up to Astarion’s mouth against your throat, warming up the skin with languid licks that have you closing both your eyes, waiting for the pain.

“I don’t understand what I did to deserve you.”

The edges of his teeth scrape gently over your skin, making you swallow and sigh, unable to answer because you’re too busy preparing. Too busy expecting the pain before it eventually subsides into that numbness you so desperately crave.

“Thank you, for this. Truly.”

His voice feels like velvet on your skin. The way it coasts the expanse of it in the softest of praise before it’s surpassed by that first initial jolt, ripping through your flesh in one quick push. Groaning lowly, you feel the presence of his teeth slide inside before you can even process, his lips haphazardly slotting over top to suck.

Without much warning you find yourself lost. Laying slack against the bed, unable to even bring yourself to grab his hair like the first time, you merely ride the wave of pain and pleasure that repeatedly breaks against you. Allowing it all to sink in with a quiet hum that has him smiling against your throat, lapping up bloodshed after bloodshed until he hears the door crash open.

“It's way past sunrise what the hell are you —oh fucking— Astarion, seriously?”

Both of you look over in horror to see Karlach looking down at the floor —her one hand covering her face as she disapprovingly shakes her head, realizing what she’s just witnessed.

Upon noticing, you know she isn’t all that surprised —just disappointed. A feeling that makes you sick to your stomach as you work to sit up, swearing under your breath and reaching for the nearest sheet despite your head starting to spin.

“I know we’ve been without proper shelter for months but for god's sake Karlach doors exist for a reason!”

Mortified, you look between them as Astarion scolds, noticing the subtle smirk that rises over Karlach’s lips. “Well, maybe if the two of you got up when you were supposed to instead of lying around sucking each other off I wouldn’t have to fucking come up here in the first place!”

“To be fair, we never got to the part where I suck him off.”

Immediately, Karlach groans while Astarion snorts, prompting you to press your lips together to suppress a laugh as the energy in the room shifts toward your favour.

“You two are just —just… come downstairs, please. Gale was supposed to cook breakfast but his hand’s still sore from the fight yesterday.”

“What the hell does that have to do with us?” Astarion asks but unfortunately, you already know the answer.

“You know how protective he gets over the cooking duties.” Annoyed, Karlach rolls her eyes, dropping her hand from her face to motion to you. “He won’t let anyone else but Blood-Bag over here do it.”

Both of you groan but relent, telling Karlach you’ll be down soon before she grumbles a low you better be before shutting the door.

When she’s gone you let out a sigh of relief, moving to sit up and shuffle towards the edge of the bed, trying your best to ignore the aching in your neck and the piercing gaze of Astarion’s frustration honing in on his handiwork.

“Don’t even think about it,” you tell him then, narrowing your eyes at the hunger that lingers beneath the surface, threatening to rise all over again at the sight of your bloodied skin.

Despite this, you know he’s most definitely thinking about it. Intensely and angrily, it’s probably the only thing he’s thinking about as he watches you push off the bed and move to your pack to grab a washcloth.

“Can’t I just finish you off?”

As you wipe down your neck, watching the way he frowns at the waste of blood you groan. “Astarion—“

“Please?”

He’s at your side in an instant, wrapping his greedy hands around your waist, pulling you in all over again. Convincing you that despite the importance of your compatriot’s breakfast, his fill still reigns supreme.

“Fine but—“

“I promise to return the favour.” He cuts you off with a smirk. One that’s laced with lust and quickly finds its way back to its home, stopping at the entrance with bated breath.

You can’t help but roll your eyes through your suppressed grin in response, feeling his fangs hit your neck only to stop when the door rings out in a series of knocks causing you both to close your eyes and groan, knowing it’ll have to wait till later.

A fact that stirs an anger in both of you as you begrudgingly clean and throw on your clothes, attempting to ignore all the tension as you head downstairs to the communal kitchen space.

Inside there’s about half a dozen bodies, slaving over pots and pans and chatting with their peers as they await their meals. In the corner, Gale and Shadowheart stand chatting amongst themselves, unaware of your presence until you’re standing before them, hands crossed grumpily over your chest.

“Ah! About time you two showed up! We were beginning to think you’d abandoned the crew —or worse.”

“What could possibly be worse than leaving all of you behind?” Astarion asks dully, prompting you to shoot him a glare that has Shadowheart cocking her head.

“Where’s Karlach? Did she find you?” she asks.

Both of you nod, trying your best not to reveal the events of her findings before quickly changing the subject, signalling Gale to go into some long-winded rant about the importance of breakfast.

After that Astarion zones out completely. Standing alongside you, you can tell his mind is elsewhere as you and the wizard discuss the various ingredients you have on hand, working together to ultimately decide on a simple breakfast hash you could’ve easily whipped up without the lecture.

“Do you want me to supervise or?”

You shake your head. “Seriously Gale. I’m fine. I’ve been cooking since I was five. Go rest with the others.”

It takes some further reassurance; mostly from Shadowheart who insists that you’re right because of how starving she is. But eventually, he manages to set aside his pride with a sigh, muttering something about spices before being dragged away, leaving just the two of you.

“I swear I’ve never seen a more uptight wizard.” Astarion shakes his head while you wander over to the nearest prep table, producing a cutting board and a blade from Gale’s leftover pack. “I mean, I know they’re all pretty tightly wound but him—“

“Can you start peeling potatoes for me?”

He looks at you like you’ve just insulted his character. With widened eyes and open lips, he takes a minute to look around the room to see if you’re speaking to someone else before he realizes he’s the only one there. “Me?”

“Yes, you. C’mere.”

He does, but only to further stand there and stare, letting out a laugh. “Oh darling, I don’t cook. Hunt, yes, but obviously considering the fangs and all that you and I both know I no longer have a need for culinary skills.”

Ignoring his words you hand him the knife and motion to the spot next to you, watching as he reluctantly obeys. “Peel these then cut them into chunks about this big.” You show him the sizing with your fingers, hoping he’s smart enough to understand before tossing a couple of potatoes in front of him. “Then cut these peppers about half that size.”

As you hand over the peppers, Astarion continues to look at you in disbelief. “You can’t be serious, darling.”

“Dead, actually.” You grin mischievously, procuring some eggs that Gale managed to trade off of one of the other cooks before you arrived along with a bowl. “Besides, I recall a moment earlier when you said you’d return the favour?”

“Sexually,” he states. Then, he grabs the nearest potato and begins to peel, shakily slicing off a piece of potato skin. “Also, if I recall we didn’t even finish your end of the bargain.”

“Yet.”

Realizing that you’re right, he merely huffs and continues to peel, wreaking havoc along the knuckles of his fingers in the process.

It makes you frown, watching him struggle as you crack your eggs and mix, remembering that he probably hasn’t done this in years. For the last two centuries, he was too busy hunting whatever he could find underground, desperately consuming whatever crossed his path —meaning he probably hasn’t used a knife for anything other than violence since before he was turned. A depressing fact that has you reaching for his hand and examining his wounds with tired eyes.

“Can I show you how to hold it?”

There’s a moment where he goes to protest but ultimately accepts, looking at you half-annoyed as you explain the angle at which the knife should sit in his hand and the amount of pressure you should use.

“I don’t know why you insist on having me help. I don’t eat any of it.”

As he speaks he still takes your advice, letting the knife carefully slide across the potato, avoiding his knuckles entirely, making you grin. “It’s not about eating. It’s about making something you’re proud of.”

“How can you be proud of something that will no longer exist in an hour?”

You shrug your shoulders, unsure how to explain as the two of you then work in silence. As he peels and cuts, you prep your eggs before moving on to the sausage, dumping the meat into a pan with some simple spices that most definitely weren’t on Gale’s list.

You discover then how easy this all feels. From the moment you woke up, it’s as if you’ve been transported to a new life. One where the threat of danger is lost just like the stagnant tadpole behind your eye. In your mind, there’s not a care in the world other than Astarion’s knife skills and the hungry bellies that impatiently sit and it’s nice. Simple. The kind of life you quickly find yourself longing to have as the two of you continue to cook, occasionally joking about your peers between flirtatious touches and suggestive comments that have your chest feeling warm.

“You know with some practice you might actually be a handy prep cook.”

Bumping your hip against Astarion’s you notice a flicker in his gaze. One that’s filled with something foreign and happy as the two of you begin walking out your freshly cooked meal. “I’d say you’re wrong but considering my toxic pride, I’ll merely agree.”

Before you can respond the whole table catches your attention. Their eyes are wide with want as you set the bowl of hash at the centre of the table, barely blinking before they’re shovelling it onto their respective plates and expressing their thanks; filling Astarion with a new kind of pride that makes him fully understand just what you meant earlier.

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#i'm starving darling #astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion fan fic #astarion series #astarion x female reader #astarion x reader #astarion x you #summer writes

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waywardxrhea · 3 months

Text

My Consequence - a Sam Winchester one shot

pairing: Sam Winchester x fem!hunter!reader (no use of y/n)

word count: 5.7k

"when you spill your guts they don't go back in...if I bleed too much it's my consequence..." - hey violet, my consequence

One thing leads to another after a hunt and you end up spilling your guts to the man you've been pining after for years.

content: 18+ minors DNI! sleep deprivation, show accurate violence on a hunt, blood, language, humor, fluff, light angst, smut (PWP but it's a lot more plot whoops, making out, grinding, unprotected sex)

(not my gif)

You sat at the desk in the Men of Letters bunker one morning, your tired eyes trying to focus on the board that could show a litany of cases that need to be worked, and boy had you and the boys been working on them. You had barely gotten but four hours of sleep over the past week, maybe, because you couldn’t sleep at night knowing how many people out there could be suffering without your help. Sam and Dean didn’t know it, but you had been sneaking out at night to work the nearby cases by yourself and then getting a nap in before getting woken up to do it all over again. Needless to say, you were exhausted.

“You find anything?” Sam asked as he made his way into the room, a cup of coffee in his hand.

“Hey you didn’t get me any?” you asked teasingly when you saw the cup in his hand. Sam was about to offer to go make you a cup when your eyes flickered to a part of the screen as you found a case about an hour away. “Hey I found something.”

“What is it?” he asked, wandering over in your direction.

“It’s sounding like a ghoul. There’s a report of this family seeing someone who looks uncannily like their long time neighbor who passed away a few weeks ago. I’m not seeing any suspicious activity in the town so far but I think it’s worth looking into.”

“Good eye, I’ll get Dean,” he told you.

While he said this, Dean came into the room and said, “No can do, I’ve been asked to get rid of a vengeful ghost for a friend of a friend. I’m about to head out. You kids are on your own.”

“Okay, yeah, it’s nothing we can’t handle,” Sam said with a nod, sure of your abilities as a team, not knowing that you were operating on maybe a ten minute nap this morning.

“Sounds like a plan,” you said, getting up from your chair and starting to make your way to your room to get changed and gather some supplies you had stored away there.

After an hour's drive consisting of you consulting your parents’ old hunting journal for tips of how to take down ghouls, the pair of you arrived in the small neighborhood that had popped up on the map in the bunker. You straightened out your blouse as you got out of the car, trying to make it look perfect before the pair of you walked up to the reporting neighbor’s door. Sam noticed and chuckled as he told you, “You look great, don’t worry about it.”

This compliment ignited a slight blush on your cheeks that you hid as you leaned down into the trunk to grab your FBI badges. When you regained your composure you stood up straight and told him, “Thank you, you look great too. Very professional.”

Sam smiled at the compliment before straightening his tie and heading up the sidewalk in front of you. When you reached the front door, Sam knocked gently and waited for an answer. After a few seconds the inner door swung open to reveal a disheveled middle aged woman with a child on her hip. The two of you flashed your badges before Sam started with, “Ma’am, we’re with the FBI and heard about some strange occurrences going on around here. I was just wondering if we could come in.”

A sense of relief seemed to flood the woman’s body and she quickly ushered the two of you in, checking the coast behind you before closing the door. When you all sat down in the kitchen, the child playing quietly on the floor, the woman paced as she said, “Oh thank God you two are here. I’ve been telling the sheriffs office about Dan for a few days but they keep calling me crazy! They’re telling me that I’m just so used to seeing him that my brain is playing tricks on me, but I know that I’ve seen him!”

“Can you tell me more about this Dan person?” you asked.

“What do you want to know? I’ve known the man almost my whole life. He’s been my neighbor since my family moved here when I was five. A bit reclusive, but sweet nonetheless. He collected old war regalia, I swear his house was like a museum, it was so fun to explore growing up. He died about a month back, but I swear I saw him coming in and out of the back woods last weekend. I think I saw him again last night but… I haven’t been sleeping ever since that first time I saw him so maybe my mind is playing tricks on me…”

“I see,” you said while writing the details down in your own notebook. “Do you mind if I ask what kind of burial Dan had?”

The question shocked the woman as well as Sam so he quickly interjected with, “Sometimes reliving the experience can help with unpacking the mind if you’ve been overwhelmed. Maybe we can talk through it so we can address what’s possibly going on mentally.” Sam shot you a confused and concerned look out of the corner of his eye as the woman closed hers and massaged her temples. You were usually so sharp and cunning when it came to questioning witnesses, so with a slip-up like that Sam was starting to wonder what was going on with you…

When the woman finished rubbing her head, she opened her eyes and said, “Oh okay… well he had an open casket funeral in the park where he got married to his wife who passed away a few years ago. Not many people showed up except family and a few of us from the neighborhood.”

“Have you talked with anyone else in the neighborhood about these sightings? Perhaps anyone else who was at the funeral?” you asked.

“No, I haven’t left the house and a lot of them I don’t have their numbers to contact,” she replied. “The neighborhood isn’t as close as it used to be back in the day.”

“Do you mind if we talk with them to see if they’ve seen anything?” Sam asked.

“Be my guest,” she replied with a nod.

So you and Sam split up to talk with the other neighbors, keeping an eye on your surroundings for the man who was supposed to be dead. After about an hour, you and Sam met back up at the car to go over what you both knew.

“So two of the neighbors say that they don’t really pay attention to the woods but thought they might have heard something rustling around in them the other night,” you told him.

Sam rubbed the stubble on his chin as he said, “One I talked with told me that her son swears that he saw Dan heading toward the woods last night but she also said that she smelled weed and liquor on him when he told her so she didn’t believe him.”

“Well all clues say that if this is a ghoul he’s hiding in the woods so I guess we gear up and head into the belly of the beast,” you suggested as you opened the trunk and started grabbing weapons that could be useful: a couple of machetes as well as a shotgun just in case. If it was a ghoul you would need to destroy its head or decapitate it to kill it. Sam debated on asking you if you were feeling okay or if you needed to sit this one out but before he could you were already marching toward the woods, weapon on your hip.

As you headed into the woods, you lagged behind, your shorter legs unable to keep up with Sam as per usual. “Hold on, I’ve got little legs!” you said with a laugh as you jogged to catch up.

“Right, right. I forget how vertically challenged you are,” Sam said with a smirk.

“Or you’re just ridiculously tall,” you teased with a nudge to his ribs.

Teasing aside, Sam seemed to notice something so he put his hand up to signal for you to be quiet and you obliged, knowing that if Sam noticed something it was serious. As he inspected something hanging from the tree limb above, you heard a crack of branches in the nearby grove. Ready to attack at a moment’s notice, your hand went to the handle of your machete in case you needed to start swinging.

The next few seconds happened in a blur and you acted on instinct alone when you saw a figure barreling toward the pair of you, more specifically toward Sam’s turned back, brandishing an old Civil War type dagger. “Sam!” you shouted before jumping between the two men, swinging your machete at the ghoul, only to miss and drop your weapon as you doubled over onto the ground.

Sam reacted quickly once he heard you call out his name, grabbing the ghoul’s arm before he could get a hit in on him and quickly swinging his own machete at the monster, decapitating it with ease. When he started to fully take in the scene though, things began to move in slow motion. As he turned around to the last place he heard your voice he saw you clutching your abdomen and falling to the ground. His eyes went wide as he shouted your name in worry.

Once you hit the ground Sam was right there, holding you in his arms and listening to you say, “I’m fine, I’m fine,” as you attempted to get up.

Sam went to move the hair out of his eyes when he noticed that his hand that was previously on your abdomen was covered in blood. “I need to get you to the hospital,” he told you, trying to remain calm as he forced his voice to stay steady.

“It’s okay, I’ll be fine, nothing a few stitches back at the bunker can’t fix,” you said, the adrenaline pumping through your veins not letting you feel the pain fully just yet. You took the moment to try and stand again but couldn’t, so you looked down at your shirt that was starting to slowly soak through with dark red blood. “Oh…” you said quietly, voice barely above a whisper.

“I need to get you outta here…” Sam said again, taking off his jacket and wrapping it tightly around you before picking you up and starting to sprint back toward the car. As he reached the car, he shouted to a neighbor, “Where’s the nearest hospital?!”

“It’s about half an hour away, head east and you’ll see it as you’re heading into the city,” the man told him. He saw the blood on Sam’s hands and asked with wide eyes, “Do you want me to call an ambulance?”

Sam didn’t respond as he placed you in the passenger seat before sprinting to his side of the car and speeding off, trying to keep pressure on the wound as he drove. After a few minutes, he looked over and saw your eyes starting to flutter shut so he took his hand off the wound to squeeze your hand and told you, “Stay with me…”

“I’m here, I’m here,” you replied quietly, your voice starting to get weak as your breathing began to grow shallow. “I’m just really tired…”

“No, no, no, no,” he said quickly, “you stay with me. You stay awake okay? We’re almost there.” he told you while putting more pressure on the gas pedal, hoping to cut the trip in half at least.

“I’ll try,” you replied weakly.

“Here, let’s talk. Let’s talk about that band you like, what is it, Party at the Disco?”

You laughed wearily before correcting him, “Panic! At the Disco, Sammy.”

“And how’s that one song go that you’re always singing? The one about the doors?”

“I really need you to pay attention to my music from now on because those were horrible guesses,” you told him with a weak laugh once again. You paused for a moment before adding, “Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for always looking out for me,” you told him. “I know things haven’t always been the best between us but... You make my days brighter.”

“What- why are you talking like that?” he asked, his eyes momentarily leaving the road to glance at you.

“I’m losing a lot of blood Sammy, life isn’t guaranteed and you know it. I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate you,” you told him quietly. He could feel your hands and skin beginning to grow cold against his own as he held your hand.

“Don’t talk like that, don’t act like you’re saying goodbye. We’re almost to the hospital, you’re gonna make it through this,” he told you, his voice almost breaking at the thought of losing you. He saw the hospital in the distance and sped up impossibly faster, spotting the emergency room and heading in that direction.

Once he pulled in front of the building, he slammed the brakes of the car and sprinted over to your side, pulling you out of the seat and starting to carry you into the building. As he carried you in, you started to fade in and out of consciousness, whispering weakly, ��I’m scared Sammy…”

“I know, but you’ll make it. I know you will,” he told you as he got you inside. The second you were inside, he shouted, “Help! She needs help!”

“Oh my God,” the nurse at the desk gasped with wide eyes, seeing the amount of blood that had soaked your shirt and bled onto Sam’s.

The nurse shouted for help and a group of people came sprinting over with a stretcher to get you back into a room. As Sam placed you on the stretcher, you looked up at him and felt like this could be your last shot to confess your feelings, so you whispered, “Thank you Sam. I love you…” before getting wheeled off to be worked on.

“Wait…!” he shouted after you as you were taken away. Did you just say what he thought you did?

He tried to follow the workers, but was held back by a couple of male nurses who told him, “They need room to work, please calm down sir!”

“But… I just… Shit…” he whispered, his body deflating as your words hitting him right in the heart.

“Can you tell us what happened?” one of the nurses asked.

Sam hesitated for a moment, shock taking over his body, but he eventually replied, “Occupational hazard. A perp went after her. Big gash on her abdomen. I got her here as fast as I could…” Did she just say she loved me? he thought to himself as he was escorted to a chair by the nurses.

“We’re going to do what we can to help her, I’ll keep you updated as we know more,” he told Sam before heading back to the floor to see your status.

Sam sat for a minute with his head in his hands before going out to move his car and call Dean. “Hey Sammy, what’s up? Did you get that ghoul taken care of?” came Dean’s voice through the phone. Sam couldn’t find the words he wanted to say and the silence bugged Dean so he asked, “Sam are you okay?”

“She got hurt. Badly, Dean,” he said quietly, his voice shaking.

“Well how bad is badly?” he asked, concern in his voice.

“God there was so much blood…” Sam whispered, looking down at one of his blood stained hands while shaking his head.

“Well, is she alive?! I need something more than things are bad!” Dean nearly shouted into the phone.

“Barely. By the time we got to the hospital she had almost passed out, she was pale, and I think she felt like she was gonna die…”

“Oh wow…” Dean replied quietly. “Where are you?”

“It’s fine Dean, take care of that ghost,” Sam told him, not really wanting company because he was still trying to process everything.

“The damn ghost can wait, I already trapped it. I can tell them to try and look for his possessions while I’m gone. I’m already getting in Baby,” Dean said and Sam could hear the impala roar to life. Once the noise level was suitable to hear over the phone again, he asked, “Have you tried contacting Cas?”

“I didn’t think about it,” Sam admitted quietly.

“Sam, we have an angel at our disposal who can heal with one touch and you didn’t think to call him when there’s a life-threatening injury on our hands?” Dean asked, a bit of frustration seeping into his voice.

“Everything happened so fast I just didn’t think about it,” Sam replied defensively. He let out a sigh before adding, “I’m at Woodcrest General on the outskirts of Hoover.”

“I’m on my way. You start praying to Cas and I’ll try his cell. Got it?”

“Got it,” Sam replied before hanging up the phone and heading back inside.

When he emerged back into the building, the nurse at the desk told him, “If you want a pair of scrubs and to clean off I can get you access to the shower room, Agent.”

“Oh, yeah, thanks,” Sam told her, really not wanting to be in his blood soaked clothes anymore. As the nurse took him to the shower room, he asked, “Are there any updates on her?“

“She was rushed down to the OR just now. The doctor said it doesn’t look like there’s too much internal damage, she just lost a lot of blood. She… she did lose consciousness right as transport was taking her down to the OR though.”

“Damnit…” Sam whispered, closing his eyes and sighing.

“It’ll be a little while before we have answers, I’m sorry. Maybe the shower will help calm you down a bit,” she told him as she let him into the room and showed him the cabinet with scrubs in it.

“Thanks,” he told her before she headed back out. Sam took his time with the shower, washing all the blood out from his skin and hair and taking a few minutes to just cry. How could he have let this happen? It’s always been his and Dean’s unspoken job to watch out for you and he failed… He should have stopped you from heading into those damn woods…

After he dried off and put some scrubs from the cabinet on, Sam closed his eyes and folded his hands as he began to pray. “Castiel. I know you’re probably busy, but I really need you." His voice broke as he whispered your name, telling the angel, "We were on a hunt and…and she was hurt badly and I’m not sure if this hospital has the ability to heal her. I know it’s a long shot and we shouldn’t use your grace so willy nilly, but… I can’t lose her… Amen.”

Freshened up, Sam made his way to the waiting area where he sat alone with his thoughts, occasionally praying to Cas again in hope that he would hear his call.

The time crawled by and felt like forever even though it was only a few hours before Sam heard, “Agent Williams?” coming from the same nurse from earlier.

Sam looked up with hope in his eyes and asked, “Yes ma’am?”

“She’s out of surgery now. I can take you to her room,” she said with a small smile.

“Thank you,” he told her, relief flooding his body.

While they walked together to the nearby elevators, she told him, “I don’t want to give you false hope, she isn’t out of the woods yet. The surgeon closed her up, but there may be complications. This hospital doesn’t usually see cases like Agent Hanna’s.”

“Oh…” Sam said, desperately hoping that Cas heard his prayers now.

“Don’t get me wrong, he’s a great surgeon, but he just doesn’t deal with severe injuries like hers on the regular. I don’t say that to scare you, but we just have to be realistic here. If she gets any worse we may have to transport her out to a bigger hospital.”

“Got it,” he replied as they reached the floor that you were on.

“Here’s her room. She’s still out of it and receiving blood right now,” the nurse told him as she opened the door to let him in.

“Thank you,” he told her with a nod before heading into the room. He took out his phone and texted Dean the floor and room number before pulling up a chair beside your bed. He took a moment to look at your still pale skin and grabbed your hand as he whispered, “I’m so sorry…”

After a few minutes, Sam closed his eyes and sent one last prayer Castiel’s way before he jumped when he heard a sharp knock on the door as it opened up. He looked up to see Dean and Cas coming into the room, looks of concern on their faces. “How is she?” Dean asked.

“I mean she’s alive… The nurse told me that there may be complications though and if she doesn’t get better soon they may have to ship her off to a bigger facility,” Sam replied quietly, looking at the monitor to watch your heart rate. After a few moments of silence, he told them, “She sacrificed herself to save me. That ghoul was coming at us quick and my back was turned so she jumped in. She barely got a swing in on it before it got her with a dagger.”

“Did you get the ghoul?” Cas asked.

“Yeah. But then I saw how much she was bleeding… God there was so much blood…” he whispered, his voice breaking. He cleared his throat before adding, “She seemed like she thought she was gonna die because before they took her back she told me that she loved me…”

Dean scoffed before muttering, “About damn time…”

“What does that mean?” Sam asked, his eyebrows furrowing together.

“Sam, you’re about as oblivious as a brick wall. That girl has loved you for years. She never told you because, well, you know how she is. She doesn’t like stepping on toes and would rather others be happy before she is so she let you get into all these relationships and faked being happy for you while she not so secretly drank away her pain.”

“I… I had no idea…” Sam whispered. All the times you had shown him what he thought was sisterly affection, the moments where you tried to make him laugh in his darkest moments, how you’ve stuck by his side through everything, all came flooding to him and he realized that even if it wasn’t obvious, he had started to develop feelings for you too.

“Well now you do and once she’s healed up you better make the most of it,” Dean told him.

“Why didn’t you say something before?” Sam asked, feeling horrible that he’s led you to so much pain throughout the years.

“It wasn’t my place,” Dean replied simply.

Interrupting their conversation, Cas cleared his throat and said, “I don’t mean to interrupt this conversation about feelings, but if I could maybe look at her wound to see if I can heal her…”

“Right,” Sam said, standing up and getting out of the way so Cas could lift up your gown to see the damage.

When the gown was pulled away, it was revealed that the dressing the surgeon had put on was soaked through with blood already. Seeing this, Sam sighed and ran his fingers through his hair as he began to pace the room. “Sam calm down,” Dean told him sternly.

“She’s still bleeding!” Sam said back sharply.

“And he’s an angel!” Dean snapped back, not wanting to show that he was worried too.

“I should be able to heal her,” Cas told Sam reassuringly as he laid his hand over the dressing. He closed his eyes and channeled his grace to heal the wound, sealing it up and repairing the bits of undetected internal damage as well. Once the angel grace’s light left his body, he nodded and said, “She’s healed,” before replacing your gown and covering you back up.

Sam sighed in relief and smiled before whispering, “Thank you.”

A few moments later, your eyes began to flutter open and you looked around before weakly whispering, “Sam?”

“Yeah? I’m here, I’m here, you’re safe,” he told you as he made his way back over to your side. He took your hand before nodding to Cas and telling you, “Cas healed you.”

“Oh, thank you Cas,” you said with a small smile.

“No problem,” he replied with a nod.

There was a moment of silence while you looked down at your hand that was being held by Sam’s, so Dean said, “I think there’s something you two need to talk about. We’ll be in the waiting area. Come on Cas.”

Once it was just the two of you in the room, Sam cleared his throat before he said, “So about what you said right before you were taken away…”

Remembering that you told him that you loved him, you quickly looked away and said, “I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to make things weird… I know you want a normal girl with a normal life and I… I can’t give that to you…”

“Hey, hey, look at me,” Sam said softly. You shyly turned back toward him and he told you, “I was just shocked. I think I've accepted that normal just isn’t gonna work out for me. Dean told me that you’ve been feeling that way for a while now and… I guess I’m just wondering if you would want to give us a shot?”

A smile made its way onto your face and you nodded, a happy tear slipping from your eye. Sam leaned in to kiss you, but you stopped him, saying with a laugh, “No, no. I don’t want our first kiss to be in this damn hospital room.”

“Fair enough,” Sam said with a quiet laugh, redirecting and placing a gentle kiss on your forehead instead. After a few seconds, Sam told you, “Thank you. For saving me from that ghoul. I should've been looking out for you though.”

“Any time,” you replied with a small laugh.

Later that day when the doctor came to assess your wound, he was a bit taken back by the healing of it, saying, “It’s a miracle…”

“It really is, isn’t it?” Cas asked, trying to hide his smirk.

“So when’s she clear to go home, Doc?” Dean asked.

“I mean we would like to hold her overnight for observation, but if all goes well she should be able to discharge tomorrow,” he replied, still staring at the scar on your abdomen.

Sam took a step away and bit his knuckle, trying not to laugh as the surgeon stepped out of the room, a flabbergasted look on his face. When he left the room, Dean was the first to speak, saying, “Okay let’s all admit, that man had no confidence in himself.”

“Nope,” Sam said with a laugh.

“I’m glad Cas showed up if that’s the dude who operated on me, damn…” you said with a roll of your eyes.

“I’m glad I could be of service,” Cas told you with a smile.

“Well if you’re stable now, I think Cas and I can head back to that ghost case I abandoned to come check on you. I’ll see you later kid,” Dean said to you before squeezing your shoulder and heading out of the room with Cas in tow.

The next morning you were discharged so you and Sam made your way back to the bunker together. The ride back was filled with you playing your favorite songs to educate Sam as well as stopping at a restaurant for your first official date.

When you got back to the bunker, Sam closed the door to the garage behind you and you wrapped your arms around him before standing on your tiptoes to kiss him. Sam smiled into the kiss and placed his hands on your hips, pulling you closer. This prompted you to deepen the kiss, swiping your tongue on his bottom lip, wanting more. Sam obliged and your kisses quickly turned desperate, wanting something more than a simple kiss now that you were in each other’s arms.

Before he even thought about it, Sam lifted you into his strong arms and began kissing your neck as he took you to his room, leaving the beginnings of a hickey behind. As he did this, little whimpers began to slip from your lips as pleasure sparked through your body. When he got to his room, Sam pinned you against the door as he began to kiss you once again. Being in such a vulnerable position made you weak in the knees and you moaned Sam’s name as you continued to lose yourselves in one another's lips.

“Yeah?” he asked as he moved back to your neck, sucking and making the hickey darker, evoking another whimper from your lips that just fueled him more.

“God I need you so bad,” you whispered, grinding your hips against him in hopes of some sort of relief for the growing tension between your thighs.

“How about I make that wish come true?” he asked as he took you to his bed, gently putting you down before slipping out of his flannel and undershirt. You followed suit, slipping off your shirt and earning a smile from Sam as he told you, “You’re beautiful.”

“You’re so sweet,” you said with a giggle as Sam got onto the bed, placing you on his lap as he continued to kiss you. Now it was your turn to tease him. As you kissed, you slowly ground down on Sam’s lap, feeling him grow harder beneath you as you did.

“Shit,” Sam breathed as he leaned his head back against the wall, bucking his hips up against you.

You kissed his neck before whispering in his ear, “I want you to rock me Sammy.”

“Yes ma’am,” he replied with a chuckle, unbuckling his belt while you hopped off the bed momentarily. You turned your back to him as you took off your bra and then sweats and panties, teasing him by shaking your ass at him with a laugh. “Oh you’re gonna get it for that,” he said with a laugh as he slipped off his jeans and underwear, standing up to pull you into his arms once more.

Sam pushed against you, teasing you with the tip of his hard cock, the sparks of pleasure making him desperate for more. He lifted you up once more and placed you on the bed, running his fingers along your thigh and up to your clit, making you gasp in pleasure. “Don’t be a tease,” you whispered.

“I’m just seeing how wet you are,” he said with a smirk before kissing your neck as he slipped a couple fingers in with ease.

“God Sam I just want you to fuck me,” you said with desperation in your voice, grinding against his fingers, wanting - no, needing - more.

“As you wish,” he said, his voice impossibly deep as he pulled his fingers out and rubbed the slick on his cock. “I see patience isn’t your strong suit, huh?” he asked teasingly as he lined up with your entrance. Without much of a warning, he thrusted in with a deep moan.

“Fuck you’re amazing,” you whispered, your head falling back on the pillow as Sam slowly began to kick up his pace, the pleasure overcoming his body as restraint started to leave his muscles.

“So are you,” he told you, his face falling into the crook of your neck as he let out a soft groan of pleasure.

“Can I try something?“ he asked after a few minutes of slow and sweet love-making, feeling his release starting to build and wanting to make this as good as possible for you.

“Yeah,” you replied with a nod. With your permission, Sam lifted your legs up and hooked them around his broad shoulders, the new angle hitting all the right spots, the pleasure for both of you becoming insurmountable. The moan alone that you let out was almost enough to make Sam come, and your near pornographic whimpering of his name upped the ante even more.

Sam brought one of his hands to your clit and began rubbing, desperate to make you feel as good as possible and it seemed to work because your moans and whimpers just kept coming and it was almost enough to make him burst. “Fuck I’m close,” Sam whispered, speeding up his pace as his thrusts started to become erratic.

“Me too,” you breathed, your hands grasping at the sheets on either side of you as your eyes rolled into the back of your head momentarily.

“Fuck…” Sam grunted as he felt his orgasm building impossibly fast, not wanting this feeling to end.

“Oh my God, Sam, Sam!” you moaned as you felt herself coming undone around him. The pulsing of your sweet cunt around him drove Sam over the edge and he pulled out at the last second, moaning your name in a deep gravelly voice. Before he came, Sam quickly grabbed his shirt off the side of the bed and put it around himself so he wouldn't make a mess as he came undone, his muscles twitching as he did so.

Out of breath, Sam tossed the shirt aside and laid down beside you on the bed wrapping an arm around you, completely relaxed. You rested your head on his chest and listened to his racing heartbeat begin to slow down as you ran your fingers along his abs. “That was amazing,” Sam whispered, kissing the top of your head.

“Well worth the wait,” you replied with a giggle.

Not even a few seconds later you began to drift off to sleep on Sam’s chest which made him smile. Feeling completely relaxed and safe for the first time in a while, you drifted off to sleep and finally got the rest you’d been needing for weeks.

a/n: and here we are at the end of my second one shot! since i started writing these one shots i've started to feel more confident in writing reader fics so we'll see if i end up getting out more one shots for various fandoms! here is a link to my (minimal at the moment) masterlist where you can find my Steve Rogers long fic as well as a Bucky Barnes one shot. soon to join those will be a Daredevil x OC fic i have written, so be on the lookout for that if that's one of your fandoms! anyways, i hope you all enjoyed this sweet, angsty, fluffy, smutty piece!

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #supernatural #one shot #pwp #fanfic #fluff #smut #sam winchester x female reader #saving people hunting things #light angst

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tongue-like-a-razor · 2 years

Text

Faking It | Part VII

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x F!Reader

A/N: So happy to be able to post this after yesterday's fiasco! I know I said this would be the last chapter but apparently I can't stop haha WHOOPS! This story seemed way shorter in my head lol So, yeah, there will be another chapter after this one.

Summary: Fake dating your friend, Bradley Bradshaw - what could possibly go wrong? Your sister is getting married and you need a date. You enlist Bradley's help and the rest is history.

CW: swearing, angst, fluff, suggestive language and themes, annoying af ex-boyfriend, TALL & PROTECTIVE Rooster (swoon) - look at me saving the best for last XD

Start from the beginning: Part I

“Let’s go,” Bradley says in a low voice, his face still far too close to yours for you to see much more than the mustache above his lip.

“Right now?” you ask, slightly bewildered by the urgency in his tone.

“Right now,” he breathes, starting to usher you toward the doors.

“Okay,” you say, trying to conceal your disappointment. “Let’s get our stuff,” you add, reluctantly detaching yourself from Bradley’s embrace to head back to the table. But as you are making you way through the flurry of dancing guests, Bradley’s hand finds yours in the darkness while he trails in your wake.

“Are you leaving, Y/N?” your mother asks as you collect your purse from the chair.

You look up at her guiltily. “Uh, yeah,” you say. “We’re kind of tired.”

Your mother eyes you suspiciously, then her gaze shifts to Bradley who is gathering his jacket. “Have a good night,” she says.

You nod quickly and turn to leave. Then, you hear Bradley speak, “Congratulations, ma’am. On your daughter’s marriage.”

“Thank you, Bradley,” your mother responds. “I suppose I should also thank you for not throwing Steven into the lake.”

Bradley chuckles. “There’s always tomorrow.”

You turn around to see a faint smile pass over your mother’s lips. “Yes, well, I’m starting to understand why you might want to,” she says.

Bradley’s grin widens. “I appreciate that, ma’am.”

Bradley glances back at you and offers his arm. You hook your hand through it as the two of you make your way toward the exit. Bradley opens the door for you to step outside. The wind picks up your hair and your skirt but, before you can start to shiver, you feel Bradley’s jacket drop over your shoulders as he walks past. The faint scent of his cologne still lingers on the collar.

“Thanks,” you say quietly as he skips down the steps toward the walkway.

He holds his hand out to help you descend and you take it hesitantly, letting go of him the moment you’re on the sidewalk. Bradley seems equally uneasy, walking a few steps away from you, his hands in his pockets.

The two of you stroll quietly up the path toward the beach. By the time you reach the boardwalk, the silence becomes noticeably uncomfortable, and you decide to address the issue head-on. “That was weird, right?” you say.

Bradley glances over at you, his eyes raking over your figure before meeting your gaze. “Was it?” he asks.

You bite forcefully into your bottom lip, your pace slowing considerably at his words. “Don’t you think it was weird?” you ask.

Bradley’s expression is inscrutable as he shrugs, looking over your shoulder at something in the distance. “It was alright,” he says, turning away to continue walking.

You pull at the collar of his jacket to wrap it tighter around your body, not overly pleased with his casual attitude concerning an incident that still has your head spinning and your stomach contents churning. It would be better if he’d found the situation awkward because then, at least, you’d know that your friendship is something he means to preserve once this is all over. The fact that he’s so nonchalant about the matter bothers you. “Are you mad at me still?” you ask, wondering if some lingering animosity might explain his indifference.

Bradley looks down at his feet and then over at you with furrowed eyebrows. “I wasn’t mad at you.”

You chuckle wryly. “Okay.”

Bradley stops walking so you come to a halt as well. “Are you mad at me?”

You shrug, not entirely sure how you feel.

Bradley purses his lips, slipping his hands into the pockets of his slacks. He watches you for a few moments before speaking. “For the record, I wasn’t interrogating your sister,” he says. “She offered that information.”

You nod, your gaze dropping to the wooden planks of the boardwalk, the distance between you and him like a barrier neither of you is willing to cross. The tension in your midst isn’t the sexy kind. It’s cold and quiet, as if you are each too stubborn to engage in polite conversation. “Yeah,” you respond glumly.

Bradley is watching you carefully, probably trying to decipher the one-word response you just gave. He looks like he might want to add to the discussion but, after another several seconds of silence, he seems to change his mind. He turns and starts to walk again. “Come on,” he says, going ahead. “Before you freeze.”

“You kind of bailed on me,” you say quietly, trailing behind him.

Bradley slows his pace, glancing over his shoulder at you.

“You started grilling me about my whereabouts this morning” –

“I was grilling you?” Bradley rounds on you.

“It was the worst possible time to have that conversation.”

Bradley scoffs. “So, according to you, I’m just going around interrogating everyone.”

You glare at him as he shakes his head. “And then you just walked away all pissed off like I was the one who offended you,” you continue despite the obvious resentment on his face.

“You did offend me!” he yells.

“You could’ve just told me that you didn’t ask her.”

Bradley watches you steadily. “I shouldn’t have had to. Do you really think that I would?”

Your teeth graze your lip as you lower your head so you wouldn’t have to contend with the intensity of his gaze. “I get that I ticked you off, but, well” – you sigh – “never mind.”

“What?” he asks, stepping into your path when you start to walk again.

“I said, ‘never mind’,” you respond impatiently, trying to walk around him.

He holds his hand out to stop you. “Tell me,” he says, his fingers closing around your arm.

You bite into the inside of your cheek. “I was counting on you,” you mutter, not looking at his face. “I mean, you came back, which I appreciate,” you add. “But, that entire first half of the evening kind of sucked,” you say, staring at the unbuttoned collar of his dress shirt. His neck is smooth and strangely attractive, and you start to wonder bitterly if there is any part of Bradley Bradshaw that you might consider simply mediocre.

His hand slips down the sleeve of his jacket over your arm, stopping to close around the tips of your fingers. “Your hand is freezing,” he says.

“Well, it’s fucking cold,” you retort.

Bradley snorts, but you’re still avoiding his gaze. He takes your other hand so that he could cup both your hands in his. You stare at his long fingers wrapped around your fists, detesting that every single thing he does makes you fall deeper and harder. But soon, the heat from his hands is soothing your tense muscles enough that you even take a slim step forward out of sheer necessity for warmth. Bradley’s hands tighten around yours, his eyes looking you up and down a couple of times.

After another few seconds of silence, he motions with a nod that the two of you should continue your trek to the chalet. Mutely, you bob your head in agreement. Bradley steps to the side, allowing you to move ahead while he places a hand on your back. His touch is so subtle, you can hardly feel it through the wool-blend of his suit jacket.

The rest of your walk is fairly uneventful. Neither of you says much, and Bradley keeps his distance, except when he reaches over to grab your arm, preventing you from stepping on a broken plank.

When you arrive at your door and Bradley slides his key into the lock, he pauses briefly, turning his head slightly without looking at you directly. “I shouldn’t have left you,” he says.

You watch him hesitate with the lock for a moment and you finally shrug in response. “I may have overreacted.”

He raises his eyebrows and glances at you with a smirk. “No,” he says.

You roll your eyes at his sarcasm, giving him a playful punch with a loosely formed fist. “I’ve had a stressful weekend, okay?”

He narrows his eyes skeptically. “Have you?”

You meet his gaze as he holds the door open for you. “It’s been dreadful,” you say with a hint of irony because Bradley will assume you’re joking but, really, pretending not to have feelings for your friend has been thoroughly dreadful indeed.

You bend down to take your shoes off as Bradley shuts the door. “Need some help with those?” he asks with a small grin as you go to remove them.

You chuckle lightly, reaching out to grasp his forearm for stability as you unclasp the straps. You step out of your heels and look up at his face. “You’re so absurdly tall,” you say.

Bradley laughs, the forearm you’re still holding flexing as his fingers graze your elbow. “Is that a deal breaker?” he asks.

Your breath nearly trips on the exhale as his eyes sweep over your face. He takes a step forward, his body now close enough that you can feel his pant leg brush against your knee. You let out a nervous laugh, unsure how else to respond to a question that sounds an awful lot like flirting. “Come to think of it, talking to you is kind of giving me a neck cramp,” you respond lightly as you shrug off his jacket.

He grins at you as you sidestep him to get to the clothes tree. “Let’s not talk, then?” he suggests.

You chuckle as you hang up his jacket, glancing back at him over your shoulder. “Let’s not,” you say.

“Good,” he says, slipping off his dress shoes after loosening the laces. “Tired of all your yammering.”

You snort trying to hold in a laugh. “Can’t stand the sound of your voice,” you add.

“Ugh,” Bradley groans. “So annoying.”

You purse your lips as your smile widens and Bradley chuckles, eyeing you mischievously.

“C’mere, you big dork,” he says, holding his arm out.

You lower your gaze, still grinning as you tuck your head into his shoulder. Bradley wraps his arm around you, giving you a couple of affectionate squeezes. “Am I actually annoying?” you ask, fully aware that Bradley was only teasing. Perhaps you’re just fishing for a compliment.

“Oh, very,” Bradley responds as the two of you make your way into the center of the room. “What is the superlative of annoying?”

“Most annoying?”

“Yep, that’s you.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Bet you can’t wait to be rid of me after this weekend,” you say, half-jokingly.

“About that,” Bradley says, lifting his arm off your shoulder. You detach yourself from him and look up questioningly. “Your aunt sort of invited me to Thanksgiving.”

You stare at him in shock. “What did you say?”

“I said, ‘why not?’” Bradley shrugs. You blink at him mutely, so he adds, “That’s okay, right? I mean, I figured you’ll need to keep up appearances.”

“What if I have a real boyfriend by Thanksgiving?” you blurt out without thinking.

Bradley watches you steadily. “Well, then problem solved, right?” he says.

You meet his gaze, but you can’t seem to read him. “Right,” you agree awkwardly.

He nods and, after finally looking away, he starts for the bathroom. Once he’s gone, you close your eyes and plop onto the bed with a whimper, rolling over onto your stomach to bury your face into the pillow. You want to scream because Bradley Bradshaw is so perfect, it hurts. How, how have you never noticed the sexy grit of his voice, or the seductive quirk of his mouth, or his fucking height? You imagine being cradled in his arms, soothed by the warmth of his chest, tucked away from the big, bad world.

You rest your cheek over the cotton pillowcase musingly, slipping your hand under your head. After your kiss this evening, you were hoping – like an idiot – that Bradley might want an actual relationship with you. Instead, he’s agreed to yet another family event as your pretend boyfriend, which is probably the best outcome you could hope for. Oddly enough, however, you’re not thrilled at the prospect. Perhaps you’ve had enough of faking not being attracted to Bradley Bradshaw.

“Are you going to sleep in your dress?”

You turn your head to see Bradley leaning into the frame of the bathroom door, his dress shirt undone. He’s got a comb in his hand which he runs through his hair as he watches you with a couple of raised eyebrows. “Just waiting for the bathroom,” you respond.

Bradley steps out and gestures for you to go ahead, so you lift yourself off the bed, dragging your pjs out from under your pillow. You feel his eyes follow you into the bathroom, but you refrain from turning back to look at him.

You stuff your pjs into a dry corner of the vanity, noticing Bradley’s toiletry kit sitting open by the sink. You peer inside it curiously, not sure why you find his toothbrush, razor, and aftershave particularly interesting. You turn on the tap with a sigh. Apparently, you find everything about Bradley Bradshaw interesting, right down to his favorite brand of floss.

After you’ve finished washing your face and removing about a hundred bobby pins from your hair, you change into your pajamas and glance at yourself in the mirror with a nervous expression. Interacting with Bradley is becoming more of a chore by the minute, and you are so ready for this weekend to be over. You run your hand through the soft waves in your hair that are the result of a daylong updo and then reach for the doorknob.

You walk out to find that Bradley is already in bed, or rather, lying on top of the quilt. You hang up your dress and turn toward him. Bradley lifts his head off the pillow, watching you walk over.

“What’s up?” you ask.

Bradley smiles at you. “Your hair looks awesome.”

You chuckle. “It’s such a mess.”

“It looks good, Y/N,” he says, propping himself up onto his elbow. You try to avoid fixating on the width of his bare shoulders, not to mention the rise and fall of his slightly sunburnt chest. You look at his face instead because, for some reason, you think this might be a safer alternative. You’re wrong.

Bradley’s mouth is curled up in a small smile as he watches you pat at the curls in your hair and this subtle manifestation of his affection for you sends your heart racing more than the sight of his shirtless body ever could. “I’ll get the light,” you say, changing the subject.

On your way to the light switch, you flip your hair a couple of times, wondering if Bradley is watching your back as you walk away. Naturally, you don’t dare check. You flick the switch near the door, taking advantage of the darkness to lean your head into the wall and gather the strength to spend another night sharing a bed with Bradley Bradshaw, who is so sexy you could die. Who kisses like a fucking dream. Who –

“Y/N?”

You open your eyes, turning around to face the inky darkness of the pitch-black room. “Uh,” you respond hesitantly, wavering on the spot. “How the fuck did you do this?”

You hear some movement at the far end of the room.

“I can’t see a damn thing,” you say as the bed creaks.

Bradley chuckles in response and you hear his footsteps as he walks around the bed and across the room. “Here,” he says, sounding much closer than you’d have expected him to be in such short a time. “Take my hand.”

You reach out tentatively, waving your arm around until his fingers close around your wrist.

“Can you not see anything?” he asks with amusement, pulling you closer so that he can guide you.

“Absolutely nothing,” you say as his palm lands casually on your hip, steering you toward the bed. You lift your hand to feel around in front of you, but, of fucking course, your hand finds Bradley’s bare abdomen instead of the dresser you’re trying to locate. His muscles contract under your touch and you withdraw your hand immediately in a wild panic.

“This way,” Bradley mutters, taking a small step toward you as he directs you away from whatever obstacle you’ve nearly walked into.

“Okay,” you respond breathlessly as his body presses into yours, his glorious abs once again finding the tips of your fingers. You give yourself an extra second to lightly trace the ripples of his impressive six-pack before letting your hand fall.

But Bradley catches it just as your fingers slip away, his breathing quickening as his face hovers over yours in the darkness. Slowly and ever so lightly, his hand glides up your arm. Meanwhile, you feel the eruption of every nerve ending along its route as though his touch is setting off a series of fireworks. “You okay?” he asks so quietly that his voice is more rasp than tone.

“Mm-hm,” you affirm, your mind whirring as you attempt to rationalize Bradley’s hand that’s now caressing your shoulder. Your fingers are still lingering on his stomach when he takes another step forward.

“Cold?” he asks, his breath on your cheek.

“Mm-hm,” you repeat, completely lost for words as his pelvis brushes against you. The way Bradley is handling your body is excessive if his only intention is to help you fumble your way to the bed in the darkness. The way he’s stepping closer and closer despite clearly being more than close enough to guide you is indicative of an ulterior motive.

“Tired of talking yet?” he mutters, the tip of his nose sweeping across your cheek.

You let out a weak chuckle, your body on fire from the way he’s holding you. From the way he’s speaking. From the way his thumb coasts over your collarbone as his hand drifts up the back of your neck. His body sinks slightly as he ducks his head to catch your lips in a kiss.

You feel the collapse of tension between the two of you like it was a physical wall, replaced all at once by an acute, chaotic desire. Bradley moves further into your space as you slide your hands up his chest and around his neck. His body crashes into yours with enough force to drive you backward.

You stumble haphazardly over the scattered shoes that you don’t remember leaving all over the floor. Bradley is kicking bags and purses out of the way, his grip tightening around your waist as the two of you accelerate toward the bed.

Everything about Bradley’s demeanor feels urgent, as though, now that he’s started, he can’t stop. And, somehow, this complete disintegration of his restraint is intoxicating. His hands are all over your body; your hair, your hips, your back. His lips are smooth, but the kiss is rough in the best way possible.

You crash into the bed and Bradley’s tongue curls into your mouth as you gasp. You feel his hands close around your thighs, lifting you off the ground. When you’re in his arms, you bring your hands up to his face, cupping his cheeks in your palms as you kiss him. He runs his tongue along your lips, giving you several softer kisses, his thumbs stroking the tender skin under the hem of your pajama shorts as his grip on your legs tightens.

You wind your legs around his hips, subtly driving your pelvis forward. In response, Bradley releases a fevered breath, his mouth travelling down to your neck, infusing fiery kisses into your jaw along the way. When you let out a soft moan, he lowers you onto the bed, sighing heavily as he climbs over top of you. His lips skim the fraction of your exposed skin just above the band of your shorts, his mouth moving slowly over top of your shirt up your stomach and along your ribs. He kisses your neck, your chin, the tip of your nose, and finally, he gives you a chaste kiss on the forehead.

Then, he collapses into the bed beside you, and you’re left panting into the darkness, your brain scrambling to interpret what the fuck just happened. But neither of you seems to be able to speak. You turn your head in his direction, wondering what’s on his mind. Of course, you can’t just ask him. That would be absurd.

“Um,” you say quietly. “Thanks for your help?”

Bradley lets out a laugh. “Anytime.”

You reach up to the side of your neck where Bradley left a particularly searing kiss, your fingers grazing over the tender patch of skin as your breathing slows. So, Bradley Bradshaw liked your fake kiss. Why else would he initiate a real one?

After what seems like a solid minute of silence, you lift yourself up to move over to your pillow and you hear Bradley shuffling to do the same. You lift the blanket and slip underneath it, shivering against the cool sheet. You close your eyes, thinking of something else to say. Obviously, you can’t just go to sleep after that.

Apparently, Bradley Bradshaw is of the same opinion. You feel his hand slide over your stomach and your eyes fly open. You turn your body in his direction as he shifts closer, his fingers curling gently around the dip in your waist.

“You still okay?” he asks.

“Mm-hm,” you nod, chewing on your lip as you slide a touch closer to him.

Bradley’s hand glides along the curve from your waist to your hip and back again. “Still cold?” he says quietly, his lips moving over the tip of your nose.

“Yeah,” you breathe, your fingertips drifting over his abdomen.

“Y/N,” he whispers as his hand sinks deeper into your waist, pulling you closer.

“Bradley,” you gasp breathlessly, placing your palm over his chest.

He seems to sense your hesitation because he says, “I think we might need that pillow wall tonight, YN.” He sighs forcefully, his hold on you tightening briefly before he releases his grip and rolls onto his back with a groan. You assume that he’s running his hands over his face because of the muffled sounds he’s making.

You’re buzzing from the desperation in his tone, as if knowing that he’s frustrated and wanting you is enough to get you through the night. Surely, he didn’t think sleeping with you would be that easy. Besides, there’s no way anything is happening while the two of you continue this charade of dancing around the truth. “I could go sleep on the couch,” you offer lightheartedly.

In response to this jest, Bradley wraps his arm around you, his enormous bicep completely enclosing your face as he pulls you into his chest. You place your arm over his side, your fingers drawing swirls into his back as you lean into his neck. You feel his hand on the back of your head, playing gently with your hair as he presses a kiss to the top of it.

…

You wake to the sound of knocking on your door. You turn to find that Bradley isn’t in bed, so you assume he’s gone out to get breakfast and is now trying to get back inside with his hands full. You slip out of the bed and head for the door, noting the path of destruction last night’s make out session has left in its wake. There are shoes everywhere.

You chuckle lightly and pull open the door. When you see Steven on the other side, you blink at him in confusion, your mouth slightly agape.

“Y/N,” he says, putting his hand over the door before you can close it in his face. He steps inside.

“N-no,” you manage to say. “You need to leave.”

Steven glances at the mess in your room with furrowed eyebrows just as you realize that the shower is on in the bathroom. You groan at your oversight. “I just want to talk,” Steven says, watching you desperately. “Please.”

“We have nothing to talk about.” You gulp when you hear the shower turn off.

Steven steps closer. “Baby, we’ve been through so much, can’t you at least give me five minutes?”

You shake your head. “We’ve already said everything we needed to say.”

“No,” he whispers, taking your hand in his. “Trust me,” he says. “You’re going to want to hear this.”

You stare at him mutely as the bathroom door opens and Bradley walks out shirtless, a towel hanging off his hips. His body is still glistening with moisture. “What’s going on here?” he asks, tossing aside his hairbrush as he makes his way toward you and Steven.

You rip your hand out of Steven’s grasp and take a step back with a sharp intake of breath. Steven is watching you without flinching as Bradley approaches. “Five minutes,” he presses.

You marvel at his audacity as Bradley comes up behind you, winding his arm around you to place a hand over your midriff. He tugs you backward.

Steven ignores him. “Please.”

You feel Bradley’s arm tense around your body. “I think it’s time for you to go, Steven,” he says darkly.

But Steven’s doleful expression pulls at your heartstrings and you lay your hand over Bradley’s on your stomach, peeling his fingers away. Bradley takes a hold of your arm as you turn toward him, searching your face probingly. “I’ll be five minutes,” you say.

Bradley stares at you incredulously. “Are you serious?”

You sigh audibly, turning to Steven. “Can you wait for me outside?”

Steven nods and steps out, closing the door behind himself. You glance back at Bradley, who’s watching you tensely.

“We dated for years, Bradley. I owe it to him – and to myself – to hear him out.”

Bradley scoffs, shaking his head. “All I’m hearing is that he’s wasted enough of your time.”

“This is the last time I’m ever going to see him. I can’t say no.”

Bradley sighs resignedly, watching you grimly. “You’re too good,” he says.

You lift your eyebrows at him. “Hardly.”

He nods. “You are. And he’s taking advantage of it.”

You stare at him for a moment, taken aback by the earnestness of his tone. “It’ll be okay,” you say finally, walking around him to grab a change of clothes and head into the bathroom. When you come back out, he glances up at you, eyeing your sundress with a small, wistful smirk. His gaze slips down to your legs and then back up to your face.

“Man, I almost feel sorry for the guy,” he says.

“What? Why?” you ask.

“Because if this is how you look the last time he sees you, he’ll never fucking get over you.”

You glance down at yourself with a giggle. “You like my dress, then?”

Bradley chuckles, walking over to you. “Please be careful,” he says. “I don’t trust this guy.” You nod as he pulls you into an embrace. “And yes,” he adds, his hands squeezing your shoulders as he breathes out steadily into the top of your head. “I like the dress.”

You give him a tight smile before heading for the door.

“Y/N,” he calls as you’re about to open it. You turn back just as he appears behind you and dips his head down to give you a parting kiss. This one is soft, and fluid, and slow. You sink into him as his tongue slides delicately into your mouth, his touch along your back disarming. The languid pace of his lips is torturous. The gentle pull on your bottom lip with his teeth draws a moan out of you and you all but forget where you are, let alone where you were planning on going. “Just so you know,” he says, his forehead meeting yours as you crane your neck to cling to his lips for a moment longer. “If he tries anything, I’m going to murder him.”

Read Part VIII

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lincolndjarin · 3 months

Text

Oh Honey. ✩ Chapter 5

chapter five : i'll decide where to go from here

series masterlist ao3 kofi main masterlist

a/n : happy last chapter of oh honey!!!! took a while to get out bc i was briefly on hiatus and then was in a slump (whoops) but here it is. this is another case of me writing an ending before the story so this has been the intended ending since i started and i hope you all like it as much as i do

pairing : monster!joel miller x mortician!reader

rating : 18+ mdni - explicit content, read all warnings

word count : 6.4k

summary : a look into the past and present of life in honey, west virginia

warnings, etc. : language, allusions to sex, angst & fluff, complicated relationships and people who are trying to handle them, an obscene amount of flashbacks, reader has hair and is carried by Joel, several timelines in no particular order.

“C’mere, bunny.” His stubble brushes against the back of your neck, his mouth is warm as you feel a kiss placed against your spine.

“Mmm, what’s on the agenda for today?” You hum, pushing back against him a bit, the camper’s freezing in the winter, your heater broke a week ago and the parts Joel ordered to fix it won’t be in for a week. So you’re stuck with a little space heater you’d bought at the hardware store.

“I was thinkin’ we’d just do this for a while.” His arms tighten around your waist and stomach with a sigh. “We could just stay in today, order food, watch a movie on your laptop.” He yawns before nestling close against you.

“It’s too cold to stay here, it’s supposed to snow all weekend, it’s only gonna get worse. Maria even closed the home early yesterday” You groan, rolling over in his arms to press your face into his neck. The tips of your nose and ears are freezing, the two of you are under all the blankets you own, bundled up, when you peer out the window you can see the snow falling and settling on the trees.

Joel mumbles into your hair, deeply inhaling. “Why don’t you pack a bag and we can head back to the house then. You can stay until Monday and can fix the heat while you’re at work.”

“I hate staying at your place, all of my shit is here.” You spend most weekends at Joel’s, it’s easiest that way, but packing up all of your things and bringing them back and forth is getting tiring.

“Just bring it with you.”

“I think you underestimate how much stuff I need for four days.” You’re already giving yourself a headache trying to make a mental list of everything you’ll need.

“Why don’t you just move in.” He mumbles with another yawn. “It would make it easier for both of us if all your stuff was there.” It isn’t until he realizes that you’re frozen in place that he opens his eyes. “Or not, just a thought.”

You stammer an excuse, hoping to alleviate the tension that’s suddenly lingering between you. “I just- I don’t know if we’re there yet.”

“I didn’t mean to rush you, just thought I’d offer.” He shrugs before pulling you close again.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper into his chest.

“Don’t be. You’re right, it’s too soon for that.”

You’ve been together for a year now, you almost never sleep apart, if anything you should have moved in six months ago.

What’s stopping you?

You’ve been distancing yourself from any concrete commitments for sometime now and even if he never says it you know it bothers him. When do you stop punishing him for something you claim you’ve forgiven him for? He doesn’t hurt people as often anymore, at least he’s trying harder not to. But it’s getting hard for the both of you to keep up this system of locking yourselves in his room for a week every month.

Sometimes your cycle syncs with Maria and Sarah has to drive in from out of town to watch Ellie, it’s just generally become harder to manage.

But you can’t leave him when he’s like that.

On the rare occasion that you’re too exhausted to stay awake and entertain him he’ll end up in the woods and a massacred corpse ends up on your table when you return to work.

Everytime you think you’ve found forgiveness and acceptance you’re reminded of the fact that you love a monster. A selfish choice that you make every day. And everytime you tell him you can’t live with the guilt he gives you the same option.

Kill him.

You’re sure he doesn’t mean to make it sound so grim, each of you have complicated relationships with death. You just don’t think you’ll be able to live without him, and it’s not like he expects you to kill him yourself, he always tells you he’ll handle it with Tommy but you always shoot the idea down and you’re back to square one.

“I just need a little more time, I promise this isn’t forever.” You mumble as you sit up.

“I’d do anything for you, anything at all. Just tell me what to do.”

You don’t doubt that. But he still doesn’t give you what you actually want, all you ask of him is options that don’t involve him, or any more innocent people, on your cadaver cart.

The bed is empty when you wake up.

You knew it would be when you went to bed alone last night but a part of you, after all this time, still feels incomplete when the sheets beside you are cold. The creaking under the floorboards is the only noise in the house.

Your alarm clock reads 6:58 a.m. and you know it’s only a matter of minutes before you need to be up so you throw the blankets aside, stretch your arms above your head, and stand. Right on cue you hear the familiar stomping down the hall before your door swings open, Ellie rubs her eyes before scurrying over to you. Her hair’s in disarray, having fallen out of the braid you put it in last night, you scoop her up into your arms, trying to smooth the mess down.

“Good morning, little monster.” You mumble, kissing her cheek before carrying her down the hall and into the kitchen. You can’t help but wonder how much longer she’ll be small enough to hold like this. She’s already almost too heavy for you to lift for this long, and the living room and kitchen are still decorated with banners and deflating balloons from her sixth birthday party yesterday.

Kids birthdays, elementary school, home owning?

Even after a couple years it’s still a little dizzying that this is your life now. You set her down at the table, retrieving the generic sugary cereal you’ve grown fond of from the cabinet along with bowls, spoons, and milk, setting them down on the table in front of her.

“Can I feed the sheep before we go?” She says before reaching for her spoon, you nod.

“If you brush your teeth without giving me a hard time.” You fill your bowls, you have to remind her to slow down a few times as she shovels cereal into her mouth, eager to go out to the barn. You’re only halfway through your bowl when she runs off in the direction of her room.

You hear the telltale sounds of her pushing her step stool across the tile of the bathroom as she rummages through the cabinet. As you finish up your own food and tidy up you make a mental list of everything you need to do today.

Get Ellie ready for school.

Tend to the sheep.

Drive Ellie to school.

You take your phone out of your sweatpants pocket, 7:16, and text Maria to make sure they’re still good to take her this weekend. Ellie hums as she brushes her teeth when you peer into the bathroom before making your way into your own room, changing quickly, you’ve got about an hour before you need to leave.

Drive Ellie to daycare.

Grocery shopping.

Oil change.

Making lists helps. You like knowing what you’re going to do and when you’re going to do it, you’ve had enough surprises in your life, you don’t like when the routine changes. Without your routine you’d lose yourself entirely. Ellie helps, she likes structure as much as you do, you stand behind her in the bathroom now watching her finish up and making sure she did a good job. The sparkling stone on the counter catches your eye, a reminder that you’re constantly forgetting your ring. It’s a bit much for your taste but it’s a family heirloom and Joel insisted. Sliding it onto your finger as Ellie hands it to you.

Check on Ellie.

Clean the house.

Make dinner.

Before she can run back to her room you gently pull her back by the collar of her shirt, grabbing a hair tie off the counter you tie her hair in a ponytail before letting her go get dressed. By the time she’s ready you’ve got your jacket on, holding Ellie’s coat out for her to stick her arms through the sleeves. She already has a toothy grin plastered on her face as you both step out of the sliding doors leading to the backyard. You take her hand, knowing she’ll run ahead if given the chance, you know better than to let her out of her sight.

Dangerous things live in the woods of Honey.

She’s pulling you along through the short path between the trees leading to the barn with a fence surrounding it. Once you’re in the clearing you let her run ahead, once you’re able to see everything around you. The air is icy and damp as you follow after her, opening the gate as she slips under the fence. The sun is just starting to break through the trees, it’s still too cold for the sheep to be out, there isn’t much exposed grass for them to eat anyway. You’ve been keeping them in the barn most days unless it warms up, today isn’t one of those days. With a high pitched giggle Ellie rushes inside, you hear the familiar sounds of bleating as she greets all of them by name.

You watch in momentary silence as you make your own way into the barn, enjoying her little smile that warms up the freezing barn.

“Did you turn in your project yesterday?” You sit on a hay bale, watching her run amongst the sheep before turning to you, nose red from the chill. You hadn’t gotten to ask her about it since you’d been so busy with her party, it wasn’t really a “project.” Just a little assignment for the kids in her class, to draw something important to them.

Of course Ellie had wanted to draw her father, something you were happy to help with until she held the crayon in her fist and began to draw the sharp angles and pointed claws that you realized she couldn’t show it off to her class. You let her finish the drawing. It’s remarkable really, how someone so small and vulnerable can portray such a frightening creature without fear.

She loves him, that’s why.

You love him too but that doesn’t mean he didn’t terrify you. No amount of strange magical connection was going to change the fact that he scared you. The difference of course is that Ellie doesn’t know what he’s done. You had encouraged her to draw a background, concealing the mass of flesh and teeth in darkness and trees until only the two of you knew what hid behind the blue and green. Together you decided that it was a drawing of her favorite place. The national forest on the edge of town.

“Good, Riley guessed what it was though.” She says as she pats one of the lambs gently on the back.

“She guessed it was the Manangahela National Forest?” You give her a skeptical smile as she fills a bucket with feed before emptying it into the trough.

“Monongahela.” She corrects you proudly.

After all this time, you still never get it right.

“Smart ass.” You grumble under your breath as she carefully lifts the hose, filling the water buckets.

“Ass.” She says with a grin.

“Don’t say that.” You point at her sternly, stifling a laugh.

With a small huff she turns the hose off and rushes over to sit beside you and watch them.

“She said the forest was my favorite so it was easy.” She mumbles, briefly captivated by the sheep.

“She’s a good friend for knowing that.” You like Riley, you’ve watched the two girls play together several times before, she’s a good influence on Ellie as far as you can tell.

“Mhmm.” She hums, the silence returning between the two of you as you both watch the sheep.

You don’t tell her that you’re going to butcher one of them tonight.

You know that she can handle it. At this point in her life she can handle much more than any other six year old you’ve ever met but you just aren’t ready for that sort of thing yet. You haven’t been a parent long enough to know the proper way to go about that sort of thing.

“Time for school, kiddo.” You stand up abruptly and take her hand again, watching as she yells back to the sheep, saying goodbye to each and everyone of them.

The truck sits idly in the driveway but you ignore it, opening the door of your own car, Ellie throws her backpack in before climbing in herself. It was the first thing you’d bought with Darlene’s money. (The second thing you did was help Sarah with her student loans and put aside some for Ellie.) You hated driving the truck, it was too big and too loud, this just felt safer for driving Ellie around. Once she’s buckled into her seat you make your way over to the driver's side. The radio plays some rock song that immediately has her squealing in the backseat, with a grin you turn it up as you pull out of the driveway.

“Is she my mom now?”

You had been walking past Ellie’s room after your shower, wearing one of Joel’s flannels with the towel wrapped around your hair when her voice froze you in place, her bedroom door cracked open.

“That’s not exactly how that works, kiddo.” His voice has a nervous lilt to it you don’t often hear from him.

“Then why is she always here?” She sits up a bit and you hold your breath as Joel’s brow furrows.

“Is that a problem?” God you hope not.

“No, I like her.” The tension in his face relaxes with your own.

“I’m glad you do. I like her too.”

“So when will she become my mom?” Her persistence on the issue makes you feel as awkward as he currently looks.

“She’ll become your mom if she wants that. But that probably won’t happen until we’re married, and I don’t know if she wants that yet either.” There’s a beat of silence, you’re heart skipping a beat at the earnestness of the conversation. The silence is quickly interrupted by the little one screaming your name as you rush back to the bathroom, opening and shutting the door to try and make it seem like you hadn’t been listening.

“Yes, little monster?” You make a real show of stepping loudly down the hall as you push the door open. You’re greeted by the sight of Ellie trying to wriggle out of a rather flustered Joel’s arms, face red and flushed as he tries to shove her under her blankets.

“She’s just messin’ around.” He grumbles before throwing a pillow at the giggling mess.

Her voice calling your name from the backseat snaps you out of your thoughts.

“What’s up?” You turn the music down as you glance at her in the rearview mirror.

“Can Riley come over today after school if her mom says it’s okay?”

“You’re going to Uncle Tommy’s tonight, love. I’ll text her mom and see if she’s okay with picking her up from there if he gets you guys after school. Does that sound okay?” She nods happily when you look in the mirror before going back to singing along with the radio. When you pull up to the parent drop off you get out of the car to unbuckle her, kneeling down in front of her as she pulls her backpack straps over shoulders.

“Can we have a birthday party with Dad when he gets back?” She tilts her head to the side as she asks, you lean forward and kiss her on the cheek before pulling her into a hug.

“Absolutely we can.” You give her a soft smile before her attention is diverted towards a group of her friends. “Be good today, I love you.”

“Love you, bye!” She leans in to give you a kiss on your own cheek before rushing off, you watch her go, waiting until she’s in the building before getting back in the car. You send a quick text to Riley’s mom and Maria, scheduling plans for the girls before putting the car in drive as you head off towards a neighboring town. Honey has a grocery store but on days like this where you have so much free time you like to go to the nicer ones out of town.

You turn the radio off now that it’s just you, cranking the heat to keep warm as you drive in silence.

“We should get married.” You had brought the idea up, much to his surprise. About a year ago, as you were setting up for Ellie’s fifth birthday party, a year after you’d finally moved in.

“Are you serious?” He had been laying on his back, under the camper, working on the more technical aspects of the project. In his shock he’d rolled himself back out to stare at you.

Why wouldn’t you be? Sure, it took a lot of effort on his part but you finally feel like you’ve stopped holding everything against him. You had hoped that he knew that by now.

“Why not? Everyone already thinks we are, everyone at Ellie’s school calls her my daughter, Tommy’s been teasing me about it for ages-” He pulls himself to his feet, quickly putting his hands on your shoulders.

“Bunny, slow down.” He’s getting flustered, you swear his drawl is thicker when he gets like this.

“You’re the one who always says I take things too slow.” You frown, turning back to the flowers you’d been planting in the boxes under the window but he turns you back around to face him.

“You mean it?” His voice is a whisper and you quickly realize how much this means to him.

“Of course, I mean, we’re going to spend our lives together anyway, why wait.” You give him a reassuring smile as you tilt your head to kiss his cheek, briefly letting yourself indulge in the taste of his skin before pulling back. “As much as I’d love to talk about this more, we should get back to work if we want to finish this before she’s home.”

He doesn’t say anything else about it as he goes back to running the electrical under the camper and you can’t help but wonder if you crossed a line. Thankfully you’re on a time crunch to finish this and your mind is kept busy.

The two of you work in silence, almost synchronized as you move from task to task. He brings the cinder blocks out and lines the camper, creating a semi-permanent foundation as you string fairy lights along the outside and finish up planting flowers around the entire thing. Joel attaches the small porch he and Tommy made a few weeks ago that you had painted as you step inside. It’s unrecognizable after all the work the two of you put into it. The ceiling now painted a dark blue, glow in the dark paint dotted along the entire thing, when the sun goes down she’ll be able to see the stars from inside the camper. You painted the walls and changed out the curtains and sheets more to Ellie’s tastes. She’d always loved it here, when Joel was actually busy with work trips she’d stay with you in the camper. Even nowadays with you living with her and Joel she still often asks if she can play in the camper.

Just as you’re finishing up Joel steps inside as well, testing all of the faucets while wiping a bit of sweat from his brow.

“Think she’ll like it?” You ask, your fingers nervously twitch as you roll the hem of your shirt between them, he laughs as he leans back against the counter.

“She’s gonna love it, s’better than any gift I’ve ever gotten her.” You can’t help but smile as he holds his arms out towards you, you quickly step into them, leaning against his chest and taking a deep breath.

You open your mouth to speak, wanting to address your proposition from earlier quickly so it doesn’t hang in the air for too long but you hear the familiar rumble of Tommy’s truck pulling into the driveway and the two of you quickly rush out of the camper and down the steps. You straighten the bow on the door and quickly lock it. You hear Ellie’s laughter as she runs around the side of the house, Tommy and Maria walking up behind her.

She’s excited to see both of you, a paper crown announcing her birthday adorns her head as she runs up to hug her father. The second she sees the camper though she darts right past him.

“Why’s this here?” She yells excitedly, she knows exactly why it’s here instead of sitting stagnant on the piece of property you sold just a few days ago. You smile at Joel, nodding towards her as he leans down to pick her up.

“She got you a little birthday present, since you’ve been so nice to her and let her come live with us.” He points at you as she immediately starts squirming out of his grasp, tossing her backpack aside as she runs up the little porch steps. She turns around to look at you with a huge smile on her face.

“Are you fucking serious?” She screams. You can’t help it as a laugh slips out of you, thankfully Tommy can’t hold it together either as Joel immediately breaks into a lecture you nudge his shoulder as you hand her the key.

“It’s her birthday, she’s allowed to say it on her birthday.” You murmur through your continued laughter. She wraps her arms around your legs, hugging you tightly before turning around and unlocking the door. “Happy birthday, Ellie.”

She had loved her party, thankfully. And she loved her new playhouse much to your relief.

You and Joel laid on opposite sides of her as her little snores filled the camper, she had wanted a campout as a birthday treat and you were both more than willing to oblige. You’re staring up at the faintly glowing stars painted on the ceiling when he sets the box down next to you. You grab it, wanting to ask him more but not wanting to wake Ellie up you open it.

And you’re met with a ridiculously gorgeous ring.

Clearly an heirloom but he’s recently had it polished, one large diamond framed by two smaller ones on either side of it. Your eyes are wide as you stare down at it, shimmering in the moon light before sharply turning your head to the man with a dopey smile lying across from you.

“Been carrying that around for a while now, if I’d known you were ready I would’a asked sooner.” His voice is low as Ellie stirs a bit and you both freeze as she rolls over closer to her father.

Neither one of you speaks again, but the look on your face as you put the ring on was answer enough.

The beeping brings you back to reality as you scan every item in the self checkout lane.

You’re only feeding yourself while Ellie’s with Maria and Tommy, so you keep it simple. Another box of cereal, milk, an apple, a loaf of bread and deli meats. You’re pretty sure you have enough cheese and other essentials to get you through the rest of the weekend. On your way up to the checkout counter you grab a bag of dark roast coffee beans and a box of tampons.

You’re out of both.

You know you live in memories too often, especially without Joel to keep you in reality. You find him in the past when he isn’t beside you because something needs to fill the aching void that yearns for his smell, his taste, and his touch. And echoes of Joel are almost as good as the real thing. There’s a funny comfort you find in memories. Even unhappy ones. There’s no surprises in memories, you know what’s going to happen and you know you survived it.

Even the bad memories bring you comfort when he isn’t around to do it himself.

You pay quickly, loading everything into the cooler in the car as you head off in the direction of your mechanic. When you park you’re told it’ll take about fifteen minutes, nodding as you sit in the waiting room, where your mind inevitably wanders to one of the worst memories in the hours following your meeting in the Applebees that has since closed.

You didn’t pay attention to the road.

Instead you stared at your hands in your lap as he drove, not bothering with the radio, the two of you stewing in your silence as he pulled into the driveway. You didn’t even unbuckle your seatbelt, he had come around the truck and done that for you, pulling you into his arms and carrying you bridal style up the porch steps and into the house, only stopping to kick the door shut before bringing you to his room, clicking on the lamp he hadn’t bothered to remove, and setting you on the mattress.

He lays down beside you, taking your face in his hands but you immediately recoil, pushing him away.

“What do I have to do to earn your forgiveness? To show you I’m sorry? Cause I don’t see a point to any of this if it’s never going to happen, it’ll be better for both of us if we know where we stand.” He’s right, unfortunately. Neither one of you deserves to waste the other's time if this is going to mean nothing.

If you can’t forgive him.

“Can you at least let me love you? Do you think you can manage that?” His voice is dangerously close to cracking and you have to pray that he doesn’t break. If he can’t hold it together you know you won’t be able to either. “Neither one of us wants to deal with this but we don’t have a choice.”

“I don’t know.” You mumble, you really don’t know so why answer with anything else?

“I don’t even need a concrete answer, bunny. I just need to know if someday you’re going to be able to forgive me. I can’t live a life where you keep me at arms length.”

You hadn’t responded. Just slid closer to him.

And you let him hold you until you fell asleep, hoping that would be enough.

Your phone buzzing is what snaps you out of your empty thoughts this time. When you open the notification you’re met with a message from Maria, a photo of Tommy sleeping in the recliner, Ellie sitting in his lap, and Riley sitting on the arm of the chair, watching whatever movie they put on the T.V.

[ Made it back from school. Watching Treasure Planet. ]

[ love it ] [ thanks again for taking them ]

The mechanic returns shortly after, handing you your keys and telling you you’re good to go. The hour drive back isn’t terrible, you opt to listen to music on the way back. It’s quiet when you return home. Putting away the groceries and making yourself a sandwich as you look around the cluttering remnants of the party yesterday, the only sounds are your chewing and the soft creaking and scratching from under the floorboards.

Joel has so much pride for your home. He would hate it if he knew how dirty it was currently, the thought alone has you reaching for an empty trash bag once you’re finished eating.

You turn all the lights on as the sun starts to set, how much time did you spend daydreaming today? You try not to think too hard about it as you start cleaning up the plastic cups and paper plates that litter every surface of the living room, popping deflating balloons and sweeping up discarded streamers and confetti. There’s a feeling of solace that comes with cleaning the house, making it feel like home once more.

This isn’t just Joel’s house now, it’s yours as well, even if you thought this would never be the case.

“I know that you shot down the idea last time but I want to show you something.”

“Joel, I just don’t think…” Your voice trails off as you stare at the key ring he’s holding out towards you. If you can’t guarantee that he won’t hurt people you can’t share a home with him, it’s stupid and it makes you feel childish but you can’t come home to him knowing people are still dying, even if you can’t stay away from him.

“Just give me a chance to show you.” He puts the keys back into his pocket before taking your hand. Walking you down the hall towards his room, he stops briefly to check in on Ellie, still tucked into her own bed as you peer into her room before he closes her door quietly. “I don’t want you to think that a life with me is going to be only horrors, and I know that a part of you has already resigned yourself to such a thing but you don’t deserve that.” You’re about to interrupt him, tell him that’s not true despite the ache in your chest that tells you he’s right but he’s opening his own bedroom door and you’re too busy staring slack jawed inside.

It’s unrecognizable from the monster cage he’d created for himself.

Instead of resting bare and on the floor, the mattress has sheets and now rests on a low to the ground metal frame. The photos that were once taped to the wall are now in frames or pinned to a bulletin board he hung up.

He put a rug down that covers any claw marks on the floor and he’s done his best to hang up photos and paintings over the scratches on the walls. There’s even furniture now, a nightstand on either side of the bed with a matching dresser, lamps scattered around the room make the space feel warm and lived in.

“You- you did all this?”

“If you live with me I don’t want you to have to sleep in some sort of creepy homemade dungeon, you deserve an actual bedroom.” He whispers as you look at the paintings on the wall, all of them are Alice in Wonderland themed. “I borrowed those from Sarah’s room, we can change them out when- if you move in.” He quickly mumbles as you look up at a painting of Alice staring into a lake, her own image being reflected back up at her.

“It’s lovely, it’s perfect Joel.” You turn back to him as he rubs the back of his neck bashfully.

“This ain’t it, there's a few more surprises for you.” The shocked look remains on your face as he takes your hand once more, bringing you back into the kitchen and out the sliding glass door.

You had run outside without shoes on and took down the banner hanging on the camper before rushing back in and tossing it in the trash bag. When you look at the clock it’s just a couple minutes from 7:00 p.m. You bring the bag out to the porch before washing your hands.

You don’t bother taking a shower as you change into your pajamas, setting your ring on your nightstand, not wanting to risk damaging it as you pull up a pair of sweats you don’t care about being ruined and an old shirt you wore when you painted the bathroom a month ago. Grabbing the apple off the counter you shove it into your sweatpants pocket. Shooting Maria one last text and turning your phone on do not disturb, you tell her to say goodnight to Ellie for you before slipping your sneakers on and heading out the back door once more.

You don’t like going to the barn alone, and you should have put on a proper jacket, without the sun to warm you, your skin prickles with goosebumps. The dark doesn’t frighten you very much anymore, and it’s easy to follow the familiar path even in the dark. Your phone flashlight illuminates the ground in front of you as you walk, you’re trying to remember if there is a specific sheep Ellie isn’t attached to.

Most of the flock is sleeping save for a few stragglers, you decide not to overthink it, grabbing a lead and putting it over the head of the first sheep that’s brave enough to greet you. The unlucky winner is one of the older sheep, making its way over to you the second you open the gate. You reward her bravery with the apple in your pocket, the only sounds in the quiet night are those of chewing as you walk her back towards the house.

You swung your intertwined hands between the two of you as you walked through the trees behind his house. He must have worked startlingly fast to do that for you, no ones ever put in that sort of effort for you before.

The sun is just starting to set behind you as he takes a step back and covers your eyes.

“Hey-” You start to object with a giggle as he continues walking you forward.

“Oh hush, let this be a surprise.” He chuckles as he leads you further down the path before stopping abruptly and lifting his hands. “Surprise.” He whispers, taking a step back.

“Woah.” You exhale in shock as you stare at the barn in front of you. A white fence surrounding it.

It’s beautiful.

“Tommy and I grew up on a farm, we can raise whatever you want, pigs, sheep, chickens, anything you want.” He mumbles as he wraps his arms around you from behind, kissing your cheek.

“I love that idea, but can I ask why?” You let out a nervous laugh as you turn to raise an eyebrow at him.

“That’s actually a part of your last surprise.”

“Another?” Your voice pitches up, he built you a fucking barn, what else could he have done for you?

“I want you to know how serious I am about you moving in, I don’t want you to have any doubt.” He mumbles against your temple, inhaling deeply before pulling away and taking your hand one more time. “Come on.” He pulls you back towards the house as the sun sets for good, you walk in the darkness until he brings you to the basement entrance and pulls out the keys he’d offered you.

Several locks adorn the basement entrance, you sift through your key ring until you find each lock's respective key, letting them drop into the grass as you remove each one. When you swing the heavy metal doors open you’re met with the welcoming warmth that comes from below. Several lamps and space heaters create a warm glow that beckons you down the steps. Almost immediately the sheep pulls away, bleating fearfully. Animals are far more intelligent than anyone gives them credit for, they know when something is wrong.

You pull her down with you then reach up and let the doors slam down, sealing the poor thing in its tomb with you.

You drop the lead once the doors are closed, there’s no point in leading the lamb any closer to the inevitable slaughter.

“I have loved you since I first saw you in that bar. I have loved you every moment since, you could be cruel and terrible and I’d love you still and I’d probably deserve it. But you aren’t. You’re smart, and you care about everything, and you love everyone even if they aren’t worthy of it.” His hands caress your face as he whispers into the night air. “And you feel so much guilt for the things I do even though you shouldn’t. You can forgive me for all that I’ve done but it won’t change the fact that I’m still doing terrible things. I’ve done terrible things for so long that I didn’t really consider any other options, but you deserve other options.”

He pulls open the basement doors once all the locks are undone, and offers his hand to you.

“I want to show you that I can change, that I would do anything you need me to do, be anything you need me to be.”

It’s your choice, take it or leave, he won’t hold it against you if you crack and can’t handle it anymore. But you need him to keep yourself together in the first place so you take his calloused hand in yours and let him lead you down into the darkness.

The smell of vanilla and pine is dense down here.

As you descend further down the steps you see the familiar set up, a few lamps and lanterns are scattered throughout the darkness as well as a couple space heaters that are only there for your benefit. A mattress you insist on putting sheets on is pushed against one of the scratched up walls, the blankets and pillows scattered about the space, you walk over to the mess, picking up the scattered quilts as you throw everything back down on the mattress. You can feel the movement behind you, the scratching against the cement as you lay down, even with the heaters it’s cold. Thankfully you know you’ll be warm enough soon.

The panicked baa’s of the sheep are swiftly silenced, replaced with the wet tearing sound that once would have filled you with dread. It’s a bit morbid how comforting you now find them, you roll over as you pull another blanket up over yourself, watching the iron chains drag across the floor as the unseen figure pulls them in different directions.

You can see movement dancing on the edges of the lamp light, the smell of blood is almost as prominent now as the suffocating sweetness. A smile begins to tease the corners of your mouth as you hear him moving closer, the familiar, gravely voice that calls out from the dark recesses of the basement fills your ears like warm honey.

“C’mere, bunny.”

a/n : that's a wrap on oh honey folks, once again im sorry i made yall wait so long, i hope it was worth it <3

i no longer have a tag list but for fic updates follow @lincolndjarinnotifs !!

#lincolndjarin #joel miller #tlou #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #tlou hbo #joel tlou #the last of us hbo #monster fucker #monster lover #monster romance #oh honey #fic : oh honey

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cherhys · 1 year

Text

Anything, Always

Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Rhysand has been running himself ragged, and it hasn’t escaped your notice. In an effort to quell old nightmares, Rhysand has an interesting suggestion…

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: Mild angst (pining + UTM reminder whoops), Feelings™️

Notes: The longest fic to date! I was working on some Azriel WIPs when this piece just happened. I wanted Rhys to get some well-deserved, utterly devoted, loving. Thank you for all the support so far; it means more than you know! ♡

You noticed that as the week has passed, you’ve seen less and less of Rhys around the townhouse. First, it was less frequented dinners, followed by mornings spent alone. Being High Lord is no easy task, but it’s all the more reason for you to lend a helping hand where possible. Instead, all of your offers have been promptly shut down with a wry smile leaving little room for argument since it's nothing more than I usually deal with, darling.

His words echo in your head as you approach his office, the ease with which he said them in juxtaposition with the dark circles beneath his eyes. You doubt he’s been sleeping very well; it was no secret that the High Lord preferred staying up in the evenings, but he always reclaimed that sleep the following morning. Recently you’ve observed his absence from the townhouse in favour of training even before Cassian, the earliest morning bird you know. This simply could not go on—he had to take care of himself. A male like him deserved better than that.

The door to his study was closed and after a brief knock, you slowly cracked it open to peer inside. His head didn’t so much as lift from where he was scanning his papers, a crease between his ink-dark eyebrows. The evening light filtered through the windows behind him, casting him in an iridescent glow befitting his title. He had changed into a loose linen shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal solid tan forearms corded with prominent veins. He scrubbed a calloused hand along his uncharacteristically scruffy jaw. The usual sparkle in his jewel-tone eyes was lost to his evident lack of sleep.

Despite this, he was still the most beautiful male you’ve ever beheld. Even feeling ragged, Rhysand was nothing short of magnificent. No amount of stress could take away from his plush lips, the delicate column of his neck, and the elegant sweep of his collarbones leading to the strong planes of his chest. The age-old flutter in your chest surfaced, a delicate thing you had neglected for so long.

“You can come in, darling.” Finally, those tired eyes lifted to yours where you stood in the doorway. When you don’t move he sweeps a hand towards the cushioned chairs before his rich mahogany desk. You quash any semblance of that flutter until a deep void is all that remains in your chest; a talent you had mastered after all these years.

“I’d say I’m surprised to find my dearest High Lord secluded in his office on a Friday evening, but I made an oath not to lie.” You idle your way in, running your finger along the books on his shelf. You frown at the faint layer of dust over his more loved collections.

“Well, Friday evening or not, doesn’t my dearest advisor have work to do instead of chatting me up like some girl at Rita’s?” Like a delicate brush stroke, his ebony brow arched. Rhysand’s eyes tracked your approach as you walked around the spacious office, feet padding against the soft carpet. The snack you had brought him earlier remained untouched on his desk, and you clenched your clasped hands behind your back.

“Girls at bars aren't worth my time, though it wouldn’t hurt for you to try. All you do is hide away here; you’ll have the year-end papers done at this rate.”

He shrugged, nonchalant, “Better to be more prepared than found lacking, no?”

You stopped before his desk and stared, “It’s only springtime Rhysand.” At your unflinching gaze, he sighed.

“I was unimpressed with some of the projections submitted by the Court of Nightmares. Sloppy work.” His jaw worked in time to the pulse in his neck. You nodded, acquiescing as much. As Rhysand’s advisor, you were expressly aware of the substandard documents that Kier had submitted. Despite his abysmal summation of the Court of Nightmare’s projections, Kier could receive a verbal (or literal) lashing later.

“Rhys, this isn’t an express concern at the moment.” He dropped his head back to his papers, dipping the fountain pen in the inkwell. The sound of your breathing and scratching on parchment permeated the silence. The dismissal was clear, though surprisingly cruel from your usual playful High Lord.

“Rhys, look at me.” Despite your pleading tone, he remained fixed on his writing. In a few swift steps, you rounded the desk. You placed a gentle hand beneath his chin, lifting his face to your searching eyes. Where his silence was defiant, now there is only weariness.

“Rhysand… what’s wrong honey?” The endearment slips out, but your chest constricts at the sight of the defeated male before you. You miss your charming friend. Your thumb lightly caresses his cheek and his lashes flutter at the sensation. He gives you a wry smile and grips your fingers in his warm hand, “Nothing is wrong. I’m only a little tired.”

You breathed deeply, willing yourself to remain calm. Rhysand was known to undertake everything by himself, an expression of his love towards his family. While you appreciate the care he tries to show, his selflessness couldn’t happen at the expense of his well-being. This was something different.

Your silence unnerved the usually unshakeable male, and he seemed to deflate under your scrutiny. So you waited—let him process his thoughts, choose what he wanted to say.

When his grip tightened on your hand but his silence persisted, you offered an olive branch.

“I have never been able to share my feelings with ease; to feel so much… it is an overwhelming burden. And yet–” You took a steadying breath, hesitant to reveal so much but unable to help him understand otherwise. His expectant gaze was patient, if not encouraging.

“And yet, unravelling my feelings and sharing them with you is effortless. With you, I know I am safe. That I am understood. Rhysand, I want to be that person for you. You are welcome to share, and I will always be there to listen.”

When you finished, you shifted to perch on the desk space poised between his legs. Rhysand unconsciously moved his chair closer, his head pressing into your jointly entwined hands. He slowly inhaled, the scent of you a balm to his fraying senses.

“They’re back. She’s back,” Rhys didn’t need to elaborate on who and what for you to catch his meaning. You had known that nightmares plagued him often in the time since his return from Under the Mountain. Years had passed since then but the horrors he endured were not easily forgotten, “I don’t know what to do.”

The defeat in his tone nearly brought tears to your eyes, but you reigned them in—this was his opportunity to be vulnerable and you must remain strong.

“I think about all of the lives I–... I think about all of it, often. It is never not on my mind, but I can usually move past it. You all help,” At this, he squeezed your palm again, an earnest look in his violet eyes, “But sometimes the guilt–” He loosed a sigh, shaking his head, “It is unbearable.’

Rhysand pulled his hand away from yours, leaving it cold. He stared down at his hands between you both as if all of his sins were still visible. To him, you’re sure they were.

His voice was lowered to a whisper now, “When I sleep, she taunts me. She stokes that guilt from an ember to a flame and eats away at me. All I can think to do is run myself ragged, in some form of masochistic repenting.”

Rhys glances up at you, his heart dropping when he sees your eyes are closed. Even you couldn’t bear to look at him after what he had done. Clenching his jaw, he begins to pull away and prepares for your imminent disgust.

He doesn’t expect you to grip his cheeks, and pull him back to you. Rhysand’s eyes are comically large this close, your noses a hair's breadth away from touching. He has never seen your mouth set in such a serious line, your eyes blazing with such fire.

“Listen to me very closely. Everything you did? It was necessary for survival. For yours. For the Night Court’s. For our family’s. It is only normal to feel guilt—that’s what makes you the wonderful, kind male I know.” Your hands pressed almost painfully, as if you could physically push the words into his head, “But you should never regret what you did. Because it brought you back to us.” To me, but you left that part unspoken.

When he seems to hesitate you reinforce, “Any of us would’ve done it for you. If I could've traded places with you I would have done so in a heartbeat, Rhysand. And it kills me to see you blame yourself. You can repay those you mourn by living your life to the fullest in their honour.”

He regards you for a moment, plush lip pulled tightly between his teeth. Rhysand nods slowly at your searching stare, the sorrow clearing from his eyes like clouds in a bright night sky. Those stars you so love wink back at you from his midnight gaze.

Unable to help yourself, you swoop him up into your tight embrace. Rhys’s strong arms wrap around you in no time, his head at your breast. He can hear the rapid but sure beating of your heart and it brings him a peace that he hasn’t felt since the nightmares returned.

“Thank you.” His soft words lift your heart and you place a swift kiss on the top of his head.

“Always.”

You stroke his raven hair in soothing motions, running your nails lightly along his scalp. Rhys visibly relaxes in your hold, his shoulders slumping with a weight unloaded. You dare to enjoy the moment, knowing that the likes of these are few and far between; you seldom let yourself get this close, the ache in your heart too much.

Finally, you pull away, a determined look on your face, “How can I help you, Rhys?”

His face softened, and he let out a light chuckle, “I doubt you can, darling. This is just one of those things.”

“It most certainly will not be one of those things. There has to be something; maybe if we help you relax? A sleeping draught?”

He winced at that, “No sleeping draughts, preferably. I’m not fond of drugging myself.”

You scratched your chin, “No, that doesn’t seem sustainable long term.”

While you brainstormed ideas to help the male before you, Rhys glanced at you through thick lashes. He had begun to fiddle with the fountain pen, twisting the top, “I think I may have a suggestion.”

You snapped out of your thoughts, “Already? What is it?” A beaming smile stretched across your face—anything. You would do anything to help him.

He locked his eyes on yours, voice level, “Sleep with me.”

You blinked, unmoving. You stared at him a few seconds longer, the words failing to process. You’re sure you must have stopped breathing, the thumping of your heart overwhelming your senses.

Sleep with me.

A nervous laugh bubbled out of you, “I’m sorry? ‘Sleep with you’?”

A million thoughts were spinning in your head, each faster than the last. Slick skin on skin; hands fisted in sheets, in hair, scratching down a tan, tatted back; clothes haphazardly strewn around the room; pleasurable pants filling the air. You shook your head. Surely you had misheard? Misunderstood?

A cocky smile spread across Rhysand’s face, although the dusting of pink crawling up his neck isn't lost on you.

What dirty thoughts are you thinking, darling? That midnight voice lightly caressed your mental shields.

Your cheeks were flaming if the heat under your skin was anything to go by. You persevered and pursed your lips in mock irritation. You would not be undone by his aimless teasing after all these years.

Nothing that would involve the likes of you, the thought pushed right back at his adamantine mental shield.

Rhysands thick lashes lowered, his bottom lip jutting slightly. You wondered what those plush lips would taste like. Although you knew he was playing at seducing you, it didn’t stop the primal need in you from rearing its ugly head.

Would it truly be so bad with me, darling? You know I’d treat you well.

Your lashes fluttered; this had to stop before your heart wilted any further in your chest.

“What is your real suggestion Rhys?” The serious cock of your brows sobered him up near immediately. The twinge in his chest only further cooled him; the way you brushed his teasing off irritated him for reasons beyond what he dared admit.

“It is my real suggestion. I struggle with my sleep—therefore having you there will help.” The cool way he spoke, as if this was only a logical solution, helped to put you at ease. But you couldn’t help but wonder—

“Why me? How would I help?”

He shrugged, “You seem peaceful.”

Your mind whirred at his laconic response. ‘Peaceful’? You couldn’t decide what to make of the situation, but one thing had always been clear.

“I said I’d help you, however I could. If you believe me… sleeping beside you will be beneficial, then I’ll do it.”

He nodded, the same calm look plastered on his face. Rhysand’s nonchalant manner bothered you: did this genuinely mean so little to him? If so, then you would treat it with the same aloof, professional fashion.

“Alright then, we can try tonight if you’re willing?”

His ink-dark eyebrows shot up, “You wish to begin right away?”

“The sooner the better, no?” You couldn’t allow any more sleepless nights; the faster you determined whether this would work, the more time you had to find different options before Rhys ran on empty.

Rhysand’s head tilted, a panther sizing up its prey. Finally, he nodded in agreeance.

Quickly, you stood from his desk, realizing you were still perched between his legs. You dusted off your skirts and swiftly moved to the door. With a hand on the frame, you turned, “Tonight in yours?”

He swallowed, your eyes tracking the bobbing of his Adam's apple along his smooth neck, “Yes, that’ll work just fine darling.”

You stepped away from his office, the final, sure look in Rhysand’s eyes burning through you even hours later.

♡𝌀𝌀𝌀♥𝌀𝌀𝌀♡

You nervously tugged on your silken sleep shorts, psyching yourself up to knock on Rhysand’s bedroom door.

After leaving his office earlier, your heart had been in your throat all day. Even at dinner in the House of Wind, you’d had to be snapped out of thought multiple times by members of your family. While circumventing the reason why you had been so inattentive, your friends spared no insult and pestered you to high hell. Your face had flushed, sure that Rhysand could pick up on your nervousness. Instead, there were no teasing comments; he only returned to his meal.

Now before his room, you took a steadying breath and lightly knocked, in the unlikely event he had fallen asleep. At his faint call you entered, softly shutting the door behind you. The room was aptly decorated for a High Lord. Rich jewel tones complimented Night Court black in various opulent fabrics. Pointedly ignoring the massive bed, you took in the polished mahogany furniture, surely crafted by a masterful hand. From the intricately designed rugs, to the velvet cushions, and the elaborate drapery; it was all magnificent. However, it all paled in comparison to the male inhabiting the room.

Rhys was lounging on a plush divan, drink and papers in hand, looking fresh from the finest of paintings. The loose shirt from earlier was gone, baring his muscled chest. Your eyes tracked along the elegant dark swirls that decorated his tan skin. A pair of black sleep pants adorned his lower body, looking dangerously low on his waist. As you gently padded over, you tried not to focus on the light smattering of dark hair leading below the band. He glanced up at you, violet eyes sparkling like the stars visible through the windows beyond him.

His eyes slowly roved over your figure, noting your bare legs; how you clutched your cream robe, book in hand, a delicate lacy strap peeking out. He took a restrained sip of his amber drink. You settled on a comfortable settee across from him, the book already splayed across your lap.

“Good evening, darling. Care for a drink?” He waved his glass lightly, the ice clinking softly.

You chuckled, shaking your head, “I’m alright, thank you. Is it not a little late to indulge?”

He inspected his drink as if he might find the solution to all his problems within the crystal glass, “I find it soothes the nerves.”

You cocked an eyebrow, “Are you nervous?”

Rhys lifted the drink to his mouth, only to gaze at you over the rim with heavy-lidded eyes, “With you? Always, darling. I mean—you simply strike such an imposing figure.”

You dramatically placed the back of your hand to your head, draping yourself over the settee with all the theatrics you could muster, “Oh, how I plague man with my beauty!”

A deep and joyous laugh broke the silence of the night. You glanced over at Rhysand in slight surprise to see his head thrown back, a hand to his chest. Your heart warmed at the clear mirth on his face. This was the Rhysand you had missed. You soon joined him, your laugh bubbling up with the vigour of a freshly opened champagne bottle.

Gradually, you both settled into silence, and with a wink from Rhys, you both returned to your previous occupations. The cool breeze from the open window carried with it Rhysand’s citrus and sea smell, the faint note of jasmine like a goodnight’s kiss. You basked in the peaceful mood, snuggling closer to the settee with your book. You couldn’t help but look up at Rhys every few pages, taking in his striking profile as the ambient lighting cast shadows across his elegant features. Eventually, you noticed his eyelids beginning to droop and knew he was only stalling the inevitable.

You yawned loudly, covering your mouth for effect, “I think it’s time we retire for the night.”

He smiled, gently placing his empty glass and papers aside, “I agree, darling. Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow.”

Rhysand stood and stretched his arms over his head, and you quickly made your way over to his bed, refusing to stare any longer at his chest than necessary. You shed your robe and tossed it over a nearby chair while you both silently readied yourselves for bed. No longer was the silence comforting—instead, your heart threatened to burst from your chest.

You didn't realize how stiff you were until Rhys settled under the covers beside you, the shroud of night concealing your reddened cheeks. You remained rigid, arms at your side like a soldier at attention.

It’s only me, darling. The smooth voice slipped through the cracks of your mind. Rhysand’s low timber reminded you to take a deep breath—you turned towards him and lightly reached your hand out in the space between your pillows. Even in the stygian dark, his eyes shone brighter than ever. That midnight gaze fixed on your open palm. Slowly, he crept his large hand up and brought it to yours, strong fingers caressing your palm. You held your breath as he steadily entwined his fingers with yours, hand sliding across your own. You squeezed lightly in assurance, your eyes falling shut.

Before the throes of sleep could claim you, a gentle caress to your conscience pulled you back.

Can I hold you?

The whispered request was nearly lost in the haze between waking and dreams, but you would always come back for that voice. Beyond words, you pushed your consent to Rhysand’s mind.

Strong arms gently slid around you, pulling your back to a hard chest. Your synced breathing within that warm embrace finally lulled you to a peaceful sleep.

♡𝌀𝌀𝌀♥𝌀𝌀𝌀♡

Light filtering through the window assaults your eyes, bringing with it the realities of the morning. You stretch like a cat in the sun, silken sheets sliding across your bare legs. You hadn’t slept like that in years, Cauldron, centuries even. The sweet haze lingering from your sleep washed away once you noticed the empty—albeit still warm—bedside. You quickly sat up only to be interrupted by Rhysand waltzing in through the doors, breakfast in hand.

“Good morning, darling. I hope you’re hungry—I’m loving the bedhead by the way.” He swooped over to the bed, deftly handling the large tray in hand as he settled back beside you. You swiftly patted your hair down, “Yes, good morning Rhysand.”

Your dry tone didn’t damper Rhys’s wide smirk one bit. He was glowing this morning with an air of contentment; the full night's sleep had done him well.

He gestured to the amalgamation of various foods before you, “I wasn’t sure what you would be craving, so I grabbed a little bit of everything.” The delicious smell wafted before you, your stomach grumbling without consent.

“If this is how I’m treated, I don’t think I’ll ever leave.” You popped a berry into your mouth, relishing its succulent flavour.

“Consider it a thank you,” You paused, buttered toast halfway to your mouth, at Rhysand’s words, “For giving me, perhaps, the best sleep I have had in my five centuries.”

The earnest look in his eyes prompted you to butter your toast more vigorously, hoping he would miss the rosy flush seeping across your features.

“For what it’s worth, I’ve never slept better either,” You smiled gently, hoping to not sound too heartfelt in your admission, “And there is no reason to thank me, Rhys. You know I’d do anything for you.”

You held your breath at the candid confession, praying he did not understand the real meaning behind your words.

Instead, his chest swelled with emotion. He brought his hand to the back of your neck, pulling you in for a swift kiss to your hair.

“All the more reason for me to thank you, darling.”

♡𝌀𝌀𝌀♥𝌀𝌀𝌀♡

The next few weeks continued much like that night; you would both lounge around in the evening and then retire to bed. Only, your inclination towards one another had become irresistible. The moment you got beneath the covers, you found yourself instinctually reaching for Rhysand’s embrace. Often, he held you close, your head poised at his soft neck. Occasionally, on the more difficult nights, you would swaddle Rhys tightly to your chest, caressing his hair as he was lulled to sleep by your steady heartbeat.

However much you enjoyed your time in bed with Rhysand, you couldn’t deny the increasing difficulty with which to hide your escalating feelings. What were once mere fleeting glances, were now lingering stares; no dark circles were to be found on his handsome face, his beaming grin a drug that would surely consume you. Rather than have the moments together soothe your ache like a balm, you only craved his attention more so.

As you both fell into your usual routine for the night and settled under the covers, you finally ripped the bandage from the festering wound.

“I think I may sleep in my bed beginning tomorrow night.”

Rhysand’s body froze beneath your touch, his arms still only half around you. Quickly, you continued, “Your nightmares seem to have passed—which I am eternally grateful for—therefore I don’t see any reason why I should continue to sleep here.” With you, the words didn’t need to be spoken; they loomed in the air around you.

A beat of silence passed before he spoke, “Why not?”

You gasped as he seized you closer to his chest. His breath was heaving while he squeezed you tighter in his arms. You quashed the butterflies that fluttered in your stomach, reluctant to hurt your feelings further.

You sighed, eyes closing, “Again, there is no reason–”

“I want you here. With me. That is the reason why you should stay.”

You audibly swallowed, taking his words with a grain of salt. Your voice took on a placating tone as you lightly placed your palms on his chest, “I understand that you’re worried about the nightmares–”

“Darling, you understand nothing,” You stared, dumbfounded at his earnest tone.

“The agony of lost sleep pales in comparison to the loss of your presence. There is nothing more that I desire than having you here next to me as I fall asleep and as I wake. Seeing your radiant face every morning—I feel like the luckiest male in the world. And I am greedy; for your touch, your time…” He shook his head, putting his forehead to yours, “I know I am asking much of you since—”

You surged forward and placed a passionate kiss on his lips. His lashes fluttered before he was pushing back with just as much fervour. You pressed your body tighter against his, feeling the contours of his body moulding perfectly to your own. You wanted him closer—had you been one body right now, it would not have been enough. He thought he was greedy? He had no concept of the depth of your selfish desires, only scraping the surface with this ardent kiss.

You pulled back, breathless and entirely at his mercy, “You could ask for all the stars in the night sky and I would scorch my hands to deliver them to you,” He brushed his nose against your own, your swollen lips lightly caressing, “There is no limit to what I can give you Rhysand, if only you’ll let me.”

His violet eyes shone with disbelieving wonder as if he was undeserving of your affections. Rhys kissed you gently; this kiss held a promise that the others lacked. It was a promise of love, of reverence, of total, utter devotion. Your heart soared in your chest and for once, you let it; a caged bird finally tasting freedom.

That same gentle presence filled your mind once again.

I would be honoured, darling.

The message was bundled in the gossamer enormity of his feelings for you. With your heart content, you whispered under the cover of silky night,

“The honour will always be mine.”

Final Notes: Anything for my bbg Rhys <3 (Can you tell I recently rewatched Pride and Prejudice for the millionth time?) Hope you all liked it!

#rhysand x reader #rhys x reader #rhysand x you #rhys x you #rhysand/reader #rhys/reader #rhysand #rhys #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar x reader #acomaf #acowar #acosf #cherhys

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jd-loves-fiction · 25 days

Text

𝐎𝐩𝐢𝐚

n. the ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable—their pupils glittering, bottomless and opaque—as if you were peering through a hole in the door of a house, able to tell that there’s someone standing there, but unable to tell if you’re looking in or looking out.

✦ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Sir Gawain x GN!Reader

✦ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut + fluff

✦ 𝐰𝐜: 2.2k

✦ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: Minors DO NOT INTERACT thanks. also DONT USE SALIVA AS LUBE THIS IS THE MIDDLE AGES WAAAAHH

✦ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: Anyway I havent written anything in a hot second, especially smut, so i might've lost my touch but this man makes me insane. Hope its still enjoyable anyway and im working on some fluffy stuff as well whoop enjoy :)

Stupid quest. Stupid forest. Stupid rainwater puddle.

You didn't see it – you were too damn busy staring into those gorgeous brown eyes of his, lashes lowered ever so slightly in a way so tender it might as well have been what knocked you over.

“Oh goodness.” Sir Gawain exhales a second after the splash, arms reaching for you a little too late. Turns out he’d been lost staring at you as well. “A-Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“I–” You start to deny it but think better of it. It’s Gawain, he’d know the answer just from looking at you. “I’m cold. And wet. And tired.”

“I see. Let’s find ourselves a place for the night, yes? The storm from last night might be coming back.” He tells you, reaching out a large hand to pull you up. You take it without hesitation.

Quickly finding yourselves a damp and dingy little cave to pass the night in, Gawain gets to work starting a fire as you shiver uncontrollably.

“You know–” He begins, fumbling with two rocks and a handful of dryish branches, looking up at you for a moment, “You look good, all soaking wet.”

The warmth of his gaze sweeps over your form, lingering on your shaking shoulders, passing by the water dripping off your linen shirt and how your arms curl around yourself to keep the heat in – heat he stokes with that cheeky look, the quickness of his breath, the biting of his lovely, soft, bottom lip…

A spark goes off, catching fire to the branches, cutting the tension like a hot knife over butter. But it does not dissipate, the fire does not cool, it merely wanes to a simmer.

“I bet you’d look even better.” You blurt out, just to get the last word in before sitting by the flames, not entirely aware of what you’ve just said and where his beautiful, hasty mind would take your words. Then again, you’re much more concerned with not freezing to death.

“Trying to warm up with wet clothes isn’t going to do you any good. It isn't going to do anything at all, really.”

“What do you suggest, then?” You sigh, knees tucked to your chest, sitting opposite the dashing young knight.

“You should take off whatever clothes are wet and let them dry by the fire.” He begins shrugging off his thick wooly cape to lay on the stone floor beside him, “And sit close to me – we can share body heat.” he adds on quickly, as if he hasn't made his intentions with you clear enough throughout this journey already.

You’re not sure when it started, when his dark eyes began wandering, when his touches started lingering, or even when you started doing the same. But it’s clear to the two of you; the want– the need too transparent to hide.

There’s more to it though, for you at least. It would be almost too easy to dive into him otherwise. Like a nymph’s bewitching calls into murky waters.

But it could never be that easy. Not with the one they may one day call King. That and his womanizinging reputation.

Expecting anything other than a purely lustful encounter out of this would be foolish to say the least, but perhaps you are a fool. Because the way he looks at you; the way he has been looking at you since– whenever you started noticing; makes you feel as if there might be a chance.

So you do as he suggests, stripping down to the basics under his unwavering gaze, shuffling over to his side and nuzzling against him.

Questions swirl endlessly within your mind while leaning on Gawain's warm body, his shirt so thin you could almost perfectly imagine what he'd look like without it in your mind's eye.

But then, those eyes, clear as spring water in their intentions, cage you in with their stare and suddenly you feel as if everything must be laid out plainly, “What are your intentions with me, Sir Gawain?”

The look on his face nearly makes you regret it, fearing you may have offended him, but surely he’s aware of his reputation – surely he must understand.

After a beat he exhales with a slight smile as his large hand comes around to your shoulder, “Are they not clear?”

“Clear as they may be, I like things to be absolutely transparent, especially when it comes to men of your… caliber.” He hums in acknowledgement with a smirk, before it slowly slides off his face, replaced with a thoughtful expression so rarely seen it could be possession.

“I understand what you mean, love. But, in truth, I cannot answer you as of yet.” At the inquisitive look you give him he begins trying to explain himself, “It is that… Well, I am to be King somewhat soon, I assume. So it would be reckless for me to act as carelessly as I once did. But then also, I do not yet know what my intentions are – beyond tonight, that is.” Your face warms slightly at his suggestive tone as his hand drifts down your naked back, “All I know, is that you intrigue me. Greatly. If anything, I know– I feel as if… once will not be enough…”

A dark hand of long, slender fingers lifts your chin to meet his fathomless stare, looking deep into your eyes and beyond that – to your vulnerable soul.

“I feel… the same.” You speak, suddenly breathless as your face nears his subconsciously, giving in to his siren call.

Lips meeting like a spark to a fire, a beginning. His hands wander over you, reverent, gentle, as yours grasp at the front of his tunic, urging him as close as humanly possible – as if close isn't nearly close enough.

The kiss grows fiercer, a push and pull of soft pink muscles attempting to gain control, before being forced to part, open around heaving breaths while eyes grow hazy with lust– no, yearning. Gawain draws back to shed that bothersome tunic before his hands attach themselves to your hips to pull you onto his lap. The ease with which he does it has you grinding down instantly, hands running over sweat-slick caramel skin.

His dark curls bounce as he tosses his head back under your movements, desperate for some control of the primal urges suddenly overloading his brain – to fuck you without mercy, to ruin you for anyone else – but no, that’s not how he wants this to go.

“God above, you're beautiful.” He breathes, hands stilling your hips to let his eyes sweep over your features slowly. The intensity of his gaze makes you squirm and the strength in his hands warms your inside more than the fire ever could.

Burying your face in his gorgeous, exposed neck you speak so low not even God could hear, “Shut up and take your pants off.”

You feel him smile against your hair, laying a kiss against it before drawing away to do as you ask, somewhat clumsily, but earnestly all the same. Sitting still on his cloak, you watch him avidly, eyes catching on every new inch of dawn-hued skin revealed.

The singularity of the moment strikes you suddenly; back at the castle, amongst duties and expectations, this would never be possible – this calm, this undemanding rhythm. You have no place to be, no one to meet, so you can just be. Together.

“Where did you go?” He whispers, caressing your face with a softness undeserving of a knight’s strength, making your eyes focus back on his features and immediately surge forward to connect your lips to his, “Nowhere important.”

Gentle as a breeze Gawain lays you back, body between your legs and arms beside your shoulders. His prominent nose brushes yours softly, sensually as he parts your legs even further, “Good. I want you here with me. For this will not be a moment you’ll want to ever forget.”

“Oh,” You chuckle teasingly, back arching almost subconsciously against his warm, wide chest while his hips start moving against yours, “You’re sure of that, are you?”

“Your reaction tells me all I need to be sure.” He replies, so cocksure you’re suddenly reminded of who he’d been before the Green Knight had showed up proposing a ridiculous game – knowing he hasn't changed completely is oddly comforting.

“You talk too much… Sir.” You grumble in lieu of remaining silent and further inflating his ego, getting a raised brow at the tacked-on title.

“But you like it, don't you? Don't lie to me, it's unbecoming.” The corners of his lovely lips twitching with the effort not to laugh. Quick as a flash, your legs lock around his waist, pulling his center down to yours and he’s forced to take a breath from between his teeth as his long lashes flutter, “Like I said; you talk too much.”

Gawain bites his tongue – there will be plenty of time to get back at you once you’re mindless and thoroughly spent – he reasons. For now, he just needs to get you there.

One large hand settles at the base of your throat as his luscious lips travel down your neck in flickers of contact that have you arching against his firm grip for more. Soft as a feather, he pulls away your undergarments as needed to kiss at your chest; sweetly at first and then so wet and sloppy you’re left gasping and whimpering, hands grasping at his strong shoulders for purchase.

Grabbing you below the knees, he gently pries your legs open while kissing down your body until you're tingling and trembling all over wishing he'd just get to it.

“Gawain…”

“Hmm? Are you going to beg? Go on.”

You pout petulantly; no you won't beg, he'd enjoy that far too much. But you can, however, tempt him into doing what you want.

“Gawain…” you moan seemingly helplessly, nails brushing his skin making him shiver in delight, “won't you take me? It's clear you want to.”

“It's clear, is it?” He chuckles breathlessly, ceasing completely to just watch you and it makes you want to smack the back of his head in frustration.

Breathing deep, your eyes move over him carefully, appreciating every inch of delicious, exposed skin so many yearn to catch a glimpse of before…

“Gawain,” you raise an amused brow, surely he noticed… “Yes?”

Oh, he's far too good at playing dumb.

You raise yourself until your lips barely brush his, brown hues watching you closely down the length of his nose before your hand boldly presses down on his stiff cock and those eyes glaze over before rolling back in overwhelming delight, “I'd call this pretty obvious.”

Hand squeezing in pulses, you're granted a low groan followed by a deep sigh, “God, you're too much. I cannot– wait.”

Gawain's mouth devours yours, hungry as a wolf, pushing down once more while his lithe fingers graze the inside of your thighs, grinning at what he finds. Cheeks warming at how your mouth chases his as he pulls back, he gives his palm a full lick before wrapping it around his throbbing cock and stroking. The flames illuminate this length of his gorgeous neck like an old painting and your tongue longs to glide over it and follow the path of his sweat so deeply you almost miss him speaking, “Will you beg now?”

You groan most crudely, far over his games and his perfect face and his disarming voice and his damned haughtiness– your hand grasps the curls at the back of his head, delighting in his whimpered response, “Take me now or so help me–,” your not proud of the way your voice wavers but you’re both past that now.

Gawain’s lips connect with yours surprisingly softly, leaning his forehead against yours and lining himself up with your center, “Shh, I’ve got you, just relax.”

A kiss to your hairline is the only warning you get before he starts pushing into you, slow as can be and yet still you cry out at the feeling in between the kisses he places to your lips to offer some comfort.

“There we go, breathe for me. It’ll feel better soon…”

“Gawain…” You moan, clinging onto him as the bite of initial pain melts into pleasure.

Sucking on your neck, his hips sway against yours rhythmically, wavering only when your nails dig into his sides while moaning desperately in his ear, “Gawain please…”

“Now–” his breathing stutters while his hips buck suddenly, pressing a collection of whispered curses from both of your mouths, “Now you beg?”

“Just please fuck me, please.”

The way his cock twitches inside you tells all you need to know on how he feels about your words.

Curls brush the side of your neck as he reaches to bite at your lobe, grunting and moaning into it while speeding up his hips so much your own moans become stuttered and desperate.

As the end nears, Gawain presses his lips to yours, nearly missing in his eagerness, and opens his mouth as if to say something but no words leave him, only a loud moan of your name ringing across the cave just as your body does the same.

Your mind is eerily quiet as you come down, blinking eyes you don't recall closing and feeling the next king breathe against your naked chest while gathering himself. After a moment he raises himself on shaky arms to gaze down at you, hand reaching to brush a stray hair from your cheek and sighing as if suddenly, all is right in the world.

#sir gawain #green knight #dev patel #dev patel x reader #green knight x reader #gawain x reader #sir gawain and the green knight #the green knight #sir gawain x reader #gawain smut #green knight smut #smut

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autisticlancemcclain · 1 year

Text

Keith stares.

Constantly.

He always has. Even at the Garrison, Lance can remember him just staring. Endlessly. Like he was looking right through you, or like he was staring straight into your soul. Sometimes both at once. He’d never spoken one word to Lance before they went to space, but Lance remembers that stare with complete clarity. (Probably because he was on the other end of it more than he’s willing to admit, with all his attempts to get Keith’s attention.)

The staring doesn’t stop when they get to space. It doesn’t stop when they accept their roles as teammates, when Keith finally starts participating in their (totally justified!) rivalry, when they begrudgingly decide that maybe they can peel back on the arguing, a little. When they realise how well they work together. When they start working together on purpose, and some of those stares come with a small smile, a quirk of the lips, really, that brightens indigo eyes and shows the tiniest peek of crooked incisors. (When tragedy strikes, and the stare is blank. After tragedy, when the stare only gets blanker, and they don’t talk about what happens next but when Lance comes into his room after days of no response, sits with him quietly, brushes the tangles out of his hair and reminds him there are still reasons for him to get up. When they really become a team, just the two of them, red and black and the leader and his right hand.)

When the stares only gets softer and softer, and when Lance is the subject of them more and more frequently.

“What?” Lance snaps one day, frustrated and embarrassed and tired of being the only one that Keith looks at so closely. “What are you even looking at? You’re always staring at me, man, like you’re trying to fuckin’ read my soul, or something. It’s weird.”

Lance feels bad as soon as he says it. It’s defensive and mean and he tenses, preparing for Keith’s upcoming scowl, the argument.

But it doesn’t come.

Instead Keith smiles. Not one of his quick ones, a barely-there quirk of the lips, but a real grin, wide enough to make his eyes squint and face brighten. The fondness bleeds from him; Lance couldn’t miss it if he was the densest person alive.

Slowly, like he’s given Lance time to back away, he reaches foreword and tucks Lance’s hair behind his ears, even though it’s too short for that and doesn’t do anything, even though it’s clearly all about the gesture, an excuse to touch Lance gently.

Lance’s breath stutters on his inhale. Keith doesn’t pull away, resting his hand on the side of Lance’s cheek, not quite cupping it but not quite not cupping it, either.

“God, I’m so lucky,” Keith murmurs, almost too quiet for Lance to hear. (But no. Not impossible. Keith could’ve said it at one decibel and Lance would have strained himself to injury trying to hear it.)

“What?” Lance asks hoarsely, well aware his face is flaming.

Keith only smiles wider. “How could I not stare at you?” he asks, like Lance isn’t losing his whole mind.

Lance clears his throat. Then again, and again. And a fourth and fifth time for good measure because what the fuck.

“Keith, what — what’s going on —”

“I am so lucky,” Keith repeats, firmer this time. He has the same stupid look on his face, like he cannot help but he besotted with Lance, somehow. He opens his mouth again and Lance knows that if he has to hear whatever mushy thing Keith has cooked up then he is going to melt into a puddle of flaming goo. Lance shoots out and slaps his hand over Keith’s mouth.

“Stop speaking,” he orders, face flaming. “Explain what the hell has gotten into you.”

“Those are opposite instructions,” Keith says, muffled, because he is a jerk. His eyes are sparkling in amusement.

“I am going to whoop your ass, Kogane.”

“Fine, fine.” He pulls Lance’s hand off his face and then links it in his, holding them in his lap. He rubs his thumb over Lance’s knuckles as he speaks. “You remember the mall food court? Two days ago?”

Lance tilts his head. “Yeah?” He doesn’t know what the hell that has to do with anything. They had a supply run a couple days ago, loading up on cleaning mods and food supplies and million other things, and he and Keith had stopped for lunch at the food court slash restaurant.

“You, uh, you remember that waiter?”

Lance frowns, trying to picture a waiter. All he can really remember is how Keith had laughed so hard at one of his jokes that soda had spewed out of his nose. He feels bad, but he can’t picture their waiter at all.

“No?”

Keith scowls. It’s such a stark difference from his sappy look before that it’s startling. “That weirdo, stuck up shithead who wouldn’t leave you alone. He called you pretty boy three separate times.”

Vaguely, Lance remembers some light flirting as the waiter set down the cheque. He can’t even picture the guy’s face.

“I mean, not really. I get called pretty boy a lot.”

He hadn’t meant it as a joke, but it makes Keith laugh. He looks relieved, like he’s been worrying about Lance and the waiter.

Like he’d been jealous.

The sappy look is back on his face. “Just made me think, is all.”

Lance’s throat is dry again. The air is charged, and Keith is staring again, eyes tracing every inch of Lance’s face.

Something is going to change tonight. He can feel it.

“Think about what?”

He’s leaned closer without realising. Keith smiles, noticing, and his hand comes back up to Lance’s cheek. This time he cups it blatantly, running the edge of a calloused thumb over Lance’s cheekbones.

“How lucky I am,” he murmurs, repeating his sentiment from earlier, “that we’ve got such a pretty boy on our team. On my team.”

Lance face flames. His first instinct is to deny it, vehemently, to ask Keith what the hell his deal is. Something ugly rears in his head, something hurt — how dare Keith make fun of him like that. How dare he mess with Lance about something he’s sensitive about.

But there’s not an ounce of meanness on Keith’s face. He’s looking at Lance in a way that can only be reverent, like Lance is the only person on the castle, the only person ever.

He remembers all of a sudden that Keith is the most honest person he knows. Keith, who can’t lie if he tries, who’s emotions are written all over his face all the time, who’s easy to rile up because he wears his heart on his sleeve, who puts every ounce of effort he has into everything he does. Who fights this war even though it’s hard for him because he loves everyone so much.

Lance blinks, and is more surprised than he should be to find his face wet. Keith’s face creases a little in concern, and he gently wipes the tears from Lance’s cheek.

“What’s wrong?”

Lance laughs wetly, more incredulous than anything.

“Mullet, if you don’t kiss me right this fucking second —”

Keith laughs. He doesn’t hesitate a second more, leaning in and pressing his lips to Lance’s, gently at first, then like he can’t get enough.

His eyes are closed, as he kisses.

Lance almost misses the staring.

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hopefulromances · 9 months

Note

Hi, I’m not sure if you’re requests are open so feel free to ignore this but if not, can you do a Jamie request where he and the reader are heavily in the “between friends and lovers” phase and Jamie ditches hanging out with the boys to spend the night with her when she turns down their invite cause she’s burnt out from work?

I'm in a writing mood so I'm going through so old requests in my inbox

Jamie sat in their booth, tracing a smiley face in the condensation that was growing on his beer. It was a Saturday night and he and the boys had gone out. He'd texted you to come with him when they'd left almost 30 minutes ago but he still hadn't heard back from you.

You and him were... close. He wasn't quite sure where he stood with you actually. He wasn't sure friends got drunk and made out on the couch but he didn't think girlfriends left in a hurry the next morning.

He didn't want you to leave. When he woke up, reaching out for your warm body, only to find himself alone, he'd been so disappointed. And the next time he'd seen you, you pretended it didn't happen. But all Jamie could think about was how you felt wrapped in his arms, lips feverishly moving against each other.

His phone buzzed and he grabbed for it a bit too quickly.

y/n <3: sorry, cant come out

jamie:everything alright?

y/n<3: yeah just tired, have fun

Jamie stared at your response, pursing his lips as he tapped the table anxiously.

"Jamie, if you shake your leg any fast, you're gonna cause and earthquake," Colin chuckled as he and Isaac slid back in across the booth.

Jamie didn't even realize he'd been shaking his leg. "Whoops, sorry mate." He glanced down at his phone again and made a decision. "Look, sorry guys, I think I've gotta go."

"What? You're ditching us?" Isaac barked in outrage. "We just got out here."

"Sorry, I owe you one," Jamie downed his beer and threw down some quid. "Next rounds on me."

And he was out the door.

...

You were laying on your couch, a heating pad on your stomach and an ice pack on your head. You had a movie on in the background but really you were just enjoying not standing on your feet. It had been a week. A long week. And most of all, you missed Jamie.

When you were especially busy at work you didn't get to see him a lot. But part of it was you avoiding him. You didn't want to be there the next morning when he sobered up and realized the mistake he'd made by kissing you. Then making out with you.

There was a knock at the door and you groaned, not moving from your spot. Whoever it was, they would have to come back another time. But after a moment, the knocking returned. You huffed and got up out of your very comfortable position to go open the door. Surprisingly, it was:

"Jamie?" you questioned, flipping on the porch light. "What are you doing here?"

He shrugged and pulled out a bottle of prosecco. "Thought you could use a drink."

You stared at the alcohol in his hand. This couldn't be happening again. Was he trying to get you drunk so you'd be stupid enough to kiss him again?

"Jamie..." You bit your lip. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

As if he read your mind, his eyes widened. "Oh, shit. Fuck, no. That's not what I meant- we don't need to- fuck, I'm sorry. I'm not trying to pavlov you."

"Pavlov me? What are you on about?" You scoffed, quirking an eyebrow.

"Keeley told me about Pavlov and the dog and whatever," he explained. "And I just brought you this cause I know you can't stand champagne and we don't even have to drink, I just wanted to-fuck I'm sorry."

You giggled at his flustered behavior. "It's okay, why don't you come inside."

You brought him inside and put the prosecco in the refrigerator, far from reach.

"Now, tell me, Jamie, why are you here?" you asked as you flopped down on the couch next to him.

He shrugged, pulling a pillow into his lap. "I wanted to make sure you were okay, is all. Missed you this week."

You felt your heart flutter. "I missed you, too."

He looked up at you. Somewhat surprised by your admission.

"I thought... I mean I hoped that after last week..."

"Jamie, let me stop you there," You cut him off. "You don't need to try and spare my feelings. I fucked up."

"You... fucked up?"

"Yeah. When I get drunk I get emotional and I let my stupid feelings get the better of me," you frowned, shaking your head. "But I care more about our friendship. So let's just pretend it never happened."

Now it was Jamie's turn to frown. "Your feelings?"

"Yeah, I know, I'm sorry," you averted your eyes from him. "It's stupid, I'll get over them. But let's lay off the prosecco until then ye-"

He grabbed your chin between his fingers and gently pulled you so you were forced to look at him. Your eyes widened, when did he get so close?

"(Y/N), do you like me?" His voice was low and husky.

Your eyes were so big as they looked back and forth between Jamie's grey ones. "Yes."

"Can I kiss you?"

What? He was fully sober asking if he could kiss me. But his grip on my chin was firm, yet gentle as he rubbed his thumb back and forth. You just nodded. He pulled you the rest of the way into him as he kissed you.

The last time you'd kissed, you'd both been bubbly and drunk. The kiss was sloppy and heated but this kiss... this kiss was slow and sweet. He took his time, moving his hand to cup your head in his hand, his fingers tangling in your hair. He moved his mouth slowly, each kiss lasting a moment longer than the last until he finally pulled back just a bit.

His eyes opened, meeting yours. You were breathless, longing for more. He kissed you one more time, shorter, like he was making sure he'd memorized the way your lips felt. When he pulled away, his eyes were still closed, a lazy smirk appearing on his face.

"That was..." you started.

"Good, really good," he finished, his eyes finally opening. "I mean, was it good for you?"

"Yes," you answered, a second too quickly. "Let's do it again."

He chuckled, pulling you into his lap. "Oh, we will be doing a lot of that from now on."

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #ted lasso #ted lasso show #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt fanfiction #drabble night #fluff #friends to lovers

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to-thelakes · 3 months

Note

Reader and Luke not being together yet (even tho theyre both stupidly in love with the other (duh)) and reader falls asleep on Luke in the jet after a rough case!!

statistical anomaly

pairing; luke alvez x fem!reader

summary; after a case drags you to the jet late at night, you fall asleep on luke's shoulder but not before overhearing him talk about you

warnings; fluff, tired reader, team being absolute chaotic little gremlins, spencer reid (my beloved <3)

notes; i saw this and despite how ill i feel (nothing is new there, literally been dying for six months straight(not actually, just feels that way)), i was kicking my feet and giggling because STOP, i need this and want this in my life. so, i may have written a little drabble hehe, is it edited? no. is there mistakes? probably, i'm tired. but the thoughts of luke alvez never stop so enjoy

(also i made this before a case instead of after bc i just honestly, idk, i just did, so whoops but same vibes)

masterlist

It was late when you were called in for a case. You had just got home, texting Luke that you were home safe (like you always did) when Garcia called. She profusely apologised for calling you in so late but then asked you to come back. You did, without question. It wasn’t Garcia’s fault and there were lives to save; even if you were exhausted.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you settled into the jet. You were sat around the table. Luke was next to you and Emily and Reid were sat across from you. You all had the case files out, the laptop with Garcia on it was on the table too. Emily began to run you all through the case, preliminary discussions passing quickly without much of a word from you.

You were exhausted and your brain was lagging behind so you knew it was better to stay quiet for now. Once you were done, everyone slipped away into their own little group. Reid and Emily were discussing the case while you simply closed the case file. Luke glanced down at you.

“Everything okay?” He asked softly. You ran your hand across your face before you nodded your head but you weren’t convincing him or anyone. He gently took a hold of your wrist, resting it against the table, “Do you want a coffee?” He added after a moment. You shook your head.

“I’m fine, really,” You attempted to convince him but he wasn’t. He glanced around before his gaze returned to you, “Talk me through the background,” You requested. Luke looked at you for a moment and he eventually gave in to you. You were giving him the eyes and he couldn’t ever resist that. So, he began to read through the background that Garcia had managed to compile.

You really tried to listen but listening to Luke’s voice was calming you down. You felt the exhaustion seeping back in and you let your head rest against Luke’s arm. He - obviously - didn’t have a problem with it. Any excuse to have you close was good enough for him. He loved holding you, touching you, keeping you close.

“Did you get any of that?” He teased softly, noticing how your eyes had fallen closed. You mumbled something but he didn’t catch any of it. You were clearly exhausted and so he shuffled so that you could rest more comfortably against his shoulder, “I’ll wake you when the flight lands,” He whispered softly into your ear. You hummed happily in response before you let sleep take you.

It was hard for Emily and Reid not to notice. Reid was the first to suspect that there was something going on between the two of you but whenever he brought it up, he was shut down. But the rest of the team were catching on now.

“You know, a friendship, on average, takes 21.9 months to turn romantic,” Reid stated and Luke lifted his gaze up, cocking an eyebrow, “But you’ve been friends for nearly three years, so you’re both a statistical anomaly,” He added. Luke tried his best not to shift but it was clear that he was baffled by Reid’s sudden statistics.

“Reid,” Emily warned. It wasn’t that she didn’t want Reid to talk because she did enjoy hearing him but she didn’t want to make a situation out of this right now. They had other things to worry about.

“Nothing is going on between us,” Luke responded. A scoff escaped Emily’s lips involuntarily and Luke’s head snapped towards her, “I’m letting her sleep,” He defended. Emily tried to distract herself from this conversation by looking at the case file but she was still gonna be nosy.

“You let her touch you more than anyone else on the team. You also regularly watch her while she’s working and you’re much more engaged when she speaks and you’re more likely to defend her when one of us fights against her theories. You might not have something going on but you clearly love her and she loves you,” Reid stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Luke’s eyes widened and he glanced down at you before he looked back at Reid.

“How do you know that?” Luke asked, the emotions warring in his chest as he tilted his head to the side slightly.

“Oh, she told me,” A smile appeared on his face and you bit your lip as you still rested against Luke’s shoulder. You had been asleep for a little bit but Reid and Luke speaking had roused you from the brink. You had been silently listening but Reid noticed you begin to smirk slightly.

“Stop talking about me, please,” You mumbled, your tone thick was exhaustion. Luke’s eyes widened and Reid chuckled softly, “I’m trying to get some sleep.” Luke looked down at you and then back at Reid and he seemed completely dumb-founded. He was at a loss for words. It was cute and that is why you just let yourself settle back down and go back to sleep. You needed it.

#luke alvez x you #luke alvez x reader #luke alvez fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fluff #luke alvez drabble #drabble #fluff #reader-insert

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be-my-ally · 1 year

Text

Attention needed. (Jealous Elvis Request)

Dearest anon, darling, here you are! Apologies for the *slight* delay, work has kept me far too busy and tired this week - and also, I intended this to be a very quick 1-2k, and somehow that turned into 4k….so hopefully you enjoy!!! I found it a little hard to make it Jerry, who I can’t see knowingly flirting with Elvis’ girl, but I hope I did the prompt justice by making it a -teeny- bit of miscommunication.

pairing: afab!reader x elvis

summary: Reader wants Elvis’ attention, but he refuses to give it to her so she tries to make him jealous, going so far to cozy up with Jerry.

warnings: 18+, jealous!elvis, physical altercation b/t elvis + jerry (not with reader), oral sex (elvis receiving), hurt/comfort with slightly injured!elvis.

wc: 4.4k (whoops)

You hate when he ignores you like this. It’s worse because you know it's calculated, intentional. It’s not just that he’s busy recording, or messing around with the other guys (although he is) but he’s toying with you, in his twisted version of flirting, playing with you. The trouble is that the rules to his games never get shared with you. You’re left guessing how to react, or what his aim is - does he want you to fight him? Argue until you’re forced to be “taught a lesson”? Submit - simply allow him to do whatever, ignoring both your heart and brain? Or some strange, acceptable combination of the two? It seems to change every time, and it’s impossible to guess his reactions at the best of times, let alone when he’s intentionally trying to keep you unbalanced. And it is, certainly, intentional.

It has to be intentional; his determined actions to ignore your glances over at him, ignoring you lingering in the doorway of the recording studio, your hand on his thigh in the car. In fact he’d brushed you off, not in a malicious way, but in a - I’m talking to my boys and having fun and moved my leg and didn’t even realise you were there - way. Which in some ways annoys and hurts you more; because you can’t wholeheartedly accuse him of doing it on purpose, and to bring it up would imply that you don’t want him to have fun with his friends, which of course you do.

So, it has been building the whole day, leading to where you are now. Sulking on the edge of the bed, as you hear him play-fighting with the other ‘boys’ outside, although you can’t see them - its summer and it’s warm enough that the windows are open, but even with the curtains drawn it’s too dark to see. It was late, Elvis’ schedule didn’t conform to trivial things like day and night. So, despite the lateness of the hour, it’s only just coming up on dinner time. He’ll be up in a moment to change - it’s not required for any reason, it’s just family tonight - no-one special to impress, or photographs to be taken but he still likes to look his best. Especially considering he’ll be undoubtedly rumpled and muddy from their roughhousing. All you can think is that you don’t care to think of him looking his best, you just want him to really look at you. See what you’re trying to communicate with him.

You hate how he makes you feel like it’s you who’s lacking, or who has to put in the extra effort. But still you do it - it annoys the hell out of you but you still do it. You’ve changed into a little powder blue set, teased your hair up high - just how he likes, determined to get his attention back. Your intention, is to make him look at you, force his attention onto you, which means a grand entrance. Which means that you’ll have to hide when he comes up to change and allow him to go downstairs alone before following. He won’t be able to ignore you coming in by yourself. You roll your eyes internally, at the ridiculous lengths you go to for him. When you hear them all coming into the house you dive into your little dressing room, locking the door behind you. You can hear him humming to himself - as he thuds about the bedroom, you can hear the closet door opening and closing and the water running in his bathroom as he gets himself ready and then, a few minutes later, his quick footsteps as he hurries out and back down the stairs. It’s what you wanted, but you can’t help but be annoyed that he didn’t even attempt to look or call for you.

The annoyance grows, as you wait, when he doesn’t come himself or send someone to get you for dinner, forgetting in your sheer annoyance that he has no idea where you were. You head down the stairs after a few minutes had passed, you can hear the noise of the dining room as soon as you leave the cushioned sound proofing of his upstairs suite. When you walk in, late, you expect a reaction. Sure you’d wanted him to look at you, appreciate you, but you had also expected a little more. To be denied anything else - him simply glancing up at you, and pointing to the empty chair saved for you to the left of him at the head, was borderline offensive. Normally he’d have commented either in annoyance, or out of a protective worry - checking that nothing was amiss, that nothing had kept you. But tonight he does none of that, simply turning back to his conversation - not even waiting to see if his silent order was obeyed. It was, but you’d argue simply because it was the last seat available, not because you’d wanted to.

That particular place puts you directly next to Jerry, and just out of Elvis’ reach. It’s not an unusual place for you to sit, you’d normally sit as close to him as possible; sometimes sitting up with him or him sitting with you, sometimes even on his lap, but it is rare for him to tell you where to go. He’s commanding and wants his own way, but he’s not normally so demanding in such normal circumstances. You humph to yourself but nonetheless do as he wordlessly commands - you wanted his attention though, not half a glance and an order. You’re quiet through the meal, despite the rambunctious energy from the rest of the table - everyone in high spirits from the finished recording session, and time off they had that evening.

Elvis ignores you entirely, laughing and joking with Sonny and Red who were sat closest to him, but also joining in on the conversations happening around all sides of the table - shouting down to be heard when necessary. It’s a bit of a squeeze on the table tonight with so many of the closest knit memphis mafia boys staying, extra chairs added and the table extended. Which means that while Elvis, as ever, remains with more than enough space you’re knocking elbows with Jerry. You smile apologetically at him whenever it happens and he responds in kind back at you. You like Jerry, he’s always been nice to you and you’ve never felt the competitive edge that some of the other members of the ‘mafia’ seem to have from him. You chat politely to him, but you don’t have huge amounts to talk about tonight and he’s more preoccupied with the other conversations happening around you so you mostly eat in silence.

Being this close together though does give you an idea of how you might catch Elvis’ attention. You lean over to top up Jerry’s wine glass, using your left arm across your body so that you have to place your right hand on his thigh for balance. You can feel him look down in surprise at you, clearly taken aback at the forward action, uncertain as to whether he should pretend it didn’t happen or acknowledge it. You stroke his thigh once as you linger your hand before pulling it away and he appears to hold his breath until you’ve picked up your own glass with it. You don’t look at Elvis. If he wants to ignore you, you can do the same. Time to play with him for a change. Jerry shifts a little, and you smile at him, allowing him the opportunity to pretend nothing happened. He does so, but you can tell he feels slightly uncomfortable at the suddenly charged atmosphere. You risk a sneaky look over at Elvis, and see that his jaw is tight, although he doesn’t give off any other impression of anger. Your own frustration grows, as he continues to stare away from you - even though you can see him chewing his cheek almost every time you look over - as if in silent signal that he can tell you’re watching. Still, he doesn’t say a word to you.

When dinner finishes Elvis leads the way into the TV lounge, and you follow. You need to figure out how to up the ante a little, but without taking it too far. Little did you know the chance would come quite quickly. Elvis immediately settled himself onto the large sofa, cigarillo ready to be lit, and some of the others followed. It was pretty crowded, and it wasn’t long before they broke out to some of the other rooms around, spreading out a little. It made it easier to keep one eye on Elvis, while you considered your options. You were stood near the bar - it wasn’t like you were the only one still standing, every place to sit in the room taken up (despite the fact that normally Elvis would have insisted they make room for you - you’re a lady after all), when Jerry came up to it to pour himself a drink. He asks if you want one too and when you agree he does enough for two, handing you the glass as he comes back out. You chat about nothing in particular, and Jerry seems legitimately interested in what you have to say, and you drink, until you’re significantly more relaxed - almost forgetting about your mission.

You’re two drinks in now, and that plus the wine at dinner has made you a little brazen. You lean against the wall, and you can feel Jerry’s eyes track down your body as you, subtly, push your chest out a little. You continue your conversation, not really talking about much, but you can tell he’s panicking slightly about what to say or do to you. You look over at Elvis again who’s busy entertaining - regaling a couple of the boys left behind with tales from tour, and sigh. Jerry tracks your eyes, and frowns for a moment,

“Why’d you put up with it?” You look up at him, surprised he would be so direct,

“What do you mean? I don’t, he’s just…” You’re annoyed with him but you still don’t want to badmouth him to one of his best friends so your trying to choose your words carefully, “Look, you know probably better than anyone that you can’t tell him what to do, or what not to do. So you just have to…go along with it.” His brow furrows as he looks down at you, and he turns so that you’re both facing each other while resting sideways against the wall - if you turned your head slightly you could rest your cheek on the cold wallpaper.

“It’s just - you’re a swell girl, you’re so pretty, real bombshell like, and you could have anyone, hell he won’t even say he’s in a relationship with ya!” You smile and inch a little closer, not wanting to be overheard.

“Well, thank you that’s very kind. I’m not… blind to my own attractiveness Jerry. I’m not, … look, here’s the thing. I’m not super needy, or desperate to be liked for my own self worth, but I like him, and that might make me an idiot but I do! So, I’ll put up with a little more than I normally would, because I like him, and that’s all there is to it.” He continues to stare, with a slight commiserating look in his eye. You know he understands more than most. You’ve somehow ended up even closer to one another, barely a few inches between you now.

“I just don’t think he treats you right.” He shakes his head, and you go to say something in reply but you’re interrupted by Jerry’s arm being abruptly grabbed and pulled away from you,

“What the hell you doing Jerry? Hitting on my girl like that! What’s wrong with ya!” Jerry stumbles back, and rubs his arm where Elvis had grabbed him,

“Jesus- EP, we were just talkin’ is all. We weren’t doing nothing.” You can sense that Elvis wasn’t believing him,

“Looked from over there like you were about to do more than that. Looked like you were about to try and kiss her. You going around kissin’ my girls now?” You shake your head, starting to protest, and he whirls onto you, holding up a hand, “I’ll deal with you in a second little girl. Come on now Jer - you now saying you don’t want to kiss her?” Jerry stutters back at him,

“No-I uh, god, no offense y/n. I wouldn’t E!”

“No? Sounded like you’d try, I heard you Jer, ‘he don’t treat you right’ is what you said ain’t it!” It’s like watching two cars collide in front of you, you simultaneously feel panicked by the way the conversation is going, but also can’t look away. Jerry suddenly seems to have had enough of being accused or perhaps simply aware of the inevitability of the next event and draws himself up,

“Well, so what if I did - it's true.” The sentence is barely out of his mouth before Elvis’ fist is flying.

“What the hell! Elvis! His nose!” You’re horrified at the action unfolding, but you can’t help but be a tiny bit pleased that Elvis is at least fighting for you, even if it is with a pinch of guilt that it’s at Jerry’s expense. Jerry is, unlike some of the others, not afraid of Elvis - and not unwilling to fight back, although you can tell he’s purposefully not aiming for Elvis’ face. So they scrabble together, Elvis stumbling back onto the edge of the sofa after a particularly hard shove from Jerry.

“Elvis! Jerry! Someone stop them!” You’re shouting at the other men in the room, but it’s too late - the pair go crashing over the top of the sofa, and hit the coffee table on the way down. Both of them lie flat on their backs for a moment before Jerry stands, offering Elvis his hand. He takes it, and is immediately pulled up, shirt ruffled, hair a mess (although he’s faring better than Jerry with a black eye forming and a red nose) and you step forward - “What was that all about! Of all the childish stupid things to do! Look at the pair of you!” Elvis looks over at you, his eyes blazing, panting, before storming out of the room. You turn to apologise to Jerry, and he accepts it with a small nod of his head, heading over to the little bar for a drink after the drama. He’s not one to hold a grudge, and to be fair neither is Elvis - they’ll be friends again in half hour.

You can hear Elvis shouting to himself as he tears through the house and you’re in half a mind to let him wear himself out before going in to him, but the other half of your brain is telling you not to let him rile himself up any more than he already is. So you follow, but slowly, and by the time you get into the foyer he’s sat on the sofa in the music room, leaning heavily against its back, his head tipped back and his eyes closed. You can see his chest heaving with breaths from the exertion, and can tell, from his brief wince on the inhale that he’s obviously hurt a rib. You find it hard to be sympathetic though, since it was of his own making.

“El-“

“Don’t you start little girl - I saw you flirting like a goddamn teasing whore, trying to turn me the fuck on. With Jerry of all people.” You wince at his tone - eyes wide in an attempt to protest your innocence,

“That’s not fair - he wasn’t - … you weren’t paying me any attention! He was just talking to me!” He scoffs at you,

“Well, you’ve got my attention now.” He swings his head forward to look at you and he’s calm, but you know that can sometimes precipitate further emotion from him. You can’t help but think he looks good, even as you can tell there’s bruising forming under his shirt; slightly sweaty, hair ruffled, and his shirt coming untucked. Actually, he looks a lot, and you blush as you recognise the thought, like he does when you’ve had sex. You start to stutter out some apology or explanation but your mouth has gone dry as he continues to stare at you. He crooks his fingers, the same two fingers he always does and you follow him closer. He pats his thigh and you warily approach, half expecting to be flung over his knee, he’s unpredictable like this. You try to perch delicately but he pulls you up and across with a slight grunt. Probably from his rib, you look down at him,

“This is silly - you’re hurt! Let me have a look.” You start to pull at his shirt, as if attempting to get underneath to assess his injury. But he stops you with a tight hand on your wrist.

“I’m fine, nothin’ that won’t be sorted after a shower.” His dismissive tone does nothing to reassure you, but you can’t protest when he shakes you slightly with his hold around your wrist and waist. “Now, baby, what was all that about. You gonna try and tell me again you didn’t do it on purpose?” You falter for a second, you don’t want to lie but you also don’t want to admit to your actions; you’re a little embarrassed to have stooped to such a level. “You’ve been doin’ it all evening - god, all fucking day, trying to get on my damn nerves.” Now that you will protest.

“Elvis! I haven’t! Not all day! I was jus-“

“Ah-ha!” He crows at you, “So you admit, you were this evenin’ though huh honey?” You wince, refusing to incriminate yourself any further. “Trying to rile me up all night you have - turning up to dinner late, and you think I don’t know you were hiding in your bathroom?” You look back at him, slightly stunned to be so called out, his hand leaves your wrist, trailing up to your face. He strokes the side of your cheek from the bone of your eyebrow to the base of your chin. You tremble, feeling goosebumps springing up on your flesh. He does it again, stroking down before he, with the same fingers, grabs hold of your face, gripping your cheeks in his fingers - squeezing them together.

“Say you’re sorry, say ‘sorry Elvis’.” He mimics you in a high pitched tone. You start to protest and his fingers dig in tighter,

“So-rry Elvis.” You repeat back to him, he hums back at you.

“Got a nasty habit of arguing with me, little girl. I ain’t gonna put up with that anymore. Not from you.” You nod, and his hand, almost in praise, travels up your thigh. You squirm, your heart beating fast, suddenly aware of your pulse - you wonder if he can tell. He trails his fingers down your cheeks, stopping near your throat, resting for a moment before skipping down to hold you around your waist again. He leans his head close to yours, his breath tickling your ear. “You want my attention darling, you just gotta ask. I ain’t dealing with this bratty shit no more.” His hand strokes your inner thigh, “Understand?” You frantically nod back,

“Yeah, yeah of course, of - uh - course.” You probably shouldn’t find it so hot to be told off but you do. He shifts you from leaning so heavily on his side, and you sit up completely, looking over at him sternly - you knew he was in pain. He interrupts you before you can say anything though.

“Been tryna get you to just ask me for what you want all goddamn day. But Lord did you make it difficult for me.” His eyes have a certain glint in them, and you’re not wholly surprised when the next words out of his mouth are, “Guess you oughta make me feel better then little one, you gonna make it up to me? - Go on, baby, get on those little knees for me.” You half roll your eyes, not convinced you’ve done anything that requires apologising but still you slink off his thighs to kneel between his legs. It’s not something nice girls should admit to, but it’s not a hardship for you to take him in your mouth, in fact, quite the opposite. So you kneel, letting him unbutton his trouser - his hardening cock immediately jumping free.

You lean forward, stroking him gently to full hardness. You go to kiss the tip, and his hands find their way into your hair, bracketing your head, his rings catching a couple of strands that sting a little. But, in a good way that causes your thighs to clench with each little pull. Your fingers go to gently stroke his balls, and you watch as it prompts a bead of white to form at the end of his uncut cock. He grunts down at you,

“Don’t tease me baby, that’s not how you say sorry.” He pulls your head closer, and the tip of his dick nudges your lips. You let it in, letting it sit for a moment while you adjusted to him being in your mouth again - it’s not something you’re especially skilled at, and you don’t do it often enough to be entirely used to it all but you’re certainly enthusiastic about it. You let it slip out of your mouth with a little pop, taking the time to lick a stripe down his full length, before circling the tip back in your mouth.

“Thatsa good girl, c’mon now, take it in.” You do as he commands, bobbing down again, tasting his slight salty tang, the sweat from his exertion adding to his general manly musk. Your nose brushes against his base as you open your throat, taking shallow breathes in from your nostrils. His hips jerk as you take a moment to suck, causing his dick to knock against your throat - you can’t help but gag, and you pull off coughing slightly - his hands tugging you off quicker than you’d have gone by yourself. “Sorry sweetheart,” he strokes your cheek as you catch your breath, “God you’re fucking gorgeous.” You blink up at him, through your watering eyes and he groans, his head falling back again. “Lord, if you could see yourself right now.” You smile slightly, going back down on him. Your hands come up to hold his thighs and you dedicate yourself to the task at hand. Bobbing the length of his cock, You’re more prepared this time when he can’t help but move his hips and you go with him, fighting your gag reflex. Your hand finds where your mouth can’t comfortably reach, and gently holds him in place while your other goes down to delicately stroke his balls. You go with where his hands in your hair tug you, up and down, as you feel his thighs clench.

You don’t have any particularly strong opinions about swallowing, it just depends on your mood and although he’s made it quite clear he’d prefer for you to swallow he’s not about to force you into anything. Today though, as you look up at him through your wet lashes, you can see the glint in his eye as he murmurs that he’s close, and watches you glance about, realising that in the living room you don’t have much choice, unless you’re planning on dirtying your sleeve or the couch. You make eye contact and it seems to be the catalyst to send him over the edge, swearing as you swallow him down. He breathes heavily for a few moments as you finish licking him clean before pulling off to wipe your mouth and chin clean. He tucks himself away, “That’s it. Good girl,” he sighs, thumbing any lasting traces of wet on your face away, “that was a mighty nice ‘pology.” You smile up at him. Pleased that he’s pleased.

“I really wasn’t flirting with Jerry,” You tilt your head, “…much.” He guffaws back at you, his previous black mood forgotten, looking down at you with half lidded eyes,

“S’ok darling, sorry I lost my lid with ya - shouldn’t, shoul-dn’t have. Knew you wouldn’t really.” He pulls you up into his arms, although you protest, and he starts to try to lay you on the couch. “Lemme take care of you now baby, lemme take care of you.”

“Elvis,” You start tentatively, pushing back on his hands to sit upright. “Wouldya, would you let me have a look at your side? That’s how you can take care of me, let me have a look.” He looks at you, eyes wide,

“You, you don’t hafta baby, it’s my fault.” You hush him, shifting to be sat next to him and pull his top up, he allows it - lifting his arm to help you roll it up and get a clear look. You tut at the red marks mottling his side, can see where it’s going to develop into a nasty bruise right along the line of his rib, clearly where he’d crashed into the coffee table. He winced when you push into it, but (despite your lack of medical training) you’re pretty sure that it doesn’t feel broken or cracked. Just bruised.

“Let’s get some ice on that, and then I’ll put some cream on it later, ‘fore we go to bed.” He blinks at you for a second,

“Yeah, yeah sounds like a -ah- plan.” He grunts as his arm comes down, his facial expression changes quickly, a little smirk forming although he’s still got that soft expression on his face, the one that always appears when he’s being taken care of. “You gonna nurse me back to health? Get you a lil’ cap and gown?” You shake your head at him,

“In your dreams, buddy. C’mon,” You shake his arm as you stand, “Let’s go get that ice.” He nods, following you like a lost puppy.

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