#unfortunately that would happen to beard

[coachbeards]

the idea of beard having an old, faded kinda rackety pair of crutches tucked away in his closet at all times....yeah. he has had,,, quite a lot of leg injuries.

#you know how matthew gray gubler injured his knee heavily while dancing + needed surgeries and to walk with a cane #unfortunately that would happen to beard #but whenever he's asked he'd give a different mysterious answer #jamie is convinced beard is a spy (ted knows he injured his knee at the disco)

[charliemwrites]

Mafia!Price warm up because I am… so tired. I’ve had back-to-back events the last few days and ya bitch canNOT hang. So, while I rehydrate and wait for caffeine to work it’s magic, here’s this:

Part 1 here

No Content Warnings

Mr. Price is the best boss you’ve ever had. He’s straightforward and blunt, but unfalteringly courteous. Likes things a certain way — his own way — but that’s nothing you’re unfamiliar with from rich men responsible for billions. At very least, he seems to respect when you challenge him.

“We’ve always done records this way,” he says.

“Yes, sir,” you answer serenely, “but that was before you had me.”

He stares you down and you beam right back, tablet balanced on your forearm. One beat, two. In the corner of your eye, you see Gaz shift. You tilt your head at your boss.

He sits back in his big office chair, thumb swiping over his index and middle fingers. A gesture you’ve been mentally cataloguing as “contemplative” — perhaps deciding if he’s annoyed or amused. You don’t let yourself get nervous seeing it; you’re good at your job and you know it. He’s going to know it too, by god.

“And what do you have to do with it, luv?”

Your smile stretches wider as you take that as an invitation to round his desk. He turns and shifts a bit to make room for you, eyebrows ticking up as you set a neatly paper-clipped report in front of him, highlighted for convenience.

“See here?” You point at one section, a list of finance records. “Inconsistencies that the accountants took two months to notice. Two!”

He grunts as you set it aside, face up, for further perusal and then show him the next set. Different highlighter (and a smiley face in the corner).

“And look here, doing it this way, we noticed the discrepancies within a week,” you explain.

He picks up the page, eyes scanning over it thoroughly before setting it down. Taps his index finger over the discrepancy (circled in bright red) twice.

“Would you happen to have the account — ah, thank you.”

You hum, smoothing the sticky note (hot pink, shaped like a heart) onto the page. “So what do you think, sir?”

He runs a hand down his face, palm rasping over his beard. But there is a grateful note to his gaze as he glances at you.

“We’ll be doing it this way from now on, then.”

“Thrilling, sir. I’ll send out a memo.”

He waves you off, frown already forming on his face. You politely leave his office, stop by the break room to make a fresh cup of tea (a dollop of cream only, no sugar) and knock on the closed door. It’s Gaz that opens it.

“For the boss,” you say. “Before heads start rolling.”

“You’re a doll,” he breathes, accepting the cup and slipping back inside.

You happily toddle back to your desk and begin calling appointment confirmations. You’ve got about a million emails and a hundred calls to make.

—

Working for Price also comes with some… eccentricities. For one, you have a driver now.

Usually Farah, sometimes her partner Alex. On the rare occasion it’s Gaz. They always usher you into the backseat. On rainy days (so, most days in the UK) they hold an umbrella over your head while you scurry into the luxury leather interior of whatever stupidly expensive ride you’re taking.

That was a non-negotiable when you and Mr. Price discussed the details of your employment contract with him. Something about safety…? You feel silly being driven to work as an assistant, but it was your first encounter with the Steel Gaze of Decision and it was unfortunately effective.

Not that you mind the rides! All three of your usual drivers are wonderful. So friendly and chatty. You love hearing about Alex’s niece and Farah’s hobbies, Gaz’s little “spats” with Soap. You spoil them with extra treats from whatever bakery you make them stop at for morning breakfast. (Always local, you love supporting small businesses and strong arm Price into doing so as well).

There’s the gun as well. You’ve only seen it once or twice, always discreetly hidden under his suit jacket. A shoulder holster, all black. Pretend that you don’t see it because… well, you’re not entirely sure it’s legal and you’d rather live in the blissful cloud of plausible deniability.

And speaking of — there’s his bodyguard. To be fair, bodyguards aren’t a new or weird presence with your bosses. Expensive men, they need protection. Ghost is a different kind though.

He always covers the lower half of his face — actually, he’s covered head to toe. Usually in black, sometimes with little skeleton or skull motifs. And he’s fucking big, which is saying something because Mr. Price isn’t a small man either.

Ghost hardly interacts with you, but he’s unfailingly polite when he does. Not talkative, but he holds doors for you, has walked you down to the car. Even once attitude-checked a guest that decided to be rude to you. Didn’t even say anything, just walked into the guy’s personal bubble and stared him down until he subsided. Then he turned, gave you a nod, and you squeezed his arm before toddling off to let Price know his appointment had arrived.

All around the vibes in the office are pleasant, if sometimes stuffy. A little odd. All of his employees are polite if not kind to you, and Price himself is a fair and reasonable man — at least with you.

(The first time you heard him raise his voice through the closed office door nearly scared the daylights out of you. He always uses a low, even tone when speaking to you, so to hear his voice booming like that was something of a shock. Even more shocking was when he opened the door — damn near throwing his “guest” out — before turning to you.

“Call Farah when you have a mo’, would you?” He asked, calm as you please.

You blinked, still having war flashbacks of your last boss. “Yes, sir.”

“Cheers, luv.”)

There’s also the “field trips” as you call them.

Mr. Price is something of a very “hands on” businessman (“micromanager” you tease when he’s in a good mood) who has a hand in several industries. One of them is shipping. Which means that sometimes you find yourself standing beside him in warehouses or at loading docks. And of course you have to go, you’re his assistant! You take meeting notes, provide information or report details. Basically act as his second brain while he reams out idiots or organizes plans.

You suck it up, but you rather hate the smell of low tide. And the occasional gusts of blood on the sea breeze from fishermen gutting their catches. Price catches you looking ill once or twice and at least makes an effort to keep things short after that.

“Poor thing,” Soap teases when you’re in the back of the car, fussing at your wind-swept hair. “Get a bit blown, did you?”

“MacTavish,” Price snaps.

That’s the other thing. Even the slightest hint of suggestive or inappropriate words at your expense are met with firm, almost harsh, reprimand from your boss. It does wonders for you nerves and your respect for him.

“Wish I’d known we were going to the docks,” you sigh, carefully picking at pins to fix your hair. “I would have used more hairspray.”

“Thought I told you?” Price says.

“No, sir, you did not,” you answer, long-suffering. “You know you can put it into the scheduling app, right?”

He blinks. “Scheduling app.”

You blink back at him. “Oh, dear. Here, look at this.”

You spend the entire ride back to the office showing him how your scheduling software works so that you don’t have to deal with any more surprise dock visits.

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #mafia!au #mafia boss price #mafia!price #assistant reader #oddly wholesome for a mafia au

[rileyslibrary]

Ghost is forced to dress up as Santa for the day and talk to kids.

You’re ordered to tag along as his Elf and do some damage control if necessary.

———————————————————————

You lean against his armchair, watching the chaos in front of you. Children are crying, tugging at their parents’ clothes, shouting both in excitement and fear, all while looking at you. A young boy keeps waving at your lieutenant, desperate to get his attention, but Ghost is too preoccupied with coming to terms with his new reality to notice.

You return his wave with a smile.

“Try to stay still, Santa,” you remind Ghost as you nod towards the boy. “Kids are watching.”

He snaps back into focus and redirects his attention to the queue. He stretches one last time, pushing on the armrests, before settling into the chair.

“Try not to tell me what to do,” he murmurs and waves back at the child.

You straighten up and tweak your green hat, triggering the bell at its tip to jiggle in your ear. You feel for him; you really do. He’s not supposed to be here; he’s not built for this. Unfortunately—for him or the kids, you haven’t decided yet—the “real” Santa broke his hip at the last minute, and your military base stepped in to provide a new Santa for the local community.

And what better replacement than Ghost, you may ask? Well, literally anybody else.

Dressed in a red costume with white faux fur trim, the lieutenant looks nothing like the man you experienced on the battlefield. His shoulders threaten to rip through the rented outfit, and the seams at the back hold onto each other for dear life. Since his belly wasn’t big enough to simulate Santa’s, you asked him to stuff a pillow under his uniform. Surprisingly, Ghost complied almost instantly, leaving you to wonder if he was using the pillow as Kevlar, a barrier between him and the kids or if he was secretly enjoying this.

You also convinced him to ditch the balaclava for the time being since he would now have plenty of props to conceal his face—a wig, a long beard, glasses, and a red hat with a white pom-pom, to be exact. Additionally, you attempted to trick him into applying some blush on his cheeks, but he side-eyed you and told you to ‘be careful now’—ironic for a man who paints his face daily.

You rub your temples, trying to keep calm amid the chaos of the mall as you prepare for what’s about to happen during the next few hours. You have no idea why Price chose him to be Santa, but you didn’t question it either. Ghost seems to be the least qualified for the job out of everyone in the base. It feels like a last resort, so to speak—a ‘that’s all we have left in the store’ solution.

On the other hand, you know precisely why the captain chose you to accompany him. “To monitor the situation,” he said—“To make sure we don’t get sued,” you heard. And, under normal circumstances, you’d be happy to tag along with Ghost—be it on patrol, on missions, or even transporting confidential documents. But in this situation? Acting as a troubleshooter rather than a teammate? You’d rather be anywhere else than here, with anybody else than him.

You take another look at him while he sits on the chair. He’s tugging at the uniform, scratching his head, and instinctively pulling the beard to his nose.

“Stop doing that,” you whisper. “It’s a beard, not a balaclava.”

“Price would have been perfect for the job, for fucks sake,” he spits. “He has the fucking moustache for starters.”

“Stop with the ‘fucks’ and the ‘fucking’ Ghost; you’re about to talk to kids! And, as for the captain, he said he couldn’t do it.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks, lifting his hands from the armrests. “And what makes him think that I can?”

“I wish I knew, to be honest, but we don’t have time to go through this again,” you murmur, looking at your watch one last time. You approach the barrier, unclip the rope from the stanchion, and turn over your shoulder.

“Operation ‘Santa’ begins now,” you declare. “Ready?”

“Do I have a choice?” He replies, shrugging, and gestures for you to proceed.

And so it begins. Your first ‘customer’ arrives, and many more follow. You guide one family at a time into the enclosure and escort them to Ghost, who handles the rest. Some children are hesitant, peeking out from behind their parents’ legs, while others are much more direct with their intentions as they scream in horror at the sight of him.

On the other hand, Ghost is neither your typical jolly Santa nor the irritated lieutenant you’d expect. He appears to be... understanding. He reassures parents that it’s okay and there’s no need to force their children onto his lap if they feel uncomfortable. He initiates conversations with the kids from a respectful distance. He smiles with his eyes and hunches his shoulders to appear less imposing. Sometimes, he lures the shy ones into a handshake, a fist pump, or a high five by lowering his gloved hand to their level.

And then there are those other types of kids: the curious ones, the social butterflies. The ones who look forward to sitting on Ghost’s lap, diving into full-blown conversations with him. That’s when you stiffen up and switch into damage-control mode to ensure he won’t lash out at them. You begin hovering above them, listening, jumping into their conversations and sometimes interrupting Ghost and replying to the kids instead of him.

You would have thought he’d be grateful to have you managing the situation. Ghost, however, seems more irritated by you than by the little girl who’s currently playing with the pom-pom on his hat.

“Oi, Elf!” he says calmly, yet visibly annoyed. “Emma and I are chatting about how she spilt tomato juice on her Elsa costume and wants a new one for Christmas. Could you please falala off and go wrap some presents?”

“B-but I need to know because I’ll be sewing it for her,” you reply, smiling at the little girl. “Isn’t that right, Emma?”

And, although Emma nods her head, more out of necessity than agreement, you get his point. He’s doing surprisingly well with those kids, even without you. Actually, he’s doing remarkably well, especially without you.

More kids come and go, and Ghost slowly adapts to his new persona. He starts making bets with you, predicting which kids in the queue might ask for a PlayStation or an iPad and even speculating who might wipe snot on his costume. You, in response, adopt a more laid-back approach and let him do his thing. After each child’s visit, Ghost turns towards you, whispering in your ear about their Christmas wishes, as if he’s indeed Santa, and keeps logs.

“My man wants a full-sized car wheel,” Ghost murmurs as the young boy leaps off his lap, “can you believe him?”

“What did you say to him?” You ask, stifling a laugh.

“I told him I’ll get it for him,” he shrugs. “What else should I do?”

“Alright, but what did you really want to tell him?”

“That his dad already has four of them screwed in his car.”

As the day winds down, and the final announcement for the day echoes through the speakers, parents and children walk past you and towards the exit. They wave at Ghost and occasionally at you. The parking lot empties, the stores shut their doors until tomorrow, and the holiday lights that decorate the inside of the mall switch off one by one.

You stretch your back and tap on his shoulder, signalling that both of you should pack up and return to the base.

“Nuh-uh,” he says, grasping your wrist with one hand and tapping his thigh with the other. “You didn’t tell me what you want for Christmas.”

You’re exhausted but still manage to smile as you comply with his request. You sit on his lap, and he leans back to take a better look at you.

“Let’s think about it another way,” you say. “What would you, as Santa, give me for Christmas?”

“Coal,” he replies. “And a muzzle, so you don’t interrupt me while I’m talking. What was that all about?”

“Was afraid you’d say something bad,” you explain. “But you were pretty good with those kids.”

He shakes his head and plays with the fur trim on his sleeve. “Nah,” he murmurs. “I’d never say something bad to a kid.”

“Speaking of bad and coal,” you say, combing his fake beard, “you never asked the typical ‘have you been a good kid’ to any of them.”

“There’s no bad kid in the world, love,” he whispers. “All kids are good, even the naughty ones.”

You smile at him, but he doesn’t look back at you. He’s examining his uniform as if trying to find something else to discuss. He finds some crumbs a kid left on his suit and brushes them off.

“Ready to head back to the base, Lieutenant?” You ask, tapping his thigh before standing up. You extend your hand to him, and he gladly accepts it, helping him rise from the chair he’s been sitting in all day. You begin walking towards the exit, and he wraps his arm around your shoulder. You reciprocate by hugging his waist.

You walk up to the parked military vehicle that brought you here earlier, still discussing the day. He opens the door but pauses and turns to look at you.

“Resilience,” he declares. “That’s what I would gift you for Christmas.”

“Why?” You ask, turning to look at him. “You think I need it?”

“We all do,” he replies softly, just like when he used to talk to those kids. “Since I can’t protect you from every obstacle life throws your way, I might as well give you the ability to recover from them.”

“That would make me very happy, Lieutenant.” You say, smiling.

He smiles back at you and reaches for your hat to fix it better on your head. His hand moves to your forehead, and he tucks a stray hair behind your ear.

“It’s Santa to you.” He replies.

———————————————————————

A/N: Bruh, I was so tempted to make the reader pull off a Mariah Carey and say, “All I want for Christmas is you,” when Ghost asked what they wanted, but my gag reflexes kicked in every time, and I was cringing galore.

So, there you go: resilience. That’s what I would like to gift you as well. I wish I could shield you from whatever has troubled you in the past or is currently doing so. To protect you from future worries and make everything ‘falala off’. Unfortunately, I can’t do that, neither for you nor for myself.

But this is why comfort characters and stories exist—so we can imagine, when no one is there for us, that someone actually is.

Just like Santa. Just like Ghost.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x gn!reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x y/n #simon ghost riley #simon riley x gn!reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon riley #cod ghost #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley fic #cod mw ghost

[lokis-army-77]

Live from Hawkins

Older!Eddie Munson x female reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Eddie watched as you are stood up on a date and without a second thought, he brings you home.

Warning: 18+. Eddie is in his late 50s to early 60s, reader is 20s to early 30s. p in v, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, sir kink, pet names, a few spanks, fingering, mention of a partner having died.

A/n: Thank you @munson-blurbs for hyping me up to write this and for thinking of the funny little thing that happens at the end hehe, I love you <3 also my version older!eddie is inspired by @ farmerusedto on tiktok and Instagram.

Masterlist  Part 2

The fun of nightlife had escaped Eddie when his biological clock started making him go to bed at 8:30 p.m. instead of 2 a.m., but tonight was an exception. After an extraordinarily shitty day, he thought a drink or two at his old haunt would cheer him up. It didn’t, not entirely. The whisky he had been nursing tasted like shit and the crowd in the bar left little to be desired, except for you. 

Eddie had clocked you when you entered the establishment at eight on the dot. His eyes raked over the pretty silky red dress that stuck to the curves of your body as you made your way to a tiny circular table with two chairs and sat down. Your head was held high as you watched the front door. 

Ah, a date, He thought. Then he began thinking about all the dates he had been on in the long past years until he had met his wife, and then the lack thereof after her passing twenty-some years ago. He’s never had time to date. Raising kids two kids as a single dad while also being a simi-successful musician turned producer, looking for romance added a whole new thing to worry about so he just didn’t, but now, in his later years of life, with his children grown and moved out, he could afford the chance to indulge. Sadly though, you were apparently taken. 

Even after he had finished his one glass of alcohol, he waited. Watching you as your posture slowly became slouched, you sipped on some fancy beverage, and your head stopped peaking up when the bell to the door chimed as it was opened and closed. You were beautiful and didn’t deserve to be stood up.

When the clock struck nine, Eddie stretched his aching joints and stood from the bar. Sauntering his way over to your tiny table.

“This seat taken?” He asked, hand resting on the back of the chair. 

You lifted your head from your phone startled and shook your head. “Unfortunately, no. You can take it.” Sighing, you look back down at your phone, expecting him to take the lone chair and pull it up to another table. To your surprise, he actually sat down in front of you. “Um… can I help you?” 

“Sorry, I just saw you sitting here by yourself for a while and thought you might like the company. A pretty girl like you in a pretty dress like that shouldn’t be sitting alone in a bar like this, some weirdo could show up.”

You blush, almost as red as your dress. “And how do I know you aren’t the weirdo?” 

“Good question. You don’t.” He laughed.

The deep timber of it had your stomach flipping. His facial features were hidden under a nicely kept beard, full of salt and pepper hairs, more salt than anything else. The shaggy, slightly curly hair atop his head looked the same. He was definitely older than you by a couple of decades, but hey he was nice looking and obviously, the guy you were supposed to be seeing wasn’t coming. What harm could come from flirting with this guy?

“But hey, a bit of mystery can be a good thing, don’t you think?” He asks. 

You can't help the giggle that passes your lips. “Oh, really?” You look him up and down. His outfit was something reminiscent of the eighties, only more subdued. Tight black jeans, motorcycle boots, and an Iron Maiden shirt that had been ripped at the hem. Before he had sat down you even spotted a black and white skull bandana in his back pocket. “I’ve heard that with age comes wisdom. Are you here to enlighten me then?”

He lets out a more hearty laugh this time, his head falling back. Your eyes scan the contours of his neck and watch as his Adam's apple bobs up and down. “I don’t know about wisdom, but I do have a few decades under my belt. Maybe I was the one hoping to learn a little thing or two from such a charming young lady as yourself. 

Your hand lifts to cover your smile and you look away almost bashfully. “Such a smooth talker aren’t you?” 

“As smooth as I can be…” He leans forward, hand resting on the table, fingers laced together. You see the many rings decorating them. The flip in your stomach drops and you clench your thighs together. “Why? Is my charm winning you over?”

“So that’s what you’re trying to do, huh?” You smile. 

“Well, it was either that or all the vintage dad jokes I know.” He smiles back. 

You can feel your mood being lifted from the once sour thing that it was into something more bubbly as you listen to him. “Vintage dad jokes? Sound’s intriguing. Maybe I’ll stick around for now.” 

He nods. “That’s a good choice Sweetheart. Who could resist the allure of outdated humor and a bit of gray hair?” His hand tugs at his beard. 

“You know, I could be out having an adventure with the guy I was supposed to be meeting here instead of chatting with a silver fox.” There is a permanent grin etched into your face as he gasps in faux offense. 

“You wound me, Sugar.  Isn’t it usually the unexpected adventures that turn into something unforgettable?” Eddie couldn’t lie to himself, he was laying it on pretty thick, but it was all in hopes that maybe, just maybe you might come home with him. 

“Well, I do have to admit you are intriguing, maybe I’ll take you up on this adventure.” It was childish, the way your heel-clad foot slid its way past the single, center leg of the table and halfway up the man’s calf. 

When he feels your foot rubbing on him, he has to steel his face. One of his hands slipped from the table and slithered its way down his leg and caught your foot. “What do you say we get out of here?” His hands were so big and his fingers so long that they wrapped with ease around your ankle. The pads of his fingers pressed in gently and you hoped he couldn’t feel how fast your pulse were thumping throughout your body. 

Your mouth suddenly turned dry, words evaded you. All you could do was nod in response. He let go of your foot and stood, reaching out his hand. You take it and he pulls you up as well. “My name’s Eddie by the way.” 

…

The drive to Eddie’s suburban home was filled with chase touches and lingering hands. His large palm warmed your thigh, his fingers dug into the plushness there. You cozied up to him, lips trailing up his neck to his ear where you nibbled on the lobe. 

Eddie groaned as he white-knuckled the steering wheel. His breath caught in his throat when you inched a delicate hand into his lap. 

“Now, little girl, don’t be starting something you can’t finish.” He chided. His hand on your thigh moved ever closer to the already high hem of your dress. 

“Little girl?” you whisper into his ear. “I’m not a little girl, old man.”

You feel every bump and jerk of his 1960s Ford pickup as he practically jumps the curb and slams the brakes in his driveway, screeching to a halt. Eddie unfastened his seatbelt and turned to you. His hand immediately found purchase on the back of your neck and he pulled you in for a kiss. His lips were soft and plump and his beard tickled. You giggled into the kiss but that was cut short when they turned to gasps as soon as Eddie caressed his tongue into your mouth. 

“Eddie…” You moan into him, fingers latched onto his shirt, pulling him into you. 

“What is it, Sweetheart?” He pulled away from the kiss. 

You looked him in his eyes, the street lamp outside aiding in deepening their already dark hue. “Touch me. Need you to touch me.” 

He smirked. “Alright baby, I’ll touch you.” 

Then, he backed away, hooking you from himself and slipping out the door. A pout worked its way onto your features as he walked around and opened your door. Tisking he shook his head. “What’s the frown for sugar?” 

You took his outstretched hand, he was ever the gentleman. “You stopped kissing me.” 

Leaning down he gave you a sloppy peck on the lips. “Well, I can't touch you how you want, Sweetheart, unless we go inside.” He chortled as he guided you to his front door. As soon as the lock was undone and the knob twisted, you pushed the two of you inside. You were hot and worked up and needed something to help the pounding ache that had made itself known between your thighs. 

Inside, you try your best to tug Eddie’s shirt up and over his head but he is quick to catch your hands, pushing you back against the wall and holding them above your head. 

“Not so fast. You’ve got to ask for the things that you want.” 

You shake your head in defiance. You knew where this was going from the way he gripped your wrists. From the way his voice became stricter, more dominant. Need pools in the pit of your stomach. This was what you had been craving, what no other man could make you feel. 

“Please.” Your plea comes out just above a whisper. 

“Tsk, Sweetheart, I think you can do better than that.” Eddie maneuvers both your wrists into the hold of one hand while he lets the fingers of his other run down the open skin of your neck tantalizingly slowly. Goosebumps begin to prickle on your skin as the fingers wander down your chest and over the tops of your breasts, cleavage on display, heaving as you take sharp breaths of air. 

“Please, Eddie.” Voice cracking. “Please, I want you. I want you to touch me, I want to feel you.” 

He groans, hips pressing you to the wall harder. “What a good girl you are.” He captures your lips in another heated kiss.

The night had barely begun and you already felt like you were drowning in him. The scent of menthol cigarettes, whisky, and something almost woody filled your nose and all you could think of was the man pinning you to the wall.

A staggered gasp caught in your throat when Eddie dropped your wrists and heaved you up by the waist. Your legs cinched around him and his arms held you close. “Why don’t we take this to my room? I can put some nice mood music on.” He kissed up your neck as he carried you through his home. 

“Mood music, hum?” You whimper when he sucks on a sensitive spot. “What, gonna play the Temptations greatest hits? Or how about the Chordettes? Don’t they have that song with your name in it?” 

You yelp when his hand smacks your ass. “M’not that old, Sweetheart. It’s more like eighties rock ballads but that’s not what I’m choosing.” The smirk that contoured his lips was wicked. 

“Mmm, and how old are you?” You ask, words muffled by your lips meeting his. 

“Old enough.” Eddie pushes his door open and it hits the wall with a thud. He walks to his bed in the darkness and practically throws you on top of the sheets. He doesn’t follow, instead, he flips the bedside lamp on and the room fills with a soft yellow light. 

His room isn’t what you thought it would be. It's all dark colors, blacks and grays. Three electric guitars hang like decorations on the wall in front of you. A few picture frames are scattered over the dresser to your left, too far to see the images clearly in the dim light. You watch him like a hawk as he walks to that very dresser and turns on a speaker. 

He really wasn’t kidding about the mood music. You think. 

“Get comfortable Sugar… Just got to figure out this damn phone.” You chuckle as you watch him fiddle with the touchscreen and cheer when the music fills the silence. You laugh even louder when Eddie fumbles the phone in his hands and drops it to the floor. “Shit.” He bends down to pick it up and when he does he props it against the mirror of the dresser. 

“Is it okay?” You ask, hand covering the giant smile plastered on your face. 

“It’ll live.” He shakes his head. When the giggles die down, he slowly comes toward you, crawling up the bed. The way his hands travel up your bare legs gives you chills. He pries you open gently, your dress hikes up your thighs, and the wetness of your pussy is on full display. 

“Well, aren’t you a naughty girl… No panties?” He asks, hot breath on the inside of your thigh as he nips at the skin. 

You shake your head as you explain. “No, not wearing a bra either. You can see the outline through the dress” 

He grins a devilish grin and slowly teases his way up your thigh. The hot air from his breath caresses your skin white his beard tickles you. He pushes back your dress a little more before looking you in the eyes. “Ready?”

The whine that comes from you is almost unrecognizable, all desperate and needy when his mouth attaches itself to your pretty cunt. Your hand flies to his head, gripping his silky hair between stiff fingers. 

“Fuck. E-Eddie.” You rasp. He hums the vibrations add to the cacophony of pleasurable feelings between your legs. 

Eddie’s tongue rolls along your folds, wetting every inch of skin. The gentle sucks he performs on your clit pull moan after moan from you. Your back arches and your hips push down into the bed. Eddie’s hands push your thighs farther apart, the plush of them pooling through his spread fingers. 

He loves the feel of you. Loves that he can make you writhe under him with just his tongue. His ego is through the roof, having not been this intimate with someone in years. 

It's been all but a few minutes, to you its been hours, Eddie is expertly working you up up up and to the edge. One hand smoothes down your leg and under his chin. You feel the subtle touches of his fingers as they linger around your cunt. His other hand pushes your leg back more, creating more room. You heave a cry when two fingers breach you, stretching you out at a leisurely pace. 

In and out, in and out, in and out he went, fucking you deeply with those long thick fingers of his, covered in rings. The metal soon became warm as they began to be covered in your slickness and his spit that dribbled down to meet them.

With the way his fingers pushed up into your walls, poking the fire in your belly. The ember that it once was, was not a full-on flame. It was wild and hot and needed something more to feed on. 

“Eddie!” You cried, clamping down around him. Body ridged, ready to let go. 

“That’s right baby, say my fucking name.” He pulled back only to reattach to your clit and pump his fingers tenfold. 

His words were tender to the flame, making it rage out of control. “Eddie!” You cried again, wonton moans following as you feel the fire spreading. “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” you chant like a prayer. 

He’s greedy as he laps up every ounce of your release, you have to push him away gently, too sensitive for him to keep going but the crooked smirk he gives you as he kisses up your body tells you he wants more. 

Your breathing is rapid as you come down. Your legs feel like jello and you’re hot, super hot. The fire in your veins had rekindled and the dress, conforming to your body, was becoming uncomfortable in the heat. 

Eddie can see the way you tug at the garment and gives it a tug of his own. “I hate to see this little number go but I need to see all of you.” He manhandles you onto your stomach, snatching the tiny red zipper and pulling it down to reveal the soft skin of your back. 

His hands rub into your muscles, thumbs catching on knots and smoothing them out. It was intimate, something you had never experienced in a one-night stand. He removed the tiny straps from your shoulders and kneaded until you were sighing contently into his sheets. Lower and lower he went, tugging the fabric with him and eventually taking it off, throwing it into the abyss. Rough fingers squeezed at the fat of your ass. 

Unknowingly, Eddie had bent down, and as he was massaging you bit down playfully on your ass cheek. A weak squeal erupts from your throat. “Eddie, what are you doing?” 

“I can’t help it if you look good enough to eat.” He bites down again and you buck your hips back. A hand quickly smacks down on your ass. “Quit being a brat. First not asking for what you want and now this? What am I going to do with you?”  Condescension drips thickly from his words. 

You wiggle your hips in his grasp. “M’sorry.” 

Another smack. “I’m sorry what?” 

The fire burns brighter with this fuel.

“I’m sorry, Eddie.”

He spanks you a third time. “Try again, baby.”

Your stomach flips. “I’m sorry… Sir.”

He hums in satisfaction. His hands wrap around you and pull you to your knees, ass in the air. With your head buried in the covers, you can only guess what he’s doing by the subtle movements behind you. 

Eddie has taken his shirt off and unzipped his pants. His cock achingly hard and straining against his black boxers. “Gonna fuck this pussy good, baby.” You whimper in response. He shickers, “You like that, Sweetheart? You want my cock in that pretty pussy of yours?” 

“Please,” You mewl, aching to finally have him inside you. The roughness of his hand steadies you as he inches closer. His hard cock on the other hand. He presses it against your folds, the head slipping through easily. You release a shaky breath when he nudges your clit. “Need you inside, please Sir.”

“Gonna give it to you baby,” Eddie replies, pushing into you. His breathing shudders at the warmth surrounding him. Your cunt squeezes him tightly, sucking him in and not letting him go. 

He feels amazing stretching you out. He's bigger than you thought, wider. The tip pushes into your walls as he begins to thrust into you, the most wonderful grunts and growls filling your ears from behind. 

"So fucking tight, Sugar." Eddie fucks into you at a hard brushing pace with stamina you didn't know he had. His hands grip your hips so hard you know there will be visible marks there later but you don't mind. 

You turn your head slightly and look over your shoulder as best you can. Eddie has a wild look in his eye, streaks of gray hair falling into his face. Your eyes catch on the plethora of ink etching his skin. You had seen the ones covering his arms but you couldn't have imagined this. Your mind wandered to what the rest of his body looked like. We're there more pieces yet to be seen or did alabaster skin win out as you go further down his body? The thought of seeing the rest of him has you bouncing your ass back into him, meeting his every thrust with fervor. 

The fire Eddie had lit within you was once again roaring out of control. The way his cock filled you deep has you shaking in delight. 

"More, more, more," you called out to him, fists clamping down onto his sheets so hard it was a wonder you hadn't ripped them. 

“More? Is that what you want?” He patronizes. His right hand moves from your hip and he bends forward, snatching your hair up at the base of your skull. The dull throb that accompanies his tight hold has you wailing. Your stomach flips and flips, pressure building up. You’re going to cum and you tell him as much. 

“Please, keep going Eddie, fuck. Keep going, I’m gonna cum, Sir.” Big blubbery tears have started to streak down your face, once pristine makeup now smeared. 

He pulls on your hair. ‘Don’t cum baby. Wanna watch that pretty face as you cum on my cock.” 

Eddie pulls out of you and it feels like forever until you are flipped onto your back and he inserts himself back inside. The new angle has your legs clamping shut around him and the head of his cock brushing against a sensitive spot which makes you keen into him.

You make eye contact with him, his gaze is feral. He’s looking at you like you’re a buffet laid out for him. His hips rock into you with such force that your body is slowly jerking up the bed. You reach out for him, hands open and close, needing to have him close to you. That fire is still burning within you and it is scorching. 

Eddie leans into your touch, relishing in the feeling of your nails dragging long scratches down his pecks and stomach. He catches one, entwining his fingers with yours and pinning your hand back into the mattress. Another intimate moment that had butterflies erupting alongside your fire. 

“Please,” you whimper. “Wanna cum so bad.” 

He leans down more, pressing a chased kiss on your lips. “Alright Sweet girl, you can cum.” 

When you let go, Eddie can’t help the absolutely hedonistic moan that comes forward. He’s rutting into your constricting cunt like an animal. The look of absolute ecstasy that washes over your face had him fighting off his own release. 

“Where do you want it, Baby? Where do you want my cum?” 

It’s absolutely crazy, the place that comes to mind, but some deep, dark, nefarious place inside you wants it so badly. Craves is. 

Without thinking, brain foggy with a greediness only comparable to the deadly sin itself, you blurt, “Inside.” 

Eddie’s hips stutter and his mind goes blank. Inside? Fuck, She wants it inside. He groans, fighting himself. He shouldn’t but he wants to. Oh, how he wants to. Thoughts of what your pussy would look like leaking his cum have him going ridged, his conscience losing out against a primal need he didn’t know he had. 

“Fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck ah!” He’s a moaning mess when he finally gives in and lets himself cum. 

You can feel his release as a warmth spreads out from your tummy and envelopes you. Eddie falls careful not to let all of his weight squish you. His kisses make you giggle as you try and catch your breath. 

You’re exhausted, warn out in a way you never have been. “Thank you,” you say, kissing him back. He looked at you with soft, round eyes.

“Why are you thanking me, Sweetheart?” 

You sigh, content. “You saved me from a night of wallowing in my self-pity.”

He shakes his head. “Beautiful girl like you deserves to be treated right, that guy’s a bastard.” 

“Tha-” You’re cut off by the loud ringing of his phone, still connected to the speaker.  Eddie cringes at the volume and turns slightly to eye the phone but does not move to get up. It stops ringing a moment after. 

“I think I should get going…” You whisper and give him another kiss. 

“Mmm, you could stay the night. I can take you back to your car tomorrow.” 

You pout at him. “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

“Sweetheart, I’m asking you to stay, you aren't imposing on anything.” 

You giggle and go to answer but you are interrupted by his phone ringing again. Eddie says quietly, “What the hell?” before pulling himself out of you. He hesitates a moment, watching as his cum leaks past the puffy, used lips of your cunt, then grabs at his phone. 

‘HARRINGTON’ Is flashing across the screen. 

“What do you want man? I’m in the middle of something.” 

Eddie still has his phone connected to the speaker and the next few sentences make Your smile fall and your face bloom into a heat that could rival the sun. 

“Oh, I know you are. Half the fucking world does you dipshit!” 

“Wow okay Steve, calm down. No need for name-calling.”

“Eddie I swear to god, do you know what you’ve just done?” 

“No…?” Eddie scratches his head, looking at you and shrugging his shoulders. 

“You just fucking broadcasted you having fucking sex LIVE on fucking Facebook!”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #female reader #older!eddie munson

[diejager]

Only Human

Pairing : Monster Task Force 141 x reader

Cw : canon-typical violence, bodies, death, blood, cannibalism?, wounds, trauma.

Wc : 3.2k

Note: the designs for the Monster 141 came from @bluegiragi

Only Human masterlist

When Laswell, a known figure in the Intel gathering ranks of the CIA and military, had called you for your new transfer, you were ecstatic about it. You showed up casually, still in your vest and whole attire from your deployment, you were told that Laswell was waiting for you in her office once you took your first step. You only had time to drop off your weapons in the armory before going straight to her office.

You were personally asked to join a Task Force, not another squad or team under a Captain, which you hadn't expected; an international Task Force to boot, it shocked you, even more, to have been asked to have you on a Task Force that spanned nations wide. The radar must've been wide for it to be an international one, important and specialized soldiers were probably the ones who were invited - green berets, if you guessed.

You were excited, though, to have the honour of joining specialized soldiers with only being a corporal.

"Which Task Force, ma'am?" you asked, back straight with your hands crossed behind your back.

"The 141, Hunter."

Your composure almost slipped, your mind buzzed with excitement and confusion at the notice. The 141 was a reputed group, having members from the United Kingdom to the Americas and allies in the south, around Urzikstan, and perhaps farther. They took down Major Hassan, killing the heart of Al-Qatala and weeding out traitors like General Sheperd and Graves' PMC, the Shadows. A closed group with secrets only they knew and would take to the grave, a tight-knit Task Force.

You've heard of some members, none being human. The Ghost - or Ghost - a wraith hybrid of some sort, as dangerous as he was respectable. He was the better known one, a popular topic from one's lips to the other, gossip and rumors about him being more monster than human. While some were harmless, others were made to be racists - or xenophobic in some rarer cases - most were gossip, exaggerated depictions of the man people feared and admired.

You were jumping under your skin for the day to pass faster, for your transfer to happen more quickly. You couldn't wait to meet your new teammates, you've heard good and bad things about them. Some were sociable, others shy or downright menacing to look and interact with (perhaps they specifically meant Ghost).

You've always wanted to work with monsters, the majority of the military was made up of human men and women with a low, low (around 5%) being monsters, creatures of the night that made them stronger, faster, and better than humans, but they were often hunted until the last decades.

You, however, expected that half of the Task Force was made up of humans, and the rest monsters. You were wrong, really wrong. The moment you stepped out, you realized how unfortunate - maybe fortunate to be stuck with broad, strong, and handsome men - you were to be the sole human. Perhaps it was the shock or the honour that made you freeze and shy away, but neither of them could make you feel as prepared as you should be for officially joining them.

"Welcome to the Task Force, Hunter!" Price yelled over the beating blades of the helicopter, blue eyes staring at you with a - sinful, you found it sinfully handsome - smile hidden under his beard. He also had a green tail that followed behind him, a long, strong tail, you mustn't forget that.

The first ones you talked to were Soap and Rudolfo, two jokesters within the group. Soap was cute, having almost a puppy-like excitement at meeting you with the way he greeted you, smiling and laughing boisterously. He was loud and warm when you first talked to him.

Rodolfo, or Rudy as he told you to call him (you stuck with Rodolfo, feeling too intrusive to call him by his lovely nickname), was Mexican, a special forces, just like everyone else in the TF. He was as warm as the Mexican sun, funny, and soft-spoken.

They had an accent, one a light Mexican and the other a deep Scottish slur in his words. Rudolfo incorporated Spanish words in his sentences, easily understood but adorable nonetheless. Soap's Scottish accent was thicker, deep with his jargon that you sometimes questioned if he was even speaking English.

You only found out that they were monsters when they were training outside. You watched Soap turn from under the shades, eyes keen on his rippling muscles and cracking bones. His jaw shifted, it grew longer and his ears pointed up, light brown fur sprouted from his skin and his mohawk traveled farther, turning into a mane. You could hear the whines and grunts from his transformation.

A werewolf, you learned. He had enhanced strength. He became more durable and agile. He had accelerated healing, almost ten times the speed of regular men, and his senses seemed to have heightened significantly. It looked painful, you concluded so from the bodily sounds and his moans. The heat he exhumed was searing hot, it turned the air around him into mist, burning the water in the air and turning it into gas.

Soap had heard you gasp and awe at his form, broader and taller, he towered over you when he stood on his hind legs. His eyes glowed a vibrant blue when they met yours, waiting and gauging your reaction, but he could only see awe and admiration, perhaps a dash of excitement beneath your gaping expression.

He padded towards you, lurching forward and sending you tumbling on your back as his tongue lolled to the side and hung from his panting maw. His shoulders shook, abdomen flexing rapidly, it looked like he was laughing. At your reaction, or you, you didn't know, all you had in kind wa the urge to touch him. He looked so soft.

It was ironic in some sense, for the man - now creature - who feared dogs to be a werewolf, a larger, more dangerous, and fantastical counterpart to the domesticated dog.

"Can I pet you?" the words fell from your lips before you knew it, your face flushed and your body seized in embarrassment.

Soap huffed and pushed his snout to your shoulder, lowering his head in approval. He would let you pet him, and you took it without complaint. His fur and mane were soft, maybe the softest you've ever touched (you grew up hunting with your father, you knew for as well as any other hunter). It was soft and silky, he had taken great care in his grooming.

He let out a satisfied rumble when he saw you smile, a childish wonder in your eyes. You were so captivated by Soap's looming form over you that you almost forgot about Rudolfo - keyword: almost. Something wet had nudged your elbow, you turned and saw a smaller dog, ghostly pale with glimmering, blue gems for eyes. It looked like a mix of a lab and a shepherd, the combination making this white dog adorable.

Your eyes observed the whole length of it, from its head to its tail, a long whisp-like swirl that turns blur at the end. It connected the dog to Rodolfo. You didn't know what the dog was. Was it a spirit? Or was it a familiar?

"Cadejos, Hunter," Rudolfo answered your silent question, smirking at your petting the spirit with one hand while the other scratched behind Soap's twitching ear. "Dog spirits. I'm their vessel."

That meant he was more human than Soap was, perhaps almost as you. You still gave him an awed look, amazed by the possibility of becoming a vessel for mythological beings and spirits.

You only truly found out whether or not Ghost was human or a monster on a mission. You were sent along with a team led by your Lieutenant to capture a standing AQ cell, one of the few that still stood without their leader.

You were, along with other sergeants, corporals, and privates, separated into two teams, Alpha and Bravo, one led by a sergeant and the other by Ghost. He had you follow him close, a way to watch how you did on the field. You made quick work of them, they were weak, disorganized, and fought with each other when they had no one to lead them. A pity for what used to be a big problem.

You were left on your own, Ghost having gone north to search for something. You had taken down the surviving men, pouncing on them in the dark. When you were done, you wiped your blade on your forearm, cleaning it from the iron stench of blood.

"Could've left one alive, Hunter," Ghost's deep growl made you jump, twisting to meet his dark eyes. They seemed endlessly black, like a void of darkness. "I'm bloody hungry..."

He crept closer, steps slow and purposeful, as if trying to spook you. He stopped before a fresh body, one you muffled and stabbed. The body was still warm, blood pooling from the wound and eyes glossed over with death.

"Hungry, sir?" you asked, unsure of what he meant or if he had muttered it to himself.

He hadn't replied, head turning to examine the rest of the corpses, strewn around you like a gift. A growl rumbled in his chest, mist rolling off his body like a crashing wave. It filled the area around you and tickled your feet in its cold, dark embrace. You watched the fog cover the laying corpses, dissolving and swallowing them into its murkiness.

When he meant by hungry, he actually meant eating humans, you shouldn't have been surprised, a was a wraith hybrid. Spirits of the dead that hate and haunted the living. It made more sense when he told you to let one alive, wraiths preferred living souls, dead ones were still filling but tasted lesser.

"Clean kills, " he finally spoke, his voice a timber lower than it was before his dinner. "Good job, corporal."

You nodded at him, stomach fluttering with his compliment, a praise from such a man - monster - was a prize, something he rarely gave to other soldiers. You smiled under your gaiter, you wore it for better protection in the sandy deserts of Al Mazrah.

"I'll remember leaving some alive next time, L.T."

He craned his head to look at you before he left, eyes squinted in what seemed like a smirk - devilish, you hoped - and gave you a firm nod. You scrambled to follow him, watching his broad, dark back as you walked a few steps behind him. He hadn't spoken a word to you since you got to exfil, but once you landed at the base, he motioned for you to follow him with the jerk of his wrist.

Ghost wasn't so bad if you got past the glaring image of danger he portrayed and the growls he gave. You couldn't wait to work with him again or with the others.

Gaz was a harpy, a very interesting and useful monster to have on your team. He was nice, not as chatty as Soap was, but he talked to you and smiled your way. His caramel-dipped smiles were to die for. He was easy to talk to, by far easier than your lieutenant had been at the start.

You saw him a lot in the rec room, sipping on tea or scrolling through pages on his phone. He was comfortable with you as you were with him, he let his talons out, lounging with his wings across the couch or over your lap as you cleaned them for him. The ever-so-teasing gentleman had a way with his words and his wits, often leaving you flustered or annoyed at his jabs.

Being a harpy meant he was light, bones hollow yet sturdy enough for a human body fitting his strong and slimmer frame. He could fly, and he became much more agile, more so than Soap's werewolf form (birds were naturally more graceful than canines) and he had a telescopic vision, razor-sharp and precise, more than any humans or monsters could have, it rivaled the falcon's keen sight.

If he was so light, agile, and all-seeing, without forgetting he could fly, how did he manage to fall from a helicopter not once, but twice? That question bothered you often, lingering at the back of your mind like a ghost (more so than the wraith himself that kept appearing at random and old moments behind you).

"You can fly, right?" you stared at his face, blank of any expression after finally mustering the courage to ask him.

"These wings aren't just for show, " Gaz hummed, leaning back into the chair that he brought out to watch Soap and Ghost spar. You would have your turn with the wraith after their matches.

"Then how do you manage to fall from a heli twice?" you shot, brows scrunched in a frown, confused.

His wings jerked, black feathers twitching at the reminder - an embarrassing one - of falling out, smiling sheepishly. He simply shrugged, every limb stretching, his wings lengthening to his whole span and toed talons stretching and curling. You were struck by its sharpness, his long nails and claws could cut a man in half, or completely sever a limb off.

You guess you'll never have an answer to your question, he could keep his pride and you could keep your question to yourselves. You wouldn't mind doing so, he let you preen his wings, you could touch those soft feathers and pluck dead or broken ones from his perfect plumage.

Alejandro Vargas, an unmarried and very eligible bachelor with a smooth tongue and a growl of a Mexican accent. He seemed almost too real to be true when he smiled charmingly your way, his perfect, white teeth glimmering under the yellow bulbs and his shiny, sweat-coated skin glowing golden after a mission.

Alejandro's a chivalrous person - and they said chivalry was dead - he's caring and protective. The Los Vaqueros, cowboys, were his team in Las Almas, a family that grew with every new batch of recruits and men and women devoted to the small village they grew up in. Mexicans were a tight-knit community from what you've seen in Alejandro's and Rudolfo's stories.

He was good, handsome, and strong, maybe too perfect to be human, and human, he wasn't. He's a shifter, like Soap, a full-bodied shifter from human to monster. Not unlike his human side, his Nagual side was mighty and honorable, a greater man and an even greater Nagual.

Although solitary by nature, Alejandro was a sociable character, the life of the party if he could, but he was also a responsible man. He was tall, but taller when shifted, claws sharp and a tail helped him balanced.

Once, you'd seen him shift, yellow and brown-dotted fur sprouting from his skin. His lower jaw had protruding canines, standing proudly over the ridge of his nose. He looked like a jaguar hybrid, wearing his golden fur like a crown

His other one, a panther, a jaguar born with more melanin than the usual one, was just as majestic. His fur was a darkened grey with black spots dotting his back and tail. He tended to use this form in darker places, or at night, hitting for efficiency and silence.

Captain Price, you knew he was a monster since your arrival, his long, green tail dragging behind him. You never bothered asking whether he was a lizard or a dragon, you only knew that his scaly tail was reptile-like in origin.

His smoking habit, girthy cigars burning and smoking at the edge, his chapped lips wrapped around the base of it as dark smoke leaked from the sides of his lips, curling in the air and around his beard.

Sometimes, there would be smoke without his cigar being lighted, a dry and unlit stick that still smoked. Charred gas, too dark to simply be cigar smoke. It came from him, inside, you concluded. Dragons could breathe fire and smoke, create it from within and push it out. Stirring around the mass of heat could feel overwhelming, warm, and uncomfortable without a release.

"Why cigars?" Price coccked his head, bro lifted at your question. "Helps me curb the need to burn." He breathed out another cloud, watching it swirl around his golden eyes. He explained it well and simply. Though he also liked the taste of it, an authentic, earthy texture.

Other than the occasional scales here and there that popped out, you've never seen his shift. Did he turn and grow like Soap and Alejandro? Did he change like Ghost and Gaz? Or did he have a dragon spirit? You were, albeit worried about prying, curious about your Captain's change.

Your chance appeared when he called you to his office, wanting your help with something related to his wing- wings? You weren't expecting much, maybe seeing a glimpse of the tip of his wings or the sharp edge of his horns.

He was leaning against his desk when you knocked on his door, letting you in with a sharp grunt. He was hunched over his desk, his wing, green and wide, stretched out. His bucket hat laying on his table, letting his horns grow out and curve upwards, both green and shiny. His tail was violently and anxiously swishing back and forth, hands and arms overturned with scales. His fingers turned green and callused, his nails became sharp claws and tinted green.

"You've got softer hands than any of those blokes, Hunter," Price said, his reason for calling you was for your talented hands, skilled at massages and with the knife. "Lost it in a crash, 's fine."

Although for a reason, you still got to see every part of him, hear the story behind his missing wing, and share a few pleasantries. He groans and grunts during your sessions, but the muscles on his back were less tense and strained.

Price wasn't one to brag about himself, tell his exploits to others, but yours, he did, how skilled your hands were at loosening the knots on his back and shoulders, turning them putty under your palms. Soap had come rushing, following your scent until he found you, for a massage like the one Price got.

You sighed, this wasn't what you signed up for, the sudden rush of adrenaline or scares they would cause, popping or jumping out of nowhere when you had your back turned. Some - Soap, Rudy, and Gaz - were mischievously childish, loving pranks as much as they did them. You'd get white hair before you hit your late 20s.

Fortunately, the three others were far more mature, one charming, one broody, and one proud. You don't regret joining, even with being the weakest and only human in the Task Force, the 141 was your family, a dysfunctional one with an occupational hazard, but still a little family.

After all, big, broad men working by your side on a daily had its perks, and brought a big, horny problem.

Next

#x reader #monster 141 au #mw2 soap #ghost mw2 #price mw2 #cod mw2 #gaz mw2 #mw2 alejandro #mw2 rudy #cod mw2 x reader #task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #the ghost and molly mcgee #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #johnny mactavish #soap x reader #captain john price #john price x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #alejandro vargas #alejandro x you #rudolfo parra #rudolfo x reader

[mrwavellswaps]

Born In The Wrong World

Megan had grown tired of her life. There were many reasons she could give for it but if she did we’d be here all day. The short of it was… she was unsatisfied. Despite being a witch with all her magical capabilities, she found herself yearning for something more than this life she had. The life of a young woman living a world that didn’t value her. And a lot of the time she couldn’t help but think that was simply because of the fact that she was a woman and that if she’d been born a man that maybe things would be different somehow. She might’ve been talented with magic but she was never recognised as much as the men in her world were for their magical talents.

So that’s when she made her decision. If you can’t beat them, join them.

At first she considered simply switching her gender but without an incredibly powerful reality bending spell to go with it, everyone would know she used to be a woman. So her next though was stealing the body of a man. Unfortunately the only body swapping spell she had the ability to cast was one that could only be performed between those who had close DNA connections. Aka family. But she didn’t want to do that. The thought of stealing her father or brothers body was… odd to say the least.

It took a lot of time and research but eventually she came up with a solution. It took her months of practice but eventually she was able to cast a spell that opened a portal to another dimension. One almost completely identical to Megan’s world in every way except everyone’s genders were reversed! Anyone born a woman in her dimension was born a man in this one and vice versa. So what was her solution? To find her male counterpart in this universe of course!

It didn’t take long to track him down. His name was Mark and the similarities between him and Megan were uncanny. Sort of like twins born with different genders. In a sense they kinda were twins. However instead of having Megan’s long flowing hair and delicate skin, Mark was completely bald and had a thick full beard coating his face. He was taller than her and had all the things you’d expect to see on a man like body hair and strong masculine features. He was surprisingly muscular as well though to Megan’s delight with a very strong build. Most notably his thick and powerful looking arms. Megan couldn’t help feeling envious knowing this is what she could’ve had.

Megan did her best to spy on Mark for a while without being noticed. She’d already confirmed he was a magic user like her, further proving what she already knew. But pretty soon she couldn’t stop herself anymore. She needed that body!

She wasn’t entirely sure that body swapping spell she had would work but she had to try. Or else this would’ve all been for nothing! And so Megan managed to ambush Mark as he was coming home, using some sleeping dust and blowing it in his face to knock him out.

When Mark awoke, he found himself naked and bound by enchanted cuffs to his own bed with his nude female self standing over him. He shouted and pleaded with her, wanting to know who she was and what she was doing. But Maise wouldn’t answer. Instead she simply began to ritual for the swapping spell.

A look of worry and fear crossed Mark’s face as Megan began reciting incantations out loud. He had no idea what she was trying to do but it couldn’t be good. He begged her to stop but Megan refused to listen and soon enough a magical aura began swirling around the pair.

Immediately the spell began to kick in and Mark’s eyes bulged as he watched his chest begin to swell. The hair on it swiftly fading away as two womanly breasts grew in place of his pecs. Meanwhile the opposite happened to Megan. Her breasts shrinking away completely as her nipples diminished before chest hair started to sprout. Immediately Mark figured out what was happening but there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Megan moaned with delight as she felt everything Mark had being transferred to her. The feminine shape of her body started to fade as it was replaced by a much more masculine form. Her legs swelling up with thick muscle as her feet grew multiple sizes. Her ass transforming into much more of a male muscle butt that she would’ve thirsted over before. But by far one of the best changes had to be with her arms. Feeling her biceps and triceps swell with such immense size and strength that she couldn't help feeling a sense of pride flowing through her as she flexed them. All while her hands grew into bigger meatier man hands.

Just like with her chest, newfound body hair spread up and down her body. Most notably spreading across her legs and stomach but she couldn’t ignore the small bushes sprouting from her armpits either. She’d always loved a good bit of hair on a man.

Meanwhile Mark had undergone the reverse of Megan’s transformation with his body from the neck down becoming almost completely that of a woman. Their heads however were still mismatched. But that wouldn’t be the case for much longer. After having been forced to witness his muscle and size being stolen, Mark continued to beg Megan to stop. But why the hell would she do that when she was already loving this so much!

And just like that, right as Mark was about to protest again he was swiftly cut off by the feeling of hair growing fast from his once bald head while his beard started to vanish.

For Megan though, her own long flowing hair started to recede quickly. Getting shorter and shorter by the second. And as it did she felt an itching on her face. She scratched her chin and cheeks a little, initially confused as to why it was still so smooth despite the itching. That is until a large thick beard suddenly sprouted all at once! Filling her meaty hands with hair. And as it did, the hair on her head finally finished receding, having disappeared completely and leaving her with a bald scalp.

From there Megan’s features began to alter. Her head changed shape slightly as her eyebrows grew thicker and her eyes became more deeply set. Her nose naturally became a bit broader while her lips thinned ever so slightly to appear less feminine. Beneath the mass of hair covering her face, Megan could tell that her jaw was reshaping itself as well. Becoming more angular and masculine. And with a few more tweaks on top of that, Megan’s face now looked identical to how Mark’s once had!

Mark screamed in a high pitched feminine voice, struggling against his restraints. Seeing this woman steal everything from him right before his very eyes and forcefully transfer her female body to him was downright terrifying! Though as Mark struggled, he noticed something. Despite his now feminine body and bouncing boobs, he could still feel his cock flopping between his legs. He was about to let out an internal sigh of relief… until suddenly his dick started to twitch and tingle. Then without warning, his balls sucked back up inside his body.

Megan grinned, knowing it was finally time. The final phase. The spell book even mentioned this part would happen last due to these last parts being such sensitive organs. Though that didn’t stop her from letting out a manly groan as she could feel her ovaries starting to descend inside of her, transforming into testicles on their way down. A dumb grin spreading across her bearded face as a growing ball sack pushed its way out of her slit. She could already feel those fattening balls beginning to produce testosterone to pump through her new body. But the most exciting part was still to come as she watched a small cock head poke its way out of her swiftly closing slit. It was only tiny at first but as it pushed further and further out, it fattened. Twitching and throbbing uncontrollably as it grew longer and girthier. Not stopping until Megan had a massive juicy cock swinging between her legs at last.

A shiver ran up Megan’s spine as she touched her new member for the first time. It was so sensitive yet she still couldn’t believe it. It almost seemed like a dream that her plan was actually a success but as she ran her hands up and down her new male body, she could only confirm that this was in fact real! She was fucking man!

As for Mark, he was a complete and total mess. The last of his manhood had been stripped away from him. Stolen by his once female alternate self. That didn’t stop him from pleading with her though. But Megan simply ignored him as she was far too fascinated by the look and feeling of her new masculine body. Groping her muscles. Playing with her body hair. Touching her beard and bald head. And of course gently pumping her new cock, much to her own delight.

She wasn’t able to get too into it though with Mark whining on the bed about wanting his body back. So Megan sighed and paused her exploration of her new body, instead walking over to the pile of discarded clothes she’d taken off Mark earlier on and slipping them on herself. A pair of gray shorts, a white tank top, white athletic socks and black shoes. All of which would’ve been too big for her before but of course now fit her manly body perfectly.

With that she left Mark to struggle in the restraints for a while, deciding to go out and see the world with the eyes of a man for the very first time. She already had plans for when she returned. First she was going to perform a forbidden ritual on Mark to seal his own magic and prevent him from telling anyone about what happened and as soon as that was done she planned on reactivating the inter-dimensional portal spell that got her here. Luckily it was much easier to perform the second time when returning back to your own dimension. Sort of like having a return ticket to go home. Only she wasn’t planning on going through herself. If she went back to her world like this, there would be far too many questions. So the best solution was to stay here and send Mark back as her old self.

Megan, or rather the new Mark, found a bench for himself to sit at a nearby park outside his new apartment. He sat and allowed himself to bask in the glow of the sun. A feeling of triumphant victory washing over him. Finally he could have a new life in this alternate world. A new life as a man. And a hot as fuck man at that. No longer having to worry about the challenges of being a woman and getting to reap the benefits of swinging a cock between his legs instead. Speaking of, as soon as his alternate self had been sent back to his old reality, he planned on spending the next day worshiping his body and jerking off so much that his balls were completely drained. He couldn’t fucking wait because there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that this was the reality he was supposed to have been born into.

Hope you all enjoyed this Shorter story from me. I’ve been busy as of late and am working on something longer right now but I thought I’d upload this in the meantime!

Also you’re welcome @bodyswappingandshit @bodyswappingandshit-1

#female to male tf #female to male #male transformation #male body swap #male body theft #permanent #magic #identity theft #hairy #jock #muscle theft #male muscle growth #musclegrowth #male to female #male to female tf

[dreamingonclds]

Unintentional | FA14

Summary: Y/n and Fernando Alonso were both professionals, both only seemingly having time for their careers. They both have had their fair share of relationships but they’ve never become serious for either of them. Y/n is an A-list celebrity, a highly respected actress and Fernando a champion athlete, a Formula One driver. Nobody could’ve ever imagined both of their paths to cross but, they do. It was said that their relationship was destined to fail, their 16 year age gap being too large to be sustained. But, to everyone's surprise, a blessing they created without intention was just enough to fill that gap, like fate.

Pairing: Fernando Alonso x Reader

Word Count: 2,722

Warnings: None

Chapter 1

Note: If you would like to be added to the taglist, please @ yourself in the comments!

As you meticulously applied your lipstick, your mind couldn’t help but wander to the thought of who you would meet tonight. Your stomach bubbled with nerves, a sensation you always got with meeting new people; despite how long you had been in the industry for. You met new people almost weekly, nothing new in the entertainment industry. You were used to meeting wealthy business people and pretending to care about anything that came out of their mouths. But you were genuine about meeting new directors, writers, and filmmakers; you genuinely cared about what they had to say.

Tonight was no different, you had been invited to a dinner by some friends. It just so happened that those friends were in the industry too and it just so happened that the dinner would be in Beverly Hills. So, you knew that tonight would be a night of pretending to care because the people who actually cared for the artistry of entertainment would never choose to dine in Beverly Hills. And you were a professional, so you sucked it up, put a smile on your face, and decided to have a good night.

So, you decided that to have a good night you had to have a good outfit. You were a public figure, a very popular one at that, so you did have to dress to impress. And you didn’t mind, you loved fashion and you loved to shop so it all worked out. You also cared about your appearance and wanted people to like you, but not for how you looked. You wanted people to like you for the person you were and what you brought to the table. And unfortunately, that goes hand in hand with physicality in this world. So you slip on a back silk dress because those always do the job.

Arriving at the restaurant, you thank your chauffeur as he helps you out of the car and guides you to the entrance. Stepping into the restaurant you’re immediately greeted by your friends and introduced to all the unfamiliar faces. Soon enough you're all making your way through the restaurant, several diners turning their heads to you all, some trying to sneakily snap pictures which you notice every time. Once you're seated at the ridiculously large table, you notice the empty seat beside you and around the table.

“People missing?” you ask your friend sitting right across from you.

“Yeah, they’re running a little late but they should be here very soon.” she answers, giving you a small smile.

After a little conversation, you all turn your heads to the chatter that is seemingly making its way towards you all. Sure enough, it’s the missing half of your party and as you scan your eyes through all of them, one catches your eye.

“Here they are!” your friend announces, standing up to greet them and everyone follows.

In the midst of the commotion, bodies moving left to right you hear your friend declare seating arrangements.

“Fernando, why don’t you sit next to Y/N, she speaks Spanish too.” she says pointing you out so he knows who you are.

You see a man nod and begin to approach, you notice the brunette with semi-shaggy hair and a short beard. Sure enough, it’s the one who caught your eye earlier on. He greets you with a kiss on both cheeks that you reciprocate and helps you into your seat.

“What a gentleman, thanks. Fernando, right?” you look towards him, wanting to start a conversation like the rest of the table is doing

“Of course, Y/n?” he nods in response and you do the same, noticing his accent. As you make eye contact, you begin to note the faint lines around his eyes and the maturity of his face. Your mind begins to wonder, whether he’ll take you seriously noticing the lack of physical maturity on your 26-year-old face. Usually, men over 5 years older than you never took you seriously, their conversations always started professional but quickly turned to comments about your body and sexual experience.

Before either of you could get another word in, the waiter begins to ask for your drinks of choice. Usually, you would go for a beverage that would liven you up but, you had a rule that you only drank at dinner when everybody at the table were your friends. So, you asked for the next best thing.

“I’ll take a coke please.” you tell the waiter, who quickly jots it down and looks to Fernando next

“Uh, I’ll take the same please” Fernando turns to look at you with a confused look

“Oh, I don’t know everybody at this table so, I’d like to get to know you with a sober mind.” you tell him matter of factly, hoping that was the explanation he was looking for. Although it was the truth, you did want to get to know the rest of the table; but specifically him. In what seemed like record time, the waiter comes back setting down all of your drinks.

“Igualmente” Likewise he nods towards the brown beverage in front of him.

“I thought maybe you were still too young to drink, you look young, why do you want to get to know me?” he asks, bringing his glass to his lips.

“I’m 26, not that young. And you're sitting right beside me, we have a long night ahead. Why not get to know you; your friends.” you add the last part in, trying to deflect and hide your interest in him; hoping he doesn’t catch on.

“Why’d you copy me, I mean no offense but, you don’t look like you just turned 21?” he brought up your age first, two can play at that game.

He chuckles, still looking at you.

“I’m 42, not that young either.” he says in truth. And before you can respond he speaks again.

“Pretty girl, pretty dress.” he brings his glass to his lips, looking away nonchalantly.

“And you’re sitting right beside me.” he states matter of factly, using your own words against you.

Your jaw drops the slightest and your eyebrows scrunch in surprise. His confidence, so abrupt it takes you a few seconds to bring your face back to its natural resting place. Despite your efforts to look cool and unaffected, you can see the pride your reaction gives him. With a teaseful look in his eye, he offers you a smirky smile that makes your stomach erupt in butterflies. Your cheeks and ears go hot, and you now find it hard to sit still or contain the smile pulling at your lips.

The rest of the night goes exactly as expected, the two of you deep in conversation and completely ignoring the rest of the table. There’s a tension that's rising that even the others can feel. Neither of you even realize how many times they’ve teased you two or tried to get you to join their conversation. You’ve also failed to notice the pointed phones from other diners and sneaky restaurant workers.

As you all are ending your dinner, restaurant patrons and workers start making their way to your table. Asking for pictures and autographs from you and your party alike, both separately and together. Little did you know that those images would lead to a whirlwind of speculation, the world seemed to spiral at the thought of you together.

Your group converses outside the restaurant for a few minutes, a back and forth of what the plans for the rest of the night were. You stood there to yourself contemplating whether you wanted to continue your night. You had a fitting in the morning and a couple of online meetings you had to prepare for. Considering it was nearing 1 am, you decided to head home with a professional attitude to your day ahead.

Before you can interrupt the group to bid your goodbye, Fernando makes his way to your side.

“Are you going out for more drinks too?” he turns to you.

“I have meetings in the morning, I think I’m just gonna head home.” you nod your head.

“Me too actually, I drove here by myself. Let me take you home.” he points at himself.

“Yeah, that’d be nice actually; thank you.” 

You both take a few steps forward towards the group, ready to bid your farewells together. But before either of you can mutter a word, your friend's chatter amplifies into a passionate discussion about who knows what. Fernando turns to look at you, an amused smile on his lips that turns into a chuckle after noticing your surprised expression.

“Mejor nos esperamos.” We better wait, he jokes, and you giggle looking towards him, only to realize his eyes were already set on you.

“Buena idea” Good idea,  you say with a smile, continuing the playful vibe of the setting. You two carry on with your light-hearted conversation. Unconsciously backing away from the group until your back hits the restaurant's ornate rail. Fernando holding on to the rail on your right side, halfway caging you in, seemingly protecting you from passersby giving you questioning glances; realizing who you were.

Your conversation continues and you two get lost in getting to know each other. You learn that he’s a champion F1 driver and he learns the movies he’s seen you in, not knowing it was you. Before he can finish saying where his next race will be, you're drawn out of your heart to heart by shouts from your group.

“Hey lovebirds, you guys coming?” your friend shouts pointing down the street, implying a prolonged night out.

A sheepish smile forms on your lips and you shake your head, “We both have busy mornings tomorrow. We’re gonna skip this one!”

“Alright then, don’t have too much fun!” someone teases, causing the rest of the group to laugh.

Fernando smiles and shakes his head at the joke, “I’m just going to take her home!”

You all exchange thank you’s and appreciation for dinner before saying your goodbyes. Then begin to make your way down your respective sides of the street. He leads you to his car, not in front of you but by walking closely behind you, guiding you with a light touch to your back. He helps you in, chivalrously, taking your bag from you, opening the door, and taking your hand to help you in. You take notice of what car he drove, a luxurious sports car, that to you matched the reputation of an F1 champion. You questioned yourself on if you wanted him to live up to the reputation of a man like him.

Before he can drive off, he makes sure you’re both buckled in and asks for your address. You give it to him and then you're off to your luxurious hotel, which the movie you were in Beverly Hills for set you up with. You two continue your conversation the whole time, only stopping when Fernando gets out of the car first to open your door. He walks you to your room, as he insists on “dropping you off”. But really, you’re more than happy to oblige to his request as you didn’t want the night to end.

“No paps.” Fernando blurts randomly, as you both make your way through the lobby.

You scan the room and realize he was right, you only saw the employees and the occasional normal guest.

“Oh yeah” you acknowledge, normally every hotel in Beverly Hills was swamped with paparazzi no matter the time. So you worked it up to luck, you two got lucky tonight. Little did you know that this would foreshadow the rest of your relationship.

You make it to your room and unlock the door, stepping into the doorframe and turning to face Fernando. You two stand there for a few seconds, just staring at each other, Fernando's hands in his pants pockets and your hand on the door, an undeniable tension lingers between you two.

“Do you want to come in?” you suggest hesitantly, pointing inside, ready to face rejection.

“Uh yeah, can I?” he answers quickly, surprising you and catching you off guard. 

“Come on in.” you say, widening the door and stepping back, letting him inside. He makes his way towards the living room area of your massive hotel room and you follow him. Before you can sit down on the couch beside him, you notice the complimentary bottle of champagne in the ice bucket, now sitting in water that was ice a few hours ago. You go to the table and pull out the bottle from the bucket, wrapping it in a towel to prevent it from dripping.

“Quieres?” Do you want some? You offer him, showing him the bottle.

“Por favor” Please He stands up and heads towards you, taking the bottle from your hands to open it himself. You hold up the two glasses, also on the table, for him to pour into. After pouring, he sets the bottle down and you hand him his glass.

“Gracias” Thank you You both say at the same time, which causes you both to giggle.

“Let's go to the balcony” you suggest and head outside, he follows you but, not before grabbing the bottle to take with.

You lean on the rail, one forearm resting on it while your other arm brings the glass to your lips. Fernando places the bottle on the small table conveniently outside and then he goes to stand in front of you. He halfway cages you in again, one arm holding the rail close to your side, and you notice this protective pattern of his. Both of you stand there, not saying anything with words but instead through the looks you’re giving each other.

“You are very beautiful.” he blurts out, scanning your face with a pensive expression on his face.

You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion for a quick second before smiling and meeting his eyes.

“Thank you, you are very beautiful too.” you respond in honesty and nod your head when he looks at you confused. A shy smile breaks onto his face and he looks at the ground stepping away from you. 

He looks back up, licking his lips ever so slightly and takes the glass from your hand. He goes to place yours and his glass on the table while you stand there confused. He comes back to his original spot in front of you but this time way closer than before. His hand comes up to cup the side of your face and your eyes look deep into his as his thumb caresses your cheek. You go to say something but are cut off by his lips pressed against yours. You quickly catch on and move your lips with his. His hand comes off of your face and moves to your waist, you step away from the rail to try and get closer to him. He wraps both of his arms low around your waist and his fingers dance right above your bum. You instinctively bring your arms up to wrap around his neck and your fingers go to dance in his hair at the nape of his neck.

He smoothly turns you both around so now he is against the railing. Your makeout continues for a short minute until you realize something and your eyes open.

“I don’t kiss on the first date.” you say exasperated, pulling away and trying to catch your breath. He leans back trying to get a look at you, breathing heavily, eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

“But I’ll make an exception tonight.” you say quickly, he smiles before you lean in and desperately attack his lips again. He grabs your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist and walks inside towards the bed. He gently lays you down and stands back up separating your lips, he swiftly removes his shirt before hungrily coming back down on top of you.

The rest of the night goes as expected and contrary to your usual experience with men, he stays the night. You both sleep comfortably in each other's arms, not even wondering how it all led to this moment. Although you were both trying to figure out why this all felt so natural, you both knew one thing, this was the start of something special.

Taglist:

@minkyungseokie

@ursforever129

@thatchickwiththecamera

#fan fiction #fanfic #f1 #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #formula one x oc #formula one x reader #formula one x imagine #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #scenarios #imagines #oneshots #for you #fiction #original story #fernando alonso #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso x y/n #fernando alonso x oc #fernando alonso x female reader #fernando alonso x actress

[oval3000]

Chapter 4

Yandere Psych Patient König x Nurse reader

Warning: Possesive, Obsession, Death, Gore, Blood, Smut, Toxic behavior, age gap. Assault.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

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

"I don't like this," Jacob rubbed his for head, giving a few scratches. His hand on his hip with a slump posture. His eyes were giving out with annoyance and tiredness, not from the labor work, but from the system.

The fellow nurse could give an eye roll after seeing what was happening. "Anything to save some money, right?"

Mr. Miller ordered that half of the guards on the fifth floor would go to other floors to cover other shifts of guards that quit and who were..laid off. Those 20,000 thousand dollars couldn't come out from thin air as to what Mr. Miller thought it would, so it was the only option, to send some guards home.

Meaning that other guards from other floors had to move around and, unfortunately, your floor was affected by this.

The two guards that were on König, left as well as four others.

Things have now changed, your safety may now be a risk. But to to be quite honest with you, your safety is nothing to be worried about.

You did your morning rounds, assisted where there is needed. During their lunch, you heard the main phone ring from the floor. Jacob picked it up, "this is Jacob. Yes, sir. Okay...yeah...no problem." He hung up the phone taking a deep breath. He walked behind you and tapped on your shoulder. You turned your head away from the computer, "Mr. Miller wants to see you in his office."

You felt a big tull on your stomach. You were nervous. He never called you in his office before and with everything that is going on, you could only imagine worse.

Is he going to fire you?

You can't loose this job, the pay is good. You can't pack and move again to find something better.

You headed down to his office in a bit of a hurry, you didn't want to miss their lunch round check ups. You knocked on the brown wooden door with his name ingraved on a gold platter.

"Come in." You entered into his office and saw him sitting as his usual chair, writing whatever he is writing on a piece of paper. He stood up, fixing his suit. Mr. Miller, about the age of 50. Still has a grown set of hair only it's shown to have some grey strand hairs peaking through. 6 feet 3 inches maybe. Looks a bit fit, lackes muscles though. His light beard with a few grey strands of hair that follows the shape of his long jawline.

You saw photos that are in his office. Paintings of mountains and oceans. You saw his degree in psychology and business on a sharp, dark, brown, frame hanged up on the cream wall.

"Is there something wrong, sir?" You questioned standing behind the two chairs aligned perfectly in front of his desk. You hoped that he doesn't fire you. You can't hit rock bottom. Not now after everything.

"No, I just wanted to check up on you. I also wanted to apologize for the way I reacted towards you during the Gabriel incident. It was really unprofessional of me to do so. You were just doing your job, I'm sorry." He creeped in closer to you. You felt uncomfortable, a bad vibe coming off from him. He placed his hand on your shoulder, gripping it lightly. "If you need anything, my office is always open for you."

You swallowed the little bit of saliva, taking a step away from him, but it only brought him closer to you.

You panicked. You looked around to see if anyone, anyone at all can see, but nothing. The door is shut, the window blinds are closed. "It's okay sir, I should get going."

You turned around to walk away, but you felt his hands on your arm, pulling away in. "You look adorable playing hard to get"

Your eyes widen. You felt absolute frozen. "Sir. Let go of me!" He dragged you in front of his desk. The movement was so sudden, you couldn't say anything. "Please sir."

He gripped your shoulders tight that you couldn't move. You felt his body pressed against you. You felt his hips pushing in deeper. You couldn't help, but to let tears fall from your eyes. You felt so frozen that you hated yourself. This couldn't be happening to you.

You honestly wished he called you in to fire you. His body completely compressed to yours making you bend over on his desk. His hands roamed your body. His cold hands went inside your scrub shirt. You shook at his touch with fear. "No!Please! Stop!"

"You feel so good " he cupped your breast, pulling under your bra to get a better touch. Eventually his one hand left one of your breast and it landed on your ass. You heard the sound of his belt unbuckling and his zipper being pulled down. He gripped onto your scrub pants and pulled them down, including your underwear, showing your naked vagina. "Fuck. I should've fucked you along time ago."

"Please! Please! Stop! Let go of me!" You cried out, feeling his finger pressed on your area.

A beeping sound came from his phone, "Sir, you have a call coming in. It's from the CEO."

"You gotta be fucking kidding me." He finally let go. He yanked your body closer to him. He cupped your face with his hand. You felt his disgusting breath near your mouth. "If you tell anyone about this. I'll ruin your fucking life. You got that."

You nodded as he aggressively let go, making you fall a bit on his desk. You felt so humiliated while pulling up your scrub pants and fixing your bra. You were about to walk out when he said, "Oh and make sure no one sees you like that. Get yourself fixed."

You didn't bother turning to him. You walked about quickly and ignoring the staff by not making eye contact. You pressed the button for the elevator, which felt like an eternity to arrive. Never felt like hours waiting for the elevator. Thankfully, no one was there, it was just you. You pressed on the fifth floor button.

You wanted to vomit. You scrunched your face as the tears fell down your cheeks. You covered your mouth trying hard to cover your sobs. Even though you are alone in the elevator, you felt embarrassed. You took deep breaths as it was reaching near the floor. You wiped away as much tears as you can. Even so you know your eyes and nose are red and puffy.

You avoided eye contact with everyone. You prayed that no one will come up to you ask why Mr. Miller called you down to his office. You grabbed the medical cart with the things you need and quickly went to each patients room, the last one being Königs.

You jiggle the kids, the guards left for you, to open his door. You swang the door a bit open and back inside his room. You grabbed the tray with his medication and placed it down on top of the cart. König watched you. He knew something was wrong.

You raised your head up, feeling the tears forming again. You hated yourself for not stopping the tears from coming out. Not now. Not when you are doing your job.

But you couldn't help it. You covered your face as tears were running down your face. You didn't want to cry in front of a patient, nevertheless, König.

He quickly got up and took your arm to pull you closer to him. He sat back down on his bed with his legs spread a bit to let you in closer to him. He couldn't see your face, which was still buried in your hands. If you could see his eyes, the look he's giving you. The same look he gave to the people he wanted to kill, to his enemies in the battle field. "What happened, schatz?" his thick accent was hard and impactful. You uncovered your face to see him, for him to see you. He saw the tears, the redness in your eyes.

The sympathetic look he gave you made those tears flowing again. Being comfort is not something you're use to. Your always dealing with everything by yourself.

He palmed your cheek, wiping your tears away. You shook your head lightly. You can't tell him. He's your patient. You can't tell your patient is a psychiatric hospital that you were almost raped by your boss. "Bitte tell me."

"H-he....touched me." You stared away, but his other palm touched your cheek, making you to look at him.

You saw the stare he gave you. Filled with sympathy and anger. "He. Touched. You."

You nodded. "He trapped me in his office. He was going to rape me. If he didn't get that phone call, he would've-." Your words turned into sobs.

He got up and pulled you into a tight hug. Your head was buried into his chest, letting out your quiet sobs.

He held you tight and close. His hand rubbing your back while the other was petting your head. "Shhh..it's okay, schatz. It's okay."

He turned his head towards the slight, opened, door. His way to freedom. Your freedom.

Away from this. From every assholes that's here. Away from everyone else.

"Mein liebling. Mach dir keine Sorgen. Ich werde ihn töten. Ich werde jeden töten, der dir wehtut. (My darling. don't worry. ill kill him. I'll kill anyone that hurts you.) " he gripped you tight. He doesn't want to let you go. He wants you to be attached to him. For you to share everything of his. "Mine," he whispered. "All mine."

#cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod x reader #fanfic #yandere #yandere konig #yandere könig #könig mw2 #konig x reader #konig #könig x reader #könig cod #könig call of duty #könig #könig x y/n

[sagesskies]

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ꜱᴘɪʀɪᴛ

✒ ɴᴏᴛ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴄᴀɴ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘᴀʀᴛ

☏ - ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇᴍᴀɪʟ: ᴍʀ. ꜱᴀɢᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱɪɴᴄᴇʀᴇʟʏ ᴀᴘᴏʟᴏɢɪᴢᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇʟᴀʏ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴛ 2 ᴏꜰ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴠɪᴄᴛᴏʀʏ ɢᴏᴅ, ʜᴇ ᴀꜱꜱᴜʀᴇꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ɪᴛ ɪꜱ ɴᴇᴀʀʟʏ ꜰɪɴɪꜱʜᴇᴅ. ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛɪᴍᴇ, ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ.

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ: ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ʜᴏᴍᴏᴘʜᴏʙɪᴀ, ᴄʜᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ [ᴛʜᴇ ɢɪʀʟ ɪꜱ ʜɪꜱ ʙᴇᴀʀᴅ], ꜱᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ, ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ꜱᴍᴏᴋɪɴɢ, ɢʜᴏꜱᴛ ꜱʜᴇɴᴀɴɪɢᴀɴꜱ, ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍɪʟᴅ ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴅᴜʙᴄᴏɴ, ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ɪꜰ ɪ ᴍɪꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴇʟꜱᴇ!

Yandere Spirit who was your secret boyfriend in high school. A forbidden romance between two youths, who often got to keep their secret because it’d always be excused as just ‘Boys being boys’. He was the most popular boy in school, his older brother was just as popular, but he was even more so. 

Yandere Spirit who was good looking, kind hearted, intelligent, and athletically talented as well. You never knew how you were able to get with a guy like him, you were simply another guy on the track team, and he was not only the team’s star but also the captain. 

Yandere Spirit who was possessive of you, even in life. He’d always claim you as his partner for group projects, even if there were smarter kids in class, and whenever there was an opportunity he'd always insist you wear his track jacket that had his last name on the back. 

Yandere Spirit who still dated other girls, and you tried not to mind so much. They were just a cover, he told you that and you knew it to be true, both of you were aware of what happened to gay boys in this town. He understood more than you, because his older brother Tommy was one of them, and he ran away when he was seventeen. 

Yandere Spirit who remains oblivious to how much his behavior with his girlfriends bother you. You never liked how he was always so physically intimate with them. Yeah, it'd be expected of a couple but did he have to do it so much? God, you can't bear to watch this.

Yandere Spirit who always notices how you distance yourself from him whenever he has a new girlfriend, and one day confronts you about it.

“Cmoon, [Name], why won't you just tell me!” Raphael practically whines, he refused to let go of your hand. You were both part of the track and field team but with his strength you'd argue he could be a football player. 

When you still didn't reply, he huffs, looks around to see if anybody else was around, then pulls you in close, perching his head on top of yours despite your protests. 

“Please babe?” God you never liked it when he called you babe, but you let him anyway, “Tell me what's bothering you…” He sounds like he's near to tears but you keep your lips shut.

“Raph, seriously I'm fine,” You insist, even though you're really not. 

The whole day, you had to hang around Raphael and his new girlfriend. It wasn't so bad, Raph made sure that you were included in the conversation and his girl, Cheryl you think her name was, was actually very nice. 

Your problem with the situation was seeing your boyfriend being all sweet and cuddly with his new beard the same way he always was with you. Well, there was the fact that he was technically cheating on you- But that's not the big issue here! 

Unfortunately for you, you shared a good quarter of your classes with the two lovebirds, and eventually you just distanced yourself from them till you were able to handle the sight of the two of them together. 

Even more unfortunately, was Raph's clinginess to you. When he saw you start to drift away, he immediately pulled you back in and when you decided to just ignore them as best as possible without looking rude, he caught on to that too. 

“Ugh, I know you're lying [Name],” Raphael pouted, “Come on, remember how we promised each other no secrets between us? Don't tell me you forgot!” 

You rolled your eyes, “Anybody would forget Raph, you made me say it in the 2nd grade.” 

“Still!” He protested, “Just tell me already [Name].” You could feel his grip get tighter around you, he was getting impatient. 

“Was it something I did?” Yes. 

“Does it have to do with Cheryl?” Yes. 

“Oh come on, don't tell me you're jealous of her!” It was Raph’s turn to roll his eyes, “Babe you know I'm only using her as a cover.” 

You glared at him, “Doesn't mean you have to be so touchy with her.” 

“She's my new girlfriend,” He used air quotes when he said the word girlfriend, “Gonna have to act like I’m head over heels for her to sell the act.” 

You knew he was right, he was saying the exact same things you told yourself whenever you tried to stop the ugly green monster that was envy from rearing its head. 

“Besides, don’t you think you kinda deserve it?” 

Your eyes widen, and you frown, “What? What do you mean?” Raphael shrugged, “I mean, you’re always tusslin’ and getting all up close with the other guys in the team,” His voice had a bitter edge to it, “I’m your boyfriend,” His hold on you strengthened, “It’s like I’m forced to watch you feel up all these other guys when the only ass you should be groping is mine.” 

“Do you hear how silly you sound right now?” You deadpanned, “It’s just guys being guys, most of us have been wrestling each other since we were kids.” 

He groans, “Ugh, but that doesn’t change that they still get to touch you so much!” 

You sigh, perhaps you and him weren’t so different after all. Not when both of you were so petty as to get jealous because of just, a really plain stupid reason. 

So you pat him on the back, and comfort him like you would a child throwing a tantrum. Till he stops whining, and you apologize to each other, then you continue to pretend that it doesn’t bother you when he presses a kiss to a girl’s lips, when he holds her hand, or even plays with her hair. 

And you pretend like he’s not playing with your heart. 

Yandere Spirit who you watch as he competes with his brother Gabriel over your younger sister, a popular junior who was vice-captain of the cheerleading team. Sometimes when he kisses you, you can’t help but think that this is the same tongue that flirts with your sister. 

Yandere Spirit who you accompany when his brother tells him to meet in the woods near Varenway cliff. Sure he was told to go alone, but you never trusted Gabe, he was always too intense for your liking. It was why he’d never be as popular as his brother. 

Yandere Spirit who you can only watch as he gets into a fight with his brother, held back by the stronger arms of Gabe’s football teammates who tease and mock you all while assuring Gabe won’t hurt Raphael too badly.

You thrash in their grip like a wild animal refusing to be caged, you kick at their feet, try to slam your head back into their stupid faces, but regardless of your attempts you are still stuck. 

“Let go of me, you assholes!” You practically spit. 

One of them, your classmate Sam Moss, sneers at you, then turns to his friend, who you recognize as Luke Herring, “Should we let [Name] go Luke?” 

Luke lets out a dumb laugh, “Huhuhu, naahh,” His tone is calm like an afternoon breeze, but his eyes are filled with only malice, “I don’t think we should Sam.” 

You click your tongue and tune out the rest of their words, they think they’re so intimidating just because they hang around Gabe, who nobody dares to pick a fight with, but they’re nothing more but tiny little pups who think the wolf’s shadow is their own. 

Instead you focus your gaze onto Raphael, who moves quicker than Gabe, but whenever a hit is able to land, it lands hard. Your heart clenches when you see the newly forming bruise above Raph’s brow, his busted lip, but you force yourself to remain silent. Raph can handle himself, and you hated to admit to it but Sam and Luke were right, Gabe may be dumb but he wasn’t that dumb to let Raph get seriously hurt. 

But still, for every hit that Raph gets in, Gabe lands another solid punch. Raph’s blood stains Gabe’s fists, and his beautiful face is marred. Gabe himself does not even need to catch his breath, the only evidence of exhaustion is a light sheen of sweat. 

You feel a sharp tug on your head, and you wince, Luke grabs your hair and has a look of anger on his face. 

“Little shit, fuckin’ pay attention to us damnit!” His spit flies in your face, and you grimace, “Should fuckin’ teach you a lesson for such disrespect.” 

Sam cackles like a hyena, “Ha! I don’t think Gabe would mind us roughin’ this arrogant prick up a bit,” In his eyes there is a hunger for violence, and you suppress the urge to shiver, you get what your mother means now when she says that men are like animals. You’ve never felt more like prey before now. 

You try to ignore them, and the fear that slowly builds in your chest, to get one last glimpse at Raph. But all you see is his head hanging low, and being grabbed by Gabe, whose bruised hands are curled tightly around his collar, before you are thrown down into the floor, and Luke gets on top of you. 

His sleeves are pulled back, and he draws back his fist for a punch, but before he can Sam who is still watching the fight, gasps, and Luke turns to see what has happened. Their eyes widen, but all you can hear that tells you of what just happened is a distant sickening crunch. 

Luke gets off of you and both he and Sam run to Gabe, who is looking down the cliff. Where is Raph? 

You get up, legs shaky for a bit before you steel your resolve and steady, you voice your thoughts, “Where's Raph?” 

When you get no response, the fear that was building from the fear of Luke getting his meaty hands on you is now growing from the possibility that Gabe let his anger get the best of him. At the thought of it, it is not only fear budding within you, but also anger. 

You march over to Gabe, and with strength you didn’t have before you grab him by the back of his collar and turn him around so you and him were now eye-to-eye, “Did you push him off, Gabriel?” Your voice is shaky, from fury, from anxiety, from both, you do not know. When you receive no response, you grit your teeth, and shake him violently, “Answer me, you bastard!” 

Gabriel’s eyes go wide, and his mouth parts but there are no words that leave his lips. But then he nods, and your sudden burst of strength fizzles away, and your hands let go of him. You walk, one step backward, another, and then another, and you fall on your own bottom, and your hands go to your head. Raph loved to do the same thing, hand going to the top of your head and holding it gently, sometimes just laying there together, his hand on your head and both of you quiet together.

You cannot let them see your tears, you cannot. But the dam breaks, and you start to sob. 

You hear them speak, Gabe, Sam, and Luke. However, you don’t want to listen to them. They killed him. Sam and Luke had less blood on their hands, but they were the ones who restrained you. If they didn’t then- Then maybe you could- You could… You don’t know. You don’t know, you don’t know. 

Gabe is standing in front of you, arms crossed, “Get up, [L/N],” His voice was gruff, nothing like Raph’s who always sounded like he was singing or speaking poetry, “Unless you want to end up like Raph did, you’ll do as I say.” Gabe was cruel too, nothing like Raph. 

Hesitantly, you get up, and wipe away the tears on your face. Sam and Luke who were looking at you like you were no better than the dirt on their shoe, now look at you with slight pity. It was no secret in school that you and Raphael were the best of friends, but they wouldn’t be looking at you so if they knew what you two were really like. 

You go down the cliff with them, traversing through the steep and rocky terrain. Till you arrived at the bottom, where Raph’s body lay. The blood had stopped flowing by then, or perhaps there was simply too much to look like there was more accumulating. Luke covers the bottom half of his face, Sam turns his head away, and only you and Gabe can look at the corpse. 

You glance at him, his face is like stone. You wonder if he regrets what he’s done tonight over your sister, but you can’t bring yourself to ask him without feeling like bile was going to start creeping up your throat. 

You help them carry the body deeper into the woods, Luke and Sam go to get the shovel Sam’s dad always kept in the back of his truck, and you are left with the boy who killed your lover. 

Both of you are silent, and your eyes go to look at his bruised knuckles stained with Raph’s blood. You must’ve been staring because he glares at you, “What? You wanna join Raph in his grave?” 

You know you should stay silent, but you’ve had enough of that. 

“It’d be better than having to bury him, that’s for sure,” You snarl out, you want to sock him across the face, but you’d have less impact than Raphael did, “You’re a monster.” 

“He got what was coming to him,” Gabriel clenched his fists, “If it wouldn’t be me, it may have been you.” 

You flinch, “The hell are you talking about Gabe?” You? Kill Raph? If that was meant to be a joke it wasn’t very funny. But Gabe had the same amount of charm as a donkey’s ass so it probably shouldn’t have surprised you.

“You think I’m blind, [L/N]?” A smirk forms on his face, it looks like Raphael's but at the same time it couldn’t be more different, “Everybody’s seen how you look at him and his girlfriends.” 

Your heart raced, did- Did he know? Did everybody know? If so, why weren’t you getting picked on? Raphael may have been the most popular guy in school, but even he would get harassed by some jerk. 

“You don’t get to chastise me for shit like this when you’re jealous of all the girls he gets,” At first you’re surprised he knows the word chastise, but when he accuses you of that, you laugh. You laugh like you would at a joke Raphael made, and when you realize that you start to cry. 

Gabe looks like he’s going to make fun of you, but thinks better of it when he sees the tears racing down your face and makes an expression of discomfort. 

Sam and Luke return, and by that time you’ve dried your tears. Gabe and Luke, the stronger ones, start to dig the grave, and Sam lights a cigarette. He hesitates, and then offers you one, a peace offering of sorts. 

You take it, even if you’ve never smoked before, and you cough as the smoke fills your lungs. 

“Sorry about Raphael,” He says, there is no cruelty, there is no mockery, only remorse for the blood that has been spilled, “Didn’t know him much, but I knew you two were close.” 

You take another puff, and you cough less this time, “It shouldn’t be you who’s apologizing,” You glare at Gabriel, who is digging his own twin brother’s grave. Sam follows your gaze, and he purses his lips, but then he nods.

You crush the cigarette under your shoe, and go to Raphael’s cold corpse. Your eyes scan over him, his eyes are open, the once vibrant green now hollow and empty. You close his eyes. Before you stand back up, you see a familiar glint of steel. The necklace he told you was gifted by his mother.

You take it off his neck, the cross dangling at the end gleaming even in the dark, then place it in your pocket.

Eventually Gabriel and Luke finish up, and you and Sam pick up Raphael’s body and then settle him gently into the grave. 

You take one last look at his face, burning it into your mind. He is beautiful even when his face is bloody and bruised. You want to weep again, your tears would wash away the filth from his face, but they would not bring him back. 

Yandere Spirit who invades your dreams every single night. He holds you close and what was once a warm embrace, is now a cold and stiff cage. Even if it is a dream you can smell the iron from the blood on his skin, and the earthy odor of the soil he was buried in. 

Yandere Spirit whose search you volunteer for. Even if it is only to avoid suspicion. You’re paired with Gabe and his younger brother Amos Jr., and the silence is filled with Junior’s ceaseless chatter. You pity the young boy, who shouldn’t have to search for his brother who he doesn’t even know is dead. 

When you go near the spot you buried Raph, your gaze immediately meets Gabe’s and a silent agreement goes between you two. Do not let Junior find the grave. 

But despite your best efforts, the boy does, and you can only watch while Gabe threatens him to keep his mouth shut. You're sick, and you haven’t eaten anything all day. You tell Gabe and Junior to go ahead, and then puke your guts out near Raph’s grave. 

You hold on to a tree, and sob. The taste of vomit, still on your tongue. The wind blows through your hair, it feels like Raph’s gentle caress. You swear you even hear his voice, whispering to you that it's all going to be okay, that he’ll make things better, that Gabe would pay for what he’s done. 

Time passes by. You attend Raphael’s funeral. You study, and go to your classes. You run, run faster than you’ve ever ran. You run faster than even Raph, who you’ve replaced as the track team captain. You wear his necklace every day, and you’d never take it off if you could help it. 

Sometimes you swear you hear him, whispering into your ear. Every night you feel like he’s holding you as well, but his touch is cold, yet it still brings you comfort after every nightmare where his bloody corpse stares at you from the shallow grave Gabe made for him. 

You start to isolate yourself, especially when the comforting touches become rough and possessive when you spend too much time with anybody else. You make small talk with your classmate? Ghostly fingers dig their nails into your skin. You roughhouse with your friends? Cold arms wrap themselves around your waist so tight you feel like it’s getting crushed. You get hit on by a girl? Suddenly she’s got a cold look in her eyes and leaves mid sentence. 

When you graduate, you don’t attend any parties, and you’re not invited to many other than the ones hosted by your track teammates. Gabe invites you to one, surprisingly, but when Raph wraps himself possessively around you, you know you’re not leaving the house tonight.

You don’t sleep that night either, not when Raph’s hands grope your bare flesh, sensitive against his cool touch. You swear you can see him, blood still staining his skin, his eyes are vacant but at the same time hazy with lust. He whimpers, and whines, panting into your ear.

  “Feels good.”

  “Nngh, sooo warm.” 

 “Need you, need you, need you.”

 “Love you, love you ‘s much.”

 “Never letting you go, n- ha.. not even death can separate us.” 

You feel dirty, like you’re being used. But you let him continue, you deserve this. Don’t you? You didn’t help him. You were too weak to help him. If only you were stronger, maybe it wouldn’t be his ghost on top of you right now but it’d be him in the flesh. Body just as warm as yours, a beautiful red flush on his sun kissed skin. You’d trace over every freckle, every small childhood scar, and hold him close to you till the sun rose.

But instead, your only company is the freezing form of Raph’s specter as he desperately clings to the comfort of your warmth, to feel alive again. And he’s never leaving you. 

“...You’re mine, mine, [Name],” His frigid whispers send a shiver down your spine, “You are mine even in death.”

☏ - ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇᴍᴀɪʟ: ᴍʀ. ꜱᴀɢᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴍɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴘᴇɴ, ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ.

#yandere male x reader #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere imagines #male yandere #male reader #x reader #yandere #Raphael Shepherd

[ghouljams]

Damsel in Distress (for @vase-of-lilies thank you again for the banner!!) Rating: M (violence) Word Count: 1.6k Tags: Ghost x f!reader, knight/princess, kidnapping, abuse, rape threats, murder, damsel in distress Summary: Ghost has never been overwhelmed, and you've never made it more than ten feet out of his view. It was bound to happen eventually, you've been kidnapped.

It’s never happened like this before. One minute you’re in your carriage, the next you’re hauled out, dragged by your hair by some ruffian that’s apparently immune to your screams. He lifts you up over his shoulder and you watch the other men in his party holding Ghost off before another man gags you. You realize then that you’ve been scared before, but you’ve never truly been terrified, not like you are now. Not like you are watching Ghost take a heavy blow, stumbling under the weight of it before swinging his sword. There’s nothing he can do to help you, to save you. You can only watch him fight until you’re thrown over a horse and your view is obscured.

You don’t know what happens after that. It’s a long ride, one that doesn’t stop even when you can feel the horse struggling to continue. You don’t recognize the territory, but why would you? You’re not meant to be in this part of the country, not on your own anyway. 

You hope Ghost is alright.

You hope you will be alright. He’d want you to be alright. 

It’s not kind the way you’re pushed off the horse. You hit the ground and whine against your gag. You’re at an estate of some sort. Nice, but low nobility. You squeeze your fingers tight, rub your wrists against the bindings wrapped hastily around them. A servant comes out and seems to hold no recognition for you. Unfortunate, your face is the only thing that protects you without Ghost around. They sigh.

“Bring her in, we’ll see what the master wants to do.”

You struggle against the hands that try to pull you to your feet, tug when they try to force you forward. One of the men slaps you hard, and you feel your head spin. It stings. Your ears ring, and you blink to try and re-orient yourself as they push you into the foyer.

Shock, you think. It must be a shock. You’ve never been hit before, no one would dare raise a hand to you. Your brain is working overtime to process just the pain of realization that you’re nothing, nothing, to these men. You’re not a princess, you’re barely a person. You’re pushed and shoved, thrown into a room in such a way that you fall and catch yourself, painfully, on your shoulder. You breathe against the cold stone floor just long enough to pity yourself.

Then a door opens and you scramble to your feet, press yourself to the wall to keep your back safe. You know every noble house in your kingdom, you know the man who walks into the room from some anti-chamber. A low noble indeed, barely a baron. Yet he looks down on you the same way the rest of his staff did when you glare at him. He strides closer as you try to push yourself into the stone wall. Your gag is unceremoniously tugged down.

“What’s your name girl,” He asks. You spit it at him, all of your titles and names. The shining star of the kingdom, the monarchy’s dahlia, the first god damn princess you stupid- He pales, and you turn to offer him your hands to unbind. He does, quickly, then pauses as you rub your wrists. He grabs your hand and tugs you. You’re reminded of how disgusting this man is up close, his breath stinks, there’s mold in his beard, his eyes are soulless. It’s the way his grip attempts to crush your fingers that makes you flinch away.

“This might not be a bad thing, princess.” He tells you, his voice cold, hateful, “The king would give me a hefty reward for finding you, saving you from the clutches of bandits.”

“Bandits under your employ,” You cut back. He shrugs.

“Bandits you were traveling with, and who knows what they said to you-” he smiles, “-what they did to you? Really such a shame, but I’m a modern man, I’m willing to take a soiled wife.”

You feel your blood drain out through your feet, the cold of the room so much more oppressive. You swallow down your heart when it jumps up your throat. “You wouldn’t.”

“I think I would,” He hums, “King has a nice ring to it, and even with that bruise you’re rather pretty. A bit of a brat, but I’ll train that out of you.”

You tug at his hold more firmly, push at him to yell for help. He claps a hand over your mouth and slams your head back against the wall. Again you find your vision swimming, the pain making it hard to think. He presses close as you grab at his clothes for stability. Anything to ground yourself with. Your fingers brush metal, and something snaps into focus.

You pull his knife from his belt and push it into his stomach as hard as you can. He jerks with the shock of it, his eyes wild as they meet your panicked gaze. You twist it, breath coming in quick bursts as you tug the knife sideways along his belly. He releases you and you collapse against the floor. His meaty hands tremble, his gaze fixed on the blood soaking his shirt as he stumbles back. The edge of the rug trips him, and he falls back against the floor. You press yourself into the nearest corner, watching the slow seep of blood into fabric, the trickle of it down to pool on the floor. 

It’s worse, so much worse than you’d ever thought it would be. Ghost was right. He was right. You should never hold a knife, you never should have- Bile rises in your throat, panic latching hold of you and squeezing your ribs with its terrible claws. There’s a commotion outside. You can hear it dimly through the rising tone that echoes through your mind. 

The door to the room burst open, nearly coming off its hinges from the force of the blow that opened it. Ghost lowers his boot to make his way into the room, shoulders hunched and breath heaving. Blood soaked. His sword, baptized in flesh and unholy acts, looks like Michael’s, like an angel’s, where it rests at his side. His mask is gone, his helmet gone. There’s blood streaking across his face, and you know it isn’t his.

His eyes are wild and darting as they scan the room. They land on you like an eclipse drawing across the land, bearing unforetold consequences to all caught in its path. His lovely brown irises are swallowed by darkness, a shadow of your Ghost as he stalks towards you. It doesn’t matter, you still throw yourself to him as a sob rips through your chest.

“I’m sorry,” You sob, twisting your fingers into his cloak to bury your face against his chest, “I didn’t mean to.”

“Are you alright?” He asks, the stress in his voice, the rough gravel, makes you choke.

You push close, bury yourself in the scent of woodsmoke and blood, you can smell steel under it, imagine you can smell Ghost’s soap. Imagine you can smell home. Ghost grips your shoulder tight and pushes you back. His eyes are stern when you meet them, his leather glove wet where it cups your bruised cheek.

“You’re hurt.” You’ve never heard him sound like that, dead, “Are you hurt anywhere else? Did he touch you?”

Fresh sorrow wells in your chest, splinters your soul. Your lip wobbles. “Yes, and I-” You press against Ghost’s hold, try to push yourself into his arms again. Your hands reach for him, and he looks at you like your touch pains him. “I’m sorry,” You whisper, “I didn’t know what else to do, I didn’t mean to, I promise, don’t be mad.” Your voice feels small and far away, your eyes go back to the man on the floor. Ghost turns to follow your gaze. He takes a breath when he sees him, like he hadn’t even noticed you weren’t alone, and presses you back into your corner.

It takes so few steps for Ghost to reach the slowly pooling blood that you wonder if you truly put enough space between the man and yourself. He raises his sword, and you watch foreign blood drip down the blade before he stabs it down through the man’s neck. You hear the metal collide with the floor, and watch Ghost twist the blade sharply. The body jerks and falls limp.

“Good riddance,” He spits, before yanking his sword free. Ghost swings the blade sharply and blood splatters from the blade to the ground. His attention turns back to you, and he smiles. “Fortunately your hands are still clean, my lady, it’s my kill.”

Weight slides off your shoulders, you feel your lip wobble again and fresh hiccuping sobs rack your body. Ghost comes close and you fall against his chest. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and press your face against him, letting him take your tears as they spill from you. He draws you up with a firm hand under your bottom, and you wrap your legs around his waist to be carried.

You’re safe. It was an uncalculated error, Ghost tells himself, but you’re safe now. He carries you through the halls of this cursed estate, his sword still thirsty at his side, and promises himself it will never happen again. Your hands are stained, but they still grip him for comfort the same as they always do. He doesn’t blame you. You did good, exactly as you should have.

Ghost pauses, turns to kiss your head, the shell of your ear. You’re so sweet hiding your eyes. It’s for the best, this place is a mess. Someone should really clean up, it stinks of blood.

#cod x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley cod #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #simon ghost x reader #f!reader #x f!reader #knight!Ghost #medieval au #princess!reader #tw violence #tw blood #tw kidnapping #wow queen you killed that guy #you fucking gutted him #<- Ghost's thoughts staring at the corpse on the floor

[dilemmaontwolegs]

hiiii, I'm new here. saw that your reqs r closed but I'd like to share one scenario idea. the choice is yours whether to write it or not.

Daniel (or Carlos) is your bff. You see each other rarely because of his career. It's summer break, he's back home and you've just had your heartbroken by an asshole. You convince you friend group that you need to go out & celebrate Daniel's (or Carlos') comeback in the hope of getting laid. As the night goes on the driver is more n more frustrated with the guys you choose. He get a lil too much to drink n becomes possessive of you, starts touching you intimately and doesn't care about people surrounding. The night ends in a bedroom where he fucks you slow and sensually like he thinks you deserve and none of those jackasses in the club could

hope you've a nice vacation

Peace out ✌🏾

This is for Carlos since Daniel hasn't gotten rid of that moustache yet

Red Flags || CS55

Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, smut, oral, friends to lovers WC: 2.4k

It hurt a little that the first notification you received that Carlos was back home came from a gossip page you followed. Maybe it shouldn’t come as such a surprise when a distance had grown after you started dating Marco, you weren’t sure if Carlos even knew what had happened since the last time you spoke to him. Your families were close, but even your parents were reluctant to speak to anyone about the breach of privacy your ex had caused, the photos he had tried to leak. It had cost a huge sum to keep them from being published and you had been trying to get over the betrayal since.

Recent coping methods included the company of your friends and the string of nightclubs that lined the beachfront.

“I picked up a stray,” Liana called out as she walked into your house without knocking. You could always count on your friend to be up for a party and she had accepted the invite before anyone else. You stuck your head out of the living room where you had been pouring yourself a stiff drink and found her arm curled around the back of Carlos. “A handsome one too.”

You couldn’t believe it had been nearly six months since you last saw him and it looked like he had somehow matured even more. His beard had filled out to cover his entire jaw and his hair was lush and dark. 

Excitement filled you and you rushed towards him as he opened his arms with a smile. “Carlito!” 

“Bomboncita,” he replied with a laugh, his strong arms tightening around you as he picked you up and twirled in a circle. “Missed you too.”

“Come out with us, let’s celebrate your win!” You didn’t wait for an answer as you rushed back to get your clutch with your ID and cash.

“She just wants to get laid,” Liana whispered to Carlos. “You can help me keep her away from any red flags.”

There was one thing you could always count on and that was Liana to be the mother of the group. More mature than the rest of your friends put together, she always made sure you got home safe. Everyone else lived in the city but the mansion your parents had given you was out on the coast, thankfully she was more than happy to sober drive for you. Unfortunately, the only cars on the driveway were two seater sports cars.

That was how you ended up starting your night sitting on Carlos’ lap.

“This reminds me of old times, bombón,” he murmured as you looped an arm around his neck and held on tight. 

“I don’t know how you passed basic maths,” you shot back with a laugh before looking at Liana. “He would always invite more people than we have seats for during the summer break.”

Liana shook her head with a smirk. “Maybe he just liked having you on his lap.”

“What guy wouldn’t,” you joked, well accustomed to the years of teasing over your close friendship with Carlos. But for all the times you sat in this very position, he had never seen you as more than a friend. 

“Should we stop her?” Carlos asked, a quiet growl in his words as he watched you dance with another man. Your hips were too enticing, too sexy, and he had to look away to down his drink and quench the sudden thirst he had. 

Liana didn’t seem fazed by your ability to hook a man in with a seductive smile and dance with them until Carlos interrupted or they said something that made you push them away. 

“No way, she deserves to have some fun after what happened with Marco.”

He placed the empty glass on the bartop and turned his attention to Liana, a frown etched into his forehead. “What happened with Marco?” 

“Oh, she should probably be the one to tell you. I thought you knew.”

A woman in a very low cut dress slipped between Liana and Carlos, interrupting their conversation as she placed a hand on his arm. “You’re that driver, right? Want to dance?”

Carlos shook his head with a polite ‘no thanks’ and brushed her hand off his, rubbing the spot on his sleeve to erase the feel of her touch. “What did he do, Lee?”

The tone left no arguing and Liana chewed her lip nervously before giving in and leaning closer so no one overheard. 

Rage burned through Carlos in a way he had never felt before. He had felt anger, sure, frustration too, but this was white hot and liquid molten in his veins, deep in his core. He was lucky that Marco wasn’t in the same city or he would surely be finding himself on the wrong side of the law at that moment.

Carlos didn’t even realise he had crossed the room until his fist bunched into the shirt of the man holding you close and he pushed the stranger away, ignoring the protests he made. 

“Carlito!” you giggled as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “Dance with me.”

Some of the fire eased as your fingers twirled the strands of hair at his nape and his hands came to rest naturally on your hips as he pulled you closer. “We have a lot of catching up to do, bomboncita.”

You looked up as the odd tone cut through your buzz and immediately knew what he knew. His own eyes were a little unfocused and you could smell the whiskey on his breath, not helping him to control his emotions. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

The air hissed between your teeth as you sucked in a breath and dipped your chin down so you didn’t have to look him in the eyes. “You would have said I told you so.”

His hand slipped away from your body and you missed the heat of it instantly but then it was cradling your throat, his thumb pushing your chin back up and forcing you to connect with his dark irises. “I told you he wasn’t good for you, he wouldn’t treat you how you deserve.”

“Carlito...” It was a familiar argument every time you had a boyfriend. He would always find reasons to dislike them.

“Listen, please, bombón,” he said as he took a step closer so every inch of his body was flush against yours. His lips brushed your cheek as he turned your head away and whispered the secret he had kept all these years. “Let me show you how you should be treated.”

Surprise filled you and you licked your dry lips at the thought of what he was implying. “Here?” you asked breathlessly and his laugh warmed your cheek.

“No, bombón,” he all but purred as he teased the column of your neck with his nose and his hands danced over the curve of your ass. “What I want to do to you…no, not here.”

His eyes narrowed at someone behind you and you turned to see it was someone you had been dancing with earlier. You couldn’t remember his name, or maybe he hadn’t even told you it, either way you had no interest in taking the drink he offered.

“Red flag, mate,” Carlos growled as he pulled you under his arm and put himself between you and the stranger. “Walk away.”

The man wisely walked away and you laughed as you stepped back into Carlos’ arms. He had held you a thousand times over your long friendship but the way he held you now, possessive and jealous, it changed everything. There was no going back to how it used to be. 

“I kind of like this new you,” you teased as you danced with him, turning in his arms and rocking your hips in time to the beat. “So commanding, Carlito, why don’t you try it on me?”

His lips cocked up in a smirk that you saw as you peeked over your shoulder and dragged his hands down your body. “Because you’ve never listen to anything I say.”

Turning to face him, you looped your arms around his neck and brushed your lips softly over his before you could change your mind. “Maybe you just never said what I wanted to hear.”

Carlos swallowed as he saw your pupils dilate with lust and the thin material of your dress did little to hide the fact you wore no bra beneath it, your peaked nipples begging him to take them in his mouth. “We need to leave,” he groaned as he squeezed your ass and bit his lip, “before I get us both into a lot of trouble.”

You barely remembered to thank Liana for dropping you off at home. You barely remembered the drive when every ounce of your brain capacity was spent trying to behave yourself while you sat on Carlos’ lap. You tried to keep still on the corners but you felt his hard length beneath you with each turn and squirm.

It seemed to take forever for Liana to finally pull into your driveway and your foot tapped the tile floor impatiently while she drove off and you slapped the button on the wall to close the gates. You didn’t wait to see them close as Carlos’ lips were on yours and his feet led the way blindly through your home. 

Your bed was a mess. You hadn’t planned on bringing a stranger back to your place, but Carlos was no stranger, in fact, he knew you better than anyone ever could or would. He smiled knowingly as he laid you down on the sheets, kneeling between your legs as they parted for him.

His shirt had been abandoned somewhere on the stairs, your dress along the hallway, his trousers at the foot of your bed. You had seen him in this state of undress before, when you would sneak out as teenagers and go for midnight swims in the bay, but the moonlight had left the memory faded. In the light of your room, his skin glowed and shadows highlighted the dips of his defined muscles that lined his body. It was like seeing him in colour for the very first time.

“Are you okay, bombón?” he asked as his fingers danced down your legs lightly, tickling your skin and leaving goosebumps behind until he reached your heels. His thick fingers shouldn’t have been able to remove the delicate clasps so gracefully but he eased each shoe off before massaging the aching soles of your feet. “You look like you are thinking too hard.”

“I am thinking you are going way too slow,” you teased. His thumb hit the right spot in your arch and a moan parted your lips while he chuckled at your reaction.

“I told you, princesa, I’m going to show you how you deserve to be treated.” Tantilisingly slowly, he massaged his way up your legs, devoting his time to your relaxation until you were putty in his hands. Your legs were trembling in anticipation when his thumbs finally reached the laced edge of your panties and he let out an unsteady breath at the damp patch darkening the material. You lifted your hips for him as he hooked his fingers into the waistband and dragged them down your legs. “I want to taste you, princesa.”

“Please, Carlos,” you begged as he licked his full lips enticingly.

You recognised the look in his eyes, the one that told you to be patient and the groan that had been building morphed into a gasp when he grabbed your hips and pulled you onto his thigh. The pressure was teasing and you rocked your hips wanting more as he blanketed you with his body and sealed his lips around your breast. 

“Fuck,” you moaned as his tongue flicked over your nipple, sending bolts of lightning to your core as you tightened your legs around his thigh and combed your fingers into his hair. “Oh god, do that again.”

He was more than happy to follow your command and you felt like your body would ignite beneath him. He sensed the change in your body as your breathing laboured and a sweat broke out across your skin. “Not yet,” he warned as he kissed his way up your neck and captured your lips in a blistering kiss. “I want to taste you when you come, princesa.”

Your eyes fluttered shut as you shamelessly rode his thigh, the pressure building. “Then you better hurry up.”

A whimper escaped with the disappearance of his leg but when you opened your eyes you were struck by his dark ones, watching you watch him make his way down your body. You sucked in a sharp breath as you felt him blow a cold breeze over your skin and you shivered as he warmed it again with his tongue. 

“I’m starting to think you get off on teasing me,” you whispered with a strained voice. 

“I simply get off on you,” he replied just as quietly.

The questions you had were erased with the leisurely stroke of his tongue, tasting you for the first time. He hummed at the reward he had earned with his teasing and his fingers gripped your thighs tighter as he held you spread open for him to devour. 

The room filled with the sweet sounds that clawed from your throat as your head swum and your legs quivered. The salacious song grew louder when Carlos curled one finger into your cunt, then two. He pumped his digits as his tongue circled your clit and together they threw you over the edge and you came with undulating waves that rocked your body against his lips.

“Carlito…” you panted as he lapped at your dripping folds, indulging in the decadence he had been craving for years.

“I love you,” he admitted as he rose above you.

You reached for his face, your thumb tracing the shape of his swollen lips that were still shiny with your arousal. “I love you too.”

“No more red flags,” he said as he lined himself with your entrance. “You’re mine, princesa.”

“I’m yours,” you echoed as you pulled his face to yours and sealed the promise with a kiss.

“You always have been.”

#carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #formula 1 x you #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 smut #f1 x reader #carlos sainz smut

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Hi, I would like to ask for a rafe with ''Let's worry about the consequences later.'' and 'I would never let anyone or anything hurt you.'' with a reader pogue

Request: John B.'s older sister/Rafe's past girlfriend get kidnapped instead of Kiara + Rafe comforting you at night

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

The worst thing that could happen after getting rescued by this suspicious pilot happened. You should’ve saved your ass and followed the others instead of helping the pilot and swimming in the other direction. If you had, you would not have been separated from the rest of the pogues or gotten taken and kidnapped by some strong-armed men.

You were brought to a lavish compound guarded by lots of armed guards, locked in a room and told to be ready for dinner at 8pm. Various sizes of the same red dress were waiting in a closet with a note that said ‘pick your size’. You felt like a doll forced to play real-life dress up.

When the clock struck 8, a maid unlocked your door and brought you downstairs to meet your captor — Carlos Singh —, but when you got there, you found Rafe Cameron instead. He was looking out a window, his back facing you, but you knew it was him.

‘’Rafe?’’

He turned around, his familiar blue eyes looking back at you. His head was buzzed and he was wearing a white button up and a blue blazer, looking as handsome as you remembered. You would have been happy to see him if he had not chosen that stupid cross over you that day on the Coastal Venture.

‘’You’re a part of this?!’’

Rafe drew his eyebrows together in a frown. ‘’I don't know what you're talking about, but I’m here for business. I’m meeting a possible buyer for the cross.’’

That damn cross again…

Before you could exchange more words, a man with a perfectly cut beard and wearing a tailored suit walked in with a drink in one hand. ‘’You two know each other, right?’’ He shifted his eyes between you and Rafe, amusement curling on his lips when he sensed a tension between you two. ‘’Shall we head for dinner? We have some things to discuss.’’

With a chill in your bones, you followed Carlos to the dining area.

You tensed when you felt a hand on the small of your back, but relaxed when you realized it was Rafe’s and not one of Carlos’ men’s. Your trust in him was broken, but you knew he wouldn’t let anyone in this house get their hands on you.

A nice table had been set with place settings for three. The food looked delicious, and your stomach felt tight from having not eaten anything since last night, but you couldn't bring yourself to eat anything. In this property, your life was on a thin line and all you could think about was staying on your guard.

Less than three minutes into the dinner, Carlos asked about Denmark Tanney’s diary. He suspected one of you to have it since the only way to find the emplacement of the cross was through the diary. Unlike Rafe, you knew what Carlos was talking about, but unfortunately you did not have it in your possession.

‘’I know one of you knows something. When you give me the diary, I’ll let you go. Until then,’’ Carlos glanced at the guards and with a tilt of his head, you and Rafe were escorted to that same room they had locked you in.

In the room, Rafe was pacing, trying to not spiral into panic.

‘’I got a boat. I can get us off the island, but first we gotta get out of here.’’

You sat on the end of the bed, evaluating your options, but beside the diary there was none. ‘’The door is locked from the outside and there’s security all over the house and property. We’re stuck.’’

You were usually more optimistic, but this place was a fucking fortress.

‘’Please tell me you know where that damn diary is,’’ Rafe pleaded, kneeling down in front of your sitting figure. 

You shook your head. You had heard your brother talk about Denmark Tanney’s diary, but you had never touched or seen it. ‘’I’m sorry.’’

When the night came, you changed into a gray silk pajama you found in the drawers. You felt like an imposter in those clothes. It was a lot more fancy than the old band tee shirts and bunny print pajama pants you wore at home.

‘’I look ridiculous,’’ you said when coming out of the bathroom, feeling uncomfortable.

Rafe’s eyes looked you over, swiping his tongue over his lips when noticing your nipples poking through the delicate silk. ‘’I think you look…nice.’’ It wasn’t his initial adjective of choice, but your relationship was too strained for a spicier compliment.

You felt warmth creeping on your cheeks. ‘’Shut up.’’

You crossed the room and hid beneath the bed covers. After sleeping outside on mattresses made of braided leaves for the past month, a soft mattress and a warm duvet comforter felt like laying on a fucking cloud.

Although you were warm and comfortable, sleep didn’t come to you.

After seeing the way Carlos handled the ones who crossed him, you couldn’t stop hearing the gunshot that took Jimmy Portis’s life. He said you and Rafe had until tomorrow to tell him where the diary is, making you the nexts on his list.

With shaking hands and a rapid heartbeat, you sat up and peered down the bed. Rafe offered to sleep on the floor, taking a sole cushion from the bed for pillow.

‘’Rafe?’’ you whispered in the dark. 

He hummed sleepily, only half asleep.

‘’Can you come sleep in the bed with me? I…I’m scared.’’

You didn’t hear any movement so you assumed Rafe had gone back to sleep, but you saw a shadow standing up. Although your relationship never properly ended and you didn’t know where it stood, Rafe never stopped loving you. He cared deeply about you and his protective instinct was to make you feel safe.

He slid under the covers beside you and you reached for him, clung to him like he was your lifeline. ‘’I’m here,’’ he reassured, snaking an arm around your scared frame. ‘’And I’m not gonna let go of you this time.’’

Saving the cross instead of helping you when you fell overboard was something he regretted immensely. He should’ve taken your hand instead of grabbing the rope and trying to save the cross. Rafe wasn’t strong enough to hold the cross by himself, it was going to fall off the boat anyway.

‘’Promise?’’ You tilted your head to look up at him.

He grabbed your hands to hold in his and sealed his promise with a kiss on your joined hands. '’I would never let anyone or anything hurt you. I’ve let things come between us in the past, but I’m done with that.''

‘’What are we gonna do, Rafe? Without the diary, we’re dea—’’

A finger shut your lips before you could finish your sentence. ‘’I’m gonna get us out of here, okay? Whatever it takes. Let's worry about the consequences later.’’

Rafe didn’t have a plan, but if he needed to kill Carlos Singh with his bare hands, he would. 

—

OBX taglist: @moralina @eudximoniakr @toylewestinnyc @rottenstyx  @sweeterheartxamerica  @jordierama @viridwityy @izzy-laufeyson @kenzi-woycehoski @lilaconner @Katsukis1Wife  @hawkegfs @mommyruuetrue  @acornacreacure @snownjune @nmedina8611 @slvtherinseeker  @slvtherinseeker @poppet05 @1stevelacyfan @illf4iry @withbeautyandrage

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs  @gillybear17  @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe outer banks #outer banks #outer banks imagine

[immajustvibehere]

Amidst a Crashing World (3/5)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader

Summary: Arthur returns to your cabin after you presumed him dead. The time between your last meetings have lead Arthur to a realisation.

tags for this series: fluff, little bit of angst, no-tb-Arthur, literally your love redemption, maybe smut (but probably not), slow burn (but I mean how slow can a story really burn in five chapters?)

masterlist

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

6000 words

Sooner than expected, you heard of Arthur. Unfortunately, not because he sent you a note or stopped by again. As you rode into Annesburg three days after wishing him luck for the big score he had planned, the paper boys yelled through the town: "Saint Denis robbers still on the run! What happened to the gang of Dutch van der Linde? Find out in today's edition!"

Normally, you weren't too big on reading the newspaper, but this time…you hadn't never snatched it so quickly out of the boy's hand, leaving him to boast with the change you gave him. Hosea, dead. Lenny, dead. No account of any other names. You weren't sure who "a further gang member was arrested and awaits trial" meant. It only took a couple of days until everybody seemed to talk about it. Your main source of income being doing women's hair, you got a fair bit of gossip about the news.

Everything you heard from the ladies, took with a grain of salt. Either way, nobody ever mentioned Arthur by name. Your anxiety reached its peak when a rather well-off woman, not typically your demographic, had visited family in Saint Denis and brought an unsettling theory with her. Apparently, the most important members of the gang, including the leader, could have fled on a boat and drowned in the storm that was raging over the ocean the same night.

The "they have fled the country"-rumours were the most popular. Drowned in the ocean or not, the version varied based on who told you their theory. With every day you didn't hear the contrary and had no word from Arthur, you believed that you'd never see him again.

That was until one morning. You were working in your garden, busy with fixing the fence that had long stood neglected, when you saw a rider approach. Whether it was the hat or the horse you recognized first, you weren’t sure. But unmistakenly, the man on the horse that lazily trotted towards your cabin was Arthur.

You put your tools down and approached him, forcing yourself to walk calmly. The closer you got, the more unfamiliar he appeared. His beard had grown out, looking unkempt and way too long for what you were used to see him wear. Long strands of hair spilled out from under his hat. Arthur’s skin was darker than usual, even the unforgiving desert in the west hadn't left his skin as sunburned as it now appeared. Most of the red had settled into a golden-brown tan, particularly strong around the area where he cuffed his sleeves. For not seeing him for almost a month, this was quite a change.

A faint smile appeared on his lips when you reached him and walked next to his horse, leading it to your cabin.

"I thought I'd never see you again", you blurted out straight up.

Maybe a “Hello” or “Thanks for stopping by” would have been more appropriate, but the thought that had driven you insane the last three to four weeks just slipped out.

"I know. I'm sorry", Arthur jumped off his horse when you had reached your newly fixed gate. He looked at you, trying to take it all in. He had missed you; he had thought of you so much the last days and weeks, having you in front of him was a little overwhelming. But you looked like he remembered you. You weren’t wearing your fine clothes that you had worn when you caught him in your pond, but the worn jeans and shirt that had seen many fences painted and potted many plants looked good on you. It looked homely.

Arthur cleared his throat before he asked, "D'ya still cut hair?"

It was awkward...the ways he pronounced his question, the uncomfortable manner in which he scratched his way too long beard, seemingly unhappy with its new length.

Before you could answer, he added sarcastically: "Tried finding a barber on the Caribbean island but didn't came across someone I wanted to trust with scissors."

"Caribbean island?", you repeated questioningly, leading him into the cabin.

The tension between you felt peculiar. If tension were a tangible thing, you could have thrown a lasso and seemingly strangled it out of the air. But it wasn’t, so you and Arthur only struggled with finding your rhythm again.

"I came as soon as I could after returning...", Arthur explained apologizing, as if he had to rectify not visiting you sooner.

"Arthur. I thought you were dead", in front of your table, you stopped and looked directly at the man.

"'m afraid I have to disappoint", he chuckled, "Instead I'm here, asking ya for a cheap haircut because we lost...ten thousands in the sea."

"Ugh", you groaned, readying a chair for Arthur to sit on right at the table, "You sound so desperate, I might just give ya that haircut for free."

Arthur placed his jacket on a hinge next to the door and his hat on a free spot on the table. Again, it felt like he knew exactly where to place them, just as if he was coming home after a workday.

"Where d'ya want me, miss?", Arthur asked politely as if he had just entered a barber shop and there wasn't only one chair that looked prepared enough to serve as seat for his cut. You pointed at the chair a little absentmindedly, gathering your equipment and laying it out in the table in front of you.

"How short were you thinking?", you asked, walking around the seated man, ruffling his hair a little.

"Whatever you prefer", Arthur answered.

"What's that supposed to mean?", you asked, letting your finger scrape through his hair. His hair was wet at the roots, so you added surprisedly, "Did you just take a bath?"

"Might 've...", Arthur shrugged as if it was no big deal.

"You didn’t have to”, you reassured him, secretly amused by how endearing you found it.

"You wouldn't say that if you’d seen me before the bath. After three days in the Caribbean, killing half of the Pinkerton's agency and moving camp, you would have shot me on sight", Arthur joked, a bitter smile playing on his lips. Your answer was a soft chuckle.

After combing his hair, you repeated you question: "You're sure you don't want me to tell you how you want your hair done?"

"I trust ya", Arthur said.

"Mh, big mistake", you grinned. You caught Arthur's eye for a moment, and you could have sworn it was admiration in his expression. And trust, which honestly, was seldom for this man.

"I'll just cut it a little shorter than you had it when you first came to collect me", you said, waiting for his confirmation.

"...collect you and failed miserably at that", Arthur added.

"I thank the lord every day for that", you said jokingly. It was no laughing matter, though. You knew that as well as Arthur. The list of people the gang had lost in the last two months was long and you not rejoining was probably the only thing that had kept your name off that list.

You started doing Arthur's hair and one minute in, you decided to carefully pose the question of "What the hell happened the last couple weeks?". Arthur couldn't stop talking. He explained the plan of the bank robbery, explained when it went south. When Hosea was mentioned, he digressed a little. You too ended up sharing some anecdotes of the old man. You had loved him and felt a pang of guilt that you hadn't sent word to him that you were indeed fine. Hosea had been so kind to you when you expressed your wish to be on your own for a while, he had wished you the best and you had never even thought about sending a letter.

Then Arthur mentioned escape from Saint Denis. Your mouth went dry when Arthur recounted the storm, how he went overboard, nearly drowning and not knowing how lucky he was that he washed ashore on a beach. It was uncanny how some of the rumours you had heard mirrored the actual story.

Then came Guarma and everything that happened there. The return, the Pinkertons apparently following someone to Lagras and finally the move to Beaver's Hollow. They had been up there for a couple a couple of days now, and so much had already happened.

You listened, occasionally asked a question, but most of the time you were concentrating on not messing up the haircut. You had never heard Arthur talk that much before. Sober, that is. He can be quite a chatty drunk, but it seemed like he just wanted to get everything off his chest.

"How does that look?", you asked when you were done with his hair, holding a little mirror for Arthur to see.

His only response was a nob and a slight smile.

"Okay then", you spoke gently, "your beard's next."

The whole retelling of the last couple of weeks was what Arthur needed, but it killed his mood the same time. At least, that's what you though he was silent for. You cleared a spot on the table for you to sit on. It was way more comfortable sitting in front of Arthur while trimming his beard, but if you sat on a chair, you wouldn't have the height you needed.

You took a seat on the table in front of Arthur and noticed how his eyes immediately fixed on the ground.

"D'ya mind spreading your legs a little?", you asked. Despite the request confusing him a little, Arthur did as he was told and you put your on foot on his chair, so you wouldn't topple forward. Arthur tried his best to stifle the cough that worked its way up as he choked on his own saliva at this move.

"We're not going for a clean shave, are we?", you asked casually, trying to catch Arthur's eyes. He shrugged: "Whatever's easier for you."

You shook your head and began to trim his beard back to what you remembered he had the last time he visited you. Soon after you started, you noticed Arthur's cheeks getting warm and red. You were well aware that your cleavage was on his eye-level, probably the reason why he decided he was better off inspecting the floor. Meanwhile, you enjoyed gently tilting his head the way you needed it, finding no resistance from the man himself.

You talked only little, answering insignificant questions Arthur posed when the blade wasn't near his face, and he could actually move his mouth. You were almost done, only lining up his beard to give it an overall cleaner look, when Arthur said something out of the blue.

"Y'know, I been thinkin' about you. A lot," Arthur croaked, his throat dry all of a sudden.

"Mhm", you answered, not sure which direction that was supposed to go. You stopped shaving off the stubble on his neck when his Adam’s apple bobbed.

"Uh, I mean...", Arthur clears his throat, forcing you to stop the shave and look at him. Finally, his eyes found yours, "We're...uhm...friends, I hope." He forced a little chuckle that didn't sound genuine, especially under your curious gaze. You gave a quiet hum as sign of agreement.

"'s just that I...look, I understand if ya've found someone else. Hell, I took my sweet time and it wasn't fair how I treated you when you...", Arthur cleared his throat again, the words coming difficult to him, "when ya told me about yer feelings."

This was the point when your heartrate picked up and you felt your hands become sweatier. You had to put the blade down for a moment to wipe your hand on your shirt. Your mind was still caught on the line 'I understand if ya've found someone else'...like that had even been an option for you. For months you had tried to get over this man, then he came back waltzing into your life and you put your own ugly bounty poster on the wall as a reminder. And the you fixed the bedframe that he had fixed rather unsatisfyingly. You hadn't told him it broke the very same night he had “repaired” it. Nothing had changes the last year, you were pining as much for this man as ever...and yet, you didn't quite know how to react.

"I really like ya", he finally said, " I know well I don’t deserve it, but if ya wanted to give me another chance…"

"Morgan", you exhaled, "I got my boot between your balls and a blade at your throat...if you want to pull my leg I suggest you-"

"I mean it", and Arthur's gaze was so intense, this time it was you who struggled to watch him in the eye. You knew he wasn't lying. Hell, you hadn't really expected that he was just pulling your leg, you just said it to say something…to lighten up the mood that appeared so heavy again.

"Okay", you mumbled, barely able to disguise the tremor in your voice. Then you took the blade again, carefully turning Arthur's head upwards so you could better reach the hair you still needed to shave. There was this long and uncomfortable silence that neither of you wanted to break. You heard the birds outside, the blade scratching the skin and a heartbeat...if it was yours or Arthur's, you weren't quite sure.

Arthur thought that Guarma had been hell, but he found that your silence and okay was even more tortuous.

Finally, you were done. With a hairdressing brush you got rid of all the loose hair that decorated Arthur’s face. He gave you a slightly annoyed look as you tickled him behind his ears. Then you took the little towel that had prevented hair from falling into his shirt out in the garden to shake it out.  

The moment you stepped into the cabin again, Arthur's eyes caught yours and they were demanding an answer.

"I've never stopped loving you", the words burned as they left your mouth. The towel was thrown over an empty chair. Saying the words out loud…it changed something. Because as long as you had only thought them, there was this slim chance that they weren’t true. But there was no backing-out now, no denying.  

You continued: "But I can't...I won't rejoin the gang. I want to live here."

You said that because you knew that Arthur wouldn’t leave the gang for you, but you wouldn’t rejoin in either.

"Y/n...this thing is pretty much over", Arthur sighed. He was referring to the gang. He had alluded to it when he had recounted the happenings of the past weeks, especially breaking John out of jail and earning Dutch's disapproval. This was the first time he directly admitted it, "I want the Marstons safe...and the women...then it's done."

"Oh, so 'one more big score and then you can leave everything behind", you mimicked Dutch's voice. A tinge of animosity accompanied your words and this certainly wasn’t lost on Arthur. You couldn’t help but feel a bit unfairly placed in this situation.

"C'mere for a second", Arthur beckoned you, his eyes following every one of your movements until you stood in front of him, your hips brushing against the table. Arthur remained seated in his chair. Glancing at the man quickly, you congratulated yourself on having done a good job; his haircut looked sharp.

Then, suddenly, Arthur took your hand. It was such an unusual gesture, it alarmed you immediately. His hands were warm and rough, but not in an unpleasant way. Arthur held your hand lightly, as if he was afraid of hurting you.

"I promise this is the last time. In a week, we're going to hit a train with army pay. Wednesday evening. After that, I'm done", Arthur spoke earnestly.

"I can't-" believe you, you wanted to say, because you knew it had been the same story with Mary. You knew that once an outlaw means always and outlaw. Not even Arthur's word was enough to ensure that those bonds wouldn't bind him to his old life and to the gang.

"Don’t say nothing yet", Arthur interrupted calmly. He stood up and let your hand slide off his, as he walked to his satchel. He pulled out his journal and carefully put it next to you. With no hesitation, he opened and skimmed through it. You couldn't see most of the pages because he flipped through them so quickly.

"It ain't even half-way done", Arthur assessed, showing you the empty pages, "I'll leave that here 'n collect it in a week."

"What?", you questioned, frowning, "What if I decide to read it as a bedtime story?"

"'s nothing in there that yer not allowed to know", Arthur mumbled, "Contrary. Sometimes I think I'm much better expressing my feelings on paper. I've never been a good talker."

Silently, Arthur opened a page in his journal that had a little dog-ear. The left side was empty and only had smudges of pencil on it, on the right side there was this impressively detailed bounty poster. It had the layout of the bounty posters they have hanging all over town, obviously it wasn't printed, but hand drawn. You recognized your name, your 15-dollars-worth and then yourself, staring back at you. You hadn't imagined Arthur to be one to draw people, let alone portrait style. In the brush of his pencil you recognized that he might be more professed in sketching trees and animals, but it was a perfectly decent drawing of you. Hell, it was even flattering, compared to the atrocity they had on your real poster.

Arthur put the journal away, leaving it on top of a pile of books on your nightstand.

"I jus' need t'know if this is a place I'm allowed to return to", Arthur finally asked.

"Always", you replied without hesitation, your gaze still fixed on his journal. Is he trying in tempting you to read it? Because if that's the case, it was definitely working.

"So I won't be greeted with a gun in my face?", Arthur chuckled.

You sighed, taking a brush that stood abandoned in the corner of the room and started to swipe Arthur's hair out of the house. "If you're going to bring that up one more time, I swear I'll give you a reason to fear me", you quipped.

"Oh, I already fear you a great deal", Arthur said sarcastically.

You shot him an intense gaze.

"You staying for dinner?", you asked in between the sound of bristles scratching on wood.

Arthur shrugged, mumbling: "They won't miss me for another day..."

"Good. Then go hunt something", you asserted, gently shoving him outside by brushing against his boots until he took the hint.

"Yes ma'am...", Arthur mumbled, a hint of amusement in his voice. When you had successfully shoved him outside, you closed the door behind him, not without a bit of force. It left him slightly perplexed and wondering.

You had tried your best to hold your feelings together, but it had become a little much. Since Arthur's confession, your hands hadn't stopped shaking and you hastily put the brush aside, sitting down with your back against the door. There were so many feelings inside you that all needed to be addressed, but you struggled to even detangle them.

First and foremost: You had spent months pining for Arthur, only to be rejected in a cruel way and then again wasting months in trying to get over him. Just when you thought you were getting somewhere, he comes back into your life with a request that suggests anything but care for you. So, he leaves, and appears again. Then leaves again, presumed dead or out of country and now he's here again, asking for another chance as if you even had the power to reject him. You didn't know if Arthur would be able to make you happy. In a way, you feared it might be the opposite because there was still one score...one more score. He might die, or he might stay for another score, and another, and so on.

You stifled a sob. Scenarios played out in your mind, and they all converged into two possible outcomes, ending with Arthur dead or disappeared, disappointing you yet and yet again because one can't just stop being an outlaw. The 5000 on his head won't just disappear, presumed or actually dead - it didn't matter much.

"Son of a bitch", you hissed, mad at the situation.

You just wanted to be happy and find some closure for this surge of emotions that had held you hostage for months, if not years.  

"Y/n?", Arthur's voice was so soft when he called out your name, you almost jumped in shock because you thought he had long gone hunting. But his voice came from right in front of the door.

"You okay?", he asked quietly.

"Yeah", you croaked, and it sounded anything but convincing.

"Ya sure?", he wanted you to confirm.

"I just need some time to think...", you whispered, trying hard not to sob.

"I'll stay close", you heard him state, then there were his steps leading away from the house.

For a while, you just sat on the floor. How to proceed?

By the time Arthur returned, the door to your cabin was wide open again, the sun shining inside. You had made your decision.

"I got us a rabbit", Arthur announced, "already skinned it. Figured it ain’t your kinda work."

You responded with an appreciative nod.

"It’s a real beauty”, Arthur grinned, a wisp of humour in his eyes, “or was, anyhow.  I shot it with a small arrow so I reckon the meat-“ before Arthur could put the rabbit down on the table, you had sneaked in for a hug.

"Oh", Arthur stuttered, carefully placing the rabbit down. He lifted his bloody and dirty hands in the air to make sure not to get any dirt on you. Even though you wore clothes that had seen better days and apparently had been demoted to housework, he still didn’t want to get you dirty. Despite his desire to reciprocate the hug.

"Y/n…", he chuckled apologetically, "I need to get washed up."

At that moment, you suddenly looked up to him, your faces mere inches apart. He noticed your gaze drifting between his eyes and lips, then you leaned in, placing a gentle peck on his cheek.

The blush was immediate. Your hands instinctively found their way to his face and tenderly cupped his cheeks. They were just as warm as they had been when you cut his beard.

"I'm really glad you're here", you said, a smile playing on your lips.

"Yeah, I'm-" Arthur began, but you interrupted him with a proper kiss. It was a brief one, testing the waters if Arthur would be fine with that. As you pulled back slightly to assess his reaction, he didn’t hesitate a second, closing the distance between you once more. "I really …don't wanna get ya…dirty", Arthur mumbled between kisses. He could feel the corner of your lips curving into a smile each time you interrupted him. The man struggled to keep his dirty hands in the air.

The kisses quickly became more passionate, and when your hands left his cheeks, one to rest in the hollow between his shoulder and neck, while the other one boldly explored his chest region. It occasionally shifted to grab his arm and squeezing lightly.

Arthur mumbled your name warningly, twice. Then he couldn't help but put his hand in the small of your back, pushing you closer. His bloody hands would surely leave a mark on your clothes, but neither of you cared about that, as his hands became just as active as yours, sometimes cupping your cheek, at other times allowing himself to explore your body a little.

Arthur had just enough control to not place you on the rabbit, when he lifted you up on the table. When both of you became short of breath, Arthur rested his forehead against yours. Your legs had snaked around his, caging him in.

"Haven't done that in a long time", Arthur's voice was raspy as he tried to apologize for the somewhat sloppy make-out session.

"Me neither", you giggled and placed a final kiss on his cheek, "brushed your hair for nothing", you noted, looking up to Arthur's tousled hair. Your fault.

Arthur backed away a little, as much as your legs allowed him: "Christ." He had left signific signs of blood and dirt all over you.

"Mhh…", you hummed amusedly, "Ain't my fault you can't keep your hands to yourself."

"T'way I see it, darling…", Arthur smiled and tried to brush some dirt off your cheek with his thumb, "it's precisely your fault."

Arthur had headed to a keg outside to get cleaned. You decided to get cleaned up only after butchering the rabbit, as this would get your hands dirty again anyways. As the meat sizzled in the in the pan, you decided it was time to wash up as well. While you put the finishing touches on the dish, Arthur sat at the table, leisurely smoking a cigarette and observing you. He had asked if he could help you with anything, but you had declined, insisting that he had already done his part by hunting the rabbit. It was your turn prepare it.

When you plated the meal, it was really nothing too complicated, and yet, Arthur thought, for a free meal, it was perfect. You initiated a conversation; it was more light-hearted than the one you had when you cut his hair. The weightier themes seemed to have lifted from Arthur’s heart, and both of you sought distractions.

You told Arthur more about how you passed your days, gardening, drawing, riding into town. Really most of the money you earned the honest way, cutting hair and doing the odd delivery job for the grocery store.

It was frightening how easy it was to talk to Arthur. Two or three years ago, you would have never imagined, talking so freely to him. Though he'd always been kind, there was an air of unapproachability that had since crumbled completely after the heartfelt conversation you both shared.

The conversation where Arthur poured out his frustrations and regrets concerning Hosea's and Lenny's death, had brought a sense of liberation. It dawned on him how long it had been since he spoke so openly with anyone. Arthur leaned back into his chair. In front of him was his empty plate, opposite of the table, you sat within arm’s reach, chatting about an interesting traveller that came past your cabin a few months back. Arthur listened attentively, his eyes following the movements of your fingers skilfully rolling a cigarette.

Neither of you ran out of stories to tell the other. Arthur talked about people he had met on his travels, a clumsy photographer, a man obsessed with fast horses and racing.

You only realised how long you had been talking when the light in the cabin became sparse, the sun sinking closer to the horizon.

As the visibility waned, limited to the faint glow emitted by the burning tip of the cigarette, you finally rose to your feet to illuminate the cabin with the warm light of lanterns.

"I'll get my bedroll", Arthur announced, standing up with a grunt. He hadn't allowed himself to be this idle in a long time. All he had done today was sitting still for a haircut, killing one rabbit and then indulging in a lavish meal while engaging in easy conversation. His body had finally caught up with the stress of the last few weeks and he didn't know how to feel about how much his body ached. Despite the sun barely disappearing, Arthur would have been ready for bed. Funny, he thought, admitting one’s feeling for a girl could drain his strength that much.

At his announcement, Arthur noticed that you halted and were about to open your mouth as if to suggest something. But you didn't and let him venture outside.

When he took longer than anticipated, you followed him outside, only to find him leaning against the fence, his eyes in the sky. The sky was in this beautiful transition phase, going from hues of purple to a serene shade of blue with the first stars emerging in the east. You observed Arthur’s profile for a while, he didn't protest or showed any signs of being disturbed by your presence.

He was handsome. Something about his stature made you want to lean into him. But you didn't. Instead, you stood there, finding it hard to peel your eyes off him. Your lips quivered under the urge to say what you had thought earlier. After a big breath, you tried to say as casually as you managed: "I know my bed is too small for two people...but I was thinking if I put the mattress on the floor we could-"

"Y/N", Arthur interrupted you gently. He turned to look at you. Caringly, his hand found your shoulder, "It ain't right just yet."

Lying next to each other, cuddling, hugging, maybe stealing another kiss, you craved it badly. You finally had what you had desired for so long, you wanted it all at once. But Arthur knew that it would be unwise. He thought a lot about you, hell he did. And in his mind, he'd be too embarrassed to admit it of course, you had done way more than just kissed. But he knew it'd be wrong. He didn't want to fully commit just yet, and he didn't want to get your hopes up. It was genuine, when he said that the train robbery was the last score he wanted to do with the gang, but one train robbery is enough to get killed and he wouldn't dream about giving you this kind of pain. If he held it vague, if there was no sleeping close to each other, there was also no missing this proximity...if. Always if.

"Fine", you sucked in a little air, "but you take the bed then."

The two of you headed inside, Arthur with his bedroll clamped under his arm.

He shook his head: "It's your house, I can't jus'-"

"Exactly. It's my house, I can sleep in the bed every damn day. Besides, I don't figure you had a proper bed on Guarma, did you?", you teased.

"No, but-"

"Neither do you have one in camp so please- accept it", you looked up at Arthur rather desperately.

"Fine. You don't come complainin' to me if yer back hurts tomorrow", Arthur quipped.

"Oh, I'll definitely complain", you grinned. Arthur gave you his bedroll to spread in the corner where he had slept the last time. Arthur had sat down on the bed and watched you quietly as you readied your sleeping corner. When you glanced back at him, it was evident how weary he was, his eyes barely open, sitting up only out of politeness.

"You don't have to stay awake for me", you smiled, leaning against the table and studying the exhausted man. You noticed how tired he had become during your conversation. He had at least supressed three yawns.

"I jus'...haven't seen ya for so long, I don't want to waste that time with sleeping", Arthur explained. You found it cute he thought that way.

"You're not wasting anything", 'because we'll see each other again in a week, right?' you added in your mind. "I have this book I want to finish anyways, you just rest", you assured him.

You waited until he had settled in, exchanging a couple laughs about how unstable your bedframe was, and then you did the dishes. It didn't take you long, but Arthur was asleep when you had finished. He was turned towards the wall. On the nightstand was his journal. He had put it on top of the book you were currently reading. You took the book and settled on the bedroll.

You woke up to the sound of the bed creaking and blinked at Arthur, the first rays of the sun casting a warm glow on his frame. At some point during the night, he must have woken up and shed his clothes, as he now rested in the room clad only in his unionsuit.

"'m sorry, darlin'. I didn't want to wake ya", he apologized his raspy morning voice.

"It's okay", you yawned, forcing yourself to throw off your blanket to stand up, "I'll make some coffee."

In a couple big steps, Arthur was at your side: "You sleep some more, it's my turn for breakfast." Arthur squatted next to you and tugged you in before you could protest. You forced your tired eyes to stay on his face and not venture further down, pondering what the thin material might reveal.

When Arthur shot you a content smile, seeing you were up for no protest, a wave of panic washed over you.

"You won't just leave, right?", all of a sudden, you were wide awake.

"I won't", Arthur assured you.

"'cause if you do-", you started, a yawn interrupting your threat. Arthur chuckled at how cute and innocent you looked, happy that your yawn cut off before you could destroy that innocence with another gory threat.

"I'm way too scared of what you'd do", and then, to your surprise, he kissed your forehead. You only relaxed when Arthur had stood up again and indeed started to set up coffee. You were soon off to sleep again, only woken when the sizzling of fat in the pan woke you.

Arthur had made eggs. You ate in silence. A couple of times, Arthur tried to start a conversation, but you weren’t in the mood. He’d be gone in a couple of hours and you’d be left wondering if he’d ever return. Arthur knew that this was what was plaguing you, but he didn’t find the right angle to approach you.

You both did the dishes together, you helped Arthur by saddling his horse and then he had mounted it, looking down at you.

“Ya ain’t so happy about the prospect of me returning in a week, ‘s that it?”, Arthur joked.

“No”, you answered dryly, “I ain’t so happy about you leaving for a week.”

Arthur sighed and steered his horse closer to the fence: “Climb up here, I gotta tell ya something.”

Rather unwillingly, you climbed on one of the horizontal planks that kept your fence together. Arthur offered his hand for support and as an excuse to pull you a little closer. He kissed you, gently, on your lips.

“I promised I’ll be back, didn’t I?”, Arthur mumbled. He wasn’t convinced, and neither were you when you whispered a dire “Yeah..”

You didn’t like the good-bye kiss. In fact, you wished he hadn’t done that. It hurt even more, seeing him disappear between the trees in the distance. For a while, you stood there helplessly, wondering what to do next. Minutes passed before you ventured into your cabin, distracting yourself with some cleaning before your eyes fell on Arthur’s journal. You noticed a piece of paper sticking out. Without thinking, you opened the journal and the loose paper floated to the ground. You didn’t even bother picking it up, your eyes caught the first word written on top of the page. It was your name, written in Arthur’s familiar handwriting.

“Hell no”, you kicked the paper under the bed before you could read any further. You weren’t up for some heartfelt “Good-bye, in case I die I want you to know this”-letter. Frustration and anger bubbled within you as you scrambled into your good jeans and crammed your revolver into its back pocket. With a swift motion, you picked up your hunting rifle, mounted your horse and started to follow Arthur’s track.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x--x-x-x-x-x-x-x

next chapter: here

Shoutout to @little-honeypie who basically wrote the confession scene. I wouldn't have ever finished this if it weren't for them <3

taglist: @photo1030

taglist for this series: @pinkiemme @loveheartarthur @twola @shiokitsune @missredemption @kakashiislut @thewalkingdead1463 @yyiikes @renwai @walk-in-sunshine @rdrlady @ivybeeloved @trinswhimsys @reddedmiller @chiefqueefsosa @sauvignon-velvet @mrsarthurmorgan @readingcoco @pookiesnatcher @gloomdoomraccoon

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead redemption community #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr #rdr fanfiction

[creedslove]

WHO KNEW? 💍💔 - PART TWO

No outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

"You took my hand, you showed me how

You promised me you'd be around (...)

I took your words and I believed in everything you said to me (...)

If someone said three years from now, you'd be long gone, I'd stand up and punch them out, 'cause they're all wrong

I know better, 'cause you said forever, and ever, who knew?"

Summary: even against your wishes, your bond with the Millers straightens and a series of events causes you and Joel to get closer, enough to spike the fear of falling again for him

• This is the second part of Who Knew? 💍💔 Which was also inspired by this amazing HEADCANON request

Warnings: angst, broken hearts, mentions of divorce, mentions of infidelity, fluff, age gap (Joel is four to five years older than reader and the time skip is 12 to 14 years (Sarah's age) but feel free to imagine whatever you want), house breaking, protective Joel, sexual tension

A/N: so besties, I've been obsessed with this idea, and I hope you enjoy it as well! I mean, I've been writing a little more than 1k words a day, there were some parts I thought were good and some were not so good, as a final result, I don't know, I really hope you all enjoy it my lovelies! It's so hard to resist Joel, isn't it?

10.4k words

If someone told you one day, after a decade of being divorced from Joel due to the huge heartbreak he put you through, your bond with the Millers would straighten once more, you would stand up and punch them out. It was so ridiculously absurd to think you would become closer to the man who chewed you up and spat you out and even if he had indeed changed and was a better person, wasn't enough to make you forget what happened. Yes, you had forgiven him, but not forgotten what went on between the two of you, and even if a part of you desperately begged you to stay away and never talk to Joel again, destiny was pretty ironic at its doings and made you and his daughter, Sarah, become friends. You didn't mean to, and you were sure that if it were up to him, he wouldn't have said yes either, but you never knew she was his daughter and he never knew his daughter's friend was… well, you.

After he did some working at your home, he had asked you out, which you actually considered, but then dismissed the idea completely, there was no way you would put yourself through that again, even if he was even more handsome than when he was young, even if he did make your heart race and pound like you were some inexperienced teenager and even if late at night before falling asleep you closed your eyes and replayed in your mind the last kiss you cherished. Even if you focused hard enough and could still feel his warmth, the heavy grip of his hand on your waist, the way his beard that now was sprinkled with grays here and there scratched your skin and how Joel Miller still had the best kiss you'd ever tried. For a moment it had felt so right, even if it was wrong, and a hidden part of you, the part that just maybe didn't despise Joel that much often allowed you to wonder what would actually happen if you had given him a chance to take you out, would it have been really that bad? You would've gone somewhere to drink or grab something to eat, hang out, perhaps even dance and of course you would end up in Joel's bed, hardly any woman would pass up this opportunity. For a moment you wish it could've been that way, but unfortunately, you and Joel were done. After you turned him down you still shared a last kiss and then you both went back to your own lives, the only thing that connected the two of you in the past was the failed marriage you had just as the only thing that connected the two of you in the present was Sarah.

She was the loveliest girl you'd ever met in your life, so smart and sweet, always kind to everyone, responsible and even if you had had problems with her dad, you couldn't help but feel sorry for her and the fact her own mother didn't want to be around; it sounded crazy to you that woman could give up her chance of being the mother of a wonderful little girl like Sarah, even if Joel had killed any kind of desire of getting involved with someone to the point of building up a family. Not to mention Joel himself, he was a handsome, hard-working man, and he had been a good husband before Angela ruined your life. You knew she wasn't the only one to blame, Joel was a real dick, but now you certainly had two reasons to hate her: the fact she ruined your marriage and that she abandoned her daughter.

After Joel took over the renovations in your home, Sarah continued coming over and even if you felt sort of guilty from keeping the truth from her, you also knew it wasn't your place to tell her, if anything, you and Joel needed to do it together. You couldn't ruin the perfect image she had of her dad, because he was a great father to her and no one could deny that. Overall, you really enjoyed her presence; it wasn't uncommon for her to tag along during lunch time or spend the afternoon reading on your couch. Sometimes you wondered if she didn't have enough friends to hang out with, after all, Joel was busy throughout the day and any teen would take the opportunity of freedom to do whatever shit they wanted with them without having to give their parents the time of the day, but that didn't make any sense, not with Sarah being a sociable girl like she was, so when the realization that she sort of envisioned you as a motherly figure at some level, you felt quite shocked. If life hadn't pulled some unfunny tricks along your way, she could've easily been yours and Joel's daughter. You tried to shake it off and pretend she didn't see you that way, but looking back at your interactions it was undeniable; Sarah opened up to you about things she certainly didn't with Joel, from the pain of periods, to problems with girl friends and boys. It was amusing until Sarah began questioning you about it, asking you about your love life, past relationships and why you were single. You felt bad about not telling her the whole truth, but it was a complicated situation. Especially when she came up with the idea she really considered it to be genius

"Why don't you date my dad?!"

She asked you one lazy afternoon, making you choke softly at the water you were drinking, looking at her shocked and speechless for a while, her sweet smile was impossible to make you get mad at her, and above all it was a genuine question, she wasn't just messing with you.

"What?! My dad looks good, he works hard and he would make you very happy!" She cheered innocently, which caused your heart to sink.

"No… I wouldn't date your dad, he's incompatible… I mean, we are incompatible, I'm sure we wouldn't get along"

"Why?! Is it because you have more money than us? Dad does say you are way out of his league"

And you were shocked and speechless once more. Joel had talked about you to Sarah? And he had told her you were out of his league? This information should have made you scoff and roll your eyes, and not make your cheeks heat up while you blushed.

"No Sarah, Jesus no! It's got nothing to do with money or anything… I mean, your dad works hard and he should earn more than he does, because he is very dedicated and well, an honest working man like Joel can be worth a lot more than a rich guy, trust me" you sighed as she stared at you intently "but the thing is… I've been married once, I was too young, it was disastrous, it didn't work obviously, I got hurt and well… your dad sort of reminds me of him, my ex-husband I mean… It's hard to explain, but no, I wouldn't date your father"

You hated that you lied to her, well, half lies at least, but you wished you could be honest, Sarah was an important part of your life and it would be a lot easier if you three would come clean about everything that happened; on the other hand, you couldn't even imagine the mess you would make in her poor little head, as it was pretty messy and fucked up for you as well whenever you stopped to think you were friends with your ex-husband's daughter, the one he had with the woman he cheated on you with and that simply walked out and abandoned him. It even sounded made up, so you offered her just the piece of information you could. Sarah reached out to you, taking your hand in hers and caressing your knuckles, she gave you a sympathetic look and nodded

"I'm so sorry… I can't even imagine how you must feel, he didn't deserve you anyway, you can be sure you are way better than him, and well, I am just glad dad isn't like that, he's a nice guy, he would never do such a thing to anyone. I just feel like he deserved more too, you know? That woman… my mom, even if she shouldn't be called that, just broke his heart and disappeared. Uncle Tommy told me she never really wanted to have me in the first place and if it weren't for dad, you know…" She looked down trying to hide the thick sadness that fogged her face and it was your turn to reach to her, taking her hand, but seeing it wasn't enough as you got up and walked to Sarah, giving her a hug.

"I don't know, I just wish dad would find a nice girl like yourself and then he could be happy, I mean, we all could…"

•••

Joel groaned at how annoying his brother really was, he didn't get why Tommy would always pry into his fucking business instead of handling his own life, Joel was a grown man and he didn't need anyone trying to set him up with women or just inviting him out out of pity. He could take care of himself; he didn't need to meet women or be in a relationship, he was fine the way he was, his life was already way too hectic the way it was, whenever he felt lonely he could just pick up some woman at a bar and get laid and then go back to his everyday routine. And yet both Tommy and Sarah kept on getting on his nerves, always suggesting him to one girl or another or trying to drag him on double dates. When Sarah had casually told him to ask you out, completely oblivious to the fact he had already done it and you shut him out, Joel was at a loss of words, he tried playing cool but he couldn't deny the mess his feelings had become. He wasn't sure how to suppress them, not after that one kiss. That must've meant something, you wouldn't just give him a speech of how uninterested you were and how you two would never work out again and then kiss him like that, you probably still had feelings for him, if not feelings, at least desire, and as much as he would love to act on it, he didn't want to force things up, to he pushy and make you uncomfortable. He'd hurt you too many times to learn that if you'd asked him to stay away, he should stay away. Not only that, Tommy was completely onboard with everything you had said, to him, the fact Joel was crushing on his ex-wife more than a decade after breaking her heart was a clear sign of madness. He figured Joel still had feelings for you, even if Tommy wasn't one to settle down, he couldn't understand how his brother went from madly in love with his pretty young wife to a terrible husband and finally the asshole who dumped her for another woman. He knew that the passion Joel felt for Angela was strong, but even more than just a burning passion, lay that undying love he'd felt for you, and he was sure it wouldn't simply go away, which didn't necessarily mean that Joel surrendering to that love was a smart move. Quite the opposite, it was probably the dumbest thing Tommy had ever heard in his entire life. How could Joel even keep any hopes of getting with you again?! It hadn't worked, too many people got hurt and all he wanted was that his brother could actually see that, so he simply discouraged Joel from getting anywhere near you, as if it wasn't bad enough Sarah had been dragged accidentally into this story, he didn't want his brother suffering around. So he set his brother up on a date, something that Joel hated with passion but since he was feeling particularly hopeless that night he ended up accepting it.

He was usually very against being set up on blind dates, but Joel had created a depressing ritual of always going out and grabbing a drink whenever he came across the date that would've marked his wedding anniversary with you. Joel often heard men were forgetful and didn't remember important dates, but he had never been like that, always keeping the important dates fresh in his mind was something common, ever since he was a child, especially when they brought him strong emotions, such as the ones he shared with you. He thought it was a little stupid at first, but he found out that it helped him cope with the guilt and the doubts that always clouded up his mind. He would sit at a bar and wonder where you could be, how your life would have been like and if you ever thought of him. It sort of became his thing, but this year, for the first time, he knew the exact answers to his questions, and it was so odd, he decided to take Tommy's suggestions to go out with a friend of his brother's girlfriend, he didn't really care nor paid attention, he just exchanged numbers with her, showered and got dressed after work and headed for the restaurant.

And just as he had predicted, it had been another disastrous date. Not that the girl wasn't pretty, she was, but she was just exhausting; her conversation was tiring, her subjects were boring and overall, she just wasn't you. Joel didn't understand why he was having it so bad for you, he knew he shouldn't, he should forget about it all and focus on something else, but as much as he tried not to think of you, more he thought of you. It was maddening. He couldn't help himself but compare the two of you: you were prettier, smarter, funnier, you dressed and smelled better than that random stranger he saw himself being forced to have dinner with. And he wished with all his heart you could be on that date with him; if only you gave him just one chance to show you he was a better man, he would never hurt you like he did before, give you a chance to redeem himself and make you happy exactly the way you deserved it, he would be the happiest man in the world. Life wasn't gonna make things easier for him, and deep down, he knew he didn't even deserve it in the first place, so he tried once more paying attention to his date, which didn't last very long and the moment he saw the opportunity to leave, he grabbed it like a life preserver in the middle of the ocean and headed to a bar - alone, and only after paying for the check, after all, Joel Miller was still a gentleman.

Your wedding anniversary had always been a tricky date for you; there were years you went completely unaffected by it and years you felt like dying. For the first time, however, you were closer to Joel than you'd always been in the years before, and because of that, you decided you deserved better than just stay home and have some bland dinner by yourself, you would go out and perhaps meet other people… And your plan went really smoothly for a while; you got to a nice bar, dressed nicely, dragging some male attention towards you and even got paid a drink by a handsome stranger who waved from afar. It felt like a promising night, until Joel Miller walked in and looked for a table, and he looked devilish handsome as he did so. You bit your lips feeling the alcohol rushing towards one direction at the same time you censored yourself: no matter how lonely and needy you were feeling nor how handsome he was, you couldn't simply feel the hots for him. As if he'd just read your mind, Joel turned around, his eyes falling right on you, his gaze softened up and you saw him running his tongue through his lips, deciding whether or not to walk towards you.

Of course he did it.

The moment he approached, Joel noticed the sadness in your eyes and he was sure you were the for the exact same reason he was, and it was just another motive to get closer to you; taking the chair next to you, he asked the bartender for a drink and as soon as he had it in hands, he stared at you.

"Happy wedding anniversary, darling" he tilted his glass against yours, as you just nodded and took a long sip.

"Happy wedding anniversary, handsome" you replied in a mockery tone using the old nickname you used for him. Handsome was a word that really described him, your Joel. He had always been a handsome man, but how well time treated him was impressive to say the least. He looked so good, he was bigger, broad and stronger. His dark hair had become a little grayer, just like a few patches all over his beard, and that suited him like a damn velvet glove. The way his shirt hung tight around his shoulders and down his arms, eyes lingering on him for way too long, as a warmth spread through your cheek and Joel chuckled

"Funny how you still blush when I'm around… Exactly like old times" he grinned and took another sip of his drink, which was enough to break you free from the spell you were under.

"What are you doing here? I thought I'd made myself pretty clear, Joel" you sighed and stared down into your glass.

"I'm doing the same as you are, darling… I'm thinking about all the bad decisions I made in life. You have been pretty clear, I ain't going to bother you, but I just missed you… it's so weird to see Sarah getting home everyday so excited over you, talking about how nice and awesome you are and I have to pretend not to know about it"

"Yeah? And you think it's easy for me to spend the whole afternoon listening to her talking about what an amazing dad you are? How you are awesome but very unlucky to have had your heartbroken by her mom?" You raised your eyebrow and chuckled

"She really say that?" Joel's expression showed a slight shock "she said I was an amazing dad?!"

You tilted your head at his surprise and bit your lips, perhaps it was just the drinks you had that softened you up a little, but when you saw it, you placed your hand on his arm and shook your head

"Yeah? Why are you so surprised? You are an amazing dad, Joel… that girl loves you more than anything in the world, she idolizes you, of course, she thinks you work too much and that you could both spend some more time together, but other than that, it's clear you are a great father. I was very surprised when we met again, to see your change, I never really thought you would become a better person, not after what happened, but it's nice to see Sarah changed that" you smiled softly at him, and that just melted Joel's rough heart, he immediately took your hand before you could move it away and caressed your knuckles softly, his gaze still making you pathetically shy, as he pursed his lips and you remembered how good they've always felt on your own and also all over your body.

"You know she also sees you as a mother figure, right?!"

"Yeah, I was reluctant to admit it at first, but she does… I guess she needed that, you know? A woman she could talk to about girl stuff, things she cannot talk to her dad or her uncle Tommy" you smiled "I really like Sarah and I'm very glad you allow us to be friends, I understand it is a really odd situation for you, as it is for me, but I like her a lot… you know, if things had been different, she could've been my daughter… our daughter" you sighed "things could've been different Joel… you know what made so hard for me to forgive you? It's not exactly you falling for Angela, of course, rejection hurts a lot, but sometimes it happens, sometimes you fall for someone you shouldn't have, but what still breaks my heart is that you lied to me, you played with me instead of coming clean. You just kept me around even if you didn't want me anymore, so just you would have a comfortable option in case it didn't work with her, and that was what made me feel worse… it made me feel unworthy, because you could still have been considerate of me and just break things up before it all happened" you shrugged

"Darling, I-" he squeezed your hand tighter but you pulled it away

"I'm not trying to make you upset or anything, all I am saying is that things could have been different between us, they should have been at least, if not staying married, having a child and building a family together, then at least having your honesty…"

"What can I do so you forgive me?" Joel asked, his voice breaking a little as he tried to hide the emotion growing at any minute.

"I've already forgiven you Joel, I already told you that… but I can't forget what happened, it will always haunt me" you sighed "too many things happened and as much as I had loved you, I think I would never be able to trust you"

"Please, I have changed, it kills me to know I've hurt you so much, I wish I could go back in time and undo everything that I did.. please, darling" Joel begged you with those brown soft eyes, his hand cupping your cheek in a warm caress and even if you closed your eyes and leaned into his touch for a while, you knew you couldn't let yourself fall into his touch, because if you did, there would be no turning back.

"If Angela returned today, Joel… imagine if she came back and tried claiming you and Sarah, would you still care about me? Because I don't see this happening, Joel. Honestly, what I think is that you want me because you feel bad about what happened and because you couldn't have who you really wanted…"

His expression was indecipherable and for a second you thought he would say something, but all he did was pull you closer, gluing your lips together in an urgent kiss, you could've fought it, but you didn't; instead, you kissed him back, taking your hands into his curls and tugging at them more and more each time Joel pulled you even closer.

Only when the two of you broke the kiss, he looked into your eyes, his thumb stroking your bottom lip gently

"There isn't anyone I want but you, I never stopped loving you, darling… even when Angela was around, she couldn't compare to you" his words shattered your heart, as much as you wanted to believe that, you still couldn't. You grabbed his hand and sighed

"Don't do this again, Joel, please. You've ruined too many things for me already…" you got up and said goodbye "we can't, you know it"

"What have I ruined for you, darling? Tell me and I'll fix it, please"

You chuckled sad and shrugged

"Joel, you even ruined Queen for me'

You walked away from him, leaving him there with his drink and his thoughts, a puzzled look out of confusion in his face trying to figure out exactly what the hell you meant by that. Just as he saw you disappear out of the door, he realized what meant as he paid attention to the lyrics of the song playing in background:

"Love of my life, you hurt me

You've broken my heart

And now you leave me

Love of my life, can't you see (...)"

And even if Joel wanted to be rational and convince himself he'd lost you for good, his heart still insisted on wanting what he couldn't have.

•••

Your car parked in Joel's driveway was the last thing he expected to see that night, after working excruciatingly and failing his promise of getting home earlier to have dinner with his daughter. He knew Sarah was probably waiting, disappointed but also used to it, full of having some sandwich or any other snack she could find. He cursed himself for getting so caught up at work, he didn't mean to, but he had done it again, after all, he had to attend an important meeting with a possible new client and then he would need to wait for the arrival of a bunch of materials that had been delayed for weeks, and even if he knew his daughter was safe with you, he still felt upset to have not given her the attention she needed. However, you had never been to his house before, that was something that you established from the very beginning and when he kissed you at the bar a couple of weeks ago, Joel was certain that was the end of seeing you, occasionally or not. He was sure you'd never shut Sarah out, you liked her for real, and she reciprocated the feelings; besides, you were a decent enough human being who knew you didn't have to mix things up. So, the fact you were indeed at his home, was concerning to him, who parked and immediately left, getting inside wanting to see what was going on. The moment the door opened in one hard swing, you got off the couch and walked to your ex-husband

“Hey Joel” you said, a little shy, suddenly, the fact you were standing in the middle of his home uninvited made you extremely embarrassed, as it felt you were somehow intruding on his intimacy. Since the divorce Joel had moved into a new house, bigger and cozier, a nice backyard with a decent swimming pool was something that drew your attention; you smiled at yourself, knowing how much Joel loved swimming, so it made your heart warm to see he had accomplished something that seemed quite small, but it meant a lot to you.

At first, when you saw the house, you couldn't help but be invaded by a furious jealousy of the possibility Joel had built that house for her, Angela, instead of you. Luckily, Sarah clarified he only started to build it when she was a toddler and that Tommy helped him, and that's why he often crashed there. You chuckled to yourself, that was typical of Tommy, but overall you felt proud of Joel and everything he achieved, you knew he had potential and it was great that he actually worked on it.

“Where's Sarah?!” He asked with worry and called her name once more, louder this time, frowning as you shushed him.

“I'm sorry I'm here, but she had a fever felt sick, I wanted to call you but she asked me not to an-” you were cut off by Joel simply climbing up the stairs and heading straight to Sarah's room, he felt a mix of guilt and worry weighing in his heart at the fact his baby daughter was sick and he couldn't be there for her. He barged into her room, normally, that would be enough to startle her, but instead, he found her peacefully asleep, clung tight to her pillow, dressed in her regular PJs. He touched her forehead wanting to check her temperature, but luckily her skin wasn't warm anymore. He looked at the door and found you there, arms folded and looking like you wanted to say something else, and then he just realized how rude he'd actually been to you by simply walking away and letting you talk to a brick wall. He placed a gentle kiss on his daughter's forehead and closed the door behind him.

“I'm sorry darling, I was worried and you should've called me…”

“It's okay, Joel… as I was saying, I wanted to call you, but Sarah asked me not to, she said you were having an important meeting and you would be home soon, anyway” you licked your lips as you realized he was extremely late and probably feeling so guilty about it all.

“You know, she was at my place and she was feeling a little down, at first I thought she was just upset because she wasn't invited to Melissa's party an-”

“That girl is a bitch” Joel said angrily and in such a defensive way that it was both cute he was so protective of his daughter at the same time it sounded hilarious to see him cursing another teenage girl. However, you had to agree with him, Melissa was indeed a bitch.

“Yeah, I know right?! Anyway, I noticed Sarah was burning up with fever and since she didn't want me to call you, I decided to bring her home and stay with her. So I asked her to take a cool shower, gave her some tylenol and made her some chicken soup with the things I found in your kitchen…” you both went downstairs and stopped in his living room. You tried not paying attention to how good your ex-husband looked after his long hour shift; his sweaty shirt so tight against his broad chest, his messy hair and that stressed attitude that would always melt away with a very intense orgasm.

“You made soup?!” Joel frowned a little shocked and interrupted your drifting thoughts.

“Y-yeah, why? Did I do bad?”

“No” Joel smiled softly and shook his head “not at all, it's just that… I haven't had your food in so long and you've always been a good cook, that's all” the nostalgia he felt was so big and it also warmed your heart, nodding at him “well, I made some more in case you wanted to have dinner too, it's in the kitchen, you can help yourself if you'd like…” you offered him and grabbed your purse “can you call me tomorrow and let me know if Sarah is better?”

Joel grabbed your arm gently and shook his head

“Don't go, not yet… just have dinner with me, talk to me for a while, I promise I won't try to kiss you or anything. Just keep me company, it's rare to have people over, it's usually Sarah and I and usually Tommy, but when they are out, it's just me” he looked at you with a sad expression, and you understood perfectly: loneliness.

Coming back home to an empty bed at night. Not having anyone to rely on, to hold, to give you support and affection, to make love. So you nodded and smiled at him, sitting down with him at the table and grabbed yourself a plate, giggling at how hungry he really was, eating as if he hadn't seen food in months. He raised his eyes at you and stopped chewing, blushing as you wouldn't stop staring.

“You know, you and Sarah have the same sad puppy eyes when you are sick?!” Joel raised his eyebrow at you and you laughed softly “same red teary eyes, sniffing as someone takes care of you, it's actually adorable”

“You think I'm adorable?!”

“Adorable isn't exactly what you are Joel…” you said letting your eyes wandering all over him and having your ex-husband to smirk at you

“Yeah? You think I'm attractive?”

“You know you are attractive, Joel, now shut up and eat” you frowned softly and had dinner with him; it was a pleasant moment, spending some time together, without any talks about the divorce or the past, just two old acquaintances who perhaps had some kind of feelings for each other and shared a meal together. There weren't accusations, apologies or tears, just mundane, regular conversations and laughter. It was nice to have that moment with Joel, as you both progressed in a conversation about your lives and how things had changed over the years, truly catching up instead of arguing. When the subjected revolved around Sarah again, your ex-husband couldn't contain his curiosity anymore:

“You never wanted kids, darling?”

You looked down at your empty plate, a glimmer of sadness crossing your eyes as you shook your head and stared at him

“Not after you, Joel… I used to want a kid, before, when we were together, but not anymore. I feel it's too late for me now, even if I'm still young, it just feels impossible, you know?”

Joel's hand rested on top of yours, he caressed it very gently and looked at you. He sighed knowing exactly what you meant, knowing you actually meant having a baby together and of course he blew it once more. He couldn't even describe the remorse he felt, even if you had spent the past half an hour having a rare moment of bliss tougher, he knew he would never be able to erase what had happened between the two of you. He wished he had a chance to do so, but deep inside, even if he did, he knew the damage had been done.

“It's alright, Joel…” you said shyly and got up as you picked the plates and piled them in the sink, he immediately walked to you,

“Let me handle the dishes, it's the least I can do, you know… after you took care of my daughter and cooked for us. I'm sure Sarah loved it, we aren't used to having homemade food” he chuckled as you nodded

“Yeah, I figured, that's why I decided to make something else…” you said as you walked to the oven and opened it, showing Joel the freshly baked batch of chocolate chips cookies. He widened his eyes like a child and smiled big.

“This is your favorite, I figured it was Sarah's as well” you said sweetly and got the tray out of the oven, although you mumbled something a couple of times, Joel hadn't replied to you, as he kept washing the plates without interruption. You didn't get why he ignored your question, it made no sense; just a few minutes ago you were both having a nice, sweet time together and suddenly he wasn't going to say anything? That was odd. You placed the cookies on the balcony and called him again, to which you got no reply so you just shook his arm a little calling him again.

He turned around and watched you

“What is it?” He asked with a sweet smile, making you even more confused

“I called you a couple of times and you didn't say anything… is everything alright with you?” And at that question his face fell and it was impossible for Joel to hide his sadness. He licked his lips and nodded

“Yeah… it's just that… I'm kinda deaf in my right ear” he blushed and looked down in shame “I had a work accident some years ago and something blew up when I stood too close to it and well…” he shrugged and you felt your heart sink. Your poor Joel, always such a hardworking man, despite everything between you both, you never wanted him to be that injured. It saddened you to see how ashamed he seemed of it, even if he had no reason to be ashamed of it at all, and suddenly it made all sense to you why he was always subtly tilting his head to the left or standing towards that direction when he talked to you.

“I can hear it just fine, got used to it by now, but if you mumble something on my right it's kinda hard to me” the simple and even innocent way he said that made you so sympathetic of him, but it was way more than just that. It made you want to hold him, to assure him it was fine and he was still nothing but perfect no matter what had happened.

“Oh Joel…” you whispered and held his head in both of your hands, gently, your fingers brushing against his thick beard as you got closer and rested your forehead against his “I'm so sorry honey” you whispered again and closed your eyes. He was determined to respect you and not get handsy with you, but the moment he saw you pulling him closer, he couldn't help doing the same; gripping your waist with large hands, just like he used to, exactly where they fit so well, he brought your bodies close together.

“Don't go, please… stay” he whispered back, his lips were almost on yours, everything felt so right at that moment even if it was wrong. You hated how it felt like playing with fire: it seemed beautiful and appealing but you would get burned no matter what.

“I'm sorry, you know I can't” you said, moving your lips just an inch further and connecting with his, earning a hungry kiss.

For someone who desperately wanted to keep away from their ex-husband, you were certainly doing a shitty job. He needed you as much as you needed him, you both wanted each other, but you broke the kiss. It couldn't happen, your relationship was as complicated as it was and you didn't want to deal with that responsibility later. His heavy breathing lingered on your skin, at the same time he placed a soft peck on your neck, knowing all your sweet spots, that devilish man Joel Miller was.

“You know you can call me, right? Anything you need, anything at all, just call me and I'll come running to you, darling, don't forget that” he whispered into your ear and more than a seducing invitation, it was a plea, from a hopelessly man in love who didn't know what to do to prove his worth.

•••

Joel's offer to call him whenever you needed was so tempting, because you didn't actually need to call him, but you wanted to. It made no sense, you were the one who wanted to keep your distance from him, but due to the latest events you found yourself wanting to see Joel each time more, just the thought of his presence brought you an excitement you tried not reading too much into it; you didn't want to admit you were crushing on your ex-husband, but then, how could you call the fact your heart raced when you saw him? How you blushed and felt sparkles whenever you touched him briefly - accidentally or not? It was tricky, it was a mess but it seemed Joel made you lose that filter that always kept you emotionally distant from everyone. After learning Sarah was alright, you felt relieved for her, and when she stopped by your home and thanked you for taking care of her, you felt that familiar warmth in your heart. It seemed the more your rational part fought for you to stay away, that you had been severely hurt by Joel and you couldn't afford giving him a chance to do the same for the second time, but your irrational side? The one driven by your feelings and desires?! That one only made you dive deeper into the Millers household. Your feelings for Sarah just grew, you were attached to her and she was attached to you, she found in you the female influence it lacked for years and she represented something you never had but wished you could. And her dad was something else… ever since that evening you spent together, having dinner, chatting and enjoying each other's company, Joel had told you you could call him anytime for any reason. It didn't matter if you wanted to talk, hang out or have him fix something at your place, he was at your will.

And then you weren't certain if your faucet was really leaking, or if your door was actually warped or if all of that had to do with the fact you were looking for an excuse to call Joel and see him. You didn't want to hire him and you didn't want to discuss feelings, talk about the past or hear all sorts of apologies, you wanted to have a nice, pleasant moment with him, just like you had the last time. It felt so familiar and yet so new; it was about the two of you being acquaintances but at the same time meeting each other, your older, more mature versions finally getting together and hitting off. That was the kind of interaction you wanted from Joel.

You just didn't know exactly how to initiate it, not without giving him any kind of hope or leading him into it.

So you decided to focus on work, like you'd been doing for over a decade. You liked your job, it was stressful as any other job in the world and the money was great. However, you had got so comfortable and used to working from home, the days you were forced to actually go to the office felt excruciating, but it was part of the deal and you had to do it. So you got up, got ready - not without texting Sarah to let her know you wouldn't be home that day - and went to do your business. It was also when you noticed something was wrong. You didn't know the car that was parked across the street, it was a little odd, as you got used to all your neighbors and it was such a calm neighborhood you simply noticed when there was someone from outside. Still, you shrugged and got into your own car, driving to work.

On your way back, all you wanted was a cool shower and some relaxing hours scattered on the couch, but you tensed up a bit when you spotted the same car you did in the morning still there. It had nothing indicating trouble, and yet, you had a gut feeling telling you it simply wasn't right, however, there was nothing you could really do about it. You thought of calling Joel, but you didn't want to risk sounding paranoid and overall crazy. What could you tell him?! That there was a car parked across the street?!

You groaned when you checked your email and saw you would have to attend a meeting at work in person the next day. You were so sure you'd solved everything up, so why would you have to go? It was probably one of those meetings that could be just a work email and it annoyed you to no end, but still, you had no other option other than attending so the next morning you were there, getting ready when you spotted the same car. You had no idea if it had spent the whole night there or if it had gotten there before you woke up, nonetheless, you were taken by the same feeling you did the day before, no matter if they were irrational or not, it was just overwhelming. After another day at work, you returned home and sighed relieved to see the car wasn't there. Maybe it had been just a paranoid episode, perhaps you were just reading too much into things and all the stress from work combined with your situation with Joel made you lose your grip on reality a little bit.

The fact was that after doing your regular house things, you decided to take a relaxing bath and sink yourself into your tub. Selecting the perfect bath bomb and adjusting the temperature, you got inside, groaning at how the warm water made your tense muscles relax and you could feel the knots undoing themselves; as you closed your eyes and relaxed, there was nothing clouding up your mind but Joel.

His handsome face, his smile, his curly graying hair. He was your Joel, but older, mode handsome, if that was even a thing, because Joel was definitely the most handsome man you'd ever met. You couldn't help yourself but picture him wrapping his strong arms around your body, perhaps a relaxing bath with Joel would feel so good, you wouldn't be able to to turn it down. Just to imagine his naked body holding yours was enough to spike so many things all over you. You didn't know if you'd ended up dozing off in the tub, but it was hard to say if any time had passed or not the moment you heard some noises around your house. You couldn't remember if you'd forgotten your TV on or something like that, you were sure you hadn't turned on the radio, but it was enough to feel goosebumps all over your skin. You left the tub, drying yourself as quick as possible and wrapping a bathrobe around your body, exiting the room as silently as you could, hearing whispering and steps all over the lower floor. You went to your room and looked outside the window, your heart racing the moment you spotted the same car you'd seen before. You didn't know what to do, you could feel the suffocating wave of anxiety taking over completely. You could hear their voices, because apparently there was more than one guy. They were robbing your home, but what would happen if they reached you? You immediately locked your bedroom door, so relieved to see your phone was thrown onto the bed. Grabbing it, you dialed the number you'd never forgotten.

•••

“Come on, darling, open up” Joel's voice was the first thing you registered after you made the call, hugged yourself against a corner of your room and closed your eyes. You had heard footsteps climbing the stairs and how the thieves banged on your door, but you remained as quiet as you could. Just praying someone would show up to save you. You'd called Joel and he called the cops on his way over, he had dropped everything he was doing when he heard the raw fear in your voice. It was horrible you had your home broken into, but it made it even worse to think of what two criminals could do with such a beautiful woman like yourself. So he grabbed Tommy and they both rushed towards your place. Arriving there almost at the same time as the cops did, finding your front door busted open and a lot of valuable things such as your TV and your laptop gone. He had a baseball bat in hands, ready to attack whoever threatened your physical integrity and when he got questioning looks from the cop, he cleared his throat and explained he was your ex-husband - and friend.

“Is that really you, Joel?” You asked in a little more than a whisper, so glad to know he was there. You walked to the door and unlocked it, seeing Joel's worried eyes scanning you to make sure you were unharmed. Only then, you realized you hadn't gotten dressed, still wrapped in your bathrobe, but it didn't matter, all you could think of was looking for shelter into his strong, safe arms, sinking your face into his chest at the same time Joel caressed your back up and down, his lips planted a kiss on top of your head and another one on your forehead, wanting to soothe you and show you how safe you were from now on. He was there for you, it wouldn't absolve him from what he'd done in the past, but that didn't even matter to you or Joel, the important thing was that he was there, he came as fast as he could only for you and he would do it a thousand times more if necessary; you both knew that.

“I got you, baby girl, I got you” Joel cooed at you, tightening the hug around your body and keeping you closer. And you had missed that embrace, you just belonged in it, and you never wanted to let go.

Joel held you through the whole process of talking to the cops, informing them about the strange car that was seen around your home and also listing every item they stole: your TV, an iPad, your laptop and your car. Even if you were safe among them, you couldn't help but feel that nervous, anxious feeling at the very possibility of being alone at home once more. Nothing happened in the end, but it could have happened, and though it sucked to have been robbed of so much valuable stuff, you weren't harmed, and that was what mattered the most to you and above all, Joel.

As the cops talked to Joel and assured they'd get in touch if any of it was found, he walked them to the door and turned back to you, finding you all shy and scared, hugging yourself and looking at him with sad eyes. You didn't want to be alone and you didn't want to have to ask him for company, you didn't want to sound whiny or pathetic, especially not after it was just a break-in without any physical damage.

“Come on, pack your bags and I'll take you home with me” Joel's voice broke the silence and made you stare at him surprised “it can be for a few days, but if you aren't comfortable with that, then let me take you at least for the night, I ain't leaving you alone. Sarah's out at her friends in a slumber party or something, you can take her bed, or mine and I'll sleep on the couch, it doesn't matter, just come…” he extended his hand to you, which you gladly took it, and made his way upstairs, waiting patiently as you grabbed a backpack and shoved a few clothes and accessories you would need. You couldn't even describe how you felt at Joel's kindness. You were so comforted, so glad to see you weren't alone and that he was willing to take care and protect you. It didn't take very long to get your backpack ready, wrapping your arms around his neck in another tight hug, thanking him for being so gentle and earning only reassuring and affectionate words.

Once you got to the truck, you were welcomed by a whiff of his familiar scent, it smelled like Joel, your Joel and your heart warmed. He glanced at you while he drove, still seeing the tension all over you and his hand rested on your knee “you must be hungry…”

“I am” you said, a little anxious and watched as he turned the wheel and changed streets. Even before getting to the address, you already knew where Joel was taking you: your favorite Taco place. You chuckled as you remembered that was your favorite date spot when you were painfully young; when life seemed so promising and Joel Miller was the man who made you stutter and sweat through your hands. Whenever he glanced towards you, your cheeks would heat up and you would feel like bursting into flames. And after you both got married, when things were still good, that was the place where he would stop by eventually, pick up some takeout and take home, as a way of spoiling and thanking you for taking care of him. As he parked, he smiled and cleared his throat.

“You know, this is our spot, I never brought any girl here, with the exception of Sarah, of course, but much to my disappointment, she isn't really into tacos, which makes it exclusively our thing” he winked at you and you nodded, a small, petty side of you felt thankful for the confirmation of Angela never been there with Joel. It was just a taco shop and yet, it was still one thing that it was so yours and Joel's and she hadn't ruined it with her touch. You felt even hungrier at that moment, relaxing to know you could have a peaceful dinner with your good memories and the man who somehow still managed to make you blush, stammer a little and sweat through your hands.

As you both munched on the food sitting down in the back of his truck, just like you did every Friday night more than a decade ago, you chuckled at how things change but somehow remain the same. He tilted his head to the side, wiping a little bit of sauce you had over your cheek, exactly like when you both were younger.

“I know this probably tastes like shit, compared to the food you've had over the years when you traveled all over the world, you know Sarah told me all about it because she really admires you an-”

You took his hand and squeezed it, then placed your hand on his chin making him look into your eyes.

“Joel… this is the best taco I've ever had, the most delicious takeout I've ever tried because you are here with me..” she whispered and smiled, seeing how his face lit up. Neither of you said it, but you were finally having that date he asked you out several months ago, when destiny decided to put the two of you together. As he saw you shivering in the cold wind, he did the honorable thing and took off his jacket, placing it over your shoulder and rubbing both of your arms. You thanked him and looked all over his truck

“We spent quite a while in here…” you shrugged “and to think I lost my virginity here… you've always been a real gentleman” you scoffed and rolled your eyes. Joel laughed and sighed

“Yeah, well, I've come along nicely, give me a chance and I'll show you” he winked, flirting a little as you shook your head in disbelief.

“Are you serious?! Fuck off, Joel Miller! No guy will ever fuck me in the back of a truck, and especially not you!” You slapped his arm playfully, hugging it and resting your chin on his shoulder, feeling the wind against your face and looking up at him.

“Joel? Can you do us both a favor?” He nodded at you wanting to hear whatever question you had to ask him “please don't let Sarah marry the first asshole she falls in love with”

“I'm on it” he replied, laughing softly and pulling you closer. Closer than you'd ever been to him, he just wished that night wouldn't end too soon.

•••

Lying in Sarah's bed was odd, to say the least; especially when Joel's room was just there, a hallway distant from you. After the moment - better saying, the moments you both had shared in the past few days and even more so that night, you felt things would escalate to another level, a level in which it didn't matter to you if it was right or wrong, It was just bound to happen. But once you got to his home, he showed you his daughter's room, the bathroom, and asked if you needed anything else and simply let you be. Which was what you wanted, it was what you had asked him to do the last time you'd shared a kiss, but at the same time you felt disappointed because you wanted more of him, more of your Joel. The sweet moments you'd spent together were weighing so heavily in your heart, and even if you hadn't forgotten about what happened, the new proximity brought a new light in your relationship with Joel; it felt nice and different, a good different and as much as you closed your eyes and tried falling asleep, you were simply taken back to the moment he held you, soothed you, caressed your skin and assured you everything was alright. Tossing and turning in bed while you wished you were somewhere else instead, anywhere really, as long as he was just next to you. At first, when the gentle strumming from the guitar got to your ears, you imagined you had dozed off for a few minutes, perhaps you had even started to dream, but when your eyes were wide open and the beautiful, familiar sound wouldn't cease, you knew that only meant one thing: Joel was playing the guitar.

It couldn't come from his bedroom, the sound was too far to be coming from there, so you knew you would have to get up and explore. Suddenly, you felt a wave of excitement. Not only did you love watching Joel play the guitar, but now you had a pretty decent and reasonable excuse to go after him. You didn't want to make things weird and be that kind of person to leave the other confused, with your dubious signs, but you were just following your heart at that moment.

You tiptoed through his house, doing your best to move in the dark, as you didn't want to startle Joel or make him think you wanted the music to stop. And then your heart skipped a beat when you looked through the window and saw him playing the guitar on his porch. The cold wind that bothered you when you both were out eating tacos seemed to have stopped, and just then you realized it was indeed warm inside the house. He was so relaxed, strumming his guitar and humming a song softly, you've always loved his singing voice, even if he was a little shy about it, you could sit down and watch him play and sing for hours. You opened the door quietly and rested against the doorframe, admiring it quietly the way he looked focused at his guitar. He played calmly and it was the most beautiful sight you could ever think of. You wouldn't be able to tell exactly how long you stood there, but when Joel looked up at you, you were already walking towards him.

“That was beautiful, Joel…”

“Just like you are, darlin'”

You both knew exactly what you wanted at that moment, how you took another step closer, one after the other and you suddenly were hovering over him. Joel placed his guitar down, he wasn't going to be able to hold himself back, not at that moment. In one single motion, he pulled you to him by the hips, a tight grasp around your body and kissing you deeply. You straddled Joel, your hands making their familiar way towards his curls, loving how they always felt under your touch. Unlike the other times you'd kissed, you knew you would both go all the way down, you wanted it, craved it and even if you knew what to do and where to touch, it also felt new, you were both were the same young couple who'd been so in love, newly married and full of hopes and dreams, but you were also a couple who'd lived separately for more than a decade, you had both experienced heartbreaks, passions, you'd tried and touched other people, but eventually, just like home, it you were drawn to each other. There was no way out. When you were shamelessly humping and groaning on top of him, Joel knew it was time to take things inside, to hell with his neighbors, he didn't care if any of them witnessed it, if anything, he wanted people to see what a lucky bastard he was to have you in his arms, that he was going to take you and make you his at least once more. So he got up, lifting you up easily, so easily, and took you inside, climbing stairs with you in his arms, he longed for you, he was hungry for your body, your taste, your touch. He needed you and Joel Miller was about to take it all. He placed you over his mattress and got rid of his shirt - his dark blue one, that looked so good on him - and let your hands wander his body. He didn't take long to undress you, nibbling your thighs in the process, he knew your body like the palm of his hand, with the exception the last time he'd visited it, his palm wasn't as calloused as it was now, just as you weren't so painfully hot as you were at that moment. You'd always been gorgeous, but at that moment, naked in his bed, it was the most beautiful and erotic thing he'd ever seen and yet he wanted it to make it forever. As he got inside of you, he didn't know how long it would last, how long you both would last, you were being way nicer and more compassionate than he would ever deserve it, but at the same time, something within said you shared the same feelings for each other.

Once you both reached your bliss, love bites, kissings, caresses and so much affection between you both, you relaxed into his arms, your head resting comfortably in his chest, and you felt at home. You still didn't know what the next day would bring you both. Perhaps you would stay together, or you would part ways for good, there was still so much to be done, to spoken, you would have to handle the fact and the consequences of not using protection with Joel, maybe that was a good reason to worry about , or not, you didn't want to think of it, just as you didn't want to think of how you both could ever explain to Sarah what happened, or how Joel would explain Tommy and you would explain your family how you got together, maybe even one day Angela could return, you'd learned the hard way life wasn't a bed of roses and you feared that if you agreed to be happy with Joel once more you would get hurt, one way or another, but all that wasn't important, not at that moment. All it mattered was you and your Joel in bed, snuggled up and worrying about nothing but each other. He nuzzled your neck, making you giggle and in return you pecked his lips once more. He wanted to say those three little words, but decided not to, not yet, instead, he wanted to show you it, now he'd had a taste of you, and he vowed himself to make you happy for the rest of his life.

He knew he had broken your heart, it was the worst thing Joel Miller had ever done, but he was going to win you back, because he wasn't going to give up happiness with you, not again.

____

A/N: besties, how did I do? Did you like it? I hope you did! I honestly had planned on writing a sad ending, I was going to make reader move on from Joel once for all, but then, is it even possible to get over him? It's impossible not to fall for him and give him a second chance. A third part is possible but I have no idea when, and feedback is always welcome my lovelies ❤️💕

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal one shot #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #tlou joel miller #tlou fanfiction #tlou hbo #tlou au

[uneditedidiot]

gold rush - jamie tartt x reader

jamie tartt x gn!reader

summary: reader is the head physical therapist for AFC Richmond and ever since Jamie returned to the team and has proven himself a better man, you can’t help but harbor feelings for the pro footballer. Takes place during s3ep11. Based off these specific lyrics from the song ‘gold rush’ by Taylor Swift.

word count: 2.9k

Warnings: language - it’s jamie tartt, of course there’s language; declarations of undying love and a first kiss. :)

A/N: I used to write imagines back in like 2012 about One Direction so at least this is somewhat of a step up for me. But my first tumblr imagine so hopefully it’s not complete trash lol.

Part Two: this love is ours

But I don’t like a gold rush, gold rush

I don’t like anticipating my face in a red flush

I don’t like that anyone would die to feel your touch

Everybody wants you

Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you

You were kidding yourself. 

Jamie Tartt, the star of the team, the integral cog in Richmond’s new Total Football machine, the absolute adorable human – that’s who you were in love with? It was almost laughable. If you had told yourself two years ago that Jamie Tartt would be the object of your affection, you wouldn’t have believed a word of it. He had changed. He had changed immensely.

It was…embarrassing in a way. You weren’t embarrassed of him, but more of how you reacted when he was around. And fortunately (or quite unfortunately), he was around quite a bit. As the head physical therapist for the team, you saw most of the players quite often for some reason or another.

Of course, you had no problem interacting with others for their physical care. Sam Obisanya had somehow garnered an elbow injury from playing football as a kid and it had decided to continue to bother him throughout his adulthood. He’d usually stop everyday just to chat, if not work through some stretches for his arm. Jan Maas had a tendency to go down too hard on his left knee when running, so you saw him at least twice a week to lead him through some exercises. Dani Rojas, the sweet sweet man he was, would stop by your office every single morning just to say hello and to make sure his arch support inserts in his boots were fitting right. Colin and Isaac both seemed to suffer from the same achilles tendon strains but on opposite legs. You had no problem assessing their physical needs. You went on with your day like nothing happened.

But Jamie…he was a different story. Just making eye contact when he walked into your office made your cheeks go warm. And having to move his ankle around when you were assessing range of movement? Your entire face and neck would go pink. And that smile…that smile had you giggling and kicking your feet for the rest of the afternoon. 

The sass was another issue entirely. Boy, did that man have a MOUTH on him.

When you’d first started at Richmond with Ted and Beard, who’d brought you with them from the States, Jamie was an asswipe. Sometimes he’d barely acknowledge your presence when coming to get treatment. Other times he’d just sit in silence, his eyes following your every movement. At least twice he’d come in for medical help and he’d tried flirting with you. Back then, you’d had no interest in him at all.

It was when he returned that it was clear something in him had changed. You’d observed his new restraint he showed at training and on the field during matches. He was considerate of his teammates, passing them the ball more frequently and encouraging them on and off the field. Keeley had even said she hadn’t seen him with a new girl on his arm for a long while.

But ever since his return, he’d become more and more friendly with you. You’d grown to trust him completely. He was a true friend. Not only that, but the banter you two had was unmatched.

“Do you like the new tat?” he’d asked one day as you wrapped his ankle.

“What is it supposed to be?” you’d chuckled.

He looked almost offended. “It’s a rocketship.”

You’d stood, wrap in hand, attempting to hold back a laugh. 

He sighed. “Alright, go ahead. Tell me what you really think.”

“Jamie…it…it looks like…like a dick.”

“It does not look like a dick!”

“Yes it really does.”

“You’ve got vision problems.”

“No I don’t. You’ve got some issues if you think that’s a rocketship.”

“Well so do you if you think it looks like a fuckin’ dick!”

You finally let out the laughter you’d been holding in. You had scurried to the door, thrown it open, and yelled out. “Jamie Tartt had his own dick tattooed to his forearm!”

He’d immediately jumped off the medical table and wrapped his arms around you, attempting to pull you away from the open door. You’d held on to the frame, still laughing and yelling as he did so.

“Jamie has a dick tattoo! Jamie has a dick tattoo!”

He was laughing the whole time, screaming, “no I haven’t!” over you, trying to drown out your yells.

You’d found yourself falling. His eyes would gleam and twinkle in this way that was almost comforting. You’d have done anything to see the light in his eyes again after he’d left your office. It was almost intoxicating, but in a way that felt like home. And while your real home in the States was far away, the closer you’d grown to Jamie, the less you missed it.

It was terrifying. You knew what it would mean if you said something to him; or even admitted it to yourself, frankly. 

Jamie was a very well-known figure in the UK. He was a top footballer on a premier team that was making a huge comeback that season. He’d been on a popular reality dating television show (which, sure, he made an ass of himself on but it’s in the past) which had spread his name and face across screens that may not have tuned into the matches before. It obviously didn’t help that he was, in your opinion, one of the handsomest men you’d ever seen. 

And others clearly agreed with you. The amount of thirst tweets you’d seen online about him was quite overwhelming. So many people wanted to be the one for Jamie. To hold him, love him, do things to him that you’d never heard of before reading that tweet. They found his tendency to be a prick on the field very hot. And he kept it up, that’s for sure.

Not only that, he was splashed all over the tabloid headlines when Lust Conquers All was airing. Since then, he was a frequent face on front pages of any and all gossip websites. If you were official with him, the amount of hate you’d get, grainy and unflattering pictures online, and generally mean tweets from people who found Jamie hot would be like a tsunami and you weren’t sure how you’d feel about that. Granted, he’d actually have to agree to go out with you first and that seemed so impossible…

Despite his public persona, you knew his heart. And what a wonderful heart it was. He was kind, thoughtful, and empathetic. He was considerate and made sure to take care of others before himself. He was a firework in a dim sky.

And you hated him. You hated him for making you want to be with him. Everything he did sent a shock of love and loathing down every single vertebrae in your spine. It almost hurt.

It wasn’t until the team’s fated match against Manchester City in Manchester did you see a problem. And that problem was himself. Clearly he was not himself. The thought of his father showing up at the match was weighing heavily on his mind. His self-esteem was at an all-time low and the thought of facing his old team and their incredibly intense fanbase didn’t help, either.

You’d sat next to Roy with Keely on his other side during the showing of You’ve Got Mail. You could see just from Jamie’s body language that he wasn’t himself. 

You’d sighed as Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan confessed their undying love to each other on the big projection screen. Everyone around you had shed at least one tear, including Roy, but something in you felt numb to it. You had been too busy focusing on the rigid back-of-the-head of Jamie in the front row.

You’d watched in dismay as Jamie snuck out of the room, his hood pulled up over his head. You, Roy, and Keely had followed him all the way to mom’s house. You’d sat and had a delicious cookie made by Simon, his stepfather, and then toured his old childhood bedroom.

You sat on the small twin-sized bed, taking in everything around you. Jamie was the same now as he was as a kid – living and breathing football. The posters on the wall were mainly of famous footballers, including Roy, who had cursed at the sight of his old Chelsea portrait. Even Keeley had gasped when she saw the picture of herself topless with two footballs in front of her chest next to it.

Roy and Keeley flopped down next to you on the bed. They chatted for a moment as you stared off into space.

Everything you had been harboring for Jamie – every single emotion – seemed to hit you all at once. The situation at hand forced it all to the surface.

You loved Jamie Tartt.

It brought tears to your eyes. You sniffled, quickly wiping a hand to your cheek.

“What’s wrong, babes?” Keeley asked worriedly, putting a hand on your shoulder.

You shook your head. Like she’d believe that for a second.

“Come on, out with it,” Roy demanded. “You’ve been almost as fucking miserable as Jamie this past week.”

You inhaled sharply, winding your fingers together awkwardly. Your voice was soft, trembling. “I’m in love with Jamie.”

Keeley smiled at you, then shared a knowing look with Roy.

“We know,” she replied gently.

Your eyes widened, meeting her gaze. “You do?”

“Halle-fucking-lujah,” sighed Roy. “Finally.”

“What do you mean, ‘finally?’” you retorted.

“It’s not like it’s been a fucking secret,” Roy grunted. “It’s clear you love the little prick.”

“He doesn’t…he doesn’t love me back, does he?” It was almost like you had dared yourself to even ask. What if he didn’t? What kind of hurt would that be?

You had expected Keeley to hug you sympathetically or even sigh, but instead…she giggled. “Not to break my promise or anything.” She shrugged. “Yeah. Yeah, he loves you, too.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “Okay, don’t be mean. You don’t need to make things up just to keep me from feeling rejected, Keeley.”

“She wouldn’t tell you that if it wasn’t fucking true,” said Roy. “And I know we came here for Jamie to speak with his mum, but you’d hate yourself if you didn’t fucking say something to him.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Now?”

“Now.”

Keeley agreed. “Yep, I think it’s gotta be tonight, babes. It’s perfect timing. His mum will help him feel better and you both admitting you’re in love?” She squealed and jumped up. “It’s gotta be now!”

“But he’s my best friend,” you replied quietly. “I don’t want it to ruin things.”

“It won’t ruin anything,” Roy shook his head. “If it’s meant to be…it’s fucking meant to be. Not that it’s any of my business.”

“He’s had a crush since he got back to Richmond,” Keeley added. “I know it will work out. Trust us. He’s become a new person and he’s the exact right person for you. You’re perfect for each other. I’m going to be that friend and pressure you to do this.”

You stood, if not somewhat shakily, and nodded. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

“You got this!” Keeley called after you as you exited Jamie’s childhood bedroom. 

You made your way down the small hallway and the narrow staircase, the air lingering with the scent of fresh baked goods as you descended. You could hear hushed voices coming from the living room. You tried to take soft steps as you approached the door.

“I don’t know, Mum. The best thing to ever happen to me?”

“It sounds like you’re in love.”

“But I’m scared.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you listened.

“Love isn’t supposed to be a walk in the park, Jamie. It can be scary. To put yourself out there on the line. To be vulnerable. To risk getting your heart ripped out and thrown in the rubbish.”

“I’m risking my best friend.”

“But will you regret it if you don’t?”

There was a beat of silence.

“I would die unhappy if I couldn’t tell them how I feel.”

Your feet moved before your brain could catch up. And then you saw him from right inside the doorway. His eyes. The gleaming. The twinkling. The feeling of comfortability. Of home.

He stood without taking his eyes off yours. There was a slight smile playing around his mouth. His hands went into their usual position, clasped and pulling on the bottom hem of his sweatshirt. 

Georgie also stood, but she grinned and quickly moved out of the room, saying to her son on the way out, “it’s worth it, love.”

All you could do in the moment was stand there, cheeks going pink under his gaze. 

“Erm…did you see me old bedroom?” he said sheepishly, breaking eye contact for a moment.

The start of this conversation somehow seemed to bring you back to the realm of the living. You chuckled. “Yes, I was a massive fan of the old Roy Kent poster you had up. And you know, all the small pictures of butts with thongs and such.”

It was his turn to go red. “Yeah, well, what can I say? Teenage boy hormones.”

“I don’t think it’s just teenage boy hormones, Jamie. That’s just you liking butts.”

You both shared another laugh before it went quiet again.

Now was your chance. Keeley and Roy had said Jamie was at least interested in you, so you needed to say something.

“Um…so, I…I was, uh, talking to Keeley and Roy upstairs,” you began, taking a couple steps toward him.

“Is that what you were doing? Talking? I’d have thought you might be having a threesome.”

You laughed again as he smirked proudly at his comment. But his smile faltered as you seemed to go back to a state of self-conscious anxiety. Jamie’s heartbeat sped up. Usually you would’ve come back with another witty comment.

“What were ya talkin’ about?” he wondered seriously.

“I was just telling them about this…guy I’m interested in.”

The warmth in Jamie’s eyes slowly seemed to be dying like embers of a fire slowly burning down.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. And I was telling them a little about him.”

Jamie nodded, eyes cast down at the floor. He feigned interest. “And what’s he like, then?”

You remembered what Georgie had just told Jamie moments before. Love is scary, but it’s worth the risk.

You took another step closer to him, feeling more confident now. “He’s really sweet. He’s considerate and thoughtful and is willing to learn and grow.” 

Jamie nodded again, still half-heartedly listening.

“And he’s funny and makes the best jokes. He can laugh at himself and how dumb he used to be. Although I’d laugh at myself too if I were that much of a prick once. Even turned a whole plan around at Amsterdam once, the idiot.”

His eyes were now back on yours, mouth slightly open in disbelief. The grin seemed to spread over his lips as you continued talking.

“And he’s generous and willing to take care of others despite his own needs. He puts on quite the show at his job though. Oh my god, he can be a bit of a show off, but he’s actively working on it. He always seems to get this like weird ankle injury every once in a while, too. And don’t get me started on his dumb ass tattoos. There’s this one that he says is a rocketship but I SWEAR it’s a penis and –”

“I love you.” 

Your words are put on halt by the admittance that Jamie has just put out into the world forever.

He repeated himself with confidence. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Your declaration comes not a second after he’s spoken. And everything seems to spill out at once. “For months now. I’ve tried to hold it in, but I can’t any longer. You make me nervous, Jamie Tartt. You make me blush just by walking into the fucking room. I couldn’t stand touching you because it made my stupid fingers turn red. Your smile alone could light a thousand candles at once. Your laugh could be a grammy-award winning song. Everybody wants you, but you…you are my everything.”

All he says is your name. And then he closes the gap between you two.

His hands go to your waist, his lips find yours. Your arms wind around his neck, hands finding the base of his hairline, weaving your fingers through the strands. There is no space left between your bodies.

Your mouths move in sync, slowly and softly, with a passion you’d never experienced before.

His hand moves from your waist to cup your cheek, turning his head slightly to deepen the kiss. His other hand grasps the fabric of your t-shirt, clinging to you incessantly.

When you pull away for a second, he whispers your name in a way that sends starlight cascading through your very bones. 

“Jamie,” you whisper, “you’re my best friend and I love you and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

He smiles. “I think your timing is perfect. Just like you.”

You move to press your lips to his again when Simon calls out from the kitchen.

“Anybody want pie?”

Georgie makes a reappearance in the doorway. She shrieks in delight. “See, love? I told you! What did I tell you?”

She wrestles you away from Jamie and gives you the biggest and tightest hug of your life.

“Mum, you’re gonna squish ‘em!” Jamie protests good-naturedly, pulling back on your shoulder. He slings an arm around your waist, keeping you close.

You knew Jamie would be okay at tomorrow’s match even if his dad did show up. 

You loved each other. And that was all he needed.

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[snzleclerc]

pizza date ! 🍕

*translated italian!!

The last few days haven't been easy, dealing with the end of a 3-year relationship is something no one wants to go through. And what's the best way to cope with that? Pizza.

I make my way to "La ricetta di Giovanni," a calm and tranquil pizzeria in the beautiful city of Positano, and from a distance, I can smell the delightful aroma of tomato sauce.

Upon entering the establishment, which is composed of bricks painted in a brown hue, dim yellow lights, small plants scattered around, tables with classic red and white tablecloths, ambient music, I feel a huge sense of peace and joy. Some people, mostly couples, are scattered around the tables engaged in long conversations, and the sound of cutlery on plates fills the air.

"Buona notte, bellissima! Qual è il piano per la serata?" ("Good evening, beautiful! What's the plan for tonight?") the voice of Martina, the best bartender in town, reaches my ears.

"Come sta Tina? Come al solito! E un bicchiere di vino, per favore!" ("How's Tina? The usual! And a glass of wine, please!") I reply, heading towards a table in the somewhat empty corner of the restaurant, with a beautiful view of the quiet streets.

The view is lovely and all, but what I can't help but notice the most is the beauty of the man sitting in front of me, a few tables away. My myopia doesn't help, but I notice his tousled brown hair and handsome face.

He seems to be in the same situation as me, alone and waiting for his order, and I wished he really was alone. Without a girlfriend.

Noticing more and more, his light gray shirt with a few buttons emphasizes his muscles which are crossed on his chest, he looks like a god.

I could analyze him all night long, until he slowly turns his head towards me, realizing my fixed gaze on him. I try to look away, but he smiles and shows his dimples, making me blush deeply.

God bless Filippo, the waiter who arrives with my wine and glass just in time before the man would see me redder than the wine itself.

I thank him and see that the man calls him to his table, I try to look curiously, but unfortunately, the waiter ends up blocking my view.

I pick up the wine and pour it into the beautiful glass I drink from, exchanging a few more glances with the man, now that Filippo has left.

A few moments later, the one who had just left returns with a new glass of wine and places it on my table, without saying anything. I try to understand what was happening, until I see a figure approaching me, wearing the same clothes I noticed before.

And when I least expect it, the handsome man is in front of me.

"Posso unirmi a voi?" ("Can I join you?") He asks me politely. "Sì, certo che sì" ("Yes, of course") I reply nervously, but with a smile on my face, adjusting my green dress.

He pulls the chair in front of me gently and sits down, resting his elbows on the table and analyzing me with a smile, making me smile back.

"Posso sapere il nome di questa bella signora seduta di fronte a me?" ("Can I know the name of this beautiful lady sitting in front of me?") His voice is like music to my ears. I notice his round glasses that perfectly match his face. "Giorgia. And yours, my dear?" I reply.

"Charles." He says and I let out a slight laugh through my nose. "What's wrong?" He asks with a little smile on his face. Oh, those dimples. "Charles..." I stop and think for a moment. "Sounds like a spoiled name." I add and we laugh in sync.

"But do I look spoiled?" He analyzes me more and I only see perfection. Green eyes, a beard grown but not long, the smell of expensive perfume...

"A little bit, but I'm not sure about your character." I stare into his deep eyes, the ones that could drive me crazy in a few seconds.

"Well, you can find out now." He says leaning in more over the table. "What brings you here?"

"I live here." I say looking around. "I recently ended a relationship, I needed to clear my head."

"Then I think it's important for us to get to know each other more tonight, huh?" Charles tells me with a smile, well... provocative. And I do nothing but the same.

Let's see what happens.

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