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roses-for-rosalyn · 2 months

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Cowboys

Ellie x reader (for now)

Part 2

summary: A stranger comes to your door- it turns out it's not one of your usual encounters cw: guns, cowboy lingo, fem! reader, cowboy crossdresser Ellie, eventual smut, blood, injuries, your average confusing lesbianism, eventual smut, no use of y/n wc: 3.6k

for those who prefer ao3 <3 gotchu minors DNI (I will steal all you pillowcases)

LINKS TO HELP PALESTINE l DAILY CLICK

Nothing could beat the beauty of the sunset in the desert. Purples, blues, oranges, and yellows swirled together to paint a new masterpiece every night. And every night you would sit on your small, wooden porch with a cup of tea and watch as the sun slowly sinks into the horizon. Tonight was no exception.

The sky becomes darker and darker until the moon and the stars come out, bathing the desert in a silver light. You struggle with the stubborn, old front door for a moment before you step into your little ranch house.

A chill runs through you as the temperature outside rapidly declines. You kneel in front of the fireplace and use the little kindling you have for a fire. It was enough to keep you warm for a few hours while you read yourself to sleep. Sometimes you felt lucky that it was a small enough house that the small fire would warm up the whole place. Your bed was just a few paces away from the mantle.

You stand up and dust off your hands before starting to undress for bed. As you begin to unbutton your bodice a knock sounds from the front door.

You scramble for your rifle by your bedside and check to make sure it’s loaded. You peek through one of your front windows to catch a glimpse of the mysterious stranger. At this hour and on the edge of town, your visitors weren’t usually friendly.

It seems a cowboy has paid you a visit this evening. Haven’t seen one of those in a damn long time. A gun is proudly holstered on his hip next to a lasso, and his black large-brimmed hat keeps his face dark enough that you can’t quite make it out.

He knocks again, louder. You creep up to the front door and slowly open it. Before he can process who opened the door you aim your rifle right at his chest.

“Hands up.” You demand, your voice is surprisingly steady.

“Woah there, I just stopped to ask for some directions.” A deep, yet feminine voice replies. It sounds like she was all too sure you weren’t going to be using that weapon on her, she didn’t even bother to move. You cock the gun, trying like hell to keep your expression blank, unphased while your entire body fills with adrenaline. She takes a step back and puts her hands up. Her hat still covers her face in shadow, it’s like confronting a ghost.

“You should have stopped somewhere else.” You take a step towards her, closing the door behind you while keeping your vision trained on the woman.

“You’re much different than the other women I’ve run into out here.” She looks up slightly, the moonlight illuminating pink, slightly chapped lips forming a smug smirk. “Where’s your husband, miss?”

“I swear if you don’t get back on your goddamn horse I’ll put a hole right through your chest.” she steps towards you, the muzzle of the gun pokes right under her collarbone.

She finally looks at you, silver light exposes a sharp, feminine face dotted with freckles darkened by days in the sun. The sight of her face catches you off guard for just enough time, allowing her to grab the barrel of the rifle and pull it right out of your hands. She drops the gun and it clatters loudly to the ground, echoing through the empty desert landscape. She grabs your wrists before you can start fighting back and pins them above your head against the door with one hand.

“There,” she grunts as you struggle against her grip, she’s surprisingly strong, “now we can have a conversation.”

“Go to Hell.” You say, seething with rage and frustration because she was able to overpower you so easily. She shakes her head and laughs for a moment, saying something under her breath like all this trouble.

You were just about to spit in her face when she said, “Where’s the nearest hotel darlin’?” Your eyes widen at the innocent question, slightly embarrassed. This was a first, she really just needed directions. She uses your stunned silence to talk some more, “I’ve been savin’ up so I could have a bed for the night. And I could really really use a bed tonight, miss.” You stop struggling against her grip and she lets go. She still has that stupid smirk on her face. “So if you could point me in the right direction it would be much appreciated.”

“Head southwest, you’ll hit a trail that will lead you right into town.” You dust off your dress and straighten it out.

“Much appreciated, darlin’.” She tips her hat and walks off toward her horse. You watch in shock as she mounts her horse and before riding away she says just loud enough, “I’ll be seein’ you.” And with a nod, she was off.

You slowly bend down to pick up the Winchester, cradling it against your chest as you watch the stranger disappear into the night. As you head inside you wonder if you ever will see that strange woman again, and fall asleep debating whether or not you would want to.

** **

The next morning you head to the school house. The steady feeling and sound of your horse trotting along the dirt path always forced your mind to wander elsewhere. Right now you couldn’t stop thinking about the woman from last night. The schoolhouse was right in the middle of town, would you see her again? Would she even recognize you? If she did, would she even try to talk to you?

The interaction was a bit embarrassing for you, but to be fair you had your fair share of vile men looking for trouble and hostile groups of Apache knocking on your front door. Your father had taught you how to use his Winchester rifle, the very same rifle you use now, and you mentally thanked him for it every night. You had only used it to kill one man, he wouldn’t take no for an answer and you gave him plenty of warnings. He didn’t believe your threats so now he was buried about 500 feet from the house in an unmarked grave, you were sure no one would miss a man like that. Most of the time the Apache would just come to ask questions about men passing through the area, they never tried to attack you, thankfully, but they would always come at the most ungodly hours and were quite impatient.

Last night was a first, you had never had a cowboy knock at your door, and then she ended up being a woman. The idea of her was so intriguing and you couldn’t figure out why. For some reason, she shook you more than anyone else had since you lived out here. And you’d seen quite a lot.

Your thoughts are interrupted as you reach town, the sound of rickety carriages, hooves against the packed dirt road, and the chatter of men in front of the Sheriff’s Office make it hard to focus.

“Hello there, sunshine!” you hear a male voice call out. You turn towards the voice to see Jesse making his way past you on horseback, lugging today's newspapers to the apothecary. He made the trip from Sante Fe every morning. He was nice enough, you liked talking to him, but not as much as you felt like you should. The ladies at the apothecary, Dina, and Maria, would always encourage you to talk to him. They desperately wanted you to move on from your husband. He was long gone and you knew that, you were even thankful for it, which is why you were nervous to start again. You didn’t want to have to go through anything like that again.

You wave back and smile, “Hi there, Jesse.” You decide to be polite, “Hear anything good today?” He tightens the reins of his horse and stops right next to you.

“They struck gold in Elizabethtown, and there’s gonna be a shortage of tobacco ‘round these parts within the week because of a dust storm over in Tennessee.”

“Well, I’m sure they’ll have a panic on their hands pretty soon then. I don’t know a man here who can live without their cigars.” You smile and Jesse laughs politely at your attempt at a joke.

“Alright, don’t want the kids to show up before I do, I'd best be headin’ to the school.” You yearned to leave this awkward conversation through any means possible. Today was not the day for small talk.

“Ok, I’ll see you tomorrow then, miss.” Your head snaps towards Jesse. You’re suddenly transported to last night and listening to the way the cowboy’s words would drip from her lips, smooth as honey “Miss”. Calm and sure even with a gun pointed right to her heart.

You quickly snap out of it and nod politely at Jesse as you begin to part ways. You head to the schoolhouse in a hurry, the kids gave you hell if you were late.

** **

You’re beginning to lock up the schoolhouse when you hear footsteps approaching. “Well hello there, miss.” You recognize the voice all too quickly, you don’t even need to turn around. “Was really hopin’ I’d find you here.”

As you fish into your pocket for the key you respond, “And how exactly did you find me here?” you turn around and begin to walk past her toward your horse. She follows you. From a brief glance at her, you can see she wears a bandana to cover her face, you could only see her eyes. “You don’t even know my name.”

“I just asked those nice ladies at the apothecary if they knew the women who lived just outside of town, they were more than happy a “nice gentleman” took interest in you. They told me just about everything they knew, your name, some snippets of gossip. I’m sure if I stayed they would’ve told me your life story” You finally turn to face her, your expression unamused. She took her hat off at some point when she was talking to you, her eyes are green, radiant in the unrelenting desert sunlight. You were almost jealous. She wore a dark blue button-down that sat surprisingly flat against her chest and suspenders. She could pass for a man if she wanted to. “So, I take it you don’t have a husband then?”

“What’s it to you?” you cross your arms, defensively.

“I was just curious, I asked last night, but you weren’t exactly in a talking mood.” You swear you can make out her smirk under the bandana.

“No, I haven’t had a husband for quite a while. Is that what you came all the way here to ask me?” She lowers her bandana and steps towards you, backing you into your horse.

“No, I came to ask a favor.” She hesitates for a moment, “No one here can know that I’m, um, well you know..”

“A woman?” pretty easy to piece together after seeing the bandana.

“Yea,” She backs away from you a little. Seems like someone is embarrassed to ask a favor. “It’s just easier for me to get things this way and it’s lookin’ like I’ll be staying later than I planned so..”

“Alright, I won’t say anything.” She opens her mouth to begin to thank you, but you weren’t about to let an opportunity like this pass you by. “But, you owe me a favor then.”

Her excited expression disappeared as quickly as it came, if you weren’t looking you could have missed it, “Um, alright, what do ya need?”

“You know your little visit last night?” You had been cooking this proposition up all day, hoping she would run into you again.

“Yes.”

“Well, that happens to me about every other day. I don’t want a husband, but I do need a guard dog of some kind.” You didn’t want a man in your home, but you did want the protection of one, this was the perfect opportunity, almost too perfect.

“A guard dog?” She seems mildly offended by you comparing her to a dog.

“I’m tired of not being able to sleep because of surprise visitors. And I’ll pay you in two square meals a day, tea, and my homemade moonshine.” She does not look amused. “And I won’t tell anyone you’re a lady.”

“I don’t know-”

“I know you’re almost out of money, I’m sure Tommy is bleeding you dry as an outside visitor. I won’t charge you anything.” Something in her loosens, you can see it.

“So do I sleep on your floor?”

“Or outside if you’d like, makes no difference to me. There’s a fire pit out there for ya” You turn around and mount your horse, eager to get home. “We got a deal?” You reach your hand down towards her. She hesitates before shaking it.

“I’m Ellie by the way.” You nod

“Alright Ellie, I’ll see you at my house then. I trust you’re familiar with the address” She just nods, slightly shocked. You smile and then head off, the comforting sound of hoofbeats clearing the thoughts in your head. On the way home you tend to just listen to the sounds of the desert. After a day of loud, squealing children it was healing. You’re sure you’d go crazy if you lived in town.

** **

You had just finished making your evening tea when you heard a knock on your door. For the first time in a long time, you don’t go into fight or flight mode. You open the door with a smile, part of you is surprised she even showed up. Your proposition was a little ridiculous, but that truly shows how desperate you are.

“Hello there stranger.” You are really pushing it with this attitude, you can tell, but something in you likes it when she gets annoyed.

“Hi.” She takes off her hat and lowers her bandana, something you’ve observed as a habit of hers, one of respect possibly. “So am I sleepin’ with the rattlesnakes or on your floor?”

“You get bit by a rattlesnake come to me and I’ll suck the venom out myself. Until then you best set up camp before dark darlin’.” You smile at her sweetly.

“Figured as much.” She smirks and walks away to set up camp.

“Dinner’ll be ready in 20 minutes. I hope ya like stew.” You call out to her. “Oh, and there’s a spring out back if you need any water!”

** **

The stew finally thickens up to the way you like it, you pour it into two bowls and quickly slurp up your serving. Didn’t taste amazing, but it was food.

You open your front door to bring Ellie her food and see that she’s already started a fire, she’s sipping from a silver flask just staring at the flames.

You approach and wordlessly hand her a bowl of stew and a spoon. She looks up at you “You gonna eat?”

“No, I- uh already ate.” More like inhaled but she didn’t need to know that. You point at her flask. “What’s in there?”

“You’re tellin’ me you don’t know what’s in here?” She raises her eyebrows.

“I know it’s liquor, Ellie, I’m just askin’ what kind.” Her confused expression drops.

“Whiskey.” She looks at the flask in her hand, then at you. “Want some?” She clearly did not want to offer it to you. But you sit down next to her and reach your hand out for it.

“Hand it over.” She hands you the flask. The metal was cool to the touch, almost shocking after the desert heat all day. You take a sip and the liquor burns its way down your throat, and your face scrunches a little. You were used to shooting whiskey, but this was particularly terrible, even worse than your moonshine. “Wow, that’s pretty awful.”

Ellie laughs between bites of stew, “You’re stew isn’t the greatest thing I’ve tasted either.”

“Hey!” You lightly punch her shoulder. She giggles even more. “You’re welcome for the food by the way.” You take another swig of whiskey and then hand the flask back to the cowgirl.

“Thank you,” she takes the flask, “for the meal.” she hands you her empty bowl. “And a place to stay, even if it’s outside.”

“We’ll see, maybe you’ll earn your way inside.” You take her bowl and turn to head inside.

“Is that a challenge?” She calls after you.

“Maybe.” You call back.

You step inside and immediately undress for bed, the whiskey making your eyes droop closed. You can barely get your buttons undone before you fall into bed, for the first time in a while, not having to worry about dangerous strangers knocking down your door.

** **

You wake up to a hasty knock coming from the front door. It’s still dark outside. You weren’t supposed to have to deal with this anymore. You grab your rifle and don’t even bother checking who is at the door simply out of annoyance. Would have bit you in the ass later if it was a surprise visitor. You open the door and cock the rifle. To your astonishment, you open the door to Ellie, holding her side. There’s a dark stain forming under her hands, her face is bloody and bruised. And yet she’s got a smug yet pained smile on her face. “This how you’re always gonna greet me?”

“Jesus Ellie,” you usher her inside quickly. “What happened?”

“You got some visitors, a group of Apache men.” She sits down in one of your wooden dining room chairs. You rush over to grab the small medical kit you had managed to fashion over the years. “They wanted to see you in particular, when I told them you weren’t accepting visitors they sort of attacked me. It was one versus six”

“They don’t trust many people.” You undo Ellie’s suspenders and begin unbuttoning her shirt without even thinking. “Most folks round here shoot first and ask questions later, they don’t have any respect or patience for a stubborn cowboy.” You walk over, grab a candle and some matches, and light it so you can see. “Can’t say I blame them. I am sorry though I’d thought they’d see your gun and back off”

“That is real optimistic of ya.” You remove her right arm from the sleeve of her shirt. She is wearing some sort of binding around her chest- so that’s how she’s managed to pass for a man.

“Wow, that’s a big word for you.” You smirk at her as you clean your hands with some moonshine.

“Really? I’m bleedin’ out and you’re making fun of me?” You press gauze to her wound, she hisses through her teeth.

“Please, you’re not bleeding out. Shouldn’t even need stitches, just some cleaning and dressing.” You look up at her, you’re not quite sure, but even in the dim candlelight, you could swear she was blushing. You wouldn’t dare mention it when she’s already made herself so vulnerable.

“Now for the hard part.” You take out a small bottle of vinegar.

“Alright.” Ellie leans back in the chair, ready for the sting of the vinegar.

“Here.” You take her left hand and place it on your shoulder. “Squeeze if you need to.” She nods and you take that as your cue to begin. You pour the vinegar on the wound and you watch as her abs contract, her hand squeezes your shoulder, pretty hard, but you know she was trying not to hurt you, even in pain.

You stand up and gently wrap a few layers of gauze around her mid-section, just in case it starts bleeding again during the night. You were so, so close to her, you could feel the heat radiating from her skin. “You always wear that?”

“Wear what?”

“The-the bandages, round your chest.” She looks down at them like she almost forgot they were there. Suddenly you realize how personal that question must be. “Sorry, I shouldn’t said anything. You don’t have to answer”

“No, It’s alright. I don’t mind. Yes, I’ve worn this for a while now, easier to get around when you look like a man.” You nod and finish wrapping the gauze around her and pin it in place. You put a bit of vinegar on a piece of gauze and begin cleaning the cuts on her face. “Oh, you don’t need to do that, miss.”

“Please just let me clean off your face. Were you planning on walkin’ around town tomorrow with dried blood on your cheeks?” She opens her mouth to say something but closes it. She’s quiet as you gently clean her face, you can see every freckle, every scar, her eyes shining in the candlelight. It was odd being this close to her. You had never felt comfortable being this physically close to someone. Her warmth almost invited you in, made you want to press your nose to her neck, run your hands across her skin, feeling along all the freckles and scars, memorizing the spot of each one. you wanted to know her in a way you have never wanted to know anybody else.

“Hey,” a gentle voice grounds you back into reality. “I think my face is clean.” She smiles softly. She was right, at some point, you had gotten her face completely clean, you’re not sure how long she let you drag the cloth across her freckled cheeks before she said something.

“Yeah, sorry.” You back away and put the blood-soaked gauze in the burn pile. “You should sleep in here. Don’t think anyone else will be coming tonight. I’ll go get your bedroll.” Ellie just nods and you go out to grab her things.

You hurry back and set up her bedroll on the floor right next to your bed. She makes her way to it and sits down on the floor with a thud, careful to not contort her body in a way that could re-open the wound. She collapses onto the wool blankets. When you’re sure she’s settled you place your rifle back next to your bed and fall into your mattress, knowing you’ll be exhausted tomorrow.

lmk what you think! Likes, comments and reblogs always appreciated!

LINKS TO HELP PALESTINE l DAILY CLICK

Part 2 >>

#ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie x fem reader #ellie tlou #tlou 2 ellie #tlou2 #cowboy!au #western! au #cowboy!Ellie #cleaning wounds trope hehe

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leighsartworks216 · 8 months

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You Have A Type, Don't You?

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Based on this post

I wrote this instead of doing any of the work I need to do! I'm gonna go do that now lol

Warnings: innuendos, minor references to sex, the barest hints of jealousy

Word Count: 1,601

Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Your pencil scratched across the paper, drawing Astarion over and over again on a single page. This wasn’t anything surprising; you drew all of your companions. Gale, Wyll, Karlach, Shadowheart, Lae’zel - they all had pages of their own, but it was usually only one drawing. Some had even posed for it. It was just a way to relax, and their faces always lit up when you showed them, even if they tried not to show it.

Everyone needed a break from fighting and exploring day in day out, so you decided one more day here wouldn’t hurt. As such, you’ve spent the better half of the day just drawing. At first it was little doodles of Scratch, but then you realized you hadn’t drawn the vampire spawn yet.

Most of the expressions you captured came from memory. You’d occasionally sneak a glance for quick reference, pretending to stretch or get distracted by some birds. But at some point, he’d disappeared from camp. You just assumed he’d gone off hunting.

That assumption was proved quite wrong when a voice tsked over your shoulder, almost directly in your ear.

Startling away from the sound, you whipped around to see Astarion crouched down. He wore a self-satisfied smirk and settled down into a full sit on the ground.

“It seems someone is infatuated,” he teased. “So who is it? Someone we saved from peril, perhaps?”

Oh. Right. It had completely slipped your mind.

You cleared your throat as your cheeks warmed and smiled. “Y-Yeah, something like that.”

He chuckled. “Come on, darling, there’s nothing to be shy about. Spare none of the juicy details. What’s he like?”

“He’s, well,” you stammer, “he’s interesting.”

He scoffed. “That’s hardly juicy or a detail. Or is he just another pretty face?” He leaned forward, trying to get a better look at your drawings. You wanted to pull them away and hide them, but why? All the others had drawings done of them, and you loved showing it off when they were done. Why was this any different?

“No, he’s a lot more than that,” you admit quietly. You weren’t good at lying - usually Astarion took the lead any time you had to - but maybe if you didn’t tell a complete lie… “He’s funny, charming. His laugh lights up my world. He’s had a rough go of it, but he doesn’t like it to show.”

“He must like you if you know,” he hummed. Your heart leapt into your throat as he pointed to the pin pricks drawn on the neck. “Is he a vampire, too?” He chuckled, but it sounded strained. “You have a type, don’t you?”

You scoffed even as warmth flooded to your cheeks. “No! I do not have a type.”

“No, of course not,” he played along. “Certainly not for creatures of the night who bite into that pretty little neck of yours.” Despite his smile, there was a tension in his eyes. “I don’t mind, dear. I’d be more than happy to scrounge around some nights so you may indulge your new lover.”

You shook your head. “You don’t have to do that, Astarion,” you assured. “He’s not… We’re not together.”

“No?” You shook your head again. He opened his mouth to give you advice or console you, but you cut him off. It was better to end this fantasy now, before it began to hurt too much.

“It doesn’t matter. Besides, you shouldn’t be sneaking around so you can look over my shoulder. I could have been drawing something terrible.”

He laughed. “All the more reason to risk a peek. You’re so good, it would be nice to know you can be tempted.” Then he scowled. “Unless it’s something terribly dull. You deserve much more than missionary.”

If your cheeks weren’t already blazing hot…

“In any case, I was only wondering when you’d draw my portrait. You seemed more than happy to provide the others with a likeness. And…” He looked past you, seemingly far away. “I haven’t seen myself in two centuries. One gets curious, especially when you’re as vain as me.”

If he heard your heart start racing, he didn’t comment on it. Drawing him would make him realize it wasn’t some other vampire crush you were drawing. But, it had been a while since your adventure began, and you’d drawn everyone else. You swallowed down your anxiety. “Yeah! Of course! Did you wanna pose, or anything?”

He blinked and suddenly he was back in the present. A sly smirk covered up whatever emotions could be lingering on his face. “If your little vampire friend doesn’t get too jealous. I would actually like if you could draw me just,” he paused, “smiling. It would be nice to know what everyone else sees. Make sure I’m not off-putting, you know how it is.”

Once he was sitting comfortably, you turned to a fresh page and began drawing. The paper was hidden from his view, but he watched as your hand, wrist, and arm all moved in tandem like a clock’s gears to create an image. Your eyes moved between the sketch and him multiple times. Sometimes you’d glance up and draw for almost a minute. Then other times you kept going back and forth, constantly checking for reference.

Watching you work was fascinating. All your surroundings faded away. Karlach being her usual loud self, Wyll dancing, Gale cooking, Lae’zel sharpening weapons - nothing could turn your attention from him. He almost felt subconscious with the intensity of it. Your eyes studied him, taking in every single feature, and translated it to your journal. What did you see when you looked at him, he wondered. What did the world see? It had been so long, he couldn’t even remember his face. All he knew was he was attractive.

With a final few marks, brushed away to blend them into the rest, you looked down at your masterpiece. You were so caught up in the drawing you forgot why you were hesitant before, but now that Astarion stared at you from two different angles, your anxiety came back full force. There was no way out of this.

“All done, dear?”

You smiled shakily up at him and turned the journal around. His face scrunched up in confusion. When he met your eyes, he was decidedly unamused. “Darling, if you’re going to draw your fleeting fancy, don’t trick me first. I know it’s hard to see past the depraved bloodlust, but we don’t all look alike, you know.”

“No, Astarion, it’s not- I-”

While you fought to find words, Karlach picked up the slack. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she shouted across the camp, “IT’S YOU, FANGS!”

Dread washed over you. You closed your eyes. If a merciful god was going to kill you and rid you of this embarrassment, now would be the time. A bolt of lightning, perhaps. You’d even welcome decapitation.

You risked a glance when you felt your book being tugged carefully from your hands. His eyes were wide, mouth slightly open as he tried to comprehend what the fuck had just happened. Gods, now he was going to leave camp. You buried your face in your hands. He was going to pack everything up and leave before the sun even touched the horizon. And you’d never see him again. Maybe you’d go find Cazador yourself, just to kill the bastard.

“All these drawings… are me? Darling?”

You inhaled deeply and lowered your hands, but you couldn’t bear looking at him. He could stab you with his dagger and you’d apologize to him for it all. Hell, you’d let him drink you dry if it meant leaving this all behind you. “You’re very pretty,” you admitted quietly. “I didn’t know how to ask, and just- You can rip the pages out, burn them, whatever makes you feel better. And if you leave, I won’t blame you or chase after you or-”

“I’m not upset.” Your head never shot up so fast. “Well, a little. You’re not subtle when you stare, you know. I thought you were just uncomfortable being around a vampire, but this…” He turned back to the portrait you’d just finished. “This is really what I look like?”

You swallowed away a small portion of the shame. At least he wasn’t running away. “As best as I can capture you, anyway. Y-You’ve got these sharp eyes, and your hair curls around your ears, and you get little wrinkles around your eyes and mouth when you laugh - and I just like drawing you.”

The page flipped over again. The page of expressions, capturing everything you described. When he smiled full and bright his fangs were on full display, accented by the laugh lines on either side of his mouth. And the puncture wounds on his neck…

“Ah, so when I said you had a type…” He chuckled, but it didn’t hold as much warmth as usual.

“Your laugh does light up my world,” you admit. His red eyes were on you in an instant, flickering over your whole face. “Just, for the record.”

He glanced at the drawings once more, contemplative. Then, he held the book back out to you. “I wouldn’t be… opposed to trying this. Whatever this is.”

You reached out to take it, but he pulled it away. “But, no more sneaking glances across camp when you want to draw me. I would be delighted to model for you again, in any pose your sweet heart can concoct.” He held the book out again. “Deal?”

You grabbed onto the book, finally relaxing as you smiled. “Deal.”

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @mjmygd @flsalazar @thedevilssinner @marina-and-the-memes @softempest @rebeccasship @pinkishredlemonade @faeoran

#fanfic #fanfiction #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate astarion #baldur's gate tav #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate tav #bg3 astarion #bg3 tav #gn reader #x gn reader #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #fluff

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marvel-ous-m · 1 year

Text

After Starcourt, Steve and Robin began a new tradition- 'spa nights'. Robin would make them homemade face masks (“peaches and yogurt? On my face? That’s disgusting Robin.” “Shut up and put it on, dingus.”). They would put in a shitty tape from Family Video and Steve would paint their nails. (“How do you even know how to do this Steve?” “I’m a babysitter, Rob, it’s in the job description.”)

The school year started and Robin got a lot more busy- what with it being her senior year and all- but they still made time for spa nights. They were less frequent (maybe once a month instead of every other week), but they happened.

Vecna came, they killed the bastard, and they all lived- somehow, miraculously, certainly not unscathed, but they’re all alive. They beat him. A few months later, after the almost-end-of-the-world, Robin brought up their spa nights. (“Come on, Steve, it’s been months. My brain needs a vacation, my face needs a vacation, my nails need a vacation.”) Steve agreed, acting reluctant (but was secretly really excited to get back to one-on-one time with his best friend).

Except the kids find out, namely El and Max, and they beg Steve and Robin to join them. The two acquiesce, and then Eddie hears about it and joins the party, too. Uninvited. (But nowadays he doesn’t need an invitation. He shows up, bright personality and even brighter smile, and brings a constant, welcome addition to the party. Along with some… feelings that Steve can’t even start to try and acknowledge.)

The spa night comes and everyone crowds into Steve’s living room. Robin has put together a new face mask recipe (“ugh, what is in this?!” “Just shut your mouth and put it on, Red.”), Eddie brings his braiding skills, and Steve provides the nail polish.

Only now, his hands shake.

It’s something he’s noticed by now. The nerve damage from fighting the bats and Vecna, the 24/7 anxiety, the brain damage, something that they faced over spring break has left him with a tremor that he can’t quite get rid of. Sometimes it’s small, sometimes it’s more noticeable, and tonight… well, it’s not great.

Robin wiggles her fingers at Steve, ready for their tradition of him painting her nails, and Steve hesitates. It’s a small thing, but his shoulders tense. He hasn’t mentioned the shaking to anyone yet, and he knows that he wouldn’t be able to get the crisp, clean paint that he used to. The tremor would make itself obvious, and he just can’t face picking up the nail polish bottle. It’s a sign of the new weakness, one that he can’t admit to others, can barely admit to himself… he can’t face being seen as weak. As flawed. As-

“Hey! Are we painting nails?! Here, lemme have a go. I haven’t done it on anyone else before, always just painted my own.” Eddie interrupts Steve's train of thought in his easy way and grabs the nail polish from just below Steve’s hand. He plops down between Steve and Robin, admiring the color the later had chosen. “Robin’s Egg Blue, very fitting, Birdie.” Eddie winks at her and starts painting, accomplishing a more polished finish than Steve was ever able to get before Spring Break.

And Steve just watches. Quiet, his hands on his knees. He watches as Eddie paints Robin’s fingernails blue, then Max’s a bright red. Eddie paints Eleven’s a deep purple shade, then gives himself a fingernail in each polish that Steve has to create a rainbow of clashing colors. Afterwards, once the paint has dried, the girls all wash their face masks off and curl up to watch the shitty movie Robin had picked.

Eddie turns to Steve then, a bright yellow shade in his hands. “Want a turn, sunshine?” Eddie must’ve seen the look on Steve’s face, the flash of pain, because his voice turns to a whisper before Steve can answer. “I can help you keep your hands steady, Stevie. Don’t worry about that. Just relax and lemme treat you to a manicure.”

Steve startles at that. He thought he'd been better at hiding it. “How did you know?“

“How wouldn’t I know, Steve?” Eddie grabs Steve’s hand, a gentle but firm grip holding his fingers straight and steady. “I paid attention. I noticed. We all came away from that fight with a different scar, and we all need some extra help with different things now.” Eddie speaks as he paints, carefully brushing away any mess with the corner of his thumb. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, but I get it if you can’t tell anyone just yet. I’ll be here to help, though. Just like this. If you want it.”

Steve’s quiet still, but now in an effort to keep his emotions at bay. He’s never had anyone do… anything like this for him before. Eddie moves on to paint his other hand, and they sit in silence while the sound of the shitty rom-com washes over them, joined by the occasional giggle or mocking comment from one of the girls. Eddie does a second coat, brushes any scraps of excess paint away with an alcohol wipe, and caps the nail polish with a gentle smile.

Steve admires his nails, then glances up at Eddie, his eyes welling. “Eddie, thank you-“

“Don’t worry about it, darlin’, it’s just a paint job-“

“No really, Eddie. Thank you. For everything. For noticing. No one’s ever-“

“I’ll always notice, Stevie.” Eddie squeezes Steve’s arm, then turns slightly to watch the movie, his hip pressed against Steve’s.

Years later, in retrospect, Steve realizes that the spa night was the night he fell in love with Eddie Munson.

#my writing #steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #domesticity after the vecna fight >>>>#Hope the past tense/present tense shift wasn't too jarring for u guys #my writing style is unique (by unique I mean stupid)#stranger things post s4 #steve harrington/eddie munson

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kissitbttr · 5 months

Note

What happens if reader and Miguel get into another fight (it could be their first or second or anything really, whatever you prefer!) and it was like…bad. REALLYYY bad, like it effected reader mentally and physically. So they just leave and don’t come back.

I’m not sure if your comfortable with angst with no comfort but if you are can you do that?? And don’t forget to take your time!!

baby, i hope this is angsty enough.

Miguel and his architect!wife having their first argument

—

She knows not to ever pushes Miguel’s buttons. Especially when he has been working himself under pressure. But that’s the thing, she never wanted him to feel stressed or see the look of exhaustion across his face because it breaks her heart.

Her love language is taking care of him. Always. They both made a vow to always be there for one another and she’s never been the one to break a promise. So does Miguel.

Yet it seems that the past two weeks have somehow… changed.

He becomes distant. Colder. She notices how he keeps dodging her touch. Brushing her off with his hand while grunting a ‘i’m busy. later’ when she wants him to join her in bed. And it truly makes her heart torn because he had never been like this. He’s always so affectionate, if not clingier even. So what happened?

“Miguel? Baby, you need to rest. You’ve been dwelling in those paperworks for hours. Come on, my love” She smiles softly as she steps into his working office, tugging her silky robe closer against her body,

No response. His eyes only focuses on the scattered papers below him. Fingers furiously typing away on his computer.

She pretends not to be hurt when he chooses to ignore her. Bare feet finding themselves walking closer to his desk, she crouches down slightly to meet up with his eye level,

“Mig—“

“Not now, cariño . Go to bed”

His voice harsh. Whether he means it or not, it still makes her sad.

“I can’t” She frowns. “I want us to go to bed together. We haven’t done that in a long time and tomorrow is Saturday. Our day. Please?”

Miguel exhales heavily, removing his glasses before chucking it on the table. He straightens his posture, arms crossed over his chest as he shoots her a look.

A look that she had never seen before being directed towards his wife. One that she almost jumped out of fear.

“You do realize that i’m working right now? That me” He points at himself, voice growing harsher by the second. “Miguel O’Hara. Doesn’t need a break. He needs to work! And he would appreciate it if his wife stop being a fucking nag!”

That one cuts too deep. But she’s raised to always stand on her ground. To stand up to any man who ever tries to done her wrong. And that includes her own husband.

Despite how much that hurt.

“A nag?!” She asks in disbelief. “I’m being a nag because i care about my husband’s wellbeing?”

He chuckles. But she finds no humor in it. Empty. Just like his eyes.

“And i cooked for you” her voice lowers, gulping as she wraps her arms around herself. “Made you that carribean dish that you love so much, yet you didn’t even touch it. I even walked to the bakery and bought a blueberry pie. Sofia misses her daddy too, you know that?”

She hopes the mention of their daughter would eventually help his emotions decrease but somehow, his expression remains the same. And it only hurts her more, what he chooses to say next.

“I didn’t ask you to do that. And stop bringing Sofia into this as if it would help me change my mind. It won’t” He crosses his arms. He sure doesn’t mean it. Of course, he doesn’t. But he’s got a lot of things on his mind and he needs to take care of them now.

“What is going on with you?” She asks, both concerned and upset. “You have been acting like a complete different person lately! Avoiding me like a damn plague!”

“I do not need this right now, Y/N. Go!” He yells

But she won’t back down. Hard headed as always. “No! Because i need you to close that fucking computer down, tell Lyla that you’ll work on it later and come back to bed! It’s almost eleven!”

“Fuck!” He roars, slamming his fists against the table making you jump. “It always has to be an argument with you isn’t it?! ‘Miguel this, Miguel that. Miguel come back to bed, i’m fucking clingy and i need you right now!’” He mocks her, earning a very frightened look on her face but he pays no mind to it,

“Dana was never like this with me” He grumbles, mentioning his ex girlfriend’s name. “She knew her boundaries and let me do my fucking job. Definitely didn’t fucking nag me like what you are doing now. You’re making me regret my choices now”

And it hurts. Real bad. Because all of the time they had spent together before this argument, he always reassured her that she is the one for him. That no woman had ever came close to steal his heart and make him feel the way she does. Not Xina, Tempest or even Dana. Miguel may had the longest history with Dana but none of it matters because he has her.

Now? She doesn’t know what to believe right now.

She’s heartbroken. Face falling and her shoulders slump in defeat. The tears begin to form in her eyes but she has to stay in her ground to not let him see. It’s not like he cared anyway, he’s too busy buried in anger than to actually see she’s hurting.

“I can’t believe you just said that” Her voice is weak and shaky. Hands frozen on the either side, hands clenching and she feels her nails digging into the skin of her palms.

At the sound of his wife’s broken voice is what finally puts Miguel into a realization. The words he had just said to her, spewing those bullshit in front of her face. The look of hurt flashes across her beautiful face. It feels illegal to see her not smiling because of him.

Oh my God, what has he done?

“Cariño, I—“

She shakes her head, a broken sob falling from her lips, clamping her mouth shut. Miguel carefully walks around his desk to reach out to her, eyes filled with its own sadness but it only makes her step back making his heart break.

He had never felt more disappointed in himself than right now,

“Baby, please.. I-i didn’t—“

The sound of Sofia’s cries suddenly stops him. Probably awaken because of her dad’s sudden loud voice from when he yelled at her mother,

His wife breathes out a shaky sigh, running her hands through her soft dark hair with eyes shutting in frustration. She feels like she’s ready to explode at any moment. And Miguel contemplates whether or not he should try to comfort her. But by the looks of it, she doesn’t want anything to do with him.

Her eyes snap open. And for the first time, she looks at him with disappointment and anger. He searches for the love in those beautiful irises but find none. That’s when he knows, he had completely fucked everything.

“I’m fucking done with you, Miguel. Fuck you.” Her last words go straight to take a jab at his heart, before she turns on her heels to comfort their loving daughter in her room.

Miguel once couldn’t believe that he had everything. A home. A beautiful wife. A daughter. Second chances were given to him and he sworn to himself that he will do his very best to protect them all.

But now?

He might just lose everything he had built

—

if i were to write a part two, there’s going to be a slight change from ur request nonny if u don’t mind xx

#miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara blurbs #miguel o’hara angst #miguel o’hara x reader

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clbrq · 7 months

Text

SUCKER FOR PAIN - C. BROCK

warnings; IMPLIED SMUT, flirting, drinking alcohol, angry colby, swearing/cursing, toxic relationship. NOT PROOF READ.

-/-

Things with Colby were complicated. You were on, and then you were off. One minute you were rolling around in his sheets, sweating and moaning, and the next you were fighting and storming out of each other’s apartment’s. All of that for someone you weren’t even dating.

You knew the last fight you had dug deep. You both said unnecessary things you didn’t mean. But, his words still stung when you thought of them.

“We both know you’re just a petty fuck for me.”

You were hurt, but you were angry. And you were childish, knowing you wouldn’t let this go until he felt the hurt you did. You wanted cold-hearted revenge on that man.

And just to your luck, Halloween rolled around the corner quicker than you’d expected, a mutual friend of you and Colby was hosting a party at his house, downtown. As if the universe just knew what you were planning, you had possibly the best, most sluttiest, outfit put together.

A Police officer—the signature hat, baton, badge, but best of all; the handcuffs.

If not used on you by Colby, you knew another man would do.

—

Music boomed from outside the house, lights swirling outside, painting you in different colours as you pushed open the door to be greeted with a large crowd of drunk, sweaty, dressed up people dancing to a recognisable Rihanna song.

Pushing through the crowd, pulling down your dress in order to not flash everyone behind you, you made it in one piece to the kitchen. Finding a familiar face with a drink in hand, you knew you exactly who would be with them.

“Holy fucking shit, you look so hot!”

“All thanks to you, Kat,” You smirked, embracing the tipsy girl, “I wouldn’t have these bad boys if it wasn’t for you.” Gesturing to the silver handcuffs attached to your wrist.

The girl with the colourful hair, wearing a Tiffany from Chucky outfit, laughed as she spoke, “I wonder who’s gonna get cuffed tonight?”

You grinned evilly, “I wonder. Anyway, get me a drink, I’m too sober.”

Kat laughed, handing you a bottle of Vodka and sliding some coke along with it. Your favourite. Pouring way to much Vodka into the glass while mixing the drink, Kat laughed as you grimaced at the taste, yet chugging the whole thing.

“Hey, come on, Sam and the others are in the living room.” She smiled, grabbing your hand.

With your spare hand, you grabbed the Vodka bottle along with you, taking sips as Kat led you through a group of dancing people. The music boomed loudly in your ears, feeling the beat pulsate through your body as you moved.

You made it to the living room, the music got quieter but still loud enough to sing without being heard by others. Lots of familiar faces sat on the sofa, sipping drinks and talking amongst themselves.

They all looked up as Kat giggled at a joke you made, wondering who she was laughing at. All of them smiled and greeted you welcoming you, complimenting your outfit and laughing with you. One, however, was not so happy.

Colby Brock’s face fell as he saw you step into his view. After you fight, he didn’t think you’d show up. Especially looking so good—as if you didn’t even care.

Looking in his direction, a smile grew wider on your face just looking at him. Specifically at what he was wearing.

“What a coincidence.” You smirked, your eyes dancing over the orange jumpsuit laid loosely on his body, slightly unzipped to show his glorious torso.

He didn’t reply, only rolling his eyes and taking a sip from his drink. He didn’t feel like playing games with you, not tonight.

You knew that from the way he reacted.

Knowing it will amplify his anger, you walk swiftly over to your good friend Brennen, and taking a comfortable seat next to him. His Woody from Toy Story outfit showing off his abs and body so wonderfully.

“Hey, doll.” Brennen spoke, his words slightly slurred, “haven’t seen you in ages. Missed ya.”

“Likewise,” You grinned, snuggling up to him, as his arm fell sloppily around you, pulling you closer, “Love the outfit, shame I didn’t come as a Jesse to match.”

“So you could ride me like a cowgirl?”

Laughter erupted loudly from your throat, making sure everybody knew you were laughing with Brennen. Everybody only being Colby. And you knew it was working—you could feel his cold, piercing, blue eyes burning holes in the side of your head.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You whispered, biting your lip, eyes trickling over Brennen’s face.

You certainly felt the alcohol in your system now, as you subconsciously sipped from the Vodka bottle as Brennen spoke.

Colby couldn’t take it any longer.

Marching over to the two of you, he grabbed your forearm and dragged you to your feet.

“Hey!” You cried, anger flooding your system as the warmth from Brennen’s body began to fade away.

“Enough.” Colby spat, leading you out the door.

You didn’t protest. Your plan had worked, you got your revenge. Colby lead you upstairs, not saying a word as he did so. He dragged you into a spare room, the silence suddenly feeling louder than music downstairs. Colby slammed the door as you sat on the empty bed.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He spat, standing angrily in front of you, pink hues in his cheeks.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You spoke calmly, smirking playfully up at him as he towered over you.

He was seething. You’d never seen him like this before. Of course you’d seen him get heated in arguments, but he was absolutely full of rage right now.

“Don’t fucking play with me.” He sneered, “Do you get off on acting like a slut, huh? Around my friends and in front of me?”

The smirk deepened on your face, “Oh, I’m sorry, why is this so enraging for you, Colby?”

“Because you’re mine, you understand—no one else can have you.”

Ah, there it was.

“Hmm, that’s funny, because last week I was just a petty fuck for you, wasn’t I?” You fired, standing up to face him, making him step back slightly, “Or did you forget?”

Colby went silent—just staring at you.

“That’s what I thought.”

You went to walk out the door, to return to the party, but a hand grasped your wrist and pulled you flush against their body. Colby grabbed hold of your neck as he spoke,

“Yeah, you’re my petty fuck. No one else’s. You got that?”

“No, I don’t,” You spat, pushing him away, and attempting to walk away again.

Suddenly, you were shoved aggressively against the wall, eliciting a gasp out of you. Colby held both your wrist tightly against the wall as he stated deeply into your eyes, never once breaking his stars.

“You will when I’m fucking done with you.” He drawled out, “You’re not Brennen’s, fuck, you’re not anyone’s, but mine. You fucking hear me, slut, you’re mine.”

You wanted to fight back, tell him to fuck off and walk out, but you couldn’t help but squeeze your legs together as his words echoed deeply throughout your mind causing your arousal to spark.

“Yes, Colby.”

“Good.” He spoke, licking his lips, “do that again, and you’re dead.”

You chuckled as he stared down at you sternly, his words meaningful, “Yes, sir.”

“Mm, is that how you wanna play?” He grinned, his evils darkening.

Nodding as he releases his grip, sliding his hands down to your waist, you connect your lips with his as you move both of you backwards. Falling comfortably on the bed, lips moving swiftly together, you straddle his waist, rocking your hips back and forth on his crotch, feeling him get harder with each movement.

“I fucking hate you.” You mumble against his lips, moving them down to his neck, sucking on the exposed skin.

“Love you too.” He replies, gripping your waist tighter.

—

i know this is the shittiest fic ever, it’s midnight and my brain is literally offline rn.

also trying to sound american when you’re british is the hardest thing ever. is it sofa or couch for americans. i don’t even know tbh, i keep wanting to right, “is it?” which is SOOO UNBELIEVABLY british it hurts.

however i’ve actually been in bed for 2 days now and haven’t left and my brain is fully disassociated from society. i literally haven’t seen or spoke to anyone in days and i’ve seen how many dead plants i’ve been watering icl. dead asf. my brain is just sam and colby.

ALSO i haven’t written properly in probably years so please forgive me. also i’m in my angsty era as seasonal depression is taking over :)

goodnight yall i’m tired

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macfrog · 9 months

Text

hits different cowboy like me chapter twelve

oh, my, love is a lie! are we all ready? do we have our coping strategies in place? have we prepared ourselves for impending doom? then gather round, my dear children, for i’ve a tale to tell. and it’s a SORE one

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: still reeling from your fight with joel, you seek out an effective way to deal with it: a night of sambuca shots and no second thoughts

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) alcohol + drug consumption (reader gets hammered), heartache, angst, unwanted touching, intended sexual assault, drink spiking, descriptions of blood and bruising, protective!joel gets into a quick barfight, more discussion of cheating(?), joel won't admit feelings, pain pain and more pain, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing

word count: 10.9k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

Joel takes a beat to answer. Like he’s waiting for your voice to fill the space, the way it usually would. What’s up, old man? How hard is it to copy an address right? Lois not as good at typing as she is at sucking your – “You, uh…you got it. Call me if there’s anythin’ you need. I’m home all night.” The call cuts before your dad gets the chance to say goodbye. Which doesn’t really matter, because he wasn’t talking to your dad. You know it, ‘n Joel knows it.

Of course he went to see Lois. He’s probably been seeing her for some time now. A nice lady, his own age, his line of work. You’re pretty sure she has a son, too. And your dad would love her, would love to think Joel was shacking up with some plant hire receptionist. She could turn your life around, son, he’d said. They fit together like a couple of jigsaw pieces. What the fuck would he have ever seen in you, past some young, tight thing for him to fuck? Just a placeholder. Just a time-waster.

A twenty-three-year-old; enough energy to keep him on his toes, cure his boredom. Fill his summer with something to do. And close enough to him, too, that he reeled you in with minimum effort. One stupid look at you – one stupid, stupid glance and you were hooked. High as a kite on him. All the touching, all the whispering. That fucking – the fucking bottle. The video. All of it, every second he ever spent near you – it all makes you cringe now.

And then, once the embarrassment of being played by your dad’s best friend passes, there’s the hurt. The aching. Fuck, the aching. The way your chest swells, feels like it might rip at the seams and burst open. The sting behind your eyes anytime you picture his smile, the way he’d look at you. The feeling of your throat closing up whenever you go to speak, windpipe constricting around any words that aren’t his name, and using them to choke you.

And it’s not like you can talk to anyone about it. Can’t have a heart-to-heart with your dad, have him make you a tea and sit him down by your window, ask for advice on heartbreak and getting over his best friend. You’ve been excusing your reclusiveness by telling him you’re on your period. That’s why you haven’t left your bed in four days.

It was just all so fucking believable, wasn’t it? So good, you thought you were dreaming the entire time.

And here he’d just proven you right. You dreamt it all up.

Has he fucked her yet? Lois. Is she one of the ten he told you about the other night? Has she touched him the way you have? Has he touched her, the way he did you?

Does she know how he sounds when he comes undone? How he looks? How he feels? Does she do it for him the way you do it? And what does he call her? Baby? Darlin’? Or something different entirely?

Now you’re wondering when he started seeing her, and then, if they have slept together, when the first time was. Whether or not you cross over with her. Maybe he went and fucked her after you argued. Let off some steam over at her place, while you sat in his house, smelling his shirts and reading his stupid fucking Alcatraz books. While you paced around, practicing the words you’d say to him when he came back.

All you wanted was for him to come back. You wanted him to come find you upstairs, take the book from your hands and lean his head down on your chest, mumble an apology into the material of your shirt and then kiss you, and kiss you again while he pulled the clothes from your body, and kiss you while you were naked underneath him, and kiss you while he rocked his hips into yours.

Oh, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

You think you hate her. You don’t even know her. Don’t know what she looks like, only heard her voice. She’s probably gorgeous. Probably a really sweet woman, helps out on the PTA, the type that stops to read missing dog posters so she can keep an eye out for them. Probably knows Joel well enough that she writes Sarah a birthday card every year. Just a real nice, Southern lady.

And you fucking hate her.

That’s not fair, though, and you know it. She didn’t do anything wrong. Joel’s the one who screwed you over – screwed you both over. Really, you and Lois are one and the same.

Except that she’s taken away the only thing to put a real smile on your face since you got home, and for that, you fucking hate her.

What had he said again? That night he drove you home from Sal’s, the night your dad asked him to stay for pizza. …said she’d like to go for a drink. I said maybe sometime. Maybe he’d organized that drink, in the midst of whatever you two had been doing. Thought nothing of it – you said it yourself: you were just messing around. Said it, like, three times to him. Good fucking job.

And that adds to the hurt. That neither of you seemed to care enough to call it anything more. Because now, sitting alone in your room, desperately checking your phone for a missed call or a text message from him, ears pricking at every sound your dad makes downstairs in case he’s answering a call from Joel or welcoming him in through the front door – you wish you had called it something.

Wish you had just fucking said it. Told him outright about the feelings you had. You were thinking about them enough – the thought circled your mind any time there was a moment’s silence between you.

Sometimes, the way he’d glance over to you, the way his hand would brush against yours, the way he’d say your name…he felt like…

Yours. He was yours. He was so fucking close to being yours.

You almost said it, once. Almost admitted it to him. Couple times you saw it flash behind his eyes, too. And it’s a damn good thing neither of you did say it, because it would’ve been a mistake. Would’ve been lies.

You don’t love him. You never did. You were in some fantasy, built by Joel. There ain’t no love between you. None from your side. And definitely none from him.

Definitely – none – from –

him.

----------

Anna’s been at you all week. She text you on Monday night, but you were about four layers of blanket deep in your bed, weeping into a box of dry cereal and listening to some sad girl playlist on repeat. You fished your cell out from under your mattress the next morning. Your dad had to call it to help you find it.

Anna: Frank’s again on Friday? Rodeo night round 2!!!

Tuesday, it was Please?? It was so fun on Sat. Cmon, Kara’s coming again. Sam’s working but that means free shots so.

On Wednesday, she tried a new approach. I’ll cover any shift you want.

Any two shifts……

Ok three????

Thursday, she started to get desperate. I’ll spill all your secrets to my dad if you don’t come. And you know he’ll tell them all to your dad lol

By Friday morning, though, she’d decided you had no say in the matter: you were going, and you’d be happy about it. And you didn’t have it in you to fight back.

She’s standing at the side of the mirror, scanning you from head to two.

“All black? Again?”

“I look good in black.”

“You look good in anything,” she agrees, turning to sift through your closet, “so why don’t we go for…?”

“No,” you clip, holding a finger up to the red dress in her hands. “No.”

“What’s wrong with it? It’s hot. C’mon.”

“Why do I gotta be hot?”

“I mean…is Mr. Miller gonna be pickin’ you up again, or…?”

You lob a previously discarded dress at her and she snorts, turning to slip it back onto a hanger.

Even his fucking surname sends a pang of pain through your body. Your heart jumps at the sound of it, like its hopes had risen for a second, but then it plummets with the realization that it’s not really Joel, and he’s still really gone.

You’re in a plain black slip dress, black denim jacket slung over your shoulders. Black lace-up boots, too. It’s like rodeo night, except without the fun and excitement of Joel waiting for you at the end of the night. It’s basically rodeo night’s funeral. And good fucking riddance.

Anna – always glittering, always in some sparkly getup – leads you out of your bedroom and down the stairs. Your dad agreed to drop you guys off, seeing as he’s out working later on.

He’s sat in his armchair, glasses on the tip of his nose, squinting down at the instruction booklet to that fucking Garmin he’s still wrestling with. He looks up and claps his hands once.

“Ready, girls?”

Anna nods eagerly and you lift your eyebrows, thinking about how Joel would laugh at the sight of his buddy still fighting a very obviously lost battle to a GPS. Then you think about how he’d tell you quietly, You look beautiful, darlin’, and ask you to text him when you got home safe.

And finally, you think about how much of an ass he is, and you blink the tears from your eyes before following the two blurry figures out to the car.

Anna snaps a couple selfies as the car winds out of the neighborhood, angling her phone to pull you into shot. The sun setting over the roofs of the houses dazzles your eyes. She tuts, tells you to Look like you actually wanna be goin’ out, and sends them to Kara, letting her know you’re on your way.

You’re watching her reply to a text from some boy she’s seeing when your dad’s ringtone echoes throughout the car, the name on the tiny digital screen the very last name you want to see right now.

Or maybe the very name you’ve been waiting all week to see. Just, on your screen instead of your dad’s.

“Hey, Joel,” your dad calls, and your body instinctively leans in to listen better. Drawn in like a magnet to just the sound of his voice.

“Hey, bud,” he replies. It’s like a punch to your chest. Hands around your throat. Salt behind your eyes. “I just got off the phone with Clark’s, they just dropped that equipment off at the site. Said there wasn’t nobody around to sign for it, so they just left it at the gate.”

“It’s a manned site, what do they mean there wasn’t–?”

“No idea,” Joel says, cutting across him. “Just said there wasn’t anybody to take the delivery.”

Anna’s head slowly turns in your direction, likely to take another dumb selfie or to ask some random question about your outfit, but you turn away, refusing to meet her hazel-eyed stare. Refusing to let her take your attention away from this phone call. From Joel.

Your dad sighs, runs a hand down his cheek. “I hope it’s still there when I get to it. Sure you gave ‘em the right address on Monday?”

“I wrote it down exactly how you text me it.”

Joel’s voice sounds flatter than normal. Less trademark Joel grumbly and more tired, deflated. A little irritated. It bruises your heart hearing him and not chiming in, not teasing him for potentially getting the street name wrong or something. Not letting him know you’re here.

Your dad does that anyway, though.

“Well,” he sighs again, hitting the turn signal, “I’m on my way to Frank’s – girls are havin’ another one of their wild nights out. I’ll head straight from there to the site ‘n make sure everything’s in place. Thanks, Joel.”

“You, uh…you got it. Call me if there’s anythin’ you need. I’m home all night.”

The call cuts before your dad gets the chance to say goodbye. Which doesn’t really matter, because he wasn’t talking to your dad. You know it, ‘n Joel knows it.

No. He was talking to you. He knew you’d be listening. Knew that conversation would mean much more to you than it ever could to your dad. And he knew you’d be hanging on to every word he spoke.

He’s home all night, which translates to: he’s only ever fifteen minutes away if you wind up needing him. If you end up wanting him.

You’ve spent the last four days purposefully stopping yourself from wanting him. Your thumb has hovered over his name in your contacts more times than you’d care to admit. Mostly at night, when your dad goes to bed and there’s eight hours of quiet – quiet you’d usually fill by annoying Joel, striking up a conversation at midnight when he’s about to sleep.

What the fuck would you even say if he did pick up? Would you be mad? Would you yell? Or would you just break down, sob a few incoherent sentences down the line to him and pray that he doesn’t hang up?

But then – would he even pick up? It’s not a thought you want to entertain much. That sound of ringing and ringing, and no gruff, Hey, baby, at the other end.

Your chest hurts. You take a gulp of air.

You’d happily have him never touch you again if he’d just come the fuck back.

Anna slaps your arm and Joel’s face is wiped clean from your mind. “C’mon,” she chirps, and nods out of your window.

You turn to see the faded blue brick walls of Frank’s, clusters of people outside clutching cigarettes and glasses, holding hands up to shield their eyes from the sunlight and tipping their heads back in laughter at one another. Kara stands among them, arms crossed, shoulders hunched. She waves when you catch her eye, stumbling out of the car in a daze.

Anna’s arm links through yours, almost violently, and she skips along the sidewalk to Kara, who joins your chain. The three of you stroll into the bar together and over to Sam, who smiles genially in welcome.

“Hello, ladies,” he sings, leaning in. “What can I do ya for?”

“Get us drunk, Sam!” Anna exclaims, rapping her knuckles on the bar top, and, for the first time tonight, you find yourself nodding in agreement with her.

Get me –

fucking –

hammered.

----------

You get your wish. Sam hands you a cold beer, and within twenty minutes you’re ordering a second. Anna and Kara opt for cocktails, some bright pink concoction that you don’t even bother to ask the name of, you just lean over the bar and tell Sam to make up a third.

And then there are the shots, two each, which are a hysterically terrible idea. You know it as you tip your head back, sickly taste of sambuca spilling down your throat and taking with it the very last of your good sense, apparently.

All the while, that phone call rattles through your head. Joel’s voice swings between your ears like a pendulum. His dry tone, the borderline contempt he spoke to your dad with. The thought of who he’s been with and what he’s been doing either side of that call burns like the drink in your belly, and forces you back up to the bar for another to wash him away with.

You rock against the dark wood, sticky with alcohol, and hoist yourself up onto a stool. “One peer, blease, sir,” you garble to Sam, one finger in the air. “Oh, wait…”

You throw your hand down onto the bar with a roar of laughter and lean back, forgetting there’s no back to your chair. It tilts back, and your hands fumble to grab the edge of the bar, but it’s too far, too late, and you land on the solid floor with a clatter – metal leg of the stool digging into your own.

“Fuck,” you hiss, dragging yourself back to your feet. A thin line of dark red blood cuts from halfway down your calf, streaming down into your boot.

“Are you okay?” Sam yells, stood frozen with the beer and bottle opener still in his hands.

“I’m fine,” you grumble, clambering to your feet. You don’t even convince yourself.

Sam doesn’t let go of the bottle when your fingers curve around it. He looks you dead in the eye and asks, “What’s goin’ on?” and you know he won’t let go until you answer him.

“Nothin’. I’m fine.”

Until you answer him truthfully, that is.

“I’m…It’s just…I got a lot goin’ on up here.” Your shaky finger draws a circle against your temple, and your eyes flutter closed.

“I can see that. Is this really a good ide–”

“Well, howdy, clumsy!”

The owner of whatever fucking annoying voice just shrieked through your ears slaps his hand down on your shoulder, almost toppling you for the second time in five minutes, and you twist around to find a pair of red, blotchy cheeks and almost equally red hair to match, stood before you.

“Hi…?” You squint your eyes to get a better look, the figure swaying with the room behind him.

“Hi.” He’s still smiling. Two huge front teeth, like a pair of overgrown Tic Tacs. “You have no idea who I am, do you? That’s…embarrassing for me.”

“Zack!” another voice screams over the bassline of the music. “Are you fucking coming or not, dude?”

A pale, jittery guy with a dark green t-shirt hanging off of his lean frame barges into the red-haired boy’s side, and a few seconds after his mouth stops moving, you register what he’s said.

“No – f-fucking – way,” you breathe, staring him up and down. His red flannel is tucked into his jeans, sealed by a brown leather belt. There’s a longhorn head on the buckle. “Zack? From Costco? What the fuck’d you do, stalk me?”

He laughs awkwardly, looking from you to over your shoulder, where Sam’s still holding your beer.

“Sorry–” you mutter, shaking your head. “I’m not at my best right now.”

“It’s cool,” he replies, grinning. “You look like you’re having a good night. I’m out with my buddies. This is Eric.”

Eric gives you a nod – his blond fringe jumps, and he jerks his head to sweep it back out of his eyes. “Nice to meet you,” he says, before rounding again on Zack. “Seriously, bro, he says he’s not waitin’ around this time. C’mon!”

“We were gonna head to the rooftop if you wanted to come?” Zack raises his eyebrows, pointing a thumb over his shoulder as Eric and another two figures make off for the stairs at the other end of the bar.

“Sure.” You blindly reach for your beer and Sam relents, letting it slip from his grasp. He calls your name as you trot off, and you turn for one second to give his worried stare a thumbs up, before swirling back toward the stairs. No second thought.

This isn’t the night for second thoughts.

The rooftop is quieter, less crowded. Background noise made up of passing cars, a siren in the distance, and the muffled music from downstairs. You wander over to where Zack stands with Eric and a couple others: a short guy with wireframe glasses, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets, and someone you think you almost recognize.

His black V-neck looks like it might burst at the seams around his chest, swollen with muscle. Thick neck, holding up a square jawline, and a face heavy with features which mirror the broad body below.

And a thick smell of marijuana which follows his every move.

Zack shuffles to the side to let you into the circle. You shimmy in between him and Eric.

V-neck pulls a small metal case from his back pocket and fishes a cigarette out of it. Eyes start to shift around the group, the boys glancing over shoulders to check who’s watching.

“Are we…? Is that weed?” you blurt out.

“Shut the fuck up!” Eric hisses, jabbing his elbow into your ribcage.

V-neck eyes you down quickly. It’s the first he looks at you, and it puts a sickly feeling through your body. Sends the alcohol hurtling over itself in your stomach.

You raise your eyebrows and wrap your arms around yourself, your beer bottle against your lips. “Sorry, jeez…”

“This is Knox,” Zack mutters, as Knox lights the cigarette.

He takes one hit, inhaling deeply with his chin in the air, and passes it to the boy in the hoodie. Another cloud of smoke joins Knox’s, slowly dispersing above your heads, and then it’s Eric’s turn. With a cough, his fist against his lips, he passes it to Zack. Soon, the air around you is thick and white, and Zack’s handing you the joint.

You lift it to your lips and inhale. The feeling hits you instantly; your body feels light, your face warm, your eyes blink in and out of focus, watching as a blurry shadow begins to follow your hand when you pass the joint back to Knox.

A couple more circuits, and the roach is pressed into the ground by Knox’s boot. The group separates; Zack and his friends fall into some metal chairs around a table, sparking up a debate on the best Lord of the Rings film, and you float around nearby.

“You a friend of Zack’s?” Knox asks, downing what’s left of his whiskey.

“Hm…Not really. We met at Costco, ‘cause I was there to get some party stuff for my dad’s friend’s daughter’s– Well, she’s my friend, too, and she wanted this garden party, and my dad’s friend was like, What the fuck is a garden party? you know, so I had to go help ‘im get stuff for it, with my dad, who was kinda a buzzkill, but anyway…Z-Zack helped me lift some sodas into my cart.”

Knox nods once. Fingers locked tight around his empty glass. He’s staring you down like you’re fresh meat.

You purse your lips and stare back, but quickly get bored when he doesn’t speak, and you miss Anna and her selfies and her sambuca shots. As you’re about to wander back to the door, though, Knox steps in front of you.

“So, you’re here often, then?”

Your shoulder knocks into his. “Huh?”

“Saw you last week. You were pretty spaced, don’t know if you remember.”

The memory whips past your eyes quicker than you can catch it, frames lingering only long enough for you to see Knox’s thick arm linked with yours outside Frank’s, the smell of weed in your nostrils, and the bright lights of Joel’s truck. And then it’s gone, before you can get a good grip of it.

“I’m…I remember now. Yeah. No, I’m not here much, I just…Rough week.”

He nods again, and you suspect he hasn’t listened to a word you’ve said since he got you alone. “You want another drink?”

The way he’s looking at you makes you feel more and more nauseous. Makes you want to turn and run back downstairs, slot in beside Anna and Kara, bury yourself between their shoulders and stay there until they decide they want to go home.

It makes you feel the way it felt last week, when he halted you outside the bar on your way to Joel. And suddenly the memory is soaring in front of your eyes again.

Your hand on Joel’s elbow. The frown on his face. Whitened knuckles around the steering wheel. ‘s go, pretty girl. Pretty girl. Pretty girl. Pretty girl.

“Yeah,” you tell Knox. “Yeah, I do.”

You follow him downstairs where he nods to Sam at the bar.

Sam ignores him, instead glares at you. “Can we talk…?” he asks, but Knox cuts across him.

“Beer, right?” he checks with you, and you nod. “And another whiskey.”

Your friend hesitantly grabs the drinks, glancing up at you every five seconds in a question. You respond by nodding slowly, feeling your head bounce each time you do.

You lazily scan the room for Anna and Kara, who you spot in a booth over by the window. The spotlights overhead reflect in the sparkles of Anna’s dress; Kara’s holding the straw of her drink between her lips, bobbing her head to the music. You saunter over, twirling on your way.

“Where have you been, baby?” Anna calls, giggling when you fall against the booth, palms flat on the wooden table.

“Upstairs,” you mumble, and then feel a tap on your back.

“Forgot this,” Knox says, pushing the beer into your hand. “You wanna go dance?”

Anna’s face twists into one of worry, and you give her an apologetic smile and spin off, following the wide frame to a dark corner of the bar where he takes your wrist and pulls your body against his.

He’s not doing much dancing, rather, he’s just keeping a solid grip on your waist, watching as you rock side to side, taking a couple shallow sips of your drink. You pull on his arm, Fucking move, dude, but he only leans further back, until he’s shrouded in shadows and pulling you into them with him.

When he leans into your space and snakes a drunken arm tight around your neck, you don’t retreat. You lean in, too, and plant your lips on his.

It’s messy, it’s a little gross. He tastes sour, weed and alcohol on his tongue, and it makes you wish you’d never started kissing him. Still, you take it further. You open your mouth more, letting more of him in, soak your own tongue, wet your lips. You barely even feel it when his hands move south and cup your ass, and it’s only when he squeezes that you wriggle out of his grip.

“Sorry,” you mumble, taking hold of his sleeve to steady yourself. “Sorry.”

He shakes his head, says something short that you don’t hear, and you lean back against him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He’s smaller, much shorter than Joel. Your shoulders almost match the height of his. But he’s more built, he’s bulkier, in an uncomfortable way. Like trying to put your arms around a giant balloon or something. There’s no softness, no enclosing feeling when your weight presses against his. Just the huge surface of his chest, the hollow feeling of two mismatched bodies unwillingly pushed together.

Not strong. Not safe. Not secure. Not him.

But you’re kissing him again, because it’s the first time in five days you’ve felt something other than your aching chest and heavy head. You’re kissing him because you feel unwanted and unloved and, even though he seems almost as hammered as you are, it feels good to have someone want to be on you.

You’re kissing him because you’re trying to pretend it’s Joel.

Only he tastes…well, disgusting, and he smells different. He’s sweating from the heat in the bar, and his arms aren’t placed somewhere to make you feel wrapped in his grasp, they’re placed anywhere that he can pinch, squeeze, or otherwise fondle.

Joel’s face swims in and out of your head; a smile as he pulls you in for a kiss, a smirk when he’s telling you off, soft eyes when he’s listening to you talk. It makes you want to throw up.

That might just be the drinks.

Someone taps you furiously on the shoulder, and you push Knox off your body.

When your eyes fail to meet Sam’s, he takes your wrist and drags you behind the bar, ripping the beer bottle from your grasp and almost launching it into the sink. It smashes, and the liquid pours down the drain.

“Hey, what the f–?”

“I’m gonna call your dad,” he yells, deafening to your numb ears.

“Do not fucking call my dad,” you slur, laughing a little. “I’m fine! I’m having fun.”

“You’re fucking wasted. And that guy – he’s bad news.”

“Does it matter?”

He shakes his head in disbelief. “Who even are–? What the fuck is up with you right now? Yes, it fucking matters!”

“Not my dad,” you repeat as you back away, staggering over to the booth where your friends sit.

Anna storms over to meet you, slipping her wrist around yours and bringing you to a halt. “Did Sam find you?” she asks. Her hands plant on your shoulders, and she dips her head until you’re eye to eye.

She’s blurry. She’s nothing but shapes, and movements, and noises. And she’s fucking pissing you off.

“Can everyone just – get the fuck off of me?” you groan, stumbling backwards, and Anna links her hands with yours to stop you from collapsing.

She pulls you back upright, leaning in close. Her head shakes, you can see that much. But her expression is cloudy, and her hands don’t let go of yours so easily when you try to pull away. The orb-like shapes in front of you mutter your name, only it’s not Anna’s voice, it’s his.

Anna’s babbling, panicked tone drives through your skull. “She’s been drinking, like, a lot, and I think she might’ve had some weed upstairs. But Sam said he saw –”

“C’mon, kid,” his voice says again, and there’s a heavy arm pulling you off to the door.

“Get – off – of – me.” You struggle in his grasp, pushing his body away from yours, fingers expecting to find the V-neck collar of a black shirt and instead finding –

Buttons. The edges of a green flannel shirt. And a soft cotton tee underneath. And then his scent washes over you: warm, sweet, earthy. Grounding.

“Joel…” you whisper, thick with fear and intoxication and need.

His jaw angles down, you catch one fleeting glimpse of his chin, graying beard, tight lips hidden beneath it, and then you’re shoving his chest again, attempting to push him as far away from your own body as he’ll go.

Only he doesn’t move.

“Fuck off,” you seethe, palms flat on his pecs. “Get the fuck away from me.”

He says your name in a hazy blur, says, “We’re goin’ home,” and you almost laugh in his face.

“I don’t f-fucking think so.”

“Yeah? Well, I do. Thanks, Anna, I got her.”

“Hey,” a fourth voice joins the chorus, “hey, you know this guy?”

Knox pushes past Joel’s arm, unlinking your fingers from his, and takes your shoulder with one rough hand. All your anger, all your rage at Joel, and yet, the second you’re separated from him, the only thing on your mind is having his hand back around yours.

Joel’s upper lip twitches, he stares at the back of Knox’s head and then scoffs, reaches by him again to take your wrist. You let him have it. “Come on,” he says.

Knox is rounding on him, holding Joel back with a palm flat to his chest. “I ain’t too comfortable lettin’ her head outta here with some random old man, dude…”

Shut the fuck up shut the fuck up shut the –

Joel’s jaw ticks. His expression falls blank, narrowed eyes looking up and down Knox’s frame as you tremble behind it, Anna’s steady arm around your shoulders.

“Take your hand off of me, and move aside,” he snarls, voice dangerous. You can hear the threat, and at the same time, the desperate attempt from within himself to hold off.

“Hey,” Anna reaches forward, tapping Knox’s shoulder three times with a glittery nail, “she knows him. It’s fine. He’s fine.”

“Nah, man,” Knox hisses back, “who the fuck even are you? You ain’t takin’ her anywhere.”

You step forward, putting yourself between the two of them, hands clumsily landing on each of their shoulders. “He’s a f…my dad’s friend,” you slur, eyes unfocused.

Knox isn’t listening. He hasn’t listened the entire fucking night. His eyes are set on Joel’s as he wraps a tight fist around your free arm, trying to pull you closer to him. Only he’s hurting you, and your fingers struggle to pry yourself free, so you look up at Joel.

You couldn’t see Anna’s expression. Couldn’t make out the worry on her face that her voice clued you in on. You could barely even see Sam, when he dragged you out of the dark corner of the bar.

But you can see Joel. See the shadow his brows cast over his glower, see his thin lips, see the tightening of his jaw. See the rage inside him like it’s an alarm beacon, flashing red from behind his eyes.

Knox tugs angrily on your wrist. “You just gonna let this asshole ruin your night?”

“Let go of m-me,” you murmur, suddenly feeling the bar’s eyes on you. Your face reddens with heat from the alcohol, doubled by your embarrassment.

When he hears you, Joel’s face contorts into one you’ve never seen on his face in your life. Fury, disgust and fury, twisting his lip and tugging on his brows. He leans in and rips yours and Knox’s hands apart, pulling you free and shifting you behind his body with as much effort as it’d take him to click his fingers. Your weak hand reaches out to take a fistful of his shirt, holding onto him at his spine.

The men square up to one another, Joel at least four inches taller and, despite Knox’s built form, far broader. Knox takes a step forward and Joel matches.

“Joel…” you whisper, catching Anna’s gaping stare over his shoulder.

“Hey, uh, Mr. Miller?” Sam edges in from behind Knox. “I’m gonna have to ask that you…don’t…do this, but if you have to, can y’all maybe move it out to the street?”

“Do I gotta do somethin’?” Joel asks Knox. You pull in closer to his back, trying to hide your face from the spotlight cast on you by what feels like thousands of drunken eyes staring directly at you.

Knox thinks it over for a moment. You can see Zack watching like a deer in the headlights from behind his buddy. He’s seen Joel before, and you know from the way his eyes stick on him that he recognizes him. Remembers how briskly he swept you out of the soft drinks section, how blunt he was about it.

The V-neck swells with the deep inhale its wearer takes, and then he shakes his head, sighing. Smug smirk thick across his lips.

“Nah, man. I didn’t think she was gonna be worth the fuck anyways, so.”

Joel clicks his teeth, gives his head one quick shake, mutters a resigned, “Alright,” then reaches back, and nudges you gently by the stomach until you’re safely out of reach.

And then he swings.

Once, catching Knox across the corner of his jaw, sending his face skyward. The crowd around the three of you gasps. Knox’s burly chest twists, and he staggers backward. His hands come up to clutch his face before Joel’s taking the collar of his shirt in his fist, reeling him in and holding him steady.

“Joel!” you yell, but he doesn’t fucking hear you.

His second blow lands square on Knox’s nose with a crack loud enough even for your numb ears to hear over the thudding music. Blood sprays from his nostrils and floods down into his mouth, smearing across his cheek as Joel’s knuckles ricochet off the square face. The crimson pours down his chin, spattering onto his shirt, bright and shocking against the stretched black material.

Joel lets him drop and he collapses onto all fours, coughing blood and spit and whatever the fuck else onto the dark floor.

“Fuck!” Knox screams, fingers trembling over his burst nose – thick, dark droplets running down his hands. “You motherfucker, you broke my fucking nose!”

Joel stoops down, takes the back of Knox’s shirt in two rough hands and hauls him up until he’s limp on his knees.

“I ever see you around here again,” he growls, “I ever find out you’ve been anywhere near her, as much as looked in the same fuckin’ direction as her, I’ll do worse ‘n break your Goddamn nose. You hear me?”

Knox whimpers, more blood dribbles from between his lips, and Joel throws him down. He turns back to you, massaging his knuckles with his thumb, and grabs your hand.

Your voice is weak with shock. “What the f-uck was that?”

“Just – come on,” he says, dragging you out of Frank’s without another word.

He leads your wobbly form down the street, past chattering crowds toward his black truck, opening the door for you and helping your unsteady limbs up into the passenger side, before he closes the door over and strides around to the driver’s side.

When he shuts his door – more of a slam – he sighs, head leaning back. His hand clenches and then relaxes, loosening his knuckles, hissing anytime the quickly-darkening skin stretches.

“Sorry,” you mutter.

“What you sorry for?”

You shrug. Your mouth trips over words. “…gettin’ you into a barfight.”

He doesn’t look over at you. Just Hms and switches the ignition on, pulling away from the busy curb.

“Where’s m-my dad?” you slur.

“Work. Site inspection, remember?”

You nod, turning back to the road when you start to feel motion sick. Your eyes feel like they’re spinning in their sockets, your stomach flips with the slightest turn. “He get that delivery?” you ask, letting Joel know you heard the phone call earlier.

His jaw turns in your direction. Letting you know he knows you heard it. “Yeah. He’ll be home in a couple hours.”

“Did Sam c-call him?”

“No. Why?”

You lean your head against the passenger window, the cold distracting your brain from the ache in your head. The streetlights sail by in a blur. The engine rattles through the glass.

“Asked ‘im not to.”

“Yeah? ‘n why’s that?”

Your head rolls back onto the headrest as you decide on an answer. I didn’t want him seeing me drunk and high. I don’t care about you seeing me drunk and high. I just wanted to see you.

“’s never seen me drunk.”

“Or high?”

You snort. “I’m not…”

When your head slants to the left to look at Joel, his face turns from yours. He was just looking at you, and you missed it. Probably had that look on his face, that Nice try, kid expression.

“Okay…” you admit, spiritless, “a little high, then.”

“Anna was the one who called,” Joel says. “Said you were hammered, some guy was all over you, ‘n Sam watched him put somethin’ in your drink. They couldn’t find you anywhere. She was fuckin’ hysterical.”

Your head bobs with the moving truck. “When’d he put someth…?”

Joel shrugs. “I dunno. But I believe it.”

So do I, you think. Knox was on you from the minute he saw you. Tight grip around your waist, your wrist, drawing you into him with beer and weed and whatever else he had in his pockets. The comment that had warranted him two bone-breaking punches from Joel all but confirmed the intentions he had in mind. And now you feel fucking stupid.

“I didn’t really…I only had a couple sips of it,” you hear yourself saying, head heating with embarrassment – an attempt to convince him, or maybe more yourself, that you’re not as dumb as leaving your drink to be roofied.

Your voice sounds pathetic, though, and Joel doesn’t say anything to make you feel better. Doesn’t say anything to make you feel worse, either – the silence does that by itself.

You bring your knees up to your chin, nestling a little into the seat. It could almost feel like nothing’s happened, nothing’s changed, except you’re intoxicated, and Joel’s hands are firmly by his person. Not on your thigh, or tangled between your fingers like they usually would be.

You study him. Stare at every part of him like it’s the last time you’ll ever get to see it, until the gentle curve of his nose and the glint of his watch face are burned into the back of your eyelids when you close them over. Face lit red from the brake lights in front, right hand sitting idly on his thigh.

He looks like your Joel. Almost. Just a little closed off. Distant.

But he came to get you, right? Damn near punched Knox’s lights out, took you by the hand, led you back to the safety of his truck. He came straight to Frank’s as soon as Anna called. And he’s taking you home. He’s looking out for you.

So why doesn’t he feel like your Joel?

Well. You can wager a pretty solid guess. It starts with L and ends with comma, Receptionist at Clark’s Plant Hire.

The dark silhouette of your house looms overhead as Joel pulls into your drive. Sure enough, your dad’s not home.

The engine cuts and your head drops, eyes fixing on your hands clasped in your lap. You know Joel’s watching you. What the fuck is he thinking about?

Fuck that. Don’t think about that. Let’s not dive into that pool of imagination.

“Well, thanks.” You do your best to smile, without really looking at him. Your fingers find the door handle and you tug on it, pushing it open and spilling out onto your driveway.

You hear Joel sniff behind you. “Need a hand?”

“I’m good,” you call back, only just managing to stay on your feet.

The cold air helps a little to waken you up, sharpen your senses, but the world around you is still a whir of dull color and shapelessness, and you wobble across to the house in a route of zig-zags, boots almost tripping over thin air as you go. When you reach your front door, you hear his truck lock and the shadow of him appears by your side.

“I said I’m good.”

“I ain’t leaving you, kid. You’re hammered.”

You roll your eyes and open your mouth to protest, but then he’s taking the keys out of your hand and unlocking the door himself, hand on your back as he ushers you into your own house.

“I’m f-fine,” you repeat, tripping over the doorway.

“Look it.”

You meander over to the stairs, and when your foot manages to find the first step, Joel says your name. Your gaze sweeps across the floor until it meets his boots, travels up his legs, and finally rests on his outstretched hand.

“Water,” he tells you.

“I’m fine,” you say, the word losing meaning the more you utter it. “I wanna go – to bed.”

He shakes his head, and then tilts it in the direction of the kitchen.

You groan, mumble something about him being such an asshole, and walk straight by his hand.

Joel doesn’t react. Just follows you and hits the lights, which burn your eyes when they flicker to life. You wince and point up to them.

“Off,” you bluntly order, and he grunts, stepping back to oblige. You’re plunged straight back into darkness.

You’re holding yourself unsteadily against the edge of the kitchen island, whole body swaying. The room is fucking spinning, the lights out back swirling with it in a blur of white motion before your eyes. You swallow dryly and turn around to focus on Joel.

He’s filling a glass over the sink. “What happened to your leg?” he asks over his shoulder.

You turn your knee, examining the dent in your calf where the stool leg cut into you. The dry burgundy stain like a backwards seam line on your skin, emerging from a bright red bruise slowly fading to deep purple.

“Fell off a stool,” you mutter, angling it in the moonlight streaming in through the window.

Joel Hms again. “You got anything to cover it?”

You shrug, having lost any and all energy to barter back with him. He slides the glass across the countertop to you, followed by a bottle of painkillers, then turns back to the open drawer he pulled them from and begins rummaging for a band-aid.

Your shaky hand lifts the glass to your lips. It’s cold and slippery in your grasp, drops of condensation running over your fingers like the blood from Knox’s nose had run over his. The more you tighten your grip, the harder it becomes to hold, until it’s sliding from your clutch.

“Easy,” Joel murmurs, appearing at the side of you and placing his hands over yours, holding the glass still.

“Your knuckles are bleeding,” you say, eyes focusing and then unfocusing on the marks at the base of his fingers, the dabs of dark red where the skin has burst.

He slowly lowers your hands until the glass is safely back on the counter, and then pulls away from you, drawing his swollen knuckles in to his body.

“They’re bleedin’,” you repeat, looking up at him.

“I know they’re bleedin’.”

“Let me see,” you step forward, “Joel. Let me–”

He catches your hands in his. Pushes them back down. Stares at the counter, sighs instead of replying.

Your eyes sting, filling with tears that crowd your already-blurred vision. The punch you feel to your gut brings you to your senses as if it drains you of every substance in your system all at once.

It’s like he’s broken up with you all over again. And it pisses you the fuck off.

“Fuck you,” you whisper into the dark, and he doesn’t move. Doesn’t lift his eyes, doesn’t even flinch. “Fuck you, so much.”

You’re staring him down, what little you can see of him in the pale light cascaded onto him through the shades. The crease between his brows, more prominent with the frown on his face; the line his lips form with the tight clench of his jaw.

Fucking look at me, you think. He can say something back – anything. You can stand and hiss horrible words at one another, yell at each other if that’s what he wants to do. Argue until you’re blue in the face, until the alcohol’s all dried up and the moonlight on his chest is replaced by sunlight. Just fucking look at me.

“You’re an asshole and a liar, you know that?”

“Yeah?” he asks, eyebrows lifting.

“Yeah,” you decide. “Just stringing me along this whole time.”

You blink away the tears before they can fall, making room for more. They’re forming rapidly, each time heavier, and thicker, and angrier. But fuck it, right? This is over. He’s done, and you’re done. Just ignore the pain of it, stick your finger in the wound and keep pushing until you hit bone.

“That guy you punched? He was all over me. All fucking night.”

Joel’s voice is toneless. He’s already over the conversation before it’s begun. “I know he was, kid.”

“We kissed.”

“I know that, too.”

“Had his hands all over me. ‘n if it hadn’t been him, it woulda been literally any other guy in there.”

The words are starting to bleed into one another in your inebriated state. Anger turning to rage turning to fear turning to shame turning to hurt turning back into anger.

“Woulda kissed any one of ‘em. Mighta let them take me home, mighta let them fuck me.”

His head gives an involuntary shake and he blinks. Like he’s trying to wash the thought away. The image of you under someone else, moaning someone else’s name, pulling someone else into your body.

“That piss you off? It make you hate me?”

And then he looks up. Finally, his gaze locks with yours. And his eyes are just as glassy, just as fucking full of tears as yours. He replies with the worst thing he could possibly come up with. It forces the breath from your lungs in a painful exhale.

“There ain’t a thing in this world that you could do that would make me hate you, you know that.”

And then your tears start to fall. Your façade breaks. Stone crumbles. Dam bursts. They fall onto your cheeks, searing on your heated skin, rolling down onto the front of your dress in dark splatter marks.

Through a sob, you choke out another, “Fuck you, Joel,” and then, when you catch your breath, “you don’t get to – to sleep with someone else, and make me feel like the idiot for it.”

He looks up at you with a dark expression, lips locked tight like he’s refusing to let something slip. He shakes his head, and then says, “Can we not have this conversation right now?”

You scoff. A drunken, angry scoff. “You don’t wanna talk about her? When’s a good fuckin’ time, then? When suits you and f-fuckin’ – Lois?”

He falls quiet. Presses his fingers into his eyes. Sighs. “Baby,” he says into his palms.

“’m not your fucking baby,” you whisper between your teeth.

“Baby.” He drops his hands. Looks you dead in the eye. “I did not sleep with Lois.”

You’re frozen to the spot. Your lips fall apart, coated in salty tears. You’re holding your breath, though you’re not sure what for. The room stops spinning for all of ten seconds until he speaks again.

“I didn’t. I know what that message sounded like. Know how you musta heard it. But nothin’ happened, nothin’ has ever happened. Nothin’ would ever happen,” he says, a little more animated, tossing his hands in the air.

You stare between his eyes. He’s still enough that your fucked brain can focus on them, can see plain as day – even in the dark kitchen, even through your cloudy tears and all of the poison in your blood – that he’s telling the truth.

“Ex-plain,” you say dryly, looking down to his lips.

Joel sighs again. “I told you I had work to do. Had to head over to Clark’s to order that stuff for your dad. Saw her there, said hi. ‘n that’s all.”

Your eyes slowly close over, wet lashes on hot, dehydrated skin. Your ears are ringing, your body aching. You breathe a sigh as what he says sinks into your slow, throbbing brain, and then lull to one side, slumping against the counter.

“You didn’t…you didn’t think this was worth tellin’ me on Monday?”

“Tried, baby. You were gone. You were so angry; thought it’d be better if I let you cool off.”

“You’re – a fucking – idiot,” you seethe, shaking your head. It’s starting to pound again, sharp pain right behind your eyes like they’re being tugged backwards.

“Well, tonight, I guess that makes two of us.”

You grimace at him. “Lettin’ me go for four fuckin’ days thinking that –”

“– thinkin’ that I would actually cheat on ya? ‘s that what you think a’ me?”

“What did you ex-pect? You didn’t exactly try to – c-clear it up.” You step back, lifting a hand to cup your forehead with a groan. A mix of frustration, pain, and exhaustion in the form of a slow-moving ache hauls its way from one temple to the other.

“Baby, I gotta get you to bed,” Joel says, stepping forward. “We can talk about this when you’re able to see straight.”

“I’m fine,” you whimper, but it’s the least convincing you’ve sounded all night.

“Kid–”

“Don’t fucking call me kid. Like it’s some pet name, like you give a damn about me–”

“You think I don’t give a damn about you? You think I don’t care?”

Your head wobbles in response. It sends the room hurtling again, Joel’s figure swimming in and out of your vision. You grab the countertop again in attempt to freeze him in place.

He tuts and turns his jaw. “You know how much sleep I’ve had these last few days? Not a fuckin’ minute. I ain’t slept a single night, worryin’ about you ‘n what’s goin’ through your head. Like I give a damn about you. I wish I didn’t give a damn about you, baby. Make my life a whole lot easier.”

“Then, show me. Fucking prove it to me.”

“Prove it to you how? Break some asshole’s nose in a bar? Take you home when you’re wasted?”

Yeah. And also, no. Not just that.

You seethe. “You know what the fuck I mean. Do something about it.”

“I can’t,” he says, raising his voice. “Can’t take you out on dates, can’t put my arm around you, can’t kiss you ‘less there ain’t nobody watchin’. I can’t do none of what I wanna do. This is – it’s fuckin’…”

“…impossible,” you breathe, thick and slurred.

Joel lifts his head then, sees the look in your eye. He sniffs. “’s pretty damn hard, yeah.”

You tip your head back, feel the weight of your tears and your eyes and your brain slap against the back of your skull, a nauseating pull at the nape of your neck. You’re defeated. Nothing left in you to argue, talk, even so much as breathe.

Your words drag between one another, each one beginning with the remnants of the one before it.

“Just - take me to bed.”

He’s standing inches from you, hands hovering over your own, hesitant or unwilling or fucking afraid to touch you.

You ball your fists against his chest and give him one tiny, ineffective shove. But he’s bigger, stronger, sober. He doesn’t budge. Accepting defeat, you breathe one last, “Fuck you,” and brush past him, staggering out of the kitchen.

Joel – water and painkillers in hand – watches you like a hawk going upstairs, arms braced for you to lean on anytime you begin to tumble backward. When you do, his hand brushes your elbow, and you whip it out of his reach and reel it back in to your body.

He settles you on the bed just like he did six days ago, after your rodeo night. Only he doesn’t kneel, doesn’t take your boots off. Just walks away, grabs a tee from your chest of drawers and hands it to you to slip into by yourself.

You don’t even have to open your eyes. You know which one he’s given you. Can tell from the feel of the material, the cracked lettering on the chest, that it’s his Rangers shirt, the same one he put on you the first night you slept together. Smells more like you than it does him these days, but feels just like he always does. And as he waits a safe two-feet from you for you to change, no hands reaching out to help, to fix your hair, to stroke your cheek – you think the shirt will just have to do.

Everything he does is close enough for you to recognize him as Joel, and yet distant enough for him to be someone totally different. Every move he makes is pre-determined, all outcomes already analyzed and mapped, all risks carefully averted. It’s like he’s walking a minefield.

He hands you a couple of pills and helps with lifting the water to your lips. Then he sits at the end of your bed and applies the band-aid while you drag a makeup wipe clumsily over your face.

His thumbs linger on your fucked leg, rubbing over the padded dressing a few times after it’s stuck on, gentle and slow. Eyes never leaving the spot your skin broke open. And then, when you’re done with it, he takes the makeup wipe and quickly runs it down your calf, cleaning the dry blood from your skin.

Touch as delicate as though he were holding a rose – fingers brushing over your body like you might tear or fall apart at the slightest movement. When he’s done, he makes his way around to the opposite side of the bed.

“There’s a sleeping bag in the hall closet if you’d rather take the floor,” you tell him, rolling back and pulling your knees to your chin.

“Nah,” Joel says with the groan of a near-fifty-year-old man, kicking his boots off and propping his pillows up. “We’re close enough by now.”

He pulls the flannel from his shoulders and tosses it to the end of the bed, then slips in under the covers beside you, clasping his hands on his chest. His entire body a perfectly polite distance away.

Your wrist lifts, weak and limp, and your fingers ghost across his red wine knuckles. He winces a little, but he doesn’t move. Instead, he watches as you trace the curves of his hands, surfing the valleys where the bone drops, then back up to the peaks where the blood breaks from his skin.

“You didn’t have to…” you whisper. “He was just some dirtbag.”

He sniffs. Replies to you in his head, translated through the look in his eye. Wasn’t all about the dirtbag.

And you know it. Knox was just an asshole who took the hit for the last four days. Sure, he deserved it. But his big, ugly face and the uglier words which happened to tumble out of it were simply a punchbag full of sand; Joel’s fist hammering into it was as much about defending you as it was about punishing someone, anyone, the first fucker who wound up on the wrong side of him, for everything that had happened.

He's angry. At himself and at you and at this entire fucking mess. And you’re angry. At yourself and at him and at the very same thing. The two of you lie side by side in the dark, both broken and bruised and bleeding. You let out a small, pathetic sigh, and Joel echoes it.

His eyes close over and you stare at him. Stare at the faint lines on his face that slowly fade as he relaxes more, falls closer and closer to sleeping. Watch his chest slowly rising and falling, and his hands moving up and down with it. His entire body is still. Like it’s the first calm he’s had in a while. The first time he’s been able to settle.

And you stare at him. For hours, feels like. You stare at him until sleep, or alcohol, or something stronger coats over your vision and sweeps him out of focus.

----------

The wall opposite your window is lit with a single stripe of bright, nauseating orange, the sunrise staring in between your drapes. There are birds screaming outside. Your head is still throbbing and your throat feels like splintered wood and the other side of your bed is empty.

He can’t have left long ago. The mattress is still warm under the sheets he’s folded back over. His shirt is sat folded on the pillowcase.

You grab it and haul yourself out of bed – head still spinning, you trip out of your room.

He’s gotta be in the kitchen. He’ll be standing at the counter drinking a coffee, he’ll mumble a Mornin’, then pull you in and kiss the top of your head. He’ll ask how you’re feeling and if you want some breakfast. He’ll be Joel again.

“Joel…?” you call, rounding the bottom of the stairs toward the kitchen. No response.

The clock on the oven reads 5:57. The kitchen is deserted. When you loop around the island – as if he’d be crouched behind it or something – you notice an empty mug sitting in the sink, trails of black coffee at the bottom.

Your shaking hands cup around the ceramic. It’s cooling, but it’s warm.

He’s been in here.

“Joel!” you yell. Come out, now, this ain’t funny anymore.

You hear the squeak of wheels rolling to a stop outside and flee over to the living room windows, daybreak burning your eyes when you peer through the shades.

You’re frantically searching, going blind with the bright rays singeing your corneas, pacing back and forth between each window to get an angle on the street that will show you his truck. Show you him.

You don’t even notice the sound of keys in the door, or the rattle it makes as it pushes open.

“Hey, kiddo.”

You whip around. The owner of the voice lifts a hand to his puffy eyes and rubs them, yawning.

“H-hi, Dad.”

You look fucking insane. Hair all over the place, makeup haphazardly removed, Joel’s flannel shirt hanging from your fist. Wearing nothing but a long tee, a blood-seeped band-aid on your calf.

“Good night?” he says with a sleepy chuckle. “I am pooped. You want anythin’ before I head up to bed?”

You shake your head, but he’s not looking. Rubbing his eyes with his knuckles.

“Alright, I’m gonn–”

“Where’s Joel?”

Your desperation has reached a new high. Your pride, a new low. You just want him back, don’t care who knows or thinks or suspects what. Just come back.

“Huh?”

“Joel? He brought me home and I woke up and he’s gone.”

“He – Well, I…I suppose he’ll be at work, hon. He can’t stick around here all day.” He smiles weakly, and then swivels on his heels.

“He text you?”

He sighs, his back still turned. “What has gotten into…? Here.”

Your dad twists and throws his phone toward you. It lands on the carpet at your feet. Then he turns back and begins climbing the stairs.

“See ya in a few hours.”

When he turns the corner on the landing and his footsteps fade out of earshot, you bend and your fingers clutch his phone.

He has one unread text from Joel.

You unlock the phone with a click and open up the message thread. Your half-drunk, half-sleepy eyes flit across the screen, leaning back against the arm of the couch to read every word he ever sent your dad.

Joel: She’s in bed. Sat with her for a bit to make sure she didn’t roll onto her back. She’s a little worse for wear. I got a job up in Waco I need to be at in an hour, so I gotta head.

You scroll further back.

Joel: She okay?

Joel: Sarah says she hasn’t heard from her in a few days. We can come over for dinner tonight if you reckon that might help?

Further back still.

Joel: Sure, not doing anything anyway. Sarah in Nashville. Tell her to text me when she’s ready to be picked up. Hope she enjoys her rodeo night 🤠

Joel: Table booked for 6. Get you both at 5:45. Looking forward to it.

You scroll until your eyes hurt.

Joel: No answer. She’ll be home soon I bet.

Joel: You ever seen Grey’s Anatomy? Pretty good TV

Joel: Your daughter available tonight to help me put up stuff for Sarah coming home? I fear what might happen if I attempt it myself

You read the final message, the first thing he sent your dad after you got home. Six days in. He’d driven you home from work.

Joel: No problem, wouldn’t have her walking home in the rain. Was nice to see her again. She’s a sweetheart.

You’re laid back across the couch, your legs hanging over the armrest. You drop the phone to your chest and stare up at the ceiling, suddenly feeling a lot more sober.

She’s a sweetheart.

Your throat tightens around a sob. Like a fist clenching around your neck, crushing your breath to nothing. Your eyes well, tears slowly flood across your vision and then spill over, running rapidly down to your ears and seeping into the fabric of the couch. You’re still silent. Still unable to open your mouth.

You’re doing everything you can to hold back. To stop it from happening. But your chest feels like it could burst, and your eyes are screwing shut tighter and tighter, and your body curls up like an animal succumbing to a mortal wound, and then –

Then, you break.

It forces its way from your throat, hammering against the sides of your mouth before it’s escaping, tearing away from your lips and hurtling skyward. A deep, violent exhale. Broken, and painful, and heavy.

There’s no one to hold back for. Just you, sat in your living room, clutching the flannel of a man who doesn’t want you anymore.

Your breath stammers, shudders against the palms of your hands as your fingertips massage your eyes. You’re crying like a little kid, and it’s not making you feel any better, but no matter what you do, it won’t stop.

And you don’t know why. You tell yourself that: I don’t know why I’m crying. Almost laugh when you think it through to yourself: sobbing at 6AM over someone you were sleeping with, for all of, what, four weeks? I don’t know why the fuck I’m crying.

Except – you do. You do. And you’re totally, completely, undeniably fucked.

You sigh and close your eyes.

You are – fucked.

----------

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kookslastbutton · 10 months

Text

Best Intentions ༓ myg (m)

✑ Summary: As vice president, you are obligated to attend your boss's wedding–you're also his friend. But while you should be focused on the newlyweds, you find yourself far too interested in the attractive best man and the woman who happens to be his plus one.

Pairing: best man!yoongi x vice president!reader

AU/genre: angst, smut, slight thriller, s2l, oneshot

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 3,753

Warnings: No infidelity, dark yoongi, sexual content, death (not major character)

sexual warnings: dom!yoongi, sub!reader, cussing, handj*b, unprotected s*x (don't follow their lead!), penetration, car sex, d*rty talk, they c*me together, yoongi has tattoos

Now Playing: Haegeum

A/N: Little nervous about this one butI haven't written fic inspired by Haegeum yet so here we go! Hope you enjoy 💞

You watch as he brushes a few pieces of his dark locks out of his face. Never have you seen such a handsome and alluring man. He takes a seat on the barstool, nodding at the bartender in greeting. “Whiskey, neat. And a sex on the beach for the lady.”

He turns his head over his right shoulder, sparing a glance at the gentle hand resting on him. The woman who it belongs to is nothing short of radiant and confident. Her body is athletically built, her skin soft but tough. Her name is Yeong-Ja and she happens to be his plus one.

“__.” She smiles at you with ruby-red lips. “Why don’t you join us?” Her tone is thick and laced with sensuality. You fight the temptation but you feel instantly small compared to her. It’s not that you find yourself unattractive or anything but Yeong-Ja has a certain aura that’s incredibly rare.

The man, Min Yoongi, sets his gaze on you with a similar intensity. You only met the both of them about half an hour ago and they were already perfectly successful at making your bones quake. You’ve heard the idea of power couples a million times and though Min Yoongi and Yeong-Ja weren't officially together, you'd be a fool to think I'd never happen. They came here together after all.

“Thank you for the invite,” you reply, keeping your eyes as firm as you can. “But I still need to pay my respects to President Kim and his lovely new wife.”

Yeong-Ja taps Yoongi twice, signaling him to stand up. “I need to do that too actually. Why don’t we go together?”

He stays seated despite her gesture. “The drinks haven’t come out yet. I’ll wait for them if you two wanna go.” He looks at you again with his piercing, cat-like eyes. “You sure you don’t want anything __?”

You smooth down the sides of your dress, a nervous response you picked up since a teenager. You wish he wouldn’t follow the movement but he does. “Sure, maybe a strawberry daiquiri.”

Yoongi gives a nod and asks the bartender to include it in the order. “Thank you,” you say.

“Shall we?” Yeong-Ja breaks from Yoongi to near your side. “President Kim’s about to have a ton of guests giving their congratulations. It’s best we do it before the newlyweds run out of steam.”

You nod and make your way to the wedding table.

"Congratulations President and Mrs. Kim." You bow in respect until you're pulled into a light hug.

"Thank you __," Mrs. Kim says. You'd be surprised by the hug if it weren't for the fact that the two of you have known each other since before she and your boss first started dating.

You were the one to set them up actually.

You never thought you'd have that much gull with your boss but you and Seokjin had been working together for a long time. You considered him a friend.

"I'm very happy for the both of you." You smile warmly and embrace Mrs. Kim a little tighter. "And you make such a beautiful bride."

Once broken apart, Yeong-Ja bows herself. "President Kim, Mrs. Kim." They bow in return. "I'm honored to be a guest at your wedding. I wish you both a strong, healthy marriage."

Mrs. Kim smiles wide and touches the woman on the wrist. "Thank you Yeong-Ja....I'm hoping to be a guest at your wedding as well. If you don't mind me asking, how long have you and Yoongi been seeing each other?"

Swallow it. That suddenly sick, queasy feeling in your stomach. If Yoongi was planning to get serious with Yeong-Ja, it's none of your business.

Yeong-Ja blushes and lets out a small chuckle. "Of course, I'll be sure to invite you to my wedding but I'm afraid that won't be anytime soon. Yoongi and I have only been seeing each other for a couple of weeks."

Weeks? With the chemistry they have you figured they were at least at months.

"I wouldn't be too set on it being far out into the future," Seokjin says. "One of my colleagues got married after only six months of dating his girlfriend."

"Who was that?" You mouth to which he replied with 'gguk'. Ah, makes sense now.

"Plus," Seokjin continues, "Yoongi's always talking about you and that's saying a lot considering he's pretty brief in general. Whatever you got, it's keeping his attention." He blinks up and cracks a smirk. "Speak of the devil."

Yoongi walks towards the group of you with a drink in each hand. You really need to not stare at his perfectly chiseled face, stoic eyes, and slicked-back hair. Especially after hearing that he's been practically gushing about Yeong-Ja. Still, a bitch doesn't listen.

"Strawberry daiquiri." He passes you your drink before handing Yeong-Ja hers. "And a sex on the beach." He keeps a straight face as he does this.

You notice he's taken his suit jacket off since your last interaction. His sleeves are rolled up too, veins softly protruding.

"Many thanks," you say, taking a sip. "Where's your whiskey?" You distinctively remember him asking the bartender for one but it's nowhere in sight.

Yoongi gives a quick shrug. "Already drank it."

Before another word is spoken the stereos in the reception are cranked up. Yeong-Ja takes a sip of her drink and then snakes her hand into Yoongi's arm. "Come on, we should dance. You too __."

You shake your head. Absolutely not. Dancing is fun when you're with friends but not so much with couples. You learned that the hard way many times when you'd be told that you'll all dance together.

Wrong for you to fall for that.

As soon as a slow, sensual song came on, you'd be hitting the bar or going back to your claimed table in the corner.

"No I'm good. I wanna sit and enjoy my drink for now." You lift your glass to make your point clearer.

Yeong-Ja smiles at you, then tightens her grip around Yoongi's arm and drags him to the dance floor.

You try not to watch them.

You even try sitting in the chair facing opposite of them.

But you look like a wallflower.

Several men come up to you to ask you if you want to dance, thinking you're only waiting for an invitation. Nice of them to offer but you take no interest.

The only man you remotely have your mind on is currently being swayed by another woman. And after about twenty minutes of watching, you find out that Yeong-Ja is not only a sharp thinker and sweet talker—she's also a stunning dancer.

You can tell at first Yoongi is half-assing it but once she starts getting into the beat, his efforts double.

When it comes to the slower songs, however, you can't help but notice a shift in his posture. Yeong-Ja links both arms around his neck in an effort to close the gap between her and Yoongi. It doesn't close, however, as he keeps a safe distance.

It's odd, to say the least but maybe he's just not used to that type of intimacy yet. You continue to study the two of them until you're caught red-handed. Yoongi's eyes shift over to peer into yours.

You have to snap yourself out of your daze a few times. He's definitely just staring off due to the somber music. He's not looking at you.

Oh, shit—he is.

Yoongi traces his eyes down the lines of your dress, all the way down your bare legs and back up to your eyes. His gaze is heavy and gives you goosebumps.

You grip your glass with one hand while the other clings to the edge of your dress, earning you a half-smirk from him.

Fuck.

He's a man of few words but his non-verbals speak volumes.

"She's not his girlfriend." Seokjin looks up at you from his seated position. Mrs. Kim was mingling with some of her close friends so you seized the chance to ask Seokjin about what had just happened. You needed a second opinion. "But they came here together so I assume they're going out. Are you sure he was giving you suggestive looks?"

"I mean, they weren't that suggestive but he definitely body-scanned me and smirked." You pause before continuing. "I'm trying not to think about it in case—uh I don't know. I'm sorry, it's your wedding day and I shouldn't be bothering you about this stuff."

"__, we've been working basically side by side for ten years. Yes I'm your boss still but right now I'd like to think we're friends. You're not bothering me, okay? And as far as Yoongi goes, just ignore it. He was likely smiling at you and it came off as a smirk. If it happens again maybe ask him about it because as far as I know, things are going good between him and Yeong-Ja." Obviously not that well if he's checking out someone else. You bite back the need to speak your mind.

"Okay," you agree. "You're right. It was likely just nothing."

"But you didn't finish your sentence." Seokjin pipes up before you return to your seat. "You're trying not to think about in case what?"

Let's see....how to reply while remaining subtle as possible. Seokjin and Yoongi are close friends so you need to choose your words very carefully.

Telling him you have interest in Yoongi when he's told you over and over again that he's seeing someone would not end well. A classic Kim Seokjin scold would be in dire order.

"....just in case I'm just being foolish or exaggerating what really happened." You say the words casually, no a trace of a fib. "But thanks Seokjin, for letting me talk to you about it."

"Hey." Yoongi catches you in the hallway. Apparently also needed to use the restroom. You do your best to shrug off what happened earlier.

"Hi, how was dancing?" You ask stupidly.

"It was alright. Not usually my thing but I guess I didn't mind. You sure you didn't wanna join us though? Saw a few guys come up to you."

"You saw that?" And here you were thinking you were delusional for thinking Yoongi was purposefully paying attention to you. It causes a twinge of adrenaline to zap through your body. "I didn't really feel like dancing today, that's all."

For a second you and Yoongi exchange silence. You're not sure if he's done talking or if you need to fill the space with more small talk.

"I'm glad it was better for you than usual. Yeong-Ja looks like she knows what she's doing." You fake a small laugh, hoping to break the tension but Yoongi's face remains straight. "Well I should get back in there." You end up slowly walking away but he stops you.

"We don't know each other super well but, I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier."

"What are you refering to?"

Yoongi gives you a 'really' look before flashing a gummy smile. It's the first time tonight you've seen him smile so fully. Your breath hitches as he continues. "I think we both know the answer to that. Don't you know how captivating you look in this dress?"

If your mouth wasn't gaping before it such as heck is now. But as giddy as the compliment makes you, you're in no way going to mess up a potentially blossoming relationship. You sure as hell hope that Yoongi isn't double-crossing Yeong-Ja, even if you do wish you'd be in her shoes a little.

"Um, not to be so forward but aren't you with Yeong-Ja? I appreciate the compliment though I'd—"

"We're not serious."

"Excuse me?" You as so utterly lost. Sure he and Yeong-Ja weren't together officially yet but they came here as each other's date. Seokjin and his wife were also making comments about their supposedly romantic relationship and she wasn't denying it so why is he coming onto you like this?

"That didn't come out right. I mean, we're not together romantically but we do work together. I asked her to come because I figured she'd be good company. Seokjin thinks we mold together well but I'm not really interested. To keep it short, I respect her as a coworker and consider her in the highest regard, professionally."

"You're not lying to me right? Because she seems really interested and I don't want to get in the way of anything. I'm not that type of woman alright?" You cross your arms reflexively.

Yoongi takes a step towards you, focused intent. "I have no reason to lie to you __. It's true Yeong-Ja may be interested but she's not the one I've spent half the night staring at."

The hairs on your neck stand straight. Blood rushes through your veins. "You should probably tell Yeong-Ja your feelings then."

"I did," Yoongi interuppts. "When we were back in there she came onto me. I thought all the slow, romantic music was getting to her but she kept trying to kiss me so I had to tell her I wasn't interested in anything beyond friendship."

"Oh, well, is she okay or—"

"She'll be fine. She's like me, not much fazes her. She's likely hitting on the next guy that takes her fancy now." Yoongi inches closer, and you take in the cologne he's wearing. It's subtle but enough to knock you out of your senses. "So you see, I'm not that kind of man either."

"Well good because I would have kicked you in the balls if you were double-crossing Yeong-Ja."

Yoongi snorts. "I'd expect nothing less. But thankfully, my balls are safe for now."

Great, now you're thinking about his balls. Yoongi's breath blows hot against your skin as the space between you seems to get narrower and narrower.

"Do you wanna get out of here for a bit?" He asks with a hoarse voice. "I was thinking about going out for a quick smoke."

"I don't smo—" Yoongi quirks a provocative brow. "Oh, " you finish, knowing full well he isn't proposing to have just a smoke.

You shudder as he towers above you in the backseat of his Bentley. Evidently, Yoongi did well for himself. "We shouldn't be doing this here." When Yoongi proposed you to go out, you didn't expect him to be this quick to get down and dirty.

Fooling around is one thing, but fucking in the backseat of his car in the middle of a wedding is a whole new animal for you.

"No one's gonna see if that's what you're worried about. Everyone's too busy wishing the newlyweds well..." His car is short on space but Yoongi manages to remove his silk vest. The skin of his smooth chest peeks out near the collar of his dress shirt. "But if you wanna stop here then, I won't force you any further."

God this is so indecent but you want him so, so bad. His body on yours, in yours—fuck him for being this hard to resist. You grip the fabric of his shirt and tug him back down.

Yoongi takes the opportunity to sink his head near your ear. "I was hoping this would be your answer." Your eyes roll up when he places a hot, open-mouth kiss on your neck. It's not sloppy but rather controlled as if hinting that this isn't his first go around.

"Take it out for me sweetheart." He coos after a few more nips at your jaw. The look of bewilderment on your face brings out a cocky smirk. "Please?"

His eyes turn playful as he watches you fumble with his belt. "Sorry," he says. "I usually prefer doing this myself but given the position we're in, it's better you do it." You nod. "I'd also take my time with you if it weren't for the fact that we're in my car right now." Who's fault is that? You bite down your bitterness.

"I understand." You pull at his belt buckle, releasing the leather from its hold. He groans when the tips of your fingers graze his bulge. Once you unzip the front of his pants you reach forward to free his cock.

"Fuck," Yoongi breathes, his hard length pulsating in your hand. You whimper and reflexively squeeze him harder. "Shit, don't."

You feel hot all over, drunk on the pleasure he's getting from this. "But you like this," you say, moving your hand up and down his shaft. Arousal pools in your panties as you watch him struggle to gain his composure. You wouldn't be disappointed if he came in your hand from this, but Yoongi puts a stake in those plans like a tidal wave.

He reaches between his legs, suddenly yanking your hand off of him to place it above your head. "You know what I really like __?" He grabs your other hand to join it with the other. "When people listen to what their told the first time."

He pushes up the skirt of your dress, tugs your panties to the side, and thrusts himself into you in one full motion. The immediate stretch has you gasping for air. "Fuck Yoongi–" Yes, you're wet but you still need time to adjust! "Yoongi please, I need a second."

He doesn't respond with any more than husky groans as he steadies himself above you, hands clamping down on your waist. Yoongi stills himself in you, waiting for your signal to move and when you give it to him he wastes no time setting a vigorous pace.

Every push and pull sets your body on fire as his length beats inside you. You move to claw at his back, desperately needing something to grip, but your hands are thrown back down. "Leave them," he growls.

You end up clutching your wrists as your body bounces up and down the seat of the car. The friction is a little rough due to the leather material but you don't have time to think much about it as long as Yoongi keeps fucking you this good.

"Feels-ah-amazing Yoongi, fuck. How'd you get so good at this?"

"How do you think sweetheart?" He wraps one of your legs around his waist, the new angle allows him to sink deeper into your gut. Your hips arch and a few more buttons on Yoongi's dress shirt pop open.

"You have a–chest-chest tattoo?" It's only a blur and you barely get a glimpse when he leans his body forward. But over his heart is black ink in the form of what you can only guess as some kind of wild cat.

"Mhm," he grunts. "Got it when I was 19. One of those impulsive things. Fuck–" he curses feeling you clench around him. "Is this a turn-on for you? You're squeezing me so fucking hard right now."

"Yes. My attraction for you went up about 100%, I can't explain it."

He's amused, shit-eating grin on his far too handsome face. "Well lucky for you, you don't have to explain anything. Open my shirt."

You do as he says and swallow hard seeing the tattoo of a bobcat over his left pec. He can tell you want to ask about it but being that his cock is deep in your heat, he's a little preoccupied. "I'll tell you about it later when we're not you know–fucking like rabbits in the back seat of my Bentley."

You let out a small giggle. It's a wonder no one's caught you yet. Yoongi picks up the pace again, with rough thrusts and beads of sweat around his forehead. "Fuck this pussy is making me so hard. Never been in something so wet and tight in my life." You moan as his cock drags in and out of you, stimulating your g-spot only too perfectly.

"Oh god 'm gonna come Yoongi!" You can't hold back your screams anymore. He's hitting inside you so well, cock throbbing, hair sweaty, muscles tensing, and that sinful chest tattoo teasing in front of your eyes.

"Damn right you are, make this cock yours sweetheart."

Your pussy starts spasming around him. You throw your head back, feeling your tightened core close to unwinding. Yoongi's cock twitches inside you in the seconds following before you both have your release.

Yoongi takes himself out of you, cock dripping with your cum. Your breaths are heavy as you blink up at him from your reclined position. "First time fucking in a car?" he asks, monotone.

"Mhm."

"Did you like it?"

"Mhm."

"Good, I'll give you a few minutes to gather yourself."

Once you both manage to make yourself presentable again, you head back to the reception.

"Where the fuck have you been?!" Yeong-Ja hollers at Yoongi, rushing to him through the parking lot. You're startled at her sharp tone but the closer she gets the more your stomach feels unsettled.

She doesn't give you a glance at all, her attention fully on Yoongi. "Min," she starts. Odd of her to be calling him by his last name all the sudden. "We need to leave now."

You dart your eyes at the two of them. "What-what's going on? It hasn't been that long, did something happen?" Yeong-Ja hesitates to answer so you turn to the man next to you. "Yoongi–Oh my god!" You screech when you see a glowing, red dot hovering over his heart.

Yoongi follows your line of sight. "Shit–" He curses under his breath. "Of all fucking times."

Okay, what the fuck is going on?

Yeong-Ja swiftly pulls out a gun from what appears to be a thigh holster. When she does, you spot the same bobcat tattoo on her upper thigh.

Yeong-Ja cocks the gun before aiming it to the far left. She takes the shot, the red dot instantly disappearing from Yoongi's chest.

"You don't know Yoongi very well __." Yeong-Ja lowers her gun ever so slightly. "To the outside, he's Min Yoongi, a reserved and calculative data analyst, best man to your boss Kim Seokjin. But to the inside world, he's Agust D, leader of the most feared mafia gang, Bangtan."

"I'm sorry sweetheart," Yoongi says. "I wanted to spare you from this. But now that you know our dirty little secret we can't possibly let you go."

So she's his right-hand man.

When Yoongi said they were coworkers, this was not what you were expecting.

How the fuck do you get out of this?

Masterlist

A/N: Me through this whole thing...how do I write warnings without giving away the ending? Anyway, tysm for reading and LMK what you think 💞

Note: Pls help me decide if i should turn this into a series of keep it a one shot ➡ vote here ☺

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

#yoongi smut #yoongi angst #yoongi x reader #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts x reader #bts angst #bts scenarios #fic:bestintentions #kookslastbutton

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charmandabear · 6 months

Text

Ascendn't

Summary

I got mad when the game wouldn't let me hug him after the Cazador fight. So I fixed it. Plus a bit more steaminess in the graveyard scene. (Also, yes, I'm insufferable about this title.)

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Tav Rating: M Word Count: 4.5k Tags/Warnings: post-Cazador fight, Act 3 spoilers, blood kink, biting, hurt/comfort, fluff and angst, soft dom Astarion, enthusiastic consent

It's been a good 10 years since I've written fanfiction and probably about 20 since I've published any online. This boy got me down BAD. I made an AO3 account for this fucker. (Which you can find here.)

“I can do this, but I need your help.”

You’ve never heard him plead like this. He’s usually so cool and confident. He doesn’t need anyone if he can help it. But this is different. Standing over Cazador, dagger in hand, fear and desperation in his eyes.

“I’ll be free - truly, completely free. Isn’t that what you want?”

He knows how to make your heart melt and break all at the same time. Gods, yes, of course that’s what you want, more than anything in the world. For him to be free to live the life that he never got to have, the life that Cazador stole away from him. He was so young when he got turned. And if he doesn’t take this chance, then as soon as you manage to get these damned tadpoles out of your head he’ll be relegated to the shadows once again. You can’t do that to him.

But this isn’t it. This won’t give him the freedom he so desperately craves, no, deserves. It’s just another form of chains. You take a shaky breath and prepare yourself for his disapproving glare.

“I know you think this will set you free, but it won’t. This power will trap you, just like it trapped Cazador.”

Astarion’s face goes slack, the recognition of the cycle of abuse suddenly clear. His eyes on you soften as he murmurs, “You– you’re right. I can be better than him.” He turns a steely gaze back to Cazador.

“But I’m not above enjoying this.”

With a ferocity that you haven’t yet seen in Astarion, he yanks Cazador’s head back and starts viciously stabbing into his neck. Two hundred years of pent up fury and revenge release in a matter of moments. At a certain point, he’s not even stabbing the man, but rather the idea of Cazador and everything he represents.

Eventually he slows and drops Cazador’s limp body to the ground. The dagger falls with a clatter, and Astarion takes a step back. His eyes finally come back into focus and he realizes that it’s over. Really, truly, over. He’s finally free.

His face is awash with an overwhelm of emotions that you can’t identify. He’s panting, first from the physical exertion and then the sobs that wrack his body. He lets out a howling cry filled with pain and suffering and relief and anguish and he falls to his knees, shoulders shaking. Up until this point, you and the rest of your party have been frozen to the spot as you watched Astarion claim his revenge. But something in you breaks free and you rush to his side. Where you need to be. Where you belong.

You grab him tight in your arms and curl into his neck, your own tears mixing with the blood and grime on his bare shoulder. You think with an almost sardonic humor how often your positions have been reversed. Whereas when he leaned into your neck it was often with hunger, or lust, or even just a flirty playfulness, now all you could bring is a shared pain and comfort. You plant a tender kiss just below his ear and he looks at you with tearful eyes, an unidentifiable question present. You wrap your hand around the base of his neck, fingers raking through bloodstained silver curls. Pressing your foreheads together, you sync up your breaths with his, trying to slow them back to an even rhythm. Gods, you love this man so much.

You finally dare to break the silence, whispering, “Let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?” He lets out a weary chuckle and nods. You take one more look into those wet crimson eyes, bloodshot and tired, and smear some of Cazador’s blood left on his cheek in an attempt to wipe away his tears. He takes your hand and kisses your fingertips gently. You suddenly become aware that the other six spawn have been released from their soul-draining chains and are approaching, just as tired and sweaty as the rest of you. The two of you slowly get up to your feet, each helping the other in the process.

“Is… is it over? Is he…?” The woman you vaguely recall meeting in the flophouse in Wyrm’s Crossing, Dalyria, cautiously peers at Cazador’s body. Astarion lets out one final sigh, his breathing finally returning to normal.

“Yes. He’s gone.” He sounds like he can hardly believe it himself. As though saying the words aloud might somehow break a spell and make them untrue.

“What does that mean for us?” Petras, you think, comes up behind Dal. You do remember meeting him, feeling like he was like a knockoff version of Astarion. Trying all the same moves with half of the charm. You feel bad, now, about that judgemental assessment. He looks like such a lost little boy.

“It means you have a choice,” he says with exasperation. Sibling bonds, even when forged in fire, never die. “You can hide here, living in the shadows, like parasites.” His voice is filled with venom. “Or you can be more than what he made us to be. You can choose differently, of course. But the consequences are on your head.”

“What does it mean for them?” Dal asks, and Astarion falters slightly.

“Ah. Now that is a question…” You can tell he had been trying not to think about the seven thousand vampire spawn locked up in the dungeons. He was trying to get Sebastian out of his mind since their conversation. You don’t blame him, honestly. Astarion may have been forced to do Cazador’s bidding, but that doesn’t make the fallout from that any less reprehensible. Worse even that he was good at it.

Astarion had taken a step away from you to talk to his siblings, and you can see him beginning to spiral. You close the distance again and lay a hand on his shoulder. You can feel him start under your touch.

“Let’s release them,” you offer quietly. “They deserve the same chance you got.” You have no idea who Astarion would be right now if he hadn’t gotten kidnapped by the Illithid. If he hadn’t been on this journey, seen everything he had seen. Met you. Honestly, you don’t know who you’d even be if you hadn’t met him either. The thought alone makes you run cold.

“You’re right,” he breathes barely above a whisper. “The poor wretches in the cells are innocent. They shouldn’t have to suffer just because I-” his voice catches in his throat and you see him shake off a dark thought, “lured them here.” He reaches down to pick up Cazador’s staff - Woe, you think it’s called - with a hand still stained reddish black with the vampire’s blood. He looks at it for a moment, considering it carefully, and everything this staff had ever meant. Then he slams it on the ground, red waves of energy emanating from it, using its power to unlock every single one of the cells in the dungeon.

“They’ll need someone to lead them. Take the tunnels into the Underdark. Find somewhere… well, not safe, but less perilous.” Petras eyes light up with fear.

“What? No, we can’t-” he begins desperately, but Astarion cuts him off with a hand.

“Just try to keep them out of trouble.” The exasperated tone is back. How often had he needed to manage Petras’ emotions as much as his own? You vaguely wonder if Petras looked to Astarion as a role model. The other six spawn walk off slowly, exhausted but clearly relieved to be starting anew.

You turn to Astarion, who has just finished redonning his armor that Cazador had stripped him of. His gaze is glassy; you’ve seen this look before, sometimes even when you’re in bed together. He might as well be a million miles away. You gently touch his arm to bring him back to you. He jumps slightly, then a wan smile touches his lips, but not his eyes.

“That’s it. He’s gone. After all these years – these centuries – it’s really over.” He shuffles his feet, antsy and tired at the same time. You hesitate a moment, unsure of the best way to respond, but you finally settle on, “I’m proud of you. You did the right thing.” His smile isn’t free of bitterness.

“I’m glad you think so, because I’m not so sure.” His eyes flick up back to you, but that glassy look has returned. “I just feel numb. What I’ve lost, what I’ve gained – it’s all so much. And gods, all those spawn, free in the Underdark. I need some time, I think. Just to let it all sink in.” You reach out to touch his face comfortingly. Your heart sinks as he gently pushes your hand away, but it settles when he doesn’t let go of it.

“Let’s just go. This place reeks of death and I want to feel alive again.” He gives your fingers a small squeeze and then walks off ahead of your party, making his way down the long corridor into Cazador’s dungeon. Well, not Cazador’s anymore. You briefly wonder what’s going to happen to this place.

At the end of the hallway, you see the Gur standing there, too late to be even remotely useful. You struggle to keep a scowl off your face. You hate how they treated Astarion in your last encounter. You could be sympathetic of their pain, of course; they’ve lost so much to Astarion’s actions. But the fact that they offered no sympathy for him back, the fact that they could barely acknowledge that he was a victim himself? Absolutely despicable.

Ulma stands at the head of the group, and her scowl matches yours. “You killed one vampire, but released seven thousand of his spawn? Have you lost all sense?”

“They were innocents. To kill them would have been an even greater crime.” Astarion couldn’t possibly sound more tired. You don’t blame him, these are the last people he wants to defend himself against right now.

“Some of those innocents are your fucking kids,” you grumble under your breath, hopefully not enough for Ulma to hear, but just enough for Astarion’s benefit. It’s clear that she couldn’t when she retorts, “And our children? What of their fate?”

“Cazador turned everyone we brought him into spawn. I can only assume your children are somewhere in those wretched cells. You’ll find them in the Underdark, although you may not like what you find.” The grief is plain in Ulma’s face, as well as the rest of the Gur. You feel a little more sympathy for them, but still no warmth.

“This is…” Ulma searches for the right word to capture the enormity of the situation, “difficult news.” She probably could’ve done better. “We will need to decide what this means.” She lets out a heavy sigh. “Thank you for what you have done – slaying Cazador was a great justice. As for the rest… well, time will tell.” Astarion nods curtly, and you’re relieved to be able to push past them and leave.

You and your party finally trudge back to Elfsong Tavern to rest. The rest of your companions are eager to gossip about the day’s events, everyone having something to say. You shield Astarion from their nosiness and distract them while he bathes in the tub in the corner, washing away more than just the physical dirt.

Later that evening as everyone else is beginning to tuck into bed, Astarion comes to you, finally ready to talk again. You can smell his signature fragrance, an earthy citrus with an undertone of spice, and it’s positively intoxicating. You’ve grown to really love that smell, and even the slightest whiff makes your head spin. For the first time maybe ever since you met, his eyes look… soft. Almost warm, even.

“I should probably start getting used to the shadows, again,” he muses with a light smile. “Who knows how long I have left in the sun?” Your heart drops. This had been your greatest fear, that he would feel resentful of the fact that you convinced him not to go through with the ritual, thereby committing him to an indefinite lifetime in the darkness. You know how much he’s grown to love the feeling of the sun on his skin. Not to mention how it makes his skin look, soft and kissable.

“Don’t say that,” you plead with him. “We could still find a way to control the tadpole.” He shakes his head, his freshly washed curls bouncing slightly.

“Maybe, but even if I could control it, it’s a dangerous game. I’d spend every day waiting for something to go wrong. For the tadpole to find a new trick, reassert itself, make me a slave again.” His eyes grow lighter, discovering the truth of what he’s saying as he says it. “Maybe never seeing the sun again is just the price of freedom.” You reach out and give his arm a reassuring squeeze, relishing the feel of his cool, toned arm beneath the warm linen. Even after all this time, being this close to him makes you a little lightheaded. You feel the blood rush to your cheeks and neck, almost as though it’s aching to be drunk.

“I’ll be with you either way,” you breathe softly. You can’t help but glance at his lips. “I hope you know that.”

“I think I do.” He sounds genuine, a bit of a rarity for him. Lest anyone believes Astarion to have a sincere bone in his body, he adds, “Assuming we survive, of course. Because a horrible death is always just around the corner with you.” You playfully shove his shoulder for teasing you. He laughs and gently pulls you in by your lower back and you feel the heat rising again. Your breath catches as his eyes rake over your body and face. He lingers on your lips for a moment before darting back up to your eyes.

“There’s… something I’d like to show you, if that’s alright? Something out in the city.” He cocks his head and looks at you with an almost impossible combination of bashfulness and lust. Being this close to him and breathing in his heady scent makes you dizzy. You manage to recover just enough to quip, “If you want to sneak off for a cuddle, you can just ask.” He lets you go and you feel a significant drop in your internal temperature.

“I’ll try to restrain myself if you do,” he says with a cheeky smile. He takes you gently by the hand and leads you out the Elfsong Tavern.

The graveyard is quiet, almost serene. Astarion walks forward towards a tombstone covered in ivy and, with something bordering on reverence, brushes the vines away to reveal the text engraved in the crumbling stone.

Astarion Ancunin 1229 DR - 1268 DR

He wipes the dirt off his hands and steps back next to you to get a better view of the stone. You stand together in silence for a moment, as if in prayer.

“Nearly two hundred years and I never came back. Not since the night I woke up down there.” His gaze is overtaken by that glassy look, the one you recognize to be him reliving his trauma. “I had to punch a hole in the coffin and claw my way through six feet of dirt. Then when I finally broke the surface, retching up dirt and congealed blood, Cazador was waiting. From that day on I was his.” He sneers at the memory. Then he pauses, considering, “Until today.”

He comes back to himself with a shake of his head, and his eyes return to this plane. He adds, as much to himself as to you, “Now I need to figure out who I am. What I want.”

“And what do you want?” Your mouth is dry as you ask the question. You can hope for the answer, but you wouldn’t dare presume. He might need to figure that out on his own, and if that’s the case, you will respect that.

He turns to face you, his red eyes full of more warmth than you’ve ever seen. Your heart leaps into your throat as he smiles and says, “You… I want you.

“You were by my side through all of this. Through bloodlust and pain and misery. You were patient. You cared.” As he’s speaking your heart starts beating loudly, blood pumping through your arteries at an almost vulgar rate. You know he can tell, and he chuckles softly. Cupping his hand below your ear and gently stroking your cheek with his thumb, he adds teasingly, “You trusted me when that was an objectively stupid thing to do.” He pulls you even closer and rests his forehead against yours. You could never get tired of this. As much as you love those moments filled with heat and lust, there’s something so tender about these intimate gestures that aren’t about sex.

“I feel safe with you. Seen. And whatever the future holds for me, I don’t want to lose that.” You grasp at the back of his shirt, looking for purchase as you fall so much more deeply for him. Your voice is barely above a whisper as you breathe, “You won’t. Whatever comes next, I’ve got you.”

“Thank you.”

You two stand there for what feels like both an eternity and a fraction of a second before he pulls away and looks at the grave again.

“Well. I should probably fix this.” He pulls a dagger from his belt with practiced fingers and kneels beside the stone, carving something into it. You kneel beside him and see that it now reads

Astarion Ancunin 1229 DR - 1268 DR 1492 DR -

His new life. For the first time in two hundred years, he can call it his own. You find yourself at a loss of what to do, or what to add, so you self-consciously pick up a nearby wildflower and gently place it at the base of his gravestone. He glances at you sideways and smirks, “Cute.” You both sit back on your heels to admire his work. He heaves a great sigh, letting go of centuries of tension and fear.

“I’ve been dead in the ground for long enough. It’s time to start living again.” He turns to you and takes your hands. “With everything life has to offer.” His voice has taken on that gravelly tone that sends a shiver up your spine. You don’t want to pressure him, of course, but your desire for his touch is getting harder to ignore. These gentle grazes, lovely though they’ve been, have set your skin aflame.

“Meaning…?”

His eyes glint mischievously and that familiar flirty lilt comes back to his voice. “If a night of passion is on offer, I could be persuaded.” Your body leans toward him instinctively, breath heavy in your chest. The words are out of your mouth before your brain catches up, “Sounds good to me.” He gets close to your face and you can feel his breath on your lips before he pulls away suddenly. He’s teasing you, and you know that he’s relishing in the satisfaction of it.

“You know,” he says with a feigned innocence, as though he doesn’t know the effect he has on you, “I didn’t care for you when we first met.” The sudden shift in tone knocks you back to reality, and you can’t help but laugh. He impishly glances up at you through his lashes.

“But I do now. Being with you is about more than lust or manipulating you into a tactical alliance.” He takes your hand, cheekiness gone, and looks you squarely in the eye with a rare earnestness. “I love you. I love this. And I want it all.” You will never tire of hearing those words. He reaches behind your ear and tenderly pulls you closer to him, finally giving your lips the reprieve they’ve been so desperate for. It’s a soft kiss, gentle, yet it still makes you burn up inside.

He pulls away far too soon, and you gaze back at him with starry eyes. His features is soft and smiley, but in an instant he raises on his knees so he’s towering over you and he takes on that stern expression that makes your temperature rise. He shoves you back onto your elbows before bending down to crawl up your torso hungrily. He kisses you again, this time with more intensity. He pins you down with the weight of his chest and then traps you further by nudging your leg up with his knee, eliciting a small gasp of surprise from you. You couldn’t escape even if you wanted to. And you most certainly don’t want to.

His body presses against yours and you curl your leg around him, pulling him tighter. An almost imperceptible grunt escapes his lips and you smile through your kiss. You can feel his smile in return and you lace your fingers into his silvery hair. He deepens the kiss, rolling his hips harder against you and your mouth opens involuntarily. He takes advantage of this momentary lapse and makes his way toward your neck, marking the trail with kisses. You seize up and your fingers tighten in his hair, encouraging him silently. But he needs more than that, and you know exactly how he’ll respond.

“Use your words,” he hums between kisses. You squirm beneath him, trying to sound even remotely dignified.

“You can,” you manage to gasp out as you try to suppress the moans that his lips are tearing from your throat. He flicks his tongue right over his usual puncture wounds and then gently trails it up the shell of your ear. You shiver with the intensity of it all.

“I can… what? I can’t know unless you tell me.” How the fuck does his voice stay this even? You can bearly even think straight, let alone string full sentences together. And yet he remains calm, nigh indifferent to the effect he’s having on you. But as cool as he is on the surface, you know how much he wants it. You both love the teasing, each night a challenge to see who can outlast the other.

“You can bite me,” you breathe and he nips at your ear ever so lightly, causing you to choke out the last few words, “if you want.”

“If I want? But what do you want?” He emphasizes the pronouns in a singsongy tone, and even hearing “I” and “you” in the same sentence does it for you. He’s still grinding against you all while assaulting your neck with filthy kisses. You try to remember what words are.

“I want you,” you gasp, trying to keep your words legible, “to bite me.” You suck in sharply through your teeth as he hitches your leg up a little higher. He grabs both of your wrists in one hand and pins them above your head.

“Are you sure?” his tone is still infuriatingly innocent. He knows how much you want this, and you know what he wants in return. You’re not quite ready to give it to him yet. But gods how you wish he would break first tonight. Odds aren’t looking great as his free hand slips behind your lower back causing you to arch it off the ground slightly.

“Yes,” you groan in agony as his lips continues their heinous walk up and down your neck and collarbone. “Please, Astarion. I want you to.” He nips you again at the same time that he presses his thigh right at the apex between your legs. He tightens his grip on your wrists and whispers sharply in your ear.

“Beg for it.”

That’s it. You’ve lost. You cry out in a delicious mix of pain and pleasure. The words come tumbling out of you, unbidden and unburdened.

“Please, Astarion, bite me. Please please please. Bite me. I want to feel your fangs pierce my skin. I want to know the feeling of my blood inside you. Gods, please, I can’t take it any longer and if you don’t bite me soon I think I might-”

Thank the realms that he cuts you off in that moment, acquiescing to your begging, because you have no idea how you planned to finish that sentence. The sharp moment of pleasure as he sinks in, followed by the loveliness of feeling your blood flow into his mouth. It makes you feel slightly lightheaded, and the high it gives you is better than any you might hope to achieve on Elendren pipeweed. The gentle feeling of his tongue lapping at your neck contrasts beautifully with the sharp tension of him sucking the blood out of you. You can feel him starting to get lost in your neck, his grip on your wrists loosening. You use this moment of vulnerability in Astarion to get him back by arching your back even more to move your hips against his. You hear the sudden intake of breath through his nose and you smile to yourself smugly. He knows what you did and isn’t about to take it lying down, metaphorically speaking.

Once he’s had his fill he draws away from your neck, lips stained red with your blood. He sits up again, one knee between your legs as he looks down on you. He tsks quietly as he shakes his head, drawling, “So naughty. What am I to do with you?” You prop yourself up on your elbows and return his gaze wickedly, your blood tickling your neck as it drips down toward your shoulder. He swipes at the drop with a long pale finger and lasciviously sucks your blood off his fingertip. Your smug grin is back, knowing how weak he is for you.

His face drops into that stern expression again, but this time a devilish smile plays on his lips. He puts his hand on your chest gently, then takes a hard turn as he grabs you by the throat. Not enough to be painful, nor enough to constrict your breathing, but just enough for him to have control. He studies your face for a moment, admiring its beauty, before he yanks you upward commanding you to look him in the eye. He leans in for a forceful kiss as he keeps his hand tight beneath your jaw. You start to lose yourself in the kiss, melting into him, and he takes the opportunity to sharply push you away, his pointer lingering on your chin to show that he’s still in control of where you look. He lets you go and leans back confidently, enjoying how you’ve become extremely pliable in his hands.

He stands to loom over you for a second more, then reaches for your hand to pull you up. You’re completely under his power and couldn’t be more than happy to give him whatever he wants. You take his hand and he pulls it behind his back, pressing your chest into his.

“You’d better be good for me,” he murmurs against your lips, once again denying the kiss you ache for. “We wouldn’t want to punish any bad behavior, now would we?” He caresses your face momentarily and then turns with your hand still in his and pulls you toward… somewhere. Honestly, you couldn’t care where. You love him, and you love this, and you’ll go wherever he leads.

#astarion fanfiction #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #astarion angst #astarion fluff

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fiapartridge · 10 months

Text

invisible string | quinn hughes

"isn't it just so pretty to think, all along there was some invisible string tying you to me..."

quinn hughes x fem!reader

summary: when quinn gets chosen to be one of brady tkachuk's groomsmen, he can't help but imagine what it would be like getting married to you...

word count: 729

warning(s): fluff! & sex jokes lol

As soon as Quinn walked out, trailing behind the rest of the groomsmen, his eyes immediately caught sight of you. The entire day, he was stationed in the best man’s suite, making sure Brady didn’t do anything stupid like run out last minute or drink so much he would have to get wheeled into the ceremony, so when he finally saw you in your silky green dress, flowers pinned to your perfect hair, it felt like he got the wind knocked out of him.

Sitting with his brothers, you didn’t even hear Jack and Luke teasing you for not paying attention to the little flower girl scattering petals down the aisle. All you could do was watch Quinn in his suit and tie as you smiled at the flowers that decorated his pocket square, knowing they matched yours. Emma had a couple extra flowers that she had thrown together to put on the boys, so she gave you some, knowing it would make this day even more special not just for her and Brady, but for you and Quinn, too.

They had been urging you two to get married for the longest time, but you didn’t feel the need to rush anything. When the time was right, Quinn would pop the question, or you would pull a ‘Friends’ and ask him instead. The time just had to feel right and the moment hadn’t come yet.

Until now.

When everyone’s eyes lit up and the violins started to play, and Emma floated down the aisle in her beautiful white dress, Quinn couldn’t help but wonder what your guys’ wedding would be like. You had mentioned you wanted it by the water surrounded by all of your closest friends and family and agreed not to make it bigger than 100 people. His little cousins would be the flower girls and Jack and Luke would fight over who would be the best man, but everyone knows Quinn would choose both of them. You had a bet with Quinn that whoever cried first would have to dance with your grandma– she talked anyone’s ear off. One dance with her actually meant three.

When your eyes met his, he mouthed a soft “I love you,” in which you returned the gesture, your eyes stinging with tears. After the vows, the newlywed couple said “I do,” the guests cheered, and it was time for the reception.

As everyone found their seats, you stood with Quinn’s brothers by the bar, making a bet with Jack that whoever drank the most would have to jump the cliff at the lakehouse when they returned next summer. You were scared shitless of the cliff and as confident as Jack may seem, he hated it too. When Quinn walked over, he smiled watching you laugh with his brothers. No other girl he was with meshed with his brothers as well as you did, which was another point Brady and Emma made when trying to get him to propose to you.

“Hi, baby,” Quinn grinned, wrapping his arms around you from behind as you kissed his cheek.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages,” you smirked.

Jack rolled his eyes. “Please, you guys were practically eye-fucking the entire ceremony.”

You smacked his arm as Quinn laughed. “We did not!”

“Yeah, that comes after the wedding, Jack,” Quinn smirked as you hid your face in his chest.

Your voice was muffled as you begged him to stop. “No more sex jokes! Lukey’s still here!”

Luke scoffed. “You’re acting as if I wasn’t just in college. I did plenty of stuff in co–”

You turned around in Quinn’s arms, pointing at Luke. “Don’t even finish that sentence.”

Luke laughed, walking away to talk to someone else as Jack followed, not wanting to be stuck as a third wheel in yours and Quinn’s love fest.

“You look so beautiful in that dress, baby,” Quinn whispered in your ear as you felt goosebumps run down your skin. “Couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

Your cheeks were stained pink as you pressed a light kiss to his lips, your thumb running over his jawline. “I can’t wait for our wedding.”

“Mhm, there will be dinosaurs, and clowns, and spiders, and space rockets, and–”

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “You’re such a prick.”

“Yet you love me.”

“Bold assumption, but… I guess you’re kinda right.”

#quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagines #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #hockey fic #brady tkachuk #wedding #invisble string #taylor swift

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non-stop-imagines · 11 months

Text

Prettiest Smile in the Paddock

Request: May I request a writing piece with Daniel Ricciardo dating a black reader who has dimples, captivating smile, and he’s absolutely whipped yet horny for her. Every time he talks to you he focuses on your plump glossy lips and gets whipped when you laugh. Gets possessive of you whenever other men compliment your smile, it’s real pretty y’all LMAO, and he kisses you in front of them or leaves a few comments online. I like your works <3

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x Black!Reader (@iamsamiira face claim)

Word Count: ~4.2k words; Some smau

Warning: Smut (fingering, slight voyeurism, p in v), Jealous Dom!Daniel, slight praise kink (not on purpose 😵‍💫), but like it's also kinda cute

A/N: Imma just say this right now, I say the word "horny" in the request and ran with it. Brain went feral. Thank you to the anon that sent in this request! It was SOO much fun to write. It's also been a while since I last wrote smut, so it took me a bit to get in the groove, but I think I made it work 😁. Anyway, hope you all enjoy! Love y'all!! 💖💛💖💛💖💛

Masterlist

__________________*~★~*_________________

danielricciardo

Liked by yourusername, redbullracing and 693,030 others

danielricciardo The light of my life 🌞

view 1,020 comments

landonorris Prettiest smile in the paddock 😊

↳ danielricciardo Back off Norris

↳ yourusername Thank you Lando 🥰 and @danielricciardo, what did I say about fighting Lando?

↳ danielricciardo But Y/n...

↳ yourusername No 🫵🏾

↳ user I love that this was a problem before now

User Only fitting for the two best smiles in the world to be together

yourusername

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yourusername My honey badger has always been a qt 😘

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danielricciardo Not as cute as you, honeybun 🍯

↳ yourusername 😘

maxverstappen1 That's a handsome guy in the last picture 😎

User You guys are so soft for each other 🥰

↳ danielricciardo Sure, soft...

↳ yourusername DO NOT TRAUMATIZE THE BYSTANDERS

↳ User Too late

“Y/n! I haven’t seen you in a while.” Max exclaims, hugging you once you finally reach him after walking across the large car filled showroom.

"It's only been, like 3 months. And I've said hi to you a number of times through phone calls and facetimes." You adjust your medium sized purse on your shoulder and cross your arms, looking around the large room.

"Okay, yeah, sure. But that's nothing like seeing you in person." Max rests a hand on his hip and pushes the bill of his hat down a bit with his free hand.

"True. We need to go on a group trip again. Me and Kelly have been talking about that for a while now." You mess with the high ponytail you had your braids in before quickly checking to see if you've gotten any texts from Daniel, which there was one.

Daniel

I'm almost there, love. Meeting ran late. 😘

Y/n

Okay, honeybun. See you soon ❤️

"Was that Daniel?" Max nods towards your phone that you're stuffing back into your purse.

"Yeah, he's running a bit late. He had a meeting early this morning." You fold your hands in front of you, checking your lavender colored manicured nails.

"Wait, how did you get here then?" Max's question is accompanied by mild hand movements.

"He got an Uber for me. I think he has plans for us after all of this so he didn't want both of us to have a car to drive from here." You allow your gaze to roam again over the various winning formula 1 cars lining the wall of the room.

"What was the meeting for?" You attention was back on Max who has now decided to cross his arms.

"To be honest, I have no idea. But he seemed pretty excited about it." You shrug, flashing a small grin to driver in front of you. The conversation varied from this point, hitting several different topics while waiting for the Q&A to be set up and for Daniel to finally arrive. When he does he spots you but doesn't approach you yet. He greets people without actually looking at them because he's watching you interact with Max. Watching your plump glossed lips move to continue some running joke between you and Max, and the smile they create when you guys begin to laugh. He typically loves the sight and sound of you laughing, in fact he still does in this moment, but it's the fact that it is not him as the cause of such sight that irks him. The debrief he was being given about the Q&A was a small buzz in his ear as he continued to get even more hot and bothered at the sight before him. Smiling. Talking. Grinning. Laughing. Touching… A small touch to Max's arm, seeing your soft manicured hands touch another man, even if it is, no, especially because it is one of his best friends, sends him over the edge.

"Mhmm, yeah. One sec." He give the person talking to him a brush off and stalks toward you and Max. You didn't even realize he was there until Max's attention shifted briefly to right over your right shoulder, but it still didn't stop you from jumping slightly at the sudden feeling of Daniel's arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you impossibly close to him.

"Oh, hi baby! When did you get here?" You shimmy your right arm from between your two bodies and mess with his hair, seeing that his curls have gotten a bit long.

"A minute ago." He silently nods a hello to Max, eyeing him a bit two long.

"How was the meeting?" You finally rest your hand on his chest, his attention still on Max.

"Fine. I'll tell you about it at dinner." He finally tears his gaze away from Max and places it on you, causing something to stir inside him. That grin he was envying was now for him. Your doe-like eyes pulling him in. The sight of you alone never fails to make his dick jolts a little, so being this close to you now, along with the added possessiveness he was feeling at the moment, he knew that there would be something he would need to hide when he finally sat down for the Q&A.

"Well, I think they're ready for us." Max breaks Daniel's intense transfixion on you, prompting a fierce side eye from him that is really only visible from your angle.

Daniel didn't truly respond to Max's word. He instead responded to the interruption caused by his words. So he first nodded, turning his head slightly to look at him, and then, with his large, spread out tattooed hand, he reaches around to take a firm yet gentle hold of the nape of your neck in order to guide you into a passionate, possessive kiss. A kiss that let anyone paying attention know in no uncertain terms that you were his. He made it a point to take in your full bottom lip, to push his tounge into your mouth and allow the two of your tongues to dance together. You were shocked initially but soon fell into the kiss that lasted another approximate 10 seconds before Daniel finally retracted, using his thumb to wipe of the corner of his mouth while maintaining eye contact with you, before finally giving a verbal answer to Max's comment. "Well, let's go then." He turned on his heels and left headed back towards the woman who was previously debriefing him. What you and Max didn't see after he turned around was a dark expression that settled on his face briefly and him quietly muttering to himself "That'll show the fucker." Before he eventually regained his composure once he got back to the woman.

"What the fuck was that?" Max was just as stunned as you were, both of you just watching as Daniel now cheerfully interacts with the people running the Q&A.

"I have no idea." Sure you were confused, and you absolutely wanted to be mad, but there was absolutely no negative feeling that could negate the pooling warmth forming between your legs. What in the world has gotten into Daniel?

__________

Daniel was glad that the Q&A was on a couch with pillows, because watching you behind the camera, laughing at his off handed jokes, smiling at heartfelt answers. Every once in awhile, he has to reel his attention back in. It was whenever he starting thinking about the curve of your lips, your dimples that appear beneath the corner of your mouth. The inability to take his eyes off of your beauty is what drew him to you a year and a half ago, which also meant that he had to endure seeing that laugh and that smile be pointed towards the actions of his colleague.

So that was what was playing in his head the entire drive to the restaurant for dinner. He did engage with you during the drive, joking about the day and the interview, but the entire time he was stewing. It has never been this bad, his possessiveness over you, but he ultimately chalked it up to you two not having been physically in each other's presence for 3 weeks. All he wanted was to be near you, to have all of your attention, and having to share it today was excruciating. But now he was here, you sitting pretty across the table, a large part of him wishing you were in his lap instead, but you being across from him allows him to keep a devilish side of him that seems to be dominating today at bay for a moment

"So, the meeting? What was it about?" You place your chin on the back of one hand that had the elbow resting on the table as your other hand brought your wine glass to your face. The action had your lips perching perfectly on the rim, leaving a beautiful stamp of them with your pink tinted lip gloss when you do remove the glass from your mouth. Daniel shifts in his seat uncomfortably when he feels his pants tighten.

“Oh, uh, yeah. I think it went well. Jist of it was, uh… I think I’m gonna have a race seat next year.” The bright smile that he flashes you makes your heart swell, but also turns on your protective mode for a second.

“‘You think’ as in they said maybe or…” You gave him a knowing grin, waiting for the answer that you have anticipated all day.

"I absolutely have a seat next year." You fail at stifling a squeal that emerges from your excitement as you get up from your seat and fall into Daniel's waiting lap, wrapping your right arm around the back of his neck and using your left hand to squeeze his cheeks to manually pucker his lips for a kiss, selfishly using this moment to rub your thumb over his handsome stubble.

"I'm so proud of you, you know that? I never doubted it though. You're too good and you love this sport too much for you to stay out of it too long." You allow your eyes to roam over his face which displayed obvious intoxication, not only from the alcohol served to the two of you but also by your scent. Your face. Your weight on his lap and the feeling of your butt on his crotch. You two stay this way for a moment, just admiring each other, but when you move to get up, Daniel hooks his arms around your waist to keep you in place. "What?"

"I did want to talk about something else, and I think it's best we discuss it like this." His hand begins to slowly rub over your dress, up and down your waist. "You know how much I've missed you the last couple of weeks?"

"Of course, baby. And I've missed you too. Facetiming wasn't nearly enough." You lean into his body slightly, fingers combing through his grown out hair as you hold an innocent gaze with his eyes. Your smile was gone and was instead replaced with the resting pucker your lips normally have.

"Exactly. So you'll understand when I say that seeing you share that smile…your smile... your laugh…with Max, it made me feel a certain way." His hand has abandoned your clothed waist and has now moved to your thigh, pushing up the fabric of your short, pastel lavender milk maid style dress in order to have full contact with your skin.

"What way?" Your eyebrows scrunched together ever so slightly as you begin to scratch his scalp with your nails, causing him to have to hold back a moan.

"Like I had to do something to show him that that smile you were giving him was mine. That you pretty little face is all mine." His hands travel higher to play with the hem of your underwear as his eyes grow darker and more lustful.

"Well you sure did that." You shift on his lap a bit, reacting to the wetness producing between your legs and due to your boyfriend's words and the location of his hand.

"What I did today was the kid friendly version." He stops his hand to lean closer to your ear. "If I could've fucked you right there to show everyone you are mine, I would've." These words nearly ruin your underwear as you are shocked by the raunchiness of your boyfriend. He's always been pretty goofy and horny like a teenager, but this domineering side, this was new. You were too stunned by his words to respond in the moment, eyes widening before looking around the empty restaurant patio.

"Daniel, what the-" You didn't intend to finish the expletive, but you were never given the chance, jumping at the hem of your underwear being snapped on your ass.

"Shh, still my turn, love." Daniel taps your upper thigh like nothing just happend, and you lean your upper body back so you can get a full visual of his face, a mischievous grin and raised eyebrow looking up at you from your perched position. "So, basically what I'm saying is that seeing you be oh so friendly with my colleague made me feel 'a certain way' to the point where I had to hold a pillow to my lap for dear life."

"I see…" You work to hold back a laugh, instead producing a strained grin that so beautifully accentuates your dimples, further making Daniel's point.

"That! That pretty face right there! How could a person in their right mind share that pretty face?" He runs his hand along your thigh again, examining the glow of your brown skin under the string lights on the patio. Your beauty does things to cloud his mind, but he eventually gets back aboard his train of thought. "The point I'm trying to make is that I think someone need to be punished for what I had to go through today, and Max isn't here so…." His finger was back at the hem of your underwear, tugging lightly.

"Me, huh?" You were now raising your eyebrow at Daniel, unsure of what was about to ensue. He nods at you and hums an affirmation.

"Yeah, sorry sweetheart." He cranes his neck upwards a bit to capture your lips in a loving kiss that's followed by a few pecks, before initiating what neither of you expected to be a long night. "We're gonna start with these. Go on to the restroom and take them off for me, love." His sweet smile was a stark contrast to the nature of his request, but you obey, getting up from his lap and heading to the bathroom and returning a few minutes later, stealthily placing your underwear Daniel's out stretched hand. When you go to sit back down, crossing your legs as the night air hits your pussy.

"Happy?" You squint your eyes at him as you finish the bit of wine that was in your glass.

"Yes. But I would watch the attitude if I were you. We're just getting started." This was the understatement of the year. Once you guys were done with dinner, he purposefully took extra long interacting with people that came up to him, causing you to squirm due to your covered up indecent exposure, and the slickness producing between your thighs because of the situation. What especially doesn’t help your situation is when one fan of his, male and obviously more excited to see Daniel than anything else in the immediate vicinity, takes the time, once he noticed that you were there as well, to say “Y/n! My girlfriend loves you! She always talks about how pretty your smile is and now seeing it in person I understand why.” You could feel Daniel’s eyes burning into you and the guy during the very short interaction and when you agree to take a selfie for the guy to be able to show his girlfriend and we're unsurprised when he rushed you to the car afterwards. Once he pulled away from the restaurant and began the drive home everything was fairly normal when looking at conversation alone. The topics were normal and like any other conversation, Daniel worked hard to make you laugh until your sides hurt. But inbetween the laughing and the talking, the moments when silence reigned supreme is when Daniel took the opportunity to torture you again, running his hand up your thigh, brushing against your exposed pussy. The closer to home he got, the more impatient he got, which meant the longer his hand would linger, even providing the occasional rub to your clit, making you hips buck and gravitate toward the source of the feeling. "Patience, love. Patience."

_____

After was felt like an eternity, Daniel finally had the car parked and you guys were making your way inside, still giggling about whatever the mundane topic was before exiting the car, but once you got inside, there was an obvious shift in the air which caused you to turn your attention to Daniel.

"You ready to continue your punishment, hun?" He presents you with a scheming grin, crossing his arms briefly before unhooking them and instructing you. "You can take that off, then come to the bedroom." He turns on his heels and walks in the direction of the bedroom, not giving you a moment for rebuttal, but you still do so anyway.

"Don't I get a say in this?" You protest to his back, yourself unmoving.

"No." Is all that comes from the stairs that head up toward the bedroom, which is then followed by some more instruction. "You can leave the clothes there." With him out of the room you knew that what little protesting you have done has probably increased whatever was coming your way so you just follow directions, first slipping off your sneakers, then removing your dress, and small burst of surprise when you see your underwear already gone, leaving your bra as the last item of clothing before you were fully nude and making your way upstairs, stopping at the entryway to the bedroom, seeing him seated on the ottoman bench in front of the bed. "There's my pretty girl." The smile he gave upon seeing you in the doorway oozed with genuine, undefiled love for the person he was looking at, making you shrink a bit under his admiring gaze, crossing your arms over your chest and hunching your shoulders slightly. "Aww, don't do that. Come here." Daniel coos your way, patting his lap. You make your way over and take a seat, both of you unbothered by the way you were already creating a wet spot on his pant leg. "You're beautiful, you know that?" He looked up at you from from where you sat with an immense amount of longing and concentration, eyes very obviously scanning every inch of your face.

"Yes, I do. But I still love to hear it from you." You give him a bright grin, flaunting your dimples, flattery clearly painted on your face.

"God, I hate that I have to share you with anyone. I wish I could just have you to myself all the time." His hands begin to roam around your body and then starts a direct trek up your leg, over your thigh, dipping inbetween before continuing up your abdomen and finally finding a home on your breast, eyes neglecting to meet yours.

"Well, I can't help that completely, but I do know that you have me to yourself right now.” You subconsciously squeeze your thighs together, satisfying the underlying need for contact between your legs as you wait for whatever is to come your way.

“You’re right. You’re always right, my love.” The mushy grin stays stagnant on his face. “Get up on the bed, baby.” He tips his head to the bed behind you two, and you obediently oblige to his words.

________

“Ah, fuck Daniel!” You reach and grab the wrist of the hand that belonged to the two fingers moving in and out of you. “I-I can’t. I can’t.”

“Yes you can, baby. Just cum for me one more time.” Daniel coos in your ear. He was still fully clothed, lying on his side, using his fingers to make the most obscene noises come from your pussy.

“Please-fuck-I think two is enough.” You whine, basically pleading for your life. You just get a maniacal chuckle in return.

“I think you can give me three.” You whine to his response. “Oh come on, pretty girl. Where’s that lovely smile of yours? You shared it with everyone else today. It’s my turn.” Daniel slows his moving fingers to a stop and removes them, sucking you off of them before using them to languidly rub circles on your clit, winning a gasp from your full, parted lips. No words come to your brain to respond to his words, the change in sensation bringing you closer to Daniel’s goal. He varies the pressure and speed of his actions in response to the reactions you have. Your words flee further and further from your brain as you get closer and closer to cumming for the third time, hips bucking into his hand as weak strings of profanities drip from your lips. Finally, a feeble attempt of a smile graces your face as convulsions take over your hip movements, allowing your third orgasm of the night to over take you, surprised by the feeling of fingers being removed from you, not remembering when Daniel reinserted them, and then your head being cradled into his clothed chest. “There’s that smile.” He just holds you close to him and caresses your tired out body, praising you. “You took your punishment so well, pretty girl.” He caressed your ponytail and placed a kiss on your flushed brown forehead. He truly had nothing more planned, ready to just call it a night, so one can understand his surprise when he finally hears your voice.

“Daniel, I need you.” It was simple. Short. All you could think of at first, but when you don’t hear a response you speak up again. “I need to feel you. Please.” You start to press your hands up his abdomen, beginning to exposed the various tattoos on his upper body.

“Whatever my pretty girl desires.” Daniel finally responds with a content smile and proceeding to remove his own clothes.

_____

“You take my dick so well, pretty girl.” Daniel pauses his rhythmic thrusting and uses the thumb of his free hand to massage your clit, his other hand holding your right leg vertical. You lightly whimper to his praise, simultaneously loving and regretting your momentary increase in libido that was the cause of this round.

“Move, please.” Your word are weak and come out like a moan, but Daniel just keeps massaging your clit, grinning down at you.

“Not until you give me a smile, honeybun.” His words were sing songy, and the movement of his thumb begins to slow, causing slight panic in you that prompts a weak, forced smile to be produced. “Good girl.” He thrusts once shocking a groan from you. “And it better stay there.” And so you attempt to hold your smile with each thrust that is occasionally combined with the massaging of your clit, expletives interrupting your disposition every once in a while. “Ah, ah fuck. That’s my pretty smile. Mine. Who’s smile is that?” He jolts his hips once and stops, waiting for your answer.

“Yours. Your smile.” Your groaned words were harsher, voice becoming hoarse from the noises you have been making all night.

“That’s right, my love. Good girl.” He continues to move his hips again, leaning forward a bit, changing his angle inside you and adding a delightfully painful stretching sensation to your hamstring that you did not expect to push you closer to another orgasm. “You gonna cum again, sweetheart? Do it. Cum for me.” His words weren’t anything extremely special, but the force they were said with. The fact that he was demanding you. The throaty groan of his voice. That is what pushed you over the edge. The furthest over the edge you’ve gone all night. So far over the edge that it resulted in Daniel’s torso being soaked and his dick being squeezed by the repeating orgasmic spasms of your pussy, driving him to his own end, cumming into the condom wrapped around him and then dropping onto the bed next to you. Once you both come down from your highs Daniel gets up to dispose of the used condom in the bathroom, but before he exits, you hear the bathtub faucet turn on before he returns. “Come on, love. I’ll clean this up. You go get in that bath. You’ll no doubt be sore after all I put you through. Sorry about that, by the way. I have no idea what got into me.” He helps you out of bed and over to the bathroom.

“Don’t apologize it was hot. You’re cute when you're jealous.” You giggle, accepting the help since your legs still felt like jelly.

“Oooh, you shouldn’t have told me that, honey.” He kisses your temple before stopping the water and helping you into the warm bath.

_______

The next day was more filming for youtube videos around the Milton Keynes campus for all three Red Bull drivers, Checo being able to be a part of everything today after his travels were held up the day before. At some point they found themselves conversating between takes.

“So, where’s Yn today? After what Max told me happened yesterday, I expected to see her tied to you or something.” Sergio jokes, taking a swig from his water. Daniel just nervously chuckles and rubs the back of his neck.

“To be honest, I didn’t expect for her to be able to walk today.” Max chimes in, giving Daniel a knowing grin.

“She’ll be fine by this afternoon, I think.” Before the other two could respond to his innuendo, the three were being called back to film, the topic thankfully dropping as he checks the text he got from you just before the break.

Y/n

The soreness has gone down enough for me to slowly make it to the kitchen to get some cereal for breakfast.

Daniel

It’s noon.

Y/n

Shut up, this is your fault. 🤬

Daniel

Love you. ❤️

He tucks his phone away, only thinking about how excited he was to see you later.

#black reader #request #f1 x black!reader #formula 1 #formula 1 x black!reader #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x reader #Daniel Ricciardo x black!reader #f1 smut #smut #Daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo smut #f1 fake text #f1 imagines

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little-moonbeam-666 · 1 year

Text

Little Witch

HERE WE FUCKING GO! The hype behind this fic has been PHENOMENAL! But here’s the Osferth fic I promised you all. After all the teasers and crumbs I gave you from this, you should be pretty hype!

This fic reached 9k words! I went overboard with it and I regret NOTHING.

Warnings: SMUT (obviously), loss of virginity (osferth), A bit of angst, oral (both), breeding kink, talks of marriage, talks of 69..., Just Osferth being Osferth

Your wrists were bound together by rope that was currently being held tight by one of the men that had taken you hostage. You forgot his name. Sihtric, maybe? You could care less. You were just grateful that the men had stopped for the night and had you sitting by the fire with them.

“So, witch, why is Haesten so enamored with you?” asked the leader of them all, Uhtred.

“I do not know. Haesten stole me from my home where I was at peace, minding my own business. He had no right to take me, same as you.” you spat, venom dripping from the words you directed at your captor. He sighed heavily.

“If you think I wanted to take you, then you are wrong, witch. This is only a necessary precaution. But I know that Haesten would not take you for no reason. What exactly are your powers?”

“Stop calling me ‘witch’, Dane killer. I have a name. Y/N. Use it.” you barked before looking up at the stars and letting your voice soften.“I see things. That is why he took me.”

“What do you see, Y/N?” asked one of the other men. Finan, you believed it was. At least he was kind enough to use your name.

“I see lots of things. The future. My future, mostly.” you admitted, knowing there was no harm in telling these men of your seeing abilities. You’d already seen it and knew they would not harm you.

“Is that why you came with us willingly without a fight? You saw us taking you?” Uhtred asked. You just nodded, continuing to stare up at the stars.

“What do you see about your future?” Sihtric asked, tugging the rope slightly to get your attention, seeing that you had zoned out.

“My soulmate.” you said. Your voice was no louder than a whisper but you knew they heard you.

“Your soulmate?” Uhtred questioned, obviously skeptical of your words. “Do you know who they are?”

“No.” you replied sadly. “I only see bits and pieces that give me an idea of who he is. The gods haven’t allowed me to see his face. Not yet.”

The men chuckled, obviously not fully believing you, before going back to their own conversations and leaving you to your thoughts. You eventually found yourself asleep on the ground, only to be woken up by tugging on the rope that was attached to your wrists.

“Come on. We ride.” came Sihtrics voice, pulling you from your sleepy state and dragging you over to the horses before briefly helping you up onto one of them since your hands were still tied together.

The ride was long and it was nearly dark by the time you’d gotten back to their home base, the gates opening to welcome them home. Everyone stared at you, fear in their eyes as they noticed you were not only a Dane, but a witch. The permanent dark marking of a crescent moon on your forehead and two straight lines that ran from your bottom lip to the bottom of your chin gave it away.

They had all eventually led you into a large dining hall, your wrists still bound as they allowed you to sit at the table with them in order to keep you in their sights.

“Is this still necessary?” you asked, holding your wrists up. Uhtred gave you a look of concern. “The ropes have rubbed burns into my wrists and it’s painful. I promise I won’t run and I promise to play nice. You have my word.”

“Untie her, Sihtric.” he said, beginning to eat the food that was placed in front of him. Sihtric untied you and you rubbed your wrists gently, wincing at the pain of being tied up for several days.

“You should eat something. You’ve barely eaten in the few days we’ve had you.” Finan said. You just nodded your head, agreeing to at least eat. If you were being honest, you were starving, but you’d never admit it to them.

Finan quickly set down a plate of bread, cheese, and sliced apple in front of you, giving you a look that left no room for argument. You quietly picked at the food and ate until your plate was clean. You sat silent, listening to the mens conversations of them enjoying being ‘home’. Eventually you could feel your eyelids grow heavy, your body threatening to fall over.

“Uhtred.” you spoke up, getting his attention.

“Yes?”

“I wish to sleep. If I stay up any longer I fear I may fall over in exhaustion.” you said, hoping he’d let you rest.

“Fine.” he agreed. “Finan, put her in a cell. But make her comfortable. Give her furs and fresh water. She may be of use to us.”

You quietly followed Finan to your holding cell, not speaking a word. He did as Uhtred instructed, giving you several furs to keep you warm on the small cot that was in the cell and enough fresh water to last you through the night. He stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame as you sat down on the cot in your cell.

“So, little witch… how does the soulmate thing work?” he asked, sounding genuinely curious. You could have laughed at how absurd the question sounded at that moment.

“It’s hard to explain.” you said softly. “I can only catch glimpses of him. In my younger years I caught many flashes of a monastery. Then as I’ve grown older I see more. His hands clasped together while sitting by a fire. The rolling fields while he’s on horseback. I believe he had a broken arm not too terribly long ago… it was in a sling. And a wooden cross hanging around his neck. The last one is laughable.”

“And why is that laughable, little witch?”

“Honestly, think about it. A dane sorceress and a saxon monk…. At least I believe he’s a monk. The monasteries at the beginning of the visions had me believing the gods were playing a joke on me. But now that I’m older, I believe almost anything could be true.”

Finan looked to be deep in thought at your words, giving you a look of curiosity before he spoke again.

“You said he had a broken arm recently?” questioned the Irishman, cocking an eyebrow at you.

“Yes. Broken… or maybe just sprained. But his arm was in a sling for a while. Why?”

“Well little witch,” he started, laughing to himself as he spoke. His eyes met yours and were filled with what you could only decipher as amusement. “I believe I may know who your soulmate is.”

A few weeks passed and the men had grown to trust you, accepting you as one of them and giving you more freedom, allowing you to walk around freely, and finally giving you your own bedroom that wasn’t in a cell. You’d even go as far as to say you considered them your friends. And of course Finan hadn’t let up on teasing you, always saying that he knew who your soulmate was but wouldn’t tell you anything about him. And apparently he’d talked to the others so they wouldn’t speak of this person in front of you. It was driving you mad.

You were sitting with Uhtred, Sihtric, and Finan when it happened. All of you were talking in the hall and having a small meal and some ale. Finan and Sihtric’s eyes were locked behind yours and Uhtred’s heads.

“My lord, it’s good to finally be back.” a soft voice said behind you. You couldn’t help but notice the way Finan’s eyes flashed to yours excitedly and back to whoever stood behind you, apparently eager to see your reaction.

You turned to face the man and came face to face with the cross hanging around his neck before looking up at his face. You felt your heart jump into your throat before visions clouded your mind and you became dizzy. You spaced out, every vision you’d ever had of him coming into full view, finally allowing you to see his face as he laughed by the fire, rode on horseback, and even seeing Finan fashioning a sling for what was a broken arm as he winced in pain. When you finally came back to, Uhtred had you by the shoulders, gently shaking you.

“Y/N, wake up! What did you see?” he questioned, seeing your eyes flutter back open.

You quickly scanned the room, seeing all the usual men around you, but your eyes locked on wide blue ones that were laced with concern. You felt your shoulders begin to shake with the nerves that suddenly bubbled to the surface and silent tears brimmed your eyes before falling in streaks down your cheeks, smudging the dark kohl you wore. You quickly looked away, letting your eyes go to Finan.

“It’s him.” you whispered, letting more silent tears fall.

“Little witch, are you sure?” he asked, eyes darting between you and the monk.

“Positive.” you breathed out, both of your hands coming up to your face, covering your mouth and nose as you took deep breaths in an attempt to calm your racing heart.

“I’m sorry, positive about what?” the monk asked, looking at the guys for answers. Finan walked over to him, clapped him on the back, and grinned before speaking.

“She believes you’re her soulmate, baby monk.”

Your nerves were already shot and you didn’t have the strength to explain anything else to these men, even if one of them was your soulmate. So you did the only thing you could think of. You got up and made haste to your room, hiding beneath your furs and letting your mind fill with thoughts of the young monk that was downstairs.

You stayed there for several hours, the day growing dark as you refused to come out of your room. You knew they would be eating dinner soon and you also knew that Finan and Uhtred wouldn’t let you go hungry. They’d force you down whether you wanted to or not. As soon as you sat up there was a knock at your door before it swung open to reveal none other than Finan himself.

“Little witch, are you going to join us for dinner?” he asked.

“I was thinking about it.” you admitted, giving him a smile. Finan chuckled, giving you a pointed look.

“He’s worried about you, ya know.” he stated, leaning against the doorframe. Your eyes went wide, not expecting his words. The monk was worried about you? You remained speechless, so he continued. “You rushed out of there so damn fast he thinks he did something to offend you. He’s been sulking all evening.”

“But he didn’t do anything to offend me!” you said quickly, feeling yourself begin to panic. You didn’t want him thinking he’d done something wrong.

“You know that, and I know that. Even Uhtred and Sihtric know that, but Osferth doesn’t know that. I tried to tell him he did nothing wrong but he won’t believe me. Unless it comes from you, he won’t believe it.”

“I guess I need to go down and reassure the sweet monk that he hasn’t offended me in the least.” you said, before pausing and raising an eyebrow at him, realization hitting you. “His name is Osferth?”

“Yes, Y/N, it is. At least now you know what name to moan while you get yourself off later!” He joked, quickly pushing himself off the doorframe and making his way back downstairs before you could holler at him for the crude joke. You could still hear him laughing as he ran down the stairs.

You huffed in annoyance, smoothing out your dress and pulling a woven blanket over your shoulders to keep the chill away before slipping into your boots and heading downstairs to face your fate… and endless teasing from the guys. You kept your eyes down, not quite ready to seek out the monk.

“There she is! Hey, Y/N, you damn near gave Osferth a heart attack running off like you did!” Uhtred joked, raising his cup of ale to you. You raised your head and gave him a smile. You continued over to the table, instantly finding an open spot next to the monk in question.

“May I sit?” you asked, finally making eye contact with him and gesturing next to him.

“Uh- um, yes, my lady. Of course.” he stuttered out, quickly looking away. You sat next to him, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders, smiling at Sihtric when he placed a mug of ale in front of you.

“So a little birdie told me you were worried about me.” you said quietly, leaning closer to Osferth so only he could hear you. You smiled seeing his face flush, even the tips of his ears going red.

“Is that little birdie named Finan by any chance?” he joked, trying to cover up his embarrassment. You giggled, nodding your head.

“It is. But you shouldn’t be worried, sweet monk. I promise you did nothing to offend me. I was just in shock.” you explained, hoping to ease his mind.

“Yeah, you ran out of there so fast that I didn’t even catch your name.” he said matter of factly.

“My name’s Y/N.” you said, grinning at him. “And you’re Osferth. Finan told me when he came up to get me for supper.”

“So… do you really think that I’m… you know, your soulmate?” he asked, looking sheepishly at you. You slowly nodded your head.

“Yeah, I do.” you mumbled, feeling your face grow hot.

“What does that mean?” he asked, wide eyes staring at you.

You stayed silent, not knowing how to answer his question. It was difficult to explain and you didn’t want to scare him away. But you had to try to make him understand.

“I’m not entirely sure to be honest.” you started. “Some Danes believe in soulmates, myself included. I’ve had visions from a very young age and it seems that the gods have allowed me to have an insight into who my soulmate may be, but never showing me a face. Just small snippets here and there. Hands clasped together either by a fire or in prayer, a seemingly broken arm, …. This cross.” you said, reaching over and twirling the wooden cross he was wearing between your fingers before letting it go. “When I looked at your face for the first time almost every single vision I’ve ever had flashed before my eyes in a matter of seconds, but this time the gods allowed me to see your face. It was you sitting by a fire or kneeling in a monastery in prayer. It was you with a broken arm. They even allowed me to see Finan standing next to you, helping you put your arm in a sling.”

He was silent for a few moments, taking in what you’d just told him. You knew the information could be overwhelming so you didn’t say anything, taking a sip of your ale and grabbing some chicken and putting it on your plate. You ate in silence for a minute before glancing over to see Osferth staring at you. You raised your eyebrow in question.

“I’d like to get to know you, Y/N… if that’s ok with you.” he said, giving you a shy smile.

“I’d really like that.” you said, smiling back at him.

“Ok, lovebirds. Stop making ‘fuck me’ eyes at each other and eat your supper.” Finan laughed from the other end of the table. You felt your face heat up in embarrassment, quickly turning your attention back to your supper and shoving a piece of chicken in your mouth.

Throughout dinner Osferth engaged you in quiet conversation, occasionally including the others. He asked about your life and how you were raised. He smiled when you mentioned that you were a pretty decent healer, promising to fix him up should he ever need it. The others joked about how you’d be more than willing to fix him up in other ways should he ask for it, making you slap Uhtred’s arm and throw a piece of bread at Sihtric.

The following few weeks were uneventful, just doing your usual duties and spending time with Osferth. If you were honest, you spent almost every moment of free time with the monk. And you’d come to find out he was an absolute sweetheart. He was constantly by your side, helping you do menial tasks and asking you more questions about yourself. And when the day was done, he’d walk you safely back to your room before flashing you a smile and bidding you goodnight. His presence made the days easier and you actually looked forward to spending time with him every day.

When you woke up, you didn’t expect to hear all the commotion coming from downstairs. You quickly dressed and made your way down the steps only to find the guys armored up and gathering supplies. You weren’t too worried until your eyes landed on your sweet baby monk. You rushed over to him only for him to immediately look at you apologetically. You could tell he didn’t want to leave.

“Os, what’s going on? Where are you guys going? Why am I not going with you?” you asked, not taking a single breath between questions.

“Haesten has claimed that Uhtred has stolen his property and he wants it back.” he said quietly, looking into your eyes.

“‘His property’ meaning me.” you stated. It wasn’t a question. You knew Haesten wouldn’t just let Uhtred run off with you without causing chaos. You’d just hoped you’d have a little more peace before he had the balls to confront Uhtred.

“Yes, my lady. And now he’s declared war upon Uhtred to try and get you back.” he said sadly. You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes, not wanting him to leave you… not wanting any of them to leave you. Osferth must have noticed the unshed tears because the next thing you knew he was pulling you into his arms and cradling you tight against his chest. You gently nuzzled your face into his neck, breathing deeply to keep the tears at bay.

“You better come back to me, baby monk.” you mumbled against his neck, just below his ear.

“I swear it. I’ll be back before you know it, my little witch.” he said, gently rubbing your back in an attempt to soothe you. But in reality all it did was send a burning heat straight to your core.

‘Little witch’. It was your nickname amongst almost everyone, mostly Finan and Osferth. But this was different. MY little witch. That’s what he’d called you. It sounded downright filthy the way it rolled off his tongue and you fucking loved it. Oh what you’d give to hear him say it again.

“That’s right, Os. I am your little witch. Only yours.” you said, inhaling his scent one last time before pulling your head back to look at him. “Just come back to me.”

You watched as the men gathered the last of their supplies and made their way to their horses. You wanted to cry at the sight. Imagining life without them almost caused your physical pain. Especially thinking about the possibility of losing Osferth. If he didn’t come back you weren’t sure your heart could handle it.

It wasn’t a half hour later when the men had finished gathering everything they would need and were ready to mount their horses. You stood off to the side, watching silently, waiting for the right moment to say goodbye. Your gaze focused on Finan animatedly waving his hands around, whispering something to Osferth and pointing towards you. Osferth looked your way, blushing crimson when he saw you already looking. Finan just laughed and clapped him on the shoulder before giving him a shove in your direction.

Osferth kept his head down as he walked closer. You met him halfway, reaching a hand out to grab his as you approached him. His fingers squeezed yours as he let his eyes meet yours.

“So what was Finan telling you, Os? He seemed pretty adamant about whatever it was when he pushed you towards me.” you giggled. He chuckled a bit and you watched in amusement as he struggled to find the words.

“I just, uh, I want you to know that I care about you.” he stuttered out. You couldn’t keep the grin off your face.

“I care about you too, my sweet monk. I really do.” you replied, stepping closer to him. As you did, you couldn’t help but notice Finan, Sihtric, and Uhtred gathered by the horses and watching the two of you like hawks with amused smiles on their faces. You grinned, pulling Osferth with you in the direction of the others. You stopped by his horse and smirked as you noticed the others pretending to not pay attention to the two of you.

“I’ll do my best to stay safe, my little witch.” Osferth said, stepping close to you and pressing his lips against your cheek. It was an innocent gesture but it left you burning.

Finan, Sihtric, and Uhtred did nothing to even attempt to hide the grins on their faces, obviously proud of their baby monk for making a move. Well, if they wanted to stare at the two of you so badly, you’d give them something to gawk at.

You didn’t say another word as you closed the space between you and Osferth, letting your hands come up to clasp behind his neck. His hands shyly went to your waist, his touch so light that it was driving you mad. You smirked at the others over Osferths shoulder before pulling his face to yours, kissing him deep and slow. He froze for a second before he responded. You could feel his fingers dig into your waist, gently pulling you against him as his lips slowly began to move against yours. Your fingers scratched gently against the back of his neck while his arms wound tightly around your waist, holding your body flush against his while he kissed you back fervently, gently scraping his teeth across your lower lip. You could hear the others behind Osferth, excitedly cheering him on as he kissed you. But alas, you needed to breathe and you reluctantly pulled away, your lips slightly swollen and slick with saliva.

“Just a little something to make sure you come back to me.” you grinned, pecking his lips one more time before letting go of him and taking a step back.

“My little witch, my love, I’ll do everything in my power to come back to you.” He said, smiling lovingly at you. You felt your heart practically burst in your chest with happiness and you couldn’t keep the smile off your face.

“You two are so cute it makes me sick.” Finan laughed behind the two of you.

Osferth took that as his sign that it was time to leave. You pecked his lips one last time before watching him ride out the gates, to be gone for an unknown amount of time. You vowed then and there that you would pray to the gods night and day for their safe return home.

Two days turned into a week, and one week turned into three. You’d tried your best to keep yourself busy during the days, but your mind always wandered back to Osferth and the kiss you two had shared. If you closed your eyes you could still feel his lips on yours. It was torture not knowing when or if he would return. But he promised he’d come back to you and you had no reason not to believe him.

You had moved yourself and your belongings into Osferths little house that was gifted to him by Uhtred long before you had joined them. He wasn’t aware you were in his home, but it smelled like him and made you feel closer to him.

You lay on the bed covered by furs and staring at the fire, wondering what your sweet monk was doing right now. Then you felt it. Dizziness took over and your vision went black, flashes of color swirling in your head before it hit you. Yelling. Screaming. Osferth lying on the ground, screaming in pain and clutching his leg, his fingers turning red almost instantly as he bled profusely while swords clashed loudly in the background. It was complete chaos and you didn’t see a single familiar face. Osferth was alone and there was nothing you could do.

When you snapped out of it you were breathing heavily and fat tears streamed down your face. Your love was hurt and you had no way of knowing if he was ok or not. You cried yourself to sleep that night, praying to the gods that he was ok.

It had been three days since your vision and your anxiety only got worse with every passing minute. You had just stoked the fire and settled under the blankets, savoring the faded scent of Osferth that lingered on them. You closed your eyes, only intending on resting for a moment but before you knew it you were being woken up by someone shaking you and calling your name. When you opened your eyes, you were surprised to see Sihtric standing over you.

“Y/N, we need you in the hall… now.” he said hurriedly, worry written across his face.

“Where’s Osferth?” you asked, quickly jumping out of bed and slipping your feet into your boots.

“That’s why we need you, Y/N.” he said, making your heart drop. He must’ve seen the panic on your face before quickly adding. “He’s alive, I swear it. But he’s weak. You said you were a healer… well, he needs some healing. Badly. And it took me long enough to find you, so come on.”

You rushed out the door after him, both of you running straight to the main hall. As soon as you burst through the doors your eyes searched for him, finding him sitting in a chair with his leg propped up, surrounded by the men. Finan stood behind him, holding tightly onto his shoulders while Uhtred applied pressure to the wound on his leg.

You ran over, not saying a word to any of them and immediately going into autopilot, inspecting his leg and seeing the large gash. You barked out orders to the others to fetch you clean water, a needle, and some thread. They ran off to get you what you needed, leaving you alone with Osferth for the moment.

“I told you I’d come back to you, love.” he chuckled, grimacing as he tried to ignore the shooting pain in his leg.

“Yes, and I’m so glad you did. And as much as I’d love to take you home and show you just how much I missed you, you’re hurt and I need to fix you first.” you said. Your insinuation made his face grow hot for a moment before everyone rushed back with what you needed.

You tried your best to keep your face neutral as you cleaned the wound on his leg but you caught yourself wincing whenever he did. You gently patted the area dry and glanced up at Finan who stood behind him. You didn’t have to tell him what to do, his hand instantly coming down to grip Osferths shoulders tight. Uhtred and Sihtric were on either side of him, prepared to hold him down if needed.

He tried his best to keep still and keep quiet as you stitched up the gash in his leg. And you have to admit, he sat like a rock compared to some men. When you were finished you quickly put away the supplies before looking at Finan.

“Let’s get him home.” you said quietly, carefully helping Osferth stand up on his good leg. Finan was at his other side, helping hold him up as you made your way out of the hall and towards his house.

“He was a true warrior out there, little witch.” Finan said, grinning at you as you both made your way into the house and got Osferth settled on the bed. Once he was settled, Finan grinned in your direction. “He may be injured but I think the baby monk deserves a proper welcome home from his lady.”

You laughed, looking over at Osferth laying on the bed who was looking anywhere but at your face. Your dirty thoughts were already waging a war in your head.

“Oh, I plan on showing him just how grateful I am that he’s returned to me. Now get out and leave me to welcome my warrior home properly.” you chuckled, practically pushing Finan out the door before shutting it behind him and locking it.

You turned back to Osferth who hadn’t said a word since you got to the house. He looked around the small space, taking in your belongings mixed with his. You watched him carefully as he pulled the blankets up to his nose and took a deep breath.

“You’ve been staying here.” he said. It was a statement, not a question. But he didn’t seem upset.

“I have. I’ve missed you terribly. I just felt closer to you here.” you admitted, going over to kneel next to the bed so you were face to face with him. You must have looked worried because he instantly reassured you.

“I’m glad you’ve been here. I would’ve asked you to come live with me sooner or later. Plus now the bed smells like you… it’s comforting.”

You reached your hand out to caress his face, smiling at the warmth of his skin under your fingertips. He smiled at you, reaching his hand up to cover yours. You leaned forward, pressing your lips against his gently. You didn’t want to push him too far since he was injured. But he surprised you, moving his hand to the back of your head and pressing his lips harder against yours. You whimpered in response, gently pulling away to look at him

“My love, you're hurt. I don’t want to risk hurting you.” you said, nudging your nose against his affectionately. He chuckled, grinning at you.

“Just get up here with me.” he said, moving himself over to make room for you. Thankfully the bed was big enough for two people.

You moved off the floor and crawled into bed with him, sliding beneath the blankets. You could feel the heat coursing through your veins, having never been this intimate with him before. He turned onto his side to face you and let an arm wrap around your waist, pulling you closer until your chest and stomach were pressed against his.

“I was so worried about you.” you admitted, your voice barely audible.

“I know. But I came back to you just like I said I would.” he said, obviously proud of himself.

“Osferth, my love, I saw you on the battlefield.” you whispered, feeling the tears brimming your eyes as you spoke. He stayed silent and let you continue. “I had another vision three days ago. You were on the battlefield and you were bleeding so badly that I thought-”

You stopped yourself, feeling yourself begin to choke on a silent sob. Reliving the vision was no easier, even when Osferth was safe in your arms. His hand rubbed up and down your side, easing your anxiety.

“I thought I was gonna die out there.” he said. You looked at him with worried eyes but didn’t say anything. “The battle was over and won by the time the others found me. I had been in and out of consciousness for god knows how long at that point. I’d lost so much blood I didn’t even realize that I was being carried off the battlefield by Uhtred until he spoke of you.”

“Me? What did he say?”

“He said ‘Y/N’s gonna need a husband soon enough, so don’t you dare die on us.’” he said, smiling at you.

“Uhtred said that? Was that him giving you his blessing or something?” you questioned, your eyes going wide at the statement.

“Mhmm. He told me that whenever the time was right, I had his permission. Finan and Sihtric were the worst though, teasing me relentlessly. They wouldn’t shut up about it. Kept saying… well…” he trailed off, his face growing red.

“What did they say, Os?” you asked, teasingly running your hand up his arm.

“T-they kept saying I wasn’t allowed to die because you would, uh, w-want to… hump me when I got back.”

His face was practically on fire as he spoke and you could feel the heat bubbling in your core at the thought. You clenched your thighs together in a poor attempt to quell the heat.

“Is that what kept you fighting to come home?” you teased, squeezing his bicep lightly.

“The thought of you, and you alone, is what brought me home. Although, those thoughts did keep me warm the last few nights.” he admitted, sheepishly letting his eyes meet yours.

“You thought about humping me, baby monk? Is that what you want?” you teased, praying to the gods he would say yes.

“I… I mean, uh, I mean I do, but only if you want to.” he rushed out, looking almost terrified.

You grinned, moving your hand up to brush some hair off his forehead. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest at his confession, only stoking the fire in your belly.

“I want to, Os. I would’ve let you bed me before you left if we would’ve had the time.” you confessed while maneuvering yourself closer, carefully hitching your leg over his hip so your groin was flush against him. You could feel how hard he was and couldn’t help but rock gently against him.

“Oh my god!” he whimpered, causing you to smirk.

“Do you want me, baby monk?” you asked, gently bucking your hips again, only this time he let his hips move with yours. His cock pressed hard against your clothed cunt, making you whine.

“You know I do, my little witch. But it sounds like you want me too.” he said, sounding a bit cocky.

“I do. So bad.” you said, gently pushing on his shoulders and onto his back. You now straddled his hips, the dress you wore was now gathered at your waist as you settled your cunt over his covered cock. “Now tell me what you want, Osferth.”

“Can we… can you..” he tried, his hands pulling gently at the fabric bunched around your waist.

“You want me to take this off?” you teased. Before he could answer, your hands gripped the edge of your dress and pulled it up over your head, leaving you bare in front of him. His eyes raked greedily over your body, stopping briefly at your cunt before coming back up to settle on your breasts. Your nipples hardened under his gaze as the cool air swept over your body.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” he murmured, his eyes flicking up to yours.

“Such foul language from someone so holy.” you joked, leaning forward a bit so your breasts were pushed together.

“My love, please.” he begged, completely unsure of what he was begging for.

“You can touch me, Os. Need you to touch me.” you whined and grabbed both of his hands to bring them up to your breasts, gently guiding his fingers to squeeze the soft flesh. You couldn’t contain your moans as he took over, no longer needing your assistance in kneading your breasts and letting his thumbs flick gently over your hardened peaks.

“My god, your tits are perfect.” he moaned as you began to gently rock your hips over his bulge.

“Mmm why am I the only one naked?” you asked, never stopping the rocking of your hips, enjoying the feel of his rough pants against your throbbing clit.

“Would you like me to take my clothes off, my little witch?” he asked, running his hands from your breasts, gently down your ribcage.

“I would, my love. I should assist you though. I don’t need you ripping your stitches.”

You carefully shimmied off of him, kneeling next to him on the bed. Your hands went to his tunic, pushing it upwards, slowly revealing his pale skin. He sat up, helping you tug the fabric over his head and tossing it to the floor. Your pussy clenched around nothing, desperate to be filled. The sight of his skin was enough to have you literally dripping down your thighs. He laid back against the pillows, letting his face scan yours. He could see the obvious arousal swirling in your eyes and noticed you rubbing your thighs together in anticipation.

“Are you aroused, my little witch?” he asked, already knowing the answer. You nodded silently. You could see his shy demeanor peeking through again when he spoke again. “C-can… can I see?”

You smirked at his question and nodded your head, slowly parting your thighs and leaning back on one hand to make sure he had a perfect view. You let your hand run down your stomach to your pussy, using two fingers to spread your lips apart so he could see your glistening inner folds and your swollen clit that practically begged for attention.

“Oh Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! You’re gonna be the fucking death of me, woman!” he groaned, his eyes focused on your cunt and the way it was clenching around nothing. You giggled, feeling several drops of your arousal begin to drip down your thighs before you let your fingers swipe it up. You offered your fingers to Osferth, giving him a sickeningly sweet smile.

“You wanna taste, baby?” you asked, innocence dripping from your voice like venom.

“Let me taste you, sweetheart.” he said, opening his mouth enough for you to push your two fingers past his lips. His lips closed around your digits and he sucked gently, making sure his tongue got every drop of your essence from your fingers. You slowly withdrew your fingers from his mouth, immediately bringing the spit coated digits to your clit, rubbing slow circles over it and moaning weakly. You watched his cock twitch in his pants, making your mouth salivate.

“Osferth, baby, your pants have got to go. I need to see you… to feel you.” you whined, moving your hands to untie his pants. He carefully lifted his hips, allowing you to pull the fabric down. His hard cock slapped up against his stomach, causing your eyes to go wide and your cunt to drip even more. He must have taken notice of the look on your face, pure shock shining in your wide eyes.

“Is… is it ok?” he asked, suddenly very shy, worried he wasn’t up to your standards. You snapped yourself out of it before replying.

“More than ok, my love. You’re perfect. I’d imagined you’d be, uh, well endowed, but you’re much bigger than my imagination could have ever come up with.” you answered breathlessly, your eyes locked on his cock.

You carefully helped slide his pants the rest of the way down his long legs, being sure to be extra careful around his stitches. Once his pants were off he spread his legs slightly and let his hand come down to wrap around his length, slowly stroking himself while he stared at your body. You noticed his gaze was now fixed on your swaying breasts as you crawled your way back up the bed until you were straddling his thighs. You stared down at him, watching the way he pleasured himself while he admired your body.

“Osferth…” you said, getting his attention. He stopped his movements, looking up into your eyes.

“Yes, my love?”

“Have you ever…?” you trailed off, hoping he’d catch on. Thankfully he did.

“No, uh, I haven’t. I wanted the right woman in my life first. And thank god I’ve finally found her.” he said, grinning at you.

“Are you sure you want it to be me, Os?” you asked quietly.

“You mean everything to me, sweetheart. You’re it for me. I’ll never love another the way that I love you.” he said proudly. It took you a moment to realize what he’d just said.

“You love me?” you whispered, still in shock, but feeling your heart do happy flips in your chest.

“Of course I do, Y/N. I love you so much. More than anything.”

You were so happy you could almost cry, but you held back your tears.

“Osferth, I love you too. I’m so thankful that the gods have blessed me with the gift of sight, allowing me to know you before I’d even met you. But now I have you all to myself. I’m never letting you go, my sweet baby monk.” you said, shifting until your pussy was hovering over his hard, now leaking cock.

You didn’t say a single word as you reached down between your bodies to grip his cock in your warm hand, lining up his leaking tip with your entrance. You locked eyes with him, seeing him breathing heavily and his eyes wide. He nodded at you, giving you the approval you needed to finally take what belongs to you.

You slowly lowered yourself onto his cock, the stretch making you moan and whimper. Osferth had his head thrown back in pleasure and moaned loudly as your pussy engulfed his throbbing length. When you looked down to see you’d only taken about half of his length you whimpered, knowing you’d be feeling this in the following days.

“You’re so tight, little witch… so fucking tight!” Osferth groaned beneath you, doing everything in his power not to thrust his hips up into you so he wouldn’t hurt you. You couldn’t help but experimentally squeeze around him, watching his eyes roll back as he moaned out your name. “Y/N, oh fuck! Don’t do that or this will be over before we’ve even started.”

You couldn’t help but giggle before forcing yourself to calm down. After another minute of adjusting and slowly sliding yourself the rest of the way down his length, you were finally fully seated in his lap with him deep inside you. Leaning down, you braced your hands on either side of his head.

“You’re mine now.” you whispered, locking your eyes on his. He simply smiled up at you.

“I’ve always been yours, my love.” he whispered back.

You slowly began rocking your hips, your eyes fluttering at the feeling of his cock sliding against your wet walls, keeping you stretched open around him. You watched Osferths mouth drop open in a moan, his eyes shutting as he basked in the feeling of your wet heat. The coarse hair at the base of his cock rubbed deliciously against your throbbing clit, making you whine.

“Os, my love, feels so fucking good!” you whimpered, moving your hands to his chest, pushing yourself higher above him.

You rose your hips, feeling about half of his length slip out of you before you lowered yourself again. You could feel Osferth twitch inside you as you did it again, slowly picking up your pace and fucking yourself on his cock.

“My beautiful little witch, your cunt feels amazing squeezing my cock. Mmm move faster, sweetheart!” he groaned, grabbing your hips to help you bounce faster on his dick. Your cunt fluttered erratically around his cock at his words. You never imagined Osferth was capable of such filth coming from his perfect lips.

You did as he asked and bounced faster, the sound of your skin slapping against his resonating throughout the room. The look of Osferth beneath you, sweat forming on his skin and glistening in the light of the fire had you going feral. You could hear the wet squelching of your juices coating his cock as you continued to bounce in his lap.

“Fuck, our lovemaking sounds so filthy! I fucking love it!” you growled, leaning down to capture his lips, biting gently before moving down to his neck. You latched yourself onto the soft skin and sucked a mark on to his neck, making him moan loudly. You chuckled against the skin, only pulling back when you knew he’d have a dark purple mark that would last for at least a week.

“Y/N, little witch, I’m close.” he groaned, his hands gripping your hips so hard that you knew he’d leave bruises. You slowly stopped your movements, not ready for this to be over.

“Not yet, baby monk. I’m not done with you yet.” you said, your voice laced with mischief as you slowly slid off his cock, hissing as the sudden emptiness you felt.

“What are you doing?” he asked, watching you scoot yourself backwards to sit between his legs. You rubbed your hands up and down his thighs a few times and smirked up at him.

“Do you trust me, baby monk?” you asked sweetly.

“With my life, little witch.” he answered.

Without warning you gripped the base of his cock with your hand and leaned down, sucking the head of his cock between your plush lips. You glanced up at him to see him staring down at you with wide eyes, his breathing heavy. You kept eye contact as you swirled your tongue around his sensitive tip, making a whimper bubble up in his throat. Your heart practically exploded at the sweet sound.

He didn’t look away once, not even as you slowly engulfed him in the wet heat of your mouth. You suctioned your lips tightly around him as you pulled back up, making sure that you collected every drop of your own juices from his cock. You pulled back only long enough to lick your lips and swallow down your essence before descending on his cock again, sucking long and hard while your hand worked what you couldn’t fit in your mouth.

Feeling the vein on the underside of his cock pulsing, you flattened your tongue against it and added pressure, making Osferth moan. His hand came down to tangle in your hair, slowly guiding your mouth up and down his cock. You moaned around his dick, causing him to cry out.

“Jesus Christ, little witch! Oh fuck, your mouth is so sinful… so good!” he praised, yanking lightly on your hair and making you moan again. “Mmm I want to make you feel this good, baby. Can I? Please, Y/N?”

You slowly pulled off his cock and licked your lips, gently wiping your chin with the back of your hand where a mix of saliva and precum had begun to drip.

“You want to lick me, baby monk?” you asked, your voice carrying an almost teasing tone.

“Yes, sweet girl. Come up here. Let me lick your pretty little cunt.” he said eagerly, reaching for you.

You let him grab you, pulling you until you were hovering over his face. He gave you no time to adjust, pulling your hips down so you were practically sitting on his mouth, his nose pressed directly against your clit and his tongue immediately licking through your folds.

You braced your hands on the wall in front of you, slowly rocking your hips with the movements of his tongue. He gently shook his head from side to side while he let his tongue delve into your dripping hole, his nose nudging repeatedly against your throbbing clit, making you squeal. He moaned into your cunt, slurping loudly as he made sure no drop of your juices went to waste.

Moans, whines, and wet slurping sounds echoed throughout the room as you continued to rock yourself against his mouth, fucking yourself on his tongue and his nose. You tried to lift your hips several times, but Osferth wouldn’t let you. His arms wrapped around your thighs, holding you tightly against his face.

“Osferth! Oh my god! Fuck, oh fuck, please! I’m so close… I need your cock… need to hump you! Please!” you moaned, trying once again to lift your hips off his face.

He reluctantly let go of you, letting you shift back down his body instantly sliding yourself back onto his leaking cock. Your eyes fluttering shut as you sighed in relief, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips, loving the feeling of being full of him.

“Did you need my cock that badly, little witch? Seems like you’re right at home with my cock filling your needy little cunt.” he chuckled, mocking how badly you needed him.

“Don’t tease me, my love.” you cooed sweetly, your hands finding purchase on his chest. “It just feels so right to be filled by you. But you know what would feel even better?”

“What’s that, love?” he asked, reaching a hand up to brush your hair behind your ear.

“To be filled with your pups.” you whispered, staring down at him with lust in your eyes. His eyes went wide and you could feel his cock twitch hard inside you. He fucking liked the idea! “Would you like that, Os? To hump me day and night until my belly swells with your pup?”

“Oh god, yes!” he groaned. “But you don’t think it would be too soon?”

“Uhtred already gave you permission to marry me. I’m pretty sure that permission also applies to getting me pregnant.” you giggled, slowly beginning to roll your hips, gradually increasing your speed. You could already feel your juices sliding down his cock from how wet you were.

“You- oh god, fuck, you’re right. Let me get you pregnant, love.” he said, putting the weight on his one good leg and fucking you from below, moaning out his praises as one hand gripped your hip and the other reached up to grope at your breast. “You’ll look so good carrying my child. Oh god, and I can’t wait until these perfect tits fill up with milk.”

His words spurred you on, your nails digging slightly into his shoulder as he bounced you on his cock. You could feel the coil winding tighter in your belly, threatening to explode. You kept your eyes locked on his, trying to wordlessly convey how close to your end you were. If he couldn’t see it in your eyes, he could certainly feel it in your cunt as your walls pulsated rapidly as you neared your high.

“Os- fuck, Osferth! I’m… I’m gonna…” you whined, your voice now higher in pitch. Your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to hold off your impending orgasm. “Please!”

“Cum for me! Y/N, oh fuck, cum for me, little witch!” he gasped, his hips pistoning into you at a pace you couldn’t keep up with. Both of his hands came to tightly grip your hips, holding you still as he chased both of your highs.

You could feel the rising heat, spreading through your body. The coil in your belly finally reached its peak and snapped, sending a blazing heat through your entire body. Your pussy clenched hard around his aching cock and you screamed in ecstasy.

“Osferth! F-fuck! Mmmm oh god… yes yes yes!” you screamed, your voice faltering into unintelligible whimpers. Osferths orgasm followed immediately, his body stilling beneath you, holding your hips tightly against his as he released inside you.

“Fuck! Oh fuck, my little witch! So good for me, baby. So fucking good!” he moaned, forcing his eyes to stay open to watch you as the aftershocks from your own orgasm wracked through your body.

You whimpered more at the warmth filling your belly as his seed flooded your womb, hopefully landing you with a pup in the near future. You kept your hips firmly seated against his, making sure every drop of his spend would stay inside you. The aftershocks subsided a bit and you smiled down at him as you both tried to catch your breath. You slowly lifted your hips, letting his half hard cock slip out of your abused and swollen cunt. You both hissed at the feeling. Falling to the side, you both looked at each other, basking in the afterglow of your lovemaking.

“I love you, Y/N. Truly, I do.” he said, a dopey grin on his face. You grinned, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek, your thumb rubbing soothingly over his cheekbone.

“And I love you, Osferth. More than you could ever know.” you responded, moving to cuddle against his side, hitching your leg over his hip, your leg just barely brushing his cock.

“So…about us getting married?” he questioned, giving you a shy smile.

“What about it, my love?”

“When?”

You laughed, nuzzling your face into his shoulder and pressing a kiss against the still flushed skin.

“I’d say tomorrow, but I’m thinking we should at least wait until your leg is healed.” you said, peppering more kisses across his skin.

“You’re probably right, my love. What shall we tell the others?”

“I don’t think we’ll need to say anything. I’m sure they already know. With how loud we were, I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole town knows what we just did.” you joked. You watched his face grow red with embarrassment, making you laugh again.

“We weren’t that loud… were we?” he asked sheepishly.

“My sweet baby monk, I’m sure the guys have already planned our wedding and are already expecting pups from us.” you said, briefly reaching down to pull one of the large furs over the both of you. “Now sleep. You’re injured and need your rest.”

His arms wrapped around you, holding you close, letting you drift to sleep in his arms.

The next morning the two of you were woken up by a bang, the door swinging open to be more specific. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and looked over to the door, seeing Finan, Sihtric, and Uhtred standing in the doorway. Osferth, groaned at the loud wakeup call and you just laughed, letting your head fall back against the pillows.

“It’s too early for this.” Osferth mumbled, glaring at the men in the doorway.

“Early? You’re confused! It’s nearly noon, baby monk! Did the little witch hump you so good last night that you can’t even wake up on time?!” Finan laughed, causing Uhtred and Sihtric to chime in.

“You know she did! They weren’t exactly quiet.” Sihtric jokes.

“So when’s the wedding?” Uhtred asked, smiling at the two of you.

Osferth turned to you and smiled. You smiled back, all the assurance he needed to answer his friend.

“As soon as my leg is healed I’m taking her as my wife.” he said proudly, pulling you closer to his side.

“Leave us in peace, boys. My man just got back from battle last night and I’d like to wake him up in a way that shows him just how grateful I am that he’s returned home to me. Now shoo!” You said, waving your hand at them so they would leave. You could hear them all cackling and joking about how their baby monk wasn’t as innocent as they thought he was as they all walked away, leaving you alone with Osferth once again.

“Now what way did you plan on waking me up, my little witch?” he asked.

“In a way that is most unholy, my love. With your cock down my throat and your tongue in my cunt.” you purred, leaning down to kiss his perfect lips.

Needless to say, nobody saw you two until supper time that evening. The teasing was plentiful as was the ale and good company. But seriously, who would have thought a Dane sorceress and a Saxon monk would fall in love?

@sirenofavalon @aryacahill @letmeseeyoustripp3d @slytherincursebreaker @justxpaulina @linevondensternen @tessgiggles @stillinracooncity @nma-nekronauta @dothrckis @definitelycrazyowl

#osferth #osferth smut #ewan mitchell #tlk #the last kingdom #smut #baby monk #finan #uhtred #sihtric #the last kingdom smut

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skyward-floored · 8 months

Text

Whumptober Day 4: Shock, “I see the danger, it’s written there in your eyes”

We had to get to the bloody ones eventually—

This was originally going to be standalone, but one thing led to another and I think there’s going to be another part at some point. I couldn’t make it longer and I’m very stuck on the idea hehe

Warnings: blood & injury, specifically a stab wound, and just general battle violence and injuries

Read it on ao3

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“Ugh, wizzrobes again?” Legend grumbled as he slid under a bolt of electricity. “We just fought some of these clowns yesterday! Did the Shadow just give up on originality?”

“Less complaining, more fighting!” Warriors shouted at him from nearby, and Legend rolled his eyes.

“Less criticism and more fighting!” Hyrule called back with a mischievous look, and Legend almost laughed, though it turned into a yelp when he dodged another bolt of magic.

Wizzrobes were such a pain.

Especially Wild’s.

Warriors shouted at him again, but this time it was a warning, and Legend deftly jumped away from a blast of ice that would have frozen him solid. He nodded a thanks at the captain, and went back to trying to defeat the wizzrobes, which was nearly impossible with how crazily they moved.

Legend dodged a fireball, and quickly turned and shot a blast of ice at the offending monster. It shrieked, and disappeared into a puff of smoke, and Legend swapped out his ice rod for a fire rod, and did the same to another.

The different rods seemed to work well, and along with the others all fighting together, soon there was only one wizzrobe left. It was in a color Legend hadn’t seen before though, and he looked at it suspiciously.

“Yours come in purple now?” he called behind him towards where he knew Wild was sniping.

“I’ve never seen one like that before!” Wild called back, voice uncertain. “I don’t know what it—”

As he spoke, the wizzrobe grinned, letting out a deranged cackle as it shot a huge burst of magic into the sky. Purple lights flashed, and a glowing ball fell from them, dropping down into the clearing and exploding into blinding light before anyone could do a thing.

Legend yelped and covered his face with his shield, but the magic still knocked him off his feet and onto the ground. It shook into his limbs and up to his face, his vision going white and spotty. It didn’t... hurt, exactly, but something about it felt all mixed up inside of him, jolting through his body and limbs, and he felt rather discombobulated.

“Legend!”

The sensation abruptly faded, and he felt arms tugging at him. Legend gingerly opened his eyes, almost surprised he could see at all, and looked up, meeting Hyrule’s worried gaze. The traveler was looking down at him with wide eyes, and Legend blinked a few times to get the last few spots of white out of his vision.

“Are you okay?” Hyrule asked, looking him over worriedly, “you were closest to that beam, it felt like an explosion went off.”

“Fine, fine,” Legend coughed, then gingerly pulled himself up to a sitting position. “Think it was just... magic. I don’t even think it did anything to me.”

“Nothing?” Hyrule asked suspiciously, and Legend shook his head.

“No. Is everyone else okay? Where’d that wizzrobe go?”

“I haven’t checked yet, but since you’re fine I would guess they’ll be—”

An arrow slammed into the ground right between Legend’s feet.

He jumped, and in one swift movement was on his feet with his shield out, back to back with Hyrule as he looked for the enemy who’d shot. He scanned the field as he looked for where his sword had gone to, then he froze, and stared at who had fired the arrow.

Wild stood across the clearing, his bow drawn with an arrow nocked in Legend’s direction. His brows were lowered as he stared at the veteran, stance unusually firm, and something about the way he held himself just screamed danger.

Legend flicked his eyes around, and felt his breath leave him as he saw Warriors and Sky both staring at him as well, swords drawn and angled towards him in a threatening gesture. Time stood on Legend’s other side, claymore raised as he stared silently at the veteran, and Legend’s heart skipped a beat.

He and Hyrule were surrounded. By their own teammates.

No, Legend realized with a dawning horror, sunlight glinting proudly off Time and Warriors’ armor, no not my teammates.

Knights.

“Captain? What’s going on?” Twilight asked nearby, Wind and Four looking equally confused next to him.

“Traitor to the crown,” Warriors said in a low voice, eyes never blinking.

“You kidnapped the princess,” Wild added in a growl.

“We have our orders,” Sky said in a smooth voice, and raised the Master Sword accusingly. “Dead or alive.”

Legend couldn’t breathe.

“Don’t be crazy!” Wind said in disbelief, looking at Time and Warriors with a shocked expression. “Legend didn’t do anything! What’s wrong with you guys?!”

“The wizzrobe,” Four said with a sharp inhale. “That attack must have done something to make them think he’s the enemy.”

“Time, please, you know Legend, he hasn’t done anything wrong,” Twilight said gently, inching towards him. But Time stopped him with a firm glare, his sword never lowering. The knights all took a step closer to Legend, and he felt Hyrule stiffen at his back.

“Legend, you need to run,” Hyrule whispered. “Now.”

Legend couldn’t move.

Suddenly he was eleven again, staring at a wanted poster with his face on it, wondering why the reward was so high. He was eleven, screamed at by the townsfolk, and surrounded by guards just for trying to walk into the village to buy food on his quest. He was eleven, chased down by brainwashed knights and forced to fight them, some of them people he knew, his uncle’s friends, raise his uncle’s sword against them and hurt them—

“Legend RUN!”

He snapped back into himself just in time to avoid a thrust from Warriors, and Hyrule grabbed his wrist when he merely stared at the weapon that had almost killed him, pulling him away.

“Come back you traitor!” Warriors shouted, and Legend blinked, able only to watch in numb shock as Four and Twilight leapt to defend him, Hyrule still dragging him away.

Sky leapt forward, then cried out as the Master Sword fell from his grip, sparking as she was about to be used against one of her own. Wind took the opportunity to tackle him, and Legend watched blankly as the sailor wrestled Sky’s pouch away from him so he couldn’t grab any more weapons.

“Don’t hurt them!” Wind cried out, still struggling with Sky, “they’re not themselves!”

“Keep them away from Legend!” Twilight shouted as he crossed swords with Warriors, the captain swinging his blade with fierce strokes.

Hyrule nodded, and blocked a slew of arrows from plunging into Legend’s chest, then yanked him behind his back as he avoided a huge swing from Time.

“You’ve betrayed us all!” Time spat, and Hyrule crossed blades with him, nearly driven to his knees by the force of it. “You’re nothing but a false hero, poisoning the land with your lies!”

The words were like a knife, and Legend could only watch in blank shock, stunned as Hyrule struggled against Time, as Twilight and Warriors still fought against each other, Wind nearly getting punched in the face by Sky while Four tried desperately to get close enough to Wild to stop him from sniping them all down—

“Legend! Snap out of it!” Hyrule shouted as he somehow managed not to be lopped in two by another of Time’s swings. “You’re going to get killed, wake up!”

He wasn’t sure if it was the phrase or the desperation in Hyrule’s voice, but Legend finally snapped into action, firmly shaking himself. You can freak out later when half of your team isn’t trying to kill you!

Legend dove for his gilded sword, but hissed at the warning spark he felt as he grabbed it. Sometimes he forgot his blade was another version of the Master Sword, upgraded and changed, but at times like these it was impossible.

I’m not going to hurt them, I’m only defending myself, he begged as it got hotter, still stubbornly holding on even as his hands began to burn. Please, you know I’m not!

The hilt scorched his hands, and Legend was forced to shove it into its sheathe, grabbing in his pouch for a backup sword. Before he could though, something swung towards him, and he only barely got his shield up in time to block it.

The strike threw him to the ground for the second time today, and Legend nearly had the breath knocked out of him. His eyes widened as Wild raised a claymore of some kind to strike him with, and he just barely managed to roll out of the way of another hit.

“Champion I don’t want to have to hurt you,” he gritted out, but Wild didn’t reply.

His face was eerily closed-off as he tried to hit him, strikes almost clinically precise. Legend had to dodge all over the place, and he still got a shallow cut on his arm. Not to mention his hands were smarting from trying to use the gilded sword, and every time a hit rang out against his shield, he had to bite his lip to keep from crying out.

Wild swung again, and Legend gritted his teeth and used his backup sword to shove the champion backwards, then grabbed for his ice rod again. His aching fingers closed around it, but then he felt his entire body freeze in place, yellow shining in his vision.

He couldn’t move. He couldn’t defend himself. He couldn’t do anything, and he suddenly realized that Wild must have used the stasis rune on his slate on him.

No, no no no no no—

Before he could panic too much, the magic broke, and Legend stumbled, thrown off-balance. He looked around in surprise, then saw Four standing next to him, having frozen Wild’s feet to the ground with Legend’s own dropped ice rod.

He could only stare at him for a second, and startled as Four yanked him behind his shield, blocking the arrows Wild was shooting at them again.

“Should have gotten his arms too,” he cursed, then turned towards Legend. “Vet, they’re all after you, you need to go find that wizzrobe and beat it. That should break the magic, I think it’s our best bet. We can keep them all busy while you go.”

“But— you’re outnumbered,” Legend said a bit hysterically, his panic over the whole situation starting to come back, “not in numbers but skill, have you ever seen Sky and the captain duel? Not to mention the old man, he could probably take on all of you at once—”

Four put a hand on his arm, and gave him a small smile as he raised his sword.

“I can get us some more help. But you need to go.”

Legend swallowed, but he knew Four was right, and gave him a nod as he grabbed his ice rod and bolted in the direction he’d last seen the wizzrobe.

He suddenly felt like he was eleven again.

He caught sight of Hyrule as he ran, the traveler using his magic to stay away from Time’s deadly swings. He had blood on his leg, but his face was as determined as ever, and he firmly blocked Time from following when the older hero saw Legend running away.

“Coward!” he heard shouted behind him, but Legend kept running despite the sting it left in his chest.

He bolted past Twilight, who had an arrow in his arm and multiple other injuries, but was continuing to fight anyway, blocking Warriors’ strikes with a grieved look, almost like he’d been forced to do this before. Wind was still wrestling with Sky, fists flying as the Skyloftian tried desperately to get his weapons back, but Wind was determined to keep him down.

Every instinct of Legend’s was screaming at him to turn around and fight, help his friends, his brothers, he had so many items that could help them— but he forced himself to continue, ignoring a pained cry when he heard it.

Legend was smart enough to realize the only way they would all get out of this alive would be if he broke the curse. They couldn’t stand against some of the best fighters of their group forever— it was only a matter of time before someone was seriously hurt.

But no matter how many times he told himself that, it still felt like he was abandoning them.

This is the only way to help right now. You’re not leaving them, you’re doing what needs to be done.

If you stayed here, you would only make their job more difficult.

Legend searched desperately through the trees for a flash of purple, hoping desperately the wizzrobe was still in the area.

He had no way of knowing if he was looking in the right spot or not. For all he knew, the wizzrobe was long gone, but he kept looking, even as the clashing of swords still rang in his ears, and a scream that sounded a bit like Four echoed nearby.

Legend bit down on his lip so hard he tasted blood, and ignored the stinging that had started up in his eyes as he searched.

The others were back there somewhere, fighting against their brothers, risking their lives, all for him, to keep him safe, and he’d frozen and barely helped them and now he couldn’t even find the stupid wizzrobe.

“Come on! Come out and fight me!” he screamed, voice breaking a little. “Are you afraid? Because you better be!”

A giggle flitted through the trees, and Legend shot a blast of ice out, the laughter only growing.

Purple weaved through the foliage, and Legend shot another blast out, obviously missing due to the giggle he overheard. He knew his emotions were making him sloppy, and Legend forced himself to steady his hand. He breathed out, lowering his weapon and acting as if he was unaware of where the wizzrobe was.

Come on, take the bait...

A giggle erupted in his face, and Legend thrust out his ice rod, making the wizzrobe scream as it was launched backwards. It fell to the ground, stuck solidly in a chunk of ice, and Legend pulled out his fire rod, prepared to burn it to a crisp.

Then something hit him in the side, and he went flying, crying out as he fell to the grass.

His side ached where he’d been hit, and before he could move, what felt like a foot stepped down on his chest, pressing against his doubtlessly bruised ribs and stopping him from getting up. Legend opened his eyes and saw Warriors staring silently down at him, sword raised to pierce him through.

Somehow he’d gotten past the others.

“Wars— Warriors don’t,” Legend choked out, struggling to catch his breath. “Link, please I’m not your enemy!”

“You’re a traitor,” Warriors said in a cold voice, still not blinking. He had blood running down his face from a cut over his eye, but his face showed no sign of pain. “My orders are clear.”

“Captain wake up!” Legend shouted, terror rising in his throat. “You’re not yourself, you’d never hurt any of us, snap out of it!”

Warriors didn’t react in the slightest, and raised his sword.

Legend felt a burst of panic, and he shot his arm out, feeling desperately for where he’d dropped his fire rod. If he could just kill the wizzrobe, Warriors would wake up, the spell would break—

Warriors’ sword went down as Legend’s fingers closed around his rod, and he shot a desperate plume of flame towards the dazed wizzrobe.

The fire hit it right as Warriors’ sword buried itself in his middle, and Legend’s scream mixed with the wizzrobe’s, hot agony slicing into his chest. The sword was pulled out again only seconds later, but then Warriors stumbled back, the weapon dropping from his hands.

Legend barely noticed, trying not to scream again as the sword fell to the ground beside him, already feeling blood start to dampen his tunic.

Okay, okay okay easy, you’ve been stabbed before, no big deal. Just because Warriors was who did it doesn’t change a thing, put pressure on it, you need to put pressure—

His chest burned and Legend couldn’t hold back a cry, taking thick breaths through his nose.

Goddesses please, not like this, he’ll never forgive himself.

“L-Legend?” Warriors said dizzily, shaking his head as he tried to clear it. He put a hand to his forehead, and blinked several times, wiping blood from his face with a confused look. “Vet, what...”

Then his eyes focused, and he noticed the stab wound in his chest.

“LEGEND!”

Warriors dropped to his knees beside him, and Legend couldn’t help but jerk away from him, nearly shrieking as the captain immediately pressed his hands to his middle, trying to stem the flow.

“Legend don’t move, what happened how did this...”

Warriors trailed off as his gaze landed on his bloodied sword, and every bit of color drained from his face as he recognized it as his own.

“Legend?” he said shakily, and Legend swallowed, unable to stop himself from meeting his eyes.

A sword was abruptly pressed to Warriors’ neck, and Legend watched dizzily as Twilight forced the captain back, the look in his eyes equally furious and horrified. Warriors jerked like he wanted to go back to Legend, but he raised his arms in surrender, and moved back as Hyrule dropped to his side. More of the Links rushed into the clearing around Legend, but Warriors only had eyes for him, confusion and horror shining bright.

Hyrule’s hands pressed against his middle, and Legend sucked in another trembling breath.

“It— it’s gone,” he stuttered, and felt something warm slip past his lips. Oh that’s not good. “Wizzrobe— he’s not— not g-gonna—”

“Don’t talk Legend, you’ll be fine,” Hyrule said firmly, and Legend wasn’t sure if he imagined the tremble in his voice or not. “Just stay awake, okay? I’m gonna fix you up.”

Hyrule moved a careful hand around his chest, feeling at the injury, and Legend tensed, hissing through his teeth. Someone’s hand touched his head, and he flinched, choking as something moved in his middle.

The cold he’d been trying to ignore was growing closer now, nipping at his extremities, trying to suck him down. Legend firmly ignored the feeling, despite how easy it would be to sink into it, and focused on Hyrule’s face, blearily realizing there was blood on his shoulder. He wondered who had done that to him.

The pressure on his chest abruptly increased, and Legend couldn’t muffle his scream, so many sensations hitting him that his brain couldn’t even process it.

Then something began to trickle through his middle, something that warmed the cold that had been falling over him. Warmth blossomed in his chest, different from the hot blood that had been trickling across it, and Legend exhaled, relaxing slightly as Hyrule’s magic wove through him.

Once he could focus enough to realize Hyrule was still healing him, he reached down and grabbed his wrist, giving him a look.

“I’m good, don’t overextend yourself,” he said a little shakily, and he cut Hyrule off when he went to argue. “You already used a lot of magic, I saw you.”

“You lost a lot of blood,” Hyrule retorted.

“Well I’m not the only one who’s going to need healing,” Legend said more quietly, and Hyrule stopped, the glow fading from his hands.

Twilight appeared in his vision then, arrow still jutting from his arm, and he scanned Legend’s bloodstained middle in silence. Then he met Legend’s gaze, looking much older then he normally did.

“You definitely got the wizzrobe?” he asked seriously, and Legend nodded, his eyes suddenly heavy with exhaustion.

“It’s dead. The spell broke the moment I got it,” he said in a quiet voice. “They won’t... they’re safe.”

Oh gods I hope they are.

Twilight exhaled, and nodded, putting a hand on Legend’s arm.

“Okay. Try and get some rest, Veteran. We’ll handle things.”

“Take the literal arrow out of your arm first,” he muttered back, and a faint smile pulled at Twilight’s lips.

“We’re working on fixing everyone up. Rest. We can... we’ll figure all of this out later,” Twilight said quietly, glancing behind him at something. Legend followed his gaze, and saw Warriors sitting on a log, staring silently at the blood on his hands.

The others who’d been affected by the wizzrobe were nearby, and Sky looked like he was trying to talk to the captain, but Legend looked away as Hyrule began to bandage his middle.

Traitor!

Legend closed his eyes, and tried not to listen to any of the voices that still rang around his head, or focus on the horrified look of Warriors’ that was still seared into his mind.

He didn’t want to think about it. Any of it.

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