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beardedjoel · 6 months

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smother - part i: deliverance

dark!joel x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: starving. lost. desperate. you find a cabin in the woods, and to your dismay, it's occupied. a plan to have a quick bite of food with an intense, intriguing stranger turns into more than you'd bargained for when he makes you realize everything you've been missing out on. 8.6k words chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI! noncon, nonconsensual touching, dubcon - reader eventually enthusiastically consents but the syndrome is stockholming so its dubcon, reader is a virgin, big juicy age gap (reader is 19, joel is 55) manipulation/lying/gaslighting, slow burn and tension building chapter, joel is kind of a creepy menace ngl a/n: i'm so so very excited to share the first chapter of my new series! (if this flops after how much i got hyped for it i will be logging off forever) the themes in this story are dark so if the tags aren’t for you it’s understandable & just keep scrollin on by! this will end up being nasty and smutty, but only after a wee bit of buildup so don't fear. comments and reblogs are always beyond appreciated!

Save me. Please, anyone…

Another wave of desolate, crying desperation tears through you as you trudge along, tripping yet again - maybe over your own two feet, a root, the very ground you walk on, something. You’re much too hazy and burnt out to even care what you stumbled on as you just press on, press on, press on.

A wave of pain rolls through your stomach again as it burns cavernously empty. You move as a ghost, a shell of yourself now, using passing trees as support. Your hands touch the cold wood reluctantly, a painful little hiss through your teeth as your fingers practically cramp up from the cold. You’d lost your gloves somewhere along the way, days ago now, what feels like a lifetime. You need to stop and rest desperately now, your body close to giving out. Your heart hammers in fear, wondering if you’d even be able to get up again.

A cabin comes into view in the distance, tucked nicely in a clearing of trees. You think your eyes are deceiving you, that you’ve finally succumbed to the madness that comes with such hunger and loneliness, your brain conjuring up images to comfort you. You see smoke coming out of a chimney on the roof, and your heart equally swells and drops at the discovery - it’s not a shelter for you alone, no. Not a lucky discovery, somewhere to lay your head tonight that’s dry and warm without disturbance. Someone already lives here, has a home here, and they might not take too kindly to strangers. If there’s anything you’ve learned in the last few weeks of your own personal hell, it’s to tread carefully. Always.

You keep your footsteps light and quiet, trying to approach with some semblance of caution. Your empty stomach is pushing you along, begging for any scrap of food that might be inside, hopefully offered up to you by the kindness of a stranger. Berries and the occasional rabbit or lucky can of food found were not enough to live off of anymore - you could feel the way your body faded away by the day, losing any bit of strength you’d had in the first place.

You pause, hitching your breath and then barely daring to breathe at all when you get close enough to hear a sound - a low, throaty grunting followed by the crack of wood. Your eyes scan the area as you sneak closer and then land upon him. He’s broad and muscled, you can see that much from back here. Messy, dark hair that curls all around his head and down his neck. When his body turns enough that you see his face a little bit more, you notice he looks older and has dark, piercing eyes. They send a shudder through you, even from afar, only making you feel colder out in this frosty afternoon.

You wrap your coat a little tighter and decide to get closer, assess the situation, see if he seems friendly enough to give you something to eat and send you on your merry way. He swings an ax high up in the air and brings it down swiftly onto a large piece of wood, splitting it before tossing the logs into a pile already full of more firewood. You press your lips together, noticing how strong he is, betting there are well built up muscles underneath that flannel shirt of his. That makes him a threat, a big one, you quickly assess.

You’re too distracted, not watching your step, when a large branch cracks underneath your boot. You wince and squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, holding perfectly still, your breath coming out in quick, staccato exhales.

“H-hey!” you hear a gruff voice, sounding out of breath. You peek your eyes open slowly to see the man looking in your direction and silently curse yourself. “C’mon out!” he yells, and you see him reach to his waist, hands grazing a shining revolver holstered there.

Your stomach pulls into tight knots and you stand frozen for a few moments. Your brain quickly assesses everything, weighing the options. Running away, with no possibility of eating a single thing is one option, but the likelihood this stranger will shoot you seems high no matter what, so you decide to take your chances.

You put your hands in front of you, palms out, and slowly emerge from behind the trees. You walk gingerly along the crisp, frosty grass, crunching under your feet every step of the way. Your anxious breaths come out in little puffs in front of you as the cold air enters and exits your lungs.

The man falters, his fist closing and then opening again, pulling away from the revolver on his hip a bit. He blinks hard, staring at you in this silent showdown. “W-well shit, you’re just a girl…” he finally says quietly to himself, his posture relaxing a little. You stand perfectly still, choked up now that you’re confronted with the idea of speaking to him, such a large, imposing wall of a man, and those eyes, god, those eyes.

“I’m not gonna hurt you if you don’t give me a reason to, now, girl.” His voice is the tiniest bit softer, and you pick up on his Southern drawl, an accent you’ve heard a few times before. “Do ya need help?” He wipes his forehead with the back of his arm, a gleam of sweat having built up from chopping wood and his large chest still heaving. He takes a step closer to you, and you don’t step back, but feel every muscle coil up tightly as your mind screams at you that this was a mistake, a huge fucking mistake. Your feet tingle, toes flexing and getting ready to run, but you can’t make yourself do it, to take that first step.

Instead, you nod. “I- y-yes…” you say quietly. You’ll never understand why you say it, other than the fact that you’re drawn in by him, by his chestnut hair flecked with gray, his patchy beard that he’s currently scratching. By his build that looks so… safe yet dangerous, but you get the feeling that no, he’d never hurt you. You envision those arms wrapping around you, holding you tightly, shielding you from the world and everything you’ve been through. You never thought much about relationships or boys before - just a few simple and innocent crushes, but it hadn’t been on your radar as such a shy kid and teenager. But this… this was what people talked about - attraction. It nearly stole your breath the closer you got to him, threatening to suck you into what felt like an endless void.

“Alright,” the man replies, trying to match your quieter demeanor. He glances around, eyes narrowed and scanning the woods beyond you. “You with anyone? Or all alone out here?”

You know why he’s asking, you’ve seen what people can do - sending someone innocent and unimposing out to lay a trap, but you don’t lie when you shake your head. “A-alone. I’m alone, swear, sir.”

His jaw seems to tick, noticeable even from the distance you’re at before he answers you. “Okay, then. C’mon a little closer, I won’t bite, okay?” he says, and he’s so convincing that you do believe him, despite your instincts telling you otherwise. The world is cruel and unrelenting, taking away most of the trust you’ve ever had in humanity the second you place it into anything or anyone.

You move a little closer, small, gentle steps, and he nods encouragingly.

“Now there ya go. Look at ya…” he marvels with a click of his tongue, shaking his head once you’re just a few feet away from him.

He takes in your messy hair, slightly matted from wearing a winter hat on and off the last few weeks and sleeping on the ground. Your clothes have seen better days too, your skin smudged with dirt no matter how many water sources you found to try and rinse off a little bit. Even despite all of that, he gazes at you with a curiosity, with that look of interest that you felt like you’d given him without trying to. It’s quiet for another moment, the both of you sizing each other up, until Joel’s look turns a little more pitiful when you shiver as a sudden gust of wind whips past you, your threadbare coat doing little to protect you from the chill in the air here. You can’t be sure if your shuddering has less to do with the wind and more with the way that this man’s eyes are digging into what feels like your very soul.

“We gotta get you inside, okay? You’re shakin’, and you look like you ain’t had a proper meal in… too long…” He continues to eye you up and down, taking in your weak frame.

You stay silent for another moment, swallowing hard and then shuddering again. “I - I don’t know…” you breathe out. You might have some sudden, fantastical dream that this man is your savior, but it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be cautious - the mind is a tricky, deceiving thing.

“I ain’t gonna ask again, ain’t gonna beg ya, girl. C’mon,” he says a little more roughly, a hand shooting out quickly and grabbing you by the wrist and tugging. “Just want to get a good meal in you, alright?”

You wince at the grasp on your wrist, the roughness and hardness he’s starting to show you, but you let him pull, starting to move your feet and trail after him.

“T-thank you…sir,” you murmur quietly, and he swings his head to look back at you, his eyes softening.

“You’re welcome. Now get inside and get warm. I’ve got a fire goin’.” He lets go of your wrist, trusting you to follow him as his heavy boots clunk up the few steps leading to the front door of his cabin. It’s modest, beautifully constructed, all dark wood around the outside and a small porch. You start to wonder if this man built it himself, or just found it as it is. Your initial impression of him leads you to believe that he does seem like the type to build a whole god damn cabin. He half looks like a lumberjack already in the plaid flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms.

“Found this place ‘bout five years ago,” he says as if he could read your mind while he swings the door open. “Real nice and private, so don’t worry.”

Your eyes narrow slightly at his last comment, but you try to brush it off as you enter inside with him. The warm air hits your body, an immediate balm to your frayed nerves and chilled skin, a slightly smoky smell from the fire hits your nostrils and you immediately hear the crackle and pop of the logs in the little fireplace. The cabin is mainly one big room, a kitchen tucked into the corner right to the left of the door, and the living room beyond that with cozy couches and chairs, even a TV that you doubt is working but find yourself hopeful for some reason. It’s been a long time since you were able to watch a movie, flashing back to childhood memories when you’d lived in a more stable, thriving community that had power.

Stairs beyond that lead to what you assume are bedrooms or a bathroom, and your eyes curiously take in all the little details and decor - the man’s jackets hanging along the wall near the entrance, his rifle propped next to the door and several different pairs of worn boots.

You realize you’re just standing right near the doorway, silently looking around in a daze while your new acquaintance has been trying to get your attention.

“Hey, girl, I’m talkin’ t’ya…” his voice says, the noise fading back into your consciousness.

You shake your head. “S-sorry,” you say quietly, a shy little squeak. “I was just -“

“S’alright. I got some stew goin’, that okay? I mean y’don’t have much of a choice, but I’ll ask anyhow,” he says with a wry chuckle. You simply nod in response.

“Now go on, put your things down and sit ‘n get comfortable,” he waves towards the general direction of the kitchen table and the couch before turning back to the stove to stir the pot simmering there. You stand, feeling frozen still, panic threatening to climb up through your insides and completely take over. You still don’t feel safe, despite this man offering to warm you and feed you. How could you, you think, when you’ve been running for several weeks, trying to get away from the carnage that became your life.

He eyes you, unmoving and frightened looking and sighs heavily. “I said,” he says, tension thickening in the air around you, “Sit.”

You clear your throat, desert dry and scratchy, and set your backpack by the door, slowly creeping over to the couch, not wanting to make this mystery man any angrier. You settle yourself down and the cushions feel like heaven, your legs and body achy from the lack of comfort you’ve had for weeks. You try not to show just how good it feels to settle into the soft, plush fabric, letting the cushions mold to your body.

“Good,” Joel coos as he glances at you from the stove. “Now that we’ve got you settled in, you got a name?”

You weakly tell him your name and he shows you the first little smile you’ve seen from him, nodding. “Gotcha. I’m Joel, okay?”

“O-okay.” You push the words out while you watch him stir the pot on the stove. You sit in silence for a few moments, thankful for the time to just catch your breath and think. Just one bowl of stew, and you’ll be out of here. You’ll ask if there’s a community nearby, somewhere that could take you in, then grab that information and run, not bother this man any more than you need to.

Joel walks over, handing you a cup of water that you shamelessly start to gulp down before he goes back and ladles some of the delicious smelling stew into a bowl. The second the scent hits you, your stomach rumbles loudly. Joel cracks a smile as he hears it and continues ladling, a brow quirked.

“Hungry, huh?” he asks, walking the steaming bowl over to you with a spoon. You gingerly take it from his hands, being careful not to brush your still chilled fingers against his. You swear his eyes flash at you when he notices how avoidant you’re being, but he turns and walks back to the stove, getting himself a bowl as well. Joel settles down into a chair across from the couch where you sit with a weathered groan, just watching you for a few quiet moments. It does everything but put you at ease, your stomach twisting a little. You blow on a spoonful of stew before taking a bite, your mouth an explosion as it waters and takes in the delicious, rich, food.

“Mmm,” you whine out, unable to help it. Your body wants to lunge forward, lap the stew up until every single drop is in your starved body and you can finally feel a sense of fullness again. You quickly take another spoonful, much too hot, and wince a little as it hits your tongue.

“Slow on down, girl,” Joel says. “Let’s talk a little and it’ll slow down your eating.”

You just stare, noticing your body is trembling a little bit, and has been since you met Joel outside. You try to take a deep breath to settle your nerves, your legs so tensely pressed together that it's starting to hurt.

“You feelin’ afraid of me, that it?” he asks you, looking a little too self satisfied at the observation as he crosses his arms and leans towards you. His biceps bulge and stretch with the motion and you can’t help but find your eyes drawn to them, the way they pull at the soft flannel of his shirt. You feel your face heat up all the way to your ears and you blink hard, averting your eyes.

“I- I mean… I don’t know you…” you mutter, trying to sound more confident than you feel.

“I know,” he says, sounding more sympathetic. “Done some bad things in my time, so hell, maybe you should be scared of me. I ain’t a nice guy. But I won’t hurt someone like you, promise ya that.” His words are enough of a reason for you to hightail it out of here the first second you can, but why do you believe them? Why do you believe him?

“How d-do you know I’m not bad too? That I don’t deserve it?” His eyes narrow and his lip twitches into a smirk before he lets out a mocking little chuckle in your direction.

“Oh sweetheart, a man jus’ knows these things. You never hurt even a fly, now have you?” That smirk stays plastered on Joel’s face as he asks and it frustrates you how little of a threat he sees in you, how little fight you have left to give. Yet you can’t find yourself blaming him, you think. If you were facing yourself in his position you’re sure you’d look like as much of a feeble joke as you feel.

You frown, still unable to look him in the eyes for longer than a few seconds, and shake your head. “No… just for hunting…” you admit.

“Alright then. Y’don’t need to act tough in front of me, girl, got it?” Joel concludes, going back to eating his stew.

“Got it,” you respond quietly, letting yourself sink further into the couch as you feel your muscles slowly relaxing.

“Now tell me... what’s this all about? What’s a little young thing like you doin’ out here by herself?”

You bite your lip and sip slowly on another spoonful of stew. “I’m… uh…” you stutter nervously.

“Spit it out now, there’s nothin’ to be afraid of here, hm?” Joel tries reassuring you, but his words keep coming out so gruffly, doing little to make you feel much better.

You inhale a deep breath. “Okay…” You swallow. “I was in a… community. I lived there a long time. T-they’re all gone now, I think. We got completely overrun and so I ran.” You sniffle as your nose starts to run from the warmth of the house opposing the cold you’d gotten accustomed to.

Joel leans forward a bit in his chair, taking a hearty bite of stew, mulling your words over. “Overrun how?” he asks simply, glancing at you, studying your movements, your body language, everything.

“U-uh, hunters, raiders, whatever they are. Bad.. b-bad people…” You look down at your bowl, not wanting to meet the intensity of his gaze, afraid to fall into his strange, hard warmth.

“Hm… awful fuckers, ain’t they,” he says, scratching a hand down his beard. “You got away, then?”

You nod and bite inside of your lip, taking another spoonful of stew to keep yourself occupied. “Y-yeah. I ran and ran… just kept… going. They took everything, took over all of our homes…”

Joel sighs, his eyes finally going a little softer. “‘M sorry to hear that, darlin’. You know if anyone is still alive?”

You shrug. “No…”

“Your family? They with ya at this community?”

“Oh.” You shake your head. “No. They… all, uh, passed a long time ago.” Why the hell are you being so open with this stranger? You don’t owe him your story, your secrets, any of it. But you sense the urge to share it, anyhow. Maybe you’re just that desperate for human connection right now.

“Mm, sorry to hear it again. We all know that feelin’ in a world like this,” he replies thoughtfully. Your eyes widen a bit at the softness he’s showing you right now and you give him a tight lipped smile to show your own sympathy for his losses.

“You feel up for tellin’ me a little more about the attack? S’okay if it’s too much,” Joel adds on, still studying you with an odd gaze, almost like he’s drinking you in, quenching some thirst he had. His hand twitches, almost as if to reach out to you, but he’s much too far from where he sits right now.

“I’m not sure if t-there’s much to tell…” you start, but then you find yourself spilling out more details, feeling the freeing sensation of unloading your burdens onto someone else. You tell Joel your community was small but well taken care of, plenty of supplies and food, in an abundant time in its history the last few months. One evening everything changed, when an armed group of mostly men came in, a few women and children in tow, looking absolutely miserable, and they aimed their guns in the air and shot off a few rounds to get everyone’s attention. People came flooding out of their homes, trying to run, only to be tackled or shot down, forced to give up our food and belongings. You tried to hide for as long as you could before slipping out of the home you shared with an older couple who had been taking care of you since you were a teenager, Harry and Josephine. They’d urged you to run, run, run, so you did. Then came your lost days, where you had no clue where you were, when you’d find your next semblance of humanity. Just trying to head west, further and further from the bitter memories you’d now have to leave behind. Barren towns and wilderness passed you over the days, hardly seeing another soul as you hid from infected, spending your nights crying yourself to sleep when you had the energy.

And now… here you were, sitting on Joel’s couch and eating stew. Unsure of what the hell you’d do next or where you had to go. You had been an orphan for a long time, but this felt deeper, like you were an orphan to the entire world, almost, like you had nothing to even call your own now.

Joel sits patiently, watching you stumble on words as you tell your story to him, trying not to get too choked up as all the emotions resurface. How empty things had been, how desolate the landscapes to match your faintly beating heart.

He’s leaned fully forward now in his seat, stew somewhat forgotten in his lap as you finish your recounting of the last few weeks. He breathes in and out, a large, heavy sigh that fills the room. It’s still now, fully quiet for a moment.

“You’re a strong girl for goin’ through all of that, you know that?” he says finally, eyes softer than you’ve seen them yet.

You just look down, returning to your stew, taking a few bites now that it’s at the perfect temperature. You’ve stopped shaking now, your body warmed up and starting to recognize that you’re getting full. You can’t eat much, your stomach unable to handle more just yet, so you push the stew away, setting it on the coffee table in front of you.

“Yeah…” you say, not really believing it as you glance out the window to watch the late afternoon sun, glaring off the ground outside, light filtering through the trees.

“You got somewhere to go? After you’re fed and looked over, of course,” Joel asks, his eyebrow shooting up.

You consider lying, just to avoid what you’re afraid he’ll ask you. What you’re afraid you’ll say yes to. You still end up shaking your head silently, clearing your throat. You feel a sting of tears behind your eyes, your whole body going hot with the need to cry, but a deep desire to not show that weakness to him holds you back. You sniffle and blink, studying the knots in the old wood floors.

“Hey,” Joel says, trying to get your attention, to make you show him your vulnerability. “Look at me, c’mon now.” You hear him shift in his seat, a small movement born of irritation as you refuse to do as he says.

You sniffle again and clear your throat, a shake of your head making your hair fall forward, covering and hiding you further.

“I said look at me.” That stern tone of his is back, sending a shudder through you and fear rippling deep inside your chest. You flick your red rimmed, shining eyes up to his, meeting the dark brown stare, lines permanently etched in between his eyes from all his years of worry.

“Atta girl,” he coos, completely pleasant now. “I got you, okay? You can stay, if ya need. I got food, a home, a warm bed for ya. If you have nowhere else.”

One more blink sends the tears falling down your cheeks, fat and overdue as they slide down your dirty skin, leaving tracks. You sniffle and nod, suddenly feeling a rush of gratitude towards Joel. He may be a stranger, but he fed you, got you warm, and is offering just about the kindest thing he can right now - an invasion on his space, his personal sanctuary, all for a girl he hardly even knows.

“Y-you’d really do that?” you ask, a little incredulously, like this is a dream you’re about to wake up from any time now.

He nods, a half smile pulling at the corner of his lips. Satisfaction plastered there now that he’s swayed you in his direction. “I would. Now I don’t wanna hear another word about it. You need to rest, you’ve been through a lot.”

“T-thank you. B-but-”

“Not. Another. Word,” he practically hisses, flashing his eyes angrily before it fizzles out quickly. You can see him practically having to reign in his impulsiveness in the moment. “There ain’t anywhere else to go that’ll keep you as safe as here, I’m tellin’ you that now. You’d be fuckin’ lost out there.” He sits back with his arms crossed now, and you’re worried that you’ve truly upset him now, that unsettling look in his eye glinting again. He wants you to stay… nearly seems to need it. It scares you, yet you feel a tug, a pull, some form of intrigue wanting you to explore that need, understand just what he could see in you.

“I’m s-sorry… I just - you’ve already done a lot for me, and I’d hate to, well, impose, or something,” you say, trying to appease him. It’s mostly true, anyhow, that you do hate to take Joel’s food and time away from him.

He stands up and silently walks the few steps over to the couch, sitting down next to you, turning himself towards you. It feels like every muscle in your body tenses at his proximity - it makes him seem even bigger the way he takes up his cushion on the couch, body sinking in deeply, his wide shoulders practically a shield to you right now to everything behind him. Something about seeing him up this close is sending you reeling, able to study the lines in his face, his strong, wiry beard streaked with a few gray spots. You flick your eyes over his face, hoping to not be too obvious, but needing to drink him in, learn his features.

“I’m gonna have you listen to me right now, okay? Make sure you’re listenin’ real good, sweetheart.” He pauses for a moment to catch your eye, reaching a hand towards you but resting it right next to your thigh on the couch. “I’m offerin’ somethin’ mighty nice to you, ain’t I? You were ‘bout to die out there, if I’m honest. Much longer and you’d be a goner, I think. Don’t you?”

He’s waiting for a real answer from you, you realize, so you nod, eyes practically unblinking as you hang on his words, a hot coil burning in your stomach as you feel uneasiness eat at you.

“Right.” He sighs quietly. “I’m not tryin’ to be mean, sweetheart. In fact, I care a lot, that’s why I’m tellin’ the truth to ya like this. You ain’t built to be on your own, can see that clear as day. So I’ll have ya stay here and get fed and get your bearings. And I don’t want to hear anymore about it.”

Of all the things Joel has just said to you, the thing that is stuck in your mind as you turn it over, is the way he’d said he cares. He cares about you. Would that be such a bad thing to be cared for, even if just for a little bit?

You give him a small dip of your head, a shaky smile coming to your lips. “Thank you. I’m uh, grateful.” You’re not sure what else to say, feeling like you’re signing yourself away to something you don’t feel sure about.

“Ah look at that - a smile,” he says, clearly feeling much more light hearted now that you’ve agreed to accept his help.

You sit back a little, your muscles finally losing some of their tension and start to eye Joel a little more curiously. “S-so you just live here all by yourself?” you ask, wishing you weren’t still such a stuttering mess. The fact was, this man made you nervous, in a way that you weren’t used to. He scared you, but in a way that it drew you in, a magnetic pull you couldn’t quite explain yet. Something in him commanded respect, reverence, almost, without trying. It was mesmerizing to witness, completely scrambling your mind if you started to think on it too hard.

“Mhm,” Joel nods languidly, finishing off his stew and then sitting back with a satisfied sigh. He eyes your bowl that’s only half empty and then flicks them back to your face. “Ain’t gonna finish?” he asks, sounding a little irritated before his face softens. “Probably can’t fit much in your little belly right now, huh? Shrunk right up when you didn’t eat much these last few weeks.”

You nod. “I-it was good, I just… I couldn’t finish. It started to hurt…”

His eyes flash with concern. “We’ll take it slow, then,” he says, a little smile creeping onto his face.

You had noticed his avoidance to say much more about himself, so you decide to try your luck and press him again. You clear your throat, trying to turn towards him a little more as well. “You live alone. Don’t you… do you ever talk to other people?”

Joel chuckles, almost condescendingly. “‘Course I do. Town not too far from here - Jackson. I go once and a while to stock up, trade ‘em for some stuff and they’re mighty hospitable to me.”

You nod, trying not to let his snide laugh and tone get to you too much, blinking away the sensitive little tears that threaten to fall again. Joel cocks his head suddenly, seeming to notice. “T-that sounds pretty nice,” you choke out quickly.

“Sorry if I upset ya. Guess you’re right, don’t get enough practice talkin’ to people,” he says a little lighter now, smiling softly again. Joel’s version of a smile seems to only be a soft upturn of his lips, not friendly by nature. It puts you at ease and unease at the same time, that smile of his, but you’d rather see that than the scowl he was sporting at you earlier today. He pats your thigh a few times, showing his apology, and you watch his large hands move on you, noticing they’re scratched and rough. A man’s hands.

“W-wait… Jackson… this town. It’s close by?” you ask, glancing back up at him, the wheels in your head starting to turn.

Joel’s face falls in an almost dramatic fashion, the lines between his eyes and around his cheeks getting deeper. “Why d’ya ask?” he says, his tone short and frayed sounding, leaning forward again, practically glaring at you from under his eyebrows.

Your own face falls, jaw slack for a moment before it tightens back up. “I just… I want to get out of your hair as quickly as possible, I-I don’t want to be a bother. Could find a new community there, or something…” You feel quiet as a mouse, unsure of how to assert yourself in front of Joel - it feels like there isn’t space for it when you share a room with him.

Joel’s expression becomes more stern. “Didn’t I already tell you, girl, that I’d take care of everythin’?” he spits out, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. You’re visibility tense now, your hands pressing into the cushions of the couch, ready to get up at any moment and bolt. “Y’don’t want to go to a place like that, so big, you’d be lost there, darlin’. Nobody to take care of you…”

He sits back a little, hands falling into his lap and an eyebrow cocked at you. “‘Sides,” he says, glancing out the window for a moment before studying you again. “Too far to go on your own. Can’t have you gettin’ lost in these woods again… look what happened last time, yeah?”

Maybe he’s right. You barely survived these last few weeks without completely losing your mind, and then your life, as he’s been so apt to tell you several times now. Joel… he saved you, and is offering you a place to stay, so the least you could do is be grateful for now. You could always convince him tomorrow, after you’ve had time to think and reset, to take you there, show you the way, and you can see for yourself if it’s a good fit for you or not.

“Y-yeah…” you stutter out, nodding. The look he shoots you has you choking out the next word before you can even think about it. “Yes,” you say more definitively.

“It’s settled then,” he says matter-of-factly, breathing in deeply, his burly chest rising, and then letting it out in a long, slow breath. “You probably wanna get some rest, yeah? I can set up the bed for ya.” Joel says, standing up and grabbing your bowl, taking it to the kitchen along with his empty one.

“Do y-“ you start, standing up off the couch.

“Yeah, I got two bedrooms, don’t worry.” His smile grows, liking that he found you predictable enough to know what you were about to ask. Your shoulders sag a little in relief and you give Joel more of a proper smile now, nodding your thanks.

“That would be great, then, yeah. And if it’s not too much…” you voice trails off and you stare at the ground, focusing your eyes on the pattern of the well worn rug underneath your feet. “Maybe a shower, bath, whatever you’ve got.”

Joel turns to face you and then walks back into the living area. He has a calm, serene expression, slightly lit up. “I’ll do ya one better. Get you some clean clothes to wear after that shower, too.”

Nothing in the entire world sounds better than what he’s offering right now.

You hiss loudly as the hot, steaming water hits your leg when you step in. Within moments, you’re basking under it, watching the dirt and dried blood from your various scrapes and scratches swirl down the drain for what feels like ages, finally seeing the water run clear as you lather up the threadbare washcloth Joel had left out for you and scrub yourself down. Every nook, every cranny, your scalp, face, everywhere you could get three times over. You can’t remember the last time you’d felt so clean, even when you’d lived back with your community. You hum happily for a few moments, letting the water soothe you for just a while longer. You hoped Joel could forgive you for taking a little bit of extra hot water today given the circumstances.

Joel hears the water running from downstairs, his fists balling up and relaxing over and over as he sits on his favorite chair, his gaze facing the stairs leading to the spare bedroom and attached bathroom. He feels tense, rolling his neck, continuing to pump his fists open and closed. A feeling in the back of his neck, traveling down his spine and legs that he couldn’t ignore - an urge. He stands up an instant later, not bothering with his well-ignored conscience, and walks upstairs and through the bedroom door with careful steps as he still has on his boots. He presses a hand onto the brass doorknob, turning it slowly, ever so slowly, pushing the door open just an inch, just… enough.

His eyes fall on the shower curtain, a white cloth that perfectly shows your silhouette through it. The valleys and curves of your body move around, arms scrubbing yourself. Joel can smell the evergreen scented soap drifting through the steamy, thick air, watching your body move fluidly as you start to hum quietly to yourself and rinse off.

He wishes he could lie to himself, deny that he felt the blood rush straight to his cock at this little show he was watching. So content, so sweet, so vulnerable right now. Need consumes his every cell - the need to show you just how good you could have it here, to take every bit of you for himself. He grins, a hungry little twitch of his mouth, moving to shut the door when a floorboard creaks under his heavy boot, and he freezes, shuffling out of the way quickly.

You’re humming quietly when you hear it, just a distant sound, but enough to catch your ear. A creak of a floorboard, something you figure isn’t unusual for an old cabin like this, but you feel a shiver run down your spine and rush to turn the water off. You throw the curtain open, water dripping down into your eyes. You quickly rub your fingers over them and glance around the spacious bathroom to find… nothing. You sigh, shaking your head, nearly laughing at the relief you feel. You’re just being paranoid, you chastise yourself as you grab the towel off the hook, squeezing the extra water out of your hair and wrapping it around yourself, snuggling into the simple comfort of a fluffy towel as you dry yourself off.

Your fingers freeze, running cold when you reach the door, noticing a few inches of space that has the door cracked open. You swore up and down that you’d shut the door behind you, giving you that extra layer of privacy in a stranger's home. It wasn’t possible that… no, you think quickly, shaking your head again. You have to stop being so damn paranoid - your brain is just in survival mode still, looking for threats that aren’t there.

You step into the bedroom, surveying the heavy wood furniture - an extremely cozy, country feel to the room with large logs comprising the bed frame and a patchwork quilt draped over the top. You peer around, feeling somewhat squirmy at the realization you don’t have any clothing. Joel seemingly came in and took your dirty clothes while you were in the shower, failing to leave you anything clean. It made you feel that strange swirl deep in your stomach again, the one you kept brushing off.

This is a kind man. A kind man, got it? Positive thinking.

You decide to pull it together and head out and down the stairs to the living room. You feel your cheeks heat up, a hot heat creeping all over your body as you feel so exposed, standing in your tiny towel as you descend the stairs. Joel’s eyes follow you down, watching your glowing skin, so fresh and clean, hair dripping errantly, leaving water droplets on the floor in your wake. You see a flash of something a little cloudy and hungry in his gaze before it disappears just as quickly as he showed it.

He isn’t saying a word, isn’t offering anything, so you swallow down your discomfort and clear your throat a little. “Er… I noticed there weren’t any… clothes… for me…”

Joel sits up a little straighter, putting down the book he’s been looking at. He offers you a smile devoid of much emotion and stands up, his eyes locking on your hips for a few extra seconds. “Shucks, sorry about that, sweetheart. Let’s get you something right now. Got your old clothes ready to be done next time I do the washin’.”

You nod, fighting the urge to chuckle nervously as he walks over and passes you, his arm brushing your damp, bare one before he heads up the stairs. You’re grateful you get to trail him, afraid of just how skimpy this towel is if he’d have insisted on following behind you. You follow him into the other bedroom, his bedroom, and it’s a little more decorated, some books and little wooden carvings on the surfaces, dirty laundry scattered throughout. He opens up a drawer and tugs out a tee shirt, handing it to you, then a pair of gray sweatpants and warm, thick socks.

“These should fit alright for ya, honey. We’ll get you some more proper fittin’ stuff soon, just gotta have a look around this place. This’ll be nice and warm for ya f’now.” He seems more chipper now, clearly much more talkative than before, and you suppose you don’t mind the change too much. It’s only proving that your paranoia was completely unfounded, just a symptom of your current circumstances. You typically find yourself a pretty trusting person, enough to have gotten you in trouble before, but the events of the last few weeks have broken that for you, leaving you feeling like a shell of who you once were.

You snap back to reality and take the clothing in your arms, nodding in gratitude. “Thank you. I’ll go, um, change.”

Before you turn, Joel’s voice booms through the air again. “Need anythin’ else to eat? Anythin’ I can get you?” He almost sounds hopeful, like he wants you to need something from him. His eyes linger on your body, leaving you feeling just as naked as if you didn’t have the towel over you at all.

You shake your head nervously. “Er, if it’s alright with you, I think I just want to rest… A full night’s sleep in a bed sounds like heaven right now.”

“Let’s get you on off to heaven, then.” He grins, letting you leave the room before trailing after you, waiting outside your door while you change into your clothes. You discover some women’s underwear in the drawers inside of your bedroom, gratefully putting on a clean pair before throwing on everything Joel gave you. It’s comfortable and dry, so you won’t complain about the fit or the style - you’d still be in your dirty, worn down clothes if it weren’t for him.

You creak the door open to find Joel and thank him again for hosting you, only to see him waiting right outside in the hall. You nearly jump, your face completely giving away your tense surprise.

“Jus’ wanted to make sure you got to bed alright,” he says gently, explaining himself.

“Oh…” You bite your lip. “I, uh, I think I’m all set. Thank you again, Joel, really, for everything.”

His smile brightens as much as you’ve seen it and his eyes look much kinder as he nods, a dip of his head. His hand reaches forward and takes yours through the frame of the door and squeezes it. You freeze at the sudden touch, his hand so warm and rough, calloused fingertips grazing over the softer skin of your hands. It sends your entire body into a fuzzy flash of heat for just a moment before it dissipates. He squeezes once more, thumb swiping gently over the back of your hand before he releases it. Your lips sit parted in shock, eyes a little wider and hand starting to tremble a little.

“Anytime,” Joel replies simply, his face falling before he turns to walk away, leaving you standing breathless for several moments before clicking the bedroom door shut behind you.

You jolt out of your sleep, a gasp of breath catching in your throat and dying out as you go to yell, finding your mouth tightly clasped by a large, warm palm pressing in.

“Shh, shh,” the voice comes, right near your right ear. You shudder involuntarily from the hot breath fanning on such a sensitive spot and try to yell again, letting it die out as a whimper against the skin pressing on your mouth.

“Shh, it’s alright. I got you,” Joel coos, his voice coming out hoarse. “No yellin’.”

You squirm helplessly against his hold, realizing another arm is draped across your abdomen, holding you in place. Your body exhausts quickly, still half asleep as you feel your struggle die out. Joel’s hand across your mouth loosens slowly, relieving the pressure.

“You were havin’ a nightmare, darlin’. Shh… c’mon now…” His hand that had been against your lips ghosts up to your head, landing in gentle strokes against your hair. You blink a few times, heavy breaths through your nostrils now as you try to steady your mind and body. Your chest struggles against his heavy arm as it heaves, your body fully taut and mind trying to play catch up.

“W-what…” you murmur groggily, laying stiffly as Joel holds your waist, fingers brushing against your curves, pressing you close as his other hand still works tender strokes along your hair.

“Oh, sweetheart, glad I heard you, hm?” he practically whispers, his face nuzzling close to the skin right under your ear. You feel the tickle of his breath and facial fair, prickly and rough against such delicate skin. You squirm gently, trying to signal that everything is too tight, too much, too… confusing. Joel is lost in his own world, absorbed in the softness of the places he begins to touch, hand grazing from your waist to your bare arms, fingertips exploring hungrily under the guise of being caring.

All he’d needed, alone and laying awake tonight, his body burning and resolve thin, was a simple touch. A chance to show you all that you needed, all he could provide for you. Only to help you, to take care of someone who couldn’t care for herself. You’d proved that much to him - you needed his guidance, his protection, his experience.

“What’re you…”

“Jus’ comforting you, darlin’. C’mon now,” he whispers, never once pulling back or stopping the exploring he’s doing with his hands.

He runs through his list of reasons to convince himself why everything he’s doing is perfectly necessary before losing sight of all of it entirely when he strikes that sliver of bare skin where your tee shirt has hiked up a bit off your waist, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb. His hand travels a bit higher, pushing the shirt up and grazing famished fingers across your ribcage and stomach. A small groan ripples across his chest, the vibration felt by where your body meets his. He surprises you next by tugging your shirt back down, covering the bare skin before returning his hand to your hip, pulling you closer. He’s a wall of pure mass, muscle underneath his soft belly and chest, a man who’s strong but still showing a bit of his age. You nearly whimper and shake, feeling a sickly heat coursing through your veins now.

“Mmm…” he mumbles in your ear, your own voice caught in a trap of fear lodged right in your throat. Equally afraid of the way you don’t know how this night is about to end and that you’re not sure you mind where it’s going. You’ve never understood men or their intentions, and never had anyone bother to teach you, no worked up teenage boys offer to show you when you were at that age. No, you were left to guess, giggled at by other girls when you couldn’t pick up on their meanings as they discussed their own secret rendezvous. This had to be everything they talked about, didn’t it? The way you could feel heat and energy practically pulsating off of Joel’s body, his noises anything but natural sounding as he hummed little groans in your ear.

“Y’just needed someone, sweetheart. Y’need someone to take care of you, don’t you?” he finally says, fingers still running their way across your hair, nails scratching against your scalp. You whimper quietly at the feel of it, how damn good it all feels. You don’t move, don’t speak as he goes on.

“Need a man like me, darlin’, y’do. I can see it - need me to take care of everything…” He mumbles similar sentiments repeatedly in your ear before bringing his lips right to your neck, just letting them graze, the wet but chapped skin of his lips pressing in gently on your pulse point. You try not to gasp, the feeling as pleasing as it is terrifying, finding yourself gripping the sheet tighter to try not to give yourself away, give him any kind of response.

“Don’t you, honey? Need me to take care of you?” He sounds a little more desperate now, needy for the answer he’s searching for from you.

He’s broken you down to the point you feel tears stinging at your eyes, the long awaited emotional release you’ve needed sitting right there on the precipice, a small crack waiting to fully rupture. You can’t be sure if you nod, just imperceptibly, you think, but Joel’s body language relaxes against you as he leans his entire chest and torso into you even more, giving you a squeeze. You know then that he got his answer, just what he was looking for. You let the tears slip out, rolling down your cheeks, onto the pillow on one side, likely falling right onto Joel’s face or in his hair on the other. He seems to barely notice, just swiping them quickly off your cheeks before resuming his position wrapping himself tightly around you.

“Good, sweetheart… good girl, I got you…”

You hear his breathing start to even out shortly after, steady rise and fall of his chest against your body, and you realize he’s dozed off. Like he got what he wanted and decided he could rest now. Your entire body relaxes, a careful breath whooshing out that you hadn’t even been aware you were holding in. His hand is still tangled in your hair, other one possessively on your hip, giving you absolutely no room to move. You’re not sure you want to anymore, anyways, never having had such strength covering you, cloaking you from all of the dark, sinister things that the nighttime holds for you.

If you’re going insane, feeling safe with this man who forced his way around your body tonight, then so be it. Why shouldn’t you let yourself feel safe for once? Let yourself feel less of that burden, turn it over to Joel? Your own turning wheel of thoughts starts to scare you, the little voice in the back of your head telling you what you already know and have been trying to ignore. The one little thing that you immediately put your finger on but were too scared afterwards to lift it back up and observe it closer.

You weren’t having a nightmare, no, not at all. You knew when you woke from one, as sure as the god damned sky was blue and the grass was green. It wasn’t a foreign concept to you by any means after what you’d been through in your life. And tonight… tonight hadn’t been one of those nights.

dividers by @/saradika!

thank you @jupiter-soups and @huffle-punk for always beta-ing my shit and talking inspo with me. love you to the moon and back <3

#fic: smother #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x f!reader #dark!joel miller #dark!joel miller x reader #x reader #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction

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strangerstilinski · 8 months

Text

𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙚

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary; steve takes care of his sick gf

warnings; no use of y/n, (steve refers to reader as ‘girl’ but no mentions of specific anatomy i don't think), multiple descriptions of vomiting, steve being stupidly sweet, casual/non-sexual nudity, sickfic, fluff

word count; ~4k

a/n; i wrote 99% of this while i was sick and exhausted myself, so i'm not insanely happy with it??? but, uh.. fuck it? right? also this is my first time posting something on here that isn't DOB so pls, pls be nice — i beg you.

You had thought it would get better.

You'd thought that sleep would be enough to get rid of the overpowering warmth that had begun to prickle uncomfortably under your skin, the congestion that left your head feeling like it was just a little bit too big, too heavy, for your body. The better part of the last twelve hours have been spent curled up in bed, hoping to sleep it off.

You're not entirely sure what illness is to blame for your current state, but you're cursing each and every possible one as you stumble into the bathroom and fall to your knees in front of the toilet. An immediate ache from the collision against the floor goes ignored, as does the cold that bites at your shins through the glossy tiles.

Now, as your body rolls and tenses with heaves and coughs that have you spilling the remains of your dinner from the night before into clean porcelain, you can't quite believe that you'd dared to be so naively optimistic.

Time passes in that horrible way it always does when you feel poorly, too slow at times and a total blur at others. Your head has been pillowed on your arm at the edge of the toilet for one of those blurred stretches, time fuzzy while you catch your breath. You hear the loud trill of the phone ringing out from down the hallway and your head shoots up at the sudden noise. You intend on hobbling out of the bathroom to answer it, but the too-quick motion of your head snapping to attention has your stomach turning all over again.

The ringing continues as you upend the final contents of your stomach, and the grating noise of the telephone finally dies off only to pick back up again just as your puking turns into nothing more than dry-heaves, body still protesting despite there being nothing left inside of you to give.

When the roiling of your stomach settles slightly, it takes all of your strength to pull yourself to your feet, flushing the toilet and grabbing the bottle of perfumed bathroom spray to mask the lingering smell that's doing absolutely nothing to ease your nausea.

You fumble for a moment as you locate your thermometer, placing the end of the small glass tube under your tongue as you lean onto your elbows over the sink, head dropping weakly as you wait. When you pull the device from your lips a few minutes later, the little red line reads somewhere around a hundred, and you drop it to the back of the counter with a huff.

Your weight continues rest heavily on the edges of the sink as you flick on the tap and proceed to take a few long sips straight from the stream of cold water, rushing to take in grateful gulps. It clears some of the bitterness from your tongue, washing away the rancid taste of bile and stomach acid while settling cooly in your feverish body.

You push back up, weight resting on your palms until you can regard your unusually pallor complexion in the mirror. Your eyes are bleary, a little wet still with tears from your battle with your own body a few minutes before. The sight of just how truly unwell you look has your stomach turning all over again, the cold water in your stomach suddenly feeling as if it's moving in heavy, churning waves inside of you, as if it's fighting to break free.

You barely make it back to the toilet before you're retching and dumping back out all of the water that you'd forced into your body perhaps a bit too quickly.

You're so exhausted by the time your stomach settles once more, you don't manage more than flushing the toilet and misting the air with another quick spritz of freshener before you've slumped against the wall and begun to doze.

When your boyfriend eventually comes knocking at your front door, the sound isn't enough to rouse you, not even when the noise grows a little more frantic from anxiety, palms slamming against the surface paired with muffled shouts of concern through the thick wood.

You remain entirely unaware as an increasingly worried Steve Harrington begins searching for your spare key with muffled curses. He nearly upends the potted plant you have outside your door, kicking your doormat across the hallway in his haste to unlock your door and shove his way into your apartment. Steve stumbles through several rooms before he finds you in the bathroom and his steps falter at the sight that awaits him.

You look so pathetic it's startling; curled in on yourself in a way that makes you appear smaller, weak and innocent, younger even. Your head is tipped against the wall, lolled to the side until your nose and chin are nearly touching your shoulder. He knows it has to be wreaking havoc on the muscles in your neck, and he nearly winces at the thought, pushing further into the room and squatting down in front of you. Steve's hand finds your cheek, supporting some of the weight of your head to straighten your spine just a touch as he assesses the sickly pallor your skin has taken.

“Oh, honey.” Steve says softly, thumb stroking from your jaw to the apple of your cheek and back down again.

The soft touch is enough to finally wake you and he watches your eyes blink heavily, feverish confusion pulling your brows together as you struggle to focus on the face in front of you. You pout at him and the sight of your lip jutting out is so cute that Steve fails to notice your arm rising weakly from where it was blocked by the toilet. Not until it's too late.

A honeysuckle scented mist sprays in his direction, forcing him to flinch back in surprise as the perfume invades his nostrils.

“Jesus!” Steve exclaims in surprise, hacking slightly at the taste of it on his tongue, “Baby, what the hell?”

Your nose scrunches up as both your arm and the spray bottle fall heavily into your lap. You blink at him slow, “Smells like vom in here.” You explain meekly.

“It smells fine.” He tries to reassure you, pulling the de-odorizer from your weak grip and setting it on the countertop behind himself and effectively out of your reach.

“Wha're you doing 'ere?” You question in a rasp, shaky hand grabbing ahold of his wrist as if trying to prove to yourself that he's real and not some fever-induced hallucination.

“You weren't pickin' up my calls,” He tells you softly, thumb beginning to move across the heated skin of your cheek again, “I knew you were plannin' on staying in to get some cleaning done. When you didn't answer my mind kinda ran wild. Thought you might've slipped and fallen and cracked your head off the kitchen counter or somethin'. I dunno, I just.. I got worried, sweetheart. Came to check in for my own peace of mind,” His gaze trails the length of your body, taking in your wrinkled tshirt, your bare feet, your clammy skin, the puffiness around your eyes, “I'm glad I did.”

“‘'m sorry I didn't pick up the phone,” You apologize quietly, your gaze drifting to the toilet for a moment before slowly meeting his again, “Was busy puking my guts out.”

The way your lip pulls up at the corner from your own dry humor has Steve cracking a smile, his voice fond when it sounds again.

“I see that,” He says with a sigh, “How long you been sick?”

You try to shrug but your shoulders barely move, your body too weak to manage more than a small twitch of your muscles, “Started feeling shitty last night before bed. Slept a lot. Got sick when I woke up this afternoon.” As if suddenly realizing the lack of brightness coming in through the bathroom window, your raspy voice comes again, “Time s'it?”

“Five-ish,” Steve tells you with a frown, pretty brown eyes flicking over your face, “You haven't eaten anything?”

You give him a small shake of your head, his large hand supporting most of the weight of your skull as you do so, “M'sick.”

He sighs, “You still gotta eat, honey. Have to get something in your stomach if you're gonna get your strength back.”

You shake your head again, sad eyes meeting his, “I'll just throw it up. Don't want to get sick again.”

Steve smiles at you pityingly, a sad thing, “We'll try something real small to start, how's that?”

“How small?” You ask nervously.

“Some soup?”

You shake your head.

“Just broth and some crackers?” He bargains.

Your stomach rolls at the mere thought and it must show on your face because he sighs heavily.

“Dry toast?” He tries.

Your eyebrows pull together, but the thought doesn't immediately make you queasy, so you give him an indecisive shrug.

“Let’s try some toast, yeah, honey?” Steve says softly.

His fingers gently brush your hair back from your face and your mind whirls in realization.

“Oh god,” You bemoan weakly, “'s there puke in my hair?”

“No,” He says a little to quickly, “No, baby, there's nothing in your hair.”

You give him a look to say that you don't believe him for a single second, but he's looking at you so fondly that your expression melts away into something soft almost immediately.

“You want me to tie your hair back?” Steve asks, already turning around to peek at the bathroom countertop where there's a mess of hair ties and clips littering the surface.

“The big one.” You tell him, nodding vaguely in the direction of your favorite scrunchie.

He turns back around with the puffy material pinched between his fingers, already combing your hair back and collecting it in a bundle with gentle hands. The sensation of air meeting the clammy nape of your neck feels so good that you let out a small noise of relief, leaning forward to give him more room while he tries to smooth out the lumps in your hair with his fingers.

Once he's managed a messy ponytail, his wide palms rest on the sides of your neck, thumbs ghosting along your jawline as he frowns at the feverish sweat on your brow.

“You taken your temperature at all?” He questions in concern, his fingers meeting your forehead and somehow managing to feel blessedly cool against your overheated skin, “You feel like you're burnin' up, sweetheart.”

“Hundred or so.” You tell him, eyes falling shut as you lean into the feeling of his hand against your sweaty skin.

Steve hums, an unhappy sound, “That's not too bad. Not good by any means, but it's nothin' to be too worried about, huh?” He sounds like he's trying to reassure himself more than you, so you merely nod against his hand. He sighs after a moment, “Right. C'mon. Up we go.” He urges softly, arm curling around your back with one hand gripping at your hip as he pulls you to your feet.

You're not sure how he manages it so effortlessly, the only hint of his strain is the soft grunt he lets out when you collapse against his chest and knock a little bit of the wind from him. You bury your nose into the dip of his clavicle, the strip of skin and scarce chest hair poking out from beneath the collar of his stretched shirt is soft to the touch and masculine smelling and overall a little dizzying — although, the way you sway against him has you wondering if maybe that's just the fever.

“Toast.” Steve reminds you softly, hand slipping beneath your baggy sleep shirt — one that had been his shirt, once upon a time — to run his thumb over the soft, overheated skin at your hip.

You grumble something that's not quite disapproval or approval, a weak sounding thing to protest the thought of moving from your current position, but with an endeared sigh and a soft press of his lips to your sweaty temple, Steve's manhandling you into a better position. Your feet end up over the tops of his, your arms curled up underneath his own to grip weakly onto the backs of his shoulders. He holds you steady with one hand at the center of your spine and the other spread over your backside in likely the least sexual touch he's ever graced to that area of your body.

You manage a weak murmur about him copping a feel and he laughs. It falls over your ear in a breathy little chuckle as Steve carefully waddles the two of you down the hall. His arms continue to hold you tight to his chest while walks you back around the corner leading into your small kitchen, flicking the overhead light on as he goes.

“Hows'it you're mouthy even when you're on your deathbed?” He asks, a small grin on his face as he gently gets you settled up onto one of the kitchen stools where you can rest while he makes you food.

You collapse onto your elbows against the countertop as soon as he releases you, cheek resting heavy in your palm as you peer up at him.

“Dunno..” You tell him quietly, eyes flicking over Steve's face slow in a way that you didn't quite manage in the dim light of the bathroom.

His hair looks a little fluffier than normal, soft and messy in a way that makes you want to run your hands through it, tug soft on the strand that dips down over his forehead and curls toward his eye in that effortlessly beautiful kind of way. Caramel swirls prettily with the darker shades of brown and gold in his eyes, pink lips pulled into a barely-there grin when he turns back toward you after grabbing a half eaten loaf of bread from the cupboard.

You're watching him with a dazed sort of admiration, “How s'it you look so pretty even when I'm on my deathbed?” You counter dreamily, arms crossing against the cool countertop so that you can rest your temple over the tops of them when your head suddenly starts to feel a little too heavy, vision swaying.

Steve laughs softly as he gets two slices of bread into the toaster, “I'm not sure there's a correlation between my good-looks and your health,” The sound of his amusement fades out when he looks back at you and finds your new position, “Oh, Honey..” He says simply, the words pitying.

“'m dizzy.” You tell him with closed eyes. The darkness behind your eyelids doing nothing to slow the spinning in your brain.

“Well I'm sure that not eating all day is at least partially to blame for that,” Steve says softly, “Your body can't fight the virus if you don't give it any fuel.”

You pout petulantly, knowing he's probably right, “You're annoying when you're smart.”

The swirling blackness behind your closed eyes slows, your breathing following suit as you relax against the counter.

“C'mon, sit up, sweetheart.”

The sound of his voice startles you and the quiet clink of a ceramic plate being set down on the counter beside your head has you deducing that you might have fallen asleep for a few moments. You make a small noise of surprise as your gaze moves to the food on the plate, plain dry toast. Steve has sliced it into cute, neat little triangles for you and your heart melts a little at the gesture.

Hands on your arms guide you gently into an upright position as Steve crowds up against your side, letting you rest your weight into the wall of his chest when your head swims a little from the movement. You grab a slice of lightly toasted bread from the plate in front of you and bring it to your lips, nibbling slow at the corner with your eyes closed, trying to focus on the way you rise and fall with Steve's breaths where you're resting against him — the expansion of his lungs beneath his ribs rocking you in a slow, steady movement while you attempt to force down comically tiny bites.

Steve drags his palm along the length of your spine, drawing a smooth path up and down as you eat.

“Doin' good, babe,” He praises softly, his free hand falling to rest lightly on your stomach where he begins to trace tiny circles over your shirt, “You don't have to eat it all. Just need to get a little something in your stomach.”

You hum around your sliver of toast, crumbs raining down on both of your chests and clinging to the fabric of your shirts as you chew. It takes a stupidly long time, but you manage to finish a single triangle of bread, and Steve continues with his soothing touches all the while.

He feels you grip the hem of his shirt in your fist, your sweaty face turning into his chest with an unintelligible murmur, and he brings his hand on your back up to rest between your shoulder blades.

“You done for now?” Steve asks gently, fingers rubbing softly into the tense muscles beneath your neck as you nod, “Probably haven't had anything to drink either, huh?”

You shake your head and a frown pulls at your lips when he takes a small step away from you, “Wha'-?”

“Gonna grab you a glass of water, alright? Then we can take a bath. Get you all clean and relaxed.”

He's already stepping away before you can protest, though the phantom sensation of the water that had re-emerged from your mouth an hour or so earlier has you frowning anxiously.

Unaware of your silent distress, Steve grabs a glass and turns on the tap, the loud rush of the water hitting the sink basin filling the room while he sticks his hand under the flow. He stands like that for a few moments, fiddling with the temperature a couple of times before he fills the cup. He returns to you only moments later, settling the glass into your palms with more gentleness than you think you've ever experienced.

As both of your trembling hands lift the water to your lips, you take a small sip, frowning and lowering the glass only a moment later.

“It's warm.” You complain weakly, face scrunching up in disgust as you meet his eyes.

Steve nods and his hand urges your own to bring the glass back to your lips, “Cold water will shock your stomach,” He tells you softly, “Gotta be warm if you don't wanna get sick. My strong girl just ate half a piece of toast, you don't want to immediately throw it back up, do ya?”

“No.” You murmur around the lip of the glass, taking another careful sip.

“No,” Steve agrees, wide palm coming up to brush a few loose wisps of hair back from your forehead, “Doing good, honey, real good. Just a few more sips and we'll get you in the bath.”

You frown at the reminder, clutching your cup to your chest with both hands, “Oh god,” You whisper in horror, “I smell.. I smell really bad, don't I?”

“You don't smell,” Steve promises with a soft smile, though it's not entirely convincing, “A bath'll help your head, though. You said you were dizzy, yeah?”

“Yeah,” You agree quietly, “Feels, like, swollen. Like my head's gonna explode.. But also 's spinny.”

“The steam will help,” He promises, “And you'll feel better when you're fresh and clean, y'know?”

You sigh around another sip of the warm water, a reluctant nod against the hand resting over your forehead. He urges you to drink a little more before he's dragging you back toward your bathroom.

You're forced to sit on the closed lid of the toilet, watching with tired eyes as Steve flits in and out of the room — adjusting the flow of the water in the bathtub and digging through your basket of bath salts and filling a bowl from the sink tap for reasons you can't imagine but don't bother to question aloud.

Instead, you wait. The loud rush of water filling the tub lulls you into a sort of trance until your eyes are slipping shut, head swaying heavily on your shoulders. The steam filling the room smells nice, lavender salts and oils having been added to the bath at some point, and the smell has you beginning to relax.

“Not fallin' asleep on me already, are you?”

You blink slow, heavy eyelids fluttering as you open your eyes to find Steve standing in front of you, already stripped down to his boxers. He steps between your legs to pull your shirt up over your head and you're down to only your underwear with just that one quick move. When he pulls you up, gentle hands cupping your elbows in case you sway on your feet, you lean into his bare chest with a contented sigh.

“This is nice.” You murmur, rubbing your cheek against the soft hairs littering his chest.

“This isn't even the relaxing part, honey,” Steve chuckles softly, his hands falling to your hips to rid you of your final article of clothing, “Come on. In you go.”

He helps you step over the lip of the tub, one hand in yours and the other on your waist to steady you. The water is hot and silky against your skin, a gasp on your lips when it first licks at your calves. It sends blissful shivers down your spine as you settle down into it, your eyes falling shut with a contented groan as you curl your arms around your knees and bow your head to rest over them.

You're only alone for a moment before Steve is settling in behind you, his long legs caging you in as they stretch the length of the tub. The water flowing from the tap cuts off and the room is thrust into startling silence, the thundering sound of the bathtub filling being replaced with the quiet sloshing of the water as Steve adjusts himself beside you.

You gasp in surprise when a warm stream of water falls over your shoulder and you crack your eyes open to watch as Steve cups his hands again, bringing the water to the back of your neck and releasing it in a warm rush down your spine. You hum in approval and he repeats the action a few times, dropping handfuls of water over your back as the steam works to lessen the pressure in your head.

A few minutes pass before Steve's maneuvering you around with big hands at your ribs, your thighs splaying wide over either side of his knees as he settles back against the end of the tub. Water sloshes around you with all the movement, licking high on your skin until you rest chest to chest, your face tucking into the damp curve of his neck.

“You alright like this?” Steve checks, his voice unbearably soft as the words fan out over cheek, “You comfortable?”

You hum happily, eyes closed, “So comfy, Stevie.”

He brings a big, bath-warmed palm up to rest on your shoulder, wet fingers trailing along your skin and leaving tiny oil-sheened drops of water behind that bead down the length of your arm and back as they fall.

Just as your mind starts to slip into that space between wakefulness and sleep, a startlingly cold cloth is pressed to your forehead. The chill has you reeling back slightly, a betrayed sort of frown on your face as you peer at your boyfriend who's holding a damp washcloth in his hand.

“To help bring down your fever,” Steve supplies in response to your silent question, “Sorry. I should've warned you.”

You settle back against his chest with a small huff, hand curling around his wrist as a way of telling him it was okay to try again. The cold doesn't shock you nearly as much the second time around, taking only a moment to warm into a comfortable coolness against your skin.

A deep breath fills your lungs with the sweet smell of lavender combined with the lingering musk of Steve's cologne. Your fingers trail over damp skin until you can settle your palm against his pec, blunt nails tracing slow patterns on his skin through the short damp hairs.

“Thank you,” You whisper over his chest, your breath causing his nipple to pebble up against the steam-thickened air, “So good to me, Steve. 'm so glad I have you.”

The wet cloth against your forehead disappears only to return a moment later, cool again from having been dipped back into the bowl of cold water Steve had placed beside the tub. Your breath stutters a bit at the chill, body tensing and relaxing back against him only a second later.

“How many times have you been the one taking care of me, huh?” Steve asks, fingers dragging up and down along the skin at the outside of your thigh in a soothing touch, “And I'd say you're in much better condition now than I was at least a few of those times.”

“'s different,” You argue quietly, “You were hurt. You're always getting hurt.”

“And you're always there to take care of me,” Steve agrees, “So I'm gonna take care of you. 'cause we got each other's backs, don't we, honey?”

His voice is smooth like silk to your ears, his big hand still trailing softly along your skin. His fingers find their way to your shoulder, the gentle drag of his knuckles skating along your jaw, the apple of your cheek, the length your brow bone, tiny streaks of moisture left behind in his wake.

“Yeah,” You murmur against his skin, tipping your head to place a small kiss to the corner of your boyfriend's jaw, “We do.”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve x reader #stranger things imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington sickfic #steve harrington x y/n fluff #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington #stranger things

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naughtyneganjdm · 6 months

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Naughty or Nice - Chapter 3

Summary: Tensions grow higher at the Greene farm when Negan learns the woman he had an affair with is the younger sister to the woman that he is dating.

Characters: Negan, the reader (OC), Maggie, Greene Family, etc.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51464518/chapters/130700899

Warnings: 18+, Swearing, angst, smut, etc.

Notes: I was trying to have some fun with this one. Thank you to those that read this! I appreciate all of you!

“I don’t understand,” Negan stammered to find the right words, his eyes shifting between both Y/N and Maggie. There were so many unanswered questions that were swirling around in his head. “How did you not know that your sister was my boss? And the two of you have different last names…”

“I use my mother’s last name,” Y/N informed Negan which ultimately made sense after all she told Negan when they were together last night. Huffing out, Hershel made his presence known and didn’t have to say a word to make it clear he hated that. With each passing second, all of the questions Negan had started to answer themselves. After spending such a small amount of time with Maggie’s family, by putting it together with the information he learned last night he was able to make sense of a lot of things. Maggie was the older sister that was the favorite. Y/N was the middle sister that was looked down upon and not well liked. Negan saw it in Hershel’s actions. Y/N was right about everything she told him about her family.

“You’re still using her last name?” Hershel retorted, a snarl expanding over his features at the idea. Y/N had a hard time looking at Hershel and when she did, Negan could see all that bravery and strength he knew in her from the past leaving. This man really did a number on her.

“I like the way it sounds,” Y/N explained feeling small. The last thing she should have felt was small with everything that she accomplished. Maggie stepped in beside her, offering up a weak smile. And that’s when things got worse for her. Now, not only was she dealing with the uncomfortableness from being around her family again, but she had to think about how the man she had an affair with last night was dating her older sister. Her older sister that she hadn’t seen in years. There wasn’t enough strength to muster up the words that were needed right now. So all she could do was focus on her father and what he said about her using her mother’s last name professionally. “I just was more comfortable using it.”

“It’s disrespectful,” Hershel chastised her response, shaking his head in disbelief. “I’m not surprised though. You were always eager to get away from this family.”

“Daddy,” Maggie interrupted Hershel trying to make things less confrontational in the best way that she could. Rolling his eyes, Hershel’s hands settled at his hips and he turned away from them. Turning her attention back to Negan, Maggie was still thinking about how Negan asked her that she had no idea that Y/N was his boss. “Y/N and I haven’t talked in a very long time. Originally, she was living somewhere else. I had heard she moved to the city, but I never really learned much more than that. If I would have known she was your boss, I would have said something. Obviously.”

“Why did the two of you stop talking?” Negan pointed back and forth between the two of them. It made Y/N frown and look down toward her feet. “It’s just…you’re both so different and…”

“You’re acting weird,” Erin commented, tugging at Negan’s jacket to get him to look down at her. “Why are you acting weird?”

“I’m not acting weird,” Negan scrambled to find the right words reaching down to pick Erin up in his arms. “I’m just surprised to see that the woman I work under is related to Maggie. That’s all. It’s something you think I would have known.”

“You are acting kinda weird,” Beau piped in, whispering low enough for his father only to hear. Tension filled his father’s body and the way that Negan was talking was the way he would talk when he was flustered or worried. “What’s going on dad?”

“These are your kids?” Y/N inquired trying to change the subject to take the attention off her and Negan in this moment. Of course they were his kids. They had dimples just like him and the boy looked like a younger version of Negan. Stepping forward, she extended her hand out before Beau and offered a weak smile. “It’s nice to meet you…”

“Beau,” Negan’s son accepted the gesture and shook her hand. “And you’re Y/N? We’ve heard a lot about you.”

“I assume not always the best things,” Y/N suggested, but Beau immediately shook his head, his hand still shaking hers.

“No, it’s always been good things,” Beau denied her negative thoughts and Beau wasn’t wrong. Negan wasn’t the kind of man to come home and vent to his children about the job that he wasn’t given. If anything, he talked about his projects and never went into detail about the things bothering him at work.

“I’m Erin!” Negan’s daughter immediately blurt out, her dimples sinking in when Y/N turned her attention to her. Y/N assumed that other than the dimples and the smile, Erin’s blonde hair and green eyes matched Negan’s late wife. Holding her hand out, Erin shook Y/N’s hand enthusiastically before burying her head against the side of Negan’s neck.

“I guess this is very awkward, isn’t it?” Maggie southern drawl brought all of the attention back to her. “I think we all have some catching up to do here.”

“Is now a good time to come out?” a voice interrupted them and it finally drew attention to the man that was slowly stepping out of the car. Maggie hadn’t expected someone to be there causing her to jump, slipping with her footing and the man caught her before she fell. Maggie clung to the jacket that the man was wearing and he let out a nervous laugh. “Sorry about that. I just, I didn’t know when I should come out and introduce myself.”

“It’s…okay,” Maggie’s head tipped to the side looking into the big brown eyes of the man clinging tightly to her. Once he made sure she was okay, he helped Maggie up into a standing position before stepping beside Y/N. His fingers hooked with Y/N’s and Negan shook his head.

“I’m Glenn,” Y/N’s fiancé held his hand up to wave and he was awkward. It was obvious that he wasn’t much of an outgoing personality. Glenn’s cheeks flushed over, his tanned flesh turning red while they all stood together in the group quiet. “I’m Y/N’s fiancé. I was told that people knew I was coming. I’m so sorry for interrupting whatever was going on.”

“No, of course!” Annette stepped forward to reach out to grab Y/N’s free hand. Tipping up, she pressed a kiss over the side of Y/N’s face and then hugged Glenn eagerly. “Y/N told me all about you. I’m so thankful that the two of you made it here. We were hoping you would.”

“It’s been a long time Y/N. You snagged yourself a cutie,” Beth interrupted moving in to introduce herself to Glenn and to give her sister another big hug. “I can’t wait to catch up. I need to have you tell me all about how you met this guy.”

“It’s not that big of a story,” Glenn chuckled shifting on his feet nervously before her family. Glenn was certainly uncomfortable and he showed it with everyone paying attention to him. Letting out a winded exhale, Glenn waved his hand about in the air. “Thank you for letting me be here with you on the holidays everyone.”

“Your face is red daddy,” Erin informed her father, stroking down over the side of Negan’s cheek. Trying to relax his expression, Negan knew that he likely had his face scrunched in jealousy and upset. Of course his face was red. He just found out the woman that he thought he connected and bonded with more than anyone since he lost Lucille was related to the woman that he was dating.

“I think it’s just the cold baby,” Negan tried to explain hearing Hershel grunt out and motion them forward.

“We’ll show you all to your rooms so you can get settled in,” Hershel urged them to follow him toward the large home. It was a charming, older home at the center of this land and Negan was sure it was beautiful on the inside, but it was so different from what he was used to.

“And then afterwards we can give you the tour of the farm,” Maggie moved in beside Negan to give him a small nudge. Giving her an unsure smile, Negan looked beyond her to see that Glenn was helping Y/N gather her things and he sighed. Shit, this whole weekend just got so much more complicated. All night, all Negan could think about was Y/N and now he was going to be forced to keep his feelings for her hidden.

Once inside, Hershel led the kids to their rooms first. Negan was surprised that they had a room for both Beau and Erin. Beau’s room had an old arcade game inside of it that immediately drew his son’s attention. Erin’s room had a lot of stuffed animals and toys that Negan assumed likely belonged to the girls when they were younger. Beau stayed with Erin to help her unpack while Hershel led them toward another room.

“I’m sure you know where your room is honey,” Hershel pointed to one of the doors that was closed and Maggie headed toward it. Going to follow Maggie, Negan heard Hershel clearing his throat to get Negan’s attention and Negan looked back over his shoulder. “Not in my house.”

“Sorry?” Negan was surprised to hear that comment from Hershel. What the hell was that supposed to mean?

“You’re still sticking to that? Why am I not surprised?” Y/N chuckled to herself, clinging to her things when Maggie stopped in front of her door to hold onto the handle. Disgust filled Y/N’s face and Negan clung to his things still unsure of what was happening. “We’re adults dad. I’ve lived with Glenn for months. You’re going to separate us into different rooms?”

“Daddy, come on,” Maggie pouted, pushing open the door and reaching for Negan, but Hershel immediately shook his head. “I’ve stayed at Negan’s place plenty of times. I have room for him to stay in there with me. I promise we’ll be on our best behavior.”

“Oh, you’ve had her over your home plenty of times?” Hershel repeated those words and suddenly Negan felt very singled out. His Adam’s apple bounced in this throat and he frowned. What the fuck was he supposed to say to that?

“I’ll just go and share a room with Beau. I don’t mind sleeping on the floor,” Negan suggested pointing back toward the rooms where his children would be staying. “I feel more comfortable being in the same area as my children anyways.”

“Your children will be perfectly safe. And don’t be silly Negan, you’re a grown man. You need a bed for yourself. With your important job, you’ll need your own space,” it felt like Hershel was almost mocking him and he waved Negan on. First Hershel showed Glenn to his room leaving Negan and Y/N as the last two people with him.

“I’m sure you remember where your room was? Unless you erased that from your memory too,” Hershel turned on his heel to stare out at his daughter.

“You mean you didn’t turn it into the junk room like you promised you would?” Y/N brought back tense memories that obviously happened between them when they were younger.

“Come on Negan,” Hershel waved Negan on, ignoring Y/N when she went for the room that was obviously hers in the past. When Hershel started to lead him toward some stairs, Negan let out a hesitant sound. “You’re going to be staying in the attic.”

“The what?” Negan followed Hershel up the stairs and into the attic. There was a big window that let in a large amount of light that was almost blinding. But he did notice once they were up there that there was a bed prepared. There were dressers, mirrors and things set up to make it feel homey, but at the end of the day…it was just an attic. With every second longer Negan spent with Hershel, he was noticing more and more that Hershel’s favorite was Maggie. Also Hershel was making it evident that he hated Negan for dating his daughter. “Are you sure we can’t just bring this bed down and put it in the room with Beau?”

“So neither one of you have enough room to move?” Hershel leaned against the wall, his eyes narrowing out at Negan. If looks could kill, Negan would be dead. It left Negan wondering what to say and really what to do. “Do you not enjoy the setup that we have done here for you?”

“It’s wonderful Hershel, but as a father, I’m sure you know how I feel wanting to be close to my children,” Negan reasoned with Maggie’s father, setting his things down on top of the bed and throwing his hands up in the air. “My children mean everything to me.”

“Which is why I picked this room for you. It’s right above the rooms that they will be staying in,” Hershel informed Negan, tapping his foot on the old wooden floorboards. “It’s spacious, you have your own space and you are right over your children.”

“I kind of feel like we started off on the wrong foot here Hershel,” Negan insisted rubbing his hands together. Stepping forward, he could tell by the look on Hershel’s face that he wasn’t going to change his opinion on him. “I very much like both of your daughters. One of them is my boss and the other has been in my life for about six months. I’d like to be able to get along with you sir because both Y/N and Maggie are important people in my life. And I think you’re important to them. So I’d really like it if you gave me a chance to prove myself to you.”

“Negan, I appreciate that you’re a good father,” Hershel looked down after Negan held his hand out in attempts to have them shake it out. “That’s something I admire about you. I see that your children love you. That, I will nod my head to. But the fact you’re dating Maggie is not something that I can accept. My daughter never wanted to be a city girl. She goes out there to test things out because of her sister and then she meets you. After she meets you, she decides that she wants to stay out there in New York City all alone. It just doesn’t sit right with me. A woman giving up her life for a man.”

“When I met Maggie sir, she was in an apartment of her own. She seemed very much moved in at that point,” Negan thought back to when he first met Maggie. Making it sound like Negan was the reason Maggie was in the city was kind of absurd. “I swear to you that I would never force your daughter into something that she didn’t want. I promise you that I didn’t soil your daughter.”

That was truthfully an understatement. Even when they had sex for the first time, it was Maggie that had dragged Negan back into the bathroom with her. Maggie seemed very comfortable with the idea of fucking a stranger she had just met and fought with. So it wasn’t like Negan got his claws into her and brought her to the dark side. Of course, he wasn’t about to tell her father that though. Her father thought Maggie was an angel and Negan was an evildoer that turned his daughter against him.

“I just want us to be okay,” Negan reasoned with Hershel, wanting nothing more than for things to be comfortable at least while he was here. Having the two women in his life having their father hate him was not something he wanted. “For Maggie. For my children.”

“I’ll be as friendly with you as possible Negan, but I don’t like you,” Hershel declared letting Negan know there wasn’t much of a chance between the two of them to lose the tension that was undoubtedly there. “Y/N might respect you. Maggie might be dating you. But I know the kind of man you are. And I just don’t see this whole thing working. I’ll see you downstairs.”

Lowering his hand, Negan huffed and shook his head when Hershel left him alone up in the attic. Walking around, Negan wondered what it was about him that made Hershel hate him immediately. Heading for the window, Negan stared out it to get a feeling for where he would be staying. At least the view was pretty enough. It would be a pain in the ass in the morning when he was sleeping with the sun rising, but he would have to just deal with it and find a way to make things work.

Maybe sometimes he would just sneak down to be with Erin at night because this was strange. Sure, it was quiet enough for him to work, but being alone in an attic while his children were downstairs left him feeling uncomfortable. He was separated from everyone. Even Glenn got his own room.

Instead of unpacking, Negan just headed downstairs to be with Beau and Erin. They were in the room that Beau would be staying in and they were both already at the old arcade game playing with it. They both seemed amused that he was staying in the attic, more so Beau because he understood that Negan was in hot water with Maggie’s father.

“Have you ever played something like this? This seems like it’s from your time period,” Beau glanced over at his father while in the middle of playing the game. It made Negan place his hand over his chest and let out a dramatic sound. “I’m just saying, it seems old.”

“And there it is, my boy calling me old,” Negan stood up from the bed that they had given Beau and moved in beside his children to look at the game. “See, I would play, but I’d just be so good at it that I would destroy your record…so…”

“Oh, yeah? Okay old man,” Beau teased his father hearing the snort that followed from Negan.

“I’m going to go check in with Maggie really quick. I’ll be right back,” Negan squeezed over Beau’s shoulder before peppering a quick kiss over Erin’s cheek and then going to the room they had left Maggie at. Knocking on the door, Negan heard Maggie call out to him to have him enter and Negan gave her a grimace when he snuck into her room. “Will I get shot for coming in here?”

“Depends on his mood,” Maggie half laughed motioning Negan into her bedroom as he closed the door behind him. Hopping onto Maggie’s bed, Negan grunted when he heard the squeak of a stuffed animal that he sat on. Digging underneath him, Negan lifted the stuffed animal out and wiggled it at Maggie noticing the color that flooded into her cheeks. “I know, I know.”

“So this was your room, huh?” Negan looked around the space taking in all the things that were there. Gazing from the posters on her walls, to the bookshelf and what was on her dressers Negan couldn’t help but snicker. “Did you sneak a lot of boys in here when you were younger?”

“Enough to give my daddy a heart attack,” Maggie set down what she was working on to sit on the bed with Negan. Extending her fingers out, she brushed them through Negan’s hair and led him to her lips in a lingering kiss.

“You should have warned me I was going to be a target coming in here,” Negan’s laugh vibrated against her bottom lip, leaning back enough to gaze over her. “Your dad hates me. Y’know he put me in the attic? While it’s a nice space, it’s still an attic with a lot of dust and you know I have really bad allergies.”

“Oh, you poor baby,” Maggie frowned brushing his hair back, leaning in to press a stronger kiss over Negan’s lips. It took a minute, but she giggled when she pulled away. “Did he really put you in the attic?”

“He sure fucking did,” Negan laid back against Maggie’s bed, looking up at the ceiling with a sigh. “Your family is intense.”

“We’re really not that bad,” Maggie suggested laying in beside Negan and placing her head on his shoulder. Hooking her fingers with Negan’s, she cuddled her head in closer to him and heard the snicker that followed.

“There are a lot of things to unravel here Maggie. You have a younger sister who is my boss and you had no idea she was my boss,” Negan pointed out with a huff, his mind still lingering on Y/N. “And your dad visibly hates her. You haven’t talked to her in years…”

“How did you know she was my younger sister?” Maggie wondered, lifting her head up to stare out at Negan with curiosity in her eyes.

“I’m pretty sure when you went to introduce us you said she was your younger sister,” Negan reasoned with Maggie and she shook her head. “Well, then it’s probably me putting two and two together. We talked about her family at one point and she mentioned being the middle child.”

“You talked about her family? About us?” Maggie lifted her head enough showing her surprise in knowing that her sister talked about their family to Negan. “I didn’t think your boss even liked you.”

“Yeah, well we had a heart-to-heart last night after finishing a project she had me working on all night,” Negan explained knowing that calling it a heart to heart may have been a good explanation for the first part of their time together, but there was also that other thing that they did together. That thing he wasn’t about to tell Maggie. Not when he was in the same house as her hostile father that would likely kill him if he found out he had an affair on Maggie.

“What did she tell you about us?” Maggie inquired, her eyebrow arching in curiosity and Negan didn’t know if talking about that would be right since it was the two of them bonding. “I can’t imagine it’s been good things since she’s been away from this family for so long. Things just got so difficult in the past with her and my dad.”

“Why did you stop talking to her?” Negan pushed knowing that he didn’t see Maggie as the type to turn her sister away. He wasn’t about to talk about the things that they went into last night. Especially not in depth. It was really none of Maggie’s business what they talked about.

“It’s complicated,” Maggie sat up enough to brace her weight while her fingers traced over the center of Negan’s chest. “Her and daddy had a fight. Y/N and I were always very close, she just had a really strong personality. We all loved her. I do love her. It just made it hard staying close to her when she left. Daddy got mad every time we mentioned her and then she moved away. I guess I just got used to her being gone.”

Maggie took her time to contemplate things letting out an extended sigh the longer she thought about things, “She’s actually the reason I finally took a chance on the city. I went out to New York because of her and I stayed because of the things she told me. She was always the more adventurous one. The real leader of the pack.”

“And you never tried to call her?” Negan was surprised to hear all of that, his hand reaching up to brush some of the hair that fell in her face away. It had Maggie reaching up with her other hand to caress over his. “You just don’t seem like that kind of person Maggie.”

“I think we both got lost,” she reasoned with Negan, her eyes shifting off in contemplation while her thumb caressed at Negan’s pulse point. “I need to talk to her again. Make things right. I know daddy was hard on her with things.”

“And you were…are…his favorite,” Negan noted lifting up enough so that he was close to her on the bed. “I think if anyone could have a good influence on your father to fix things for them, it’s you. The only thing she said about this family is that her father was really hard on her. I can see that. And that her older sister was his favorite. That’s clear as day. Especially in the way that man hates me.”

Both of them snickered when she pressed her head forward to rest it against his, “I’m sorry Negan. My father has some issues. With me caring about you, I would have hoped that he would have given you a chance. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Negan caressed his fingers over her jawline letting out a long sigh while he nuzzled his nose in against hers. It was sad because Negan really liked Maggie. They had a decent relationship, but he loved her more like a friend. So in a sense, he loved her, but it just didn’t feel like he was head over heels in love with her. “I do think you should try to fix things with your sister. She’s a good person. But I think she’s sad.”

“Sad? She’s the strongest person that I know,” Maggie tipped her head back enough, her lips parting when Negan swept his fingers in over her jawline. “I could never see her being sad.”

“I think she feels lonely,” Negan reasoned with Maggie, his head tipping from side to side while he thought about the night before. Sad understood sad. That’s what Negan tried to explained to Y/N last night. Maggie wasn’t sad, so it was harder for her to understand when someone was lost in themselves like both Negan and Y/N were.

“Why would she be lonely?” Maggie questioned and it made Negan sigh when her palm slid in over the side of his face. “She has an incredible job. If she’s your boss, that means she’s rolling in the dough. She’s engaged…she has the life a lot of people would want.”

“Sometimes…when you’re lonely…it doesn’t matter how good your life is in the eyes of others,” Negan thought back on his own life, his chest aching when he thought about the pain and anguish he had over being alone. “Sometimes when you are lonely, you make choices that don’t make sense to you because you never want to feel lonely again. Look at me. I have the two best kids I could ever ask for. An amazing job, a beautiful apartment in the city…but the loneliness, the sadness…it ate me alive for almost two years. And to this day…that darkness still engulfs me. I think it bothers her that she no longer has her family. She told me that her dad thought he was poisoning her sisters’ minds.”

“I can see how she thought that,” Maggie acknowledged, her thumb tracing over the side of his face through his short beard. “Why don’t you tell me that you feel that way Negan?”

“Because I try to hide it. I have two kids to keep happy. They don’t need to see that side of me. And you…you’re always smiling and happy,” Negan began shaking his head knowing that it probably wasn’t the best time to be telling Maggie these things. “Like you said, I should be happy. But I’m just not. And that scares me sometimes.”

It seemed like there was so much that Maggie wanted to say, but instead she moved forward to give Negan a hug. Something like that? That was the kind of affection Negan appreciated. Just having someone to talk to and hug him? A lot of the time, Negan didn’t think Maggie would be able to understand his feelings, but having her hug him like that was nice.

“I just want you to be happy Negan,” she whispered, pressing a loving kiss over Negan’s cheek, nuzzling her nose in against it. Pulling back enough, she dragged her thumb over Negan’s bottom lip which made him take in a long inhale. “No matter how angry you make me sometimes.”

“That happens a lot,” Negan joked with her, his nose wrinkling in amusement. Even though they did have a decent relationship, he could easily piss Maggie off and push her buttons. At least they were honest with each other about that. Closing his eyes, Negan felt Maggie pressing in closer to him. With her lips hovering over his, Negan hummed when she brought their lips together. Kissing her back, Negan’s fingers brushed into her hair, his fingers caressing over her scalp while she crawled in closer to him. Grunting, Negan felt her moving in over him, her hands cupping his face in her hands as her kisses grew in strength.

“Apparently dad is calling for us,” Y/N’s voice spoke up when the door pushed open and it made Maggie slightly pull away from Negan with a wet sound, her hands still cupping Negan’s face. Grunting, Negan could tell by the expression that flooded over Y/N’s face that she was upset catching them like that together. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt the two of you, dad just wants us to take the kids and the boys on the tour of everything.”

“Yeah, we’ll be there in a minute,” Maggie assured her sister with a half-smile, her finger sweeping over Negan’s jawline. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“Be careful with that,” Y/N circled her finger out toward them, her eyes locking with Negan’s. Noticing that Negan was breathing heavily, she wondered how far things would have gotten if she wouldn’t have walked in on the two of them. “You don’t want dad to bring the shotgun out.”

“Right,” Maggie snickered when Y/N closed the door behind her. Panic flooded Negan’s veins when Y/N left. Seeing that she looked upset bothered him. Then again, there was a mention of the shotgun and Negan deeply considered that.

“He really wouldn’t pull a shotgun out on me, would he?” Negan was hesitant in the way he laughed, but when he actually noticed that Maggie was contemplating that question, he felt his pulse leap. “Maggie? Would he?”

“It depends,” Maggie thought about the question and it put a look of fear in Negan’s features. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m gonna fucking worry about it,” Negan urged Maggie from over his hips to get her to sit down on the bed beside him. Getting up from the bed, he dragged his palm down over his face in a moment of tension. “That’s kind of a big deal Maggie. I don’t need your father shooting me dead with my children here.”

“He’s only pulled out the shotgun once before with one of my boyfriends when I was a teenager Negan,” Maggie reasoned with Negan hearing the worried sound that fell from Negan’s parted lips. “I’m an adult now Negan. My daddy wouldn’t do something like that.”

“I don’t know Maggie, by the way he’s acting toward me—I think he very much is capable of that,” Negan doubted what she was telling him. “I’m not going to get shot at on this trip, am I?”

“I think you’re going to be fine,” Maggie promised, stepping before Negan after getting off the bed. Caressing over the sides of his face was her attempt at calming him, but it wasn’t working. “Come on Negan, you shouldn’t worry about that kind of stuff.”

“After meeting your dad, yes. Yes, I fucking should,” Negan bickered with her more, but by the time that she was dragging him out in the hallway with her, he could see that the kids were outside talking to Maggie’s youngest sister who was showing them something.

“They are going to show us the horses,” Erin was excited to tell Negan about what was in their future when she turned away from Beth to run up before Negan. “I’ve never really been around horses daddy. Isn’t that exciting?”

“Of course it is baby girl,” Negan gave his daughter a wink, looking back when he heard the sound of a door opening. Seeing that it was Y/N heading out of her room, Negan lifted his finger up and motioned for them to go ahead without him. “I forgot something up in the attic. I’ll be right out. Okay? Watch the kids for me for a minute, would you Maggie?”

“You got it babe,” Maggie pat Negan on the chest before following Beau and Erin to the stairs.

Once they started heading down, Negan felt Y/N brushing past him to follow them. Before she could reach the stairs, Negan curled his fingers around her wrist to bring her to him. The nearest room for them was a bathroom and he pulled her in with him, closing the door behind him.

“What the hell?” Y/N gasped when Negan pushed her up against the door, his hazel eyes hooked on hers. Negan’s breathing was heavy, his lips parted while he stared down at her. “What the fuck are you doing Negan?”

“I’m sorry,” Negan apologized, his hands pulling from her shoulders and he rest his hands on his hips while he stood before her. “When you came into the room and saw Maggie with me like that…”

“Why are you apologizing to me because I walked in on you kissing your girlfriend Negan?” Y/N challenged, her eyebrows wrinkling in confusion. Throwing her hands up in the air, she sighed loudly and shifted before him. “I’m the one that is engaged to Glenn. I can’t get upset with you for being handsy with your girlfriend. I told you last night was just a high from the sex and confusion from the alcohol.”

“But it’s not,” Negan was adamant, shaking his head when she denied what they had last night. “All I’ve been able to think about since last night is you. I keep thinking about how you made me feel. Not just about the sex, but the connection that we have.”

“What connection Negan? You’re my sister’s boyfriend and you’re my co-worker. I’m your boss,” she reminded him, the hitch in her voice giving away that she was actually upset about everything. “This would have never worked in the first place. But now that you’re Maggie’s boyfriend? There is no fucking way Negan.”

“Why?” Negan frowned, attempting to reach out to touch her, but she grabbed his wrists and lowered them down.

“You know why Negan,” Y/N hesitated, her fingers squeezing slightly at his wrists. “There are so many reasons why none of this will work for us. We had a moment. We enjoyed each other very much, but it was a onetime thing. It can never happen again. You’re with Maggie. I’m with Glenn. We have to forget about it.”

“I don’t want to forget about it,” Negan pled with her, stepping forward to slam the door shut when she opened it to try to leave. Trapping her between him and the door, he took advantage of the small space that was there capturing her jaw between his thumb and index finger with his other fingers curling around the side of her neck. The warmth of his breath lingered over her lips drawing her eyes to fluttered to a close, her head tipping up toward him. “No, the chemistry between us is too strong Y/N. We both know it. We can’t pretend like it never happened.”

“Negan, please,” she whimpered right before his lips claimed hers. Placing her hand at the center of his chest, she could feel herself weakening at the knees with the way he was kissing her. Kissing him back was almost involuntary because her body knew even against better judgement that she loved kissing him. It felt good. Negan could sweep her off her feet with his kisses. And even though she tried to convince herself that it was a momentary lapse of bad judgement from being drunk, the response her body had to him kissing her was proving to her that wasn’t true. Purring out, she sank her fingers into Negan’s hair, her lips parting almost begging for him to reward her with the tender sweep of his tongue against hers. When he gave her what she asked for, he pressed his body against hers, his fingers growing tighter around the side of her neck. God she could get lost in this. Yet, it was the sound of movement outside the door that alerted her that she needed to stop this. Tearing her lips away from his was the hardest thing she could have done in that moment. Breathless, she knew that she needed to get her shit together. She was in her father’s home. Maggie was there and so were Negan’s children. They couldn’t do this shit. “This has to stop.”

“Wait,” Negan begged, but she pushed away from him and headed out of the bathroom. Trying to follow her, Negan got down the stairs with her. “Please, just wait.”

“Negan, enough,” Y/N didn’t stop or wait for them to even talk. Swiftly moving throughout the house, she pushed open the door and stopped immediately when she saw that her father had everyone with him standing at the steps. Her quick halt had Negan running into her and she gasped when he grabbed to make sure she didn’t fall. “You’re all just waiting here?”

“Well we couldn’t do a tour without the two of you, could we?” Hershel retorted with a huff waving them on. Swallowing down hard, Y/N managed to sneak away from Negan over to Glenn who was wearing a white long-sleeved shirt with a baseball jersey over it. He had a baseball cap on and Negan scoffed. Glenn didn’t even seem like Y/N’s type and he didn’t understand why she was with him. It’s not like he was a bad guy from what he could tell, it was just a strange pairing. “Let’s go Negan.”

“Yes sir,” Negan moved down the steps, reaching to grab Erin adjusting her so that he was giving her a piggyback ride while they moved across the yard. Standing between Beau and Maggie, Negan stole a glance over at Y/N noticing that she was looking at him while she walked hand in hand with Glenn. When their eyes connected, Y/N turned away and looked down at their feet.

“You’re going to love seeing Nelly. She was my horse,” Maggie tugged faintly at Erin’s jacket to get her attention. “If you want and it’s okay with your dad, I can probably take you on a ride. Would you like that?”

“Can I do that daddy?” Erin wondered making Negan look back over his shoulder at her. “I’ve never ridden a horse before.”

“You’re sure you’re capable of doing that with her and being safe?” Negan was worried knowing that with Maggie mentioning it, Erin wouldn’t be able to get it out of her mind. It’s just Negan was really uncomfortable with the idea of it.

“Maggie won a lot of awards when she was younger for horseback riding,” Beth’s voice called out from where she was walking beside Beau. “I think she will be okay.”

“I just worry,” Negan admitted trusting Maggie enough with his daughter, but horses were unpredictable. When Negan was younger, he would often visit the farm that his grandparents owned, but that was a long time ago. He always loved animals, but he knew that some animals when scared did things they didn’t always mean to. “If you think you can keep her safe, then I’ll trust you.”

“I can,” Maggie assured Negan with a half-smile while they headed over toward the stables on the property. Once the large doors opened, Negan stayed back and let out a long sigh knowing that this was the last thing he expected to be doing for Christmas this year. Touring a barn in the middle of nowhere. It was like he was back in his childhood days. “Nelly.”

Maggie was the first one into the barn heading over to the horse that was hers. It made Negan smile seeing the excitement that she had for it. It wasn’t normal for Maggie to have that kind of reaction to things and he was happy that she did have something that made her happy in some sense. Hershel followed her in and stepped in beside her reaching out to pet the muzzle of the horse.

“Come here,” Maggie waved Beau forward who seemed uneasy at first before joining them in petting the horse. Reaching for Erin, Maggie grabbed her from Negan and held Erin in front of Nelly to allow both Negan’s children to enjoy the moment.

“Do you have your own horse too?” Negan looked to Beth who was standing behind him and she immediately shook her head.

“No, we have a few horses here that I help take care of, but this one is Maggie’s and…” Beth moved around Negan to reach for Y/N’s hand pulling her sister down until they stopped in front of a stall. Seeing the horse seemed to have Y/N freeze up. “And this one is Y/N’s.”

“Dakota,” Y/N stepped forward to caress in over the horse’s mane. Seeing the horse appeared to have shocked her. “You kept him?”

“Of course I kept him,” Hershel grunted from where he was standing with Maggie and the children. “You may have abandoned him, but he didn’t deserve to be thrown away like the rest of us.”

Clearing his throat, Negan knew that he wanted to say something, but with how Hershel already felt about him it was best not to say anything at all. What came out of Hershel’s mouth hurt Y/N, there was no hiding the expression that flooded her features. Instead of staying where he was, Negan moved down the aisle to step in beside Y/N. With him next to her, she stole a quick look at him before Negan nodded toward Dakota.

“May I?” Negan asked for permission first to touch her horse. Once she gave him the okay, Negan flattened his palm out over the forehead of the horse that seemed to lean into the touch. “I take it you rode horses in the past too?”

“Yeah,” Y/N nodded and after Negan joined her, it felt like Glenn thought he had to as well moving in on the other side. “Dakota is my old man. We share a lot of memories together.”

“She gave up competitive horse riding, just like she did everything else,” Hershel piped in when he moved over toward them where they were at the stall. Y/N’s eyes closed tightly and she bit down on her bottom lip. Just by the way she was reacting Negan could tell she was doing everything she could not to fight with her father. Sliding his hand down, Negan’s fingers loosely hooked with hers to support her. It had her eyes lazily opening, her eyes connected with his and he gave her a weak smile. “Dakota was our most talented back then. Now, he just makes for a good pet. He’s too old to compete, but he sure is beautiful.”

“We’ve got Nelly, Dakota, Apollo, Lucky, Casper and Cinnamon,” Beth listed off the names of their horses, pushing her hands into her pockets when she let out a long sigh. “These are kind of our stars on the farm. We have other animals, but they are the ones people seem to be drawn to. We have chickens, hens, ducks, pigs…”

“We feed them every morning and evening so if you’re ever up and interested on this trip we will happily take the help,” Hershel informed them pacing the stables to check on all of the horses that were there. “We also have a barn on the property, but it’s really just used to store things. We have hay in there, food supplies. It’s not as interesting.”

“You want to go for a ride?” Negan heard Maggie ask Erin and he tensed up hearing it knowing that he agreed to it, but the idea of it made him nervous. Moving away from Y/N left it open for Glenn to whisper something to her as Negan went back to his children. Maggie noticed the worry in Negan’s eyes and she gave him a confident smile. “Trust me, everything is going to be okay.”

“You’re kind of holding my world in your hands, so…” Negan commented and it made Maggie smile as she handed Erin back over to Negan. Panic flooded his veins while Maggie got Nelly prepared to be ridden. Once Maggie had everything ready and they were standing outside, Maggie hopped up on the horse and reached for Erin. “You sure you don’t want to practice a little? By the sounds of things, it’s been a while since you’ve been on a horse.”

“It’s like riding a bike,” Maggie explained hearing Negan grumble when Erin reached her arms out to Maggie.

“A very unpredictable, living bike that can throw you off of them and break her,” Negan heard Beau choke and a laugh fell from his throat at his father’s worries. Once he handed Erin off to Maggie, he felt Beau’s hand pressing in over the center of his back trying to comfort him. “Please be safe.”

“I promise,” Maggie got Erin situated before starting to ride slowly across the plot of land.

“In this case, I trust Maggie,” Beau informed Negan while they watched the girls riding the horse. “I think she knows what she is doing dad.”

“It’s hard giving you kids away to other people and trust them to keep your lives safe,” Negan admitted to his son, his hazel eyes filled with worry. Clearing his throat uneasily, Negan saw that Y/N and Beth were both getting two other horses out to ride, but he was so stressfully focused on Maggie with Erin. “I love you both so much.”

“And we don’t doubt that,” Beau assured his father with a sigh hearing Hershel calling out to the both of them.

“You want to help me get these horses fed before the snow is supposed to start tonight?” Hershel asked of them and even though Negan wanted to watch to make sure that his daughter was safe, he agreed to do it. Beau was eager to help as well and Hershel had Glenn helping him too since all of the girls were out riding horses. “Beau, I’ll have you and Glenn go grab some of the grain from the back room I instructed Glenn to grab. Negan, there is a bucket that one of the horses kicked over in their stall that I need you to grab.”

“Sure,” Negan stepped before the stall that Hershel pointed at. Rubbing his hands together, Negan looked back at Hershel and shrugged. “Aren’t you going to grab the horse while I get the bucket?”

“Why would I do that?” Hershel folded his arms out in front of his chest. Letting out a hesitant sound, Negan stepped forward waiting for Hershel to open it for him. The horse remained still, but Negan paused thinking it over again. “Well go on son. I need to get this moving so the horse doesn’t get hurt.”

“I just kind of remember hearing something when I was a kid that you shouldn’t get behind a horse,” Negan explained to Hershel staring out at the larger horse knowing there wasn’t much room for him to move around it. “I think maybe you should get this guy out before I even attempt to grab it. My grandparents had a farm when I was younger and I just…”

“Forget it, I’ll just get Glenn to do it,” Hershel waved Negan off hearing him grunt under his breath before side stepping forward. Trying to move around the horse, Negan reached for the bucket to hear it jangle when he lifted it. It caused the horse to get uncomfortable, kicking its back legs out that Negan managed to avoid. Once the horse started jumping about, it had Negan scrambling to try to find a place for him not to get hurt. It ended up with Negan falling into the mud that was behind the horse face first, the horse running out of the stall and Hershel letting out a big belly laugh. “Well, you weren’t supposed to spook it son!”

“Dad?” Beau ran out to see that Negan was slowly pulling himself up from the mud. It was hard because Beau was worried, but at the same time amused to see that Negan was absolutely covered in mud. Instead of laughing, he tried to bite back on his amusement and stepped forward to help pull his dad up.

“Are you alright?” Glenn joined Negan in the stall, grabbing a hold of the other arm of him. Both Beau and Glenn were doing their best to avoid getting the mud on them that Negan was covered in. “What happened?”

“He spooked the horse,” Hershel explained to them, but Negan knew that he was set up from the start. He was lucky that he didn’t get killed from the horse trying to kick him.

“Daddy, why in the world was Apollo out…” Maggie came back after leading the horse that had run off back into the stalls. Once Maggie got a look at Negan, she turned on her heel and glared out at her father. “Daddy, what did you do?”

“What happened?” Y/N came back into the barn while Beth tended to their horses outside. All of them had headed back when they saw Apollo running free outside the barn. Erin moved in beside Y/N letting out a worried breath when she saw Negan.

“He had me grab a bucket and told me we didn’t need to move the horse for me to get it,” Negan claimed tossing the bucket out in front of Hershel who looked amused with his antics. “I almost died.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re fine,” Hershel blew off Negan’s words, but it immediately had both Maggie and Y/N infuriated with him. “Your boyfriend is being a little emotional right now because he’s embarrassed that he fell in mud and who knows what else.”

“This is just like you,” Y/N stormed around her father toward the back office to grab a towel for Negan. Moving forward, she tried to help him get some of the mud from his face hearing her father cackling in the back. “Negan never had a fucking chance with you. You know that Apollo gets antsy around people. Yet you did this anyways.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Hershel threw his hands up in the air acting innocent with his actions. “We were just getting ready to feed the horses. You can ask Beau and Glenn. They will tell ya. There was a bucket in there that I didn’t want Apollo to get hurt on and Negan went to get it. It’s not my fault that he spooked the horse.”

“She’s not wrong daddy. You knew that Apollo would do exactly what he did. We’ve always known Apollo to be like this,” Maggie shamed her father, moving forward to reach for the towel that Y/N had knowing that Negan was her boyfriend and it should be her that was helping him. “You’ve been like this with all of my boyfriends. And this time it’s not right. Negan had Beau and Erin here. He’s a father and I won’t stand by this behavior. These pranks are dangerous and if you pull another one, we’re going to leave. I love you daddy and I want to be here, but this is the last time.”

“I see,” Hershel’s glare on Negan was extreme, if there was a chance that he would ever like Negan it went right out the window at that moment. With Maggie threatening him to leave, it sure as hell made Hershel hate Negan. Especially having his favorite daughter defending the man he just tried to potentially kill. Looking to his watch, Hershel huffed and shrugged his shoulders. Sucking on his bottom lip, Hershel pointed at the stalls and sighed. “We are supposed to meet your cousin at the restaurant we go to every year. We need to get these horses fed and head out.”

“You know, I don’t think I’m going to be able to go to any restaurants,” Negan called out from where he was standing knowing that he was soaked in mud. “I think the only thing calling out to me right now is a shower. Maggie, do you mind watching over Beau and Erin at dinner?”

“Of course baby,” Maggie went to touch him, but then thought it over for a second with how dirty he was. “I’ll get you a meal and bring it home.”

“You might want to hose him down first before he goes in the house. We don’t need him trekking that mud throughout the whole house,” Hershel blew off the idea of Negan, not a care in the world that he almost just killed Negan.

More than anything Negan wanted to rip into this man. For what he had done to him. For his nasty comments toward Y/N, but Negan kept his mouth shut. This was the first day and he was going to be stuck in the same home with this man for a while.

“I’ll help you dad,” Beau led Negan toward the hose he had seen in the back with Glenn when they had grabbed the grain that Hershel had asked them too. When they were alone, Beau nodded back toward Maggie who was getting help from Glenn getting Apollo back in the stall. “I know you like Maggie, but are you starting to think now about how you should probably let this romance go?”

“Beau, I don’t even know what to say right now,” Negan grumbled under his breath splashing some water in his face and getting his clothes clean from the mud. “I had no idea her dad was a psychopath.”

“It just looks like you’re dating the wrong daughter,” Beau suggested and it immediately made Negan lift his head up to stare out at Beau. “I mean, he’s not trying to kill Glenn. You should be dating Y/N because at least if you were dating her, you’d be safe.”

Beau was trying to joke with Negan, but he had no idea how Negan actually felt about her so it made the conversation awkward.

“I remember grandpa giving you a hard time, but this guy…” Beau shook his head when he stole another look back at Hershel. “He’s got issues.”

“Understatement of the year,” Negan noticed that Erin was walking out to them to check on him. Offering up a big cheesy smile had Erin giggling. “Daddy is just going to take a shower. You be good for your brother and Maggie, okay?”

“Of course daddy,” she tipped up on her toes to press a kiss over the side of Negan’s cheek when he leaned down. “I’ll wait until you are dry for the hugs.”

“Good choice baby girl,” Negan winked at his daughter, said his goodbyes to everyone once he was ready to head into the house with the towels they had given him to dry himself off. To the best of his ability at least. He was careful not the mess the house when he made his way to the second level bathroom where he was earlier with Y/N. At this point, he was just thankful to have a break from the whole Greene family.

A hot shower gave him time to think things out. Maybe it was just best to avoid Hershel this whole trip. Bury himself in his work at every chance and just stick to his children. It may have been the only way for him to stay alive and not get himself killed. It took a while for the water to get hot before Negan hopped into the shower. This was nothing like his home and his modern shower that he had. It was old fashioned to the core and it brought back old memories for Negan.

After his shower, Negan got dressed and draped the towel over his shoulders. He figured he would just work for a while until everyone got back home. At least in the attic he would have his own space and be safe from getting hurt. Heading up the stairs to the attic, he let out a surprised breath when he saw that Christmas lights were now lighting up the space. It made his heart skip a beat when he saw that someone was hanging them up. Dropping his head, Negan closed his eyes when he thought back to his past when Lucille would do the same kind of thing. Pinching his nose, he cussed to himself hating that a memory from his past hit him so hard.

“Are you okay?” Y/N’s voice called out to him making Negan lower his hand to stare out at her from where she was standing on a chair stringing up some lights. “I heard that my dad put you up here and I thought…I would just make it homier. So it feels more like a holiday for you.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Negan insisted, going to put his dirty clothes in a bag so that way things were still clean. Actually, Negan was impressed. She got out a lot of things while he was in the shower. There was a faux tree in the corner of the attic with light strung up that she was finishing. “What are you doing here? I thought everyone was going out to dinner.”

“Yeah, well…I told them I got a call from work and that I wouldn’t be able to go with them,” she explained to Negan as he stepped in beside her and attempted to help her with what she was finishing up. “I lied. But I told Glenn to go with them, so it’s just us here.”

“Oh?” Negan’s eyebrow arched in curiosity while she outstretched just far enough to let out a tense breath. Placing his hand over the small of her back, Negan made sure that she was safe before she returned to a flat-footed position.

“I wanted to check in on you and help with this…” she threw her hands up to look around the place that her father had thrown Negan for the time that they were there. “Thankfully my father is predictable and keeps the decorations in the same place he did when I was a kid so this was easy to do. All we need is a few stockings and some decorations on the tree. The tree already had lights in it so we don’t have to do that.”

“Yeah?” Negan mused, finding himself curious with the way that she was. This was something he would have found Lucille doing in his past, so the fact this is what she was doing enamored him. “This is nice.”

“I hope it makes you feel more comfortable,” she finished with the lights, grabbing Negan’s hand when he helped her down from the chair. Stumbling, she fell in against Negan’s chest and his hazel eyes narrowed down at her. “It’s the least I could do with what my father did.”

“He’s crazy,” Negan noted without even thinking about it. There was no fucking around. Hershel hated him and it was clear as day. “He tried killing me today with that horse.”

“I told you my dad was something else,” she reminded him, patting him on the center of the chest when she pushed herself into a standing position before him. “I don’t know why I bothered coming here. It was stupid to begin with. The only thing it did was fuck everything up more.”

“I know you’re upset you saw me kissing Maggie,” Negan frowned folding his arms in front of his chest noticing that she was having a hard time looking at him. “I told you, I’m not in love with Maggie. What I said about my girlfriend was true. It doesn’t change things now that it’s Maggie.”

“Negan, it changes everything,” she shook her head moving around him to start putting some of the decorations on the tree. “Maggie is my sister. They can’t find out that I had sex with her boyfriend. I told you that Maggie was my dad’s favorite. If it comes out, my dad will try to kill you and who knows what he will do to me.”

“You’re worth the worry,” Negan claimed grabbing a few of the decorations to help her put them on the tree that she put out for him. “I don’t care if Maggie is your sister. I know how I feel about you. I love Maggie, but I love Maggie in a way that someone loves one of their best friends. I’m not in love with Maggie. We don’t have that spark that I’ve been missing. The spark that you and I have...”

“You’re making this complicated Negan,” she reasoned with him, trying to focus on the tree and less on him. “You’re with my sister. You’re dating my perfect, loved, popular older sister. And there is nothing we can do to change that. It’s best we pretend that what happened the other day is nothing but a dream between us.”

“I don’t want to pretend,” Negan hushed her, grabbing her and forcing her to look at him. “Y/N, what we felt the other night, it was incredible. The sex was great, sure, but what we felt…how alike we are. When I see you, you remind me of everything I loved in the past.”

“We can’t talk like this Negan,” she declared only to feel his hands grabbing a hold of hers leading her toward the bed to sit down on it. “Negan?”

“Just talk things out with me for a minute,” Negan begged of her, his thumbs stroking in over the back of her hands. By the look over her face, he knew that she was trying to avoid this stuff, but he needed to talk to her. “First of all, Glenn is cute and everything, but that guy seems way too boring for you.”

“Glenn is cute?” she repeated what he said, her eyebrows bouncing up in amusement. “The reason you think he is boring is because you’re…you.”

“He barely talks and anytime someone looks at him, he blushes,” Negan thought back to her fiancé and he shook his head. “Come on Y/N. You’re a ball busting bad ass that grabs men by the balls and makes them do whatever she wants whenever she wants.”

Instead of saying anything, she rolled her eyes and shook her head. He knew with her being here that her ego would be smaller and he hated that for her. Especially with how her father treated her about things.

“What did you and your father fight about?” Negan pondered the thing that he had heard mentioned several times. “The thing that made you stop talking.”

“They all stopped talking to me after that,” Y/N alerted Negan with a half laugh, but he knew that it hurt her. It didn’t make her feel good to think about it. A sense of shock flooded her veins when Negan’s fingers hooked with hers, his eyebrows furrowing in the hopes of understanding how she felt. Holding her hand like that was his way of showing support and he could tell that it took some coaching inside of herself to open up to Negan. “I was leaving for college. He wanted me to stay out here. Run the farm like the rest of the family. I didn’t want that. I loved art, my father thought it was a useless talent. I got accepted to an art school in the city and it was everything I wanted, but he didn’t give me his approval. Told me if I went out there, I would be out on my own. He’d never help me. I told him that he cared more about his life and what he wanted for his family than what his family actually wanted. I told him he was holding his family back and he’d never let them truly live. He told me if I left, he was going to get rid of my horse, my things and never speak to me again. He did one of the three. If it was up to him, I wouldn’t be here right now. It was Beth and Annette that reached out to me.”

“That’s rough,” Negan sighed, his thumb sweeping over the back of her hand while he held onto it. “Your parents should always push the best for you. They should want you to achieve your dreams. Not live the dreams that they wanted.”

“Sounds like from our conversation you know exactly what it was like with your father,” she reasoned with Negan who snorted and shook his head.

“My father wanted me to be a ball player more than anything. Bragging rights to his friends really,” Negan thought back to when he was younger and he simply shrugged his shoulders. “But I got hurt and after that he really didn’t give a shit.”

“Your dad and my dad are such assholes,” she suggested dropping back on the bed that was Negan’s with a sigh. Carefully moving in beside her, Negan laid with her and gazed over at her with his big eyes. Still even laying down they were holding hands and it was strange how comfortable she found herself with Negan. “I should have just kept giving you shit last night. Told you what a piece of shit you are. Instead of kissing you like I did.”

“I am a piece of shit still,” Negan snickered, his eyebrows bouncing up in amusement when she tipped her head to connect her eyes with his. “Just because you like me doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing. I like you too. What happened between us, it was meant to happen. I wish you could see that.”

“Your son and daughter are beautiful,” she complimented him knowing that she hadn’t really focused on that bit. It was easier to bring up his children instead of concentrating on what he was saying between them. “Your son looks exactly like you. And your daughter has the dimples and the smile. You can tell they are your children. It’s cute.”

“Yeah, they are pretty cute. It’s how they get away with everything,” Negan responded showing that he was genuinely happy talking about his children. “Thankfully for Erin she got most of her mama’s looks. Beau, he’s awesome. Good at everything. Amazing artist. Better than I ever was at his age, but I think this whole Christmas thing is effecting him more than anyone without his mom. His mom and him were really close. So this time of the year is rough for him. He does his best, but…”

“He’s still human,” she noted giving Negan time to think about it before exhaling loudly and nodding. “They are lucky to have you. You can tell you love them. It’s sweet. Do they like Maggie?”

“Yes…and no,” Negan laughed out loud remembering what his kids were like last night. “Maggie is very…uptight. And their mother wasn’t. So they like her, but they don’t. If that makes sense.”

“It does,” she found herself leaning her head in closer to Negan’s while they laid there. “My sister is bubbly, friendly, but she needs to be in control of everything. It all has to be perfect and precise. And while I understand that, there needs to be wiggle room for more.”

“Maybe…maybe we can just run away with the kids?” Negan stammered, his words coming out in a stutter. The suggestion alone made her scoff thinking it was a joke. “I can break up with Maggie, you can let Glenn go and I’ll just take you back to my apartment. We can decorate the thing. It could use your touch and the kids would like it. What you even did with this room in the time that you had is incredible.”

“Knock it off,” she poked Negan in the ribs. The idea sounded ridiculous, but running away from here didn’t sound all that bad. Especially if it was with Negan.

“Are you less interested in me because I have children?” Negan wondered interested in finding out why she didn’t want to be with him now.

“If anything, I’m more interested in you for being a father. It’s sexy seeing how much you love your kids and the way there is a glimmer in your eye just talking about them,” she confessed stroking her fingers over the center of Negan’s palm. “You know why I can’t run away with you. It was wrong before, it’s worse now that you are with Maggie. They already hate me as it is.”

“Maggie doesn’t hate you, Maggie just is her father’s puppet,” Negan corrected with a scoff knowing how capable people were of persuading their children to think one way or another. “But if that’s how you feel, then what do you care what they think if we get together?”

“You don’t want that Negan,” she went to ramble on until Negan’s fingers were curling underneath her chin to urge her jaw up. Brushing his lips over hers, Negan made the gesture soft and sweet. After all the stress of today it felt nice and she found herself getting more comfortable against him. “You make it hard to focus when you kiss me.”

“You like kissing me,” Negan snickered against her flesh, nibbling at her bottom lip. Teasing the tip of his tongue over her lips had her lips parting, her head arching up with her fingers curling around his neck. Brushing his tongue in against hers, Negan groaned out when her fingers sank into his dark hair. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since last night. I know what I want.”

“You don’t. It’s just like a drug Negan,” she tried to hush him hating how easily she was falling back into all of this. With Negan’s palm caressing up over the lengths of her abdomen and toward her breast, she purred when he cupped it tenderly. “You had a taste once and you think you need more of it.”

“I don’t think, I know,” he growled against her lips, nipping faintly at her flesh. Kissing down over her jawline and toward her neck, Negan couldn’t help himself. Even though they were alone in her family’s home, that didn’t affect him. “I want you more than you could ever begin to understand.”

“Negan,” she grabbed a hold of his wrist attempting to get him to pull his grasp from her. “You’ve slept with Maggie.”

“I’m pretty sure Maggie has slept with a lot of people,” Negan commented, his eyelids heavy and his eyes filled with want for the woman he had in his arms. “You shouldn’t feel bad for the way that things are. Yeah, the world has a fucked-up way of making these things work, but we both knew last night that what we wanted wasn’t Glenn or Maggie.”

“Last night we were drunk,” she was doing her best to contain herself with the warmth of Negan’s breath over her lips. Getting drunk on Negan’s kisses was something she longed for and she wasn’t holding him off very well. “We were saying things.”

“But they were all true,” Negan huffed, his lips claiming hers again drawing her to turn in closer to him. “I haven’t had a fire inside of my heart like I do when I’m with you in a very long time. And I know you feel it too.”

“I have been such a bitch to you over the last few months and suddenly you are smitten with me?” she pulled her lips from his, her hand placing in over the center of his chest trying to talk some sense into the both of them. “Yes, you are incredibly sexy and I find myself drawn to you, but I’m your boss. I took advantage of you last night…”

“I don’t care if you are my boss. I like when someone is feisty. I’ve always been attracted to people in power,” Negan reached for her hand, bringing it up to his mouth to deposit a kiss over the center of her palm. Shuddering, her eyes fluttered to a close when he started pressing his kisses down over her pulse point. “I promise I’m a good boy. I will be able to do my work and still be endlessly yours after work.”

“Fuck…” she whimpered with his tongue flicking out over her flesh drawing chills to flood her body. “Negan, this is wrong…good people don’t do this. Nice people don’t do this.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been accused of being good Y/N,” Negan rumbled, his lips hovering back over hers again when he pressed his body in closer to hers. Warmth radiated from his body beside her and she felt a chill flooding her spine. “But for you…I’ll be whatever you want me to be. I just want to be yours so incredibly fucking bad.”

“But Maggie…” she whined with Negan’s lips skimming in over hers. Guilt did eat away at her with how much she found herself wanting to be near and around her sister’s boyfriend. Palming down the lengths of her body, Negan hooked his arm around her leg and drew her closer to him to hook it around his hip. “I can tell she likes you.”

“Maggie will survive. Glenn too,” Negan assured her, his fingers sliding up underneath her shirt. Once his rough fingertips collided with the warmth of her flesh, it had her raising up toward him wanting so badly to feel it. “But I won’t if I can’t be with you.”

“That’s dramatic,” she purred, her fingers dragging down over his chest reaching between them. Lowering her hand just enough, she palmed over the front of Negan’s pants making him pull his head back enough to look down at her touching him. His lips were parted, his pupils dilated and breathing heavy.

“I’m a dramatic kinda guy,” Negan smirked, his eyes connecting with hers. Nodding his head, he could see both the amusement and desire that she had for him. “If I can’t be with you, I’ll just fucking die. And then what? You’ll take me away from my kids. You don’t wanna do that to them, do you?”

“Way to make me feel guilty,” she snickered, her fingers working with the belt of Negan’s jeans while she adjusted him so that he was laying on his back. Crawling in closer to him, she got his pants open but kept her eyes locked with his. “You’re crazy.”

“I know,” Negan agreed with her, his hips arching up when she pulled down the zipper in his jeans. “It’s a bit of a problem really.”

“Oh?” her eyebrow arched drawing his smile to grow bigger and he nodded. “Maybe you’re too much trouble for my liking.”

“No, I’m the perfect kind of trouble. I’ll be as good or as bad as you want me to be,” Negan slurred, his breathing growing harder when she pushed his shirt up toward the center of his chest. Wincing, Negan enjoyed the way she kissed over the center of his abdomen, up toward his chest before circling her tongue around his nipple. Having her sucking and then faintly nipping at the flesh had his raspy moan filling the attic. “I think we both know that we want this…”

“You promise to be good for me?” her fingers traced shapes over his abdomen before sinking beneath the material of his boxer briefs. Once her fingertips connected with the root to his masculinity, it had his hips arching up toward the warmth of her touch.

“I do,” Negan nodded his head eagerly, dragging his tongue across his bottom lip when her fingers curled around his body to test the flesh in her grasp. “I want to be yours. Endlessly fucking yours. Please.”

“I pinned you to be a dominant alpha male Negan. But you’re acting so submissive,” she pointed out placing her leg over his to almost pin him down. Separating the material of his pants, she helped pull his cock out of the tight confines they were prisoned behind while she stroked over his distended flesh. “Look at you.”

“I’m both. Whatever the moment calls for,” Negan whispered, his dimples sinking in and the vein at the side of his neck becoming more prominent when he lifted his head to watch her touching him in tender sweeps that had him growing harder with every movement. “If you take a chance on me, you will see.”

“It does sound appealing,” she kissed down over his jawline enjoying the sounds that Negan was making. It didn’t take long for him to be completely solid in her grasp and she enjoyed the way he felt in her palm. “I do want to see where things are capable of going with the two of us Negan. I just need you to be a good boy and keep this hidden for just a little while longer. Can you do that? Just while we’re here?”

“What do you mean hidden?” Negan moaned while she pumped his length in her hand, her fingers firmly grasping to his flesh.

“I just mean we can’t tell Glenn or my family about this yet. I need this time with my family, but I know I want to spend time with you too,” she informed him having his hips arching up toward her caress while she jerked him off. Whining out, Negan felt her fingers releasing him but then he watched her lick at her fingertips before wrapping them back around his flesh. “Once this whole trip is over, then maybe we can put things into motion.”

“I can’t hide the way I feel about you,” Negan panted lifting his head up to watch her jerking him off. Behind his long eyelashes, his eyes were desperate and his moans were loud. It was exactly the kind of thing she wanted to hear and listen to from him.

“I’m not asking you to hide it when it’s just the two of us, but around my family I need you to be careful,” she instructed pampering his lips with wet kisses as she continued to pleasure him. “I just think this is something I need to do with my family in order to fix me. But I want to be with you too. We just can’t officially do that yet.”

“Okay,” Negan panted, his eyebrows tensing and the lines in his forehead growing with how she was jerking him off. “If this is what you need, I will do fucking anything for you.”

“It’s surprising how perfect you actually are,” she slurred against his lips hearing his grunts growing louder. “You really are my good boy, aren’t you?”

“I am,” Negan nodded his head, licking his lips when he felt his abdomen tensing up. Growling out, Negan nuzzled his nose in against the side of her neck when the first line of his cum shot out from the tip. Moaning against her flesh had her mewling out while she continued her caress over his cock milking him of his release. Thick ropes of cum covered his lower abdomen and chest while she continued to jerk him off. Once she released his member, he felt his heart hammering inside of his chest with his throat going dry. “Shit.”

Cuddling her head in against his shoulder, she looked up at the roof of the attic and sighed, “I never saw myself as the cheating type, yet…here I am. Having an affair with the man I thought I was supposed to hate. The man dating my sister,” she frowned caressing over his abdomen, her fingers teasing through the mess of his release. “I have to be crazy after all.”

“Or maybe you just found the thing that you finally needed,” Negan suggested, his finger curling underneath her jawline to get her to look up at him. “Maybe we just found the thing that was missing this whole time. Each other.”

----

Tags: @slutlanna976 @fuckthis-and-fuckthat @jennydehavilland @de-gabyconamor @ibelongtonegan @smallsadjellyfish @labyrinthofheartagrams @msjamesmarch @thebeautysurrounds @hotfornegan @redmercysugar @caprithebunny @tuttifuckinfruitty @emoryhemsworth @a-girl-interupted @akumune @stoneyggirl2 @xsarcasticwriterx @haleygreen23 @xhannahbananax03 @sanctuaryforthelost @burningredaffair @killaweiser @dead-of-niight @ayumi-wolf @hollyismentallyillhelp @promiscuousbarnes @tone-stark @lanadelnegan @flippittygibbitts @stickyhuesos

#Jeffrey Dean Morgan #Negan #Negan fanfiction #negan x reader #The Walking Dead #twd fanfiction #negan x you #negan smut #Negan smith

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usuibu · 30 days

Note

Omg!!! I live ur writing so much! The way you write eren is like literally perfect!! I was wondering if I could request reader walking home or at a party or just like out somewhere and they notice some people making her uncomfy and they cal eren to pick them up? Some fluff and comfort are my coping mechanism 😭

LMAO STOP THE COPING MECHANISM IS SO REAL💀💀 and ofc bb thankyou so much for the request i love you😋🥰

Im just gonna work off the whole saviour dynamic w eren and hopefully u dont mind

——————

More requests/masterlist

You don’t know why you’re here, you really should’ve just stayed home if only Mikasa hadn’t dragged you out.

“Cmonnnn it’ll be fun, I promise! Even Sasha’s coming!”

You really shouldn’t have listened to her, right now she’s - God knows where - with Sasha playing some obscure drinking game while you’re here sitting on the leather couch already intoxicated yourself.

You felt gross. Sticky even from the sweaty, crowded living room, humidity suffocating you. There was about 5 people on this couch made to fit only 2, you sat there staring down at your stupid sore feet in your stupid stupid heels with stupid strangers grazing your bare legs next to you.

The noise of the room tuned out as your tipsy brain was half conscious until you were snapped back into reality feeling a creeping hand on your shoulder.

Whoever was next to you was apparently speaking for long enough that you don’t know what they’re on about, “— or we could go back to my apartment..”

Your head snaps back up and you anxiously shrug off this guys tacky hand, sobering up just a little bit. Enough to start comprehending things.

“Sorry, I have to go” you say while peeling yourself off the leather, you don’t know where you have to go you just knew to leave because clearly you weren’t functioning well alone.

You turn and almost begin walking away until you almost trip on your stupid heels, this guys hand had gripped your arm rather too harshly to pull you right back onto the couch.

“Hey we were in the middle of something” he slurs, clearly a little more intoxicated than you.

You’re still so lost, why the fuck is he still talking? Why is this room is so hot? This couch is too sticky. His breath smells like shit. Your feet hurt like shit. You’re so tired all you want to do is leave at this point. All of your senses have been overwhelmed you can’t take it.

He continues to ramble nonsense again so you settle to tune it out again, unsure if your feet have the strength to even walk away and give resistance against this random ass guy if he tries anything worse.

You pull out your phone from your unpractically tiny bag and open your messages.

23:16 — Eren

Erenb

Yes this is erenb

Can gou pixk me up

How drunk are you💀

Honestly nor that nuch this tine

Thid guys bortherijf me hurry up ples😋

This guy??

What’s going on?

Donr asknme idek myslef💀💀 hes jusr weirdinf me out

Im coming dw mika sent me the address earlier

Otw

He didn’t lie when he said he’d be quick, honestly Eren was waiting for you to return from the party. He got too bored sitting in your apartment alone watching tv.

You get a call and immediately shoot up knowing Erens arrived. You’re still too drunk to process whatever this guy was doing.

You think he’s following behind you? Who knows? You get out the front door with a cool breeze hitting you. It’s much quieter out here which would be nice if this guy wasn’t still trying to pursue you even after a good ten minutes of radio silence from you.

You feel your body sigh with relief as you spot Eren’s car, you make eye contact with him through the front window smiling. You can slightly see how he grins at your drunken walk in your painful heels until your vision spins to face the guy.

His hand was now on your shoulder and before you knew it Eren was getting out of his car. Whoever this man was he was clearly upset?? Clearly drunk and clearly mad at you. He’s rambling and you still don’t want to listen, hes saying something about you not mentioning you had a boyfriend or anything along those lines?

All you knew is that he was mad, you could feel it in his inebriated grip on your shoulder. Then you start to feel the alcohol coming back up you’re system as his other hand creeps to hold your waist. “Cmon ditch your boyfriend”

Before you can get a word of disgust out you feel familiar arms save you from this repulsive guys hold. Eren shoves his chest as he drunkenly stumbles backwards.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Eren spits out as his arm ushers you to stand a little behind him. He isn’t really one for violence when it’s a complete stranger. He has better things to do than that.

He can tell he’s drunk and after a few nonsensical sentences pour out the guys mouth; Eren’s done eyeing him down with demise so he walks you back to his car while the guy drags himself back to the party.

“Are you alright?” He questions you while rubbing his hand against your arms to warm you up as much as he can walking down the party’s front yard.

“Yeah I’m alright now at least, thank you Eren”

“That guy looked fucking homeless”

You softly smile to yourself, at ease in Eren’s presence. Half the grossness you felt in that stupid party had already began dissolving.

The drive home was quiet, calm. You were dozing off in the passenger seat while you held his free hand in you lap. His thumb swept back and forth until you arrived home. He reaches behind into the back seat, you’re too hazy to question why really. Eren bends over to take off your heels to then slide ur home slippers on.

“I don’t know why you wore those tonight, you know they hurt”

“I know right?!” You huff back at him. He laughs softly at your drunken state and gets out the car. He opens your car door to usher you out and puts his arm around you to help you walk to your apartment.

He lies you down on the couch and tells u to stay which you have no real trouble doing. He returns to the room holding one of his navy blue t-shirts and grey shorts.

“Okay baby, take off ur dress” he says gently.

“At least ask me to dinner first” you retort back. You snicker at your own joke but take off your dress all the same. He slips his shirt and shorts onto you then carries you to your bed effortlessly.

“You’re soo strong, do you have a girlfriend?” you giggle while feeling up his muscular arms. He only laughs at you and quickly leaves to grab something. He returns again, your micellar water in one hand and your toner in the other, “hey which one is the makeup thingy to take it off?” He questions, trying to communicate with whatever sober is left in you. You point to the micellar bottle and he wipes your face with it. The cool water and Eren’s delicate touch was extremely soothing. Although making you even more tired it did sober you up a little more.

Once he’s done, he puts everything down and climbs in bed next to you, pulling the blanket up, he moves you so that you’re on your side and pulls your knee toward him so that your leg is over his legs. He moves his arm to lie under your neck and pulls your whole body nearer with his free hand now on the small of your back.

You inhale deeply the scent of his chest and neck, now intoxicated by his musky scent while his hand slides up to bring your head nearer while he breathes deeply too, face shoved in the top of your head.

He moves to place a chaste kiss on your forehead.“You okay?” He asks, voice just above a whisper.

“Now I am, that guy was weird”, you murmur back still with a face full of chest.

“Yeah he was a fucking weirdo” Eren says, now speaking at a normal volume. “You’re not going alone to those parties anymore, I’m having a word with Mikasa trust”

You laugh at his seriousness and press a kiss to his collar bone, “No laughing I’m serious” he smiles, making space between you too to be able to kiss your collar bone too. He litters playful kisses on your neck. You laugh more while he roughly moves on top of you to only press more ticklish pecks all over you; intentionally smothering you.

You stop him by grabbing both sides of his head and bringing his lips to yours. You kiss him softly while he willingly returns it. He deepens the kiss with his tongue swiping your bottom lip until you open your mouth in the slightest, letting him slip it inside.

#attack on titan #eren jaeger #eren x reader #eren aot #headcanons #eren x you #bf!eren #boyfriend!eren #saviour #eren fluff #eren x reader fluff #aot fluff #comfort #eren comfort #eren x reader comfort #drunk reader #harrassment?

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everlastingdream · 4 months

Text

Murderer

BAM-BAM-BAM

"Open the door!" Annabel hears her father's yelling, while she's panting beside piano.

She turns around to see shaking door and Leo franticaly barricading it. Her fiance (even if it's not exactly like that anymore) trembles slightly from fear, adrenaline and effort, her gun rattles at her side.

"We need to move fast" Leo- Lenore tells her, marching past Annabel to check the windows. "Perhaps we'll be able to-"

"Please, pet, we both know my father alerted the whole mansion. We won't be able to run. And even if we were, then what are you planning to do?"

She sees Lenore's back stiffen, finely shaking hand grips her wounded hip. Lenore slowly turns around.

"I got the plan B in that case."

Annabel watches her taking revolver from its holster. Lenore opens cylinder to show wide-eyed Annabel two bullets.

"We may not said our vows but I promised in my heart long time ago to love you to the moment I die and beyond" Lenore puts the cylinder back in and steps forward. Her eyes taking the shine of madness. "Let's leave this world to the one where we are free to love."

Annabel follow her actions with incredulous eyes and finally smirks.

"Very funny, pet. Why should we both die?" She steps from piano, joltting the sheet music. Papers are flying on the floor. "We'll just say that I didn't know anything" pounding on the door becomes more frantic "Then I'll find the way for you not to be executed. Then we'll both live."

"What the hell, Annabel?" Lenore screams, waving the gun around. "Do you hear yourself!? What is your idea of living after that!?"

"We both knew that farce is not endless. Yes, I will need to marry some guy, you will be sent to asylum... But! I will ensure that it's a nice one and I'll be able to visit you sometimes." Annabel turns back to piano, fully immersed in the plan. Yes, the life will be hard, but it's deffinetly the most perfect outcome! "And after many years I think I would be able to get you out of there. Perhaps under pretence of teaching my kids to-"

When Annabel facing Lenore again, the blue eyes are dark and empty. Her hands are dropped without any strength. Lenore's face is filled with so much agony, that it's not even betrayal. Like she knew why Annabel was saying all of that but the mere thought pained her so much she wasn't able to move.

"So all of this is just some game to you" she murmurs and before Annabel has the chance to react, Lenore turns to the door, stiff. "Listen! I just wanted to love! And now, that Annabel Lee know I'm a woman, she hates me. Have it your way!"

Annabel takes confused step forward, mouth open to say something she will never remember.

And Lenore faces her again, gun to the head, with mad smirk that Annabel liked once.

"I love you, Annie. Please, at least cry about me a little. Even if it's a lie".

And then she shoots.

Annabel is not able to think, to move, to breathe. Lenore's body drops to the accomponiment of her father desparate screams. In Annabel's world everything deadly quite.

Please, she hadn't loved Lenore enough to go down with her, but it hasn't meant, she wanted her dead.

She hadn't loved Lenore enough. Hadn't loved. Hadn't...

Annabel looks away with force, tears her eyes from the pool of blood. And sees the sheet music that fell earlier. Lenore said she had surprise.

On the paper blood stains the title: "Annabel Lee".

And suddenly her heart is torn out of her chest. Annabel throws herself forward by the sheer will. She gathers Lenore's head to her chest, watching her blood blooming on her dress like a heart.

Annabel laughs mirthlessly. She doesn't have a heart. Lenore was her heart. And Annabel decieved even herself about her feelings.

She hadn't allowed herself to love Lenore fully, to open to her as fully as she had.

Annabel takes the gun with one remaining bullet to her chest, right upon Lenore's blood.

If there is somewhere after death, I wish we could be together again. I'll do anything for you, destroy everything in your way, sacrifice everyone and myself. And I will love you as you deserve to be loved.

When Deans tell her that she was killed by the person who loved her above all else, she almost giggles. Because of course she was.

The moment life faded from Lenore's eyes, Annabel Lee ceased to exist.

#nevermore #nevermore webtoon #annabel lee nevermore #lenore nevermore #annabel x lenore #my take on their death #what if i dreamt

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joonipertree · 1 year

Text

thinking about how sometimes, you're 21 and still living with your parents. They're not nice, you don't want to but for whatever reason you stay where they do. And it kills you because the freedom that you crave for should be yours, but it isn't. You want to run away, want to climb out of the box they set you in but being diplomatic is what you settle for.

Dabi lived as a stray for a long time, for fucked up reasons, you could tell from his scars. Would he turn back time? To when he was still Touya? He could still run away, still say fuck everything and leave. But maybe a son needs unbearable proof that his father is not good for him.

There's bittersweet feelings about his scars, you have bittersweet feelings about your dependence on your family. You two meet one day.

It was after a rough week, your legs moved out of the house before you realised it when your mother's deafening silent treatment got unbearable. Her tone, her stare, her cold shoulders shaved you off from the sides. You were infuriated by her childish behaviour, hurting like a child that you no longer were and all you wanted was to either die or get a hug.

You end up running into the League of Villains instead. They were just swarming the streets, looking for fun and probably food. They glared at you, Toga's sharp teeth glinting under the street light. You wondered how wayward you had become to go between alleyways and stalk into an unknown place.

You wanted to die but not that violently.

A sniffle escapes you though, your cheeks streaked with tears that had been flowing the whole way. You let them drip down, let the little warmth from accumulated sadness comfort you. It sat icy cold on you but your hands were stubborn on not moving.

"Ah! A friend, a friend! Maybe they can feed us! Hi! Can you help a sis out--" Toga hopped forward.

"Okay." You said, cringing at the lack of impulse control. They would take your money anyways, at least you could come out unscathed.

Everyone was shocked, even the person who asked but you dug through your bag and took out some crumpled loose notes. Not a lot, not enough for everyone and not enough to be able to keep some for a motel.

(You should've gotten your allowance before----

You should've gotten a job

You should've just stopped being a disappointment)

But, you'd wait for the sun to rise somewhere and figure out if you wanted to go back or not. (It was already extremely unsafe but you'd lost any emotion at that point, fear gone with your tears.)

"Take it." You said while extending your hand to the young girl. She was in a high-school uniform, you wondered if she'd be okay.

"You're a weirdo, thank you so much!" A blonde, masked guy had spoken a bit too loudly for your liking. It made you flinch.

You knew you were making a mistake, knew that you were lost and finding a way back home would take time and that you never wanted to step inside that house ever again. You were being reckless, an idiot but the numbness wouldn't budge and you were still doing this to survive.

"What's a little thing like you doing here, though?" The very obvious leader of the gang said after he was handed the money.

"My mom's being a cunt."

The laughter that followed was surprising but welcomed, you never got to say it. No one around you would approve of it but these strangers seemed to embrace it wholeheartedly.

One person caught your attention, his body leaning against the wall as his chest shook from the strength of his laughter. He was sharp edges, scarred patches and a pretty smile with jagged canines. He was pretty.

"God, needed that. What's your name?" The white haired leader asked.

You introduced yourselves to each other, only the tall guy with black hair and a pretty smile said nothing. You were intrigued, maybe because you'd become used to silence too much. Or maybe it was because his laughter made you curious about how his voice sounded. But initiating conversations with hot people (he was undeniably hot), was never your forte.

It took a while, of them inviting you to eat ramen in an empty parking lot (you knew you were being naive for thinking they wouldn't harm you but they shared ramen with you. It was your own money but the thought was counted.) and the goth guy came next to you eventually.

He stood tall, cigarette hanging from his mouth and back leaning against a wall. You were silent but eyed him, ingraining the shape of him into your head. You wondered if maybe he found you intriguing with that ever-present bored expression on his face.

You hope he did.

"I'm Dabi. My dad's a cunt too."

A/N: wrote this as catharsis but @dabislittlemouse I thought of u too when I wrote it

#dabi x you #mha dabi #bnha headcannons #bnha fanfiction #bnha x reader #bnha #touya x reader #touya todoroki #touya x you #dabi x female reader #dabi todoroki #dabi angst #dabi x y/n #dabi x reader #dabi

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sevenpoyo · 11 months

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this got deleted like 5 times this version is nothing like the original and i don’t know how tumblr works

By time you meet denji, he know you you work at the noodle shop or bakery and feed him and pochita. Or maybe he’s seen you with the yakuza guys he owns more money than he’s ever seen to, or maybe some t.v show or porno he watched second hand. Either way he knows you, but when you’re introduce yourself, saying the name that is distantly familiar to him, and looking at him with the most captivating eyes he’s ever seen. When you’re giving him a look so warm and all encompassing that makes him feel full like a hot meal from the old guy who thinks that denji is his grandson.

Your smile spells out warm fresh bread and sweet fruit jam as you ask his name once, twice, three times and the concern that overtakes your features at the fourth time you ask him, makes that full feeling turn into nausea. Like finding a bee hive and gourging himself on too sweet honey. He nearly collapses when your voice actually reaches his ears and he hears you talking to him, the gentle melody of “are you alright? are you feeling well? what the hell!? can you even here me?!?” You step closer looking for any indication of injury besides his despondency, and he’s knocked back into reality.

He has to say something back! You’ll probably get sick of standing here with him if he doesn’t! You’ll leave! every alarm in his brains is screaming it over and over and over! You’ll leave. You’ll leave! You’ll leave! You’ll leave! You’ll leave! You’ll leave. Look at you! Of course you weren’t sticking around!

You’re leaving! He feels that warm kind look leave him and he feels exactly what he is again, he’s a poor starving street rat who’s missed his chance of someone like you looking at him with soft, warm, nice feelings that he’s never felt and will likely never feel again. His one shot at being something to someone. lost. wasted. you’re turning around to leave the skinny mess of a teenage boy in front that couldn’t even respond when you asked him the most simple questions. Using all the strength in his body he sputters, forcing out breath that reeks of hunger into your face and finally coughs up his name.

“i’m uh- my names Denji. i’m fine! i can hear! i’m Denji and- this is pochita!” please look at him again. denji leans closer to see over your shoulder, please look at him. then you dig up a water bottle, and a granola bar and he’s in love. you’re staying, your gonna feed him, and he feels closer to heaven then he’s ever been. Maybe he’s dead, and you’re an angel. Denji didn’t much believe that he deserved to go to heaven- or that pochita would still be with him. but he thought all devils were inhuman looking, and you just looked lovely to him.

“ok then Denji, i’m gonna need your full name. i’m worried that you may be concussed. do you know what year it is? do you feel nauseous?” now he thinks it make sense if you were and angel angel’s use big words.

“huh? what’s concussed mean? and nas- noushis?” his mouth was watering as he fumbled to unwrap the granola bar.

“oh god! denji can you tell me where you live? are you parents home?” shit! he can’t take you back to his shack! you’ll leave for sure if he takes you to that shithole!

“i lost my house keys! that’s why i’m outside! and my head is fine! i’m just really hungry!”

“ok, i’ll just stay to make sure. do you want to go somewhere to eat or something? this place gives me bad vibes.” Wow, this has to be heaven. there’s not other way that this could happen to denji.

“sure! but uh.. i don’t have any money on me. ” he didn’t have any money at all, but why get stuck up on details?

“that’s fine! i’ll pay since we’re friends now, and we could put your little friend in my book bag!” you said referencing pochita. who is now running laps around the two of you,

that makes denji take back what he said earlier. this wasn’t heaven, you were.

#denji csm #csm x reader #denji x reader #denji hayakawa #denji my beloved #yandere csm #yandere denji

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gimmethosedaddymilkers · 5 months

Text

Why Didn't you Ask?

Okay, so, from my lovely friend @mrsarthurmorgan7 I have a request with chubby Arthur and chubby reader, which of course I LOVE writing, I always love to write something inclusive like that, especially considering I'm a part of the chubby girls.

The premise is as follows: (Modern) Reader sees Arthur chopping wood and gets a little...worked up. Arthur comes in to clean up and happens to notice.

SO...I'm excited, let's get started!!

Warnings: Chubby Reader, Chubby Arthur, NSFW 18+, Female Reader, fluff, Modern AU, female self pleasure, go to confession for sure after this one, vulgar language

You and Arthur had finally moved in together. It should have happened quite a while ago, but the both of you had been...well, not shy, but apprehensive.

Arthur loves you, and you love him, but the both of you have had some bad luck in life, neither of you blamed the other for being a little...nervous.

But now that the two of you had finally moved in together, it's been absolutely lovely.

You love waking up next to him, even if it's by a loud phone alarm alongside a grumpy Arthur.

He loves it too, not having to travel so far to see you anymore, being able to come home to see you, it brings a smile to his face no matter how shitty his day may have been.

The house the two of you decided to spring for was...in short, Arthur as a house.

It was a nice ranch house, white siding with a brick entrance way, a covered porch, and two stories. Plenty of land too, Arthur was so excited to finally have room to work on some project cars.

Not that he'd had the time or money to buy them just yet.

Right now he was outside, working by himself, chopping wood for the coming winter.

Though it was hot as hell right now, at least eighty five out.

You'd brought him some water earlier, which had earned you a quick kiss on the cheek, and a tap on the ass as you walked away.

You sat on your covered porch with the fan going, rocking on one of the rocking chairs the two of you had purchased.

The book in your hands was keeping you busy, or at least it had been, until you looked up and noticed your boyfriend had removed his shirt and tossed it somewhere else.

Arthur was a chubby man, in the best way possible.

That 'farm strength' people always talked about. He had some fat on him, but his arms and back couldn't be trifled with.

You always got so mesmerized by the way his arms moved, and christ, the size of his chest drove you nuts.

That coupled with the body hair he had, so deliciously placed, not too thick, not too thin...

You seem hypnotized, the book forgotten in your hands, as you watch him swing the axe down onto another piece of wood.

The muscles of his shoulders, and biceps move so fluidly god...you could imagine his forearm around your throat...that voice of his in your ear....

Each swing of the axe you watched his biceps flex, when he turned slightly you could see his back too...and you couldn't help but think about how his back felt under you hands, your legs around his waist..

Everything about him was so....enticing. it always had been.

You cross your legs, and dog ear your book page, placing the book down on the little table in-between the two rocking chairs.

His hands were massive, even just on the axe handle, they were massive.

They always felt...so...so good all over your body, your hips, your thighs, your neck...

You swallow and shuffle again, your thoughts beginning to get to you, the images of the two of you in bed starting to flood your mind like the plauge.

"Christ..."

You mumble to yourself, every movement is mesmerizing, the little grunt he gives with the swing of the axe and then the toss of the wood.

You wondered briefly how long he'd sit there and cut wood.

He swings the axe again, grunting as the axe slices through the wood.

You again cross your legs, and after a moment or so you quietly get up, and head inside.

You didn't want to bother him, not while he was working, but you could feel the wetness gathering between your legs.

It hadn't taken much for you to get that slick...

You head upstairs to your shared bedroom, closing the door behind you.

Normally you'd put a towel down on the bed, but at the moment you couldn't care less.

You open the bottom drawer of your side table and pull out one of your favorite toys, that had honestly been a gag gift at first but quickly proved to be...quite fantastic.

One of those stupid 'clone a willy' things, that you'd surprised Arthur with, it was meant to be kind of silly, but, you'd used it one time while he was at work, and it was...fantastic, if filled you up just as well as he did.

You climb onto bed, and shuffle out of your bottoms, tossing them to the side without care.

You start slow, teasing yourself with just your hand first, gently running your finger over your slit, easily at first, no harsh movements.

You don't want to dive in immediately.

Your fingers continue like their travel, slowly, just barely slipping past your folds, just to collect some of your slick.

Finally you slowly push your fingers in, two at first, you play with yourself, wanting to get yourself prepped for the toy.

It was just as big as Arthur was....you'd need just a little bit of help..

Soon you add a third finger, shuffling your hips up against your hand, trying to muffle moans as you help yourself.

You curl your fingers, feeling your inner walls, curling faster and faster, your clit brushing against your palm, small whimpers coming out of you.

Finally you can't take it, and reach for the toy, you fingers are replaced with the tip of it, then you slowly push it further in, stifling a moan at the size.

Arthur would have been better.

Even though it was his cock...He'd be better. His voice, his body...he would have been better.

You begin to move the toy, pulling it out and pushing it back in, slowly at first, before you begin to speed it up, rocking your hips up against it.

You try to be quiet but you can't stop the moan that escapes your throat.

"Arthur~" You moan his name, your free hand going to your breast, shoving it under your sports bra.

You were too far gone to really hear anything, so you missed it when the door closed as Arthur came in.

Didn't hear it when he called your name, curious as to where you were, and certainly didn't hear it when he climbed the stairs.

He however, did hear you.

He was smart enough to understand that wasn't a call for help.

Arthur opened the door slowly, not wanting to startle you, and he was absolutely floored with the sight he saw.

Hell if he had his phone on him he would have been recording you.

Your legs spread wide on the bed as you fucked yourself relentlessly with a toy, the toy of HIS cock.

He felt a sudden rush downwards at the thought. Out of all the toys you had, you'd picked the one that was a direct clone of HIM.

He pushes the door open further and that's when you realize he's there.

You gasp and close your legs instinctively, your hand still keeping the toy pressed deep inside you.

You try to pull the covers over yourself with your free hand only for your wrist to be caught by Arthur's hand, your face flushing as he looks down at you.

"Now Darlin'...why'd you wanna go and cover up such a beautiful sight for?"

He smirks at you, pushing your hand down to the bed, leaning down and kissing your throat, he smells of sweat from working outside, as well as a faint scent of his cologne.

His lips graze your ear as he speaks quietly.

"Shoulda asked Princess....you know I always love makin' you scream...Up here shovin' an imitation of my cock into you when you can have the real thing."

He sucks at a sensitive spot right where your jaw and ear meet, murmring against your skin.

"Legs spread like a whore....jus' for me, and you were gonna let me miss out on it..."

He chuckles quietly.

"Tell me Sugar...what'd I do this time that got you so wet?"

You swallow, your face, throat and chest red.

"S...sorry, I should have..."

You start to apologize, Arthur's smirk was not making things any easier.

"You should have what, Sugar?"

"Should have asked..."

"Shoulda asked..."

He smiles and you feel the bed shift as he climbs onto the bed over you.

"You saw me out there, swinging the axe, watchin' my arms hmm? My chest...I know just how much you love my chest, you love my arms...Bet you were thinkin' about just how nice it'd be to have my hands on your throat..."

He grins, his hand gently gliding up over your breast, then over your collarbones and before you realize it his hand is around your throat.

"Thinkin' about just how good I pound you hmm? That toy ain't good enough...Might feel like me but it don't move like me."

You shake your head.

"No it doesn't...it's not as good as you Arthur..."

He smirks his other hand moving down, pushing your legs apart, though, rather than removing the toy like you expected, you watch as he grabs the base of it, and slowly pulls it out before slamming it back into you.

"I think I'll fuck you this way for a bit, hmm? Make you beg for the real thing."

"Arthur~"

"Mmm...you always sound so pretty when you moan for me like that Princess..."

He starts to pump the toy in and out of you, finding a pace as he hovers over you.

"This one must be your favorite yeah? Some...imitation of the real thing, the closest you can get when you can't get me...So desperate for my cock and you don't even bother to hide it...Bringin' that kit home...Tellin' me you needed me hard so you could make it..."

He smirks, shoving the toy back into you roughly once more, making you moan loudly.

"You remember that Sugar...remember how you made me sit there, hard while you made a copy of my cock, made me sit there, watch you put on a show so I could stay that way while the mold hardened....Remember just how well I fucked you after that?"

"I do..Ye..yeah..."

You breathe out quietly, remembering, exactly what he was talking about.

"Remember how good I had you screamin'? Yellin'; 'Arthur! Arthur! Oh God Arthur, don't stop!' had you beggin'..."

He keeps his pace going, pumping the toy in and out of you, listening as he drags more moans out of you, you feel like you're getting slicker by the minute.

"Arthur please...please-"

You whine, reaching your arms up and wrapping them around Arthur's still bare shoulders.

"Please what Darlin'?"

"I need you...Please I want you...not the toy I want you...please, please...please-"

You murmur over and over again, already you've seemingly become incoherent.

"Want me? Be more specific."

"Please I want the real thing..please Arthur, I want your cock, I want you inside of me, please~"

"Atta Girl..."

He grins widely, and you watch as he pulls the toy out, making you groan at the sudden loss.

He's quick to unbuckle his pants and shove them off.

His dick is already hard, and you can feel it against your thigh as he finishes getting his pants off.

He doesn't take his time, in fact he's lining himself up with your heat as quickly as he can.

You moan quietly as he slips in, it's not a huge difference, considering the toy was him, but the feeling wasn't the same, not when it was actually him.

He pushes all the way, until you're full up to the hilt, his heavy sack pressed against you.

"Arthur...Art..."

You mumble, moving your hands up over his chest, threading your fingers through the chest hair there, looking towards his happy trail.

"I know baby...I know...feels good don't it?"

You answer simply with a soft whimper and nod.

"You're so good to me Arthur..."

You manage.

"You're good to me Sweetheart, lettin' me be so deep inside you right now..."

He leans down and kisses the center of your collarbone as his hand tightens slightly around your throat.

He begins to rock against you, out, in, out, in.

It's slower at first, but it's not long at all before he's thrusting his cock deep inside you at a pace that makes you scream.

"That's it Princess...make the neighbors hear it, who's fuckin' you good?"

He growls in your ear, his face a massive, shit eating grin.

"You Arthur, you!"

"Good Girl."

"I am, I am, I'm a good girl, yours Arthur, your good girl-"

You ramble on as he pounds into you, a hand on your throat the other on your hip, his pace relentless.

"Lookatchu... look at those fuckin' thighs...God I love those..."

He squeezes your hip, then moves his hand to your thigh, grabbing it tightly.

"You were any smaller I don't think I'd like this as much...Love the way you look like this, beggin for me, ramblin' on like you don't know who you are, those thighs of your hooked around me..."

You moan as he continues to talk, your legs doing just as he describes, hooking his legs around him.

"Perfect shape...love how soft you are...makes fuckin' you so much better."

You lean up, shoving your face against his neck, kissing him there, trying to keep the moans at a minimum.

Arthur's pace never stops, a wicked smirk on his face every time you call his name.

Pretty soon you feel your stomach tensing, that pleasure building up in your heat, and like a sudden burst you're squeezing around him, shaking as your thighs close around his hips.

His name slips through your lips as you feel his hips begin to get erratic, the pace changing up.

"Fuck...Princess...Princess....I'm...shit..."

"Fill me up Arthur...Please, I want it, give it to me, I want it..."

"Christ woman..."

Arthur groans deeply as his hips stutter and he presses his forehead to yours a cacophony of groans and moans leaving his lips, your name too as you feel the warmth of his seed against your inner walls.

The two of you breath heavily for a moment, eyes closed.

Arthur chuckles quietly and smiles.

"Ask next time Sweetheart...'specially if I'm home."

"Yes sir."

"Atta girl."

#rdr2 #rdr2 community #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x reader #answered asks

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biteofcherry · 1 year

Note

So I’ve been thinking about Alpha Steve and his omega. Like, I haven’t been able to get them out of my brain. So, we have seen what a little bit of punishment is like, but what happens when omega really ramps up her brat? I mean, sarcasm. Back talking. Teasing her Alpha daddy. Maybe sending him photos of her naked, when she knows he’s in an important business meeting? I’m sure this kind of behavior deserves more than just a spanking. Maybe edging her for days? Keep her nice and dripping until he takes her unexpectedly? Or how about making her cum until she passes out? Forcing orgasm after orgasm from her until her whole body is numb?

What would Alpha Steve do to make his omega behave poorly so she can be punished again? Um I mean so she follows his rules like a good girl? 😈😇

Leave it to Alpha!Steve to make you think of him afterhours 😎

To quote Natasha - Steve is creative in his punishments (like we got to see in the little blurb here). You never know what to expect from him, because sometimes it will be a "simple" spanking, other times something far more wicked 😈 He keeps you on your toes, so that you never really know what your brattiness might bring.

Running your mouth at him too much? Sweet brat, he's going to engage your mouth in better activities. And no, it won't just be you blowing him. Remember his belt, omega? It's gonna be buckled around your head and Steve's hips, keeping his cock deep in your throat and your nose nestled against Steve's belly. Don't think he doesn't sense you getting wet from it. But you won't be coming, nor breathing, until he's sure your teared up eyes shine true regret for your bratty outburst.

Teasing him (even if your bf egged you to do it) will result in your delicious body spread for him, taking everything he gives. Meaning taking everything before he even puts his fingers inside you. And you're not getting that dick at all, omega. Steve went through your toys - cute, but quite pathetic, really. No wonder your little pussy feels like ripping apart on his fingers alone. He replaces your toys with the ones he picked and he's going to use each one of them on you. The dreaded butt plug included. After all, you wanted to play, sweet omega. Right? After he edges you with all the toys and his fingers, Steve's going to strap a small vibe to your clit, leave it on the lowest setting... and go on about his day, leaving you there to suffer. He will check on you regularly, because he's vary caring; but mostly to hear your begging to let you cum. Which won't be happening. You'll get released from the bonds to sleep, but comes morning and the whole ordeal repeats. So long until you sob and Steve soothes you finally sliding his cock into your tormented pussy.

Snap at him that he's not your Alpha, or try to stomp away from him, and you'll find yourself fucked and spanked in a more humiliating way than usual. Steve bends you over the nearest surface and pumps you full of his cum. Then takes his big hand to your ass, leaving burning marks on your skin. Each slap makes you drip out his cum. For which he spanks you harder, because your wasting your Alpha's seed. He takes you again, with your ass still sore, not caring who hears your screams. If you don't cry out that he's your Alpha and that you belong to him? Your ass will be meeting his belt. Your thighs earn some welts too, so that later everyone can see the marks below the skirt of your dress.

Dare to rile him up when you're going somewhere, if you want an alpha command ordering you to get completely naked and sit like that in his car, with your legs spread and slick pooling out while he growls and purrs. He'll allow you to dress when you near your destination, your thighs sticky and your whole body shiny with sweat. Your head is dizzy from all the orgasms and near-orgasms he pulled out of you and Steve has to help you out of the car; no strength left in you to be anything but putty and perfectly obedient in his arms. If you grunt about him being awful and mean, Steve's purr will make you cream yourself in a place full of people; your wrists caught in one of his hands, the other holding you in place.

Just helping you be my sweet, good omega again.

P.S: It so just happens that when you sass Steve when you're working in the garden, there are nettles at hand growing wildly by the fence. The lashing you get may be soft, more squirming and laughing, but it leaves you with burning for a few hours.

#labella420 #alpha!steve rogers #alpha steve rogers x omega reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #grain of truth

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jobean12-blog · 2 years

Text

A Farmer’s Delight

Pairing: Bucky x reader (Farmer AU)

Word Count: 4,743

Summary: An ordinary Sunday morning runs turns into something much more extraordinary when you meet the Farmer down the road.

Author’s Note: So a friend shared this tik tok with me a while back and it gave me an idea for farmer Bucky. Watch the tik tok here I definitely went a little silly and fun with this and of course NEVER go home with any man you just met in the woods or anywhere (unless he’s Bucky Barnes haha) but for real, stay safe! Thank you everyone so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by my sweet @firefly-graphics Thank you bunches Daisy!🥰

Warnings: Fun flirting, silliness, fluff, cute animals, flirting, tension, fingering, unprotected sex (don’t do that either), smut, implied oral (18+ ONLY PLEASE!!!)

Every pound of your foot against the dirt road is like a harsh squeeze to your overly full bladder. You silently curse yourself for not using the bathroom before you left for the run and then give your almost empty water bottle a dirty look.

When you’re sure one more step will have you peeing your pants you make an abrupt stop and search your surroundings…there has to be somewhere you can pee.

You notice a small clearing behind some short bushes. If you squat low enough you should be hidden from at least everyone coming from behind you on the path. Anyone running the other way, well, they might get a nice glimpse of your ass.

You gingerly walk over, worrying any jolting movement will be disastrous, and give the area one more check. It looks clear and the only sounds you hear are the rustling leaves in the light breeze.

You pull down your shorts and panties, squatting low and positioning yourself so you won’t get pee all over you.

When the flow starts you sigh in relief, the pressure in your lower abdomen subsiding with every passing second…and the seconds seem to tick on and on until you’re just about done.

And then you hear it.

The loud rush and stamping of what sounds like hundreds of feet, all coming toward you from, of course, the way that you’re exposed.

“Oh shit!” you mutter, struggling to push out the last drips and shake dry.

You frantically try to dry by waving your ass around as the noise gets louder and just as you peak over the bushes you see a stampede of goats galloping toward you. You’re so shocked that you nearly lose your footing and fall over.

You manage to pull up your panties and you’re just about to get your shorts over your ass when a loud and booming voice shouts from behind the goats.

And then you see him.

His dark hair is long enough to hang loose at his broad shoulders and the closer he gets you can see his muscled chest move and flex as he chases after the goats. The sight temporarily stuns you and it isn’t until he spots you still crouched behind the bushes that you let out a shriek and make a run for it, shorts still half on.

“Wait!” You hear his deep voice. “I’m not going to…”

Whatever he was going to say is muffled by the hard ground slamming into your body as you fall, the blood whooshing in your ears and your heart beating rapidly.

You scramble to your feet again, the sound of cracking branches and crunching leaves close behind you.

“Come on,” you urge yourself with a violent rush.

You hear him again. “Are you hurt?”

You realize he’s too close and you’ll never get away so you make a sudden turn on your heal and rush the man with all your strength. You collide with his hard body, hoping to throw him off so you can get away but instead he cushions you against him and you both fall down in a heap of tangled limbs.

“Fuck,” you hear him grunt. “Are you ok doll?”

His gentle touch is surprisingly soothing and you let out a shaky breath.

“I’m…I’m ok,” you say quietly, pressing your hand to his chest to sit up.

Your fingers meet warm skin, the collection of hair along his chest soft under your touch even as his hard muscles strain. You realize he’s wearing denim overalls and no shirt. The image makes you swallow hard against the dryness in your mouth, your eyes lingering on the expanse of his exposed skin.

“James Barnes,” he says with a lopsided smirk, holding out his hand. “But you can call me Bucky.”

“Are these your goats?” you ask, looking past him to see that you’re now surrounded by what seems like hundreds of goats. “Are you a farmer?”

“Uh…well yeah. They got out of their pen this morning and I found them running along the path,” Bucky explains before his eyes drop to your exposed panties.

You suck in a breath and scramble back, yanking your shorts up the rest of the way.

“Oh my god,” you whisper. “I cannot believe you saw me peeing!”

“Well, to be fair, I didn’t really, mostly just saw you running away with your pants down,” he chuckles. “Must have really had to go though. Peeing in the woods is dangerous. Poison ivy…bugs…rogue goats.”

You stare at him, finally taking a moment to look at his face.

A definite mistake.

His perfectly shaped eyes are lined with dark and long lashes and the ocean blue color sparkles in the sunlight. His chiseled jaw is lined with a dark beard, the little patches of gray sprinkled throughout adding to his rugged handsomeness. His lips are pink and plush and when he smiles again you feel a tingling down your spine.

His humor is lost on you, your current embarrassment and twinge of fear overpowering your senses.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you mutter, shaking yourself from your reverie. “How do you I know you aren’t going to kidnap me and kill me?”

“I’m not,” he states, clearly amused.

“And I’m just supposed to believe that! You saw my ass!”

“What’s that got to do with it doll?” he asks, holding out his hand to help you up after he stands. “It is quite nice though.”

You scoff and place your hand in his, squeaking when he lifts you to your feet with ease, the feel of his calloused fingertips sending a tremble through you.

“How many sheep do you have?” you ask as you survey the fluffy observers and ignore the heat of awareness at his touch.

“Oh, probably over two hundred. But this is only half of them. I like them to have a lot of open land so I keep them in two separate very large grazing areas.”

One of the sheep closest to you let’s out a loud and seemingly annoyed ‘baaaaaaaaaa.’

Bucky laughs and pats it’s head softly.

“Almost time to eat,” he says.

You start to walk back toward the path but when you put pressure on your left ankle you wince and cry out in pain.

Bucky immediately slides his arm around your waist and leans you against him.

“Hey now, easy there doll. Looks like you have a nasty sprain and your knee is all scratched up.”

The concern in his voice softens your features and you let yourself sag into his hold.

“I really am sorry,” he says quietly, his tone full of sincerity.

“It’s ok,” you sigh. “It’s not your fault. You were right. I shouldn’t be peeing in the woods by myself. I just had to go so bad.”

“I get it,” he answers, helping you hop back to the path. “How far are you from home?”

“A six-mile run and then a car drive!” you huff. “This is my first time running over here. I recently moved nearby and I usually just go around the neighborhood but needed a change of scenery.”

He nods in understanding.

“Well, you can’t run anywhere with your ankle,” he tsks. “But thankfully my house is just half a mile up the path there.”

He motions around the curve with a smile.

“Are you just going to take me there so you can tie me up in your basement.”

“Mm tempting,” he muses, his eyes bright with playful mischief. “But how about we go get you cleaned up and put some ice on that swelling.”

“Ok, ok,” you relent, giggling when he starts down the path and all of the sheep start to follow him.

“Look at them,” you say in wonder.

He stops to turn and glance behind him, the sheep halting the moment he does.

“Start walking again,” you say excitedly.

He takes a few more steps and the sheep start trotting again.

“Now stop,” you snort.

He stops and so do the sheep.

“Amazing,” you laugh. “They are so cute.”

“Thanks…” he trails off, looking at you expectantly.

“Oh right,” you mumble and introduce yourself.

“That’s a pretty name,” he says, repeating it. “I was about to call you sunshine…since ya know…”

“WHAT?” you ask, narrowing your eyes.

“Your panties are that sunshiny yellow color…” he states, waggling his eyebrows.

“It’s a good thing you’re cute,” you mutter as you continue hobble along.

It’s surprising and slightly disconcerting how comfortable you feel in his arms but if the goats trust him…

The sound of the goats hurrying behind keeps you smiling despite the discomfort in your knee and ankle. When you reach a small path that turns off the main road you look ahead and see a beautiful farmhouse, complete with a large porch and wooden fence.

“Do you live here all alone?” you ask.

“Just me and the animals,” he replies. “A lot of them.”

The words are barely out of his mouth when a large white and fluffy dog comes bounding off the porch, barking loudly and tail wagging wildly.

“Winter!” Bucky commands and the dog slows as he approaches and sits.

“Good boy. Now be careful,” he instructs, calling the dog forward.

Winter inches closer, his butt wiggling with barely contained excitement, and gently nudges your hand.

“Oh, he’s SO CUTE!” you gush, petting him.

Winter follows you and Bucky as you make your way past the fence and up the steps of the porch.

“Just wait here for me. Winter will stay with you,” Bucky says. “I’m going to get the goats back in their pen.”

“Ok,” you exhale, sitting gingerly on the porch swing.

Winter plops down and rests his head on your thigh.

“Such a good boy,” you coo, scratching behind his ears. “Your dad has to be a good guy…right?”

Winter’s brown eyes study you, soft and sweet.

Bucky returns and before you can stand he lifts you into his arms and carries you through the door to his house.

“Don’t people usually get married and then do that?” you giggle as he sets you down on the couch.

“Already planning our wedding?” he teases.

He walks into the kitchen, somehow managing to move his large body gracefully around, every so often glancing your way with a smile.

“Tea?” he asks. “Coffee?”

“Just water for now please,” you answer.

He comes back with a tray of snacks and a cold glass of water, setting it down on the coffee table before sitting on it and lifting your leg to rest on his knee.

“Sorry if this stings,” he whispers, patting your cut with disinfectant.

You suck your teeth but manage a smile when he gives you an apologetic look. Despite his obvious strength, his touch is delicate and he takes special care to clean your cut, apply antiseptic and cover it with a band aid.

“You’re all set,” he says, stroking his thumb over your thigh.

Your eyes fly to his and his gaze wanders over your face in an interested and appreciative way.

“I have some ice for your ankle,” he says, clearing his throat. “Sit back.”

You push yourself back against the pillows and move your leg to rest along the couch. He grabs another pillow and sets a towel down with the ice pack then lays your foot atop it.

“Thank you,” you murmur, watching him intently.

“Of course,” he says, as if it isn’t bizarre to have a complete stranger in his house, strewn across his couch.

His gives you another boyish smirk and you have to will yourself to disregard the sudden heat in your lower belly.

“How long have you lived here?”

He stands and walks back to the kitchen, calling Winter to follow.

“I grew up in the city. Loved it but as I got older I realized I wanted something quieter so I sold my apartment, moved out here, bought this farm and well…here I am, almost ten years later,” he explains.

“It’s beautiful.”

As you say the words you look around the space, noting the calm colors and the cozy feel of the thoughtfully placed furniture.

“What about you?” he asks, placing Winter’s food bowl down.

“My story is pretty similar actually, minus the farm…and goats,” you giggle. “Just needed a change of scenery. I like it here.”

You share a sympathetic look before he blurts out, “what can I make you to eat?”

“You’re gonna feed me too?” you ask with raised brows.

“Wouldn’t be very gentlemanly if I didn’t, now would it?” he counters. “Besides, I’m always hungry.”

The hint of flirtatiousness in his voice leads to your next question.

“Did you just say something dirty to me?”

He throws his head back with laughter, pressing a hand to his chest before he settles with a shrug.

“Just stating the obvious. I love to eat.”

You let your eyes sweep over him approvingly. “I bet you do.”

“Now who’s flirting?” he fires back.

His study of you turns intense and you almost squirm on the couch.

“What were we talking about?” he asks, clearly distracted.

“Ummmmm…food!” you say, far too loudly.

“Right. Lunch! What can I get ya doll face?”

“Anything that’s easy is good,” you tell him.

He smiles and settles into the kitchen, pulling things from the cabinets and fridge. You let your eyes close for a few moments, relishing in the sound of the birds outside and the rustle of leaves in the wind.

Your eyes shoot open when something hits your lap and you let out a loud gasp, giggling when you see a white fluffy cat now seated on you.

“Hey there,” you say softly, scratching under her chin.

“I see you’ve met Alpine,” Bucky says, looking over. “She’s never getting up by the way.”

Alpine, seemingly aware of Bucky’s warning, kneads at your shirt before circling once and laying down in a round ball of fur.

“She’s beautiful. Like the cat version of Winter!”

“It is kind of funny how they look the same except Winter has the brown eyes and Alpine the blue. Both rescues,” he adds.

“Lucky them,” you say as the cat purrs contentedly in your lap.

“So, you don’t think I’m a serial killer anymore?” Bucky asks with a grin.

“Can’t be,” you answer with a yawn. “You wouldn’t have such sweet animals.”

He chuckles before carrying some plates past the couch and out the French doors at the far end of the large room. You try to sit up and see where he’s going but he’s lost from view.

When he returns your curiosity is written on your face and he explains, “back porch has a picnic table. It’s nice out so I figured we could sit there.”

He reaches for your hand and then wraps his arm around your waist to help you up. Alpine meows in annoyance but follows you out, Winter right behind.

The wooden picnic table is beautifully made and set with two plates and enough food fit for six.

“You weren’t kidding,” you mutter, taking in the spread.

“Nah doll. I’m a growing boy, need to eat,” he says, patting his stomach.

You scoff with a smile. “Says your six pack.”

“How do you know if I have a six pack?” he says, eyeing you playfully.

“Because of course you would. Look at the rest of you.”

“You’re welcome to look,” he croons, unbuckling one strap of his overalls.

He lets it fall just far enough that you get a peek at half his toned abs and the distinct V shape at his hip.

“That’s unfair,” you breathe out. “Might be eight.”

“Farming is hard work doll,” he states as he helps you sit and moves around to the other side of the table.

“Aren’t you going to buckle that back up?” you ask as your legs squeeze together under the table.

“Nah,” he answers as he serves you some food.

“Tease,” you mutter and look down at your plate. “Wow this looks good.”

He winks when you catch his eye again and the butterflies in your belly flutter to life.

“Fresh eggs from my chickens and the vegetables are from my garden.”

“You really are busy,” you mumble through a delicious mouth full. “And when did you learn to cook?”

You sit for a long time, talking and laughing and nibbling at the food, unaware as the day moves on and the sun starts it’s descent in the sky.

With a yawn and a stretch, you ask for the time, your eyes widening when he says it’s almost four pm.

“Shit,” you groan. “I have to get back to my car.”

“You can’t walk back,” Bucky states with a tone that leaves no room for argument.

“Then what am I going to do?” you ask, popping your shoulder with sass.

He laughs, giving you a challenging look.

“You’ll stay here until tomorrow. Then I’ll take you back to your car on the tractor.”

“Why can’t you do that now?”

“You can’t drive on that ankle; you need to rest more.”

“Are you a doctor now too?”

“Doll,” he warns, standing to gather the plates. “You’re staying. It’s the safest.”

“Staying in some man’s house that I just met is safe!” you argue even though it’s clear by your expression that you’re just busting his balls.

“We’ve already spent half the day together and don’t worry I don’t bite,” he simpers.

He grabs a few things and rounds the table, leaning down close to your ear, his warm breath caressing your skin when he whispers, “unless you want me to.”

You shiver at contact, digging your teeth into your bottom lip to keep your moan quiet.

“Smooth Bucky,” you joke, ogling his ass as he walks back into the house.

“We’ll see…” you hear him call back.

Once the table is cleaned off he comes back and slides his arms under you, lifting you and cradling you against his chest.

“I can walk you know.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” he responds.

“You are warm,” you whisper, toying with the one buckle of his overalls.

“Winter and Alpine think so too,” he says. “They are always sleepin’ on me.”

“Can’t blame them…”

Your words are sleepy and muddled as your eyes start to droop closed. “I’m so sleepy.”

“It’s been a long day,” Bucky says. “A nap will do you good.”

“Mm a nap,” you murmur and snuggle into his chest, tucking your head under his chin.

When you wake two hours later the sun is low in the sky, painting it in hues of pink and orange. You’re curled up on the couch, Alpine settled on your hip and Winter laying on the floor just under you.

“Hey guys,” you say, greeting them both with alternating pets. “Where’s your dad?”

“Right here,” Bucky says and you sit up to find him.

He’s walking down the hallway in nothing but his towel, eyes dancing with mirth and flirt as he watches your lips part and hears your sharp intake of breath.

“Why are you naked?” you ask him, forcing your eyes to stay on his face.

“I’m not,” he smirks. “How was your nap?”

“Nap…?” you question, letting your eyes fall to his bare chest.

“I new it was eight,” you mutter, falling back to the couch with a huff.

You can hear him chuckle before his head appears over the back of the couch.

“Do you want a shower?” he asks. “Or something to eat?”

“I can’t tell if you’re genuinely asking me these questions or you’re just using some sort of code for dirty talk.”

“Take it however you want doll face.”

He walks away back down the hall and you look at Alpine, mimicking Bucky’s words with mock annoyance.

Opting for a shower you turn the water on hot and stand under it for a long time, bearing most of your weight on your good leg. You will yourself to think of anything other than Bucky but the image of him shirtless and wet is burned onto your brain.

“Fuck,” you grumble, resting your head along the tiles.

After washing and rinsing you leave the shower and grab a towel, wrapping yourself in the fluffy warmth.

“Even his towels are amazing,” you say to yourself with a roll of your eyes.

You look around the bathroom, realizing the only clothes you have are dirty running shorts, a tank and a sports bra, not to mention your ‘sunshiny’ yellow panties.

With a groan you quietly open the door to the bathroom and call to Bucky. He jogs down the hallway, now dressed in a tee shirt and fits him divinely and sweatpants that hang low on his hips.

“You ok doll?” he asks, his concern clear.

“I have no clean clothes,” you say.

His dons his signature lopsided grin and holds up one long, thick finger. Within seconds he reappears with a folded shirt and shorts.

“Hope this ok.”

You take the clothes with a thanks and close the door. When you’re dry you throw the shirt over your head, swimming in the fabric and his scent. Your eyelashes kiss your cheeks with your deep inhale and you run your hands down your body.

“This is bad,” you say to yourself as you slip on the shorts.

You find Bucky in the living room, laying across the couch with Alpine on his chest.

His gaze runs down the length of your body and he keeps staring, the intensity of it growing.

“What?” you whisper.

“I just met you…less than twenty-four hours ago.”

He gently lifts Alpine off his chest and sits up. “I shouldn’t feel like this.”

“It’s crazy, I know,” you say, feeling grateful you aren’t the only one feeling the deep connection.

“I like you in my clothes,” he whispers as he stands from the couch. “Maybe a little too much.”

You look down at his shirt and fiddle with the hem, suddenly feeling a slight twinge of nerves.

“How’s your ankle?” he asks, stepping closer and tucking his fingers under your chin to lift your focus back to him.

“Ok, just a little sore,” you answer.

“Probably shouldn’t put too much pressure on it,” he says, close enough now that his chest brushes yours with every breath.

“Probably not,” you say as your fingers slide down his muscled arms.

His hands fall to your waist, his thumbs slipping under your shirt and brushing against your skin. You lean into him, closing any space left between you.

You can feel his heart thumping wildly beneath your fingertips and the blue of his eyes blazes.

“Take me to bed,” you whisper, feeling as if you’ll burst out of your skin if he doesn’t touch you.

His arms slip under your ass and he lifts you up, powering down the hall into his bedroom. The door slams behind him and he gently eases you to your feet. You lock eyes and you swear you’re falling.

And then you literally are as he throws you onto his bed, his expression quickly turning to one of concern when he remembers you sore ankle.

“Doll?” he worries, leaning over you. “I got carried away. Did I hurt you?”

“Not at all,” you assure him, brushing the hair from his face. “Don’t worry I won’t break.”

He takes the hint and presses his lips to yours, sliding his arm under you and pulling you closer. The kiss is on fire and it takes everything in you to finally pull away for air.

“Clothes off,” you murmur, pushing on his chest.

He sits up and straddles you, taking off his shirt. You reach up to touch him and in the same motion he has the shirt over your head, his eyes glazing over as he stares.

“Do you even realize how sexy you are?” he asks with a groan, cupping your breasts and rolling your nipples between his fingers.

Your back arches and you lean into his touch, rolling your hips against him. He releases your breasts only so he can push the sweatpants down his thick thighs before tugging on your shorts.

He kisses you again, his beard scratching along your skin and sending goosebumps racing across it. Your hands dive into his hair, tightening when his fingertips glide down the soft curve of your waist and between your legs.

“Fuck doll, you’re soaked,” he moans with a teasing touch.

He slowly pushes a finger inside you, his eyes falling shut at the feel of you warm and wet around him. A second finger joins the first and he pumps them in and out, your hips meeting every thrust of his hand.

Your fingernails curl into his broad shoulders, his name falling from your lips like a prayer and when his thumb circles your clit your stomach tightens until the tension breaks like a wave, your walls squeezing around his fingers.

Without giving you time to catch your breath he pulls his fingers free and takes your injured leg to rest it over his shoulder, the action spreading you open for him. He pushes inside you, his teeth gritted at how tight and swollen you are.

“Fuck,” he hisses, “you feel incredible.”

His movements start off gentle, the slow glide of his cock driving you insane. You dig your fingers into the muscles of his back, urging him to move faster and he does. He angles your hips and pushes deeper, every thrust of his hips threatening to send you over the edge again.

He slams into you hard enough to bang the headboard against the wall, the sound barely registering over your pleas for more. Your walls begin to tighten and he swells inside of you before you cry out his name with your release.

He follows only moments later, his hips jerking against you and his face falling to your neck.

“Fucking hell,” he groans, pressing a soft kiss to your skin.

You lay there, loving the weight of him as your body practically melts into the mattress. He gently sits up on his arm, his fingertips ghosting across your warm skin and down to your ankle.

“You sure you’re ok?” he asks.

“I’m more than ok,” you answer. “Fucking fabulous.”

He laughs at that and gives you one more kiss before disappearing into the bathroom. He returns with a soft cloth, walking purposefully toward the bed and letting his eyes linger on your sweaty skin. His cock bounces as he starts to grow hard again and you let out a moan.

“I want you again,” he says like it’s a no brainer and then falls next to you on the bed, his touch delicate as he presses the cloth between your legs.

“But first I’m going to taste you doll.”

Your body slides along the soft sheets, the morning sun warm on your bare skin and the feel of something warm and furry pressing against your legs. With a languid stretch you open your eyes and look to the edge of the bed to see Winter sleeping peacefully, his large body leaning into your bottom half and Alpine curled up on top of your legs.

Bucky’s side of the bed is empty but there’s a small note on the pillow that reads, “I’ll be outside in the yard when you wake up,” and it has a small heart drawn below.

You take your time getting up, rousing the animals who protest with even slower movements and loud yawns. Grabbing Bucky’s shirt, you throw it over your body and go to the bathroom to freshen up.

When you walk into the kitchen and look through the window over the sink you see him out in the pen with the goats. Calling for Winter you walk outside, admiring the view of Bucky in nothing but a pair of jeans and his boots.

Winter barks and Bucky turns around. He has a small white goat tucked under his arm and as he saunters toward you it’s hard to restrain your giggles.

“Mornin’ sunshine,” he croons, dipping his head to kiss the corner of your mouth. “How did you sleep?”

“Like a baby,” you answer, reaching out to pet the goat.

“And your ankle?” he asks, looking down.

“Not too bad this morning. Not as sore and definitely less swollen.”

“Good doll face” he smiles. “Now let’s get some breakfast in ya before I take ya back to bed.”

@book-dragon-13 @dreamlessinparis @hiddles-and-skittles @hiddles-rose @jhangelface0523 @loki-laufeyson-1054 @goldylions @justile @seitmai @randomfandompenguin @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @getwellsoontana @whitewolfey @whippoorwillbarnes @weekendgothgirl @breakablebarnes @lookiamtrying

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