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tongue-like-a-razor · 4 months

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Less Talk | Part IX

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

A/N: It's been a minute, y'all! I've missed my Less Talk crew! Second last chapter, here we go!

Summary: Jake can't stand Bradley's best friend. What's more, he's probably in love with her, which really pisses him off.

CW: Swearing, smut, angst, fluff, you might dislike me when this is over

Masterlist | Part I

“Jake!” you call as you run after him out of the restaurant. “Jake, wait!”

But Jake doesn’t stop. He can’t.

The moment Mustang utters the words ‘we’re engaged’, he goes numb. Bradley says something that he can’t quite hear or doesn’t want to comprehend. The crowd starts cheering and closing in. And he sees your eyes, wide with alarm as you try to keep him in your line of sight despite the moving bodies between you.

And then he’s gone. Shoving his way through the well-wishers as he makes for the door. But he’s only halfway to his truck when he hears your voice. And as he pulls aggressively on the handle, he perceives your approaching footsteps; you’re running.

He lets out an aggravated sigh and turns to look at you without a word. You jog toward him, stopping just short of his bumper, and then you move forward slowly, as though you’re afraid he might bolt.

“It’s not true,” you blurt out, your words slurring into one another because you’re trying to get them out so quickly.

Jake gawks at you, not know what to believe anymore.

“I promise you,” you say. “It’s over.”

Jake furrows his brows, staring at you incredulously. “I don’t think he knows that.”

You let out a shaky breath and sink your teeth into your bottom lip to keep it from trembling. “He will.”

Jake watches you with contempt. “So, he doesn’t yet.”

Your eyes sparkle in the afternoon sun but you blink away the tears, conveniently averting your gaze. Jake sets his jaw; he isn’t falling for the innocent act.

“I can’t help you,” he says levelly. “Because I don’t know what’s going on.” He bangs a fist on the hood of his truck and then takes a step toward you. “Because you won’t tell me anything!”

You nod, catching a couple of tears with the tip of your index finger. You don’t let any of them fall and you manage to compose yourself before your emotions get out of hand. “I don’t need your help,” you whisper, looking at the dirt caked into the treads of his tire rather than up at his face.

“Fine,” he replies. Although it’s not fine. Nothing is fine. He, certainly, is not fine. “Then I don’t need to be here.”

“Fine.” You shrug, obstinately avoiding eye contact.

Your apathetic tone irks Jake, but he’s not about to let you witness just how much you affect him. He tucks his hands into the pockets of his jeans before balling them up into fists. There’s only one piece of information he absolutely needs to know. The rest can probably wait. “Are you gonna marry him?” he asks, a little more forcefully than he anticipates.

You meet his gaze finally – guiltily – but don’t respond.

Jake says nothing more. He opens the door to his truck and gets in, and you don’t stop him. He turns over the engine and waits for you to step out of the way before he backs out swiftly and floors it out of the lot.

…

The sound of your voice jolts him awake. He sits up straight in his bed, listening intently, wondering if he’d dreamt it. But then your laughter carries up to the second floor. Jake closes his eyes. You must be in the kitchen with Bradley.

Jake hasn’t seen you in two weeks; hasn’t wanted to. Seeing you has only ever caused him pain. Even before he realized he liked you, your presence had always seemed to shift him out of orbit. Your stupid quips and endless debates, the judgmental look in your eye whenever Jake tried to stand his ground. It got worse when it finally occurred to him that he enjoyed that sort of abuse.

Jake runs his hands over his face, trying to tune you out. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss the arguments. You’re the only person who’s ever really put him in his place. And how he’s loved putting you in yours.

Jake gets out of bed with a sigh, pausing at the closed door of his bedroom to listen. It isn’t eavesdropping if he’s not actually interested in the topic of conversation; all he wants is to hear your voice.

“I swear I will never drink drip coffee again,” you announce with conviction.

Jake holds back a laugh, leaning his head into the doorframe.

“It’s basically sewer water by comparison,” you continue.

Jake snorts.

“Have another croissant,” you urge.

“You brought enough to feed a squadron,” he hears Bradley retort. “I’m not eating them all.”

You go quiet for a moment, saying something Jake can’t quite make out. He pushes off the frame and shuffles into the bathroom. He’s still pissed, and no amount of baked goods will convince him to go downstairs. He’s not ready for that. And, if all goes to plan, he’ll just slowly get over you and never have to see you again.

Once he’s out of the shower, Jake towel dries his hair and then quickly pats down his body. He listens for signs of conversation, but the house is quiet now. You and Bradley must have left.

“Bradshaw?” he calls, just in case.

No answer.

He heads down to start a pot of coffee before getting dressed but, when he enters the kitchen, you are the first thing he sees. You look up from where you're sitting at his table and yelp – because he’s butt naked – leaping out of your seat and covering your eyes with your hands, promptly turning away.

“What the fuck, Seresin!” you scream.

Jake jumps behind the counter. “What?” he shouts. “What the fuck, yourself! What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to see you!” you screech. “But, like, not so much of you!”

Jake cringes, still in shock from the encounter. He grabs a throw blanket off the couch and wraps it around his waist. “Why didn’t you answer when I called down?” he yells, his temples pounding as if his head is housing a goddamn woodpecker.

“You called for Bradley!”

Jake shakes his head. “Are you kidding me?”

“Why are you running around naked?” you squeal, still turned away and holding your hands over your eyes.

“I thought I was home alone! You don’t walk around naked in your own home?” Jake cries in outrage. He’s not about to let you win this fight.

“Uh, sometimes, I guess,” you admit.

Jake, who’s about to retort to whatever argument you make, falls silent. He stares at your back, trying very hard not to picture what that particular scenario might look like. He gulps. “Well, alright, then,” he says. He steps away from the counter, the blanket securely tied at his hips, and walks around tentatively. “You can look now,” he says wearily.

Hesitantly, you turn to face him, although you avoid looking directly at him. “You’re still not wearing a shirt,” you say pointedly, keeping a hand up to block the view.

Jake grimaces. “Is it too exhilarating for you, princess?” he bites back.

You drop your hand and finally look at him – albeit with a scowl. You narrow your eyes irritably. “Get over yourself.”

Jake shrugs. “You can always return the favor,” he suggests, gesturing at your baby tee that’s hugging your curves just right.

You roll your eyes and make your way toward the counter, purposefully walking around the table – which is the longer route – to avoid getting too close to Jake. He watches you levelly. “Why did you want to see me?” he asks sourly.

You glance up at him, still frowning, and push a bakery box across the counter toward him. “I brought you breakfast.”

Jake doesn’t smile; one breakfast two weeks down the road isn’t going to magically repair the damage you’ve done. “Why?”

You gulp. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Jake lets out an irritable sigh and drops his gaze. “I’ve got nothing to say to you,” he responds moodily.

You reach further down the counter and drag a paper cup into view. “I got you a coffee, too,” you add, as though this might tip the scales in your favor. “Americano.”

Jake, who is dying for some caffeine, responds with, “I’m not thirsty.”

You exhale sharply. “Don’t be a baby.”

He fixes you with a scathing look. “Don’t be a nuisance.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Am I bothering you?”

Jake scoffs. “Well, for starters, you’re still here.” He walks over to the refrigerator and takes out a carton of eggs. “You hungry?” he asks grumpily.

You turn to face him as he sets a bowl down on the counter and starts cracking eggs. He’s right next to you now so he can see you seething out of the corner of his eye.

“I brought you breakfast!” you cry in outrage.

Jake starts to whisk the eggs without looking at you. “I don’t want that, I want this.” He glances over at you at this point and adds spitefully, “We all have to make difficult choices from time to time.”

“For fuck’s sake, Jake!” you exclaim, pulling the bowl out from under his nose. Half-beaten egg splashes onto the counter.

Jake tosses his whisk into the sink and takes a step away from the counter. He releases a quick breath and sets his jaw; but he still can’t look at you. “What is your problem?” he says in a low voice, keeping his eyes on a random chip in the paint of one of his kitchen cupboards.

“What’s my problem?” you screech.

He can tell that you’re getting worked up and it’s taking all his energy to keep his cool. He clenches his teeth and rolls his shoulders, trying to relax the tension in his muscles.

“You’re so mad at me that you won’t even drink my coffee?” you yell, the bowl of raw egg still in your hands.

Jake stares harder at the paint chip because he’s on the verge of completely flying off the handle. But he could only devote so much of his attention to negligible bullshit until he finally breaks. Agitatedly, he meets your gaze and bellows, “I’M SO MAD AT YOU, I CAN’T EVEN LOOK AT YOU!”

Your mouth falls open at his words and you blink at him in shock. After a moment, you look away, silently replacing the bowl on the counter. You’re chewing on your lip as you do this, your gaze lingering on the bowl even after you’ve released it from your grasp, like you’re reluctant to let it go.

Jake briefly closes his eyes. You’re not facing him, so you don’t witness the fleeting display of regret that steals over his features. He doesn’t want to hurt you in a way that makes you go quiet. He wants you to react – loudly, obnoxiously, passionately. He wants you to yell back. Because that’s how he knows you’re okay.

“I’ll go,” you say, tucking your hands into the back pockets of your shorts. You glance up at him, meeting his gaze with a resigned sort of look.

He nods. As much as he might've missed this kind of heated warfare, the lingering hostility is not in anyone’s best interest. “There’s an idea,” he says sarcastically, still keeping a safe distance away from where you’re standing by the counter.

Your mouth falls agape again. “Excuse me?”

He doesn’t want you to go. He doesn’t want you to go. But, if you do, he wants you to leave angry; not sad. So, he provokes you. “And take your crazy with you,” he says, gesturing toward the front door with his entire arm.

You let out an indignant scoff that turns into a sort of cry. “What did you call me?” you shriek, stepping up to him aggressively.

Jake glances down at you, squaring his jaw to keep from smirking. “What’s the politically correct word for completely unhinged?”

Your eyes go wide and, for a split second, he thinks you might actually hit him. But you’re not one for physical violence; you can strike below the belt with your words. “As if you give a damn about offending an already stigmatized group of people,” you retort.

Jake narrows his eyes. “At least I give a damn about the people I actually know.”

You let out a derisive laugh. “Oh yeah? So much so that you’re practically shoving me out the door?” you yell.

Jake rolls his eyes. “No one’s kicking you out,” he says gruffly, walking past you back to the counter. “Just stop taking my eggs away and we’re gravy.”

You fold your arms grumpily and stand there in his kitchen, fuming.

He looks over his shoulder at you. “What?” he says.

“You don’t like croissants?” you ask crossly, as if he’s gravely insulted you by opting for scrambled eggs.

Jake sighs. He reaches for the box of pastries on his counter and throws open the lid. He grabs a croissant irritably and brings it to his mouth, taking a large bite. “Happy?” he asks, chewing.

You watch him impassively. “You’re ridiculous,” you say.

“You’re ridiculous!” he yells. “You’re pissed because I won’t eat your damn food?”

Your eyes suddenly well up with tears. “I’m pissed because – because” – you suck in your cheeks defiantly, as if you’re not prepared to elaborate.

Jake swallows uncomfortably; he doesn’t like the idea of being responsible for making you cry.

You shake your head and sniffle. “I’m not mad!” you shout. “I came here to make up with you!”

Jake tosses the croissant onto the counter and it lands in the spilt yolk from earlier. He ignores this and steps toward you. “Why?” he yells back.

“Why what?” you scream as he approaches.

“Why make up with me?” he presses.

You stare at him angrily. “What do you mean? We were friends!”

Jake shrugs. “We weren’t close.”

You scoff. “You’re a fucking liar.”

“I don’t want to be your friend,” Jake says levelly, then he adds, raising the volume of his voice as if the conversation could stand to get any louder. “I never wanted to be your friend!” You go quiet for a moment, your tears subsiding as you take in his words. But he doesn’t give you a chance to mull them over. “You’re a fucking nightmare!” he continues emphatically, taking another step.

You lift your face as he draws nearer, glaring at him unblinkingly. You don’t back away; you stay put, even as he towers over you.

Jake grimaces in a way that conveys disgruntlement and despair in equal measure. He lets out an uneven sigh, his eyes skimming over your face. “You’re a pain in the ass,” he says, much quieter now, as he meets your gaze.

You stay perfectly still, as if his immense frame looming over your body is completely insignificant compared to your ruthless glower. In all fairness, you’re probably right. “I hate you,” you whisper.

Jake nods with a slight smirk. “Likewise.”

The thrill of riling you scorches his veins, but he’ll be damned if anger is the only thing he can make you feel. He wants you so desperately, he can hardly think straight.

You’re scowling at him but all he can see is the fire in your eyes, fierce and unrelenting, daring him to make another move. Jake is game – enthusiastically, to boot. He’s mad, sure. But, truth be told, you could be engaged to fifty men – none of them him – and he’d still want to fuck you. Hell, this only makes things easier; no fucking strings, just fucking sex.

He slides an arm behind your waist and pulls you forward abruptly. You gasp as if you weren’t expecting it. But with the way you’ve been staring him down, there is no way you didn’t see this coming.

He waits a moment, anyway, allowing you the opportunity to give him a smack for being overly presumptuous. But the animosity on your face has already been replaced with a kind of cautious curiosity. You’re very still, staring up at him sympathetically, because you know – you know – what he wants. Because you want it too.

Jake lifts his free hand up to the side of your neck, sliding it up through your hair to cup the back of your head and gently pull you forward. This is exactly the kind of situation he was meaning to avoid. But the warning bells are fleeting, and his lips are on top of yours before he can stop himself.

You push into him slightly – almost imperceptibly, except he perceives it – and instantly this kiss becomes the single most thrilling experience of his life. He moves in, absorbing your body in a rushed, impatient embrace, and you mold against him, closer than you’ve ever been before.

He can feel the soft fabric of your shirt rubbing against his skin but all that he truly registers is how your tits are compressing into his chest. He kisses you harder, stifling an entire anthology of dirty words that suddenly materializes on the tip of his tongue. There aren’t enough terms in the English language to fully express the way he craves to handle every inch of you, anyway.

You withdraw, at this point, to breathlessly exclaim, “You think you’re not a pain in the ass?”

Jake pulls you back with a mild roll of the eyes. “Shut up,” he mutters, kissing the corner of your mouth as you scoff in outrage.

“Don’t tell me to shut up!” you retort between the pecks he layers over your lips.

Jake grins against your mouth. “Shut up,” he repeats, dragging you backward as he steers you toward the staircase.

You let out a muffled – but distinctly indignant – cry. “Make me!” you exclaim as he stoops to wrap his hands around your thighs and lift you off the ground.

“I’m fucking trying,” he replies, closing his mouth around yours once he's picked you up.

Strategically speaking, making out while carrying someone up a flight of stairs is efficient. In practice, however, it’s a complicated task. Several times, Jake veers into one of the railings or nearly trips over his own feet. By the time he’s reached the second floor, his legs are tangled in the blanket he had wrapped around his torso, and the blanket itself is on the verge of unravelling. But Jake ignores the obstacles and resolutely marches you right into his bedroom.

He throws you unceremoniously onto the bed and retightens the blanket around his hips as though he means to keep it on. He looks down, pausing for a second to watch you catch your breath. Not because he thinks you might unexpectedly have a change of heart, but because he wants to savor the moment. He takes your legs and unhurriedly pulls you closer to where he stands. “You’re awful quiet,” he notes with a smirk, his fingers winding up the sides of your thighs.

You gulp with a relatively stoic expression for someone who’s about to be railed. “You told me to shut up,” you deadpan.

Jake raises his eyebrows. “You listened?”

You bite into your lips, nodding slowly, and Jake’s heart damn near somersaults right out of his body. For once, you want to give up the reins.

He reaches up underneath the fringed hem of your shorts, grabbing your ass and tugging you forward. “What, no instructions?” he says, his hands lingering on your butt cheeks because he’s waited oh so long to squeeze that flesh. The way your eyes half-close tells him you don’t necessarily mind.

“You need instructions?” you say in a breathy but still detectably mocking tone.

Jake chuckles. “Whether or not I need them isn’t likely to stop you.”

“I can do a post hoc analysis,” you say as one of his hands finally moves upward, bunching your shirt at your ribs to expose your stomach.

Jake grins at your words. “Hot.” So much for dirty talk. Apparently, the plan is to have sarcastic sex.

Your lips spread into a wry smile, and you reach up to the blanket tied around his waist to pull him on top of you. “Stop talking, Seresin,” you whisper.

“Hey, that’s my line,” he says, bracing himself on his forearm at the side of your head. He stares into your eyes, wondering if he could really go through with it. How much does he really need to understand the complexities of your situation with Mustang? Isn’t it enough that you’re clearly hot for Jake? Isn’t it enough to just fuck and forget that you’re technically taken?

You’re watching him back, probably wondering the exact same thing. Isn’t it enough?

The truth is, every single moment spent in your presence is enough for Jake. And he was a fool to think that he could ever stay away.

He glides his hand up your abdomen, feeling your breath hitch underneath his fingertips every time he lets them linger for a moment atop your skin. Does Mustang know that you like it slow? That you want to feel the rush of anticipation? Jake is willing to bet that Mustang only goes one speed.

Jake traces the curve of your ribs, his exploration leading him eventually to the swell of your breasts. Your bare breasts. How he hadn’t noticed that you’d been braless downstairs bemuses him. He must’ve been too preoccupied with his own wardrobe to thoroughly examine yours.

His hand seizes for a moment as he gets used to the idea of touching you. Of feeling your chest flare into the palm of his hand every time you take a breath. Then, he wraps his fingers around your ribcage, his thumb grazing the side of your tit as he moves you upward on the bed.

“You comfortable?” he asks after repositioning you.

You nod, your eyes still locked on his like you’re trying to see right through to his soul. When his thumb sweeps underneath your breast, you let out a whimper that disturbs the air between your mouth and his. And there’s a dizzying note of desperation in your voice that paralyzes Jake.

He drops his head into the crook of your neck, wondering how long before he’s completely lost himself in you. Wondering if that ship’s sailed. Wondering if Mustang has ever felt like he’s drowning and soaring all at once. If he’s ever been this gone. If you’ve ever moaned like that for him.

“Fuck,” he mutters against your skin, realizing that he’s lost the upper hand. That he’s going to need a moment to recuperate. That there’s a debilitating weakness in his limbs that’s an extension of his weakness for you, and he can hardly hold himself up any longer.

He breathes heavily into your neck, his lips catching on your collarbone as his fingers skim across your nipple. You let out a breathy whine that vibrates his very core. You like being teased. Figures.

Jake drives his pelvis into your side, seeking a split second of relief. The blanket around his torso is a mess of twisted, sticky fabric that’s now pressing into your bare skin, hopefully arousing you. You move your leg up and down, stroking him through the fleece with your thigh, and Jake groans, spreading his fingers over your tit and finally giving it a squeeze.

You release a soft moan and Jake brings his lips to your other nipple, grazing his teeth over the thin cotton of your shirt. It’s not that he can’t be bothered to remove your clothes, rather, he very well might not survive the spectacle. So, he sucks on your nipple right through the fabric while continuing to massage your other breast, pressing himself closer and closer.

This is all that he could ask for, really. You, in his bed, at long last talked out. And yet, he can’t help himself; conversing with you has become second nature and, without even thinking, he mutters, “This doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

You let out a laugh that morphs into a soft cry as Jake pinches your nipple.

“Wouldn’t want you getting the wrong idea,” he continues, smirking against your neck.

Your chuckle pleases him. “Maybe if I weren’t such a pain in the ass.”

Jake squeezes his eyes shut, cringing slightly as he nuzzles his head under your chin. “Maybe,” he agrees, dragging your t-shirt upward. He lifts his head and meets your gaze as you raise your arms, letting him remove it. “Maybe if you didn’t hate me,” he adds, somewhat hoarsely because you’re half naked now and he’s understandably distracted.

You bring your arms back down and slide your hands unhurriedly up his chest, linking your fingers behind his neck. “And you me,” you remind him gently.

Jake lets himself take you in for a moment, his eyes slipping southward before he looks back at you with a smirk. “At least the feeling’s mutual,” he says, slowly lowering himself until his lips meet yours.

You open your mouth, bathing Jake in your hot breath as you kiss him, and he reciprocates the gesture eagerly. Urgently. His hand is suddenly gripping your leg, sliding up the inside of your thigh. You’re moaning before he’s even reached the summit, tearing viciously at his lips with your teeth. Your fingers are twisting into his hair as you pull yourself into him, breathless and impatient.

Jake unbuttons your shorts with a couple of fingers and is hastily pushing them over your hips as your breathy gasps warm his ear. “What is it, princess?” he whispers, suddenly slowing his pace. He kicks your shorts off your ankles and places his hand on your inner thigh where he gently strokes your tender skin. He grins wickedly. “What can I do for you?”

“Jake!” you whimper desperately, shimmying yourself down to meet his hand.

Jake obliges, sliding his fingers up between your legs. He’s not about to make you beg for it when he can barely keep it together himself. Another time, maybe. Assuming there will be one. He’d like to hear you ask for it. Tell him exactly what you want, sparing no detail. He wants you to talk dirty to him. Talk, talk, talk.

But instead of talking, you reach out and grab him by the waist. You blink up at him silently and maneuver his hips until he’s right over top of you. Then, without taking your eyes off his face, you unravel the blanket that’s somehow still wrapped around him and shove it aside.

Jake has never in his life made love. He’s fucked, sure. He’s had plenty relations. And this time is no different. Except, he’s feeling something pure amidst the lewd temptation driving his corpus. It’s a buoyancy that’s both nauseating and distressingly pleasant and it radiates outward from his chest, nearly overriding his ever-present desire to make – fuck you silly.

And then, as Jake slides slowly inside you, you cling frantically to his neck and utter a shaky, monosyllabic nonword that is the epitome of less talk.

And Jake is suddenly making love.

…

“Y/N came earlier today,” Bradley says to Jake that evening, casually popping open a can of beer.

Jake lifts his eyes and looks over at his friend with a straight face. “She did,” he confirms.

“Oh.” Bradley nods. “She caught you, then.”

Jake stares at him mutely before turning away and clicking the kettle on the counter. “You could say that.”

Bradley nods, taking a gulp of beer. “She told you, then?”

Jake freezes with his hand on his mug. The only thing he seems to recall you saying is not something you would have also said to your best friend. “Told me what?” he says, slowly turning to face Bradley.

The latter furrows his brows. “Did you guys talk?”

Jake watches Bradley curiously. “Tons,” he responds. “You know how she never shuts up.”

Bradley narrows his eyes suspiciously. “You did see her, right?”

“I did,” Jake says confidently because he, indeed, saw you. All of you.

“Weird,” Bradley says. “She said she was hanging back so she could tell you too.”

“Tell me what, Bradshaw?” Jake asks impatiently, forgetting about the boiling kettle as he walks toward the table with an empty mug in his hand.

Bradley sets down his beer and leans back in his chair uneasily. “That she’s leaving.”

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ooffmlsorry · 6 months

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One Piece Men Take You on a Nice Vacation

A/N: Well I did a poll and y'all definitely wanted this! Let's be serious so did I. I so desperately wanna go on vacation and leave my cares behind for a week. Alas, my imagination is all I've got 😔

Characters: Monster trio, Law, Koby

ZORO

Vacation? Did you forget who your boyfriend is? Zoro is the epitome of "No days off 😤"

I think what's more likely is y'all ended up getting lost together and it turns into an impromptu vacation

But that doesn't mean it isn't nice to essentially go camping together

You're incredibly lucky, there's a nice waterfall and river, the weather stays beautiful and the nights are crisp and clear

Once you convince him it's better to stay put and wait for the others to finally find you, it becomes a really relax retreat

Zoro still insisting on training, but that's a given. You probably train with him sometimes since you're dating, but otherwise it's the longest uninterrupted peace you've had since joining the crew

Just imagine sitting together with your feet in the cool river water, fishing in comfortable silence. The two of you wade in the stream together and splash each other, cook what you caught, cuddle around the campfire, and look up at the stars at night just talking

The privacy is perfect because it allows you two connect without worrying about any of the your crew mates

Zoro's even admittedly a little surprised by how much he enjoys being alone with you (it definitely gives him thoughts about what your future together could look like)

It's something the two of you look back on incredibly fondly, and if you happen to get lost on an island again...maybe for once Zoro did it intentionally

SANJI

This man is so serious about taking you a vacation, it's the time of your life

He's such a mom though lol. He cooks a shit ton before he leaves with you so the crew can reheat it and still have nutritious meals while their cook is away

He owes Nami so much berri, but since it's for a romantic vacation with you, the interest isn't too bad 🤭

I'd imagine it's somewhere with lots to do and lots to see like Gran Tesoro or Sabaody (*ignoring how fucked they are in context of the story, I just mean a place like that)

Unlike something impromptu accidental like Zoro's, he's planned out everything. A spa day, mani/pedi, sightseeing, shopping, really nice dinners.

You dance around together in your hotel and watch the fireworks and the city lights at night. Not to mention Sanji looks extremely handsome in the glow of it.

He absolutely spoils you! All in the name of how much he appreciates and loves you

And for what it's worth you don't let him forget how much it means to you...whenever you're not utterly speechless. It's more like the two of you spoil each other lol

The two of you have a lot of fun together, living in your own rose-colored world

As much as this is about you, you Sanji sometimes wishes he lived in a fairy tale world and this is it. It's just the breather you both need.

LUFFY

You kind of have to explain to him what a vacation is at first because he thinks you're just asking about going on an adventure with him🤭

Once he does understand the concept, he's pretty gung ho about it! Well, the "relaxing" part of a vacation sounds kind of dull to him but going somewhere just the two of you sounds awesome!

He kind of just springs it on you. You mentioned it once in passing and then a week later you're on a random island together and the Sunny is sailing off to pick you guys up in a week

It's not really a vacation spot, it's just a normal island he's never been to before (because he still doesn't quite understand the difference between a vacation and an adventure) but it's nice. It's somewhat reminiscent of Loguetown or Mock Town

You still have a great time with it's charm and the fact that there's little to no Marines around means you get peace in that aspect

That's the only kind of peace you get though lol

The two of you go all over the place, trying different food, poking around the jungle and in shops, and possibly getting into a little bit of trouble

Every night the two of you crash and sleep in as much as you want, wake up whenever you want and eat as much and whenever you want

It's kind of like a long sleepover with no parents around to keep you in line

As fun as it is you'll probably start to miss the routine of living as a Straw Hat and Luffy's itching to get back to the open seas!

LAW

Law pales at the thought of a vacation, but he's not above it for the people he loves

It's absolutely not his idea though...He was trying to think of something nice for your birthday and the crew told him how stressed you've been lately (plus have seen him? He needs a damn break and they also want him to relax)

He has everything planned down to the minute. When you're going, where you're going, what you're doing, when you'll be back. This man has a whole goddamn itinerary prepared tailored to your wants.

I feel like you guys would go to a place reminiscent of Dressrosa or Water 7 (*again ignoring the in-story horrors lol), something with really beautiful architecture and lots of history.

That plan turns more into more like a rough guideline no he's not upset about it look away but it's okay because you both needed the rest and a little less rigidity does Law some good

It's okay to stumble into a bookstore and get lunch two hours later than you planned, you swear

You two mostly avoid the tourist traps, except the historical ones because they're pretty cool and you learn a lot. Walking down the streets, hand in hand (yes, you get Law to hold you hand in public, it's the small wins okay?)

He can't stop working entirely, but that gives you time to do a little exploring on your own...not to mention you're completely surprised by how he pulls you into his lap as soon as you return

Being alone together makes him realize how important you are to him. There's not nearly as much crowding his mind when he's on vacation and all that free space up there is filled with his love for you

He's also kind of surprised how much he likes you outside of the Heart Pirate's rigid routine. Seeing you dressed up and not prepared for the sea, but rather a nice dinner, is a shock to his system. The fact that you're pretty much two normal people and nothing is falling apart surprises him. Maybe, he thinks, the two of you should do this more often

KOBY

A/N: Koby is literally my baby boy, cuppy-cake, sugar plum, pumpkin. He's so precious. Just a perfect lil guy 🥹💞 if Law is my husband, then Koby is my son

Oh lord, he's sweating lol

You? Wanna go on vacation with him? Alone? He's so flustered! Such a big step!

But he's really happy and super excited!! He definitely has a little countdown going on on his calendar

I could definitely see you guys having a beach type vacation, somewhere with a pier/boardwalk with all kinds of games and maybe a few cheap rides too

He'd absolutely win you a prize, and even better if you beat him and win him a prize

The photo booth pictures you end up taking are so cute and he keeps them forever

You hang out on the beach and build a massive sand castle, y'all probably get a terrible sunburn or at least Koby does 🤭

And at night you take nice long walks, listening to waves and collecting shells that catch your attention

The vacation is good for you, but it's also good for him to be out of the Marine environment for a minute

He gets to enjoy the results of all of his hard work and it makes him incredibly grateful that you're by his side, and when he tells you as such it's a long stuttering speech but he makes it through

Don't be surprised that he's awake at least 2-3 hours before you but that just means he gets time to think about what you're gonna do and be completely captivated as you sleep beside him

Those photo booth pictures? He keeps them in his jacket now. Whenever he gets overwhelmed or feels homesick he'll either look at them or pat his pocket to remind himself of those moments with you

#one piece #one piece x you #law x reader #one piece x reader #one piece x reader headcanon #sanji x reader #zoro x reader #law x y/n #luffy x reader #koby one piece #koby x reader

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oh-meretseger · 2 months

Text

part 2 (of whatever this is) - Clean Freak

attack on titan modern college au // Jean Kirstein x fem!reader

notes: 18+! smut (there will be a lot more coming, I’m pouring all my fantasies into this fic lmao so bear with me), Jean being quite a pervert, fantasizing about oral, masturbation

word count: 3,4k

“You're gonna let Jean see you in THAT?!" Sasha yelled out suddenly, right after she promised to stay when Jean was coming over to your dorm to finally finish your project. You had to complete it by Friday, and it was already Wednesday, leaving you the most frustrated with Jean you've ever been. His immature approach to the whole thing made you question how he even got admission to college. The way he ignored all the work and instead kept stealing your notes, your glasses, he pulled your hair, poked his fingers between your ribs made you think he was actually a toddler in an muscular man's giant costume...

"Yeah, you're right, I can't show any surface of skin around that manchild" you glanced in the mirror, and quickly grabbed a pair of sweatpants to slide over the tight shorts that covered definitely too little. Your arms were already covered in bruises due to all the damn poking, pinching and suffering Jean put you through this week. You couldn't let him target your legs next.

Since that ominous day in the library, Jean was more insufferable than ever. You had a feeling that it had to do with the multiple seconds you were kneeling on his lap, pressed up against his chest and face... And the awkward, quiet minutes after that you spent trying to hide your blood red face. You tried to ignore the heat that spread through your body whenever that moment popped into your mind, because it just left you confused.

You also tried not to look Jean into his eyes after that, if not necessary, but you could definitely sense him get ten times more irritating since.

And working on that project with him became impossible.

But you guys finally managed to arrange you and Sasha getting a two-bed dorm room together, and it seemed like the perfect, most peacful place to finally finish the project. With Sasha being there, you hoped you both would detain from bullying the hell out of each other, and actually get the work done.

"Pookie, stop covering up, just let it happen" Sasha laughed, sitting on her bed while watching as your movements became nervous. You turned to her confused. "How long are y'all going to pretend you're not into each other?"

You blushed instantly and turned away, hoping she wouldn't see you getting embarassed right away. What is she talking about?

"Sasha-" you awkwardly searched for the right words to reply, and Sasha chuckled again. "Stop being crazy. We're not into each other"

"Sure, Jan" she replied raising her eyebrows, and you let out a giggle at the joke. Although you wanted her to know how much of an insane idea it was to think that you and Jean...

"He's a damn playboy, he probably has a roaster of girls from around the campus that I definitely wouldn't fit into" you said your thoughts out loud while folding the few pieces of clothes laying around on your bed. "He's an annoying idiot anyway"

"He doesn't have a roaster of girls, actually. But I see why you would think that" Sasha smiled as she watched your movements in the mirror. "He does seem like an arrogant jock, but I've known him for years. He's a sweetheart. And there's definitely something between you two, so stop denying it to yourself, missy”

You quickly turned your back to her while quietly smiling at her words. You hoped she couldn't see, but she chuckled as she caught a glimpse of the curve of your lips in the mirror. Sasha grabbed the pair of jeans laying next to her and started changing her comfy joggers.

"He does seem arrogant, and he makes me go insane on purpose" you frowned, putting the stack of folded clothes away to your closet. "But I've only known him for a few months, so surely, you know him better"

"I do, and he's great. And don't call me Shirley" Sasha jumped from the bed, trying to use the momentum to get her butt into the tight jeans, and you bursted out laughing as you turned to her.

Your smile faded rather quickly as you saw her changing her shirt as well, as if she was getting ready to go out.

"Where are you going?!"

"Oooh sorry, Y/N, I forgot I already made plans with Hisu to go out, we're getting froyo" her eyes sparked with pure joy at those last few words, and you felt yourself shatter, instantly starting to panic.

"NO! You promised you would stay!"

"I knowww, I really am sorry" Sasha pouted, and quickly grabbed her cute little crotcheted bag on her way to the door, as you both heard a loud knock. That pout was SO fake, you knew she was doing this on purpose... Whatever her goal was. "I'll bring you a cup of that blueberry one you like, I promise"

"YOU PRO-" you froze in your place as Sasha reached the door and it swung open, revealing Jean standing in the doorway.

"Hi, Jean!" Sasha looked up at him with the most cheerful, chirping voice, as if she didn't just betray you with this evil surprise of hers. Of course, she'd made no plans to go out with Hisu whatsoever, but she did miss her, and getting multiple cups of froyo sounded like a great afternoon plan. Besides, she did want to leave you and Jean to be in private, completely alone...

"Hi, are you not-"

"No, no, no, I've got EXTREMELY important places to be" Sasha cut Jean off as she grabbed him by his jersey, then yanked him through the doorway and into the room. You stood there in shock, watching her leave you, with him, to suffer.

"Sasha!"

"Bye, pookies!"

BANG. The door slammed shut behind her, and you two were left there, completely alone. Your eyes darted to him, and Jean adjusted the jersey on his chest that Sasha nearly ripped apart a few seconds ago.

He was clearly coming from hockey practice, you could tell not only by the oversized jersey he wore, but also by the way his hair looked. It was messy, a few ashy brown strands sticking to his temple, wet with sweat, although it seemed like he did try to quickly comb it back. His face was flushed, the skin on his cheekbones and nose dusted with a reddish tint, his lips plump and wet from the empty water bottle he held in his hand. Your eyes wandered to the stubble on his sharp jawline, fading down to his neck. The skin slightly glistened from sweat, the muscles creating lines of shadow as he raised his head...

"The hell's wrong with her" he murmured frowning, looking up to see you staring right at him. As the hazel eyes met with yours, the heat forming in your center turned into a definite warm, tingling sensation between your legs, and you felt yourself starting to melt.

What. The. Hell.

There's no way you're getting wet at the sight of this idiot, dripping with sweat, smelling like a boy's locker room.

"I don't know, she's in silly goose mode today" you quickly shrugged and turned your head to break the few moments of silence of you looking into each other's eyes. Jean held back a smile forming on his face, and he dropped his backpack on the rug next to your bed.

"Sorry for being late, practice lasted a little longer than I expected" he apologized, throwing himself on the end of your bed without a second thought. You instantly felt your stomach drop at the thud, and turned to see the most horrific sight you could ever imagine.

Jean's sweaty, dirty body laying on your clean, white bedsheets.

"JEAN!"

"Are you fucking crazy?!" Jean yelled out, half-laughing from the element of surprise, as he tried to defend himself from your immediate attack. You jumped on the bed and started pushing his body down with all the strength you could gather. "AGH, you're breaking my ribs, you rat!"

"Get off of my bed, you're fucking dirty!" you groaned as Jean put his big ass palm on your forehead, trying to get you off of him. An intense wave of anger fueled your effort to move the sweaty body twice as big as yours. "You're getting your sweat all over my stuff!"

"You should be grateful for any bodily fluid of a man touching your stuff" Jean laughed, and moved his palm to cover and smush the whole of your face, when you decided that pushing with your hands was not enough, and started bullying his ribcage with your knee. Your shouts were muffled by his hand pressed into your face, but instead of giving up, you decided to let your teeth do the talking for you. "AARGH!"

Jean's muscles lost their defensive tension due to the sharp pain of your teeth sinking into his palm, and taking adventage of his momentary weakness, you pushed him as hard as you could. His body rolled over and landed on the hardwood floor with a loud thud.

"You're fucking insane" Jean pushed himself to slowly sit up, examining his other hand that you injured with a painful hiss leaving his mouth.

"PTUH, did you not wash your hands after digging in dirt?!" you growled at him, trying to spit out the dirty taste his hand left in your mouth. But that's what you get for biting him, you guessed.

You frantically started brushing off your face when you realized, it was not only your mouth that Jean's dirty palm got smushed into, but also the precious skin of your face.

"Yeah, I jerked off with that hand after that, hope you like the taste" Jean scoffed at you, but the smug look on his face quickly turned into an honest burst of chuckle as he watched you stick out your tongue, trying to get him out of your mouth by the little spitting sounds you were doing.

"You're a prick"

"And you're clinically insane, but here we are" he replied, then pushed himself from the floor to stand up. You followed his actions, then stepped to your closet as you shook your head.

"Here" you threw your largest oversized t-shirt you could find in his direction, and he reached to catch it, followed by the clean towel tossed to his chest. "You can take a shower here"

"A shower?"

"You will NOT rub your sticky body all over my bed" you crossed your arms, looking over to him. You could feel your lips curve into a smile, seeing the confused look on his face, still flushed from running from practice and of course brutally fighting with you. Confusion on that smug face of Jean's was a rare sight to see.

And it was kinda cute.

Huh?

You quickly shook your head to get rid of the stupid thoughts, and pointed your finger in the direction of the bathroom of your dorm. "You stink"

"Get off my back, I'll sit on the chair then" Jean gestured towards the only chair in the room, being Sasha's comfy rolling desk chair - which she definitely didn't want smelling of a dirty, sweating man. You shook your head. "C'mon, I skipped showering and dropped off my stuff at my dorm just to get here in time because of your bitching ass!"

"Don't care, didn't ask" you replied with a snarky, forced smile, and tossed a pair of Connie's sweatpants to him. He lended it to Sasha a few days back, after she yeeted a bucket of chocolate ice cream into her lap at Connie’s and Jean’s dorm.

"Thanks, dipshit" Jean grimaced right back at you, and accepting his loss, turned his back to you to walk into your bathroom. You couldn't help staring at the broad shoulders, his wide back muscles moving under the jersey as he moved, just like his glute muscles under the sweatpants that became visible where the jersey rode up... "Hey, these are my sweats!"

"Tell Connie, he's the one giving away your stuff" you replied with a smirk. "You're welcome, by the way"

Jean shut the door behind him, and you threw yourself on your bed, burying your face in your hands. What the actual fuck is happening in your head?

Jean in your bathroom, on the other hand, was not so confused by his feelings as you were by yours.

He stood in front of the sink and lifted the shirt you gave him up to his face. He closed his eyes as the familiar smell of you filled his nose. It was a clean, kind of a sweet scent, that he knew exactly from all the times he got into your face, bullying you to insanity in the past few weeks.

He smiled to himself at the thought, and threw the clean clothes on the edge of the sink. It was a small bathroom, full of a bunch of shampoo bottles, cream jars, serums, pots, and whatever other girly products he couldn't identify to save his life. There was not much room to put any of his stuff.

Jean started taking his clothes off, and he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror above the sink. You were kinda right, he did look dirty. His hair was a mess, a few strands dripping of sweat and stuck to his face and neck.

He saw you staring at it when he caught your eyes after Sasha left.

Maybe you thought of him the same way he thought of you? The way he still saw you as a stuck up little nerd, but found you more and more attractive the more he got under your skin, just turned him on so much. More than anything. Maybe it was because your angry moments made your tough, icy shell break, that you specifically made just to hide from him. And under that shell, you were not the mousy dork you wanted him to see.

His dirty, sweat-drenched clothes dropped on the tile floor one by one, as Jean got completely undressed. He saw you getting flustered more and more frequently, when you two were close to each other. He wondered if you thought of him getting naked in that small bathroom right now.

You absolutely did. You felt your cheeks growing warm under your palms, as you laid there, face still buried in your hands, Jean getting undressed on the other side of the door being the only thought in your mind. You wanted to stop the thoughts, but they sent waves of warmth down your body, making you throb in your panties...

And it felt good.

You've been denying the pleasure of letting these thoughts flow free for weeks now. You gave up. He was within a few feet from you, and he was probably already naked.

Jean grabbed the clean towel, and swiftly looked around to find a place to put it, where it'll be within reach from the shower. There was a wicker basket half-full of clothes, with a familiar pair of socks thrown on the top, covered in small little teddy bears. That was definitely Sasha's. Next to it was what looked like another laundry box. That must be yours.

Jean stopped for a moment. Instead of simply using it as a temporary towel holder, he stepped closer to the box and slowly lifted the lid.

Yes, it was definitely yours.

After a quick glance at the closed door, he carefully reached into it, pulling out a familiar lilac top of yours. He remembered it, because it was quite a tight one, not like your usual baggy t-shirts that you liked to hide under. This one top made it hard for him not to look at the round outlines of your perfect tits, your nipples poking through the thin fabric. Jean lifted the top to his nose, getting a whiff of your sweet scent.

Jean felt like such a fucking pervert at that moment. There has never been a need for him to get creepy, he could basically get any girl he wanted. There was not one time when he felt called to stalk on anyone, or act out of line, being in their bathroom and smelling their used clothes.

Dear lord.

He almost, almost convinced himself to cut it off, and just take a shower. But as he reached to drop the lilac top back in the box, a pair of panties caught his eye on top of the laundry. Fuck.

Jean already felt himself getting hard as he pulled out the soft piece of fabric, and felt it between the tips of his fingers. It was a simple cotton pair, with a blue little bow at the top. Jean closed his eyes, imagining the bow sitting right above your little pussy, and blood flowed into his groin, his cock getting rock hard in no time.

He let out a quiet sigh as he imagined how your wet folds must taste just as sweet and salivating as you smelt. He couldn't shake the feeling that this was extremely wrong... But he also couldn't stop now.

Jean wrapped his fingers around his hardened cock, and jerked himself a little bit while thinking of how he would lick and tease your little clit through this soft fabric. His tip started glistening with precum as the thought of you moaning in pleasure filled his mind. Your eyes would be looking into his, your long eyelashes blinking down at him, practically pleading him to pull the panties aside and lick your wet, creamy center.

"Holy shit" Jean whispered with a quiet, low groan and hesitated for a moment, before wrapping the pair of panties around his achingly hard cock. He had to gather all his strength to hold back his moans as he started to slide them up and down on his shaft. This is so wrong.

But he so desperately wanted to be inside of you.

He bit down on his lower lip, tightening your panties around the head of his cock. The precum leaking from the tip started to form a wet little patch on the fabric. The softness of it, your smell still lingering in his nose and overwhelming his senses, the image in his head of your legs spread wide open for him... It just felt so fucking good.

Jean started to let out a few quiet sighs as he let himself enjoy the thought of eating you out, then the whole of his body jerked in shock as a loud knock on the bathroom door stopped him in his tracks.

"Jean, what the hell are you doing? Quit admiring yourself in the mirror and get in the shower, we don't have all day" you yelled through the door. It took you multiple seconds to talk yourself out of peeping through the keyhole.

Jean quickly dropped the panties back into the laundry box and closed the lid. You heard the shower start running in no time, and you threw yourself on the bed again, as if burying your face in the pillows made all your dirty little thoughts of him go away. You imagined as water ran down on his skin, wetting his hair, dripping from his most sensitive parts...

"Holy fucking shit, I'm out of my mind" you murmured into the pillow, and cursed Sasha for leaving you to suffer in this situation.

And for being so right about you being into him.

In little less than ten minutes, the bathroom door swung open and with a cloud of hot steam around him, Jean appeared wearing the clean clothes you gave him. You sat up on your bed, and instantly bursted out laughing at the sight.

His own grey sweatpants obviously fit him right, but the large t-shirt you lended him was so tight around his chest and shoulders, it looked like it was moments from tearing apart. Not to mention the length of the shirt on his tall frame left the lower part of his stomach completely uncovered.

"I like your crop top, babygirl" you grinned looking up at his face, and Jean frowned, but you could see the glimpse of the smile he was holding back. You forced yourself to ignore the wetness you felt spreading in your panties as you looked at his happy trail peeking from under your shirt. The V-line formed by his hips lead your eyes right down to the crotch of his sweatpants, and you felt yourself blush again.

This was going to be a misery, that was for sure.

"Shut up, clean freak" Jean growled and occupied his well deserved place on the end of your bed.

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tigertales9 · 1 year

Text

Weathering the Storm

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

Warnings: 18+ / Smut

Description: This fic takes place last off-season in mid-April 2022 (about 2 months after the Super Bowl loss to the Rams).

A/N: This fic has been 99% done for several months, but I keep tweaking it to pieces. I'm still not super happy with it, but I've decided to go ahead and post it. It's a bit of a sex fest. Full disclosure: I actually edited out some of the sex and it's still a sex fest.

---------

You smile at Joe as he strides ahead to open the restaurant door for you. "Thanks," you say, your smile intensifying when he gives you a playful wink. It's good to see him happy, you think to yourself, following him into the dimly-lit building.

It'd been about two months since the Super Bowl and Joe was back to his usual self. The disappointment of losing the big game had morphed into a single-minded focus on improving and coming back better than ever. You had no doubt he was going to unleash hell on the league next season.

"Y'all can sit anywhere," the hostess hollers from across the mostly-empty dining room. "A waitress will be right with you."

You follow Joe to a table in the far corner and sit in the chair he pulls out for you. "We beat the dinner rush," you muse, giggling when Joe heaves an exaggerated sigh of relief.

That was the entire reason y'all drove to a small bar & grill just over the state line on a week-day afternoon. Joe didn't want any attention; he just wanted to eat in peace without it turning into a production. Y'all had also really enjoyed the leisurely drive on this warmer-than-usual April day. Winding around back roads with the windows down and the sights and smells of spring in the air felt like a mini vacation. Him sliding his big hand under the hem of your dress to rest on your bare thigh was the icing on the cake.

A few minutes after you sit down, your waitress arrives at the table with a couple of menus. "We know what we want," Joe says, softening his abrupt words with a big smile while waving off the menus. She blushes and drops her pen on the floor, quickly leaning down to grab it while muttering an apology. Joe widens his eyes at you for a second before she stands back up. You give her a smile and place the order y'all had decided on when looking at their online menu. She scribbles it down, grins at you then hurries away without looking back in Joe's direction.

You shake your head at Joe. "You can't just whip that thang out on unsuspecting people."

"What thang?"

"That panty-dropping smile. You gotta ease folks into it; build up a little tolerance before you hit 'em with it full force."

"It's just a smile," he mumbles, grinning when you narrow your eyes at him. "And the Mona Lisa is just a painting," you counter.

You're still smiling at each other when a waiter walks up carrying two frosty longneck beers; he drops coasters on the table and sets the bottles down, his gaze darting between you and Joe a few times before he takes a deep breath. "I'm a big fan," he mutters, a blush rising in his pale cheeks as he makes this admission. "You got screwed in the Super Bowl," he continues, locking his gaze on Joe and furrowing his brow. "That late holding call was bullshit!"

Joe smiles and nods his head. "Always good to meet a fan," he says, taking a quick sip of his beer while the waiter fidgets. The waiter blushes even more crimson before continuing. "You're gonna win plenty of Super Bowls, though, so don't sweat it. Everybody who knows ball knows you're the truth."

Joe gives him a dazzling smile. "Thanks man, 'preciate it. What's your name?"

"Ca…Caleb," he stammers, eyes going comically wide as Joe holds a hand out to shake his. "Nice to meet you, Caleb," Joe says, giving a firm handshake. "Nice to meet you, too," Caleb whispers, backing away slowly before turning to jog toward the kitchen; he turns back around and points a finger at Joe. "Best QB in the league!" he yells, almost tripping over his feet before catching himself.

Once Caleb disappears, Joe glances around to make sure no one is ogling him. "Thank God this place is mostly empty," he mumbles, giving you a wry grin. You take a long swallow of your beer and give him a wink. "You're 2 for 2," you chuckle. "You need to register that smile as a deadly weapon."

"Hush," he mutters, his eyebrows creeping toward his hairline when you slowly slide your tongue around the rim of your beer bottle before taking a sip. His heated gaze is still locked on yours when there's a commotion at the back door of the restaurant; the door slings open and two men walk in from the outdoor deck, both of them cackling and snorting like a couple of wild animals before one stops dead in his tracks and points directly at you.

"Hot Damn!" he hollers, his bloodshot eyes going wide as a gust of wind from the open door blows your skirt higher up your thighs; you grab your skirt before anyone gets a glimpse of panties and firmly tuck it under your legs. "C'mon, sweetie, don't be shy," the drunk croons, taking a step toward your table before Joe stands up and turns to face him. "Oh shit, nevermind!" drunky yelps, retreating to the bar on the far wall across from your table, his friend close behind him.

Your pulse rate is going crazy when Joe calmly sits back down and takes a sip of his beer. "You wanna leave?" you whisper, throwing a quick glance at the rowdy drunks.

"Nah -- if they keep acting up I'll just beat the shit out of both of 'em."

"And go to jail for assault and battery?" you snap.

"Not if they throw the first punch," he grins, the twinkle in his eye looking scarily like anticipation.

"Joseph Lee," you grit out, your eyes narrowing in warning. "Don't you dare get into it with those assholes."

"Relax, babe," he soothes. "I promise I won't start anything."

You're still pondering if you should leave when your waitress walks up and sets your food down. "Thanks," you say, managing a smile even though your nerves are completely frazzled. "You're welcome," she says. "Just holler if you need anything else."

Before you can take a bite of food, you hear a loud whistle and turn your head to see the two drunks leering at you. "I might have to bust some heads if those assholes don't stop staring at you," Joe grumbles, shooting a death glare at them.

"Hol' up!" one of them yells. "Is that the pretty boy who just lost the Super Bowl?" They both squint at Joe, trying to get their alcohol-blurred eyesight to focus. "Sure is," his buddy finally chimes in, both of them guffawing and chanting "loser" until the bartender slams a hand on the bar in front of them. "Y'all can either shut up or leave," the bartender snaps.

You slowly turn your head and make eye contact with Joe; he takes a huge bite of his burger, his easy, breezy, greasy-lipped smile setting off alarm bells in the back of your mind. He's itching to beat the shit outta those guys, you think to yourself, taking a dainty bite of your burger while keeping a close eye on the drunks out of the corner of your eye. Joe gives you a wicked grin as he shoves a handful of french fries in his mouth before offering you one. You lean forward and let him feed it to you, giving his salty index finger a quick suck to try and redirect all of that pent-up energy. His eyes flash with lust and you give him a naughty grin. Mission accomplished, you think to yourself. "You keep looking at me like that and we'll have to get a to-go box," he mutters, taking another bite of his burger. You give him an innocent look before reaching for another french fry.

Y'all make small talk for the next 20 minutes while he eats all of his burger and half of yours. Just as he's polishing off the last of the fries, you hear more snorts and cackles coming from the drunks at the bar.

"Baby-faced pretty boy don't look like he knows how to please a woman," drunk #1 says loudly. "She must be with him for the money." They both laugh like hell before the bartender snaps at them. "That's it! Get out!"

"Relax," drunk #2 chimes in, giving the bartender a shit-eating grin. "We're just pointing out that he ain't man enough for her. She needs a real man. I mean, look at her!"

Joe's chiseled nostrils flare as he methodically wipes his big hands on his napkin. "Fuck … this," he snarls, pushing his chair back to stand up. "No baby, they're not worth it," you plead, your pulse rate kicking into overdrive as he walks toward the drunks, his long legs quickly closing the distance. The bartender, now joined by the manager, struggle to herd the drunks toward the exit before one of the drunks turns and sees a mad-as-hell Joe bearing down on them. "Oh shit! Run!" he yells, both of them falling all over the place trying to hit the door before Joe catches up to them.

Once they're gone, Joe and the manager have a conversation while you try to take deep breaths and calm your racing pulse. You absentmindedly run a hand through the condensation on your beer bottle as you watch Joe shrug his broad shoulders and shift his weight from one foot to the other. Wonder what they're talking about, you think to yourself, letting your mind wander a bit now that the threat is gone.

You're actually a little surprised by Joe's intense reaction to the leering drunks. He could get a little jealous sometimes but it was never anything too serious, usually just him getting annoyed at guys overtly ogling you or being flirty. He almost always let it go with just a warning look at the offenders because he knew you were going home with him. He was alpha to the bone but without the toxic masculinity that often came with it.

Joe's deep, throaty laugh pulls your attention back to him just as he turns around and strides back to your table. "Manager wants to comp our meal so he refused to take my credit card," Joe grumbles, reaching into the pocket of his gray jeans. He pulls out an old-school money clip and peels a couple hundred dollar bills off before dropping them on the table. "He can't refuse this," he gloats, giving you a smug look while dropping into his chair. You shake your head but keep your mouth shut. You'd warned him about carrying so much cash but he shrugged you off. The conversation went something like this:

"You shouldn't carry so much cash. Several hundred is fine but several thousand is asking for trouble; just use your credit card."

"You never know when something might blow out the power grid and credit cards will be useless."

You rolled your eyes. "What's gonna blow out the power grid?"

"Solar flare, World War 3, alien invasion," Joe shrugged. "You never know."

Joe loudly clearing his throat pulls you back into the moment. You take in his told-you-so smirk for a bit, trying to decide whether or not to remind him that you said carrying several hundred in cash is perfectly fine, so this is not a 'told-you-so' situation. One look at his body language and you decide to bite your tongue. No need to poke the hornet's nest, you think to yourself before grabbing your beer bottle and chugging the last few swallows, feeling his eyes on your throat as you slowly gulp the remaining beverage. When you're done, you set the bottle down and lock eyes with him. His cocky smirk is long gone.

He quickly stands up and gestures for you to do the same. "Let's go," he orders, placing a hand on the small of your back as y'all walk out the door and into the parking lot. The heat from his large hand easily penetrates your slinky shirtdress and you bite your bottom lip as a steady throb of arousal ignites deep inside you. He opens the car door for you, eyes glued to your bare legs as you get settled in the seat. "You okay, babe?" you ask as he slides in the car and starts the engine. "Fine," he mutters, flashing you a quick grin that more closely resembles the lovechild of a snarl and a grimace. Great, you think to yourself. Gonna be an interesting night.

You look out the car window as dusk settles in and the streetlights slide by in intermittent flashes; you note that he's taking the direct route home. No more lazy back roads, you think with a bit of regret, your attitude shifting when he cranks the music and settles a hand on your thigh. You turn your head to look at him, enthralled by his ridiculously sexy profile. You can tell by the look on his face that he's still pissed off. Luckily he isn't the kind of guy who takes his frustrations out by driving aggressively but his body language is big mad.

"You sure you're okay?" you whisper. "I said I'm fine," he mutters, removing his hand from your thigh just long enough to turn the music up a bit more. He slides his hand back under your skirt, teasing the elastic edge of your panties with his limber fingers. You wiggle your hips a bit trying to get closer to his fingers, but he never gives you more than a quick caress over the top of your flimsy lace thong. You shoot him a couple of glances trying to read his mood but the gathering dark makes it hard to read his expression.

You're wet as hell and a little annoyed when he finally whips the car into y'all's driveway. Just before the car rolls into the garage, you notice storm clouds forming on the horizon and realize it's going to be a stormy night in more ways than one. The second he pulls into the garage he quickly kills the engine and hops out, jogging around to open the door for you. You give him a bland smile as you swing your legs out and stand up. "Thanks," you whisper. "Sure," he mutters, ushering you in the house before you can say anything else.

As y'all enter the house he heads directly to the kitchen, grabbing a glass out of a cabinet before slinging the freezer open to get the vodka. He splashes some of the ice-cold alcohol in the glass and takes a hearty gulp, leveling a loaded look at you as you close the distance between you.

"That's not what you need," you say, nodding at the vodka bottle. He raises the glass to his mouth again and locks eyes with you over the rim; he pauses for a second then takes a long, slow sip, finishing it off by loudly sucking on his bottom lip in a way that sends a sizzle of electricity straight to your clit. "You got any better ideas?" he purrs, giving you a dirty wink before pushing away from the counter to stalk around the room like a caged tiger.

Ohhh, he knows exactly what he's doing, you think to yourself. Two can play that game. You watch him pace back and forth for a minute, a tiny smile gracing your lips as a naughty idea forms in your mind. He needs to work this aggression out, you think to yourself, and I know just the way to set it off. You feel a little thrill of anticipation as you think of what you're about to unleash.

"Those guys at the bar really pissed you off but I can't understand why," you muse. "I know it wasn't the stuff they said about losing the Super Bowl. You're just getting started in the NFL, and we both know you're gonna fucking run it one of these days. So what was it?" He stops pacing and narrows his eyes at you. "I didn't enjoy them eye-fucking you!" he snaps.

"I don't think that's it," you shake your head. "That happens all the time, to both of us. That's the price of admission when you're with a baddie." He gives you a tight smile as you continue. "What really pissed you off?" you repeat, holding eye contact with him while slowly unbuttoning your shirtdress. He shrugs his broad shoulders while avidly watching you. "I don't know," he finally answers.

"I think you do know. You just have to be man enough to admit it."

His eyebrows shoot toward the ceiling. "You don't think I'm man enough?" he sputters. "You sound just like those assholes at the bar!"

"That's not what I said."

"Sure as hell sounded like it!"

"Then you're not listening."

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Why don't you explain it to me," he orders, eyes glued to the cleavage exposed by your partially-open dress.

"I think you felt challenged when they said you're not man enough for me. But why did that make you mad when you know it's not true? You do know that, right?" you ask, holding his gaze as you push the dress off of your shoulders and let it drop to the floor. He watches closely as you bend over and pick the dress up, tossing it onto a barstool.

"Look." He runs his fingers through his hair and hits you with a penetrating glare. "I'm having a hard time following this conversation since you're mostly naked. Are you questioning if I'm man enough for you?"

"No, I think you're questioning it. I think that's why you're so pissed." You reach behind your back and unhook your bra, letting it slowly slide down your arms before tossing it on the barstool. "But if you're worried about it you can just … prove it."

His hot gaze rests on your ample breasts for what seems like ages before he finally meets your eyes. "You better stop playin'," he warns, narrowing his eyes as you slide your panties off and toss them on top of your bra.

"Oh, I'm just getting started," you tease. You give him a filthy grin before spinning around and sashaying toward the stairs wearing nothing but your high heels. You sling your long hair over your shoulder and add an extra swish to your hips, knowing Joe's eyes will be drawn to your perky butt and toned legs. "You coming?" you ask, throwing him a look over your shoulder. You're almost at the top of the stairs when you hear him pounding up the stairs behind you; it takes everything you have not to run like hell but you know he won't hurt you, not unless you beg him to.

As you walk into the master bedroom you hear the rain start hitting the roof, lightly at first then with growing intensity. You come to an abrupt halt when a bolt of lightning streaks across the sky, the intense flash easily penetrating your gauzy window shades to light up the entire bedroom for several seconds. You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding as Joe walks up behind you and settles his big hands on your waist. You can feel the heat radiating off of him and a shiver of pleasure runs through you when he presses a kiss on your shoulder. You turn to face him, his heated gaze causing a visceral response deep inside you.

Before you have a chance to speak, a loud clap of thunder rattles the windows causing you to jump and let out a squeal. Once you regain your composure you take in Joe's stoic expression. Of course he didn't jump, you think wryly, he didn't even blink. You search his face for a minute before speaking. "What are you thinking?" you whisper. He stares at you for what seems like ages before finally answering. "What do you need me to prove?" he asks, voice husky with desire tinged with anger. You shake your head no. "I don't need you to prove anything. This is about you not me."

He takes a deep breath and releases it slowly before dropping to his knees at your feet, his gaze holding yours as he leans forward until his mouth is almost touching your crotch. You feel his breath on your most sensitive skin, and you're sure he's going to taste you but instead he flashes you a knowing smirk before looking down at your feet. "Let's lose these," he murmurs, his agile fingers easily unfastening the ankle straps on your heels. You hold onto his shoulders as you step out of the shoes. "Thanks," you whisper, watching closely as he stands back up and pulls his t-shirt off, dropping it on top of your shoes.

He quickly strips down to nothing but his low-rise boxer briefs before burying one hand in your hair, pulling hard enough for you to hiss at the sting as you lean your head to the side, exposing your slender neck. He eases the pressure on your hair before dropping a trail of kisses and love bites from your collarbone up to the sensitive spot behind your ear; a shiver runs through you as your nipples harden against his muscular torso. He nips your earlobe with his teeth and you feel a gush of wetness between your thighs as he slides his hands down your back and cups your ass, giving a gentle squeeze before picking you up; you wrap your legs around his waist and bury your face in his neck. "So wet," he groans, moving you up and down his barely-there treasure trail, his arm muscles flexing with each motion. You bite your bottom lip as your eyes flutter closed at the delicious sensation.

After teasing you for a bit, he abruptly stops. "Look at me," he orders. You remove your face from his fragrant neck and lock eyes with him. "You think you'd get this wet for those assholes at the bar?" he asks. "God no!" you make a disgusted face. "I'd never get this wet for anyone but you. You know that." He searches your expression for a minute without speaking. Before you can fill the silence, another loud clap of thunder causes you to flinch. "The storm's close," you whisper, glancing at the windows as a lightning strike sizzles across the sky. "Real close," he mutters, giving you a tight smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

He walks to the side of the bed and sets you down before dropping to his knees on the floor between your legs; he plants his hands on your thighs and spreads you obscenely wide, licking his lips while leaning in.

"I need to tell you something," you say abruptly, stopping his forward progress.

"Right now?"

"Yeah."

He reluctantly drags his gaze from your crotch to your face. "Okay."

"I … kind of manipulated you earlier and now I feel bad about it."

He furrows his brow. "What do you mean?"

You chew on your bottom lip for a bit before coming clean. "I knew you were mad as hell and needed to work through it without getting shitfaced on vodka." You shrug. "I goaded you with that 'prove it' shit, but it backfired."

He studies your expression for several seconds before speaking. "How did it backfire?"

"I thought you'd chase me up the stairs, toss me on the bed and fuck me through the mattress, and then we'd both feel better. Instead you got all calm and quiet and I'm afraid you're mad at me, and I'm also afraid you actually think you're not man enough for me which is total bullshit and . . ."

"Babe," he interrupts your breathless rambling. "I'm not mad at you."

"Really? Even though I tried to manipulate you?"

His lips curl up in a genuine smile. "You had good intentions." You breathe a sigh of relief and return his smile. "Plus you were right," he continues. "It pissed me off when that dickhead said you need a real man." Joe's jaw clenches with anger as he relives the memory. "He's lucky I didn't knock his fucking teeth down his throat."

"Forget those assholes," you soothe, leaning forward to press a kiss on his lips. "I've never wanted anyone the way I want you. I'll never get enough of you." His gaze and body language soften at your admission. "I feel the same way," he whispers, pushing you back on the bed and capturing your lips in a slow-burn kiss, his hands roaming your body while his tongue works magic in your mouth.

He takes his sweet time kissing you before nuzzling over to that sensitive spot behind your ear, smiling against your skin as you writhe beneath him; he kisses a trail down to your breasts, giving you that intense look from underneath long eyelashes as he teases your nipples for several minutes before continuing down, dipping his tongue in your belly button before planting wet kisses against your inner thighs. He eventually focuses his attention on your core, delicately licking your folds before plunging his tongue inside. You're so turned on that it only takes a few minutes of his talented tongue plus agile fingers to set you off.

"Sooo good," you eventually whimper once you catch your breath, your body limp as a ragdoll as he wraps his hands around your waist and easily moves you to the center of the king-sized bed, his eyes never leaving yours as he strips his underwear off and crawls onto the bed between your thighs. "You need a minute?" he whispers, hissing as you reach a hand out and wrap it around his erection, pumping him several times. "I need you inside me," you plead, moaning when he slowly drags his cock through your wet folds before pushing inside. He teases you with several shallow thrusts before placing your legs over his shoulders; once he's got you right where he wants you he starts thrusting again, slowly at first then picking up pace, running his big hands up and down your still-trembling thighs while his hot gaze pins you in place as effectively as a chokehold. After several minutes he moves a hand down to play with your clit. "Damn baby, you feel too good. I'm not gonna last long," he grits out, barely getting the last word out before your climax hits quickly followed by his.

The sound of your mutual heavy breathing is almost drowned out by the sound of the intense thunderstorm. Once you catch your breath, you bask in the afterglow of back-to-back orgasms, smiling at the way Joe continues to caress you as he stretches out beside you on the bed.

About 15 minutes later, a loud clap of thunder startles you out of your fucked-out bliss and your entire body jumps. "It's okay," Joe whispers, pulling you tight against him. You nestle your nose against his broad chest and breathe him in as the storm continues to rage. "So intense," you sigh. He slides a hand up and down your back and presses his lips against your ear. "What's intense?" he asks, "the storm or the sex?"

"Both," you giggle, "but especially the sex. Can't wait for the next time you get a little jealous."

"Next time?" he scoffs, giving you an absolutely filthy grin before flipping you onto your stomach. "I'm not done with you this time, gorgeous," he purrs, massaging your shoulders for a bit before slowly running his tongue down the length of your spine, pressing wet kisses against the small of your back. You smile against the mattress as he tilts your hips up and settles between your thighs. You sigh in contentment and arch your back, already anticipating an easy, slow-grind fuck.

The strength of his first thrust catches you off guard as you're pushed forward against the silky sheets. Damn, you think to yourself, quickly scrambling to brace your hands against the headboard, arching up and pushing back to meet his next thrust. He continues to fuck you hard, relentlessly impaling you on his thick cock as your whimpers and moans are muffled by the mattress. "You like that?" he growls, pounding into you with a force that takes your breath away; you try and fail to form the word 'yes' so you let your body language do the talking, grinding back against him as the sound of your flesh slapping together at the apex of each thrust drowns out the rolling thunder.

Just as your shaky legs are about to give out, he reaches a hand around and massages your swollen clit, speaking words of filthy encouragement as you dig your fingernails into the padded headboard. "Cum for me, baby," he purrs, pinching your clit with the perfect amount of pressure to set you off. Your climax hits like a bodyslam and you draw just enough air into your lungs to moan his name as he follows you over the edge, your core spasming hard around his cock as he empties inside you right before your knees collapse. You fall forward onto the bed and he follows you down, both of you sweaty and trembling and gasping for breath.

---------

Several hours later your eyes flutter open in the semi-dark room; you squeeze your thighs together as your half-asleep body comes close to orgasm before the moment passes, leaving you feeling unfulfilled. How am I feeling unfulfilled when my man just fucked me stupid? you think to yourself, turning your head to look at said man. The bed beside you is empty and you briefly wonder where Joe is before being distracted by the sound of thunder. You listen to the steady staccato of rain hitting the roof and realize the storm is still storming. You turn your head to check the bedside clock -- 3:33 a.m. -- before yawning, stretching, then going still just as Joe walks into the bedroom, his tall, naked silhouette outlined by the hallway light.

You watch through half-closed eyelids as he gulps water from a water bottle as he walks to your bedside table and sets another bottle down. "Thanks," you whisper, smiling at the thoughtful gesture. "I didn't mean to wake you up," he murmurs, leaning down to press a lingering kiss on your lips. You push up into a sitting position and shake your head. "I was already awake," you answer, reaching for the water bottle and taking several swallows before continuing. "I had a super naughty dream about you, but I woke up right before I got off."

"Why didn't you wake me up? I'm always happy to help."

"You weren't here when I woke up," you shrug. "Plus we already had a marathon sex session. I thought you might be worn out."

"Are you questioning my stamina?" he asks, crawling onto the bed and sitting upright with his back against the padded headboard.

"No, sir," you answer, smiling when he gives you a heated look. "But you put in work earlier tonight. It's okay to be tired."

He narrows his eyes at you. "You think I'm not man enough to get you off again?"

"What? Of course not," you argue, "I know you're man enou . . ."

"Then get your sweet ass over here," he interrupts, patting his thick thighs. You set your water bottle on the bedside table then do as ordered, slinging a leg over his lap to straddle him. He teases your folds with his fingers, groaning when he feels how wet you are. "Damn baby, so wet for me," he whispers, sliding his tip up and down your slit several times before pushing inside; you gasp when he breaches your entrance, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip at the feel of him stretching your sore folds.

He immediately goes still. "You okay?"

"Yeah." You wiggle your hips a bit to get him moving again. "Just a little sore."

He wraps his hands around your waist and starts to pull you off of him.

"No!" you protest, digging your fingers into his arms to hold your position. "you started this and you're gonna finish it!"

"I don't wanna hurt you, baby," he soothes. "Let me get you off with my tongue."

You narrow your eyes at him. "Are you trying to make me beg for your cock? Seems a little manipulative." His eyebrows shoot upward and he opens his mouth to protest; you cut him off before he has a chance. "I'm kidding," you chuckle, leaning forward to plant a kiss on his lips. You suck his full bottom lip into your mouth, biting it just hard enough to draw a deep-throated groan from him. "If you want me to beg for it, I will," you whisper, kissing a trail up his jawline to his ear. "I need you inside me. Please?"

"You don't have to beg," he murmurs, "but let's take it slow, okay?"

"Yes, sir."

He narrows his eyes at you. "Woman, if you call me 'sir' again tonight we're gonna have a problem."

"What kind of problem?" you ask, trying hard to keep your expression neutral.

"Don't act all innocent," he growls, "you know exactly what kind of problem. Don't you?"

"No, si…."

Joe playfully slaps your ass to cut you off.

"Sorry, daddy," you tease, flashing a wicked grin at the lust-addled expression on Joe's face. Before you know it, he's buried deep inside you. "Yeah," you whine, digging your fingernails into his shoulders and lifting up until just his tip is inside you; you bounce the tiniest bit to make sure you're lined up right before grinding down hard, wanting his entire length back inside you; you manage to get about halfway down before your downward progress is halted by Joe's strong hands on your waist.

"I said take it slow," he orders. "Bossy ass," you mutter, hitting the hardest Kegel when he chuckles. "Shit baby," he hisses. You lock eyes with him. "I need you to fuck me hard," you demand, reaching a hand down to where your bodies are joined. "You've got me dripping wet," you purr, gathering some moisture on your fingers before sliding your hand up and down his throbbing shaft. He looks down to enjoy the view as you gather some moisture and raise your hand to your mouth, licking your fingers then sucking them as he watches.

"Give me a taste," he orders, licking his full lips in anticipation. You reach back down and anoint your fingers again, bringing them within a few inches of his mouth before stopping. "C'mon," he urges, leaning forward and groaning in frustration when you move your glistening fingers just out of reach. "You gonna fuck me hard?" you ask. "I don't wanna hurt you," he whispers, his opaque eyes darkening with lust as as you wiggle your juicy fingers just out of reach. "Please?" you beg, your gaze locked on his as he slides his strong hands down from your waist to your ample ass, getting two handfuls while searching your expression. "Please?" you repeat, slowly sliding your slick fingers across his lips. "I wanna feel every vein on your cock."

"Jesus," he groans, sucking your fingers into his mouth and thrusting up inside you, both of you moaning as he bottoms out. The next several minutes are like an out-of-body experience, Joe's strong hands lifting you up and down, impaling you on his cock as the thunder crashes and the lightning sizzles across the sky.

What seems like a lifetime later, after your fourth orgasm of the night has you seeing stars and gasping for breath, Joe's deep voice penetrates your blissed-out vibe. "You manipulated me just now, right?" he wheezes.

"Of course not," you scoff, panting against his deliciously sweaty neck as your core continues to shoot aftershocks around his slowly-softening erection.

"Bullshit. You know that 'sir' and 'daddy' shit drives me crazy."

"Hadn't really noticed," you shrug, trying hard not to cackle at his incredulous snort. He pulls back and looks at you with an are-you-shitting-me expression. Before he has a chance to speak, you come clean. "Okay yes, I manipulated you like a motherfucker," you admit, still trying to suck air into your lungs as your pulse rate finally starts slowing down, "but you manipulated me too."

"Did not."

"Did too!" you argue, clearing your throat before doing your best Joe impersonation: "You think I'm not man enough to get you off again?" He chuckles as you continue. "You knew that ish was leading to one place and one place only."

"Pound town?"

"Exactly! Thanks for admitting it."

He hits you with a cocky grin, drops a kiss on your parted lips then maneuvers you off of his lap and down onto the bed. "Don't be mad, baby girl," he teases. "I'm not a bit mad," you chuckle, sighing in contentment as he nestles you in his embrace.

After several more minutes of heavy breathing, he nuzzles his nose in your hair before speaking. "I'm gonna pass out now, okay?"

"Yes, sir," you answer, giggling when he gives your ass a smack.

---------

You slowly open your eyes, blinking a few times to bring things into focus. The soft sunlight peeking through the window shades tells you the storm has passed. You yawn and stretch before rolling over to look at Joe; he's still sound asleep, his pretty lips parted slightly and his unruly curls caressing his forehead. It should be illegal to look that good so early in the morning, you think to yourself, grimacing at the thought of your own appearance. You quickly decide you need a shower to wash off the dried sweat, spit and cum from the previous night's activities. You give Joe one more lingering look before easing out of bed and heading for the bathroom.

You turn the shower on to heat up then walk to the toilet enclosure to have a quick pee. "Damn," you whisper as you wipe, a little surprised at how sore you are. "He beat it up for real," you giggle to yourself, stepping into the steaming shower and reaching for your shampoo. You wash and condition your hair then lather your entire body with your fav body wash, being extra careful with your sore bits. Once you're done with your shower, you step out and dry yourself off, towel-drying your hair thoroughly before grabbing a hand mirror out of a drawer. You lean against the vanity and spread your legs a bit, using the mirror to inspect the damage.

A few seconds later there's a knock at the door; Joe enters before you have a chance to respond. Should've locked the door, you think to yourself, giving Joe a reassuring smile when his eyebrows shoot toward his hairline. "What's wrong?" he asks, quickly walking toward you. You set the mirror down and grab your towel, holding it in front of you. "Nothing," you soothe. "Just a little sore."

"Lemme see," he mutters, dropping to his knees at your feet.

"I've been sore before. It's no big deal."

"Let. Me. See." he orders, giving you a belligerent look until you heave a sigh and drop the towel; he uses his thumbs to spread your folds, grimacing when he sees how red and swollen you are. "I was way too rough," he groans. "We've had rough sex before," you shrug, "it's really not . . ."

"But that's the first time I fucked you hard when I knew you were already sore," he interrupts. "I shouldn't have done that." You run a hand through his hair, smiling at the concern in his eyes as he looks up at you through those long lashes. "I begged for it," you argue. "Remember?"

"I remember. I still shouldn't have been so rough." He drops his head against your thigh. "I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry for," you soothe, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. "I loved everything about last night. I lost count of how many times you made me cum."

"It was a lot," he mumbles, trying and failing to suppress a smug grin.

"Exactly," you chuckle, glad to see his cocky swagger is fully intact after the 'real man' angst from yesterday. "Anyway, vaginas are designed to take a beating. One of these days I'm gonna push your big-ass babies out of it, and it will bounce back just fine."

He laughs while standing up and pulling you into a hug. "You always know just the right thing to say," he sighs, burying his face in your damp hair and taking a deep breath. He lets it out slowly before speaking. "Do you get nervous when you think about being a parent?"

"Of course." You lean back and lock eyes with him. "That's super normal. We have a few more years before we need to think about it, but I know we'll be fine." He smiles and gives you a lingering kiss. "We have so many things to look forward to," he whispers, his eyes going wide as his stomach growls loudly, interrupting the tender moment.

"Sounds like you're looking forward to breakfast," you chuckle. "Guilty," he says, laughing along with you. "I'll bring you breakfast in bed. What sounds good?" he continues. "Maybe an omelet?"

You take his face in your hands and level a serious gaze at him. "Babe, I trust you with my life, but I don't trust you to make a decent omelet."

"That's fair," he agrees. "The last ones I made came out a little rubbery."

"We have some blueberry muffins left over from yesterday. I'll just have one of those and some orange juice." You give him a wink. "I'll make us a nice brunch later, does that sound good?"

"Sounds great. Hop back in bed and I'll go grab breakfast." He gives you a quick kiss before striding from the room. You smile as you watch him go. "Nothing like a good ol' fashioned fuck fest to put a little extra swagger in his step," you whisper to yourself, giggling quietly as you walk into the closet; you grab one of Joe's t-shirts and pull it on, deciding to go commando to give your vag some breathing room.

You're just getting settled back into bed when he comes in with a tray of food. You smile at him then grimace as your leg encounters a wet spot on the bed; you scoot over to avoid it, making a mental note to change the sheets after breakfast.

"Something wrong?" he asks, noticing your grimace.

"No, just hit a wet spot," you chuckle. "I could probably wring a few gallons of liquid out of these sheets with how wet you had me last night."

He sets the tray on the bed and gives you a smouldering look. "You keep talking like that and I'm gonna need a cold shower before breakfast."

"Sorry," you mumble, giving him a cheeky look.

"You're not a bit sorry and you know it," he teases, taking what looks like an empty glass from the tray and setting it on his bedside table. He then hands you a glass of juice before crawling onto the bed beside you; he grabs his own glass of juice and holds it up for a toast. "To weathering the storm," he says, giving you a sweet smile when you clink your glass against his. "To weathering the storm," you repeat, taking a hearty gulp of juice before reaching for your muffin. He takes a huge bite of one of his muffins and gives you a sheepish look while chewing and swallowing. "I'm sorry I got so mad yesterday. I know better than that." You swallow a bite of muffin and take a sip of juice before answering. "It's okay; you're human, not a robot."

Y'all exchange small talk for the next several minutes while polishing off your snacks. When you drain the last of your juice and set your glass on the tray, he slides the tray to the side and gives you an enigmatic smile. "Time for some treatment," he says, leaning over to grab the other glass off of his bedside table. "Treatment?" you ask, watching as he dips his fingers in the glass and pulls out an ice cube, popping it in his mouth.

He slides the comforter off of your legs and crawls in between them, smiling at your quizzical expression as he grabs a handful of your t-shirt and pulls it up, exposing your bare crotch. "Mmmm, no panties," he breathes around the ice cube, his broad shoulders spreading you wide as he settles between your thighs. You gasp as he leans down and presses his cool tongue against your sore folds.

"Does it feel good?" he asks.

"It feels amazing," you moan, actually feeling a little lightheaded at the sensation.

"Good. Lay back and relax," he orders. "I'm gonna take my time."

You do as ordered, sighing in bliss as he gently soothes your aching folds with his icy tongue. "You're so good to me," you breathe, groaning as he continues his ministrations. "You're not just getting brunch today," you continue. "You're getting dinner, dessert, and anything else you want."

He grins while popping another ice cube in his mouth, manipulating it with his acrobatic tongue while giving you a dirty wink. "Brunch and dinner is more than enough, baby girl," he teases while lowering his head. "I already know what I'll be having for dessert," he sighs, smiling against your sensitive skin when his deliciously cold tongue causes you to gasp his name.

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow oneshot

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lesbianpepsi · 9 months

Text

Fuck it I love you | part II

pairing: sam carpenter x fem!reader

summary: When paired with Tara Carpenter for a project you were expecting a B or maybe even an A. Not falling in love with Tara's older sister, Sam.

series masterlist

words: 2.627k

warnings: light swearing, reader is a oblivious idiot,

authors note: i love y'all, remember to stay hydrated and stay safe:)

You have been going to the Carpenter apartment quite frequently after your first visit there; the nervous first time going over there jitters you had completely vanished. Your and Tara’s progress on the project had decreased but neither you cared, especially you.

On the second week of heading over to Tara's place it was hotter than usual in New York.

The sun danced in the clear blue skies as it warmed up the world to a heat that border-lined into uncomfortable.

Sighing dramatically you dropped your head till it collided with the table with a thud.

"It's too hot to be working." You grumbled through the avalanche of pieces of papers and notebooks that filled up the dining room table.

Tara giggled, clearly amused as she stopped writing for a second. "It's hot but bearable."

You shook your head against the table, tilting your head to the side to get a look at her. "It's not bearable, i'm sweating like a pig."

"You're not sweating like a pig, you're just being dramatic." She quipped back with a smile, looking at you with raised eyebrows.

Rolling your eyes you picked your head back up, sitting up straight on the wooden chair again. "You say dramatic, I say the truth."

She chuckled as she began writing again on the paper, her penmanship unbelievably much better than yours.

"If you're that hot then there's a watermelon in the fridge, feel free to cut some slices." You didn't hesitate another second before you jumped up from your seat and headed towards the kitchen.

Opening the magnet covered fridge you quickly spotted the half cut watermelon wrapped in a thin layer cling film, with a greedy smile you took it out of the fridge before gently placing it on the closet cutting board.

"You want a slice?" You asked, turning back to look at her, she turned to look at you, nodding her head with a little smile. "Please."

Turning back to look at the watermelon you unwrapped it, tossing the plastic to the side as you eyed up the wooden knife block.

Each knife grew in size at every slit made in the box, you opted for the largest knife. A satisfying noise filled your ears as you pulled out the sharp knife, the blade glistening from the sunlight directing into the apartment window.

Skilfully you sliced a few slices of watermelon for you and Tara, placing the two slices on a plate. You were about to begin cleaning up when you heard a laugh from the other room, your eyes widened as you remembered who else was here.

Sam!

Maybe Sam, Mindy and Chad would want some watermelons, you thought to yourself, a nervous smile growing on your face as you thought of Sam.

The woman practically lived in your mind ever since you met her, her grumpy glare never failing to light up your day.

Without another thought you walked over towards the living room, the sound of laughter getting louder as you entered.

"Sam?" You asked gingerly with a nervous smile still on your face. At the sound of your voice the trio turned to look at you, their eyes widening dramatically as they froze.

Sam's eyes are glued to your hand before they lock with your eyes, her dark eyes cold and wary.

You noticed Chad moving his arm over Mindy as he used his large build to hide most of her, as if he's hiding her away from you as they shuffled backwards.

"Would you like a slice?" You asked her with a joyful smile, completely unaware of the panic rising between the trio. Not noticing how dark your innocent words could be heard as.

"I've cut some watermelon slices if you'd like one, and you two can have some too of course."

Sam's eyes flicked back down to the knife in your hand as the blade glistened with a light red liquid, dripping onto the floor.

"Watermelon?" She questioned as she slowly stood up, not moving closer towards you. You nodded your head, your smile growing nervously as Sam actually interacted with you.

"Yeah!" Without thinking you raised your hand which carried the knife to point towards the kitchen. "I could go and get them if you'd like?"

Sam glanced over your shoulder and into the doorway of the kitchen. "Tara?" She yelled with a small wobble to her voice.

You cocked your head to the side confused as to why she was asking for Tara.

"Yeah?" Tara replied from the kitchen, not bothering to get up. "Are you okay?" She asked, her dark eyes returning back to yours. You smiled sweetly at her, she glared heavily at you.

A dull sound from the kitchen rang throughout the room before Tara joined the rest of you in the living room.

It didn't take a genius to understand why Sam is so confused.

"Y/n, what're you doing with the knife?" Tara asked as she looked between you and the wet knife. You waved your hand back to the kitchen, the blade skimming past your cheek. Tara's breath hitched momentarily at your carelessness with the knife in your hand.

"I was cutting up the watermelons?" You explained, confused to why you are getting so many questions that didn't answer your question; did Sam want a watermelon slice?

Tara sighed as she took the knife from your hand, glancing at Sam who visibly looked much more relaxed with you no longer holding the knife.

"Go get your slices, Y/n." She said with a laugh. You nodded your head as you headed towards the kitchen to grab the plate full of slices for everyone.

—————

The 'Watermelon incident' - as Tara called it- got you suspended from the apartment for two days.

When Tara told you that you were royally confused and even slightly hurt, but when you thought about the situation the more you realised how concerned and even angry that must've made the twins and Sam. You couldn't help but feel bad as you texted your apologies to everyone through Tara. She found the situation humorous but Sam certainly didn't.

"Wanna come to the gym with me?" Melanie -your best friend- asked you randomly as she paused the movie the two of you have been watching for the past hour.

You give her a disgusted look. "The gym? Why the hell would you wanna go to the gym on a Saturday?" You asked her, completely bewildered by the idea. Saturdays are for being lazy and relaxing, not working out so on Sunday you'll be sore and uncomfortable.

Melanie shrugged her shoulders. "I need to get started on my New Year's resolution."

"It's July." You say.

"And? I already know that." The blonde replied as if you're the idiot. "You haven't been to the gym at all this year and you decide halfway through the year to begin your resolutions?"

She rolled her eyes, folding her arms over her chest. "Going to the gym at least five times was my resolution, not live there. I think I'd actually die if I went there consistently."

You chuckled as you smiled at her. Melanie grinned as she slapped her knees, standing up.

"Is that a yes?"

You scoffed, shaking your head. "No way."

She groaned as she grabbed your hands attempting to pull you up, but you weren't budging.

"C'mon, I'm bored and all we've been doing today is listen to you talk about Sam and how excited you are for the Barbie movie."

"Two very valid and fun topics." You defend as you pull your hands back. Melanie didn't give up as she kept trying to tug you up. "For you. I've never even met this Sam you're obsessed with."

Your stance weakened at her slight dig at your crush, at that Melanie swiftly pulled you to your feet. Ignoring the fact Melanie won the game of tug of war you crossed your arms over your chest.

"I am not obsessed with Sam." You said with weak authority. The blonde raised her eyebrows teasingly as she mimicked your stance. "Oh yeah? Prove it. Come to the gym with me instead of lounging here and talking about Sam."

You clenched your jaw as you debated your options. If you stayed in your shared apartment then all you'd do is create fake scenarios about you and Sam while listening to Lana Del Rey and you'd prove Melanie right. If you went with her to the gym you certainly would be distracted from Sam plaguing your thoughts due to the fact you'd be dying.

There was simply no winning.

With a sigh you nodded your head weakly, your pride getting the best of you.

"Fine, I'll come with you." Melanie's smug smile urges you to take back your words but before you get the chance she's already grabbing at your wrist and dragging you towards your room.

"Get changed and for the love of god please bring a big ass water bottle with you. I'll meet you in my car."

You grumble out a response but do what she asked you to do. You didn't have many "gym" clothes so you simply decided on a pair of shorts and a shirt that were dark enough so they wouldn't reveal your sweat stains.

Once you had filled the large bottle of water you double checked you had your phone and wallet before meeting Melanie in her car. She was already inside it and behind the wheel as Korn played loudly.

"We'll have fun, I promise." She reassured you as she started to drive towards the gym. You scoffed as you nodded your head. "Yeah sure."

Melanie and you arrived at the gym after twenty minutes, her being ecstatic to finally actually use her gym membership card.

"Alright, what should we do first?" Melanie asked you as you two entered the surprisingly quiet gym.

"I don't know about you but I'm heading towards the treadmill." You replied as you walked over to the treadmill section without waiting for her response.

You hear her groan from behind you with footsteps following you soon after.

From the view on the treadmill it gave you further access to use the entire gym.

A myriad of different people doing various different activities that you admired greatly, impressed by these strangers who clearly loved the gym.

But a pair of people caught your attention immediately, Melanie's too.

"Holy shit that might be the most gorgeous man I have ever seen in my life." She whispered breathlessly next to as she jogged at a slow speed on the treadmill. You swallowed nervously as you gazed at the woman next to the man, she's using one of the pull up bars while the man sat next to her using a stupidly heavy dumbbell.

A grey tank top on her figure as she flexed her back and shoulders muscles, pulling herself up and down flawlessly.

You glanced at the man as you walked on the treadmill.

"Oh my god it's Chad and Sam." You whisper yelled to Melanie, turning to face her with wide eyes. "If the workout doesn't kill me, seeing her working out will actually stop my heart!"

A shit eating grin quickly appeared on Melanie's face as she turned to look at you. "Damn, I'm straight but I can totally see why you're obsessed with her."

"I'm not obsessed with her." You reminded her as you glanced back at Sam's muscles flexing beautifully under the light, a small sweat on her skin which glazed her skin making her look even more attractive.

You could feel your heartbeat pick up its pace and you're more than sure it's not because of the slow pace you're doing on the treadmill.

"Sure you're not. Let's go over there then." She proposed with a sly grin.

 You shake your head instantly at her words, chuckling nervously. "Isn't it like gym code to never disturb someone while they're working out?"

Melanie sighed as she played with the screen of the treadmill making it go faster. "You're right." You grinned triumphantly. "Guess I'll just go to ask Chad for some help when he's done with his rep." Your smile dropped.

"And leave me so you can try to flirt with him?" Melanie nodded her head.

You didn't reply as you tried to focus on anywhere that wasn't Sam's glorious back.

Jesus christ, maybe you are obsessed with this woman.

After a solid ten minutes of a decent pace Melanie abruptly stopped her machine as she hopped off. You turned to look at her confused as you kept walking.

"I'm going to go on the bench press and ask Chad for some help, see you soon babe." She confirmed with a comfort smirk, giving you a wink before she headed towards Chad and Sam's direction.

You didn't dare move off of the treadmill as your eyes followed Melanie's figure heading towards the two as Chad had finished his reps.

As she arrived at where Chad and Sam were working out, Sam slowed down as Chad smiled up at her.

Whatever Melanie said to Chad must've worked since both were grinning like fools as they headed towards where the bench press was at.

You chuckled to yourself as you watched the two momentarily as Chad "helped" her with the bench press.

Unconsciously your eyes flickered back to where Sam was at, to your surprise she wasn't there anymore.

"Y/n." Sam's gruff voice greeted you as she hopped on the treadmill. Your feet tripped over each other but thankfully you not so gracefully caught yourself as you smiled at her, not expecting to see her.

"Sam! Nice to see you again, how've you been doing?" You asked with a nervous laugh as your heart rate picked up once again.

"I've been okay. You?" She asked dryly as she increased the speed to her treadmill, jogging with a speed that doubled your slow walking pace.

You smiled dreamily at her, not bothered at all by her dry tone. "I've been alright thanks for asking, how's Tara been?"

Sam's interest piqued due to you asking about her sister, a small, an almost non existent smile appeared on her lips.

"Tara's good, she's currently with Mindy playing Mario Kart. She sucks tremendously at it." Her smile grew the more she talked about her younger sister, it didn't fail to make your heart soar.

"You're a good sister, you know." You mention with your own smile, increasing your pace slightly. "It's obvious you care a lot about her and I find that really sweet. Tara's lucky to have you as a sister."

Sam didn't say anything; the sounds of yours and her footsteps filled the growing silence. You didn't mind, as long as you're with Sam you'll take it.

You and Sam jogged side by side in a comfortable silence for another ten minutes before Sam stopped her own machine, you glanced at her and couldn't help but find the flush on her cheeks completely adorable.

Something Tara would call you a lunatic for.

She's breathing heavily as her eyes locked with yours, a crooked weak smile on her face.

"Thank you." She said in a tone that wasn't her usual dark and dry tone. Your ears warmed up as your eyes twinkled with joy at her words.

"You don't have to thank me when all I'm doing is saying the truth, Sam." You assured her as you carried on walking, the excessive beating of your heart now being a mix of Sam's small smile and your increasing speed.

Sam stayed silent once again, giving you a curt nod before she turned her back, heading towards the changing room.

God, Melanie was right, you're obsessed with her.

#sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter x y/n #melissa barrera x reader #scream six #sam carpenter fluff #fluff #angst #my fanfic writing #fuck it i love you

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messedupfan · 6 months

Text

Chapter 6

Summary: Vision attempts to make a threat to Y/n. Tommy and Billy start a new activity. And Y/n is debating on exploring a romantic relationship but is worried about the consequences.

A/N: HELLLOOO!!! I've FINALLY been able to finish writing a chapter. So sorry it took so long! Hope y'all are well. Lemme know what you think! Enjoy!

Masterlist | All Chapters | All Stories Taglist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On Sunday afternoon, Wanda is anxiously waiting for her kids to arrive. To avoid a messy situation with Vision, she sends Pietro out to pick up food from a place an hour away that her boys really love to eat from. You continue to work as she paces around the house. Adjusting decorations here and there, fussing over every little thing since Luna is sitting at the kitchen table being entertained by her tablet. A rare moment that Wanda actually wishes that her niece was being a distraction.

As it gets closer to the time they're meant to be dropped off, Wanda begins to work herself up. Ranting to herself she gets angrier and angrier by the second. Saying that he's the reason their marriage fell apart. That he's the one that left her for a child. That she shouldn’t be worried about how he's going to act after what happened last Sunday since it was his unacceptable behavior that caused the incident in the first place.

“Wanda,” you call out firmly to stop her on her tracks. She looks at you with a glare that's meant for her ex and you smile at her. Despite how terrifying that glare is. “Can you help me hammer some nails in? Put some of that energy into good use.” You hold the handle of the hammer out to her.

“Sure, uh,” Wanda blinks a couple of times to clear her head. “What do you want me to do?” She takes the hammer.

You set up two pieces of wood that don't really need to have nails in them but figure since they're useless to you they can be useful in this moment. “Just imagine these nails are your ex-husband.” You lay some nails out on the table next to the piece of wood.

Wanda walks over and stands in front of you. Her anger blinds her from all that she was taught as a young girl and she raises the hammer a little too high for your liking. You grab her wrist, wrapping your body around her from behind, to stop her as she starts to bring it down. “What?” She snaps.

“Last I checked, you need your thumb. Go at it slowly at first. You want to get the nail sturdy before you go crazy on it so that you don't lose your fingers,” you explain yourself and demonstrate the pace she should start with by guiding her hand that is holding the hammer. “See? He's already taken your sanity, he doesn't deserve your fingers,” you say jokingly and it makes Wanda laugh a little.

“Aw isn't this sweet,” Vision says as he hands Tommy and Billy their duffle bags. You step away from Wanda and clear your throat because you're not sure how that might've looked to Vision. More so what it looked like to the boys.

Wanda hits the hammer hard causing the nail to split the wood and she drops the hammer on the table. “Vision, you're late.”

“Well, I figured since my time got eaten into last week, you wouldn't mind if I took some of yours in exchange. Besides, I was getting the boys new gear.” Vision explains as he steps closer. “By the looks of it, I probably should have come a little later. I do apologize for interrupting, but please. Not in front of the children.”

Wanda rolls her eyes, “Whatever you're thinking was happening, it wasn't.” She smiles for her kids and gets to their level. “What gear did you boys need?”

The twins show their mom what Vision got for them as they excitedly open the duffles to reveal all of the new martial arts gear that their dad got for them. “You should be getting an email of their schedule soon. They start this week,” Vision explains. Then he walks over to you as Wanda gives her full attention to the boys as they unpack their bags. “My boys wouldn’t stop talking about you and your daughter all week. I hope that we can come to an understanding that nothing complicated happens between you and their mother. I’d hate for them to lose a friend,” he says in a low tone and your eyebrows crease in confusion.

“Vision,” you start awkwardly, not really used to saying his name. “I’m only here as a favor to Pietro. There is nothing romantic happening between Wanda and I.”

Vision tips his head to the side and pulls his phone out, “That’s not what it looked like the other night.” On his screen is an image of you and Wanda smiling at the restaurant. Other than being creeped out that he somehow acquired this picture, you can’t help but be impressed by the quality of the image.

“Hey that’s pretty good,” you pull out your phone, “if I give you my number do you think you could send me that? I don’t normally photograph this well.” Vision is thrown off by your response and he isn’t sure how to continue this conversation. He was expecting you to ask how he got the picture and then he was going to say that he has eyes everywhere in a threatening tone and you were supposed to be afraid of him. Not requesting him to send you the picture. He planned this all out the moment he got the picture. Vision is offended that you have gone so far off of the mental script he had. “Oh you know what, send it to Wanda. She has my number.” Vision steps back and clenches his jaw. There’s no way his ex can know that he has the photo. “That isn’t a problem. Is it?”

“No, no, it's uh, there’s no problem.” Vision puts his phone into his pocket and clears his throat. “That seemed more than friendly,” he states, trying to gain some sort of control in the conversation. You shrug.

“I’m sure it does. I mean, a picture can be worth a thousand words and all that but those words depend on the person who is seeing it. When I look at it, I remember the situation that the two of us were laughing about. You see a romantic date. I'm sure whoever took the picture thought it was worth sending to you for the same reason.” Vision's face starts to turn red and you aren't certain from what but you continue. “I can tell you the truth all I want but you have your picture and an idea of what's happening there. It doesn't matter what I tell you.”

“Is everything alright over here?” Wanda asks as she approaches. The boys are running up the stairs behind her so they can put away their new gear in their room.

Vision smiles and pats you on the back, “Everything is perfectly splendid. I was apologizing to your friend here about the scene I may have caused last weekend. I was highly emotional. Virginia and I are expecting a girl and well,” he doesn't continue after the dark expression that passes over his ex's features. Vision clears his throat and steps away from you. “I will see you next Sunday, Wanda.” He walks out the front door.

You watch Wanda and can tell she is struggling with something internally. You want to ask her the significance of what Vision just said but you don't want to pry. “When do you think Pietro will get back?” You ask in order to snap Wanda out of whatever was starting to eat her up.

“Um… um… I'm not sure,” she is fighting to come back to the present. She doesn't want to live in the past anymore. She doesn't want to fall into herself again about something that wasn't meant to be. She has her boys. They are enough, she doesn’t need more than them.

“The twins seem excited about martial arts,” you say conversationally, trying to help her leave her head. “I think I'll be back here fixing holes in the walls in no time.”

“Why’s that?” She asks as she tries to stay grounded to the conversation.

“Well you never know, they might become super ninjas and start punching holes in the walls,” you make funny motions and noises to get a reaction out of her and Wanda does smile a little.“Then they might start karate chopping your tables and well,” you make the chopping motion with your hand and Wanda lets out a laugh at the image. “Sure, you can call your brother to fix those things but come on. Once this addition is done, you know you'll look for any excuse to get me back in here.”

“Oh is that so?” She challenges with a smirk.

“Oh yeah,” you wink playfully. “You’re going to miss me taking forever to get the job done.” Wanda shakes her head and takes a deep breath as she is finally free from her head.

“Thank you,” she says as she reaches for your hand to give you a soft squeeze.

“Anytime,” you squeeze back. When the front door opens the both of you quickly pull away. As if you'll be caught doing something wrong again. Pietro comes in with bags of food and calls for his nephews to wash their hands and come down stairs. You follow Wanda to the kitchen and stand by her as she washes her hands in the sink as you wait for your turn. Once your hands are clean, you help her set the table despite her insisting that you didn't have to.

Because you don't have Rachel with you, you stay to work a little bit longer than last time because you hate how empty your apartment is when she isn't there. “As much as I appreciate your dedication,” Wanda starts as she crosses the duct tape line to hand you a water bottle. “I think you should head home. Besides, I need to get these kids to bed and loud saws and drills don't really help with that.”

You check your watch and your eyes widen at the time, “Oh wow, I'm sorry. I didn't realize. Let me pack up and I'll be out of your hair.”

“It’s okay, really,” Wanda says as you pack your equipment that you'll need for work tomorrow. “You got so focused I almost didn't want to stop you,” she admits.

You didn't really hear her as you weren't very graceful in packaging, you keep dropping things and making way more noise than normal. “Thank you for letting me stay after Pietro left. I'll see you next weekend?” You ask as you're stumbling towards the door with your gear.

“Would you like to see me sooner than that?” Wanda asks as she holds the door open.

You nearly lose your grip on your bags when she asks. A wave of nervousness comes over you and you aren't quite sure why. You know she isn't interested in dating… wait. No you don't. You think she isn't but she hasn't ever blatantly told you that. “Um sure, if you and the boys have a free day, I think I can convince the ex-mrs to come out with Rach,” you offer.

Wanda shrugs with an odd expression, “Yeah, we could do something like that.”

“Alright then,” you respond awkwardly, “I’ll uh get in touch with you sometime this week.”

“Okay,” Wanda nods once. “I’ll see you later.” She shuts the door once you're at your truck.

When you get home, you're surprised that you're not ready to fall into bed and crash for the night. You check the time again and figure that it couldn't hurt to give Phil a visit. So you grab your coat, wallet, and keys and make your way to The Hub. Walking in, there isn't much life around and you notice that there isn't anyone behind the bar but you take a seat on one of the stools anyway and wait for someone to appear. Hoping that your old boss is still around so that this visit isn’t for nothing. The wait for someone to come out from the back is longer than you anticipated it would be. You know that when you worked here, no one would have gotten away with this. That is until she is standing in front of you. She’s not who you came here to see but she’s someone that you've been debating on seeing more of.

“You know that I gave you my number so that you could call me, right?” Daisy says as she grabs a glass to clean.

“I like to talk face to face,” you shrug, “I guess I'm old fashioned that way.”

“So you did come here for me,” she returns the glass to its spot under the bar and leans on the counter. “Two days isn't too bad. I've waited by the phone longer and for much less.”

You laugh, “Daisy, I can't date you without talking about it with your dad first.”

She scoffs and steps back, “I’m not a child, I don't need his permission. I don't see why you do?”

“Come on, I respect your dad. He helped me through a rough time. I wouldn't feel right asking you out without his blessing.” You explain and look around the bar.

“Wow, you are old fashioned,” Daisy mutters.

“Is he here?” You ask as you tap your fingers against the counter.

“No, he went home after posting the schedules for the week,” she explains. She looks around the establishment to scan the customers before landing her eyes back on you. “Is that really why you came here?” She asks, a little shy. The girl was being bold in giving you her number but she wasn't expecting you to use it or actually be interested in her. The fact that you might've come here to get permission to ask her out has her mind spinning.

“Might be,” you respond, unsure yourself about why you came here. Maybe a part of you does want to explore something with Daisy. “But he's not here so I should go home.”

“Or you can stay and we can chat like we used to,” she leans against the surface between the two of you again as you’re reminded of when the positions were reversed and you were on the other side of the bar. You were around the age she is now. Maybe a little older. On slow nights she was allowed to sit and do her homework at the bar. Especially when she was grounded. Whenever she was going through something tough during her senior year in high school you would talk to her and give the best advice that you could. The reminder of how young she was when you first got to know her makes the idea of dating her uncomfortable to you. However, as you look at her now, you don't see her as a child as you once did. She looks more mature and as she had pointed out, she is an adult now. Would it be so wrong to explore something with her? She is only five years younger than you.

“Still having boy troubles in school?” You ask with a teasing expression.

Daisy scoffs with a shake of her head. She crosses her arms over her chest and leans back. “First of all, I never had boy troubles in school.”

“Right, it was girl troubles,” you quip with a grin.

“I think I'm going to take back that offer,” Daisy mutters as she tries to hide her growing smile.

You shrug, “If that's what you want to do. By all means. A person is allowed to change their mind.”

“Ugh, you're no fun. You're not going to let me know how you feel at all before you talk to my dad?” She steps forward and grabs another glass to clean with a rag in order to keep her hands busy.

“Oh, were you trying to bait me?” you laugh a little to yourself. “Daisy,” you start.

“I like the way you say my name,” she interrupts.

You shake your head a little bit and don't pay further attention to her comment. “Daisy, no matter how a person feels about you. Never let them use those feelings as a weapon to manipulate you into staying with them. If you want out, you're allowed to have an exit. You're allowed to change your mind about a person.”

Daisy nods as she accepts your advice that she didn't know she needed. “Don’t bite my head off for this question. But is that something you learned from your divorce?”

You sigh as you consider how to answer that. “Maybe,” you look at your hands with a frown, “I’m not proud of myself but I… Well, one day Jean admitted to me that she had fallen out of love with me and I convinced her to stay married to me in the hopes that she would feel that love for me again some day. Give me a chance to save our marriage.” You sigh as you remember that time in your life that you don't think about anymore. “It was the most miserable year of our lives.”

“Wow,” Daisy has moved on from cleaning glasses to wiping down the counter. “Is that why she's married now and you're not? Because she stopped being in love with you but you didn't with her?”

You are a little thrown off by the deeply personal questioning but you're not against answering. Even when she apologizes and tells you not to answer. “No, it's okay to be curious. I think that even the people that knew us from the beginning have that same assumption. But no, that's not why I'm still single. I held onto that marriage a year longer than I should've only because I didn't want to admit that I had also fallen out of love with her. Especially since I had dreamt of marrying her since we were in the third grade.” You look Daisy in the eyes as you continue. “I couldn't let go of the fairytale.”

Daisy nods as she falls deep in thought, “I could see how that would be hard to do.” The conversation gets lighter from there and the two of you talk for a couple of hours until you have to call it a night. It makes you feel better about talking to Phil about dating her. You never saw yourself in this position but you think back to Kate encouraging you to go for it. She has a gut instinct that you trust a little bit more than your own.

When you return the next evening after work, Phil is there. You ask to speak to him privately, he takes you to his office and he worries that you might be in financial trouble again. You quickly reassure him that isn't the case and he relaxes. “I never thought I'd ever ask you this but here it goes,” you clear your throat as you think of how to phrase the question. “Well, you know that I have nothing but respect for you, sir. You're like my second father.” He thanks you and asks you to get to the point because he has a business to run. “Right, um, when I was here the other day, Daisy gave me her phone number. She has since told me that she wants to explore a romantic relationship with me. I had never seen her as a potential partner until then and I didn't want to do anything without you knowing, Phil. If you don't want me to date your daughter, I swear to you that I won't do it.”

Phil crosses his arms over his chest and sighs. “What about that girl you brought here? The two of you seemed pretty cozy,” he points out.

“We are just friends,” you correct, once again. “She needed a night out, I mean her ex is a piece of work.” You shake your head at the reminder of the drama that man causes.

Phil nods, “So you're doing free work for her out of the kindness in your heart? No ulterior motive?”

“Come on Phil, you know me. I would never do something like that,” you reply, a little offended by the accusation.

“Do I know you,” he asks with a scowl. “Because I never saw this conversation coming. Not from you,” he sits forward on his desk. “You used to babysit her.”

“Phil, I have wrestled with this since she asked me out. I can't explain it, we were talking last night - just talking - and I think that we might have a connection. This isn't about an inappropriate relationship, because it wouldn't be it's…” you sigh as you fail to find the proper words with his disappointed glare distracting and insulting. “I know that in your eyes, no one is or ever will be good enough for her and I'm not saying that I am, but… she is an adult. And I think, correct me if I'm wrong, that you trust her enough to make her own decisions. You haven't said a definitive no yet so something tells me that you're not against the idea. Unless I'm wrong and I'm giving you another opportunity to say no and I won't ever bring it up again. I swear.”

Phil sighs and looks at the picture of him and Daisy in his desk. It's an old picture of the two of them going down the slide at a park. He wishes that she could have stayed that small but you were right. She is an adult now. “Do you love her?” he asks, keeping his eyes on the photo.

You rub your face, “I don't know yet. I've never thought about her that way before but… I'd like the chance to find out.” You truthfully admit because the last thing you're ever going to do is lie to him.

“Okay, I will allow it,” he looks in your direction as he talks. You are shocked but filled with relief. “You better not mess this up, you only have one shot at this.”

“Thank you, sir. I appreciate it, really.” The two of you hug and he kicks you out of his office telling you to make plans with his daughter when he isn't around. She didn't work today so that wasn't a problem. You walked home a little excited about the idea of dating again.

Later that week, while you're cooking dinner you get a phone call and answer frantically as you're completely ruining your meal. “Hey, are you doing anything tonight?” The familiar voice asks over the phone. The smoke alarm goes off as the pan catches fire and you drop the phone on the kitchen counter.

“Hold on!” You shout as you cover the pan with the lid, run to open the windows, turn on the fans, and wave the kitchen rag in front of the alarm to keep the smoke away long enough to shut off the horrible noise. Once the beeping stops you breathlessly pick up the phone and see that it was Wanda calling. “Hey, sorry, what were you saying?”

You are met with uncontrollable laughter from Wanda that makes you cackle a bit as well. “I’m sorry, it's not funny,” she says as she tries to contain her laughter. “Are you okay?” You confirm that you are but your food isn't. “Perfect!”

“How so? I don't think that almost dying of asphyxiation is perfect.” You throw in sarcastically.

“No, I just mean since you have nothing to eat and I have more than I can eat that it's perfect! You can come over here for dinner,” she invites happily.

“Are you sure?” You say looking at the time and figuring that you don't have a lot of time to prepare anything else and you really don't want to get takeaway.

“I wouldn't have called if I wasn't,” she says with something in her mouth.

“No I'm sure you wouldn't but um, what about Vision?” you ask carefully. “He hardly likes it when I'm around the boys when I'm working. I'd hate for his private investigator to report to him that I was there when I wasn't. Especially since you have the boys this week.” You explain yourself as you check your burnt food and think of the best way to dispose of it.

“It won't be a problem,” Wanda says with a grumble in her tone at the idea that her ex-husband is still making it difficult for her to have friends. “The boys made some friends at their karate practice and I guess the class has a sleepover for the new kids whenever they join to make sure everyone gets to know each other well. I don't know. All I know is that my house is empty when it shouldn't be and I could really use the company. I was hoping that maybe you could too?”

You understand how it feels when Rachel has a sleepover on a night when you have her. It's a crummy feeling because on the one hand, you're happy whenever she has friends and gets to create those fun memories that come with sleepover adventures. On the other hand, you only get so much time with her that you don't want to share it with anyone.

“Alright, I'll be right over,” you say as you grab your keys. She cheers over the phone before hanging up. You grab a bottle of wine that you think she might like as you leave your apartment. It was a gift that you otherwise wouldn't drink yourself. Wanda answers the door with a glass of wine in her hand and you laugh as you hold up the bottle that you brought with you.

“Oh good, you brought your own. I really wasn't in the mood to share,” she says jokingly as she lets you inside. You smile and set it down on the dining table.

“And here I thought it was going to be a gift for you,” you walk into the kitchen and grab yourself a glass.

“Hold on now, I didn't say I didn't want any,” she says as she sets her glass down on the counter in order to make you a plate. You pour yourself half a glass from the bottle she already had open and move to get out of the kitchen. “Is this too much?” She turns to show you the plate but she almost knocks into you, “I’m so sorry!!” She says abruptly and you laugh it off telling her that you're fine. “Are you sure?”

“Come to think of it, there must be something wrong with me since I'm here having dinner with you.” She swats your shoulder with the back of her hand and tells you to shut up before handing you the plate with your food on it. Your stomach growls loudly as the aroma finally enters your senses. “This looks amazing, thank you for the invitation.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Wanda says. “Sit, make yourself comfortable.” She tries to direct you out of the kitchen.

You look to her back door and think about how she gets so many more stars here than you do. “Hey, do you mind if we eat out there? I mean, it's such a great night,” you ask and Wanda looks out the window from the door and agrees.

“You’re right, it is a nice night,” she grabs her glass from the counter and opens the door for you. You thank her as you pass by and get yourself settled on the outdoor furniture. Wanda joins you shortly after with a plate of her own. The two of you enjoy the meal together under the stars with two bottles of wine. When the food is gone the two of you are still chatting. “So what happened to making plans with us and your ex and Rachel?” Wanda asks as she pours the rest of the wine from the second bottle into her glass.

You cringe at the question as you remember that you told her you'd hang out with her and the boys. “I completely forgot, I'm sorry. This week has been… honestly there's no good explanation. I'm sorry,” you say as you finish your glass of wine. “I’m glad you called me over here.” You make eye contact with her as you say this. Wanda’s smile is warm and inviting and you realize that you never thought you’d have a chance to see this side of her. She is a very beautiful person and you start to feel lucky to have the chance to know her.

“Do you dance?” Wanda asks, breaking you from getting lost in her features. You didn’t realize she had freckles before.

“Uh, not sure what you mean by that,” you pinch your eyebrows together but neither of you break eye contact.

She giggles, “It’s not a trick question. Do you dance?”

You look away for a second then look back at her. “I suppose it depends on who’s asking,” you reply as you blink slowly.

Wanda rests her elbow on the armrest and sits her head on her fist as she leans a little closer, “I’m asking.”

You nod and frown your lips a little before smiling again, “Then yes, I dance.”

“Perfect,” she says before she finishes the last bit of wine in her glass. She grabs her phone and taps the screen as she stands up and picks a song to play on her outdoor speakers that she hardly ever got to use. “Stay right here,” she tells you as she runs inside to turn the device on.

You stand and look up at the stars, the weather is perfect for a summer night. Usually it’s unbearably hot and humid. But tonight it’s a perfect warm temperature with a slight cool breeze. The moon is full and providing more light than usual. Though, lighting isn’t a problem as Wanda’s porch lights also shine bright. You close your eyes and take a deep breath through your nose and enjoy the refreshing scents of grass and trees. Then you hear the soft rhythmic strumming of a guitar and you turn around with open eyes as Wanda is rejoining you on the deck. Your heartbeats a little differently as you watch her walk over to you. There isn’t a time that you have ever felt so calm in the presence of someone but she has brought that out in you. You give the credit to the wine because anything else feels dangerous.

“Hi,” you say as you offer your hand to her.

“Hi,” she says as she takes your hand and the two of you seamlessly begin to move together. Her free hand resting on your shoulder and yours resting on her waist. The two of you dance to the music, at first facing each other and having light conversation that mostly consists of compliments on movement. Then the two of you fall silent, just enjoying the moment together as you hold each other close and continue to sway along to the melody.

As the third song ends, you look at her cheek and consider placing a small kiss there but as you move forward she turns to look at you, almost making her lips the target. You clench your jaw as you stop yourself. Wanda leans her head further into your shoulder. “Thank you for spending time with me tonight,” she says in a soft broken whisper. Not that she needed to whisper, she just didn’t feel like her normal volume would be appropriate at this distance.

“I can’t think of a single place I’d rather be than here right now,” you admit. Wanda hums as she closes her eyes. She doesn’t want to break this moment but she doesn’t want something to happen. Neither do you. Not when you have been texting everyday since Monday with Daisy. That’s when it hits you. Daisy. Sweet, sarcastic Daisy. You follow Wanda’s lead and close your eyes and continue to sway. You don’t look at her, you don’t say another word. You just hold her until the next song ends. And the next. And one more after that until the music stops.

The two of you break apart and she goes inside to figure out the problem. You collect the dishes and bring them inside to wash. When she still hasn’t returned after you have the dishes put in the dishwasher, you wander around the house until you find her. She is on the phone with her boys. She is singing softly to them. You walk away as you think about how great of a mother she is. You start to wonder what kind of role Daisy would be able to play in Rachel’s life. You can’t believe you never considered this before. She’s young and free, would she be a good step-mother? As much as you don’t always get along with Anna, she is a decent person to co-parent with. Then there’s the Jean of it all. Is Daisy someone that you could bring around Jean? You don’t know yet. But something tells you that there wouldn’t be a problem bringing Wanda to Jean.

“Hey, sorry about that,” Wanda says as she finds you sitting and facing the torn down wall. She joins you on the sofa. “They were getting anxious about spending the night and they wanted to be picked up. But I’m a little drunk so I had to convince them to stick it out.”

“That’s precisely why I haven’t left yet,” you admit with a laugh.

“You don’t have to leave, I have a guest room that is always ready to use,” she tells you. Wanda yawns as she checks the time. Her eyes widened at her watch, “It’s gotten really late. Wow, where did the time go?”

“I have no idea,” you say refraining from saying something flirtatious. “If it’s not a problem, I could stay,” you say as you look at her. “But I probably won’t see you in the morning because I’ll have to head home pretty early in order to make it to work on time.”

“Yeah, it’s no problem at all,” she says as she gets up from the couch. “I’ll show you the way,” she waits for you to stand and you follow her up the stairs. Wanda leaves you with a goodnight hug and you thank her for letting you stay. In the morning, you leave a note on the refrigerator so that you don’t leave without some form of goodbye.

Chapter 7

Taglist: @princessprudy @sayah13 @agaymilflover @awkwardmandalorian @bentleywolf29 @thatshyboy1998 @artisannat @thisischaismagic @wqndanat @madamevirgo @likefirenrain @tearsofglitter @feltlikethat @the-writer-arcane @natashasilverfox @karsonromanoff @aloneodi @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous @jovialsublimecomputer @natasha-maximoff @iliketozoneout @doudouneverte @druggedduck @notbornbutforged @when-wolves-howl @lifespectator @justyourwritter69 @wandaromamoff69 @awesomelygayasf @nekoannie-chan @diaryoflife @wuwu96 @wandanats-goodgirl @sincerely-indi @blueredg52 @sisiwritesfanfics @fuzzyuniversityeclipsefriend @arcturusseer @scarlettwidow34 @chasethemoon @raven-ss @canyonyodeler @sokovianbaby

#fanfiction #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wonderstruck series #messedupfan

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gravedigginbbydoll · 20 days

Text

Hawkins University : The Munson Edition

AN: Hey, y'all. I've finally moved! So, I'm working on writing right now. I'm so sorry for the long wait; I've been juggling a lot. I hope you like this chapter; we'll get into more drama and romance in the next chapters! Pls remember that reblogs and comments are appreciated! Also feedback!

→ cliches: friends to lovers, heavy use of nicknames instead of Y/N, we're all just struggling college kids, Music Tutor! Eddie, Resident Assistant! Reader, good girl x bad boy, instant connections, 'I don't trust most people but I trust you', 'are we friends or more?', and 'I can't believe you're such a slut that you have a special dtf drawer...'

→ warnings: mature topics, insecurity, hurt and comfort, drinking and drug usage, strong language, bullying, mental health, discussion of suicide and self harm, mature thoughts, eventual smut, minors dni

→ pairing: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader

Chapter 8

Bug's POV

It had been two weeks since you and Eddie kissed. Though you both had talked about liking one another, neither of you breached the topic of your relationship. And to be honest, it hadn’t bothered you. You got to enjoy the typical activities with Eddie, plus the bonus of kissing or cuddling. You weren’t worried about labels or anything. Plus it meant you didn’t have to feel so guilty about not going on dates or dressing up. Only something more had developed…

You had begun to have a dilemma of jealousy and embarrassment.

It began that fateful on the November night that was fading into December, finals approaching viciously. You had overheard from a few classmates that Eddie denied their advances, all of them bitter about the situation. You knew why, but couldn’t help but feel worried. You weren’t a virgin by any means, but you also weren’t nearly as experienced as Eddie. And maybe that sparked something in you.

You were somehow both relieved and frustrated that Eddie hadn’t tried anything with you yet, curious as to how he would be with you. Some stories…made you sit at the edge of your seat, a gasp in your throat.

He couldn’t help his reputation, really.

You knew Eddie would make dirty jokes about enjoying choking with Gareth and even fake moans around Steve to make him disgusted. But he never did that with you. He was always sincere and kind. Tamed? In a way. But some tiny little piece of you, something depraved and lonely, wondered why.

So you decided to test the waters.

It started out small, of course. Something like a stupid ‘that’s what she said’ joke.

A few days later it snowballed to a joke revolving around your taste in jewelry and saying “Truthfully, I prefer my necklaces to be more...tight. Like a hand.”

It was laughable, really. Embarrassing.

But the straw that officially broke the camel's back?

A joke about Eddie's drawer.

Eddie and you had been messing around, kissing sometimes and giggling, discussing past embarrassing moments. And that’s when you heard the story of how some guy ran out of Steve and Eddie’s shared apartment when he saw the ‘drawer’. You had rolled your eyes, laughing a bit and teasing Eddie gently.

“I mean it is a bit slutty of you,” You giggled, curled into Eddie’s side.

Eddie tickled your side gently, grinning softly, “Hey! We do not slut shame in this house. It’s rude,” He teased, nose scrunched up in the cutest way possible. Your heart skipped a beat.

You smiled a devious grin and shrugged, standing up. “I wasn’t slut shaming…just…word gets around.” Your stomach was twisting and turning with nerves, your heart pumping. You were pushing it a bit, but wanted to test the waters.

Eddie raised a brow at you, fighting a smile on his lips, eyes dark and twinkling with mischief. “Oh, does it, now? And what exactly…went around…?”

You walked around, avoiding his gaze as you stared at the Warhammer minis on his shelf, a delicate finger careful to not touch them. “Oh…ya know…things like…how you’re really good at eating out. Or how you like ropes…and maybe…how you love power dynamics…how you…seem to really love getting people off.” With every phrase falling from your lips you felt more and more giddy and nervous, your heart thumping out of your chest. Your thighs squeezed together to rid the ache between your legs as you pretended to be more interested in his decor. You came to his band posters, some local, some big names. You stared at the art work and tried to avoid the intense feeling of Eddie’s gaze on you.

“Oh…I see. And how much did you believe of it?,” His voice seemed low and almost like a whisper, but the guttural tones and bass of his vocals made a shiver run down your spine. You tried to hold your ground, walking towards his desk, playing with a fidget cube he kept on his desk for concentration. Your back was still to him.

“Mmm…not much. I heard a lot of what seemed like exaggeration about how many times you made people…finish.” You breathed out, trying to ignore the trembling in your hands and the feeling of breathlessness consuming you.

Eddie chuckled darkly and seemed to shuffle about, finally stepping closer to you and tracing delicate fingers up your side. “Do you want to find out if it’s true?” His breath was in your ear, making your skin feel hot and your stomach twist in knots.

You shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant and looking off towards a Metallica poster, chewing on your lip. “I mean, if you want to prove yourself…fine. But there's no way you can make anyone cum that much, no matter how slutty you-”

You found yourself spun around quickly as a pair of strong and calloused hands intertwined into your hair and pulled you in at your waist, his mouth immediately upon yours as he shut you up with the most passionate and panty dropping kiss you had ever experienced. Your eyes fluttered shut as his lips encased yours, fireworks going off in your belly. He rubbed his hand at your side, slipping under your shirt to have his cool hand touch your warming skin. He continued to tug at your hair, eliciting little moans from you and making wetness pool in your underwear, your body alight with desire.

You felt desperate and pathetic, but in the best way. So often you were the caring and overbearing friend, the one who was always the designated driver, the one who worked a thankless job and tried to push others along to succeed. But here, with Eddie, you often felt free to let loose. Free to think less about others and more about yourself. And it seemed that translated into the bedroom too.

Eddie was leaving your mouth to kiss down your neck, nipping and biting softly, causing you to whimper and claw at his back. He steered you toward what felt like the bed, dropping you onto your back before looming over you. His eyes were dark and his lips pink and swollen from the kissing. His arms were braced on either side of your head as his hair made a curtain around you, your heart beating at the sight of his expression. It was like he was hungry and desperate.

“You’re so gorgeous…I’m gonna make you see fucking stars,” He growled out, making your body shiver in delight.

He lifted your shirt off your frame, throwing it to the side as he cupped your breasts, eyes looking at you for reassurance. You nodded, biting your lip. He grinned devilishly, coming in to leaving bruising kisses and bites at your neck, his nimble fingers pinching and playing with your nipples, the desire pooling between your thighs as you squirmed under him.

“Such a pretty girl…so responsive…,” He groaned out, grinding his hardness into you for a minute while you moaned, before moving down and taking a nipple in his mouth, first giving it teasing licks before he latched on and began sucking and nipping at the bud, making you whine and grip the bedding underneath you, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure. You felt like you were on cloud 9. Your thoughts consumed by the goofy metalheads mouth and tongue, pleasure ever growing. You practically lost it when one of his hands traveled south while the other continued playing with your nipple that wasn’t between his teeth, hovering above your mound.

“Can I touch you, baby? Can I play with your clit?,” He growled out around your nipple, your back arching at his words as you felt your cunt throb. You were mindless. You were putty in his hands.

“Yes, god please…yes…”

At that his hands went under your panties, finger quickly finding your sensitive spot and circling it gently. You were squirming, back arching, as his lip popped off your breast obscenely and moved to the other, and his fingers moved to tug at your nipple and keep it hard. At this point you swore you were going to combust. Eddie just kept whispering praise and growling around you, calling you his ‘plaything’ and his ‘girl’. Your back arching as you felt the familiar build, your cunt clenching around nothing as you whimpered, eyes screwed shut.

“Fu-fuck…’M gonna cum…gonna cum…please please please, Eds,” You clawed at his back, releasing a moan from him as he moved to kiss you, still rubbing at your clit, this time with a bit more ferocity. You felt the pleasure between your legs build and build as you moaned into his mouth, finally snapping as he lightly smacked your clit, growling into your mouth. You saw white, your eyes rolling back as your body shook, gasps and moans escaping your mouth. You laid there, boneless for a moment, eyes shut as you caught your breath.

Eddie collapsed beside you, sighing out. Your eyes fluttered open to look at him, still trying to catch your breath.

“I guess…rumors hold…a bit of truth,” You panted, smiling weakly as Eddie chuckled, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“That was just a preview…catch your breath because I’m not letting you leave this bed until I’ve had my fill with you,” He whispered, smiling devilishly as he kissed your forehead and your eyes went wide.

Eddie Munson would be the death of you.

Once you’d had Eddie’s touch, his kiss…You were insatiable.

Any moment you had free, you were in his grip. You experienced the ropes, the toys, everything. You now knew exactly what had all the people at Hawkins so hooked onto Eddie, his mere touch making you see stars. You had yet to actually have full penetrative sex, but it was satisfying exploring the space between.

You hadn’t questioned your relationship, okay with not labeling it for the time. Though it seemed to really bother Steve.

‘So, you guys finally a thing?’

‘He finally popped the lil question?’

‘Finally… or am I just hopeful again?’

The last time he had asked, you were wearing Eddie’s shirt and boxers, cooking breakfast. You shook your head with a smile, laughing at Steve’s groan of frustration after Eddie walked out with a messy bedhead, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek.

Everything was simple and fun.

And sure, a small part of you hoped soon Eddie would call you his. You knew you were exclusive, and that was great. But some days you had dreamed of hearing the words ‘my girl’ fall from his lips.

But you would settle with the little piece of heaven you were gifted.

You could always sense a storm before it came. Not a literal storm, but an unfortunate event. Of course it could be argued that your anxiety led you to always sensing a storm, even if one wasn’t oncoming. But you knew the familiar feeling, your belly churning, your heart squeezed, and your head pained by pressure and nerves alike.

It all started after the afternoon you and Eddie had been cuddling and watching trashy TV, giggling over stupid circumstances. Eddie turned over and looked at you.

“This may sound weird but…would you be okay if I used you for a song?”

Your heart skipped a beat, your breath caught in your throat.

“Uh, sure…That’s okay,” you replied meekly, heart leaping at the thought of your closest friend and romantic interest with benefits writing something about you. For you.

He smiled at you, those ice melting dimples causing your mind to turn to goo. You smiled back shyly, snuggling back into the crook of his arm.

Then your phone buzzed, causing your brow to furrow.

You looked down at the screen in your hand, seeing a notification from Instagram.

@ChrissytheCutie has followed you!

You felt a sense of confusion and sourness build. You didn’t know the account, but decided to brush it off. You didn’t post much anyways and you knew a bunch of people would just follow you after seeing you went to Hawkins.

And boy…

Was that a mistake.

Taglist: @josephquinnsfreckles @corrodedcoffincumslut @kirisuteg0men @bebe07011 @amira0303 @vintagehellfire @lottie-90 @animechick555

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readerthatreadsss · 9 months

Text

Sweet Fantasy | Dean Winchester

GIF by born-to-be-his-baby88

(gave myself an actual pat on the fucking back for finding this gif like y'all are gonna see how perfect it is in a second!)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem! reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Summary: Dean won't eat his vegetables...until you offer to cash in on a very recent fantasy of his, that is.

Warnings [18+ MINORS DNI]: P*rn w/ some solid plot action actually, a bit of domestic fluff sprinkled in, reader and Dean are married (don't know if that's a warning but you should know?), reader dresses up in a sexy Zorro costume with the hat and mask included, handcuffs (Dean receiving), mentions of a safeword but not used, fingering/masturbation (reader receiving), oral sex (brief Dean receiving), a whole lotta teasing (Dean receiving), p in v sex (cowgirl, missionary), unprotected sex (wrap your willy before you fuck her silly!), dirty talk, switch! Dean, switch! reader, very vocal Dean, brief choking (Dean receiving), creampie.

A/n: Hey! Sorry for disappearing for 3 months again...So classes finished almost 2 months ago and I've been wracking my brain about what to post. I tried finishing some of my drafts and it just wasn't working for me idk. Then, like any normal person, I was randomly watching some SPN bloopers this morning and it got to a scene where Dean said sometimes he wants to get spanked during sex by a girl wearing a Zorro mask and my brain ran with that shit IMMEDIATELY. Now, I'm so sorry I couldn't actually write him actually getting spanked without it sounding corny and just wrong to me? But I did write all of this in 7 hours without stopping so I'm honestly proud of it regardless.

Enjoy...

It was a Sunday evening in the bunker, meaning you were responsible for dinner. With that task came the additional task of getting Dean to eat whatever vegetables you cooked without complaining and engaging in a rant that would end with him calling himself the “meat man”.

It’s not that you were concerned about Dean's weight or appearance, after 7 years of marriage you were confident that there was nothing in the world that could make you love Dean Winchester any less. But having a steady diet of beer, beef, and pie was a surefire way to kill any man of Dean’s age faster than any monster or demon.

And God knows you’d do anything to ensure he didn’t die before his time.

Hell, you have before.

Which is why you made Dean agree to eat a side of only vegetables with whatever meat he wanted at least once a week. This week it was string beans and sautéed mushrooms, aka his least favorite vegetable.

But you didn’t have the time to make the 45-minute drive to the grocery store earlier that day so he would have to deal.

Or you wish he would deal…

“Mushrooms? Baby come on,” he complained when you placed his plate before him.

“Hey, it’s all that was left in the fridge. Eat up,” you shrugged, placing a kiss on the crown of his head.

“You know, we could always do no vegetables,” Dean offered with a wide grin.

You chuckled and used a finger to squish his stubbled cheek. “You wish, Winchester.”

He sighed in defeat and turned to pick up his fork.

You looked to make sure Sam was out of earshot before leaning down to where your lips grazed Dean’s ear. “Tell you what, if you eat those vegetables I’ll do that thing you told me about…later” you whispered.

Dean’s eyes lit up immediately, “The thing?” he harshly whispered.

You nodded with a smile.

“Costume and everything?” He made a gesture with his hands.

“Yup, I’ve been hiding the costume for weeks.”

“I’m game” Dean agreed, digging into the mushrooms first.

You turned away to share your own plate with a smile.

“I’m gonna go grocery shopping later,” Sam announced as he sat beside Dean with his plate. He met your eyes, “Anything else you forgot to put on the list?”

“Yeah stop at the liquor store and grab me a bottle of red? I ran out,” you answered sitting across from the boys with your plate.

Sam grabbed a pen and a piece of folded paper from his pocket and added it to his list, “Yeah, no problem. What brand again?”

You swallowed a piece of your chicken with a smirk. “I’m sure you already know seeing as you’re the one who emptied the bottle to the very last drop,” you addressed Sam.

His pen slipped from his grip, his green eyes widening to meet your narrowed ones.

“You drink red wine?” Dean pointed at Sam in disbelief as a laugh rumbled in his chest.

“How did you know?” He asked you, ignoring Dean’s quip.

“I saw you passed out in the library clutching the bottle the other night.”

“Listen Dean finished all the beer and it was the first thing I saw,” he defended himself.

“Oh, you’re getting more creative with your excuses. I'm impressed!” You gushed, sarcasm evident in your tone, “What was it again last week? ‘Oh Eileen wanted to taste some’ " you mimicked his gruff tone causing him to roll his eyes and Dean’s laughter to grow louder. “-when we all know that Eileen is a white wine type of gal.”

"I-" Sam tried to come up with a retort but eventually gave up. “Whatever.”

“Yeah pick up 3 bottles this time in case Eileen wants a taste,” you replied with a grin.

“Three bottles?!” He exclaimed.

“You aren’t the one paying for it, genius,” you reminded him, referring to the unlimited card Charlie hacked for you all those years ago.

“Yeah but I’m gonna have to lug it up here,” Sam mumbled as he stuck his fork into his chicken.

Dinner continued mostly in silence with Sam thinking about the two lousy trips he’d have to make between his car and the kitchen once he returns with the groceries, Dean thinking about the reward he’ll be getting for the vegetables he’s actually grown used to eating, and y/n thinking about all the ways she’s gonna make Dean squirm later.

~ ~ ~

Hours had passed since dinner and Sam was now on his way to the grocery store leaving just you and Dean in the bunker.

To say he was excited would be an understatement.

Dean first told you about this fantasy of his after a case you had months ago required you to take a trip to an adult costume shop to question the owner. It took mere seconds for the image of you in the very specific costume to cross his mind after laying eyes on the packaging.

You laughed at the idea when he told you and silently decided you would try and find the costume.

Of course, he didn’t believe you would actually indulge him but you were actually excited too. Costumes and toys weren’t new territory for you and Dean but they were few and far between with your unpredictable hunting schedules.

Dean now sat at the edge of your shared bed wearing pajama pants and a t-shirt waiting for you to return like you had promised.

But it had been almost 20 minutes since you left to get changed and his patience was wearing thin. He was seconds away from getting up and coming to see if you needed help or if you were even hurt.

Which you predicted would be the case.

So you had been standing out of sight by the doorway for less than a minute now waiting for him to try and leave.

“Damnit,” Dean eventually gave in to his worries and began to make his way to the door.

You smirked once you heard his determined steps drawing closer.

Dean’s eyes widened once you spun from your hiding spot against the wall to stand before him. “Looking for me?”

You watched his throat bob and his pupils dilate as he took in your full look.

Atop your head and face rested a sexy black Zorro mask and matching hat. You were also wearing a black sleeveless leather top that stopped in your midriff region and had strings tied between your breasts that allowed a whole lot of cleavage to be on display. The leather skirt that accompanied was low-waisted and stopped at your upper thigh, matching the black thong you were wearing beneath.

You had stretched the thin straps of the thong along your hips above the skirt for added flair.

In your right hand, you held a fake silver sword similar to the one Zorro held in the movies, and hanging from the left side of your skirt were two handcuffs ready and waiting to be used.

You were sex on knee-length boot-covered legs.

Dean felt himself growing hard already.

You bit your bottom lip at the way your husband’s eyes roamed your body, hoping the dark red lipstick covering it was as transfer and waterproof as the box advertised.

“You look...stunning,” Dean marveled. The model on the packaging of the costume didn’t come close to how it looked on your body.

Your heart swelled at the compliment before remembering the persona you had practiced for the night ahead. “Oh I know,” you took a step closer and leaned against the doorway. You pointed the sword in Dean’s direction. “Why are you still dressed, Dean?” you asked with furrowed brows and a smile.

A chuckle almost left your lips at the sight of Dean fumbling with his pant strings and tripping over his own legs to send the pajama bottoms flying over to a random corner while throwing off his t-shirt with record speed.

He stood before you in only his boxers, his enjoyment of your costume evident by the bulge in the center.

“Get on the bed.” You told him, your tone not excessively commanding but sexy enough to make him obey immediately.

“Yes ma’am,” he smirked, quickly sitting and sliding up to the headboard of the bed.

You walked further into the room and placed your sword down before climbing onto the bed and slowly crawling to where Dean sat. His green eyes followed your every move as you moved to straddle him, but not fully.

You then grabbed the two pairs of handcuffs attached to your hips and twirled them around your fingers. “How you feeling Dean?” you checked in, your hips hovering above his thighs, making sure to not touch his erection just yet.

“Oh, I feel great. Real great. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this great,” he nodded eagerly as you cuffed each of his hands to each bedpost, getting a face full of your boobs in the process.

"You sound nervous," you teased him, "Am I making you nervous baby?"

"Me? Nervous? Pfft!"

You scoffed, not believing him one bit. "What's our safe word?" you asked him gently.

Dean leaned forward as much as his restraints would allow to press a sweet kiss against your stomach. " 'Oklahoma', baby," he grinned.

You then let your clothed ass sink down on his covered erection. Dean groaned and tried to reach for your hips instinctively only to meet the restriction of the handcuffs. “I hope they aren’t too tight 'cause they’re gonna be on there for a while,” you nearly bust out laughing at the look Dean gave you.

“A while?” he repeated, dreading not being able to touch you at a time like this.

You shrugged, “If you behave I might change my mind.”

Before he could argue further, you leaned forward and connected your lips in a searing kiss. His breath was hot against your face as your lips drifted to his neck while your hands found themselves in his hair.

A breathy groan slipped past his lips when you nipped a specific spot beneath his ear lobe. “You’re so loud. Maybe I should’ve bought a muzzle,” you whispered in his ear teasingly, feeling his dick jump beneath you at your words. “I'll remember that next time,” you replied to his body's response.

“Baby, do you have any idea how amazing you look? ” Dean gushed, struggling against his restraints as you began to grind your hips against his covered cock.

You smiled and met his lips in a kiss once again. He slipped his tongue between your welcoming lips, allowing his taste to flood your mouth. You pulled away seconds later, nipping his bottom lip, and removed yourself from his lap.

He watched nervously, awaiting your next move while you scooted farther away from him along the bed. You slowly slipped off your boots, your confidence unwavering as you held Dean’s hungry stare.

He watched you use a hand to hold yourself upright before spreading your legs open to reveal the lace thong covering your already-drenched pussy. “Are you about to..." he trailed off, jaw clenched as he spoke.

"Hmm mhm. And there is not a damn thing you can do about it...except watch," you slowly removed your thong and threw it at Dean’s lap. He immediately became hyperaware of the feeling of the wet lace draped over his dick.

You slowly brought two fingers up to your lips and sucked them even slower to coat them in your saliva and give Dean a show before bringing them down to where you needed them the most. You began slow ministrations against your aching clit, pulling moans from yourself that made Dean impossibly harder.

He took a deep breath at the sight, imagining his own fingers parting your folds and rubbing at your swollen clit.

“You are a menace,” Dean laughed in obvious distress, licking his dried lips. He couldn’t handle watching you touch yourself without being able to touch you any longer so he looked away, swallowing harshly at the sound of your wetness against your fingers.

“Look at me Dean,” you mewled, continuing to rub your pussy in small quick circles. He turned reluctantly, watching as you slowly pushed two fingers inside your dripping hole. “See this, baby? It’s all for you,” you said, melting into a moan when your fingers grazed a spot inside you that drew your orgasm closer.

“I gotta taste you, baby,” Dean pleaded, “Open these and let me taste you, please,” he rattled the handcuffs against the bedposts.

The pure agony in his voice had your fingers and breathing speeding up and soon your climax was approaching. Dean’s breathing picked up in response. “Fuck, Dean I’m gonna cum,” you moaned, pressing a thumb to your clit while your fingers kept working inside of you to bring you to the edge.

A thin layer of sweat appeared on Dean’s forehead as he watched you keenly. He bit his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, his self-control draining by the second.

Your eyes remained open and locked onto his, your moans growing louder and borderline pornographic. You were putting on a show and he was losing his mind.

“I’m cumming, fuck-“ you panted as your first orgasm of the night slammed into you and caused you to make a small mess on the sheets beneath you. Your body shook sporadically with aftershocks of your own work

Dean’s head hung low. “Jesus baby,” he huffed, his own voice strangled, “you’re trying to give me a heart attack aren’t you?”

You smiled as you crawled back up to sit on Dean’s lap, taking your thong and throwing them somewhere unseen. “Ehh maybe,” you replied coyly, straightening your hat and mask. “And since you behaved so well,” you reached a hand down to touch his clothed cock, “I think you deserve a reward,” you pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

Dean allowed you to pull his boxers off his body, watching you wrap a hand around his painfully erect cock. “Fuck,” he groaned at the feeling of your hand wrapped around him.

You slid down to where you could lay flat on your stomach between his legs and leaned down to briefly swirl your tongue around where precum was gathered at the tip.

“Take the hat off and look at me pretty girl,” Dean said.

You complied, throwing the hat off to the edge of the bed before diving down and licking his tip once again, but this time keeping your eyes locked onto his.

“Holy shit,” Dean groaned, his hips twitching upwards. You then opened your mouth and wrapped it around his length, slowly sliding down until your nose was nuzzled at the base, staying there for a few seconds before coming back up for air. “Hell yes, baby that's perfect,” he panted as you began sucking faster along his length, a few lone tears flowing from beneath the mask from the familiar stretch of his cock in your throat.

Your head continued to bob up and down Dean’s length for some time, drawing shallow moans of your name and grunts from him before you finally let up and pressed one last kiss against the side of his cock.

Dean’s chest heaved as you licked your lips and used a hand to wipe your face clean. “Goddamnit," he whined at your sudden stop, feeling his impending orgasm return to its hiding place.

You grabbed your previously discarded Zorro hat and placed it back on your head before hiking your skirt up to allow you more room to move your legs around Dean’s lap. “Can’t have you cumming before I’m done with you sweetheart,” you replied while untying the strings of your top and removing it.

The keys to the handcuffs dropped onto Dean’s lap from where you previously hid them in your top. You had honestly forgotten you put them there but it just presented yet another opportunity to get Dean all whiny and desperate, which was a rarity that you rather enjoyed.

“Oops would you look at that,” you exclaimed playfully, taking them up and dangling them in front of Dean’s eyes.

"Alright baby you broke me. Come on, just let me go, and trust me, I will make it worth your while,” Dean bargained with you.

"As enticing as that sounds," you paused and brought your hand up to caress Dean’s cheek before pulling him in for a sloppy kiss. You pulled away with a grin. “I love hearing you beg, so no,” you whispered against his lips.

Dean loudly groaned watching you gently place the keys down on the closest nightstand. “Shit,” he shut his eyes.

But they shortly shot open once you used a hand to grip his length and bring it between your dripping folds.

A pleased hum left your lips once the tip glazed your clit causing Dean to swallow harshly. “Aren’t you sick of teasing me,” he hissed.

Fuck no.

You used a free hand to grip the back of his hair. “Take a deep breath for me, Dean,” you told him, feeling his chest rise against yours soon after. And as it fell, you slipped his cock inside your entrance.

You slowly sank down onto his length until it was fully buried inside you, groaning at the welcomed stretch.

“I love those sounds you make for me,” Dean whispered against your lips.

“Oh you’re gonna be making some of those sounds too,” you smirked, clenching around him causing a sharp grunt to reach your ears.

You guided your hips up and down Dean’s length, riding him at a quickening pace. He jerked his hips upward to match your cadence drawing a gasp from your lips when his cock hit that spot inside you that had you seeing stars. “There you go baby,” Dean groaned, “you look so fucking good riding my cock.”

The hat and mask from your costume managed to stay in place as you slammed down on Dean’s cock repeatedly. And it was an image that he would never forget.

Your hand released Dean’s hair and instead found itself wrapped around Dean’s neck as you rode him faster. A whine that shot straight to your cunt escaped his lips when your fingers slightly tightened their grip around his throat.

You suddenly slowed down and instead began to grind your hips against his, moaning loudly when your clit grazed his pelvis. “I’m gonna cum again shit!” You threw your head back in obscene pleasure, releasing Dean's throat and holding onto his shoulders to steady yourself.

“Fuck yes. Use my cock to get off, sweetheart,” Dean urged you on before leaning forward to suck one of your nipples as best as he could.

This soon pushed you over the edge, your climax tearing a scream from within you as your hips faltered around Dean’s cock, your hat flying off your head once more. Dean relished in the way your cunt pulsed around him from your orgasm as well as the look of sheer pleasure that crossed your face at that moment. “You’re so beautiful,” he smiled up at you, meaning every word.

You kissed his forehead with a smile and reached for the handcuff keys. “I think I’ve tortured you enough,” you freed his right hand first, pressing a kiss against his wrist, then did the same to his left, “This is supposed to be a reward after all.”

Dean’s lips curved into a smirk at his newfound freedom. “Yes it is, sweetheart.”

A surprised yelp left your lips when Dean gripped your hips and flipped you onto your back. He grabbed your hat and placed it on his own head before sending you a wink. “And I’m not feeling rewarded just yet.”

You nearly came just from the sight of Dean hovering above you in only that hat. “We’re gonna have to talk about my sexy cowboy fantasy when we’re done here,” you raised a brow.

A low chuckle echoed from Dean’s chest. He reached up and tipped his hat in your direction, “yes ma’am.” He replied with a deep southern drawl.

Your pussy clenched instantly.

“That was hot as fuck,” you breathed.

“Thank you darlin’ “ he replied in the same accent with a wink.

You giggled before pulling him down for a kiss. He pulled away and touched the mask still wrapped around your eyes. “And thank you for doing this for me, baby,” he smiled down at you, “It was so so much better than I imagined.”

“It was definitely my pleasure,” you nodded happily, feeling his hands glide down your sides.

“Was?” He protested playfully. “The night is still young, sweetheart!” He threw your legs over his shoulder causing you to exclaim at the sudden move. He placed a kiss on each of your thighs and lined himself up with your entrance before entering you once again.

“FUCK” you cried out at the sudden intrusion, feeling your eyes well up with tears of pleasure in record time.

Dean pulled out and slammed into you once again, his grip on your legs tightening as he eased into a quick pace.

“YES-Dean holy shit,” you moaned, eyes quickly rolling to the back of your head and back arching up and off the bed as he fucked you with reckless abandon.

“How’s it feeling baby?” Dean said, bringing a hand down to play with your clit.

“So good, Dean, so fucking good,” you rambled, your skin buzzing with pleasure, “Harder, please, I'm almost there,” you found yourself begging.

“You gonna cum for me already pretty girl?” He sped up his slaughter on your cunt, "Maybe I should make you beg for it?" his voice was low and demeaning but only spurred you on more.

You shook your head adamantly while your hands fumbled around Dean's waist for a solid grip. So he simply released your legs and grabbed your hands before holding them down above your head, driving his cock into you even harder at this new angle.

“Dean!" you broke off into a strangled moan.

Dean’s lips attacked your open neck. “I wish we had neighbors so they could hear you screaming my fucking name,” he all but growled as the sounds of your moans and skin against skin plagued the air.

You came with a yell seconds later, your release coating Dean’s cock and the sheets. “That’s my girl. There you go baby,” he released your hands and held your face, guiding you down from your high.

Your hands gripped Dean’s hair harshly as you kissed his lips and his hips stuttered, his cum coating your insides soon after. You swallowed his grunts as his cock continued to leak and twitch inside you.

Broken pants befell both your lips in between sloppy kisses while your orgasms passed and your shared spend flowed between your legs. You eventually released his lips for air, “That was-“

“-Incredible,” he mirrored your thoughts, removing your hat from his head. Dean used a hand to remove your mask and brush a few strands of hair behind your ears once he moved to lie down beside you.

“Hi,” you grinned in awe of the man you called your husband. “Hey sweetness,” he grinned back, adoration evident in his deep green eyes.

Your cheeks flushed as he pressed a kiss against your forehead. He quickly grabbed his previously discarded t-shirt and used it to clean up the mess between your legs before throwing it in the laundry basket nearby.

You snuggled into his side once he returned to the bed.

“So uhh what was it you were saying about your cowboy kink?” Dean smugly asked after a few seconds.

“Goddamnit Dean,” you shamefully groaned into his side, gaining a chuckle from him.

ANDDD SCENE!

Hope it wasn't too bad seeing as I gave up on editing it like 75% through it.

Tbh I highly doubt more than 20 people are gonna see this because I have no idea how strong the Supernatural fandom's presence is on here, which also means that I don't know if anyone has used a plot like this one before so don't be afraid to let me know if that is the case and I will make changes as I see fit!

(Also let me know if you want a sequel one shot with sexycowboy! Dean and reader. Or feel free to make any other requests)

Reblogs, likes, and comments are ALWAYS appreciated :)

divider creds : @cafekitsune

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penvisions · 4 months

Text

garnish {chapter 8}

Pairing: Chef! Joel Miller x Bartender! Reader

Summary: A routine gets settled as you spend more and more time of yours in Joel's home. Sharing your lives in a new and exciting way. But of course, your streak of bad luck continues in a way you never could've expected.

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: stress, stressful work environment, secret relationship, power dynamics (due to work hierarchy), past trauma, family trauma, academic language, reader is in college, age gap, stalker, stalking, ultimatums, reader is so stressed, talk of pregnancy, braxton hicks doing the lords work of stressing everyone out, tommy makes an appearance, restaurant lingo, triggers associated with the food industry, smoking, allusions to cheating, dishonest language, racy photos, sexting, cigarettes, tobacco, outburst, sexual content, smut, unprotected p in v, reader has an iud, secret sex, sex in the workplace, oral, f receiving oral, cum eating (!), joel is a sexual menance, dirty talk, sweet talk, um if i missed anything let me know?

A/N: so, the first week of this year has thoroughly kicked my ass, but i've been distracting myself with finishing up this fic. i hope y'all like this new chapter, pls don't be mad at the ending, feel free to (kindly and not really)yell at me in the comment or even message me c:

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

Joel carried your unconscious form up the stairs, the weight of how different this time was compared to all the others before. Before you weren’t broken. Before it was all desperate kisses and the peeling off of clothes to get to the skin underneath. Before it was all sleepy mumblings as you had insisted on a movie only to fall asleep against him within the first half hour. Before it had been a quiet shadowing of each other after a long day of work. A refuge found in his room, all warm tones and soft sheets, softer skin underneath wandering hands.

But this time, this now, was so unlike all the times before. It was heartache and worry that permeated his very skin. Had been consuming him from the second he got that call you would be late because of a meeting with the man who visited you at the bar, who sent warning bells ringing within his mind.

It was after.

After the distance you had put between them for three days that he tried to respect. After the times he didn’t ask about the meeting, knowing you would tell him on your own if you wanted to. After he chased away an intruder that was determined to take what they wanted from you. After he fired that inane cook for his behavior toward you, citing all of instances he had failed to mesh into the atmosphere and environment he had painstakingly created in his restaurant. After he rushed to you, only to find you looking so small and alone in your apartment with a set of stitches he felt at fault for. After he saw you crumble in on yourself and reveal the broken pillars you had been trying to maintain.

You had seemed to calm, so quiet as you talked about your childhood. About a woman who tore you down before you could even begin to build yourself up. About a man who let her, who was supposed to care for you and protect you. A family that saw you as a burden to pass around. About a professor who was sworn to teach and provide a safe environment for his students. Who was abusing that power to protect the man who was targeting you now.

He tried to connect all the puzzle pieces that fell from your mouth in such a calm, matter of fact manner.

He tried to make sense of it all, his head pounding and his heart thudding as he laid you down in his bed and fixed the blankets around you the way he knew you liked. The softest one that normally rested over the comforter, slipped in between the sheets so the plushness of it brushed against your skin. A softness you craved in every aspect of your life but could only seem to find in the comfort of a measly blanket at the end of each day.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he cradled your face in his hands and wiped away the tears that had made tracks down your cheeks. Silent ones that had alarmed him as you fell apart in such a controlled way right in front of him. And he hadn’t been able to do a damn thing to help. His words had fallen on deaf ears, on resolute thoughts that this is what you deserved.

Joel sat there, silent tears of his own falling from bleary eyes as his heart ached for you. Resting his forehead against yours, he peppered kisses all over your face, he tried to make it right. He could only hope he was doing right by you, doing you more good than harm. You’ve had enough of that in your life, he was slowly learning.

Thinking back on his own girls, the ones he protected from bullies over not having mothers. The ones he protected over accusations that they weren’t wanted, that Joel was a poor substitute for a guardian. The ones that he cared for the second she was born and the second he realized one had been abandoned at a park. A mother that had been ill, hadn’t wanted to tell anyone, hadn’t wanted her daughter to know. A mother who had seen how Joel interacted with his own daughter and left a note in a coat pocket for him to find. Asking him to care for her like his own. A folder with all of her official papers loaded in the backpack she had left behind on a bench, hoping for the best of a situation she hadn’t revealed to anyone.

He ached.

For his girls. For the woman who saw him for the man he tried to be. For you.

The clock on the beside table displayed that it was late in the afternoon, bleary eyes looking around the darkened room. Joel was nowhere to be seen, no sign of him having been beside you, the covers wrapped around you and the other side of the bed cold to the touch when you reached out a hand.

Oh.

Trying to tamp down on the feeling of abandonment, you slipped from underneath the covers. The house was quiet, the ticking of a clock in the living room the only sound greeting you when you descended the stairs. The trilling of a phone the next thing to signal that you were alone. Joel’s phone left atop a counter in the kitchen, but his boots and wallet were missing. Tommy’s name flashed across the screen and you set your own down beside it and picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Oh finally! Someone is answering, Maria’s at the hospital now. Said she had a crawling feeling over her stomach, so we rushed in. Waiting on the doctor now.” His voice was frantic, his anxiety palpable over the line.

“Tommy, I’m sorry. I have no idea where Joel is, he left his phone behind.”

“Dammit, old man always forgetting it’s the only thing that let’s me talk to him.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry.”

“…you okay, hon?”

“I will be, do you want me to…come sit with you?”

“No, no, you just stay put. I’ll call if we need you to, okay? You’re so sweet for offering.”

A ding from the phone had you pulling it from your ear and the notification of a text peeked at you before disappearing. Then another and another. You couldn’t see anything other than the nondescript display of ‘new text message’, Joel opting to hide the details in case anyone glanced at his phone if he set it down at work.

“Okay, Tommy, everything is going to be okay.”

“Alright, hon, be in touch. Oh, and yell at my brother for me will ya? Old man leaving two important things behind in his rush for whatever pulled his attention.”

“Sure, Tommy.” You felt a small tug at the corner of your mouth.

Making coffee in Joel’s house was a start to feeling more like yourself, you enjoyed it in the backyard, watching the way the sky reflected in the pool he had installed there. Cup half empty and cell phone in hand open to an email that sent your heart racing is where Joel found you when he returned home. The sound of his tires hitting the drive not registering even as you sat outside.

His warm hand cupping your shoulder focused your eyes to the way he was kneeled in front of you with a concerned look on his face.

“Hey, darlin’,” His lips quirked up, trying to comfort you any way he could. He leaned in to press a kiss to your temple. As if waking from a dream, you lunged at him and wrapped yourself tight around him at the touch. He huffed out as his butt hit the ground but it arms encompassed you all the same, his face buried in your hair as you tucked yours into the crook of his neck.

“I’m so sorry, Joel. I just got so overwhelmed and-and-“

“Hey, woah, hey now, it’s okay.”

“T-tommy called your phone while you were gone. Said Maria had to go to the hospital.”

“I know, called ‘im as soon as I got in. Said he spoke to you and to keep an eye on you as well. Everythin’ is fine with them, false alarm.”

“He-Joel, he told me it was his brother.”

“Who told you what now?”

“My professor, the guy who’s been doing all this to me, is his brother. Said that the internship I applied for is mine if I drop the charges and ‘play nice’.” Sardonic tone coated your words as you confessed to what had happened the other day, swallowing down the shame and embarrassment to talk to the man trying to take care of you, trying to look after you.

“What the f- oh darlin’, no.”

“He-he said it was my fault because of how I was dressed and interacted with him while he was a patron at the bar. How I interact with you, playing a victim but that the attention I’m getting is deserved.”

His silence was heavy, tension coiling in his muscles as he stayed wrapped around you. Anger and the need to protect rolling off of him in waves.

“We’ll fix this, okay. We’ll…we’ll reach out to the dean, take in copies of the two three police reports we have against the guy. They can’t argue with that paperwork, and I don’t know what your professor can do other than deny it, but they have to look into it if you bring that to their attention. They have to sweet girl, we’ll make this right. I’ll help you. I’ll go up there with you.”

You both sat in silence for a moment, when he shifted a little to hold your weight more evenly, his back cracked, and he tried to muffle the response of a groan. One of your hands stretched out to caress his back, hoping to alleviate the ache there.

“Got you some stuff for the house, to make yourself more comfortable. That fancy body soap you like so much, some of your favorite candles, supplies for lil Sweet Pea, stuff to make easy meals if you feel like cookin’. Was also gonna leave a card, ‘n I know you got your own money, for takeout if you wanna do that.”

All you could do was nod and press a grateful kiss to the column of his neck.

The rest of the week goes by smoothly, you finish your finals with passing grades and go to register only to find out that there’s a hold on your academic profile. You walked into work with a weird sense of reality, everything oversaturated and too bright. Sounds too loud, stomach clenching around what little you were able to eat that morning. Nervous about being back at work, nervous about signing the paperwork that Joel had drawn up for Mary to approve of. Nervous of how everyone would greet you after your rather embarrassing departure the last time you had been in the restaurant.

The sound of the backdoor opening garnered everyone’s attention, service beginning in about half an hour. You had your stitches removed but were deemed expo for the next two weeks to work at a lighter, easier pace to get back into using your hands to full mobility. You had been so worried about losing feeling or movement in your hand, due to how the knife had dug into your skin, but the doctors had eased your worries.

Joel was just now exiting the office, Mary on his heels as they called attention for the preservice meeting.

“Alright, now, we’ve had quite a few changes happen recently.” Joel started off, nodding to you as you sidled up to the last station and gave your attention to them both. Millie rushed to your side and took her arm in both of hers and pressed the side of her body to yours in greeting. You smiled softly at her, happy to see that she wasn’t too ragged looking after what Joel had said been a challenging week.

“As you know, we had a couple of incidents leading up to the firing of a recent hire. He didn’t mesh well with the team, as y’all were witness to. It is never okay to move about the kitchen or floor without using safety words. Communication is key, it allows us all a safe place to work and move in. Please proceed the way you’ve always done so, with respect and mutual understanding toward your fellow workers.”

“And it’s been brough to my attention that there is a shift in dynamics,” Mary cleared her throat, eyes glancing at you before she announced the one thing you were the most worried about. “Joel here and our bar manager have filed the appropriate paperwork declaring their relationship status. Now, that is not to say that anything will change around here. Work is work, personal life will remain outside of the premises, but this does not give anyone the right to retaliate against either of them.”

A soft hush of murmured words broke the silence of the kitchen, eyes raking over you and then over Joel. Millie’s arms tightened around your own, her eyes looking to you with something you couldn’t quite make out.

“Now, I know this may make a few people uncomfortable.” Joel spoke up, stepping forward to get the attention of the room back. “But I assure you, everything will remain professional and appropriate. There have been no promises or conditions of this, there is nothing but the blossoming of something that warranted such an announcement. To cover my butt and hers, it’s the right thing to do and that’s why it’s been done. I know we have two other couples employed here and it’s just the same paperwork they filed.”

Well into the service of dinner, Millie kept glancing at you any time she was in the kitchen. Her eyes training from your concentrated look as you made sure food was pristine before going out to the tables and Joel who was working away behind the stove stop and grill, the furrowing of his brow and the slight downturn of his lips as he focused on his dishes being perfect to hand off to you.

“It’s lulled, gonna take a smoke break. That okay with you, chef?” Your eyes found his through the line, fingers tapping on the metal on the metal top, hands warm underneath the heat bars tucked up on the shelf. His eyes softened when they landed on you and he nodded an affirmation at you before turning back to one of the only two tickets that hadn’t been worked.

You barely light the end of your cigarette before a squealing Millie was approaching you from the closing back door.

“Oh my god, you bagged the chef!”

“Millie…”

“No, no, he’s like so ruggedly handsome and those eyes? Girl, you didn’t tell me you even liked him! Y’all been at each other’s throats but now it all makes sense! You wanted him, and he wanted you back.” She smirked over at you, hands lighting her own cigarette.

“Oh hush, dirty girl.” You tossed back, genuine smile pulling at your lips.

“But seriously, he’s good to you? I mean, he’s obviously serious about what y’all got drawing up the paperwork ‘n all.”

“He’s good to me, promise.” You take a long drag, holding in the inhale for a beat before exhaling it out in a deep sigh. “He’s helping me figure out this shit with my professor who’s telling me I can’t get the internship I’m qualified for unless I drop the police report and arrest out for his brother who attacked me.”

“No fuckin’ way, the guy who attacked you was your professor’s brother? That lowkey creepy guy who sat up at the bar with you a few times?”

“That’s the one.”

“Do…do you think if it all gets sorted out that you’ll leave the restaurant to do it?”

“Hmm?”

“I mean, a full time internship and your last semester, that’s going to be a lot to juggle. You’re a TA too, right? To get teaching credits.”

“Oh, um, I haven’t really thought about it. I was maybe considering just going down to weekend nights?”

You both talked and gossiped, tossing the butts of your spent cigarettes into the pail beside the door before going back in to finish the shift.

“Fuck.” You moaned, the sound filling the cool air of the walk in, back arching as you tried to push back against the man who had sheathed the entirety of his hard length into you with one smooth, drawn out move so attuned to your body. His grip on your hips was bruising, the feeling of him gripping tight to your shoulder even more so, but he didn’t move.

He seemed frozen, head bowed down and forehead connected with the back of your head, hands gripping tight, chest heaving with each deep breath and brushing hot against your back. Murmured words falling from his plush lips too quiet for you to catch, but you were sure if he could safely do so, he would be praising you in that filthy way he was prone to do. His large thighs were pressed to the backs of your own and the feel of his chef pants was rough on the naked skin of your thighs where he had pushed up the skirt of the dress you had worn for your shift.

“Please, Joel, I need you to move.” You circled your hips, grinding back on the entire length of him and you could feel yourself clench. A guttural moan sounded from his lips, puffing out in a misty breath.

“What did I tell you about bein’ a good girl f’me?” The hard line of him twitched deep inside you and your knees wobbled. The hand on your waist curled around your middle to help keep you upright, lest they give out on you completely. He pulled out nearly all the way only to slam back in, it took everything in you not to scream from the pleasure as white sparked across your vision. Your teeth digging into the hands that were grasping desperately onto the edge of the metal storage shelf you were pressed up against. Trying to hide the sound in an effort to keep the secret that had become your personal life just that, at least from any prying ears as your relationship had become common knowledge within the restaurant.

“Such a dirty girl, getting’ me all riled up in that lil dress. The skirt flippin’ up when you walk through the door to the floor.” He growled into your hair, close to your ear. His scruff tickling against your skin in the best way. He moved against you in quick movements, chasing his high and drawing you closer to yours.

“Ngh, Joel, please.” You whined quietly, moving your hips back to meet his thrusts.

“Come on, now, give it t’me,” He punctuated his words with pulling you closer to him, the backs of his thighs slamming against you so hard he was enamored with watching the way your ass jiggled. And you heeded his words, body tensing around him and clenching with the force of your release. Joel grunted at the feeling, reveling in the way that he could make you into such a crumbling mess, that you let him do it.

He followed after you, tingling in his spine at the way you clenched so tightly around him. Grinding his hips into you, he painted the inside of your walls with hot spurts, filling you up. You could feel some of the mixture of you both dripping down from where it collected around the base of him as he slowly moved against you as he rode out his release.

“Hmm, can’t take it all, can you? ‘m too much for you, huh, baby?”

You could only hum in response as he pulled out, wiggling your hips at him as he caressed down your waist and hips You could feel him kneeling down behind you, though you were too out of it to register what he could possibly be doing. Head set heavily on the shelf you still clung to, panting as you tried to come back to yourself, body alight in a way that was all encompassing. His large hands splayed across your cheeks, thumbs pulling you apart to watch his spend pooled up inside you. He groaned at the sight and without a thought he leaned in and swiped his tongue through your glistening folds.

A startled shout pushed out your chest, core throbbing at the overstimulation.

“Lucky it’s closin’ time, sweetheart, otherwise we’d be given away with all your pretty sounds.” He bit at your folds gently, teasing you with a smirk you could feel against you before he delved his tongue into your entrance and lapped up the salty taste of you both collected there. The thick wet muscle felt amazing, and you pressed yourself back to get more of the feeling. His nose bumped against you, and you keened as it sparked new tingles at a sensation against the tight ring of muscle you seldom paid attention to.

His hands spread you open, exposing you more to his ministrations as he moved down to suckle at your pulsing clit.

“Gonna give me ‘nother, come on now.”

The overstimulation, the feel of his teeth nipping and suckling, the tight grip he had on you, it was all so much, and you gushed against his skilled mouth. His mouth moved to gather what had trickled down the inside of your thighs, cleaning up every last drop from your body. Loving the way your muscles shook and your shoulders shuddered. Body going slack as he gave you one wide swipe of his tongue before standing behind you. He carefully dragged your panties back up your hips.

“Did such a good job, f’me,” His belt tinkled as he fastened it back together, body draping over your prone form. He turned you in his hold, your head lolling back slightly as you tried to look up at him through heavy lashes. You smiled, dazed and satiated, hands coming around the back of his neck to pull him down for a passionate kiss that took the last of your energy.

The meeting of your lips let you taste the remnants of what he licked from your core and you moaned as he licked into your mouth. His scruff damp and glistening where it brushed against your skin.

“I…don’t want to go back. It feels…tainted.” You stared at the email summarizing the rather…tense meeting you just had with the dean and your advisor. The police reports Joel had handed over spelling out the situation better than your stuttering and his forceful words as he sat between you and your angry professor who had silently fumed as his life went up in flames.

The cab of his truck was warm, turned on a idling while he waited for the AC to combat the build up while it had been sitting in the campus parking lot. He looked over to you, wanting to reach out to grasp your hand or thigh but you were closed off, overwhelmed. You knew he did, could tell by the twitching of his fingers as he gripped the steering wheel though the wasn’t actively driving.

“Okay, we can pack up your things and get you someplace that you’re comfortable in.”

“Oh.” You tried to hide the way you deflated slightly, at his quick offer to help you find somewhere as if your things weren’t already scattered around his home. Like he hadn’t made you feel the most welcome you had out of the times you’ve spent at anyone’s home. His soft wake ups, his lips ghosting over your skin any chance he got. “O-okay, sure. I can start looking after work today.”

“Was gonna say you could take the night off, it’s been…a lot today.”

Trying to tamp down the feeling of him wanting space, knowing he was doing so out of genuine care for your wellbeing.

“Work helps, I need to feel like I’m doing something.” You looked over to him, eyes wide and searching for comfort.

“Whatever you want, darlin’.” He finally reached out when he noticed you tuck your phone back into a pocket and began to stretch toward him. He kissed the back of your hand before starting the truck and driving off.

The next few weeks were spent focusing on packing your apartment up, carefully wrapping everything up and labeling boxes for each room. There hadn’t been any news on the applications you filled out for places around the city, a lag in the market as the fall semester neared and college students flooded the city limits.

You found yourself laboring over moving the boxes around, looking for stuff you needed for school, getting out a larger backpack to prepare for long days of TA work, classes, and then closing shifts at the restaurant. Millie taking over for four days during the week and you on weekends. The worry of waiting for them to announce the recipients of the internship following the firing of your professor and the arrest of his brother a low hum in the back of your mind.

Joel stepped through the door and melted your worries with his attentive lips and wandering hands.

A text. A photo. A question if he was hard for her. Another photo. A wall of notifications streaming on the screen of his phone. A woman contacting him, her first name only. And Joel Miller was a man adamant about his contact information being first and last names, with business, neighbor, or restaurant identifiers. Only his family and you were saved in his phone with first names only. Only his family and you and this woman.

Anger and betrayal came alive inside of you, making your every move seem as if it was life or death. Each breath sucked in between clenched teeth burned in your lungs as the taut pull of tears constricted your throat and made your face feel too hot. Fingers trembling you tossed the phone back onto the bed, the screen continuing to light up. The shower was barely turning off when you called out to him, voice strong despite the shaking of your hands.

“Joel, who the fuck is Valerie and why is she sending you naked photos?”

“What?” He popped back into the bedroom, hair wet from his shower. He had been toweling off before coming back into the room to change.

“Valerie is sending you naked photos and racy texts.”

“God dammit,” He rubbed a thick hand over his face, hiding the expression he was making save for the furrowing of his brow.

“That’s all you have to say?” You asked, getting up from the bed, searching for your discarded clothes that had been peeled off by his own hands not even an hour ago. You pulled your jeans on with rough movements, worried about the way he wasn’t saying anything else and the stillness he adopted in the doorway. Steam wafted around him, stray droplets of water trailing off the ends of his curls and down his chest, looking like a sight that would normally have heat curling in your middle.

“It’s not-“

“It’s not what I think? Joel, every man in history says that line.” You shrugged the black hoodie back on, not bothering to fix the rumpled hood that bunched up in an uncomfortable way around the back of your neck and shoulder, hair half tangled in it.

He said your name, something he seldom did unless at work, preferring to use sweet names when alone together or out in public as things had blossomed. You turned to look at him from where you were shoving the errant items of yours that had found a home on the nightstand that mirrored his own on the other side of the bed. Phone, small wallet, keys, box cutter, rings back in place on shaking fingers. A hair claw that he had bought to replace the one you had lost nearly two months ago now. A special one in the shape of a butterfly made of muted teal and a shiny inlay for the wings. He had surprised you with it but now it felt like a punch in the gut.

“I don’t, Joel, I can’t do this.” You wouldn’t listen to the half-hearted mumbling falling from his lips, towel held up on his waist with one hand, still stood in the doorway across the room.

“She does this, every blue moon, Sarah’s mom. Gets lonely and reaches out in this way, it’s not-“

“And you haven’t told her to stop? That you’re seeing someone? That it’s inappropriate?”

“And this isn’t? You not hearing me out or even giving me the chance to explain?” The low timbre of his voice gave his growing frustration away.

“Obviously you like it, let her do it while I’m lying in your bed, in your house, avoiding talking about moving in with you even though my stuff is in boxes in the damn garage?”

A pause settled in the space between you both, eyes watching each other, waiting for words that might damn each other further or save this mess from growing into something unmanageable.

“I didn’t know she was going to.”

“But you didn’t tell her to stop the last time? When was the last time, Joel?” You turned to face him fully, eyes narrowed and a glint behind them told him how hurt you were, how much this was affecting you for you to shrink in on yourself. Question yourself, question everything you two had built over the last six months.

“When was the last time, Joel? Did you respond, send your own photos back?” His eyes met yours, determined to explain it all away. But it was making you angry, the secondary emotion to your hurt and insecurity.

“It was before, before the meeting when you asked about the fall menu.” He ran a hand through his damp hair, fingers raking through it in a nervous fashion you knew he displayed when overwhelmed and trying. But it hurt, the messages that had popped up.

Been missing you, big boy.

Need a response like last time, when you showed me how much you wanted me.

Can you call, I need to hear your voice, tell me how you like me.

“Before you smiled at me for the first time.”

“Before and now. She seems to think you’re gonna engage with her.”

“’m not, I wouldn’t. Wouldn’t be unfaithful to you.”

“Go ahead, no one’s stopping you.” His features hardened, hand holding the towel clenching tighter.

He was about to respond when his cell phone dinged again. And then rang.

The doorbell downstairs sounded in the air.

“She’s awfully eager, when was the last time?”

The doorbell sounded again, followed by a knock.

Tension crackled between you both, the knowledge that she wouldn’t be so adamant if the last time was over four months ago. His gaze broke from yours and to the carpet at your feet.

“Okay, that’s fine. That’s…perfectly fine, deny it. Don’t tell me the truth. I get it, you both have history. She’s not someone who works for you, she’s not as young as the daughter you both share. Don’t know what the fuck I was thinking falling for you anyway. You won’t even ask me to move in despite not having anywhere else to go.”

You bolted, falling back on instincts from when you had been in a similar situation last, from your emotions that were clawing their way out of your ribcage and fueling the words rushing from your lips.

“It was before we talked about doing this, before we kissed,” His small voice followed you out the door, but that was….that was too close to the dance you two had been engaged in around the restaurant, too close to not feel like a betrayal.

Muffled footfalls on the stairs echoed in your ringing ears as you left Joel standing in his bathroom doorway. The thud of you throwing your bag over your shoulder and woosh of the door opening underneath your hands. The woman from the photos was on his doorstep, her eyes glassy under the influence of whatever she had indulged in that night.

She seemed momentarily shocked as you shouldered past her, leaving the door wide open for her to see into the house that had been set up with a soft light in the living room for the evening.

“Who’re you?” She slurred, words jumbled together and voice honey sweet.

“Nobody.” You grunted at her as you marched down the walkway and toward your truck. The engine roared to life, and you didn’t look back to see if she had gone in of her own accord or if Joel had finally moved from his spot upstairs.

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taglist: @jessthebaker @clevergirl74

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cowboydisaster · 1 year

Text

The Fire In Your Eyes

part V: horseshoe overlook i

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 15.3k

summary: your leg feels better, and everyone's spirits are higher in the new camp. You set out to explore Valentine, and find yourself in dangerous situations more often than not. So much for lying low. You realize that you have a bad habit of lying to yourself.

a/n: we're back bitches! But seriously, can't thank you guys enough for all the love and support this last week. I've been trying to be open to keep you guys in the loop and we seem to be back on the right track now. So sorry that there was no upload last week, but hopefully reader's badassery and the fluff makes up for it <3 They're fools, but they figure it out soon enough, the slow burn is worth the wait, I swear it. And lastly only half of this was beta read and I'm too sleepy to do the rest myself so lets just both pretend that there's no errors, thank you, love y'all

warnings: gore, violence, fighting, harassment, held up at the bar by a creepy guy, tw, nightmares, trauma

SERIES MASTERPOST

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow

series taglist: @catnotbread @chxosangxl @globetrotter28 @justalittlerayofpitchblack @fruittiest-of-loops @randomidk-123 @heyworld-whatsup

Sweat drips down your forehead despite the chilly temperature as you strain, pulling the final piece of canvas over your A-frame tent. Once it’s secured to the ground properly, you sigh, and wipe the sweat from your brow.

About five minutes after the wagons rolled into Horseshoe Overlook, Miss. Grimshaw had started whipping you and the other girls into work. While Grimshaw harassed you and the others, Dutch had given a big, charismatic speech, urging everyone to lay low and bring in money. Lenny and Micah still aren’t back from scouting, and the whereabouts of Sean and Mac are still unknown, but the spirits are higher than they’ve been in a long while. The new camp is perfect. The sun is warm, the breeze carried down by the mountains is refreshing and god- the nature. You’d missed this spot. Deer and rabbits run through the woods, passing through wildflowers and bushes of berries, surrounded by swaying trees and soothed by the sound of the Dakota River. It's a perfect spot, thanks to you. It’s only a few minutes' ride to Valentine as well, a small, rough town filled with livestock, working girls and drunkards. You haven’t had a chance to leave camp yet, as you’ve been working round the clock to get everyone’s tents set up. You saved yours for last, making sure that all the other gang members are comfortable before you worry about your own living arrangements. You’re just finishing your tent now, but for the past few days you’ve been sleeping on the ground next to Tilly and Marybeth. You’re grateful to have your tent back, although it’s a bit sad. Your belongings, what little you had, were all abandoned in Blackwater.

You step into your tent, massaging the tender skin of your thigh a little before sitting on your cot. The wound is healing just fine, but it still gives you some pain every now and again. As much as you’d like to lay back on your cot and rest your eyes, you know there's too much to be done right now. Everyone needs to be working their hardest if the gang is gonna get back on its feet. With a small sigh, you push yourself off the cot, adjusting your black hat before stepping out of the tent. Scanning the new camp, you see everyone busy. Arthur has gone off with Charles to hunt for some Bison, and the remaining gang members are all working. So when the sound of loud snoring reaches your ears, you scowl deeply. With determination in your stride, you walk past your tent, then Arthur’s, to the wagon sitting empty towards the back of camp.

As you step around it, you’re completely unsurprised to find Uncle, sitting on the ground, leaning against the wagon. He’s snoring loudly, his big belly rising up and down as alcohol scented slobber drips from his lip, down his white beard and lands on his red shirt. You roll your eyes, pissed off before ramming your boot into his leg.

“Get up, you old bastard, everyone is workin’. Except you of course.” You scowl, as the man jolts awake and springs up in front of you. His face is colored with shock and disbelief at your aggression.

“I- I have lumbago! Kickin’ an old man like that… didn’t anyone ever teach you to respect your elders? Damnit, I was thinkin’...” Uncle argues, defending himself.

You only chuckle, leaning back on your heels before resting your hand on Uncle’s shoulder.

“Well I’ll be damned, Uncle. I didn’t think you were capable.” You chastise, nose wrinkling at the smell of his union suit. Uncle looks even more offended, as his eyebrows pull together and he looks at you with a slack jaw.

“Oh, hush up, would ya? You’ve been hangin’ out with old Morgan too much. It’s made ya sour. Which is unbecoming of a woman such as yourself.” Uncle bites, gesturing to your body as he says the last part.

You squint your eyes, head cocking as you take a step towards Uncle, and he steps back.

“Sorry, what was that, Uncle? You need a reminder of what happened when Micah or Bill upset me?” You threaten, thinking back to their purple bruised cheeks after you’d knocked them out cold. You are not too ladylike to punch an old feller, not if he has it coming, anyway. Uncle puts his hands up in surrender, placating you as he chuckles.

“Now you wouldn’t go hittin’ an old man, would you? An old man with terminal lumbago…” He adds and your face draws up into a comical look of confusion and disbelief. Uncle is both the biggest fool, and the biggest dumbass you’ve ever met.

“I- lumbago ain’t terminal, you fool.” You say, tossing your arms up with a squint. It isn’t even worth talking to the lazy man. Your hands grip onto your gun belt, and you shake your head.

“Hey Star! He botherin’ you?” Arthur calls from across camp. You turn to him, seeing he has just come back from hunting with a decent portion of meat for the stewpot tonight.

“Yes, Arthur. Yes he is.” You joke, partially. Arthur starts walking over, chortling to himself, and Uncle looks between the two of you.

“Oh come on now! We was just foolin!” Uncle yells out.

Arthur stands at your side, a cigarette between his lips. He’s cleaned up since Colter, taken a bath and trimmed his beard to a neater state. Coming down from the mountains has done him good, and he seems to be in better spirits since Blackwater. Arthur talks through the side of his mouth, blowing smoke out from his lips as he does.

“Why don't you make yourself useful for once, come into town with us?” Arthur asks Uncle, who sighs and stretches his back.

“Suppose I could, well, if you lot need me.” Uncle says, sounding less than enthusiastic about the whole ordeal.

“Good! Go get the wagon ready then.” Arthur says charismatically. He slaps Uncle on the back as the older man walks away, mumbling under his breath.

Karen, Tilly and Marybeth have all been standing around their bedrolls, watching your conversation with bright eyes. Contrary to Uncle, they would do anything to get out of camp. They’ve been cooped up with Grimshaw for too long, and her bitter attitude has started to wear them down. When Uncle leaves, you notice the girls approaching and turn to them with a smile.

“You’re going to town, can we go?” Karen asks Arthur, smiling brightly before glancing to you with the same warm expression. Arthur hesitates, looking around camp a few times before sighing. He rests back on his heels, as if contemplating her request, and his tongue darts past his lips before he speaks.

“Can Grimshaw spare you?” Arthur asks, and all three girls’ smiles fall into sarcastic scowls before Karen breaks out into a chuckle. The blonde woman rolls her eyes dramatically, laughing as she pokes Arthur in the chest.

“What happened to you?! Three young ladies ask to ride with you, and you’re askin’ if we’re allowed ?! And here I thought you were some ladies man back in the day!” Karen argues, amused. Arthur scans the camp again before giving up, shrugging his shoulders and chuckling.

“Alright, fine, but don’t start no trouble.” He yells after them as they run to the wagon Uncle is getting ready. Then Arthur looks back to you. He takes the cigarette from his mouth, holding it between his fingers as his ocean colored eyes search your face. Coming down from the mountains and into the sun has earned him a few freckles, and you trace the constellation-like patterns with your eyes for a moment before schooling yourself.

“Ladies man, huh, Arthur?” You chuckle, crossing your arms over your chest to help with the chill of the air. Arthur only chuckles, shaking his head before diverting your question.

“You uh- You comin’ along?” Arthur asks, scratching the back of his neck before taking a long drag from his smoke. You can’t help but smirk at him, looking up to his face.

“That a formal invitation?” You kid with him.

“Well yeah, if you ain’t too busy for us low lives that is.” Arthur jokes, and you shove him in the direction of the wagon. Your little push doesn’t even move the rock solid mass of a man, but he walks with you nonetheless.

“Yeah I'll come along.” You say with a sweet smile. When the girls see you approaching they start to hoot and holler, and you smile at their excitement.

“We finally get to go out and about with you!” Marybeth yells, clapping excitedly. The girls are all sitting in the back of the wagon on the bench seats, and Uncle is just starting to climb up into the passenger seat on the wagon bench.

“Uncle!” Arthur yells, approaching the wagon with you at his side, “Get in the back!”

Uncle turns towards you both with another dramatic look of shock. He stutters and groans, placing his foot back on the ground before scoffing.

“Why?!”

“If I gotta drive this thing I sure as shit ain’t sittin’ by you.” Arthur responds, running his hand along the side of the wagon as he passes it, climbing into the driver's seat. Uncle scoffs again, and mutters something about ‘disrespectful youngsters’ before climbing into the back with the girls. You’re not exactly sure where to sit, and you hesitate for a moment before Arthur pats the bench beside him. With a crooked smile, you climb up and sit on the wooden bench next to him.

Arthur picks up the reins, clicking to the horses for them to pick up speed. Uncle had picked out two suffolk punch horses to drive the wagon, and they make a nice strong pair, pulling it out of Horseshoe. Even though he’s not riding, Arthur keeps a soft hand on the reins, giving the horses leeway to do their job. You’re grateful to be getting out of camp, it's the first time you've been out since you’ve come down from Colter however many days ago. You look up to the sun, inhaling the scent of the woods deeply, and cherishing the songs of the birds. You've always loved nature, and you're glad to be out of that damn cabin.

“Why don’t you girls sing us a song?” Uncle suggests, and immediately Arthur whispers ‘oh, brother.’ You’re not sure why, until the girls giggle loudly and begin singing. You turn in your seat, looking back to them with bright pink cheeks.

“Oooohh, I got a girl in Berryville, she can't be screwed cause she’s too damn ill! So I don’t go down there no more, there's a blue horse laid outside her dooooor!” They all sing out, cackling and giggling in between breaths. You laugh a breathy chuckle, glancing to Arthur with wide eyes as they continue.

“Ohhh, I got a girl in Valentine! Likes to drink that fancy wine, the plume in her hat was two feet tall, the crack in her pants paid for it all!” They sing out again, and Tilly has to stop because she starts laughing too hard to continue the lyrics. Uncle is entirely pleased with their crass, though hilarious song, and Arthur has a little smile on his face.

“Don’t care for this song?” Arthur asks, leaning over towards you with a throaty chuckle. Your cheeks are still red as you respond.

“If I sang this song, I think my daddy’d roll over in his grave, Arthur. Hell, my pa would have killed me if I sang somethin’ so crass.” You laugh, telling the truth.

Arthur lightly taps the reins down over the horses, urging them to cross the railroad tracks. Marybeth messes up the chorus, and all three girls erupt into chuckles. But you’re no longer focused on them, instead your eyes are fixated on the stagecoach ahead that seems to be swerving all over the road. Your eyebrows pull together, making a familiar little crease in between your eyebrows as your hand darts over to nudge Arthur.

“Look at that coach…” You whisper, and Arthur looks up.

The coach swerves off the side of the road, into a patch of grass just as both shire horses break free from the coach. You gasp, watching on as a man jumps down from the driver's seat. He manages to grab the bay shire horse, but the gray one bolts, rearing up before galloping off towards the rocky hills. Arthur taps the reins again, pushing the horses to catch up to the coach. The singing has stopped completely, and Tilly speaks up from behind you.

“Someones gotta help him get his horse back!” Tilly gasps, looking between you, Arthur and Uncle. Arthur pulls the wagon off the road, and you start to stand up.

“I’ll help him.” You say, looking after the poor, scared horse. He could be hurt, and you want more than anything to go help.

Arthur rests two fingers on your knee, pushing you lightly back into your seat. You draw your brows together before he speaks up.

“You just rest that leg for now, I got this.” Arthur nods to you, and you sigh, but agree. He hops down off the wagon, and jogs up to speak with the stage driver.

“You just rest that leg for now, I wanna impress you with my horse taming skills.” Karen mocks, chuckling and poking at you. With wide eyes you turn around.

“Karen!” You chastise, cheeks bright, “It ain’t- it ain’t like that.” You stutter, eyes moving back to Arthur. He’s approaching the horse now, holding his hands out steady and cooing to the scared animal.

“Oh sure it ain’t.” Karen pokes again, but this time you ignore her jokes, focused on the situation at hand. Arthur takes a few slow steps toward the gray horse, and once he gets close enough, he grabs onto the horse’s headstall. The girls behind you clap and hoot, calling after Arthur for being such a gentleman. He brings the horse back, walking and patting the shire the whole way back until he is safe within the hands of his owner. The man thanks Arthur, and tries to give him some money, but Arthur denies it and walks back towards the wagon.

“No worries mister, I was just tryin’ to impress the ladies!” Arthur hollers over his shoulder to the stage driver before climbing back up next to you.

“You mean the lady!” Karen pokes again. They all giggle, and Arthur looks back to them, and then to you, as you hold the bridge of your nose, jaw set in annoyance.

“What? Whatchu goin’ on about?” Arthur asks, confused on the situation. You hold your hand up to Karen, signaling her to cut it out, but of course she doesn’t.

“We ain’t blind, Star. Seeing a whole lot clearer than you two anyhow.” Karen adds before surrendering, her hands up.

You turn back towards the road, shaking your head and sighing before crossing your legs.

“Why don’t you just keep singin’?” You ask, a little annoyed with the constant bugging about you and Arthur’s friendship.

Arthur drives the wagon past a little auction area, and sheep run around inside of various pens in the auction yard. The town reeks like manure, and you whistle, nose filled with the foul smell.

“Smell those sheep…” Tilly mumbles, scrunching her nose.

“Or is that Uncle?” Karen jokes. Uncle looks at her with an open jaw, and a dramatic sense of hurt.

“Very funny.” Uncle says before pointing to a building up ahead.

“Sheriff on the right, you could pick up some bounties there Arthur. Or you, Star. You seem the type.” Uncle informs you, and you look to the small sheriff's office, thinking over the idea.

“Heaven forbid you put your head on the line.” Arthur chastises Uncle, exaggerating his annoyance.

You’ve spent so much time running from the law, you never thought about working for it. Maybe bounty hunting is something you’ll look into… Arthur slows the horses down to a walk as he drives them down the main road. A few people walk about, shoes all covered in mud as they mill around. Valentine is a nice little town, just as you’d remembered it. Everything looks exactly the same, save for a new building going up at the bottom of the road, next to the general store. You pass Smithfield's saloon, and remember going in there with your parents to get some dinner back, oh so many years ago. A bittersweet smile passes over your lips at the memory, but it fades quickly.

Arthur pulls the wagon down past the general store, parking the horses near the livery. Everyone starts to climb down out of the wagon, and Karen speaks up.

“We’ll start at the saloon. Star, you're coming with us!” Karen says, grabbing your wrist and pulling you with her.

“We’re stealing your woman, Arthur!” Tilly jokes, giggling as Arthur chuckles.

You’re getting a bit irritated with the constant jokes about you and Arthur. It’s getting a little old, and you’re tired of the persistent blush on your cheeks, but it doesn’t matter how much you try to convince the girls, they won't let up. You still try nonetheless.

Tilly leads you past the few little shops until you come up to the saloon doors, which she kindly holds open for you. You step inside, taking in the few drunkards that meander around the place.

“Y’know… me and Arthur, really we ain’t like that…” You continue to argue, moving towards and then leaning on the bar.

“Four whiskeys.” You order, tossing a two dollar bill on the bar. The bartender, a lanky man with a handlebar mustache the size of Texas, brings out the bottle and pours four shots on the counter, sliding them your way before taking the bill. Immediately, you take the shot, tossing your head back and swallowing it. The whiskey burns your throat, drowning your anxieties with it as the burn scorches through your veins. Marybeth, standing at the bar to your side, places her hand on your arm.

“I’m sorry, I mean- we ain’t meaning to pick on ya, but…” Marybeth starts, before Tilly finishes her shot and Marybeth’s sentence.

“But Arthur ain’t never took to someone like he has with you.” Tilly interjects, and you look down, biting your cheek, ordering another drink.

“He ain’t taken to a woman in so long, Star. Well, not since he was eng-” Marybeth starts, but Karen elbows her to shut up. You don't even want to ask where she was going with that. Really, you don’t care. Arthur’s habits with women have no impact on you. Karen steps forward, growing serious.

“He hasn’t been sweet on someone in a long while, Star. I seen him reject many of women in my day, and never seen him pay for a working girl neither.” Karen says, no judgment in her eyes as she looks over your features.

“Wasn’t it you just sayin’ all of ten minutes ago that he used to be some big ladies man?” You ask, confused and annoyed. Karen chuckles under her breath before she responds.

“Well I was joking, mostly. Arthur don’t talk about his younger years. Tilly was around for most of it, but he hasn't even told her much, just rumor. He don’t talk to anyone about that time.” Karen explains, a sad look on her face. The other two girls nod, and you wonder why Arthur is so closed off about his past. Marybeth gets a glint in her eye, and she moves forward to whisper a juicy piece of gossip. Her dirty blonde curls bounce as she leans in.

“Y’know I heard that a few years back he got a waitress p-”

“Marybeth, enough!” Tilly chastises, an angry look on her face as she scowls down at Marybeth.

Marybeth bites her tongue, keeping quiet with a sheepish look on her face. Her cheeks are pink with embarrassment, and you’re left catching up with the whole situation. Once again, you don’t even want to know.

“So there you have it then,” You down your second shot, slamming the empty glass back down onto the counter, wishing that you could talk about something other than Arthur for once, “You just told me that he’s never sweet on anyone. I sure as shit ain’t changing that.” You counter. Karen rolls her eyes, tugging on your arm.

“But you are!” Karen pleads, begging you to see the situation as she does.

“Look, we’re not trying to bug you. We’ll stop. But Star, the way he looks after you.” Tilly says, and you’re just grateful to hear her admit that they’ll stop picking. The girls love a good piece of gossip, and you have fallen victim to their newest obsession. As much as you love the girls, it's frustrating. Seeing that you’ve had enough, and practically abandoned the conversation, Karen walks behind you, scanning the men in the bar.

“I'm gonna pick one of these fellers up.” Karen whispers with a devious smile on her lips. Marybeth and Tilly both roll their eyes, sighing.

“You’re gonna what?!” You ask, wondering if Karen has totally lost her mind. Arthur has given strict instructions to not get into any trouble here. Not to mention that none of these fellas seem like particularly good ones to spend a night with.

“I'm gonna pick one up, take him up to the hotel, then I'm gonna rob him blind.” Karen explains, the same devilish smirk on her lips.

“Karen, be careful.” You warn, knowing that stealing from men like these ones isn’t particularly easy. Karen only dismisses you with her hand before stalking off towards her prey. She pushes her shoulders back and bats her eyelashes, approaching a drunk man sitting down at the poker table. He’s just won the hand, and is collecting money from the dealer. You don’t like the idea, not one bit, but you’re not about to stop her. Karen’s almost as bullheaded as you. Tilly is looking after Karen with the same worry as you, and as the blonde woman leads the man out of the saloon, into the direction of the hotel, Tilly speaks up.

“I’ll follow her, make sure she’s okay.”

You nod to Tilly before she heads out of the saloon too, leaving only you and Marybeth at the bar. Marybeth is looking down at her untouched drink, her eyebrows pulled together in thought. She looks upset, and you lean in to ask about it before she explains.

“I just… well I’m really sorry if I upset you. It wasn’t my intention to.” Marybeth looks up to you, hoping you won’t be mad with her. You know she never meant to get under your skin. Marybeth is so very young, and she’s tangled up in fantasies of feet sweeping love, ideas that you had to give up a long time ago. Your life has been unkind, you’ve not had time to daydream of silly romances. Pitifully, you realize that the stories are all that Marybeth has. She stays in camp, and only has her books and daydreams to distract herself from everyday life.

“Marybeth, you didn’t upset me. Really. My skin ain’t so thin.” You smile to reassure her. Marybeth bites her lip, fingers trailing over her still-full shot glass. You rest your elbows on the bar, looking to her drawn up face. There’s something else she wants to say.

“It just-” Marybeth laughs breathily, and looks up to you with sparkling eyes. “It's like one of my novels, It seems so perfect.” Marybeth beams, gripping onto your arm, as if it would help to convince you.

You bite your tongue, knowing that Marybeth is naive. She can’t help it, really. What you and Arthur share is not perfect. Hell, it’s far from perfect. You bonded over the pain of losing so much that the only thing left for you to cling to was him. It’s not conventional, you’re outlaws, killers, and after the things you’ve done? You don’t think you deserve a happy ending, or that you’re even capable of finding one.

“It ain’t that simple.” You grit, eyes boring into the bar. Marybeth’s hand rests on your forearm gently, grabbing your attention as she offers you a sweet smile.

“I’m sure it ain’t, and I’m sorry for assuming, but… a word of advice?”

“Go ahead.” You oblige, sighing and turning to her. Her giggles and chastising tone are gone, replaced with a sheepish smile and a whole lot of intensity.

“When there’s something good in front of you, an opportunity to be loved and looked after, cared for, don't let it go to waste. I can see you have trouble letting people in, and why that is, I’m sorry for, but… I’ve known Arthur most of my life, he’s been a big brother to us, and Star, he’s a good one.” Marybeth whispers, giving your arm a gentle squeeze before she averts her eyes back to her drink. You’re grateful for it because a blush runs over your cheeks. Is your and Arthur’s… situation that obvious to everyone else?

“I- well it ain’t-” You sigh, trying to find your words, “It ain’t like that Marybeth. He’s my best friend.” And it’s true. Arthur is your best friend, and you won’t allow yourself more than that. You’re not looking for a courtship, you don’t have time for such… trivial things, you’re fighting for your life every goddamn day it seems. With a sigh, you turn around, leaning your back against the bar and glancing out the window to the men and women walking down the muddy road.

“Exactly.” Marybeth laughs, as if this is all so obvious, and you’re the one who doesn’t understand.

“Marybeth-” You start to quiet her, but as you continue to glance out the window, your eyebrows draw together. Marybeth follows your gaze, and her hand comes up to her mouth in shock. Tilly is across the street, in a small alley being held up by some feller, some feller with Arthur’s cattleman pressed against his temple.

“Shit, I'll go see what's goin’ on… so much for lyin’ low.” You mumble, jogging towards the saloon doors before pushing them open. Your eyes have to adjust to the bright sun as you rest your hand on your holster, walking across the muddy street and joining them.

“You best get gone, partner. Lay a hand on Miss Tilly again, n I’ll put a bullet in ya.” Arthur growls. You’ve never heard his voice sound so… predatory, and it scares you, even. The man, with a deep scowl on his face backs away from Tilly, who is resting her hands on her knees and taking deep breaths.

The stranger looks like he wants to argue, but he backs away a few steps before turning around and heading towards his horse. Arthur escorts him there, making sure he gets well and gone, while you rush to Tilly’s side.

“You okay? Who was that?” You ask, helping her to get her bearings by placing a hand on her arm. She stands up, a disgusted look on her face. The stranger gallops away with a mean scowl, and Arthur holsters his gun, walking back down the alley towards you both.

“Anthony Foreman. Bastard I used to run with, he thinks he owns me.” Tilly hisses, a long, old wound rearing its ugly head again. There’s history here, and it ain’t good. You glance to Arthur for a moment, worried, before wrapping your arms around Tilly.

“Well he’s gone now. It’s alright, I don't imagine he'll be back around, not after that.” You whisper, squeezing her lightly before letting go. Arthur lightly squeezes your elbow to get your attention, and you turn to him. His tongue darts out over his lips before he speaks.

“Where’s Karen?” He asks, glancing across the road to see Marybeth standing outside the general store with Uncle. Karen is the only one not accounted for. You share a glance with Tilly, before backing away from them both slowly, thinking.

“Shit, I’ll go check on her, she’s in the hotel.” You mutter before jogging around the corner towards the hotel entrance.

Arthur calls after you, but it’s the last of your worries right now. The man she took into the hotel didn’t look right when you’d seen him in the saloon. He’s not someone you would have chosen to steal from for sure. You push the hotel door open with more force than necessary, and a very scared looking clerk cowers a little in fear behind the counter.

“Blonde girl, young, came in here with a feller not too long ago, which room?” You growl, already making your way to the staircase. The man doesn’t wish to get in your way, he knows you’ll be trouble as he mumbles.

“Uhh, two- two B!” He yells back, and you take the information and go, rushing up the stairs while skipping two at a time. If Karen was successful in robbing this guy she should have been back by now. You hesitate for a moment once reaching the top of the stairs… she would be back by now unless she wanted to actually lay with this man before robbing him. It would be awkward as all hell if you busted the door down and interrupted something…

But you can’t leave Karen if something has gone awry, so you go with your gut and bite your tongue. You step down the hallway, searching for room 2b. It's the very last door, and you walk towards it hesitantly.

“Uh… Sir? Miss? Everything okay in there?” You ask, posing as a working maid in case Karen is just having fun. You’re just about to knock on the door when you hear glass shatter from inside.

“Damn!” You curse, turning the knob to no avail. It’s been locked from the inside, and though it's futile, you push against the door with all your might.

Getting an idea, you grab your journal from your satchel, quickly tearing a paper out before shoving the journal back into your satchel. You’d learned this from your Pa, and used it to get into his shop when he accidentally locked the keys inside. You fold the paper over a few times until it's thicker, push it into the crack in the door and then slide it down as hard and fast as you can. The deadlock slides back into the door and you swing it open.

Karen is against the wall, holding her cheek where a purple bruise is forming, and the man she’d bribed is dressed down into his long johns, yelling in her face with a tight grip on her arm.

“Get off of her!” You yell at the man, rushing forward and grabbing Karen. You shove her behind you, shielding her from this degenerate. Your blood boils as you shove Karen out of the room.

“I’m just gettin’ what I paid for.” He growls, stepping towards you as if he’s going to grab Karen back.

“You ain’t paid to hit her.” You hiss, seething, and when his arm extends to grab onto Karen’s, you knee him, as hard as you can, right in the manhood. He doubles over, gripping in between his legs and yelling. His eyes glaze over with drunken rage, something you're familiar with thanks to your pa.

“You- you fucking bitch!” He screams, groaning loudly before standing back up. You’re not sure what exactly you’d expected to happen, but as he towers over you, fists at the ready, you realize that he’s probably going to win this fight. Nonetheless you stance yourself, ready for it. Some hair falls down in your face, and you curse as the stray blocks some of your vision.

“I'm going to get help!” Karen yells before running from the room. You might not need it, you probably will. The bastard is big, his fists are scarred, signaling he’s been in many fights before, and he’s at least a head taller than you.

You take a deep breath, centering yourself, and swing first, using the height difference to your advantage by cutting straight up into the bastard's nose. He yelps, and blood starts trickling from his now deformed nose as he wipes the blood away and swings back. He goes for a left hook, which you dodge. The man’s drunkenness helps you a bit, but as you dodge one punch, you catch another, right in the cheek. It knocks you down to the ground, and you groan as your body absorbs the shock of hitting the floor. Your ribs hurt along with your knee, and you stretch your jaw to make sure it’s not broken. It’s alright, and you can fully move it but damn, it hurts.

You’re filled with rage, and the metallic taste of blood in your mouth only spurs you further. This fella fights dirty. Well, two can play at that game. Quickly recuperating from the punch, and still on the floor you swing your good leg out. Much like you did to Arthur back in Tumbleweed, you undercut the man’s ankles, knocking him to the ground.

You’re already tired from the fight, and you cling to your cheek, panting.

“Star?!” a familiar voice hollers from the hallway. It’s Arthur, and you trust him to take care of this guy, so you rest back against the floor to take a breather.

“In here.” You mumble, raising your hand up from the ground sarcastically even though he can’t see you.

Arthur rushes in the door just as the man tries to stand up, and with a swift kick Arthur boots him right in the head, knocking him fully unconscious. As soon as the guy hits the floor, Arthur skids down on his knees at your side. His hands are warm on your skin, gently pulling you up into a sitting position.

“How bad did he get you?” Arthur asks, and his eyes are so concentrated on the forming bruise along your cheek, you almost get lost in them. There's a dark undertone to his gaze, a rage, not directed at you. Despite the anger bubbling up at the pathetic excuse of a man currently out cold on the floor, Arthur’s hands are featherlight on your skin.

“Not bad, I’m fine Arthur.”

“For the record, I got him warmed up, you just finished him off.” You chuckle, stretching your jaw before spitting some blood onto the wood floor.

Arthur is relieved to see you smiling as he runs his warm hand along your cheekbone, checking it over. There's some purple bruising coming in along your jaw and cheek, but he reckons you’ll be alright. He’ll never understand how a man could hit a woman, and wishes to do a lot worse to this bastard than knock him out.

“Got you pretty good.” Arthur mumbles, gripping your hand to pull you up to your feet. You take it, standing up with a small groan.

“Yeah well you shoulda seen it, knocked him flat on his ass, kinda like I did to you in Tumbleweed… Y'know I'm still pissed I didn’t get to see you hit the floor.” You chastise as he holds the door open for you to step into the hallway.

“Ain’t you just a proper lady.” Arthur jokes, leading you down the exterior stairs to avoid running into the hotel clerk.

“Yeah, and you’re a saint.” You huff.

You rest your hand along the rail as you walk down the staircase with Arthur. Karen is just around the bend, standing near the butcher stand with the others. You’re relieved to see that they’ve regrouped, and no one seems terribly harmed.

“Karen, you alright?” You ask, jogging down the stairs to meet her. She has a red stinging mark on her face, but it’s fading. She nods, dipping her head to Arthur and you in thanks.

“I’m okay, don't like being saved, but when I have to be…” Karen leads you towards the others, but her steps are slow and she seems to be in thought.

“Stupid bastard- Stupid bastard was boasting about the bank.” Karen smiles, proud of the information she’d garnered before it all went downhill. Your eyebrows pull together, and you glance around the town quickly. The bank? Seems like a fool's move to you. Valentine doesn't have much but sheep and shit, you’d probably be better off just robbing a store for your troubles.

“Karen, unless I’m missing somethin’ this bank ain’t worth riskin’ our necks for. I don’t imagine that a whole lotta money passes through this town, nothin’ amounting to a hill of beans anyway.” You explain, taking note of the fact that most people occupying the town are pretty average, working in small local shops around town or farming. Arthur shakes his head, disagreeing with you.

“No, Karen’s right. This here’s a livestock town. After the auction?” Arthur whistles lowly, “That bank will be overflowing with cash.” Arthur counters as the three of you make it towards the front of the general store to regroup. You hadn’t even thought of the auctions, but Arthur’s right. In the short time you’ve been here you’ve seen many animals being moved over in the yard. It’ll be full, alright.

“So we’re gonna work the bank?” You ask, nervously. You’ve never worked a job so big before, and it has your gut sinking. Arthur notices this, and brushes his hand over yours for reassurance.

“Not for a while yet, and you don’t have to come out if you ain’t comfortable with it.” Arthur whispers to you, stepping up onto the platform where Uncle, Tilly and Marybeth are waiting. Uncle looks as exasperated as ever, arms going up in the air.

“Well so much for lyin’ low. We’ve been here an hour and half the townsfolk been threatened or knocked out!” Uncle chastises, gesturing towards the hotel. You roll your eyes at his dramatic demeanor.

“Not like it was our fault, Uncle. And god only knows what you’ve been-” You’re cut short as Marybeth grabs Arthur’s arm and it gets your attention.

“Hey, who’s that guy over there lookin’ at us?” She asks, and you follow her gaze to a well dressed man sitting on a chestnut morgan. His jaw is slack, he looks… shocked? Or scared? You’re not sure, but he’s piecing something together and it isn’t good. The man's finger comes up, and he points in the direction of you and Arthur.

“Weren’t you in Blackwater a few weeks back?” The man asks, voice trembling as a cold sweat runs down his forehead. Arthur steps forward, looking around as if oblivious.

“Me? No I wasn’t in-” Arthur begins, and much to his growing annoyance is cut off by the frightened man. You can only stare blankly in a panic as the man points directly to you.

“No no, you, the lady. I saw you, you were in Blackwater.” The man says, and his worry grows by the second along with Arthur’s irritation. Marybeth and Tilly share a worried glance as you watch on, shocked.

“No. She ain’t from there.” Arthur grits with no room for argument, his friendly demeanor has disappeared completely at this point.

“Oh she was! I definitely saw you, with a bunch of fellers!” The man’s voice grows louder, drawing attention to you all. He gets more anxious, and his horse begins to prance and rear up with anxiety as the man breathes heavily. Arthur’s eyes grow downright menacing, and his voice drops an octave.

“Now that's impossible. She. Weren’t. There.” Arthur bites out every word, emphasizing them.

The man is lost for words, stuttering and pointing. People begin to stop and stare, and Arthur doesn’t like all the wandering eyes. Drawing this much attention to yourselves is bad. In a final attempt to shut this guy up, Arthur attempts to reason with him.

“Listen buddy, come here for a minute. We can sort this.” Arthur says, voice back to a friendly holler, but it’s too late. The stranger points once more, and his horse rears.

“She was there! I saw it!” He yells before spurring his horse down the road.

The eyes on you make you uncomfortable, and you're nervous under the judgmental gazes that question your situation. Arthur turns around with a deep sigh, distaste in his mouth.

“I don’t like this…” Uncle whispers, shaking his head. You watch Arthur in thought, before moving your gaze to the stranger cantering down the road.

“Me neither.” Arthur says, biting his cheek before directing his attention to you.

“Get them home and bring me my horse. Meet me in the saloon,” Arthur nods to you and starts walking towards a hitched horse in front of the store, “I'm gonna go have a word with our friend.” He says, climbing onto the saddle of a buckskin standardbred.

“Be careful, Arthur!” Tilly yells as Arthur squeezes the horse’s side with his calves.

“Just a word!”

You’re still left reeling as Arthur gallops after the stranger. Marybeth takes your arm and starts leading you to where the wagon is parked. You follow along with her, walking at a rushed pace to get out of town before something else goes awry. In just a few moments you reach the wagon, and some of the eyes boring into your back dissipate.

“I can’t believe someone recognized me…” You whisper, feeling nervous and spaced out. You tap the reins against the horses’ backs, urging them into a lope as you get away from the middle of town.

“I didn’t even think you were supposed to be on the job.” Tilly adds, and the other three nod, agreeing. You drive the horses past the auction yard, almost to the train tracks as you recount that awful day.

“I was in town with Arthur when I saw the explosion… I had to help and then it- I was right in the middle of it all.” You think back to Charles and Jenny carrying Davey out of the ferry, Dutch’s yelling, Jenny falling from her horse and everyone leaving you and her behind except for Charles.

Karen notices your glazed over expression, and the way your hands tremble slightly on the reins.

“It’s okay, you don’t gotta talk about it.”

You nod, pushing it all down as you bring the wagon closer to the camp. The rest of the ride is quiet, save for the birds. You’re all too consumed with worry to talk about it. You’ve just set your tent up this morning and the last thing you want is to be forced into moving because someone recognized you. Dutch would certainly be less than pleased with you then. Arthur’s handling the situation now, hopefully without giving a beating. You’ve not exactly been lying low since arriving and another public battery would do far more harm than good.

You don’t even realize that you’ve pulled into the woods until you hear John yelling.

“Who’s there?” He hollers, picking his rifle up against his shoulder, ready to aim.

“Ease off Marston, it’s us.” You reply as he lowers his weapon. You take note of his face, the scar that's beginning to heal now. He still has a hell of a lot of stitches and it’ll leave a nasty scar, but you’re just glad he’s alive. It wasn’t looking so good for John Marson when you and Javier found him up in Colter, but here he stands.

You pull the horses off to the side near the hitching posts before jumping down from the driver’s seat. Giving the horse nearest to you a pat, you look to the girls and Uncle.

“Well, thanks for the fun.” You joke, a chuckle escaping your lips. Karen smiles, her cheek has returned back to a cool ivory you notice, faring better than yours, which you’re glad for.

“And thanks for the drinks!” Karen says, helping Marybeth to climb down from the wagon. Uncle starts heading off towards his bedroll, and you tip your hat to them all before turning and going towards the hitching posts.

Arthur’s saddle is hung over the post, and you grab it along with his saddle pad. His walker is hitched to the post, and you coo to the stallion as you swing the saddle over his back, making sure to tent the pad to prevent any pinching. Just as you lean down to the ground to grab the cinch and girth, a throat clears behind you.

“Miss?”

You startle, turning around to meet the deep voice that you’ve talked to only on a few occasions. Standing before you, tall, dark with a presence is Dutch van der Linde. You’ve only talked to him in Colter, and even then you were barely capable of speaking.

“Oh- mornin’ Dutch.” You stutter, nervous, Dutch has given you no reason to fear him, and yet his posture, which demands respect, intimidates you. You’ve read the clips from the newspapers, you know what he’s done, good and bad. But after Blackwater you noticed an edge to him, one that easily loses control, and you make an effort not to get on his bad side.

“You’ve been running us for some time now. What’s it been, a month?” Dutch asks, bringing a thick expensive cigar up to his lips and inhaling the smoke.

“Y-yeah, almost… I think, haven't been keeping track of time too well.” You admit, nervously. You’re disappointed that your fearless, tough demeanor has faltered, but something about Dutch does that to you. You don’t know him well enough to trust him, and the last thing you want to do is irritate or disrespect him. You’re feisty, but you’re not dumb, you pick your battles.

Dutch hums, squinting his eyes while running them over your face, taking note of your black and blue cheek. He doesn’t ask about it, which you’re thankful for.

“You, my dear, have potential.” Dutch says, nodding his head lightly as if agreeing with himself. Your eyebrows draw together as you wait for him to explain. But he doesn’t.

“We’ll talk more later. I like to know who I’m running with, on a more… personal level.” Dutch chuckles deeply, the smoke on his breath reaching your face as you nod, feeling so uncomfortable and nervous. Dutch is going to… interview you? Or something of the sort…

“You have a good day, miss.” Dutch says, tipping his hat to you before backing away a few steps and finally turning around. You release a breath that you didn’t realize you were holding before grabbing the cinch and tightening it in a Texas T.

You waste no time, going over to your buckskin and repeating the process with a sigh. You really need to get to the stables soon. These two unnamed horses are good but… not what you need for this new life. You don't have enough money for a horse right now, but maybe after a job. You climb into the saddle, whistling for Arthur's walker to follow you. Luckily, he does and you start into a gallop back towards Valentine. You waste no time, as Dutch has already wasted enough, spurring your stallion. If everything has gone according to plan, then Arthur should already be back in town at the saloon. You slip your foot out of your stirrup on the side that’s still healing from Blackwater, letting it hang down to create some relief. It’s a quiet ride, and you take some time to observe around you as you gallop on, occasionally whistling to make sure Arthur’s walker is still with you.

The sun has dipped behind the shelter of clouds, providing some relief for your eyes. You hum your favorite little song, the same one you sang back in the woods by Tall Trees all that time ago. The birds are chirping, the breeze is nice, and you focus the pleasant senses to quell your nerves.

Before long you’re trotting over the railroad, tipping your hat to a man in a blue union uniform. Your brows draw together for a moment, realizing that he’s far too young to have served in the war. He’s missing an arm, and the long sleeve of his uniform has been sewed up to his shoulder. You eye him with curiosity as he begs for money on the street. What a peculiar fella. Hell, he may be a better thief than you, posing as a veteran. Seems morally questionable, but you also doubt he’s completely right in the head. You turn back to him with a small smile, wondering of his circumstances.

You continue trotting forward, almost running over a few hens that scurry across the mud caked road. And with one more whistle you turn the bend up the main drag. It’s only about noon, so not many people are milling about. You scan for Arthur, and pinpoint the standardbred he had borrowed to chase after that man. It’s hitched in front of the new building that's being put up, and eventually you spot him. He’s leaning against a beam in front of the general store, ankles crossed as he focuses intently on the little book in his hands. You can’t help but smile at the sight of his face drawn up in concentration. He’s sketching in his journal, eyes glancing up and down from the leather bound pages to the Valentine Bank. Surely he’s drawing it, and you would do anything for a peek into those pages.

There's a cigarette poking out from his lips and he pulls from it before blowing the smoke out of his nose, hands too busy to properly pull it away from his mouth. You can't help but stare at the precision of his right hand, expertly drawing the bank. Again, your mouth cracks with a smile, and you pull your gaze down to your reins.

“C’mon lady, I got places to be!” A man yells from behind you, trying to drive a wagon up the road. Amidst your staring, you had failed to realize that you’re blocking the road. Instead of apologizing, you turn and shoot him a nasty glare.

“Why don’t you shut your mouth, mister, before I shut it for you.” You hiss, glaring daggers at the middle aged man for interrupting your observations.

He scowls at you, but doesn’t push any further. When you turn back, riding towards the hitching post in front of Arthur, he looks up at you with an amused smirk. Apparently the bickering had caught his attention, and he’s finally noticed you.

“Who pissed in your coffee this mornin’?” Arthur jokes, tucking his journal back into his satchel, much to your displeasure. You crack a smile, dismounting from your buckskin before hitching it and then Arthur’s walker.

“How did it go… with that guy?” You keep your voice hushed, not wanting to draw anymore attention to yourselves. Arthur walks you towards the saloon slowly, giving himself time to explain. You glance down to his knuckles and notice they are clean, not bloodied or bruised.

“Oh I don’t think Jimmy Brooks is gonna be a problem anymore.” Arthur says, resting his hands on his belt, spurs clicking as he walks. Your eyebrows pull together, and your gut flips.

“Did you…? I mean you didn’t-” You start, trailing off while trying to ask if Arthur killed the guy. You don’t want that. The poor guy, Jimmy Brooks, was in the wrong place at the wrong time, it ain’t his fault, really. You and the people you now run with make poor decisions sometimes, you realize that. Blackwater was one of them.

“No, nah he’s okay, we came to an agreement. You see, Brooks weren’t even in Blackwater! Just a complete misunderstandin’ on his part, but it's settled now.” Arthur sarcastically explains, that switch flipping once again that makes him charismatic and threatening. You chuckle at Jimmy Brook's sudden compliance as Arthur reaches into his jeans’ pocket.

“And would ya look at this. He even gave me a pen for all the trouble.” Arthur smirks, pulling out a nice fountain pen from his pocket. He hands it over to you, and with piqued interest, you take it.

“Fancy.” You mumble, looking the nice pen over while stepping over a ledge in the sidewalk.

“Why don’t you keep it. I’m more of a charcoal and lead type anyways.” Arthur says, pulling a can of dip from his satchel and stuffing a wad in his cheek. With a hum, you stick the pen into your satchel.

“Thanks.” You smile, pushing the saloon doors open, a hand on each.

You whistle upon entry, seeing Javier and Charles doting over some working women. With a raised eyebrow, you subtly gesture towards them.

“Charles? He doesn’t seem the type.” You chuckle as Arthur walks up beside you.

“You’d be surprised what a drink can do to some of these fellers.” Arthur sighs, heading towards the bar. Javier has his arm wrapped around a blonde woman, her bust barely concealed by her dress, and Charles is eyeing up a brunette at his side.

You lean on your good leg, shaking yor head with a chuckle.

“Estrella! Arthur! Come meet our new friends.” Javier’s words are slurred just enough for you to notice. You roll your eyes, unable to shake the shocked smile from your lips. The boys you run with are unbelievable. When you look over to Arthur he is not smiling. Instead he is looking the working girls over, not fondly, but rather as if inspecting them, curiously and angrily? It makes you chuckle even more. The dark haired girl is staring at you, and you meet her gaze head on.

“He yours? Ain’t so often we come across a tough as teak mountain man.” She says, nodding her head towards Arthur, and your eyes widen, a laugh bubbling up in your throat. Oh, they’re trying to pick up Arthur- this should be good. The blonde girl lightly smacks the other, stepping towards Arthur.

“Oh you be quiet Anatasia, anyone can tell this one is a pussy cat!”

Arthur squints his eyes, looking at the girls like they have three heads. Javier steps in between his chosen lady and Arthur.

“Exactly, yes. He's a pussy… cat.” Javier jabs, but Arthur doesn’t seem to care or even notice. He leans his hands on his knees, looking at the girls from a different angle as if inspecting a goddamn horse. You bite your tongue, suppressing a laugh. You guess Karen was right, famous ladies man…

“How much you cost anyway?” Arthur asks, stepping back and leaning back on his heels. Javier rolls his eyes, pissed off at this point, while the girls scowl at him like the devil himself.

“Well ain’t that a nice way to talk to a lady…” Anastasia says, mouth thick with distaste as she looks over Arthur, demeanor completely shifted from thirty seconds ago.

Arthur leans forward, a downright comical expression on his face as he hisses,

“Shit, I’m sorry. Didn’t realize I was talkin’ to a lady.”

Your jaw drops and your cheeks turn pink even though you have nothing to do with what he’s just said. Both of the girls stomp off, having had enough. Javier only rolls his eyes, and Charles extends his arm after the women, watching as they file away.

“Arthur!” You chastise, never seeing him act so… crass. He shrugs, stepping forward to where the girls were just standing before leaning on the bar. He raises a hand towards the bartender, who starts walking over.

“What?” Arthur says, exasperated. “I’ll be the one at the damn general store gettin’ these dumbasses an ointment after they pay for those ‘women’.” Arthur sighs, and you deduce that he definitely has been in that situation before. Javiers’ a bit less mad, and he sighs, leaning onto the bar on the other side of Arthur.

“You got a fine way with the women, amigo…” Javier mumbles, rubbing his temples.

“A regular dandy and charmer.” Arthur says, just as the bartender approaches, “Two beers.” Arthur orders for you, tossing a bill on the table. You turn to him, an eyebrow raised disapprovingly.

“What-?” Arthur asks at your expression before sighing and calling the bartender back over.

“Sorry partner, make that one beer and a whiskey for the lady.” Arthur corrects himself, and earns a smile for it.

You glance around the bar as the same tender from earlier grabs your drinks. It's more packed now, closer to the evening and some men have gotten off from work, while some women have just started. A pianist plays Maple Leaf Rag on the piano, probably the only song he knows to be honest, but you don’t mind. It creates a nice ambience anyway. Arthur starts chatting with the boys, and you glance around curiously. You thought Bill would be here too…?

“Hey-” You nudge Arthur’s shoulder, but he’s too caught up in his own conversation to notice yours. Your brows are pulled together tightly as you feel something’s… off.

Ah, your gut is always right. Bill kicks the saloon doors open, stepping in and going straight up to a guy. He’s face to face with him, and you can’t tell if he’s mad or not.

“He about to kiss that guy or punch him?” Arthur asks, and you glance over your shoulder, noticing that behind you, Arthur has also caught wind of the situation. The bartender sets down a beer bottle and a neat glass of whiskey on the table, and Arthur grabs his bottle by the neck, taking a long swig before setting it down in front of you.

“Keep the tab goin’ Star.” Arthur says with a wink, rolling up his sleeves just as Bill rams his fist into the other man's gut with a drunken yell.

“Oh! And we have our answer!” Javier calls out. Arthur squeezes your arm lightly before stepping past you, in three strides he walks out into the center of the bar and all hell breaks loose. Maple Leaf Rag continues playing as if all is well while every man in the center of the saloon starts throwing punches. Arthur walks straight up to a guy, punching him square in the nose with a sickening crack. You lean against the bar, shaking your head as he knocks out two men within a few minutes.

You watch on for a while, mesmerized at Arthur’s skill in fighting. He's a damn good fighter, and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t attractive to watch. His muscles flex as he expertly dodges, landing punches that shatter bones. It’s awful and incredible at the same time. A bunch of degenerates thriving in chaos, adrenaline rushing from the men who are tearing each other apart, civilly, with some good old fashioned fist fighting. It’s so them, you chuckle. Of course this is how they unwind.

Running your tongue over your bottom lip, you turn back to the bar. As asked, you keep the tab open, watching Arthur’s beer while sipping from your drink. The piano is loud compared to the sound of men beating the hell out of each other, but not as loud as Bill.

“Let's just shoot em!” He yells, right before getting his head slammed against the wall. Javier dodges a punch by jumping backwards, right before knocking a guy out.

“Oh, come on! We can handle these fools!” Javier replies over the commotion.

Their voices are farther away, out in the center of the saloon. Everyone is distracted, including you, as you take a swig from your drink. So it surprises you, in fact it scares the hell out of you, when two hands place themselves down onto the bar on either side of you. You gasp, whipping around. A man, a fucking beast of a man is standing over you. He’s way over six feet, and so broad that just by the proximity you can’t see around him. You don’t have much time to think, already buzzed from your drink and it’s throwing your senses off. Typically you would already have a knife in this guy, but your vision is a little fuzzy and things are just a bit slower.

“What’s a pretty little girl like you doin’ with these people, hmm?” He says, breath reeking of cheap alcohol. The scent is all too familiar, and you nearly choke on it. He presses against your torso, completely trapping you against the bar, so tightly that the wood digs into your back painfully.

“Get off me.” You growl, glaring daggers up at the man. He doesn’t acknowledge your words, instead he brushes a hair away from your face and you rip your head away from his large, grubby hands.

“Could show you a real fun time. Got some cash on me.” He says, smiling at you like he’s just won some prize. You fume, rage taking over as he pins your wrists down at your sides so you can’t grab any weapons.

“I ain’t for sale.”

The man's eyebrows raise, and he chuckles. Your back aches from the way he's shoving you into the bar, and you glance over to the boys at the center of the room. You can handle this guy.

“So youse free then? Even better, sugar.” He chuckles, deep in his throat and his breath reeks. If he would just release one of your arms you could have him dead on the floor in seconds.

Just as you form a plan, he lets go of your arm and grabs your chin, harshly.

“Looks like you got a bruise comin’ in here on this pretty little face. Real shame, it from your cowboy? You got a mister at home? Does he like sharin?”

You slip your hand down to your knife sheath, gripping onto the handle. Just as you reach it, Arthur spots you from across the room. Your small frame is being crushed between this giant bastard and the bar, his hand squeezes your jaw. A boiling rage takes over Arthur as he drops the man he was holding up, straight to the floor. The room spins and he sees nothing but red. Wasting no time, he runs towards you in a few long strides. You pull your knife out, and just as you move to plunge it into the man’s gut, Arthur tears him off of you.

“You leave her the hell alone!” Arthur roars. Your eyes widen as you take in what’s just happened, your knife is still in your hand as the man grabs Arthur by the collar and throws him over one of the dining tables.

“Tommy! Tommy, stop it!” The bartender screams, and you gasp as Tommy picks up Arthur again and shoves him through the front window.

Glass shatters, spilling all over the floor and the street as Arthur rolls onto the muddy road outside. Your jaw is practically on the ground, eyebrows raised in concern as you run out the front doors alongside everyone else in the bar..

“Come on, pretty boy!” Tommy grunts, meeting Arthur outside in the street. Anger flashes across Arthur’s face.

“Pretty boy? Really, Pretty boy?” Arthur growls, standing up and steadying himself to get back into the fight. Your heart pumps loudly in your ears as you stand on the saloon’s deck. Tommy steps forward, punching Arthur in the face and knocking him right back down into the mud. You want, more than anything, to just shoot the bastard and be done but you can’t, not here in the center of town.

“You need help with this fool?” Javier asks, but Arthur springs back up into action, decking Tommy in the gut, while protecting his face with his other arm.

“Nah I got this one.”

Arthur is covered in mud, barely recognizable as he slips around in the slop, trying to get good footing. Tommy’s fists are downright brutal. He relentlessly swings, shoves and drags Arthur, shoving his head into the mud as Arthur struggles. He’s so much bigger than Arthur, you don’t like the odds. You start down the stairs, needing to help, though you’re not sure what you can even do besides shoot him. As soon as you lift your foot to step down the stairs, Charles grabs your arm, shaking his head.

“Let it go, he’s got this.” Charles mumbles, voice calm as ever. Your eyebrows draw together as you look between the two men. It doesn’t appear that Arthur can beat this guy. Arthur is pinned to the ground on his side, throwing his elbows up to get Tommy off of him.

“Charles- please,” You beg, trying to pull away from his large hand. Charles steps in front of you, a voice of reason. His eyes show understanding.

“I know. But I’ve seen Arthur fight many times. He’ll get the bastard, and if he can’t he’ll ask for help.” Charles explains, and you nod, biting your lip.

Arthur kicks Tommy in the groin, right where it hurts, getting enough time to slip out from underneath him. Arthur shoves Tommy onto the ground, and he splashes in the mud. Immediately Arthur straddles Tommy, beating him senseless. Your jaw drops as he delivers hit after hit. He’s lost in a sort of… frenzy, blood boiling as he thinks about Tommy pushing you against the bar and talking to you like that. He beats, and beats and beats, until the crowd of people watching slowly file away, stomachs turning as Tommy becomes unrecognizable.

“Arthur, stop!” You holler from the stairs, shaking free from Charles’ grip and jogging down the steps. Arthur doesn’t even hear you, and you recoil at the wet sound of bones cracking against Arthurs fists. Tommy has stopped fighting, his hands were once shielding his face but now they lie at his sides. You’re almost certain he’s dead.

“Arthur, stop!!” You scream, stepping behind him and pulling on his leather suspenders. Eventually, Arthur is drawn back to the present by your voice. He looks down to his aching fists, torn up and soaked in blood. When he turns to you, the look of fear and unrecognition on your face causes his heart to sink.

You back away, fear turning to fury as you see what he’s done. Arthur stands up, looking like a monster, caked in mud and blood with purple splotches where bruises are beginning to form along his knuckles.

“What in the hell, Arthur?!” You yell, louder than intended, and you’re grateful that the townsfolk have gone back indoors. Arthur feels bad that you had to see that, but he doesn’t regret it. Tommy’s breath rasps behind Arthur as he approaches you, and you let out a breath of relief that he’s alive.

“He was hurtin’ you.” Arthur growls, pointing a finger to you, “Sides, he threw the first punch. Tossed me out the goddamn window.” Arthur hisses, rage still unquelled as he turns back to Tommy. A small, sick looking man with a kind voice helps the beat man to his feet.

“I had it Arthur!” You yell, shocked that of all the people he was treating you like you needed saving. He knows better, knows you can handle your own. Arthur steps forward with a threatening stance, and an anger not directed at you.

“Did you have it, Star? Cause how I see it, he was about to bend your wrist to his will.” Arthur huffs, as if you’re being completely unreasonable. Javier whistles lowly, stepping back into the saloon with Charles and Bill..

“I didn’t ask for your help, I ain’t a damsel in distress.” You bite, grabbing Arthur by his mud caked shirt and pulling him away from the road to the sidewalk. You lead him down the wooden walkway, leading him away from everyone's eyes. You’re forced to stop, turning around when he stops in his tracks.

“What is your problem? I helped you.”

You sigh, a humorless laugh coming from your lips.

“No Arthur, you damn near killed a guy in the center of town and for what? Cause he was bothering me?”

Arthur purses his lips, looking into your eyes with an intense amount of emotion.

“Star, I heard what he said to you. Talkin’ to you like- like you were a goddamn object, somethin’ to pick up from the store.” Arthur says, low.

Something pangs in your heart, realizing that for him it's instinctual, the need to protect the ones he cares about. The little anger you were holding onto melts away, and you nod lightly, reaching out to offer Arthur’s hand a gentle squeeze. When you do, he takes your hand in his, not letting it go.

“I'm sorry. I know you can handle your own, I do. It’s just, seeing him on you like that it just- I wanted to kill him Star. I wouldn’t have stopped if you didnt pull me away.” Arthur says, voice harboring a threatening edge. You swallow thickly at the implications of his words, trying not to overthink his protectiveness over you.

“We’ll work on it. I think we both have a pretty strong disposition to anger.” You chuckle, thankful for the shift in mood. You don’t like arguing with Arthur, it feels… wrong.

“Now go on, get. You smell like sheep and mud, go take a bath. I'll bring you some clothes over.” You shoo the smelly man away, chuckling as he smiles back at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Always impressed with your manners, woman.” He chastises.

“Oh hush up, you love it.” You joke, and he doesn’t deny it.

You feel a weight lifted off your shoulders as you walk across the road to the general store. Even when you’re upset with each other, Arthur is easy to talk to. You understand his battle, part of him wants to do good, and the other part is overcome with anger and aggression. It’s an inner turmoil that is hard to quiet. You know the feeling.

You’re about to push the general store door open when an unfamiliar accent calls out a familiar name.

“Where's Arthur?” A man says, with a heavy transatlantic accent, and you turn around to spot the source. A pale man with dark hair and a dark suit is chatting with Javier and Charles on the walkway. With your eyebrows drawn together, you approach them.

“Charles…?” You question, wondering who this too well dressed man is. He seems like a businessman, and him asking for Arthur could certainly be bad news.

The man turns his attention to you then.

“Oh and we have a new stray I see! Pleased to meet you. Josiah Trelawny.” He introduces himself, “Might I have your name, dear girl?”

You squint your eyes, not trusting Josiah. He looks like a snake oil salesman, a fraud. It’s probably why he’s invested in the Van der Linde’s. You don’t trust him enough to tell him your real name, so you go with your newest alias.

“Star…” You whisper as Josiah takes your hand away from your side, bringing it up to his prickly lips to plant a kiss over your knuckles. You were never one for fancy manners, and pull your hand back quickly once he’s finished.

“What a peculiar title for a lady such as yourself.”

You’re not exactly sure what he means by that, but you need to get to the general store lest Arthur come out of the hotel naked as the day he was born or back in those ruined clothes. You’re just about to tip your hat when Trewlny grabs your attention.

“I'm afraid this isn’t just a social call. It would appear that I found young Sean.” He says, exaggerating his words and talking with his hands. Your movements still.

“Sean?” You breathe out, you thought he was dead.

“Where is he? Anything on Mac?” Charles crosses his arms over his chest, just as shocked as you are.

“No, just the Irishman I’m afraid. He’s with Ike Skelding’s boys. They’re bringing him up the Upper Montana River in a few days time. Get Mr. Morgan, and I’ll meet you all there in a few days. In the meantime I have some business to attend to in Strawberry.”

You look to Charles, shocked. Ike Skelding runs a nasty, big group of bounty hunters. You’re surprised they haven't handed Sean in yet, unless they’re using him as leverage, but whatever the reason, some weight lifts off your shoulders.

“I’ll tell Arthur.” You nod to the men, heading into the general store.

“Do give him my best!” Trelawny yells after you.

You don't spend much time in the general store, picking a few basic items from the catalog. You buy him a jade green shirt and a black pair of jeans along with some new socks. It's a decent outfit that’ll keep him warm and dry, which to your growing embarrassment is something you care about now. With the neat little pile of clothes and your handwritten receipt, you thank the shop owner kindly and go to the hotel.

This time you creak the door open instead of slamming it, but the hotel clerk still looks a little afraid of you. You can’t help but smirk, reassuring him.

“Just here to bring these to my friend. He should have come in a bit ago for a bath…?” You ask, not sure where the bathroom is. The clerk loses some of the tension in his shoulders as he points down the hall to his right.

“Just down the hall, miss, second door. But don’t go causing any trouble now!” He hollers after you as you follow his directions, and you wave him off.

You come up to the wooden door labeled with a little bathtub icon, and from inside you can hear some water sloshing around, alongside some humming. You can’t help the smile that blossoms across your face, and you lean on the door for just a few moments to listen to his low singing.

“My love for you- hmm hmm hmm,” Arthur seemingly forgets some words, “Im a rabble rouser n’ Dixie’s my home…” Arthur sings and hums along, and for a moment everything seems at peace. You chuckle, not wanting to stand outside the door like a creep for too long, before knocking on the door lightly.

“You decent?” You ask, interjecting Arthur’s song. He coughs awkwardly, attempting to cover up his little tune.

“Uh, yeah. Come on in.” Arthur responds from the other side of the oak door and you push it open.

The bath house is nice. There's a fireplace in the corner with a little fire going inside it, casting the room in a low orange light. There’s also some candles sitting around, flickering with the draft you’ve let in from the door. It’s warm in the room, and you notice Arthur in the bath. You almost stop, breath hitching in your throat when you see him. His skin is wet, and the reflection of the candlelight causes it to glisten. The bath bubbles and water cover any indecent bits, but his chest and torso stick out from the water, an arm draped over either side of the bath. You’ve never realized how strong he is. His muscles are toned to perfection, signaling a life of hard work. Wet, glistening, sandy blonde chest hair trickles down his torso, trailing under the bubbles to where you cannot see. He looks… beautiful. He would die of embarrassment if he ever knew you correlated him and the word beautiful together but its true.

“...Cat got your tongue?” Arthur chuckles as you stand in the doorway. There's some bubbles in his hair that have proven to be quite distracting as you pull yourself from your thoughts.

“Yeah, sorry. Was lost in my head.” You whisper, walking towards a little wooden bath stand beside Arthur and placing his clothes down.

“Nothin’ fancy but they’ll be comfortable.” You offer Arthur a sweet smile before heading back towards the door. As silly as it sounds, you don’t want to leave. You want to stay in this warm room in the company of Arthur. A bittersweet feeling pulling on your heart as you grab the door handle.

“Wait.” Arthur breaks the silence, and you crane your neck around to look at him. The look in his eyes, it scares you. Not because you’re frightened, but because his green irises look after you with an emotion so deep that you fear if you gaze into them for too long you may never come back up.

“Hmm?” You hum, chewing on your bottom lip nervously.

“Will you c’mere? Just for a minute.” Arthur whispers, and with your eyebrows pulled together, you oblige. You sit on your knees on the wooden floor beside the bathtub, leaning onto the metal tub with your elbow. From the proximity you can smell the soap that Arthur uses, and you find the scent to be intoxicating.

“What is it Arthur?” You say on a breath, your heart beating quickly. The room is so quiet, all you can hear is his breathing, and the quiet slosh of water as his hand grips onto the side of the tub, merely inches from your own.

Your eyes flutter down to the juxtaposition of his hand and yours.

“I’m sorry.” Arthur says, and you can tell by the fall of his shoulders, by the look in his eyes that he’s sincere.

“I shouldn’t have doubted you. I just-” Arthur’s hand curls into a fist, as a distaste rolls over his tongue, “I saw you there, pressed up against that bar, and after what just happened with Tilly and Karen, with that guy hittin’ you,”' Arthur's wet hand comes up to your face, and he runs his thumb across the purple bruise, leaving a wet trail.

“He deserved what he got, Star.” Arthur growls, his hand resting back down on the lip of the bath.

He’s right. Those men all deserved punching, but Arthur shouldn’t be making that decision, especially not now. The gang is hardly back on its feet.

“I know, but you can make excuses for why each action is worth it, just… Please don’t hurt people, not for me. I ain’t worth it.” You whisper. Arthur’s eyebrows furrow, and his heart aches in his chest.

“Don’t say that, Star…” Arthur’s hand snakes to rest on top of yours, the other is still pressed against your cheek so gently.

“I know how you feel. I feel it too, that rage, where all you can do is fight.” Your gaze draws downwards, and you focus on your and Arthur’s connected hands, “I felt that with my Pa. And I felt it just about every day till you saved me.” You play with Arthur’s hand to distract yourself from the rough topic. Arthur doesn’t mind, letting you trace stars over his palm as you talk. The words ‘you saved me’ reverberate in his head and he wants nothing more than to laugh, to tell you that you saved him. He curses the tub, wanting nothing more than to envelop you in his arms right now. To hell with his rules, his codes. You’ve broken every wall around his heart.

“That anger… you gotta control it. Cause you’ll be a different man if you don’t, a bad man, and I don’t think you want that.” You finish, finally looking up into Arthur’s ocean colored eyes.

“Don’t you think it’s too late for that? I ain’t a good man, Star.” Arthur self deprecates, a habit that he’s all too familiar with.

“You ain’t a bad man neither, Arthur. Now's the time to start changing the way you do things. I need to, too.”

Arthur sighs, as if thinking over your question. You won’t force him, you can’t, it’s his decision who he wants to be. But you’ve been offered kindness, by him, the girls, by John and Abigail and your heart is beginning to melt, its icy layer of defense begins to slip, and as much as your brain begs you to come to your senses and bottle up, your heart seeks more.

Arthur’s large, warm hand cups your good cheek, and he leans towards you, resting his forehead on yours, your eyes slip closed as butterflies flutter in your stomach.

“I don’t know if I-” Arthur starts, but you cover his hand with your own on your cheek, leaning into his touch.

“For me? Please.”

Arthur nods lightly against your forehead.

“For you.”

A tear slips down your cheek, as Arthur’s breath swirls around your face, causing your heart to thud loudly. He’s so close, and you watch as his flicker to each of your irises before trailing down to your lips. You gasp quietly, a little breathy noise as you realize what’s about to happen. His hand is still warm against your cheek, anchoring you. Leaning into him, your noses brush against each other, and you tilt your head, lips parted, just a breath away from his.

Two loud knocks come against the door, breaking the moment, and you gasp, pulling away from Arthur as clarity bleeds into you. You almost kissed him. You chastise yourself for breaking all your rules, a panic setting over you as you swallow thickly.

“You want some help in there? A Deluxe bath is only fifty cents.” A bath maid calls from the other side of the door. Arthur clears his throat, eyeing you with worry before responding.

“No thanks.” He says, curtly. His eyes are wide in shock as he reaches out to you. You wipe at your eyes, standing up from the floor. You hear her footsteps dissipate, and you turn back to Arthur, riddled with anxiety at your loss of self control.

“I uh- here I’ll just leave your clothes.” You say, patting the pile with blushed cheeks before moving towards the door. Arthur’s head is hung, and he feels like a damn fool.

“Star– just wait.” He asks, but you only smile, as if nothing has happened.

“It’s fine Arthur just uh, meet me back at camp, yeah?” You utter, pushing the door open and slipping out. After the door has been pulled back shut, Arthur rests his head in his hands, cursing himself.

— — — —

The ride back was a quick one. You wasted no time, spurring your horse, using the ride as a distraction from your plaguing thoughts.

Now, you pace back and forth in front of the campfire, contemplating every decision you’ve ever made. It’s later in the night, and Arthur hasn’t come back yet. The only one awake besides you is Hosea. He’s sitting at the log near the campfire, nose deep in a book, although for the past ten minutes he’s been watching you pace.

All this time, all this damn time you’ve spent building up these walls and he’s gone and crumbled them. You don’t want to hurt him, and you don’t want to get hurt either. You can’t allow yourself relationships like this. Relationships are used against you, love is a weakness. You try to convince yourself, failing miserably.

“Dear girl, what is it? You’re halfway to a marathon with all that pacing.” Hosea watches you walk back and forth, dropping his book to the ground. Exasperated, you toss your hands up into the air.

“Boys! Men! Ugh, Hosea, they’re just- UGh!” You groan, rolling the pen from Jimmy Brooks between your fingers to keep them busy.

“Oh don’t I know it. We’re nothing but fools,” Hosea pats the open seat beside him on the log, “What happened? Come sit, let an old man lend an ear.”

You sit down on the log next to Hosea, resting your head in your hands.

“Arthur got into a fight at the saloon because there was a guy badgerin’ me. He almost killed the guy, but me n Arthur talked about it and- and I almost kissed him, Hosea.”

Hosea’s eyebrow pops up in surprise, with a question.

“Almost?” He asks, and you nod. The embers from the fire pop and glow, and you fixate on them with glazed over eyes.

“I left, I ran away.” You almost cry, but hold in the emotion.

“Why? You afraid?” Hosea asks, but there is no judgment to his question, he is only curious. You nod, biting your lip so hard that it almost draws blood.

“Terrified.” You admit, feeling a release of tension from admitting your fear.

“I understand, kid, I do… Say, Arthur ever told you about my Bessie?” Hosea asks, a little smile cracking onto his lips as he holds his hands over the fire to warm them. You shake your head, never having heard Bessie mentioned before. Hosea smiles, and chuckles at a memory.

“Bessie was my wife. A lot like you, y’know.” Hosea cracks his knuckles over the fire, warming his bones, “Smart as a whip, a damn good thief, and lovely company. I loved that woman so much.” Hosea smiles, a glint of a tear in his eye that disappears when he blinks.

You wonder what happened to her, what tragedy befell her.

“What happened…?” You ask, quietly, not wanting to upset the man.

“She got sick, I’m afraid, real sick.” Hosea thinks over memories of Bessie, cracking a smile again.

“She was like you, hesitant to love.” Hosea adds, and you roll your eyes.

“Who said anything about love?” You sigh, standing up from the log.

“Dear girl, lying to yourself just makes it harder, trust me.” Hosea says as you dip your hat.

“I’ll keep that in mind…Night Hosea, thanks for the chat.” You say a bit curt, ready to end the conversation and go to bed.

— — —

Thunder roars, shaking the ground as you toss and turn in your sleep. Lightning strikes in the valley, illuminating the sky in bright light for a portion of a second before a loud boom sounds out. Cold sweat clings to your skin as you tangle and untangle your legs from the sheets, mind far away, caught up in awful nightmares. You’re back in Blackwater, standing in the street. The town is empty, cold and quiet. On one side of the road is a doe, she's beautiful, a fawn colored coat, with some white dapples still, she's young. You call to the doe with a smile, whistling to her. Suddenly, a growl sounds out, and you turn to meet a coyote. The coyote is stalking the doe, creeping up on her in a predatory position. She's oblivious. The coyote is dark and shifty, and the more you call for the doe, the less she seems to hear you. The coyote pounces, and you gasp, turning around to shield your eyes from what has befallen the poor deer. After a moment of quiet, you turn back around to see.

The setting is the same, the atmosphere is different. You’re in Blackwater, but now you’re right back in the middle of the ferry robbery. In your dream you’re not robbing it, you're a passenger. You sit in a seat with the other oblivious passengers, trembling as men board the ferry: Dutch, Javier, Micah. They enter loudly, scaring and confusing people, creating chaos. Dutch comes straight up to you, bandana over his face as he aims his gun right at your temple. You hear it click once, the damning sound of the hammer being pulled back.

“Do it Dutch.” Micah growls, right in Dutch’s ear, and you hyperventilate.

BANG!

You scream, sitting straight up in your cot, waking up. Immediately, you want light, want to be able to see, so you strike a match, lighting a candle on your bedside table before swinging your legs off the bed and heading towards the tent flap, you could use a walk.

Just as you pull the canvas back, you run smack into Arthur’s chest and you gasp.

“You scared the shit out of me.” You gasp. Arthur’s hands lightly grip your arms as he runs his eyes over you, checking.

“You scared the shit out of me, I heard you scream. What’s wrong? You hurt?” Arthur whispers, looking over you before flickering his eyes to your own. You shake your head, avoiding his eyes that seem to be begging for your gaze.

“Why don't you come sit, I kept the fire goin.” He adds, gesturing to the main campfire. You look to the fire, then back to your bed and realize you don't feel like being on your own right now. So with a sheepish nod you follow him.

Arthur sits down on the ground, his back against one of the large logs around the fire. He’s sitting on a large cattle pelt, and there's plenty of room, so you sit beside him, leaning back against the log. Neither of you mention the almost kiss, you want to apologize, to explain yourself, but now's not the time. Now, you want to distract yourself from your nightmares. Your eyelids are heavy from the poor sleep you’ve gotten, and you sniffle, watching the fire.

“You okay?” Arthur asks, worried about you.

You only nod, looking up to the cloudy night sky. Arthur’s never seen you so quiet. He wants to mention the bath, wants to apologize for overstepping, but first he wants to make sure you’re alright.

“You can talk to me, y’know.” Arthur whispers, eyes meeting yours. You nod, knowing he’s right. Your fingers prod at a little hole in your jeans as you think over your words.

“I guess I just- well I’ve been havin’ nightmares.” You respond, a little embarrassed to admit, and immediately you try to toughen your resolve, “But I ain’t- I don’t need coddled or nothin.”

Arthur shakes his head, sliding closer to you.

“I ain’t judgin’ Star. You don’t gotta defend yourself, it’s just me.” Arthur calms you, and you nod.

“Mostly Blackwater… Everyone else seemed to move on from it so quickly but I just- I can’t shake it.” You admit, squinting your eyes shut for a moment. A pang of guilt strikes Arthur in the chest.

“I'm sorry I wasn’t there for you, I shouldn’t have left you there.” Arthur curses himself, and you rush to reassure him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“It was my fault. I was supposed to go get Hosea but I saw… I saw the boat go up and I had to help, I couldn’t just leave them.” You mutter, tears welling in your eyes. Arthur places his arm around your shoulders so you’re more comfortable, and your eyes slip shut.

“I'm sorry you had to see all that..” Arthur whispers, running his thumb up and down your arm.

“I can handle it.”

“I know you can, I know- but you shouldn’t have to.” He sighs.

You’re all too content, nuzzled into the side of Arthur Morgan, his arm draped over you. And even with all this you can’t define what you want, or what the two of you have. It’s all too confusing, but for now this is nice, just allowing yourself to be comforted.

It isn’t long before Arthur hears your light snores, and he glances down to see you sleeping comfortably, tucked into his side. The fire still burns in front of you both, but even if it weren’t, you would be toasty warm, heated by Arthur. Labels are difficult, relationships are difficult. But whatever you two have right now… this companionship, it’s good.

“Oh, what am I gonna do with you, Star?” Arthur sighs, running his hand up and down your arm, pulling you tighter into him.

#arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption 2

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