#I’m sorry this is so graphic but I need it all our

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

The Final Quest

Luke Castellan x Apollo!Reader

Requested by: @reader-bookling123: hiii I had a request for Luke where it kinda takes place in the past but he was dating reader and they were deeply in love but on their quest somehow reader sadly dies and Luke is just heartbroken and angry and he’s mad that everyone just moved on from her and maybe some cute reuniting moment

Summary: How a quest with the love of Luke's life turned him away from the gods

Warnings: Angst, major spoilers for series, graphic description of death, suicide (technically), anger, resentment, pain, fluffy ending, Dionysus and Apollo slander

Word count: 5.5K

Masterlist

Later A/N So I'm just now rereading Titan's Curse for the first time in like four years so I forgot that the Garden of Hesperides is west in the books. However, when I was researching the myth it was said to be some place north so I chose Canada. So that's why it doesn't reflect the book.

“Happy birthday, Luke,” my girlfriend smiled. Our lips were so close our noses were already touching. But just as I could feel the fleeting touch of her lips on mine, there was a flash of light, making her jump away from me in surprise. Looking over to the source of the light, I found my father standing three feet from us on the dock.

Neither of us had time to react before Hermes was speaking. “Hi Luke! Happy birthday. I have a gift for you.”

“Uh… th-thank you,” I tried to sound grateful but I was a little caught off guard and annoyed he ruined the moment.

“Oh, sorry!” he laughed, noticing my girlfriend who was still half in my lap. “How are you Y/N?”

“I- I’m well, Lord Hermes. How are you?” she asked nervously, awkwardly scooting away from me, moving her legs so their weight no longer rested on mine.

“Oh, no need with the Lord stuff. I may not be the god of prophecy but I am the god of gambling and I’m betting you two will get married. We’ll be family!”

“Father,” I tried to interrupt him as the embarrassment coursed through my veins, bringing heat up to my face. I didn’t even want to see Y/N’s reaction I was so nervous and embarrassed.

“Oh, right. Sorry kid. I forgot how much you teenagers hate sharing your feelings. But uh I’ve heard your prayers and offerings Luke and I have a quest for you.” My eyes widened. Finally. All my training would pay off. I could prove myself and go down in history as a hero. “I need you to get me the golden apples in Hesperides’ garden. Hera is getting a little too insufferable these days y’know?”

Y/N and I sent each other looks, our mouths open in hesitation. Our next words had to be careful. If we agreed to the wrong thing we’d be insulting Hera and I was sure she’d strike us down right here. She didn’t like demigods, to her we were an offense to marriage. Especially the ones that were a product of offense to her own marriage. “Thank you for the quest,” I carefully dodged his last comment.

“Of course, kid. Here, you’ll need this.” He snapped his fingers and in another blaze of heavenly light, a duffle bag appeared in his hands. “Well, good luck. I’ll see you back here when you bring me my apples,” he smiled, handing me the bag. “Uh, avert your eyes,” he warned. Waiting for us to cover our eyes, he disappeared in a golden spray of light.

When the world dimmed again I turned to Y/N. “Oh my god!” she yelled excitedly. She stood up, throwing her arms around me, almost knocking us both into the water. I laughed, hugging her tightly in return. “Luke, you’re gonna be a hero!” she gushed, pulling away so she could look at me.

“We’re gonna be heroes,” I assured her, placing a hand on her face. “Come with me,” I requested. My heart was thumping quickly in my chest out of excitement and nervousness. “We can be the Greek Bonnie and Clyde. Hundreds of years from now demigods will read our myths and say, ‘We can be like Y/N and Luke.’”

She looked at me, confused. “Luke, they were criminals and died tragically,” she laughed a little at the ridiculousness of it all.

“Okay wrong analogy but you get the idea. Please, I can’t do this without you.” As much as I wanted my glory, I knew the Daughter of Apollo wanted it too. And I’d be damned if I couldn’t give it to her.

“Okay, okay,” she laughed. “I’ll go with you.”

“Yes!” I cheered, hugging her so tightly I ended up lifting her off the wooden docks. She laughed as I began to spin, even almost spinning us into the cold water.

~

After talking to Chiron and getting my prophecy, Y/N and I were off in a car that Mr. D had somehow acquired. The only reason we were allowed to take it was because I was 17 and had a little driving experience from when I would take my mom’s car when she was too out of it to even get groceries. I shook off the thoughts as Y/N once again went through our supplies and plan. She seemed nervous even though I assured her numerous times we’d be fine.

“Drachma, cash, ambrosia, passports, drivers license, an enchanted map, and a bow and arrow,” she repeated the contents of the duffle bag. “The Garden of Hesperides is in northern Canada,” she mused, looking at the map. “Heracles defeated Ladon with a bow and arrow by piercing each head through the eye.”

“Yeah, we’ll be fine,” I assured, reaching across the center console to place a reassuring hand on her thigh. I left it there, rubbing calming circles on the skin of her leg with my thumb. “Heracles did it before…” I said, the words slowly dying as they came out. Heracles already did it. I tried to shake off the thought that I was just redoing a quest. They were so uncommon nowadays it was an honor to be chosen for one. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself to chase the doubt away. Besides, Heracles technically failed his quest, he didn’t bring them to Eurystheus. I would succeed in bringing them to the person who had requested them.

“What was the prophecy again?” she asked, still looking at the map.

I swallowed nervously. The prophecy was not optimistic for us. I couldn’t possibly imagine what we’d find out about each other on this trip that would cause us to lose our love for one another. “You shall go north to fruits, rare / Liar to liar, a father’s heir, / Loves will be lost in Ladon’s lair,” I repeated.

“‘You shall go north to fruits, rare,’” she repeated. “Obviously that means we’re going north to find the golden apples. “‘Liar to Liar, a father’s heir.’ Hermes is the god of lies. And I guess stealing makes you deceitful. Ergo, a liar… ‘Loves will be lost in Ladon’s lair,’” she repeated. I could hear the dread infiltrating her voice.

“Hey,” I interrupted her thinking with a squeeze to her thigh, “that could mean anything. Prophecies are just a guide. A starting point. It was so short and vague that we don’t even know if it’s talking about us. We’ll be fine,” I promised again.

“Yeah, of course,�� came her voice. I glanced away from the road, finding a weak smile on her face.

“What kind of music does Dionysus have?” I asked, trying to change the subject. She opened the glove compartment, several things falling out of it.

She began to go through them. “Um, a concerning amount of Weird Al Yankovic.” I laughed as she continued to look through. She then gasped. “Oh my gods.” She held up something next to me that I took. I nearly slammed on the brakes as I glanced down at it.

I couldn’t stare at the CD in my hand too long so we wouldn’t crash but every time I glanced down at it I found a new horrifyingly wonderful detail on the album cover. It was Mr. D with the weirdest haircut I had ever seen. He was lying down on a cheetah print rug, his shirt was a zebra print and had the first several buttons undone so the viewer could see all of his glorious chest hair. That wasn’t even the most outrageous part. Mr. D was lying down next to a tiger with a gold chain around its neck. Hanging from the chain was presumably Mr. D’s stage name, “Dionomite” written in gold cursive and studded with diamonds. “We have to listen to this!”

“Already ahead of you,” she said, punching buttons on the dash. She took the CD from me and put it in. Once it was ready, our ears were immediately assaulted with the sound of various horn instruments being poorly played. “Did he play all the instruments himself?”

“Probably,” I answered as Mr. D’s voice came on. “Oh…” was all I could say as the squeaky singing made my eardrums bleed.

It was funny for a couple songs but then it just got annoying so we switched over to a single Beatles album.

~

We reached the Canadian border in only a couple hours. Thanks to the Mist we could drive as fast as we wanted without fear of mortal cops.

As we pulled up to the gate, the guard switched. Must have been a shift change. I thought nothing of it as I rolled down the window. “Passports?” the guard tiredly asked. His eyes were shielded by sunglasses despite the fact that he was under shade. I became wary but handed him the documents anyway. “Any plants, animals, dairy products, or drugs in the car?” he asked.

“No,” I answered.

“What’s the nature of your quest, demigods?” The customs officer removed his sunglasses, revealing a single eye. He then grew about three feet, revealing a cyclops.

“Hit the gas!” Y/N yelled beside me. I did, taking off. Now we had both a cyclops and the Canadian border police after us as I crashed through the plastic gate that went up and down. I swerved around guards and other cars, getting up on sidewalks and surely ruining the paint job.

But up ahead I could see them closing a heavy looking gate. Gods on our side or not we weren’t getting through that gate. So I swerved into the trees. “Hold on!” they were sparse enough that the car could fit in between the trees. Glancing in the mirror, I could no longer see border guards. But there was a 9 foot tall cyclops following us in the distance. Which would be fine, he’d never catch up to the car but the woods were getting thicker and now I didn’t know which way was the road.

Nature made its decision for me as I heard Y/N’s scream. “Luke look out!” But it was too late. A violent force stopped us and the car was suddenly still. There was so much force I was half afraid the cyclops had a friend but I just found a tree in the middle of the hood where the engine used to be. “Run!” I told my girlfriend, frantically unbuckling my seatbelt.

I ran to the other side, finding her struggling with the seatbelt. She threw the duffle bag at me before pulling out her knife and cutting the seatbelt away. When she hopped out, I took her hand. We ran further into the trees, the cyclops’ thunderous footsteps right behind us.

“Luke, we can’t run forever,” she breathed. She was right. We’d run out of energy before that thing did.

I thought for a moment, thinking of how we’d kill this thing. “At that big tree,” I pointed to a huge pine tree right in our path, “split up. Then we’ll circle back around and hit him from the side.” She nodded in understanding. We ran full speed at the tree until we each turned on the balls of our feet, dashing out of the cyclops’ path. The plan worked better than expected because he ran face first into the solid pine tree.

He crumpled to the ground, giving me time to retrieve my sword from the duffle bag. By the time I looked up, Y/N was already dancing around the beast, cutting him up with her knife. I jumped in, giving him the same treatment. We worked as a flawless team, striking and giving the other space as needed. Until finally, she cut the thing’s heels, forcing him to the ground. I took the opportunity to stab him in the eye, leaving behind only a pile of shimmery ichor.

When he was gone, I immediately pulled Y/N in my arms. Even at the relative safety of camp, I always needed her in my arms to calm down after battle. To assure myself that she was still there and I was still alive. The sound of her breath in my ear helped ground me. “Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, you?” Her face was still buried in my shoulder.

“Yeah. Sorry I crashed the car.” She chuckled, pulling away from me.

“You’re forgiven. C’mon, let’s go see what supplies we can save and start walking.”

While the car was unsalvageable, all of our stuff was fine. So we grabbed out backpacks full of winter clothes and started following the map. It wasn’t that bad now but it’d be cold by the time night fell so I forced Y/N to put on sweatpants over her shorts.

I was kind of hoping the map would take us to civilization where we could rest for the night but it just seemed to bring us deeper into the forest and we had no flashlight. As it got darker and colder I got more nervous. “We have to find some sort of shelter for tonight.”

“I know it’s dark but it’s not that-” A pack of wolves howling cut her off. “Okay, yeah,” she agreed. She began looking around. “Any chance you could climb one of these trees? I don’t really want to be on the ground.”

I shook my head. “Even if I could get up high enough I don’t think any of the branches would support us.”

She huffed. “Shelter it is, I guess.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from the wolves,” I teased. She had just killed a literal cyclops but she was afraid of some dogs.

“Hey, I don’t mess with wolves,” she said sternly. “After I saw that one movie about the kids stuck on the ski lift. You wouldn’t catch me in the woods at night yet here we are.”

“What about Capture the Flag?” I asked as we started collecting stuff to make a shelter.

“Well that’s different. There’s like 30 of us out there.”

“Do you want me to start sticking with you during the games? You know, if a wolf wanders in?” I teased.

“I’ll make my own shelter for tonight, thank you very much,” she said matter o’ factly.

“No, no, no. I’m sorry,” I apologized, tugging her back to me as she tried to storm off to get supplies. “Besides, we need each other’s body heat to keep us warm,” I whispered teasingly.

“Not a chance out here,” she scolded me.

“Worth a try,” I shrugged. “Everyone knows you can better preserve body heat if you’re not wearing clothes.” She just gave me an exasperated look before walking off again. “I’m joking!” I yelled after her.

By the time we had the shelter built up only about an hour had passed. We used pine needles to try to protect out bodies from the cold ground. And we used our winter coats as a blanket since we zipped them together. We laid down in the shelter, still shivering despite our best efforts. I held her close as she curled up against my chest, her head tucked under my chin. “Get some sleep,” I told her. “I’ll keep watch.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “Wake me in a few hours and I’ll take over.” I agreed with absolutely no intentions of waking her up. Judging by how fast her breathing evened out despite her constant shivers, she needed the sleep more than me. In the morning she’d yell at me for not waking her but it was worth it.

~

We had only been walking for a few minutes when we came across sled dogs. Ten siberian huskies all laying around patiently, harnessed to a sled. “Maybe these were the wolv-”

“Shut up,” she warned, giving me a light smack against the shoulder. I laughed as she hesitantly approached the dogs. “Hey guys, you waiting for someone?” She slowly reached her hand out to one of the dogs who calmly sniffed it before licking it eagerly. She gave him some scratches behind the ear in return. “Awe you’re such a good boy.” The dogs were now all up, wagging their tails and whining for pets.

I went up to the sled, finding a satchel tied to it. Opening it I found dog treats and a note. “All good huntresses need a pack of wolves.” Underneath it was a crescent moon. I clenched my jaw, recognizing the sender of the gift. Her aunt, Artemis. Last year, during the winter solstice, Artemis and her hunters had visited briefly. One of the hunters, Zoe, befriended Y/N. And even after she had told them she had a boyfriend, they still tried to recruit her. It never sat right with me, the way Artemis seemed so okay with breaking up a relationship.

“It’s for you,” I told Y/N, handing her the note. I handed her the note and she took it. She just sighed before stuffing it back into the satchel. “I don’t know why she’s so determined to recruit you.”

“I don’t know either,” she said, already tying our stuff to the sled. “But she’s gonna be disappointed because I’m kind of really into this one guy. I don’t know if you know him but he’s the son of Hermes. He’s gonna be a great Greek hero.” Her praise was enough for me to let go of my anger. Stooping down, I pressed a kiss to her lips.

The pack of sled dogs was perfect for the Canadian wilderness except for one problem. There was no snow. Still, they managed to pull us so smoothly it was like snow.

Soon enough, we pulled up to a garden. If it weren’t for the fact that they were literally in the middle of nowhere, this garden would be unassuming. It had a white picket fence and looked to be about an acre. Thousands of different types of plants grew, enchanting us with its smell. Off in the distance, in the middle of the garden, I could faintly see the golden fruits, the sun glinting off of them.

“The nymphs never gave Heracles a problem,” Y/N shrugged. I nodded, cautiously opening the gate, sword in hand. She held the bow up, an arrow already knocked. A quiver of them were slung over her back.

We crept in quietly, watching for signs of danger. She would watch our surroundings and made sure no nymphs attacked us while I kept an eye on the multi-headed dragon, making sure he didn’t stir.

Once we were about 20 feet away, he still wasn’t stirring. Y/N kneeled down behind some greenery, lining up her arrow. She took aim and fired. The arrow bounced harmlessly off one of the many scale covered head. The beast didn’t so much as stir. She looked back at me, as if seeking assurance. I nodded, telling her to try again. But rather than just take aim again, she crept a little closer. I almost told her to get back but I was afraid the dragon would wake up at my yelling. I held my breath, heart pounding as she tried again. This time she sunk it right through the eyelid but before either of us could react, another head moved. It snapped at her, jaws clenching around her waist. My blood turned to ice as I heard her pained scream. It was so horrifying to hear my body seemed to turn to lead.

I needed to save her. I forced my body into a run. I slashed at the neck that was currently holding my girlfriend in the air. Ladon dropped her, not without a claw slashing at me in turn. I managed to dodge it, scrambling over to Y/N. I wasn’t even comprehending whether or not she was conscious or if she was alive. I was too busy trying to tug her away. Golden fucking apples be damned.

I reached her, grabbing her by her shoulders and trying to tug her to safety. But before I could make much progress, the beast’s claw was in my face again. But I noticed it too late this time, too focused on my girlfriend’s very pale face. The claw hit me in the face, sweeping me to the side. I couldn’t feel the pain but I could see the blood seeping into my vision. I tried to wipe it away but it just kept coming. With my non-blinded eye I could see Ladon going back to his prior position as if we were nothing. Like he wasted no energy maiming us. Nonetheless, it allowed me to grab her by the shoulders, shaking her awake.

“Y/N, we need to go!” I said frantically, worried he’d come back for round two if we didn’t get out soon. “Can you walk?” I looked down at her body and knew the answer. Her shirt was covering the extent of her wounds but teeth marks, each a few inches across, tore through her shirt and there was blood. So much blood.

“With help,” she said in a strangled voice.

“Okay, good,” I nodded. Her assurance eased me slightly. I slung her arm across my shoulder before pulling her up. She screamed as I raised her off the ground but nevertheless gritted her teeth and bore it.

“No!” she cried as I tried to wrap my arm around her to support her weight. I realized that in doing so I’d be pressing into her wounds. She sobbed in pain the entire time we slowly stumbled out of the garden. It pained me to hear her cries but I had to get her out of here. If I could just get her to the sled I could give her some ambrosia and she’d be fine.

When I finally got her outside the gate, I laid her down. I’d get her onto our transportation once she wasn’t in such a critical condition. “Hold on, I’ll get you some ambrosia,” I told her, moving toward the sled. But the weakest tug held me back.

I looked down at her, finding blood, sweat, and tears covering her face. “No,” she cried. Tears were pouring down her face as sobs wracked her body. “Ambrosia won’t help.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” I held her face. Oh, her beautiful face. My heart clenched seeing it twisted in agony. “You’re gonna be fine. I promised you. I’m not a liar…” Tears were falling down my face now. She’s not fine. I realized that I’d become an unknowing liar.

Her hand reached up to my face, her thumb swiping over my blood covered cheek. “You’re not a liar. We were doomed from the start.” She took a labored breath and deep inside, I knew it was the end for her.

“Come on, no. Don’t leave. Please don’t leave,” I cried. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her into my lap. As if physically holding on to her would keep her from slipping through my fingers like the wind. “Just hold on until I can get you to a hospital.”

“We don’t have time.” A small smile tugged at her face and I knew she was smiling through the pain for my sake. “I love you, Luke. Promise me you’ll move on?”

“What? No. You know I won’t. You’re the love of my life,” I insisted.

“Please, at least try?” she asked. “I don’t want you following me too soon,” she tried to joke. But her laugh turned into pained sobs as the movement hurt her body.

I cried harder seeing her in so much pain. Her breathing was getting shallower and more labored. “Fine, I’ll try,” I swore. Lie. “I love you. So much.”

“I’ll see you in Elysium,” she said through a peaceful smile. It would be a welcome sight if it weren’t for the blood bubbling up out of her mouth. I turned her to the side slightly so she wouldn’t choke on it but it wasn’t enough. The blood was coming faster and her body was shutting down. “I love you,” she whispered before her eyes fluttered shut.

“No, wake up!” I cried, shaking her slightly. “Wake up!” Her breaths were getting shorter and I was getting more desperate. “Do something!” I yelled up at the sky. Her father. My father. Anyone! But no one came. Her wounds didn’t stitch themselves together and her eyes didn’t open. I held her tightly, sobbing into her shoulder long after she stopped breathing. Even the dogs started howling at the gods when her heart stopped beating.

~~~

“That’s why I hate the gods,” I murmured to Percy, watching the scorpion slowly creep up his leg. “They finally granted me a quest. It was all I ever wanted. But it was a joke. All my father wanted to do was piss off Hera and he was okay with using me and my girlfriend as collateral damage. And her father, Apollo,” the name came out of his mouth like venom, “the god of prophecy and healing let his daughter die. He knew she was going to die, even before the quest. And when he had the opportunity to save her, he ignored her.”

“I’m sorry she died but-”

“No!” I cut Percy off. “It would be one thing if she just died but she died over a fucking prank war. She died an agonizing death. Her aunt, Artemis, intervened in our quest but she still let her niece die a slow, painful death. They didn’t even help me bring her back to camp so she could be buried properly. I had to bury her in the woods like I had killed her and was covering up a crime.” I swiped away a tear as I noticed it slip down my face. I still couldn’t decide what was worse. Feeling her die in my arms or leaving her out there in the woods to rot. “And to make matters worse, no one seemed to care that she died. When I finally got back to camp a month later, they just pitied me. I begged Chiron to let me and some others go get her so we could give her a proper funeral but he refused. And when I tried to get others to join me to convince him, no one would go. After a couple days no one seemed to care that Y/N L/N was dead. A week later, another Apollo camper was claimed and they just gave her bunk away to him. Like she meant nothing.”

“But why Kronos? I’ve never heard of a demigod turning away from the gods. Even when horrible things happened.”

I sighed in contentment, remembering the projection he showed me. “Because he can bring her back. We’ll be immortal and without pain forever. He showed her to me. He said she’s happy in Elysium but she misses me,” I smiled softly. “But she misses camp too,” I laughed bitterly. “Annabeth, Grover, she probably would’ve missed you had you two met. But she never got the opportunity. But now, with Kronos, I’ll get to give her everything she wants.” I looked over at the kid. He seemed so deep in thought I wasn’t sure he’d heard me. “Goodbye Percy,” I said as I stood.

“I’ll tell everyone at camp about you!” he called after me.

“If you make it. Pit scorpion venom will kill you in 60 seconds. Even if you do make it, I’ll still be long gone.”

~~~

I sunk the blade into my Achilles heel, destroying Kronos’ life source inside me. I laughed as I could feel him leaving me. And continued to laugh as I fell to the ground and felt my own life draining out of me. Looking up, I found Annabeth above me, her curls hanging in my face. “I’m gonna see Y/N,” was all I said.

Tears welled in her eyes as I felt her comforting hand stroke my hair. “Yeah you are. I know how much you missed her.”

“I’ll see you there too,” I promised her, just like Y/N promised me.

~

I stood in front of the Judges of the Underworld. I knew I messed up in my life but my sacrifice had to amount to something. And I had to get to Elysium. “Luke Castellan,” Minos read my name. “You are charged with… starting a war against the gods?” he read in disbelief. “Why were you not immediately sentenced to the Fields of Punishment?” If I still had a heart it’d be in my feet right now. I couldn’t go to the Fields of Punishment. “You should have cut your losses and taken the express line to the Fields of Asphodel.”

“Keep reading,” Rhadamanthus said, not even looking up from the papers.

Minos rolled his eyes but kept going. “Oh, you sacrificed yourself, killing Kronos and saving Olympus and all of humanity. Hmm. Well, you did still start a war with the gods.”

Aeacus leaned over. “Minos, this really is more of a formality than anything. All the gods have already given him a pass.”

Minos huffed. “Fine,” he picked up a gold gavel, “Elysium!” he declared.

Before I could even thank him I was transported into what looked like the Apollo cabin. It was strange, I knew this was supposed to be the Apollo cabin but it didn’t have all the bunks. It looked like a normal house but something about it felt so familiar. I looked around, realizing I was standing in the living room. This must be Y/N’s house, it even smelled like her. Decorating the walls were pictures of her and her friends and siblings. But on the mantle and side tables were pictures of us. I picked one up, noticing the fingerprint markings all over it. She must pick it up a lot.

Looking around, I found glass French doors in the kitchen that led outside. The view was breathtaking. Mountains rose up on either side of the bluest lake I had ever seen. I went outside, intending to enjoy the view. As I stepped outside I could smell fresh air and feel a perfect breeze. “Hey stranger,” a voice came from beside me. I turned, immediately letting out a choked sob as I saw her sitting there. She stood, coming to me and I immediately snatched her into my arms. She shushed me, stroking my back as I sobbed in her shoulder. “You came way earlier than I wanted but I’m glad to see you.”

I pulled away so I could see her face. The blood, sweat, and tears were gone. It was just her beautiful, perfect face. “You’re actually here,” I said, reaching a hand up to her face. I was terrified she’d disappear again just like she did when Kronos showed her to me in my dreams.

“I’m here. And so are you,” she smiled. “We’ll be immortal and without pain forever,” she swore.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Luke.”

~

Decades later we were opening our door to see Percy and Annabeth standing there. “Y/N!” Annabeth cried, jumping into my wife’s arms.

“Hey Annabeth!” she laughed, clutching the woman in a hug.

I looked over to Percy, finding him with smile lines and salt and pepper hair. “Hey cuz,” I smiled, extending my hand. Percy shook it and pulled me into a hug which I returned. I patted him on the back as I pulled away. “You know you can look any age you want here? You don’t have to be an old man.”

“I’m not an old man,” he insisted. “I was 80. Just anything older than 16 year old me looks old to you.”

I shrugged, he wasn’t wrong. I turned to Annabeth, giving her a hug too.

Y/N took Percy’s hand. “Percy, it’s so nice to finally meet you. Everyone from camp whose already here has said great things.”

He smiled at her. “I’ve heard the same about you,” he returned, glancing at me. “Well we brought blue cake for dessert.”

Masterlist

A/N Omg this is quite possibly the angstiest thing I've ever written. But it also has one of my favorite endings. Thanks for requesting this, I really enjoyed writing it

#percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #pjo x reader #pjo tv show #pjo series #the lightning theif #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #x reader #annabeth chase

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

the five stages | f. odair

masterlist

summary: a journey back to a golden period of time of polaroid pictures, white knitted sweaters, and lively sea-green eyes. why? because in the present, those same pair of eyes are ruthlessly unrelenting and you have no other chance of their escape.

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

warnings: heavy angst, vomiting, implied smut, depression, maggots, hallucinations, relieving fluff, mild horror. I don’t want to spoil the story too much, so I won’t be adding any more warnings, sorry y’all. this could be very triggering so please read at your own discretion. some descriptions are quite graphic!

notes: I’m super proud of this one—it’s sorta based off “little talks” by of monsters and men and “on the nature of daylight” by max richer. this fic probably won’t get many views, so I’ll be incredibly grateful for any—if any at all—type of engagement! <33

word count: 8k

The bedroom was cold; dark; empty. Empty even though I still resided in it.

My alarm had gone off two hours ago, yet I hadn’t moved an inch. When I finally turned my head to the side, I found that the space beside me was vacant. Cold; dark; empty—I reached out my hand anyway.

Thirty minutes passed before I wrestled myself out of bed and started making breakfast downstairs. The otherwise warm and flavourful plate of fruit-filled yoghurt and scrambled eggs on toast left my mouth feeling dry and my throat lodged.

It used to be one of my favourite meals. At least, when he was around.

Dishes were piled in the sink, dirty and untouched. I sat on the couch, pondering whether today was the day I would finally get to cleaning them. It wasn’t. I couldn’t. We always did that together. I wondered—if I left them in the sink long enough, would he return? Even just for five minutes to help me put them away? One month and seventeen days had passed, and yet I still entertained this thought religiously.

I wasted an hour running circles round the same contemplations before deciding fresh air, as cliché as it was, might do me some good.

Grey clouds concealed the sun’s warm golden light when I stepped outside, but that was fine—I didn’t like anything golden anymore. But he would want me to leave the house at least once a day, so that’s what I would do. I would go down to the beach beside our—my house and feel the sand collect between my toes as I walked to the water’s edge.

But wasn’t that where he was when it happened? Wasn’t he in water? Didn’t those things pile on top of him? Didn’t they sink their fangs into his neck and tear at his flesh until he was blown to…

Bits of egg, yoghurt and stomach bile sat at my feet. My legs buckled, and I collapsed to the ground in a sandy, tear-stricken heap. Since my lower body had refused to cooperate any longer, it took me until midday to crawl back up the dune and to my front doorstep.

Fuck. I needed to rest.

“I need you to rest, sweetheart.”

“I told you, I’m fine,” I whined. “I’m not sick.”

Finnick placed a bucket on the ground beside the bed. The room smelled of lemon disinfectant—a joy I often found in being sick… That is, if I were sick, which I was not. I must have drunk spoiled milk or eaten something bad during breakfast. Nevertheless, Finnick was not having it.

“You’re throwing up everything you manage to get down, and you’re shivering like it’s the middle of winter,” he said adamantly, tucking the comforter up to my chest. “It’s summer, and you’re very much not fine.”

I sat up, ready to heatedly debate the subject, but the room began swirling, and my ears were hissing like a staticky television channel without a signal. A quiet whimper buzzed in my throat as I hunched forward. Damn him, I was sick.

The mattress dipped as Finnick sat beside me. His hand was on my back, rubbing it soothingly as he used his other hand to tuck away the curtain of hair concealing my face. I huffed, half in annoyance, half in an attempt to suppress the nausea rising in my throat, and then sunk back against the pillows.

“Not sick, she says,” he jested, smiling down at me. I rolled my eyes, though unable to hide the weak, betraying smile creeping across my lips. “Close your eyes, sweetheart,” he said, a gentle command. “I’ll see you when you fall asleep.”

The wooden flooring welcomed me with hard, cold arms as I hauled my sandy body through the front door. Images of fangs, bloody flesh, and panicked sea-green eyes flooded my mind.

More breakfast, more bile. No lemon disinfectant.

My knees were folded beneath my body; my body was hunched over my knees. I was sobbing now, so hard that I threw up again (was there even anything left in my stomach at this point?), creating a thick puddle of vomit and tears beneath me. Cries and gasps for air bounced around the house. To call me a mess would be an understatement. I was a disaster. A disaster wrapped up in an unmendable tragedy with a ragged, threadbare ribbon barely holding me together.

And in case I wasn’t aware of this fact, the floorboards were so shiny that they mirrored a reflection of myself. My hair was a being of its own, all wild and unkempt, and my face was another story entirely—a red, blotchy thing I wasn’t too interested in delving into.

But the most unsettling aspect had nothing to do with me, it was that there was someone else in the reflection. Two green balls of light were glowing above my head.

Dishevelled golden hair…

Dimpled cheeks…

My forehead was pressed to the floor as I screamed.

“I don’t want to make you sick as well,” I said, contrarily enjoying the feeling of Finnick’s skin warm against mine, hot blood flowing through his veins.

A day had passed since I first became unwell, and the sickness had continued to wreak havoc inside me.

We were both under the thick covers, our limbs tangled together as he held me atop his chest. (my body didn’t register the scorching summer temperatures. I actually felt as though my core temperature was a few degrees below freezing. Meanwhile, Finnick was characteristically toasty warm. It was perfect for me, but not so much for him, evident in the beads of sweat collecting on his forehead. Nevertheless, he made no complaints).

My body rose and fell with each breath he took. I was trying to inhale whenever he exhaled in a weak attempt to prevent the festering sickness in my body from entering his, and though it was a futile gesture, I did it anyway.

“In sickness and health, remember?” he said.

I smiled. “We’re not even married.”

“Yet, you mean,” he countered. “I plan on spending the rest of my life with you, sweetheart. You know that.”

My heart fluttered at the thought of spending an entire lifetime with him—waking up in each other’s embrace each morning, the warm sunlight peeking through the blinds of our bedroom; Finnick calling me “Mrs. Odair” or “My wife” at every opportunity because doing so made us both giggle like two moronic, love-struck teenagers; and being unable to prevent the deep smile lines on both our cheeks as we age, a constant display of our perpetual happiness.

“Sixty more years of having and holding you,” he continued with a gentle musing in his tone. “For better or for worse... For richer or for poorer.” He then stroked the side of my face and brushed away the sweaty strands of hair sticking to my forehead. “In sickness and in health…”

“…Until death do us part,” I finished, my voice slow with fatigue.

Two fingers sat beneath my chin and tilted my head upward. My eyes connected with Finnick’s. They were soft. Heartfelt.

“Not even then. I’ll love you beyond the grave,” he murmured. Then his lips were slowly curving into a pensive smile. “When we’re both ghosts and haunting the next owners of this house.”

I was now smiling, too. “I’d hoped you would say something like that.”

How could he lie like that? There was no we. There were no next owners. There was only me, alive and alone in a comatose house. And mind you, I was sane enough to know that it wasn’t actually his ghost haunting me, though I wish I weren’t because having that knowledge was even worse. It meant he was truly erased from existence.

“Go away,” I whispered to the reflection on the floor.

He didn’t. His vacant green eyes kept staring down at my crumpled figure.

I shot off the floor and spun around, hot tears streaming down my face. “Go away!” His face remained expressionless. He looked like himself, only colder. “You said sixty more years! You said we’d be together!” I mindlessly picked up and flung a small picture frame at him, only for it to pass through his body and shatter on the floor behind him. “Why did you lie to me?!” My voice was frayed with fury, though underlined with grief.

He said nothing, did nothing. All he did was watch.

My legs buckled, and I was on the floor again. I was whispering, half-sobbing, the same question over and over until the words slurred together. “Why’d you lie? Why’d y’lie?” The only time I stopped was when my tongue grew too heavy to move anymore.

To my surprise, he eventually came and sat beside me, remaining cold and silent—as I too had become.

Glass fragments from the picture frame were scattered across the floorboards. The photo within had fallen out and, ironically, drifted towards me. I didn’t bother acknowledging him as I moved onto my hands and knees and began crawling forward—my palms slicing open and blood seeping out—until the photo was in my hands. My shins had granules of glass pricking into them, but I couldn’t feel the pain; all I could do was stare at the memory in my hands.

The picture had been taken in District Thirteen, a day before he signed up for… the mission.

I was drifting in and out of sleep when a sudden bright flash lit up my eyelids.

“Oops.”

Heavy eyes fluttering open, I was met with a small camera pointing down at me, which was being held up by a lengthy muscular arm, which was connected to an even more muscular and broad shoulder, which was connected to—okay, sorry, I think you get it.

“Finnick!” I shrieked, pulling the covers over my naked figure.

He laughed, the vibrations rumbling deep within his chest, beneath my ear. A soft whirring sound accompanied the polaroid sliding out of the camera, its black film hiding the doubtless embarrassing picture beneath. He placed the film on the sheets beside him, letting the photo develop in darkness.

“I was supposed to cover the flash,” he said, still chuckling.

I rubbed my eyes, which were twinkling with little sparkles of light. “I think you blinded me.”

“Lucky you,” he jested. “You’re finally free from my repulsive exterior.”

I started to reach for the picture beside him—“You’re an idiot”—but then he was rolling us over until his arms were pillared on either side of my head and he was hovering above me.

His hair was a mess, a testament to the night before (and very early hours of the morning), and he was sporting a beautiful, lazy grin. “Yeah? Well, you’re engaged to an idiot,” he said, tilting his head in an arrogant manner. “So what does that make you?”

The sea-glass ring hugging my finger gleamed in the lamp’s dull light as I reached out to touch his face, my fingertips brushing along the edges of his pronounced jawline. Tangled strands of hair and a beaming smile were reflecting back at me in his eyes. No one had ever loved anyone as much as I loved Finnick—disregarding the one exception that was staring down at me.

“Blinded by love,” I whispered.

Brief yet poignant emotion trickled through his features, his eyes. Then, like a flick of a switch, he covered it up and lowered his face into my neck, groaning the words, “So corny.”

My fingers were tangled in his hair, holding him close to me. “Liar,” I laughed. “You loved it.”

“I love you, which is why I put up with your corniness,” he murmured into my skin.

Even after all this time, my heart still leapt whenever he said those three words, even when he was being a jerk about it. I kissed the top of his head. “I love you, too.”

We laid like this for a short while longer—Finnick keeping his face buried in the warmth of my neck, his arms curled beneath my body; me playing with the golden waves of his hair that were somehow softer than my own. He was so heavy on top of me that it was starting to become difficult to breathe, but in no universe would I ever tell him to get off. It was a blissful sort of suffocation.

A sort anyone would snap a picture of just to keep as a reminder of how beautiful it feels to be smothered with love. With that being said, the picture that lay awaiting beside me was brought back to mind.

“Oh no,” I moaned, picking it up and taking a short glance at the developed photo. I covered my face with my hands, repeating the words, “Oh no.”

The photo was plucked from my fingers, and Finnick began humming contentedly to himself.

In the photo, my face had been nuzzled into his bare, muscular chest, eyes closed in sleep-drunken serenity, hair thrown over my shoulder and spilling across the pillow. My hand rested on his contoured stomach with just enough of my upper arm and low light to conceal my breasts. Finnick had a delicate hand draped over my waist. He was gazing down at me with a smile that was just… full of pure love.

I had to admit—it was a beautiful picture. Despite my initial disapproval.

“Beautiful,” I heard him echo my thoughts, his eyes still scanning the photo. Then his brows furrowed, and his head slightly inched forward as though he had just noticed something peculiar in the picture. “Oh, and you are too, I guess.”

My head tilted back against the pillow with an abrupt laugh. I shook my head, looking back at him. “I hate you.”

“Liar,” he said, leaning in closer.

His lips were on mine for what must have been the millionth time in the past few hours. The bedside clock announced that breakfast was soon approaching, though it was clear neither of us would make an appearance within the next hour (or two).

“You love me,” he whispered as he slid inside me.

And I did.

I really did.

The muscles in my cheeks were straining due to how hard I was smiling.

It wasn’t my idea to keep a picture of us half-naked in the entryway of our home. He always was a bit unusual like that. Completely unashamed of who he was and how he acted. Sometimes a little too boisterously, but that’s what I loved so much about him—how confident he was in his love for me, so much so that nothing else mattered, no one else’s opinion.

God, I love him so much.

Love…?

Wait.

That’s not right.

Shouldn’t it be “loved”?

And why was I smiling? I didn’t have anything to smile about anymore. He was gone. Our wedding never occurred. Our faces never wrinkled with smile lines. Our clasped hands never weathered with age. He was gone.

The polaroid slipped from between my fingers. My hands were covered in glass and blood, blood that had painted a dark red splotch in the middle of the shiny film. Figures.

After a short while of staring blankly at the scattered debris decorating the floor, I finally found it in myself to start climbing back onto my feet. My straightened legs wobbled and ached beneath me with the little energy I had. That’s what happens when you can barely stomach food anymore: no energy, always sleeping, always swamped by nightmares or bittersweet memories—at this point, they were one and the same.

Not a strand of gold or a fleck of green was in sight when I glanced over my shoulder. For now, at least. He liked making an appearance once or twice a day.

Pieces of glass crunched beneath my bare, stinging feet as I made for the stairwell. A mess for another day, I reasoned. Just like the dishes. Sticky red footprints stamped each wooden step I ascended, growing less prominent as I reached the second floor.

After taking a right down a short hallway, the encompassing walls littered with magnificent seashells and dried ocean flora, I turned the knob to the furthest room and entered. The floor was landscaped with mountains of clothes which drenched the room in a familiar, all-consuming smell. The scent kind of reminded me of receiving a warm hug, albeit from someone you know you should let go of in more ways than one.

His hair, golden and tousled, caught my eye as I passed the wall of string-hung polaroids in our… sorry, my bedroom. His smile was all dimpled and brilliant, and he had his tanned arms wrapped around my middle. Just moments after the picture was taken, he had tackled me into the water and rightfully earned a smack on the back of the head. In turn, he did it again.

But before that, we were both looking into the camera with the most joyful expressions—huge grins, bright eyes. Frozen in time.

I never let myself look too long at that picture anymore. And I never, ever looked into his eyes. Green used to be my favourite colour. I didn’t have a favourite colour anymore. It was safe to say I didn’t have a favourite anything anymore; everything favourable was a reminder of him.

I picked up a white knitted sweater off the ground and tugged it over my head, staining it with splotches of dark red. Knowing him, he would wear it regardless—whatever was mine, was also his, and was equally the same in reverse, even things as grotesque as blood.

Well, he would have worn it, I should have said.

The sweater had been specifically tailored for him. I remembered how the soft sleeves hugged his arms so well that every fluid curve of his biceps was visible, similar to a building wave before it crested. On me, the sleeves swallowed my arms whole, which I liked to think in their own unique way had also been unintentionally tailored for me, like someone out there knew one day I would need some way to drown in him when he was gone.

Finnick’s fingers tugged at the silk ribbons, unwrapping the opulent gift box that sat on our dining table. Capitol devotees would send extravagant parcels weekly, turning up in abundance on our doorstep. Sometimes Finnick didn’t even bother opening them; sometimes we opened them together just to get a good laugh out of whatever ridiculous item was inside.

He never, though, opened the perfume-scented letters marked with lipstick stains.

“Oh,” I said in surprise as he lifted the lid. Inside was a folded piece of fabric, knitted and cream-white and intricate, though still simple. It was soft to the touch; thick enough to retain warmth. I held it up with two hands, admiring the hand-sewed threads of cotton. Whoever’s handiwork this was, it was nothing to laugh at.

Holding it up to Finnick’s torso, I smiled and said, “Try it on.”

“What?” He shook his head and smiled quizzically. “No.”

“Yes. I think it will look good on you.” I pressed it further against him with conviction. “Try it on.”

He tilted his head and exhaled deeply through his nose, giving me a begrudging, squinty-eyed look. From that, I already knew I had won him over, and watched as he snatched the sweater from my grasp and tugged his shirt off with one hand. I averted my eyes, feeling the tips of my ears flush with heat—we’d been together for over a year now; you would think I’d have grown accustomed to seeing him shirtless.

His head slipped through the neckline and he pulled the sweater down his body. I was right. It looked really good on him. Perfect, actually. The measurements were so precise that the fabric sloped off his shoulders like a compact mountain of snow. The thick-knitted collar dipped into a deep, uneven neckline that partly revealed his chest and made his neck look like a strong, contoured pillar. He looked at me expectantly, as though to ask, “Well?”

“It makes your neck and shoulders look really nice,” I blurted out, instantly cringing inside.

His expression contorted into something of amusement and surprise as he took a slow step towards me. “My neck and shoulders, huh?” he said, grinning devilishly. Oh, now I’d done it. Leave it to me to rocket Finnick Odair’s already atmospheric ego. “Anything else?”

I began backing away, but his prowling strides were so long that the space between us only shortened. When my backside hit the edge of the dining table, I knew I was done for.

“You know,” I began, avoiding his unrelenting stare. “I think it was just a momentary lapse of judgement.” He was closing in now, placing his hands on either side of my body to trap me in place. “It—It actually looks terrible on you,” I said, feigning sincerity and adding a little nod to help further my case.

His eyelids drooped as he gazed down at me, lips curving into that seductive smirk he had mastered long ago. “No takebacks,” he purred, voice low and gravelly. Dear God, I could only pray I wasn’t going to melt into a puddle on the floor. He always did this—took every opportunity to flirt and render me a stuttering, bashful mess. It was his favourite game to play. “This is now my new favourite shirt. All thanks to you, sweetheart.”

But, given the right timing and ever-wavering amount of confidence, I liked to play too.

I inhaled deeply, hoping my voice wouldn’t betray me. “Maybe you should take it off then,” I said, cocking my head to the side. “So you don’t ruin it.”

His mischievous expression revealed his next words before he even spoke them. “Maybe I will,” he said, and then he was tugging his sweater over his head, and I was tearing off my own. As his hands slipped beneath my thighs and lifted me onto our dining table, I prayed the wooden legs wouldn’t collapse under the weight of our next actions.

My fingertips ran over the soft, rippling patterns on the knitted sleeves, my arms crossed in a self-soothing manner. After that day, the sweater had become a sort of good luck charm—or so we agreed upon as we lay panting on the tabletop. He started wearing it to a multitude of events and parties in the Capitol (basically any place in which he needed a pick-me-up, a reminder of what he had to come home to, who he had to come home to).

He even wore it the day we got engaged.

So many happy memories were associated with this one white sweater. So many times, those cloud-soft sleeves were wrapped around my body, suffocating me in the scent of him—if nothing else, at least that remained.

The last time he had worn it was the day of the Reaping for the Quarter Quell; the last time our lives were ever semi-normal. I had fought tooth and nail to reach him before he was escorted onto the train, despite being ordered, “No goodbyes,” by one of the Peacekeepers. In modest terms, I had significantly decreased his chances of reproduction.

When I reached Finnick, he had brought me into a kiss so harsh and fervent that my lips were bruised the next day. He then yanked off his sweater, leaving his upper body completely exposed to everyone around us in complete disregard for his trauma-induced fear of doing so, and shoved it into my hands.

I had just stood there frozen in bewilderment, watching as he called out, “I love you, sweetheart!” Two Peacekeepers were forcing him onto the train, but he too fought for the last word. “Don’t forget—I’m always with you!”

That statement had never been truer than it was now. For better or for worse.

My vision unblurred as I returned to reality. Dismal, grey light was peeking through the shutters that formed the balcony doors, the daylight hours seeming to tick away at a snail’s pace. I used to wish for the days to be longer, for time to move slower, so I could savour the moments I had of happiness and sunlight which used to be plentiful.

Why do wishes only come true when you grow to desire nothing but the opposite?

Slothfully, I crawled onto the unmade king-size bed, my limbs crumpling and balling to my chest as the side of my head hit the pillow. The imprint on the mattress beneath my body didn’t match my own. It was much larger and broader. How long would it take for the springs to forget his body weight and recoil back into place as though he never existed at all?

I inhaled the sweater’s scent with every breath I took (and I tried not to wonder how long it would take for his scent to disappear as well) and hugged my arms around my waist. No pain was worse than the fleeting moments I forgot the embrace was my own and not his.

Hours passed, and so did the evening. A beautiful orange sunset hadn’t slipped through the shutter’s cracks because the clouds never dissipated. Night-time brought no consolation either. Not even the stars or moon made an appearance. Everything that once gave me a shred of optimism was hidden behind a veil of gloom.

I knew tomorrow wouldn’t be any different—the weather, my mood, his absence. Because the end of autumn was closing in, and the days were becoming bleaker. Trees would start shedding their leaves; the leaves would start to die.

I hoped I would too.

I was still curled up on my side, my body aching with stiffness, when my face began scrunching into this ugly, twisted mess of despair. My tears were slow yet heavy, synonymous with the day I had incurred.

But then something strange happened.

Someone called my name.

No. That couldn’t be right. I was the only one who occupied a house in the Victor’s Village; the others had either relocated after the war or were… dead.

But there it was again—my name, distant and eerie, yet spoken with a tone people often used to beckon over and aid a frightened, injured animal. My vision blurred, both from tears and concentration on the voice.

“Hey.”

I couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment my surroundings transformed into a kitchen, just that they had and that I was no longer in my bed but standing upright.

Ahead of me, in the distance, the sun was beating down on the crystalline water, and white frothy waves were cresting on the smooth, golden sand. It was a perfect day; not a cloud was in sight. The only blemish that smeared the blue sky was the reflection staring back at me from the window I gazed out of.

In my hands was a soup bowl and a damp dishrag.

“Sweetheart?” That once distant voice, concerned and beckoning, was standing right beside me.

Blinking, I snapped out of my daze and turned away from the window.

He stood tall beside me, despite being half hunched over the kitchen sink and scrubbing the last of the few dirty dishes stacked neatly on the bench top. His head was turned towards me, his enamoured sea-green eyes peering into my own as though he was searching behind them for what troubled me.

“Hey,” he spoke softly, standing up straight. His touch was warm and gentle as he reached for my hand, leaving soapy bubbles on my palm and fingers. “Where’d you go?”

Three odd things seemed to occur at once: first, I flinched away from his touch, overwhelmed by its paradoxical unfamiliar familiarity; second, I felt an inexpressible relief from seeing him standing before me, seeing his cheeks painted with a soft pink hue as though blood-red roses were hidden just beneath his skin.

The third was an onset of disorientation. I couldn’t tell you why I felt disorientated standing in my own kitchen with the love of my life, just, simply, that I did. There was an answer—it was close by, right under my nose, yet unreachable. We did this every day, didn’t we? We would eat meals together and then wash up together. So, why did I feel so unsettled?

I shook my head, dispelling the confusion that muddled my brain. “Sorry,” I whispered. “I don’t know what happened.” I laughed uneasily, without a hint of mirth.

He laughed too, not to poke fun or because he found my obvious turmoil amusing, but rather to comfort me, so I would feel less alone in my unease. “It’s alright,” he said gently.

Neither of us addressed what had happened; we simply resumed our routine of washing and drying in domestic silence. And as seconds turned to minutes, and as the sky remained sunny, I found myself smiling. All that mattered was that he was standing beside me and that the sun was beaming in the sky. So, I kept smiling.

After I finished drying the last dish, we began placing the plates, bowls, and an abundance of cutlery in their assigned drawers and cupboards, weaving past each other and giggling anytime we got in one another’s path. I was carrying a stack of white plates, eyeing the high cupboard they needed to go in, but before I could even attempt straining onto my toes, the plates were out of my hands and taken into another much larger pair.

The smell of sea salt and expensive cologne wafted from behind me as he towered over my shorter frame and placed the plates in the cupboard.

“I could have done that,” I said, smiling as I turned around to face him.

He had a playful glint in his eye. “Yeah, right. What are you, like, four feet tall?” he joked.

It was an extreme exaggeration since I was no way near that height, but I suppose everyone was miniature in comparison to him, being over six feet tall and all. I feigned open-mouthed offence, to which he gave the side of my head a quick, playful kiss of apology.

He then leaned against the counter with crossed arms. “Plus, when was the last time you actually put these dishes away? I’m surprised you even remember where they go.” He was grinning at me in a teasing manner, but every ounce of humour had drained from my body.

My eyes drifted to the floor.

Well, that was the question, wasn’t it—when was the last time I put the dishes away?

I couldn’t remember. In fact, I couldn’t remember what had happened this morning or the day before. Hell, I couldn’t even remember what we were doing before the dishes.

To be standing in a room, in a place you call home, and have a sense that nothing is in its right place, even though that is where everything has always been, is a disconcerting feeling beyond belief. To be perplexed by your own state of being—your existence—is even worse. I could almost describe it as a nauseating bout of vertigo.

My hands found the counter’s edge behind me, and I exhaled a shaky breath.

He stepped in front of me, one large and gentle hand reaching up to cup my jaw. “Are you okay?” he asked, his forehead wrinkling with shallow worry lines as he inspected my face. I hated that. I hated that I worried him so much. Sure, partners were supposed to lean on each other for support in a relationship (as he too did with me when needed), but I always felt so guilty doing so. Hadn’t he already suffered enough… pain in his lifetime? Who was I to cause him any more?

A sunbeam suffused the room, oozing across his face. The illumination lightened his eyes into a refreshing mint green, though, in contradiction, unearthed a pain that had been previously been concealed. Pain from what, I wasn’t sure. From concern regarding my unusual behaviour? Maybe a thought that was troubling him? Or perhaps he too was enduring a spell of confusion and had an inexplicable feeling that he was out of place.

Whatever his pain regarded, seeing it had rattled the deepest structures in which held my mind together.

It was then that I suddenly realised I hadn’t answered his question, so I gave him a wan “I’m-not-too-sure-myself” smile and then began slinking back to the sink window.

He followed behind me. I could feel him staring into the back of my head, could feel his brows draw together and his lips pull into a tight line, patiently waiting for a further explanation, though I wasn’t sure I could offer him one.

I hadn’t noticed before, but on the windowsill was a small picture frame containing a polaroid picture of us in bed—I was lying on his chest, half-naked and asleep, and he was looking down at me, smiling fondly yet with a sort of mischievous knowability. Running down the middle of the protective glass was a small, jagged crack.

I plucked the frame from the windowsill, inspecting the picture in my two hands. It seemed to uncover a place in my mind—once clouded by disorientation—I’d forgotten. Whether this place was real or imaginary was beyond me, but the fear I felt upon its recollection was incandescently genuine.

“Do you think,” I spoke tentatively, “people can have nightmares while they’re wide awake?” My thumb ran over the crack.

I might have heard him inhale a quiet, sharp breath, but it also could have just been the waves breaking on the distant shore. “Like a flashback?” he asked, an unidentifiable unease in his tone.

“No, not exactly.” I searched my brain for the right words, the right way to tell him how I was feeling, but it was difficult when I could only conjure vague fragments. And it was all I could do to tell it to him elliptically, as I knew saying the words in any other manner would shatter my heart.

“I had this vision,” I began, my words apprehensively staccato, “where I was somewhere else.” My eyes flickered over the picture. “Somewhere… bad. Everything was grey and heavy, and I was alone. Sometimes you were there, but you—you weren’t really you anymore.” I paused and looked up to find him staring at me in the reflection of the window. He looked pained; it was then suddenly hard to recollect a time when he didn’t. My throat started to constrict. “You were gone and…” my voice quietened to a broken wisp of wind, “you were haunting me.”

The room was silent.

He said nothing in response

The transparency of his reflection in the glass was so familiar—so haunting—and it was like another forgotten matter had been dredged from the depths of my mind. Stinging tears brimmed my waterline, and, due to my inability to bear the sight of his translucent appearance, I forced myself to turn around.

I glanced up at him, smiling weakly as I whispered, “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head as if my need to apologise was nonsensical (even I was unsure of what I was apologising for), and he then pulled me into a tight embrace. His chin rested atop my head; my face was buried in his chest, and his arms held me like I was some dilapidated structure that relied on his support to remain upright. Part of me knew this sentiment was correct.

I expected his next words to be ones of consolation or reassurance, maybe an “I’m right here, sweetheart” or an “I’ll never leave you”. Instead, I felt his head turn and heard him say, “Think it’s going to storm?”

With a sniffle, I turned my head towards the window. The arms wrapped around my body tightened as if he somehow knew I would need the extra support. Because when I saw the wall of dark, opaque clouds rolling through the sky towards us, an unshakeable dread zapped through my heart.

My hands clung to the fabric of his cream-white sweater, which then brought to my attention that an inexplicable tingling sensation was spreading down the fingers of my right hand, numbing them.

Lightning flashed on the horizon, and the once serene waves began cresting violently on the shoreline. The dread grew.

Before my attention could drift too far, my name was called again.

I looked up to find those green eyes gazing down at me, swelling with tears. He was crying. Why was he crying? And why was his hair wet? His usually golden strands had darkened to a deep brown and were drenched with cold water that dripped onto my cheeks, and his hair was swept haphazardly across his forehead, a reflection of someone who had just endured an intense storm or had just been fighting for his life against a swarm of—of—

No.

My own eyes began to burn.

“It’s killing me to see you this way,” he spoke, every second word breaking and wavering in volume.

The world seemed to tilt on an axis. Return did the disorientation, ravaging my mind more violently now. “What do you”—My chest was rising and falling with heavy breaths—“What? What do you mean?” My lower lip was quivering, and my eyebrows were scrunched together in confusion. His words replayed in my head: It’s killing me to see you this way.

It’s killing me.

His hair was dripping—no longer with water, but with a thick, red substance that both dripped down and clotted on his skin. He didn’t look pained anymore; he looked like he was in pain.

It’s killing me.

But that can’t be right, can it?

It’s killing me.

Why?

It’s killing me.

Becausemy Finnickwas already dead.

I staggered backwards and out of his, no, this imposter’s arms. He stared at me as blood streamed down his forehead, pouring over his eyelashes and down his cheeks. I was going to be sick. This had to be some sort of cruel joke, a newly invented punishment from Snow. But that wasn’t right either: Snow was dead too.

“F…Fi…” I tried saying his name, my top teeth prodding the inside of my bottom lip, but I couldn’t make a sound.

He took a step towards me, and I almost stumbled onto the floor. “Remember what I told you?” he asked, though it sounded more like an urge.

I frantically shook my head. No, I didn’t remember. I didn’t want to remember anything.

Something dark and mountainous appeared in my peripheral vision, and an odious smell singed my nostrils. My head snapped to the left. Stacks upon stacks of plates and bowls mounded the kitchen sink, each crawling with maggots that were falling to the floor in white, wriggling heaps.

Nausea boiled in my stomach; horror brimmed my eyes.

I quickly turned away, my eyes meeting green again. His face was no longer stained with blood, and his hair was dry, shiny, and golden with life. I was as speechless as my face was drained of blood.

He took one more step toward me, but this time I didn’t back away, either frozen with fear or desperation for one last experience of closeness with him. My heart thrummed as he reached out to cup my face. It isn’t him, it isn’t him, it isn’t him, I repeated madly in my head. Oh, but it felt so much like him when his warm hand met my skin.

“I told you I’m always with you, sweetheart,” he murmured. And I knew engaging with him, in whatever form he took, affirmed my mental unwellness, but I couldn’t stop from leaning into his touch anyway. “Remember that.”

My cheeks were wet with tears. “I love—”

A bolt of lightning flashed, and thunder boomed throughout the house.

I was back in my bed.

My eyelids were heavy with sleep as they fluttered open. I felt detached, destabilised, and unsure of my existence in the world for I wasn’t sure which of the twoI was currently in. Real or fake?

A few minutes went by before I managed to get a grip on reality, which, in fact, was the real one. The Somewhere Bad. I pinched the corners of my eyes, not only finding them damp with fresh tears but also realising that my right hand—previously tucked beneath my head—was numb.

None of it had been real…

The entire time, my body was trying to alert me, to save me from the inescapable heartache I would feel upon waking. He hadn’t held me in his arms. He hadn’t cupped my cheek nor helped me wash the dishes. He wasn’t here. He wasn’t anywhere (not even in his own marked grave because there was nothing left of him to be buried).

Even despite seeing the familiar tall outline standing in the doorway, his features illuminated with each flash of lightning, I knew it wasn’t really him.

Rain was pummelling the roof, almost loud enough to subdue the perpetual rumbling of thunder (apart from the one sky-splitting thunderclap that had woken me). In another time, I would’ve been scared—of the raging storm, of my phantom lover who was watching from the shadows of our bedroom. But not now.

In recent months, I had found that no emotion, not even fear, surpassed the soul-crushing realisation that you have irretrievably lost the one thing you lived for.

On a defeated whim, and for the first time since his death, I let the singular, weighted word breeze past my lips.

“Finnick.”

It was a trembling plea, a desperate beckon.

And he indulged.

His footsteps were silent as he walked towards the bed. I couldn’t see his legs from my position, prompting me to wonder if he even had legs at all. Or did he only have legs when I could see them? That would then insinuate that if I couldn’t see him at all, he didn’t exist.

If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? In my case, the answer was simple: no, it didn’t.

It wasn’t really Finnick. It wasn’t even his ghost. It was my mind.

He reached the bed’s edge, and I scooted over to my side of the mattress, allowing him enough space to lie down on his. His weight neither dipped nor shook the bed as he laid down and turned on his side to face me. His eyes were sad, and I’m sure mine were too. We stared at each other for a long, long time, long enough for my fatigued body to start playing tricks on me.

If I focused hard enough, I thought I could hear the sound of his breathing (the wind was picking up outside), feel the warmth of his skin spreading onto the sheets (the remnants of my own body heat were left behind each time I moved), and smell the musky scent of cologne and sea-salted hair (the sleeves of his sweater were tucked beneath my nose).

Maybe for a moment—just one sickly, self-indulgent moment—I could pretend it was really him.

I inhaled deeply through my nose. “You really weren’t kidding when you said you would haunt the next owner of this house,” I whispered as light-heartedly as I could, my voice obscured by the heavy rain pouring onto the roof.

He smiled, and it was one of the most heart-wrenchingly beautiful things I had ever seen. I think I might have given him one in return, though I couldn’t be too sure because the concept of smiling had become so foreign. The last time I was truly happy was… the last night we spent together. In each other’s arms, safe and warm and together.

And then he was gone. Just like that.

Cressida, whom I had only spoken to once in Thirteen when the war ended, was the one to tell me how it happened. Katniss was too personal, too close to him; Peeta’s instability rendered conversation futile. So, I had asked Cressida to tell me every detail—every expression on his face, every word he screamed. I don’t know why. Maybe it was so I could cling onto those last few minutes where he was still alive and breathing, despite dying and bleeding; or so I could replay the moment over and over in my head, as if somehow, someway, I could change his fate.

“He talked about you all the time,” she had told me. “Actually, I don’t think he ever spoke of anything but you. No one minded, though. While we were out there, no one ever really smiled, but every time your name was mentioned, Finnick would get this great big grin on his face, and it was impossible not to look at him and start smiling as well.

So, we all started asking questions about you: ‘What colour is her hair? Her eyes? Where did you meet? What are her hobbies?’—just to see him smile… A week passed, and it was like we all knew you inside out. It was all we could do to hang on to some shred of happiness, even if it meant talking about a girl who, to all of us, was a stranger.”

I was inconsolable after that.

She kept talking, but my sobs had drowned out most of her words, so much that I had asked her to retell me everything later in the day, despite inducing the same outcome. So, she told it to me again, just as she did the day after that and the day after that and so on until I returned home to District Four.

“He also spoke about how you never felt comfortable living in the Victors Village. He had this idea that the two of you would move somewhere far away, outside the borders of District Four­, though he emphasised remaining by the sea was very important—something about how you looked while swimming during sunset and the water was all sparkly around you.”

At this point, she had been holding my hand, knowing full well how debilitating it was for me to hear. Then she had spoken with a quiet incredulity and a facial expression to match, as though she’d never encountered a love like ours before. “He wanted to build a house for you…”

He wanted to build a house for you.

And now he never would. Our love was too ephemeral for that to happen; destined to remain history; to be a memory.

Finnick's eyes stared into mine, the green hue now a dark grey from the overshadowing dimness of the room.

“I would’ve gone anywhere with you,” I whispered to him, placing my hand on the sheets between us. “I would’ve travelled thousands of miles away from this place. Would’ve lived in solitary, just the two of us, for the rest of our lives.” A warm tear tickled the bridge of my nose. His eyebrows scrunched together in shared anguish. “God, Finn, I miss you,” my voice broke. “I miss you so much.”

I contemplated crying, sobbing, screaming, or begging for him to come back, but I was just too tired. All my energy had been spent on grievance throughout the following day, and my eyes were growing heavier by the second as my body was sinking further into a state of relaxation.

Between slow blinks, I watched Finnick’s large hand move to rest atop my own, and at that point, I knew sleep would soon catch me because I swear I could feel his warm touch.

Images flashed through my mind—incomprehensible and melting together, yet somehow still graspable.

Sky blue water rippling with calm waves, the surface glittering in the setting sun. A white stonewall cottage fronted by soft, white sand and tall palm trees. Two plates of fruit-filled yoghurt and scrambled eggs on toast. Three pairs of footprints in the sand, one larger, one smaller, and another between them so delicately tiny I could fit them into the palm of my hand.

Sea-green eyes above me. Golden hair tangled between my fingers. Finnick standing in the wooden doorway of our white stonewall cottage wearing a cream-white sweater and rolled-up slacks. Finnick grinning deeply and then throwing his head back with laughter. Finnick standing in front of our bed, taking my hand in his and guiding me towards him. Finnick. Finnick. Finnick. Finnick. Finnick.

Finnick holding our child.

I was between worlds now, both indistinguishable from the other. My eyelids were drooping, and I was quickly growing insensate. Just before my eyes closed completely, I saw Finnick’s—he who wasn’t really my Finnick—lips move. It wasn’t in my bleak reality in which I heard him speak, but rather in my mind, and God, did his words offer the sweetest relief.

“I’ll see you when you fall asleep.”

#finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair drabble #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair angst #finnick odair fluff #sam claflin #finnick x reader #fiinnick odair x you #finnick x you #finnick imagine #thg finnick #the hunger games #catching fire #mockingjay #the hunger games fanfiction #suzanne collins #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #odesta #everlark #josh hutcherson

[jobean12-blog]

Easy Target

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (CEO!Beefy!Bucky)

Word Count: 799

Summary: No matter how tired he might be from running his company, Bucky always makes time for you and makes sure you have everything and anything you want. 

Author’s Note: A friend shared his great TikTok video with me and I couldn’t help but write a little something for it. My twist is making it CEO Bucky because I just adore him. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: Fun fluff and sweetness :) 

The moment you hear his key in the door you’re running for it and launching yourself into his waiting arms. He catches you easily and you slide down his body to land softly on your feet.

“Hiya doll face,” he murmurs as he buries his face in your neck.  

“Hi Buck,” you whisper.

He curls his hand around the back of your neck and pulls you in for a kiss. When he releases you he drops his keys onto the small table by the door and starts to take off his shoes.

“Do you want to have dinner first or should we eat after we shop?”

Your question catches him totally off guard and he looks up from his feet in confusion.

“It’s Thursday,” you state with a playful smile.

He stares, his brow furrowed in thought.

“Target day!” you chime.

“Oh right!” he replies. “Sorry baby doll. My brain is fried today.”

You walk back into his embrace and wrap your arms around his middle.

“You really don’t have to come with me Buck. I can go myself. You just got home and I know you’re tired.”

Taking your hands in his, he dips his head to whisper across your lips, “of course I do doll. I love our target trips.”

You give him a big squeeze, resting your chin on his chest. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you baby doll,” he croons before kissing your forehead.

“Should I change?” he asks as he loosens his tie.

“Only if you want to,” you answer, eyeing him appreciatively before reaching up to carefully untie the rest of the fabric and pull it from his neck.

He chuckles then asks, “can you grab me a hair tie please?”

You go the bathroom and get one returning to find him running his hands through his hair in preparation.

“Let me,” you say softly as you steer him toward the couch.

He sits with a plop and you climb up behind him then gently run your fingernails over his scalp as you comb them through his hair.

He sighs contentedly and closes his eyes, leaning into you.

Once you have his hair gathered together at the base of his neck you secure it in a bun with the black hair tie.

“All set.” Your lips meet his neck with soft kisses.

You remain quiet on the drive to Target, enjoying the music and the feel of Bucky’s warm hand resting on your thigh. He’s humming along to the oldies song, every so often glancing your way and throwing you a wink.

“You have your list right?” he asks with a grin.

“Sure do!” you reply and hold up your phone to show him the long list of things you want to get.

“How much am I going to be carrying this time?” he teases.

“Ummm,” you start, pressing your lips together. “It should all fit in the cart…I think.”

He gives your thigh a squeeze just before he pulls into a parking spot. “I’m just playing doll face. Don’t worry. Buy whatever you want.”

With a beaming smile you lean over the middle console and start to pepper his scruffy cheek with kisses, tracing the strong line of his jaw before moving down his neck. When you reach his lips you capture them in a sweet kiss and press yourself against him, letting your hands wander to his chest and the open buttons at the collar of his shirt.

You pull away, sighing happily and exclaiming, “OK! Let’s go shopping!”

His head falls to his chest and he grumbles out a curse.  

“Buck?” you ask, suddenly feeling worried.

When he looks up to meet your eyes your breath catches at his expression and then his hand drops between his legs and he adjusts himself in his pants.

“I’m gonna need a few minutes doll.”

“Wait…did you? Are you…?”

You reach over and run your hand along the hard bulge in his pants, making him hiss out your name.

“Don’t,” he warns. “You’ll make it worse and then you’ll never get your Target shopping done.”

“But all I did was give you some kisses,” you giggle.

He pins you with a glare but you can see the mischief dancing in his eyes.

You lift your hand to touch him again but he gently grabs your wrist.

“Doll face.”

“Maybe we should skip Target.”

“Nope!” he says, popping the p. “We’ll shop, grab some take out and then when we get home you’re all mine.”

You nod as you nibble on your bottom lip.

“You better behave,” he says, narrowing his eyes as he studies you.

“Don’t I always,” you say in a sing song voice as you bat your lashes.

“No,” he says flatly but you can see his lips twitching with a smile.

@book-dragon-13 @sstan-hoe @justkinsey @laineyreads @randomfandompenguin @beccablogsthings @lookiamtrying @goldylions @flordeamatista @late-to-the-party-81​ @buckysdollforlife​ @blackwidownat2814​

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #ceo!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #beefy!bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #ceo! bucky x reader #beefy!bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes au #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan

[distantdarlings]

BY THE FIREPLACE PT.3 // t. nott

RATING: R / 2.3K WORDS

Theo Nott x Fem Reader

+ SUMMARY - *Requested* You and Theo finally realize what exactly went down in the library after a very messy explanation from Mattheo, Enzo, and Pansy. Once the two of you go your separate ways and accept the embarrassment, you both start to let your imaginations wander.

+ WARNINGS - Language, slight sexual material (describing in character's heads)--not super graphic, Fem reader

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Johanna - Suki Waterhouse

---

“What—pray tell—the fuck are you doing in my room?” Theo roared, his back planted firmly against his headboard. You had migrated to standing at the end of the bed, your hands just balancing yourself against the mattress.

“What are you talking about? I fell asleep in the library, I—did you kidnap me?” you shrieked in realization. 

“Are you kidding me? No, I didn’t fucking kidnap you. Are you daft?” he asks, his eyebrows furrowing. You scoff.

“Okay, first of all, you don’t need to be an ass about it,” you scolded, pointing a sharp finger at him, “and second of all, how the hell am I supposed to know if you did or not? I fell asleep in the library and woke up in your bed!”

“Look, I have no idea how—hey, where’s Sleepy?” he interrupted himself. He began gently pushing the covers around. 

“I’m sorry, who?” you ask. He pulled the comforter back and laid across the bed horizontally to glance under the bed.

“Just my cat, she…,”

He paused and leaned back up. The two of you made direct eye contact and stared for what felt like hours. His eyes were slightly squinted as he looked at you, up and down, and you did the same to him. His mouth opened and closed multiple times as if starting to say something but nothing ever came out. Slowly, the two of you came to a very morbid discovery.

“Nott…how long have you had your cat?” you asked, hoping for an answer you knew you weren’t going to get.

“I found her today…,” both of your eyes slid shut, “in the library.”

You groaned and pinched the bridge of your nose between your thumb and forefinger. Merlin help you. Of course, the amazing luck that you were granted did nothing to prevent you from having the worst day of your life. It turns out that having an incredible, life-changing gift wasn’t always a blessing. You opened your eyes.

Theo’s head snapped up suddenly. His furrowed eyebrows had drawn down to match the line of his eyelid. His jaw clenched and unclenched ferociously. The anger radiating off of him was nearly palpable. It shocked you just a bit because you had never seen him as anything but cool and confident.

“Are you okay?” you asked cautiously. He stood from the bed and marched right past you. He made his way over to the dorm entrance, undid the lock, and ripped it open. As if newly appearing, three bodies fell in and clumsily on top of each other. Mattheo Riddle, Pansy Parkinson, and Lorenzo Berkshire stared up at a fuming Theo. His breaths were moving through him like a charging animal.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demands. They all stumble to their feet, struggling over each other. Theo is watching them intently, all but tapping his foot at them.

“Personally, I feel that we hinted at it pretty strongly—” Enzo started.

“Obviously I didn’t fucking get it, why wouldn’t you say something?”

“In our defense, we didn’t think you were going to…you know…take her back to your room,”  Pansy gestured vaguely.

“I thought she was a cat,” he enunciated each word slowly. “She was sweet and laying against me, I brought her in here so I could take a nap.”

“Well, it looks like you got a two-for-one deal!” Mattheo attempted a joke. Theo turned towards him with eyes like swords, begging to slash him into two. The dark boy’s smile dropped and he suddenly became very interested in the material of the drapes around him. You couldn’t stand this.

“Excuse me, I’m right here,” you say. “Would anyone like to tell me what the hell is going on?”

All three of them started to speak, trying to explain what exactly had been going down the last few hours. You could barely understand a single word. You refrained from rolling your eyes. This may be the worst thing that ever happened to you. Your eyes found the floor as the three students continued to try and explain everything over each other. A hand came to your mouth and you began to chew on the shredded skin along the edges of your nails. A bad habit, yes, but calming. 

Your eyes glanced up to look at Theo. His eyes watched the other three intently, trying to decipher them as well. Your eyes trailed down his figure. Mind betraying you, you remembered the way he felt pressed up against your back. His long, lean chest was pressed tightly against your spine and his strong, darkened arms had been wrapped tightly—possessively—around your waist. His forearms had been locked so roughly against your hip bone, you’d had to use both hands to push yourself up. His soft breaths had been cooly painting the skin just below your ear, tickling the small hairs there. A shudder ran down your arms as if he had just done it again.

The three students stopped their chattering and looked at you. You stopped biting at your fingers and stared at them, wide-eyed.

“What?”

“You shuddered,” Pansy stated. Theo’s eyes found yours, his head ever so slightly tilting to one side. Fuck. Your eyes traced the line of his jaw down his throat.

“I…just had a chill,” you brushed the thoughts away. “Okay, thank you all for those wonderful…explanations. I have been mortified by this and will never mentally heal from it. I think I am going to go back to my dorm.”

And with that, you clapped your hands together and turned towards the exit. None of them said anything else to you or made any effort to stop you from going, so you figured you all would just awkwardly pretend it never happened. You figured your books and things were still back in the library so you started heading that way, hoping that nobody had tried to turn anything into the lost and found. How long had you been out?  

“Okay, I don’t think laying with me is ‘mortifying,’” Theo scoffed.

“I think so,” Mattheo said. Theo responded by giving him a swift punch to the shoulder. 

In the back of his mind, Theo heard Pansy make some kind of joke that sent the three of them into a spiral of laughter. But, for whatever reason, his thoughts were traipsing across a vast landscape. His mind's eye was traveling up the expanse of the sheets that were wrapped messily around the two of you. They were tracing the peak of her bare thigh that her tugged skirt had exposed and reminiscing on the way his hands had felt against her soft body. Her hair had just gently tickled the tip of her nose and she had smelled so, so good. Merlin, it had been so long since—

“Theo!” He jumped out of his own thoughts. His eyes found his very concerned friend group as they appeared to be waiting for an answer from him.

“Mate, I said your name, like, eight times,” Mattheo said. Theo shrugged.

“Sorry, I was distracted…” Theo thought he heard the other boy mumble a smart–ass comment but he just ignored him. His damned brain kept flying back to that girl. He didn’t know what it was but something about her waking up next to him like that had him seeing her in a whole new light. She wasn’t unattractive—she was anything but—but she really seemed to hate him. She was always rolling her eyes or scoffing anytime he announced a wrong answer in class. And she never called him by his first name, only his last. He can’t say he knew that much about girls but those particular attributes did not seem like they belonged to one that liked him. 

He shrugged those thoughts off the best he could and followed his group of friends out of the dorm and into the common room where more of their acquaintances had begun to gather.

xxx

It had been hours. Hours and you were still thinking about Theo Nott. This was ridiculous. You needed to move on, needed to get to the homework you had been trying to get done this whole evening, but you just couldn’t. Every thought kept realigning itself to the way it felt when he had been holding you. It sent chills down your spine every time you thought about it. You had never been held like that.

Your roommates were all out late, trying to have a good time down at the Three Broomsticks. They had begged you to come but, due to a particularly interesting afternoon, you had incidentally become very behind on your homework. So you declined and promised you would next time. 

Yet, you still weren’t done with this stupid assignment and probably could have gone with them anyway. You groaned in frustration and dropped your head against the desk, feeling the cool wood beneath it. 

This morning, if you could have guessed what you’d be doing, mulling over the way Theo’s arms looked, would not have even been in the top one million guesses. But here you were, practically drooling over the way his veins wrapped around his muscular arms. 

You remembered the way his large hands had been so gently placed over your stomach, the tips of his fingers gently gripping your flesh while he slept. The way his hips were pressed firmly against your ass—

“Aah!” you squealed in utter shame, shaking the thoughts away from your head. What the fuck, what the fuck. You might die. The fact that you couldn’t get him off your mind despite how much you couldn’t stand him was disconcerting. You’d always thought he was extremely handsome, as did practically everyone else, but you never thought you’d even imagine in that…way. Damn it.

Theo rolled over, tugging the comforter back over his shoulders. He shut his eyes once more, trying painfully hard to will himself to sleep. He had Quidditch practice in the morning, he needed to get some rest. He needed to. But he couldn’t. That stupid—you were running through his mind like a record stuck on rotate. It kept going and going, scratching against him. He’d never, ever thought about you in any way other than annoyance. But he couldn’t get you off his mind. 

All he could think about was the way you were arched gracefully against his hips when you were laid out together. The way your skirt was pulled over your hips and he could almost see the line of your underwear beneath the sheets. He wondered what color they were, what they looked like. He kept his eyes closed, clenching them harder. Go to sleep. 

Your body was pressed against his just like before. The light outside made your hair and shoulders glow, spotlighting every rise and fall your breathing pushed through you. Your hair was pulled over your shoulder and splayed gracefully over the pillow. He wanted to touch it but he kept his hands firmly where they were.

Suddenly you grunted gently and rolled over, coming face to face with him. This time you didn’t jump back and scream and accuse him of kidnapping you. This time, your eyes were opened and simply watching him. Your gaze was lidded and sultry, your lashes creating a sinister shadow along your cheeks. A small smirk spread over your lips as he watched you. Still, he did not move.

Your hands slowly rose between the two of you. Your soft, nimble fingers found the buttons of your uniform shirt and began working them down. Theo’s breath halted in his chest as more and more of you were revealed. Your hands granted him passage to your chest. You wore a laced black bra that was cinched tightly between your breasts. His eyes flickered down once, twice. He swallowed thickly. 

Your hands pulled away from your shirt once the last button was undone and pushed him back so he rested comfortably against the headboard. You pushed a leg across his lap and settled neatly in the empty space. Like a reflex, his hands came to rest against your skirted hips. His fingertips brushed the felted material as you stared down, challenging him. 

You split the two sides of your shirt and slid it over and off your smooth shoulders. Without so much as a breath, Theo leaned forward and pressed his lips to the skin there. You gave a light gasp at his action. Your rapid heartbeat danced against his tongue as he ran it along the expanse of your neck.

You pushed him back against the headboard. You pulled your hands up to the clip pressed tightly against your chest. Your fingers curled around it and—

Theo’s eyes opened. The sun was up and Mattheo was squatted beside his bed, watching him with an obnoxious smirk printed on his face. Theo jumped back at the sudden face in front of him. He leaned up and glanced around wildly, trying to gather his bearings, ignoring Mattheo’s annoying cackling beside him.

“Dude, what the hell?” Mattheo laughed.

“What? Shut the fuck up,” he grumbled, pushing him back away from the bed.

“Oh, baby,” Mattheo moaned in a high-pitched voice. “Come here, darling. Let me—”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Theo asked.

“You must have been having one hell of a dream, man,” he laughed, “when I got in here, you were saying all kinds of stuff.”

Theo blushed deeply, his nose and ears burning, as he remembered the subject of his dream. Flashes of your thick hips and chest pressed against him and his hands and lips on you and…fuck.

“Shit, man, who were you dreaming about? You’re as red as an apple,” Mattheo asked, an eyebrow arching. Theo didn’t reply. Mattheo’s eyes widened. 

“Oh my god, you weren’t dreaming about—?”

“How about some breakfast?” Theo interrupted, abruptly pulling the covers back and slipping a tee shirt over his head.

Part 4!

#fanfiction #creative writing #fanfic #writing #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #reader insert #slytherin #harry potter smut #chapter 3 #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #theo nott #lorenzo berkshire #enzo berkshire #mattheo riddle #pansy parkinson #fem reader #animagus

[justporo]

"You always meet twice in life!"

A few weeks ago I got a request for writing something with Tav being the scary, protective one of Astarion in a established relationship by @nyxiethesimp .

And I absolutely love the thought.

So have Tav losing it to protect Astarion when they Araj Oblodra, Astarion being like "hot damn" and enjoying his scary dog privileges. Also this will become a two part story with Astarion and Tav taking a muuuuch needed break after this.

Pairing: Astarion/GN!Tav

Warnings: Lots of swearing, graphic descriptions of violence, heavy spoilers

Wordcount: 2,6k

~~~

You had finally made it to the Lower City of Baldur’s Gate. It had only been a handful of days since you had made it to the city but those had already been filled with way more events than you could possibly process in this short time span.

Your encounter with Astarion’s “siblings” had especially rattled you. Already you had been worried about entering the domain of Cazador. But seeing them, hearing about what it was that the vampire lord had planned from their mouths and Astarion hesitantly opening up about more atrocities he had suffered by the hand of Cazador Szarr had you on edge to say the least.

You were always hyper-vigilant – even more so than since all this had begun. You were barely getting any rest, always wanting to be on the lookout for Astarion. All you wanted was for him to be safe and sound and happy – tugged in with a nice blanket a teddy bear and a big smooch on the forehead.

Basically, if it had been possible, you would have shrunk him down and stuck him in your pocket, so he was always safe with you.

But since that sadly wasn’t an option, you had settled for taking every safety precaution possible, being on high-alert all the time and volunteering as his teddy bear: snuggling up close with him every night in your room at Elfsong Tavern and telling him how much you loved him.

It was safe to say, you both didn’t get a lot of sleep since fear and worries (not only about him but all your friends) kept you up most of all nights but at least you had each other.

Closing in on the lion’s den was only making it worse; also the fact that it actually was more than one den and more than one lion.

Today you felt that your fuse was especially short. Already you had barked at Shadowheart when she had been taking too long to get ready in the morning. And it must’ve been bad today because even Astarion had looked worried when he had softly touched your hand after you had thrown the door to Shadowheart’s room so violently the floorboards had shuddered.

“My love, as much as I love how strong and intimidating you can be”, he had said and softly taken your face in both his hands. “I don’t think screaming at the cleric will help us with any of our tasks. We don’t actually need more enemies against us. And I fear Shadowheart would make a formidable and very terrifying enemy.” Astarion’s brows had been deeply furrowed as he had angled his head and kept looking at you.

“I’m sorry, Astarion, I just-“

“No need to apologise to me, my love, I know how it burdens you to keep everyone safe.” Then he had softly and sweetly kissed you.

“You especially”, you had whispered between the kisses and made doe eyes at him. All of a sudden, the sleep deprivation and anxious feelings had you almost tear up – you were so exhausted.

“Oh my sweetheart”, Astarion had purred and tried to cheer you up with a smile but it hadn’t worked. “I hope you won’t forget to keep yourself safe, my heart.”

“You know I kind of suck at that, Astarion.”

“Good thing you have me to look out for you in turn then.”

A smile had crept back onto your face then and you had leaned in for another deep kiss when the door you had smashed only a short time ago opened up again and Shadowheart strode out.

“So, first you scream at me and then you make out just outside my room. Tav, as much as I appreciate you, you really need to get your hormones in check”, the cleric had declared while crossing her arms over her chest. Then she had went past without a word more but a sassy flip of her braid.

Then the party had started to make its way through the city: today’s mission was to scout out the Upper City, so you walked different streets today. Some of them were even new to you but Astarion certainly knew almost all of them.

Still in the Lower City you passed an inconspicuous looking house that became very suspicious once you heard a very loud explosion coming from it and a familiar drow came running out on the porch – Araj Oblodra.

Your eyes immediately narrowed, remembering how the last time had went, when you had had the absolute displeasure of dealing with her. Not only had her attitude been incredibly rude and teeth-grindingly arrogant in general, but the way she had treated Astarion was still making your blood boil. As if he was merely a thing to do her bidding, as if he had no own will or freedom.

Of course, what had come of that encounter had been sweet and lifechanging for you and Astarion, but you frankly could have done very well without it. Back then you had sworn to yourself that if you ever came to meet her again – or any other person who tried to hurt or simply disrespect your soulmate – you would make her pay if she hadn’t learnt her lesson.

And just seeing that arrogant face again made you want to claw her eyes out. Your face became an expression of disgust.

And sure as all Nine Hells: she spotted you and your group and a sort of malicious grin entered her face.

“Ah, what a coincidence, it is you, traveller. I was just experimenting with your blood – it is quite volatile and has allowed for many interesting experiments already.” She looked quite proud of herself – you wanted to retch.

“Why don’t you come in and let me show you what I’ve been working on. I could offer you more potions. If you were to offer me more of your blood of course.” Her grin grew and you could feel your stomach turn.

You threw your companion asking looks because you frankly had a very bad feeling, but… “I guess we could use everything we can get in the fight against the Absolute.” Gale who was standing behind you on the right voiced your thoughts exactly.

Astarion to your left growled at the wizard, making your head swing to him. He still had his teeth bared at Gale, but his gaze snapped to yours: “It’s your call, my love, I don’t want to see you hurt.”

His red eyes softened when he said that, and you were sure you could hear a quiet disgusted noise coming from Shadowheart.

You looked at him a moment longer. But Gale was right: you couldn’t actually pass up an opportunity that might present you with something useful for your task.

You sighed and turned around to the drow and slowly made your way up to her. She was grinning knowingly. Already you wished for nothing more than to wipe that smug look off her damned face.

You all followed her inside where she started to explain condescendingly what she had been doing with your blood as you stood there, arms crossed and your patience running thin.

Araj’s eyes kept wandering to your left where Astarion was standing. So you took a step back and casually grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers with his – clearly stating that she had to deal with the both of you.

When the drow saw your gesture, her face formed into a sneer and she interrupter her sentence: “Ah, I see you might’ve taken my wish and idea to get closer with your vampiric beau and made it your own. How thrilling!” You squeezed Astarion’s hand as you positioned yourself more squarely in front of the drow. The vampire tensed a little as the drow kept talking.

“The heart-stopping bloodsucker. I hope you’ve changed your mind – I mean since you’re obviously fond of the one neck already. My neck is yours, any time”, she finished and gave Astarion a look that would rather be meant for someone you wanted to get inside your bedroom and not someone you wanted to bite you. And it struck flaming hot jealousy into you.

“And I will be refusing until the end of time”, Astarion replied in a mocking high-pitched tone “I’m done bowing to the whims of others.” His tone deepened then, a growl almost laced with the words he let out through gritted teeth.

“Astarion, we can leave if you don’t want to be around her”, you offered him with a quick glance. His eyes darted from the drow to you and answering with a slight, quick smile. You could see that all others of your party also seemed more than displeased and tensed.

But before the vampire could answer you, Araj scoffed. “Pathetic weakling spawn – do you need your guard dog to protect you now?” Her lip was curled into a mean smile.

Something inside you snapped – the remaining string of patience that had been tense and worn thin for days if not weeks suddenly non-existing.

With lightning-quick reflexes you let go of Astarion’s hand and bolted towards the drow. Grabbing her by the collar and pulling her towards you until she was almost nose to nose with you.

“How many more times until you get it in your fucking head?”, you screamed at her and shook her violently. “He does NOT WANT TO BITE YOU AND HE NEVER WILL, YOU DAMNED BITCH!”

Your teeth were gritted and bared as you stared in the drow’s eyes wide with shock. You were absolutely feral, searing hot anger made your heart race as you clawed at Araj’s collar. It slowly cut off her air ways – you couldn’t care less.

No one was going to threaten or insult Astarion as long as you had a say in it – and certainly not this bitch. You dragged her in even closer and bared your teeth at her as she tried to get away from you. But you had the advantage of righteous and pent-up fury.

But a soft touch on your shoulder distracted you a bit, your hands loosened a little on the drow. “Don’t waste your breath on her, darling, she’s not worth it”, Astarion said directly behind you. “Let’s just leave, my love.”

Astarion, who usually delighted in people getting the sharp edge of your knife or an arrow to the eye from your bow, seemed a bit distraught by your sudden outbreak of violence. This was not exactly a behaviour he knew from you or expected from you.

“If I ever meet you again, I will fucking kill you”, you hissed at Araj and then slowly let go of her. You opened and closed your hands a few times to loosen your fingers again as you turned around and grabbed Astarion’s hand again who still looked – if not shocked, at least a bit surprised. He wasn’t used to people so aggressively taking his side and protecting him, although it had already been the second time you and him had denied the drow.

You heard Araj cough behind you from you almost strangling her.

The whole party had turned their backs to walk out the door again, when the drow spoke with a hoarse voice: “Pathetic low-life surface elves. Next time I’ll see you, I’ll bury a fucking stake in your vampire fuckboy’s HEART!” She screamed the last word.

That was it. You completely lost it. You whirled around and sucker-punched her with possibly the mightiest right swing you’d ever landed. The fluidity and acceleration of your graceful turn and motion towards the drow gave you the power you lacked in pure strength.

Your fist connected with Araj’s face who had absolutely no time nor means to avoid the hit. You struck her squarely on her nose and lips and you could hear her nose crack as her lip split and you probably knocked out a few teeth as well. The drow’s head was rocked back and connected with the wall she had been standing in front of. She was immediately knocked out and toppled to the ground as you groaned at the jolt of pain that had shot from your hand through your whole arm and upper body.

“You always meet twice in life, don’t fucking make it three times, you bitch”, you said as you shook her blood from your knuckles. The drow was alive but wouldn’t get up anytime soon.

Your friends were all stock-still and quite openly shocked at your display of violence. Even Astarion’s eyes had widened and he stared at you.

“I’m fucking done here”, you exclaimed and rushed outside while shaking your hurting hand. You threw Astarion a glance in passing and then stormed outside to cool your anger.

And as you threw the door close behind you, you were pretty sure, you heard Astarion mutter under his breath: “Well, mark me down as horny and scared.” And was that Gale agreeing with a shocked “hm-hm”?

You stood around aimlessly on the porch and carefully looked at your hand – your knuckles had split and were bleeding. Astarion strode outside after you – alone.

You looked from your hand to him. All your anger had disappeared now and had left you powerless and exhausted. Tears started streaming down your face.

“I’m sorry, I only wanted to protec-“, you started as you thought about the mess you had just created. But Astarion cupped your already wet face and kissed you with open lips.

That’s how you stood for quite some while. Astarion’s thumbs softly brushing away the tears from your eyes until they had dried up. After, when he had softly broken the kiss but kept holding your face he said: “There’s absolutely nothing to apologise for, my love. In fact, I cannot tell you how grateful I am for you to not only take my side but… uh… rather aggressively defending it.” His arms glowed with admiration and love and then he leaned in again to kiss you. You simply sniffled.

“Besides”, he said a few moments later when his lips left yours again and you had almost forgotten you were not alone in the world, “I mean it’s usually two men fighting to defend the honour of a woman, but I feel absolutely flattered that you’re out here knocking people out on my behalf. I would now definitely offer you my handkerchief with my initials embroidered into them as a token of my affection. And it was kind of – hot. Even the wizard thought so.” A huge grin split the vampire’s face and made you break out into a giggle.

As you moved to wipe away the last of your tears with the back of your hand, Astarion gasped a little. He quickly grabbed your injured hand and inspected it.

His thumb gently wandered over your knuckles as his brows kneaded together in worry and you hissed from the pain – looked like you’d hurt yourself more than you realised at first.

“Speaking of handkerchief – I’d really like to have one on my person right now to clean up your poor hand, my love, but I’m currently out.”

You simply replied with a soft mocking “aww” and made a face as Astarion kept carefully turning your hand over.

Then his head snapped up again and he watched you with a mischievous grin on his face: “That’s it, my love. I’m stealing you away for a day of rest and relaxation.” You immediately wanted to protest.

“Ah ah ah, my sweet, I won’t take no for an answer. You desperately need a break and I will get you this embroidered handkerchief as you are now my chosen champion to defend my delicate and precious honour”, Astarion said with a wink and a smile.

And then he kissed you again.

#astarion #astarion x tav #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x oc #astarion x you #fanfic #fanfiction #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #tav #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #shadowheart

[georgiapeach30513]

Your Mark On Me, Part 6

Summary: you become his

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, fingering, squirting, cockwarming, humiliation, edging, dry humping, pinching, mirrors, teasing, slapping, multiple orgasms, gun kink, squirting, tears, begging, choking, spanking, D/s dynamics, pain kink, forced marking, tattoos, fight, Steve Rogers, me (sorry guys. No I’m not), 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 7.5K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*Tattoo edit created by @randomagnes0210

*Dividers created by @firefly-graphics

“Mmm,” Bucky moans from in between his now fiancé’s thighs.  Her eyes roam around the bedroom before looking over to his phone on the nightstand.  She is unable to fully enjoy Bucky feasting on her honey because she’s too in her head.  

Bucky pops his head up, watching his sweet neurotic love of his life be anywhere, but present.  Playfully he rolls his eyes before crawling up her body, and leans down to pepper kisses on her mouth, “Shy, what’s the matter, darling?” 

“I want to talk to Steve,” Bucky leans back, letting his eyes narrow while he tries to read her facial expressions. 

“Why?” Finally her vision settles on his handsome face, but she shrugs.  “No.  Until you tell me why, I won’t be giving you his number.  Why do you want to speak to him?” 

“I want him to let you come back home,” sighing, Bucky flips over on the bed, pulling her onto his chest.  His hands brush up and down her back while he presses his lips against her forehead.  “It’s not fair that you are going without sleep watching that girl.  Alpine misses you.”

“Alpine does, huh?  You’re bringing our daughter into this?” Bucky knows that when you blame Alpine for things like this, it’s also what you feel deep down as well. 

“What happens if we have a human daughter?  You’re still going to blindly listen to what Steve says?” Bucky starts to speak, but she covers his mouth with her hand.  “I’m just saying the job you’re doing is what someone else should be doing.  You are the second in command and he’s got you doing stupid shit.”

“Okay,” he whispers, kissing over her face, “But you have to be prepared for Steve not to listen,” she gives him a pitiful little pout, and all he wants to do is bite her kiss swollen lips.  He had been starving for her, and didn’t stop kissing her, except when she was asleep.  Her lips are still bruised.  “Shy, the reason he wants me to watch her is because he trusts me.”

“And he knows you won’t fuck her,” Bucky rolls his eyes, and she gives him a playful smack on his chest.  “I’m serious.  I know you’ve seen him fucking.  It’s his weird kink.  He doesn’t want you to touch, but he gets off on the humiliation of showing them off in front of his men, mostly you.”

“I’ve seen fuck many times.  I’m immune to his fuckery.  Fine.  Call him.”

“You are changing the subject.  You’ve seen her pussy, haven’t you?” There is no point in arguing with her, so Bucky just nods his head.  “Whose is prettier?” She asks, smirking and reaching for his phone.  Sitting up, she straddles his body, giving a little grind on his stomach.  “Tell me.”

“The cunt that is slippery on my stomach is the prettiest puss I have ever seen.  No puss feels better than yours when you got me in that gorilla grip, and nothing is sweeter.  Shy, darling, you know that the only cunt for me is…stop that,” he slaps her ass when she starts rolling her hips on him.  “I was making my declaration of love to that pretty pussy, and you’re trying to get me hard.  Call Steve.  Tell him what you need.”

“Not while you’re here,” she giggles.  Bucky moves his arms quickly, and pinches both of her nipples at the same time, “Bubba…”

“I want you to call Steve right now.  Use your strong voice that you use with me sometimes,” she takes a deep breath, pulling herself out from a lustful state, and giggles.  Attempting to push Bucky’s hands off her.  “No, I want to play with these,” he coos, rolling his fingers.

“Then stop pinching.  It kinda hurts.”

“Then why are you getting wetter?  Did you forget, I feel you?” Her hands soothingly rub up and down Bucky’s arms, loving the feel of his flesh and metal.  His hands flatten out, and he cups each breast in his hand, “Better?” 

“Give me your phone, Bubba,” Bucky cocks up an eyebrow, and she knows he’s not dropping his hands.  Instead she reaches over to grab his phone.  Unlocking immediately when her face comes into view to unlock the phone, she takes a deep breath.

“Shy, you’ve got this,” Shy had grown so much since the first time he met her.  She still kept to herself, and still didn’t like confrontation, but anything for Bucky.

“I know.  Be quiet, you.  I’m going to put this on speaker, so shush,” she waits patiently as the phone rings.  Using her free hand to cover Bucky’s eyes.  Lost in a sweet moment when she flinches.

“What do you want now?  I gave you your time off, enjoy your shy pussy,” his voice is so much harsher than Bucky.  Annoyed the moment he answers.

“Uhh…Steve?” 

“Is this the illusive girlfriend?” 

“Fiancé,” she informs him.  It did just happen, but she needs Steve to realize that Bucky was serious about their relationship.  

“Fucking hell.  He finally fucking did it.  He told me he was going to put a rock on you.  So he’s good to come back, and take care of business?  You got your ring, and he’s got his pussy locked down,” Bucky’s hands tense on her chest, and she gulps, trying to figure out what to say.  

“No…I — uhh…I don’t want Bucky to be gone for days at a time.  He should be allowed to come home every night, and…”

“Are you trying to tell me how to fucking command…”

“He’s not yours to command!” Her chest heaves as she blinks away her angry tears.  The hand covering Bucky’s eyes runs down his face to cup his cheek, and she uses her thumb to brush over his lips. 

“Steve, you’re using his loyalty against him.  Bucky has a home, and…maybe he could watch her during the day, and — a-a-and then she goes home with you,” Steve’s end of the phone goes silent, and Shy bites at her lip.  Her thumb is still caressing Bucky’s mouth before she slowly slips it past his pout.  He gives the appendage a little nibble, smiling up at her.  Bucky is so proud at how she’s handling the situation, even though he wants to throw Steve across the room.

“That’s not a bad idea.  I will need her to be with me soon anyways.  I won’t be able to keep my hands off her once my cock has finally…”

“Steve, I don’t need to hear how you’re going to take your girlfriend’s virginity.  I just need my fiancé to come home every night.  It’s what I need more than anything.  You know I need him, and…and he needs me, too.  We’re kinda co-dependent.”

“Huh,” he sits silent.  Kicking his feet up on his desk, while his hands run through his beard.  “I just need my little bird to be dependent on me.”

“Oh…well okay.  I hope she is then.  Uh…bye?” She receives her answer with a prompt ending of the call, and she looks up at Bucky.  “You’re coming home tonight.”

“Yep, and since I’m coming home, I’ll only take a shower with you.  We don’t have time for sex.”

“There’s always time for sex, Bubba.”

“Nope.  But when I come home, my sweet little Shy Violet, I’m going to make sweet love with you, and I’m going to put a baby right here in this belly,” his finger pokes her belly, and he holds on tight to her.  Lifting both of them off the bed.  “For now, we shower.  Tonight, I stuff you full!” 

You walk down the steps of your school, pausing as everyone else pushes around you.  It was the weekend, and they were ready to get it started.  You stand there staring at Steve smirking from the backseat of the SUV.  His hand rubs up and down his thigh while he waits on you.

When you make no attempt to walk towards him, he lifts his hand, curling his finger to wiggle at you.  Somehow, like a good girl you respond.  Once you get close enough, he opens the door.  Instead of scooting over, he holds out a hand to you.  “Wouldn’t it be easier for me to walk around the car and get in my own seat?” 

“No,” he smiles, still holding his hand out to you.  “You’ve got a new seat right here in my lap.  Let’s go.”

You take a moment to look around campus, making sure no one is watching you before you crawl in.  His hand immediately runs up your thigh, and pushes apart your legs.  Flattening his hand, he palms your covered core.  Biting on your lip, you refuse to let out any sounds.

“Those sounds belong to me, too,” you shake your head no.  Still in this weird tug-o-war game with him.  He enjoyed your spitfire ways, even if they annoyed him.  “Yeah, they do, little bird.  This slick that you have gathering in this cunt belongs to me just as much as those whimpers.”

“What — what are we doing?  Going?” 

“I’m glad you asked,” he smiles, pushing aside your panties.  He stuffs three fingers into you, and you try to raise off his lap, but he pushes you back down.  Squirming around, you try to take a deep breath, attempting to adjust to his fingers, “Stop that.  I’m not going to finger you.  I just want to feel your walls flutter around me, while you keep them warm.  They’re cold,” he would be the one to find an excuse to have himself inside of you. 

“Where are we going,” you whisper, still refusing to give him any form of enjoyment.

“Bucky doesn’t want to watch you sleep anymore, so you’re going to my place.”

“The cabin?” His fingers curl into you, and he holds them right over your g spot, and you become annoyed with the lack of friction.  

“No.  My place.  Some nights I sleep upstairs in the club, but I don’t want them to hear you,” you gulp while you look at him.  Lip starting to tremble.  He had plans to make sounds scream out of you, “Are you ready to beg?” 

“No,” you answer with as much sincerity as you possibly can.  Gritting his teeth, his fingers start fucking into you.  Still curled, and still pounding over a spot that has stars that light up your vision.  “Steve, I said no!  Oh god!” 

It isn’t only squelching sounds, it is a waterfall as your cunt gushes out onto his lap.  Legs starting to tremble with your release.  You aren’t sure how he can make things happen so fast, but he always finds a way.  

“Steve!  Ahh,” both hands grab onto his arm, attempting to shove him out of you but he just goes harder.  Laughing when your pussy releases more arousal.  “Steve!  Steve!  Fuck!  Fuckfuckfuckfuck!” 

A gagging noise releases from your throat when his drenched hand circles around your throat.  “Steve, please…please, I didn’t mean to.  You were in me!” 

“You know very well what I fucking meant when I said I needed to be inside of you when you want to open that filthy fucking month.  Get on the goddamn floor,” your eyes look up to the front, and Sam rolls his eyes.  “Don’t look at him.  Get in the fucking floor, Dovey!” 

You scramble into the floor, and he rips open your shirt, pulling each tit above your bra.  Pinching on both nipples, he pulls you towards him.  “Take out my cock, and just hold it in your mouth.”

“What?” If you weren’t wet before, you are sopping wet now.  Could feel your slick sticking to your thighs as you twitch around.  His grip on your nipples is rough, and you want to yelp, but it would only make things worse.

“Did I stutter?  Take out my fat cock, and just hold it in your mouth.  If you suck on it, I will conduct a meeting with your legs spread wide, and my dick resting in your ass.  That way everyone gets to see your virgin cunt clench around nothing at all.  Do you understand?” It takes you too long to respond to him.  

His fingers grip your sensitive buds harder, pulling your face right over the hardening bulge in his pants, “Do you fucking understand, Dove?” 

“Yes, sir.  Yes, I understand,” tears cloud your vision as you unzip his pants.  Whimpering when your fingers come into contact with his heated and heavy cock.  

“Do not suck, Dovey,” he gives your nose a tap with his finger, letting you open your mouth wide, and you take as much of him as you can.  Kneeling on the floor, and waiting to get to your destination.

“Steve, you don’t think you’re being too mean to her?” Sam looks in the mirror with concern.  Everyone worried about your wellbeing more than Steve. 

“No,” he chuckles.  Adjusting his position, and pushing himself deeper into your.  “Make sure you breathe through your nose, little bird.  Sam, you know as well as I do I could be a hell of a lot meaner.  How do you like keeping my cock warm, Dovey?” You glare up at him, and he gives a quick swat to your cheek.

You didn’t mind giving him head but this just sitting here with his throbbing cock in your mouth is torture.  “If you’re gonna look up at him with your mouth so pretty and stuffed so full your cheeks hurt, at least look like you’re enjoying it.”

“You’ve got her stuffed in the floor of the car, and drooling in your lap, not to mention, you made sure her cunt made a fucking mess in my car — again.”

“That is my cunt, and it was beautiful.  I love that she’s extra sloppy.  Could you imagine pumping up that pussy until it’s good and swollen, and then pounding the shit out of her?  My god, she would just be a soaking fucking mess.  We’ll try that one day, Dovey.”

Humiliating.  And still your leak arousal.  This shouldn’t turn you on being treated like an object for his pleasure, but it did.  “Maybe you should take her out on a date,” Sam’s deep brown eyes look into the back, and Steve is actually smiling down at you.  “She might beg.”

The moan you release has Steve’s head tilting back.  He tries not to fully let go, but that felt fantastic.  “Is that what you want, little bird?  You want a date?  Moan twice for yes,” such an asshole.  He could have said once, but no.  He wants to make sure he gets as much pleasure from this as possible.

Still glaring up at him, you moan.  Wiggling a bit, trying to make yourself comfortable before moaning again.  “Well, we’re laying low right now,” your moan is more of a growl.  Dribble drifts down onto his lap, and you give him a little pout.  Both arms wrap around his leg, and you cling to him.  He seems to like you needy.  And what you need is relief, or for him to taste you.

“We’re not fucking going out, and that’s final.  Sam, make sure that Loki is at the house before you leave,” who the fuck was that?  Loki?  And why is Steve asking if you want a date, and then refusing?  Prick.

“Suck!” His hands plant themselves on the back of your head, and he forces you to take every bit of him.  Crying from lack of oxygen, and gagging with his cock shoved down your throat.  You couldn’t suck if you wanted to.  Steve just wants to push your limits.

Your nose presses up against his skin, and the feeling of your drool and tears just makes him hold you more.  “Yeah, Dovey, that’s a good fucking girl.  Can take every bit of my cook.”

“Steve.”

“Mmm, my god, that cunt is going to feel amazing,” your vision starts to blur, and you try to push yourself off him, but he clings tighter.

“Steve.”

“You can take every bit of me, sweet little bird.  I’ll reward you later,” terrified, you smack at the seats.  If screaming was an option, you’d be doing that.  Clawing at his legs, slapping him, just anything to get his attention.

“Steve!” Sam slams on the breaks, and turns around to glare at him.  “She can’t fucking breathe!” 

His heavy load spurts down your throat, before he lets you go, and you gasp for air through his sticky cream.  Your lungs burn almost as much as your throat, and you look up at him terrified.  “I wasn’t gonna kill you, sweet Dove.  You won’t die a virgin.  I want you on your knees, so I can stare at your cunt.”

“Why?” You tremble, wiping off the mess on your face.  Smeared saliva and cum spreads around your soft skin, and Steve wants nothing more than to paint your entire face with his seed.

“Because, I need to see how wet you are,” your head only shakes back and forth once, but it’s enough to annoy him.  “Get on your damn knees before I shove my fist in your cunt.”

Without readjusting your clothes, you get onto the seat on all fours.  Laying your head down as Steve lifts up your skirt.  “You're such a slut for me, Dovey.  Your legs are just as soaked as your pussy.  What is it that you want?” 

“I want you,” you whisper.  Biting on your thumb nail when you look at him. 

“Why?  I am your worst nightmare, am I not?” 

“Uh huh.  But…” your look towards Sam; he has his eyes back on the road.  Ignoring everything that is going on just inches behind him.  “I like being scared.”

“And that’s why you piss me off?” He spreads slick to your puckered hole before spitting down to your hole that has never seen any action.  “You piss me off because you enjoy being scared?” 

“What are you doing?” He is just staring at your muscled hole.  He is ready to devour you.  Sink into your truly virginal hole, and feel you clench around him in a different way.

“Making sure you’re scared.  Answer my question,” his thumb slips into your soaked channel before his finger teases around your asshole.  “Am I scaring you, Dovey?” 

“Yes, sir.”

“You know I will own all your holes right?” You squeak when his finger breaks the barrier of your tight channel.  Pushing yourself even more into him as his thumb and finger fuck into two holes.  “I will own you.  I will destroy you, and I’m getting fucking tired of your games.  Do you piss me off because you get off on the fear of what I’m going to do to you?” 

“Yes.  Yes, sir,” you sob.  Your body starts to rock into him while he just sits there.  Smirking at how much you are enjoying both holes being played with.  Taking his entire fingers and desiring more.  

“You like this?  You want a second finger in your ass?” 

“Uhh,” you hesitate, but Steve didn’t care.  A second finger breaches your walls, and you scream out his name.  There is a feeling of fullness that makes you want more.  You have no doubt that Steve is going to push you to your limits, but you wanted him to.  Wanted someone to make the decisions for you for a change.  

“You close, baby.  You right there?  I feel your pussy fluttering around me.”

“Yes!  Yes!”  It feels so good that it is blinding.  Euphoria starts to quickly drift through your body, and you know that your peak is just on the precipice.  Breathing unsteady, and desperate for more of Steve.  

“Good,” he growls, removing his fingers, denying you that sweet release.  “We’re here.”

“Uhh!” You slap on the seat of the car, and Steve smacks your ass.  “I didn’t get to come.”

“Oh, I know.  Go ahead, and run inside.  Wash your face off.  Get in the shower.  I’ve got a pretty little present for you to slip on.  Quit your fucking pouting.  You already came once.  You don’t need another.”

“Yes, I do!” Another swat to your ass, and you sit up, glaring at him.  Steve could be unusually cruel at times.  But refusing you to come is the worst.

“Once was plenty.  You need to learn to not be so fucking greedy.  Now, go wash up.  Your face is a fucking wreck.  And when you look in the mirror, you just remember that I was the one that made you that way.  Get out of the fucking car.  I’ll see you inside in a minute,” you puff out irritated, and crawl out of the car.  Like the cabin, it didn’t have neighbors.  But this time you aren’t scared.  You’re pissed.  

If Steve wanted you to beg, you wouldn’t.  Not now.  Now you want him to suffer.  You want him to want you just as much as you wanted him.  It was beyond desperation.  It is an obsession of needing him inside of you.

“Steve, this is a bad idea,” Sam warns his friend as Steve starts to get out.  Sam knew how Steve was.  But this is very different.  He was even scaring him, and Sam isn’t sure what Steve’s endgame is.  Was this his way of showing any true feelings? 

“It’s perfect.  If she wants to belong to me, it’s time for her to prove it,” there was no changing of Steve’s mind.  Tonight would be the night, and he’ll deal with the consequences of his actions later. 

“And this could be something that makes her retreat into herself.  You’re doing too much.”

“Go home to your wife and kids, Sam.  Dove will be fine.  She’ll love it.  And everyone will know exactly who she belongs to.  They will know whose cock stretches her open every fucking day.  It will happen.  And no one can stop it.”

Sam looks at Steve through the rear view mirror.  Nothing could change his mind when he was like this.  He just hoped that Steve wouldn’t later regret it.  “Does Bucky know?” 

“Bucky wants to go home to his fiancé every night.  What I do isn’t Bucky’s business unless he’s here.  He’s not here to stop me.  Dove is mine.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a girl to ruin,” you are his, and no one could stop him.  It was what had to be done.  And it will be done. 

You look at yourself in the mirror, trying to cover yourself up.  He had to be joking.  Steve is a menace, and he proved it daily, and this isn’t any difference.  You can hear the tv on, and even smell food being cooked, but you didn’t want to walk out of this bedroom.  Steve did remove your reason to think.  He did decide everything for you.  Down to this ridiculous outfit.  But sometimes you did want to, and this is one of those times.  Especially since you knew he was going to be fully covered. 

“Dovey!” He shouts from another part of the house, and you open the bedroom door, wrapping your arms around your chest.  “Dinner is ready, come on.”

“What is this?” Walking out into the house, you realize that you are alone with Steve.  No guards.  Just you and him.  “What do you have me wearing?” He turns to look at you.  His hungry eyes looking you up and down as he walks closer.  Spreading your arms out wide, he spins you around.  “Steve.”

“Oh, stop whining.  You think I haven’t seen your tits before,” just to drive home his point his hand smooths over the sheer lace that makes up your top.  Making your nipples pebble up with stimulation.  You are ‘covered’ but only in material.  The lace reveals every bit of your top.  The shorts at least are solid around your core.  

“You look beautiful,” he whispers behind your ear, and your arms relax, leaning more into him, his musky scent wafts up to your nose, and your body sets on fire.  Becoming more comfortable with his tiny little praise.  “And I like looking at what is mine,” ruined.  “Don’t cover yourself up.  Let’s eat.”

“Did you cook?” It seems like a silly question when you realize that there is no one else here.  It’s obvious that he cooked.  And even cleaned the kitchen up along the way.  The table is even set, but it’s for one.  His house is impeccably clean, and it’s something you should have expected with how particular he is.  

“Yeah, surprise, I don’t just sell drugs.  My tongue also can do more than lick your cunt,” giving you a wink, he grabs your hand, pulling you towards the table. 

“Where are you sitting?” 

“At the table, in a chair,” he looks at you with confusion painting his eyes.

“What about me?” 

A devilish smirk spreads across his face as he leads you into the dining area.  Sitting in his chair before rubbing his hand on his thigh.  “I’m a seat now, Dovey.  Come on, darling, let's get you fed, and we’ll watch a movie before bed.”

“We’re just…just going to sleep?  And I’m wearing this?” Why would he have you on display like this just to eat and get in the bed?  He wanted to make sure you gave him very little to his imagination.  He could see everything.  Keeping it cold in here, so your nipples are hard and poking through your top.  

“Well, what did you have in mind?” Steve guides you to sit in his lap, and he picks up a forkful of food, holding it up for you to take a bite.  “If you want something, little bird, you have to ask.”

“I thought — why am I wearing this?” 

“I like the view,” he’s being a bit too coy, and definitely too innocent at this moment.  There is more to his game, and you couldn’t figure it out.  Except for that question, are you ready to beg.  

“What if I want,” biting at your lip, you turn to look at him.  Running your hand up his chest before giving him a sweet peck on his lips.  “What if I want you?” 

“You have me.  Here I am,” he’s annoying, and knows exactly what you mean, but still he teases.  “And you need to eat, and drink plenty of water.”

“I’m ready to beg.”

“And yet, still you’re not.  Eat, Dovey.  This isn’t a discussion.  It’s what you will do, and then you’re going to let your stomach settle, while you continue to hydrate, and then maybe I’ll see if you’ll actually beg.  And you don’t have to say you’re ready to beg.  There’s other ways to ask that you want my fat cock in your sweet little pussy,” he takes a bite of food himself, grinning as he watches you try and figure out what to say.

“But you won’t let me say the F word.”

“Mmm, making love?  Having sex?  Taking your virginity?  Not everything has to be filthy fucking.  One day you’ll understand,” like Steve would ever do anything but fuck you like a filthy whore.  “Eat,” he gives you a smile, and his hand that’s behind you, slowly caresses your back.  

You shudder at how soft and tender it is.  Gulping as you take another bite from his fork.  He could be tender.  Loving almost.  Slick floods to your core with every soft touch that Steve gives you.  Tonight would be the night that you beg and give yourself completely to Steve Rogers. 

If this man can show this amount of softness, while still telling you what to do, he could have you.  Every part of you.  You would let him destroy and own you.

Steve looks down at you, snuggling up to his chest, and your hand rubs along the lowest part of his stomach.  It feels somewhat normal, although foreign.  As much as he tried to break you, there is still this soft innocence to you.  You reveled in his debauchery, and still craved this sickeningly sweet moment of watching a movie, and touching him.  Cuddling up against him.  

You are so relaxed, a leg was thrown over his lap.  You laugh at the appropriate times.  And fuck, when you look up at him seeing if he was paying attention, it drove him mad.  It isn’t sexual, but it’s intimate.  It’s something Steve has never felt.  Never had in possession, and you are giving it to him freely.

Sure, he’s fucked more women than he can count, but they were all disposable.  They never got past the sex before he was shoving them out of his bed.  You were showing him who he was before, and what he craved the most.  Refusing for far too long to try and get it because it made him soft.  

He stiffens underneath you, realizing that you were making him soft.  He didn’t mind keeping you with him, but this wasn’t sexual.  This seems normal.  Healthy.  And since when was Steve healthy or normal?  When did he allow himself to have this?  It was when he realized he didn’t want you hurt.

Working for your innocence made him want you that much more.  You wanted it, and feared it.  You need him and hate him.  You want to learn more, but not too fast.  You trusted him, and still had that tiny sliver of hesitance.  

You wiggle in closer to him, and he glances down, to see he’s petting you.  His hand literally moves up and down your back in comfort.  Keeping you warm, and you are wanting more.  This isn’t who he is.  He isn’t the boyfriend.  He’s the owner.  And yet you are controlling him just by being you.  He didn’t hate it.  But he fears it.  Fears your power over him.  

“Dovey?” 

“Mmm?” You sit up excitedly.  Your eyes are half lidded, and he can see the desire and lust in the deep pools of your pupils.  No wonder your hand slipped under his pants earlier.  You have the sweetest way of initiating sex. 

“What is it Steve?” Curiosity and nervousness laces your voice.  “Steve?  Sir?” Little minx, trying to entice him even more with that pet name.  Trying to switch into subspace.  If you wanted him, you had to prove it.  He cracks his neck, ready to get the long night started.  

“I want to try something with you, okay?” 

“Okay,” he pulls you onto his lap fully.  Your legs straddle him, and he forces you to grind on him.  Backwards and forwards, moaning with the feel of his throbbing bulge under you.  “Stevie?” He growls, gripping tighter to your ass.  Giving your jaw a little nip.  “I don’t like calling you sir.”

“Stevie is not very threatening.”

“So it’s just for me to fear you?” 

“Do you not?” He tilts his head to the side, searching your eyes.  His grip loosening, and your body is fully grinding on top of him.  You have settled your core closer to him, and he feels every bit of your warmth.  Cursing himself for not just making you walk around naked.  “Dovey, do I scare you?” 

“Sometimes,” you answer in earnest.  “I don’t know what parts of you scare me anymore.”

“Explain, and don’t stop doing what you’re doing,” there is something different about Steve right now.  You aren’t sure if he’s playing a game, or if he’s being sincere.  Maybe while his cock is being stimulated, you get to see the real him.

“I’m scared of you hurting me.”

“Physically or…?” 

“Physically, I enjoy it,” you shouldn’t.  It’s wrong, but you can’t help how the terror he gives you turns you on.  Makes you crave him more.  “You’re gonna leave me once I give you that part of me.”

“No.  I told you, Dovey, I want to own you.  Knowing that I am the only man that has ever corrupted you.”

“But that’s just my pussy.  What about my heart?”

This is not where he wanted this conversation to go.  He didn’t want to think about your emotions right now.  He couldn’t.  Not yet.  Maybe not ever.  “You’re…what we have isn’t love, little bird.”

“But…it could be?” Steve responds with a shrug.  Things are getting too deep.  It was nearly time, and he couldn’t have things go in this order.  “I guess that’s good enough.”

“I promise no harm will come to you.  And I can promise that I will satisfy you in ways you’ve only ever dreamed of, but if you need me to be your Prince Charming, I’m sorry to disappoint you.  I’m no knight in shining armor.  I’m a drug lord with a short temper.”

“But you want me?” 

“No, darling,” he settles back into the couch, his hands go up your shirt, and he fondles your breasts.  Deep laboring breaths while he stares up at you, “I need you.  Not having you isn’t an option.  Call me, Captain.”

“Captain,” you whimper, circling your hips so hard over him.  He moans.  Squeaking out your name, and heat bursts onto your core.  “Steve?” 

“Don’t stop calling me Captain, until I’m finished with you.  Yes, your filthy little show made me come in my pants.  I won’t be fucking you right now,” your lip trembles as he stands up.  Holding onto you when he walks you into an almost empty room.  A massage table set up with some form of contraption you didn’t recognize, and in the middle of the floor lays a long mirror.  

He stands you up on the floor, and tugs at your shorts.  Holding your hand for you to step out of them before removing your shirt.  “Down on your knees, and straddle the mirror,” you stare at him for a moment, but when he snaps his fingers you do as he says.

“I need you to understand your body, Dovey.  I’m going to have some fun with your cunt, and you’re going to watch it.  Stop whining.  You see that tight little hole in between your legs has got me in a chokehold.  I can’t think properly when I’m around you, and you’re not begging,” he gets down to his knees, and his hand goes in between your legs.  Spreading out your lips so you can see the innocence that he wants to own.

“Don’t take your eyes off your cunt, okay?” 

“It’s yours, Captain,” Steve moans as his hand flows down to your entrance, smiling at your reflection before he pushes in three fingers.  You may sniffle, but you keep looking.  Watching the way he stretches you out.  How simple motions make your arousal drip down onto your reflection.

“You were made for me, Dovey,” he moans, his motions going faster.  “You’re so reactive for me.  You want me?” 

“I need you,” you mewl, and he drives in harder.  Deeper.  Curling his fingers to hit that magical spot.  Pressure tightens up in your core, and you can’t hold on any longer.  Your pussy gushes out below you.  “I need you, Captain!  Captain!” No amount of screaming was making him fuck you.  Only his hand.  Forever his hand.  

“I need more!” Steve pounds harder, and your body heats up.  Sweat beads around your face, and you start dipping lower.  Legs going weak.  “I need more, Captain!” 

Reaching into his pocket, you start crawling away.  “No!  Steve, don’t!”

“Shh, Dovey, you wanted more,” Steve hums, holding tight to your leg.  Pulling out his gun, he runs the cold metal around your backside.  “Stay very still.”

“Is it loaded?” 

“Do you think I’d have an unloaded gun in my pocket?” You hold yourself still as he drags the piece through your folds.  “Tonight, you’re going to prove just how fucking loyal you are to me,” you would prove it.  You would make him proud.  “And if you didn’t like it why are you so wet?” He grunts, the tip rubbing your clit.  He pulls the pistol away from you, and your sticky honey creates strings of slick to the tool.

Slowly he eases the gun back to your center, pulling it back to your entrance.  “Count to three.”

“One,” Steve bites his lip, watching your reflection.  You are terrified, and still submitting to his sick fantasy.  Willing to do whatever he wanted to prove you are worthy to be his girl.  

“Two,” without warning he pushes the gun inside you, and you let out the most surreal moan.  Your velvety walls stretch around the piece, and you cry out at the intrusion. “Aww, look at you.  You can see where it is inside of you.  You see it?” 

You couldn’t miss the bulging line up your belly.  Why did this feel good?  Why did you want him to go harder?  “I’m gonna be deeper,” his hand traces the bulge, going up further before pressing up against your belly, “I’m gonna be right here.  Rearranging your fucking insides.”

“Captain!  I need you!  I’m begging!  Please, please!  I wanna feel you!” Steve fully settles himself behind you.  Keeping a hand on his gun, but positions his crotch right at the handle.  “Captain!” 

“Fuck yourself.  Pretend it’s me.  How are you going to handle me, Dovey?” You start rocking yourself back onto him.  Taking the gun even deeper, “Keep watching.  Don’t stop.”

Pushing yourself back into him, you can almost envision that you are taking him.  Having him.  All of him.  But he’s going to be deeper.  Settled so deep into you that you feel pressure in your belly.  “Good fucking girl.  There ya go.  You like that?  You like fucking my gun?” 

“Yeah.  Yes,” you start panting out.  “I need you.”

“You have me.”

“All of you.  All!” You push back harder, smiling when you spill even more onto the mirror.  Each movement makes Steve more feral and needy for you.  “All of!” It shouldn’t feel this good.  You had taken all of his gun, but it still wasn’t deep enough.  Even though your toes are curling, and you feel the ultimate high of release, you wanted him.

“All of you!  Captain!  Captain!” 

“Fuck yeah,” he moans, watching your cream coat his gun.  “Tell me, you’ll do anything for me.”

“Anything, I just want you!” Dropping his gun on the mirror, he stands up.  Picking you up off the floor, he walks over to the bed.  You had hoped you’d be in Steve’s giant bed for the first time, but maybe he didn’t want the mess.  

Laying you down, he crawls over your body.  Locking your arms down by your side with his thighs.  Straddling you in a way to trap you.  “Dovey, this is going to hurt.”

“What are you doing?” His hand turns your head to the side, and he kisses a spot between your neck and collarbone.  His tongue paints circles over the sensitive area, and you allow him to hold you even tighter.

“If you hold still, it’ll go faster.  Loki!  She’s ready.”

“Steve?” A tall man walks into the room, and flips on the machine.  Sitting on a stool, he scoots closer.  “Steve!” 

“You got her?  The tattoo will be raised if I go too deep,” what?  Tattoo?  Steve holds tighter to your head, cooing down at you.  “Well, ain’t that sweet?  Buttering her up before you make her wear your mark permanently.”

“Don’t!  Please, Steve, don’t!” Even though you kick your legs, your upper body doesn’t move.  Not with Steve’s weight keeping you in place.  Tiring yourself out, but you didn’t know what else to do, but to fight.  “Please!” 

“You said anything, Dovey.  Go on.  I’ve got her.  It’s happening whether you like it or not.  Hold fucking still, Dovey.  Prove you’re mine, and I will give you the fucking world.  Loki!” The hum of the tattoo gun starts, and you scream out when the needle pierces your skin.  Marking you up for all to see.  Claiming you as Steve’s once and for all.  You didn’t mean this.  He was going to get to walk away, but you were forever going to be seen as his property.

Screaming, crying, grunting.  Nothing could have ever prepared you for this pain, and the physical pain didn’t feel as bad as the deep betrayal you feel.  The fear is no longer sexy like before.  It is you completely giving yourself up to him.  Like you were never going to see another light of day without his permission.  

Your screams turn into sobs of agony as Loki shades in your tattoo.  You didn’t ask for this.  Didn’t ask for him.  He forced his way into your life, and all you wanted was to stay awake to study.  “You’re almost finished, darling.”

You didn’t care.  No soothing words could ever make up for this.  “There, there,” he sighs, watching Loki clean you up, and cover the tattoo.  He leans down to kiss up your tear stained cheeks.

“Let me go,” you say calmly.  “I don’t want to look at you.”

“Dovey, this is what you agreed to.”

“You didn’t give me a choice!  Ever.  I can’t look at you, Steve.  Let me go.  Let.  Me.  Go.  Let me go!  Let me go!” 

“You’re not going anywhere,” he growls, but you start flailing around.  “You belong to me.  Go in the bedroom, and pitch your fit.  You’ll understand once the adrenaline has worn off.”

“I am naked, and tired, and I’m in pain!  And you think I’m pitching a fit?  Let me go, please!” All it takes is that word, and Steve crawls off you.  Standing in front of Loki while you dash to the bedroom.  Slamming the door shut, and locking it.  You spot his phone, and run to it.  He would have his number.  And he would pay.

Bucky bursts through the door of Steve’s house, and marches right to Steve who is sitting in a sofa chair, watching your door.  Lifting him up by the collar, he throws him up against a wall, and Steve chuckles.  “You fucking marked her?” 

“She’s mine.  Now everyone knows.”

“You put a permanent mark on her skin, and you fucked her with a gun?  What the hell is wrong with you Steve?  That girl is willing to give everything to you, no questions asked, and…”

“She did!  She told me anything, so it was my right to show her and everyone else who she fucking belongs to.  She is mine, and I can do whatever the hell I please with her.  Look at it,” he flicks his head towards a table, but Bucky doesn’t take his eyes off him.

“Her cum is dried on my gun.  She came on my gun.  She loved it, and watched every disgusting second of it.”

“You used her in a vulnerable state!  You…”

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do with her.  She is mine!” Steve doesn’t have to try and fight back.  He lets Bucky think he has this moment.  For now.  

“Yeah?  And where is she, Steven?” Bucky flattens his forewarn against Steve’s neck, laughing.  “You have her, and she’s so terrified of you that she locked you out.  Used your phone to call me.  You sick fucking bastard!  She was right there, willing to give you everything.  She lets you use her and lets others watch you do it.  But this is too fucking far.  I can’t…”

“Then quit,” Bucky’s weight shifts slightly, and Steve pushes him off.  “No one wants you here.  All you care about is your basket case,” Steve’s head slings to the side, and he rubs his cheek where Bucky backhanded him.  The metallic taste of his blood fills his mouth, and he grits his teeth as he turns back to look at Bucky.

“Don’t talk about my fiancé like that!”

“I no longer want you watching Dove.  I’ll have Loki assigned to her, or she’ll be with me.  Your services are no longer needed.  Whatever is left at the club belongs to me.  You wanted your life with your neurotic freak show, have at it.  Don’t come near me or mine ever again.”

“You’re gonna regret this, Steve.  You just remember who was loyal to you.  And you know what?  Fuck you,” spinning on his heels, Bucky stomps back outside, flipping Steve’s house off for good measure before he goes home.  Where he belongs.

Steve wipes at his mouth before turning towards the door, giving your current room a knock, “Dovey?” 

“Go away, Steve.”

“You can’t stay mad at me forever.  You eventually have to eat.”

“I’d rather starve than to see you again,” you hug your legs up against your chest, letting your tears paint the pillows with smeared mascara.  It was the first time Steve would ever put this amount of fear on you.  He would never get the chance ever again.

“Fine.  Die a fucking virgin.  You’ll come out though.  And I’ll be waiting.”

You didn’t care.  He could wait forever.  Let his empire crumble.  You would never look at Steve Rogers ever again.  You’d never forgive him.  Never ever. 

Next

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#your mark on me #mean!steve rogers #tattooed!steve rogers #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fics #chris evans #chris evans character #mcu #marvel

[fayes-fics]

When The World Is Free: Chapter 12 - Je T'ai Dans La Peau

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Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: Teen-rated... non-graphic references to sex/sexual situations.

Word Count: 2.7k

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl. Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. Our couple are sneaking around Aubrey Hall, trying to get time alone together, but it was always going to be noticed by a certain eagle-eyed mama. Sorry this has taken a while, life got very busy. Thanks as always to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Aubrey Hall, UK, September/October 1939

It's the early hours when you finally get a moment alone with Benedict.

Throughout the evening, including a raucous but entertaining family dinner, your attempts are stymied at every turn. At the end of the evening, Eloise shows you to your guest room and lingers long after you have gotten ready for bed, waxing lyrical about Phillip, her plans to get a place in London (“Come with me!”) and her ambitions to get a job at the British Library. 

You listen as intently as you can, but your eyes droop as you climb under the covers, the bed so plush, promising her you are still listening even when you settle into the pillows. At some point, you drift off, maybe her as well, but when you awaken, your wristwatch says it is after midnight, and she is gone from your room.

Just as you are drifting again, there is a soft knock at your door. You wonder if you heard correctly at first, but when it happens again, you sleepily alight from your bed. Upon opening, the sight before you has you wide awake - Benedict, looking cosy but dashing in navy blue silk pyjamas. After a quick check that the corridor is clear, you grab his arm and haul him into your room, closing and locking the door behind you.

You look at each other, breathing heavily for a beat, then crash into each other, him grabbing you and hauling you off the ground into his arm, your legs winding instantly around his hips as you kiss greedily, hungrily. He groans, cupping your jaw and kissing you more, always kissing, until you are breathless for air. Your need for him is like an eternal flame, burning slowly all the time, but the second he touches you, it roars, awakening something primal, a physical need that burns your lungs and aches deep inside.

“Can we?” 

“Can we what…?” He replies, lips sliding to your neck.

“Have sex?” 

“Oh god…I didn't bring protection,” Benedict rues, sinking his forehead onto your shoulder.

“Benedict!” you whine, a touch petulant.

“I’m sorry… I will go get it…” he offers apologetically.

“Don't you dare leave me again so soon,” you growl, winding yourself tighter around him.

He chuckles. “Then perhaps maybe we can just find pleasure in other ways…” his promise dusky as he lowers you onto the bed.

Half an hour later, you are staring at the ceiling, panting, utterly sated as he once again used his mouth to bring you to a shaking pinnacle, your cries muffled into a pillow.

“We must find somewhere private,” he sighs, his face resting on your belly as you card your fingers through his thick hair. “I like to hear you scream…” his wistful, cheeky addition makes you gasp and swat him gently on the shoulder. He laughs heartily and crawls up over you on all fours. “We can steal away somewhere on the grounds where no one would find us,” he assures, eyes shining in the low lamplight.

“I shall keep you to that promise, Mr Bridgerton,” you threaten softly, pushing his shoulders until he lies on his back, you hovering over him now. “Do you think you are capable of being as quiet as I was?”

“Why do you ask?” a flicker of confusion over his face, until your hand slides down his flat stomach and lands upon the warm bulge in his pyjamas.

“I would like to return the favour…” you offer, as his breath hitches beautifully. “I have never used my mouth as such, but you will teach me, won't you? Tell me what you like?”

His groan is like music as you shuffle lower, looking up at him with fluttering eyelashes as he stares down at you with utter devotion.

—

Bright sunlight slices through a gap in the heavy velvet curtains when you stir, sad to be alone. Benedict said he would leave at some point in the night but insisted you fall asleep in his arms. 

As you descend the main staircase, Eloise catches up to you, looping your arm in hers and dragging you to breakfast. It's a far cry from your trips to the boulangerie together for croissants. It is a full buffet with gleaming silver chafing dishes lined up on a sideboard.

“Is your life here always like this?” your mind boggles as you help yourself to scrambled eggs and some bacon.

“Yeah, pretty much. Boring, right?” She pulls a face.

“Your idea of boring is so very different to mine…” you respond drolly, pouring a cup of coffee and taking a seat at the ornate, long dining table.

No one else appears to be taking breakfast now, but as Eloise natters away, you always have one eye on the doorway, hopeful Benedict will come in. But he doesn't, so you agree to a post-breakfast walk around the estate with her to enjoy the unseasonably warm, early autumn day. 

However, as you head to the door, Violet appears as if from nowhere.

“Eloise dearest, I hope you did not forget our plans today…?”

You watch Eloise turn around in slow motion, a pained expression on her face. “Surely that can wait?” she appeals before tilting her head back towards you. “Mother is under the impression that now I am back home, I wish to join the Woman’s Institute,” 

“We only meet once a month, and today is that day,” Violet attests, looking at her expectantly. “You have been abroad for the best part of a year, my dear; I would appreciate this quality time with you.”

It's the most loving, motherly manipulation, and you can tell by the way Eloises’s shoulders slump that she cannot argue that point.

“Come with me?” she appeals brightly, tugging your arm.

“Only members are allowed, my dear.” Violet cuts in calmly. “Next month, I can petition for y/n here to join, but she would have to wait until then.”

As you observe their back-and-forth, Benedict appears, wandering down the main staircase, dressed casually in a collarless shirt and brown trousers. He looks so good that you are tongue-tied, wanting to run to him and jump into his arms. You realise you are staring and have to tear your eyes away quickly, but it's too late. You can feel Violet’s watchful eye, made worse by knowing you have a darkening blush over your cheeks.

“Good morning, ladies,” he breezes, doffing an imaginary cap that makes his wedding ring catch the sunlight.

“Benedict dear, Eloise and I are off to Canterbury today. But perhaps you could show y/n around the estate grounds while we are out?” Violet breezes, fixing her son with a winning smile.

His eyes shoot to you and yours to his, a warm flicker behind your ribs at the thought you get a few hours alone together.

“Yes, no problem,” he smiles, attempting nonchalance.

“Don't do anything I wouldn't do…” is her parting shot as she gently drags Eloise towards the car outside.

“That covers a lot of ground; she's surprisingly daring,” Benedict states drolly as you watch them pile into the vehicle.

“Do you think she suspects something?” you ask faintly as you both stand in the doorway waving.

“Perhaps…” he concedes, not looking at you. “I suspect this was at least partially engineered. Not that I am complaining,” he adds hurriedly as the car pulls away.

“Same…” you offer quietly, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

—

You are staring at the wispy clouds puffing gently over the sky, the long grass lush under your back, the midday early autumnal sun warm on your skin as you lay naked, entwined together in post-coital bliss on a remote hillside of the estate.

“You kept your promise, Mr Bridgerton, to find us a secluded spot together.” 

His crooked smile is boyish, and his eyes dance in the sunlight. “Indeed, I did. And I greatly enjoyed your screams,” he teases with a wink.

“Stop it,” you demure, burying your face into his armpit, enjoying the scent of his skin there.

“Don't be bashful now,” he chuckles, rearranging your bodies so you are under him, his head resting upon your chest. “I would keep any promise I made to you,” he continues after a pause. His tone sincere, his breath dusting warm over your nipple, and his ear pressed to the skin on your sternum as if listening to your heartbeat.

“And I to you,” you confess, your arms wrapping around his shoulders, fingers mapping a constellation of freckles near his shoulder blade.

“Will you be wanting a divorce?” his question is almost hesitant—like he is torn between wanting to know and not know all at once.

“Would you want one?” you volley back, knowing it’s cowardly to answer his question with another.

“I see no reason to,” his words are quiet as he tilts his chin to look at you. “I do not plan to marry another,” he adds pointedly.

“Me neither…” you answer, meeting his gaze imploringly, wanting him to believe it. The last thing you want to do is go back to America now. You want to stay here with him—for as long as he will permit.

“You will stay here?” There is a hopeful lilt in his voice, his left hand lacing with yours, wedding rings pressed together.

“I have my freedom to remain in this country. I wish to be nowhere else but here…” Your answer is so dangerously close to a confession of what you genuinely feel, but you hold back, even as you know your heart is now thudding hard under his ear.

“Here with me?” he flips up onto all fours and climbs over you, that beguiling smile seeming to capture his whole face.

“Yes, with you, if you’ll have me…” you smile back at him as he looms above, his face in shadow, his hair a riotous halo around his head, backlit by the sun.

“Oh, I will have you plenty of times…” his promise dusky as his lips land on yours.

“That sounds like a promise, Mr Bridgerton…” you join in the banter between kisses.

“And you know I keep my promises,” he smirks before grasping both of your hands in his and stretching them into the tangle of wildflowers above your heads as you get lost in each other's bodies again.

—

And so it continues, night after night, days becoming weeks. Stealing away precious moments together whenever possible, knowing the risk you are running but unable to resist any opportunity, physical longing takes over, falling into each other, desperate and yearning. As if a part of you lives under each other's skin. Every night, he comes to your room long after the house is asleep, and every night, you fracture around him, your ecstatic cries muffled into his dewy skin.

The clandestine nature is partly not wanting to confess to Eloise but also to keep it a secret from the world—a precious, rare thing, just a fledgling you want to shelter. Give it time to breathe and grow. Although, on some level, you know that Violet knows. Her glances at you both, when you are in the same room, feigning nothing untoward, are too pointed. Yet she says nothing outright. 

It's two weeks since you settled into Aubrey Hall when Eloise is in a sour mood one morning. She had just received a phone call from Phillip, and you suspect their London rendezvous has been delayed again.

“Why the hell are you still wearing that?” she grouses uncharitably, pointing at your wedding ring.

“It means a lot to me; it’s a symbol of our escape,” your answer is a partial truth.

Eloise can’t seem to find fault with that, so swings her attention elsewhere. “So what's your excuse?” she gruffs to Benedict, who is reading the paper on the opposite sofa.

Across the room, you sense Violet's pause in her jigsaw puzzle.

“Why does the jewellery I wear bother you so much, sister?” he evades, crumpling down his newspaper to shoot her a withering glance. “I’ve never heard you comment upon my signet ring.”

“That's completely different, and you know it,” Eloise decries. “That's a ring you inherited from Dad. Also, where were you last night?” She abruptly changes the subject.

“What do you mean?” he bristles slightly.

“I went to your room late to borrow the Agatha Christie book you stole,” she pauses to pull a pointed face. “And you weren't there. Your bed didn't even look like it had been slept in.”

“Are you my mother now?” he rebuffs airily. “If you must know, I couldn't sleep either; I was out.”

“Your car was here…”

“Out as in outside,” he shoots back, “walking the grounds by moonlight.”

He's not lying. He is, however, omitting the fact that you were with him. The summer house by the lake has become your new clandestine spot, fashioning a comfortable bed of towels and pool lounger cushions. You can make love passionately in secret without fear of interruption or being overheard, falling asleep wrapped in each other as you stare out of the French doors at the blanket of stars reflecting on the still water.

Eloise gives him a lingering side-eye but returns to the book—Agatha Christie’s Death on the Nile. Once she is distracted, your eyes dart to Benedict, and he gives you a reassuring smile that you can't help but mirror, even as Violet peers at you mutely once again.

—

Later that day, you are perusing books in Anthony’s office when a painting of a man who looks remarkably like Benedict makes you stop short. Violet seems to materialise beside you.

“My husband, Edmund,” she explains, her voice wistful and evocative of the ache of lost love, undulled by the passage of time. “True love is a wondrous thing; never let it slip through your fingers, and treasure every moment,” she counsels, twisting to look at your face.

“I would never,” you answer quietly, even as you steadfastly refuse to do the same, staring at the painting, heart speeding up.

“That's a good thing, my dear, and don’t worry about the judgement of others, especially those who are spirited and headstrong.” She can only be referring to Eloise: “They all come around eventually, believe me.”

At that, you have to look at her askance, unable to hide the nerves on your face. “You know?” unable to resist any longer.

“I know my children better than they know themselves,” she responds lightly, “and I certainly know when they are hiding something,” she adds softly, saying but not saying so much.

It feels like a weight is lifted from your heart, the undeniable urge to confess to someone - unable to do so to your usual companion.

“I have no idea how to tell Eloise,” you rush out. “This was never my plan, not what I intended to happen,” you clarify. “Benedict sacrificed his future to give me my freedom.”

“You sacrificed yours too…” she gently interrupts.

“But I never wanted mine,” you admit, your eyes drifting back up to the handsome man in the painting as if admitting it to Benedict’s dad as much as his mum at your side. “At least, not once I met your son…. I thought I knew what I wanted in life. But I was a fool. And now… I….” you trail off, unable to finish.

“You love him, don't you?” It's a delicate, comforting inflexion.

“I can barely believe it myself; it's been such a short period of time. But yes…” you admit sotto voce, hanging your head as a tear wells in the corner of your eye.

“As I said, I know my children better than they know themselves,” she repeats, wrapping an arm around your back, “and I know when one of them is hopelessly in love.”

Your head jerks up in surprise, and you finally look into her kindly gaze, your heart a kaleidoscope.

“Yes, my dear. It may take him a while to say it,” she qualifies, “but it's no less true.”

That tear escapes your eye as she pulls you into a motherly hug. Already knowing this will be a secret you keep between you, for now at least.

“Welcome to the family, y/n.”

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[mountainsandmayhem]

Wings. Fire. Magic. Part Four

18+, Minors Do Not Interact

DragonTrainer!Joel x Female!Reader

Summary: Joel has to follow through on his deal with The King, the two of you share tender moments, and maybe you don't want to go home after all. Dragon divider by @saradika-graphics CW: 18+, p in v sex (wrap it up folks), mean Joel but also tender Joel. Praise (duh, it's Joel), dirty talk, female and male orgasms WC: 6K

Masterlist || Part One || Part Two || Part Three

Fuck. I’m dead. So very dead.

The terrifying milky coloured dragon is going to incinerate you.  You can see building in his throat as he roars at you. The last one was so loud that you clamped your hands over your ears and started to back away. Your family flashes before your eyes. Your mom is about to celebrate her one thousandth name day, she’d ask for those little mushroom and cheese pastry puffs she loves so much, your dad would make some joke about her being older than him, even though just a fortnight later he’d be celebrating his same name day. 

“Eaaasssyyy,” you say shakily to the dragon, your hands are trembling as you move them from your ears, holding them up to try to calm him. 

Suddenly you’re being pushed to the side, hitting the ground hard, rolling over yourself a few times. The wind is knocked out of you and you roll onto your back to try to get oxygen, gasping against the invisible hands restricting your lungs. You can see Joel standing in front of the dragon in just his tight black boxers. The sunrise casts flecks of gold around his tight and tanned skin, more tattoos swirl around his back, as well as 3 thick scars from his left shoulder to the middle of his back. They’re not new, but still raised and pinkish in colour. 

“Whoa whoa whoa,” he says loudly, holding his arms up, palms facing out to the dragon. “Uvri, easy boy.” 

The dragon pauses, sniffing slightly at Joel before lowering himself and folding his wings back into his body. 

“There you go.” he praises the dragon, still with a tinge of fear on the edge of his voice, “That’s it. Easy.” 

The dragon touches his nose to one of Joel’s palms and then peaks behind him at you. “She is our friend. It’s ok.”  

You slowly stand up and Uvri side eyes you. “Sorry,” you say to both Joel and the dragon. 

Uvri turns back to the eggs, his large scaled body nestling around them. He lets out a content hum and shuts his eyes. Joel grabs your shoulders, eyes raking over you with concern. “Are you ok?” 

“I’m fine, Joel.” You look away from him, your cheeks heat at how you touched yourself to thoughts of him last night while you were tucked into the soft sheets of your bed. And now he’s here in just his boxers holding your face and looking at you like you’re the most important thing in the world. 

His hands cup your face gently with his large palms, “Sweetheart, not all dragons are Rem. She doesn’t know she’s a dragon if I’m being honest. You have to be careful out here.” 

“Ok. I’m sorry.” His eyes trail down each of your arms, hands not moving from your cheeks and even though you’re completely clothed, it all feels a little too intimate. When he doesn’t see any injuries he seems to start breathing again, his muscular chest expanding as air fills his lungs.  

“We need to talk about The King, I have to go back before those eggs hatch.” His hands slide to your shoulders as he continues, “I need you to trust me, and after we see The King I will take you to see your family. We’ll make sure they’re taken care of.” 

Your eyes fall to Joel’s strong bare chest, landing on the small hand tattoo over his heart. His hands fall from your shoulders and he smiles awkwardly at you. He’s suddenly aware that he’s practically naked. The animals of the forest around you start to wave up. Birds chirping, chipmunks chattering, the air seems to come alive. The morning sun is finally high enough to peek through the trees and warm your face. 

“You should probably get dressed before we talk,” you laugh. You and Joel walk side by side back towards the log cabin and you fight the urge to ask about the small hand tattoo over his heart. “How many dragons do you have?” 

“Umm,” he rubs the back of his neck nervously, bicep flexing, “I have five. They live around the woods here.” 

“And they just stay?” you ask. Considering you were stealing an egg you know very little, almost nothing actually, about dragons. 

“Dragons are loyal. They might leave for food, but they come back each night.” 

Joel opens the back door and you head into the kitchen, propping yourself up on one of the stools. The log cabin is somehow more gorgeous in the morning sunlight. Joel’s half naked body putters around the kitchen, he pops open an airtight canister and the smell of coffee beans fills the room. When he turns back to you, you avert your eyes, looking down at the granite island. 

“Is being in your underwear an important part of this plan? Or?” You feel your cheeks heating. 

“Shit, sorry. My adrenaline is up here,” he raises an arm above his head and you glance over to see all the muscles in his abdomen flexing as he reaches. “Just, stay there. Please.” 

Joel disappears down the hallway and you finally understand what humans mean when they say ‘hate to see you go but love to watch you leave’, the tight boxers hug the strong globes of his ass, the soft fabric straining against his muscular thighs. But what really draws your eye are the two dimples in his lower back, just above the waist band. Your mouth waters at the sight of him.

When he returns the coffee is brewed and, since you already scared Joel half to death, you listen and stay on your stool. He pours you a cup of coffee and slides it across the counter to you, along with cream and sugar for you to add. You give him a tight lipped smile. 

“Rem and Uvri have five eggs that are going to hatch soon.” He says as he stirs a little bit of cream in his coffee, “I am going to leave tomorrow to take three of those eggs.” 

“Is Remmer going to be ok?” You can’t imagine she’ll be happy to have three of her babies taken from her, she’s so sweet and gentle. “You can’t give away your dragons.” 

“No, she’s probably going to be very upset with me,” he places his coffee down and opens the fridge, pulling out eggs and bacon. “But remember how I told you dragons are extremely loyal?” 

“Yes,” you’re starting to feel that guilt again, being taken care of while your family is struggling and probably worried sick about you. 

“You stole that egg, but once it hatched, the dragon would find its way back here.” you hear the tick-tick-whoosh of the stove before he grabs two pans and puts them over the flame. “They’ll always find their way back to their family.”

“Ok,” you say curiously. “So, what about me?” 

“You’re staying here.” he says firmly, his back to you as he puts the bacon in the pan, the sound and smell of the fat sizzling causes your stomach to growl. 

“No, Joel,” you argue, “ You have to make The King think you hate me more than he does” 

He turns to face you, crossing his arms across his chest. “No.” 

“Joel, you have to.” You practically beg him, he turns around and cracks eggs in the second pan, avoiding your eyes as best he can. He already knows he has to take you, but he is a stubborn man, and if you start begging or look at him with those big sad eyes he’ll break. “If he knew that I slept in a big plush comfy bed or soaked in a bubble bath. I’m supposed to be your slave.” 

Joel shakes his head. “I’m taking him the eggs. You’re staying here. I’m not bringing you back there. I cannot bring you back there.” 

You wrap your hands around your coffee cup and bring it to your lips. He cannot bring you back there. You already know that there’s no arguing with him, even when he knows you’re right. Actually, especially when he knows you’re right. He’ll come around, he just needs to do it on his own time.  

After breakfast Joel tells you he’s going into the village to get you clothes and boots, and after a stern warning to stay out of the woods, he hops on his horse and off he goes. You spend the afternoon close to the house, wandering outside but staying clear of the woods. Around one side of the house is a large garden, vegetables sprout up every which direction and nothing is labeled. On the other side of the house, just below your bedroom window, is a flagstone patio with a large fire pit, wooden chairs and a bench. Everything outside of the house looks like it belongs there, like the earth put it there itself. You sit on the bench and start making a small fire. You catch Rem watching you from the tree line. You smile at her, but she stays near a peculiar tree; stark, white bark and a large canopy of deep purple leaves. It’s the only leafy tree in the area, the whole property is surrounded by large conifers, how that tree even exists is beyond you. 

Once the fire has started, you head into the house to get a bowl to start picking ripe vegetables. The sun is starting to set and you may as well make yourself useful and make dinner. After picking carrots, beets, potatoes, green beans and a handful of fresh herbs, you skip back into the house. You spotted chicken in the fridge this morning, so you take it out and rub it with oil, sprinkling the fresh herbs on top. Next, you chop all the vegetables up. Unlike Joel, who can just reach up and grab the cast iron pans hanging above the island, you have to climb up and stand on the counter to grab them. You take everything outside and start cooking. 

Dinner is almost ready when Joel's deep voice floats across the back yard, “Hi.”

“Hi.” You smile sheepishly at him over your shoulder.  

“Something smells amazing.” The fire pops and crackles, birds chirping in the woods calling to each other.  

You turn back to the fire, stirring the veggies. “I figured I could make myself useful”

“Thank you. You don’t need to do that.” 

You pat the bench beside you and Joel comes to sit beside you, knees grazing one another. You both look at the purple tree in front of you. 

“Can I -“ you start. Joel saying, “how’s your -“ at the same time. 

You both laugh quietly and you say, “you go first.” 

“How’s your back?” he asks, you glance over at him and he’s looking at you with that same big eyed concern he had this morning when you stumbled into Uvri.

“I think better.” you roll your shoulders backwards slowly, testing the muscles and checking for pain. Joel notices the slight wince in your face, “I have more movement in my arms but it still feels like I got trampled.” 

“I put some muscle relaxing oil in your room with your new clothes.” He says it so casually and your heart flutters as you thank him. Someone doing something for you is still so foreign. Are you that deprived of the goodness of humanity that you let one little act turn you all gooey? 

Joel’s knee nudges yours, bringing you back to reality. “What were you going to say?” 

“I was going to ask about that tree,” your eyes peel away from Joel’s.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he says, hand coming up subconsciously to his heart. The sadness practically etched across his face. 

“The tattoo?” You ask. 

“It’s - umm - that’s where my daughter is.” He says, avoiding looking at you and the tree, instead he grabs the metal poker and starts to stir the fiery orange coals. You don’t press him, somehow you know that he’ll talk when he’s ready. “So I think you’re right. You have to come with me.” 

You nod, you were right not to push. Joel does everything methodically, he doesn’t jump in. You clear the fear out of your throat, fear that feels like shards of glass and say, “Make him think you hate me.” 

“Problem is,” he stands, sliding on a large mitt and grabbing one of the cast iron pans off the fire grill, “I don’t hate you. Not in the slightest.” 

Dinner was silent between the two of you and you went to your bedroom early, exhausted from the last few days but full of nervous anticipation for what was to come. You drift off easily, falling into a deep and dreamless sleep. A distant roar causes you to stir, rolling over and pulling the blankets up around your neck. You hear yelling in the distance and it slowly brings you to be fully conscious. Now awake you can hear it more clearly - it’s Joel. He’s yelling. You shoot out of your bed and creep into the hallway, his door is closed, “No, leave her.” 

You knock gently, his bed creaking under him as he tosses around his sheets. You open the door a crack, peeking in. His eyes are clamped shut, a pained look on his face. His curls are sweaty and slick to his forehead. He’s twitching and mumbling. 

“Joel,” you whisper, walking over to him slowly. He thrashes again, violently this time. “Joel,” you repeat, a little louder as your hand reaches out to him. As soon as your palm touches his shoulder he grabs your wrist, jerking you violently and flipping you onto the bed below him. You’re trapped under his large, muscular and naked form. His eyes are glazed over, rage and anger contorting his features. 

“Joel!” You practically yell it this time and when he blinks you slowly start to come into focus. He shakes his head, blinking quickly as his breathing starts to calm.

“Fuck,” he huffs, almost leaping off of you, covering himself with his hands before finding some underwear.

“You were having a nightmare,” you whisper, walking over to him. “Are you ok?”

“Did I hurt you?” He’s back, that soft and caring man that you’re starting to fall for. The moonlight paints the room in a light glow.

“No, I’m fine,” you reach out to touch him and he steps away, “Joel, are you ok?”

Joel wanders back to his bed and starts to straighten out the sheets, “I’m fine.”

“Ok,” you say, uncertainty waving through the word, “I’ll just…” you start to leave as he crawls back into his soft sheets.

He calls your name, when you look back at him he’s on his side, back towards you. “Ya?” you whisper.

His voice is sad and cracks a little as he asks, “Please stay.”

You smile to yourself and pad over to him, gently crawling in behind him. You’re not sure what comes over you or makes you feel so bold, but you press the front of your body to his warm back, one arm bending under your pillow, the other draping across his waist, your face nuzzled between his strong shoulder muscles. He’s tense for a second before he relaxes into you. Neither of you speak, and when his breathing gets relaxed and heavy, you place a gentle kiss to his shoulder blade and fall asleep. 

It feels like minutes later when Remmer’s cries have you rushing from Joel’s empty bed to look at the large window. You see him heading towards the house with a small wooden chest, Uvri follows along behind him, saddle and reins already affixed to his large and intimidating body. 

You go to your own room and slide on your new leathers and boots and head out to the kitchen to meet Joel. He has a ratty looking cloth dress in one hand, chains and a small collar in the other. You both stare at each other. You don’t need words. You knew exactly what being his slave would mean and what playing that part would look like. You’ve seen plenty of Fae in this uniform, following along behind whatever creature owned them. Joel looks at you with a tender sadness, swallowing hard while you nod at him and head out the back door. Rem lands beside Uvri and nuzzles against you, crying out again. 

“It’s ok, Rem.” You say quietly, running your hand down her neck, her scales are warm and smooth, you didn’t realize how soothing petting a dragon could be. 

Joel helps you up in Uvri and with a click of his tongue the dragon shoots up into the sky and dread fills your body. 

The flight is most quiet. You occasionally point to places that you’ve been to, Joel points to an orange and red canopy of trees and tells you his brother lives there. You need the distraction, and assume he does too, so you ask questions about his brother. You learn his name is Tommy and he’s younger than Joel. He’s married and they have a baby on the way. He also trains dragons, just like their father did before them. Finally you see the mountains come into view and you know that you’re close to The King. 

Joel lands Uvri in a clearing near the castle. Your insides clench as Joel slumps against your back. His forehead rests softly on the back of your shoulder, letting out a deep sigh before wrapping his arms around your waist. 

You both sit like that for a minute, your hearts pounding in sync with one another’s. “Make this quick for me, Joel.” 

He releases you and you follow him, climbing off Uvri. You reach into one of the bags strapped to his saddle and pull out the tattered dress.

“I’m sorry about this.” Joel says softly. 

“I know,” you say sadly as you walk behind Uvri to change. 

You slip out of the new leathers, even though you’re gutted over not having your wings, getting dressed has been easier. You stare down at the thin bra and panties, squeezing your eyes shut before sliding them off. The scratchy fabric of the plain dress is uncomfortable against your skin. You stuff your clothes in a bag and walk back around to Joel. 

He looks at you with big sad eyes, recalling what you said last night while you ate dinner, “The King needs to think that you hate me more than he does. You have to hate me to keep me safe.” 

His eyes lower down your body, stopping where the hem of the dress ends at your knees, then his head turns to look at his right hand. Your eyes follow, a thick rusted chain connected to a metal collar grips in his fingers. He walks to you slowly and you lock eyes. He stops just a hair away and you force a hard swallow before taking in a shaky breath, gathering your hair in your hands. 

“I’m sorry,” he croaks, placing the cold, heavy collar around your throat. The hinges creak menacingly before the loud click of the lock reverberates down your whole body. The weight of it rests on your collarbone and it feels like it’s pressing you down into the earth. Even though this was your idea and you have no reason not to trust Joel, you feel absolutely humiliated. Uvri stares ahead at the castle and you find yourself longing for Remmer. 

“Why can’t we take her?” You asked Joel last night. 

“She needs to be the one to imprint on the babies if I can’t. She fully trusts me, so the babies will too.” 

Within seconds of remounting him, Uvri lands on top of that same tower and your body starts trembling, teeth chattering in your skull. Joel helps you down and then pulls you into his arms. You sink into his body, letting his warmth and comfort wash over you. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I’m going to make this as fast as possible. Just look at the floor the whole time. Don’t look up. I got you.” 

You clear the glass from your throat, “Don’t let go of my chain.” 

He hands you the case that contains the three dragon eggs before looping the chain around his hand a few times. You follow down the stairs and hallway, and before the guards open the doors to the main hall you take a shaky breath and look down at the case. 

Don’t look up.

“Joel!” The King exclaims as you enter. “You brought your little slave, I see!” 

“Probably should have let you kill her,” he says darkly as he pulls you along the long corridor. “Ungrateful little thing. Couldn’t trust her to stay alone.” 

Don’t look up.

When you reach the foot of the stairs, a guard grabs the box from your hands roughly. Joel bows, and when you stay standing he gives the chain a hard yank towards the ground. Your knees crash down on the cobblestone floor. In a cruel mocking tone Joel says, “bow to your merciful king. You should be dead.” 

You let out a small cry of pain and The King laughs cruelly, “look at my trophy, fairy.” 

Don’t look up. 

When your eyes stay fixed on the floor he shuffles in his throne and chuffs like a petulant child before yelling, “I’m talking to you!” 

Joel tugs on your chain again and you look up at The King through your lashes. Above him, your wings are hanging from the wall, suspended in a swirling, thin black mist. 

“When your master brings me the other eggs, I might let you have these back.  But I’ve grown quite accustomed to them. They look better here than they did on your useless back.” The King is smiling like he’s at an amusement park, clearly getting nothing but pleasure out of the torture you’re being put through. 

Joel crouches beside you, grabbing a handful of your hair and forcefully pulls. You let out a yelp as he brings your face within inches of his. His face is harsh, eyebrows knitted together and jaw clenched. “Thank your King, little whore.” He spits and yanks your head towards The King. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly, voice trembling with fear. Joel shoves your head down, you lose your balance and your palms collide with the floor before he pulls you back to a kneeling position by the chain. 

Your heart feels like it’s in your stomach. Your beautiful iridescent wings hung up in such a cruel and harsh place. Tears start burning in the back of your eyes, everything about this feels wrong. Joel has slipped into this role too easily. Maybe he’s using you to get to the rest of the remaining Fae. 

As Joel and The King discuss when the next eggs will be ready, you fight to keep your tears in. You focus on breathing, blood surging so loudly through your ears that you can’t make out what they’re saving above you. 

My wings. My wings. My wings. 

Soon, Joel pulls sharply on your chain and barks, “Up.” 

You stand and walk weakly behind him.

My wings. My wings. My wings. 

Joel leads you back up the stairs, never looking back at you to keep up what you hope is a facade. But he was so goddamn convincing in that room that all the tender moments you’ve had are gone. His face was so harsh, so full of hatred. You don’t remember how it feels to be safe around him anymore. He hoists you up onto Uvri. Joel flicks Uvri’s reins with one hand, his free arm wrapping tightly around your middle. As he takes off, your body slumps back against Joel, the emotional exhaustion starting to take over.

My wings. My wings. My wings. 

The dragon flaps his wings fiercely, the wind whipping so hard your eyes start to water, blurring your vision. The air cools the steel around your neck and it nips at your skin. You close your eyes against the cold and all you can see is Joel’s cruel expression, as if it’s been tattooed on your eyelids. 

Within minutes you’re landing in the same field you had just days ago. It took Remmer half a day to fly to the castle from here, and that’s when you realize just how powerful Uvri is. The dragon has barely touched down when Joel is pulling you off the dragon and into his arms. 

“I’m sorry, baby girl. I’m so sorry.” He whispers into your hair, holding your tense and exhausted body tightly against him. His fingers work quickly to undo the collar. As it falls to the ground, his fingers trace the light bruises already forming at the base of your neck.

Your hands push at his chest and he lets you take a small step back. You stare at the ground and fight against the urge to run. He called you a whore and ungrateful. He made you look at your wings after he told you not to look up. Everything he did in that hall was done with such conviction that you’re tempted to believe it yourself. You could run. You don’t have wings, no one would hunt you now. You could just run, run and hide. 

When you finally manage to look at him, he’s nothing like he was with The King. Dark eyes have turned warm, flecks of brown sugar shine throughout his chocolate brown eyes, tears lining his lash line. His jaw is relaxed, lips parted as he looks at your neck. Without warning he drops to his knees and sits back on his heels. He lets out a hiss when he sees the deep purple bruise already wrapping around your knees. His hands come to rest lightly on the side of your thighs. 

“Please talk to me,” he chokes, one tear rolling down his cheek. 

You swallow down the lump that’s been in your throat since landing on that tower. “My wings,” you whisper sadly. 

“Fuck. I’m so sorry you had to see that.” 

You blink a few times at Joel. Each flutter of your lashes morphs your sadness into rage. “Kiss me.”

“What?” His brow furrows slightly, but you don’t miss the uptick of a small smile that appears on his lips at the thought of kissing you.

“I am fucking livid. Kiss me. Kiss me so I know that it’s ok. Kiss me to show me that we will get my wings back and that all of that was just an act back there. Kiss me to distract me from going there and ripping out that vile man's throat.” 

He leans forward, warm velvety lips gently press to your right kneecap, then your left. Joel stands, hands coming to tangle in your hair. “It was all an act, I feel horrible. I’m so fucking sorry.” 

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” you say, hands trailing up the strong muscles of Joel’s back, concealed under his leather coat. “This was my destiny, to destroy The King. With you.” 

The second the words leave your mouth you and Joel come together in a mess of lips and tongue and teeth. It’s frantic and desperate, both of you saying everything you need to say with this kiss. He swallows your moans with his mouth. Gripping your hair tightly with one hand. The other running down your back, lifting you up by the meaty globe of your ass. Your dress hikes up your hips as you lock your legs around his waist, hands gripping his shoulders as he walks you to the edge of the clear blue river. 

You break your kiss to undo his jacket, sliding the leather buckles out of their metal clasps. First the one at his collar bone, then chest and stomach. You press your lips against his again as you slide the zipper down. He’s not wearing a shirt, his strong tanned chest warms your body through your thin dress, your nipples stiffening in anticipation. 

Joel lowers your feet to the smooth, colourful rocks of the shore and breaks apart from you. Your bottom lip slips between your teeth as you watch him drop his jacket to the ground, your hands working on their own to undo the leather tie of his pants. The outline of his cock pressing through the thick fabric. 

His hands grab your wrists. “I don’t - I don’t have protection.” 

You blink up at him. “Joel, I’m over six hundred years old. I don’t think pregnancy is a worry.” 

You stare at each other for a second, sexual tension morphing as he smiles at you and you start to laugh. His hands come to your neck again, fingering the light bruising before his lips press gently where the collar sat. The hurried rush of his lips and hands is replaced by a slow passion. 

His lips caress your neck and you close your eyes. Head falling to the side to give him more access. Your hands reach for the growing bulge behind his pants. He moans into your neck at your touch, kisses moving up your neck. 

“Tell me what you need, sweetheart.” The deep baritone of his voice sends a fresh wave of arousal to your core. You’re not wearing anything under this thin dress, you can almost feel how wet you are on your thighs. 

“Need you,” you moan, voice husky with want. 

Joel grips the hem of your dress. “Use your words,” he says, his forehead resting against yours. “Need me to what, baby girl.” 

“Make me feel good.” You say. 

He slips your dress up and over your body, leaving you completely bare to him. He steps back, toeing his boots off and working at his fitted leather pants. He slides them down his hips, his cock springs free, slapping against his hard abdomen. You lick your lips at the sight of him naked before you. Tattoos and scars on display for you, tanned skin glowing under the setting sun. 

His hand reaches out for yours, intertwining his fingers with yours and leading you into the water. It’s cool on your skin and eases the pain in your knees, which just makes you crave Joel more. When the water is passed his hips he grabs you again, lifting you into his arms, bodies pressed tightly against each other.

“Make you feel good how?” He asks, kissing your neck and collarbone. 

“Please Joel.” you whine.

“Please what, baby girl?” 

You grind your hips into his, you can feel his cock sliding underneath you as your clit brushes against his body and you whine. 

“Need my cock sweet girl?” You moan out again. “Say what you need.” 

“I need…” fuck why is this so hard for you. After years of giving to everyone else and having no one to take care of you it’s nearly impossible to ask for it. 

“Please, darlin’. Say whatever you need and I’ll give it. Fingers. Tongue. Whatever you want.” 

You grind against him again, the water of the lake making everything slippery. “Want you inside me.” 

“Good girl,” his voice is rough with need, “guide it in for us.” 

You reach your hand between your bodies and wrap your hand around his cock, pumping his length a few times before lining it up with your entrance. You can feel your walls fluttering already, anxiously waiting to be filled. 

“Look at me,” he says. 

You lock eyes and slowly sink down onto him, the head of his thick cock filling you. “Oh god - Joel - fuck.”

“Keep goin’ baby,” his eyes glaze over, “wanna be all the way in.” 

Your eyes stay locked to his, fingernails digging into his shoulders as you slide him the rest of the way inside you. You feel every inch of him stretching and filling you. The cool water of the slow moving river dances along your skin. 

“Fuck you feel so good.” He moans, bringing his lips to yours. Kissing you deeply. 

You grind small, slow circles with your hips into him, at this angle he’s hitting that perfect spongy spot, his abdomen rubbing against your clit. 

“That’s it, baby.” He praises as you cry out in pleasure. The small movements shouldn’t feel this good, but you’re surrounded by him in the water and as the sun fully sets and the moon and stars start to light up the water, he looks so beautiful. The trees are still, the world quiet and it feels like just the two of you exist. “Does that feel good?” 

“Yes, Joel. Mmmm yes.” You can feel your orgasm building, your heart pounds in your chest over the close intimacy. Your body reacts so well to his, your pussy twitching slightly around his cock.

“Relax. Take what you need,” he says, letting you rub against him at your own pace. 

“Oh fuck,” that familiar pressure starts to build again and you grip harder onto Joel. 

“That’s it. That’s my good girl.” His hands cup your ass under the water, moving with your slow and steady rhythm. His dark eyes drink you in as you writhe against him. Moonlight reflects off the water, dancing around his body like candlelight. 

“More, please Joel. More.” 

“Ya?” He asks, thrusting up into you when you grind down on him. 

“Oh god. Fuck me. Please.” 

Joel crashes his lips to yours again as he takes over. Lifting you up and then slamming into you with his hips, hands pushing you down onto him. You moan into his mouth, he’s so deep and stretching you almost to the point of pain. 

He repeats this motion a few more times, you call out his name to the forest, completely unashamed of your pleasure echoing back at you. 

“You look so fucking beautiful like this. Look down baby, look how well you’re taking me.” 

You lean back, watching through the clear moonlit water as Joel slides in and out of you and that heat in your lower belly starts to erupt. You cry out, watching as Joel’s thrusts become slower and sloppier. 

“Play with your clit.” he demands through gritted teeth, he’s trying his hardest not to come yet. 

You lean back slightly, sliding your hand between your bodies and rub tight circles on your sensitive nub. 

“Joel!” it comes out as a high pitched squeal, you’re right on the edge, teetering towards all consuming pleasure. 

“I know. I know.” His voice is soothing.

“I’m. Oh fuuuuck. I’m gonna…”

“Cum for me baby. Let me feel it.” Your orgasm washes over you, sparks lighting up your whole body. You curl into Joel, biting his neck gently, muffling the sounds of your screams as your walls clench hard around him. Joel doesn’t stop thrusting up into you, “that’s it. Good job sweetheart.” 

You bring both hands to tangle in Joel’s curls, kissing him as you come down from your high. “Cum for me, Joel,” you say between kisses. 

He smiles at you proudly. You could ask for what you wanted when you two started. “Where do you want it baby?” 

“I wanna watch,” you moan, your pussy becoming overstimulated by his thrusts. 

He lifts you off, you reach for his cock as your feet hit the cool round stones on the bottom of the lake. You watch as you stroke him at the same pace he was fucking you. 

“Show me Joel,” your free hand cups his balls, massaging them gently. They tighten in your hand before his cock twitches and his milky spend rises up in the water around you. 

You look up at his face as he groans your name, his eyes are fixed on you and glazed over with pleasure. This big, strong dragon trainer is like soft clay, coming apart in your hands and you’ve never felt sexier. 

“Fuck,” he says bringing you in for a kiss. 

“Bring me home,” you whisper after breaking the kiss.

“We’ll go to your family first thing.” He says, kissing your nose.

“No, just take me home.” 

Joel smiles warmly. Home. His home, and now your home. 

==================================

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[gretavanlace]

Sugar II (part 5)

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, unprotected sex, angst, language, dirty talk, digital penetration, etc etc.

So sorry for the wait…I’ve been so busy and I’m scatterbrained as it is. I love you all and appreciate your patience as always! My lovelies, you all own my heart ❤️ Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving, I’ll add my taglist tomorrow, I promise. Tonight, I’m tipsy and in a turkey coma. xoxo

It’s early when your heavy eyes reluctantly drift open. Quiet. Silent. Save for the serene, rhythmic push and pull of his soft breath against the nape of your neck. In and out, in and out, like a whispered incantation sent to lull you into his placid waters.

Morning light is threatening to steal the darkness away, inching its way into the room, casting a muted, purple glow against the wall. You snuggle in closer to him and watch the moon prepare to fight the battle it wages ceaselessly. It loses to the sun again and again, and this morning will be no different.

How you wish the moon could win just this once. How you loathe the sun for refusing its slumber. How dare it steal this night away from you? How dare it force you to face the gravity of this life you’ve built without him? Of choice? Of pain either way?

Jake has insisted on sending the others along, promising he won’t be far behind. That he’ll take a car, or catch a short flight…vowing to appear on stage for sound check - the prodigal son returning to whichever arena is next on the list.

You hadn’t needed to hear the opposite end of the conversation last night to know that Josh couldn’t have been happy about it…but, even after all this time, you still know them both well enough to know that Jake’s heels were dug in and that Josh - knowing this, too - wouldn’t fight him too viciously.

“You awake?” His voice, gorgeously gruff with sleep, hushes against your skin just before his lips find a place there with a delicate kiss.

A hum rasps out of you as you stroke your fingers down his forearm, not trusting yourself to speak over the lump pulsing in your throat.

If he understands the reason for your quiet, he doesn’t let on, “God, how fucking perfect is this? You smell so good.”

He trails off, nestling in against you as his arms tighten their hold, tucking you right in until you can feel the drum of his beautiful heart tapping a steady beat against your shoulder blade.

“Do you remember the first time we woke up next to each other?” His lips graze across your bare shoulder gingerly as he whispers to you, calming your mind with his soothing cadence.

“Yes,” how could you ever forget? “It was the morning you told me you loved me. Then we went downstairs and Josh shoveled pancakes onto our plates until we were sick.”

His hand disappears beneath the sheets to feather along your breast..tickling over your nipple until it pebbles, “That was a beautiful morning with my beautiful girl, but it wasn't the first.”

Confused, you sift through memories rapidly. So many of them, and so many of them him…flashes of his face, so stunning and serene in his devotion, his voice, his laugh. Darkened eyes devouring you from above, owning you like a deity you are hopeless to deny, his hands, his heart, his love.

Suddenly, there it is - crystal clear as the spring you had visited that long ago weekend. The memory brings a nostalgic smile playing across your lips. You had all been so young then. So naive of what was to come. Untouchable laughter echoing off trees that had been standing, solemn and still, long enough to know it wouldn’t last. “The UP…camping at Indian Lake. You forgot your tent when we were packing up, and Josh had the most fun making fun of you about it because—“

He interrupts with a spot on impression of his twin, “Who the fuck goes camping and forgets their tent? That’s like—“

You chime in as well, “Going to the vet without your dog.”

“I woke up beside you and I just…” he falls silent for a beat and then marches on with a shaky breath, “You were sleeping so peacefully, so sweetly, like an angel - and he was out there by the fire causing chaos and frying eggs. I laid there beside you and pretended you were mine. Made up a little life for us in my head. We had three girls and a cat who sunbathed at their feet during tea parties in the backyard. They looked just like you. I loved you, and you loved me back.”

“Tell me more.” You urge so softly, you’ve hardly made a sound. “Tell me about our life.”

He cuddles in closer, cheek nuzzling into your tangled hair. “I buy you the most beautiful house you’ve ever seen. And it has a great big covered porch where we like to sit in the evenings. We hold hands on the swing and watch the girls make up elaborate games with the fireflies. Our youngest is the bossiest, and you say she reminds you of Josh. There’s a place in the side yard. I leveled it out just after we moved in so you could plant a garden, and I help you harvest tomatoes in the evenings because you always plant too many.”

“I do not plant too many,” your laugh is gentle, wistful. “I make salsa for your stupid brothers.”

“Yes,” he agrees, nodding along as he continues stroking over your chest, abandoning your breast for the thrum of your heart beneath his palm. “You make salsa for my stupid brothers. The girls complain and bargain for time when we tell them it’s time for baths, but you step in and order them inside because I can’t tell them no.”

“You’re no help at all.” You sigh, sinking into the soft domesticity of the picture he is painting just for you.

“Yes, I am.” He argues, kissing along your jaw. “I help with baths, and then I play them all the prettiest songs I’ve ever written for you until their eyes are hazy enough to drift away. And then I hold your hand some more down the hall, and I close our bedroom door, and I lay you down and remind you of how much I love you until you sound like all those pretty songs I’ve written for you.”

“Yeah?” You can’t help the girlish giggle that floats off your tongue. He turns you into liquid bliss so effortlessly, speaking to you like a lullaby until warm, worshipful devotion swells in your chest, leaving room for nothing but Jake.

“Yeah.” His tongue travels over the shell of your ear as he breathes promises into it, twisting and tightening your belly way down deep “And sometimes I remind you slow and sweet…sometimes I hold you like bone china and move gently, and softly, until you’re shaking and fluttering around me, all silk and velvet walls like flower petals. And other times, I give it to you nasty. Fuck you filthy, and dirty, and hard so you’ll remember who my pretty little fuck doll is…and you take my cock like a whore with my hand over your mouth so you don’t wake the neighbors.”

His touch remains far too innocent for the words dripping from his lips like salacious prayers. It’s still playing softly over your heart - perhaps just to feel the quickening of its beats, perhaps just because he has missed it so.

“Touch me.” you shiver as the plea rolls off your tongue, anticipating the way he will give into you, and the way it will feel when he does.

“I am touching you.” He’s burying his face in your hair, breathing you in, filling his lungs with everything he has missed so desperately.

“Don’t tease me.” There’s a pout edging its way into your tone, and he is positively weak for it. He’d like to think that you have never sounded this way for anyone else. He’d like to believe that he has never heard you sound this way…that you have never begged for him with such soft urgency on your tongue.

“Shh, sugar,” he soothes, and the way it slows your pulse like a drug…well, you can almost believe that nothing has ever been wrong with your world. You can almost believe that you’ve lived all of your lifetimes here in this room with him, wrapped up in the sheets, safe and so, so loved. “you know I’m gonna take care of my girl. You just close your eyes, baby, alright? Just close your eyes.”

Your eyes flutter shut as though he has willed them so, and then his fingers are winding the gentlest trail down your body, slipping like hot silk down your stomach, and then to your thigh to pull it to the side, opening you up for him.

“I think about this all the time.” he confesses, sweeping his fingertips against your entrance and then over your clit once his touch is slick and warm. “Lying with you. Talking with you in bed the way we used to. Feeling your hair tickle my cheek. Watching you sigh for me, wet and aching for me, for what I can give you…nobody else.”

“Nobody else, Jake,” you nod feverishly as he begins drawing delicate circles over your swollen clit. “Nobody else.”

“Do you think about me, too?” his mouth hovers over your pulse, tracing an S for his sugar against it. “When you’re all alone?”

His touch is picking up in pace, those goddamed fingers of his that seem to somehow vibrate, they know every inch of you…how to touch you. How to take you apart. How to play you. You are his favorite instrument.

“Yes,” it stutters out of you, inarticulate and clumsily, but he loves it all the more for it.

“Yeah?” there it is, that smug air in his tone that makes your entire body throb with want. “Does my sweet little girl touch herself when no one is around to see? Does my sugar call my name when she slips her hand between these pretty thighs?”

“Jake, please…” your grip has found its way around his wrist, tight and sure, to keep his hand where you so badly need it.

“Stop begging, baby,” he croons, pressing kisses against your temple, “I’m gonna take care of you. I’m gonna make you feel good. Gonna make you cum, soft and gentle, ‘cause you’re my beautiful fucking girl. And then you’re going to ride my cock filthy, fuck doll.”

A sound that you ought to be ashamed of claws its way out of your chest, feral and furious in your need as you rock your hips into his hand. His pace never falters, never varies, as he whispers praise and vulgarities into your ear, skilled fingers swirling and swirling and swirling over your clit until you’re right fucking there.

“Come on, pretty girl…” more kisses to your temple as adulation tumbles from his lips endlessly. “Give it to me, sugar, give it to me.”

It spreads itself out in your body like a heavy swallow of red wine. unfurling inside you like euphoric heat, curling your toes and prickling your scalp as it trips up your spine. It’s so delicate and light, his touch like a feather against your clit as it trembles and twitches…and just like always, he knows, and works you through it softly, gingerly, reverently, until the tide pulls back.

“You made a mess, baby.” he teases, whispering into the crook of your neck with a smile on his lips and his fingers now curling across the pillow of his tongue.

“Whose fault is that?” you pant back, working hard to chase down your breath.

“I’ll own making a mess of your pretty cunt any day, sweetheart…any fucking day.”

You roll your eyes without much conviction, for you adore his obscene prose “Poetic.”

He rolls onto his back, tugging you along for the ride until you are perched above and straddling him.

He looks like a fallen, arcane angel beneath you, with his hair snarled and knotted against the pillow, eyes clouded with lust and darkened with blown pupils, lips pink and tumid - parted and pretty.

“You’re beautiful.” you shake your head in wonder. He is exquisite. Ethereal. Flawless. Precious.

He shakes his head right back, cupping your cheek, “You’re beautiful. My beautiful, beautiful sugar. I have loved you forever and I will love you always.”

With your cheeks heating under his awestruck scrutiny, you bite down on your lip coyly…you haven’t forgotten that he likes a hint of innocence now and then. “Did I hear you mention something about riding your cock filthy, Jakey? Or did I misunderstand?”

His palm is wrapped around your throat in a breath, pulling your mouth down to his. He licks against your tongue with a menacing hum. “You wanna ride my cock, baby? You wanna fuck me dirty while I lie back and watch you do all the work like my good little girl?”

A shiver shimmies your shoulders as your gaze flutters away abashedly, inexplicably shy.

“Aw,” it isn’t taunting, he sounds genuinely starstruck by the bashful blush coloring the apples of your cheeks. “Look at my sweetheart. Does it still make you a little soft when I tell you what a good girl you are for me? You like that?”

You nod, and this time, when your teeth sink into your bottom lip, it isn’t contrived.

“I know, sugar…” he pets at your face like you’re fragile, made of glass and dear to his heart. “It always has. You are, you know? You’re my very good girl and I love you more than anything in this whole fucking world. Nothing even comes close.”

Emboldened and driven half crazy by the love he is wringing from his heart, you rise up on your knees and issue an order, which doesn’t make you a very good girl at all. “Put it in.”

A huff of wanton breath escapes him, and then, with one hand wrapped around his thick cock, and the other digging into your hip, he pulls you down and buries himself inside you.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart…” it’s a hitching groan that rattles in his chest. “Look at you, wrapped up sweet and pink around me. Pretty as a picture, aren’t you, baby? Taking this cock. So fucking tight. You feel so good.”

“Yeah,” you can’t manage much else as your nails dig into his chest for purchase, head tipping back as you begin to ride him fast and hard, forgoing an easy lead up…you need him too badly.

His tip, so thick and perfect, begins spoiling over the sweetest spot inside you when he angles your hips…knocking against it until the air is punching from your lungs with every downward swivel of your hips.

“That’s the spot right there, isn’t it, sugar?” he voice, rasping and strangled with pleasure drags you closer and closer. “Right there, huh? That’s where my girl needs my cock…right fucking there.”

“Yes! Right there…” you repeat, blathering on with your hands on your own tits, twisting and tugging at your nipples as your thighs burn and scream for mercy you don’t care to give them. “Right there right there right there…”

“Yeah? You want it right there?” his thumb drops to your clit as he drinks you in, savoring you as you work yourself into a frenzy above him. “You take it right there, pretty girl…you just fucking take it.”

You can feel him twitching and straining inside your clenching cunt, and you know desperate little spurts of precum must be steadily leaking from his cock…the thought only serves to make you coil around him even more viciously.

“Sugar,” there’s a frantic edge coloring his tone now. He’s close. “Please, baby…you’re squeezing me…so fucking…fuck, fuck…ease up, sweetheart, please. Relax that sweet little cunt for me. Baby, baby, baby…” he thrashes his head back and forth against the pillow, brow furrowed and tipped up as though he is anguished.

“No.” you’re wild and panting, sweating and clawing at his chest with unhinged need. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Oh god…” it hushes out of him, winded and ragged, like he’s afraid he won’t make it long enough to get you there. “C’mon, pretty girl, come on. Right on my cock. Soak it, sweetheart. I want you all fucking over me.”

“Fuck me back,” you’re clutching at his shoulders now, scrambling for purchase against his drenched, glistening skin. “Hard. Fuck me back.”

His hips begin driving up to meet you, hard and fast, slamming his cock into you over and over through gritted teeth and gutteral grunts of pleasure and agony as he fights his own release.

Arms up suddenly, he curls them violently around your shoulders, holding you still against his lap as best he can, but you continue to grind into him, working yourself back and forth over his cock, chasing and chasing and chasing that end you so badly need.

“Hold fucking still,” grits out through clenched teeth as your lips press and sway against his sweating forehead, “I’m gonna cum, sugar. Don’t move, don’t move!”

His palm lands hard against your ass in punishment for your disobedience, gripping and pulling at it, but it merely spurs you on.

“You said you wanted me to ride your cock filthy,” your words are airy puffs of taunting breath. “so fucking take it Jakey, take it.”

He doubles over into you, burying his face between your breasts and crying out into their rounded softness as he lets go inside you, painting you warm and wetter than you already were…biting and sucking, consuming you as if he wants to swallow you whole.

It’s your name, whimpering and keening out of him like a psalm that sends you tumbling along right behind him with a gushing pulse and a shaking inward pull of breath that exhales with his name to match your own still lingering on his lips.

A strange calm finds you both as you struggle to breathe wrapped up tight and tangled together in the ruined sheets and humid air. But it is a familiar calm…one that so often crept in between the two of you after you had lost yourselves the way you’ve just lost yourselves.

“No one,” his fingers tap down your spine and linger in the dimples that grace the base, “could ever make me feel the way you make me feel, sugar. No one. Ever.”

“Jake.” you sigh, and he hears a thousand words inside it.

“I know, baby.” he’s stroking through your hair now, pacifying you so all of that feverish energy will seep from your veins gently. “I know.”

~

The sun has bullied its way into the sky fully, washcloth he so lovingly swept over you now rinsed and folded over the bathroom sink, glass of water he carried in, sipped at and now lazily dripping condensation onto the nightstand.

Top sheet pulled over the fitted sheet in a half-hearted attempt to rectify the wrongs inflicted towards the bed, your bodies are twisted up below the soft, generic duvet.

“You’re going to leave, aren’t you?” He whispers, tracing his fingers along the bridge of your nose. “I can feel it.”

“What happens now, Jake?’ You stroke his nose right back. “I’m just going to walk away from my life and follow you around the world? Like nothing ever happened?”

“Yes.” He says it like it could all be just that easy, and how you wish that were so.

“It doesn’t work that way.” He’s a dreamer. Always has been.

“So, tell me how it works then, sugar.” He pulls you into a blink of a kiss. “You go back to him, and I go back to misery and that’s it for you and I? We wake up every morning for the rest of our lives wishing things were different? Aching for each other? You tell me how that makes fucking sense.”

“Because this is real life, Jake.” Do you even believe your own bullshit? You have to, right? “This isn’t some pretty little story you’re telling. We aren’t picking tomatoes in the garden.”

God, how you hate yourself.

“We could be though.” His promises would be so lovely to slip away into…if only it could be that simple. It’s as if he can read your mind when he says, “It could be so simple, sugar. None of this other shit matters. We matter.”

He can’t be argued with, so instead, you simply nestle your cheek against his chest and linger in this time you have left with him.

“Will you at least leave me your number before you go? So I can call to say hello every once in a while?”

He’s giving in far too easily. He’s lying. You know he is, and he knows it just as well. He isn’t going away, and he doesn’t plan on giving up.

He has decided to stand his ground this time around. This time, for you, he has decided to fight…

and god help anyone who tries to stand in his way.

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @gretasmokerising @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @thelvnternskeeper @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @jakesgrapejuice @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordie-gvf-admin @calumspretty @sad1lynn @demolitionndann @gvfpal @starcatcher-jake

#greta van fleet #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet smut #fanfic #greta van fic #greta van smut #gvf fic #jake gvf #jake kiskza #jake kiszka fanfiction #josh kiszka #jake kiszka smut #gvf jake #josh gvf #gvf josh #gvf smut

[starsandhughes]

Penalty Box Series— Trevor Zegras Edition (Four)

23-24 Season Masterlist

previous: three

next: five

a/n: i skipped the coyotes game bc it was... so boring... and there was zero z content in it

OCTOBER 22, 2023

yourusername

liked by trevorzegras, jamie.drysdale, and 16,439 others

yourusername welcome back to my post game penalty box update show: sissy missed shatty edition! (alternatively titled "my fiancée took a hard hit and then looked like the greek god he is on the bench and i can't wait to take a trip to mount olympus")

after a long two periods of almosts, mason finslly scored first in the third! thst scoring momentum fid continue, though! just... for the other team...

the ducks did succumb to the bruins, but my z-baby got a penalty! so that's a plus! he slashed marchand and he didn't even get licked! (dear brad, if you're reading this, please lick my fiancé on october 26)

i'm sorry, boys, that you're on a three game lose streak, but i can feel it in my SOUL that you're going to cease that trend soon! use the power of friendship, my dear quackies!

i love you, always, trevy💜 pls do a trick soon! and you looked really cute smiling and watching shatty's video on the bench! prepare for kisses

p.s. dear mom/shatty, I HAVE MISSED YOU SO MUCH! SEEING YOUR VIDEO MONTAGE TRIBUTE ON THE SCOREBOARD HAD ME TEARING UP! I LOVE YOU! DON'T DIE! (@/shattdeuces)

tagged trevorzegras

view all 217 comments

trevorzegras am i cute? or am i god like? what's the scale here? is there a graphic organizer? (i love you, forever, my sweet girl💜)

yourusername the graphic organizer is my internal feelings and there's never a rhyme or reason for any decision i make <3

jackhughes @/yourusername so just like how you make every other decision?

yourusername @/jackhughes i could smack you, there's rhyme and reason for that decision

trevorzegras @/jackhughes she's going to set you on fire

jackhughes @/trevorzegras she failed the first time and she will fail again

_alexturcotte @/jackhughes why would you bring up senior year? people can read that

jackhughes @_alexturcotte the people need to know she's insane!

trevorzegras @/jackhughes USED* to be insane

_alexturcotte @/jackhughes don't act all innocent!we didn't call you two the twins of terror for nothing

yourusername @/jackhughes lexi sold you OUT HA

user52 z in this game has me acting up🥵

_quinnhughes @/trevorzegras what's your record streak this season? is it 5, like me?

trevorzegras @_quinnhughes in my defense, one of my penalties was me serving a too many men

yourusername @/trevorzegras and then you hooked hakanpää

_quinnhughes @/trevorzegras you did do that

trevorzegras i came out to have a good time and i’m honestly feeling so attacked right now

yourusername @/trevorzegras mwah!

shattdeuces i love and have missed you, too, daughter! p.s. your post-game goody bag made the other guys very jealous!

yourusername i hope you didn't share anything!

shattdeuces i would never betray you like that

yourusername i appreciate your never ending loyalty <3 where are we on the whole "marchand licking z" thing?

shattdeuces i am not asking him that

yourusername ... accidentally show him my post then

trevorzegras @/shattdeuces please no

yourusername @/trevorzegras just bite him in return

_quinnhughes i’d pay to see that

trevorzegras @/shattdeuces SEND HELP

shattdeuces @/trevorzegras i laughed and he asked what i was laughing at. it's in his hands now.

yourusername @/trevorzegras he lick, you bite, i smooch

trevorzegras @/yourusername that smooch better just be for me

yourusername @/trevorzegras my smooches are only for you

user45 trevor nudging terry to look at the video board before going back to smiling like a fool at it makes me so emo🥹😭 give him shatty back!

jamie.drysdale @/trevorzegras you're not in the negatives yet! that's an accomplishment!

yourusername so true!! he's thriving!

trevorzegras i’m growing up so fast!

jamie.drysdale @/yourusername remember when he was our son? now he's the father of your future children

trevorzegras @/jamie.drysdale she's now crying under my shirt

jamie.drysdale @/trevorzegras i’m on my way

trevorzegras @/jamie.drysdale she's requesting blankets so we can build a fort

jamie.drysdale @/trevorzegras i'm on my way home to get blankets

user9 slash that rat! he deserves it!

user14 the seventh pic shows the face of a man who knows damn well his teammate started a scrum over him

jackhughes you're so obsessed with him

yourusername he's my baby daddy for a reason

trevorzegras @/jackhughes i've been obsessed since the day i saw her

jackhughes @/trevorzegras we know

yourusername and i was obsessed with my rat the day i saw trevor

trevorzegras @/yourusername we know.

colecaufield @/trevorzegras ooo a period! there are some big feelings in those two words

_alexturcotte @/trevorzegras this is taking me back to the good ol' days when you'd come into the room screaming over matthew! so cute!

trevorzegras is it attack trevor day?!

_quinnhughes @/trevorzegras it's always attack trevor day

yourusername @/trevorzegras i love you! always!

trevorzegras @/yourusername mhmm i love you, forever

user76 three game loss streak? a z penalty? roughing penalties? that's ducks hockey, baby!

masonmctavish23 did i just get a backhanded compliment?

yourusername no?

masonmctavish23 am i being gaslighted?

yourusername gaslighting? that's a big word, kiddo, did one of your little friends teach you that?

masonmctavish23 my friends are your friends and your fiancé!

yourusername well they definitely didn't teach you that

trevorzegras @/yourusername HEY

jamie.drysdale @/yourusername HEY

yourusername @/trevorzegras @/jamie.drysdale hi?

lhughes_06 @/jackhughes @_quinnhughes were we just going to let the "trip to mount olympus" comment slide?

_quinnhughes @/lhughes_06 i’ve given up

jackhughes @/lhughes_06 i threw up in the comfort of your bathroom in peace and moved on

yourusername @/lhughes_06 @/jackhughes @_quinnhughes you guys do know how i got pregnant, right?

trevorzegras @/yourusername i think i need a refresher course

lhughes_06 @/trevorzegras STOP IT

#penalty box series #trevor zegras #trevor zegras fanfic #trevor zegras au #trevor zegras fic #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras x hughes reader #trevor zegras insta edit #jamie drysdale #quinn hughes #jack hughes #luke hughes #alex turcotte #jamie drysdale imagine #quinn hughes imagine #mason mctavish #anaheim ducks imagines #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #trevor zegras fluff

[jobean12-blog]

Simply Irresistible

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (Biker AU)

Word Count: 2,446

Summary: Joel takes you on the best first day you’ve ever been on

Author’s Note: More Biker!Joel because I love him so! This is connected to my first Biker!Joel story The Road to Love but they can be read separately. Thank you so much for the love this AU is getting, I’m really enjoying it! Thank you all so much for reading and much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy!🥰

Warnings: lots of soft and sweet fluff, flirting, tension, f-ing-er-ing, little th-ig-h ri-d-ing, Joel can’t keep his hands to himself 

The edit below is NOT MINE: my amazing friend Ellie @mrsmischief209 made it for me at the drop of a hat and I LOVE IT SO MUCH! Thank you forever my sweet! 💕

Joel Miller Masterlist

“He texted you again, didn’t he?” Jade asks as she peeks over your shoulder.

“Of course it’s him,” Dan adds. “Look at that smile.”

You finish replying to Joel and then stuff your phone in the back pocket of your jeans.

“You two are insufferable!”

Your tone is playful and you’re still grinning.

“You LOVE us,” Dan chimes.

“You do,” Jade agrees. “Now tell us what he said.”

“I do love you both,” you assure them. “And he was just asking what I was wearing for our date…”

“REALLY?!” Dan screeches. “WHY?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t ask,” you reply. “I just told him I was planning to wear a dress.”

“You didn’t ask why!?!” Dan nearly shouts.

“Maybe he wanted to make sure you’re dressed properly for the restaurant…maybe it’s a fancy and romantic place!” Jade says with a wistful sigh.  

You look between your two friends and roll your eyes.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m sure I’ll find out!” you say as you wiggle past them to help a customer.

“I can hardly wait until Saturday,” Dan whispers to Jade as he follows after you. “I bet they don’t even make it to dinner.”

Jade and Dan share a mischievous giggle and you shoot them a glare, smirking when you see Dan waggling his eyebrows at you.

~Saturday night~

“Text me and Dan if you need anything,” Jade speaks into the phone.

Dan grabs it from her hand.

“YES! Text us everything,” Dan says enthusiastically. “All the juicy details…I want to know every last one!”

You hear some scuffling and hear Jade mutter a curse at Dan before she’s back and says, “sorry babes, Dan is very excited.”

“I am too,” you smile as you stand in front of your mirror and check yourself one last time.

Just then you hear the rumble of an engine and your stomach fills with butterflies.

“He’s here!” you whisper shout into the phone. “Gotta go!”

“HAVE FUN!” both Dan and Jade shout simultaneously.

With a laugh you hang up and head for your front door.

The doorbell rings and you let out the breath you’ve been holding in before opening the door.

Joel’s leaning against the frame, relaxed in his signature dark jeans that fit just right and a vest that shows off his sculpted arms and tattoos.

Your gaze lingers on his handsome face before you take in the rest of him, you fingers twinkling hello with a small wave.

“Hey sunshine,” he murmurs as his eyes sweep over your body appreciatively.

Even though he does nothing to hide the fact that he’s checking you out it doesn’t come off as creepy, it only makes you feel desired and beautiful.

“You look…” and he runs a hand through his hair, tousling it so his curls are more pronounced, “amazin’.”

“Thanks,” you answer sweetly as you take a step closer.

He lifts his hand and holds up a small bouquet of wildflowers.

“These are for you,” he says quietly.

“Oh Joel! They’re beautiful!” you exclaim, taking them and holding them up to your nose. “I love them! Thank you.”

He looks pleased and gives you a sideways smile. You place your palm on his chest and lean in to kiss the corner of his mouth, your lips lingering on his skin before you pull away, your eyelashes still fluttering against your cheek.

When you meet his eyes they wander over your features before settling on your lips.

“You’re welcome sunshine.”

“I just want to put them in water before we go. Come in for a minute.”

You leave the door open and rush off to the kitchen, grabbing a small vase and filling it with water. Joel remains by the door and openly inspects what he can see of your house.

“I like it,” he says when you’re finished and walking back to him. “It’s warm and soft and inviting…fits you.”

“Thanks. It’s home.”

You meet him by the door but he doesn’t move out of the way.

You nibble your bottom lip and look at him through your lashes.

“Ready?” you ask.

He lifts his hand to your mouth and presses the pad of his thumb to your bottom lip, gently pulling it free from your teeth. Then he takes your chin between his fingers and tugs your mouth to his.

Your hands instinctively curl into his vest and you press yourself against him. His fingers graze your jaw before ghosting down your neck and curling around the back of it to bring you impossibly closer, his lips finding yours again quickly.

“Mm,” he hums against your lips, kissing you several more times before announcing, “now I’m ready. Just had to give you a proper hello darlin’.”

You nod, unable to speak and still clinging to him.

His hand slides lower and wraps around your waist, tucking you into his side as he leads you out the door.

“Where’s your bike?” you ask without thinking.

“Disappointed sunshine?” he asks with a knowing smirk.

Your eyes widen ever so slightly and you give him a sheepish look.

“No! Not at all. I just figured…”

His fingers press under your chin and he lifts your eyes, ghosting his lips across yours as he whispers, “don’t worry, I promised I’d take you for a ride any time you want and I meant it. I just can’t have you riding around on my bike in that dress darlin’. It’s not the safest.”

“Okay,” you breathe out. “Is that why you asked me what I was going to wear?”

He nods with a wink and brings you around to the passenger side door of his pickup then opens it for you.

“I would have changed,” you tell him with a smile.

His intense gaze travels from your head to your toes and when he reaches your eyes again they blaze with heat.

“No,” is all he says before he takes your hand and helps you up.

Once you’re seated he leans forward and grabs the seatbelt, laying it across your body then buckling it. The action is thoughtful and sweet but every time his hands brush along your skin it fills you with anticipation, the need to have him touch you overwhelming.

As if he senses it too, his fingers close around your hand and he lifts it to his lips for a soft kiss, his eyes never leaving yours until he reluctantly releases you and shuts the door.

When he gets in the driver’s side you ask, “where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” he says as he shifts the truck into drive.

He sets one hand loosely on the steering wheel and lets his other inch across the middle console until it’s resting on your thigh, his fingers slightly hidden under the hem of your dress.  

His calloused thumb draws small circles on your soft skin and you love how rough it feels in comparison. You place your hand over his and trace his long fingers, gently stroking them with your fingertips. He shifts in the seat and glances at you while he squeezes your leg, the air thick with tension.  

Thankfully it doesn’t take long to get to your destination and when Joel turns down a small dirt road you turn to him with a look of confusion.

“There’s no restaurant here,” you say.

“No, there isn’t,” he answers. “Hope that’s ok.”

He parks and hops out of his truck then comes around to open your door and before you can ask any more questions he grabs you around the waist and helps you down, your body sliding along his until your feet hit the ground.

You stay pressed against him, your hands curled around his biceps. When he doesn’t release you, you dance your fingers higher, grazing his shoulder before they dip to the buttons of his vest and press to his warm skin.

“Are you hiding any tattoos under here?” you ask with your eyes still on his chest.

Your fingers toy with the first button and you pop it open, hearing his breath catch in his throat.

“Sweetheart,” he warns, tightening his grip on you.

“I want to see,” you whisper, lifting your eyes.

His eyes close briefly and you can see his teeth grind together before he shifts your bodies so he can press you into the side of his truck, the need to feel every inch of you overpowering every other thought.

You continue your exploration and push the fabric apart, slowly dragging your finger downward and parting it more, just enough to see the top of another piece of ink. You look up and into his eyes as your fingers undo one more button of his vest, exposing more of his tan skin until you can see the whole tattoo.

Your eyes drop and you trace your fingertips over the dark ink.

“Beautiful,” you breathe out.

He captures your hand in his, pressing it to his lips before he rests it on his shoulder and with his mouth just a whispered breath from yours his hands caress your body, his frustration evident when the material of your dress keeps him from your bare skin.

“You drive me crazy sunshine. From the moment I saw you…”

“Joel,” you plea.

His nose brushes yours before trailing down your neck, his lips following with soft kisses.

“I had a picnic planned…food, drinks…dessert. Even thought we’d watch the sunset,” he murmurs into your skin.

“Had?” you gasp, your fingers digging into his back as he nips at the skin above your pulse point.

“You expect me to sit through a picnic now?” he teases as his lips move over your collarbone.

“But it sounds so romantic,” you say, your voice breathy as you tilt your head back to give him better access to your neck.

“I thought so,” he smirks as he brings his lips back to yours. “I’ve got everything ready, just say the words.”

“Thought you couldn’t make it through a picnic…” you counter with some playful sass.

“I’d try just for you but I can’t promise anything.”

His fingers slip under the hem of your dress, languidly sliding along your skin until they reach your inner thigh. Every motion is deliberate and when he moves his hand to your hip and teases the waistband of your panties you groan out his name.

“Problem sweetheart?” he asks, his eyes full of mischief.

Your fingers work through his thick dark hair, and move down his back, exploring and touching all the hard planes of muscle.  

You want more. Need it. And you can feel him throb against your stomach as his bearded cheek grazes your delicate skin and he captures your lips in a kiss that steals any remaining air from your lungs.

His hand slides down to your ass and he gives it a firm squeeze, pulling your hips harder against his. With a slight nudge he pushes his knee between your legs and presses his thigh upward, making you whimper into his mouth.

The hard muscle flexes and you can’t stop the way you grind yourself over him.

“Fuck darlin’,” he hisses when he pulls away, his breathing heavy.

Your lips part when he grabs your waist and rocks you over his thigh, your moans of pleasure the only sounds he wants to hear.

He removes his knee and replaces it with his hand, pushing your panties to the side and easily sliding his thick fingers through your arousal.

“Oh fuck sunshine,” he moans against your lips, “this all for me?”

Your hands claw at his back, trying to bring him closer and he answers your silent plea, slowly pushing a finger inside you.

He grunts as your tightness surrounds him and the urge to see your face takes over as he pulls back from your lips to watch you.

He holds your gaze as he takes his time, gentle, slow, deliberate pumps of his hand as he builds a torturous rhythm.

“More,” you demand, dragging your hands down his chest before your fingers grab hold of his biceps.

He flexes under your touch and you can see the chords of muscle strain with his every movement.

“Joel, more.”

He growls and with his free hand, takes a hold of your wrists, pinning your arms above your head and against the truck.

You clench around him and weakly push against his grip. With a satisfied grin he keeps his eyes on yours as he pushes a second finger inside you.

His movements remain slow and torturous and it drives you wild with impatience. You buck your hips onto his hand, trying to take him deeper but he keeps you pinned in place and draws out your pleasure.

“Joel,” you beg, your desperation swallowed by his lazy but sexy kiss that makes you roll your hips all over again.

He keeps you on the edge until you you’re trembling in his arms, strung so taut but not alone. His expression is filled with need, his muscles straining with the last remains of his barely contained control.

“Please,” you whisper, on the verge of falling apart. “Please, Joel.”

Whatever impressive control he’s mastering snaps and he starts to move his fingers faster, pushing deeper. He presses his thumb to your clit, rubbing small circles until you shatter against him, your release spasming through you until you can hardly hold yourself upright.

“I got you darlin’,” he murmurs and you feel his lips press softly to your shoulder as he draws his fingers away.

Your eyes meet his and his expression is soft with satisfaction.

“I’d apologize for not being able to keep my hands to myself,” he starts, lifting his hand between your bodies, his fingers gleaming, and licking them clean one by one, “but I’m addicted.”

“Joel…” you whisper, still breathless.

He slants his mouth over yours in a grazing, taunting kiss and you bite his lower lip before he deepens it so you can taste yourself on his tongue.

When he tears his mouth away it’s only for lack of air and you can see him start to open it as if he’s going apologize again but you press a finger to his lips.

“This is by far the best first date I’ve ever had,” you whisper as you trace his jaw. “And we still have time to watch the sunset.”

“We can do whatever you want sunshine.”

Your lips curl into a coy smile and you press yourself closer, bending your head to his and kissing him.

Hard and hungry.

His large hand curls around the back of your neck and he keeps you close, taking over and kissing you back just the same.

@blackwidownat2814 @justkinsey @laineyreads @beccablogsthings @sstan-hoe​ @littleseasiren​ @faceache111​

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #biker!joel miller #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal x reader #biker au

[georgiapeach30513]

Inside Her Fantasy, Part 1

Summary: Ransom was a sweet playboy, and you are America's sweetheart. Two opposite people that met in an unlikely way. Things move fast when you're in the spotlight, and you fell more everyday. He was happy he had someone who he could trust with his vulnerable side. You were happy to have someone who could stand tall and not be irritated by your own fame. Fast love and living in a fish bowl isn't always easy. But can you and Ransom beat the odds?

Pairings: Ransom Drysdale X Reader

Rating: fluff

Warnings:  none, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 4.5K

Series Masterlist

*Dividers created by @firefly-graphics

Early morning muffled giggles, and the pitter patter of feet make Ransom stir in his sleep. His face burrows deeper into the pastel pink ruffles. Feet hanging off the edge of the bed, but his eyes remain close.

“Daddy,” a giggly voice echoes in the hallway as she covers her mouth with her hand. “Uncle Ranny is in my bed again.”

“Is he,” the big beefy man picks up his littlest daughter, throwing her in the air. “Why are you sitting in the hallway?”

“Because,” she points a finger to her bedroom before covering her mouth with her hand. “I think he has twinkle toes!”

“Not the twinkle toes! Why weren’t you in your bed last night?”

“Uhh,” she draws out, shrugging her shoulders. Usually she didn’t sleep in her room on nights before her parents had to go to the hospital. “I — daddy, I slept in Maevey’s room. And then I wake up to go play, and Uncle Ranny is drooling on my satin!”

“Oh, dear. Let’s wake Mr. Twinkle Toes up, okay?” She responds with an okay, nodding her head while he walks into the room. Ransom let’s out a loud snore, hugging onto one of the little girl’s Squishmallows, and she giggles again.

“Ransom,” her father says, but Ransom snores lower. “Ransom!” He kicks the bed, and Ransom shoots up immediately, groaning before flopping back down on the bed. “You’re drooling on the princess’ pillow.”

“Yeah! That’s my pillow. Why do you always sleep in my bed when you have twinkle toes.”

“I don’t have twinkle toes,” Ransom harrumphs, flipping over to his side. He hugs tighter to her stuffed animal, giving her a peek. “Why are you up so early?”

“You do have twinkle toes! You always drool with twinkle toes!”

“Charlie, baby, I,” he stops talking looking at his best friend and teammate before nodding his head, “Yes, princess, I had twinkle toes, and pranced right in here. I’m sorry, but I’ll buy you a new squishy thing,” Bucky clears his throat, and shakes his head. “I’ll buy you something.”

“Ahh! Daddy, I need to see Maevey. Put me down,” she wiggles out of her daddy’s arms before darting towards her sister’s room.

Bucky gives a long look to Ransom before leaning up against his daughter’s dresser. “Yeah, I had twinkle toes, which by the way, why does your wife call it that?”

“Next time we’ll tell the kids you got shit faced, and stumbled into our house because you used my kids as an excuse to call a cab for some girl of the night,” rolling his eyes, Ransom turns his back to Bucky. “You deserve more than one night stands. Ones you can look at without your beer goggles.”

“Not all of us are cut out to marry our highschool sweethearts.”

“You think it was easy for us?” Bucky sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “She had Maeve when she was sixteen. Pregnant when she was fifteen, and yeah, we struggled and made it work. But you…”

“Grew up in a life of privilege. I didn’t buy my way into the NFL. I worked hard to get there,” Bucky sighs, watching his friend. It had become a frequent pattern with Ransom coming to his house to hide from his problems. The extra help with the kids was nice, but Ransom wasn’t living his life.

“Didn’t say you did. I’m saying those kids love you, and you adore them. You’re worth more than being a fake uncle,” yawning Ransom turns to look at Bucky with an unreadable face. There is zero emotions on his face as he looks at his friend. “There’s going to be some woman who the kids love, and she’s going to send you on a whirlwind. You two are going to fall so hard for each other.”

“Why are you in here, Buck?” He responds pitifully. Ransom was never much into love. It was a made up word that very few could ever hold in their hands. They made excuses and claimed they loved or were in love, but people always disappoint you.

“You’re in my house, and in my daughter’s bed. But Nixon has an appointment. We’re staying overnight, and the girls would rather…”

“You don't have to ask. I don’t want them with anyone else anyways. They’re the only women in my life that don’t make my life a living hell,” Charlie’s bedroom door squeaks open, and the little girl runs onto Ransom’s lap, while the oldest bashfully walks in. She looks at her dad before back at Ransom.

The tall man looks towards the teenager, narrowing his eyes, and pursing his lips. He’s seen this look more than once in his life. “What do you want, Maeve?”

“So, you know my favorite artist right?” Her voice is nearly a whisper. Almost embarrassed to ask Ransom this.

“Picasso?”

“No, recording artist,” she giggles, shaking her head. She whispers out your name, and looks back at her father quickly. “Umm, she’s playing Gillette tonight. Mom already said we could go, but…”

“Who is that?” Ransom asks, confused. “She…what do you mean she’s playing Gillette?”

“Well, she is the number one artist in the world right now. She’s doing this stadium tour, and she’s going to be here for a few days. I think the itinerary I got online is correct. I know you can’t always believe everything you see on the internet, but I really want to go. Charlie likes her, too,” her little sister nods her head, and whispers into Ransom’s ear about how pretty you are. “It would mean everything to me.”

“Maevey, if she’s as big as you say she is, I might not be able to get us in,” there was only one way he could get the girls in, and he really didn’t want to go down that road again.

“You’re literally the starting tight end of the Patriots,” Maeve wasn’t going to give up without a bit of a fight.

“Your dad is the quarterback.”

“And didn’t you date some…”

“Ahh! I didn’t date her! No, absolutely not,” Ransom decides quickly he isn’t going to ask his ex about tickets to one of the biggest concerts of the year. But then the littlest girl looks up at him, sweetly asking pretty please with a cherry on top, and he can’t say no.

You bite at your lip, getting a little slap on your wrist by your makeup artist. She hates when you ruin her work. Your lipstick was already on, and now she has to go back and fix it. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you hardly recognize that girl anymore. She’d been through hell recently. Bad breakups are never easy. Worse when the world can watch.

Sighing, you look towards the door. There is always something that bothers you about this talk show. She was invasive, and played up what the tabloids said. You couldn’t keep a man. You just date around to write songs. You were seeing just how many notches you could get. It was insulting.

You are sure you’re not the only woman in the world to date or date around. What you did just was viewed by the world. Growing up in front of the camera may not be ideal, but you didn’t know anything else. This life was all you knew. It gave you the world, while also taking away so much. You loved it, and feared it. You welcomed it, and also wished you could turn it off sometimes. There was never a break.

Someone knocks on the door, and whispers out your name, letting you know it was time to go on to the set of Leslie Locke. Your team always wanted you to put in a good face for this show. It was fun, and the fans enjoyed it, but too bad the press enjoyed your humiliation more.

You squint from the lights as you walk onto set, greeted halfway by Leslie when you take a seat in a chair opposite her. Her blue eyes give you a strange look, and you look out to the audience awkwardly. She was up to something. You just knew it, but what is the question?

“So you had a pretty rough start to the year,” you smile at her, and give her a nod. She was already starting in on you and your relationship. “But the good thing is I’m sure you got some good songs out of it, right?”

“I’d say most writers use their life experiences to tell a story. How is it any different than a writer of a book?” Leslie isn’t used to you snapping back. With age comes a need to protect your peace. Her mouth goes tight as she looks at the camera and then back at you.

“But aren’t authors embellishing the story?” With the breakup came a new realization that you had the power and voice. You didn’t need someone to protect you. You could do it yourself. “We all embellish. Even when I talk to my girlfriends, I’m embellishing the story.”

“So you admit that you use your songs to make yourself look better in the breakup?” She always twisted your words. It was her schtick. You smile, shaking your head no, but have no intentions of elaborating. It wasn’t worth the argument.

“Well, I want to play a game with you,” oh good grief. She loved these stupid games. “Since you’re back on the market, I thought it would be fun to show you some single men,” you turn to look towards one of the cameras with a deadpan look. “No, this will be fun. They’re hot men, just not your usual type.”

“Okay, fine,” you sigh, knowing that it would be easier just to agree.

“Good, good,” she holds up the first picture, and you roll your eyes, shaking your head rapidly. “What’s wrong with Dayton White?”

“I don’t date race car drivers.”

“You mean you haven’t, but you could?” This is a hard no. You wouldn’t date him. “Okay, what about this guy? Big, tall, buff, and he’s a boxer,” you wait a moment for her to give you a name. “This is August Walker.”

“I don’t like the mustache. I like mean without too much going on with their face. Clean cut, ya know?”

“Well, that leaves out these two. Okay, so he’s a football player,” you scrunch up your nose, already looking disgusted. Why would you date a football player? “He’s 6’5”, tight end for the New England Patriots,” not interested. “Blue eyes, all of 265 pounds of man, and a bit of a wild card,” your ears perk up because of course they do. You love those men that have that slight toxicity. They are your weakness. And you hate it.

“Completely baby faced, and he does love going out,” please be ugly. Please be ugly. “You have no idea who Ransom Drysdale is, huh?”

“Ransom?” She flips the card over showing you what he looks like, and you’re a goner. “Oh,” you stutter, trying to look away from his face. “Oh, he’s kinda cute,” the fact that he was holding a small little girl, while hugging another. It made him even more attractive, if his angelic face wasn’t enough.

“Kinda? That is one hell of a man,” yeah, he was. You can’t even imagine how big he would be next to you.

“He’s got kids?” They were adorable little girls. You didn’t think you wanted to date someone with kids, but he could be worth it. You had never dated someone with kids. No, it didn’t matter anyways. You weren’t going to date this man. You were going to look him up. Maybe check out a few pictures of him.

“No, these are his teammate Bucky Barnes’ daughters. He’s very close with the quarterback on the team,” sure he was. He didn’t have kids, that was better. You loved kids, but weren't ready for that. But him being good with kids is a good quality. “You have no idea what the QB does, huh?”

“He throws the ball? Catches it? Tackles?”

“Football isn’t your thing, I see,” she didn’t even answer the question. Fine, you made a public declaration of finding him attractive. Great. You can already see the tabloids writing some stupid nonsense. He is cute though. And somehow loving kids that aren’t his is making him more attractive. It shows he could be a father, but was smart enough to prevent it. Ugh, you can’t be thinking about things like this. You just know his name. But a name is a start. No! Not this one. You will not fall into this trap again.

Maeve plops down on the couch, sighing as she looks out the window. Ransom was running late, and that only meant one thing. She wasn’t going to the concert tonight.

“Maevey!” Charlie says, bouncing on her older sister’s lap. “Don’t be sad. Uncle Ranny is watching us tonight, and she’ll be at Gillette tomorrow night, too. Can we make bracelets again?” Maeve wants to say no, until she sees her sister’s dark green eyes pleading up at her. “Pretty please?”

“Fine, go get the stuff. I’m sure Ran will just have pizza delivered. And…we’ll watch her interview on Leslie Locke’s today,” it wasn’t the same as actually seeing you in concert, but it would be fine. Maybe you’d talk about some upcoming music. Maybe you’d talk about a new project.

Charlie runs into her room to grab up her beads and elastic. Anything to play and spend time with her big sister. Bringing it back with the biggest smile on her face.

By the time Ransom walks into the house, he gives Maeve a regretful smile, shaking his head, “Maeve, I did try. Me and Candy didn’t end well, so I didn’t think she would help me out. And hey, your dad is the QB, shouldn’t he be able to help?”

“They’re sold out,” her voice is flat as she returns to stringing on a bead. “She’ll be on Leslie’s soon.”

“Leslie Locke’s?” Ransom groans, sitting on the floor with the girls. “All that woman wants to do is hook people up with another celebrity. She’s obnoxious, but she asks questions that nobody wants to ask. You guys really watch that trash?” Maeve shrugs her shoulders, adding another bead to her current bracelet. “What is this?”

“I love friendship bracelets! Here, Uncle Ranny, you start one. You gonna get twinkle toes this weekend?” Snorting, he shakes his head no. Giving a groan when the Leslie Locke theme song plays in the background. It is like he was getting irritated by just the thought of having to hear her voice. “I like when you get twinkle toes. It means we’re going to wake up with you here.”

“I’m here now to watch you because,” he pauses, looking up at Charlie whose eyes darken a moment. “Nixon will be okay. They think there’s a new…”

“Ran, don’t,” Maeve pulls Charlie over into her lap, giving her tiny sister a kiss on the head. “He’s going to be okay, sissy.”

“Of course he is, princess. Nixie boy is going to be so strong, and going to be the best linebacker that the east coast has ever seen,” reaching out his hand, he gives the little girl a tap to her nose, “I promise, Nixon will be okay.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. Hey, look! Maevey! There she is. Oh, she’s so pretty, huh, Uncle Ranny?” Both girls turn to look towards Ransom, and he is only staring at you as you wave to the camera. Giving the audience the prettiest smile. He’s notices the fake smile you give Leslie. He’s done it a few times.

“What do you think?” Maeve leans towards him, bumping his shoulder. “You have just as much chance as those normal people. But she has this tendency to,” Maeve’s words turn into mush as Ransom watches you. He hadn’t ever seen anyone more beautiful. He isn’t sure why he hadn’t ever thought to look you up. Especially when there was the rumor you would be singing at the Super Bowl.

Your fake little giggle as you look at Leslie is even adorable. He isn’t paying attention to whatever little game Leslie is playing with you until Charlie sees it.

“That’s me!” Charlie shouts, jumping out of her sister’s lap. “That’s me! Maevey, she’s looking at us.”

“Oh, my god,” Maeve chokes out, hearing you mention how Ransom was cute. “Oh my god! She’s seen my face. She…she’s — Ransom, do you understand what this means?” Ransom can’t think of anything other than the fact that you are staring at a picture of him.

“I have an idea. Ran, I have — Ransom Drysdale! She’s going to be at the children’s hospital before her concert. Ransom! Ransom, pay attention to me.”

You thought he was cute. You smiled a genuine smile looking at him. His phone hadn’t rang. Leslie wasn’t trying to put her meddling nose where it didn’t belong. He could call his people, and get them to call your people. This could work. One date. One night.

“Ransom!”

“What?” He asks, finally looking at Maeve.

“I have an idea, and you won’t have to get anyone’s teams involved. It would just be you and her. It’s perfect, and she loves simple things. She loves little sneaks. And I think she kinda liked the idea that you don’t have kids, but you’re around them. Ran, I know what we need to do.”

Performing was the easy part of your career. Having moments to tell your stories with a guitar in your hand. Nothing else matters. Just you and the movement of the lyrics. Looking up to see the children’s faces makes you smile.

You wanted a family. One day you would have some of your own. Even though you’re sealed up in a studio alone, this is one of your favorite crowds to perform for. Big beaming smiles as they hang on to every word that you say. They always called you powerful, but they were the powerful ones. Always able to have a smile on their face.

Smiling despite whatever was going on in their lives. Enjoying life regardless of what their diagnoses were. Simple. Peaceful. Looking back down at your guitar, you close your eyes for a moment, and just feel the music. Everyone always had something going on in their life. Money couldn’t buy you everything. Definitely couldn’t make bad stuff from happening to you.

Opening them back up, you look out into the small audience and choke. Having to look away from the handsome man that was standing in front of you. You had only just seen him in a photo recently, and there he was. It was like the clouds had opened up, and the sun shone right on him. His blue shirt setting off his eyes even more. And those jeans made his legs look days long. He is staying casual, even a brand new pair of Nikes on. He wasn’t even remotely your type, and still you feel drawn to him.

“Uncle Ranny she saw you,” Ransom shakes his head no. He imagined the crack in your voice when you looked up at him. He has to hold Charlie up, so she could actually see over the crowd in front, and Maeve leans over on his shoulder. “Yeah huh. She did. Or it was me.”

“It was definitely you,” Ransom responds without looking away from you. You looked delicate in that room all by yourself. Strumming on a guitar and peaceful. He didn’t have the best reputation in the NFL. The reputation of a perpetual playboy. Love them and leave them, so if you wanted to even talk to him, you would have to accept that. And from what research he did on you, any male in your vicinity was automatically your Prince Charming.

Two people from very different careers, and rumors that ruled your careers just as much as your talent. The rumors aren't always true. Some nights Ransom doesn’t even go home with those women. He crawls into a tiny little twin sized princess bed with pink ruffles. The tabloids could write what they wanted to. But this — this is an intimate setting, and he’s never seen anyone more beautiful than you.

You might not realize it, but you look at each child that is watching you perform. Giving them a moment of joy. There are no cameras, and nobody to see what you’re doing but these kids and family. And then he realizes he must look like the biggest asshole because he was here.

“We should go,” he whispers, and he swears he sees you shake your head no. Could you read lips, and were you asking him not to go?

“No, we can’t,” Maeve whispers, her eyes staying on you the entire time. “You have to give her what you made.”

“Maeve, this is silly,” she gives her quasi uncle a quick pinch on his forearm. Something she’s done most of her life. Her silent way of letting him know that she wasn’t going to change her mind, she needs to see this through. “I can just get…”

“She doesn’t like setups like that. She wants things to be organic.”

“I showed up at the children’s hospital to see her,” and saying it out loud sounds even more absurd than it felt. He was crossing a line by coming here.

“You are just bringing us to our parents, so we can check on our little brother because he’s going to have another surgery. This is as random as you can get,” Maeve’s words stop in her mouth as you smile at the three of them. Your eyes looking back to the kids in the front. You aren’t sure why they are there, but you aren’t entirely upset about it either.

He looks more handsome in person. And the way those girls are so comfortable with him. A quick Google search told you how close he was with his QB. How he spent a ton of free time with him, and his kids. You hope that they linger. You always want to give time to everyone before they are shuffled back into their room. Hoping a smile towards them, and holding up a finger, asking them to give you a minute will be enough.

You know it isn’t going to be long before you are going to be ushered away in preparation for the show. Taking a deep breath, you go to hug each and every one of them. Watching your PA from the side who is constantly checking on the time. Hopefully Ransom and his nieces understood it wasn’t being rude. She was always conscious of your time.

As soon as the last person is pulled away from your side, you stand up straight to look at Ransom with whatever smile your social battery will allow. Your PA says your name, and motions you with her head it was time to leave, “Give me ten more minutes?” She looks at Ransom and the girls, and holds up her whole hand. Five minutes was better than nothing.

“So,” you huff out walking towards them. Having to gulp when you realize just how massive Ransom is. No wonder the little girl looked tiny in his arms. “Uh,” you giggle, not knowing exactly what to say. “I’m sorry.”

“My brother is here,” the oldest girl blurts out, and pulls at Ransom’s arm. “He has something for you.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes. You do. He’s on the Pats. He tried to get tickets to your show last night, but they were sold out. I’ve always wanted to see you. I’m your biggest fan. My little sister, Charlotte, loves you, too. She’s just four, so she doesn’t understand all the lyrics. But I do. I love how you kinda tease your fans, and give us little Easter eggs in anticipation for your next album, or sneak things into your videos. It’s so cool,” panicking she looks up at Ransom. Realizing she had word vomited all of that to you. This wasn’t how she imagined meeting you would go.

“Maevey, breathe,” the little girl giggles, before hiding her face on Ransom.

“She talks a lot when she’s nervous,” Maeve gives him a pinch to his arm, and if you weren’t standing right in front of him, laughing a tiny bit, he wouldn’t do what he was about to do. “I did try.”

“Well, what if I told you that I have a few extra tickets to the show. I always ask for a box at these stadium shows to stay empty for me just in case. It’s still empty,” both the girls squeal, and Maeve tugs on Ransom’s arm a bit. “I should probably go, honestly. But…I’ll have my people call yours?”

“Uhh…where is,” You point over to a few hidden areas in the hospital. You had people everywhere. He’s sure most are for security. But still one could figure out what it was Ransom needed to do to get to the stadium. Maeve gives him another pinch to his arm, and he grunts as you start to turn around.

“Uh, me and the girls, we uh — we made you something.”

“That’s adorable,” you preen, looking between both of the girls. Ransom reaches his giant hand into his pocket, and pulls out a crude bracelet.

“We made friendship bracelets last night instead of watching your concert. I just brought them here to see their parents and baby brother.”

“This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me,” you’ve had sweet things given to you. But there is something about envisioning this man on the floor with two girls, and making a bracelets with those thick fingers. “Thank you. Honestly, I want to see you guys in the box tonight. Jared will get you all the info that you need.”

“Yes. Yes, you will. Ransom has nothing to do. Nothing at all,” you liked the teenager with him. Even when nervous, she still said what she thought.

Ransom sighs as you walk away. Thankful you hadn’t looked at what the bracelet said while you were in front of him. He could breathe again, but you couldn’t. Walking with your PA, your fingers play with the bracelet until you are helped into your car.

“June, he’s so hot. Like hot hot obviously. He’s so big and wide, and the way he delicately held Charlotte? Oh my god. That was the sweetest thing, and I need them at the show tonight.”

“Don’t let him be a distraction.”

“I won’t,” you roll your eyes, finally giving the bracelet a look. He was smooth. You stuff it back in your pocket. Smiling from ear to ear, and knowing that when you go alone, you were going to pick up your phone, and make sure that he had your number, too.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @floral-recs @fenixstar @astrorogers @musingsfromthemitten @patzammit @stillthatbetch

#inside her fantasy #ransom drysdale #football player!ransom drysdale #football au #football alternate universe #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x fem!reader #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale fic #ransom drysdale fics #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale fanfic #chris evans #chris evans character

[mostlymarvelsstuff]

So, I’m thinking R & Nat were shield agents from the start, and they’d always flirt, but they were young and career oriented so neither moved to mate. Fast forward to when Nat leaves for the Avengers she’s distraught to do so, but the R (her “bestie”) understands, and they share their first kiss in a bittersweet goodbye in the quinjets hangar.

Fast forward more to about five years later, and Nat’s been gone for so long, but as Shield was crumbling she ran back to try and help salvage it only to see you. Everything stops, she wants to approach you, but then an arm wraps around your waist and it’s then she sees you’d been claimed, and you watch her calm facade crumble for the briefest of seconds.

Her precious Y/N, her destined omega, was manipulated into another’s arms. There’s pain in both of your eyes, but the redhead smiles politely as the oblivious alpha introduces themselves to her. (Could be a random woman character, or a GN!Shield agent for the sake of mystery).

Natasha gets you alone, and when she does she instantly notices the remorse, you regret your choice, but all she gets out of you is a hushed sorry before you slip away and find your mate. In her mind you were basically pleading to be saved, and in a way maybe you were, and so she enacts a plan to get you back. Maybe, just maybe your Alpha dies on a mission… Then maybe, it’s Natasha who comforts you, and the R’s so vulnerable that she lets Nat mark over the others mark, finally claiming her, and breeding her to introduce a finality to your situation.

Authors note: I'm sorry its a few days late, but better late than never

Warnings: graphic violence, blood/gore, death/murder, Reader has a penis, typical a/b/o stuff(mating, knotting, claiming), sexual content(vaginal sex, teasing touches, groping)

Word count: too fuckin many, i mean uh - 11922

Marvel Masterlist Nat Masterlist

    Clint brings her to a meeting room in SHIELD headquarters per Furys request. The gruff man had somehow accepted her into his fold, allowing her to be teamed up with Clint under his handler Coulson. And that meant she had to meet the few other agents the man was training with Clints help.

   Most scoffed at her. Not only was she an outsider, but she's ex KGB. She shouldn’t be here and she certainly wasn’t a trustworthy ally. It made her feel like even more of an outsider. Like she really was the monster Dreykov made her to be.

   But then her eyes met your y/e/c ones and you smile at her, and she feels a sense of peace wash over her. It's foreign to her, not feeling like she needs to have her guard up to someone new. But those Omega instincts the Red Room tried to bury, they tell her to let you in. And though her mind struggles against its conditioning she tries her best to listen to them 

     “Hi Natasha, I’m Y/n.” you greet, holding your hand out to her

   She briefly hesitates, but as soon as her hand makes contact with yours she feels it. It's like a magnetic pull. She's never felt anything like it before, which causes curiosity to bubble within her. And when she looks into your eyes she can tell you feel it too.

   “Y/n here usually gets paired to work with me on missions, and since you will now too, I’m sure the two of you will be spending a lot of time together from now on” Clint says, oblivious to the connection the two of you are feeling.

   Her mouth twitches ever so slightly into a smirk, “Nice to meet you Y/n. Looking forward to working with you”

   Look here” you instruct, gently tilting her chin up so her gaze meets ours

   Butterflies erupt in her stomach at the feeling of your touch and instinctively she leans in as you look over the cut above her left eyebrow. The intensity of your gaze has her not even questioning you as you open the first aid kit on the seat next to her and gather the necessary supplies. 

   Though she's not used to someone other than herself caring for any injuries she sits compliant as you tend to her wound, first cleaning it before bandaging it appropriately and you thank her for letting you care for her by tucking a stray hair behind her ear.

   “There, much better” you announce with a smile, happy she's no longer bleeding

   She reciprocates the smile as soon as you take the seat next to her, and only then does she let herself relax into the less than uncomfortable seat, “Thank you”

   It was so soft you doubt you would have heard it if you weren't right next to her, “You're welcome, Omega”

   She blushes at the title, it wasn’t used in the Red Room to address them as using a title is a sign of respect. Something which is still foreign to her even now in this new place she calls home.

   A few of the other new recruits on the quinjet notice her unusual behavior, but none are stupid enough to say anything out loud about it. Especially so when you're giving a death glare to anyone that even looks at the Omega.

   “Hey, sorry I’m late. I had to catch up on some paperwork before Fury came after me” you tell the redhead as you take the seat across from her

   She slides you a cup of coffee, “It’s ok, I went ahead and ordered for you”

   “Thanks Nat” you tell her before taking a sip, you smile at her appreciatively as the warm liquid slides down your throat

   Enjoying the peace of the small cafe compared to the bustle of SHIELD headquarters, the two of you decide to stay there for a while. You both slowly drink your coffees, giving yourselves time to also enjoy the others presence. Which you both greatly do as you share small talk and stories 

   “And then without any warning the tree branch he was on snapped and he fell straight down. It took everything in me not to burst out laughing when he complained about his sore ass while I patched up his arm” Nat says, a large smile adorning her features as she recalls Clints antics, “I told him the branch wouldn’t hold him, but you know how stubborn he is. He- ”

   “You have such a beautiful smile” you blurt out before you can stop yourself

    Her cheeks burn a bright pink as she averts her eyes down to the coffee cup in her hands and you can’t help but feel a sense of pride knowing you turned the badass assassin into a bashful Omega just by complimenting her 

   “Thank you” she mumbles, her eyes still glued to her cup 

   “Come now Nat, let me see those pretty green eyes of yours” you're not sure where the confidence to say such a thing came from but you're so glad to see her slowly comply to your request and you smile as her gaze meets yours, “There we go”

   “You really think they're pretty?”

   “Nat, if you carried Medusas curse I would still stare into your eyes, so my stone body could look at perfection for eternity.” 

   Her cheeks turn even redder but she tentatively reaches across the table, letting her fingers brush against yours as she looks at you for permission. You nod and her fingers quickly interlock with yours causing a soft smile to spread across your face.

   “I’d put you on my mantle. You’d be my pretty little trophy mate”

   You chuckle at her joke, “Mate, huh?”

   “You’d be the luckiest Alpha around” she replies with a giggle and an unnoticed sparkle in her eyes

   The barbell presses into your deltoids as you squat down and you let out a soft grunt before rising to a standing position once more. You shift your feet slightly to ensure your form is proper before continuing, dropping down into another squat.

   From Natashas spot on the leg press she has the perfect view of the back of your body,  and her eyes are glued to you. She watches the way the muscles in your calves tense with every squat and how your biceps are being perfectly shown off as they hold the barbell in place on your shoulders. And if that wasn’t enough to get her thoughts racing, the way your tank top and shorts were sticking to your sweaty body certainly was.

      You finish up and drop the weight to the ground before walking over to where you’d left your towel and water bottle. The redhead finally tears her eyes away when you reach your items as she doesn’t want you to turn around and catch her staring

   After you finish up gulping down some much needed water you wipe the sweat from your brow, and you smile to yourself when you realize you and the Russian are currently the only two in the gym. You head over to the press and add your desired amount of weight to each end before putting your plan into action

   “Hey Nat” you call out, approaching her as she continues her current set, “Spot me on the bench press?”

   “Yeah, sure” she replies, stopping her workout to take a drink of water

   She stands and makes her way over to the bench press, allowing you to follow behind and admire the way her leggings and sports bra hug her body. She makes her way around to the back as you sit down on the seat, and she tries desperately not to stare at the way your shorts showcase your bulge as you lay back.

   “You ready?” you ask, letting your eyes trail up her glistening abs as you look up at her

   She nods, “Yeah, go ahead”

   Though her hands are ready to catch the barbell should you drop it, her eyes are watching the way your arms flex. It's almost effortless, the way you move the weight up and down, and she starts to wonder if you even needed her there at all

   “So, what do you think? Am I doing ok?” 

   “Yeah, you look good.” her eyes widen as she realizes what she's said and she hurries to correct herself, “ I mean, your form! Your form looks good!”

   You smile at her obvious slip up, “Thanks Tasha”

   She's thankful it was you doing the reps, because had she been doing them when you called her that new nickname she's almost certain she would have dropped it. And while she knows you’d have caught it she also knows it would have embarrassed her.

   After you finish up the two of you decide to head over to the treadmills. Unfortunately she wasn’t able to enjoy your company for long though, because another Omega had come into the gym and apparently she's incapable of doing things herself.

   “Excuse me” she says, approaching the side of your treadmill, “I don’t mean to bother you Alpha, but I was wondering if you could help me?”

   “Sure” you reply, missing the way Nats eyebrows furrow, “What do you need?”

   “Well I wanted to use the leg press, but I’m afraid that whoever used it last is able to move more weight than me, and well, the weights are a bit to heavy for me to remove”

   “Not a problem.” you tell her, hoping off your machine,  “I’ll be right back Tasha”

   She scoffs as you go over and begin to remove weights for the other Omega, she knows for a fact that anyone who works out their arms would have been able to move them. And literally everyone in SHIELD lifts weights of some type, they have to, because the last thing you want is a teammate that can’t help carry you to safety should you become injured or unconscious.

   Natasha watches in frustration as the stranger ogles your muscular form as you go about your task for her and her jaw clenches when she sees the way the womans eyes trail down to observe your crotch.

   “There you go, that should be a good weight for your reps”

   “That's perfect” she says, letting her hand come to rest on the swell of your bare bicep, “Thank you so much, Alpha”

   She barely manages to contain her anger and suppress a possessive growl, how dare this nobody come in here and act like she even had a chance with you. The redhead knows she doesn’t, she can tell by the way you smile at her as you return. It’s a smile reserved for her alone. Still, a lesson must be taught.

   She excuses herself from her workout and you and heads for the gyms locker room. She removes her workout clothes before redressing in her lounge attire, then she hastily makes her way over to your locker. In front of it lies your gym bag and haphazardly draped across it is exactly what she seeks.

   With your favorite sweatshirt enveloping her she stealthily makes it out of the gym, through the halls and into Furys office. 

   Natasha covertly watches the Omega from the gym incident yesterday head into Furys office. The level 1 agent had been found to be in possession of a level 5 agents personnel file, the schematics to a quinjet and a report of a classified interrogation. All of which on their own would be enough to cost the agent her reputation and would get her demoted at the very least. Combined it's a career death sentence. Especially when she knows there's no way the young agent will be able to convince the Director that what Natasha had ‘found’ was actually planted by the Russian, she was careful to cover all her tracks. 

   Sure enough after a few minutes pass the Omega emerges, tears cascading down her red puffy cheeks as she holds the box that her belongings are to be packed in, her SHIELD issued uniform jacket no longer rests on her shoulders and her ID and badge are no longer attached to her belt.

   Fury's eyes land on her and he gives her a nod indicating she did a good job sniffing out a potential traitor in their midst and she earned a smidge of his trust today. She nods back before heading on her way to meet up with Clint, and on her way down the various halls a smug smile graces her lips. No one touches what's hers and gets away with it, and you were all hers. 

   “Hey Nat, where have you been?” the archer questions as she finally shows up in the kitchen

  “Had to help Fury deal with something” she replies, gaining a brow quirk in response, “It wasn’t anything mission related so don’t worry, just a potential rogue agent I stumbled upon”

   “Really? What level were they?” he asks, curiosity getting the better of him

   “A one” 

   “Either they were ballsy or whoever hired them was a moron. A level 1, ridiculous. At least go for a level 4, not some newbie”

   She smirks at him, “Amateurs” 

   He chuckles, “I’ll say. But hey, I guess we should be glad the backstabbers are stupid, right?”

   She hums in agreement, afterall SHIELD will only ever catch the stupid ones, and she's far from. She was the Red Rooms brightest student. Nearly an expert in every subject she was taught. A prodigy in her own right. Had she not had her heart, her conscious, she would have been the greatest KGB weapon used against whatever enemy Dreykov saw fit. She would have toppled regimes, brought countries to their knees. Compared to that, getting rid of a rookie was childsplay. 

   “Anyway, have you seen Y/n?”

   He nods, “Yeah, she's in her quarters now. She nearly tore the gym apart earlier though. And the communal area before that.”

   “Oh?” 

   “Yeah, she can’t find her…” his words die in his throat as he finally takes in the worn gray sweatshirt that's two sizes too big for the Omega wearing it, “....her sweatshirt”

   She smiles as her eyes look down at the fabric covering her torso, “Guess I should help her find it then.”

   He shakes his head as he watches her head off for your room, “Omegas and their courting tactics.”

   She knocks on your door and smiles as she hears you get up from your squeaky desk chair. You open the door and smile at her, stepping aside to let her in.

   “Hey Tasha, Whats- hey wait a minute! That's my sweatshirt!”

   “I know” she smirks, “I’m sorry I had you worried about it, I got cold yesterday and it was all I could find.”

   She slowly unzips it, relishing in the way your eyes drink her in as she removes it. She wordlessly hands it to you, and your eyes dilate as you're hit with her scent that's practically flowing from it. Her heart flutters as she notices this change in you and she fights to suppress a purr

   “Anyway, hope you don’t mind I borrowed it”

   You shake your head, “You can borrow it anytime. It looks good on you”

   You're awoken by a thrashing sound, and in the pitch black room it takes you a moment to place the noise. But when soft mumbles in Russian take over the quiet night, you realize it's the Omega you're bunking with.

   You slip out of your bed and quietly pad over to hers. Now that your eyes have adjusted you can see the deep furrow in her brow along with the sweat that drips from her forehead. Tentatively you reach out and touch her shoulder.

   “Hey, wake up”

   The only answer you receive is a whimper followed by more thrashing movements. Your heart hurts hearing such pain in her tone and you hate to think about what past horrors she must be reliving.

   “Come on Nat, wake up” you try again, shaking her lightly

    “Pozhaluysta, ne bol'she(please, no more)”

    Your heart plummets even further and you become desperate, “Tasha, please”

   Her eyes snap open and she bolts upright, nearly crashing her forehead into yours in her haste. Her chest rises and falls rapidly and her fear filled eyes scan the room almost just as fast, until they land on you.

   “Hey, you're ok. You're not there anymore Omega, you're safe”

   Her bottom lip trembles ever so slightly and one of her hands reaches out for your own. You meet her halfway and she latches onto you as if you were her lifeline. You can feel her tremble slightly as she works on grounding herself and you want nothing more than to just scoop her up into your arms and protect her from everything the world intends to throw at her

   “Alpha?” You squeeze her hand reassuringly, letting her know she can ask her question, "Stay?"

   "You know I'm not going anywhere." You tell her, smiling softly, "My beds in the same room"

   She shakes her head, the fear in her eyes coming back once more, and you know you've said something wrong

   "Stay?" She asks again, this time tugging your hand towards her, "Please?"

   You nod, "Scoot over"

   She eagerly does so and you crawl in beside her. You're surprised when you feel her take your hand once more as she cuddles against your arm. You hadn't expected her to be this open with affection. Perhaps the nightmare really took a toll on her

   "It's ok Omega" you tell her, scooting even closer, "You're safe while I'm here."

   “Wow Nat, you look- wow” you stutter as she walks in. The dress she had chosen for this undercover mission was sleek and form fitting, with a generous v at the neckline as well as a slit up her right thigh

   “Thanks Y/n. You look pretty wow yourself” she admits, letting her eyes trail over your appearance. The way your suit was hugging your muscular form had her lower lip trapped between her teeth

  “For the love of god stop drooling at each other” Hill scoffs with a roll of her eyes, “Heres your mission briefs”

   The two of you play off her call out as teasing and re-read the file again before grabbing your gear. Hidden gun and knife for you, hidden widows bites and knife for Nat. You watch the way she slips the fake bangle bracelets on before she bends over to attach the knife sheath up onto the garter on her left thigh. You allow your eyes to roam her plump backside until she stands back upright

   “Good luck” Hill says with a curt nod, though she stops you with a rough hand on your shoulder, “And try not to let Agent Romanoffs ass be as distracting to you on the mission as it was in here”

   Your brows furrow, confused on what she means before you realize your gun and knife are still in your hands and not in their holsters. Natasha lets out a hearty laugh at the realization on your face and your cheeks go pink as you scramble to get your weapons in place before scurrying after her as she heads for the quinjet

   Your head hits the desk  with a reverberating slam and vertigo overtakes you as you stumble away from your attacker, or attackers. With the room spinning you can’t quite figure out how many of them there are, or where they are. And that proves to be problematic when you feel a fist collide with your jaw.

   You gasp as your back slams into yet another desk, sending the paperwork fluttering to the floor as the monitor screen falls and cracks under your weight. Before you can even attempt to throw a punch of your own someones strong hands are wrapping around your throat and cutting off your air supply.

   As soon as Natasha had heard you get attacked through your coms she was on her way to you. Reasonably she knew you were strong and capable, but she also knew the enemy was ruthless and she wouldn’t risk your safety.

   As soon as she enters the room she spots you being choked out by some big brute. He smiles wickedly when he sees her, and anger courses through her when she notices the way his biceps twitch, indicating the tightening of his grip on you

   Her hand quickly moves to her holster and in a matter of seconds she frees her gun, takes aim and fires. The man doesn’t even have time to be shocked before he falls dead, but when you fall to the floor beside him her heart sinks.

   “Y/n!” she shouts, rushing to your side. 

   She hurriedly moves you from your side to your back and she desperately searches your neck for your pulse. She lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding when she finds it. It's weak, likely due to how long he’d managed to keep you from taking in air, but it's there. 

   She takes a moment to look around her surroundings to make sure all threats have been dealt with as well as assessing where new ones could come from before refocusing on you. She resituates herself with her back against the wall so she has a perfect view of both the room's doorways and then carefully moves your head to rest on her lap. She quickly relays your situation to the rest of the strike team so they can send back up and then readys one of her sidearms. 

   While one hand stays on her gun just in case the other softly threads through your hair. She lets out as many calming pheromones as she can in order to both soothe herself and hopefully rouse you from unconsciousness. Which thankfully works.

   “Tasha?” you mumble, cracking your eyes open

   “I’m here. I’ve got you” she replies, moving her hand to your cheek, “You're safe, just rest until backup and medics get here.”

  “Mkay” you quickly agree, relaxing back into her lap with a sigh

   Your current condition keeps you from seeing her smile but she sees yours and she makes an unspoken promise then. You're never going anywhere alone on a mission again. She will always have your back. She needs to make sure you stay safe and she trusts no one with that job but herself.

   Clint's pups clamor excitedly around their Auntie Nat, eager for her attention and affections, and although she'd probably never admit it the redhead is just as excited to see them. Because despite her unconventional upbringing, hidden beneath her assassin and spy layer is a lonely Omega. And her instincts make her crave what all Omegas do, to find a loving Alpha to call her own and have pups with them.

   You smile softly as you watch her snuggle with Lila and Cooper and your thoughts wander to what the Russian would be like as a mother. At first it's wholesome things like how caring, loving and attentive she would be to her pups and Alpha, but then the longing to be her Alpha fills you and your thoughts shift. You begin to visualize how good your mark would be on her neck, how pretty she’d look beneath you as you claimed her and how beautiful; she’d look with a swollen belly full of your pups. 

   Unbeknownst to you this line of thought has caused you to pump out even more of your scent than usual, which is something that quickly catches Natashas attention. She stealthily glances over at you quizzically, but when she sees your lust filled eyes and tented pants she understands perfectly. She smiles at the pups before sending them off to find their mother, and she stands from the blanket laid out on the lawn. She stretches, allowing you to catch a glimpse of her bare stomach before she makes her way over to the front porch you stand on under the guise of getting some water.

   “Hi Alpha” she purrs, sauntering over to you

   You swallow thickly and do your best to stealthily adjust your pants, “Hey Tasha”

   She lets her hand trail along your forearm as her eyes take in your bulge, “You were thinking about me” 

   Your cheeks heat up slightly at the realization you'd been caught, “Shit, I- I’m sorry, I- ”

    “Shh, it's ok” she purrs, getting even closer. Her lips are now only inches apart from yours and her leg is dangerously close to brushing against your crotch, “I want you thinking about me, because I always think about you”

   “You do?”

   “Mhm” she answers, playfully nipping at your collarbone, “You wanna share with me what thought got you so worked up malysh(baby)?”

  “I uh…” you stutter, focusing on the feel of her lips against your skin as her nips turn to kisses

  “Dinners ready!” Clint abruptly shouts from his position at the grill. His gaze moves to the two of you, almost giving into your urges on his own porch, “Come get your horn dogs!”

   “Hot dogs!” Laura quickly corrects, slapping the back of her Alphas head

   Natasha chuckles at your obvious frustration, but she places her hand in your own, “Come on Alpha, there'll be time for that someday I promise you.”

   After dinner she helps Clint clean up, though it's painfully obvious her focus is on you as you kick around a ball with her best friends pups. She keeps thinking back to what had happened before dinner and she wonders if you had been thinking about what she is now. What having a family would be like, specifically with you as her Alpha.

   “You know, even a blind man can see how the two of you feel about each other” Clint speaks up, breaking her from her haze, “I think it's about time you admit it to each other and become a mated pair”

   She shakes her head, “We can’t. Not yet at least.”

  “Why not? Isn’t it time for you to be happy Nat?”

  She smiles sadly, “I still have red in my ledger Clint. I need to atone for that before I can even think about getting my happy ending. Besides, Y/n is very career driven right now and I’d never want to hinder her by asking her to be my Alpha. I want her to be comfortable with her position before she takes on extra responsibilities.”

   He shakes his head, “I really think you're missing an opportunity here Nat.”

   “I’m not. I know she's the Alpha for me and she knows I’m the Omega for her. It’ll work out. We just need some time”

     “I won’t do it” she says, nearly slamming the file back down on the directors desk

    He raises his brow, “I wasn’t asking Romanoff. It's an order”

    “What?! Stark had a choice!”

    “He isn’t one of my agents!” the man shouts in frustration, “If I had the authority to order him around I would!”

   She clenches her jaw and looks away from him, desperate to not let him see how glassy her eyes have become with unshed tears. Her heart is already beginning to ache at just the prospect of being away from you.

   “Send Y/n too then.” she says, her tone hardly leaving room for argument even from the director of SHIELD

   The one eyed man sighs, “Look, I know you have your eye on Agent Y/l/n, but I can’t send her. With you and Agent Barton gone, she's all I’ll have”

   She glares at him, “You have Coulson and Hill. Not to mention Carter is rising in the ranks”

   “Doesn’t matter. They aren’t specialized in the same things as the three of you were. And she suits SHIELD better than either of you do. You and Barton are wildcards, wildcards I trust, but…”

   “But she looks better on paper than he or I do because she doesn’t have a background as a foreign operative or a killer for hire” she finishes

   He nods, “I’m sorry. I really am. But if Barton can make his relationship with his Omega work while being an agent, I think there's hope for you and Y/l/n.”

   She sighs as dread eats away at her. She knows Clint only makes it work because Laura gave up her job in order to stay at home and raise their pups. As it stands both you and her are career oriented, and with this change of career to something more vital for herself she knows there's no way she could quit to settle down anytime soon. Which means the only option for now is to let you go, part ways until everything lines up and you can be together. She just hopes the wait isn’t long and that you can forgive her for leaving.

   “Hey, I got your message. What's going on?”

   She swallows thickly, trying her best to not let the built up tears in her eyes fall, “You remember that assignment Fury sent me on for Stark?”

   “The annoying playboy, yeah. I remember”

   “And you remember how the Avengers initiative tied into it all?”

    “Yeah.” you nod, “Did he finally say yes?”

   “No.” she replies, looking away from you. And it's then you sense somethings wrong

   “Hey, Tasha, you know you can tell me anything. What's going on?”

   Her watery eyes meet yours, “Fury ordered Clint and I to join the team. We leave tomorrow”

   “Oh.” you reply, trying to ignore the way your heart sinks, “Well, he couldn't have picked better people. I know you’ll do great there Tasha.”

   She whimpers as a tear finally falls down her cheek, “But I don’t want to go”

   “Oh my sweet girl” you coo, wrapping your arms around her, “Its okay”

   “It’s not!” she retorts, burying her face against your neck, “I don’t want to be away from you. And I tried to stay Alpha, really I did but Fury, he-”

   “Shhh” you whisper, placing a gentle kiss against her temple, “I know this isn't your choice Omega, and I don’t want you to go either. But as SHIELD agents we have to do what we’re assigned”

   She whines and her hold on you tightens, “I don’t want you to find another Omega”

   “I could never, Natasha.” you tell her, moving your hands to cup her face, “As long as we stay in contact, everything will be ok and it will all work out in the end.”

  “You promise?”

   “I promise. You're my Omega”

   She crashes her lips against yours in a bittersweet kiss, each of you pour out your feelings for the other into it and god she can’t help but wish she had listened to Clint a few months ago. If she had let you claim her then she wouldn’t be leaving now and this wouldn’t be your first and only kiss in who knows how long

   “I’m going to miss you so much” she whispers as you pull apart

   “I’ll miss you too sweetheart. So very much.”

   Natashas footsteps echo against the concrete as she rushes down the hidden bases passages. SHIELD has fallen and she knows this is the only place survivors of the fallout will reside, the true SHIELD agents. And she hopes beyond hope to find you there, safe. She hopes you weren’t injured in the fighting that escalated once Hydra was found out, but even more so she hopes Hydra hadn’t somehow managed to get their hooks into you and make you one of them.

   She shoves the doors open so hard they clash against the walls and the guards' heads snap in her direction, their guns following. They relax when they notice the person barging in is the Black Widow, and she carries on, running past them and further down the next hall.

   Finally she comes upon the room where everyone is gathering. Reunited squads sit off to the sides as the middle is a mix of people looking for their partner, friends or mate and her eyes desperately scan for the familiar face she longs to see. She's just about to give up hope of you being here yet, until the sound of your laughter rings out from the other side of the room.

   Her head turns so fast she nearly gives herself whiplash, but when her eyes fall on you for the first time since she said goodbye all those years ago and her feet instinctively carry her in your direction as a smile breaks out across her face. She's just about to call out for you when another Omega steps beside you, her arm wraps around your waist with ease and when you turn to smile down at her Natashas heart crumbles.

   There in the junction of where your neck meets your shoulder on display for all to see is a claiming mark, and the Russian knows it's not hers. Her eyes dart to the woman next to you and sure enough your mark adorns her neck as well. Tears blur her vision, this couldn't be happening. This couldn’t be real. You were her Alpha. You told her so when she’d said goodbye. She knows she hasn’t kept contact with you as well as she should have but she thought you’d understand how busy she was. She never dreamed you’d move on without her. Or without even telling her.

   Just then, as if you’d sensed her you look up and your eyes meet hers. Your heart falls as you realize she's actually there in front of you for the first time in years, because you know you can’t greet her as you want to. And guilt gnaws at you when you see the tears swimming in her beautiful jade eyes. You open your mouth to say something, but when no words come out you end up looking like a fish gasping for breath and the Omega shakes her head to tell you not to bother with an excuse. She pretends like her heart hadn’t just been ripped from her as she lets a calm facade wash over her and she prepares herself for introductions

   “Natasha I…I didn’t think I’d ever see you again”

   She nods curtly, “So I gathered”

   Not sensing the tension between the two of you, your Omegas face lights up, “Agent Romanoff, it's so good to finally meet you! Everyone around here always talked so fondly about my Alphas old partner!”

   The Russian quickly covers up the sadness that shines through her eyes and looks to your apparent mate, “Y/n never mentioned you to me, you are?”

   You roll your eyes at her behavior and wrap your arm around your Omegas shoulders to reassure her, “Well, maybe if someone hadn’t stopped returning my calls, emails and letters she would know that this is Sarah, my Omega.”

  Her jaw clenches as she suppresses a pained whimper, remembering when you had called her that. But before she can muster up the courage to say anything in her defense your mate cuts in

   “Well she's here now, which means she can now share in our joy.” Noticing the redheads' brow quirk in confusion she quickly continues, “Now that SHIELD is no more my Alpha has finally agreed that we can settle down and begin trying for pups, isn’t that wonderful?”

   A pain like nothing she's ever felt before erupts in her chest at the news and she wants to be angry with you for doing this, but when she looks at you all she sees is the same sadness she feels. Which truthfully confuses her, but it doesn’t lessen her feelings of betrayal. 

   “Y-yeah that's great.” she grits out through her nausea, “Y/n will be a great mom”

   “She really will be” Sarah purrs at Natashas words as she snuggles into your side, “I really got lucky here. Couldn’t believe no one had claimed her yet when I’d met her, I couldn’t ask for a better Alpha”

   Nat nods stiffly, “Yeah, you really couldn’t. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to find Hill.”

   You watch her rush off with a sad slump to her shoulders and you decide you’ll try to find her later once your mate is settling into your shared quarters. True you're all into this predicament due to Natashas sudden year of silence, but you still feel like you need to explain what happened. You don’t want her to think you never meant what you said or that you never felt what she did. Because you did, and truthfully still do.

   A few hours pass and you manage to break away from your Omega, so you take this chance to track down the elusive Russian. Thankfully you don’t have to search too long, you end up finding her in a remote area of the facility that was to become the armory. Makes perfect sense that she’d be here of all places. Cleaning her guns and widows bites always did help her calm down.

  She glances up when she hears someone entering her space, and is surprised to see you there. She assumed you'd be off with your….with Sarah, and she didn’t expect you to come looking for her. She didn’t think you’d have a reason to.

   “Tasha- ”

   “Dont.” she cuts you off, ignoring the burn of tears in her eyes, “Don’t call me that.”

   “Fine.” you sigh, “Natasha”

   “Whatever you're about to say, I don't want to hear it” she firmly replies

   “Nat, please” 

   She shakes her head, “No, you made your choice. And it wasn’t me.”

   “What was I supposed to do?” you retort, throwing your hands up in frustration, “We talked almost every single day, Natasha. We did video calls, we wrote letters, we texted, we called. Then one day it just all stopped. And you never even bothered to tell me why or what I had done.”

   Her hardened gaze softens as she realizes the pain she's caused you, “Y/n, I- ”

   “No Natasha! You don’t get to make me feel guilty when you're the one that ghosted me!” 

   “I- I didn’t ghost you Y/n! I had a sudden undercover mission! I had no time to inform you beforehand and there was a no contact order by Fury!” she defends

   “Oh, and this mission just happened to be a whole year long? How convenient”

   She shakes her head, “N-no, it was only five months, but when I came back everything was just so hectic and I got overwhelmed. I meant to reach out to you, really I did. But I thought you’d understand my absence.”

   “I would have if you just would have taken the time to explain things to me….” you sigh, “I did wait for you, you know. When you went quiet everyone told me to move on, especially when Fury let slip how close Captain America seemed to be keeping you. But I believed in you. But then the months just kept going by with no sign of you and Fury introduced me to Sarah, the new recruit, and she was clear with her interests from the start”

   “So you just let her have you?” she angrily asks, tears dripping down her face, “You just gave up on me, on us?”

   “I went a whole year Natasha!” you reply, tears of your own falling,  “I thought you didn’t want me. I thought you moved on.”

   She vehemently shakes her head, “I could never, I always wanted you. I always will”

   Not knowing what you could possibly say to make this situation you hang your head before turning around, intent on returning to your mate even though you'd much rather wrap your arms around the trembling Omega in front of you. 

   She lets out a whine as you begin to walk away, “Alpha, please. Don’t go”

   “I’m sorry Tasha…I really am”

   So is she, but not for the same reasons…..

   Two days later the redhead practically bursts into the common room that you, Sarah and a handful of other agents are currently relaxing in.

   “Where's the fire Agent Romanoff?” your mate tries to tease, but it falls flat with the other Omega

  “Its all hands on deck Sarah, Hill wants you immediately for a mission”

   Her brows knit together in confusion, “SHIELDS collapsing, what mission?”

   “The kind that could potentially resolve the dilemma? Are you that clueless?” she bites back

   “That was a little harsh Romanoff….”

   “This isn’t the time for false niceties Y/l/n, the world is falling apart, in case you didn’t know”

   “Oh, I’ve noticed.” you bite back, locking eyes with her

   “Its ok Alpha” Sarah speaks up, “I’ll be back before you know it”

   You break your gaze away from the spy briefly enough to kiss your mate goodbye before heading off to your room, god you were going to dread interaction with her if they all ended up in an argument or a stare down. Why couldn’t things just be like they used to be?

  Natasha chuckles as she looks into the mirror, the reflection shows someone that is unmistakably not her and yet it is. She smirks as she takes in the fact that her once bright green eyes are now a dull brown and her vibrant red hair is now deep black. She's glad she decided to keep the veil technology she’d taken from her encounter with Peirce, it will make this operation so much easier.

   She slips on a pair of  jeans, an old tshirt and one of Clints sweatshirts she no longer cares for before grabbing a pair of shoes she's willing to sacrifice and lacing them up. She quickly grabs her pre packed bag and sneaks out of her room, heading down to the garage section of the base. She grabs the keys to one of the zero mmx bikes and waits.

   She stealthily follows the SHIELD issued tactical SUV as it pulls out of the underground facility and she's careful to keep a good distance away from them as she follows. Not that it really matters if she loses them, she knows where they're heading thanks to the perks that come with being a level 10 agent. She knows every single detail she could possibly need to know for her plan to work.

   Finally they arrive at the mission location. And in true SHIELD style the SUV practically parks right at the front doors, but she needs to be more discreet. She parks her bike nearby, hiding it from view of prying eyes, before slipping into the old Hydra building. She sneaks through various hallways, ones she knows go without surveillance so both Hydra and SHIELD will be none the wiser to her little plot, and waits for her prey.

   However when the main doors to the facility do finally open, she's struck by the fact that she can hear two distinct sets of footsteps. That wasn’t right, Sarah was supposed to be here alone. She recommended it as a solo mission, but it appears as though Maria had other plans and sent along some backup. But she's not about to let that deter her from this. No, she will simply deal with the other agent first.

    “I’ll take the left wing, you stay right” she hears Sarah say

    “Ok, just keep your comms open in case there's trouble” the male voice responds

   She waits a few moments to give them a decent headstart down their respective halls before she moves from her hiding spot, not wanting to risk being seen. True she could still take them both if caught, but there's just something so satisfying about toying with your prey. And that's just what these unlucky agents are now, prey for the deadly Black Widow.

   She cautiously leaves her position and turns down the right hallway. The abandoned facility is dark, and from where she currently stands she can only see the agent's position due to the light he shines in front of him. A smirk tugs at her lips, this is a weakness she can exploit. Her eyes can become attuned to darkness within seconds, the Red Room has practically made them as good as cat eyes, she needs no flashlight. She easily moves along the hall, stepping around shards of broken glass and broken chunks of cement that would give her away as she sneaks up on the man.

    He moves to an entryway a few doors away and she knows this is her moment to take him out. This way if something happened and Sarah shone her light down the hall, he wouldn’t be noticeable. She follows behind him like a shadow, only moving when he does to avoid detection. But when he finally passes the threshold into the old office she closes the door behind them. It creaks, like one in a horror film would and the agent spins around quickly.

   “Who's there? I’m an agent with SHIELD, show and identify yourself!” he calls out, his flashlight trained on the door as his other rests on his gun, ready to pull it free from the holster if need be. Now that he's worked up she can tell he's an Alpha, but that doesn’t matter, he's still an easy target.

   He takes a deep breath before taking a few steps back, making room in case someone was outside ready to barrel in, “Agent Harris, be advised I have movement. We aren't alone here."

   He frowns when he gets no reply, not even the normal static sound of a quiet comms channel. His eyes widen with realization then, “Shit, comms are being jammed”

   He reaches for his cellphone then, and Natasha sees her opening. Like a viper she strikes, swiftly knocking the flashlight from his grip with one hand while the other uses the cold steel of her knife blade to slice through his throat. 

   “Gyykkk!” he chokes out as he collapses to the floor, his blood quickly draining from him as he continues to gasp and sputter

   “Sorry Agent Marques, you weren’t supposed to be here.” she solemnly admits, as she leans over him. She eyes a clean spot on his pants and wipes the blade there, cleaning it of his blood, “Don’t worry, I’ll take real good care of your partner”

   He lets out one last gurgle as she leaves the room and she smirks knowing what's to come next. She practically races back down the hall before veering to the left in order to track Sarah down. After a few minutes she finds her, alone in a large room that appears to have once been used to store files. The Omega is too busy rooting through a stack of papers to realize she's not alone anymore. Before she even has time to react a cool cloth is covering her face, and her world fades to black.

   When she wakes she finds herself tied to a chair with some kind of blindfold blocking her vision. She tugs at her bindings in an attempt to see if there was a weak spot. To her alarm the rope appears firm and panic starts to set in. Her mind begins racing. Was Hydra doing this? What motive would they have to kidnap a SHIELD agent instead of killing them? And where was Agent Marques? He should have noticed her absence by now. He should have come looking for her. 

   “It's about time you woke up” a females voice calls out

   Sarah pulls at her bindings again, “Who are you? What do you want?”

   “Oh honey….” the voice coos as rough hands rip her blindfold away, “I want my Alpha back”

   Her brows furrow in confusion but before she can question the woman out loud she watches her remove something from her face, allowing her true features to show. And Sarah's stomach drops when she recognizes the person in front of her.

   “A-agent Romanoff? I don’t understand?”

    The Russian steps forward with a dangerous look in her eye, and one of her hands wraps around the brunette's throat, “I’ll make it easy to understand then. Y/n is mine- ”

   “She's mine” the bound girl retorts 

   “No. She's my Alpha.” Natasha growls out, “She's always been mine, since the day I met her. I mean, do you really think she wants you?”

   A few tears slide down the other girl's cheeks, “Y-yes. She claimed me”

   The other Omega laughs, “Only because I wasn’t there and Fury made her think I wasn’t ever coming back. Otherwise my Alpha wouldn’t have even looked at you”

   “You're lying” Sarah argues with a shake of her head, “Y/n chose me for a reason. She- she loves me”

   Another more vicious growl leaves the redhead, “Y/n only loves me. If she really loved you then she would have knotted you when she claimed you, letting you carry her pups. But she didn’t, did she?”

   “Because it was too dangerous!” Sarah defends, “It wasn’t the right time!”

   Nat quirks a brow, “Really? Too dangerous for two government agents to have pups? That's ridiculous and you know it. It wasn’t because it was the wrong time, it was because she had the wrong Omega.”

   “That's not true” she whimpers, “I’m her Omega.”

    Nats green eyes glare dangerously as her hand tightens around Sarah's throat, “No. You're not. I am."

   The younger Omega thrashes violently against the chair she's tied to as her air flow is slowly cut off, and the fear in her eyes makes the redhead smile, "Oh, are you already scared? Well sweetheart, you better prepare yourself then, because we're just getting started"

   She lets go of Sarahs throat and chuckles as she hears her suck in deep breaths, desperate to fill up her oxygen deprived lungs once more. While the other Omega is distracted she unsheathes her knife, and she slowly walks around her victim.

   "Do you know what it felt like when I saw her again, only to find your mark where mine should be?" She asks, obviously rhetorically, "Or how it felt when she called you hers?"

   Sarah remains silent as more tears fall. She knows nothing good is in store for her, she can only hope that Marques is ok and alerting you to a problem. Then you'll come for her and save her from your delusional old friend

   "Well don't worry, I'm going to make sure you know exactly how it felt."

   With that Natasha uses her blade to tear through the woman's shirt, exposing her skin to the cool air around them. She shivers but freezes when she can feel the cold metal being pressed against her.

   She cries out as Natasha makes the first slice, creating a slash in the brunette's shoulder. It's nothing too deep, she wants this process to be agonizingly slow after all, but it's deep enough that blood is trickling. She repeats this action a few more times to various areas of the agents chest. 

   "P-please, you don't have to do this!" she pleads, the look in the other woman's eyes putting a great level of fear in her, "Please! I just want my Alpha!"

   The Avengers sneers at her, "She isn't yours! Get that through your head!"

   She continues her barrage upon the tied up girl for the next half hour, slicing into nearly every part of bare flesh she can find. Chest, abdomen, arms, legs, shoulders, ribs. They're all littered with various sized slashes. And crimson now paints the majority of her skin, and Sarah can feel the blood loss beginning to take effect.

   "Please…" she whines, "I wanna go home"

   Natasha smiles as she wipes a drop of blood from her cheek, "Oh you poor, dumb bitch. You aren't going home. You're never going to see Y/n again"

   She cries, "No, please…we're gonna have pups together…"

   The redhead let's her knife tip dig into the other woman's thigh, "The only Omega having her pups will be me. Because I'm going to be able to go home. I'll get to console her on your loss and then I'll rightfully make her mine."

   "She won't move on t-that fast" Sarah stutters, feeling lightheaded

   "Oh she will. Because really you meant nothing to her. You were a placeholder" the older Omega admits, "But I'm her true Omega"

  "N-no…"

   "As soon as I show up offering comfort she'll come crawling into my arms. And I guarantee I'll have her forgetting all about you as she claims and knots me, pumping her cum deep inside me so I can bear her pups."

   Sarah lets out a whine, "She wouldn't want someone like you having her pups…she wants someone loving and caring, not …a psychopath"

   "Oh believe me, I am loving and caring. Especially when she's involved. I'd do anything to make her happy. Which is why I'm doing this. I can't watch her be miserable with you when I know she'd be happier with me."

  "And when she finds out what you've done…..will she want you then?" She asks, playing on the Russians insecurities

   Nats jaw clenches, "She knows about my past. I never hid anything from her. The information that was leaked, she already knows"

   "I mean this…me." The injured Omega clarifies, "When she finds out you killed me…her innocent mate….do you really think she'll still love you?"

  "She won't ever find out. But if she did, I know nothing would change how she feels about me. Y/n will always love me"

   Sarah leans back in her chair, feeling defeated by the other woman's words, and her eyes begin to feel heavy as exhaustion seeps into her. She knows that even if she managed to get free she's already lost too much blood to escape on her own. She probably couldn't even stand anymore.

  As she thinks this her legs instinctively twitch, and Natashas grin widens as a new idea enters her mind. She chuckles to herself as she crouches beside the terrified Omega and she lets her blade point skate across the woman's calf before looking up at her.

   "This will hurt"

   Sarah lets out an ear piercing scream as the blade cuts through the sides of both her knees, severing the tendons and muscles that reside there. She continues to cry out as pain ripples down to her toes and up to her hips, it feels like her entire lower half is on fire and she's all too aware of the warm sticky blood oozing down her legs.

   Suddenly however, the pain begins to die down. At first she thinks she's gotten another wave of adrenaline. But then a numbness begins to creep into her feet and as travels up her legs she realizes it's not adrenaline.

   "Wha- what did you do to my legs?!" She cries, trying to move them to no avail

   "I made sure you won't be running anywhere. Your tendons and ligaments have been severed, your muscles have been shredded and your nerves are badly damaged." 

   Sarah lets out a sob as her tormentor's words sink in, and she begins to mourn for the life she'll never get to have now. She won't get to live in a beautiful house with you, she won't get to raise your pups, she won't even get to have the dog she's always wanted. She won't even get to see your beautiful face one last time, you won't get a proper goodbye.

   Her tear filled eyes look up at the other Omega and she can tell by the look on her face that time amongst the living is soon coming to an end. She's accepted that now.

   Natasha moves quickly, plunging the knife into the chest cavity of her victim. There's a crunch as it scrapes against bone and the agent lets out a breath of air that would make you think she's been punched. Nat locks eyes with her, then she twists the blade.

   A muted scream leaves your Omega and her face contorts into one of pure agony before the blade is pulled from her. The Russian watches blood gush from the wound and onto the concrete below and Sarah gurgles fill the room.

   Panic filled eyes look at the redhead, likely hoping that she'll end her suffering. But Nats is content to watch as blood spills past her lips. Sarah coughs up crimson only to sputter and choke as she attempts to get air. But it's in vain, she's drowning in her own blood.

   Finally after a few more choked sounds her body stills and Natasha has the great pleasure of watching the light fade from her eyes as all life leaves her.

   Happy with her work she heads back to her original hiding spot where she'd left her bag and she quickly changes. She sports a new outfit and shoes now, the old blood covered ones take their place inside the bag and she places the veil back over her face. She quietly heads out of the building and hops back onto her bike, taking off in the direction of the new headquarters.

   She takes a route a little out of her way, which takes her over one of New Yorks many bridges. She easily tosses her knife and sheath into the cold waters below and traffic zooms by her. Once she's in the heart of the city she heads down the first back alley she sees. Sure enough at the end of it is an old oil drum that homeless people now used as their fire pit. Thankfully one is around to see her toss her bag inside before lighting it ablaze. Not that they'd recognize her anyway.

   Finally she's back at the facility and she pulls her bike into the garage. She sneaks back upstairs in time to get a call from Maria.

   "Hey Nat"

   "Hill" she greets, "What can I do for you?"

    There's a sigh on the other end, "Marques and Harris haven't checked in. We haven't been able to get through to them either. I need someone I trust to go investigate it."

   "And that someone is me"

   "Correct."  Hill responds, "Y/n has already been informed about the situation"

   "Ok. Send me their mission location and I'll be on my way."

   Natasha makes sure her entire investigation and her reports are done by the book. She'd even called Maria to inform her of the tragic news and get a body retrieval unit there asap. And now that they were here, Nat could leave and head back to find you. No doubt you had already been informed.

   Once again she pulls her vehicle into the garage before she heads upstairs. She heads for your room first and knocks on the door. Worried when she receives no answer she lets herself in, but all she finds is an empty room. She heads for her room next, perhaps you were there checking to see if she'd returned yet.

   When she opens her door she's shocked to find you laying in her bed, covers pulled tightly around you. You're obviously asleep as your breathing is even and she carefully sits down on the bed next to you. 

   A smile spreads across her face when she realizes you're wearing your old sweatshirt. The one she liked to steal because it smelled like you, so of course she'd taken it with her when she left. Of course it had lost your scent years ago, but now it will have it again.

   A familiar scent permeates your dreams and your eyes gently flutter open, "Tasha?"

   It's obvious by the rasp of your voice and the redness of your cheeks that you'd been crying so she gives you her best reassuring smile, "I'm right here, Y/n"

   Without hesitation you fling yourself into her arms and she wraps you up in her tight embrace. She relishes in the way your body feels against hers, she's missed physical contact with you so much.

   "I'm sorry about your….I'm sorry about Sarah"

   You nod against the crook of her neck, "So am I. I should have been a better Alpha."

  "You're an amazing Alpha "

   You shake your head, "No, I'm not. I didn't wait for you and then I let Sarah claim me just because I was afraid to be alone and now...now she's gone and I don't even feel heartbroken"

   The Omegas heart flutters in her chest, "What do you mean?"

   "I feel terrible because she's gone, and she must have been so scared all alone like that. But I also feel relieved, and that's such a terrible fucking thing to say." You admit, running a hand through your hair

   "Hey, hey. It's ok" she coos, trying to relax you

   "I'm not glad she's dead, of course I'm not. She was a kind and sweet girl who really did care for me. But I never felt for her what I feel for you"

   She purrs at your admittance and snuggles into you once more. You relax slightly as her nose brushes against your scent gland, but the guilt still gnaws at you.

   "I should have gone with her."

   "No" she sternly replies, "Then the same thing might have happened to you. And I can't lose you Alpha."

   Her voice had cracked at her truthful admission, causing you to hug her tighter, "I know, and I can't lose you either Omega. I missed you so much"

   "I missed you too" she purrs, gently connecting her lips to yours

   To her satisfaction you don't pull away, instead you lean further into her, deepening the kiss by sliding your tongue into her mouth. She lets out a soft moan at the action and tightens her hold on you. Her heartbeat quickens when your hands land on hips and she allows herself to be pulled closer against you.

   The kiss quickly becomes desperate and sloppy, causing the Omegas hips to grind ever so slightly against you. You can feel yourself getting worked up by her actions and shame overtakes you. Your Omegas body is hardly cold and here you are practically ready to make Natasha your own. 

    “Tasha….We…we can’t do this” you pant, pulling away from her slightly

   “No please malysh(baby)” she whines, disliking the lack of contact from you, “This is all I’ve ever wanted”

   Your heart soars at her admission, but your Alpha instincts are torn. Do you mourn your lost mate, who you never truly saw as yours? Or do you give into your urges and finally take Natasha as your Omega?

   Sensing your inner turmoil the Russian reaches out for your hands. She guides them to her face, and purrs when your thumbs begin to gently rub her cheeks, “It’s ok Alpha, just focus on me”

   “I think that's part of the problem actually” you mumble, smiling when she laughs 

   “What I mean is, you're too focused on how you're supposed to be acting and what you're supposed to feel as a grieving Alpha. You're too worried what others will think” she explains, “Instead, focus on this”

   You look to where her hand now rests on your chest, “My heart?”

   She nods, “Listen to what your instincts are telling you. What does your heart want?”

   “You” you answer without hesitation, “I want you. Wanna make you mine”

  “Please do Alpha. Want you so badly”

   You surge forward and connect your lips to hers once more. Your hands eagerly roam her body and she whimpers at the affection, which only further spurs you on. Your lips move to her neck and she gasps as your tongue traces around her scent gland. Her hips jerk against you and her hands tug at your shirt

   “Malysh(baby), please”

   Not wanting to keep your Omega waiting you eagerly strip her and yourself of your clothes, and you marvel at how wet she is for you. Her slick is practically dripping to the sheets below and you can’t help but let your thumb run through her folds. She moans as you press against her sensitive clit and you can feel how she clenches around nothing. Your cock twitches at the thought of being inside her, getting to feel that for yourself

   “So beautiful” you remark, gently pressing your lips to hers as you line yourself up with her, “Even more beautiful than I imagined”

   Her cheeks heat up at your compliment but her reply dies in her throat as you begin to slip inside her, and she lets out a moan instead. Her hands clasp at your shoulders as you bottom out, and despite your urges to pound into her you still, allowing her to adjust.

  After a few moments her bright eyes gaze up at you, and you find nothing but tenderness and love in them, “Please make me yours Alpha. Claim me”

   You grunt as you comply, thrusting into her with a quickened pace. The way your cock stretches her out feels delicious and she knows nothing will ever compare to having you inside her. Her toys will never give her the same enjoyment after this.

   “Fuck, Y/n…just like that..don’t stop” 

   “Not gonna stop” you grunt into her ear, “Not until I knot you and fill you with my pups”

   A mix between a purr and a moan leaves her and her eyes roll back as you hit a sensitive spot inside her, “Yes, please Alpha. Wanna be yours, wanna have a family”

   Her hands move to your neck in an attempt to pull you impossibly closer, but when her thumb brushes against your old mark for her a spark of jealousy flows through her. It matters little that the other Omega is dead now, what bothers her is how Sarah got to have you first. But she takes great pleasure in knowing she’ll be the first to take your knot, and your cum

   Her velvety walls clamp down around you, and you let out a moan that has even more of her arousal gushing onto you, “Fuck baby, you feel so good”

   She purrs and lets her walls squeeze you, “Want your knot Alpha, please”

    “I’ll give it to you, don’t you worry baby” you reply, thrusting into her roughly

   “Oh fuck! Gonna cum!” she shouts and with another thrust she releases all over your cock

   “Such a good Omega” you tell her, kissing her neck as you continue to pound into her

   All she can do is whimper and grasp the sheets as you continue, quickly bringing her to a second orgasm. But right as she can feel herself about to snap she feels your knot press against her. Excitement floods her at the thought of finally being yours and having you as her own and she hooks her legs around your waist to help pull you into her

  You both moan in unison as you slip fully inside and lock into place. Her mind goes blank as she feels your cum fill her and a satisfied smile breaks out on her features when she feels you bite into her scent gland.

  After a few seconds you pull your mouth away to nuzzle against her, “Mine. My Omega”

   She's too blissed out to say anything in return but she purrs happily as your hand caresses her face. After another minute or too she begins to gain back some awareness and she hungrily eyes your neck.

    “My turn” she whispers before biting you 

  She does her best to cover the other Omegas mark and she takes pride in knowing it won’t take long for the remnants to fade into nothing now that hers is there instead. Her hands rub your back as she kisses and licks at your wound and her heart practically bursts from happiness when you croon for her

   “My Alpha, all mine” she declares, tightening her hold on you

   “All yours Tasha. And I expect you’ll be with my pups soon now, so don’t you dare even think about returning to that damn team without me”

   “I wouldn’t dream of it malysh(baby)” she responds, “I’m not ever leaving you again. But I’m also not willing to endanger our pups. I’m done with them.”

   “I don’t think Fury will allow that” you admit, worry knitting your brows

   “Oh, he won’t have a choice”

   “Find yourself another assassin. I’m through” Natasha announces as she saunters into the Directors office with you behind her

   He eyes her skeptically, “You can’t leave Romanoff. The team needs you”

   “Frankly I don’t care” she admits, “Despite your interference I have my Alpha now, and I’m not going to give up being happy just so you can put me on babysitting duty. HAve Hill watch the team”

   His nostrils flare as he becomes impatient, “You're not leaving. You leave and I tell your Alpha exactly what you did. Down to every detail”

   Natashas eyes widen slightly. She knew he was smart, but she's sure she covered all her tracks…of course if you knew the situation as well as Fury did it would be easy to conclude that she had done it. But does he have proof? No, if he did she’d be in a cell

   Your hand on her shoulder pulls her out of her thoughts and she hesitantly looks at you. She's petrified that you're catching on. Would you leave her if you knew? Would you hate her? Hate your pups? 

   “I know what she's done” you annonce, glaring at Fury with an intensity your Omega has never seen

   The man chuckles, “Oh I’m not referring to Red Room activities here Y/l/n. This information would break you”

   “Oh I know what you refer to, and if you think it changes anything about my feelings for my Omega, you're wrong.”

   The man looks taken aback by your statement. Apparently he had been foolish enough to believe that you had actually moved on from the Russian when you settled for Sarah. Apparently he thought one no contact mission and a heap load of paperwork and endless missions would be enough to push her into Caps arms instead of making her long for yours.

   The Russian approaches him with a smug grin, “You heard my Alpha. You have nothing to use against me. But we, oh we have plenty”

   His jaw clenches as she slides him a file. He immediately picks it up and looks through it. There plenty of documents and pictures that paint him to be in league with Hydra. Selling them weapons, giving them data. IT makes it appear as if he knew they were in SHIELD the whole time and the only reason he got shot was because he refused to give them something vital.

   “None of this is real. It's all a bluff. Doctored photos and my name inserted into others files”

   You nod, “But who do you think the public will believe if those get leaked to the press?”

  “What's left of SHIELD will fall without you to guide it, and your reputation will forever be ruined” Nat tells him, “Not to mention you’d be locked up in the Raft with all the other traitors”

   His hand crumples the paper in her hand and he sneers, “Fine. Both of you go. Leave and have your normal life. But i don’t want either of you crawling back”

   “We won’t” you tell him, taking your Omegas hand as you lead her from her his office

   She happily giggles as she gets into your car and you smile at her, “I love you, my Omega.”

   “I love you too, my Alpha. Now let's go start our new life”

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#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha x y/n #marvel #marvel fanfiction #fanfic #omega!natasha romanoff #omega!nat #a/b/o fic #a/b/o fanfic #a/b/o #a/b/o universe #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o april

[axelsagewrites]

Daemon Targaryen*Shopping

Sugar Baby Series Part Three

Part one - Part two

Pairings: Daemon x f!reader

Other pairings: reader x platonic Jace/Cregan/Sara/Aly/Aemond, Jace x Sara Snow

Warnings: creepy Aegon, Aemond having bad parents (Aemond redemption arc anyone??), general confrontation, swears, mentions of sex but nothing graphic, innuendos

Word count: 3390

Masterlist Here

“Remind me why we have to go to work when your sugar daddies already paid our bills for the next like six months?” Sara asked after you had both just sprinted to catch the bus.

You rolled your eyes as you stood on the bustling city bus filled with stoners and depressed office workers, “When did it become our money?” you asked. By this point you had gone on several more dates with Daemon. All to fancy restaurants and lunch spots.

He’d also began to send outfits to your house for each, making sure they were sent in discreet packaging still not trusting your neighbours. Gucci belts, Louis Vuitton heels, Chanel dress, Prada bags. Each date got a new outfit, hand picked by a stylist he had hired for you. each date also got an envelope discreetly passed to you as he kissed you goodnight. These goodbye kisses may have started out slow, but one time Sara had genuinely wondered if you were having sex on the doorway with how long it was taking. The best part? You didn’t have to pick up as many shifts so for once you felt you could relax. Sadly though, you still kept working despite it all.

Sara wrapped her arm around yours, partly to try keep steady on the bumpy roads as she held onto a handrail, “I’m your sugar baby now,” she said as she leaned into you making you laugh, “How many dates till you can get a car? Oh! Try get his Benz!” She chirped as an old lady a foot away glared at her. sara just glared back.

You couldn’t help but laugh at her antics, “I’ll see what I can do. Still waiting on him texting me the next date,”

“Make it soon,” she groaned. The rest of the bus journey was mostly uneventful apart from the lady sara had developed a silent beef with. Luckily, she got off before you. the restaurant wasn’t supposed to be too busy tonight however that didn’t make it safe from a Targaryen invasion.

Aly smiled unnaturally wide as you and Sara walked in, arms linked laughing. “Hey guys,” she said, drawing out the words with the biggest smile. She may be a server and a host, but she was a horrible liar. “How are you?” she asked.

Your stomach felt hollow as you realised, “Oh god not again,”

Aly told you both how Aegon had practically skipped down a few months ago when he graduated business school and now that Alicent had tracked him down and dragged him back she, her father, husband and eldest son were now due in for dinner to celebrate. “It is so not my turn, nuh uh no way,”

“Don’t worry its Cregan’s turn,” Aly said as she looked over the reservation, “I gave you the good section tonight, remember me when you marry rich,” she said, smiling as she leant on the host stand.

“You bitch,” you said as you smacked Saras arm, “How many people did you tell?”

“Ow!” Sara whined as she hit you back. “It wasn’t me gold digger,” she said as she swapped placed with Aly to take over as host, “Bet you it was Cregan,”

You rolled your eyes when Aly told you that basically everyone knew, “What about Aemond?” you asked as you tied your apron on, “Speaking of where the hell is he?”

“He’s tots freaking out about his mum coming in with Aegon and is going all perfectionist on the layout,” Aly said as she picked up her bags, “Mans been driving me up the wall. But he doesn’t know. we’re not that cruel besides he barely talks to us now,”

How is he not lonely you wondered. Before you could even protest Aly beelined for the door and you heard a loud huff, “No loitering!” Aemond puffed out his chest as he practically dragged you to the server stand, Sara giving a sorry wave as you went, “Everything needs to be perfect today, my mothers been on my case about this place and she needs to see that im still the better son so you better bring you’re a game-“

Wait a minute. “What?” you said as you stopped in the middle of the floor. There were only three tables in right now and four servers, but Aemond still walked right up to you to ask what’s wrong, “I had her last time?”

“And?” he asked, crossing his arms, “Why can’t you serve her this time? she likes you,”

You couldn’t help but snort, “Aem we used to be friends, remember?” you asked, touching his shoulder, “Remember our walk-in conversation?” you asked with raised brows. One-night Aemond practically had a breakdown his first month on the job because his mother had come in and was tormenting the staff all night, “We both know she’s a nightmare,”

“C’mon she’s my mom,” he sighed as he finished dragging you to the host stand, “Do me a favour. Since we used to be friends,” he said, rolling his eyes when he said used to, “Though I thought we still were,” he muttered and for a second you almost felt bad, “Just do your job its not that hard,” then he opened his mouth again.

“Whatevs Aemond,” you said as you logged into the tablet, “Don’t you have a rota to fuck up?” before he could protest a chef came out to drag him into the kitchen to complain about the latest food order. You knew better than to back talk Aemond but the nearly $7 in your cookie tin at home was putting a pep in your step.

Hearing that Alicent liked you was the only thing that worried you. daemon had been in a couple times since your arrangement had started and each time, he gave you a sly smirk or a wink. Whenever there was no Hightower in sight, he would request your section but even still she seemed to be catching on to some kind of tension.

When you arrived at their table to take their order you were met with the confused eyes of Aegon Targaryen, “(Y/N)?” he asked, tilting his head when he saw you before he suddenly stood up, “Long time no see,” he said and before you could say anything or even move he’d wrapped his arms around you for a brief, but very touchy hug. “How’ve you been doll?”

That name was exclusively reserved in your mind for daemon so when Aegon said it you quickly pulled him off of you with a smile, “I’m good Mr Targaryen, can I get you a drink?” you said as you showed him back to his seat. Alicent was muttering something under her breath, eyes glaring daggers into the table, “Can I get you anything ma’am?”

“Water for the table and- “

“Plenty of lemons? Of course, ma’am,” you said, cutting her off and trying not to smirk. No matter what Alicent knew, there was something she did not know. daemon had already given you all the dirt on her. he had told you every crumb of his family drama and for once you felt like you had the upper hand. “Anything for our regulars,” you smiled as you jotted down on your notepad.

Viserys seemed extremely pleased that you had recognised their frequent visits but Alicent and Otto both looked mortified. When it was finally time to take their orders, Otto spoke up first, “I’ll have a medium rare steak with no pink and not burnt either hear me? I swear your kitchen people can’t cook steak to save their life,” he muttered.

Then order something else. You wanted to scream. The whole night went like that. Alicent’s petty requests and Aegon’s creepy stares. Even Aemond had asked if you were okay at one point. You’d snuck off to the kitchen to send a quick rant text to daemon, asking how he could be related to these sorts of people.

Otto had sent back his steak for the third time, everyone else on desert as he waited. “Medium rare no pink,” you said, trying your best to smile as you sat down his impossible order. “Enjoy,”

“Wait,” he said as he picked up his cutlery, “I want to make sure its right before you run off again,” you nodded and waited as he cut into the meat, excruciatingly slow, “Again!” he yelled as he slammed the cutlery down, making even Alicent jump, “Look at all this blood! He said as he picked up the plate only to clatter it back onto the table, “Does that look medium rare to you?” he asked, pointing the steak knife at you.

“Yes,” you said blankly, ignoring the vein that almost bulged out of his forehead, “Do not yell at me sir,”

“Excuse me?” Otto yelled as he stood up, dropping his knife onto the table, “I never- I come here all the time and- Aemond!” he yelled across to the boy who was trying to hide behind a bar tender, “Talk to your staff this is ridiculous,”

Aemond practically ran over as he tried to defuse his grandfather, begging him to sit down at the same time. “She’s sorry, aren’t you?” Aemond asked as he grabbed your arm, looking at you with pleading eyes.

You briefly glanced at Sara who was watching this whole thing from the host stand and Cregan who had just walked in for his shift. You turned back to the group, looking at Alicent first, glancing over to the sulking Viserys and Aegon who had finally grown some humility, then finally the grown man yelling like a child. “I’m sorry you never learned how to order a steak,” you said slowly, ignoring how Aemond tried to pull you away and shaking him off, “Learn how to order a steak and find some manners,”

Before Otto could speak you continued, turning to face Aemond who looked on the brink of tears, “I quit, you can have my tables and as for yous- “you said turning to face the table. Aegon’s jaw went slack as he stared at you in amazement while Viserys looked at his wife, fear radiating off of him. Alicent however looked shocked, angry, and embarrassed all at once, “Have a pleasant fucking day, see ya,”

With that you stormed out to the host stand, not even bothering to clock out or put your tips in the tip out jar and grabbed your jacket from the rack. You glanced back to see Alicent and Otto screaming at Aemond, pointing at you with flailing arms. “I quit,” you told the shocked siblings, “And I think I might have accidentally got Aemond killed. Good luck,”

“You’re my hero,” Cregan said, his eyes wide with awe like a child.

“I’ve never been so proud,” Sara said before glancing back to where Alicent and Otto were now storming over, “but you need to go. Like now. Run if you can,”

You didn’t wait another second before almost running out the restaurant however as you reached the street you felt yourself smack into someone’s chest. “Doll?” a deep voice came from the man. You looked up to see Daemon, still in his work clothes and looking down at you with worry and shock, “Are you okay?”

“We need to go,” you said as you grabbed his hand and dragged him back to the car he had just got out of, “I’ll explain in the car just go, go!” you said as you jumped in the back seat.

“To my house please,” Daemon told his very shocked looking driver, “What happened doll?” he asked as he shut the door.

You looked past him to where a bewildered otto looked around the street shocked, “I think I may have upset your sister-in-law,” you said with a sheepish smile. “I guess you got my text?”

Daemon looked back from otto to you, eyebrows scrunched and jaw hanging open, “I was coming over to yell at them but looks like you beat me to it,”

When you retold your glorious tale to Daemon, he listened in silence like he was reading the tensest book of his life. When you finished your tale, you feared for a moment that he looked almost disappointed in you. then a smirk spread across his face. “I’ve never been prouder of you doll face. Eryk change of plans we need to go dress shopping. Celebrations are in order,”

You had never been shopping with daemon, but you could easily get used to it. he whisked you past all the shops you used to frequent and straight to the nearest boutique. He sat patiently, sipping champagne as a shopping assistant helped you find and try on dresses to show him.

Daemons eyes raked up and down your figure when you stepped out the changing room for the fifth time. Daemon stood up slowly from the chair, stepping towards you and silently taking your hand to slowly spin you around, “Like it?” you giggled as his eyes finally tore away from your figure to your eyes. It was a dark purple, satin evening dress that hugged you perfectly and felt as silky as a waterfall.

“Fucking love, it,” he mumbled as he stepped in closer, placing a soft kiss to your lips, “You’re getting it,”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit much for tonight?” you asked, stepping back with a laugh to look in the mirror. It was beautiful, you had to admit, but you had also seen the price tag.

“We’ll get another for tonight,” Daemon said as he moved back to pour you your own glass of champagne, “and that can be for the gala,”

“The gala?” you asked, finally turning back to him.

Daemon rolled his eyes as he gulped his champagne down, “It’s a family thing,” he drawled as he returned to his chair, “it will be painfully dull im afraid but suppose it will be far more enjoyable with you on my arm,”

Even still after all this time you couldn’t help your flush, “We’ll see,” you grinned as you looked at the dress, “You sure it’s not too expensive?”

“Nothings too much for my princess,” he said before waving down the store woman who was hanging around like a hawk, “Can we see her in that dark red number I saw in the window?”

“Of course, sir, just one moment,”

After another three dresses you had finally settled on one for tonight. It was a silk black dress, simpler than the rest but still to die for. When you told daemon it was the one, he nodded, kissing your cheek before waving the lady back over, “Hi we’ll take this one now along with the dark red, white, and lilac dresses from before. then as for that purple dress do yous do custom sizing?”

“Of course, sir,” the woman said, practically drooling over the commission, “I can measure her right now if you’d like,”

Daemon nodded and the woman quickly fetched the measuring tape, wasting no time in grabbing your arm to start writing the numbers down, “We need it for the sixth, will that work?”

“I’ll have it done by the first,”

when you were stood at the till beside daemon you were almost sick at the prices, “Daemon you really don’t have to,” you said, gently holding his arm as the sale girl glared at you.

“Nonsense,” Daemon said as he kissed the top of your head and swiped his card like it was second nature, “Besides we haven’t even hit the jewellers yet,”

By the time you had left the mall Daemon had spent the equivalent of a small house on your outfit for tonight with a few surprise dresses. Since you still had to get ready, and it was only five daemon was going to drop you at your house before picking you up again at six. “Where do you want to eat tonight darling?” he asked as he held your thigh in the car, his thumb stroking over your skin, “Anywhere you want,”

“Why don’t we eat in?” you offered, trying to think of anyway to save him some money after the massive shopping spree you had just been on.

Daemon looked surprised before quickly nodding, “Its short notice but im sure Olivia will be able to swing bye and rustle us something- “

“I meant like,” you said, cutting him off, “Why don’t I cook for us? It would be cute, just us,” you said, as you nudged his foot with your own, “intimate even,”

“I think I like the sounds of that,” Daemon said lowly through hooded eyes, the sight alone making your heart race. Luckily, or maybe not so lucky, you were just pulling up to your street. daemon glanced out the window, “lets do it at mine though,” he said.

You laughed at his scepticism as you grabbed the bags of dresses, “Whatever makes you happy,”

“That’d be you doll,” he said, letting go of your thigh before quickly stepping out of the car. As you waited for him to open your door, something he had insisted on doing since you started your arrangement, you were able to collect yourself.

Daemon opened the door for you and helped you carry your bags upstairs, even saying hello to Robb as he left the building. You knew sara would be home by now since you knew she only had a short shift today so you wondered how long she would squeal for when she saw the necklace daemon had bought you. when you finally reached your door daemon paused for a moment, “Im afraid I’ve not got any cash love,” he said as he handed you your bags.

You hummed in fake thought, “I suppose I can take a kiss as payment,”

Daemon chuckled as he leaned down, his hand cupping your jaw to bring you in for a brief but intense kiss, “See you in an hour doll,” he mumbled as he broke the kiss.

“Wish it was then,” you said, opening the door and giving him a small smirk as you stepped backwards into the flat, trying your best to seem seductive.

Weird, you thought, sara wasn’t in the living room. You sat the bags down on the couch before walking towards saras room. She can nap later, you thought. “Sara!” you called, hand on her door handle, “You will never believe what Daemon got-JACE WHAT THE FUCK!” you practically screamed as you opened the door.

Jace scrambled so quickly to cover them both that he fell off the bed, dragging the covers with him. You slapped a hand over your eyes as the pair both scrambled to get under the covers. When you finally looked through your fingers, they both looked mortified. “You said you didn’t like him!” you almost yelled at Sara.

“Yeah, well I lied, okay?!” she yelled back.

“Should I go?” Jace asked, reaching for his shirt.

“No,”

“Yes,”

“Dude!” Sara yelled.

“Dude! I need you to help me get ready,” you said, moving to sit on her bed. Sara was unfazed by how close you were, but Jace seemed to clutch the covers tighter, “Also I need to cook for daemon,”

“You’re a terrible cook,”

“Im not that bad,”

“You burnt water,” she said, glaring at you, “Ugh fine I’ll help,” she said as she moved to grab a shirt before turning back to Jace, “This was amazing babe. Just give me half an hour, an hour tops, and I’ll be right back, okay?” she said, kissing him softly making you fake gag.

A love smitten smile fell over Jaces face as he looked at sara who quickly got dressed. “Okay,” he said like he was in a dream before falling back to lay down.

When you walked into the living room with sara you paused for a moment, “If you break his heart- “you began to talk before sara shushed you.

“I do actually like him,” she sighed, “I caught feelings, I know its weird. But he’s so cute,”

“At least I won’t be alone at the gala,” you said making Sara raise an eyebrow, “I’ll tell you all about it while you do my hair,”

Sara sighed as she shoved you down onto the chair, “Why do I have a bad feeling about this gala?”

If you don't want to read smut you can skip the smut part without the series plot being affected

Part four smut edition here

a/n: so this is offically gonna be a 5 part series now. part 4 will be up tommorow then part 5 a couple days after that so dont worry its almost here i swear i promise

Part four non smut here

Taglist: @clairacassidy @valeskafics @starkleila @delicious-xx @pet1t3 @skyesayshi @urmomsgirlfriend1 @dark-night-sky-99 @lantsovheiress @themotherofblood @avalyaaa

#daemon targeryan #hotd daemon #daemon headcanon #daemon au #daemon x you #daemon x y/n #daemon targaryen x you #daemon targaryen #daemon targeryen x reader #Daemon targeryn imagine #modern daemon targeyen #modern daemon #modern daemon targaryen #House of the dragon #House of the dragon x reader #House of the dragon imagine #HOTD #HOTD imagine #hotd x reader #Modern HotD #Modern HotD imagine #sugar daddy daemon targaryen #Part two #Game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #Game of thrones x reader #Got #Got x reader #Got imagine

[wordstome]

Single Dad!König (Dream Daddy au)

(+ a bit of Ghost under the cut)

Thank you to everyone who indulged (said exactly what I asked them to say 😅) me.

Here’s the paragraph I wrote:

I imagine his heart sinking when Ava comes home sad and quiet, unwilling to look her dad in the eye. He recognizes what that means: that used to be him as a kid. His worst fears are confirmed when Ava admits she's being harassed by a boy at school, replaced by anger when Ava says her teachers simply shrugged and told her that boys will be boys, and has she considered that maybe he just has a crush on her? Needless to say, by the time König's walking out of that school, nobody will ever be hurting his little girl ever again. Honestly, one glimpse of Ava's dad by her classmates will keep her free from bullying for the rest of her life.

Now here’s a bit more about single dad König, namely, how he came to be a dad…and single :( Angst and death tw ahead (nothing graphic)

With Ghost, I said he would only have had Caden due to an accident, because of Simon’s previous trauma involving his family. He was firmly in the mindset that he would die in the field, he’s just not built for civilian life anymore, he's a danger to everyone who loves him. However, when Caden shows up at his doorstep, all he can think about is Tommy and his nephew Joseph when he looks at the boy. He probably does his best to get Caden sent to a different family member, but let’s suspend our disbelief that any responsible social worker would leave a kid with Simon “Ghost” Riley for a moment and say that the social worker is like “It’s you or the foster care system.” Realistically, Simon would probably be like “foster care is safer than living with me” but for the purposes of the AU, he took the kid in.

With König, he doesn’t have the same trauma/hangups regarding kids and family. He’s in the same boat as Simon: he’s a human weapon, and can’t function properly in civilian life. For König, his work is an outlet and keeps him stable. I’m gonna have to sit down and make a proper post about my König’s character (Alexander), but for my König, violence is a method of regulating his emotions and a way to manage his anxiety. Having power and being hyper competent in the field is key to his mental stability. However, I think he would be able to settle down, it would just take a very patient, special woman. (For the purposes of the AU his first partner is AFAB she/her.) Here’s where I start breaking hearts… 🤭

In Dream Daddy au, König considers his first wife the love of his life. She deeply understood him as a person and wasn’t afraid of him, even when he was socially awkward and intimidating. They were honestly kindred spirits: both of them had their neuroses and flaws, but instead of trying to fix each other or mold the other into some ideal partner, they accepted each other and thus were able to grow together. (And tbh they were already a match made in heaven anyway.) König’s wife never asked him to quit, and was completely ready to raise a child with him frequently being gone. She was a badass woman, and she really, really wanted to start a family with him, so they had Ava.

For three years, König was probably the happiest he’s been in a long time, and if you asked him he’d probably say it was the happiest time in his life. He was moving up the ranks at work, his mental health was in check, and he had a wife and adorable little daughter to go home to every leave. He started planning to transfer to a safer/more stable position, because as much as the military has done for him, he’s ready to step up as a father and a husband. Then he gets a call that changes his life forever, and suddenly he doesn’t get a choice anymore.

(I'm eternally sorry to the little fictional people I made up in my head because I entertained the idea of putting the Brooklyn 99 "Guess who got murdered!" gif here...)

One thing y'all need to know about my man Alexander is that he is the embodiment of "I am not meant for casual. I was born for soul-crushing devotion." His problem is that he never had devotion before his wife: he craved it like a starving man, and it engulfed him like water flowing into a basin when he got it. He had it for a handful of years (I'm thinking 6 but that's a flexible number), and now it's gone again. You know in movies when something horrible happens and they cut all the noise and there's just a high pitched ringing sound? That's König getting that phone call.

God. All I can imagine is König dropping everything and taking the next flight home. He’s in a daze, in a way that he’s never quite been before. His mind is finally quiet, but the emptiness is not peaceful. Then he finally sees his little girl, she runs into his arms, and the dam bursts. He just holds her and cries. He’s numb, a dead man walking throughout all the business that needs to be taken care of after his wife’s death. The only thing that brings him back to the land of the living is Ava. She’s so small, so sweet, and she doesn’t really understand what death means: all she knows is that her mama’s gone somewhere, and her dad is so, so sad all the time. She’s all that keeps him going, and the only reason he keeps himself alive.

By the time you come into his life, it’s been several years, but Ava is still a little girl. She doesn’t remember her mother at all except what König tells and shows her, because he’s determined to keep her memory alive. König’s been slowly rebuilding who he is as a person from whatever scraps are left. There’s a gaping hole inside him, and he’s reconstructed himself around the hole. In some ways he’s a totally new man, in other ways, he’s gone back to who he was before his wife came along. He’s bitter and angry at the way his life has treated him just as he was as a young man, but now he’s swallowed up by guilt and self loathing. He's gotten better at coping and functioning as the years have passed and life has continued on, but his grief has never really gone away.

(alexa, play "right where you left me" by taylor swift)

#HERE BUCCA GOES WRITING ESSAYS ABOUT A FICTIONAL MAN AGAIN #i spared you guys the 2 extra paragraphs about König’s changed perspective on death and mortality #könig #konig #könig cod #konig cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod #call of duty #cod mw2 #dream daddy au