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spacegoldilocks · 3 years

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The Gods Demand a Queen

Bjorn Ironside x F!Reader

Summary: You're a thrall in Kattegat, under the rule of Bjorn, who desires to one day be Queen and sit on the throne. He helps you realise these dreams, in more ways than one.

Tags/Warnings: NSFW, smut, rough sex, throne sex, fingering, edging, orgasm denial, bit of choking, bit of spanking, size kink, praise, language, no use of Y/N

Word count: 8.5k

The Gods have never favoured you.

You’ve been at someone else’s will for as long as you can remember. Not all of them have been nice. It’s toughened you up, though. You’ve learnt your place and your manners. You’ve learnt when is the correct time to speak, and definitely when isn’t the correct time.

You’ve been in Kattegat, under the mercy of Bjorn Ironside, for a few months now. He’s fair. You mostly stay in the shadows and out of his way. He’s not even here most of the time, anyway. You can’t really complain about your time here, even though you dream of a different life.

You dream of sitting high on a throne somewhere. Anywhere. Not having anyone to answer to. Your own thralls and slaves to do with as you please. A thousand people who call you their Queen, who sit around you, showering you with compliments and gifts. Sacrifices in your own name. A crown upon your head and your face smeared with colours that tell everyone that you are the Queen.

Alas, dreams are dreams. And you don’t dare defy the authority that lingers over you. The fate that awaits your disobedience and failure to capture the power you so desperately crave is worse than simply maintaining your fantasy. You listen attentively to the every need of the family in charge. Most notably, Bjorn.

He’s away more often than he’s here. In those moments, the throne lays empty. Practically begging to be used. At present, no queen resides in Kattegat and you long for the feeling of the throne beneath you. It calls to you like no other.

It’s more than a feeling that tells you that you belong on the throne. You feel as though the Gods have a plan for you. They keep you waiting, so you can ready yourself for when the times comes. It is a question of when not if. The Gods demand a queen for Kattegat, you can hear them.

You say Bjorn is away more than he’s here, yet today is one of the rare times he’s here and he’s active. A room full of people and many duties to attend to. Which also means you’ve been on your feet all day. With Bjorn home and his being busy, you’ve had no end of tasks to complete and requests to indulge.

It started this morning when he and his men arrived on the shores of Kattegat. You having to draw baths and prepare a feast, wash clothing and all the while do it quickly to keep time for any other jobs that might need doing. This included waiting on their every need as they enjoyed festivities for returning safely from their travels.

And so, the throne has been occupied. The only time Bjorn left his seat was to eat with his men, and he quickly returned to it when he was finished. You’d been watching him since he returned. The way he sits, spreading across the chair. Arms thrown over the sides, legs parted, head resting against the back as he looks down at everyone else.

Despite everything you feel, there’s no denying that power suits him. He makes a good king. He is fair and strong and courageous. And he is a son of Ragnar. He speaks with a loud, commanding voice when he addresses his people, thanking them for their bravery and telling them that they live to face more battles before walking the halls of Valhalla.

You won’t lie to yourself and say he’s not attractive, you’ve thought about it before. If you weren’t a thrall and spent more time with Bjorn, you like to think that something might’ve happened between the two of you. But you really have a knack for staying in the shadows, hidden, and only coming out when absolutely necessary.

Throughout the entire evening into night you’ve stayed hidden away as much as possible, watching Bjorn in his position on the throne. Gods, he’s so big. You shake the thought from your head, feeling the pain in your shoulders from so much time racing around today. Your back is killing you. But it’s getting very late, not long and you should be able to go to bed. Not long, you tell yourself. Everyone in the hall should be getting tired too, a long day of celebrations after an even longer time travelling.

They start disappearing in small numbers. Many women leaving in the arms of men, some already married, others seeking comfort in one another just for the night. You’ve made it your business to become familiar with a lot of people around here, not just so you can be a good thrall, but just in case. In case of what, you don’t know. You just think it might be good to have a good indication of who people are, and what they do, in case you need it.

Eventually, there’s only you, a few other slave girls and a handful of men, who are outrageously drunk. They’re so loud. They shout and bang their fists and cups on the table, spilling their drinks and making an even bigger mess that will need to be cleaned up.

Bjorn looks almost fed up, scowling as he watches the men from his seat. He holds his chin, elbow propped up on the arm of the throne. “That is quite enough.” He calls.

All eyes shoot to him. The men look like they want to argue back at him, but ultimately know better than to do so.

“Finish your drinks and leave. Everyone needs their rest.” He gestures around the room, even though there are only a few men, all concentrated on the table nearest the fire. “We have a long few days ahead of us.”

They chug their drinks, not wanting to disappoint or annoy Bjorn any further. They leave one by one, as soon as they each finish drinking, bowing to him before swaggering out of the hall.

You and the other girls are expecting Bjorn to up and leave, letting you all take care of the mess in the hall. But he doesn’t.

You each look at one another from across the room, spaced out along the walls. You’re all as confused as each other, trying to look for someone, or something, to take a cue from.

One of the girls, directly across from you, begins to move. She steps forward gingerly, looking at Bjorn as she does so for any sign that he wants everyone to remain as they are. It’s incredibly tense. This has never happened before. You’re waiting for his voice to boom and echo throughout the mostly empty room, telling the girl to return to her place.

His eyes flick to her, watching as she goes to the table, picking up as many items as she can carry, before returning to stare at the ground, lost in thought and twiddling his fingers. He doesn’t seem to have a problem - you’d know if he did.

And so the rest of you follow her lead, carrying things out of sight to clean and making the hall look more presentable after being thoroughly worn out by the returning warriors.

Your whole body aches. Your back, your feet, your head. Everything. At this point, you just want to sit down. The soles of your feet are probably worn from standing, walking, rushing from one place to the next.

You take any little milestone you can get. You told yourself everyone in the hall would leave and they did. Check. Now it’s four more tables to clear, the fire to put out, the goblets and cups to leave soak. The list goes on.

You and the other girls are dotted around the hall, cleaning and collecting different things when Bjorn gets up. You all make it your duty to not look at him.

Do not make it obvious that you were waiting for him to do something.

You hear him make his way across the room, his heavy boots making the wood underneath him creak, thumping across the stone floor as he descends from the elevated throne. His footsteps stop much too early for him to have already left the room, let alone the building. It’s unbearably quiet.

You audibly gasp when you hear whispering voices - much too quiet for you to understand what they’re saying, and thankfully they’re too far away for them to have heard your embarrassing gasp. Although, you immediately recognise one of the voices as Bjorn’s. Gods, you’d love to turn around to see what he’s doing. His behaviour tonight is continually fascinating.

You try your best to keep going with your task. ‘Just clean the table’ you tell yourself. ‘Focus on that. There’s a stain, try to get it out. Pay no attention to the-‘. Now there’s two sets of footsteps. One Bjorn’s, the other one of the girls. Is she leaving?

The stain. You scrub at it, trying to ignore the way Bjorn’s footsteps stop again. Followed by more whispering. And more footsteps. What the fuck is going on?

You think another one of the girls has left too. You scrub harder at the stain, thinking that perhaps if you channel enough of your remaining energy into removing it then your brain won’t have any to think about what Bjorn may or may not be doing.

Gods, why are you so on edge? Would you be this tense if you could actually see what he was doing? Shit, is that more whispering? And it’s closer. Maybe if you stopped scrubbing the table so loudly you could just about hear…

No. The stain.

Fuck, what is happening? In the room, to the girls, to Bjorn, to you.

You can probably guess what’s happening to you - you’re tired. You’re becoming delusional from being so exhausted by today. You’ve worked hard. You’re still working hard. This damned stain. You’re working so hard to remove it, to distract yourself, you’re only now feeling the way your shoulder is pulling from the harsh movements of your arm.

The stain’s probably gone. You lift your arm up to check and, sure enough, it is. Surely, you’re done for the night now? You’re exhausted, the long hours you’ve worked today are starting to catch up with you. You want to sit down. You want your bed. You want to rest. You want the hand that’s just started rubbing circles across your back to keep doing it. Gods, you could fall asleep right here, the motions lulling you.

Fuck. You flash back to your reality, your head whipping around as Bjorn’s eyes meet yours. He looks aggressive, towering over and shrouding you against the table. His hand rests on the small of your back as he just looks down at you. Maybe its your exhaustion, or perhaps its seeing him this close up for the first time, but Gods is he gorgeous.

Well, you’ve always thought he was handsome but something about seeing the many scars on his face that you’d never had the privilege of seeing before, and the brilliant blue of his eyes somewhat dimmed in the firelight, and the coarse hairs of his beard like this snaps you awake. His smile breaks through the tough exterior he presents, making you relax just a little bit.

The next words that come out of his mouth take you by surprise more than his hand that smoothes across your back. “Have a drink with me.”

Have a drink with him? You probably look insane because you just stare at him. Completely dumbfounded. Somehow you manage to nod your head, letting him lead you away from your lovely, clean table to a slightly dirtier one. At least he appreciates your hard work.

You set yourself down on one of the benches by the fire, resting your arms on the table to try to find a comfortable position where your back doesn’t ache. Bjorn, meanwhile, crosses the room, fetching with him two cups of ale. He sits down right next you, leaving a bit of space but not much.

He looks at you quizzically as he takes a gulp of his drink, whilst you sip. “What is your name again?”

You’re not surprised he doesn’t remember, it’s been many months since you last spoke to him outside of his instructions to you. You answer him between sips of the ale. It’s not your favourite drink in the world, but you like it. And you’ll probably get a small buzz off it between your sleepiness and the lack of water you’ve drank today.

“Hm,” he hums. “That was it. You have been here for several months now, no?”

You can’t help but wonder why he’s sat with you, asking you questions about yourself. Is he expecting you to ask questions back in return? You don’t think there’s a thing you don’t know about him. He is the king, after all.

You nod. “And what do you think of Kattegat?” He swigs from his cup, eyes staying on your face as you carefully consider his question.

You have nothing negative to say about the place, but you still try to choose your words carefully in case you say the wrong thing. “I think it is lovely here.”

He stays silent, willing you to keep talking.

“The people are nice, the food is good. And it is a beautiful place. There is much to see and do.” You elaborate.

He smiles under his beard, nodding in approval at your answer. You sip some more, waiting for another of his questions. He gets up to refill his cup, having finished it rather quickly. He checks yours, seeing it still mostly full, and walks across the room.

Just when he’s about to sit back down, he asks you another question. “And what do you think of the King?”

Your heart starts hammering against your chest - what sort of question is that? Moreover, what the fuck does he expect you to answer if not praise? You see his kind smile has turned into a devilish smirk when you look at him. Are you imaging it or has he sat ever-so-slightly closer to you?

You straighten yourself up, ignoring the painful tugging of your shoulders. “Well,” you begin. “I think that he is just, and fair. And that he makes a good leader.”

The smug look on his face stays, not bearing to stay silent long enough for you to make the decision to keep talking on your own. No, instead he insists you keep feeding his ego as soon as you take the smallest break in talking. “Go on.”

This time it’s you who smirks at him. “I know he is a fierce warrior. And I think that he looks rather good on the throne.” You mean the last remark in that the symbol of authority suits him. But, if he decides to take it … another way, then that’s up to him. Either way, you don’t mind what he interprets the comment to mean.

He looks away from you, chuckling, but giving nothing away. It makes you laugh a little bit too, any tension from earlier having melted away with your easy interactions.

It doesn’t last, not for you at least.

“Tell me, have you ever thought about what it would be like to be Queen?”

With one single sentence, you feel as if he can see right through you, right into you. Fucking of course you have, but how should he know? How can, in one sentence, he be able to floor you like he this, to ask you a question so unintentionally personal? One that pulls something deep within you, something you’ve never voiced to anyone and suddenly now it’s being unearthed by the one person who you should never have to confess it to. Not that you necessarily need to confess the degree to which you have thought about it, but even the insinuation that you have is enough for you to begin flustering, muddling any answer that comes into your head into an unintelligible mess that you can’t verbalise.

You’re quiet for much, much too long. You need to say something. “I’m sorry?” You settle for pretending not to understand.

But it’s no use. The damage caused by you silence is done. His jaw rocks to the side, clenched so hard his jaw bone juts outs under his beard. “So you have.”

Your drink lays forgotten, only serving as a distraction for your anxious hands as you fidget with the rim of the cup. You avoid his gaze, unsure how to act. Then again, surely everyone has dreamt about being king or queen? Maybe not to the degree you have, but doesn’t everyone strive for power? You hold your head up a little bit, feeling slightly reassured by your own line of thinking.

You keep your eyes trained forward, though. He tips his head to look at your face and you can just feel the way he’s smirking at you. He’s left you looking so stupid, stewing in your own thoughts.

“Come with me.” Is all he says as he swings his legs over the bench to stand up. When you look up he’s waiting, hand held out for you to take.

You get up, smoothing your dress out and taking his hand. He guides you out to stand with him on the other side of the bench and leads you towards the very far end of the long room. Towards the throne.

Your eyes flick from him, to the throne, to him again - back and forth as you walk the length of the room.

He stops at the chair and you stop with him, still with your hand in his. Is he doing this as a display to taunt you? Show you up close what you can never have? It’s fucking cruel if he is.

You wait for him to do something so you can take a cue from it. You look up at him and he simply motions with his hand to the throne. You frown, waiting for more information from him. “Sit.” He says.

Sit? On the throne? On his throne? Gods, is this some sort of test? Is he giving you a taste, a mere crumb, of how it might feel to actually have power? Or is he just pushing you to see how far you’re willing to go to obey him? It’s his throne, it belongs to him. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone else use it - not even while he’s away, far gone on a raid somewhere.

He drops your hand, using his own to push gently on your shoulders. He spins you around, pulling you down to sit on the throne as he stands behind you.

The room looks huge from this position. Slightly elevated above everyone else and able to see everything and, should the room be full, everyone. It’s comfortable too, and big. You expected as much, Bjorn doesn’t even fully fill the chair and he’s the biggest, broadest man you think you’ve ever seen.

He lowers himself to your ear behind you. “How does it feel?”

‘Correct’, is what you want to say. “Good.” Is what you settle for.

He straightens back up, placing his hands on your shoulders. He’s so big, and he’s putting far too much weight on your already sore shoulders, causing you to wince. “Are you alright?” He asks, alleviating some of the pressure.

“‘M fine, my back hurts is all.” You try to make it not seem as bad as it is, but truthfully you’re in pain.

“Let me help.”

“N-no, it is fine, really.” You lean forward to get up from the throne just as he starts using his thumbs to dig right into a tight spot in the middle of your shoulder blades. You let out a groan at how good it feels, closing your eyes and slumping your head against the back of the chair. Any desire to get up leaves you as Bjorn works the muscles at the back of your neck.

“Tell me if it is too hard.” The calloused pads of his fingers trace firmly across the tops of your shoulders, barely grazing your collar bones as his thumbs work into the top of your back.

It’s a power trip. You sitting on his throne whilst he massages the knots out of your back and shoulders. It’s getting you high, and you open your eyes to look out across the room. You imagine how it would look full of people. Like it was earlier tonight. Packed full with people there to see you. You'd kill for it.

Gods, his hands feel so fucking good and they spread across your shoulders so big. Your eyes flutter back closed, wanting to enjoy his touch without much other sensory experience.

You’re reluctant to acknowledge the fact that it’s turning you on, too. The pain of him rubbing away the aches mixes with just how amazing his warm hands feel against your bare skin. It makes you moan, forgetting where you are as you revel in his hands taking the pain away from you, leaving only traces of his touch behind.

He focuses on your arms now, the clusters of dull ache now gone from your back. His palms work down your biceps, squeezing your soft flesh over your clothes and coming back up to massage your shoulders. His fingers spread out over your chest, rubbing the skin there. You hum under his touch, which he can probably feel reverberating on your chest under his fingertips.

You didn’t tell him your chest hurt, but he spends time concentrating on manipulating your flesh there anyway. His fingers dig into the bones, coming up momentarily to wrap his thick fingers around your neck, squeezing before dipping back down. He repeats this a few times, making you whimper every time he does.

“Is this good?” He whispers from behind you.

You moan out a small ‘yes’, letting him continue with his handy work. His splayed hands come further down your chest, beginning to dip below the necklace of your dress. Your heart beats faster and fuck, you’re wet. You’re trying not to let it get to you but in this moment, you’d let him do anything to you, you realise.

You furrow your brows, trying to push it to the back of your mind, but his hands keep working further and further down, in tiny increments. You swear he’s going to reach your breasts any moment. But he doesn’t. It feels like he’s teasing you. In fact, he goes anywhere besides them. He massages the skin directly above them, kneading into it with the heel of his palm. Then, he dips his fingertips deep into the neckline of your dress, drawing a long, hard line through the middle of your chest, dragging between your breasts. He starts near the bottom of your sternum, feeling the rapid beat of your heart as you try not to think about the warmth pooling between your legs.

You don’t see the way his jaw clenches as he realises how rousing you’re finding this, being groped and touched by him. He told himself he wasn’t going to take it any further, but he can’t help himself. Not when you respond to his touch like this. All the little moans you’ve been making, and the way your heart thrums against your chest. He wants more from you. He wants to hear and feel more of you. Fuck it, he thinks.

He touch leaves you, and you feel yourself come down slightly from a high you didn’t even realise was so severe until it cuts short. You open your eyes to see him walking around to the front of the throne again. He extends his hand to you, much like he did earlier, and you know its your signal to get up from the throne.

You take it, feeling no pain whatsoever in your back, nor shoulders, when you hurl yourself from the comfort of the chair.

He surveys you, using his free hand to cup your cheek. His touch is intoxicating. You don’t know what it is, but the way his hands feel on your skin makes you chase the warmth of him, needing more than the short strokes he gives you. You lean your head into his palm, only slightly but enough to indicate your interest to him.

He’s trying so hard not to give into the part of his brain that tells him to kiss you and to touch you even more. But he hasn’t done well at fighting it up until now. And, unless he’s deluded, you want this too.

Your chest rises and falls, waiting for him to do something. It’s not your place to. His hand stays holding your cheek. It’s so fucking big. It’s big enough for his palm to cover your entire cheek. Gods, his hands were big enough to almost spread out across your chest. His long, thick fingers working at the base of your neck and down past your breasts. Your mind drifts as you stare at him, thinking about how they might feel somewhere else.

His hand drops from your cheek. You think he’s going to walk away and leave you desperate for his touch again. Instead, he sits back down on his throne, looking up at you as he settles against the back of it casually.

Fucking Gods, if he keeps looking at you like that you’re going to jump on him. It’s him that made you feel like this anyway. You were perfectly content to go to bed after finishing cleaning, but no. He had to ask if you wanted a drink with him, and ask you questions, and fucking massage you as you sat on his throne.

He keeps looking at you, considering what to do next. All he knows is he wants you out of your dirty, worn clothes. He flicks his hand up and down, gesturing at them. “Take it off.” He tells you.

Finally, you think, trying not to be too eager in removing your garments.

You start with your shirt, unhooking the top few buttons to allow you to slip the long sleeves down your arms. You let the sleeves fall and the rest of the garment goes with it, left in a heap at your feet. You’re completely revealed for him, your body glowing from the light of the fire behind you.

His cock twitches in his trousers upon seeing you bare before him. He’s trying not to be too obvious, trying to be patient in looking at your body, but he’s greedy. His eyes roam over you, drinking in every inch of your exposed skin that he can see.

You look down at the slight tent in his trousers, smirking at him. He returns it, curling his finger at you to beckon you forward. You’re much too far away, he wants to let his hands explore you. Much further than they already did.

You walk to him, meeting his hands as they come up to hold your tits. Those big fucking hands that trace under the swell of your breast. That grope at your flesh, and his thumbs that brush over your nipples, hard in the cool night air that makes its way into the hall.

He alternates between pinching your nipples, pulling them so hard it almost hurts, and soothing them again by gently rubbing over them.

Everything about this feels so dirty. Displaying yourself to Bjorn. The literal king. Offering yourself to him naked like this whilst he sits completely clothed on his throne. You know you’re probably not the first thrall he’s done this with, but it’s a first for you. And you actually like it. It’s a thrill. Whimpering at every roll of his fingertips over your nipples.

You ache for his touch somewhere else, trying to subtly squeeze your thighs together to relieve some of the ache. He doesn’t seem to be in any sort of hurry, taking his time to study every detail and flaw in your skin. It could be ages before he touches you elsewhere - if he decides to touch you elsewhere.

He pinches you again, but you’re so sensitive from his hands that you yelp, chest jumping under his touch. He looks up at you, looking at your face for the first time since you removed your clothes as he leans forward, enveloping your breast in his mouth. His tongue is hot but does wonders to soothe the slight stinging. He maintains eye contact as he swirls gentle circles around your nipple, leave a small bite before he moves to work on your other one. His beard scratches at your skin as he moves his mouth, melting in with the pleasure he's already giving you.

You snake your arm around his head, holding him to you as you watch him in awe. He’s an expert with his tongue, flicking and drawing patterns over the peaks. He moves on from focusing all of his attention on them though, sucking sloppy wet kisses into the bouncy flesh on your tits. He travels the kisses across your chest, leaving you glistening with his saliva. He goes down, grabbing at your hips as he traces his tongue down the centre of your breasts to just above your navel.

You want him to go further, resisting the want to buck your hips towards him to will him to go on. He draws his head back, his hands still resting on your hips.

He shifts his gaze down, watching his own movements as his fingers move across your lower abdomen, combing through the curls that lead him down.

“Is this okay?” He asks.

You nod. Gods, it’s more than okay. You’ve been waiting for him to touch you for the last … how long? You’ve lost all sense of time. All you know is you’re needy for him.

His tips of his fingers travel further, stilling as they reach the beginning of your slit. He lifts his head, studying how your face contorts in pleasure as he moves his fingers again, pressing one of them against your clit.

He pushes his finger down further towards your entrance, feeling how wet you are there. He smiles at this, satisfied knowing how turned on you are for him. He drags his finger back through, now wet with your slick, using it to draw an irritatingly weak circle around your clit. You try to push your hips further forward for more pressure, but the hand that remains on your hip prevents you from doing so.

Your breath staccatos as he pays not nearly enough attention to your throbbing clit. You moan at the loss of contact when he removes his hand from your cunt altogether, spinning you around so your back, and ass, face him. He almost pushes you over as he grabs handfuls of your behind, spreading your cheeks apart to really get a good look at you.

All you need is just a little push, a minute or so of strong, steady work on your pussy to send you over the edge. He’s intent on making you wait though. It’s cruel, you think. He knows what he’s doing to you - he’s fucking felt it. It’s sadistic. Making you wait. Teasing you.

He kneads your ass, his thumbs dipping into the space between your cheeks, so close to where you need him but never quite reaching there. It’s torturous. You know if you push your rear out against him, it’ll probably result in a longer wait before he properly pays you the attention you desperately crave. And so you stay just as you are, letting him manipulate your flesh as he so pleases. You can wait, you tell yourself.

Suddenly, he takes one of his hands away, using it to place a hard smack against your ass. You cry out as you feel heat rising where he’s slapping you. It stings and you’re surprised you like it. He watches your body shake, eagerly awaiting more. You clench around nothing as he lands another one. And another. He huffs a laugh, seeing how your body jolts at every strike, continuing to land a few more as he pleases.

He seems satisfied with his work on your behind, raising his hands to your hips once again. He places a soft kiss on your burning skin and then you’re being hurled backwards, landing on his lap.

He immediately starts attacking your neck with tongue and teeth, hands roaming around your stomach to pull you into a comfortable position on him. He then uses them to pull your legs over both of his, spreading them to give himself access to your body.

And he makes sure he makes the most of it. He grabs your tits, letting your head roll onto his shoulder as he continues his assault on your neck. You feel your skin going tender as he sucks harsh spots against the delicate flesh there. You feel the irritation there as his rough beard scratches your skin, with the potential to leave your skin marred.

“Do you want me to touch you?” He whispers between sloppy kisses.

“Gods, please.” You moan in response.

“Where?” He grabs your hand, placing it over his and pressing firmly, letting you guide him wherever you want him. You take his hand down, letting it hover over your trembling cunt. He nips at your jaw. “I thought so.”

He repeats his motion from earlier, pressing a single finger against your clit, but instead of only dipping down to your entrance, he opts to slide an entire finger into you down to his knuckle. Your back tries to arch away from him, but he keeps you locked down against his chest with his spare arm.

He pumps the finger in and out of you, making the most obscene squelching sound from the warm wetness he uses to ease the movements of his digit. Your arms lay useless at the side of you, letting him do all the work to pleasure you.

He adds another finger, scissoring the two of them inside you, stretching you open as he brings his thumb down onto your clit. To go from one lone finger to this makes you cry out, hips spasming from the shock. You can’t help moaning with how he works your pussy, curling his fingers to hit a spot deep inside you that makes you feel dizzy.

“If you keep being so loud people are going to hear you.” He warns.

“Maybe I would like that.” You retort, bucking your hips as far as you can with him restricting your body’s movements.

You feel his cock twitch against you as he snarls into your ear. “Such a filthy girl.” One of his hands begins snaking its way towards your throat, grabbing at it harshly to cut off any noise that tries to escape your mouth. “But as much as I like hearing your pretty sounds, I need you to be quiet.”

The moans get trapped in your throat, and you can’t warn him of your oncoming orgasm. It starts creeping up on you, burning low in the pit of your stomach as his hands work to push you further and further. You hit at the hand on your neck, trying to get him to let you go.

He loosens his grip but the fingers inside you work faster to make you cum. “What is the matter?”

“Close.” Is all you say, the oxygen able to reach your brain again momentarily before he constricts around your neck again.

He nods into your shoulder, kissing you there as he pumps, nudging your clit with his thumb as he does so. The way you make the smallest noises that he feels trying to escape beneath his fingers makes him groan. You’re making him so fucking hard. Your pussy clamps down around his fingers, preparing for your climax when he slows his movements down entirely, sending you spinning away from coming. He removes his fingers from you, bringing them to trace small wet circles around your nipples, as his other hand eases its grip on your throat.

It takes you completely by surprise, only seconds away from finishing when he rips it all away from you. You’re breathless, asking him why he stopped. “I didn't cum.” You tell him.

“No, I know.” He laughs the deepest, filthiest laugh you think you’ve ever heard in your ear. “You’re not coming yet. I want you wetter before I make you cum on my cock.”

The words hit deep inside you, making you clench on instinct. So this is what he wants to do? Prepare you to take him. Or maybe he just likes seeing you squirm and fidget on his lap, completely in control of your body.

Either way, it’s doing wonders to keep you wanting him.

He slowly drops his hand back down, bringing the same two fingers into your warm heat. He leaves your clit alone, focusing all his attention on dragging the rough pads of his fingers against the sweet spot inside you. He curls them, hitting just where you need him to every single time. It’s bliss and before long your walls start fluttering, a sign of your peak.

He feels it. He feels how your pussy starts spasming around his fingers, clenching the very tips of them as he pushes them so fucking deep into you. He loves this. Getting to push you further and further. He wants you begging for him to let you cum. Begging for him to fuck you and let you cum all over him. He wonders how many times he can edge you before he gives in to your sweet little cries and pleading eyes.

Both of you knew it wouldn’t take long for your high to burn back up as quickly as it diminished. It makes you crazed, letting your loud moans fill the hall with nothing around your neck to stop them getting out. He works faster, now knowing how you respond to being so close, pushing his fingers into your opening and using his other hand to absentmindedly play with your tits.

He knows now how to work you up unbearably quick and strip it all away before you're pushed too far - and it’s exactly what he does. As you're sent hurtling forwards towards your high once again, he takes away his fingers, leaving you edged again.

You slump back against him and let your head rest on his shoulder, already exhausted from the whiplash of pleasure and it being stripped away before it’s able to consume you.

He rolls your head towards him, pressing his lips against your forehead. “You’re doing so well.” He praises. He rubs your thighs, waiting for the right time to start playing with your cunt again. It’s surprisingly soothing.

He waits for your breath to become steady and for your body to cool down. You’re worked up beyond belief

Your body’s covered in a cold sweat, worn out from all the edging he’s putting you through. You don’t even know how much more of this you can take. How much more you can tolerate before you take matters into your own hands, giving yourself your own release. It sounds good, but truthfully? Waiting it out for the prospect of being fucked by him? Gods, it sounds a thousand times better. You can’t see it but you can just feel how big he is, his cock pressing hard into your back. You want to feel it stretching you, filling you in a way his fingers fail to achieve.

He decides you must be ready, because he takes two fingers to rub against your clit. Your hips buck up, the nerves in your clit overworked and yet desperate to chase any contact to give them release. Your moans come out frantically, whimpering in your slumped position lying against him as his hot breath fans over your face.

His fingers work around your bud with ease, using the excessive slick you’re producing to slip through your folds. He loves this, watching how your body looks, so worked up. You’re shining with sweat, an icy sheen over your entire body, coating your chest, your legs. Beautiful.

You’re so sensitive and you haven’t even cum. You writhe in his lap, waiting for the moment you feel yourself about to peak and trying to prepare for the eventual fall away from it. You know it’s going to happen. He told you he wants to fuck you through your orgasm, so you know you’re about to be denied three times in a row.

You feel it, again. Your clit becoming more and more needy as his fingertips swirl around it. Your back starts to arch, preparing for a climax that’s not going to happen. You push his hand away on instinct, already accustomed to being denied your high. The quick movement of your hand takes you both by surprise.

You keep a firm grip as your fingers lock around his hand, keeping it held hovered above your pussy. Your eyes flutter closed. You know you can’t take another round of this … whatever it is. Fucking torture.

“You learn fast.” He remarks, watching your chest rise and fall rapidly, your orgasm slipping away from you for the third time.

“Please, let me cum.” You plead with him.

“Here, get up.” He helps you to your feet as you stand on weak, shaking legs.

You get up, feeling just how wet you are at the apex of your thighs as they press together for the first time since he pulled you onto his lap. They move together, sticky, as you pad around to face him.

He’s spread out across the chair, just as he was earlier when you saw him. The only difference is the huge bulge in his trousers, and the wet spot - evidence of the messiness between your legs.

He dips his hand below the loose waistband of his trousers, pumping himself without you being able to fully see. With his other hand he pulls you by your hips onto his lap, facing him this time. You place your knees in the free space left on the throne on either side of his legs. You reach your hand to meet his in his trousers and feel how big he is for yourself.

Your hand can barely wrap around his girth. You give him a hard tug, making him grunt. It’s like music to your ears. Finally getting to hear the noises he makes, instead of him pulling the sounds out of you as he denies you. He twitches in your hand as you free him from the confines of his trousers.

And if you couldn’t feel it in your hand, you fucking see it. He’s huge. You bite your lip, anticipating the difficulty you’re going to have letting him fuck you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone this big before, let alone let them inside you.

You look up at him, seeing how smug he looks knowing you’re gobsmacked. He knows he’s impressive. Just knows you’ve never seen a cock that big. He probably knows you’re going to find it hard to take, too.

So you’re determined to take it. And you’re so fucking ready to cum. You need it.

You rise up on your knees, lining him up with your entrance. You're wet enough, but even the nudge of his head against your opening makes your mouth fall open. He pulses in your hand as you stay there, trying to let your cunt adjust to the intrusion.

The way he stretches your tight hole makes it sting. But you can’t help but think it feels fucking amazing - he fills you so well as you sink down onto him. A different kind of pain and pleasure mixture than when his big, warm hands were caressing your shoulders and chest, earlier. It’s not warm and soft like that, it’s blazing hot and fiery, perfect around him as he throbs.

Your hands find their way back onto his chest, confident that he won’t slip out of you by accident. You move up and down on just the top half of his length, taking yourself further down with every jolt of your hips.

The hands on your hips still you as you move down on him. “Do you want me deeper?” He pushes his hips up, nudging his cock further into you by a mere fraction. “Tell me, is that what you want? You need me to fill you?”

Fucking of course it’s what you want, you want to feel him all the way inside you. You want to be able to feel him when you walk tomorrow. You’re just nervous at having to take all of him. “Yes, just go slow.”

He stays holding your hips, lifting his hips up to push into you. He loves watching it. Loves how it feels. How your tight heat clenches around him as he pushes into you. He takes it slow, like you asked, gently lowering you back onto him a little as he watches himself move inside you. You’re almost there and he thrusts the rest of the way into you, burying himself to the hilt.

You mewl, completely filled by him now. You roll your hips against him, feeling every time his head moves against your walls and nudges against your cervix.

“F-Fuck. Bjorn -“ you begin.

He feels your thighs clenching on either side of him, a sign that you’re about to cum. “Do it.” He says. “Cum for me.”

The relief washes over you just as your orgasm does. Your body jolts forward, unable to hold yourself up anymore. You cum hard. So hard. He feels his cock get flooded with more of your arousal as you squeeze him with the flexing muscles in your cunt. Your eyes roll back as you hold yourself against him for security, clutching onto him hoping to ground yourself against something.

He keeps moving his hips against your writhing ones, dragging his cock inside you. It makes you scream. The sound gets muffled against his clothed chest as you crumple into a spent heap on him.

You feel more than hear the guttural moans that escape Bjorn as he feels you coming undone so hard on his lap. The sounds reverberate in his chest underneath you and he holds you close to him. You nuzzle into his chest, letting him take over the movement to chase his peak now that you’ve reached yours.

He meets virtually no resistance from your cunt now, easing in and out with your slick and the slackness that came with your orgasm. He thrusts a few times before starting to hammer into you with zero remorse.

You try to thrash out, but he’s holding you so tight against his chest that there’s nowhere for you to go.

“You didn’t think I was only going to let you cum once, did you?” He growls into your ear. “You worked so hard, you deserve one more.”

Your arms are trapped under the weight of your upper body, all of which is held flush against him as his arms wrap around you. He holds you in place as he brutally fucks up into you, his skin slapping against yours and making the filthiest smacking noises that echo around the empty room.

You relax against him, feeling every inch he buries into you and letting yourself be carried away by the euphoric way he’s making you feel. You swear, no one’s ever made you feel like this.

He notices the way you go slightly limp against him, using the opportunity to keep one arm around you and wedging the other between the two of you. There’s just enough room for him to reach his middle finger up to stroke over your clit in perfect time with his thrusts.

There’s no sound that escapes your mouth when you open it to cry out. Only a hoarse, throaty moan that gets caught somewhere. Tears form at the corners of your eyes as you feel another peak approaching. It’s debilitating. Your cunt's been teased so many times and then allowed to cum, it’s as if it doesn’t know how to deal with the oncoming climax. You clench, drawing higher and higher and higher, waiting to be dropped down to your pleasure.

When you cum, it’s even more brutal than the time before. He has no consideration for your spasming body as his pace never falters, only becoming even easier for him to fuck you now with two orgasms worth of your cum to guide him.

You cry his name out, begging him to cum soon. You don’t know how much more of his savage, relentless thrusts you can take.

“P-perfect. So good.” He replies, losing himself in chasing his high. He can feel himself getting closer. And the way your pussy gets so wet and how you clench so hard around him. Gods, he’s surprised he didn’t cum with you. He has always prided himself on his ability to last, though. “W-won’t - fuck - won’t be long. Want to cum in this cunt.”

Fucking please, you think. You want to feel him fill you in the only way he hasn’t yet.

His movements begin to falter ever-so-slightly, so you know he means it when he says he’s close. He tries to get a few more good, deep thrusts into you before he cums. He lasts for maybe five or six more.

Everything about him is big and excessive. Big hands, broad shoulders, big cock. And even his fucking load is huge. He pushes into you as he spurts his cum, feeling it drip down his cock and drilling it back into you as he tries to keep fucking you while he cums.

He sounds so good moaning in your ear, louder than he’s been moaning this entire time. The noises he makes are gorgeous - low, husky groans right next to you.

He drops his hips down, but even still half his length is still buried inside you. You feel his cum leak out of you, probably mixed with some of your own wetness. And he, in turn, feels it run down his cock, dripping down onto his balls.

You’re both left breathless and completely exhausted. He rests on the chair, one of his arms still haphazardly thrown around you, the other hanging over the arm of the throne. You lie on top of him, still curling your upper body to huddle into the warmth of his chest.

He clears his throat. “I must confess something." He begins. You lift your head up slightly to look at him. The sweat gleams on his forehead, dripping down from his temples. "I have heard the demands of the Gods. And they demand a queen for Kattegat.”

Your eyes go wide, not that he can see.

“So,” he sweeps the hand on your back upwards, coming to hold your face as he asks you one final question. “How would you like to be Queen?”

#Bjorn ironside x reader #Bjorn ironside x you #Bjorn x reader #Bjorn x you #Bjorn ironside #smut #Bjorn fanfiction #vikings fanfiction

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chocolatemilklvr · 2 years

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Here & There | Arthur Morgan x Reader

Summary: It’s been almost a day and Arthur can’t find the reader. As he searches for her, he reflects on what happened. Meanwhile, the reader thinks about her time with Arthur, wondering if it was ever real. She wonders if this would be the end of them. Unfortunately, a rude awakening brings their relationship into perspective.

Author’s Note: I apologize for the last chapter. What’s a good story without any conflict, though? Thank you so much to those who have read the entire story and are following along. I appreciate it! (I saw how everyone was debating over Mary and just want y’all to know this isn’t me slandering her. I just thought it would be a decent way to progress the story along.)

TW: Violence, blood, death

Part Four

You didn’t exactly plan on leaving camp for so long.

Your plan was to be alone by the river for a little while and then return. Dutch just happened to catch you as you rode in.

The leader had asked you to go check out Six Point Cabin where the O’Driscoll boys were apparently occupying. You immediately agreed, wanting to get away from camp for a while.

You didn’t feel it would be necessary to let Arthur know where you were going, considering he couldn't offer you the same courtesy.

Thankfully, you had cleaned yourself up a little before going into camp. If anyone had seen you in such a state, they would've never left you alone. Hosea seemed to notice that something was off, so he approached you before you left.

“Is everythin’ alright, dear girl?” The older man rested his hand on your shoulder, letting you know it was okay. You looked at him, trying to keep calm. But, he watched as a tear slowly made its way down your face. You closed your eyes, wishing to be struck down.

He guided you over to the cliff’s edge to speak so nobody could hear.

“What happened?”

You looked at your hands and attempted to keep the tears at bay. “Arthur lied to me and told me he was checking out a job for Dutch over by Strawberry.” You looked at Hosea, who nodded, signaling for you to keep going.

“I found him at the Chadwick Farm. He was with Mary.”

A look of disappointment washed over the older man’s face. He shook his head and reached over to grab your hand. Saying it made it feel so much more real.

“How bad?” Hosea wanted to know just what you saw at the farm. After his conversation with Arthur about Mary, he couldn’t imagine what you had seen.

“She was standing so close to him, looking all sad and whatever. Anyone with a brain could see that she still loves him. I think he loves her, too. Then she put her hand on his face. He didn’t even flinch.”

You stared off into the distance. You couldn’t believe Arthur lied to you. How bad were his feelings for Mary that he couldn’t tell you he was going to see her.

Hosea squeezed your hand. “I’m sorry, dear girl. Don’t know what’s gotten into that boy.” You nodded. You were glad to at least have Hosea.

You stood up and wiped the tears that had managed to escape. You weren’t aware that Arthur had seen you. He was only a couple of minutes out from camp.

“Well, I better get going. I don’t want to get too into this right now.” The older man nodded. He knew what you needed was time and space away from Arthur. “I’m gonna sit down by the river for a bit before heading out. I’ll be back in a couple of days.”

You bent down and kissed Hosea’s forehead. He gave you a sad smile and gave your hand a final squeeze. “Be careful out there, girl. Remember, don’t go in guns blazin’. Check it out and gather all the information you can. When it’s time, we’ll get’em.”

You nodded. “Of course, old man.”

You gave him a small smile before turning to leave. Suddenly, you turned back around to Hosea.

“Oh...don’t tell Arthur where I’m going. It’s not really any of his business right now. Make sure nobody tells him.” The older man nodded.

You quickly headed out of camp and made your way to the river. You wanted to have a moment of peace before heading out.

That was about five hours ago.

You had set up camp a couple miles away from the cabin, waiting for midnight. You had already scoped the area during the few hours of daylight you had left, trying to get an idea of their routine. Now, you were preparing to see how many guards were stationed at night and who all went to bed. Your plan was to figure out the best time of day to attack when it was time.

Thankfully, Arthur hadn't shown up or found you yet. You figured he would’ve spent the entire day with Mary or gone on his own job.

You heart ached for the outlaw. You just couldn’t wrap your mind around the fact that he lied to you. After everything the two of you had been through, you figured honesty wouldn’t have been an issue. Arthur had spent almost an entire decade telling you everything. Or, so you thought.

You sighed and sat down on your bedroll, pulling your knees up to your chest. Everything hurt. Your chest, your stomach, even your limbs ached. Any hunger you felt disappeared and you felt like you were going to throw up. You had a huge headache from all of the crying you were doing.

You just felt downright pathetic and stupid.

Before you could pity yourself anymore, you felt someone’s presence approaching you. You groaned, thinking Arthur had finally found you.

“Arthur, go back to camp.”

But, when you looked up, it wasn’t Arthur.

“Well, look at what we ‘ave here, boys. Princess of the Van der Linde gang.” O’driscoll’s.

You stood up quickly, hand hovering over your revolver. There were three of them, all looking at you like you were a prized animal.

“Colm’s gon’ be real happy to see you, girl.”

You weren’t in the mood to entertain the men. You remained silent, ready to use your gun should the opportunity arise.

“I heard you liked to talk, princess. What you so quiet for? No more jokes in that pretty little head o’yours?”

Silence.

All they did was laugh. You raised your eyebrows, confused. “That’s alright, princess. You won’t be quiet for long.”

That’s when you felt the footsteps behind you. You quickly spun around, grabbing your gun.

Then, all you saw was black.

----

Arthur had been looking for you for hours.

He had no idea what direction you went or where you could’ve gone. He checked every single establishment in Valentine and Strawberry. He asked almost everyone in town if they had seen you. Hell, he even went back to the Chadwick Farm to see if you were there.

It was evening already and you were nowhere to be found. He decided to go back to Horseshoe. Maybe you had returned.

Arthur rode into camp, immediately looking for your horse. Unfortunately, the Blue Roan Nokota was nowhere to be seen. He groaned, frustrated with the fact that you had run off without talking to him. Arthur had to remind himself that it was his own fault.

He walked into camp, planning to ask everyone who was awake if they knew where you were. The first person he saw was Abigail.

“Abigail.” Arthur quickly walked towards the young mother, hoping she would know. “Do you know where Y/N is? Haven’t seen her in a couple o’hours.”

The woman shook her head. “No, she didn’t tell me where she was goin’. But, I’m sure she’s fine, Arthur. Lord knows that woman can take care of herself.”

Abigail walked away before Arthur could say anything else. He grumbled to himself and walked over to the ladies’ tent. Thankfully, they were all awake.

“You ladies know where Y/N is? She’s been gone for a little bit.”

Mary-Beth and Karen gave each other a quick glance before looking at Arthur. Tilly immediately shook her head no.

Mary-Beth was the one to answer. “Sorry, Arthur, we don’t know where she is. Maybe on a job or somethin’.”

Arthur was getting more and more irritated. If these girls didn’t know where you were, nobody would. He was thinking the worst. What if you ran away, not wanting to return to the gang because of him? What if you were hurt?

“Y’all don’t...y’all don’t think she’s hurt, do ya?” He rubbed his face, stressed.

Karen laughed. “I pity the fool that tries to hurt, Y/N. They have a bad thing comin’.” The other girls nodded.

Arthur had a feeling that they knew more than they were letting on. But, he walked away, already going on to the next person.

Luckily for him, Miss Grimshaw was already walking towards him.

“Arthur-”

“My apologies, Miss Grimshaw, but have you seen Y/N?”

The older woman gave you a funny look. “Mr. Morgan, she’s probably out workin’. Always was good in bringin’ in money, that one. Now, will you please listen?”

Arthur rolled his eyes, earning a glare from the woman. “I need you to go huntin’. We’re runnin’ low on meat and Charles is out right now.”

The outlaw groaned internally. He needed to be out looking for you, and now he had to put that on pause. Arthur knew what Dutch would say if he said no.

“I’ll leave tonight.” Grimshaw was happy with the answer and walked away. Arthur sighed and rubbed his face.

He was in for a long night.

----

You had an awful headache.

You woke up tied to a chair with your bandana stuffed in your mouth. Your entire body ached along with your head. You smelt blood and realized your nose had been bleeding.

Upon inspection, you deduced you were in the cabin. Clothes and empty cans were thrown around the cabin, indicating men were staying here.

You tried to move around and feel how tight the ropes were tied. Unfortunately for you, they did a decent job at tying you up. You groaned, trying to figure out how to get out of here.

Suddenly, the door swung open. Two men walked in. They were at your camp.

“Good afternoon, princess. You were out a long time. How’s that pretty head?” The two men seemed to be enjoying the sight of you.

One of them walked towards you and stroked your cheek. You didn’t move, not wanting to give them a reaction. The last thing they needed to see from you was fear.

“Ain’t it about time you leave old Dutch’s gang? Get yourself a real man, like me?” You almost rolled your eyes. You told yourself to remain calm.

The other man stepped towards you. “Quit playin’ with her, Thomas. We need information.”

The man who you now knew as Thomas sighed and took his hand away. “Liam, I can never play with any of ‘em.” This man was disgusting.

He took the bandana out of your mouth and threw it in your lap. You tasted blood.

“Now, we can make this easy, or we can make this hard, girl. We only wanna know one thing. Where’s Dutch?” Liam got straight to the point.

You refused to answer. You knew it would make them, specifically Liam, angry, but so be it. You couldn’t rat out the gang. Never.

“Let me say it again. Where is Dutch?”

Silence.

Not surprisingly, Liam grew upset. Thomas only rolled his eyes and sat down. “You’re not gonna get her to talk. I told y’all we shoulda just left her to die.” How kind of him.

Liam walked closer to you, pulling out his knife. “Oh...she’ll talk. I’ll make sure of it.”

You looked at his knife, knowing you were in for it. Still, you had to be strong. Liam saw you eyeing his knife and laughed. “What’s wrong, girl? You scared?”

You looked at him, emotionless.

“Not at all.”

----

Arthur walked into camp carrying a large buck.

He also managed to get a rabbit and a turkey. He placed everything on Pearson’s table, earning a ‘thank you’ from the man.

He was so focused on giving everything to Pearson, he didn't check to see if you were back. When he finally was able to think, he looked around for you.

Nothing.

He was extremely worried now. Something didn’t feel right. You would never be gone this long without telling someone. Surely, Hosea had to know where you were.

Arthur started making his way to Hosea’s tent before he realized the older man was talking to Dutch by the cliff. They were whispering and Hosea looked like he was in distress.

Before Arthur could make his way over to the men, he felt a hand on his arm. He turned to see an upset-looking Tilly.

“Arthur. We need to talk. Now.”

Arthur was taken aback by her tone. All he could do was nod. The younger woman led him towards the trees, hiding from the gang’s eyes and ears.

“What's goin’ on, Tilly? Everythin’ alright?”

She shook her head. “Y/N’s not back yet. She should’ve been back by now. Somethin’ don’t feel right.” Arthur immediately stood up straighter at the mention of your name.

“What do you mean? Do you know where she is?” His heart rate started to accelerate.

Tilly hesitated before answering. Finally, she shook her head. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell ya, Arthur. It's just...she’s my best friend and I wanted to do right by her. She was upset and didn’t want ya to know where she was.”

Arthur tried to be mad at Tilly, but she was just trying to do what she thought was right. He couldn’t blame her.

“I understand, Tilly. You was bein’ a good friend. Where is she and why should she be back by now?”

The younger woman started to grow even more nervous. Like the answer would set Arthur over the edge.

“She went to check out Six Point Cabin. Spyin’ on the O’Driscoll boys.”

At the mention of the O’Driscoll’s, Arthur’s blood ran cold. Why did you think not telling him would be a good idea? No matter how mad you were at him.

“Who knows?” Arthur was furious.

Tilly sighed, knowing the men in camp were in for it. “The men.”

That was all Arthur needed to hear. He thanked Tilly and stormed into camp. He quickly made his way over to Dutch and Hosea.

“You sent her to Six Point by herself?” Arthur’s question was mostly directed towards Dutch. The gang leader just gave him a blank stare.

Arthur continued. “What the hell is she doin’ over there by herself?” He was furious with Dutch for sending you alone. Not that you weren’t capable, but they didn’t know how many O’Driscoll’s were at the cabin. Anything could happen.

“She was just doin’ some reconnaissance, Arthur. She’s fine.” Dutch tried to downplay the situation.

“She shoulda been back by now, Dutch. I’m gettin’ worried.” Hosea expressed his concerns to the raven-haired man. He knew you could handle yourself as well, but something did feel off.

Dutch just sighed and rubbed his chin, thinking of what to do. “Maybe you’re right, Hosea. Arthur, take Charles and John. Quickly.”

Arthur nodded and left to find the two men. Charles was sitting by the campfire, messing with his arrows, while John was sitting in his tent.

“Charles! John!”

The two men looked at Arthur, a curious look on both of their faces.

“Ride with me?”

They nodded and quickly joined the outlaw. They mounted up and followed Arthur out of camp.

“What’s goin’ on, Arthur?” Charles was the first to ask why they were suddenly summoned.

“Y/N shoulda been back by now. Dutch said she were only checkin’ out the place. No need for her to be there this long.” Arthur urged his horse to move faster, wishing he was there already.

“She seemed pretty upset when she left. Anythin’ to do with you, Morgan?” John was already poking fun at Arthur.

“I think it’s best if we didn’t discuss that, Marston.” There was a warning in Arthur’s tone. His usually short fuse was even shorter now that you were seemingly missing.

John only chuckled and didn't say anything else. They rode in silence the entire way to the cabin. The two men were aware of Arthur’s sour mood and didn’t want to push his buttons.

It was midday by the time they arrived at the cabin.

They dismounted and left their horses in the trees, not wanting to be heard or seen. Arthur scoped the area, looking for you. But, you were nowhere to be seen.

“What do you think, Arthur?” Charles whispered to the outlaw. They were hiding behind some rocks.

“Not sure. There’s a lot of ‘em. If she’s here, they might shoot her the second they hear gunshots.” There were so many things that could go wrong, including the fact that you may not even be here. If you weren’t, Arthur truly had no idea where you could be.

“How ‘bout we-” John was cut off by men shouting.

“Outta the way!”

The three men peeked over the rocks to see what the commotion was. Two O’Driscoll boys were carrying someone tied to a chair. The person lifted their head up, looking around slowly.

Arthur’s heart stopped when he realized it was you. You didn’t look good. Your face was bloody and your clothes were ripped up.

“Those bastards.” Arthur was enraged at what they had done to you.

They stopped by the campfire and set the chair down roughly. Arthur could hear your groan from his hiding spot. One of the two men walked away, leaving you with the bigger one.

“Not so tough now, princess?” He was taunting you.

You, however, were over it. “Why don’t you untie me and see how tough I am, princess.” The man gave you a death glare at you and punched you in the stomach. You wheezed and tried to catch your breath.

“My friend’s kid hits harder than you do.” You struggled to speak, but managed. Even at a time like this, you were making jokes.

John chuckled besides Arthur. They were able to hear everything. Arthur was not amused and glared at him, but John just brushed it off.

The man ignored you and pulled his knife out of its sheath. He stuck it in the fire and waited for it to get hot.

Arthur immediately stood up and aimed at the man. Charles quickly grabbed the gun and pulled Arthur back down.

“Charles-”

“The gun will be too loud. Look.” Charles gestured at the camp. “No one is paying attention. Do it quietly. That’ll give us the chance to get her out safely.”

Arthur huffed, but listened to the wiser man. Your safety was top priority, not his need for revenge.

Arthur took out his bow and aimed at the man. He waited for him to turn back around so he would have a clear shot. Finally, he was done heating his knife, and turned to face you.

Arthur took a deep breath and focused. Then, he released the arrow.

It hit his throat, causing him to tumble over. You flinched, but remained silent. Arthur slowly crept forward, not wanting to alert the others. You turned your head as much as you could to see him out of your peripherals. Of course, you heard him.

When Arthur reached you, he softly grabbed your leg and put his finger up to his mouth, telling you to keep quiet.

You nodded, still a little out of breath from the blow. You were still upset with Arthur, but were willing to put it aside so you could get out of here.

Arthur quickly cut the ropes, finally giving your wrists some relief. After you were free, he carefully picked you up bridal style and tried his best to keep quiet. As gentle as Arthur was trying to be with you, your entire body was littered with bruises.

You groaned into his chest, trying to remain silent. Everything hurt.

Arthur was almost to Charles and John when someone noticed him.

“Hey!”

Your eyes widened and you looked at Arthur. He gave you an apologetic look and tightened his grip on you, causing you to wince in pain. He started running to the horses while Charles and John did their best to hold them off.

When Arthur made it, they ran to join the two of you. Charles helped lift you onto Arthur’s horse. Arthur got on behind you and wrapped his arm around your stomach. The four of you quickly rode off, trying to avoid getting shot at.

When the coast was clear, you grabbed the reins from Arthur, startling him. You slowed down and came to a stop.

“What are you doin’, darlin’?” Arthur scooted forward to try and look at your face.

You ignored him and turned to Charles. “Charles, my...my horse. My camp is just...just about a mile east of here. I hate to ask, but he’s my-”

Charles gave you a small smile. “I’ll make sure he’s back safely.”

You smiled and relaxed a little bit. That horse was your companion and closest friend.

“Come on, John. They should be fine.” John nodded and tipped his hat to you before catching up to Charles.

You gave the reins back to Arthur and leaned forward, trying to stretch your aching back.

He set off in a slow trot, not wanting to hurt you anymore.

Neither of you said anything for a while. Arthur didn't want to push you and you just didn’t know what to say. Eventually, you were the one to break the silence.

“Can we head to Valentine. Kinda don’t wanna show up to camp lookin’ like this. And...I would like to sleep in a bed tonight.”

Arthur was just glad you were speaking to him. He hated the silence. “Course, my lady.”

The rest of the ride to Valentine was quiet. There was still plenty of day left, but all you wanted to do was sleep. Exhaustion finally caught up to you and you fell asleep against Arthur.

He rubbed your stomach with his free hand, grateful that you were safe with him. All he wanted to do was make things right with you.

Eventually, the two of you rode into Valentine. Unfortunately for you, Arthur had to wake you up to take you to the doctor’s office. He wanted you to get checked out and make sure you were okay.

You didn’t have the energy to fight him over it, so you stumbled into the office. Several bandages and stitches later, you joined Arthur outside. He gave you a small smile and helped you walk to the hotel.

After paying for the room, Arthur basically carried you up the stairs. You were grateful though, your legs were incredibly sore. You entered the room and carefully laid on the bed.

You groaned and massaged your body. “Good God...everything hurts.”

Arthur didn’t say anything. He just looked at you. He didn't have the chance to really see the damage, but now it was on full display. Your nose had dried blood all over it, while there was a small cut on your top lip. You had stitches on your forehead and a large cut across your right eyebrow with a bandage over it. Your eyes were swollen and there were several cuts and bruises littering your cheekbones. The rest of your body was banged up and there was a lot of blue and purple.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to protect you, Y/N. This never shoulda happened.” Arthur sat down on the other side of the bed, wanting to give you your space.

You avoided his eyes, not wanting to look at him. “I can protect myself, Arthur. They just ambushed me.” Arthur rolled his eyes.

“You knew goin’ alone coulda been a bad idea. Why did you?”

You were silent for a minute or two. You were dreading this conversation and wanted to shrivel up just so you could avoid it.

“I wanted to be alone. Simple as that.”

“You’d risk your life for some alone time? You’re smarter than that, Y/N.”

You were getting frustrated with Arthur treating you like you were some child. “Arthur, I’ve gone on dozens of jobs by myself and you’ve never said nothing about it. The one time I want to be alone because of something you did, it’s a crime and I’m not smart?”

Arthur was not expecting this. “That’s not what I meant-”

“Then what did you mean, Arthur? Please, enlighten me.” You sat up and looked at him expectantly.

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I just...I never got the opportunity to explain myself. You ran off ‘fore I could say anythin’. When Tilly told me where you were, I panicked. Your head weren’t in the right place to be on a job that risky.”

You stared at Arthur for a bit before looking down at your hands. They were covered in scratches and your wrists had been burnt from the rope.

Eventually, you looked up at Arthur. He watched a tear roll down your cheek and finally saw all of the hurt on your face. Past the cuts and bruises, the only thing on your face was hurt and sadness.

“Why did you lie to me?”

It was a simple question. But to Arthur, it was the most difficult question in the world.

“I...I don’t know. Guess I just thought you wouldn’t understand.”

“Understand what? That you were in a big hurry to go see the person who has had your heart for years? That you lied to me about it and pushed me aside for it? I ain’t the most intelligent person alive, Arthur, but I understand.”

Arthur didn’t really know how to answer your question. But now he was thinking he said the wrong thing.

“Look Y/N...I hadn’t seen her or talked to her in years on account of her wishes. I wanted to hear what she had to say all of a sudden. I just didn’t go about it the right way with you.” It was the truth. He did want to know what she had to say.

“What did you want to hear from her? Were you hoping she’d come running back?” You knew his answer could hurt you, but you had to know. What was it about this woman that enamored him so much?

He didn’t answer at first. But finally, he figured out a way to explain himself.

“I don't know what I was expectin’, Y/N. Maybe some part o’me was wantin’ to see her runnin’ back. I chased her for so long, it would’ve been nice to see.”

Arthur stopped to see how you were, but you just had a blank expression on your face. So, he continued.

“It was wrong o’me to lie to you and cast you aside. I weren’t thinkin’ clearly and I made a fool o’myself. It was never my intention to hurt you, darlin’. And for that, I apologize wholeheartedly.”

Arthur stood up from his side of the bed and went to go sit by you. He carefully touched your cheek, not wanting to cause you any more pain. He looked at you, waiting for your eyes to meet his.

“The moment I saw you at that farm, I knew. I knew anythin’ I’ve ever felt for her, would never surpass the way I feel for you. Watching you leave, knowin’ how much I’d hurt you, hurt me in ways I never knew. Y/N...I would live my life a million times if it meant I’d get to meet you every single time.”

You looked at him, searching for any indication that he was lying. But, you knew. Arthur would never lie about something he cared about.

“I am all yours, Y/N. You have me until the end of time.”

Finally, you smiled.

“What if I get sick and tired of you before then?”

Arthur's heart swelled and a grin appeared on his face. “Afraid you’re stuck with me, ma’am.”

You chuckled and nodded. You didn’t feel like saying much, but Arthur understood. Instead, you laid back down and gestured for Arthur to lay beside you.

You were both on your backs and just held each other’s hand in silence. All you wanted was to feel safe, and all Arthur wanted was to protect you.

“Arthur.”

“Yes, my lady?”

You turned your head to look at him.

“I forgive you.”

Arthur turned his head to look at you, as well. He had a small, grateful smile on his face.

“Can I tell you something?”

You nodded, curious.

“I love you.”

It was like time had stopped.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #pretty boah

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shorkbrian · 3 years

Text

Resigned

(What to expect - pseudoincest, NSFW, noncon, dubcon. Creampie, sharing a hoe w ur bro (threesome), tummy bulge. IDK how to tag I know I’m sorry)

“You didn’t even make her cum.”

Kirishima was whining at Bakugou, thick fingers carding through your hair as your head rested against his thigh.

You were splayed out on the bed on your knees, Katsuki gripping you by the elbows, face pushed up against Kirishima’s rock-hard cock.

The original intent had been a blowjob, the redhead cooing at you as he coaxed you to take more and more of his length into your mouth, his thumbs hooked between your teeth and hardened so you couldn’t bite down on him.

That plan had quickly fallen apart as soon as Bakugou had started fucking you, brain going numb, the cock pistoning into you occupying your thoughts to the point where you could do nothing more than pant against Kiri’s length.

“So fucking what? ‘S not my job.” Bakugou pulled out of your cunt with a squelch, a sharp sting across your rear making you clench down with a gasp, trapping his cum inside.

“Ha, look at that. Greedy little slut, wanna keep it all inside, dont’cha?” The blonde taunted, delivering another quick smack to your ass.

When Bakugou let go of your other elbow, you further sagged against Kirishima’s naked thigh, sweat dampening your forehead.

The world started shifting, Kiri manhandling you up into his lap until you were straddling him, face-to-face with the redhead.

“Hey, hey there sweetie. Doin’ okay?”

No, no you weren’t.

“You looked so tasty, taking Bakugou’s cock like that. Panting up against my dick, you made me so hard, see?” Your attention was directed to the length resting up against your tummy, reaching your bellybutton.

He was hard, wet, leaking precum from the dark red tip, pearly drops spilling over his foreskin and rolling down to his balls.

Kirishima gave you a quick kiss, a rush of his soft lips against yours. Then you were being lifted by his strong arms gripping your waist, settled onto the head of his cock.

“Oh, oh-!” You sobbed, feeling the tip stretch you out.

The redhead was significantly thicker than his blonde counterpart, longer and with a hefty girth. Just being lowered towards his thighs had your stomach clenching, hands frantically scrabbling at his forearms as you pleaded for him to slow down.

“No, oh god, look at that.” Kiri threw his head back, shutting his eyes tight, but quickly forced himself to look forward again, focusing on the little bulge appearing in your lower abdomen. “Fuck, Bakugou, c’mere.”

Bakugou craned his head, shifting his attention from taking a swig of water so he could see what Kirishima was getting worked up about. When he caught sight of one of the redheads hands fluttering over your stomach, dancing around the rapidly-growing bump, Bakugou almost choked on his water.

“Holy shit, that’s hot. What the fuck? You fucking monster, don’t rip her in half.”

“I-I won’t, god, she’s so tight-!”

While Bakugou had to maneuver his hips, find a good angle to press into your sweet spot, Kirishima didn’t have to go through such troubles.

He was pressing against all of your most sensitive spots without even trying.

You were trembling in his hold, biting down around one hand to keep your cries muffled, your other hand anchoring yourself by holding onto the headboard behind Kirishima’s head.

And then you were fully seated, ass flush against Kirishima’s hairy thighs.

Both of you paused, taking big, deep breaths. You, trying to maintain what little composure you had left, and Kirishima, trying not to cum right then and there.

“Look at you, haa, you’re-you’re incredible.”

“Taking him like a champ.” Bakugou interjected, clapping a heavy hand down onto your shoulder. The movement pushed you further down, made you jolt a little, grinding the heavy cock deeper. “Thought you’d be a lil’ pussy about it, cry and shit.”

“You need to be nicer to your sister Bakugou, damn.”

“Stepsister, asshole. And don’t tell me what to fucking do, you just sit there and be grateful I’m letting your hulk-hands near her.”

Kirishima rolled his eyes. He was done talking.

A smooth roll of his hips, and you were shaking in his arms, biting down harder on your hand.

“Fuck, oh, you’re so good, oh my god.” The redhead was staring at your stomach, watching the bump in your tummy appear and disappear on each rocking thrust.

“Mmhh, Kiri, ffhu-please!” Half of you was begging him to stop, to slow down, to pull out. The other half of you was begging to cum, pleasure tingling up your spine as he filled you so full.

Kiri responded as he saw fit, placing his feet flat on the bed, scooting down a little until he was laying down before loosing his restraint.

He fucked you like an animal, fast and messy and quick, his thighs slapping against the meat of your ass as he drove up into you, eyes wandering over your body. Kirishima couldn’t decide where to look, whether at your bulging tummy, your fucked-out face, or your bouncing tits.

“You feel so good! So good, fuck, mm-” Kiri was the one panting now, mouth falling slack as his nerves lit up, something coiling hot and heavy in his gut, building as he thrust into your warmth.

Your orgasm hit you out of nowhere, body clenching down, doubling over, hand falling from where you were holding yourself up as you slumped against the beefy redhead, incoherent words falling from your mouth. You didn’t know what you were saying, world swirling dizzily around you, butterflies erupting in your stomach, trailing into your arms and legs.

Everything felt so intense, and Kirishima wasn’t stopping.

Still slumped against his shoulder, you felt your legs twitching, cunt clenching sporadically around his thick length as you rode out your orgasm, high-pitched whines punching out of you on each upward thrust of his hips.

“I’m gonna cum, ah, ohh, gonna cum! ‘M sorry, can’t-can’t stop myself.Can’t hold back, nnh-” The redhead blubbered, face flushed, hips rabbiting into you. “I’ll-I’ll eat you out after, ‘kay? Make you feel good-fuck.”

His cock rubbed against your walls, and no matter how you shifted, you couldn’t get away from the intense stimulation of your sweet spot.

But then Kirishima was cumming, thick ropes of hot, creamy semen filling you up, painting your walls.

The man had his eyes squeezed tight, mouth open in a moan as he jammed his cock up against your cervix, his hips twitching.

The come-down took a moment, the redhead basking in the glorious feel of his orgasm, your cunt wrapped tight around him, relishing the feel of getting to hold your sweaty body against his own.

You sagged in his arms, breathless, tired, disoriented. Your cunt throbbed, flesh pink and tender from the abuse of two rough fucks.

When Kirishima sat up again, you whined as his cock shifted inside of you, the feeling of cum in your tummy uncomfortable and nauseating.

“Oh, I know-” Kiri responded to your whine “I’m so sorry, I didn’t make you cum. But! I’ll make it up to you!” He was gentle as he slid you off his length, gentle as he laid you back on the covers.

Gentle as he settled between your legs, lacing his fingers with yours, staring up at you.

Bakugou smacked him on the back of his head.

“You idiot, your stupid dick made her cum already.”

Kiri paused, rubbing the back of his head, blinking at his friend, then at you. “I did?”

An unsteady nod from you answered his question.

“Dumbass. Can’t even tell when you make a girl cum.” Bakugou sneered. You didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that he was idly rubbing himself back to hardness, legs spread as he sat against the headboard, watching you both.

The redhead looked down at you with a twinkle in his eye, cocking his head to the side. Then he smiled. “Well, I said I was gonna eat you out though, and I’m not one to go back on my word.”

A whimpered plea for mercy left your lips, but Kirishima was more focused on discovering the taste of your well-used cunt.

You could tell that he wasn’t going to let up, wasn’t going to listen to you.

All that you could do was resign yourself to the fact that the two men were going to do whatever they wanted to you, and you just had to take it.

#kirishima x reader #bakugou x reader #kirishima #bakugou #bnha kirishima #kiribaku #bnha eijiro kirishima #kirishima smut #katsuki bakugou #bakugou x kirishima #yandere kirishima #yandere bakugo katsuki #tw noncon #tw dubcon #tw.noncon #tw.dubcon #tw.pseudo #yandere kiribaku

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itsapeterthing · 3 years

Text

The Argument || Peter Parker

pairing: peter parker x avenger!reader

summary: you and peter get in a fight and the other avengers can’t help but overhear

a/n: i have like four things in my drafts right now that i can’t seem to finish, but i had a sudden burst of inspiration to write this instead of studying so here we are! hope you enjoy! (reader’s super power is similar to wanda’s in a way except with gold rather than red)

word count: 2.2k

warnings: lots of swearing, loud arguing, angst with happy ending

masterlist || request

You and your boyfriend Peter stood, glaring at each other from opposite corners of your bedroom. Your hands were balled into fists at your sides as you looked at him from across the room with anger mixed hurt written all over your face.

“Are you serious right now, Peter?” You asked him, raising your voice with each sentence. “Are you dead serious right now? You know I’m a fucking Avenger right? I’m sorry if me being around other guys makes you uncomfortable but it’s kind of part of my job.”

Peter huffed, rolling his eyes and threw his hands up in the air. “So what? This is my fault now?” He gestured towards himself, raising his voice at you.

“You’re the one who’s pissed at me because I’m nice to other guys.” You scoffed. “It’s fine, Peter. Next time a guy needs saving I’ll be sure to tell him that Spider-Man doesn’t trust his girlfriend so he’ll have to figure it out himself.”

At the words that just came out of your mouth, Peter laughed out loud. It wasn’t the sweet laugh you always loved hearing in the mornings or the one where he would find something so hilarious that he would be out of breath, but one that just screamed that he could not believe what you had just said.

“Me?” He shouted. “You’re the one who always gets mad at me for ‘getting too cozy with girls’. I’m doing my job! You see one photo of me saving a girl- from a fire might I add- and you don’t talk to me for two days because you were jealous. What do you want me to do?”

Peter bringing up this situation again just made you fume even more and he knew that. Despite the fact that you and Peter rarely fought, this instance had been mentioned in several arguments between the two of you, but you always held your ground.

You were now the one throwing your hands up in the air, beginning to pace across the room. “Oh! This fucking conversation again!” You shouted at him. “How many times do we have to go over this? When are you going to get it? She kissed you!”

You still remember every part of the footage from that day and the image had burned itself into your brain. It was a solo day for Spider-Man so you hadn’t found out until you had seen the news footage of your boyfriend swinging the girl to safety with her arms wrapped tightly around him and her head buried in the crook of his neck. Peter’s arm was wrapped securely around her waist as he assured her that everything was going to be okay. As soon as he stopped swinging, however, and landed her safely on the ground, she had placed her hands on either side of Peter’s masked face and pulled him into a kiss. Although he quickly scrambled out of it, you couldn’t help but feel sick seeing the image.

“I was wearing my mask, Y/n!” He shouted back, tugging on his hair in frustration. “It’s not like I went in to kiss her. She kissed me! I didn’t do anything!”

At his words, you stopped pacing and stomped across the room, stopping in front of your boyfriend. “You’re right, you didn’t do anything.” You spat. “She kissed you and yeah that’s fucked up, but you know what’s more fucked up? That you didn’t tell me! You knew some girl had kissed you and you just hoped I would never find out. Do you know what it was like to find out from a fucking news broadcast? Fuck, Peter! You lied to me about it!”

Peter took a deep breath, looking anywhere besides your face. “I’m not doing this.” He told you finally, shoving past you to reach the door and stomping out of your room.

Peter aggressively threw open your door and you yelled out of frustration before following him out the room. Your hands were once again balled into fists at your sides as you watched Peter stomp out of your bedroom and down the hallway leading up to the common room, all the while yelling at him to stop.

“Peter!” You shouted.

“I’m not talking to you like this!” He yelled back, his back still facing towards you. “When you calm down and admit that you’re wrong-“

He knew what he was doing and he knew it was just pissing you off to a new extreme. So much so, you could feel the golden glow of your magic radiating off your hands that were balled into fists at your sides.

When Peter continued walking with his back turned towards you, refusing to speak to you further, you flicked your wrist causing the magical glow to spread out from your hand to your boyfriend, forcing him to turn around and face you, stopping him in his spot.

“Don’t walk away while I’m talking to you.” You told him, the anger radiating from your body in the from of the golden glow of your magic surrounding you.

“Did you just use magic on me?” Peter asked in a mix of shock, disgust and anger.

What the two of you didn’t realize in the midst of your fuming rage at each other was that the two of you had stopped in front of the common room. What you also hadn’t noticed was that the room was occupied by some of your... colleagues.

“Did she-“ Sam began.

“She did.” Nat finished.

Peter and you continued to argue back and forth about the audacity of the other, oblivious to the others hearing every word and watching the two of you throw harsh words at each other. It was an endless argument concerning who had the right to be angry and the unanswerable question of who was really at fault. During which the rest of the group of revelers in the common room watched and listened.

“Who wants the bet this is about that girl that kissed underoos?” Tony asked.

“That? That was so long ago though.” Steve replied.

“A girl never forgets.” Nat finished, kicking back in her seat. “How would you feel if you saw someone kissing your girlfriend.” She asked Steve.

“Never had one.” Steve shrugged.

An awkward silence filled the room for a brief moment before Sam began again.

“Steve’s right.” He said. “What about yesterday when Y/n saved that guy from getting his car thrown by that giant android and it turned out to be her ex-boyfriend?”

The group collectively nodded their heads, remembering the events of yesterday and that night when Peter had become more awkward than usual after you confessed the situation to him.

You had never seen Peter so jealous before. The two of you met after you and Peter had graduated high school and with your busy schedules you were barely finding time to hang out with your friends, never mind meet new guys. Peter and your’s relationship was usually one of romantic bliss. Despite the chaos and danger occurring in each of your lives, there was barely an argument between the two of you besides the occasional mention of that one time.

You told Peter later that night about how you recognized the guy you saved as your ex-boyfriend from high school.You didn’t expect much of a reaction considering you had dated the guy so long ago and you were wearing your mask that covered the upper half of your face to maintain your secret identity. It wasn’t even as though he could recognize you- you were just doing your job. You told Peter out of wanting to be honest with him, not because you thought it mattered- because it didn't. Peter upon your confession, however, was standoffish the remainder of the night seeming to be lost in his own head.

You didn’t give it much thought and decided to give him his own space until this morning when he confronted you about it, leading to the heated argument the two of you were in right now.

“Both of you are right.” Wanda finally spoke up.

Everyone in the room then turned their heads to face her.

“Did you... did you read their minds?”

“No.” She told them. “These walls aren’t very thick.”

“Should we stop them?” Steve asked.

To that, both you and Peter shouted “No!”

That was the moment though where you both suddenly realized that there was a whole room of people watching as you and Peter argued. Both of you stopped arguing suddenly and turned to face the room full of your colleagues.

“Did you... um... hear all of that?” Peter asked, cooling off from the heated argument you two shared seconds before as he fiddled with his fingers, unable to meet their eyes.

“Do you even know how loud you two were being?” Tony asked, standing up from his seat. “It’s impossible not to hear. Both of you have to drop it-”

“But Mr. Stark-” Peter began.

“Nope.” Tony cut him off. “No ‘buts’. Are you two even listening to yourselves?”

“Tony-” Steve started, attempting to intervene and have Tony drop the situation.

“Listen Rogers, I know you’ve been waiting decades for a first date, but someone has to play couples counselor here.” He told him matter-of-factly turning back to face the two of you. “You.” He pointed at you first. “That kid would never ‘cheat’ on you okay? He worships the ground you walk on so drop it. I’m sick and tired of hearing this frankly idiotic conversation every other week.”

At his words, you felt your fists unclench at your sides and your muscles relax. You knew he was right. As hurt as you were, you knew Peter would never do anything to hurt you on purpose. You knew he loved you just as much as- if not more than- you loved him.

Just as you were about to open your mouth, Tony began again- this time pointing at Peter.

“And you.” He began. Although you were looking at Tony, you could see your boyfriend stiffen in the corner of your eye. “What did you want her to do? Let that guy die because he... what? Took her on a few dates back in high school? You two have been to space together for god’s sakes. She was just doing her job and you know that.”

The two of you stood in front of Tony Stark himself now, knowing he was right, but not knowing what to say. You turned to look at Peter, seeing his shoulders slouched and his cheeks red likely from both the attention and embarrassment.

“You two can apologize now.” Tony said finally, striding back to the armchair he was sitting in prior to the lecture he gave the two of you and seating himself in it.

You and Peter turned to each other, visibly relaxing as you stared at each other. Despite the flaws the both of you had, you each cared for the other more than anyone else.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, being the first to apologize. “I’m sorry, Pete.” You apologized to him in almost a whisper. “I guess I was just hurt that you thought I could look at anyone else the way that I look at you.”

Peter sighed and you could see the sadness in his eyes that he felt from hurting you. You knew he never meant to hurt you and he was just hurt the same way you were.

“No... I’m sorry, Y/n.” He stepped forward to meet you, placing his hands gently on your arms that were wrapped around yourself. “It just sucked to think of you with some other guy.”

At his apology, you uncrossed your arms, instead reaching out for Peter’s hands. Squeezing his hands in yours you told him, “Peter, he doesn’t matter to me anymore. I love you.”

“Not just that, Y/n.” Although your words meant a lot to him, Peter shook his head. “I don’t know... sometimes I just think that you might want something more... I don’t know... normal. I can’t give you that normal, peaceful stuff so I guess I just get worried. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you though.”

Now it was your turn to shake your head as you gazed at your boyfriend. “Pete, you know I could never do normal” You chuckled. “I just got so angry at you that I had magic radiating off of me. Sure, normal would be easier, but I would choose crazy every day as long as I get to be with you.”

Finally you felt the last of the argument and rage that came with it disappear as a feeling of peace and calm washed over the two of you. You let go of Peter’s hands only to wrap them around his neck while his made their away around your torso.

“Gross.” Nat mumbled from her seat.

“I think I actually preferred when they were arguing.” Tony said in disgust.

You and Peter smiled at each other, able to hear the conversation between the others going on in the common room. You laughed as you looked into his eyes, slowly pulling your boyfriend into a kiss.

You and your boyfriend laughed into the kiss as you heard the group erupt into groans of disgust and annoyance. Although you and Peter didn’t have the perfect relationship and each of you had your flaws, at the end of the day you knew you would choose each other every time.

“Okay... Now do we stop them?”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker angst #peter parker fluff #peter parker oneshot #peter parker imagine #peter parker blurb #peter parker drabble #spiderman x reader #spiderman x you #spiderman x yn

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whump-town · 3 years

Text

The Traveling T-Shirt

No Pairings

No Warnings

It's just Morgan's t-shirt traveling through the BAU one person and story at a time

It starts with a coffee spill in Seattle. With Aaron, startlingly enough.

Six days in the rain and it seemed even their cleanest, driest clothing was damp with the chill from the constant downpour. Though, six days on their feet with clothing they’d already worn at least twice that week on their backs, they looked more and more “rag-tag” as the hours bore on. Even Hotch had lost his cookie-cutter charm. His white t-shirt crumpled where it was typically pressed to perfection, not a wrinkle in sight. His hair wouldn’t stay gelled into the style he liked it in, leaving it fluffy and soft on the top of his head. He looked significantly less like SSA Aaron Hotchner and a lot more like Aaron.

Maybe he had lost SSA Hotchner somewhere along the days and victims because SSA Hotchner would never spill coffee on himself. But Aaron would and Aaron did.

Derek watched the whole thing take place, unable to take his eyes off of Hotch since the second that he walked in. Something about his tired zombie-like lurches just couldn’t break Derek’s curiosity and he had to know what would come out of Hotch’s current state. Despite the far-away look in Hotch’s gaze, the tired bags of discoloration under his eyes, Derek would not have predicted this as the outcome. Hotch is so out of it that all he can do is stare at the mess he’s created, glaring at the mess of coffee grounds across his less than pristine white dress shirt.

“Here,” Derek shakes his head, has to manually clear the fog occupying his brain. He pulls at the loose clump of napkins someone had left atop the coffee table for this exact situation, presses the mass into Hotch’s stomach. It feels akin to something else, distinctly deja-vu. Like he’s pressing into a wound, holding him together with nothing more than cheap napkins.

The physical contact brings Hotch back to the Earth and with a few blinks of his blood-shot eyes he sighs irritably and mumbles, “I don’t have any more clean shirts.”

Derek would argue the one he’s currently wearing is not clean either. It’s got a few dots of red expo marker on the left elbow where Reid bumped into him, rambling quickly about his map and the geographical profile. On the cuff of his right sleeve, there’s something brown or black which could be something from a pen or an expo marker or something else he’s just stuck his hand in. God knows what else is on this shirt.

Hotch puts his hand over Derek’s, holds the napkins himself. Derek pats his shoulder, “it’s alright, man. I’ll get you a shirt.”

They could go just about anywhere and just buy him a shirt. It could be some looney graphic t-shirt from the boy’s sections of some store down the street or another white dress shirt to replace the one he’s wearing but Derek just gets one of his. It’s a light grey, the color worn down by how frequently Derek wears it. Where it fits Derek snugly, hugs his chest and back tightly, it fits Hotch oddly. Displays to them all just how right they were in the assumptions they have held about how his recent divorce is affecting him.

He’s lost weight.

Too much.

One thin grey Hanes t-shirt can’t fight off the chill and overtop it, covering his visible bones, Dave throws him a sweater. He stays buried in that sweater and shirt all day, long into the night as they go hunting out in the streets with flashlights. Rain comes down heavy and thick.

Dave gets his sweater back. Folded neatly and smelling of the distinct fabric softener Hotch uses, it makes his whole office smell nice and Dave nearly can’t bring himself to wear the thing again. Doesn’t want the scent to fade, every inch of that sweater is now stitched together with something more.

The t-shirt gets left at the bottom of a drawer, to be discovered months from now.

Emily finds it six nights after Foyet left Hotch in Saint Sebastion’s hospital held together by sugrical staples and the stubborn will to live. All of his clothing has been hunted through, his shirt drawer is nearly empty. JJ and Penelope had undertaken the job of finding Hotch clothing for the hospital -- anything that he could just slip his arms into without having to lift them above his head. The only things left in his drawers are regular t-shirts and jeans, meaning Emily doesn’t have a whole lot to pick through right now.

She hadn’t anticipated this need and as much forethought as she put into staying the night was assuming Hotch would have clothes she could steal. She hadn’t really thought she’d be here tonight but she doesn’t think she can leave him alone. Doesn’t think it would be kind of her as his friend to see him like this and still choose to leave him for the night.

She decides on a thin grey shirt that she finds, turning her nose up to his university t-shirts (as if she’d wear those) and a pair of sweat pants on his floor that she thinks are clean or at least don’t smell bad. It’s not the best but she came unprepared and she’s not going to complain, both are comfortable even if the pants are giant on her.

To her surprise, he’s still fighting off his meds. Hazy brown eyes blink open when she steps back out into the living room, following her as she comes to the couch. She’s careful, even if she does it nonchalantly, as she moves his legs a little so that she can sit down beside him. He’s stretched across the couch, too big so he’s pinched up in places, but he doesn’t want to sleep in his room. Stubborn like a child being asked to take a nap -- “but I’m not tired”.

“T’as not my shirt,” he mumbles into his blanket. He’s got the heating blanket pulled up his nose, wrapped tightly around his shoulders and hands.

Emily looks down at it and frowns. “Well, then who the hell else’s is it?” She reaches for the TV remote on the coffee table, turning it on without waiting for his answer. Clearly, she doesn’t care who’s it is, she’s not taking it off now. His grunt, muffled by the blanket, means he doesn’t know and he doesn’t really care enough either to figure out who it is.

He doesn’t last much longer, falls asleep with her squishing him on the couch (though, arguably, he’s squishing her). She’ll brush off his timid embarrassment at having to need her around the next morning, for waking up in the middle of the night having to be held down. Sobbing incoherently about something, neither of them really sure what. Only calming down when she put his head in her lap, stroking his hair back until he fell back asleep. Which is how he wakes up, his head in her lap and his hand holding her’s hostage.

But she shrugs it off and says she only did it for the free shirt, “don’t worry about it.”

She keeps the shirt, uses it several more nights as they graduate from sleeping on the couch to him finally going back to his bed. To being mentally present enough again to fight her about taking meds, to walking her to the front door every night, and watching her leave.

She buries the shirt too. It feels too tight on her skin, wrong. She touches the material and remembers seeing him hysterical, writhing in pain, and unable to be comforted. Can smell the antiseptic from his skin. Can hear the doctor warning her about his heart. That shirt feels like losing her best friend but she can’t bring herself to get rid of it.

JJ uncovers it a year later (before Emily has done the unspeakable, the unimaginable, and died and come back to life). It’s a girls night gone wrong but not impossibly so.

“Just grab one of my shirts,” Emily says, still laughing.

JJ glares back at her. She’s covered in water from the sink -- Emily sprayed her with the faucet. It��s revenge, payback for the pasta sauce JJ swiped down her cheek.

“You two are devious,” Penelope insists, waving her fingers at them. She’s still chopping up mushrooms, trying to size them as best as she can so that they are spread evenly throughout the alfredo sauce. “Behave before you ruin the sauce and I have to tell Dave that I not only shared his recipe but that you two ruined it.”

JJ has to search for a shirt from Emily’s pajama drawer. She doesn’t want any of the old college shirts and certainly doesn’t want any of the dopey graphic t-shirts Emily is so partial to. She ends up on a grey shirt, worn and old and soft.

Emily knows the shirt the second the JJ comes out and it takes her a moment to hide and stifle the anxiety that its presence gives her. Hotch’s health is better, he’s got a routine down with the medication he’ll be taking for the rest of his life because of that attack, but he’s smiling again. It’s harder than it was before to win one out of him but he can do it, they happen.

“Which one-night stand is this?” JJ asks, plucking the shirt with her fingers and raising an eyebrow.

Emily shakes her head, clears her throat of the residual guilt, and smirks, “trust me, you don’t want to know.” Hotch would be mortified at the insinuation but it’s funny and what he doesn’t know (and what they don’t know) can’t hurt him. She’s sad to see the shirt go, it’s a door closed, but relieved of its burden she can breathe again. Feels Foyet leave her completely.

JJ goes unburdened.

That old shirt is a comfort. She nurses Henry through fevers in it. Uses its edge to wipe his tears from his face. It’s always at the top of her laundry basket, the first thing she puts on when she gets home from a rough case. Will isn’t sure where she got it from because he knows it’s not his. It’s not the first time JJ’s stolen someone else’s clothes (he’s picked up enough of them to know that Reid wears a size small, that dark shirts sized medium are Morgan, and that white t-shirts in a medium are Hotch’s). He thinks it’s cute, she’s been stealing his shirts for as long as he’s known her.

In October, the fall of the same year that Emily leaves for Interpol, JJ gets held up in a meeting with Hotch. Something to do the with Department of Justice and all she manages to get out over the phone is that she’s absolutely pissed and Reid can just faintly hear Hotch offering her a coffee before she thanks him and the line goes dead. Will is on night shift and he can’t come home. So Reid fills in, their impromptu babysitter for the night.

It’s fine, calm… for the most part.

Reid lasts about an hour and a half before he finds himself in need of a change of clothes. He’s got pumpkin all over him and his fun little idea to let Henry carve a baby pumpkin was obviously a bad idea. He just didn’t know that in advance. He’s watched Jack enough times to feel fully confident in his skills but the age gap between Henry and Jack is severe. There are a lot of developmental differences in children only two years apart in age, Reid was not prepared for that.

He feels weird about stealing a shirt but his own is soaked in pumpkin guts and Henry’s bathwater.

JJ doesn’t notice the shirt exchange. She just grins at the sight of Spencer and Henry curled up on the couch, Will sitting beside them eating popcorn while “It’s The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown” plays softly.

Three days later Morgan sees his shirt on the back of the couch. It’s been washed and is waiting to be returned to JJ but he knows damn well that it’s his. “How the hell did you find this?” Morgan asks, lifting it up. Reid had called him over to fix a leaking pipe (Reid is supposed to call his Super who has a mechanic who can do it but he’s too anxious for that) and Morgan was less than prepared to find his missing shirt.

Reid frowns, confused, “that’s JJ’s. I borrowed it Thursday night when I babysat.”

Morgan shakes his head, no this is his shirt. He’s sure of it. It’s been gone for years. He thought the washing machine ate it. He couldn't remember where else it would have gone off to. That or he left it in some hotel but here it is. Grey and worn and soft, it’s his.

He takes it to work in his go-bag and all but rolls his eyes into the back of his head when he watches Garcia stumble and drench herself in cold, left-over tea. He stands from his desk, sighing hard, “it’s alright, baby girl. I’ve got a shirt you can borrow.”

He’s never getting this shirt back.

#criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #dererk morgan #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #jennifer jareau #spencer reid #penelope garcia

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chelleztjs18 · 3 years

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Lost in Assistance - Ch. 15

Elizabeth Olsen x Fem!Reader.

Summary: Y/n is a professional celebrity's personal assistant in Hollywood got hired with two years contract to be the assistant of the famous and talented Elizabeth Olsen / Lizzie by her manager. Both Y/n and Lizzie hate each other since day one, and they have mutual friend. One is as stubborn as the other, will Y/n stay when Lizzie gives attitudes and tries her best to make her quit before the contract ends?

Warning: fluff, angst, smut (in future chapters), swearing words ( +18 only)

I do not own any pictures, name, brand, song titles or anything that I used in this story.

All chapters

The next day has come. Lizzie slept in. The morning shades of light slip into Lizzie’s room and finally stir her up from her sleep. She opened her eyes looking around the room. She rubs her eyes and her face with both of her hands to wake herself up more. Then she remembered that today she is leaving for San Diego with you. Just the both of you, without Aubrey, and nobody else. Shortly after that, the second thing that came up in her mind was what happened last night between you two and it certainly brought her mood down even more. She got out of the bed with a groan and started to get ready. She turns on some music just to lift up her mood again.

She picked a song to start. After half a minute, she was struck by a realization that the song she picked was actually one of the songs in your playlist that you played before while driving her. The song is one of the songs that she secretly added to her playlist because she likes it. Of course it reminds her of you even more. After she realized, she quickly changed it to a different song. “What the hell!” She mumbled in frustration. It seems like the universe wants you to roam around in her mind and she’s not happy with it.

After Lizzie got ready, she packed everything she needed for the trip. She feels the need for some caffeine for her but too bad she’s out of coffee. So she decided to go out to get some coffee and some air just to kill some time as well until you arrive.

Weirdly, today she is in the mood for iced coffee. She thinks it is a good idea because she checked today’s weather will be warmer than usual. Then she remembers your usual coffee order and she instantly craves the taste of it so she ordered one for her, the SAME. EXACT. WAY with your order.

She actually likes the taste of the ice coffee but did she really order it just because she craves it or because it reminds her of you and she unconsciously wants to be reminded of you?

As she’s about to drive back, she gets a text from you. “Good morning Ms. Olsen, which coffee do you want me to bring today?”

She then replied to your text. “I’m okay. I already got coffee.” She put her phone down on the passenger seat and drove home.

An hour later, you arrived. Unlike usual, you didn’t get out of the car right away. You actually don’t know how you feel about this trip, especially after what happened last night. Just like Lizzie, after you got home last night you couldn’t get her out of your mind. You thought it would stop overnight but you were wrong. So wrong. As soon as you woke up, Lizzie, and what happened last night occupied your mind until this second. You really don’t know what is going on with you.

You took a deep breath, tried to get yourself together. You know it will be more awkward between you two than before but one thing you know for sure that you have a pinch of excitement for this trip, at least this time it will be Lizzie who will open the door for you. This little thought unconsciously brought your lips to a smile.

You came to the door and rang the bell. Just as you expected, Lizzie’s face showed up slowly as she opened the door. Your face’s muscles actually want to form a smile, your heart beats slowly but sure, raising faster but you managed to avoid it, not without difficulty but you did pretty good even though it came up with a hello in an awkward tone and a couple times of clearing your throat. “Hi Ms. Olsen.”

“Hi y/n.” She opens the door wider making space for you to come in. She tries to avoid eye contact as best as she can do. You come in, and she is standing near you awkwardly. She is standing with both of her hands in the back pocket of her short denim. You both were in silence for a few seconds until you decided to break the silence with a question.

“Uhm, are you okay--uhm I meant are you ready to go?” Your brain just can’t cooperate well with your mouth. You can handle being nervous around her, but being nervous in front of her and seeing her being nervous in front of you is a whole nother level for you to handle. It makes you think if she is nervous because of last night? Did she feel the same way the way you did? Or maybe you were wrong. Maybe she is not nervous right now, maybe she is actually still mad at you about last night.

Your thought stops as soon as her voice flows to your ear. “Uh yeah I am. These are the things I need to bring.” She pointed to her luggage then you put it in the car, this time Lizzie wants you to drive her car. Of course she stole a glance at you a couple times. After everything is ready, you get into the car. You see her from inside the car walking and getting into the passenger seat, with a large cup of ice coffee.

As you start driving and she puts the cup into the cup holder, you notice the description of her coffee order from the label and you can’t help yourself to let out a comment or more of like a tease. “Is that coffee mine or yours?” You gave a teasing smirk. “What y/n?!” She answered defensively. She actually heard your question the first time. She just pretends she didn’t so she can buy herself some time to curse herself internally for letting the cup visible for you and also to find an excuse to answer you.

“That coffee, is that mine or yours? You pointed to it and gave her another teasing smirk. “Oh it’s mine of course, why would I get you a coffee?” Again, Lizzie answered defensively yet ended in a cold flat tone hoping you won’t talk about it any further but too bad, you still want to talk about it.

“Then, why is the coffee order exactly the same as how I like it? Did you order it that way? I thought you didn't like it last time?” Your questions are no longer a teasing, you are actually curious about her and her coffee order.

Feeling cornered with a bunch of your questions at once, she starts to panic, becoming irritated that forcing her to answer you with the fastest made up answer she can think of. She tucked her hair to the back of her ear, looking at you as she answered. “Seriously? y/n, why does it even matter? I went to get coffee today at Starbucks nearby and I crave some ice coffee but I didn't know which one is a good one, so I asked the barista to make me some good iced coffee. There! Are you happy now with my answer?” She let out a harsh breath. Looking very upset.

Unbeknownst to her, she would regret the answer she made up. “Oh really? Oh, It was probably Emma.” You answered nonchalantly. “I’m sorry, what? Emma? Who is Emma?” Lizzie asked with a huge confusion. She thinks there’s no way her answer that she made up coincidently connected to something or someone that you know.

“Emma, the barista you ordered the coffee from? I’m pretty sure that you went to the one I go most of the time, and Emma works there. She’s the only barista there who remembers exactly my order. Sometimes when I come in there, she even already makes one ready. I guess it’s because I always come at the same time” You smiled when you told Lizzie about Emma.

“Oh really? So why don’t you take her out for a date or something then?” Lizzie didn’t realize her sarcastic tone on her comment. “I’m sorry, what? Why should I take her on a date?” Surprised and confused with her sarcastic remarks, you turn your head quickly to her then back to the road.

“It sounds like she likes you. She remembers your complicated coffee order, and even makes it before you get there to order. She wouldn’t be like that if she didn't have a crush on you. And you were smiling when you were talking about her. I’m just saying.” Lizzie rambled in bitterness and she couldn’t help herself to pout, and again she didn't realize it. You laughed a little at her theory. “You are funny. She’s a barista, she makes coffee all the time, it’s her job.” You shake your head.

“Well, it’s either she has a crush on you or you are a very predictable boring person who always orders the same things all the time.” She answered in a mocking tone as she looked at you with an unamused expression. “Hey! I’m not a boring person. So based on your theory, does it mean Aubrey has a crush on me too? Because she remembered my coffee order when she bought me a coffee at the airport. Remember?” You joked about it but it actually hits Lizzie.

After she realized what you just said and remembered who actually ordered your coffee at the airport, she instantly jab you with a retort. “Y/n, can we stop talking about this stupid coffee order conversation, seriously!” She laid back to the seat, turned her head and looked out the window as she crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“Okay! Okay! Geez, you don’t have to yell at me like that.” Your eyebrows furrowed, surprised and confused with why the attitude all of a sudden. After a few seconds of silence, you came to realize something. “Wait, how do you know I date girls”

“Uh- I don’t. I was just making a random comment about it.” She didn’t tell the truth again, but this time was to cover Aubrey’s back for telling her about your ex-girlfriend. And all of a sudden she turns her head to you as she asked you. “Do you?”

“Yes, I do but ---” Your phone rings and cuts you before you ask further. Lizzie was relieved that your phone rang. The call is from Jane. “Hi y/n, I know you are driving with Lizzie now but can you check your email asap please. It’s from the hotel in San Diego and it’s important.”

“Okay Jane, I will try to pull over to check it. Thank you.” You hung up the phone and pulled over to check your email. “Sh*t” That’s the only word that came out from you after you read the email.

“Y/n, what was the swearing for? What did Jane say?” Lizzie asked in a concerned tone. “I got an email from the hotel saying that they are closed for the public today and the next few days because two politicians are coming there and staying there. So they cancel all check-ins from today until the next few days.” You explained as your face showed that you are thinking of a solution.

“What?! So where are we going to stay the night? What about some other Marvel casts that are staying at the same hotel?” Panic sounds clearly on Lizzie’s tone. “Well, I guess they allowed the guests that already checked-in or stayed a few days before to stay, of course they won’t kick them out, so they canceled the incoming reservations. I don’t even know that they can do stuff like this at the last minute.” You exhale harshly.

“Oh my God. Y/n, you have to find another hotel for me.” Lizzie said in a stern voice. “I will Ms. Olsen, but I can’t do it here. We have to go somewhere and sit, so I can book us another hotel.”

You both decided to go to a restaurant that you have made sure that it is safe for Lizzie. That’s not really noticeable by the paparazzi. You were guided to your table. Not too long after you took a seat, your phone rang so you decided to answer it outside.

After a few minutes on a phone call, you came back to the table and you saw that Lizzie already ordered the drinks for both of you. To your surprise you noticed that she ordered unsweetened black iced tea for you with no lemon.

“Wow! Did you order this for me?” You asked in amazement as you took a few big gulps of your iced tea. “Huumm” She hummed to answer your question as she checking out the menu.

“How do you know I love iced tea?” You continued drinking your iced tea. She quickly glanced at you and saw you smiled on your straw that’s still on your lips and she continued checking out the menu.

“I told you, you are a boring person who always orders the same thing. You always order iced tea only if it’s freshly brewed, and not from the fountain machine.” Lizzie answered coldly with her eyes stuck to the menu obviously she doesn’t want to make eye contact with you talking about this.

You squint your eyes, staring at her. You don’t know what to say, you don’t know what’s going on. You don’t know why she even pays attention to that kind of detail but then you think, she’s probably right about you always ordering the same thing and she just happened to have good memories.

“Y/n, if you are staring at me because I ordered your iced tea, I will ask the waiter to take your ice tea back so you can order another drink and stop making a big deal about it.” She talked in a very stern annoyed tone to cover her awkwardness and embarrassment after she realized she shouldn’t have done what she did.

She is mad at herself and confused at the same time about why she would remember things about you, things that are not important for her and to make matters worse, why would she care and order that iced tea for you. It’s just an iced tea for crying out loud. Why do you have to make a big deal about it?

Then she remembers her “theory” about Emma that she told you earlier. That upsets her. Apparently that theory doesn’t apply to her. Well that’s what she thinks. She knows for sure she doesn’t have any crush nor feelings towards you. She ordered the iced tea for you simply just to save some time, right?

But that smile of yours, your excited tone when you find out she remembers that you like ice tea internally makes her want to smile back are what bothers her and upset her so much more. Seeing you happy unconsciously makes her happy. The more she thinks about it, the more she tries to convince herself that it’s normal to feel happy when seeing you happy, just like everybody else. She indeed wished she didn’t order your iced tea so she wouldn’t have to deal with this puzzle of emotions.

“Okay okay, I’m good, don’t take my ice tea.” Your playful answer finally brought her back out from her thoughts. “Then, I think you should start to find and book us a new hotel now.” She commanded, but this time her annoyed gaze searched for your eyes as she slightly tilted her head. “Okay, I will. Stop looking at me like that please. It’s scary.” You teased her. She rolled her eyes, tried to hide a small smile formed on her face from you.

_____

After an hour, you still haven’t found any hotel. “It’s so hard to find it. A lot of hotels are full because people are coming and staying for the Comic Con. AirBnB rental house is hard to find as well.”

Lizzie pinched the bridge of her nose, stressed out. But a light of hope came. You found a hotel. “Oh wait, There is this one hotel. It’s the only one that is still available.” You startled her with your sudden expression in your tone..

“Well book it y/n! What are you waiting for?” She groaned in irritation. “But we have a problem.” Your face and tones show a disappointment. “What? What’s the problem?” Lizzie asked with impatience.

“They only have one room, with one queen bed.” You answered.

Ch. 16

A/N: Hello my favorite people! I'm back! :D So in this chapter about the hotel problem I don't know if a hotel would actually do that kind of stuff but I had to make the hotel cancel the reservation so I can go on with the story. Again, it's all based on my imagination. lol. Also, I don't know much about Comic Con, so pardon me in advance if what I wrote and what I will write about Comic Con is not accurate at all. I hope you like this chapter especially after the excitement from chapter 14's tension. haha. Again, thank you for reading the story this far.

Taglist: @madamevirgo , @musicinourlips , @unstable-sapphic-hoe , @fanboy7794 , @chloe7076 , @b0mbdotc0m , @trikruismybitch , @ichala , @californianwhiterabbit , @silver-lotus , @imfuckinggenius , @sxfwap , @chaekhan , @daenerys713 , @emptysince18x , @srtamercurio , @stupidsapphicsstuff , @pattypavo , @selfwrotevision (Let me know if you want to be added in the tag list).

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a-libra-writes · 4 years

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The Gang Reacts to You Dressing Fancy for a Job

“Is it okay to ask for the RDR2 gang (or just Javier if it’s too much!) seeing their crush all prettied and dressed up for a job (like the riverboat or Bronte’s garden party)? Would they work up the courage to ask them out? your writing sustains me”

YAAALLLLL THIS LONG AS FUCK BC THIS! IS! MY! RASPBERRY! JAM!

In this imagine, you’ll be impressing: Arthur Morgan, John Marston, Dutch van Der Linde, Hosea Matthews, Sadie Adler, Micah Bell, Charles Smith, Bill Williamson, Javier Escuella, Sean MacGuire, Lenny Summers, Kieran Duffy, Tilly Jackson, Mary-Beth Gaskill, Karen Jones, Flaco Hernandez

ARTHUR MORGAN

Oh no. When you were volunteered for the job, he had a feeling you’d look charming in one of those big hooped gowns, but … this is like his heart getting hit by a train. The feelings are a little overwhelming, so while the girls add their finishing touches, Arthur tries to stand to the side and not stare. He wants to compliment you, because you look absolutely stunning, but words are completely failing him. Arthur manages to get a compliment out, but you’re totally occupied with how much you love or hate this get-up. Arthur doesn’t even care about what he was forced to wear; he could be in a paper sack and he wouldn’t notice. During the party, he’s distracted by how you seem to float around the room, easily joking with the guests as though you were one of them. Hosea has to knock sense into Arthur more than once, but how can he pay attention when there’s a literal angel in front of him?

When the gunfight breaks out, Arthur is at your side right away, pulling you into his protective embrace and trying to steer you out of the house. It doesn’t matter if you’re a good shot or not, that dress and corset are cumbersome as hell and he’s gonna stubbornly send you home. Arthur wants to be the one taking you back, but he has to stay and fight. He hands you off to Sean, warning him to be careful and get you back to camp in one piece. His tone is actually pretty scary when he says this. Arthur is beyond relieved when he finally gets back. You’re out of the dress, but you’re clearly safe and comfortable, not a scratch on you. He doesn’t care about his own injuries, but he’s pleased when you fuss over them.

JOHN MARSTON

No way John is gonna dress up like some goddamn banker, but he was totally ready to tease you about having to squeeze into a corset and frilly dress. The problem is, you’re gorgeous in it. He doesn’t know shit about women’s clothes or fashion, but something about the color and style just suits you so perfectly, like it was made only for you. He wants to give a sassy comment, but he just … can’t. John goes for a genuine compliment, but his cheeks and ears are tomato red as he mutters “ya look real nice”. If you hate the clothes, it’s a little easier for him to joke around with you, but if you love them and you’re twirling around, as happy as a kid and looking like an actual lady from one of those fancy paintings? He can only take so much sweetness before he has to duck his head and distract himself with something.

When the gunfight breaks out at the party, John is right by your side before you can blink. You don’t know how he moved so fast, but soon his arm is around your waist and getting you back to his horse. John isn’t the most graceful about this, and the dress is meant for dancing, not riding… so it ends up ripping as you two make your escape. Once you’re in a safe place and you can get out of the damn thing, John’s attention goes straight to the tears in the dress, specifically the one that’s showing the stockings and garterbelt you had to wear. The lingerie looks fantastic - it definitely awakens something in him.

DUTCH VAN DER LINDE

First off, he is not sneaky. Not at all. You know exactly why you were asked to play a role in this little con, and it was so Dutch could see you all dressed up. Now, either you’re totally annoyed by this because screw frills and lace, or you’re delighted because you can dress up like some fancy lady and rob rich folks. Also, it’s pretty funny how he pretends not to be interested in the sort of dress and jewelry you and the girls are deciding on. You know he’s trying very hard not to make a suggestion, and just to be a little mean, you made sure he was within earshot when you mentioned the matter of corsets and fancy undergarments to the girls.

Once at the party, Dutch plays at being some rich banker and you’re his young foreign wife. It’s absurdly easy to pull off, even with your terrible accent, and after each conversation you both are trying not to laugh. He’s definitely liking being able to have an arm around your waist and being able to lean in and whisper to you, but he won’t push his boundaries, especially if you’re already uncomfortable being all dressed up and powdered. While you two are dancing, he’ll whisper in that deep voice, praising you for how perfect you’ve been, or reassuring you that it’ll be over soon. When the shooting started, Dutch pulled you to a safe place you could lie low in, but if you bothered him enough he’d hand you a gun and let you join the shootout.

Back at camp, Dutch’s flirting hasn’t dulled in the slightest. He’ll sit close to you as everyone else celebrates, mentioning how wonderful you were and if you need help slipping out of anything. If you let him, he’ll help unlace those fancy boots, even massage your poor ankles and calves since you aren’t used to wearing tall shoes. Isn’t that thoughtful?

HOSEA MATTHEWS

Nearly all of this con was his idea, and you’re glad to help run it. Hosea is playing the part of some eccentric philanthropist and you’re a grand-niece or some relative. The two of you talk so smooth and fast, easily working off each other, that the hosts of the party don’t stand a chance. Hosea wants to avoid any sort of violence, but knowing the gang, who knows what will happen, so he wants you to stay close to him. During lulls in conversation, when you and Hosea are just observing the crowd and deciding who to speak with next, he’ll lean in and whisper something to you. It makes goosebumps break out on your skin, you can feel how warm he is and sometimes he’ll run a hand up your back as he compliments you on what a natural you are, or reassures you that it’ll be over soon. He’ll truly feel bad if you hate having to dress up and pretend like this; so he’s grateful you agreed to come along and help. If you’re thriving off the party and the trickery, he’ll give you knowing grins and winks that make him seem fifteen years younger. There’s a surprising amount of mischief in him.

When the inevitable fight breaks out (he totally called it), Hosea swiftly gets you to a safe part of the house he noticed earlier. From there you two snatch several stashes of jewels and cash and stealthily make your way out. Hosea had to be convinced to steal as much as you both did; he was terribly worried about you, since the dress would be difficult to run in. When you’re back at camp, Hosea isn’t shy about telling you what a great job you did, and how proud he is. He’ll give a kiss to your cheek and he’s very smooth about offering to remove anything that’s giving you trouble.

SADIE ADLER

Thank god she’s not the one in the fucking gown, that’s all she has to say. Well, that, and the jokes and snark she throws your way while you’re getting ready. If you hate the dress just as much, too bad, you were roped into the plan and Sadie is having lots of playful teasing at your expense. If you adore it and start modeling it for her, she won’t admit how cute you’re being… but she will consider wearing a tuxedo and being some “hoity toity” man just to make sure you’re safe. She doesn’t trust the “gentleman” at this party at all, and the closer you both get to the manor, the more antsy she becomes. All her previous humor is gone as she urges you to find her right away if trouble happens. Sadie is absolutely going to bring your favorite gun along and was trying to figure out a way to strap a revolver to your leg until Hosea pulled you away. You promise you’ll be alright, but she doesn’t look reassured.

The expected fight breaks out, and like you promised, you beeline for Sadie. She’s already on you - how the hell did she get into the manor so fast? - and she’s tossed your gun in your hands. Soon enough you both are blasting your way out of the manor. She gets impatient when you fall for the second time and rips the dress herself so you can run easier. It was your horse she brought around to escape, and Sadie hoisted you up, sat herself in the back and kept shooting while you rode to safety. It was… a hectic and messy escape, but neither of you had a scratch. Once you’re at the camp, she doesn’t feel bad for ripping the dress, even if you liked it. It was necessary, and besides, you can’t keep the frilly thing! Okay, she’ll apologize if you pout. If you hated it she’s more than happy to help you burn it.

MICAH BELL

How the hell is he supposed to respond to this? It would be one thing if you caked on make-up like a tart and strapped yourself into some circus tent-looking contraption, he could work with that. His brain just stops functioning for a few seconds when the girls finally unveil the work they did on you. If you hated the dress and it wasn’t something you’d wear unless a gun was pointed to your head, then Micah certainly had choice words to say, teasing and mocking the difference between this and your regular attire… except they were much weaker insults than he usually had. You were too distracted and uncomfortable to even care. If you adored all of it, practically buzzing with excitement as you turned and twirled for everyone, he might even try an attempt at a compliment, although it’d come out all jumbled and flustered. He decides to stay away and just watch you from a distance, both enjoying the view and trying to figure out this stupid knot in his stomach.

At least you two are apart during the party, so he doesn’t have to look at you enjoying yourself and swaying around in that dress. When the fight starts, he can finally have something else to put his mind to … until he sees you get caught in the crossfire. Micah would throw you a gun he pulled off someone, barking at you to follow him. Dutch told him to get you to safety, which he initially bristled at, but then he dutifully put you up on Baylock. He told you to keep shooting while he rode off - and he still got plenty of shots in himself. Once you were back at camp, he wouldn't apologize for dirtying the dress. It had to be done, and now the job is done, so you can get out of it…. and he would absolutely offer to cut it off with his knife. The whole thing, corset and all. He's gonna fantasize about it well after the fact, too.

CHARLES SMITH

If you love getting a chance to dress up and wear jewels, Charles can tell, and he finds your joy just adorable. If you dislike the idea of having to dress up for a stupid party, even if it’s a robbery, he’s very encouraging and reassures you as many times as you need. This kind of con isn’t really his scene, but he knows you’ll do well and he promises to look after you during the whole thing. He’ll even have you ride along with him on Taima if that'll settle your nerves. Once you arrive, Charles helps you down like a gentleman. If you’re still uneasy, he asks you to wait a moment and then comes back with a rose he picked from the garden. He places it neatly in your tied back hair. “Perfect. Don’t worry, you’ll do great, and when things go south, I’ll be there. Promise.”

Once the fight breaks out, Charles is true to his word and helps you escape in the chaos. You have no idea where he came from, but you didn’t refuse the help, or the gun he offered you - at some point he’d packed your favorite one - and you’re pulled up on Taima as gunshots go off all around you. Charles put you on the front of his horse to protect you better, even if it’s harder to shoot from there. It sort of makes you feel like a princess being swept away. When you two return to the camp, he tidies the rose in your hair and offers to help remove the restrictive dress or massage your legs if they hurt … casually, of course. Probably.

BILL WILLIAMSON

When the girls finally unveiled their handiwork, he thought his heart was stopping. You were so pretty - well, you normally were, but now more than ever. You looked like one of those porcelain dolls they put in music boxes. Bill didn’t even want to touch you or stand too close, worried he’d dirty you somehow. He couldn’t believe you wanted him to play the role of the bodyguard that would follow you around the party.... Though he played the part well, his silence combined with his big build made him seem intimidating. If you were clearly miserable in the dress and with the company, he wasn’t sure what to say to make you feel better, so he stayed quiet. If you were loving the dress and just thriving in the party, fooling everyone into thinking you were some high-class belle … Well, he was too distracted watching you, still not able to say much.

Eventually he had to split off from you to join the men, which he didn’t appreciate, but he made a point to bring your gun along with his. When the expected gunfight broke out, Bill beelined for you, practically tossing a man that was too close and handed over your gun. He didn’t expect you to be so grateful, it made him blush in spite of the gunshots going off all around you two.

The fight was more dangerous than expected, so Bill hoisted you up on Brown Jack without warning and raced off. Your dress ended up getting ripped from his haste, and if you really liked it, he feels bad for screwing it up. It’s easy to turn around his mood by complimenting what a good “bodyguard” he was. Just don’t flirt too much, he’s already had a mess of feelings today.

JAVIER ESCUELLA

He was trying to hide his excitement when he found out you were going to be dressing up and joining the others on this con. You’re already an angel, now he’s going to see you dressed in a beautiful gown and decorated with jewels? It fit so perfectly, too, like it was made for you. Javier wouldn’t hide his approval of the outfit, even giving you some suggestions on more comfortable shoes or a better hat. Mary-Beth thought it was adorable and left him to help you out - that made it much harder for him to hide how pleased he was with your outfit. If you truly hated it, he’d understand and would try to reassure you that not only did it look wonderful, you were going to pull the job off perfectly. His warm hands would sit on your shoulders as he said this, hoping you trusted in him. If you’re the sort who loves dressing up and conning, he shares your happiness and will even dance with you a little before you have to leave, relishing in your giggles.

While the party went off well, with you playing your part perfectly, chaos inevitably broke out. You have no idea where Javier came from, but you were damn grateful that he’d seen you and pulled you into a safe corner. Together you both snuck into the manor, stole as much jewelry as you could carry and easily slipped out the back, gunshots still echoing through the place. Javier grinned as he draped all the stolen necklaces and bracelets on you, asking you to keep them safe for now. You clasped your arms tightly around his torso when you rode away with him, resting your head against his back whenever you got tired.

SEAN MACGUIRE

He all but jumps out of his seat with delight when he spots you. Mary-Beth is still fussing with your hair, but the corset under your dress has already done all sorts of magic, and the dress itself hugged you like you were meant to wear it. Of course he can’t resist from fawning all over you. He wants to pick you up and twirl you like a princess, but Miss Gaskill scolds him for dirtying the dress and he gets dragged away by the men. For once Sean was wishing he was away from the action and complained enough that they let him accompany you on the carriage - that is, as the driver. Sean didn’t even notice if you were extremely uncomfortable, he was too busy gabbing about the party and saying what a natural you’d be. When you finally have to leave, he takes your hand and gives you a warm smile. “You’ll do great. I know it.” He didn’t realize how comforting it was.

Once trouble began, you were impressed how quickly Sean scrambled to your side, and with your gun no less. Before you could question how he did it, he was gleefully shooting and directing you away from the fight. As much as Sean wanted to stay and end it, he was far more concerned with your safety, you noticed. He swung you up on his horse with little grace, and even if your dress was ruined with blood and mud and your hat went flying off, you laughed as you wrapped your arms around his torso and listened to the wild man whoop and shoot through the escape. Sean would absolutely be the type to help you off the horse and insist on carrying you around camp, bragging about his “rescue” the whole time.

LENNY SUMMERS

God damn it, he already thought you were cute! Now you’re gorgeous and he’s way too bashful to say anything about it for a while. He’s thankful for the girls fussing over you and the boys dragging him off to discuss the plan, because being around you is too distracting and makes his thoughts short-circuit a bit. He’s normally fine with talking to you! And it’s just a dress, so what’s different? If you really loved the outfit, you’d be a natural in it, and Lenny would find your enthusiasm and confidence very attractive. If you clearly hated it, he’d want to comfort you somehow, but would worry about coming off wrong. It’s a shame you didn’t like the outfit, because you looked fantastic in it. Before he had to leave with the boys, he’d pay you a compliment. “You’re gonna do real well, miss. Um, you … you really fit the role.”

He has a good sense of when things will go south, and when Lenny felt the tension in the air, he made a point to find you in the crowd. Ones the bullets started flying, he found you before you even made sense of the situation. Lenny would rather get you to safety right away, but if you want a gun, he ain’t denying you. All his previous nervousness would be gone as you both would shoot up the place, then find a horse to escape on. Lenny wouldn’t feel that shyness again until you both got back to camp, when he had to help you off the horse. He’ll immediately start joking about your dirty dress and praising your gun skills to keep his beating heart in line. Lenny feels much better when you’re back in your old clothes.

KIERAN DUFFY

He was embarrassed enough watching the girls parade you around, pleased with their work, and they had every right to be - you looked even more beautiful than the women in the magazines. It’s like you walked right out of them. He felt bad if you were forced into the role, knowing you probably hated the whole get-up, but if you absolutely enjoyed it, he was enchanted by how you seemed to beam with happiness. He’d only seen you like that a few other times, and he was pleased to commit it to memory. When you’re getting ready to leave, he can’t help but give you words of encouragement. He can’t imagine you’ll do anything but shine at the party.

Kieran was tasked with staying behind at the camp, as he expected, but at least he was trusted to hold a gun and stay on watch duty. His thoughts often drifted to you, wondering if you were doing well and if you were sick of the party or having the time of your life. When he heard powerful hoofbeats, he snapped at attention, readying the gun and calling out... only to recognize your horse and your silhouette. Your dress was a torn mess, but it was still restrictive, so Kieran wasted little time in helping you down. “Miss, are you alright? You aren’t - is that your blood or someone else’s? Alright, good. C’mon, sit down here.”

You told him about what happened at the party, how things got out of control and you had to flee in a hurry. The boys were likely splitting up to shake the law off them. Kieran was so relieved you were alright, his heart was hammering but outwardly he was calm as he helped tie your sprained ankle and get you some water. He wasn’t his nervous self at all, tending to you and asking questions with confidence ... until you pointed out you needed help getting out of the corset and dress.

TILLY JACKSON

Tilly was initially in charge of “acquiring” the jewelry and accessories you’d wear, but she ended up shooing the other girls away when they kept suggesting ridiculous hair and make-up ideas. She didn’t care what lady’s magazine Karen read, Tilly wasn’t about to turn you into a side-show act. She was always helping you with this or that, you both relied on each other. She always knew how to reassure you, taking your face in her hands as she spoke softly. “Listen, it’s nothin’ you ain’t done before, just wearin’ somethin’ fancy now. And those boys will do their job right and keep you safe, I’ll make damn sure of that.”

If you hate this sort of thing - dressing up and conning others - Tilly would’ve tried to help you get a different role, but ultimately, you had to do it. She’d give you a softer version of her usual tough love. If you loved it, Tilly would be the one teasing you to get your head out of the clouds. Either way, when you were distracted, she’d threaten the hell out of the boys to keep you safe. Even Arthur would get an earful; if you so much as came back with a scratch, she’d have their hides. If you came back a muddy, bloody mess because you couldn’t resist joining in the gunfights, Tilly would have your hide, too. If you came back mostly clean because you avoided the fight, she’d just laugh and tease you for being so “fussy” - but she was relieved you came straight to camp. The dress and jewels are all sold afterward, but Tilly keeps some bits of fabric to sew you both something.

MARY-BETH GASKILL

You have a feeling she’s enjoying this ... a lot. While the both of you were cool as you acquired the dress and jewels to go with it, as soon as you were back at camp, Mary-Beth was giggling and going on about how to do your hair. Soon enough you were dragged off to a tent for privacy and she dressed you up, cooing over your figure in the dress and how nice you looked. She didn’t even notice how flustered you were getting - of course if you enjoyed dressing up, you could share in her enthusiasm and get her advice on how to style it. If you hated it ... Mary-Beth reassured you it looked wonderful, “just like a princess!” Well, that didn’t help, but her obvious swooning was pretty cute. Mary-Beth ended up coming along with the job, dressed up herself and playing the part of your “companion”, since all high-society ladies were about that. You’re pretty sure companions weren’t supposed to be as red-faced or affectionate as she was around their ladies, but you weren’t complaining.

At the party you two were naturals, and what little screw-ups were quickly covered up. If Mary-Beth didn’t know something, you did, and vice-versa. You two were actually quite a team, and you noticed Hosea winking at you in approval from across the room. When trouble was starting, you pulled Mary-Beth aside and you both hastily dug through the manor’s drawers and silver cabinets while the gunshots went off outside. If you needed to defend her, you would, but luckily it didn’t come to that. You were able to steal a horse from their stable and go riding off, Mary-Beth holding tightly and urging you to go faster. You both couldn’t resist keeping two matching bracelets from the robbery.

KAREN JONES

Karen may not be interested in passing as one of those hoity toity girls, but she’s absolutely gonna help dress you up as one. She’s laughing the whole time, throwing out suggestions and distracting the hell out of Tilly and Mary-Beth as they work. Karen was the one who found the dress, and you’re surprised at how well it flatters you and how the color suits you so well. “Didn’t I say I know how to pick ‘em? Now tighten up those laces! Society ladies don’t have fun!” Karen is quite pushy regardless if you want to do the job or not - if you don’t, she’ll all but drag you to the carriage the boys brought and force you in. It’s a hell of a chance to get a lot of money, and she doesn’t want you missing it. If you love it, that’s all the better! She teases you plenty either way while you’re trying to dress, and gives you a big kiss before you have to set out, not caring who sees. You were long gone by the time she turned on the boys and all but threatened them to bring you back safely.

The party was lonely without Karen, you wished she had been part of the plan so you both could talk together instead of mingling with these insufferable people. Sure, she may have been a little too loud and unladylike... but it would’ve been far more fun. You escaped on cue, making a point to steal a gorgeous stallion as you left the manor behind, listening to gunshots ring out through the night. The boys (and Sadie) were doing their part, so it was time to go home. You had not expected Karen to come riding on your horse with a gun. “Damn it, you were takin’ too long! I got worried...”

She tried to hide how worried she actually was on the way back. She helped you out of the infernal buttons, lacing and corset, and gladly snuggled your aching body. By the time the boys returned to camp, you both had fallen asleep in your tent.

FLACO HERNANDEZ

You’d mentioned the plan in passing to Flaco, and he was so worried for your safety he came all the way down from that forsaken mountain to make sure it went off well. He didn’t hide that he disliked you working with “that little gang” when you could just stay with him, but that was for another time. While everyone ran around preparing for the con, he watched with great amusement as you were primped and stuffed into a corset and ballgown, whistling at you and making plenty of jokes. You weren’t going to live this down, ever. Once your outfit and hair was mostly finished, Flaco patted his lap and you sat obediently until it was time to go. Even if you hated the dress, Flaco thinks you look beautiful and will tell you so, kissing your cheek and muttering all sorts of sweet things to distract your nerves. He really doesn’t care about showing you off, if anything, he’s amused by your friends trying to look away.

It was hard not to think of him as the party progressed. You played the role well enough, but soon you were itching to get back to camp. Who knew how long he would stay around before going back to that cold place? The expected gunfight broke you out of your thoughts, and as you made your escape ... you suddenly felt a pair of familiar, fuzzy arms wrapping around you. “I’ve got you now, princesa. Why don’t you come back with Flaco?”

He was able to get you back, but not to your gang’s camp. Flaco had set up his own spot, making a point to bring your horse and your things... the only way the gang knew you were alright is he left word with Miss Grimshaw (after she gave him a thorough ‘questioning’ about his relationship with you). You better believe he’d help you out of that fancy ensemble, but if you really loved it he’d urge you to dance and spin around for him. It’s a rare day when he sees you wearing something other than four layers, after all.

#arthur morgan x reader #john marston x reader #dutch van der linde x reader #micah bell x reader #sadie adler x reader #hosea matthews x reader #charles smith x reader #bill williamson x #javier escuella x reader #sean macguire x reader #lenny summers x reader #kieran duffy x reader #tilly jackson x reader #mary-beth gaskill x reader #karen jones x reader #flaco hernandez x reader #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 preferences #omg i love this prompt but i took forevveerrr es tut mir leid

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marvelatthetwilight · 3 years

Text

I think I love you

This came out so much longer than I anticipated so I’ve separated it into two parts! It’s worth it, I promise ♥️ - Addie

Part 2: Love you anymore

Months had passed since Y/N first met Paul, on the first day in her new home. They spoke daily, neither one of them able to break contact for more than a few hours, never really talking about anything in particular, but the conversation never ran dry. Y/N couldn’t put her finger on what was different about Paul to all the guys she had known before, but he was special, and she knew she was falling in love with him.

Only that week, at the end of their daily phone call she nearly finished their chat with an "I love you" but couldn't pluck up the courage for the words to come out.

What she didn't know was that throughout their chats that week Paul had wanted to say "I think I love you" every time he heard her laugh, but he wanted the moment to be special, and not just be something that was blurted out at any random moment. It was then that Paul decided that he needed to plan a big romantic gesture, a gesture that truly expressed how he felt about Y/N.

It was Saturday, and after a week of manic work, Y/N was finally beginning to settle into the pace of her new job. What she needed was time to unwind with her new friends, and she was looking forward to relaxing at dinner at Emily’s house.

For Paul however, he wasn’t feeling ready to unwind, he was feeling more wound up and anxious than ever.

“Right everyone, do you all know what your role is?” Paul asks, looking round at the pack sitting at Emily’s kitchen table.

They all nod, apart from Seth who puts his hand up.

Paul rolls his eyes at the young pup, “we aren’t in school Seth, what’s wrong?”

“So...me and Colin, we’re...waiters?”

The pack collectively groan.

“Seth we’ve been through this like ten times!” Embry moans, throwing a muffin at Seth’s head.

“Yeah I know I just don’t want to get it wrong. It’s a lot of pressure!”

“You’re literally just handing out food! You go to Emily, she gives you a plate, you bring it out to the table, that’s it!” Paul says exasperatedly, having repeated himself for the fourth time that day.

“Paul do we need everyone to just quickly cover what they’re doing to be sure?” Sam asks, walking over to the table having overheard the pack’s groans.

Paul takes a deep breath to calm himself, fingers massaging his temples. “Ok, Jared, go.”

Jared stands up. “I Jared, will be the playing the role of goofy best friend who doesn’t know where Paul is but, oh look, a romantic table set up on the beach, how quaint.” He takes a bow and Seth claps him before catching Paul’s eye and stopping quickly.

Embry and Quil stand up next. “We are setting up said quaint romantic table on the beach under strict orders from Kim and Emily.”

Paul nods, and smiles at Emily as she gives him the thumbs up. “I Emily, along with Kim, am the brains behind this operation and I will be chef and second in command decorator.” Kim jumps up from Jared’s lap and high fives Emily. “As romantic consultant I will be supporting chef in the kitchen and first in command of decorations. Which are all in my truck ready to go Lahote.”

Paul takes a calming breath, knowing the girls have most of this under control.

“Jake?”

“Oh yeah, erm. I will be picking Y/N up from her house and driving, SENSIBLY and SAFELY to Emily’s house, pretending that we are all meeting for dinner here, handing Y/N over to Jared as I arrive.” Jacob emphasises the words to Paul, repeating his instructions he gave a few minutes ago.

“Yup. No stupid driving, no stupid stories, no showing off.” Paul reminds Jacob, who rolls his eyes.

“Yes I got it Paul.”

“And, finally, Sam.” Paul says, turning towards Sam.

“I will come down to the beach when called and help you explain, keeping the pack on hand if needed.”

Paul nods, taking another deep breath, trying to calm his nerves.

I can do this.

At six thirty on the dot, Y/N hears a horn outside, she grabs her bag, slips on her shoes and rushes out the door. Expecting to see Paul’s beat up truck, instead, she sees Jacob, on his bike, and she frowns.

“Er, hi Jake. What are you doing here?”

Jake rubs the back of his neck, nerves kicking in, he was never very good at lying.

“Erm, Paul’s truck broke down, he’s working on it at my place and he asked me to come get you and take you to Emily’s.”

Y/N frowns again. That’s weird, she thinks.

“No offence Jake but I would rather we went in my car, I don’t really like the idea of riding a bike in this dress.” She gestures down to her dress and heeled boots, and Jacob nods. Crap, we didn’t think of that.

“Yeah ok, we can do that. Give me two secs I’ve just got to ring my dad and let him know I’m leaving the bike here.” Jake walks away with his phone to his ear.

“Embry, tell Paul we are coming in Y/N’s car, not my bike. She’s got a dress on and didn’t want to get on.”

Jacob can hear Embry shouting to Paul over the phone, followed quickly by a growl, then Embry hangs up.

Jacob runs over to Y/N’s car and slides into the passenger side.

“Should we swing by your house and pick up Paul?” Y/N asks, about to indicate to turn towards the Black house.

“No!” Jacob shouts before composing himself and answering again. “He’s just going to meet us at Emily’s, don’t worry!”

Y/N raises her eyebrows, before turning her attention back to the road, heading towards Emily’s house.

As they pull up outside the house Jared comes bounding out, quickly hooking his arm with Y/N’s, redirecting her towards the path that leads to the beach.

“Hold on, I just want to say hi to Emily.” Y/N attempts to turn back towards the house, just at Quil and Embry appear from the path.

“There’s an animal loose on the beach, you can’t go down there yet. Let’s go hang out on that...field...over there.” Embry says, pointing towards the patch of grass opposite Emily’s house, as Quil holds out his arms, blocking the entrance to the path.

“Can I just go say hi to Emily first?” Y/N attempts to turn again towards the house, just as Quil links with her free arm and starts walking towards the field.

“Nah, she’s busy cooking, she won’t want to be interrupted.” Quil assures her, just as she glances back and spots Seth, wearing a bow tie...? What is going on?

Embry leaves Y/N to play baseball on the small field with Jared, Quil and Jacob, and he heads back down to the beach where he left Paul and Sam.

“Paul, calm down, calm down, nothing is going wrong, everything is fine, she suspects nothing, we promise you.” Embry can hear Sam speaking in a soothing but commanding voice to the silver wolf in front of him.

The wolf whines slightly, then glances towards the footsteps and sees Embry. He howls lightly, wanting an update on Y/N.

“She’s occupied, I don’t think she’s suspicious. The girls have dealt with the fire, and now Seth is banned from the kitchen. Jared is on it, he and Quil will field any questions. Don’t. Worry.” He speaks calmly and clearly in an attempt to calm the hot-headed and anxious wolf down.

“Embry go with Paul to run off his stress, I’ll go back up to the house and check everything is ok. Embry come and let me know when we are back on track.” Sam commands, nodding to them both as he jogs back up the path.

“Right Paul, let’s go” Embry says as he sets his shorts aside and phases, following Paul into the tree line.

Part 3: I love you more

Taglist:

@fatiguing-thoughts @clearwater-hoe @wallwriterstuff @volturidoll13 @raindancer2004 @awesomebooklover17 @teampaul @cncogirl18 @megzdoodle @evakipara @moviequeen51

#paul lahote #paul lahote x reader #twilight #twilight imagine #embry call #jared cameron #sam uley #seth clearwater #wolfpack

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cloudywriter · 3 years

Text

the lost princess of terrasen

rowaelin month - september 7th

prompt: fairytale au - (an anastasia au in this case)

important: okay y’all so i went way overboard with this entire au and it got out of hand so now this might just be a full-blown thing. however, with that whole releation and me going crazy with outlining and writing i could really only have this much of the story out and ready for today but i plan on continuing it!! hopefully after rowaelin month. enjoy this little introduction :)

(cw: brief descriptions of violence)

masterlist, AO3

~~~

At freshly 18, Celaena Sardothien was free. She’d aged out of the orphanage and was finally released to go live her own life, no longer held down in the outskirts of Rifthold. Celaena didn’t want to wait a second longer, the need to leave the horrid place she’d lived the last ten years was ingrained in her bones.

The woman who ran the orphanage, Clarisse, was cruel. From a young age, she poked at Celaena, commenting constantly on her weight or how she didn’t act like a proper young lady. Her entire life up until this point was spent at the mercy of Clarisse and her stern ways. All the girls in the orphanage were treated as maids and dolls for Clarisse to manipulate. But, Celaena made it, counting down the days until her birthday.

Now, here she was, stuck out in the cold. She’d imagined her freedom to be more alluring than this instead she was shaking as she wandered through side streets that led to the heart of Rifthold. She carried with her a backpack barely full of her meager belongings and the too-thin coat on her back. Clarisse didn’t even spare her a hat to keep out the cold so she moved her hair to shield her freezing ears the best she could and waddled along the snowy pavement.

She still had her kingsflame necklace around her neck, though, and that’s all that mattered. Where she had gotten it from she hadn’t a clue. The first memory she possessed was waking up in the very orphanage that would become her prison. Clarisse explained to her that she’d hit her head and a nice man named Arobynn had brought Celaena to Clarisse to be cared for. Clarisse questioned her about her family and upbringing relentlessly but Celaena could not recall a thing. Her mind was blank. For many nights as a young girl, she’d sit upright in the creaky, lumpy bed she occupied and willed herself to remember. She’d cry and scream, banging her fists into her head in frustration when nothing ever surfaced.

The only connection she had to whatever life she lived before was her kingsflame necklace. And she’d follow that kingsflame to the ends of the continent if it meant she’d one day solve the mystery of her existence.

Which led her to the first stop on her journey of discovery, Terrasen. Once Celaena had accepted that her memories weren’t coming back and this was the life she’d have to lead she adjusted. She served Clarisse and went to the small, dilapidated school down the street with the other orphans. There she discovered her love of books and the meager library the school offered became her sanctuary. It was there while she read a book on the kingdoms on Erilea, hoping something would strike her familiar she learned that kingsflame flowers only bloomed in one place, the capital of Terrasen, Orynth.

As a child that discovery was a revelation. Terrasen. Maybe she was from Terrasen.

As Celaena walked she felt her toes growing increasingly numb, Adarlan’s winters were bitter and she was not equipped with the proper wear. Her teeth chattered but she pushed forward, she needed to get passage to Terrasen.

She drew the map out of the pocket of her coat once again and checked the status of her journey. Only a little longer until she was at Rifthold’s main dock station.

The city of Rifthold was big and Celaena felt out of her depth as groups of people swarmed the streets walking to and from their different destinations. It was overwhelming, the smells, the tall buildings, the weather, the noise, the sheer number of people, everything.

Eventually, she saw the lights of the station and she blew a sigh of relief, she hadn’t been very confident in her ability to read a map. She approached a man sitting in a booth behind a sheet of glass, smoking a cigarette.

Celaena stepped up to the counter.

“Hello, sir, I’d like to buy a ticket to Orynth,” she gave him a smirk, leaning casually on the box. She’d learned from many years of coexisting with Clarisse and a revolving door of people that to make it through life you needed a mask. Celaena had crafted her mask carefully and had perfected her act after so many years. She exuded arrogance and confidence so that another soul would never see the scared, lost little girl she truly was.

The man grunted, blowing a puff of smoke from between his cracked lips. “Do you have your papers, girl?”

Her brain stalled. Papers? She cleared her throat, “papers?”

“Yes,” his scratchy voice replied, “you need papers to cross the border.”

Celaena’s heart sank but she kept her expression neutral. “Well, I-”

“Listen, girl, I’m not going to sit here and waste your time so don’t sit here and waste mine. If you don’t have the right documents then I can’t sell you a ticket, simple as that,” he held the cigarette between his teeth.

She searched for some way to turn this situation around, chewing on her bottom lip.

From the shadows a little ways into the dark alley adjacent to the docks, she heard a hissed whisper. “You, blondie,” an old woman emerged slightly from the shadows, beckoning Celaena forward with her index finger.

Celaena looked around, the man in the booth was already back to ignoring her, his nose stuck in a newspaper so she decided to approach the woman. She didn’t have much to lose and Celaena thought if it went south she could take her.

Celaena crept closer, tightening her grip on the strap of her backpack.

“You need papers?” Her voice was hoarse as if her throat was made of sandpaper. Celaena nodded her head keeping her guard up, watching her surroundings out of her peripheral.

“I know who can get you some,” her face morphed into a slight smile that unsettled Celaena more than anything. Celaena furrowed her brows, “who?” The woman tsked at her, her hot breath forming a cloud in front of her face.

“That kind of information isn’t free, my dear.” Celaena had to resist the urge to roll her eyes, everything came with a price in this world.

Celaena reached around to the side pocket of her backpack, fishing out a few coins she had to spare. She’d saved just enough from doing odd jobs to pay her fare to Terrasen. She deposited the coins into the palm of the old woman’s hand, her knobby fingers running along their smooth edges.

“Go a few streets north and into the red brick warehouse with the large windows, you can’t miss it. Ask for a Mr. Rowan Whitethorn, he’ll get you the papers,” she instructed, hoarding the scant sum of money she was given as though they were priceless heirlooms. Celaena turned her head in the direction the woman directed as if she could spot the warehouse from here and by the time she rounded back the woman had disappeared once again.

Celaena huffed and shot another glance at the ticket man, he was still paying no attention, tapping his cigarette out with his finger. She didn’t necessarily want to go on a wild goose chase to obtain these papers but she had no other way of getting them so she breathed deeply and shoved her hands into her pockets and twisted north.

The woman was right about not being able to miss the warehouse. It was a large, old, imposing structure, clearly, it had not been in use for some time now. Celaena crept closer peering into the foggy windows as she passed the front of the building. She couldn’t see anything and was unconvinced she’d find the elusive ‘Rowan Whitethorn’ inside.

Nonetheless, she approached a rusting metal door on the side and pushed it open with her gloved hand. The door protested but it miraculously opened revealing a wide area stacked high with boxes along the walls and corners.

She ventured further into the space, dust and broken glass crunching beneath her boots. She didn’t see any signs of life besides maybe some rats. As she neared the opposite corner what could’ve been a makeshift sitting area came into view, blocked from view initially by a stack of boxes. She approached noting the circle of crates, a dusty blanket, and a few books piled on the side.

She peered at the title of the book on the top of the stack.

The Royal Family of Terrasen. Mixed emotions surged through her body.

“Who’s in here?” A male voice boomed nearly rattling the windows. Celaena shuttered, letting her bravo fill her bones as she heard a set of footsteps enter the space.

+++

Rowan Whitethorn’s life since the fall of Terrasen and the reign of the Valg had been a hell-hole, to put it bluntly. His family fell out of status, his parents were slain in the ambush on Orynth’s castle, and Rowan was left in an unfamiliar land at twelve years old.

A sect of the Whitethorn house had been visiting Terrasen’s court for the holidays when Maeve made her move against the continent. Doranelle crumpled first to her rule and Terrasen followed, the army of Valg she’d amassed was too large to stand against. Adarlan only survived because King Dorian bowed down to Maeve.

Even now at twenty-two, he has nightmares about that evening. The terror he felt as Valg poured into the ballroom and slaughtered the royals. The terror he saw in the princess of Terrasen’s eyes as she was shoved into the kitchens by her nursemaid where Rowan had happened to take shelter as well. He was scared too, running as soon as his father screamed at him to as the Valg slit his throat. He regretted it deeply, leaving like a coward when the palace was invaded. He regretted the cowering he did in the kitchens as well but when the young princess had burst in the doors, tears flowing freely down her cheeks something had come over him. He had pushed her out into the snow yelling at her to run and she did, scrambling to find her footing.

The rest was a blur, the Vlag hurried into the kitchens soon after but somehow Rowan made it out with his life. The same could not be said for many people in the castle that night.

Now, Rowan lived in Rifthold as a thief and doer of other’s dirty work. He longed for the day he could get out of this city of nightmares crawling with Valg. One day, he promised himself, one day he’d have to funds to make it back to Wendlyn and witness what had become of his home.

There was an opportunity, though, that’d heard about from whispers on the streets. Aedion Ashryver. One of the few survivors from Terrasen’s downfall. He chosen to stay in Terrasen’s territory afterward, the country had no real structured ruling now. The old King-Consort Darrow was the closest thing there was to a king but from what he’d gathered the man is old and weak, not the same after the death of his husband, King Orlon. Terrasen had virtually crumbled.

Somehow, Aedion had built up the Bane and gained standing for himself. A standing he was using to campaign to find his long-lost cousin. How Maeve hadn’t gotten wind of Aedion and his plotting and squashed him, Rowan wasn’t sure. Nevertheless, Aedion was offering a hefty reward for the return of his dear Aelin, the nation’s true queen, convinced she was still alive.

Rowan thought the operation was useless. Her body was never found, that was true, but he imagined she’d likely fled into the Oakwald forest and perished from hypothermia not long after. If he could make a pretty penny from returning the ‘princess’ to Aedion, though, he wasn’t above doing so.

All Rowan needed was a young, blonde, and blue-eyed woman he could convince to join his cause and he could coach her to be the perfect replacement for Aelin. Truthfully, he wasn’t convinced this could ever be achieved but it was something he’d contemplated.

Rowan was making his way back to the warehouse he liked to operate his more shady business out of, the biting cold seeping into his clothes. The looming, muddy red-brick building came into view and he pushed the frosted metal door open. Immediately, he was aware that someone had invaded his space.

Small footsteps had disrupted the layer of dusk along the floor. His hand flew to the dagger strapped to his chest as he prowled further inside.

“Who’s in here?” he called out, gripping the dagger tightly by its handle. Once he got far enough into the space he could see a young woman was standing near his makeshift seats.

The first thing he noticed was she was beautiful. Long, golden blonde hair flowed down her shoulders, her skin was pale and her lips had a blue tint to them. Rowan pushed aside all those unsavory thoughts, she was an intruder after all. However, he couldn’t help but study her, she was dressed far too light for the dead of winter, not even a hat on her head.

She looked right back at him, accessing him as he was her. She didn’t look scared to have been caught trespassing, no, honestly, she looked annoyed as if he was interrupting her.

“Who the hell are you?”

~~~

let me know if y’all like it so far and would like to see more, xoxo

#rowaelin fanfic #aelin x rowan #rowan x aelin #rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin ashryver galathynius #aedion ashryver #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #rowaelin month #rowaelin au #rowaelin fanfiction

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morganayenneferburnham · 3 years

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Have I Known You 20 Seconds or 20 Years? – Nikolai Lantsov Series

Chapter 1: Devils Roll the Dice, Angel Roll their Eyes

Chapter 2: You Did a Number on Me

Chapter 3: You Could Call Me Babe for the Weekend

Chapter 4: The Best of Times, The Worst of Crimes

Chapter 5: All I Know Since Yesterday Is Everything Has Changed

A very short summary: Y/N has been working with the crows for a few years. Her life feels complete until she meets the insufferable Nikolai Lantsov. She finds herself forced to work with the King of Ravka on one of Kaz Brekker’s crazy schemes.

Word count: 2k

A/N: Hey there! So this took me a bit longer than expected but here it is! I should probably mention that it's an angsty one. Sorry. I hope you guys enjoy it. I'd love to get some feedback :)

Chapter 5: All I Know Since Yesterday Is Everything Has Changed

She woke that morning wishing she didn’t have to leave her room for the rest of the month. That was going to be difficult, however. Kaz would come to drag her out himself if he had to. She knew he would. It was probably best to avoid angering him any further. He had made his anger quite clear the night before.

---

Kaz had sent everyone away for the night after having heard their reports and studying the plans for a few more minutes. His gloved fingers had wrapped themselves tightly around her wrist when she’d tried to slip past him.

“Can you get the job done? Or do I have to worry I’ll lose my corporalnik to a king?” His voice had been heavy with disdain.

“Of course, I can do the job, Kaz! How long have I been working for you?” she’d felt panic rise in her, making her nauseous.

“I’ve known Jesper even longer. Doesn’t mean he hasn’t disappointed me.” He snickered. “You haven’t answered my question, Y/N.” The way he’d said her name had sent a shiver down her spine. It had been a barely hidden warning.

“Kaz…” her voice had broken. Would he send me back to Tante Ingrid? She simply couldn’t tell.

“Start tailoring Nikolai and yourself back. I’ll see you in the morning. Do not be late.”

She’d spent the next 3 hours tailoring the king, who threatened to ruin her life by occupying her every thought, and then herself. Nikolai had at least had the decency to stay quiet this time around. She had been far from done when they’d called it a night, but she’d judged it would be enough to keep Kaz off her back.

---

Y/N got ready quickly, keeping Kaz’s warning in mind. She shrugged off her nightgown. She’d slept terribly. She pulled her white shirt over her head, tucking it in the pants she’d chosen for the day. Her mind kept travelling back to Nikolai’s kiss and Kaz’s terrifying fury. She loosely tied the strings at her shirt’s collar, letting the delicate bow rest on her chest. Her brain seemed to be stuck playing both moments repeatedly. It was ridiculous. Nikolai had only kissed her to keep up the act. There was no reason to jeopardize her place with the crows over something so meaningless. So why couldn’t her mind stop bringing it up?

When she finally reached the music room that currently served as their boss’ office, Inej sent her a look of pity from her perch on Kaz’s armchair. Great, she thought, Kaz is still mad.

Jesper and Wylan were lounging, limbs tangled, on a small couch. She nodded to them, returning their greetings, making her way to the opened glass-paneled doors leading to the garden. She watched Marya Hendriks paint while they waited for Nikolai and Zoya to join them. The older woman was working on a beautiful landscape of the Geldcanal. Y/N focused whole-heartedly on the paintbrush strokes letting them erase the memories of the previous night from her mind as they went. She knew it wasn’t permanent, the problem would still exist once Marya stopped painting, but it brought her comfort for the time being.

“Thank you for gracing us with your presence, your royal highness” Kaz’s raspy voice brought her back to the present. His rage and disdain were barely leashed. She turned in time to catch the surprised look on Nikolai’s face. She might have thought it was funny if she wasn’t so scared of what Kaz could do.

“Good morning, are my general and I late?” Nikolai schooled his feature into a charming grin. “Though, you know, I was under the impression that Kings couldn’t be late, everyone else is simply early.”

Just when Y/N thought it was impossible, Kaz’s eyes darkened further. Nikolai had managed to make him angrier somehow. Kaz sneered, “You are late.” They were in for a horrible day.

The air felt colder than it had a few minutes prior to the Ravkans’ arrival. Kaz continued, “The first part of the job was a success. However, that was the easy part.” He sent a pointed look her way. “The next part will require everyone to follow the plan to the letter.”

She flinched. Kaz isn’t mad. He is livid. She moved away from the open doors opting to take place on the arm of the couch where Wylan and Jesper were still lounging. Jesper reached for her, letting his hand rest on her thigh, giving it a small squeeze as if he felt her distress. She was thankful for that small gesture. It would help her endure Kaz’s wrath.

“I still need time to figure everything out. These blueprints do give us the layout of the factory and the warehouse, but we still don’t have the guards’ rounds schedule. We’ll also need to find out the shipment schedule.”

Inej interrupted him “I’ll take care of that. Just keep planning, I do quite enjoy your scheming face.” Y/N always loved getting a glimpse of their relationship. It was always subtle, but they clearly did love each other. It was endearing how much they did.

Kaz’s features seemed to soften a bit at that. “Of course, my darling. Perhaps General Nazyalensky can be of some assistance.”

Zoya nodded. “Sure, we’ll get you the information. Just make sure we have a way out with the plans and the prototypes we need.”

Kaz nodded and turned back to Y/N his gaze cold and hard. “You’re not done with your tailoring.” It wasn’t a question, it was a critic. She felt a chill travel down her back. “You have to finish this morning before either of you can leave the house.” He considered her for a moment. “Use your room. We can’t risk a servant seeing you like this.”

-----

They’d left the room a few minutes later. Y/N leading the way to her room at the Hendriks mansion. She had been quiet, practically ignoring him the whole way. Only turning to him once to check if he was following her. Her brows were furrowed. Nikolai wasn’t sure if she was mad at him or scared. Scared of what? Me? Or Brekker?

Nikolai now watched her from his seat at the end of the bed as she readied her tailoring kit. She had tailored her body back the night before, but she still had ways to go before she was sporting her beautiful features again. She had her back turned to him, her olive pants hugging the soft curves of her hips just right. Nikolai’s mind kept travelling back to the night before and the outfit the Grisha had chosen for the day wasn’t helping him at all. He wanted to rest his hands on her hips and pull her body to his. He wanted to feel her comforting curves pressed against him, closer than they had been the night before, the fabric of her skirt no longer in the way.

He watched her finally settle in front of the mirrored desk, raising her hands to her face. He was glad she was starting with herself. It would give him time to gain full control of his brain again. He observed the careful movements of her fingers for what felt like hours. He was grateful for the time she’d bought him, until he saw her face as she made her way to him. He couldn’t help but glance at her full lips. He wondered just how different it would feel to kiss her now. Saints, I forgot just how naturally gorgeous she was. The urge to pull her closer was threatening to overwhelm him.

“So, I guess I’m only undoing my own tailoring? Not Genya Safin’s? You still need to look like Sturmhond.” She sounded guarded.

“Yeah. I don’t think you could handle how handsome I really look.” He saw her jaw tick. Saints, what a stupid thing to say. And why did I wink at her again? She’s obviously uncomfortable.

He watched her carefully as she came to a stop, standing between his thighs. Nikolai could feel his heart hammering in his chest. She was standing so close he worried she could hear it. If she did, she made no mention of it. “This is gonna hurt. Tell me if you need a break.” She sounded determined; all traces of her previous insecurity gone. He only nodded, not trusting his voice with her standing so close to him, her floral scent drifting his way due to the soft breeze coming from the open window.

Her fingers were surprisingly cold against his skin. He felt the familiar itch of tailoring as she started before the pain of bone remodeling fully settled in. He tried to stay as still as possible, focusing on the concentration etched in the girl’s features instead of the pain. He felt her set his jaw back, making sure Sturmhond’s characteristically pointed chin was just right. She had made a few adjustments the night before, but she hadn’t done any major alterations. He kept watching her as she set the rest of his face back. Her shirt had slipped dangerously lower on her chest as she worked. The small bow coming lose. It was driving Nikolai completely crazy. He wanted to reach out and finish untying the damned strings. He didn’t think he could take much more of this absolute torture. She was almost done with reworking the bone when he saw her bite her bottom lip, completely lost in her work. He was about to finally lose the last sliver of decency he had been holding on to for the last hour when she straightened up suddenly. She backed away to take in her work.

“I think that should be it for facial structure. I’ll work on your eyes next, and I’ll finish with your hair.” She seemed more at ease now. Whatever had been bothering her almost forgotten.

She took her place back between his legs reaching up to his face once more. Her fingers came to rest on his cheek.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you. It was a mistake.” Nikolai blurted out. He could’ve sworn he saw hurt flash in Y/N’s beautiful green eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. He must have imagined it. He saw her straighten her spine, her shoulders tensing up.

“Whatever, we got out. We got the job done. It doesn’t matter.” Any scrap of ease she’d gained was gone as she turned her back to him, taking a few steps towards the mirrored desk. Why did you have to open your mouth? Nikolai Nothing. Nikolai the Bastard. Pretender. Nikolai the fool. He had clearly upset her.

“Listen, I didn’t mean to upset you. Brekker told me you worked at one of the pleasure houses before… I just – I didn’t mean to cross a line.”

She whirled back towards him. Fury burning in her deep green eyes. “He had no right.” she hissed. Her rage melted quickly however, leaving her looking panicked. Nikolai saw her hands start to shake before she clenched her fists.

Another blunder. “He only told me because I asked about your tattoo.” Her hand flew to the bare skin of her arm hiding the iris burned into her skin from him. I am only making it worse, he realized. I should really learn to stop talking so much.

She lowered her head. “He’s going to send me back.” Her voice was trembling. She sounded absolutely terrified at the idea. Nikolai wanted to reach out to her, to comfort her. Why would she think that? Surely Brekker wouldn’t do that. She’s a corporalnik. If Brekker is actually stupid enough to part with such a gifted Grisha, she could have a place with the Second Army. She could have a place in Ravka… She could have a place with me.

“You could–” Nikolai didn’t get to finish his sentence. Inej had opened the door and walked in carrying a tray with tea and biscuits.

“Figured, you two were probably hungry!” Her warm smile faltered when she saw Y/N’s expression. “Everything alright?”

“Thank you Inej. You are absolutely right!” She laughed; all traces of her panic gone. “I’m starving. I could eat a stack of waffles as tall as you!” A talented corporalnik and actress, Nikolai thought.

-----

tagged: @power-of-words23

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai lantsov fanfic #nikolai lantsov fic #kaz brekker #the crows #six of crows #inej ghafa #leigh bardugo #grishaverse #nikolai series #my fic #ari's fic #have i known you 20 seconds or 20 years #chapter 5 #fic update #all i know since yesterday is everything has changed

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yutahoes · 3 years

Text

Roses and Blood

pairing: private detective! Yuta Nakamoto x journalist! Y/N

word count: 4.4k words

genre: angst, a bit of smut, NOIR

summary : A high-profile cheating case just become a murder case. And the center of it all is the detective himself.

warnings : death, murder, blood, cigarettes, alcohol, sexual themes (masturbation) but not detailed, abuse, mentions of cheating, mentions of torture

This is my attempt to write a Noir AU, I’m not a fan of detective movies or this genre so this is the best that I can make up. This is heavily inspired by Secret’s Poison MV. 😁

taglist: @dimplehyunn @nominsgirl @jaesqueso @ahsshilee-me @readers-posts @justpeachygirl

written for Neo-City Noir Collab Call by @suh-insane

An extra cube of sugar in my cup of coffee. The only thing that changed in my everyday routine. The everyday bustling and hustling of the street outside didn’t change a bit. A typical day.

The calmness of the office was disturbed when the door opened. A strong scent of woman’s perfume hitting my nose. Roses. She smelled like roses.

The woman removed her coat, revealing a red button-down blouse hugging her figure. Blood. She reminds me of blood. A woman who might bring trouble.

Her heels click-clacking against the hardwood of my office and she slumped on the chair before I could remove my eyes from her. “I need your help.” She started, crossing her legs. “Detective Nakamoto.”

I leaned in on the table to assess her. An unreadable expression. She might be used to this. She took an envelope from her white handbag, sliding it on the table in front of me. "This is the file for Senator Hall." I opened the envelope which revealed a detailed copy of the said senator's information. "There had been threats to his life and I wanted to ask your help in finding who the mystery sender is."

There are different sized papers inside the envelope, letters cut from magazines that contain messages of threats. “Are you and the senator…?” Her lips curled up even before I could finish my sentence.

She handed a card, slipping it on the table. “I’m Y/N, Senator Hall’s publicist.” True enough, the card says that she is a journalist. “There are talks about how good you are, considering you found the mistress of Otto Holding’s chairman.” My jaw clenched. It’s not my best work but why did I get famous because of that? “Can I assure your help, Detective?”

I nodded with a smirk. She knew the business. Interesting. The woman placed the briefcase on the table, “This is just the first payment.” A briefcase full of money? This is serious business. She placed a gold-colored card above the briefcase with the letters ‘Fantasia’ written on it. “The senator usually comes to this club. He often gets the letters in this place.”

Fantasia? It’s a new high-end club that just opened for VIPs. This just narrowed down the list of potential suspects. They can either be VIPs or someone working in that club.

“I trust that you do your job discreetly,” She leaned on the table and I found myself staring at the low cut of her red blouse. “Mr. Yuta Nakamoto.” The way my name rolled on her tongue sent shivers down my spine. And as she left the office, her heels clicking on the floor, I was left with the scent of roses and an unhealthy amount of attraction for the senator’s publicist.

My fingers fiddled with the business card she handed.

Miss Y/N.

Trouble.

Will I get to see her again?

Fantasia is so posh, so high class, that security is so tight. It runs in an invite-only policy, the golden card that Miss Y/N handed. But even if you had the said invite, you needed to give them your personal information. Nothing bad will surely happen here.

The inside was not anything I imagined. The smell of alcohol and the blinding lights are the first thing noticeable inside, followed by jazz music playing. Girls in promiscuous clothes were serving drinks as another girl with flashy red clothes was singing on the stage. The color of rose and blood. And I was reminded of Ms. Y/N once again.

Senator. I’m here for a task.

After getting my drink from the bartender, I searched for a place where I could sit and surveyed the place. Before I approached a corner seat, I spotted the man I should be eyeing, seated on a velvet couch and staring at the girl on the stage. Based on the files, he has a wife and she’s very wealthy. Is this another case of a cheating husband? Then this case will be solved immediately.

The girl in the red dress singing earlier made her way to the crowd, stopping in front of the senator before giving him a smile and a wink. A smirk escaped my lips, case closed. I've been in this work for so long to know that his wife is giving him threats for having a girlfriend. A cliché love story.

The task was done even before I could begin so I drank a little to celebrate my small victory. Although the drink is expensive, I deserved this.

I'm busy minding my drink when the seat beside me gets occupied. "Hi." The same girl in the red dress singing on stage earlier. The senator's lover. "You're new here, aren't you?"

Does she keep track of the people here? "Want me to show you a good time?" What? But before I could say anything, she lightly pushed up her skirt to show me her thigh. What the hell is this club?

I turned around from her, facing the female bartender who was wiping the counter, and drank the contents of my glass in one gulp. I have to get out of here. The girl held my chest and I hastily stood up, feeling my head throbbed. What is happening to me? I felt my legs lose their strength as my stomach grumbled, sour liquid creeping up in my throat.

Immediately, I ran to the men's toilet to vomit everything in my stomach. The sour and bitter taste coming out of my mouth. Where did this come from? Is it the expensive drink? Am I not allowed to drink expensive scotch? Luxury life isn't really for me.

The moment I went out, wiping my mouth with my handkerchief, a surprise overtook me. A body was lying on the floor, a pool of blood by my feet. Turning it, I stumbled on my feet to see the senator as pale as a ghost. What the hell? I kneeled on the bloody floor, pumping his chest to at least save him but it's too late. He already lost a lot of blood. Shit, this is bad.

A stray bullet can be seen on the side of his body next to something glistening. An earring. Gold flower earring. The lingering smell of cigarettes, mint cigarettes. Before I could stand, the door opened followed by a scream of terror. This is really bad.

The door closed. I had to save myself. Even if it is the most questionable thing, I jumped out of the window and ran for my life. My hands were still bloody as well as my coat, the earring in my coat pocket. This is a first. What will happen to me now? There's only one person who saw me. They can't actually remember me, right?

It must be the distress, the lightheaded feeling of panic. A blinding car light made me stop in my tracks. This might be my death. I should have bought the fanciest drink there is.

"Detective Nakamoto?" Then the voice of an angel. I might be dead. "Are you alright?" The angel appears to wear a red shirt. The color of blood. Death. "What happened to you?" Her flesh feels warm, she's alive.

It is the distress, the panic, that I cling to her arm. The police sirens could be heard and I begged for her to take me out of the place.

The evening lights were blinding as she drove. Destination, unknown. Her phone rang and she accepted the call, Mrs. Hall. "My husband is dead." She stepped on the brakes immediately, putting her phone on handset before glancing at me.

I didn't hear what they were talking about but her stare at me got me ideas. She might have found out that I'm in the same club as him. When she put down the call, she only stared at me. "You killed him?"

"What? Of course not."

She raised an eyebrow, eyeing my bloody coat. "I swear I didn't. I saw him lying in his own blood when I left the restroom stall."

"Someone saw you." She opened the radio of her car, "And now, they're looking for you." The voice from the radio was talking about how the senator was found dead in the jazz club and that they're looking for a man in a coat. I hastily removed my coat, throwing it on the backseat of the car.

She laughed at that. "You think that's all, detective?" She showed her phone, a picture of me taken earlier in the club with a wanted sign on top. Shit! "I asked you to find who tried to kill him, not kill him."

"I swear I didn't," I shouted, putting my hands up. "I don't even own a gun and he was shot." I tried to think of other things I noticed at the scene of the crime. Come on Yuta, think. "It smells like cigarettes and I don't smoke."

She raised an eyebrow at that. "But why are you there?"

"You asked me to come there."

"I mean the restroom." She rolled her eyes. "If he was shot, why didn't you hear the gunfire? Why didn't you ask for help?"

I closed my eyes in frustration. Journalists really are inquisitive. "I was vomiting my drink and I don't know, I panicked. I thought I could save him." She started the car without a word and I just sat there, looking outside to see where we were going.

What will happen to me now? A wanted man. I can't return to my original life. Why am I in this mess? "I'm sorry. I believe you. I asked you for help and you were just trying to do your job." I nodded. At least she understands. "But for now, everyone knows you so I'll help you hide then maybe we can clear your name."

I have nothing to do but trust her. I need to clear my name. Why is my brain so blank now?

We stopped at a gas station to get some food. I’m pretty famished after vomiting everything but the moment I stepped inside the store, the news of the senator can be heard followed by a description of the person who killed him. The attendant stared at me before Y/N took his attention. This is bad.

Hastily, I made a beeline outside after cleaning my hands off the blood. Y/N is already outside with a lollipop in her mouth, leaning by her car. “I borrowed some clothes.” She should have said that when I was inside but where did she get those clothes? “You can change inside the car.”

Here? In the open? But she was already opening the door for me. The clothes were on the backseat of her car, a black shirt and jogger pants. And it’s better than having my bloody clothes so even if the shirt is a little tight, pants shorter, I have to wear this.

She eyed me from head to toe and for the first time, I felt exposed. A raise of an eyebrow followed by the lollipop removed from her mouth with a popping sound. "Do you have any place you can go?" Is there? They're probably at my apartment address by now. The police might be in my office. I shook my head and she smirked, gesturing to the car.

The city buildings are now gone, replaced by endless empty landscapes. It was a long drive. The news from the radio was replaced by jazz music, her phone kept ringing but she didn't mind it all. A blinding light changed the overall aura of the surroundings as she made a sharp turn heading to what seems like a motel. Why here of all places? It looks like a rundown. Is someone still living here?

I followed her to what seems like an endless hallway, the smell of cigarettes and weed in the air as the sounds of grunting and bed squeaking can be heard. She inserted a key on the last door to the right, opening it and switching the lights on. “Stay here for a while.” She whispered before casually entering the room. It smelled like roses. Her scent.

“Do you live here?” She shook her head, handing me a bottle of beer. Then why does she look so comfortable here? She removed her coat and casually throwing it to the couch in the middle of the room. Her arms filled with bruises and scars. “What happened?”

She shrugged, disappearing to another door and I took time to look around. A large window covered with dark curtains, bottles of beer on the floor under the table. I even saw underwear which made me immediately turn around. There was a sound of murmuring from inside the room, she might be on a call with someone.

I took my phone out of my coat pocket which revealed countless calls and even messages asking where I was. In annoyance, I just closed my phone and return it to the pocket where my fingers grazed at something sharp. The earring. The gold flower earring. It’s a woman.

“A woman killed him.” I immediately told Y/N when she went out of the room. “I’m certain of that.” She glanced at me in question. “Maybe his wife.”

“Mrs. Hall? She’s so kind.” She claimed. “Why would she do that?”

“Because he’s seeing someone else.” The statement obviously came as a surprise to her. Doesn’t she know? “Senator Hall is seeing another girl in that jazz club.” Her eyebrows were scrunched to focus on my words. Then it came. That girl. She was beside me before I took a shot of my drink. She might have put something in my drink. She listened as I narrate everything to her, no one can help me with this shithole but her. I need to clear my name and find who really killed the senator.

She bit her lip. “Do you really think she did it? The jazz singer?” I nodded. It’s only her or his wife. “I’m meeting Mrs. Hall tomorrow. I’ll try and look at this.” She rolled her eyes. “This is supposed to be your job.” I apologized. It really is. But my hands are tied now. I can’t do anything.

The death was all over the news. My face plastered on every newspaper and wanted poster. How quick are they to assume that I killed the senator? Should I just come clean and tell them that I don’t have a gun? That I don’t smoke?

With nothing to do, I laundry my bloody clothes and some of Y/N’s things. Lightly tidying up her motel room. Why would a girl like her live in a place like this?

And as I reached out from under the couch, I found out exactly why.

It’s almost midnight yet she isn’t back. Maybe she isn’t coming here tonight. So I settled to bed, removing the dirty shirt I have been wearing the whole day. The incessant pounding of the bed on the wall from the other room only made me annoyed and, well, disturbed. I can’t fucking sleep. The moans got louder, mattress squeaking that made it unable for me to focus on just sleeping. Fuck! I’m very well disturbed.

My hand slipped inside my pants, finger tracing the outline of my member while thinking of a certain girl in red lace underwear. Hand wrapped around the hard rod, I started stroking while creating soft moans along with the sound of sex next door. “Y/N,” I whispered and a gasp can be heard that made me open my eyes. She’s in the doorway, looking at me in surprise. Fuck! Immediately, I removed my hand from my pants then stood up from the bed that made me light-headed. “It’s not what it looked like. I…”

“Yuta,” she called. A sound that rang like a melody in my ears. There were tears in her eyes, a bruised lip, and a cut on her cheek. The reason why she’s staying in this motel room. Why that ring is under the couch. “I don’t want to come back to him anymore.” She choked on her tears.

Y/N’s cries got louder as I wrap my arms around her. “Then don’t come back to him,” I whispered. How long was this? Why isn’t she speaking up about this? Why is she hiding here? “I’ll protect you, Y/N.”

She stared right into my eyes. And I knew that very moment I shouldn't have let myself be taken by her good looks and smell. I realized that she was the kind of trouble I was looking for. The kind that would give my life a sense of purpose.

My hunches might be right seeing how there are bruises and scars all over her skin. How can a confident girl be this fucked up? Now, I have more reasons to clear my name. "When everything clears up, stay with me." I whispered then kissed her bare shoulder. My lips went to hers, gently kissing the bruises and cuts in her skin as if I could erase them. My arms trying to give her the warmth she needed.

When I woke up, she was nowhere in sight. Her car wasn’t outside as well, she must be off to work. The news is different now, something about the stocks dropping and the murder of another man in town. Maybe I can come outside now. But where should I go? There isn’t any diner or restaurant near the motel, even a store where I can buy food. I’ll have to wait for her to come home and wish that she brought food.

Luckily, Y/N did. Sushi. Along with the take-out foods is an envelope that contains papers inside. A picture is inside the brown file, the girl from the jazz club. “Is she the one you’re talking about?” I nodded. Although her clothes are different and with a lesser make-up on, she’s obviously that girl. There were details about her, her name and her address. “Do you think she killed the senator?”

“Why would she drug me if not?”

“That’s not enough evidence, Yuta.” She’s right. It really isn’t enough evidence to name her the suspect. Shit! Is there anything I can do to clear my name? “I’ll try and watch her, maybe I can get some answers.”

I moved closer to her, holding her in my arms. If we’re going to clear my name, she wouldn’t be doing this alone. She’s been through a lot. “I��ll come with you.” When she kissed my lips, I already knew her answer.

She was exactly that girl in the bar. My eyes can’t fool me. It’s a high possibility that she is the killer now that we’re watching her smoke a cigarette. All we need to do is get her alibi and see if she has a gun. But I'm positive that she is the killer. Why would she put poison in my drink? Why me?

Is it to frame me? She doesn't know me. Is it obvious that I'm a detective at first glance? Which came to my first question, why me?

That question still lingered in my mind. It's been a week since we saw the girl. Y/N would always leave in the morning and come back each night with new information about the Senator's case. She had been working closely with the lawyers and the police about the case, updating me of recent findings. "Can I come out now? Tell the police everything I know about the case?" I asked while brushing her hair, her head laying on my arm. "I have enough evidence."

"Evidence?"

"An earring," I whispered and she jolted to sit, looking at me surprised. "I saw an earring at the scene of the crime."

"Why didn't you tell me about this?" She picked up her discarded clothes in a hurry. Why? What’s wrong? But before I could ask anything, she had already left.

The news of the senator’s death was once again on the headlines but this time, my face isn’t the one flashing but the jazz singer’s as the suspect. She admitted to the crime, saying that she had been threatening the senator since he promised that he’ll buy her out of the club. Fantasia club is now under a lot of criticism for prostitution and the unethical labor of the workers. A gun with a silencer was found in her possession, the weapon used for the crime.

My picture flashed on the screen, not as a suspect, but as the detective who solved all of this.

There’s only one thing to do now. Go back to my normal life.

Journalists all came to the office and asked me a lot of questions. The newspaper was filled with pictures of me, claiming that I’m the best detective in town and the phone kept ringing endlessly in the office. I smiled, it hadn’t been a typical day even if I didn’t put an extra cube of sugar in my coffee.

I was on a call with a journalist from the local newspaper when two uniformed personnel came inside my office. “Detective Nakamoto, we need your help.” And I knew, this is something serious.

Maybe it already happened two times. I have been to this place before. Thrice. I have been here thrice. The mansion of the Chairman of Otto Holdings. It was his wife who asked me to come here before. Now, the reason was him.

The officials informed me about the corpse, stabbed in the stomach then shot in the head. The killer wants him dead, I’m sure of that. I saw him a couple of times before and he is a tall man. If someone were to kill him by stabbing his stomach, that person might be close to him. Who would do this? His wife? But she’s already living abroad. His lover perhaps? Someone working for him?

“Reports said that he’s here with his daughter. We’re trying to locate her.” He had a daughter? They showed a plastic bag with the pieces of evidence found at the crime scene: strands of long hair, cigarette butt, a bullet. Familiar shreds of evidence.

They let me look around his office, the place polished in cleanliness except for little splotches of blood on the carpet. Old marks of blood. On one side of the wall were torture devices: floggers, leather whips, handcuffs, and wooden cane. Either he’s into serious sexual acts or he’s just a demon who loves torture.

A picture hanging on the wall took my attention. A happy family. The young-looking chairman was standing behind his estranged wife who looked really happy and youthful. On her lap is a young girl with such angelic features. Bright shining eyes. Then a familiar thing caught my attention.

The gold flower earring was shining on my hand. The same earring the little girl is wearing in the picture. Why do I feel like I’ve been chasing the wrong suspect all along? I drank some beer, seated by the edge of my desk when the door opened. Before I could tell that the office was closed for the day, a strong scent of a woman’s perfume hit my nose. Roses. The familiar smell of roses. Y/N.

She removed the black coat she had on, revealing a red wrap-around dress that shows some skin below her neckline and stops midthigh. Her hair has gotten shorter since the last time I saw her. Lips deep red. Her heels click-clacking against the hardwood of my office. A sheer lace thigh-high stocking completed her look.

Her hand slipped on my neck, leaning close to whisper in my ear “Long time no see, hotshot.” My heart beating wildly against my chest. Her smell. That addicting smell. Her lips went to mine. Her taste. A deadly combination of alcohol, cigarette, and mint. “I missed you, Yuta.” She whispered in that erotic voice, fingers heading south my shirt.

I took the glass of alcohol to relieve the parching of my throat, finishing the contents before holding her by the waist. “It’s you, isn’t it?” A smirk escaped her lips. “You killed the chairman.” I should have been aware the moment it smelled like roses in the chairman’s house. “You’re his daughter.” The same eyes as the girl in the picture. “Why…?”

My chest suddenly felt tight. Like someone just punched my heart. I gasped for air. Mouth burning as if on fire. She just sat on the chair, crossing her legs while watching me. “Because he promised mom that he’ll take care of me.” She flexed her fingers, checking her nails. “I hate people who don’t fulfill their promises.”

Promises. The same thing the jazz singer said about the senator. “You…” I coughed blood. “You also killed the senator.” It makes sense now. She came to me. She wanted me there. She pretended to help me. The earring. Her reaction. The taste of mint and cigarettes. “Why? Why me?” My legs feel numb that I fell on the floor.

“Isn’t it your fault why mom left my dad? Why I’m in hell because of him?” It wasn’t a husband. It was her dad. He really is a monster. “Think of this as a little gift. You’ve became famous. Everyone will know that you died.” Her fingers glide on the edge of the desk, placing a small white pill beside the glass. “They just wouldn’t know how.”

I called for her name but she just stared at me with an evil look in her eyes. “I sincerely liked you, Yuta. I even believed that we could be together.”

“We can.” But every word felt like a thorn in my chest. “I love you.”

The corner of her lips curled up, kneeling beside me. “But you’re also like them. Promising things and not actually doing it.” I grasp her arm, words not coming out of my mouth. She took her phone. “Mrs. Hall, the work is done.” She stared right into me with cold eyes. “Detective Nakamoto is gone.”

Her lips were as red as rose as she smirked at me. Her dress, red. The color of blood.

The memory of when I first saw her came to me. The same smell of roses. The gold flower earrings on her ears. The same color as blood telling me that she’s bad news.

I should have listened.

But it’s too late.

She is indeed trouble.

The kind of trouble that will be the death of me.

Like a sweet poison. She’s a poison. Addicting. Deadly.

And then everything went black.

#neo city noir collab #yuta #yuta nakamoto #nakamoto yuta #yuta angst #yuta nakamoto angst #nakamoto yuta angst #detective yuta #yuta au #nakamoto yuta au #yuta nakamoto au

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stephspurs · 3 years

Text

A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

Life is beautiful and life is cruel. A window into the souls of the victorious and the vanquished. In a way, football did come home during the summer of 2021. Follow along Amelia’s journey, navigating the football world as a tactical analyst for the italian football team, with a brother and father part of the three lions. Will Amelia leave Italy and come back to England? Will she leave the Serie A for the Prem? Will she set aside the bianconeri stripes for new colours, leaving behind friendship for love? Maybe she can have both...

Hello my lovelies!! Part 3 sees a whole lot Amelia's beautiful brain & you get your first slice of interaction with the british boys - leading up to an all important Mykonos adventure (part 4 - out friday). As usual, please let me know your thoughts and feelings, and let me know what you want to see happen with Amelia and her story! Updates have increased to 3/week! I hope you're enjoying it as much as I am!

Love always,

Steph xx

UPDATE as of 31/07: I've made some additional editing changes due to some feedback about the confusion between ben white (her brother) and ben chilwell (not her brother LOL). Nothing has been added to the story, just the addition of either surname has been added where i think it could be more straightforward - for future readers!

Part 3. | parte terza

warnings; none - just a whole lot of feels.

word count; 2081

writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter.

next update; Friday 30/07 5pm AEST. Updates are three times/week (Monday, Wednesday & Friday)!

Tags (as requested by users); @footballffbarbiex @obsesseds-world @abysshaven

link to fic masterlist here

It was the day after the final match and Amelia should be nursing a hangover due to the large amount of red wine she consumed with her Italian counterparts the night before. However, she finds herself at St. George’s Park before 9am, meeting one of her father’s colleagues who directs her to the recreation room that she remembers from a few days prior.

Standing outside the door, she assumed she was just waiting for her dad as agreed on the phone an hour earlier. As she was waiting, she could hear Gareth Southgate give a team talk to the players, praising them for their ability and pleading for them to bounce back from this defeat and use it to push on. The next voice she could hear was that of her father, giving them the tactical run through of the game. She listened to the points her father made, and both agreed and disagreed with some. Unexpectedly, the man sent to collect her opened the door and ushered her inside.

She stood at the back of the room, facing her dad and Gareth, whilst the team and other management staff had their backs to her. Making eye contact with her dad, he smiled slightly.

“Whilst I can offer you my opinion on the match last night, to better prepare you for the next time, there is no better opinion to learn from at this moment than that of your opponent. Amelia, would you please come up here” Dean really threw her into this situation, that again, she was not prepared for nor did she want to participate in. However, the 30+ sets of eyes that had currently turned around to stare at her didn’t exactly inspire a choice to be made here.

_____________________________________________________________

“Lads, this is my daughter. I taught her everything she knows, which was probably too much considering I can now recognise that it was her signature plays that the italian side used to their advantage last night. Treat her with respect, or I will let her at you. Which i’m sure you all saw a few nights ago in this very room” My dad spoke as I walked up to the front area, weaving in and around beanbags with players occupying them.

Standing in front of the Three Lions was more nerve wracking now than it had been when she was confronting her brother, maybe Fede did offer her protection as his bodyguard. Either way, she put her big girl pants on (figuratively speaking, literally she was wearing her official puma tights and Italian polo) and got on with it as if she was speaking to her team.

“Thanks Dad. Hey guys, I think the first thing I would like to say is that you’re allowed to feel exactly how you feel right now. There is no rush to ‘get over it’ or ‘push on and learn’. You need to feel this now, feel it throughout your body, understand the pain and then turn it into motivation.” I speak to the group, trying to accurately express how sincere I am to this group of heartbroken men.

“As for tactics, I can stand here and praise you for how good you really are but that's not how you are going to learn. You came into the game hard and fast.” I paused, understanding the innuendo just as it was flying out of my mouth. I pursed my lips and tried to hold my giggle in, however some of the boys seem to have the same sense of humour as I do. My brother, face of steel and eyes that burn into any man that tries to joke with me.

“Sorry, can’t help myself. So yeah, you took charge of the game from kick off and we were not ready. You had the aggression and desire to push from the start and that's what you did, Shaw, you really surprised me with that goal. Not because I didn't think you could do it but because I wasn’t anticipating you being someone we had to watch so closely.”

“Again, something you guys need to keep in mind is that it is literally my job to know everything about you and how you play the game, what foot you prefer, who you pass to, how long you hold the ball before you pass, do you like to assist or score...all of these things make a massive difference in each play we make.”

“The error you made came around the 25th minute of the game, we had settled into the game and did what we do best - we slowed you down. In Italy, in the Serie A, which is where most of my team play, the game is a lot slower. There is more skill and tactic used to ensure a favourable outcome. Again, i'm not saying you all don’t have skill, but the Prem favours pace over tactics and strategy. The only way we were going to be able to win was by making you play our game, but in your half of the pitch.”

At this point, all of their eyes are trained to me and the more senior players of the team, like Henderson, Walker, Coady, Kane, they understand what i’m trying to say. Gareth, my dad and other members of staff are sitting to one side, arms folded and a slight smile on their face at the simplicity of my approach to such an important game. I direct my next question to them.

“Can I ask - have you already selected your man of the match?”

“Off record, yes we have. Before I announce to the team who it is, can I direct the question back to you and find out who you would award it to?” Gareth poses back to me, interested to hear my opinion.

“While the obvious choices would be Kane, Sterling, Maguire - your players who perform week in week out and are consistent and no doubt deserve an award as such. I would recommend Declan Rice. Personally, he was the most instrumental in the match last night. Every time we turned to attack, he was there to stop it. He was a player I was confident that I knew the extent of his ability, when it was obvious that I didn't.”

The boys around him, Mason Mount & Ben Chilwell, offered him a gentle shove and ruffle of the hair, to show their encouragement to the bashful boy who seemed surprised at the praise he was receiving.

“The other player that I think deserves a bit of a shoutout, and not because of his hair, is Jack Grealish.” I spoke, looking around the room until we locked eyes. I wanted him to understand how serious i was about my next words.

“You are so dangerous on the ball, you are an asset as a team mate, you aren’t guilty with the ball, but you have the power behind you to score when the opportunity presents itself. The moment you were subbed on I pulled Jorginho to the side and told him to treat you like Chiellini and Bonnucci were handling Sterling and Kane. You were one of my players to watch, and for good reason”

At the end of the little session, I said thanks to the boys for listening and that I hope to see them again in a tournament. The only way to be the best is to beat the best. After a quick round of applause that made me feel more special than I am, I walked past my brother, gave him a quick ruffle of his hair and met my dad at the back. Gareth dismissed the boys and they all stood up, breaking away and grabbing some breakfast that was set up to the side of the room, for one last team meal.

“Mills!! I’ll get you an almond croissant and a coffee, come sit with me!” Walker shouted from across the room.

“Oi mate, she’s my sister not yours” Ben counters from the back of the line.

“Yeah she's your sister by blood, mine by choice.” Kyle firmly states and begins his way to one of the tables.

“I suppose i better join Kyle before he drowns everyone in his tears” i joked with the england officials i was standing with before walking over to Kyle and a few of his team mates.

“Sooo am I supposed to pretend I don’t know who you all are so you can introduce yourselves? Or do we just mutually agree that I know too much about each of you and not bring it up?” I question the boys, jokingly. They all laugh and I sit down in the space Kyle left between himself and John Stones. I sat there and got to know some of the boys on a less competitive level, working out who was a leader both on the pitch and off it. After listening to the boys joke around and just be mates, rather than teammates, I leaned over to Kyle.

“Hey, before I go, do you think you can introduce me to Bukayo? I want to speak with him for a moment.”

“Yeah sure, I'll take you over there. Why are you nervous? You've never been shy before” Kyle questioned back at me.

“I’m not nervous, I'm just hyper aware of the sensitivity of the moment. Last night would have been tough”

Saying goodbye to the boys, Kyle directed me over to a table that was sitting my brother Ben White, Kalvin, Ben Chilwell, Grealish, Saka, Sancho & Rashford.

“Hey boys, Ben, I just wanted to come say goodbye before I head off.” I directed towards my brother. He pulled up a chair and asked me to sit for 5 more minutes, claiming he deserved it after months of no contact.

“Ben here didn’t let us know he had a sister as smart as you...what happened to you Ben? Did you miss that gene?” Jack Grealish poked at my brother. With his signature scowl on his face, Ben White let his mates laugh at his expense.

“Oh don’t make fun of my brother Benny, that’s my job!” I joked back, setting the boys off again with my brother’s childhood nickname. It was nice to hear some laughter again from a side that looked so solemn the night before.

“No in all seriousness boys, I especially came over because I wanted to talk to you Bukayo - what you did was so impressive. In a final, as the last penalty taker, to take on the responsibility of the nation at the age of 19! Not many players would dare to do that. You have earned a lot of respect, particularly from the Italian camp.” I spoke with a smile on my face, directed at the young boy.

“The same goes for you two” Now looking at Sancho & Rashford.

Bukayo looked down at his hands & smiled, before getting up and walking to my side of the table. Anticipating what he was going to do next, I stood up and welcomed him with open arms. Grateful that he understood my message and was beginning to accept the praise he so deserved. Stepping back from the hug, I turned to address the group of lads one more time.

“If any of you fancy a change of pace and want to come over to the Serie A, just give me a call - Benny can give you my number!” I start to speak, before I'm cut off but my brother.

“Stop poaching my mates! I’ve already lost you to another country. I don't need to lose anyone else” He jokingly says while standing to walk me out of St. George’s Park. I know it was a joke but I can't help but think there was some truth to that.

It had been more than 3 years since I moved out of our family home to start my life in Turin, and not one moment had i regretted it or thought i made the wrong decision. Don’t get me wrong, there are times when I wished I was closer to my family, but I know I had to make that move to prove to myself I am just as successful as I hoped I would be. Not saying I have learnt everything there is to learn with the Serie A giants, Juventus, but maybe it's time for a new challenge? Maybe I can bring the strategic spin on the game to the fast paced action of the premier league?

Part 4. | quarta parte

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rachaelswrites · 3 years

Text

The Unsub

Spencer Reid x daughter!reader

You help the team with an unsub that’s connected to you.

Word Count: 3,498

A/n: I got a little carried away with this

Warnings: Violence, kidnapping, guns, blood

“Y/n I promise you’ll be fine. I’m not coming to get you,” your dad said over the phone. He had been arguing with you the whole way to the BAU.

“But dad please? I can retake it. I’ll get a better score if I do,” you pleaded.

“Honey I said no. I’m at work now. What ever score you get I’ll be proud of you,”

“You’re only saying that to make me feel better,” you said.

“No I’m not. I mean it. I know you work hard,”

“I wish I had your memory. Could you just give me a piece of your brain please?”

“Goodbye Y/n. I’ll see you after school,”

“Bye dad,” you hung up the phone and Spencer was running late so he hurried to where the rest of the team was.

“There you are kid. You’re never late,” Morgan teased.

“Sorry something came up with Y/n,” Spencer responded.

“Is she ok?” Hotch asked.

“Oh yeah she’s fine. She just had a test she didn’t study for and wanted me to get her so she didn’t have to take it,”

Everyone nodded and looked to Garcia to present the case. “We have an interesting case. It’s local so we don’t have to travel. Three teenage girls have been taken from the local high school,” Garcia said, “so far, they haven't been able to make a connection yet. All the girls so far have brown hair and brown eyes so we could narrow down our search for potential victims,”

“Do we have contact with anyone who knows the girls and the families?” JJ asked.

“Yes. The families will be by later and we need to get someone at the school,”

Spencer was looking at the board, looking at all the girls. You were the same age and went to the same school as them. You could have easily been taken instead.

Hotch noticed Reid deep in thought and spoke up, “Reid why don’t you go to the school and see if they can give us information on the girls,”

Reid nodded and stood up and went to leave, but Hotch grabbed his sleeve and whispered in his ear “I know you’re worried about Y/n. Feel free to bring her back here so you can keep an eye on her,”

“Thank you Hotch,” Spencer responded. He grabbed his bag from his desk and left for the school.

You had just finished lunch and your friends were walking around the school talking. One of your friends stopped you mid sentence. “Isn’t that your dad Y/n?” She pointed towards the main entrance. Your dad was in fact standing outside the office, talking to one of the office workers.

“Yeah. I don’t know why he’s here,” you said, “I’ll see you guys later,” you walked down the hallway towards your dad.

“I just need to see if I can get the files from the students who went missing. Maybe to try and find a connection,” you heard your dad say.

“Sure I'll go get them,” the lady said. She disappeared into the office and he started to look at the posters littering the wall.

“Dad? What are you doing here?”

Spencer turned “I’m just here for some work stuff. I didn’t mean to interrupt your day,”

“It’s fine. It’s lunch right now I’m not missing anything,” you said. You so badly wanted more info on the case he was working on. You knew about the disappearances but didn’t think your dad would be out in the field, “what kind of work stuff?”

“Uhh. I can’t really tell you right now,” He tried to figure out a way to explain everything without scaring you, “do you want to come back to the BAU with me? You might be able to help us a bit,”

“Sure,”

The office lady returned with a stack of files, “here’s what we have on file. Anything from discipline records to attendance,”

“Thank you. I’m also going to be taking Y/n with me, is that alright?”

“Yes just sign her out at the desk,” the lady returned back to her own office and Spencer signed you out.

You took the train back to the BAU and nearly skipped into the room where the team was, “hi guys” you said cheerily waving to them.

“Well. If it isn’t my favorite Reid. How are you doing Little Reid?” Morgan asked, ruffling your hair.

“I’m good. What case are you working on?”

Morgan looked at Reid, “you haven’t told her?”

“Not yet. I was just about to,” Reid said.

“Tell me what?” You butted in.

“We think the unsub might be someone at the school. Either a student or faculty member. We’re hoping you could help us narrow it down,” Rossi explained.

“Yeah sure. Do you guys have a profile yet?”

“Not yet. We need your help with that Y/n,” Hotch said.

You nodded and he led you into the conference room. You sat down and watched as JJ laid out pictures of all the missing girls in front of you.

“Did you know any of these girls? Were you friends with them?” She asked.

You took your time and looked over the pictures. You knew of them. Your school was a private school and the class sizes were small. Everyone knew something about everyone, but people still kept things in their own circles. “Not really. The school is small but people are private. Kids like to stay in their own group pretty much,”

“Was there a bullying issue at the school? Maybe these girls picked on the same kid,” Morgan suggested.

“Mmm. I don’t think so. Everyone got along well. Just people like to stick with what they know I guess,”

“What about teachers? Anyone who was maybe too friendly or really interested in student lives?” Hotch asked.

“Not that I can think of,” you said.

“There’s too many classes that overlap with each other so I don’t think it’s a teacher. There’s also no correlation in extracurricular activities. It would have to be a student,” your dad said. The whole time, he was flipping through the files, “Y/n is there anyone you can think of that had contact with all of them?”

“I can’t think of any. Sorry,” your knee was bouncing up and down. You didn’t feel like you were helping much.

“They are teenage girls though. Maybe they hid stuff,” Prentiss suggested.

“We had all their things checked. The unsub took the backpacks so all we could get were lockers and the houses,” Rossi said.

“Oh! There is something I remember,” you exclaimed.

“What is it?” Hotch questioned.

“A few days ago at lunch, this group of girls were talking. I think they were friends with one of the missing girls. They talked about a note she received the day she went missing,”

“We talked to friends. They didn’t know anything,” JJ said.

“Kids lie. Especially teenage girls when they do something they’re not supposed to,” Morgan said.

“Do you remember what the note said Y/n? Reid asked.

“No. They didn’t actually say what the note said. They had a picture of it on a phone. I didn’t exactly inherit your eidetic memory,” you teased at your dad.

“Just say what you remember,” he responded.

“It was something about meeting someone else. I think there was a time listed. They signed it too I think,”

Everyone looked at each other around the room, “what did it say?” Rossi said.

“I think it was signed ‘D.J’. But that could be so many people,”

“It could be initials or a nickname or pseudonym,” your dad said, “but that does narrow down the list,”

All of a sudden, Garcia came into the room, “I was able to find a connection between the victims. They all had parents in either government jobs or in first response,”

“That narrows it down even more,” Morgan stated.

“Most likely our unsub has a tie to either government or first response. He most likely had a vendetta for some reason,” Hotch said.

Spencer noticed your leg was bouncing quicker now. He moved from across the room and sat in the chair next to you. He grabbed one of your hands in his, “take your time sweetheart. You’re ok,” he whispered.

You sat and thought for a moment, “there is one boy. His name is Dylan. His mom died about a year ago. It was a car accident. His dad was an EMT. He was the first one on the scene. They didn’t know it was her though. I think he saw her die. Over the summer, Dylan’s dad killed himself. I think Dylan said the note he left said something about not being able to watch people die anymore,”

“Definitely sounds like our guy,” Morgan said.

“Why would these girls go off not knowing who is writing them those notes though?” JJ asked.

“I think they just assumed it was him. He’s the only one with enough guts to do that,” you explained, “and he’s the best looking,” you mumbled.

“What was that?” Reid asked, clearly hearing what you said.

“All I mean is that guys who look like Dylan could get any girl he wanted. Everyone has a crush one him,”

“Everyone?” Prentice wiggled her eyebrows at you.

“Everyone does,” you repeated.

Spencer decided to save this conversation for a different time.

“JJ, get a list of potential victims and put a security detail on them. Garcia let’s try and get an address on Dylan,”

The team started to leave the room, “Dad can I go home now?” You asked.

“Really? You’re a potential target for a serial kidnapper and you want to leave a government protected building? Absolutely not. You’re staying here for the rest of the day,” Spencer said standing up.

“But you have his name and you’re finding his address. I’ll be fine,” you complained.

“Y/n I’m serious. I said no. I don’t want you leaving this building without me. I’m trying to keep you safe,”

“Fine,” you pushed past him and stormed out of the room. Spencer sat down at his desk. He started working on something to blow off some steam.

You managed to keep yourself occupied for a few hours by talking with the team and doing school work. You were sitting in JJ’s office, working on an essay. You were growing restless and wanted to go home. You quickly pulled out some math work, pretending to look it over. “Hey JJ I’m going to go see if my dad can help me with some math. I’ll be back soon,” you packed your things and headed towards your dad’s desk.

Once you were out of her eyesight, you diverted your path towards the exit and headed home.

Back at the BAU a few hours past and your dad hadn’t seen or heard from you. Reid walked around, looking for you. He bumped into JJ, “Hey JJ have you seen Y/n?”

“Very funny Spence. I know she’s with you,” she replied.

“What do you mean? I haven’t seen her in awhile,” Spencer was now worrying. What if the unsub found you here?

“She told me she was going to find you. She needed help with homework,”

It all clicked for Spencer. He knew where you went. He just hoped neither did the unsub. “We have to go. Get the team,” he grabbed his bag and ran out the door, heading towards the apartment with the team behind him.

There was no sign of forced entry, but you were gone and there was blood on the carpet and things knocked to the floor. The team was looking around the apartment, hoping to find something that could lead to you. Spencer was sitting on the couch, trying to process what was happening. Morgan stopped what he was doing and sat next to him, “Reid we’re going to find her. Your girl is tough, she'll fight him,” he reassured.

“I know. I just feel like this is my fault. I forced her to stay with me to keep her safe, and now look. She’s been kidnapped!”

“This is not your fault. You were trying to protect your daughter and Y/n knew that. She’s just a stubborn kid who doesn’t like listening to her dad. That’s not on you,”

Before Spencer could respond Hotch got a call from Garcia, “Garcia you’re on speaker,”

“I checked school records and it turns out that the home Dylan shared with his family was sold a few months ago,”

“So where is he living now? Is there any family in the area?” Hotch asked.

“Uh it looks like the father owned a storage unit that has been accessed several times in the last few days,”

“When was the last time it was accessed?”

“Thirty minutes ago. I’m sending the address your way,”

You don’t remember much about how you got here. You were bound to a chair facing a garage door. Only a few hours ago you were walking home, just wanting to watch tv. You had unlocked the front door and set your things in your room. You went into the kitchen to grab a snack when you heard a key in the door. You assumed it was your dad. “Hey dad,” you said, turning towards the open door. You were not expecting the person in front of you, “Dylan what are you doing here?”

“What do you think?” he said, slamming the door shut, “I came here for you. Isn’t that what your dad warned you about. He works for the FBI right? He probably knew it was me,”

“Yeah he did,” you were trying to stall him. Your dad would get worried about you sooner or later, “The team figured it out pretty quickly. You didn’t do a very good job,”

“Well I got you. That’s all I need,” he took a step towards you. You looked around for something you could use to hurt him. Before you could reach for one of the books on the counter, he grabbed you. You tried to kick and punch your way out of his grip but he pulled a knife out of his pocket and stabbed you in the stomach. Only deep enough to make you bleed, not puncture an organ.

You stopped fighting and tried to apply pressure to the wound, “If you’re gonna kill me, at least tell me why,”

“Don’t you want to know how I got in?” he teased.

“I do but, the FBI agents will figure that out. I just want to know why you’d kill me,”

He pulled you up and pinned you hands behind your back, “Do you remember last year? We worked on a project together. Your dad wasn’t here. You said he was working. We had a nice long talk about how our dads and their jobs get in the way of raising their families,”

“I don’t remember that. Guess you didn’t make much of an impression,”

He grunted angrily and shoved you forward, making you fall. Your head hit the floor and you rolled over. You felt blood trickling down the side of your face. The fall most likely giving you a concussion. He pulled you up to your feet and pushed you out the door and down one of the back stairwells. He shoved you into the back seat of his car and tied a blindfold around your eyes.

The ride was short and he stopped abruptly. He grabbed your upper arm and walked you a few feet before stopping. You tried remembering things your dad told you to do if you were kidnapped. It felt cold so you were outside, maybe near water. You could smell metal and a musky odor. There’s a storage ward near the marina. That's where you probably are.

The sound of a door sliding open startled you. You were led into the unit and placed on a chair. You could hear the breathing of other people. Dylan took the blindfold off and you waited for your eyes to adjust to the light. Not that there was much. Dylan was already gone. You looked around and saw all the other girls who went missing.

A few minutes later, Dylan returned with another knife and now a gun, “I thought we were on the same page Y/n. Our dads missed our lives because of work. But I guess I was wrong. I realized shortly after our conversation I was wrong. You had a better life than me. You were happy. And I had to suffer by myself I had no one who understood me,”

“Dylan stop! This is stupid. Let them go. Hurt me not them. Your issue is with me,”

“My dad watched my mom die and then I had to watch my dad throw his life away,” he held the gun up, towards the other three victims, “Now you’re going to have to watch them die,”

“Dylan don’t do this!” but it was too late. He pulled the trigger and the three girls were dead. He now trained the gun on you.

“Now your dad will get to watch you die,”

The sound of three gunshots rang in the air. The team ran in the direction of the shots. They reached the storage unit that belonged to Dylan. “Spence stayed out here. We don’t know what we’ll find,” JJ said.

Morgan and Hotch opened the door, “Dylan Johnston, it’s the FBI,” Hotch yelled.

You couldn’t see anything. Your eyes were covered in the blindfold again. You looked up in the direction of Hotch’s voice.

“Put the gun down Dylan. Let the girl go,” That was Morgan. He was pleading with him. He saw you as his little sister, he cared about you. He couldn’t let you get hurt.

“I can't, I have to do this,” You felt Dylan move away from you. Then gunshots.

“Get an ambulance,” Morgan said, most likely to Hotch, “Y/n are you ok? Are you hurt?”

“M’fine. Just a little blood, and a headache. Morgan?”

“What?”

“Am I dead? I heard a gun. Did he shoot you too? Are we both dead,”

“Not on my watch Little Reid,”

Morgan walked towards you and lifted the blindfold off of your face. He sighed when he saw all the blood. He reached to move some hair out of your face but you pulled away, “I want my dad. Please get my dad!”

“JJ, get Reid in here,” he spoke in his ear-in, “Can I untie you?”

You nodded and he bent down in front of you, “Where’s my dad? I want him now,” you said again.

He pulled the ropes off your wrists and helped you stand up, “I know, he’s getting here,” he looked at the doorway, Spencer still wasn’t there, “Reid get in here!” he yelled. Morgan helped walk you towards the doorway.

Y/n!” Spencer exclaimed. He rushed over to you and grabbed you from Morgan. He hugged you tightly, loosening his grip when you winced, “are you ok? You’re hurt aren’t you?”

You nodded your head, “It’s bad Reid. She needs to go to the hospital,” Morgan whispered to him, “she can’t walk very well either,”

Reid looked at you. You were clinging to him, scared of losing him again. He carried you out of the unit, just in time for the ambulance to arrive. One of the paramedics opened the doors and brought out a stretcher. Reid carefully placed you on it, not letting go of your hand, “We have to go, she’s losing a lot of blood. She needs surgery,” the medic told your dad.

“Reid go with her. Morgan you too,” Hotch instructed. Both men climbed in the back of the ambulance next to you. Voices were fading in and out and you felt your eyelids getting heavy.

“Sweetheart, please keep your eyes open. Please, for me,” your dad begged.

“I can’t. M’tired,”

Spencer and the team were in the waiting room. Everyone was worried about you. Spencer couldn’t sit and was pacing back and forth while Garcia kept fidgeting with the hem of her skirt. “Dr. Reid?” a nurse came out, and he quickly walked over to her, “Your daughter is going to be fine. Her surgery went well,”

“Can we see her now?” Prentiss asked from her chair.

“She’s not awake yet. The anesthesia should wear off in a few hours. Only family can visit right now,”

“Ok,” Reid turned and faced the group, “I’ll see you guys tomorrow. Thank you for everything,”

“Of course Spence. If you need anything you can call,” JJ said, putting her hand on his shoulder.

Spencer shot her a smile and nodded. He followed the nurse to your room and sat in the chair next to your bed. He studied your face while you slept, You were relaxed and content, the opposite of just hours before. He held your hand in his until you woke up.

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