#its been a ride ya'll

[thekeystothebasement]

REQUEST!! Head empty just thinking about throwing the 141 guys on their back to ride the living soul out of them till they're babbling non sense+ including König and graves these boys are to die for🤤🤎🤎🤎

A/N: I'm slowly making my way through the requests, This one took me a bit longer than I expected. It was quite challenging writing similar prompts for different characters without sounding repetitive.I went hard on Captain Price and Ghost's parts but I sort of felt like the quality went down after that :(

Let me know what ya'll think!

Check out my post: WIPS and Requests if you're interested in what I have planned or curious about the rules I set for requests.

Captain Price:

You've been needy all day and Price hasn't been giving you the attention you've been craving.

He was constantly pacing around the base, in meetings, and never having an opportunity to be with you until you found one.

After wandering around the base like a lost puppy looking for its owner, you found Price at his office, sitting in his big leather chair.

You could hear him sigh out of frustration, rubbing his temple, you could see the exhaustion on his face.

Normally you would leave him alone or even convince him to rest but you were so fucking needy.

The ache between your legs only seems to grow by the second.

Seeing him lean back into his leather chair, legs spread and letting out a sigh of frustration you finally decided to pounce.

"Daddy" you whimpered as you bounced on his dick. You were riding him eagerly, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips. Normally Price would be so rough with you, pounding you against his desk and calling you a whore, his little slut. But Price couldn't even form a coherent sentence. Any words coming from his mouth were slurred as he looked at you with hooded eyelids.

"I'm a good girl, right?" you asked as you kept your relentless pace. "I'm taking care of daddy." you giggled as you felt him throb inside of you. You rocked your hips against him as you leaned closer to him and wrapped your arms around his neck.

"C'mon daddy, let it out." you whimpered. You gently nipped at his ear earning a throaty moan from him. "Let your baby take care of you. Be a good boy for me."

You let out a gasp at his weak attempt to thrust up into you, his nails leaving marks on your hips.

"Princess..." he whimpered

"Yes, sir?" you were smiling down at him, feeling him tense under you before shuddering as his cum shoots deep into you. His body goes limp on the leather chair as you continue to ride him, not satisfied with the amount of cum he gave you.

"Giving up already?" you pouted. You could feel his semen run down your burning thighs, leaving you even hornier.

"C'mon old man, your princess wants more."

Ghost:

Ghost never liked to relinquish control.

Whenever you tried to take the reigns you were always put in your place

On your back with your legs over his shoulder as he pounded into you, desperately trying to breed you.

Despite how good he made you feel, you always had the fantasy to be on top.

You wanted Ghost to be the one left quivering and begging.

You wanted to be the one in control. You wanted to be the one to be able to hold's Ghost pleasure over his head.

You wanted Ghost to beg you to let him cum, which is exactly what your ears are hearing.

"Fucking hell, don't do this to me, baby..." Simon pleaded. The rope tied around his wrist wouldn't budge no matter how hard Simon's hands tried to reach out to your body. He couldn't remember how many times you kept bringing him to the edge of pleasure, riding his cock and squeezing your warm wet cunt around him, to only pull away when you feel the familiar throb of his cock ready to burst his semen inside you.

"C'mon lieutenant..." you whispered into his ear as your fingernail traveled from his neck down to his chest. "I know you can beg better than that. How much do you want to cum inside this wet pussy." You teased.

You can see how red his tip was, practically ready to blow his load inside you with the slightest touch. His breathing was labored, his chest rapidly rising and falling. The rope tied around his ankles kept him from bucking his hips into you, as you hovered over him. Your pussy is just a few mere centimeters from his cock.

"c'mon princess..." he choked out, completely frustrated in the predicament he woke up to. "Please ride me..."

You couldn't help the wide grin that appeared on your face as you looked down at Simon. As soon as those words left his mouth you bounced down onto his cock earning a whimper from the man below you.

"As you wish lieutenant."

Soap:

You and Soap had made a bet after a heated argument in front of the 141 task force.

Somehow the topic landed on Sex

Soap had begun to brag that he could last hours to the point he'd outlast his partner which earned a snort from you.

All eyes landed on you at your reaction, Soap didn't take it lightly and thus started your mini argument

The argument ended when you and Soap agreed to have sex with each and see who would last the longest.

The group was astounded at the interaction and decided to stay at the bar longer than they planned as they watched you and Soap leave.

They did not want to be around you both as the bet took place.

"Johnny..." you panted as you looked down at the male before you. His eyes were squeezed shut as he roughly panted below you. "Admit it. You can't outlast me. My pussy is about to put you to sleep."

Soap could only whimper as you continued to bounce on his cock, vulgar wet sounds emitted by your actions. A ring of white can be seen in the base of his cock, the ring getting thicker and thicker as you continued to ride him. His hips would lazily try to meet yours, missing the rhythm you had set.

Your giggles echoed in his room as you felt his body stiffen, knowing his semen was about to be freed from their chamber. You could hear him babble nonsense as your cunt squeezed around his cock, squeezing the last bit of cum he had. Hissing as he nutted in you.

"you're a fucking minx..." he panted out. His hand tapped the inside of your cum covered thighs.

"Tapping out, Johnny?"

Gaz:

You and Gaz were the youngest members of the task force.

Because of this, you two got along well.

A little too well for everybody's comfort

It was no secret you two were fooling around with each other

Every member has their own experience catching you two in the act, mortifying all who were involved

But that never stopped you and Gaz from doing it again

The bathroom, kitchen, and even the sparring room were not safe from your lewd acts

Hell, you could imagine Price's shouting already

You were riding Gaz on Price's favorite couch, the worn-out fabric couch by the coffee table

"You got issues Gaz,"

Gaz was leaning back on the couch, 'coincidentally' the very spot Price sits on every day. He watched as you did all the work. Watching as your breasts jiggled with every bounce on his dick. He leaned further into the couch as you continued to belittle him.

"You like it when we get caught," you teased. "Pervert."

Gaz felt his eyes rolling to the back of his head, you were breathtaking, you looked so beautiful riding him. Your hands settled on his shoulders as you raised your hips and fell down on his cock, his balls slapping against your ass.

"Hurry up and cum Gaz," you gasped out. His fingers tightened around your hips as he edged closer and closer to the height of his pleasure. "Don't want the Captain to walk in and see me riding his favorite sergeant?"

"...fuck..."Gaz moaned. His eyes squeezed shut as he imagined your words. "...baby"

"Sick-fuck..." you teased. You quicked your pace, moving your hips in a circular manner. "You want the Captain to see me milk your cum from your balls?"

"shit..oh god..." Gaz cried out. You felt his body stiffen as he chanted 'yes baby' He could feel your walls squeezing around him, desperately trying to milk him.

As you feel his cum dribble down your thigh, your next set of words had him running through a list of emotions, his limp dick twitching inside of you despite his consciousness telling him how wrong it was to be getting hard in the situation he found himself in.

"Hi, Captain. Enjoying the show?"

Konig:

Konig's eyes followed you everywhere and you noticed for quite a bit of time.

You never really held a conversation with the tall male before.

He was too anxious to talk to you but whenever you approached him and try to converse with him, he could only reply with one-word responses.

Despite the lack of conversations, you enjoyed his presence.

You would be writing in your journal across from him and he would sketch on his sketchpad.

You've seen his sketches before, he was quite skilled and you rained compliments on him.

He would awkwardly laugh at your compliments, his mask hiding the big smile and blush on his cheeks.

Konig's body would soon stiffen under your next question, his hand harshly gripping at his sketchpad, and his pencil snapped in the other.

"Have you ever done nude art?"

You already knew the outcome when you suggested he draw you nude.

The devious smile on your face as you led him to your room and rid yourself of your clothes.

You admired Konig's self-control when he actually did try to sketch you nude but you had other plans.

"Mesmerize every square inch of my body." you panted. Konig was sprawled on the floor as you used his body for your complete and utter pleasure. His sniper hood was discarded in the room as his forearm covered his eyes, tears streaming down his face from the pleasure of your tight walls squeezing his overstimulated cock.

Whimpers and breathy moans escaped his throat and released into the room. Wet sounds resonated in the room as you bounced on his cock and scratched and clung to his chest.

"I'll remember..." Konig breathed out. "I'll remember...Scheiß...your curves..and...tight pussy"

You laughed at his weak attempt to reply to you, his sentence broken each time your ass landed on his balls earning whimpers and curses from the male. You could feel Konig's dick throb inside of you and his moans becoming higher and more frequent.

"Cum inside of me..."You begged. "and then you'll be able to draw me full of your semen."

Graves:

As soon as you got a glimpse of his eyes, you knew you were going to fuck him into submission

The way his eyes would shined when he stepped into the dinner and noticed a cute young waitress looking at him with a soft smile

He'd sit in a booth and pray you'll be his waitress for the night

He'd subtly flirt with you but you knew what you wanted and aggressively flirted right back at him

His eyes would follow your figure as you'd walk away, his eyes focusing on your ass

When you returned with his food you sat in the chair in front of him and kept him company as he ate his meal

Eventually, your boss yelled at you to get back to work, leaving Graves smirking at the small pout on your face.

You would lean down to his ear, his eyes gazing at your cleavage, your hand squeezing his shoulder as you whispered into his ear, "I get off at 10. If you'll wait for me, I'll make it worth your while."

You stood back up, dusting your skirt and sending him a wink before getting back to work

Despite the car having tinted windows, the rocking of the car and the smudged handprints on the windows gave away what was happening inside.

Phillip was sprawled on the car seat that was set all the way down, you were sat on his clothed dick, rocking your wet folds against the wet fabric of his briefs. His briefs stained with his cum and your arousal.

“C’mon baby….fuck,” Graves whined. “Let me fuck that pretty pussy of yours.”

You gave him false hope as you lifted your hips up and pulled down his briefs. You continued to rock your hips, your wet folds spreading your arousal on his red tip. You felt him shudder under your teasing, his eyes squeezed shut as his hands tried to grip the leather seats.

“Please stop teasing me, baby.” He begged.

You grinned at him, lining yourself up with his dick before you slowly eased him inside of you. Your eyes closed shut momentarily before the were snapped open, feeling Grave shoot his cum inside of you.

Your laughter filled the car as you began to bounce on his dick, whimpers and moans escaping from Graves.

“Was my pussy that good,” you questioned. “Fucking nutted just by being inside of me….Pathetic”

Graves couldn’t help but enjoy the way you degraded him, feeling your warm walls hug his cock, and the way yours eyes looked down at him. Your eyes looking at him as if he was a toy for your pleasure. Disregarding how sensitive he was from all your teasing, not caring how many times you made him cum inside of his briefs, his cum and your arousal mixed with each other, wet sounds emitted each time you lowered your hips all the way till his balls were tightly pressed against your ass.

“Shit….gonna fuck myself on your cock till the sunrise…”you said as you felt him throb inside of you once again.

“ if you can even last that long…”

#cod imagine #cod x reader #cod x you #cod smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price smut #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #gaz x reader smut #john soap mactavish #soap x reader smut #soap x reader #konig smut #konig x reader #phillip graves x reader #phillip graves #phillip graves smut

[littledigits]

Its hard to describe the complex emotions I'm having today, its a mixture of bittersweet sadness, feirce proudness, and everything deeper that comes from having put yourself and your emotions into a show for so many years. I'mm do the thank you thing below - but words dont really do it justice.

THANK YOU to my core Team, you know who you all are, for giving me trust, room to grow, patience and guidance when I made mistakes. All of the support you have given me I will pay forward, because it was only with your trust in me that I could leave this show as strong and confidant as I am. Within that core team there is a very smol team of 4 Special people. Andy Coyle, Chantal Ling, Johnny and Kathleen Mckinnon. I will never forget our nights in the editing room in season 1, grabbing some drinks and pizza as we go through the roughcuts. There were ups and downs but I'm glad to have gone through the chaos with ya'll <3 THANK YOU. To every single person who has touched this project, from the very first pitch to the very last file conform. Our crew has been world wide, and while I dont know everyone, I see and appreciate the work and heart you have put into your time with us. I dont care if you were on the show for a day or a decade, you're a part of it, and I dont take that for granted. THANK YOU to the team at Atomic Cartoons for your work in season 1, and the team at Lighthouse Studios for the animation team who came on season 1 and 3. You all rose to an immense challenge. The Hilda animation team is more then just Mercury, and i'm proud to have worked with you. There are people on the show who look back on it fondly, but counter to that there are people who were not supported how they should have been. I want those people to know that I will take these experiences and push to be better always, your experiences are as valid. THANK YOU to the fans! I see your hype and art and theorys and stories. I hope you will enjoy the wild ride of this last season, but I also hope you all ignore 'canon' and just create to your hearts content. The world lives on, there are still secrets and folklore and mystery - they are now yours to build <3 I could write more, I could write NOVELS, but I think people who know me know how I feel so I will refrain from rambling. Take a breath, and try not to sob at everyone writing beautiful things about what the show meant to them. ( spoiler alert, im going to fail )

Thank you all for being a part of this adventure - Where shall we go next ?

#hilda the series #hilda #twig #IM NOT CRYING YOUR CRYING #I MAY CONTIUNE TO CRY ALL DAY WHO KNOWS #i HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY THIS LAST SEASON #you'd think i'd be emotionally prepared considering we've already done 2 endings but NOPE

[katiexpunk]

You may have done this before, I haven’t read all your work, but How about Joel and Tommy (or just Joel 😜) take you on a horse ride, out into the woods and end up having a fun time on the grass

Tell Me a Secret | Pairing Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Non, thank you so much for this request. I hope you enjoy this! I love getting requests from ya'll, makes my heart so happy.xx As a side note, this will be my final fic as an unmarried woman. My wedding is in less than a month (!!!!)

Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications

Word Count: 7.8K | Rating: 18+ Minors DNI Warnings: References to canon typical violence. It's hinted that readers father was abusive. Death. Blood. Reader is an artist. Ellie/Sarah/Tommy/Maria and others are referenced in this. Ellie and Reader are friends. Alcohol. Angst. Horses. Pining. Oral (female receiving). Praise kink. Pet names. Emotional sex. Very unprotected sex. They fuck outside, but nobody is around. Joel makes a questionable choice in this one that invades readers privacy. Breeding kink if you squint. Creampie. Fingering. Lots of references to art and poetry. A surprise ending that might mean more later on... Immersibility: Reader has no physical descriptions apart from having hair, breasts, and a uterus. It is noted at one point that there is charcoal visible on her hands. No age gap is mentioned (make it your own). Creative Credits: the middle image of the graphic is a drawing by @kamal.classic.art on Instagram. The poem referenced at the end is by Olivia Ann Rose. The opening section is modified poetry from Brianna Pastor. Inspiration was pulled from the lake scene in The Princess Diaries 2. And shout out to our boi Leonardo da Vinci, cuz I reference the Mona Lisa.

It’s really easy to be angry. 

Over the years, anger became so familiar to you that you had a difficult time differentiating between that and your sadness. Both felt equally daunting. 

It’s difficult to work on your sadness with its roots are boiling with anger. Both don’t always look the way one might expect them to. Sometimes, the face of anger is neutral, a quiet rumble you don’t notice because it’s buried so deep. 

That steady stream of anger and hurt seemed to trickle into every single thing that you did. You had become cold and numb to the reality of the world around you; an empty shell of who you once were. 

And then you met Joel Miller.  

He came along and started to nurture what you buried so deep that you eventually forgot what was even planted there. 

And you did the same for him. 

Like the sun, you elevated the ordinary with a simple touch. Your rays warmed the cockles of his heart he thought had gone so cold they could never be revived. 

This is that story. 

++++

It doesn’t take Ellie long to figure it out. 

“Hey, give me that back!” You snap at her, attempting to pull the tattered notebook from her hands, but it’s pointless. Her tiny fingers must have been sumo wrestlers in another life, you wager. Putting space between both of your bodies by quickly walking backward, she locks eyes with you until her back is up against the makeshift bookshelf. 

This is your favorite place in all of the Jackson – the makeshift library Maria started a few months back.  It’s not much, but with your help, the collection is starting to grow. You’re quick to stuff books into your pack on raids and have summoned a handful of the townspeople to aid in this effort. It’s always quiet and peaceful; a stark contrast to the world outside the walls that keep you safe here. 

Well, that was until a rather foul-mouthed 14-year-old named Ellie arrived in town. Despite your age difference, you two have become fast friends, even if she does annoy the shit out of you sometimes. 

“Ellie, I am so serious right now, please give my notebook back,” you plead with her from across the room, your hands on your hips, a serious undertone to your voice. 

“Why? Whatcha trying to hide so bad? Drawing a bunch of dicks or something?” she jokes. 

When you don’t respond, her eyes widen in surprise. “Holy shit, dude. You are drawing a bunch of dicks, aren’t you!” she teases, resting the pads of her fingers in between the pages of the notebook, slightly parting the paper. All she’d have to do is move them a little and the pages would fall open, revealing your secrets faster than a Catholic at confession. 

She starts to crack the spine of the notebook, but your voice calling out once more causes her pause. “No, wait, Ellie, stop,” you say a tad softer this time. “I’m not drawing a bunch of dicks, and even if I were, that’s not something you should be looking at – it’s…personal,” you respond, hoping the sincerity and softness you’re attempting to frost over the obvious bite of anger behind your voice will encourage her to listen.

She stares back at you, scanning your face up and down for a hint of the truth, thinking for a few moments. 

“Fine,” she says. Your shoulders fall from your ears and the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding escapes from your lungs. She walks back over to you and extends her arm out, the notebook in hand, preparing to hand it over to you as if she’s some sort of General accepting a truce deal. 

As you reach out to grab it, she lets it slip from her hands a few seconds too early. A nearly silent oops escapes her lips. The notebook falls to the floor with an audible thud, dropping as fast as a dead body, its pages falling open on both sides, like blood spilling on the floor. 

Before you register what’s even happening, Ellie already has her knees on the floor, hovering over the open pages, a look of astonishment and delight on her face. 

“Whoa – is that,” she asks, but before she can finish her sentence, you’re quickly snatching it up, snapping it closed with an audible thud. You both rise, and she’s looking at you, a smug smile of knowing on her face. Her smile grows like she’s just found some sort of secret treasure. “That was me, wasn’t it?” It’s a rhetorical question, she already knows the answer. 

You consider lying, but fuck it, you’re in too deep at this point. Plus, she may be only 14, but she’s smart as a whip, and you know she’d be able to call your bullshit from a mile away. Besides, she already saw the damn thing. 

“Yes, okay, Ellie. Fine,” you concede. “It’s you. I – I like to draw,” you admit sheepishly like you’re afraid of what might come if you say it out loud. 

It’s not that you’re not proud of your drawings, you are. The only thing you can attribute to your unwillingness to share your hobby with the world is akin to a trauma response. 

Memories of your father ripping up your first notebook of drawings, the one he found under your pillow when you were a teenager, flash through your mind. Goosebumps litter your body when you swear you can still hear his raspy voice, harsh from the burn of whiskey, telling you that drawing won’t pay the bills and to knock that shit off or he’ll beat it out of you. He wasn’t particularly a man of his word, but somehow, he managed to keep that one. You’re not sure when the anger started to creep in, but you think it might have been then. Watching your hard work darken and crumble in the fire almost hurt worse than the sear his belt left behind. 

“You were reading your comic over there the other day,” you admit, nodding your head toward the little nook by the window. “The light was just right, and well…I don’t know, I just got inspired and figured I’d give drawing you a shot,” you admit, voice soft and shy. 

“Well you’re pretty fucking good at it,” Ellie admits. 

You shove it down, the spark of happiness her words ignite in you, and it works. For now. 

“Yeah, whatever,” you respond, clutching your not-so-secret secret closer to your chest. You aren’t good at taking compliments; especially now, after everything that’s happened. 

“Can I have it?” Ellie asks. She rolls her eyes for a second, before eventually adding a please to the end of her request. You remember her telling you a few weeks back that Joel has been working with her on manners. You’d only met him once, but as far as you could tell, he was the southern gentleman, wounded dog, not to be fucked with, but still the impossibly polite type of man. The type of man that would punch another guy in the bar for questioning a lady’s honor, or stab him in the kneecap for looking at his girl the wrong way. 

You consider her request for a moment, before eventually deciding that since it is her likeness, she should be the one to have it. You crack open the book, being careful to hide the other pages from her view before the familiar sound of paper ripping fills the room.  You’re careful to tear it in a straight line, close to the spine, so as not to ruin the drawing. 

With her portrait in hand, you bargain, “You can have this under one condition. You can’t tell anyone about this.”  Ellie gives a subtle nod as if to agree. You don’t notice her middle and index fingers crossed tightly behind her back when you hand it over. 

“So you’re sure you don’t have anything super naughty in there?” Ellie teases.

“Alright kid, no more dick jokes or Joel is gonna choke me,” you chide, feeling heat creep up your cheeks. Wouldn’t that be quite the piece of jewelry; a Joel Miller hand necklace. The truth is that while you don’t have anything super naughty, you do have more than one drawing of her guardian hiding in your pages. You’re not sure of much anymore, but there is one thing you do know for certain – those drawings are something she can never, ever, see. Those drawings are something nobody can ever see. 

Ellie was quick to discover your secret.

Good thing it was just one of them. 

You drape your arm over her shoulder and walk out of the library together. 

++++

It all happens so quickly from that moment on. 

It’s only spring, yet the Jackson grapevine is in full bloom, carrying the fruits of your talent to pretty much the whole town. You can’t say you’re surprised. What did you expect from a 14-year-old with minimal entertainment options? 

It starts with Ellie letting it slip to Maria while they’re washing the dishes from family dinner with her, Tommy, and Joel. 

Maria lets it slip to Tommy. 

Tommy lets it slip to Samantha, the town’s soapmaker. 

Samantha lets it slip to Joey, the butcher. 

Joey lets it slip to – well – pretty much everyone else. You wouldn’t have guessed the town's butcher would be such a gossip, but dead cattle don’t make great conversationalists. Before you know it, you’re accepting some sort of art deal over porridge in the dining hall like it’s a shady drug deal. 

“Come on, think of how happy it will make people,” Maria pleads with you. “You only have to do as many as you want,” she adds, looking at you with kind eyes, the ones that are nearly impossible to say no to. 

You stare back at her in silence, attempting to piece together a response in your mind, but your words may as well be a 1,000-piece single-color puzzle at this point. 

“So many of us don’t have those memories anymore. Think of how much it will mean to people to be able to put a drawing of their family up on their walls once more, you know?” she says, laying it on thick. Like how it used to be is what she leaves out. 

“Fine. I’ll do it,” you respond, dropping your spoon on the wooden table next to your half-eaten bowl of breakfast. You feign annoyance, but deep down, you’re excited about the opportunity. Scared shitless, but excited. 

“Yeah? Great. Oh just wait until I tell Tommy, he’s going to be ecstatic,” she says. “Now finish up, can’t have any of that food going to waste,” she quips, before swinging her leg over the bench and adjusting the brim of the cowboy hat on her head as she walks away, a smug look on her face. 

++++

In the following days and weeks, you find yourself immersed in the lives of the residents of Jackson. Setting up your makeshift easel from scrap wood you collected on patrol in living rooms, on front porches, and amidst picturesque landscapes. 

The people, once reserved, slowly begin to open up to you as they share stories and anecdotes of their lives before. It’s sweet, you think – how chatty people get when they have nothing to do but sit there while you try your best to capture their likeness. 

Some conversations are easier than others. Most of the time you just nod your head and let out occasional nods or grunts of agreement, too immersed in your work to listen to what they’re saying, but sometimes you find yourself so engrossed in their stories that the drawings take hours to complete. 

As much as you learn about them, you rarely open up about yourself. Sometimes they ask, sometimes they don’t. Regardless, you feel like the woman you were before no longer exists, she was left to decay with the rest of your family back in Austin. You know she’s in there, buried deep inside, hiding behind a door of anger and tears. Sometimes she cries out, but you buried the key to that lock years ago. No getting out now. 

As the portraits accumulate, so does a sense of connection and unity. You’re no longer an unknown. A threat against resources. When you first arrived in town, you did your best to make yourself useful and show people that you weren’t just dead weight. And it worked, or you think it worked anyway, but the past few weeks have caused a noticeable shift in the atmosphere. Before the apocalypse, you never really saw a place for your artwork or your talent. But now, you can see how it’s becoming a bridge, linking generations and weaving a tapestry of shared histories. Giving people something to cling to, something to hold on to, something to cherish once more.

Of all of the portraits you’ve done so far, your favorite is the one you did of Tommy and Maria. She hasn’t said anything yet, but from the way she placed her hand on her belly, and the way Tommy looked at her, it was pretty easy to guess. You did your best to capture their likeness, knowing it would likely be shown to generations to come. When you showed them the final result, Maria cried and hugged you tighter than you’ve been hugged in years. Their love was obvious – radiant and shiny. If anything were to make you believe in love again, wouldn’t seeing it right in front of your face be it?  You try not to think about it too much when you realize it doesn’t. 

You no longer have to walk the streets of Jackson, bouncing from place to place, alone. There’s always someone to talk to on your journey, or a comfortable silence paired with a subtle wave in the distance, or the occasional sound of a creaky screen door opening for you. Even before things went to shit, you never had this – community. With each finished portrait, you find yourself making a new friend.

You should be happy now. You know that. Your parasympathetic nervous system has had an opportunity to return to its normal state for the first time in years.  You have the warmth of friends, and people like you. Like actually like you. They like what you’re doing, what you’re creating. 

But you aren’t. 

Because while you’re capturing the entire town's attention, you’re starting to realize you only care about attention when it’s from one person.

And unfortunately, he doesn’t seem to give two shits about you or what you create. 

As you lay in bed that night, fidgeting with your necklace, you stare up at the ceiling and think about what started this whole infatuation in the first place. It was a drunken night, hardly anything. Not even a story worth repeating. You shouldn’t even be thinking about it. It was nothing. 

But as you feel sleep calling you into its abyss, you remember the way his voice called your name that night and the heavy feeling of his gaze on your chest. 

It was nothing. 

Nothing.

Nothing. 

Nothing. 

That doesn’t stop you from dreaming about him that night. 

++++

Being the town's only artist comes with its price. While most of the time you don’t mind the endless stream of hellos and requests for additional portraits, you’re not up for much conversation this morning. 

You slept like absolute shit last night and decided that if you weren’t going to sleep through the night, you might as well be productive with your time. When your eyes fluttered closed thinking of what, and who, to draw, the image of Joel sipping a cup of coffee in the dining hall, reading an old Western book from your library, played on the screen of your heavy lids. You decided to put your feelings on paper and start a new portrait. After you woke up from your dream, probably around 3 am you guessed, you stayed up late enough to see the sun rise over the horizon, before eventually deciding that it was too late, early for most, to go to bed now. 

Seeking solitude and shielding yourself from prying eyes, you make yourself at home in the stables. You perch on a weathered stool in the corner of the barn, perfectly positioned in the corner so your back is supported, and begin sketching the handsome grump. As if he was right in front of you, his features are regal; sharp jawline decorated with a salt and pepper beard, one of the patches faintly shaped like a heart, dark brown eyes that resemble those of a deer, the crinkled lines around his eyes and forehead that serve as proof of age. Arguably your favorite feature is his nose. Prominent, aquiline, like a bow that perfectly ties all of his facial features together. Joel Miller is one beautiful fucking man.

Completely immersed in your world, you lose track of time. You could have been sketching for twenty minutes or three hours, who’s to say. Exhaustion envelopes you in an embrace and you doze off in a peaceful slumber. 

When Joel enters the stable for his morning shift, he catches a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye; perched up on a rickety old stool, head slumped over, resting on the wooden edge of the barn. Your arms are wrapped snuggly around your chest as if to keep yourself warm in the dewy morning air. As he approaches closer, treading carefully against the hay as if he were a cat trying to sneak up on its prey, he takes in the finer details of you peacefully asleep, blissfully unaware. 

There’s charcoal on your hands, your lips are slightly parted and there’s a little glisten of drool pooling in the corner of your lips, and your hair slightly covers your face. Jesus, he thinks you’re gorgeous awake, but seeing you asleep – so vulnerable and tender – nearly causes his heart to skip a beat. He tries to ignore what it does to his cock. He knows you’re an artist, but with the way you look right now, hell, you might as well be the artwork, too. 

He thinks he could stare at you for hours, but there’s something more pressing for him to look at first. He’s seen you carry your trusty notebook around, rarely ever setting it down, and certainly being very guarded when you have it cracked open around others – especially him. So when he sees it lying on the ground, he thinks…what could one look hurt? He doesn’t want to invade your privacy, but as the saying goes, curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. He’ll be satisfied once he knows what you’re hiding in there. Surely. One look, and he’ll wake you and that will be it. 

After all, it’s just a peek. 

He’s not quite sure what he expected, but this was most definitely not it. As if he were looking into a mirror, his reflection stares back at him from the dull matte of the pages. As he flips from one page to the next, he swears time stops altogether as he takes it in. Your secret. 

As he scans the pages, something burns deep in the marrow of his bones, a fire and heat that exists only for you. Now that he knows your truth, he’s not sure he can stop what he does next. His large palm floats out to caress the underside of your jaw, and the pad of his thumb ghosts over the soft swell of your bottom lip. Before he lets himself get too carried away in his thoughts, he clears his throat. 

“Mornin’,” a husky voice says, startling you. You all but launch into orbit and almost fall over like the stool, but the owner of the intruding voice grabs your elbow before your backside collides with the floor. You’re relieved to see that your saving grace is Joel, yet you’re burning with embarrassment at your clumsiness. 

Joel clears his throat before speaking with his hand still grasping your elbow, “M’pologies, didn’t mean to startle ya, sweetheart.” 

”Oh no, I was just…” you sputter out, still finding your bearings. He reluctantly removes you from his grip but not without letting his fingers trail across your skin as he lets go. The ghost of his touch is a noticeable one. 

“Didn’t sleep well last night, I take it?” Joel asks, a softness to his voice. 

“Afraid not,” you say, kicking your heel into the hay, trying your best to avoid his eyes so as not to spill all of your fucking guts. I was too busy thinking about you.

“You’re in luck, darlin’. I have just the thing to wake you up,” he says, “and ‘m not takin’ no for an answer,” he says with a wink. 

“I’m sorry, am I speaking to Joel Miller? Have you been bitten? Are you feeling alright?” you joke, placing the back of your hand up to his forehead, a giant smile on your face. 

“My reputation of being Jackson’s own Boo Radley precedes me, I see,” he jokes back. 

You shoot him a look that says who the fuck is Boo Radley? Instead of giving you an explanation, he just chuckles like it’s an inside joke. 

“Come on now, we’re goin’ for a ride,” he says with finality. 

You try to ignore the heat that stirs low in your belly at the thought of riding with Joel Miller as he guides you deeper into the stables. 

++++

The sun hangs high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the picturesque landscape of Jackson. Situated in front of Joel on the horse, you close your eyes and exhale all the air from your lungs. You hold your lack of breath for a moment, before feeling your lower belly rise, taking in the crisp air laced with the scent of wildflowers and fresh blades of grass in through your nostrils. 

Joel is an easy-riding partner. He doesn’t say much, yet you feel secure in his presence with your back nestled up against his chest, his thick arms wrapped around you, his capable hands holding the reigns, guiding the horse through the scenic trail with ease. You rub your eyes for a moment before opening them to take in the breathtaking view of the snow-capped mountains far off in the distance, and the lush green meadows that surround you. You almost forgot beauty like this could exist. 

Joel turns his head, following your gaze. A small smile tugs at the corners of his weathered lips as he agrees, "Looks like a good spot to take a break."

Guiding the horse toward the field, you both dismount and allow the horse to graze freely. Joel suddenly remembers he has a blanket tucked away in his saddlebag. He retrieves it and spreads it out in the clearing amidst the vibrant flowers.

Seated on the blanket, you unravel the satchel from over your shoulder and place it on the ground by your side while you simultaneously marvel at the beauty surrounding you. The sun plays hide-and-seek through the branches of nearby trees, creating dappled patterns on the ground. Joel settles beside you, gazing out at the open expanse. 

As you bask in the splendor of the spring day, your attention fully absorbed by the vibrant beauty surrounding you, you inadvertently miss the subtle shift in Joel's focus. His gaze transitions from the scenic view to rest upon you. In a moment of silent admiration, he drinks in the essence of your being. His eyes trace the contours of your profile, lingering on the way the sunlight plays in your hair, transforming it into a golden halo that only seems to make his mouth water more. 

He admires the view of you propped up on your elbows, eyes closed, heart center shining toward the sun, the swell of your breasts painted like a picture before him.

“Tell me your greatest desires,” he says. 

As you open your eyes and turn to face him, as swift as the breeze you feel in your hair, you feel all of the air escape your lungs. Joel Miller is one beautiful fucking man. You’re momentarily lost in your own world as you admire the way he looks like this; relaxed, basking in the sun on a checkered blanket. His dark brown eyes are now a soft shade of amber, the silver streaks are a little more prominent in the sunlight, and the furrow of his brow has lessened. 

“Alright. Tell me a secret” you respond, the corners of your lips threaten to turn up in a smile. You press up off your elbows and roll onto one on your side to face him. 

“Isn’t that the same?” he asks, responding to your movement, mirroring it. 

Now face-to-face, and chest-to-chest with him, inches only separating your bodies, you pause and let your eyes flint to his lips. 

“Anyone can see your desires, no one knows what’s in your heart,” you say. 

“Tell me something,” he says. 

“I still dream of the taste of McDonald’s french fries,” you say, “and I’m not sure I know how to feel happiness anymore,” you say, as a matter a fact. 

Your words reverb through his ears, and he stares at you in silence, unsure of how to respond. 

“I used to be a contractor,” he admits, “and I had a daughter named Sarah.”

You look at him with soft, wide eyes. Pain is visible on your face, taking in what he’s yet to say. When you don’t respond, he adds, “She died in my arms on Outbreak day,” he admits, averting his gaze over your shoulder. His hands have somehow navigated to find a single blade of grass that he toys with in between his fingers. 

“Fuck, Joel,” you pause in silence. Like your words could ever make up for his loss. Everyone had lost someone at this point, but the way he said it, you could tell it still felt fresh to him. 

“It’s alright, Darlin’, next confession,” he says, obviously wanting to change the subject. 

“Ellie,” you chuckle, but you don’t miss the way his eyes light up at the mention of her name. “She’s such a pain in my ass, but she’s probably one of my best friends right now,” you say. Like it should be embarrassing, you, an adult woman, friends with a 14-year-old. 

“Yeah. Little bugger has her way of working her way under your skin, doesn’t she?” he says, bringing his attention back to the panoramic scene laid out in front of you. You notice the smile that graces his face. “Your turn,” you say, this time paying all of your attention to his profile as he stares out to the horizon. 

“I saw your drawings,” he admits, even though every fiber of his being is telling him not to. Your smile fades from your face and your heart sinks. You swear the sun must have navigated light years closer to Earth from the way you feel your skin heat, your blood hot enough to melt bone. You might as well turn to liquid there, melting into Mother Earth.

“Wh–what? What do you mean?” you ask, your voice mostly a tremble. 

“In the barn, this morning… when you were asleep. Your notebook fell to the ground, and well – I saw them,” he decides to leave out the part where he intentionally decided to take a peek, deciding it wasn’t worth arguing the ethics of it. 

You’re nearly one with the core of the Earth, her heat drawing all of the moisture from your mouth, your tongue dry, briefly incapable of forming a response, before your brain lands on the following.

“You mean – you saw – yo,” you start to say before he interrupts you. 

“Yeah, I did,” he admits, once again, a soft tone of honesty behind his voice. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. This is not happening. This is not happening. 

Mortified, your whole body goes limp and the back of your head falls to the ground. You scrunch your eyes closed as tight as possible as if that might somehow wake you up from the nightmare that this scenario is. You bring your hand up to pinch the bridge of your nose and let yourself absorb all of the nasty and icky feelings of embarrassment that cross your brain. 

When you open your eyes, you start “Joel, I can explai–” he cuts you off with the weight of his body pinning you in place, his lips pressed against yours in an intentional, yet gentle, kiss. It’s stationary at first like he’s just trying to get you to shut up, to save you from the danger that is your thoughts. With your eyes still wide open, you stare back and try to rationalize if this is really fucking happening right now. 

You break the kiss for a moment and look up at him, “Joel, what are you doing?” you ask. 

“I don’t know, sweetheart. I haven’t overthought it like you’re about to,” he admits, staring back at you, “tell me you don’t want this,” he says, hoping you don’t. As if you could ever. When his question is met with no response, he takes that as a green light, and his soft lips once again find yours. 

Your eyes flutter closed, and your arms wrap around his broad shoulders, your fingers interlacing behind his neck. He deepens the kiss with a moan and grinds his hips into yours, the heavy weight of his center pressing deep against yours ignites a firework display of nerves in your body. You can tell from the package that’s pressed up against you that he’s quite big. The strengthening of your touch is met with a soft mmm from his chest, as his heavy frame pins you tighter to the ground. 

His lips stray from your lips, kissing over the razor edge of your jaw, finding their way to the nape of your neck. His hot breath and the weight of his strong and capable body make you feel weightless, despite the pressure he pushes on you. 

He presses tender kisses to your pulse and trails them down to the hollow of your throat, causing your breathing to hitch in your throat. His wide tongue licks a long, flat stripe up your windpipe, and his teeth come together in a little nip on your chin. Fuck. You let out a little cry of unexpected pleasure at the sensation. He pins both of your arms high up above your head, and his mouth continues its relentless pursuit on the bare skin of your neck and exposed collarbones. 

“Joel, please,” you beg, your vision foggy from the thrum of your blood pulsing through your veins at a rapid pace; your heart threatening to beat out of your chest. 

“Gotta use your words for me, pretty girl, tell me what you want,” he responds, a low growl to his words. 

He’s barely managed to touch you, yet, you choke out, “Need you,” you moan, “need you to touch me more, god, please,” you beg, your arms still pinned above your head. Satisfied, he releases his grip on your arms, and both of his palms find purchase on your center frame, just below your ribs. He kisses his way down from your throat, through the valley of your breasts, and over your belly, trailing the ghost of his lips to the soft plush below your navel.

He hooks his thumbs under the band of your pants, and deftly pulls them off, alongside your underwear. He continues kissing down the gash between your thighs and pauses once his mouth is centered on your glistening slit. His tongue darts out to lap at some of your slick and you swear all of your senses cross at the sensation of his tongue. 

Fuck –,” you cry out as he licks a firm stripe up your pussy. Joel moans before making his tongue flat and massaging your clit with it. It’s so fucking good. 

He sinks a thick middle finger into you, and your walls clamp around the welcomed intrusion. His finger grazes against the soft spongy spot inside you that feels so good, and he works it in and out of you before adding another finger, twisting and working them both into you with precision. You’re so close. You choke out a moan in response, enjoying the sensation of his long and thick fingers rubbing against your walls as his tongue makes tight circles around your sensitive clit.

You pull at your nipple through your shirt with one hand and hold on to the top of his head, his hair entangled between your fingers as you attempt to hold on to him, an anchor to keep you from floating away, and he devours you.

His fingers thrust faster, his mouth firm on your throbbing bud, and you’re so close. You wail out, and the slurping groans that come from Joel are fucking primal and filthy.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he says, his words barely audible with his mouth on your puffy lips, “want you to come,” he moans. “Come on pretty girl, I’ve got you – let me have it, soak my face.”

His dirty talk is all you need. "Yes, oh my God – Yes! Joel, fuck, I'm coming, don’t stop," you cry, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, your chest hot. Your vision goes white as you release yourself to him. Your back arches and your legs flex; your stomach feels like it’s being sucked into itself, and Joel works you through it, lapping up your come.

He rises from between your legs, his beard slick with your release, and smiles at you. As satisfied as you are at the moment, he’s the one that looks it. As much as he would love to make you come multiple times under his tongue for hours, to savor your sweetness like it was the last strawberry on earth, he’s starving for it. 

He makes quick work of undoing his belt and jeans, before sliding them off his legs to free himself. Gripping his heavy cock in his hand, he positions himself at your entrance and pushes just the tip in, wishing he were less riled up, less desperate for the warmth of your body, but he finds comfort in knowing you’re right at that line with him, begging to be filled. 

“Need you,” you beg, your doe eyes looking up at him. He’s had many people beg for things from him – supplies, food, their life, but you, god, there’s something about you, split open and begging for his cock that he can’t say no to. 

He smiles, and slides all the way in, giving you a moment to adjust to his size. He buries his cock deep inside you, to the hilt, so deep you can feel the tickle of the dark hairs that outline the base of it against your clit. Your pussy is so wet and tight, and holy – “fuck me, baby,” he moans, thrusting his hips out of you just barely before shoving them forward; the stretch of him is a delicious slow burn. 

“Choking my cock so fucking good, baby. So good,” he moans before he begins to set a slow rhythm with his movements, letting you both adjust to the sensation. He praises your name and his breath catches on your collarbone, and he sucks a small mark there as he fucks in and out of you. When you whine for more, more of this, and more of him, this time he’s the one who’s lost for words. He might not know what to say, but his body responds in kindness, his cock thrusting in and out of you with a slow drag that drives you wild. All he can do is admire the beauty that you are under him, an angel on earth making a sweet, sweet mess, all for him. Just for him. 

“Mmm, God, Joel – ‘m gonna, fuck, Joel, – right there –�� you cry up to the sky above you, the clouds in the sky witness to your pleasure. He knows his cock is enough to get you there, but it’s not enough, not to him. Putting all of his body weight into his left arm, being sure not to crush you, he drags his right hand out from under his weight and it lands to cup your pussy; already so wet and so full. His fingers extend and find a home on your clit, and he begins rubbing tight circles on your aching bud in a way that makes you swear it must be nighttime from the stars you’re seeing. 

“Here, baby?” his fingers continue their relentless pursuit of your clit, and he bucks his hips harder. He’s rewarded with the glorious sound of your moans reaching an octave that makes his cock twitch a little harder inside of you, “Jesus, sweetheart – gonna make me come like a teenager if you keep clenching like that, gripping me so fuckin’ tight,” he groans, an animalistic sound emanating from his chest. 

“Joel, I’m gonna come –”  

“I can tell, baby – clenchin’ so hard around me, want you to give me your all,” he demands, as he grabs your hair and tells himself not to come with you, too soon.

“No,” you choke out, staving off your orgasm. He stops his thrusts for a brief second, “What?” he asks, a bit bewildered. At this point you’re both a tangled mess of limbs, sweat beading on your foreheads, chests heaving. You intertwine your hands through his hair and gently pull at it as you look him deep in the eyes, “I want to come,” you promise, “I just want to ride you while I do it,” you admit. 

You pulse around his cock at the confession, and with your truth still lingering on your lips, Joel pulls out and flips around so he's on his back. He steadies himself by the base and holds his cock straight up for you. You rise and position yourself over his center; you line yourself up against him while he cups your cheek with the other hand, “take your seat, pretty girl,” he says in a tone that’s just shy of a beg, and you do, feeling yourself slowly sink onto every inch of him. Your action elicits a throaty groan from him. Your eyes once again glaze over at the sensation of him so deep inside of you, so big, so deep. The stretch of him shoves out every other thought you can muster until all that’s left are thoughts of him in your brain.

In an attempt to get a better angle, he shifts his upper body up onto his forearms, as you continue to grind your hips into him. Both of your arms wrap around his neck, and you use the strength of them to pull him closer into your chest as you continue to slowly grind your cunt into him. You swear you can feel him in your lungs, and with the way your clit grinds against his skin, you’re nearly there, nearly gone.

A weird combination of emotions pools in your belly, part pleasure, part something else. You feel it creeping up your throat, clawing up the back of it like it’s manifesting its reality before it manages to surface. Heat pricks in your tear ducts, and before you know it, it’s such a big, bold feeling – a lion in a cage that won’t be tamed. Simultaneously, you feel a familiar tug at your navel, like a rubber band, stretched to its capacity, on the verge of a snap. 

The orgasm that tears through you is so epic it causes your head to fall back, and your eyes to roll to the back of your head, your vision going static white. Your lower body shudders against his thrusts, and your inner muscles clamp hard around his cock as he fucks you through it. You convulse around him, doing your best to ride his thrusts and contribute as your whole body trembles. With tears streaming down your face, you press your lips against him. He wraps both of his arms tight around your chest, pinning you close to his heart, meanwhile spearing you with his cock. His thrusts stop for a moment, and he looks up at you, both hands coming to grip the sides of your face. 

“Why are you crying baby,” he asks with genuine concern in his voice. 

“You’re just – so god damn beautiful, Joel,” you admit, and your sobs come a little harder. If this were pre-apocalypse, you might be mortified by the fact that you were sobbing for a man you hardly know, all while riding his cock, but it’s not. You rest your forehead against his and let the tears continue to fall, a handful of them dropping to his cheeks. Your hand comes up to cup his face, and one of his hands leaves your face, trailing down to gently grab at your wrist in comfort. “No, baby. That’s you,” he says, slowly continuing to fuck into you with a slow grind. 

“My perfect girl, I’ve got you, baby, you’re safe. I’ve got you,” he says, as he holds you and fucks you with such passion and intentionality. He fucks all of the love you haven’t let yourself feel in decades back into you. His cock fills every gap that has been left unfilled by every wrongdoing, every terrible, bad thing. He holds you like it isn’t the end of the world, but rather the beginning. He fucks you like his cock alone could fix everything, and at this moment, you’re confident it just might. 

Still riding him, a soft “please,” leaves your lips. “Please use me,” you say, sinking your pussy down further onto him, so tight you can feel the tip of him pushing down on your cervix. “Want your come, Joel – need it, need it so much,” you beg, and oh god, he’s so fucked. 

Joel was already on the crest of his release a long time ago, but here you are – utterly fucked out, riding him, and begging for his come. He’s a smart man, he knows he shouldn’t, but – you tug at his hair harder, and ride him for all you’re worth. “Fuck me, baby,” he moans, alongside a long slew of your name and other profanities, he only has so much resolve left, a resolve that’s slowly crumbling with each drag of your wet cunt up and down his cock. 

You press your lips to his once again and he feels his balls tighten. The litany of pleas and the taste of your salty tears is what undoes him. Buried deep inside of you, he comes harder than he has in decades, spilling hot and deep inside of you. He fills you up with all he’s worth, painting your insides with white hot ropes of his seed. Normally you’re the artist, but right now, you’re his canvas, his fucking Mona Lisa. 

Joel grunts and you collectively still your movements. He holds you close as he waits for the aftershocks and twitches to still, still plugging you, keeping all of his spend deep inside of you. He plants soft kisses all over your face and neck and caresses your hair. You stay like this for what could be hours, minutes, days. Time is a construct you have no concept of right now. 

After a few minutes, he groans. Pulling out is always the hardest thing to do. “Gonna get off you now,” you say softly, planting a soft kiss on his lips, as you lift your hips and swing your leg over his body. Your pussy whines at the lack of something to grip around. A rush of his come dribbles out of you onto your inner thigh, but you don’t pay any attention to it. You roll over onto your back, and he does the same. As you both lay there, he grabs your hand and squeezes it tight. You’re not sure what time it is now, but by the color of the sky, you guess it’s late afternoon at this point.

“We should get back,” you say, staring up at the sky, watching the clouds make their creations. 

“Yeah,” he admits, only looking at you. When you avert your gaze from the sky to look at him, you get deja vu as you take in the sight of Joel Miller, his tossed curls and chocolate eyes, and you swear you’ve seen this sight before. Maybe in a dream. 

You commit the sight to memory, promising yourself to draw it later. 

“Will you sit for a portrait with me?” you ask, voice soft, once again turning to face him, but this time it’s different.

“Only if you promise to go for a ride with me again,” he admits, and you smile, a heat creeping up to your cheeks. 

“Deal,” you promise. 

You both lay there for what could be hours or minutes, you’re not sure. But as the sun looks like it’s about to dip below the horizon, you both decide it’s time to head back. You both get dressed, and he helps you onto the horse. You both leave your perfect little meadow, knowing that it will be there for you to discover again and again. 

On the ride back, you reflect on a poem you remember reading years ago.

There are two kinds of people in this world, those who see the ending, and those who see the beginning. 

And after years of living in the ending, you’re ready to let the girl who you were before out of her prison. Joel undid the lock, all you had to do was let her see the light of day once more. 

A new beginning. 

You and Joel ride back in blissful silence. 

Once on the outskirts of Jackson, Joel simply says, “Maybe we should invite Tommy next time.” 

But that’s a different notebook. 

END 

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[lavendercharm]

Linger, Chapter 5: Kiss With A Fist/Human Nature

A/N:

Ya'll. Writing this chapter felt like a marathon. But I think I'm ultimately very happy with it. Please let me know what you think!

This chapter is a bit longer, and I think it deserved to be named after two songs because of that. "Kiss With A Fist" by Florence + The Machine definitely fits the first half of this chapter and was one of the first songs I added to my playlist when writing this story, so I knew I wanted to use it for the big public confrontation.

The vibes toward the end are different. I discovered this song earlier this week and haven't been able to stop listening to it, so maybe I'm just reaching to try and justify including it lol. But "Human Nature" by Barrie is what I decided to use for the second half of this. Cause they're spitting facts when they say "Human nature doesn't always come easy" lmfao.

This is far from the end of this story, but it may be a second before you hear from me, depending on how busy the next few weeks are. I say that - watch me turn around and post something this weekend lol.

Thank you to everyone who's stuck with me thus far. I love you and I'm so grateful to know you're along for the ride.

---

Summary: From the moment you meet her, you can't stand Melissa Schemmenti.

Warnings: Strong Language

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Barbara Howard did not take days off. It was only recently that she allowed herself her first mental health day, and while she could see the benefits, she had been eager to get back to her classroom, her students, her best friend, and even her coworkers. The life of a teacher was unpredictable, and the life of a teacher at Abbott Elementary came with its own unique set of challenges, but Barbara had seen a lot in her decades of teaching. With some hard work, support from her fellow teachers, and the grace of God himself, she had seen and survived it all. Barbara Howard could conquer anything thrown her way.

However, if Barbara had the magical gift of foresight, she might have chosen Monday morning to take her second mental health day in her entire history at Abbott. 

As it was, Barbara could not see into the future, and so she entered the teacher’s lounge at 6:30 AM, on the dot. She claimed her usual spot, made herself a cup of coffee, and began sorting through her lesson plans for the week. She enjoyed her few moments of serenity in the lounge prior to the arrival of her more talkative coworkers. It wasn’t unusual for Melissa to arrive a bit later, especially on a Monday, so Barbara thought nothing of her absence. She politely greeted Janine and Jacob as they entered together; she did the same for Gregory shortly after. As the three younger teachers gathered at their table and discussed their weekends, Barbara continued her work, occasionally reacting to what she overheard. And when you entered the lounge, your first time visiting in the morning, Barbara was mildly surprised, but she shot you a warm smile all the same. She noticed you seemed to be a bit tense, but she chalked it up to the fact that you were still very new. 

Melissa had talked her ear off about you last Monday, of course, explaining your tardiness and the shots you’d taken at her about her age. When Barb pressed her for details about your confrontation and what you’d said to each other, she simply said, “I took care of business, a’right?” 

While Barbara agreed it was unprofessional of you to arrive late, she also knew Melissa better than anyone else in Abbott did; she knew Melissa could take things too far. Melissa was as passionate as they came, which meant she was one of the best teachers at the school. On the flip side, she also had a short fuse. Barbara knew she didn’t have all of the details, but she didn’t think much of it - you were a sub, after all. She expected she’d never actually meet you. 

So when you arrived in the lounge for lunch the day after your explosive argument, she was shocked. While skeptical of you, she couldn’t help but admire your tenacity. You’d come face to face with the wrath of Melissa Schemmenti and still returned to Abbott. You’d introduced yourself, and as far as Barbara could tell, you were perfectly polite and well mannered. The displeasure and hostility radiating off of Melissa was felt by everyone in the lounge, but aside from giving her close friend a pointed look, Barbara chose to ignore it. 

You’d continued showing up the rest of the week, greeting Barbara every day before taking a seat with Janine and Jacob, as well as Gregory, occasionally. The younger teachers seemed to have taken an instant liking to you, the four of you sharing stories from previous schools or discussing the latest movie releases. You’d even had a good-natured exchange with Ava one morning. The principal had leant against the corner with her phone and talked you through her “roster”, whatever that meant. Barbara was sure she didn’t want to know. 

Barbara observed how seamlessly you integrated into Abbott’s social circles - with the obvious exception of the red head who always sat to her right in the lounge. Melissa pretended you didn't exist, which would have been fine if it wasn’t the elephant in the room. Your first day in the lounge, Janine had tried to talk to Melissa about you. She’d turned to Melissa with a huge grin on her face and said, “Man, Melissa, you’re so lucky to have such an awesome sub as your aide.” 

Melissa had glanced at Janine over the rim of her cat-eye glasses, and in a sharp tone, retorted, “What sub?” That’s all it took for everyone in the room to grasp her unspoken message: If you value your life, drop it. The only reaction Barbara saw was a sharp flash of your eyes before you turned your back to the older woman and called Janine over, changing the subject. 

But last Friday, Melissa caught up with Barbara after the school day ended and explained that you’d just given her two VIP tickets to the Eagles game on Sunday. If there was anything that would help Melissa forgive your transgressions, it was that. Once again, Barbara found herself impressed with you - you took the initiative to make amends and you’d knocked it out of the park. She was happy for her friend. She’d told Melissa, “Just think of how much you’ll be able to accomplish now that you and that young woman can work together. Now, you and Gary go enjoy that ball game.” 

A week after your first morning at Abbott, all of the water was seemingly under the bridge, and the staff room could breathe easy again. No one paid much mind to the anxiety radiating off of you. For the most part, the energy in the room was calming as the day began. 

The sudden CRACK of the door slamming into the shelves violently ripped the room’s occupants out of their morning zen. It was enough to cause everyone to nearly jump out of their skin. Heads whipped in the direction of the doorway as Melissa’s furious form charged into the lounge. Her attention was initially on Barb, but as she opened her mouth to speak, her eyes locked on you. The blush of fury rose instantly in her cheeks. She ripped her bag off of her shoulder and tossed it in the direction of her regular table, nearly hitting Barbara in the process, and as her eyes narrowed, you could practically see the steam rolling off of her as she hissed out, “You.” 

And that’s when Barbara knew any chance of a peaceful morning had gone out the window.

—----------------------

As your weekend began, it didn’t take long for it to sink in that you were well and truly fucked. You completely failed to consider the consequences of your little scheme. There’s no way in hell Melissa wouldn’t be out for blood at the start of the next school week. The smartest thing to do would be to never return to Abbott, move to a new city across the country, and change your legal name. You went back and forth between chastising yourself for being ridiculous, and being so ridden with anxiety that you couldn’t eat. You felt so stupid - what did you think would happen? 

Ultimately, you reached a point where you couldn’t handle the crushing weight of what you’d done alone, so you’d spilled to Ava. Her response had been about the least reassuring thing she could have said.

You did WHAT? I didn’t know you were crazy like that! You’re gonna die girl. I’m not even joking. We gotta go out this weekend, cause it’s your last one alive. I’ll make sure you have fun tho. Do you own any latex?

After refusing Ava’s offers to make your last days on earth worthwhile, you spent most of the weekend drowning in anxiety and imagining how Melissa would bring about your demise. You decided you had to do your best to prepare. You literally couldn’t afford to not go back to Abbott, especially after getting your headlights repaired Saturday afternoon. Under the anxiety, you could feel the ember of your rage, still pulsing with a red-hot glow, so you decided to grasp ahold of it. What you’d done was shitty, sure. But compared to smashing headlights? All you’d done was get even.

Seeing as you couldn’t afford to uproot your whole life and leave Philadelphia, the next most logical thing to do was to never be caught alone in a room with Melissa ever again. You were pretty sure this was something you could pull off - you figured you had two weeks left at Abbott tops, and as long as you had kids or other teachers in the same room, you would have witnesses who could recount your violent death should Melissa murder you. 

This is what caused you to arrive at Abbott on Monday morning a full hour and a half before you needed to be there. You’d dithered in your car for about fifteen minutes, debating driving away and then talking yourself out of it. Eventually, you braved the outdoors, darting into the building and down the hallways as quickly as you could. You practically sprinted past Melissa’s classroom door - the lights were out, but even though you logically knew she wasn’t in yet, your mind conjured a vivid image of her jumping out of the shadows like a monster in waiting. You slowed down and tried to control your breathing as you entered the teacher’s lounge, and you were immediately soothed to see how many people were already there. Even better, Melissa was absent. 

As you passed Barbara, you gave her a hesitant smile. You actually liked Barbara, as much as you can like someone who’s polite and whom you don’t know very well. You figured it may be the last chance you get - surely the woman would turn against you once Melissa told her what you’d done. Janine, Jacob, and Gregory were all sitting at your usual table, and after preparing your morning coffee, you quickly situated yourself in a seat, thankfully facing the door to the lounge.

“Hey!” Janine said, shooting you her adorable, slightly gapped-toothed smile. “How was your weekend?”

“Oh, uh… it was fine,” you said, your eyes darting toward the door as it opened. Not Melissa . “Mostly caught up on chores… had to get some work done to my car, fun stuff like that.”

“Car problems are tough,” Gregory said, spooning a bite out of his bowl of plain oatmeal. “What was wrong with it?”

“Uh…” you hesitated, unsure if you wanted to share what was really wrong. It would inevitably lead to questions and the last thing you wanted was for everyone to know the details of your feud. It was one thing for everyone to know Melissa didn’t like you - there were very few people Melissa actually liked in general. But it was another entirely for them to know she’d smashed out your headlights. Something generic - a bad alternator, maybe - would suffice.

You didn’t even get the chance to lie.

Despite the fact that you could see the doorway, the resounding SMACK of the door slamming open still made you jump. Before your brain knew what it was processing, in stormed Melissa Schemmenti, thick heels clacking on the linoleum tiles. She wore a form fitting pink sweater, the neckline questionably appropriate, and skin tight black pants. Her saint necklaces shimmered from their home on her collarbones. You supposed she wanted to look hot when she killed you.

It only took a moment for her eyes to lock on you, and in that moment you knew things were about to get ugly. To your surprise, seeing the flustered state she was in created a feeling of immense satisfaction. She was furious because your plan had worked. You didn’t even fight the smile that began to find its way onto your lips. The anxiety wasn’t gone, but you relished in the triumphant feeling of landing a critical hit. 

“ You,” she hisses, tossing her bag from her shoulder. The tension in the air was thick enough to be cut with a knife. 

Your eyebrows shoot up, feigned ignorance in your voice as you point at yourself and respond, “Who, me?”

She starts toward you, and everyone else at your table scatters. You’re shocked to see Janine step in front of you, her hands up placatingly. “Melissa-”

“Shut it, pipsqueak, and get out of my way ,” she growls, her gaze over Janine’s head burning holes in you. 

“Hey!” You spit out, anger spiking and crowding out your anxiety. You’re suddenly standing. “Don’t call her that!”

Janine turns to you, holding a hand in your direction now too. “It’s fine, she calls me that all the time-” 

“It’s not fine!” You shout, fists balled. Your eyes are glued to Melissa’s. “You think you can say and do whatever you want because no one will stand up to you. Well, I’m not going to put up with it!” 

“Oh my god, please stop this. I will never psychologically recover from seeing your dead body,” Jacob pleads, wedged between the corner of the room and the fridge for cover. 

“Can’t believe I was dumb enough to trust ya,” Melissa growls. “And after all that bullshit about ‘olive branches' and bein’ cordial.”

You smirk. “Oh, right! How was the game?”

Melissa starts forward again and Janine has to physically hold her back. She’s shockingly effective in spite of her small stature. 

“Ya know I didn’t get into the game! Gary and I went all the way to the stadium, but you gave me fake tickets! We wasted our whole afternoon and got harassed by security!” she shouts. 

“So what are you gonna do about it? Beat me up? Call the cops on me?” you challenge.

A deeply offended look crosses Melissa’s face as her jaw drops. “Are you callin’ me a snitch?” she snarls. She surges against Janine one more time, who manages to keep her back again. “That’s low, even for you!” Melissa says nastily over Janine’s shoulder.

“Oh, that’s low?” You ask incredulously. “Low like smashing someone’s headlights out?” There’s an audible gasp from Jacob in the corner, and you feel the heat of everyone’s gaze turn from you to Melissa, the whole room enthralled by your verbal tennis match. 

Melissa glances around her before pointing an accusatory finger at you. “Ya can’t prove that was me!” You thought someone would have to have been born yesterday to believe that; anyone who worked at Abbott knew that’s exactly something Melissa would do. 

“Oh yeah, because everyone else here keeps a bat taped under their desk like a neurotic asshole!” you proclaim, throwing your hands up in the air. 

“I’ll show you ya stronza- ” Melissa hisses, pushing past Janine and beginning to reach for you. Your arms come up to instinctively protect your face, but before she can reach you, a figure closer to your height blocks your vision.

“THAT IS ENOUGH!” Barbara Howard bellows. The whole room comes to a standstill, frozen in time. Even Melissa has been stopped in her tracks, her eyes wide in shock as Barbara looks accusingly between the two of you. You feel immediately ashamed. “Are you both not grown adults? I cannot believe the absolute foolishness I’ve just witnessed!” She rounds on Melissa. “Especially from you!” 

“Barb, she-” Melissa starts. 

“I don’t care if she insulted your cooking to your face, you do not behave like catty teenagers! We are professional, grown people! Acting like this in front of your peers? Disgraceful! ”

She rounds on you, her eyes narrowing. “And you. To think that I was beginning to think highly of you. You went to all that trouble to make fake football tickets, just to get back at Melissa? Have you ever heard the phrase ‘An eye for an eye’ ?” 

The pit of shame in your stomach is sickening as you slowly lower your arms, your eyes unable to meet Barbara’s. Feeling like a petulant child, you couldn’t help but mutter, “She started it.”

“And now I’m ending it!” Barbara yells. You feel her grip the sleeve of your sweater and pull. You stumble after, seeing her grasp Melissa as well. “You are both coming with me!” The rest of the lounge doesn’t move a muscle as Barbara Howard physically drags you into the hallway. 

She marches with both of you in tow, Melissa sending you the nastiest glares she can muster from the other side of her friend. Stopping in front of a classroom full of bright colors and tiny chairs, Barbara turns to both of you. “This has gotten completely out of hand! You are both going to sit in my room and we are going to work through this. I don’t care if it takes all day - you will NOT be allowed out until you can act like civilized adults!” She folds her arms and gestures her head forward. You stare back for a moment, thinking she must be joking, but the woman doesn’t budge. After a moment longer, you enter the classroom. You’re followed closely by Melissa, who stalks to the other end of the room. 

Barbara closes her door and pulls down the window blind. She turns to you both, her eyes closed and her shoulders rising in deep, even breaths. Eventually, she opens her eyes, and commands, “Take a seat.”

You glance around and only see chairs for children. You begin to protest, but the look on Barbara’s face prompts you to simply grab the nearest chair and plant yourself in it. Your knees are comically close to your chest and you don’t know where to put your hands. You settle on resting them on top of your knees. Melissa is pacing back and forth, muttering to herself - you guess she gets to ignore Barbara’s request. 

“Now,” Barbara begins. “We are going to talk out your problems so we can put this whole mess behind us. Your students deserve you at your best, and you cannot be your best when you’re at each other’s throats!” She’s stern, chastising, and you feel ridiculous. “Where did all of this animosity start? Why are you angry with Melissa?”

You can’t help but scoff because the answer should be obvious. Barbara presses her lips together in annoyance and you quickly reply, “Well, where do I begin? Aside from smashing my headlights out, she’s done nothing but disrespect me since I stepped foot in her room. She was insulting me before she even learned my name!”

“I never learned your name,” she pipes up spitefully, and you whip your head around to glare at her. 

“Memory not as good as it used to be?” you retort. A muscle in her jaw jumps out as she clenches her jaw, her face coloring once more. 

Before she has a chance to rip into you again, Barbara cuts you both off with a stern, “Knock it off!” She looks exasperatedly between the two of you before pinching the bridge of her nose. “The Lord is testing me today,” she whispers to herself, shaking her head. She turns her attention to the fiery woman across the room. “Melissa?” 

Melissa comes to a stop, planting herself and leaning her weight onto one hip. She rolls her eyes, gesticulating wildly as she speaks. “If we’re goin’ back to the start, then first things first, she strolled into my class thirty minutes late. Didn’t even have the decency to apologize.” 

“You didn’t give me a chance to!” you protest. “I hadn't even stepped into the room before you were criticizing me. It’s not like I did it on purpose, it was a complete and total accident. And then you started insulting how young and inexperienced I look.” 

“I was just givin’ you a hard time, that’s all,” she says indignantly. “How was I suppose ta know you can’t take a joke?”

Your head whips toward her. “And smashing my headlights? Was that a joke?” you retort incredulously. 

Her eyes narrow and her tone is venomous as she hisses, “Nah, that was for throwin’ away my school supplies, stealin’ lunches, and callin’ me a bitch.” 

You hear Barbara’s sharp inhale and jump to defend yourself. “Those supplies were all broken or unusable! You have so much on your hands with two classes and I was just trying to help you. Also, Janine gave me that lasagna because I forgot my lunch, I didn’t steal anything. You wouldn’t give me a chance to explain myself before jumping down my throat. Not to mention calling me degrading names in Italian!” 

Barbara raises an eyebrow and gives Melissa a knowing glance. “Melissa uses gabbortz quite often, it’s nothing to get offended over,” she says, an attempt to reassure you.

Melissa’s eyes dart to Barbara’s as she huffs, “Uh, it’s gabbadost , Barb. And I mighta used somethin’ more… vulgar.” To your disbelief, the red head practically looks sheepish at this admission. Her arms cross in front of her as she shifts her weight, and your eyes are drawn to how the motion causes her cleavage to swell ever so slightly. Feeling heat flood your cheeks, you dart your eyes all over the room, attempting to find something else to fix them on. Luckily, neither woman seems to notice. Barbara’s eyebrows are furrowed in an inquisitive way that suggests she’s waiting for the shorter woman to elaborate. Melissa lets out a puff of air. “I mighta used the ‘P’ word, a’right?” 

Barbara’s eyes widen as her mouth drops open in a gasp. “The ‘P’ word? Melissa Schemmenti, you don’t mean-”

“Yeah, yeah, the one I save exclusively for Kristin Marie. That ‘P’ word.” You don’t know who Kristin Marie is, but Barbara looks positively scandalized.

Tearing her eyes away from Melissa, Barbara stands and turns away from both of you, hands on her hips and head shaking in disapproval. As she takes her turn pacing across the room, the disappointed silence from the older woman allows the weight of the last week to settle on you, and you find yourself suddenly exhausted. You lean forward, your head in your hands and the shame rising inside of you like a tidal wave. How did you get here? 

“Well, I think you both have been sufficiently horrible to each other,” Barbara says, turning toward you. “Now explain how this has all made you feel.” 

You and Melissa groan in unison. “Come on, Barb,” Melissa starts, but Barbara holds up a single admonishing finger to silence her. The Italian woman becomes subdued immediately, and you notice how different Melissa’s reaction is to being silenced by Barbara.

“How has this made you feel?” the older woman presses, her tone of voice a warning to comply. Melissa leans against the wall, refusing to budge. You all sit in tense silence for what feels like an eternity, and you wish the floor would swallow you up. She was using the same tactics on you that you might use on two fighting eight year olds.

Eventually, you can’t handle the tension any longer and you burst out, “I feel totally disrespected!” You look to Barbara and she gestures for you to continue. “I uh… I feel belittled, and like you don’t take me seriously, but I think the worst part is I never got the chance to prove to you that I belong here… you wrote me off before you even met me. I’ve worked hard, and I love what I do, so to have you disregard me right off the bat, just because I made a mistake and I look young… it felt pretty shitty,” you admit, the confession coming out of you in one long rush. 

“Especially because… I was excited to work with you,” you add quietly. You’re suddenly enamored with the floor, unable to bring yourself to look either woman in the eye. You feel exposed and vulnerable, and you’re majorly uncomfortable with it. 

You’re forced to endure your feelings of discomfort for a few more torturous minutes. Suddenly, your eyes widen in shock as a husky voice meets your ears, and it takes a moment for your brain to process the words. 

“I guess I feel a lot of the same,” Melissa admits. You raise your gaze to meet hers, and she’s staring at you intently, the earnestness reflected in her jewel-green eyes making your heart skip a beat. “Felt like you didn’t really care when you were late. Some a’ these kids? They got plenty of adults outside of these walls that don’t really care. That’s the last thing they need here. And then ya walked in and you look so young… I couldn't resist teasin' ya. But then you got me back and I got defensive, and I shouldnt’a.” She shifts her weight, casting her eyes to the floor. “I bought all those supplies with my own money,” she admits. “So seein’ you throwin’ em away, it really rubbed me the wrong way. But… you were right. I was tryin’ to stretch em when there was no more room to stretch. And then seein’ my lasagna on your desk… I know I can be a real hot head, and I took it out on ya and it wasn’t fair.” 

As you look at Melissa, her red hair shining under the fluorescents and her evident unease at her own candor, there’s a swelling feeling in your chest and a warmth slowly spreading in your limbs. “Melissa,” you say, and her head snaps up to meet you. You search her eyes, waiting for her to snap at you for using her first name. She doesn’t. She simply waits, holding your gaze, and you can’t quite read what’s behind her eyes, but you suspect it’s something far softer than she’s shown you before. 

You allow yourself to swim in those emerald pools for just a second longer before you admit, tenderly, “I’m sorry.” You see her shoulders drop ever so slightly, tension releasing as she allows your words to sink in. “I’m sorry for what I’ve said about your age. I’m sorry for throwing your things away without asking. And I’m really sorry about the Eagles tickets. That definitely wasn’t my finest moment.” You say the last bit with a touch of humor. You pause for a moment, before adding, “I’m not going to apologize for the lasagna, though. Janine insisted on giving it to me, and it was one of the most incredible things I’ve ever tasted.” 

You see her eyes widen, her brows raising in surprise. A genuine satisfied smile graces her lips, and you can’t help but momentarily wish things had been different over the last week so you could have seen more of those. That smile made her entire demeanor change. 

“Well,” she says, eyes flashing with her own humor. She shoots you a sly grin, and you return a small smile of your own. “If I’m bein’ real with ya, I’m impressed. Fake tickets? Pretty diabolical,” she continues, admiration in her voice. Her smile fades, though, and she brings her hand up, pressing a knuckle to her lips briefly in thought. She sighs, murmuring, “I’m sorry too. I shoulda given you a chance before jumpin’ to conclusions. And, uh… I’ll pay for ya to get your headlights fixed.” She mutters that last part, and you notice that she didn’t apologize for smashing them - but you know it’s as close as she’ll come, because you’re not sure she entirely regrets it. You’ll take what you can get.

“Thank you,” you murmur, and once again you suddenly can’t look at her anymore. Luckily, Barbara draws your focus to her as she clears her throat. You both look toward the older teacher as she stares down at you, a smug, triumphant smile dancing across her full lips. 

“Now, was that so hard?” She asks, her voice teasing both of you. For the first time in days, you feel like you can breathe fully again. Melissa rolls her eyes, pulling herself away from the wall, but you detect a hint of relief radiating off of the woman as well. 

“Don’t expect us to hold hands or nothin’ Barb,” she says as she heads for the door. When she reaches it, she pauses and turns to you. She considers you for a moment, and you begin to feel warm underneath her gaze. Finally, she says, “Well, ya comin’? We got lessons to plan for the day. How do ya feel about teaching Science?” Her tone is gruff, commanding, no nonsense. The carefully curated tough exterior of Melissa Schemmenti is back in place. But you’ve seen the slightest glimpse of the human being underneath.

“Right behind you,” you reply, and a tentative grin breaks out across your face as you stand and begin to follow the short woman. You pause briefly though, a thought entering your mind, and you turn to Barabra. Your hands grasp each other behind your back as you rock forward onto the balls of your feet, and you convey your gratitude by giving the older woman the warmest smile you can muster and uttering, “Thank you, Barbara.”

She returns your smile, her own radiant and warm, and you can’t help but feel like you’ve been blessed a bit. “My pleasure, dear. Go on, I’ll see you at lunch.” You nod in agreement, and turn on your heel, following after your lead teacher. You’re not friends - seeing as your time is limited at Abbott, you don’t imagine you ever will be. But you feel lighter, and there’s a newfound respect for the short woman. And for the first time since you stepped foot inside Abbott Elementary, you feel excited for the day before you.

-------

A/N:

Yes, I'm sorry, Gary will be briefly mentioned/perhaps even making small appearances. Stay strong lol. Controversial opinion but I don't hate Gary. Did I think he was good enough for Melissa? HELL NO. Do I think he should have respected her wishes and listened to her when she explained her boundaries? HELL YES. But ultimately he was just a big dumb guy who was infatuated with Melissa Schemmenti, and to that, I relate. Still, I wasn't mad about that split.

Fun fact - if you've watched season 3 episode 4 already, I wrote the Ava roster line before that episode aired. I died laughing when the kids were talking to Gregory about his roster. We don't need to talk about the firefighter exchange... denial is my favorite state.

#melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #Spotify

[mieczyslawsravenclaw]

Best Friends, Is That All? - Stiles Stilinski

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

•Pairing - Stiles Stilinski x Fem!Reader

•Rating - 18+, Minors DNI - Smut - NSFW!!!

•Summary/Prompt - Just a regular ride in Stilesʼ jeep…Or it would be, if the love-struck fool could stop asking you how you feel about him. Guess someone's got a different kind of ride in mind...

•Warnings/Content - Pretty much all bases covered, they definitely fuck, tons of begging and mentions of markings and scratching, they use a condom bc SAFETY, oral oral lots of oral, TONS of petnames sorry its cheesy ik but I canʼt help it, lots of praise too bc thatʼs tasty, oh yeah and boys whimpering bc thatʼs just hot asf, they're in love so it's a little fluffier but still VERY spicy

•Word Count - 4.5k

•Authorʼs Note(s) - As always, just want to write about the spicy ideas I get from having spicy dreams, I feel like this oneʼs a little better than the last one but who knows? >_< /// (YA'LL I EXPECTED LIKE 4 LIKES ON MY SPENCER BLURB AND I GOT OVER 200 TY????? WTF???? )

•Additional Tags - they fuck in the jeep!, stiles is a whore for begging, theyʼre obsessed with eachother ffs, Switch!Stiles but mostly Sub!Stiles, he talks her through it UGH YES, CONSENT IS KEY, heʼs okay with whatever even if that means he doesnʼt get laid, Stiles is one cocky SOB with BDE and just a big dick oops, theyʼre for sure gonna fuck again before the night is over hehehe

“Do you get nervous?ˮ

The question takes me by surprise - Up until now, it had been a normal, routine drive with Stiles, albeit more fidgety than usual from his side. But once the question has left his lips, heʼs even more so, if thatʼs possible.

“Do I…yeah, definitely. Of course I do.ˮ I quirk my eyebrow at him; Heʼs avoiding my eyeline, focused far too much on the road ahead.

Something else, another question maybe, passes his lips, but itʼs far too quiet for me to catch. The poor thing is redder than a tomato, tapping his hands on the wheel as he starts to drive just a little faster unknowingly.

“Huh?ˮ

“A-About…M-mmmmm.ˮ Stiles stutters, dragging out his thought. The jeep seems to follow its driver, stuttering a bit on the road as he pushes the pedal down further.

“Sti, are you okay?ˮ

“Nervous.ˮ He repeats the word like heʼs reading it from a dictionary, not like heʼs using it as a self description. Weʼre getting further into the back roads now, and if I didnʼt know any better, Iʼd think he was bringing me out here to kill me or something.

“Pull over a sec, yeah?ˮ

He nods, bringing the jeep to a crawl along a forest road that could more accurately be called a trail, if anything. The silence is filled only by the bumping of the tires on the gravel, until we reach a stopping point, surrounded by nothing but trees for miles.

“Whatʼs eating at you, Stilinski?ˮ I turn in my seat, eyeing him in the mid-day light. Filtered through the jeepʼs dusty windows, he looks like a modern god, and my heart can hardly take it. Iʼve loved this poor boy a long time, but Iʼve never been brave enough to say it. And now, weʼre all alone in the woods for who knows what reason, and Iʼm more nervous than ever.

“Dʼyou ever get nervous…about me?ˮ He manages, his eyes squeezing shut and his fists clenching tight. He lets out a huge breath, then continues in a ramble, “God, I canʼt believe I even just asked that. Holy shit. I mean, you make me so nervous. Dʼyou know that? Youʼre my best friend, and you make me so nervous I feel like I canʼt even breathe, I want you to just reach over and break the distance between us and give in and just take me. God-ˮ

“Sti.ˮ It comes out half-choked. The lump in my throat swells - oh, my god, he likes me too? - as I scoot ever closer to him.

“Oh, of course not,ˮ He sighs, eyes still closed. He doesnʼt see me shift again, within touching distance, he just keeps on with his nervous blabber. “I mean, someone as beautiful as you with a guy like me? Come on, Stiles, get real.ˮ

“Stiles. Look at me, damn it.ˮ Hands shaking, Iʼm reaching over to touch him when he listens to me, turning and looking all in one motion.

“Oh, hi there.ˮ He blurts, flushing crimson.

“Yes, I get nervous about you, too.ˮ I can hardly believe Iʼm uttering the words. But my fear is trumped by the desperate need for him, right here and right now. I canʼt believe of all times and places, this is where itʼs gonna happen, but I donʼt quite care at the same point, either.

“You do?ˮ

“Stiles, I can barely contain myself around you. These past few months especially, I just-ˮ My reaching hands are still hanging near him, and he notices, finally, taking them in his own. I let out a shaking breath, closing my own eyes in desperate need to escape his searching gaze that sends my pulse skyrocketing. “You-Youʼre everything, do you know that? Iʼve wanted to tell you for so long, but I didnʼt think youʼd even look at me like that, I just thought-ˮ

“Best friends, nothing more?ˮ He chuckles softly, and I can sense the way his lips curl, not even needing to see it to know it. “Yeah, sounds familiar. Hey, look at me. I like you, you idiot.ˮ

My eyes open at the last few words, and seeing it straight from his mouth makes me lose myself for a moment. All I can do is blankly stare, my stomach doing flips. He likes me, he likes me, he likes me!

“Can you say something?ˮ He groans, eyes flicking between my own and down to my mouth. “Like, maybe confirm to me that you like me back? I mean, you kinda said as much, but I just really wanna hear you say it. Can you say it? Is that okay? Youʼre killing me, here-ˮ

“I like you too. Of course I do, who wouldnʼt?ˮ

“You do. For sure? Not just tryna pity me, are you?ˮ He quips, but itʼs clearly halfhearted.

“I really like you, dumbass.ˮ I move closer, dying for something to happen. Anything.

“Are you gonna kiss me now? Or am I gonna kiss you? Somebodyʼs gotta kiss somebody here, or Iʼm gonna lose it. Please, Iʼm begging you.ˮ

“Oh, youʼre begging me now?ˮ I smirk.

“Absolutely I am. If we were outside Iʼd be on my knees for you. Please, just fucking-ˮ He lets go of my hands, reaching for my waist as I grab at his collar.

We meld like itʼs second nature, lips forming together with a satisfied groan from Stiles that makes my legs weak. Somehow, I climb onto him in this cramped little jeep, bumping the steering wheel with my ass. He laughs, almost immediately going back to kissing me, a bit harder now. Itʼs clear in the way I grind my hips down to him with what I feel rising back to meet me that this is gonna take up a lot of our time together today.

I wonder for a moment if anyone will assume what weʼve gotten up to. Of course, Allison knows how I feel about Stiles, Iʼve told her a million times. I wonder if heʼs told Scott. Iʼm sure he has.

“Youʼre thinking too much,ˮ He growls, biting my lip. I moan back. “Thatʼs a lot coming from me,ˮ Another kiss, coming down my jaw now as I catch my breath. “I know. But…what can I do to get your mind back to me, hmm?ˮ

“That. Keep doing that.ˮ My hands tangle in the back of his hair, the tousled sort-of-waves that have grown out as of late being tugged as he nips at my neck.

“You want me to keep begging for you too?ˮ He teases, his lips coming up to my ear. “Cause I can do that all day, baby.ˮ

I nod, unable to grasp words with his breath against me.

“You gonna let me take you here, right now? Itʼs killing me to feel you on me like this and not have you. Please, let me have you, I canʼt stand it.ˮ

“T-tell me what you want me to do.ˮ I grasp harder at his hair, and he lets out a whimper. Oh, my god, that.

“I want you to fuckinʼ destroy me, and Iʼll beg until you do. God, Iʼm shameless, I donʼt even care if weʼre out here all alone or not, just please for the love of fuck, ride me like nothing else matters.ˮ

I pull his lips back to mine, silencing him for a time as we continue to make our own rhythm, learning one another with moans and laughs and tension unparalleled. Itʼs great, too great-I smack my head against the jeepʼs roof, letting out a yelp.

“Oh, shit-ˮ Stiles pulls me down against him, biting his lip when I land.

“Iʼm okay. Ow.ˮ

“How about we move this to the back?ˮ He pops the door open, letting me out first. Despite his words, heʼs back on my neck the moment weʼre outside, making it hard for me to push the seat down to get into the back.

“Stiles…ˮ I sigh, fumbling with the latch.

“Sorry, just want you-god, just want you so bad.ˮ He pulls back, reaching forward and sending the seat down with a practiced grasp.

I clamber inside, watching him hyperfocus on giving us as much room as possible. Front seats pushed down and forward, clutter thrown into the front, then heʼs back on me, kissing me and tugging at my shorts.

“Can I…?ˮ He motions, and I nod, letting him pull them down. His lips come back to mine, his fingers playing at the edge of my panties.

“Please-ˮ

“Youʼre begging now?ˮ He chuckles, his voice lower and throatier. Gods, Iʼm wet as fuck just from that.

“Shamelessly.ˮ I echo his earlier words, earning another small laugh.

“You want me, baby? How bad?ˮ He teases, hand grasping at my hip.

“Real-Really bad. Want you so bad, want you to-ˮ I canʼt even finish the thought, as he presses against my clit with his thumb. I moan, bucking up against him.

“Sorry, Iʼm impatient, you know that.ˮ He amends, kissing down my jaw and pulling back. He sits me up against the door, pulling my legs up and pressing a deep kiss against my opening. “Youʼre soaking, I can tell even through these little things.ˮ

I shudder, eyeing him in between my legs. Itʼs a sight to behold, and he isnʼt even getting started yet.

“Howʼs about we take em off, huh? Donʼt need these where weʼre going.ˮ He discards the fabric, and when his eyes meet the heat pooling below my belly, his jaw goes slack. I could almost swear he was drooling.

For a moment, Iʼm self conscious, folding in on my body under his gaze. But he holds my thighs back down, shaking his head.

“Uh-uh. No shame, right, princess?ˮ He hovers over me, eyes flicking back and forth between his focus and my face. “Now, you just let me know what feels good and what doesnʼt, okay? Wanna make sure you enjoy yourself.ˮ

“Stiles, Iʼm dying here, please just touch me already.ˮ

He smirks, another shake of the head, this one with a cocky air to it.

“If you insist, sweetheart.ˮ He brings his lips down to meet my opening, licking a stripe up that sends my hands grasping at the jeepʼs seat.

“Sti-ˮ

He hums against me, his grip on my thighs tightening. A few more precise licks, and heʼs delving into my core, filling the jeep with my desperate cries. Fuck, heʼs good, and Iʼm already closer by the minute.

“Taste so good, baby…ˮ He murmurs, getting lost in the task as my hands tug at his hair. When he shifts up to suck at my clit, the noise it brings from me is almost inhuman. “Feel good?ˮ

“Yes- oh my god, yes-ˮ

“Want more? How does this feel, hmm?ˮ He presses a finger to my opening, and I push against him, wordlessly begging. He chuckles, pushing it in fluidly. One, a few motions, and clearly Iʼm still desperate so he adds in another. “Talk to me, baby. Use your words.ˮ

“You want me to talk right now?ˮ I moan, my mind spinning in the pleasure-filled void heʼs trapped me in.

“I know, itʼs just too good, huh? You donʼt have to talk, your noises are more than enough.ˮ He curls his fingers, pulling against a sweet spot that has me crying out.

“Stiles!ˮ

Back down to me with his lips now, too, I can feel the smirk that starts up hearing me say his name like that. He knows exactly where he has me, and heʼs gonna relish in it. Not only are his fingers working magic now, but along with his tongue? Iʼm gonna break, and he knows it.

“Iʼm-Oh, donʼt stop-ˮ

A hummed approval is all I get from the usually chatty lips of Stiles Stilinski, his beard that heʼs let grow in recently brushing over me while he brings me to the edge. Iʼm practically drowning in the pleasure, and heʼs the air I need. One more fluid motion, just the right one, and Iʼm spilling curses from my mouth and wetness from my heat. He laps it up heartily, a satisfied groan from the recess of his throat vibrating against me.

“You…I just…wow.ˮ He pauses for a moment to look over me with a smile beginning to tug at the corner of his lips. I flush, back to being nervous under his eye.

“Stunned you into silence, eh, Stilinski?ˮ

“Oh, Iʼm far from done. Just figured Iʼd give you a break.ˮ He quips with a smirk.

“I donʼt need one.ˮ I blurt, the words faster than my brain.

“No?ˮ He laughs. “Okay, then. Well, if thatʼs the case, Iʼm begging you to get back to being all over me.ˮ

“In what way?ˮ I smirk, looking at his coated fingers.

He snorts, rolling his eyes.

“Funny.ˮ Keeping up eye contact, he licks his fingers clean. He seems to enjoy the groan it elicits from me. “Like that, huh? Iʼm looking forward to finding out what else you like.ˮ

I sit up, pressing to him once again. He tastes like me, and chuckles against my kiss. The clink of undoing his belt buckle becomes the sounds of rustling fabrics, my shirt tossed, his gone. His chest to mine, warm and inviting, and his pants kicked to the side. I fumble with my bra, my cheeks red.

“I…ˮ

“Yʼknow we can stop anytime, yeah?ˮ He amends, sensing my hesitation. “Like, of course Iʼm okay with whatever, I want you in all the ways. But only if youʼre comfortable. Consentʼs important.ˮ

“Oh, I want you. I want all of you, of course I do.ˮ I sigh. “Just…real nervous about how I look.ˮ

“You?ˮ Heʼs incredulous, pulling back and sweeping my body with his gaze. “Holy shit, no way. Nuh uh. You, youʼre…God, youʼre gorgeous, are you kidding me? Every part of you fits just right with the other, promise. You donʼt have to do anything you donʼt wanna do, but you gotta know that. You gotta know Iʼm gonna love how you look. I donʼt even need to have seen it yet to know. You just…are.ˮ

Iʼve been rendered speechless, and all I can do is take it off while he rambles.

“Not to say that you gotta just cause Iʼm saying all this. You get that, right? Iʼm not saying it just to get you to-ˮ He stops cold when Iʼve tossed the bra, my hands still hiding the majority of my chest. With a gentle grasp, he reaches to uncover me. “Can I…?ˮ

“Yeah, Iʼm just nervous.ˮ

“Thatʼs okay. Me, too. Youʼre beautiful though.ˮ He lifts my cover away softly, eyeing me with precision and adoration. He pokes at the moles and freckles that adorn my upper body, smiling as his eyes meet mine again. “See? Perfect. Nothing to worry about.ˮ

“Stiles, I adore you.ˮ I blurt, tears starting to form.

“Oh, sweetie.ˮ He pulls me closer, kissing my nose. “We can stop if youʼre really too nervous. I donʼt mind. Iʼll just jack off later or something, no big.ˮ

I snort at his words. “As much as Iʼd love to watch that. No, Iʼm okay. Just needed a moment, I guess. Trust me, Iʼm still dying for you.ˮ

His face goes red. “Youʼd- huh? Wow, thatʼs an image. Maybe another time, yeah? No shortage of things to think about for that, especially now Iʼve seen you and itʼs not just my imagination spurring me on.ˮ

“Youʼll have more to go on soon, too.ˮ I pull him back down onto me, kissing him.

“Fuck, youʼre hot.ˮ He moans. “Youʼre killing me.ˮ

“Destroying you,ˮ I correct him. “Thatʼs what you wanted, isnʼt it?ˮ

“Still want it,ˮ He grasps at me, nothing but his boxers to hide that want now. “Very much still want it.ˮ

More kissing ensues, and weʼre groping at eachother like weʼre high-schoolers again. Somehow, at some point, heʼs as bare as I am now and the way weʼre pressed to one another is the most tempting thing Iʼve ever experienced in my entire life.

“Hey, so, uh- not to seem like a copycat or anything, but…ˮ He breathes against my lips, his voice catching. “Yʼknow, nervous about how I look, now that Iʼm thinking about it. Not really very manly of me, I know, whatever.ˮ

“Fuck manliness,ˮ I amend, letting him pull back. “Youʼre perfect, you…oh, how could you not be?ˮ

What a sight he is to behold, in all his naked glory. Goosebumps pepper my skin as I look him over, from the moles that adorn him across his body the same way they do across his face, to the burning red that sits underneath his pale skin…to of course what heʼs referencing concern over the most. And thereʼs certainly none needed, in my opinion. No concerns, except how Iʼm gonna need to stretch out around that. Oh, my.

“Stiles…ˮ My voice, my gaze, softens. His shoulders drop. “Youʼre stunning.ˮ

“Not just saying that, are you?ˮ He brushes non-existent dirt from his shoulder. “My ego will be sorely bruised.ˮ

“Should I tell you or should I show you?ˮ I lick my lips, gaze going between his legs and back to his face. The noise he makes would be comical in any other circumstance.

“Fuck, definitely show me.ˮ

Now, itʼs his turn to lie back. And Iʼm control. I must have absolutely stunned him, because heʼs got nothing to say, just watching me as I lower over him. Once I begin to kiss at and lick stripes over him, though, heʼs got plenty to say - I donʼt recognize half the curses he lets fly, they must be Polish or something. But fly they do, and his hand is at my hair when I start to take him in my mouth, grasp tight.

“Oh, my god-ˮ

I keep it up until he stops me a few moments later, a funny little quirk to his brows.

“God, I donʼt ever wanna stop this, but if you keep going like that Iʼm gonna fuckinʼ bust, and I gotta know what you feel like riding me first, please?ˮ He reaches blindly around, cursing. “Fuckinʼ - just need my wallet, whereʼd my jeans go?ˮ

I laugh, pulling back to help his search. When he comes up with the item in question, I understand- protection, no shit.

“Yeah, okay, now Iʼm ready.ˮ He nods after heʼs prepared himself, sitting up against the seat. He helps position me over him, eyes locked. “Oh, my god, is this actually real? I feel like Iʼm in some kinda magical dream.ˮ

“Very real. I remember what I had for breakfast and everything.ˮ I quip, trying to ease the nerves. They wonʼt go, though, and the knot in my stomach is ever-tighter as he brushes against my opening. “Fuck, I want you inside me, now.ˮ

“Kinda up to you, there.ˮ He holds me tight around the waist, eyes pleading. “Iʼm ready when you are, though, rock my fuckinʼ world sweetheart.ˮ

The need is too great to put it off any longer; I let myself push down to meet him, the entering gasps we let out mingling in the short bit of air between us. His head falls back, his hands only guides as I bring myself further down, slowly, slowly, slowly. I take a moment around the first few inches to breathe; as ridiculous as it sounds, Iʼve never had someone quite as…gifted as him.

“Fuuuuuck, youʼre tight.ˮ He groans. “So thatʼs how you feel. No imagination or anything my hands can do compares to that.ˮ

“Iʼm only getting started,ˮ I reply. “Genuinely, in all honesty, not a joke or anything. Youʼre…a lot to take.ˮ

“Having fun strokinʼ my ego?ˮ He chuckles.

“Tilʼ you give me something else to stroke.ˮ

“Fuck, thatʼs a promise.ˮ He ruts up against me, bringing a cry from my lips. “Shit, sorry, reflex. You feel so good, I just want more of you. Did I hurt you?ˮ

“No, it felt too good.ˮ I admit. “Just taking it slow cause Iʼm not really used to anything this…ˮ

“Big?ˮ Heʼs got the widest smirk on his face now.

“Howʼs that for your precious ego?ˮ I flirt, pushing down another bit with a sharp breath. The stretching pain is worth it for the look on his face.

“My ego is just fine. Big, just like my- Oh, my god-ˮ He stutters out, his bravado going out the window when I start to rock my hips back and forth. And was that a whimper? “Oh, please donʼt stop, keep going. Oh, god-ˮ

“Long as you keep begging.ˮ

The more I move, the easier it gets to take him, until Iʼm fairly close to bottoming out. Heʼs holding me closer than ever, kissing me whenever he gets the chance to, and the noises and whimpers havenʼt stopped. It spurs me, the collision of our bodies growing ever-faster as he cries my name and begs me not to stop. I wonʼt, I canʼt, itʼs all too good and Iʼm chasing a high that I find myself soon riding out onto him. Now, Iʼll be the one saying his name, his real name.

“God, that sounds so good coming from you,ˮ He moans, “Iʼve never heard it sound so good.ˮ

“Hereʼs to many more.ˮ I stutter out between the motions weʼre making and the sounds accompanying. Heʼs less in control now, thrusting up to meet me and pushing me down to him. Heʼs made plenty of marks on me, from the hickeys littering my skin to the surefire bruising my hips will have from his grasp. I can only hope to either hide whatʼs visible or risk the teasing the pack will no doubt give us later.

“Please, take me all the way, Iʼll help you through it.ˮ He begs, kissing me again once Iʼve come down far enough. “Youʼve got this, baby, please?ˮ

No words, just a resolute nod, and his response is a repeated thanks. I push further, to the very end of him, my nails digging into his shoulders.

“Good, baby- fuck , youʼre doing good, pretty girl. So good, so good for me. There you go.ˮ He kisses my burning skin, the devouring fire weʼve made together consuming us both as I shift around under his grasp. He doesnʼt force, only guides, and makes a rhythm for me to follow with sputtered curses abounding. “God, you feel so good. Does it feel good for you? Hurt?ˮ

“Only enough to make me want it more,ˮ I moan, letting my head drop to his shoulder. “F-fuck me.ˮ

“Is that a statement or a request?ˮ He doesnʼt wait for an answer as I slow, taking the lead and snapping up into me. Once, twice, I lose count. He seems to get lost, too, senseless mumbles and moans filling the jeep as my hand streaks the fogged window. Heʼs entirely filled me up, and I want for nothing more than to go until I canʼt anymore.

He guards my head when I raise back up, making sure I wonʼt hit the roof again, and when it starts to rain in the secluded forest weʼve hidden ourselves in, itʼs not the only thing sending waves crashing down around us. Another thing I lose count of - heʼs far too good at this, and I tell him so.

“Been thinkinʼ about this for a while, so that counts as practice, yeah?ˮ The sweat sticks a bit of his hair to his forehead, and he looks about ready to tire out.

“You losing steam on me?ˮ I tease, brushing his hair back.

“Hell, no!ˮ He groans when I move my hips, sat bottomed out but doing nothing else. “Iʼm pretty close, thatʼs all. But when Iʼm done with you here Iʼm not done with you for the night, if youʼre willing.ˮ

“Well, if youʼre close…ˮ My lips curl deviously, and I bring myself back to the pace and movement that had had him howling earlier. Heʼs back to it in an instant, but his whines are more pronounced, drug out.

“Fuck, please, please donʼt stop-ˮ

“Gonna cum for me?ˮ

“Y-yes, yes-ˮ

“Good.ˮ Itʼs like a growl from me, and his cries only grow from it, until Iʼm sure at least anyone with supernatural hearing can catch onto us if theyʼre anywhere near.

“Oh- Oh, my god, Iʼm gonna-ˮ Stiles holds me tight, the most animalistic noise of it all loosing from his lips as he loads the condom full inside me. Weʼre hot, sweaty, and as close together as we possibly can be, but he still pulls me closer, taking a deep, heavy breath.

“So…how was I?ˮ

His laugh is quick, choked.

“Are you serious? Fuck, that was amazing. Iʼd just as soon do it again, but Iʼm…a little depleted at the moment.ˮ He eyes where we meet with an eyebrow wiggle. “Hey, we just had sex.ˮ

“That we did.ˮ I laugh.

“You and me, best friends. Just had sex. Well, we might wanna rethink that whole just best friends idea, huh?ˮ He kisses my cheek, letting out a content sigh. “No rush on that, Iʼm just talking. You know how I get. Just…excited that this happened. That it is happening. And…Iʼd be okay with calling you something more than my best friend. If youʼre into that.ˮ

“Very much into that.ˮ

“So…girlfriend?ˮ

“Shit, I was gonna say fiancee or wife. Or soulmate.ˮ

His eyes bug for a moment, then he starts to laugh.

“Youʼre fuckinʼ with me. Youʼre hilarious. Alright, girlfriend-future-fiancee-wife-soulmate-whatever-you-want, howʼs that sound?ˮ

“A little long, if Iʼm being honest.ˮ

“Long didnʼt seem to bother you just a moment ago.ˮ

“Mieczyslaw!ˮ

“Still sounds beautiful cominʼ from you. Like…ˮ He catches my glare, and smirks. “Nevermind. Letʼs get this cleaned up and head back, huh? Thereʼs a pizza about to be made with our names on it.ˮ

#stiles stilinski smut #stiles stilinski #sub!stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski x reader

[lovelykhaleesiii]

The Wolf & the Stray Girl. [PROLOGUE]

PAIRING: Werewolf!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader [Little Red Riding Hood AU]

WORDS: 531.

SUMMARY: Nestled in the outskirts of a desolate village, it was known that the woods were a dark, fearsome place not to be ventured. Yet something enchanting lived amongst its shadows, you were certain. And some may call it your bold willingness or others, your naive curiosity, would ultimately uncover the truth.

WARNINGS: mentions of stalking, missing persons scenario.

A/N - my brain is starting to function, and this plot is finally coming along. hope this entices some of ya'll I am actually so excited for this mini series to get out! hoping it’ll be 3/3 (excluding Prologue + Epilogue).

"You stay on that path, girl... Heed my words, carefully. Stay on that road, or you'll end up suffering whatever grave fate stole your sister from us.

The woods are a dangerous place, daughter. In the depths of a mere shadow between the bushes, are hungry eyes lurking. Sudden yet simple sounds, like that of a branch cracking beneath the weight of a stranger's step, abrupt enough to make you twitch towards its direction. These simple minded mishaps that our senses are spoiled in, may mean much more in these woods. Unfathomable forces beyond our feeble, mortal minds will attempt to lure you, eager to lead you astray, before captivating all your senses. Witless and mindless, your mind adrift before you take that first step off that path, you are already long lost, my dear daughter. These woods are life or death. Do not trust anything other than your intuition. I will say it just this once more... Heed my words, dearest daughter. Stay on that road, or we have lost you already..." Your father's daunting words echoed through your slumber mind. His eerie tone, blood-curdling enough, as icy chills spiked across your tender flesh. Regaining consciousness from your slumber, your tiresome eyes began to stir, fighting the sleep as they would flutter awake. In the fleeting moments it took for your sight to readjust to the dim, moonlit setting, your gaze naturally wanders towards the clear, glass window. Pondering over the misty darkness, the beaming silver rays of the moonlight provided a familiar and comforting sentiment. As your eyes lurked wondrously, the sudden grip that wretched at your heart, gripping your natural breath was brutal. In the near distance, just plain enough to decipher, two piercing, lilac orbs gazed upon your direction firmly, without even so much of a blink. Your soft lips fell agape from pure fright, an audible gasp sighing from your breath, as you hastily seated yourself up, leaning closer towards the window. In the sparing moments of your quick and instinctive movements however, it seemed whatever creature that had been prowling in the mask of the shadows, was gone. The direction, the spot in which you swore, you vividly remember having noticed the pair of enchanting, violet eyes ceased to exist. "Ouch-" You utter, your head falling towards your front, as you stare at the minor pinch mark, remaining from your mindless outburst. You needed to make sure this was no dream, that you truly were wide awake, and that all your vital senses were very much functioning. "The woods are a dangerous place, girl..." Your father's words once more ingrained into your memory, his seldom voice filling your ears. And yet, something about those lingering, arresting eyes in the distance, something about the way they did not terrify you, a habitual, gut feeling that churned inside of you, gathering that whomever the eyes belonged to, did not seem to want to hurt you. Your mind absently carried on indulging in such lucrative thoughts, your restless body began to find itself yearning for slumber once more... The day ahead would be a strenuous one, rest was much needed now, before daylight broke and called for you...

general taglist [bold means I could NOT tag you] - @evenstaris @bel-bottoms @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @hightowhxre @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @elegantsplendour @randomdragonfires @sylasthegrim @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea @sahvlren @aemondtargaryensrider @watercolorskyy @hypnos-daughter-certified

Aegon ii taglist - @who-told-you-this-was-butter @f4ll-for-you @amiraisgoingthruit @bucknastysbabe @jawline-of-steel

#aegon ii targaryen #tom glynn carney #TGC #werewolf!Aegon ii #aegon ii targaryen imagines #aegon ii targaryen imagine #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon ii targaryen fanfiction #aegon ii targaryen smut #aegon ii targaryen angst #aegon ii targaryen fluff #alpha!Aegon ii #aegon ii x fem!reader #aegon ii x y/n #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd imagines #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction

[paintyoureyeswithavividmind]

close to home | chapter sixty three

close to home | chapter sixty three

plot: the reader and Daryl reconnect in a treehouse

series masterlist

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 3,499 Warnings: violence, blood, typical twd, alcohol use, tipsy sex (the best kind tbh) no plot just smut so ya'll are welcome A/N: thank you for reading!!

By nightfall, a fire was going, Daryl returned from a quick and successful hunt, and you unpacked all your supplies. He’d grabbed mattress pads and blankets, pillows, food, water, candles, and a bottle of wine. Jerry must’ve snuck in one of his cobblers because a small one was sitting in one of the bags. There were also tarps that you didn’t know what for--until Daryl got back and nailed them to cover the windows. 

It was dark in the treehouse except for the fire and a few candles. You had already eaten what Daryl brought back--rabbit--and were eating the cobbler straight out of the container with the open bottle of wine. 

“I gotta have Jerry tell me how he makes these.” You mumbled through your food. “I could eat one every day of my life. 

Daryl smiled at you but didn’t say anything. He’d been quiet since he came back from hunting--which was only about thirty minutes anyway. He was happy, you could tell, and you knew he was at peace, which is why he was quiet. 

You grabbed the wine bottle by its neck and took a few sips. “Where did you get this?”

“Stole it from Ezekiel.”

You chuckled and took another sip, feeling it bubble in your chest. “He’s gonna kill you.”

He grabbed the bottle from you and drank from it. “He ain’ ever gonna know.” 

You smiled at Daryl and lifted the fork up to his mouth. He rolled his eyes but ate off it anyway.

“Tell me about you from before,” Daryl said, turning around to lay back with his head in your lap. 

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

You smiled and sat your hand on his upper chest as you thought about his request. You weren’t even sure where to begin, honestly. You decided to first start with your family: your two sisters and mother and father. You told him about growing up on a farm, all the crap that came with it, and all the trouble you got up to.

You told him funny stories about you in high school and the friends you had. About all the silly fights you got into with your sisters and even your cousins. About when you ran away from home, but your mom caught you right before you skipped town. 

“College was nice. I made a lot of friends and had so much fun,” You said, putting the wine bottle down. You were definitely buzzed, and you knew Daryl was too from how he laughed freely along with you. 

You reached down and unbuttoned his shirt's first couple of buttons to gently run your fingers against his chest. “When I got accepted into medical school, me and my sisters got so drunk at the bar that the sheriff had to give us a ride home.”

“I woulda loved ya back then if we ever met,” Daryl said, looking up at you. 

“You wouldn’t have even looked twice. I was a farm-raised nobody.” 

He shook his head. “I woulda loved ya. Woulda saw you on the street and been a goner.”

You smiled and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “You’re crazy, that’s what you are.” You rubbed your hand against his upper chest; his skin was smooth other than old scars. With your other hand you grabbed the bottle and took a long sip. It was almost done. 

“Tell me about you from before.”

“Ya don’ wanna know about that. Probably would walk right on outta here.”

“I wouldn’t,” You cupped his cheeks and stared down at him. “It’s too cold outside for me to leave. I’d have to at least stay here until the sun was up.”

Daryl swatted your hands away and then begrudgingly told you about him. You already knew more than just the basics, such as how his mother and father died--and you knew how Merle died already. So he told you about his years in high school and how he was always either ditching or suspended for ditching. Which didn’t surprise you. 

He’d had a few friends that Merle didn’t fuck up for him, but after they graduated, they went off to college, and he stayed home.

“I was a piece shit, honestly, didn’ do nothin’ good for myself.” Daryl told you. 

“That’s not true,” You said, although you partially agreed with him. Not about the piece of shit part, but the old Daryl didn’t seem to make the best decisions and resembled nothing of the man you’d married. “Besides, you’re one of the strongest, bravest, smartest, and sexiest men I know.”

“One of ‘em? Who are the others?”

You laughed at his joke. “You know what I mean, old man.”

“It’s been a while since ya called me that. Didn’ realize till now just how much I missed it.” Daryl sat up and spun around. He grabbed you by the legs and pulled you closer, and you set your legs on his upper thighs, and his were outstretched behind you. 

You set your hands on either of his cheeks as your head swooned a little bit. You and him were definitely wine tipsy; enough to take the edges and awkwardness off. But you felt safe up in the treehouse, and you felt protected. You played with the scruff on his chin as he stared at you. 

“Do ya believe me?”

You nodded and pressed your forehead against his lips, getting a few soft kisses. You set your hands on his chest and unbuttoned his shirt the rest of the way so you could see his skin. You kissed his collarbone and wrapped your arms around his lower waist. His muscles were taunted under your fingertips, and you could feel him tensing each time you kissed him. 

Daryl mumbled your name, and his body relaxed against your touch. You scooted closer and moved your lips up his neck. You pushed his shirt off and ran your hands down his biceps; he was so muscular, so strong, even when relaxed. You couldn’t stop yourself from running your fingernails along the lengths of his arm, which left goosebumps in their wake. 

You moved your hand down his abdomen and to his jeans, fumbling with the button and zipper for a second while running your tongue up the length of his neck. 

“Jesus Christ,” Daryl grunted. 

You smiled against his skin before pushing your hand between his jeans and briefs and palming his growing erection. You sucked gently on one of the spots on his neck you knew he loved, and you felt him grow even harder. 

One of Daryl’s hands reached up to pull out your braid, and your hair fell over your shoulders, tickling his skin, and he fisted his hand through your hair at the base of your head. You moaned as you sucked on his skin, dipping your hand into his briefs and running it along his velvety smooth skin. 

“You’re so hard, honey, is everything okay?” You whispered in his ear. 

His chest was moving up and down rapidly as he nodded. You squeezed him before wiping your thumb across his leaking precum tip. 

“So fuckin’ sexy.”

“Tell me what you want, old man.” You leaned back to look at his beautiful eyes. “Tell me how you want me.”

“On your knees.”

Not even a minute later, you were naked with your legs spread out, ass in the air, and Daryl was thrusting into you hard from behind. The position had him reaching parts inside of you you didn’t think were possible, and you struggled not to cry from how good it felt. 

Daryl’s hands held your hips tight as he slammed into you repeatedly. 

Then one of those hands wrapped around your hair, and he pulled you upwards. The pain from it was nothing compared to how good it felt being dominated like that, and you moaned loudly and closed your eyes. One hand wrapped around your middle, with a hand palming your breast, while the other gripped your hip. 

“Ya like that?” His breath was hot in your ear, sending chills down your body. “Ya gotta use ya words, pretty girl.”

“Yes, yes,” You were desperate. His hoarse voice in your ear and his grunts and moans were too much for you. “Daryl, I’m going to-.” You couldn’t even finish your sentence before you were coming. You clenched around him as you moaned and pleaded his name louder than ever. 

“Such a good girl,” Daryl said. His thrusts were like torture through your orgasm, and you could hear how wet you were. 

“Daryl,” You moaned. You couldn’t believe this side of him; it had to have been the alcohol. He was never this talkative. 

“Ya want more, baby girl? Tell me what ya want.”

You couldn’t even think straight, and then when you felt his lips clamp down around your neck, your eyes rolled back, and you were speechless. But you thanked God Daryl wasn’t. 

“Ya so fuckin’ wet for me.”

“I missed this little pussy so bad, gorgeous.”

“Fuck, (Y/N)...”

“Suck on these for me, will ya, darlin’?”

Without even hesitating, you opened your mouth and sucked harshly on his fingers before they were ripped away from you, and within seconds you felt them rub against your clit in time with his thrusts. 

“Daryl…” You nearly yelled and leaned your head back against your shoulder. 

“Ya know how good ya taste, baby girl?” He asked before bringing his fingers up to his mouth. You turned to watch him; his cheeks hollowed as he sucked you off his fingers. Then he returned them to your clit for a few seconds before showing them in your mouth. 

You moaned against his fingers, licking and sucking until he was satisfied. His fingers were only on you for a few seconds before you nearly started yelling when you came again. 

“That’s right, baby girl,” He grunted, thrusting through your orgasm. “Tell me how much you like it?”

“Oh God, Daryl, so much.” You moaned loudly. “I need more of you.”

Your back hit the mattress pad, and he was slamming into you before you could blink. Your legs were jelly, and you couldn’t bring them up to wrap around his waist, so they went slack as he fucked you hard. You couldn’t fathom how much stamina he had tonight, nor all his dirty talk. 

“Daryl…” You whined as he repeatedly hit the same spot again and again, winding you up all over again. 

“I know, baby girl, I know.” His voice was so deep and hoarse in your ear, and you ran your fingernails along his back, making him groan. “‘M gonna fuckin’ cum inside of ya, fill ya up so good. Make ya mine.”

“I already am,” You whimpered at a particularly hard thrust, and you could feel yourself starting to get sore. Tears leaked from your eyes at how good it felt, and he paused for a second and looked at you, wiping them away. 

“Feel good?” He asked you under his breath. 

You nodded. “Keep going, hard.”

Daryl fucked you like he did the night that he asked you to marry him; hard, with his hands, mouth, tongue, and teeth everywhere he could touch. You were sure you left scratches bleeding down his back as you came one more time before he did, filling you so much so you could feel it leaking out before he even finished. 

You winced when he pulled out of you before letting your sweaty body relax into the mattress bad. 

“Fuck,” Daryl muttered. “Darlin’, ya bleedin’.”

“Hmm?”

“I made ya bleed, I- I am so sorry.” 

You sat up partially and saw little blood on him. “It’s okay. It’s been a really long time since I had it like that. I’m just sore, it doesn’t hurt.”

“Are ya sure?”

You nodded, “Just get something to clean me off.”

He chuckled, gave you a yes, ma’am, and was gone for a second before he was back, taking care of you like he always did. Then he brought you into his arms, and you sighed with content against his chest. 

“We should drink like that more often. You were…”

“Don’ remind me.”

You smiled and looked up at him. “I loved it. Why haven’t you said anything like that before?”

“Just kept it up in my head, I guess.”

You snuggled closer to him under the warm blanket. “Well, I except to be called baby girl much more often, old man.”

“Ain’ an old man.”

***

The following day, you woke up to an erection digging into your back so hard you were sure it left it bruise, and you woke Daryl to give his body what it clearly wanted. The two of you made slow, tender love to each other for nearly an hour before your stomach grumbled too hard, and Daryl went to fetch you something to eat from the supplies you brought. 

After eating, you got dressed and went outside. The sun was shining again, and about a foot of beautiful, crystal snow had partially frozen over. Your boots crunched over it as you and Daryl worked to clear the platform and the parts of the roof you could reach. 

“I wanna walk around. I need to stretch my legs.” You told him as you grabbed your weapons. Your machete went to its usual home, but you left the bow behind. 

Daryl followed you down the rope ladder, and you both took a few seconds to look around the area before walking. Flurries were floating around from the branches above you and the wind, so when you looked at Daryl, his hair was coated in them. You knew yours must match. 

“You wanna know what I love most about you, Dixon.” You asked him. 

“What, Dixon?”

You smiled, your heart fluttering. “That you’re not what I expected you to be. When we first met.”

“What did you expect?”

You shrugged. “Some macho, manly man who didn’t have a care about anything in the world.”

“Ya sayin’ I ain’ manly?”

Laughing loudly, you looped your arm around his. “I’m not saying you aren’t. I’m just saying that you’re the sweetest guy I’ve ever known. Both before and after. And I just really admire you for it.” Daryl blushed and shook his head, and you stood on your toes to kiss his red cheek. “Just as I said, sweet.”

Daryl grunted in response and said he was going to check the snares. You watched as he walked away, admiring him in his shawl and how he carried his crossbow. He was a perfect figure against snow blankets, and you bit your lip as you watched him. 

There was still lingering anxiety as you looked at him. You believed that he wouldn’t let what happened happen again. But you weren’t quite sure about it. He didn’t know the future. You didn’t. And it killed you to think that it could happen again. You weren’t sure if you could survive it. You barely survived it the first time--if you had, you wouldn’t have fallen into him again so quickly. You would’ve been able to let him walk out of your room at the kingdom and be content with never seeing him again. 

You sighed to yourself and crossed your arms. It was freezing but the fresh air felt nice against your rosy cheeks. And the surrounding area was so peacefully quiet that you wanted to bask in it. 

Something hit the back of your head, and you felt snow fall into the back of your jacket. You scoffed and turned again. “Did you really just throw a snowball at me, Dixon?” 

He had another one in his hand, about five yards from you. He tossed it into the air and caught it. “I did.”

“What are you, ten years old?” You asked but bent down to pick up snow in your own hand. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him about to throw another one at you, and you quickly jumped behind a tree. 

“Can’ hide from me, foreve’,” 

You smiled widely and leaned against the tree. You could hear the crunch of his footsteps, and when he was close enough, you ducked around the tree and jumped on his back. You shoved the snow into his face and laughed loudly. 

“I let ya do that,” Daryl said as he wiped snow off his nose.

Your boots hit the ground, and then Daryl grabbed you, pinning you against the tree before you even realized it. “You did not. You must be losing your touch in your golden years,” You said. 

“That ain’ what ya said last night.” Daryl dipped his head and whispered in your ear. “Think ya was tellin’ me how much ya need me.” His voice was deep, and you felt your stomach flip. 

You looked up at him as flashbacks of the night before and then this morning when he was buried deep inside you. You felt heat run straight through you, grabbed him by his shawl, and brought his lips to yours. You could still hear those words ringing in your head. 

Daryl pushed you against the tree with his body, and you reached down to palm him over his jeans. His lips moved quickly over yours, and his hands couldn’t find a spot to settle. 

“Gotta get ya back to the treehouse, huh?” He mumbled against your lips. 

You shook your head and unzipped his jeans. “Here.”

“It’s freezin’ out,”

“I don’t fucking care,” You said, kissing him again. 

Daryl groaned against your lips before stepping away and taking off his shawl. You were instantly touching him again, trying to reconnect your lips when he had you lie down on the shawl, and he worked at taking off your sweats. You could feel the cold from the snow as soon as your pants were off, but you ignored it. 

Your cold fingers worked at lowering his pants enough to get his cock out, and you had only just started moving your hand up and down when he swatted your hand away to spread your legs for him. You bit your lip at seeing him lining up to fuck you. 

His fingers were as cold as ice when he rubbed them against your clit and teased your opening. Your eyes screwed shut, and you moaned softly. “Don’t tease me.”

He didn’t say anything as he thrust hard into you, which had you nearly yelling in arousal. Your fingers locked around his neck as he fucked you. You could feel snow everywhere, and your legs tingled with cold, but it was exhilarating. Having him fuck you outside like this. 

“Fuck, ya so wet, baby girl,” Daryl grunted in your ear. “All for me.”

***

You and Daryl arrived at Alexandria four days later, hand in hand. Eugene was manning the gate, and he was happy to see the two of you. There were a few other people on watch. Some of them Daryl hadn’t met you, so you introduced them. The streets were slushy, and you kept slipping next to him as you walked toward your house. 

"(Y/N)!”

You smiled as soon as you heard Judith yelling for you, and when you saw her running as fast as she could, you dropped Daryl’s hand to meet her halfway. You scooped her up and spun her around before putting her back on the ground and cupping her cheeks. “I missed you so much, Jude.” You said. 

“You missed the first snow,” She whined. “We didn’t get to have our annual snowball fight. And you were gone longer than you said you’d be.”

“I know, sweetie. I’m sorry. I came as soon as Adam cleared me.”

“Can I see your scar?” She asked with excitement. 

You laughed and nodded. “Later. Look who’s with me.”

Judith looked around you and smiled wide when she saw her uncle. “Daryl!”

You smiled as she threw herself into his arms, and then the door opened, and Michonne walked out in her pajamas. She was thrown off when she saw you but quickly came over to hug you. “I wasn’t expecting you back so soon. I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I wanted to surprise the kids.” You said, adjusting the bow on your shoulder. You lowered your voice and looked at your best friend, who kept glancing back at Daryl. “We want to work things out. I want to work things out. I love him.”

She slowly smiled and nodded. “I’m happy to see it. Is he moving back in?”

“Yeah, but we can move into one of the emptier houses.”

“No, I want you with me,” Michonne told you. “And it would break Judith and RJ's heart if you did.”

#daryl x reader #daryl dixion x reader #the walking dead daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl twd #twd #daryl x you

[c0wgurlz]

Trouble On My Left, Trouble On My Right

Chapter 1: Sweet Caroline

Kayce Dutton x Reader/OC - Friends to Lovers

He grabs ahold of the belt loops on either side of my hips. “I just-” he shakes me, “I’m tired of people treating me like some wounded animal or-or like some bomb just waiting to go off. You’re the one person who-,” he licks his lips, “you’re my person. Please don’t do that to me.”

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UPDATE: CHAPTER 2

I'm a long-time fic writer and an even longer reader, but this is my first attempt at writing for Yellowstone. If ya'll have any notes on characterization or just anything in general, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Thank you for reading xx.

As always: I do not own Yellowstone (2018) or any of its characters. This work is not monetized.

THIS FIC IS CROSSPOSTED TO AO3. It is not posted to any other site. I am lookingcold on AO3 and that is all. I do not give permission for my work to be posted by others to any other platform.

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I was no stranger to the Yellowstone Ranch, but bumping my way along its seemingly never-ending dirt drive, I still couldn’t help but feel out of my depth - like a little kid made to ride a bike with no training wheels. Its sprawling pastures surrounded by the towering mountains, standing at attention like century guards, intimidated me, and I had spent nearly every day of my childhood gallivanting around the property. I can only imagine how outsiders feel the first time they dare to mosey onto the ranch. Now, all this isn’t to say that I wasn’t looking forward to returning to Yellowstone, I undoubtedly was, but being there at the (somewhat) wisened age of twenty-seven felt significantly riskier than it had at the naive age of seventeen. The Yellowstone was trouble, and I had spent the last ten years of my life trying to stay out of it. Putting myself right back into its clutches went against every instinct I have.

Still, I was excited to see the people I had come to know as family. When my daddy died when I was only twelve, Mr. John treated me like one of his own, and when my momma remarried a man who was known for his fiery temper and love of the drink, he took me in as his own. My daddy and Mr. John had been best friends, so truly I think he felt as though it was his duty to care for me, but I like to believe he loved me all the same. And I loved him back. He taught me everything I could ever need to know - plus some. Helped put me through college. Even supported me when I wanted to take on the pageant circuit - although I don’t believe he minded the extra bit of shine my winning of Rodeo Queen added to his reputation. Hell, I even loved his ragtag group of kids, Jamie included if you can believe it. They were my family, and I wouldn’t have traded them for the world. Except I did, because Yellowstone was trouble, and I couldn’t let myself get caught up in that. And neither could Mr. John.

Sneaking up on Rip was somewhat of a talent I had cultivated over my long years spent on the ranch. I’m proud to say that I’m still the only son of a bitch who can do it. And that’s why I park my truck a good half mile down the road from the corrals. There’s a small hill in the dirt drive that obscures the shoulder of the road as you approach the house, one that Kayce and I used to hide away in, smoking or drinking, trying to stay out of trouble while getting into it. I park my truck on that hidden shoulder, closing my door as quietly as I can before approaching the road. As I walk, I stick as close to the fence line as possible, relying on the looming fence posts to provide me with cover. I know that if I can make it past the corrals unseen and circle around the back of the barn I’ll have Rip jumping a foot in the air before he can even catch a whiff of me. Lucky for me he’s locked in on what I can only describe as clownery, supervising some gangly kid as he works to stay on a bronco. Taking my golden opportunity, I creep through the barn, hushing whinnying mares as I go, before sidling right up to Rip’s left side.

“Now that kid has got balls of steel,” I comment, hands splayed across my hips, head nodding in appreciation.

I wish I had the words to appropriately describe Rip’s reaction. With a little hop and shout, Rip whirls on me, hand splayed across his chest, breath thundering in shock. “Jesus, what in the fuck do you think-” And that’s when he realizes who exactly he’s about to chew out. His eyes go wide and a grin starts to stretch across his weathered face. “Well as I live and breathe, if it isn’t sweet Caroline herself, gracing us with her beauty.” He takes a step towards me. “Come ere ya little menace!”

Before I know it I’m wrapped up in the warmest, most comforting bear hug on earth. If Mr. John had been like a father to me, then Rip had been like a big brother. My protector and confidant - and the target of my and Kayce’s many pranks.

“Where have ya been?” He jostles me around. “Haven’t heard from you in over a year, and haven’t seen you in well over that. Too busy for us old cowpokes?”

I hold onto his hands, squeezing them. “Well I haven’t been ignoring ya’ll on purpose, I’ve just been a bit busy. I -” And that’s when Mr. John comes ambling down the lodge steps, casual and collected as ever.

“She’s been in Oklahoma, working PR for the rodeo circuit. And based on what I hear, she’s pretty damn good at it.” Before I know it I’m embraced in a fierce hug, and if I didn’t know better I’d say I heard Mr. John sniffle. “It’s good to see you, honey. Welcome home.”

Rip looks between myself and Mr. John, confused. “You mean Caroline’s back working the ranch? We ain’t got any beds left in the bunkhouse.” At this, he turns to me, “Not that I’d expect you to sleep there but I know how stubborn you can be about doing what’s right.”

Mr. John cuts him off. “No.” He responds gruffly. “She’s not here as a ranch hand, she’s here as my PR specialist.” Casting Rip a pointed look, he murmurs, “Ya know with all the problems we’ve encountered lately I thought we should call in an expert to help with damage control, and who better than family.”

Rip nods gravely, a closed expression covering his face that I don’t particularly like the looks of. “Well if that’s what she’s here for then I’ll leave you two to talk privately. I’ve got wranglers to wrangle and supper to check on.” He turns to walk away, but pauses, angling his body towards me. “If you need me, Caroline, for anything, don’t hesitate to shout.”

He looks so serious, so grim, I feel the small, unsure age of eleven all over again. “Ok.” I nod, my voice coming out thin and reedy. “I will.”

“I mean it.” He’s firm. “Anything.”

“I know Rip.”

With that, he gives a final tip of his head to Mr. John and I, stalking off to holler at the gangly kid - Jimmy.

“What was that all about?” I turn to Mr. John, big-eyed and pale.

Looking resigned he says, “You know Rip, he’s just protective of you is all, and he knows I’m about to ask a lot of you, get you involved in stuff we normally would try to keep you out of.” He shakes his head, knocks one of his boots against the other. “But you’re my last resort honey, you have to know that. I wouldn’t drag you into trouble if I thought I could help it. Honest.” His voice is so sincere, soft in a way it rarely is. I would have believed him anyways, but now there’s no doubt in my mind. I have to do right by Yellowstone, by the Dutton family, by my family. I have to stay, wade through the trouble, and bring everyone out on the other side.

“Tell me everything I need to know.” It comes out harder than I expected, harder than I’ve ever heard my own voice. It makes Mr. John look up. His features turn steely, matching mine. We’re in this together now.

“Walk with me, let me show you where you’ll be lodging. I’ll fill you in.”

Ten years of keeping clear of trouble down the drain, but I owed Mr. John, owed Yellowstone, a debt, and I wasn’t about to not repay it.

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To say that what Mr. John had shared with me was shocking would be an understatement. Land and cattle disputes I had expected, helping Jamie and Beth campaign - sure, I figured (well maybe not Beth), but murder? Can’t say that was anywhere on my radar, or anywhere in my wheelhouse. If I’m being honest with God and myself, if it weren’t for my love for Mr. John and the Dutton family, I would’ve turned the job down. Any PR specialist with a brain would because what the Duttons needed was a criminal defense lawyer, not some cowgirl who’s good at turning nasty scandals into marketable flattery. But I do love the Duttons, and I love Yellowstone, so from the looks of it, if this ship goes down, I’m going with it.

Mr. John must think it wise to give me time to mull over the absolute bomb he’s just dropped on me, because after he breaks the news and confirms that I’m still willing to stick around, he goes silent, his face settling into a contemplative furrow, the same as mine. It isn’t until the foreman’s house comes into view that I break the silence, slightly bewildered.

“We making a pit stop or something?” I gesture to the house in the distance, halting my gait.

Mr. John breezes past me, only turning his head back to answer my seemingly stupid question. “No darling, I’m showing you to your lodging, like I said I would.” Darling is reserved for when I’m being a moron, honey as a term of endearment, and cowgirl for when I’m about to get what’s coming to me. I’ve not even been back an hour and I’ve managed to collect two of the three, and I’m not too keen on collecting the third.

I wait until he looks away before rolling my eyes. That would’ve earned me a ‘cowgirl’ for sure. “Well, who died and made me foreman because I sure as hell don’t have the beard or buckle to pull it off.” I hustle to catch back up with him, bumping his shoulder against my own, knowing I’m toeing the line between a chuckle and a swat. Thankfully I’m gifted with the chuckle.

“You know I keep waiting for your beard to come in, but I remain disappointed.” He shoots me a wink. “But no, I don’t want you as my foreman as much as you don’t want to be my foreman. No worries there.” He side-eyes me. “Kayce’s taken over from Rip, so this is his place now. I just thought you’d want to be out here with your partner in crime rather than cooped up in the lodge with an old fart like me.” I know he’s aiming for casual as he explains my living situation to me, but if my many years spent living at Yellowstone had taught me anything, it was how to read John Dutton. And right now, I can tell he’s up to no good - more so than usual.

“Right, because living in that big snazzy house would be so terrible. I think you’re just trying to keep me and Beth apart. Too scared to live under the same roof with us both. Can’t say I blame you.” And while I really wouldn’t blame him for not wanting to live with me and Beth - if she’s a terror alone, with me she’s a terror and a half - I have a sneaking suspicion Beth and I’s potential reign of terror isn’t the true cause of his decision. But I sure as hell can’t let him know I’m onto him.

He chuckles again, in an almost relieved sort of way. “You’ve got me there. I’d rather keep my sanity, thank you kindly. So no, I quite frankly don’t want to live with you and Beth at the same time. And truly, I just thought you’d be more comfortable out here.” He sighs. “You’ll be wrapped up in our mess during all your waking hours, I don’t want to take away the little bit of peace you’ll get during your sleeping ones too.”

I frown. “Mr. John, I-” I begin to protest.

“No, I don’t want to hear it. You’re in the foreman’s and that’s final.” Mr. John’s swinging the door open now, and the house is everything I thought it would be growing up.

High ceilings reveal exposed wood, and the humble home is lined with windows, letting in ample natural light. In a way I feel like I haven’t left the outdoors at all, the house is simply an extension of the forest that looms behind it. As kids, one of the few places Kayce and I weren’t allowed to wreak havoc was the foreman’s house. Mr. John always berated us whenever we’d beg to go inside, saying, “A hard-working man deserves some privacy, some peace and quiet. You better leave him and his home well enough alone or I’ll skin both of your hides.” For once we listened, neither of us too keen on getting our butts busted.

“Plus, I imagine Kayce will be mighty happy to learn he’s got his best friend back. It always was ya’ll’s dream to set up camp in here. Now you get to live it.” His statement breaks me out of my reverie.

“I’m sorry, you ‘imagine’ Kayce will be happy? He doesn’t know I’m here?” And so the other shoe drops. Mr. John always did hold out hope that Kayce and I would end up together. Said we’d be a power couple. Combine my business sense and charming small talk with Kayce’s grit and knowledge of the ranch and we’d be unstoppable. Let’s just say he was never too shy about his meddling. And while I did have a small crush on Kayce growing up, and I’d like to think he had one on me too, we were always both too awkward to entertain anything other than a close friendship. Naturally, we experimented the way kids do, having had a drunk kiss or two and having done our fair share of skinny dipping, but by the time we were in our late teens all romantic feelings had fizzled. That doesn’t mean we weren’t closer than we’d ever been though, thicker than thieves and troublemakers to boot. We practically lived in each others’ pockets. You wouldn’t find one of us without the other. I was crazy about Kayce and he adored me, but it was never anything other than platonic.

“Mr. John, I can’t live here if Kayce doesn’t know about it. You said so yourself, the foreman’s house is his getaway, a place for peace and quiet. I’m not taking that from him.” Hands planted firmly on my hips and lips pursed, I shake my head adamantly. “I’ll find myself a place in town or-”

“Caroline, no, you’re staying-”

“Or I’ll see if my cousin Amy has a spare room, we were always close and-”

“Caroline.” His voice is firm, if not a little irritated. “I said no. Kayce needs you here, you hear me? You’re staying here and that’s final.” This last part is spoken a bit softer, but firmly all the same.

Now Mr. John might not be my real daddy, but I’ve spent my whole life obeying him all the same, and this time is no different, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to plead my case. “Mr. John, I’ve missed Kayce too and I know he’s going through a lot right now, but he doesn’t need me.” I sigh. “And I couldn’t possibly put out his family. I mean, this place is small enough as it is. And Tate’s what, nearing eight now? He needs room to play and run around, I’ll only be taking up already limited space.” Giving a half-hearted shrug, I turn to head back toward the door, but Mr. John’s heavy sigh has me doubling back.

“Caroline honey, I wasn’t going to tell you this because I don’t feel like it’s my place, but when I say Kayce needs you I mean it. He and Monica split a few weeks ago, and with everything else going on he’s in real bad-”

Back turned to the door, I hear Kayce before I see him. “Dad, for the last time I’m not interested in meeting who you’ve got running for AG, so if you could kindly show her out I’d greatly-”

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I know I said Kayce and I had never been anything other than platonic, but you’d have to be blind not to see what a looker the boy is. God damn is he beautiful. I mean he always has been, but the years have been more than kind to him. Seeing him now damn near takes my breath away. The last time I laid eyes on Kayce he had just returned from the navy, eyes weary and hair cropped close. He had looked exhausted, almost dead in the eyes. Now though, he looks like a field set ablaze by the setting sun, all bright and aglow with something unnameable. Almost dangerous in his beauty. He must get over seeing me for the first time in five years before I get over seeing him because before it feels like I can even blink he’s across the room and I’m a foot off the ground, wrapped tight in his arms. I never knew I was missing part of myself until this very moment, with Kayce’s face pressed into the crook of my neck and my hand fisted in his hair. I swear I feel more settled in myself than I have in years, like I’m sinking into my bed after a long day, or eating a warm meal after I’ve spent all day working out in the cold.

“Caroline.” It’s a soft whisper in my ear. It almost sounds reverent, like a prayer.

“Kayce,” I murmur back, something private only he can hear.

I suppose he remembers we aren’t alone because before I know it my feet are planted firmly on the ground once more and I’m no longer wrapped in his embrace. Instead, he lets one gentle hand linger on the small of my back, almost hesitant and unnatural in its hovering. Grinning, he turns to Mr. John. “Dad what is-” his gaze shifts to find mine. “Caroline, what are you doing here?”

My lips part preparing to answer, but no sound comes out, just a whisper of an inhale followed by a beaming smile. I think it’s important to say once again that my feelings for Kayce are strictly platonic, but my God if a woman can’t get lost in his whiskey-brown eyes.

I’m broken out of my trance by an awkward cough. Both Kayce and I turn to face Mr. John, who looks a bit too pleased for my liking. Smiling wryly he drawls, “Well I think I’ll leave you two to catch up. Caroline, I’ll have one of the boys bring your truck up. No sense in you hauling yourself all around sundry.” Making his way outside, he pauses on the porch. “I expect to see both of ya’ll at supper. Don’t be late.” He saunters down the porch and down the path, not looking back when he hollers, “And Kayce, wash up! You smell like shit.”

-------------------------------------------------------------

“So, you’re here to clean up the fucking mess I made then.” Kayce looks the most dejected I’ve seen him in years. Like a puppy dog that’s been kicked and put out in the cold. “Dad dragged you back to this godforsaken place because of me.” His fists shake where they’re clenched atop his knees. He tosses his hat onto the coffee table and rakes his hands through his sweat-dampened hair. “You know, I was so relieved when you got out of here. I was so scared this place would ruin everything good about you, set you up in flames like it does everything else.” His calloused hand clasps mine. “Why would you come back here? After everything that happened, after-” He takes a moment to collect himself, teeth gritted together, shoulders tensed. “After what Caleb- after what he did-”

“Kayce don’t.” I know what he’s trying to get at, and I won’t have it talked about. Not on my first day back. When I said I loved Yellowstone, that I was happy to be back, I meant it. But there are memories that this place carries that I’d rather forget, and I’m not about to let my reunion with my best friend turn sinister over one of those memories - over the mention of some asshole cowboy that belongs to the past. I want that memory to die with him. Placing a comforting hand on his back, I try to console him. “I’m a big girl. Believe it or not, I’ve grown into my britches and I know what I can handle. Plus,” I give his back a hard pat, “you really think I would let this place ruin me? I’d like to see it try.”

“Caroline..” He shakes his head, eyes glassy. “You-”

I cut him off with a quick rap of my knuckles against the coffee table, rising off the couch with an air of finality. “As for why I came back, well that’s simple. I love you Kace.” I lick my chapped lips, find a spot on the wall to focus on. “And I’m- I’m never going to abandon you when you need me.” I extend my pinky in the form of a promise, a relic left over from our childhood. “Come hell or high water remember?”

He straightens up, gaze ungluing itself from the floor only to meet mine. Kayce was always taller than me, but I don’t remember having to crane my neck up to meet his eyes the way I do now. His pinky wrapping around mine is a distant sensation in the back of my mind. “Come hell or high water.” He steps back, scratching his temple awkwardly. From a man to a boy with one simple gesture. “Uh, there’s only one bathroom so we’ll have to take turns. I don’t know if you need to shower, but you can go first, everything you need is in there, but I mean- you probably brought your own stuff so never mind.” He mutters below his breath, “God Kace,” and picks invisible lint off his shirt.

I laugh, bright and airy. Growing up Kayce was known for his ruthless pranks, and when I wasn’t his accomplice I was his primary victim. So to miss such a golden and rare opportunity to make fun of him would be a crime, his emotional turmoil aside. “No need to take turns bud, I don’t need to shower. Just got to freshen up a bit, throw on some makeup, brush my hair.” I start a slow saunter down the hall, sporting a feline grin. Kayce follows close behind- my shadow. Turning to walk backward, I poke him sharp in the chest. “How about you, Manure Man, hop in the shower while I do my makeup. We can keep each other company, catch up on each other's lives.” My back hits what I assume to be the bathroom door. I sigh. “After all, we don’t want to keep your daddy waiting. I for one don’t want a smack upside the head and I reckon you don’t either.” Angling my body so it faces the door, I reach for the nob and look at Kayce imploringly, my eyebrows raised, daring him to chicken out.

He suppresses a grin, tongue poking at his cheek. “Now you know that’s not exactly proper and I know that you’re trying to embarrass me, so you can go ahead and drop the act Miss Caroline.” Calling me on my shit, he leans into the door frame, his arms boxing me in on both sides.

Of course he knows I’m trying to embarrass him, anybody with eyes could see that. What he hasn’t caught onto is that I’m appealing to his competitive nature. If I keep poking at him long enough, there’s no way he won’t cave. If I know Kayce, he’ll take being excruciatingly embarrassed over losing against me any day. “Not proper? Sweetheart, I’ve seen you in your birthday suit more times than I care to think about, I don’t think standing in the same room as you while you shower will be the thing that sends me to hell.” I duck under his arm, grab my makeup bag from where I’d left it in the living room, and duck back under, swinging the bathroom door open as I go. Throwing my hair into a ponytail, I lock eyes with him in the mirror. His skin is flushed pink all the way down to his chest and he gnaws at his lip. Like I said, from a man to a boy with one small gesture. “Unless you’re too much of a chicken.” I shrug. “Then I guess we can take turns.” I aim for nonchalant, fingers crossed that he’s not catching on to my instigating.

Kayce’s eyes immediately narrow. Good, he’s taken the bait. “I know you’re not calling me a chicken.” His arms drop and he closes the door behind him.

Snickering, I breathe, “I’d only call you a chicken if you were acting like one, so tell me Kayce - are you being a chicken?”

He turns the shower on in lieu of an answer, eyes never leaving mine in the mirror. “I wouldn’t even know what a chicken acts like Caroline, having never been one, so no I don’t reckon I am.” At this, he flings his shirt off, and I hear his belt buckle clink shortly after, and then a thud as his pants hit the floor. The only thing that remains are his underwear and I hold his gaze steady, daring him to lose our little game. I can’t hear his underwear hit the floor, but I see the hunch his shoulders form as he bends to take them off. When he stands back up straight, he must see the devious gleam in my eye because he drawls out a suspicious, “What?”

“Nothing.” I shake my head, pressing my lips together. I fiddle with the hem of my blouse. It’s a frilly white thing with thin straps and a gathered waist. One of my favorites truly. Too pretty to risk getting makeup on. I pull the shirt gingerly over my head, not worried about appearing sexy, knowing my plain bra isn’t much to look at. I begin to sort out my makeup, lining products up along the counter. “I was just thinking about how I don’t want to get makeup on my blouse. That’s all.”

The rustle of the shower curtain opening and closing is Kayce’s only reply. Check and mate Dutton.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Despite my reasoning for us sharing, Kayce and I don’t catch up with each other in the bathroom, in fact, he doesn’t speak a word to me until I’ve completed my makeup and he’s finished his shower.

Brushing my hair slowly and methodically, lost in my own thoughts, I almost miss the sound of the shower turning off and the rasp of the curtain as Kayce steps out. He’s wrapped in a comically large towel, but his hair still drips steadily onto the bathmat, saturated with water. The embarrassment has leached from his face and his downtrodden expression from earlier has returned. “So dad told you about me and Monica?” He perches on the closed toilet, sagging into himself, sniffs. “Old bastard.”

“What makes you think that?” Laying my hairbrush down, I turn to prop my hip against the counter and cross my arms, face as neutral as I can make it.

Kayce looks at me from under long, damp lashes, his jaw set. “Caroline, we’ve pushed a boundary or two in our decades of friendship, but I know that if you thought for one second that you’d be stepping on any toes or be disrespecting my marriage in any way, you wouldn’t have started whatever all of this,” he gestures around the bathroom, “little game was. So what did he tell you?” His hands are shaking again, but rather than clenched shut, this time they lay open, palms up, almost pleading.

“Kayce.” I kneel down, encasing one of his weathered hands with both of mine. “All he told me was that you and Monica had split not too long ago, nothing more. And he didn’t even really want to tell me that, I kind of forced his hand. I promise you.” I stand back up and ruffle his still-damp hair, trying to bring some levity back to the situation. “Although I really don’t understand all the secrecy bud, you had to hear all about my messy divorce- and over facetime of all ways. I’m not- I would never judge you Kace.”

Rising to his full height, Kayce fidgets with one of my belt loops. “I know you’d never judge me, Caroline, it’s not your judgment I’m worried about.”

“Then what are you worried about,” I murmur.

He grabs ahold of the belt loops on either side of my hips. “I just-” he shakes me, “I’m tired of people treating me like some wounded animal or-or like some bomb just waiting to go off. You’re the one person who-,” he licks his lips, “you’re my person. Please don’t do that to me.”

“Oh Kayce, you really think-,” I laugh, “I just gave you shit in the most ridiculous way, knowing well and good you’ve been put through the wringer, and you think I would treat you like some wounded thing.” I bend down to retrieve my shirt, toss it onto the counter behind me. “I realize I have a bad habit of babying you, and I don’t plan to stop any time soon, but if you think for one second that I won’t give you hell any and every time you need it, well then you’re mistaken sweetheart.” Propping his hands on his hips, Kayce looks down, kicks his bare foot against my booted one.

“Now, nobody said anything about me wanting you to stop babying me.” He grins shyly at me. “Every good cowboy needs a pretty lady to soften him up a bit, ya know.”

I feel my breath hitch as his fingers wrap loosely around mine, I’m suddenly hyper-aware of the damp towel that seems to slide lower down his hips by the second. Have I mentioned how beautiful this man is? Have time and space away from him turned my brain into scrambled eggs? Why in the hell do I feel a flush creeping down my neck? Dear God, and I have to live with this man.

I smack his chest, like any sane woman who suddenly finds herself attracted to her best friend would do, and try to hide my nerves behind a too-loud laugh. “Well as long as you don’t expect this pretty lady to harden you up too, I think I can manage that.” Slipping my hand out of his hold, I grab my blouse and make to leave, but not before I catch sight of the scarlet blush that paints his face and ears. One foot in the hallway, I call back, “Now hurry up and get dressed cowboy, wouldn’t want to keep daddy waiting.” Closing the door all I hear is a muttered, “Jesus,” in response.

---------------------------------------------------------------

I wait out on the porch while Kayce gets ready, slouched down on one of the steps, elbows resting on my knees. The absolute quiet that surrounds me, save for the chirp of a bird or the rustle of leaves as the breeze blows, feels like a balm on my soul. I’d forgotten what it was like to feel this way. Content, at peace, like the whole world could be falling down around me but I’d still be alright, because this place, this land, will cradle me, protect me, like a momma does for her baby. I spent so long, years of my young life, running from one thing or another. Running into the arms of the wrong people, the wrong places. Yellowstone wasn’t the only place I found trouble, and while I was able to make a name for myself, to come out on top, the years I spent fighting for myself, fighting myself, have taken a toll on me. Never really thought the ranch would be my respite, but fighting for the Duttons feels like a goddamn breath of fresh air compared to what I’ve had to claw my way through in the last decade. This is my home, trouble or not.

The door creaks open, then shut, and I crane my head back to greet Kayce. “Took ya long enough, beauty queen.”

Unphased Kayce shoves his hands into his pockets. “Your face looks goofy upside down. And I can see into your nose.” He swaggers past me, down the steps, and onto the path. “Might want to invest in a nose trimmer.. beauty queen.” Fantastic. We’re back in familiar territory. No more warm damp skin, or slouchy towels, and thank god no more tugging at my belt loops or crowding me against the counter.. abs on display, broad shoulders at eye level… Yeah no, childish insults are great! Much more comfortable, way less confusing. I’m more than happy to engage in some lighthearted bullying with my completely platonic, non-romantic, best friend.

I must take too long to respond because Kayce doubles back, coming to stand at the base of the stairs below my feet. Looking at me funny, eyebrows scrunched and lips upturned, he asks, “You good? Wasn’t even that good of a burn to be honest. You’ve taken worse.” Actual concern begins to creep into his features, so before he can get himself worked up into a spiral of guilt I hop up from the stairs, dust off my backside, and punch him square in the gut.

“Oh don’t you worry ‘bout me, I’m fine. I was actually just thinking that I probably should buy a trimmer, keep things ship shape. And you know,” I glance back at him deviously, “now that we’re living together, there’s bound to be quite a few spa nights in your future. I could use it on you as well, really get my money’s worth.” As he falls in step with me, I expect him to protest immediately. When we were kids, I asked to pretty him up practically every day, told him I did boy activities with him so it was only fair he did girly things with me. In all our years of friendship he only caved once, the night I got my first period, told me I shouldn’t have to become a woman alone. He let me put a full face of makeup on him, paint his nails, and even braid his hair. No complaints, no making fun, just supported me in the only way he knew how.

So he surprises me when he inquires, “What exactly would a spa night include? Like what are we talking here? Fancy robes, overpriced lotion, cucumbers on our eyes?” His face is entirely serious, sincere in its curiosity. Man, it's easy to forget how much growing up changes a person.. how much marriage changes a person.

I stutter. “I- I mean, it can really include whatever you want it to? I normally take a bubble bath, shave my whole body- not that you’d want to do that, and then I go ham with some lotion, put on a face mask and hair mask, maybe whiten my teeth or trim my nails. Just depends.” I shrug. Kayce and I have talked about everything under the sun, but I never thought in a million years we’d be discussing my self-care routine.

He looks at me, eyebrows furrowed, contemplating. He kicks at the dirt a bit, tips his head to either side and then with an unexpected air of finality says, “Okay. I think I’d like to try all of that. I’ve never done masks or whitened my teeth before.” He stops, looking suddenly reluctant. “Wait, none of this hurts right? Like it’s relaxing?”

I place my hand on his back, half to prompt him to keep walking, half to comfort him. An easy laugh escapes me. “No, none of it hurts. And it is very relaxing, especially when you have a good bottle of wine on hand.” I wink, trying still to reassure him.

Worries assuaged, he winks back. “Well if there’s good wine involved, I’m in. Do you have the stuff with you already? Could we do it tonight?”

This time I stop in my tracks. If I was shocked before, now I’m flabbergasted. “You really want to do all that tonight?” He starts to look self-conscious so I clarify myself. “I mean, I’m more than happy to host a spa night, don’t get me wrong, but I just figured you’d need to warm up to the idea.”

Kayce walks a half step in front of me, avoids making eye contact. “In all honesty, tomorrow’s going to be a rough day. I don’t know if dad told you, but we’ve got to negotiate with the rez, the governor, and the sheriff tomorrow. Try to find some way to sweep everything under the rug, not let my fuck-ups tarnish the ranch’s reputation.” He removes his hat, runs his hand haphazardly through his hair. I know he asked me not to treat him like some wounded thing, and I won’t, but boy does he look it. “So, yeah, I just need something to take my mind off of the impending shitstorm I’m about to deal with. And I know you’re dying to gussy me up.” He flashes me a smile. “And if you’re happy, I’m happy, so a spa night it is.”

I sigh, feeling out of my depth. In all our years of friendship, I so rarely had to be the strong one. That was always Kayce. And while I’ve certainly toughened up in the time we’ve spent apart, I still feel so unprepared to tackle all of this. I’m scared I’ll say the wrong thing, do the wrong thing, misstep in an unfixable way. More than anything, I’m scared I’ll let Kayce down. “Your uh- Mr. John did tell me all that actually, but I hadn’t thought about how emotionally draining it’ll be. A spa night sounds good Kace. And we can even put on a horror movie, even it out.” I shrug, still feeling out of my depth.

Kayce doesn’t reply, but he does show me the barest hint of a smile, just the slight upturn of the corners of his lips. His smile says, “we’ll make it through this, we have to.”

#yellowstone #kayce dutton #rip wheeler #john dutton #beth dutton #monica dutton #yellowstone oneshot #kayce dutton oneshot #kayce dutton x reader #kayce dutton x you #kayce dutton x original character #kayce dutton fic #kayce dutton fanfiction #kayce dutton smut #eventual smut #friends to lovers

[be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie]

You know what, I'm into the whole "Spider gets an ikran via idk #HTTYD means" and all, but come on. We, as a fandom, can think bigger than that. I want a story where Spider stumbles upon a Thanator injured in the previous night's storm or some shit on his way back to Hell's Gate and then he slowly nurtures it back to health all while they form an epic bond and boom, next thing you know he's being protected by the apex predator of the forest. Fuck ikrans, LOOK AT THAT THING. (Plus the fact that a Thanator let Neytiri form tsaheylu with it during the final battle just makes it 1000% better when you think about it.)

1000% agree love this idea. Ya'll motherfuckers KNOW I love love love Eywa blessed Spider, where no one can ignore that she wants him there and he is a child of hers. A PALULUKAN??? Something Neytiri has specifically been the only rider of (in the Omaticaya I believe there is a canonical clan that rides them)?? Symbolically ICONIC. I fucking loooove that. Okay so:

-He finds the palulukan on a walk to the village, when it's a pup, and he's little, I'm saying nine or ten. It's gotten sliced on it's farthest back leg by a piece of metal that fell from an old Sampson. It's been there for years, almost fully covered by vines and leaves, and never fallen, so it's odd. In it's attempt to get away, it got caught in part of the metal grate.

-He knows exactly what it is and how dangerous it is, but our boy spends all his time with Kiri Sully, girl instills a deep respect for all of Eywa's creatures but also a deep empathy beyond maybe that of a typical Na'vi. Spider is always so willing to learn and to listen, he's the one who's been most affected by Kiri's connection with the forest

-He knows if he tells any adult that they'll probably put it out of it's misery and say it's Eywa's will, and he did good to find it, but he thinks about what Kiri would say and what Kiri would do. He has his own medicine pouch now, freshly gifted by Kiri. It's not big enough but he also has some dried meat that Lo'ak gave him yesterday that he hadn't bothered to eat because he's not an expert at mask eating yet.

-So, he throws the meat to the palulukan. He doesn't know how long it's been there, but it seems hungry. The closer he get the harder it tries to get away, cutting it's leg even more. So he sits and waits, tossing it pieces of meat. Finally, he gets close enough to touch it's leg. It's very tense but he manages to spread some herbs on it's cut before it turns to swipe at him. Another several chunks of meat later, he is close enough again. He takes the risk and grabs its leg to force it up and out. Immediate regret, he's for sure gonna die, but instead it's just gone. He sort of sits there for a few minutes having a minor heart attack, then finishes his walk to the village to find Kiri, Lo'ak and Neteyam worried out of their minds because he's late and jsut reports the wreckage fall to Jake.

-He tells Kiri about it later, but they keep it secret, not sure the others will understand.

-On his walks alone he starts to feel like there are eyes on him. Just watching, all creepy. He even starts to feel them when he's with his friends. Lo'ak thinks he's crazy, but Kiri says it's just Eywa looking out for him.

-He gets desperate enough to ask Mo'at. She nods all sagely and says it's probably nothing but they should add it to his songcord which are two really opposite statements and he's really confused.

-The next day his friends are busy and he decides to fuck off in the forest himself only to accidentally startle some nantang. The same palulukan, scars on its ankle and leg, busts out of nowhere and jumps in front of him, scaring them off. Then it turns and looks at him, all self satisfied like it's repaid the favor. But when he thanks it and turns to go he still feels it watching. Eventually, he and Kiri take chunks of meat into the woods and just give it gifts and build up trust.

#i've got my eye on you #spider being stalked #i haven't decided how he becomes eywa blessed yet vut soemthing soemthing the palulukan (no name decided yet) really starts to hate it when #he goes back in hells gate at night #hes all you dont belong there #lol #what a fun idea bestie!! #miles spider socorro #spider socorro #kiri sully #lo'ak sully #neteyam sully #mo'at #avatar #avatar the way of water #james cameron avatar #melissa's asks #melissa on avatar (cameron) #we are mindmelding get in #charlotte the palulukan au

[jungle-angel]

The Piano Man (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Summary: You and Rhett discover that Royal has a serious hidden talent when your little boy asks him to teach him something one day

Tagging: @floydsmuse

"Alright son, that's enough of that," Royal said, dusting the wood shavings off the piece he and Rhett had been working on.

Rhett blew away some of the wood shavings and agreed. Any more work and the piece just wouldn't look right. "Feels like this is taking forever," he yawned.

"I know, I know," Royal told him. "But whatever can help bring in some extra cash we'll take it. You teaching next week?"

"Three days a week at the Amelia County Steiner school that the kids go to," Rhett answered. "Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays."

Royal was relieved. Ever since the woodworking teacher had retired, he had wondered if he should take the job, but the ranch desperately needed running and with the new hands having been hired, it had doubled the work. Brian O'Dowd had proven himself to be an excellent worker, but having done a stint in jail had Royal and Russ Redwood keeping a close eye on him just in case he had gotten in trouble again.

The two of them worked away at the wood, the radio playing on the shelf above Royal's tool bench and the smell of freshly carved woods filling the entire room. The door to the woodshop creaked open and in came Tanner in his little boots, black cowboy hat and his denim jacket that Rhett had gotten him and his twin brother at a ride two weeks before.

"Papa?" he chirped, tugging at Royal's jacket sleeve. "You come play with me?"

"We'll come play in a minute bud," Royal told him. "Daddy and I have to finish something up, but we'll come once we're done."

"Ok," Tanner chirped.

Royal lifted his grandson up off the ground and seated himself on the tool-bench, letting him play with a few of the little wood blocks that he and Rhett had made for him and Tatum to play with.

"Where's Nana bud?" Royal asked him, marking the corner of the wood with a pencil.

"Nana went to Miss Sawah's," Tanner chirped.

Rhett tried to fight back the grin that was beginning to form on his face. Both Tatum and Tanner still had trouble pronouncing their Rs an Ls which their teachers thought was the cutest thing in the world.

As soon as they were both done, Rhett and Royal led him out of the woodshop and closed it up for the day, eager to get back into the warm house. February was always a tough month for Wabang's residents, with spring being around the bend but with winter still clinging on with its death throes.

"Still lesson planning sweetheart?" Rhett asked, sticking his boots on the hard plastic mat near the door.

"Yep and I'm gonna take a break in two minutes," you chuckled. "Block rotations suck no matter how you look at it."

"What is it this time?" he asked.

"Ancient Persia," you yawned. "We start Ancient Greece in two weeks. Greek Games are in May."

Rhett made a face. He loved hearing about your students and the lessons you got to do in school but he had also remembered how exhausted you felt when lesson planning. Thank God you had a mentor like Betsy Livingston, otherwise you would be lost.

"Alright bud, whatcha wanna do?" Royal asked him.

"Can you teach me to pay piano?" Tanner asked him.

"Sure, c'mere," Royal answered.

You and Rhett were a little surprised as the two of them sat on the little bench in front of the piano. "I wan' you to pay a song fist," Tanner told him.

"I want you to play a song first......?" Royal reminded him.

"Peas?"

"Ya'll got it bud," Royal said as Tanner hi-fived his grandfather. "Rhett, can ya'll hand me the book on the coffee table?"

You and Rhett dug through the notebooks, papers and pencils you needed for your main lesson plans when he found the old, dusty book that looked like it hadn't been touched in a while. "The complete book of movie soundtracks for piano players," Rhett read aloud. "Didn't even realize we had this."

Royal didn't say much as he opened it up and cracked his knuckles. Tanner watched his grandfather as his rough, calloused hands began playing away at the keys, hitting almost every note perfectly. It wasn't long before you and Rhett recognized right away what the piece was.

"Is that.......?" you asked.

"I think so," Rhett answered. "Dad is that the theme to Forest Gump?"

"None other," Royal chuckled.

Tanner kicked his little legs and giggled when Royal had finished. "Can you do anuver?" Tanner asked. "Peas?"

Royal gladly obliged, switching the page. As he began playing, you and Rhett once again, recognized what it was, the piece having played every year in the general store around Halloween.

"Das Hawwy Potter!!!" Tanner chirped excitedly.

Royal laughed as he finished off the last note. You and Rhett were hardly able to control the grins on your faces.

You both listened with awe as Tanner kept asking Royal to play more and each time, you and Rhett were surprised by how well Royal could play. He played "Red Warrior" from The Last Samurai, "May It Be" from Lord Of The Rings, "Now We Are Free" from Gladiator and "Tennessee" from Pearl Harbor. Yet you and Rhett were not prepared in the least when he played "Oogway Ascends". It was even more beautiful that you had remembered the first time you had heard it, watching it with the kids one night, the memories of the absent minded master from Kung Fu Panda, still fresh.

"One more Papa, one more," Tanner begged.

"Tanner c'mon, we've gotta take a break," Rhett chuckled.

"Nah Rhett, don't worry about it, he's havin fun," Royal said with a wave of his hand. "Your Ma's gonna be home with Tatum any minute so we might as well enjoy it while it lasts."

You and Rhett couldn't help but smile. If Royal didn't mind, then so be it.

When Royal began to play the next song, you didn't recognize it at first until he really began to get into it, your jaws nearly dropping. It wasn't in the book as far as you knew, but then again, Royal hadn't ever been known for doing anything by the book.

"Rhett is that......?"

Rhett laughed and pulled you close, kissing your forehead. "Fireflies" by Owl City had been a song that had played on your first date and one that you and Rhett enjoyed immensely. You and Rhett sang along to the words as Royal played and when he was done, the look on your faces had been enough.

And every day since then, when he had the time, Royal would sit with Tanner at the piano bench, teaching him little by little how to play.

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #outer range

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Hello, Mr. Monster: The Nightmare's Interlude

Hello, Mr. Monster master list

Summary: Eros and Psyche inspired Soulmate!AU, Morpheus x female OC/reader (18+)

So, as some of you know, I've been very sick for a while. Everything's behind schedule, but then this struck me, so I thought I'd share. The Jeff fan club rides again! The next proper chapter will be out... soon? Not doing the tag list thingy for this, but that will return with the next, proper chapter, and I'll give ya'll a heads up about this blurb in case you missed it then. <3

The nightmare was older than the beds beneath which it lurked. It had slipped a cold, hard grasp around dreamer’s ankles before there were words for either. From the dawn of sleeping things, it startled creatures from fantasies and reminded all of the unseen dangers lurking in dark places. Snakes, spiders, and wicked things with tooth and talon. Worse threats, even: strangers and ghosts, murderers and curious thieves.

When the Nightmare King vanished, the thing from under the bed went looking. It was one of many, in the beginning, but others grew distracted, lost hope, or found fresh inspiration in the delights of the waking world. It did not give up its quest. Traveling from shadows under a bed to those under a low table on the other side of the planet, it searched. It saw without eyes and heard without eats. It listened from under chairs and lurked under parked cars. But the waking world was vast, and after nearly a century of hunting, it began to despair.

The Endless were not gods. And the Nightmare King did not take up his mantle with a light heart. Perhaps he’d left, abandoned his creations to wither and fade.

Was that a kinder end than simply unmaking the Dreaming in one, fell stroke?

Perhaps Dream of the Endless was captured. Or ill. Or enchanted by some fell demon. Perhaps he wasn’t in the waking world at all, and he’d been bound in the deepest circles of Hell, or drugged into bliss beyond the gates of Tir na NÒg. Without word, every possibility was as realistic as the last. The nightmare only knew its lord wasn’t dead. If he’d fallen, another aspect would’ve been given his function, and the Dreaming would not stand in ruins.

So, the nightmare kept searching, obsessed with a new purpose, a new reason for existing, and it decided not to return before its lord.

It found all kinds of things. Lost treasures. Creatures hiding from worse monsters than the dark. Other dreams and nightmares seeking refuge from their increasingly-unstable home. Bottles, buttons, and dust bunnies. Never a hint of its lord.

And then – something.

A thread of power reaching out through a sleeping mind, the glitter of sand and ancient power.

The nightmare rushed through the shadows, following the trace like a bloodhound. It would get there first. It would rescue their lord. They would return to the Dreaming and set all right. A quest fulfilled.

But when it finally chased down the source, it didn’t find Lord Morpheus. It reached up to clutch a very small, very human ankle.

The girl-child jerked awake at its touch, hiccupping on tears, and the nightmare wondered which of its brothers it had interrupted. It did not wonder long, though. It was too busy feeling a new sensation, one it was meant to inspire rather than suffer.

Horror.

This child had been… mangled. Deep within. Her mortality hung in tatters, like curtains in the windows of a haunted house, framing what should have been a miracle. His master’s name. The dream of dreams. But whatever had irreparably damaged the child’s natural place in the flow of life and death had carved over the name.

And there was the sand. In her soul. In her blood.

It must pull her deep into dreams, the poor thing.

She was fortunate to wake at all.

A strong child.

Little fingers brushed over nightmarish crusts and ooze, gentle with papery skin, and the little girl said, “Hello.”

The nightmare had never had a conversation with a human child before, and after a moment’s thought, it gave her ankle a slight, answering squeeze. Nothing to hurt her, but enough to acknowledge and return her greeting.

“Are…” Her voice quavered and died, but she tried again, determined. The nightmare hung on her every breath, waiting.

“Are you here to hurt me, too?”

It released her. Instantly. The shadows swallowed it back under the little princess bed, and it recoiled into the inky black as that new feeling – horror – brought goosebumps to its hairless flesh.

This was its lord’s soulmate. It had seen many come and go from Lord Morpheus’ embrace, but this – well. This was different. This was unique. Something that would not come again, even in another dozen millennia. The little human was precious, even if its master was not there to appreciate and protect the one creature whose wyrd twined so intimately with his.

“Don’t go!” A little face appeared, upside-down over the side of the bed, trying to see in spaces too deep for mortal eyes. Even eyes, the nightmare realized, as clever as hers. Oh, the trouble this child must find.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. Are you… a nice… monster?”

The nightmare returned to the light slowly, ensuring it wouldn’t scare her, and she smiled, reaching down to shake its hand.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Monster.”

The nightmare did not realize it at the time, but it was already lost. Lost to the hope in terrified eyes and the smile that invited it into the daylight for tea parties. Lost to slow conversations through knocks and a hand-drawn copy of a Ouija board the girl “saw on tv.”

It explained it was a nightmare, and she explained her name meant “dream,” too. When it said it didn’t have a name in the way she did, she gasped, told it that was terrible, and offered him one.

Jeff.

He became Jeff, and without meaning to, he found a new kind of quest. Even if his lord should never return, Jeff would guard his lady. The little dreamer marked for death with terrible power because she’d first been marked for love.

Protector. Guard. Confidante. Friend, even. He’d never been such things, but he took up the role gladly as the child told him about her parents, who knew something had happened to their child, but couldn’t believe her story about the fairy under the bridge. Jeff believed her, and Jeff remembered.

She explained why her favorite foods were the best, why it was important to have a favorite color, and why swings were her favorite part of the playground.

One day she came in with a little bottle, giggling, and called him out. He stretched into the yellow sun, the tips of his fingers brushing the hem of her lavender dress.

“Mommy made my nails pretty, so now I’m gonna paint yours and make you pretty, too, kay?”

She painted his broken, half-peeled fingernails with glittery purple polish, and they made her so happy he kept them that way a whole week. Jeff would do many things to keep her smiling, because sometimes the terror carved into her young mind swelled until she became sick with it. The fear stole the breath from her lungs and the thoughts from her mind. It came most often in the dark, when she felt most alone, and Jeff held her little foot to assure himself she hadn’t shaken apart into broken pieces, and to let her know he was there.

And then came the night he failed her, the night the child lost her family and stared into the eyeless maw of her soulmate’s favorite creation. Jeff tried. He warned her not to go out, and when she didn’t listen, he pulled her under the bed.

But too late. Not enough.

The Corinthian pulled her out of the shadows and sent her running into the woods. Truly alone, where Jeff couldn’t so easily follow.

The child fled, pursued by hungry things in the night, the Not Deer among them.

The Corinthian returned to the room and smiled down at Jeff, wiping the parents’ blood off his knife.

“Nice girl you had there. Real peach.” The greater nightmare crouched low, taking off his sunglasses. “Not ripe yet, of course. It’s better this way, don’t you think? If she can’t survive a few of us, how could she survive our maker?”

He called, and summoned, and reached for every dream and nightmare he knew walked the waking world without malice. Some of them came. Jeff rallied Polyphemus, the shepherd who once carried the smallest dreamers away from the deeper shoals of Nightmare, into gentler dreams.

Enough came. Enough heard. They did what Jeff could not and snatched the plucked the girl out of reach of her pursuers. Polyphemus, and the nightmare Gault, and Fiddler’s Green – who wore a strange shape and a new name.

When that awful, terrible night had ended, when the child – Aisling – was safe enough in the hands of human authorities, Jeff began leaving for longer and longer periods, hunting ardently for his lord. The girl was not safe. She would never be safe until Dream of the Endless returned.

The fear became worse, paralyzing attacks that interrupted her waking hours.

She struggled in even the most welcoming foster homes, trying to navigate a pitying world that saw her as half-mad at best. And when Jeff reached out to comfort her, the other children screamed and ran to tell adults about the monster under the bed.

Other nightmares came to visit, and Aisling made her roommate cry after she asked to leave the closet door open “so the boogeyman can breathe.”

She did not smile so much.

She did not paint his nails, and she stopped drawing Ouija boards after one foster family subjected her to an exorcism.

Jeff listened to many would-be families plead with her to be good or demand to know why tormented the other children. They wanted her, if only she could behave. If only she’d stop lying. If only she’d stop playing sick pranks on the little ones. If, if, if. They only wanted her if. Jeff had seen her face horrors that could break the human mind and still smile after. He did not know how to help, so he held her ankle as she slept, and her hand when she was grounded.

He went with her to therapy sessions, learning beside her as she developed coping mechanisms to manage the fear. Panic attacks, the therapist called them. But the therapist also pushed her to tell a more palatable truth, to accept a human killed her parents, not a nightmare with mouths for eyes. The therapist wanted Aisling to stop talking to shadows and to make a best friend who wasn’t a monster under the bed.

The child, who was a little less a child every day, refused.

In the silvery glow of a full moon, she looked across the bedroom she – for once – had to herself, and told Jeff, “I won’t let any of them tell me what to be.”

The new families did not accept her, and she did not accept them. She wasn’t cruel, but she wasn’t right or normal, so it never mattered if she was kind (though Jeff knew she was). Rather than waiting for age to liberate her, she demanded the mortal courts recognize her as an adult two years too early. She finished her schooling, found a job near the house her parents left for her, and won her independence.

Then she began collecting folk of the Dreaming. The house where the Corinthian killed her parents was remote, far from the city where she’d been hurt. It was a good place for things too delicate, too big, or too strange for the waking world. Polyphemus came and herded them all, keeping the refugees of the Dreaming safe from the greed of the waking, and keeping the folk of the waking safe from the power of the dreamfolk.

The child who was now a woman had adventures. She traveled and developed her intuition into proper magical skill. The dreams and nightmares were her life, and Jeff continued shifting between the child and his eternal search for his master, determined to fail neither one a second time.

He could not have guessed that the child would complete his first quest without his help.

#fic: hello mr. monster #morpheus x reader #morpheus x oc #sandman x reader #dream of the endless x reader #jeff the nightmare

[skinnywalker]

The Hitchhiker Lester sinclair x male reader

"Shit Wade it's not gonna move an inch."

The two men stair down at the smoke drifted up from the car.

Wade sighs.

"We're gonna have to walk to get help."

"I'll come with!"

Carly slips her bag over he shoulder and joins hand with her boyfriend. The three climb down the hill they parked on and towards the road. The air is chilly with early morning cold of Louisiana and they huddle together to keep warmth.

"Hey look there's a truck!"

"Oh God there's a smell from it!"

"It's still a ride Carly."

The door of the pickup swings up to revel its driver. He looks up at the the trio at the hill's edge.

"Do ya'll need a ride."

He gave a toothy grin.

"That'd be wonderful thank you!"

Carly and Wade eye each. Unlike the couple their friend is much more expecting of the rednecks of Louisiana. In fact Wade was about to decline.

"What a nice guy."

"Yeah sure."

He turns to Wade confused.

"I'm just saying man you are way too comfortable with rednecks. Those kinda guys turn out to be murderers"

Ignoring wade he enters the truck on the driver's side.

"Where were ya'll heading to?"

"A football game out of state and we got caught up in traffic so we had to camp."

"Well I'm sure glad I found you kids. I'm lester by the way. I clear the roads around here."

"Is that why your truck stinks?"

"Carly!"

He gives her a death glare while Lester shrinks lower in his seat.

"Yeah... sorry about that."

"Don't listen to Carly she's just snobby since she's moving to New York."

Both Wade and Carly go silent after that and Lester keeps up a homey conversation with their friend. Lester can't help but feel a liking towards him.

He can't let Vinny have this one. This one is his.

"Well this is the closest I can get you into the town because of the roads. Just go the right edge and you'll see the gas station."

The two stumbled out and he was about to join when Les grabbed his hand.

"Well I just think that you should be here so you know what part to get cause I got to go get a shipment of them."

His words were rushed desperately trying to get him in the truck.

"Oh, of course."

He slips back into the truck scooting closer to Lester. The two sit in awkard silence for next half an hour till Lester breaks it.

"So um, how'd you get friends like that?"

"Huh?"

"Well I mean you're such a sweet seeming person and they are just....ya know."

"Yeah, I get it. They used to be a lot sweeter but college you know."

He smiles slightly lost in thought.

"Well I think you should look for nicer friends."

They both giggle. Suddenly the trucks seems much smaller and safer.

"What about you Lester? What's life put here like?"

Lester goes over losing his parents, obviously not going through all the details, and then over how life in the town outside of Ambrose was.

"Yeah, not too event full."

"I don't know, I think it sounds nice."

"You do?"

"Yeah, I'd really like to live that way."

Lester suddenly pulls the car to the side of the road.

"Listen, I know this sounds insane but from the moment I saw you I thought you were just the sweetest, handsomest man I ever laid my eyes on and I really took you on this drive cause I wanted to know you btter."

"Really?"

"Really. I'm nit trying to pressure you and I'll take you back to yer friends but I was wondering if you might wanna catch a movie or spend an evening together?"

Lester was shaking from nervous. Why was he even doing this? Of course he would day no to some creep basically kidnapping him.

"Why do we have ro wait till later? Isn't just the two of us right now?"

He pulled himself onto Lester lap brushing up against him.

"Wha..."

Lester's mouth fell open as his face turned a deep red.

"You think I didn't wanna be in the car with you too? I've seen all those sweet stairs you've been giving me since the moment I got in here."

He pulls Lester's face up to his.

"I know what you want."

NSFW part 2 coming out!

#lester sinclair x reader #lester sinclair #lester sinclair x male reader #slasher thirst #slasher x male reader #slasher x reader

[starrgod-jpg]

Ran's "Crazy Gf"

Ran Haitani x Fem!Reader

This takes place during the Tenjiku time line. A small bit of fluff cause I can't help it. Implied(but very subtle) black reader.

Just scenarios in which y/n is being "Rans Crazy gf"

Warnings: Reader being crazy, cursing, violence, threats ,weapons(?), a little toxic but its only once

"Ran, your girlfriend is fucking insane bro."

Rindou was the first to notice your 'crazy tendencies' when he walked in on you threatening Ran with a knife. Ran was just laughing as you had a knife to his chest asking about his earlier whereabouts. "If you take another step, I will stab you Rindou." You said without even looking his direction. He took your word and stood there and watched in curiosity and a bit nervousness. He didn't even know you were here.

"Like I said, where. were. you. today." You asked while staring directly at Ran. "I told you, I was smoking with Mucho and Shion." The taller replied. "Bullshit! You don't like Shion and Mucho doesn't smoke! Plus, you not even high!" Ran's lips parted but closed again as he couldn't say anything. He sighed and grabbed your hand. "Fine..I'll show you where I've been all day.." He dragged you to his car and opened the trunk. You screamed in excitement and immediately started crying. He had a (insert whatever you want really bad) in the trunk with a card and some balloons.

"Today was our anniversary and I had to go pick it up from the post office, but I ended up being there for hours because its so slow running, and they had only two people separating everything" He said looking at you with a smile, a genuine smile and not his usual cricked smug one. You drop the knife, that his feet barely dodged to hug him. He exhaled with an airy chuckle and hugged you back.

"So why were you in my house again?" He asked. "Oh yea! Anniversary remember?" You started speed walking back into the house as he followed, after picking up the knife, he followed you too his room and you were waiting at his door. You step aside and let him open the door himself. You had balloons, rose petals and a bouquet of flowers waiting on his bed. " Happy anniversary Ran!!" You shouted with a smile. "I love it, thank you.." He said before kissing you.

"How do you keep getting into our house.." Rindou asked from behind the two of you. He was questioning why his brother was so okay with his Girlfriend basically breaking in. And holding him at knife point. "Ran leaves his window open a lot. Very dangerous honestly, a psychopath could break in anytime! " You exclaimed with a huff. Rindou stared at you blank faced. He sighed and walked out of the doorway.

"Let me out of this car!!"

You and Ran were arguing while Ran was driving. In the back seat sat Kisaki and Hanma. Ran was giving them a ride across town but the argument had started before ya'll even were halfway there.

"No y/n, you always do this shit!!" He yelled while keeping his eyes on the road. "Oh so you and all your lil' friends can be in a gang and run the streets but I can't talk to the mf that tells you what to do?? You always acting like a bitch I swear!" You yelled as you sat back in your seat. "You need to mind your business!! There was no reason you spoke to him?!" He yelled back. "He literally said Hi?? Was I supposes to be rude and not say it back?" You shouted as you looked at him. "Yea??? You never care about being rude to others so why now?!" He yelled back as the car stopped at red light. He glanced in his rearview mirror and Hanma smiling as if he was trying not to laugh and Kisaki looking out the window trying to ignore the awkward situation. "I don't know why it matter so much to you but you need to calm down before you shit yourself over something so small." You said in a low tone as you rolled you eyes. He was being immature and stupid over something as small as a simple greeting. "I don't know why you constantly insist on meeting him, constantly try and talk to him when you pick me up from meeting and shit." He said as he pulled off as the light turned green. "Why are you so upset over it?? I've met damn near everybody else in Tenjiku so why is Izana so different?? Why are being such a bitch about it??!" You yelled back. "Why do you want to meet him so badly?! You must want to fuck him!? Is that it y/n?! Do you want to fuck my boss like the whore that you are?!" Ran shouted as he slammed his hand on the horn.

Now that hurt. That your own boyfriend would say something like that. "Take it back." You said lowly. "no, cause you obviously want to and you know you do that why you haven't defende-" "Take it back or I'm going crash this car." You cut him off mid sentence. Kisaki and Hanma both perked up at this. "Yea right, sit back and get over yourself." Your eyes were blown wide and you were shaking with hurt and anger. "Ran fucking Haitani, take back what you said or I will crash this goddamn car!!" You said with a bit of a growl in your voice. He rolled his eyes and sighed. You let out a small, airy chuckle before reaching over to the steering wheel. You swerved the car and it almost went off the road before Ran pushed you and got control of car again. "Are you crazy?!" He yelled at you. "I don't know Ran am I??!"

Kisaki and Hanma were holding onto whatever they could as you kept screaming at Ran to take back what he said. "Bro just take it back!!!" Hanma screamed, although he loved a good thrill he did not feel like getting into an accident because of Ran and his crazy ass girlfriend.

You grabbed the steering wheel and swerved the car again repeating "Take it back!!" at the top of your lungs. Hanma and Kisaki were gasping for air in the back. "Let me out of this car if you won't apologize!!" Kisaki shouted. Ran sighed and took a hold of your hands in one of his. "Y/n, I'm sorry for what I said and take back everything."

Although it sounded sincere, you weren't fully convinced but it calmed you down enough to sit back in your seat. You turned to look out of window and was silent the rest of ride there. After Hanma and Kisaki were dropped off the two of you talked everything out and got food. Hanma and Kisaki were officially afraid of you and question Ran's choices.

"Halloween"

Halloween night, Shion decided to have a halloween party. Ran had two problems with this, 1. you wanted to go and 2. costumes were required. He hadn't dressed up since he was a kid with Rindou and he hated staying up late. The two of you were going as pirates, your idea of course. You made the costumes mostly by yourself. Ran of course help his girlfriend with her DIY project as much as he could.

The day of the party arrived and you and Ran went to the party after watching movies all day to pass time. You immediately greeted Shion who was basically your best friend at this point. Ran rolled his eyes but stayed next to you as Shion filled you in on everything that has already happened. After you two finished talking he went to go to the bathroom. You and Ran your way to the circular couch in the middle of the living room. You find Izana, Hanma, Sanzu, Mucho and Kokonoi talking. The two of you greeted everyone and sat down.

After talking for awhile you decided to go get you and Ran some drinks. You talked with Mochi a bit while getting the drinks and started walking back after saying your goodbyes. Your mind goes blank as you see some random bitch trying to talk to Ran. He is showing clear disinterest as the others scoot away from the both of them. Kokonoi notices you from a distance and decides to take his leave. Izana is smiling, he's heard stories of you being 'crazy' but has never actually seen you act 'crazy' so he wanted to see what would happen. You pushed the drinks into some random girls hand as you marched your way towards the random girl and Ran. "oh dear.." he said under his breath as he saw you coming. You politely tapped her shoulder and when her head whipped around your eye twitched. "Can I help you?" She asked with an attitude. You exhaled lowly and started," uhm, he has a girlfriend so you should save yourself the trouble and get on somewhere." You asked with a smile. "And where is she exactly?" The girl asked. "You're looking at her." You're smile dropped as you looked at her. "If he's with you he can't be happy." The girl said and rolled her eyes. Ran started to sit up but was pushed back down by you. "excuse me?" you said, blood starting to boil. "you heard me, ugly." The girl said. Ran blinked and the girl was on the floor. Mucho watched in shock still keeping his stoic attitude, Sanzu lifted his feet onto the couch and Izana watched wide eyed and excited. Hanma got up and stood behind the couch with nervous smirk. "Sorry, I don't think I heard you bitch, what!?" You said as you grabbed her face in your palm. "Get off me bitch!!" The girl said as she tried to push you and your hand off of her. You grabbed someone's drink from the floor and poor it into her face, basically almost drowning her with it. "No, say it again!! What the fuck did you just call me!? Do you want me to fucking shoot you?? Do you?! Cause I will!!" You shouted, grip on her jaw getting harder. You slapped the floor next to her and her eyes welled up with tears. "Don't fucking cry now!! You wasn't crying when you called me ugly!! Or when you flirted with my man were you??"

"G-get off of me!!" The girl stuttered and tried to push you. "Nah what you crying for?!" You dipped your hand in someone else's drink and used it to smear her makeup everywhere, "happy Halloween bitch.." You stood up and walked towards the kitchen to wash your hands, Ran and Izana followed you silently. "Sorry that ya'll had to see me like that...I know I went too far." You said lowly as you washed your hands. Truthfully, you didn't care what they thought. you enjoyed every second of it. "god I am so in love with you." Ran said as he hugged you from behind and kissed your cheek. "First, ew. Second, Y/n that was fucking amazing!! You made her cry so easily?? You should join Tenjiku honestly!!" He said as he got close with a crazy look in his eyes. "Me and you are basically twins at this point! Plus you're a great fighter already!!" He shouted with a smile. You stared at him and broke into a smile. "I should join Tenjiku, huh? Okay yea, sure!! We really are similar huh??" Ran sighed, he knew he couldn't change your or his mind on this.

"Welcome to Tenjiku!! Officially!!"

This was fun to write

I really hope whoever sees this enjoys it as much as I did while writing!!

Please give feedback and criticism!!! It helps me out a LOT and is greatly appreciated!!! Request always open!!

#ran haitani #ran haitani x reader #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev #tokyo revengers #crack fic #i was bored #crazy gf #jealousy #izana kurokawa #mucho yasuhiro #haruchiyo sanzu #shion madarame #hanma shuji #kisaki

[wolfhard13]

Mine

Mike Wheeler x fem!reader

Warnings:fluff, jealousy and little bit of swearing and its a little long to read.

Note: Mike and Reader have been best friends forever and when a certain new girl pops up and tries to steal Mike away, Reader knows she has to make the new girl know Mike is hers.

*Season 3 Mike and Reader are both 14? I think*

"Y/N?" Mike calls out, annoyed as he has to wait for you to finish getting ready to go to Starcourt Mall.

"Almost done, Mikey!" Reader calls out to him as she finishes her make-up just in time for Mike to swing open the door and look at Reader and her cute choice of clothing.

"W-woah, you look umm g-great" Mike mumbles as his eyes go wide, taking in readers pretty sun dress that she wears every summer and her perfectly curled hair and cute shy smile.

"Thanks, Mikey" You grinned as you took his hand and lead him over to the front yard to go ride over to the mall to meet your friends.

Mike blushes as you interlock your hand with his and drag him down the stairs all the way to where your bikes were.

"Do you think they're waiting for us still?" You asked as you hopped on the bike and stared at your best friend.

"I don't know N/N but if they aren't we can go hang out ourselves" Mike chuckled and you smiled wide.

"Oooh~ I would love that!" You squeal and Mike sighs as he looks at you dreamily and takes in your beauty.

"Let's go now Mikey, before we actually get late" you said as you started riding off.

Mike nods and does as you said and also went after you. Anyone from a 10 meter distance could tell Mike is smitten for you and was so obviously inlove with you and people could say the same for you as they noticed your lingering glances at him and his lips and they way you were so close with eachother.

You both arrived at the mall and put your bikes in the bike rack as you make your way over to the party and Max smiles and you run up to her for a hug and she glady hugs you back and all of you watched up while waiting for Will to get here.

Once Will arrived you all went to Schoops Ahoy just before Steve's shift ended so you could get free ice-cream.

The party all sat down at a table and you and Mike sat close together while eating your ice creams. You and Mike have been friends since you both could talk and Mike was only a year older then you, so you both grew up together meaning you knew everything about eachother and were very close.

You all talked and hanged out while walking around the mall as a group and window shopping (ya'll are broke) and you walked with Mike as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. It was a normal thing for you two and was also for the party but that didn't stop them from teasing you two relentlessly.

"Awww, you two finally dating?" Dustin says in a sing-song voice as you and Mike both blush and deny it.

"You sure?" Lucas and Max both say before giggling and laughing at you two and you notice Mike really embarrassed, so you slip your hand into his and give it a gentle squeeze and when the others weren't looking, a quick peck on his cheek making both of your faces light up and get all red.

You relased your hand from his and walked faster to catch up with Max and you girls both laughed and talked about the utter most random things as Mike walked with the rest of the group but was absolutely stunned and not in a bad way just like happy shocked or smth.

A few hours go by and you guys have to go home and since you and Mike are neighbours you rode together.

"Today was fun, huh?" You told Mike with a smile and he smile back while saying.

"Yeah, very fun." He said before saying, "like the bit where you kissed me." Mike said, leaving both of you blushing messes and you quickly defended yourself.

"I-i was trying to cheer you up and I only kissed your cheek!" you said quickly and defensively but with a huge grin on your face.

"Yeah, right." Mike said and you both laughed before reaching your houses.

"See you tomorrow, Mikey?" You asked and he nodded and you went to go hug him and he returned it before going into your separate houses.

You woke up tomorrow and got ready to all hang out again and it was pretty much the same all summer before it was the last day of break and the party and you went to a hill and made a promise to stick together no matter what happens. It was a tradition you've been doing since 2 years ago.

You and Mike walked home and he walked you to your door before saying, "Princess?"

Mike had been calling you that since you were 6 as a joke because you had dressed up in a princess costume and he a knight for Halloween and you wore that costumes for 3 days before taking it off because Mike gifted you it for your birthday and you were excited to wear it.

"Yeah, Mikey?" You mumbed and looked up into his pretty brown eyes and stared at eachother so intensely before Mike slowly leaned in and pressed his lips on yours.

You guys pulled apart for a second before you kissed him again and when you guys pulled away you pressed your forehead on his and closed your eyes as you went for another kiss.

You both smiled when you stopped the kiss before you went inside your house and when you closed the door, you quietly screamed and made little excited noises and Mike grinned as he could hear you from outside, but said nothing as he walked back to his house with the biggest smile ever, on his face.

The next day was the first day of school so you decided to be a little extra and put more effort in so you got into the shower and picked a cute outfit, a cropped baby blue shirt with black shorts. You asked your mum if she could braid your hair and after you put on your make-up and prepared your school bag for the day.

You got to school and waited for the rest of the party to arrive and Max came first and you guys sat on the bench and waited for the guys and you told her what happened with Mike yesterday and she and you were both giggling and laughing about it.

"I think I'm inlove with him" you confessed to Max just as Mike, Will, Dustin and Lucas arrived and asked what you were talking about and Max replied with 'nothing' as you and Mike made heart eyes at eachother.

You guys were just staring at eachother and the whole party was just whispering and chuckling at the interaction between you two. You both smiled and then you walked up close to him and pecked his lips before walking away with Max.

"OMG DUDE" Dustin screamed, "DID SHE J-JUST?!? OMG"

"SINCE WHEN WAS THAT A THING?" Both Lucas and Will yelled at him.

Mike didn't say anything as he blushed and pressed to fingers to his lips, where you kissed him and smiled before calling your name and chasing after you and Max.

"Hey! Y/N" Mike jogged up to you and Max just as she whispered in your ear she was about to go.

"Hi Mikey" you said as he pulled you in by the waist and kissed you again.

Once you guys pulled apart you smiled and held his hand and he walked you to class, where you both sat down in the 2nd last row next to eachother.

"Mike?" You said, "What are we exactly?" You spoke to him in a curious voice.

"Whatever you want to be but I do really want to be your boyfriend and you know? Be dating?" He said as he blushed in the last few words.

"Well then I guess I'm your girlfriend" You giggles as Mike smiled wide at this information and leaned over to kiss your head and went back to listening to what the teachers was saying but he linked his hand into yours.

A few months go by and life seems perfect, you have your lovely boyfriend, good friends, amazing grades and it all seemed so good right now. You're always hanging out with Mike and your both very clingy but you don't mind it's actually amazing because when Mike gets clingy he gets attached to you like attached and will not be physically removed.

You enter school with Mike's arm around your waist and your friends walking behind you. They go to separate classes while you and Mike go to your English class. You sit down with Mike in your shared desk and Mike's places his hand comfortably on your thigh and you listen to the teacher while he draws circles on you.

The teacher announces there will be a new girl and then she steps in and you watch as her eyes go past everyone on onto your boyfriends. You shift uncomfortablely at her intense staring before finally looking at the teacher.

"Mike?" You asked quietly as the teacher was introducing the new girl, whose name is Aria.

"Yeah, princess?" Mike looks at you, like your the world or to precise his world.

"The new girl keeps staring at you." You shift again when you notice her gaze on your boyfriend.

"I don't care about her, love. Just you." Mike says as he kisses the crown of your head and grips you tighter as you lean into his touch.

"Aria, go sit down next to Mike" the teacher yelled, "Mike put your hand up."

Mike hesitantly put his hand up and moved even closer to you, if that was possible.

"Hi, I'm Aria" She said to Mike smiling all wide and flirtatious.

"I'm Mike" He said bluntly and didn't shake her hand when she held it off but she brushed it off.

"You been here long?" She asked him question after question and he got sick and tired of it so he pulled you onto his lap and the teacher didn't care as he wrapped his arms around your waist and snuggled his head in your neck.

"Yeah, I guess. Could you stop talking? I'm with my girlfriend." Mike snarled as he cuddles into you more. You blushed at him being this much PDA with you but you liked it as he didn't so it much often.

You death stared the girl, who did the same back at you and you and Mike both got up straight away to leave class once the bell rang.

"Let's go back to mine." The Wheeler boy says as he drags you along not even giving you the chance to say yes or no. :)

You both hang out at his house for the rest of the day and went to bed together and cuddled the rest of the night.

The next day the girl did the same after and she did so for a month and recieved a months worth of Mike's rejections, before you had enough.

You came out if class to see Mike in the hallway and you both made eye contact and he was about to go over to you as a certain demon spawn (Aria) came over to him and again started to flirting with him.

You had enough so you decided to take matters into your own hands.

"Mikey!" You ran up to him and into his arms as he spun you around before setting you down and you immediately went in for a kiss. But it wasn't a singular kiss, no, you were full on making out with Mike infront of Aria and you broke apart just as Mike said.

"L-love" as you bit down gently on his neck and left a hicky on there and he squirmed.

Once you finished what you were doing you turned around and faced Aria.

"Oh hi. I didn't see you there." Just as you grabbed Mike hand and dragged him through the halls.

"Princess?" Mike said teasingly, "Were you jealous?" He said giggling and smiling like a fool.

"What? No!" You laughed once you looked him in the eye and he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into him.

"I'm so inlove with you. Just you." Mike said repeating what he said before and that was all you needed.

"I love you too, Mike"

#mike wheeler #finn wolfhard #finn wolfhard characters #stranger things #x reader #x you #x y/n #tumblr fyp #finn wolfhard x reader #mike wheeler is in love with me<3 #stranger things 5 #boris pavlikovsky #trevor spengler #miles fairchild #ziggy katz #richie tozier

[atomicpixies]

Sometimes you just need to draw a robot dinosaur!

Ya'll I love the Horizon game series. I've long since beaten Horizon Forbidden West but I'm still out there there hunting machines to upgrade all my gear so I can just turn around and play it again. I'm just really sad that I don't have a PS5 yet because I can't play Burning Shores yet.

Some day.

Still though. I love riding around on these little buddies. Clawstriders are really great to take into battle with you. They aren't very fast to get from point a to point b, but they're great to use to fight other clawstriders!

I've even been working on a new Aloy cosplay because I love all her outfits and wanted to try making one of the Tenakth armors. It's been quite a project but I'm really excited with how its turning out!

#Art #atomic pixies #art nerdveau #fanart #horizon forbidden west #horizon zero dawn #robot #dinosaur #video games #clawstrider

[frostironfudge]

Labyrinth - Bucky Barnes - Chapter VI

Summary: labyrinth (noun), a complicated set of paths and passages, through which it is difficult to find your way. Bucky and You would do anything for Steve and Wanda, your respective best friends. In an attempt to avoid a tradition Steve and Wanda come up with a lie involving their best friends.  A lie, that involves building a labyrinth. Bucky and You begin to build but will you two find your way out or be caught in it?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, (Modern AU)

Word Count: 9.8k || Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Warnings: chapter contains 18+ moments, minors DNI, there is ALOT, I MEAN ALOT OF SMUT, and implied smut, puffin and sunshine are filthy, dirty talk, p in v, dom/sub undertones, cum play?, bondage (idk bucky's tie is mentioned somewhere), fingering, size kink, allusions to cockwarming, thigh riding, this whole chapter is mostly horny, oh i forgot to add food play (ya'll wont look at this one thing the same way), there is angst too, also sad moments as well, also fluff, puffin and sunshine are idiots who can't see they are in love and wanda and steve have a plan and that plan is executed here. also soare means sun in romanian. sharon is a total bitch.

Main Masterlist || AO3 || Fic Masterlist || Fic Playlist

The taste is divine on his tongue. Lips coated in the sweet nectar dripping from the oasis that quells his thirst. Chest heaving, audible breathing, and the flush on the planes of his chest. 

Bucky groans as the pre-workout kicks in, humming as the burst of energy thrums through his body. Fuck, its a good workout day for him. 

“Fuck.” He breathes, eyes on the weights, he could do another set. The text tone chimes above the music playing. Heading to the corner, phone in hand. 

Sunshine: would you be able to come over? 

Puffin: bad day?

Sunshine: somewhat? 

Puffin: I'll be there in an hour, sunshine. 

The minute you open the door, Bucky’s line of questioning is interrupted by your lips. His hands grab onto your waist, humming appreciatively as you mould into him perfectly. 

Fuck he missed this, it had been about a week since he last sunk into you. 

Being lost in the abyss that was created by the two of you, together. Burning bright. 

Your nails rake along his forearms, Bucky groans against the spot on your neck he’s claimed. Your walls clench around him, not allowing him to leave. Pleasure courses through your bodies. 

“Squeezing me so tight, Sunshine.” Bucky pulls himself up and you, hand around your throat, back arched while your shoulders grazed against his sweat slicked chest. 

“Bucky, Bucky, Bucky,” You preen as he feels even deeper, the tip of his length pushing right against the spot that has you closer to falling apart. 

“Look at you, so fucked out, need to cum don’t you?” He groans yet again, his own orgasm barrelling towards him, every pretty sound you make going right to his dick. 

“Yes, fuck, you want to cum too don’t you? C-Can feel your cock twitching— so, oh, good—,” Bucky’s palm leaves your neck, moving over the expanse of your décolletage. He grasps your breast, index and thumb twisting your nipple making you cry out. Your words melting on your tongue. 

Bucky nips at your shoulder, you shudder in his grasp, “Come on Sunshine, give me my third one.” He coaxes, the coil snaps, your hand braces against the wall, the other clutching onto his forearm as your legs shake. 

Your mind a haze, you feel Bucky’s hand return to hold you up, his own hips stuttering in rhythm. 

Your breathing hard but you know he needs to tip over, “Fill me up, fuck Bucky, can feel every vein and ridge, so big, so good, cum for me. Wanna feel it, every last drop.” Your hand moves to his hair, tugging on it bringing his lips to yours, Bucky moans as he cums, coating your spasming walls with himself. 

He craved you.

every part of him craved every part of you.

Puffin: Can I come over? 

Sunshine: who pissed you off today?

Puffin: Walker. 

Sunshine: Does an hour sound okay?

Puffin: perfect 

Sunshine: bring snacks. 

Puffin: don’t I always get you snacks?

Sunshine: those tasteless protein bars are not snacks. 

Puffin: that was all I had that night! how was I to know you’d pass out?!

Sunshine: a good dom knows. 

Puffin: [insert eye roll GIF]

Puffin: brat. 

Sunshine: fuck the brat out of me. 

Puffin: oh I plan on it. 

That night he makes sure you’re begging for release. Edging you for hours on end. His own cock painfully hard aching. Eager to be wrapped up in your warmth. 

Bucky’s dark eyes raked over your form, so pretty kneeling with your hands tied, mouth on his cock, spit and precum smeared over your lips and chin. 

The remote controlled vibrator being toyed with in time with your mouth moving on his length. His balls feel heavier each time you moan around him or give soft licks to the underside. 

Bucky keeps you close then, as your daze expression clears. Every so softly your fingertips reach for his arm. Careful touches to the inked lines on his skin. 

He sighs softly, closing his eyes. Willing himself to pull away from these soft touches. The way you trace the tattoos as if memorising him. He can’t have that, he can’t have you etched onto his skin. 

The tattoos he can get rid of, you however? 

You would remain there eternally etched onto his skin, inked onto his heart. 

Standing outside his door is daunting, you hadn’t been here in about three months. Mostly the two of you met at your apartment. You fix the strap of your small bag, after this you are going to head to Wanda's. The wedding was nearing and the first plan of action was to schedule everything over the week. 

Four planners were involved — the bride and grooms as well as Bucky and your own. 

He opens the door shirtless. That stops every thought in your brain. Dark ink gracing his skin in intricate patterns that you’ve stolen moments tracing. 

Bucky had chalked it up to you needing to touch him as part of aftercare, however only you knew you were giving into a small part of yourself that wished to have more. Your eyes move from the constellation pattern, one of your personal favourites. To his face. 

“I was thinking…” He opens the door wider, to allow you inside. 

“That is dangerous.” You tease, he rolls his eyes but doesn’t retort. 

You walk by the kitchen a little too quickly, even though the previous events are long gone, months old. You don’t want a rehash. The new oven you bought was beautiful, not as beautiful as the state of the art one he had tucked in his kitchen but you loved your little baby. 

You may have dreamed about Bucky’s oven more than anything else. 

“What’s wrong?” Bucky frowns noticing your quick stride.

“Nothing,” you pick up Alpine as she curls around your feet. Greeting her with a kiss to her sweet little nose. 

“How is my favourite little kitty cat?” You coo, she chirps, nuzzling against your neck making you laugh. 

Bucky watches as Alpine has you wrapped around her little paw as well. She yet hadn’t given up your sweater and it was now a permanent fixture in his house. Somehow it would be the thing that would calm Alpine down if she was mad at him. 

“What were you thinking?” You divert the topic as Alpine leaps out of your arms going to her scratch post and then her perch in the guest room. 

“Could you request Wanda to keep Steve and my required wedding stuff in the evenings? I know Wanda has a bit of wiggle room since she owns her firm and you do too.” He scratches the back of his head. 

Don’t look at the bicep, don’t look at the bicep— oh those chest muscles—no. 

“Um, yeah, uh I can try, why aren’t Steve or you asking this of Wanda?” You raise a brow, his cheeks tinge pink in the slightest. 

“Well Wanda can be…” he trails off, then you actually watch him shudder. 

“Wanda scares you?” You giggle, not being able to picture Bucky being afraid of her. 

“Don’t tell me you aren’t.” He scoffs, moving closer to you. You were wearing the navy shirt, the buttons aching to be undone one at a time. While he would worship your skin as you would pray his name. 

You notice his gaze flicker down, over your body. Goosebumps spread across your skin, he steps closer towering above you. His cologne is different and more citrusy, a hint of spice comes through as well. 

Your head tilted back as Bucky’s fingers play with the baby hairs at the base of your neck. The delicate touch sending shivers through you and hardening your nipples. 

“No bra?” He hums, free hand cupping your breast and squeezing. You gasp as he twists the peak between his fingers. Arousal pools in your belly. 

You wet your bottom lip, then biting into it as he repeats his ministrations on the other nipple. 

“Fuck—,” You’re pulled closer, his length hardening against your lower abdomen, the grey sweats he wore doing nothing to hold back the outline of him. 

“If I,” He muses, hand moving from your neck along your back. 

“Do this,” his palm squeezes your ass, then moves along your hip bone to the front. 

“Will I find you not wearing any panties, Sunshine?” He cups your mound, your legs part for him. 

Your hands find purchase against his warm chest. 

He grinds his palm against you, when he groans you know he can feel the wetness coating the fabric and now his palm. 

“Little brat wanted to be fucked right as she entered?” He bites down on his bottom lip as your whimpers fuel his own arousal.  He trails his hand up, pushing through the waistband of your leggings. 

The heat of you coats his fingers, the deep guttural groan from him, has you clench around his fingers as they stay buried inside you. 

“Should I bend you over the kitchen counter?” His thumb flicks your clit and you cry out. 

“Maybe keep you perched on the counter and eat this pretty pussy out, till she soaks my beard.” His hands increase pace.  

“Fuck—,” You moan, “God—,” your nails dig into his chest as his fingers continue their relentless pace. 

Bucky laughs, “He’s not doing anything to you, Sunshine. It’s all me, go on say the name of the man making you feel this way, filling you up so good with just his fingers. No God is feeling how fucking tight you are for me, squeezing my fingers, eager to have my cock.” 

The coil begins to tighten in your belly, your hips grinding on his fingers, “Fuck, please—,”

“Not unless you say my name.” His pace slows down, you mewl, raking your nails down his chest, “You know that only turns me on more, go on.” 

You look up at him through hazy eyes, he’s smirking knowing just how to move his fingers to either give you your orgasm or snatch it away and edge you. 

“Fuck you.” You grit, trying to grind onto his unmoving fingers. 

“Oh you will.” He assures, “Just my name, Sunshine. Or are you already feeling fucked out?” He begins to thrust again, your legs shaking as your orgasm nears. 

“Asshole.” You grit, when he stops yet again. 

“Not my name, Sunshine.” He tuts, hand retreating, middle and ring fingers coated in your arousal, he traces your lips coating them with you. 

“No movements, no taste.” He warns, taking his fingers in between his lips, humming at the way you taste. Your cunt throbs, a plea to be touched right on the tip of your tongue. 

His lips crash onto yours, the taste of you shared across the taste of his lips, the two of you moan in unison. Your hand moves over the expanse of his chest and abdomen, pushing at the sweats, Bucky’s hands are too busy grabbing your ass, your palm finds his length, cupping him through the sweatpants. 

Bucky’s balance of lifting you shifts, he groans into your mouth as you squeeze harder, the fabric combined with your touch distracting him. 

You push forth, backing him on to the couch. You push down the leggings, not taking off the shirt, you knew how much Bucky enjoyed peeling this off of your body. 

He pants, watching you lower his sweats freeing his length.

Hands grip your hips as you straddle him, your folds rubbing over his length. Bucky throws his head back as you sink onto him inch by delicious inch. Your walls flutter around him. Adjusting and taking him so well. 

“So good, Sunshine. So fucking perfect.” He praises, your lips move from his jaw to his neck, his cock deep inside you, tip sitting right at the spot that he’s seemingly placed. 

“Move, Sunshine.” He groans as you nip on his collarbone and then over his shoulder where his inked skin begins. 

“Say my name.” Your head is tugged back, thin rings of blue greet your smug expression. 

“You have to say mine, first.” He reminds you shrug. 

“Puffin.” You tease, it earns you a slap to your ass. The movement jolts the two of you. The tip of his cock presses right on the spot. You can’t stop the needy preen that slips past your lips. 

Bucky knows this game, the two of you holding off till one breaks, he didn't keep score but he knew the two of you have broken resolve in equal parts. Your pussy feels so good around him, he wants you moaning his name. 

He wants to be your only thought. 

You feel his palm around your neck, your eyes snap to his, there is a change in his demeanour. The world moves on its axis you’re under him, back pressed into the couch. 

Bucky rasps your name over and over, the way his hips move. Each stroke deep, hitting the spot over and over his name tumbles from your lips.  

Your legs wrapped around his hips, Bucky supports himself on one hand. The tattooed left hand grips your collar. The fabric ribs buttons sliding across onto the floor. 

He moans at the fight of your flesh, faded marks he left on your chest greet him. He presses on your lower abdomen. You cry out. 

“Bucky—,”

“I’m fucking deep aren’t I?” He moves to cup your jaw. 

You nod mindlessly, your fingers wrapped around his wrist. The grip on your jaw is tight. 

Your back arching as he fucks you harder and harder, breaths panting, sweat slicked chests colliding, Bucky watches as your eyes roll back when your orgasm takes you under. The way your lips part in a moan but he can hear the soft whisper of his name. 

Your hand moves from raking your nails down his back to cup his face, you reach up, lips meeting in a sloppy kiss as he slows his face. You whine when he pulls out of you. 

“Bucky—,” 

“Kitchen.” He says, he can’t get the image of you sprawled out on the counter out of his mind. Years ago it was a fantasy of his, maybe he’d come home, find you baking. 

You’d smear frosting onto his cheek, it would turn from sweet moments into you falling apart for him and piecing him back together. 

Bringing himself out of the fantasy he looks down at you. Your heart thuds, “I—,”

“Do you like Dulche de Leche?” He enquires, you nod. 

“Good, I want to taste it off of your skin.” He declares, standing and helping you up. Your legs wobble but he takes most of your weight. 

Bucky places you on the kitchen island, heading to the fridge. You watch him, cock glistening with your remnants and bobbing with his movements. 

You swallow, he looks so delicious. Bucky returns, using a spoon to smear it over your collarbones, warm lips trail across licking the sauce. You shudder as he nips at the flesh. 

“Wanna taste Sunshine?” He brings his ring finger to your lips, the saltiness mixed with sweet taste coats your tongue, you hum in delight, eyes locked with his gleaming ones. 

“Lay back.” He says, you follow, the cold marble has your arch up slightly, Bucky pours the confection across your sternum, over your nipples and along your abdomen. Your inner thighs are traced as well.  

Taking his time to lick your skin clean by the time he reaches your pussy, you’re quivering and aching for him. Tears stinging your eyes from the sensitivity. Your hands try to find purchase tugging on his hair. 

“Look at you, dripping all over the counter.” He chuckles, grasping your thighs and then pulling you up. Forehead touching his, you whine, wanting to orgasm yet again. 

Bucky has you stand, turned and bent over. You moan as he slams into you in one smooth stroke, crying out at the fullness. Bucky’s responding groan reverberates through you. 

Your hands claw at the counter to find something to hold onto as he beings to fuck you, grunts and groans tumble past Bucky’s lips, praises of how you’re good to him, how beautiful you taste, how pretty you look this way. Your left hand grips the long edge, the right knocks over the glass container coating your hand in the dulce de leche. 

“Look at you making a mess in my kitchen, think of how I could bend you over anytime I come home and find you there, just in that little apron of yours—fuck, pussy’s gripping me like a vice.” 

You’re both too far gone, chasing release, your hips move, meeting Bucky back for each thrust, tears rolling down your cheeks at how good he feels. 

“So good, so good, right there, oh–,” 

“You feel so deep— Bucky!” You babble when all he has to do is toy with your clit, you shudder against the counter, your back making you arch off of it. Bucky’s palm pressed on your sternum, he keeps you pressed against him. 

He moans your name so beautifully that you want to keep hearing it from his lips as he cums inside you. Chest heaving you try to carry your own weight but he doesn’t allow you too. Still inside you but you can feel the mix of your orgasms coating your thighs. 

“That was,” Bucky looks down at you as you look up at him. 

Your eyes move to his neck, “Oh…” 

Your Dulce de Leche coated fingertips smear the caramel across his neck and chest. The other side of his neck peppered in blooming love bites. You wince, he was adamant about non visible markings on him. 

“I’m sorry—,”

“It’s okay, it’s just sauce…” carefully he pulls out of you, you grip the counter. 

“No… The… you need to look in the mirror…” you prompt, eyes downcast because you knew this was going to lead to an argument. 

Bucky frowns but then moves out of the kitchen and into his room. 

Then his words make their way into his mind. 

What the fuck had he said? 

‘Look at you making a mess in my kitchen, think of how I could bend you over anytime I come home and find you there, just in that little apron of yours—,’

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

His dick throbs in remembrance of the way you felt around him. He doesn’t even care about the lovebites. He never did, it was just a precaution against developing feelings for you. Craving you being the one marking him, claiming him. 

“I’m sorry.” You say from the doorway, your ripped apart shirt back on but being held by your hands in place. 

“It’s fine, just don’t—,”

“I know, I’ll be careful next time, maybe bite down on my own hand or something?” You look down at the carpet. 

Bucky wants to tell you no, you don’t need to be careful but he bites his tongue. He’s said enough on the brink of bliss. 

“I’m going to go shower and then—,”

“Sunshine,” What the fuck is wrong with him? He’s become greedy, “You gotta help clean this mess up.” 

You’ve made him greedy. Insatiable. Feral. 

Bucky moves towards you, a hunter stalking towards its prey. Dark eyes pinning you in place. You feel yourself grow wetter as he closes in, your hand moves fingers collecting the arousal that coats your folds. 

Bucky licks his lips, parting his lips when you raise your hand. You chuckle, smearing it over the mess you had already smeared on his neck. 

Then your lips latch onto his neck. Bucky groans, he adores this, when you do something so utterly obscene. Your hand pumps his cock as you lap at him. Humming and moaning. You’re taking him towards unravelling, his tip sensitive your thumb gathers the precum. 

“Fuck baby,” He groans, your heart flips, his fingers tweak your nipples, “Shower, now.” He growls, lips brushing against yours as the only warning before he lifts you up carrying you to the bathroom. 

You’re sprawled across his bed, sheets twisted around you. Head against his chest, Bucky’s breathing evenly. You woke up about fifteen minutes ago. The clock reads 1 AM. 

Aftercare cuddling had turned into him offering you a plate of fruits, definite upgrade from those nasty protein bars. You blanch at the memory of them alone. Cardboard. Ew. 

You had to leave, sleepovers weren’t something the two of you did, no matter how late or exhausting the fucking got, though you’d prefer to just lay here. You couldn’t tell him off in the middle of sex when he said he’d come home to you in the kitchen. 

That fantasy was born when you first knew him, wondering if sex in the kitchen would be something you two would ever do. He was making you want more. You had to remind yourself he was probably just talking dirty. 

The little voice in the back of your mind wished it wasn’t just that, but this wouldn’t work. Taking a deep inhale slowly you pull away. Bucky’s arms tighten, you huff. 

“Puffin, I need to go.” You whisper. 

“Soare.” He grumbles, pulling you closer. The way he says that you’ve seldom heard it since the night at the Khan’s. Too chicken to even attempt to google the translation. 

You pull away, his arms fall from you. Bucky grabs onto the pillow you were using, nuzzling himself to it. You watch as his breathing evens out. Keeping your footsteps light you go out into the hallway, Alpine watches you from the couch. 

Her little fish toy on the floor. Your gaze moves to the bag you brought an ironed Navy shirt folded upon your leggings which were folded too. You swallow. 

‘Since I rendered yours unusable, you can have mine.’ - puffin. 

Putting it on, feels intimate as if this is not something the two of you should be doing. Alpine meows when you finish buttoning it up. 

Then she begins pawing at the sheet you were wearing as you’re folding it rendering the task futile. You sigh at her. 

“Not helpful.” You chide, she cutely climbs the sheet and is almost face level with you. 

“Yeah, making beds is a nightmare in this house.” 

You turn to Bucky, heart racing, “At least indicate you’re awake.” 

“Thought you heard me.” He shrugs a smug expression on his face, fuck him and those grey sweatpants. 

Well you technically did fuck him and maybe he also made you grind down on his thigh and you’re pretty sure you left a mark on those sweatpants too. 

Focus. Focus. Focus. 

What is he doing? Where are his hands— Bucky stands again from kneeling as he grabs the end of the sheet effectively creating a hammock for Alpine. 

The cat meows and rolls around. You giggle, swinging it gently with him, watching her have the time of her life on the makeshift swing. 

Bucky watches you absolutely adore Alpine, the way you look in his shirt however? He’s glad the sheet is there. After a few minutes Alpine gets bored jumping out of her hammock. Bucky and you fold the sheet. He holds it to himself as you take your bag. 

“I’ll try to have the stuff you need to be there for in the evenings.” You look at him, he gives you a grateful smile. 

“I’d appreciate that.” He swallows the lump in his throat, the voice that wants you to stay over. 

“Are you heading to their place?” He asks as you turn away. 

“Yeah,” you look down at your phone finally, you had messaged her about the plan to meet up with Bucky. Her texts urge you to take your time and stay over.  

Wanda: if he fucked you to sleep I will gift him his favourite food item. Your night owl ways need to be curbed. 

You snort. 

He wonders what's making you laugh. You turn to him. 

“Wanda’s going to give you your favourite food item.” You type back a reply to Wanda as Bucky processes the information. 

“For what?” 

“Fucking me to sleep, she hates I stay up late.” 

“Why do you stay up late?” He questions. 

“That's a pretty loaded answer…” shrugging, you head to the door again. 

“I want to know.” He says easily. 

Four simple words, you bite the inside of your cheek. 

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” you don’t turn, reminding him. He frowns. You’ve heard him complain, let him rant to you but you hardly ever do the same. 

“You can trust me.” He steps closer. 

“I know.” 

Another few steps and he’s right behind you, you can almost feel his body heat. 

“Then why won’t you speak to me?” He questions, his chest feels heavy, akin to a column about to collapse under the weight of your next words, “Why do you always hide away?” 

“Because I’m scared.” You choose the truth, you are scared. 

It took alot from Bucky, you know it was taking a lot from him to speak to you. 

“Scared of what, Sunshine?” He raises his hand to touch your shoulder, he wants to see you. 

“That this is all just play pretend.” You whisper. 

Before Bucky can say anything your phone begins to ring, Wanda’s picture taking over the screen you walk away from him into the kitchen to answer. 

When you return he’s put on a shirt, sitting on the couch. 

“So I’m heading out.” You say slowly. 

He nods. 

“Look I didn’t mean anything by what I said, I just there is alot on my plate. My family hasn’t been the easiest to deal with and my cousin ratted out that I got fired and started baking full time so it's just…” you shrug, he sighs. 

“I understand. Drive safe.” He moves into his room, as you leave. 

Bucky lays in his bed, pulling the sheets and the pillow closer. The scent of you lingers as well as residual heat. He closes his eyes. 

He could pretend you decided to stay. 

After all it’s all play pretend. 

Five days later Bucky gets a call from Steve on his way home. 

“Hey man.” Steve sounds apologetic. 

“What do you need Mr. Groom?” Bucky laughs already knowing it's something wedding related. 

“I need you to come down to the baker’s for cake tasting.” 

“Is Wanda not coming?” He frowns, pulling onto the shoulder to get the address. 

“She is, just I’m stuck at work and it's an emergency and I don’t want to miss this cake thing either…” Steve groans, “I mean she’s going to decide anyway and you get good cakes?” 

“Alright yeah, I’m free, I’ll be there. Good luck at work.” 

“Luck? What?”

“For the emergency?” Bucky sounds sceptical. 

“Oh, yeah, sorry man I just, thanks I owe ya, oh and don’t tell them you aren’t me, they hate that thing!” 

The call disconnects leaving Bucky to stare at his phone for a few minutes before he begins to drive to the cake shop. 

“Ah Mr. Rogers!” A sickly sweet voice greets, the woman’s hair pinned up and nails well manicured holding a cigarette outside the shop. 

“Um?” Bucky raises a brow and she puts out the cigarette.

“Your other half is waiting; come, come, we’re so excited to have you both!” She ushers him inside. Bucky’s eyes move over the decor. What was Wanda thinking? Everything is frilly and floral and over the top and why are you sitting here with a nervous smile on your face?

“Y/N—Mrs. Rogers.” He corrects with a smile. 

“Hey Buck—Steve.” You press your lips into a thin line. 

“Ah get settled, I’ll bring out your tasting cakes.” The woman claps and leaves the two of you. 

Bucky looks around again before sitting. 

“Don’t look at your right.” You warn, Bucky looks to his right and his eyes widen comically. 

The entire wall is lined with porcelain dolls. 

“Why are there so many?” He whispers, not able to tear his eyes away.

“I think it's so no one steals cake.” You whisper back, “Also don’t make sudden movements.” 

“Why?” He still looks at the dolls, you look at him, studying his features. 

“Because the eyes follow you.” 

“Here!” 

Both of you shudder and look at the tray in front of you. 

“Thank you Karen.” You smile, she beams. 

“I see you are enjoying the company.” She points at the dolls, “I’ve been collecting since I’ve been baking.” Karen moves to wipe something off of the doll’s face, “Little naughty ones love frosting.” 

Bucky and you exchange a glance, you warn him not to ask. 

“Frosting?” He still enquired, you clutch his thigh in further warning, he puts his hand over yours. 

“Ah yes, they gobble it up by the truck load, you two taste I’ll check on the remaining cakes.”

Bucky whips his head towards you, “We need to leave.” 

“We have to taste the cakes.” You defend. 

“The dolls will taste us before we eat the cakes.” He points at them and swears one just winked at him. 

“Bucky.” You roll your eyes, but the dolls creep you the fuck out too. 

“Don’t tell me you don’t feel like the one in the pink dress doesn't think we may taste great.” 

You follow his line of vision. The pink frills match the interior a little too well. 

You swallow, no argument in place. 

“Run on three?” He offers.

“Emergency at home?” You offer. 

“Grandma fell?” He says, you nod. 

“Wait, is your grandma alive?” You ask, holding his hand. 

“Nope, she passed when I was ten but she said anytime I need to get out of something I can say she’s hurt or worse. She called it her ‘get out of hell’ good deed.” He laughs.

“She sounds amazing.” You chuckle. 

The two of you stand, hand in hand. Looking down at the cakes the scent of them indicates too much essence being put and the cakes look dry as hell. 

You wince, “Should we leave something?” 

“A hundred?” He wonders, reaching for his wallet. He holds it while still holding your hand. 

The bill tucked into the plate Bucky leads you out.

“Karen, we have an emergency. My grandma fell down the stairs and we need to leave!” He calls out, just as she emerges from the kitchen. 

“Oh no you can’t—,”

“So sorry!” You call as he opens the door leading you out. 

“The Dolls!” She leaps over the counter, Bucky tugs on your arm, your steps asynchronous, the two of you run across the lot, closed down shops pass by in a blur and you want to laugh despite feeling breathless. 

Bucky guides you behind the corner of the building, you’re pressed against the wall trapped by him. Chests meeting as your breaths catch. You look up at him, he’s already looking at you. 

A moment passes and then the two of you burst out laughing. 

“Where are you Mr and Mrs. Rogers?” Karen calls out. 

The two of you press a palm to each other’s mouths, it only triggers more laughter. Bucky shakes his head at you, slowly the two of you move further along the side of the building slipping back. 

There aren’t any street lamps or lights. The only guide is having you pressed against him and the scarce light from the far end. 

“Where is your car?” He asks as softly as he can manage, breath fanning across your lips. Your eyelids flutter. 

“Used a taxi…” 

“My car’s in the pay and park next building over.”

“How much physical exertion have you planned for today?” You narrow your eyes at him. 

He chuckles, “It depends how needy you can get for me before the drive to your house ends.” 

“Careful, Mr. Barnes, I might just have to get you as needier.” 

“Shh, it's Mr. Rogers, that’s why we’re having sex recklessly, in an alley.” His thumb brushes over your lips. 

You breathe a laugh against his digit. 

“Lead the way then, Mr. Rogers.” 

He hums, cupping your face and kissing you deeply. His knee parting your legs and having you pressed flush against him. Your fingers tangle with his hair, tugging him closer. 

Bucky’s hands explore your body, moving under your shirt, thumbs stroking over your sides. You shiver in his grasp. He pulls away from yours lips, nose touching yours, “Have you ever been eaten out in a car?” 

You shake your head, fingertips rubbing soft circles on his scalp. 

“That’s about to change, Sunshine.”

“You’re fucking glowing.” Wanda grins brightly, making you laugh. 

“I’m literally not—,”

“Oh shush, this post sex glow is amazing—,”

“We did not have sex, last we hooked up was about a week ago.” You explain, a part of you did yearn for Bucky you had told your best friend that, but you knew it wouldn’t work and keeping the greedier side of you in check was getting difficult. 

“So are you going to tell him?” Wanda wiggles her brows, you huff out a no, she frowns, “Why not?” 

“Wan, he doesn’t want any of that, it's been what three, four months? We fuck a few times and that is it.” Your hands pause over the dress, it’s something similar to what you’ve had in mind for your own wedding. 

“Wants change, he could want more? If you don’t ask, how will he know?” She squeals, finding her dress. 

You move towards her, eyes brimming with tears at her happiness. 

“Don’t get emotional on me.” She warns her own throat tightening. 

“Why?” You wipe at the tears pooling. 

“Because then I’ll cry.” She hugs you tightly. 

You hug her back, gently cradling her head. 

“Ma’am, champagne?” The store manager asks. 

Wanda nods, “Lots of it.”

Just as she goes in to change, Steve and Bucky walk into the area. The former bounds over to hug you, you smile. Bucky steals your gaze standing behind Steve. He gives you a wave. You wave back. 

“Ah, Ms. Maximoff mentioned her fiance would be joining in.” The manager has the employee offer both of them champagne flutes. 

“Yes, thank you for accommodating us, Wanda appreciates it as do I.” Steve smiles. 

“Do the parents know you guys are doing this?” Bucky chuckles, you notice him retrieving his film camera from his bag. 

“Not one bit, but we aren’t following any traditions so, no harm no foul.” Steve shrugs. 

The sleeves of Bucky’s shirt rolled to his forearms, you watch as the employees fawn over him. Steve hides his smile behind the glass. The way the two of them had left you alone for the cake tasting and then choosing the matching napkins. 

With the way Bucky couldn’t stop talking about you and Wanda reporting you not being able to get Bucky out of your head. Steve was completely sure their next step was at the right moment. 

Bucky begins taking test shots, a few of the racks of dresses, and a few of Steve. When he turns with the camera towards you he starts laughing at the silly face you pull. 

Only to be cut off by you gasping, “Oh, Wanda.” You feel yourself get emotional yet again, Steve looks at her, jaw dropped and completely in awe. Wanda pinned her hair to one side, the assistant brought in a veil placing it upon her. 

Wanda nervously shifts the fabric around. Her eyes on Steve, in that moment everyone looking at them witnesses the love between the two. Steve stands making his way to her. Cupping her face and kissing her forehead. 

“I want to marry you right here.” He says making Wanda blush. 

“Really?” She chuckles, hands wrapped around his wrists. 

“Truly, just so I can take the dress off of you with my teeth.” 

“Steve.” Bucky sighs, did they ever stop? He takes more pictures. 

“What? She’s so gorgeous!” He says as if he cannot be blamed. 

“I am though.” Wanda grins, cupping his cheek and kissing him. 

“You think they’ll do it?” You whisper. 

“Why? Do you want to win the bet?” He raises a brow. 

“I want to know if they’ll kick us all out or—,” you pause, noticing one of the employees taking your dream dress into the changing room. 

“What is it?” He looks at the employee too. 

“Oh nothing, just remembered I need to buy chocolate chips.” You make your way over to Wanda when Steve finally pulls himself away. 

She squeals, intertwining your hands, giddy with excitement. 

“I love it.” You tell her, “Oh, you’re the prettiest bride ever.” 

Her cheeks tinge pink again, her gaze moving to Steve who looks at her with the most adoring look in his eyes. 

“I’m in love.” He declares. 

“Punk, you better be.” Bucky warns him. 

Their gazes meet and Bucky gives him one of the rare smiles, he’s so elated for the two of them. 

“Come on.” Wanda leads you to the changing rooms.

“Why?” 

“Just, come on.” 

When you get inside Wanda pushes you into a room with a dress, no, the dress you were admiring. 

“Wan…”

“Oh come on, we’ve always wanted to play dress up.” She ushers you in, “Go on get into the robe I’ll be there to help zip up.” 

The sleeves are intricate, it’s off shoulder and shows off your cleavage in a borderline risqué way but it looks absolutely gorgeous. The skirt is not poofy at all and can be attached to your wrist so it wouldn’t bother you while dancing or during the transition from ceremony to reception.  

“Oh I know you want two weddings, one white and another traditional and this is so beautiful.” Wanda claps, back in her regular attire. You smile. 

“Come on, they have the veil outside.” She walks away. 

“What no, I’m not—,” 

Her look silences you. You follow. 

Steve sees Wanda walk out. Bucky stops talking the second he looks behind Wanda at you. He swears he can feel his heart stop. 

The veil is placed on you, you watch yourself in the mirror. He swallows, not noticing that Wanda and Steve are giving each other pats on their backs. 

You notice his gaze through the mirror, your cheeks warming at the way he can’t stop giving you once overs, again and again. 

“Sunshine.” He says, the word heavy, laced with something he’s terrified to recognise, terrified to name. 

“Puffin.” You say with equal regard, worried this is throwing everything off kilter. You can’t lose him. 

His gaze falls to the wedding ring on your hand, chest tightening. He looks away from you. 

The spell breaks, you bite your lip going back inside. 

Steve looks up at the ceiling, “Why did you make them both stubborn?” He whispers. 

“I’m so close to locking them in a room with a signboard each that has their sappy declarations of love from years ago.” Wanda whispers to him. 

“I might assist you with that.”

“Might?” 

“I will, my love.” 

“Much better Mr. Rogers.” She pats his chest, he laughs, kissing the top of her head. 

Bucky fiddles with his own wedding band, he says nothing at all even as Wanda’s dress is paid for, his thoughts scrambled, only filled by you and what the two of you could be. 

You fare no better at the boy’s fittings. Steve looks amazing in his navy blue suit, Wanda almost makes you and Bucky get online ordained, but when Bucky emerges in his charcoal grey three piece and a maroon pocket square to match your Maid of Honour dress colour. You can’t help but picture the two of you together. 

Wanda’s words ring in your mind, maybe you should just confess? Tell Bucky that you want more? See what he wants and if it’s the same thing good. 

If it isn’t… you don’t want to know what it would feel like losing him a second time. 

You’re so lost in thought that you don’t notice Wanda and Steve hastily exit the restaurant. You blink at Bucky, he looks at you with worry. 

“I spaced out…” you admit to him, he nods. 

“There was something wrong at Wanda’s parents house.” He repeats the reason. You nod. 

“Do you want to continue with dinner?”  

He holds up two credit cards, “Meals on the Rogers’, so I say we take revenge for the dolls.” He grins mischievously, blue eyes shining bright. Making you laugh. 

Bucky grins wider when you do. He loves seeing your smile. Loves being the one making you smile. 

“What's the most over the top dish they have?” You wonder. 

“There is a cheese wheel with gold foil.” He shakes his head in disbelief.

Your nose scrunches, but pasta did sound good. 

Bucky hands the valet his ticket, you shiver at the temperature change. Your jacket in Wanda’s car. Bucky takes his coat off wrapping it around your shoulders but he says nothing. 

“Won’t you get cold?” You shift closer to him. 

He’s about to protest but then shifts you in front of him, arms wrapped around you. 

“You will warm me up, Sunshine.” His voice is deep, you don’t shiver in his grasp because of the cold any longer, “Won’t you?” 

His hands move over your sides, to your waist, pulling your hips flush against his front. 

“So pretty wrapped around my cock while I play with your sweet little clit.” 

“B-Bucky,” Your hands find his fingers fitting into the space between his own. Rings aligned. 

That night in your bed, it wasn’t hard and fast chasing pleasure. He touched you with the tenderness you gave to him. 

Kisses slow, deep, he held you close afraid to let you go. 

Hips flush with yours, just moans of your name and his, a melody reverberating in your hearts. One with each beat. 

Your hands cupping his face, tracing his skin, over the lines by his eyes, he says nothing as you leave an imprint upon him. 

He doesn’t want to wash you away. 

Words on the tip of your tongue, silently spoken onto his skin and lips. 

Words on the tip of his tongue, aching to reply to each syllable you write upon him. 

On the brink of bliss as the two of you would fall over, Bucky kisses you, not to swallow down your moans or pleas but to be one with you in the afterglow. 

As reality sets in, he pulls away. You both know what transpired tonight would have to be spoken about. It could wait, the two of you selfishly wanting this to last. 

Bucky kisses your cheek before leaving, eyes lingering on the frame near your kitchen.  

“It was the order that saved me from shutting my baking down.” You tell him. He reads the date, three years ago between the time you were with Beck. 

Wordlessly he leaves, you stare at the frame too, the order summary always putting a smile on your face. 

“Oh my god I can’t believe it will be three weeks to the wedding when we get back!” Sharon squeals as you all put on your shoes clearing through security. 

Wanda gives her a tightlipped smile.

“Y/N, is your bridesmaids dress ready?” She grins at you. 

“Maid of Honour and yes.” You correct her politely. 

“What about the bridesmaid dress I picked for you Sharon?” Wanda distracts her and she makes a face. 

“So you’re still engaged to Barnes?” Sharon scoffs, “Thought you’d realise—,”

“I’m happily engaged Sharon, please drop the whole thing.” You give her tightlipped smile before moving away. 

Bucky watches the exchange, eyes trailing after you. Things had gotten complicated. He started showing up with food at your place. You had begun to open up to him. Telling him in detail about your days and the issues with your family. The sex had gotten more sensual, somewhere more intense than fucking. The emotional facet of it opened up. 

The two of you didn’t address it, didn’t speak up about what happened at the party six years ago. Neither of you admitted to the clear as day present feelings. 

Steve and Wanda were elated that the dinner had worked. Both of them reported to each other that the two of you had felt a change. 

They knew it was just a matter of time before heartfelt admissions would happen. They hoped shoving the two of you into a cabin would work. 

You’re looking out of the window when Bucky settles in next to you on the middle seat of the plane. Your brows furrowed in confusion. He was supposed to be in first class with the others. 

“Hey.” You greet. 

“Hey.” He greets back, placing his carry on under the seat in front of him. 

“Didn’t you have first class?” 

He shakes his head, “Who told you?”

“Steve?” You sound confused.

“I don’t like spending on flight tickets. I'd rather have a better chance at excursions and hotels. Economy is good.” He shrugs. 

You look back out, he taps your shoulder after a moment. 

“Give me your ring.” 

“Why?” Your thumb traces the band. 

“I’ll give it back, I’m changing ours for fakes in case they get lost during the trip or worse stolen.” He holds up the duplicate to yours. 

“You’ll keep the original?” You pull it away and wear the fake one, it’s lighter but you feel okay having it on, too used to wearing it. 

“I’ll guard them.” He promises, placing them in a pouch in a ring box then deep into his bag. 

Sleep finds you easily, the past few days hectic with baking and delivering orders before you took a break for this trip. The layover at LAX is shorter compared to the longer flight from there to Aspen. 

Bucky’s head rests on top of yours as he too dozes off on the second flight, when Wanda comes back to ask you about something all she does is take a picture to show you later and she goes back to Steve. 

The jolt of landing wakes you up with a start, Bucky’s hand grasping yours, “Hey, you’re okay, we’re just landing.” 

You blink away the sleep and look up at him, “Puffin?”

He licks his lips wanting to kiss you. You look so adorable in between waking and sleep. 

“Yes, Sunshine.” 

The plane came to a halt and the disembarking motions followed. You’re still a little tired so you allow Bucky to lead the way. On more than one occasion you almost fall asleep against his shoulder while standing in line. 

He gazes at you worriedly, not dismissing your tiredness the way you are, he’d push you to sleep once you both would get to the room. Filled itinerary be damned. 

Wanda appears before you, the scent of coffee rousing you from your sleep addled brain. 

“I love you.” You whisper, taking the cup from her hand.

“Me or the coffee?” 

“The coffee.” You hum taking a sip. 

Bucky misses you tucked against him as Wanda steals you away. 

Steve makes his way over a smug grin on his face, Bucky scowls. 

“I said nothing.” Steve defends.  

“Your face still spoke.” He rolls his eyes, this couldn’t go on, the trip would be difficult if the two of you don’t speak to each other. 

“C’mon why are you denying yourself happiness?” 

“Because I don’t want to be hurt again.” He admits. 

“You won’t be.” 

“Steve. Just drop it.”

Brock and Sharon are busy making out in the back of the van as Steve and Bucky walk in, the two exchange a glance and settle into their seats. 

The cabins are near enough to each other but far apart for each couple’s privacy. It’s around one p.m. The plan is to meet back at the main hotel for lunch. 

Bucky turns after placing the suitcases in the living area. He seems serious. 

“I want to talk about the recent shift. I know you've noticed as well.” He says, you take a step back. 

“Yes…”

“Is it something you wish to pursue? I know we said this would be superficial.” He watches you trying to gauge your reaction. 

“I well, I wanted to talk to you about it as well, I know it wasn’t something you wanted, has that changed?” You hope, you hope he says it has, you hope he wants more. 

Bucky takes a deep breath, then another. 

There is a small crack that begins to form the longer he takes to answer, expecting the worst, knowing the worst. 

“If you don’t want too… then that’s okay… we can always discuss—,” 

“I don’t think we should continue on,” he cuts you off, upon seeing your torn expression he realises he never framed it right. He can’t get himself to speak further.  

“Oh.” You scramble to not let your heart rip to shreds. 

“Sunshine,” he steps closer. 

“No.” You raise a warning hand, “I understand and I respect your decision.” 

“Just, I don’t want you this way,” He winces, why can’t he just express himself?

“James,” 

His heart breaks. 

“It’s okay, I don’t need explanations of why you don’t want more, I, I need to go to the bathroom.” You take your bag with you. When your face is turned away from Bucky you allow your features to morph into pain. Clamping your fingers over your mouth to stop the sob. 

Bucky watches you go, not an ounce of regret or sadness on your features. Maybe, maybe his choking up from admitting his feelings was good. He clearly misinterpreted the change in your dynamic. 

The cabin only has one bedroom, he looks at the large sectional. It would be enough to accommodate him. When you emerge after twenty minutes, covering the tear tracks and redness of your eyes. 

Bucky stands from the couch, grabbing his toiletry bag. 

“I’ll take the couch, you can have the bed.” He observes as your eyes move over the couch. 

“You don’t—,”

“I’d be more comfortable.” 

“If you aren’t you can always you know, we can build a pillow wall…” you scratch the back of your neck. 

If the earlier conversation wasn’t weighing down on him he would have snorted. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He walks past you. 

“Also, I won’t be telling Wanda about this… I don’t want to take away from their trip.” You watch him turn, blue eyes meet yours, he nods. 

Sharon and Brock grin wickedly as they spot the tension amidst Bucky and you. 

“What? No loveable cuddling? Is the bed not comfy?” 

“Babe, he’s probably god blue balls.” Brock sniggers. 

Steve and Wanda weren’t at the table yet. Bucky kept himself busy on his phone. You had a book in your hands but the words hardly made any sense to you. 

“Jeez, tough crowd.” Brock rolls his eyes, “Hey Barnes, I heard your company is looking at Beck’s old joint.” 

“I’m not at liberty to speak to you about my work.” Bucky says without looking up from his phone. 

“Oh come on, he wants to know if he’ll get a good deal. He wants to score a bigger percentage on the next Rumlow Venture.” 

“Ah, my hardworking rich baby.” Sharon gives him an audible smooch, you turn the page of your book. 

“More like hardly working.” You mutter, Bucky coughs to hide his laugh. 

The to be wed couple arrives, slightly dishevelled. 

You share a look with Wanda. She shrugs innocently. 

The lunch progresses without a hitch, the conversation divided between the girls and guys for the excursions. The groups divide, you follow Wanda into the locker area to change into skiing gear. Sharon produces an incredibly al white outfit with faux fur trimming with matching boots. 

Wanda rolls her eyes, “So we have one locker since it is in season and we’re the same party.”

“Ah, yes I have to take these pretty babies off.” Sharon carefully places her rings and bracelets in the locker.

Wanda does the same with her ring. 

Staring down at yours makes a weight press on your chest. Quickly you take it off and put on your gloves. You could cry again, later.

Watching Sharon wobble on the skis almost makes up for enduring her. 

Wanda can’t help but laugh at each time Sharon tries to look in control for the hot instructor — Loki. He had that kind of streak where he’d flirt with everyone. 

Wanda told him it was her bachelorette weekend and he was surprised and then he turned his flirting up a notch more with her. 

There is a tap on your arm as you’re heading towards the locker area. 

“If I may have a moment, Y/N?” Loki smiles as you turn. 

“Oh, Loki, hi did we forget something?” You look down at his empty hands. 

“Would it be bold to say I left my heart with you?” He chuckles, you shake your head but smile. 

“Cheesy lines.” Is your critique. 

“Well, usually we request the guests to warm up with hot chocolate. Care to join me for a mug?” He winks, then the smile softly disappears as he understands your expression. 

“I’m engaged.” You explain, “Though I’m sure you will find something to share that mug with,” 

He shakes off the loss and beams, “You’re too kind, anyone else wouldn’t wish me well after rejecting me. I’ll see you at tomorrow’s lesson.” He calls out as he begins walking backwards to the exit. 

You laugh, turning away and entering the locker room, doffing the equipment one by one. Wanda and Sharon are talking about the dinner plans. 

“We’re thinking of trying the Italian bistro they have, what do you say?” Wanda turns to you. 

“I’m okay with it.” You open the locker and frown, “Hey Wan, did you take my ring out for me?” 

“What? No? I left it inside.” She pads over to see the empty locker. 

The two of you turn to Sharon. 

“What?” She raises her brow.

“Where is my ring Sharon?” You demand, glaring at her. 

“Give it up, this isn’t funny.” Wanda warns her.

“What ring? There was this stupid silver trashy one that I thought wasn’t any of ours and I chucked it out the window.” She shrugs. 

Your heart sinks, “W-what?” You run to the window. 

“Sharon, are you crazy?!” Wanda screams, the blond only raises her hands in defence. 

The snow covers every inch of the back porch of the hotel, how were you supposed to find it?

“How can you be this horrible?” Wanda demands to know. You push away from the window running down the steps and frantically asking the staff to open the sealed doors of the porch. 

“Ma’am you will have to go outside via the front area and head back.” The manager says, his tone sympathetic as your tears bubble over. 

“My ring.” You touch the glass pane and decide to go out.

Treading through the snow to the back porch is difficult, your boots are half laced and the chilling wind whips at your skin, you can’t feel your cheeks. 

The steps of the porch are icy, the layer of snow thick. Kneeling into it your palms dig through where you think the ring could have gone. Each portioned search turns up futile. 

“Please, please, please, please, can’t lose that too, can’t lose his—,” you blubber through sobs. 

“Y/N?” Bucky stands at the end of the steps. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I lost, I lost the ring, I shouldn’t have taken it out, I’m sorry, Bucky.” You look back down to search for something silver gleaming in the yellow light of the lamps shining overhead. 

“I— no it’s, Puffin it's a quarter. My ring’s gone.” You clutch the quarter, shoulders shaking with the crying. 

“Sunshine.” Bucky moves up the stairs carefully holding the railing, “Sunshine, listen to me.” 

He grabs your face between his palms, “That's not the real ring, remember I switched them?” He kneels as well, mouth pressed into a thin line at your state. Why weren’t you wearing any warm clothes? Where were your gloves?

“Bucky.” Wanda calls out, holding up the ring. 

“Y/N look,” he turns your head gently for you to see your best friend holding up the ring. 

“You found my ring!” The way you relax against Bucky makes him want to keep you tucked against him. 

“Sharon wanted to see if it was real, was going to take it to the local jeweller.” Wanda says and then points behind. 

Steve stands near the back doors as the senior manager opens them. Bucky wastes no time in carrying you inside. Straight to the fireplace, settling down in front of it with you. 

“Ri-ring.” You demand, Wanda places it in your hands. You close your fist around it, tucking it close to your chest. 

“I forgot.” You admit to him quietly. His hands haven’t stopped rubbing up and down over your back. 

“It’s okay.” He whispers back, “You were worried, stress does that.”

You say nothing further, allowing yourself to be held by him. Stealing yet another moment that was never meant to be yours to have with him.

“Is she okay?” 

Bucky glares at Sharon, “The fucking audacity of you. Get the fuck away. You and your shitty husband, leave us alone.” He roars. You press yourself against him more. 

“Calm the fuck down I was just asking—,”

“Sharon you’ve done enough fucking damage, just leave. We’re all eating in our own cabins, we’ll meet tomorrow.” Wanda steps in, Brock grabs Sharon’s arm and pulls her away. 

“Buck, there’s a snowstorm warning, we need to get into the cabins.” Steve pats his shoulder. 

Bucky looks down at you, you sniffle still despite the tears being gone. 

“Are you okay to go to the cabin?” He questions, you nod. 

Outside they have SUVs lined up to take people to their cabins even if they are walking distance. Bucky keeps you close through the ride and walks you to the room. 

“I’ll order us dinner okay?” He kneels in front of you while you sit on the bed. 

“Soup please?” You request, he gives you a small smile and moves to the living area. 

Even your warmest PJs feel cold, trembling hands as you open the bathroom door. The bed seems warmer. Settling into the covers you sigh in content but then the shivering starts, fuck. 

“Bucky,” Your voice is barely audible to even you. 

Shaking hard you get out of bed, gripping the walls and the duvet you walk out, the three steps to get into the living area shake in your vision. The dizziness is triggered and you feel yourself violently shake at the cold that seems to be seeped into your chest.

Bucky turns, the phone receiver dropped from his hand as he storms over to you, “Soare!” 

His arms wrap around you in time to break your fall but you don’t respond to his calls, your body feeling too cold in his grasp. 

A.N.: *hides*

a.n.2: also i will be travelling so i won't be on as much so if i will be responding only after about a week or ten days provided i get stable wifi and connection, i love you all thank you for reading and supporting!! 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

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