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evangelical04 · 2 days
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A Single Daffodil || 1
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Summary: Getting arranged to be married to your long-time crush wasn't exactly the fairy tale romance you were hoping for. Nor is the dynamic of the marriage, with your husband treating you like you don't exist. But you're going to make this work, whether he cares about you or not. And he definitely doesn't...right?
Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader
Rating: 18+ minors DNI
Word Count: 2.7K
Genre: angst, romance, unrequited love, smut, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage au, businessman yoongi
Warnings: parental trauma, sibling trauma, toxic parents, unrequited love, explicit language, alcohol usage, yoongi's kind of mean, future smut
Author's Note: hello! i'm Eva and this is my first fic on tumblr ever! I've been a reader for so long and I've always wanted to write my own stories, so I figured I finally would. I know it’s kind of short but I promise the other parts will be longer. Please give me any feedback you have and let me know if you'd like there to be a tag list or anything! I hope you guys like it!! p.s. I'm totally posting this instead of doing my morphology homework that's due in 15 minutes
masterlist / next
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The door to your childhood home looked artificially welcoming. There were too many flowers lining the walls encasing the looming wooden door. The grass on the lawn just was a bit too green without a blade out of place and the paved walkway was freshly powerwashed and missing even a speck of dirt. You let out the deep breath you were holding and gently took hold of the overly ornate bronze knocker adorning the painted wood of the door. Two loud thuds rang out as you knocked and the door quickly opened afterwards.
“Hello, Miss Y/N, your parents have been expecting you.”
“Yes, I know. Thank you, Mrs. Oh,” you responded quietly, nodding at the grey-haired woman. She shot you a sympathetic smile before ushering you in, taking your coat and carefully laying it over her arm. After removing your shoes, you followed her past the foyer to the living room where your parents awaited. 
You knew what was coming, you knew that this had been decided long before you were born. Yet, you still felt unprepared. You had grown comfortable, living in your simple apartment in Gangnam and your quiet work routine. Biting your lip, you reprimanded yourself internally, You should’ve brought this shit up in therapy before it happened.
“Here we are, Miss Y/N,” Mrs. Oh said, snapping you out of your self-pity session. You nodded gratefully at her, sending a small smile her way. Her eyebrows wove together in her own pity-ridden expression and she quickly whispered, “Good luck,” while exiting swiftly. You steeled your nerves and forced your chin up high, knowing that you’d most likely cower inwards as soon as you faced your parents anyway.
Stepping into the room, you noted the almost intervention-like setup your parents had arranged themselves in, with your father sitting proudly in his reclining, leather armchair, clad in a dark blue quarter zip and khaki pants. Your mother stood facing the fireplace, arms crossed, in a simple and elegant turquoise dress and hair tied up in a tight and neat bun, with her baby hairs smoothed back to prevent any imperfection. You could almost imagine her pinched mouth, forever encased in a stern and unamused expression. 
“Hello father, mother,” you started, trying to smooth the slight trembling in your voice. Your mother turned around, eyes narrowing at your form, “Sit down.”
You promptly obeyed.
“Your father and I have decided on your marriage. It’ll be to the Min family, to Min Yoongi.”
“What? To him? But,” you began protesting but your mother quickly cut you off with a steely glare. 
“It has already been decided. Your wedding will be in eight months. I’ll forward you the invitation list and you can add three people of your choosing. You’ll be having dinner with us and the Min family on Friday at six. I’ll have Yujin send you an email with further details. Don’t be late.” 
You looked to your father in a desperate plea but were only met with stony silence and a passive face. You turned back to your mother and registered the composed expression painting her face. Your fate had been decided, and it had not worked in your favor at all. Rising slowly, you set your hands by your side and bowed towards your parents, “I understand. I’ll be there.”
Your mother swiftly exited the room, evidently deciding the conversation was over. You could hear her dangling earrings tinkling against each other in what felt like a mocking melody. Your father calmly produced a cigar from the table next to him and lit up, no longer acknowledging you either. You let out another slow breath and walked out. 
Collecting your coat from Mrs. Oh, who tried to give you a comforting shoulder squeeze but it felt more like condolences than anything, and made your way to your car parked in front of the gate closing off your parents’ home. 
That’s it then.
You felt eerily calm yet stressed as you started up your car and carefully reversed out, making sure to avoid hitting the carved statues your parents had in front of the iron gate. As you drove home, your mind started racing with the information you had been relayed. 
Min Yoongi as your soon-to-be-husband? What irony.
Does he even know you exist?
Will you be able to survive this?
Hand gripping the steering wheel hard, you quickly dialed the most recent number in your contact list. She answered after only two rings.
“Y/N! Are you still alive? How’d it go?”
“Hi Joohee, not great. I’m completely and totally fucked.”
Joohee chuckled on the other end of the line, “Want to come over?”
“Yes,” you breathed, “I was hoping you’d offer.”
“I’ll get the booze.”
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“Min Yoongi? Now that’s ironic,” Joohee chuckled, seemingly at your expense. You shot a glare her way which she shrugged in response to.
“How long have you been crushing on him? This is, like, practically fate. Maybe this’ll be a good thing.”
You scoffed in response, “A good thing? Joohee, be serious. The last thing I want to do is get with my long-time infatuation, not crush, by forcing him to be my husband.” You took another swig of wine. It was a cheap pink Moscato, perfect for nights like these with Joohee. 
Joohee shoved a pillow in your direction in an effort to gain more room on the couch you had stuffed yourselves onto. The trash reality dating show you had on in the background was showing a rather dramatic fight but you paid it no attention, “It’s just…I haven’t talked to him in the last, what, five years? He probably doesn’t even remember me. And you’ve heard the rumors, I don’t think he’ll be exactly thrilled at giving up his playboy lifestyle just because he has to marry me.”
“What if he doesn’t give that up?”
You stared at Joohee in slight surprise, “What do you mean?”
“Like, what if he says that he doesn’t want to stop hooking up with other people? What will you do?”
Your brows furrowed as you considered the question, “I don’t know, I guess. I mean, I can’t really stop him. I guess I’d just have to live with it.”
Joohee hummed in response before continuing on, “Well, this is happening whether you like it or not. Just try to make it amicable at the least. Maybe it’ll work out, you never know. Just look at Jin oppa.”
Kim Seokjin, Joohee’s older brother and a friend of Min Yoongi’s, was arranged by Joohee’s parents to marry Song Yeonhee, and the two had seemingly fallen in love after a rocky start to their nuptials. You had seen them recently at Yeonhee’s baby shower and she had been glowing, looking unbelievably happy. You recalled the loving gaze that Seokjin had sent her during the party and the pang of envy you felt, knowing that you would likely never get to experience that. 
“Yeah, well,” you responded, “He’s an outlier. Most of these types of marriages don’t work out. I have a feeling I’m going to be a part of that group.”
“You’re too negative, you haven’t even met him for dinner yet. Maybe he’ll surprise you. You just have to give him the chance.”
You mulled over Joohee’s words and nodded, “Yeah, maybe you’re right. I guess I’ll see how Friday goes.”
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You weren’t technically late. 
While you still had about 5 minutes before the dinner officially started, you weren’t early, and that was unacceptable by your mother’s standards. A mini emergency at your job had left you scrambling to leave on time, only noticing the late hour when one of your coworkers asked if they should order take-out for the team. After profusely apologizing to your team, they encouraged you to go, practically shooing you out the door, claiming they could handle the situation for now. 
Which left you barely on time to park in the lot outside the ridiculously fancy Japanese restaurant your mother’s assistant, Yujin, had sent to your email earlier that week. You quickly stepped out, smoothing out your dress that you had kept in the backseat of your car and had hastily changed into in the parking lot of your office. Tugging down the hem, you took a moment to look at your reflection in your car window and attempt to look more presentable. Your hair was slightly frizzy but nicely combed back, and you had extremely minimal makeup on from only remembering last minute this morning, and your eyes looked tired. 
You felt tired.
Shaking off your nerves, you headed inside the restaurant giving your family name to the hostess who took you back to a private room where your mother and father were waiting. Your father spared you only a cursory glance before returning his gaze to his phone and your mother looked you up and down before uttering a curt, “Hm.” You held in an eye roll and quickly sat next to them, trying to calm your heart rate for the sure-to-be exhilarating dinner ahead. At six on the dot, you spotted the same hostess leading the Min family towards your table. Your mother stood, welcoming them and urging them to sit down. You stood as well, a little less welcoming, a lot more obligated. 
Mrs. Min looked like the epitome of a rich older woman with dark black hair combed back and glittering jewels lining her ears and neck, complementing the midnight blue gown she had on. Mr. Min was dressed quite similarly to your father, in a simple suit, the only difference being his starkly greying hair providing quite the contrast to his dark blazer. Close behind them was the person you were the most anxious about meeting, Min Yoongi. His pitch-black hair complemented his slightly tanned skin nicely and his feline eyes remained straightforward and untelling. He was dressed in a simple black suit as well with an expensive-looking watch adoring his wrist. His mouth was closed tightly and he did not smile at your mother when she greeted him, not at your father when they sat down across from your family, and certainly not at you.
Your hands nervously played with each other in your lap as you took your seat again. You listened quietly as the mothers exchanged pleasantries and the fathers gruffly greeted each other. You were trying to avoid looking at Yoongi as much as possible.
“So, Y/N,” Mrs. Min started, making you startle to attention, “How old are you now?”
“Twenty-nine, ma’am.”
“Ah, so only a bit younger than Yoongi. That’s good then. How is your work?”
You felt your father stiffen next to you and prayed your discomfort didn’t show on your face, “Good. I’m in the middle of producing a new project with my team.”
“How lovely. Although I’m sure you’ll be leaving that soon after the wedding. You won’t need to work then after all,” Mrs. Min smiled at you. It was hard to read her so you couldn’t tell if she was being genuine or not, though if you had to guess, it was likely the latter. Your job was a point of contention with your family. Choosing to work in a video game production company did not go over well, and if your older brother, Kyungsoo, hadn’t been in line to inherit Seo Industries, you would’ve never been able to keep it. 
You smiled awkwardly in response to Mrs. Min and returned your gaze to the empty plate in front of you. 
As the conversation dragged on, you couldn’t help but steal a glance or two at Yoongi, who was periodically checking his phone and looking permanently bored of the conversation. Not that you could blame him. The dull talk of social circle gossip and work was beginning to get grating, and even the introduction of fancy entrees wasn’t enough to stop your stomach from feeling queasy. 
Yoongi had yet to say one word to you. To be fair, you hadn’t said anything to him either, but he had barely looked in your direction since he entered the private dining room. How exactly were you supposed to start a conversation with that? 
Soon after the desserts came out and were finished, with you politely refusing, feeling like you were going to throw up any second, Mrs. Min suddenly pushed her chair back and stood. She looked down at you and Yoongi and announced, “Well. I think we can leave them to talk on their own for a bit. Why don’t you join us for a drink at our home, Eujin-ssi?”
At the sound of her name, your mother stood, nodding, “Yes, that sounds lovely. Let’s let them get to know each other a bit more.” With that, the parents swiftly gathered their belongings and left, before you could even protest, leaving you staring open-mouthed at the exit. 
Slowly, you turned to face Yoongi and were startled, seeing his eyes already boring into yours. 
“Let’s get one thing straight,” Yoongi stated, his deep and stable voice wrapping around you for the first time that night, “This marriage means nothing to me. It shouldn’t to you either. I’ll do my thing and you do yours. Most importantly, stay out of my life except when necessary. Just because my parents are forcing my hand doesn’t mean I have to adhere to every little thing. Nothing will be changing except for our living situation and a ring on our fingers.”
A little stunned, you could only stutter a passive agreement and watch as he rose and left without sparing you another glance. 
Letting out a deep breath, you closed your eyes, trying to understand what had just transpired. Your heart raced as you quickly stacked up the dishes to be a bit easier for the busboy and quickly made your way to your car. Sitting down in the driver’s seat, you vaguely registered Min Yoongi’s cold demeanor towards you.
It seems he didn’t remember you after all.
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The dress you had on was itchy, but you knew if you complained, you would only end up with a sharp stinging on your cheek and tear-filled eyes. You had escaped the boring party with grown-ups and were sitting outside on a stone bench in the garden, trying to remedy your hurt feelings at the hands of the mean, older boy, Hyunsoo. 
He had confidently poked fun at your appearance, saying the dress was a bit too small on you and that your parents should’ve sprung for a size that could fit an elephant instead. He continued on, saying your parents must’ve forgotten to vaccinate you for measles considering all the red spots on your face that were actually acne. Being a tender twelve years of age and going through the worst bits of puberty, his words hit you hard and you quickly ran from the scene into the garden. 
Unable to contain your tears, they slipped down your face in large droplets and soaked into the front of your dress. 
“Hey, you.”
Startled, you looked up to see a boy a couple of years older than you standing in front of you, black hair shining in the light from the garden lamps. His sharp eyes trailed down your tear-stained face. You quickly turned away in shame, not wanting to undergo any more embarrassment tonight. 
“Hey, snot-face.”
You shot him a glare but softened when you saw his hand extended, holding a handkerchief, his face turned slightly away, “Use this. You look ugly while you’re crying.”
You gingerly took the cloth from his hands and blew your nose, noticing him wince out of the corner of your eye. 
“Thank you,” you managed and he only rolled his eyes in response. 
“Yeah, whatever. I think Joohee’s looking for you,” he grumbled before turning on his heel and stalking off back towards the party. 
Confused, your eyes followed after him, not knowing how he knew that Joohee would be looking for you. You unfolded the handkerchief and noticed an elegant embroidering of three letters in black near the bottom, MYG. 
Oh, you realized, Min Yoongi. Joohee’s older brother was friends with him but you had never seen him before. Joohee had described him as kind of rude and quite closed off, but you disagreed. He certainly didn’t seem that bad.
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fuji-mango · 1 day
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"Change will change you." -Nick ⁉️
Nick x Reader BSF
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SYNOPSIS - Nick's been your best friend since you were kids, but for the past month, he's been ignoring you. He won't answer texts, won't return your calls. Life's been hell since he went MIA, so you decide to finally try and start pulling yourself together.
Note: My first story... be nice pls...
Word Count: 2351
WARNINGS: Burnout, Depression
Y/n’s POV
I remember when I thought that scraping my knee or falling off my bike was the most painful thing in the world, but I know now that I was very wrong. What hurts more than anything in the world, is feeling truly alone. Like you’ve been cast out to sea, and all you have is the whispers in the back of your head to stay sane.
All I can manage to do is lie in bed all day, wasting away while the world around me carries on. The sound of rain outside pelting the window only adds to the hollowness that I’m feeling. Everything felt like it was falling apart, I was being ghosted by my closest friend, everyone else moved away to college early, and doing any small thing felt like the most exhausting task in the world. Not to mention that my parents were currently several states away for work.
And as I was contemplating my depressing thoughts, I felt a slight vibration from my phone that was somewhere under my comforter. I sat up and rummaged around my bed in the dark searching for my phone. Eventually I found it and unlocked it immediately, being blinded by the screen as I did so. I scrolled through my notifications and instead of finding a new message from Nick, I found that my health app was reminding me to drink water. I wasn’t going to.
I opened my messages and I immediately saw the words I dreaded seeing beside Nick’s contact. “Read”.
I’ve been left on read again... 63 messages in the past month, and Nick hasn’t replied to any of them. I don’t even know why I feel surprised, I knew what the outcome was even before I sent it.
Nick, do you wanna hangout on Friday? (2:37 Pm 7/23) Read
Hey, I haven’t heard from you in awhile, how are you? (3:13 Pm 7/30) Read
Nick, I’m worried about you, please msg me. (12:04 Am 8/12) Read
Did I do something wrong? (9:13 Am 8/18) Read
Can you just tell me why you won’t respond? (8:15 Pm Yesterday) Read
I laughed a bit as I scrolled through our messages again. I knew he was busy with his career, that it was important to him. I just never thought that I would be thrown away for it.
Nick was my best friend. We grew up together, we watched each other go from things like dinosaur phases to graduating highschool. It feels like a part of my life is missing without him, but I can’t let it get me down forever.
I know that it’s raining, but I could go outside. I need some fresh air.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Nick’s POV
It was raining outside when Y/n texted me, it feels like forever since I’ve seen him. Part of me feels guilty for not reaching out, but the other half feels like it would shatter if I saw him again. I walked outside towards the van joining my brothers, trying hard to ignore those lingering thoughts.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Y/n’s POV
I just let myself walk, taking random turns every now and then. The slight drizzle and breeze wasn’t horrible, but still annoying nonetheless. It just feels like everything distant… Like I’m watching everything happen from an outside perspective. The dozens of cars driving by, people waiting at the bus stop, groups of friends walking around together… The world seems so alive, and yet I was just a bystander to everything that was going on.
It was exhausting. The mental strain, the emptiness that always followed… I was tired of it all. I just wanted to feel normal again, but how could I do that when a part of my life feels like it was ripped apart.
Eventually I ended up at one of my favourite places to hangout, at least I used to. I don’t even know when or how I got here. I thought that I was taking a random route, but maybe I subconsciously brought myself here. Kelly’s Diner, the place where Nick and I used to spend hours just talking to each other, laughing obnoxiously as the hours drifted by, up until they were closing.
I wanted to go inside, to try and find some happiness here again, but some part of me told me it wasn’t worth it. But I ignored that feeling and went inside anyway, being greeted by the pink and green detailed interior. It seemed foreign to me, despite all the times that I’ve been here. I walked up to the counter, sitting on the cushioned bar stools that were still as uncomfortable as I remembered. 
One of the workers made their way over to where I was sitting after dealing with a table around the corner. It was Spencer, a guy from school, but I mainly knew him from all the times that I came here with Nick. He always got annoyed whenever we got too loud and bothered everyone else in the diner.
“Haven’t seen you in awhile.” Spencer said, his usual tired face telling me all I needed to know.
“Long shift?” I asked him sarcastically.
“Yeah, works been a bitch lately, how bout you?”
“It’s been going.” I said, stretching my arms over my head. “Can I just get a chocolate ice cream frappe?”
“No fries or anything” Spencer clarified, to which I gave him a quick nod. “Alright, I’ll get that to you in a bit.” and with that he walked into the kitchen, coming out moments later to give food to the table he was at earlier.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Nick’s POV
Hanging out with Matt and Chris was always fun, but it was also a great distraction. I always hated when things were out of my control… hated how I felt insecure when I started to fall apart. Hated how all I could ever do was run away from the problem instead of facing them. And here I am, trying to suppress the sorrows by smiling and laughing with my brothers.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Y/n’s POV
After a couple minutes, Spencer finally made his way over to me, my drink in hand.
“One chocolate ice cream frappe for my favourite customer.” He said, setting down the drink in front of me.
“Thanks” is all I managed to let out.
“Let me know if you need anything else.” and with that, Spencer walked off to start wiping down some tables.
All I did was stare at the frappe for a bit, reminiscing on the past. When Nick and I came here, I’d always ordered the chocolate one, and he’d always get vanilla. It felt strange only seeing one of them on the counter, but I was starting to feel less bothered by it the longer I stared. When I finally did take a sip, a wave of warmth enveloped my body.
It tasted just how I remembered, maybe a bit better actually. And it was at that moment that I knew I was going to be okay. When life realigned for a second to let me catch my breath. I’d kept myself stuck in place, and now I was finally moving on my own again, no external force driving me forward. Just me, and I’m going to have to accept that fact.
The fact that Nick wouldn’t always be there anymore. I mean, I did miss him and all, he was my ride or die… and sometimes it felt like he was just around the corner. And as I thought about these stupid ideas, I heard his laugh. His obnoxiously perfect laugh.
He was here, Nick was actually here. It was the most relieving yet horrifying thing I’ve ever experienced. I set down a ten dollar tip on the counter and got up from my chair, slowly walking towards the source of the sound. My legs felt heavier with every step that got me closer, until I made it to the corner and finally I saw him. And there he was, smiling and laughing with Matt and Chris, a vanilla frappe in hand.
I pulled up my phone and started to text  Nick. One last attempt before I walk away from all of this.
I miss you. (6:27 Pm Today) Sent
And I watched as he picked up the phone, and set it down just as fast. Leaving those four letters on my screen once again. “Read”. And in that moment, I didn’t care anymore, how could I care anymore. I was so fucking tired of caring. Tired of spending all my time and energy on this. I stood up from my chair, making a loud squeaking from its legs scratching on the floor. All I could think about was getting out of here as fast as I could.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Nick’s POV
A loud sound from behind me took my attention away from the conversation that me and Chris were having, and I turned to see Y/n. He didn’t look like his usual self though. His hair was messily done, which wasn’t like him at all, and his clothes were slightly wet from the rain outside. He hates the rain.
By the time he was out the door, I found myself getting up abruptly and following after him. I heard Chris and Matt yelling something at me but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. Y/n looked like he was in shambles, and it was because of me. Because of how selfish I’ve been.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Y/n’s POV
The rain was a lot worse than it was 20 minutes ago, going from a slight drizzle to a full on shower. I kept walking as fast as I could, trying to calm myself down. The tears on my face were blending in with the downpour. And I could hear Nick following behind me yelling my name.
“Y/N!” Nick yelled over the loud sound of rain, but I ignored it.
My walk sped up into a jog.
“Y/N!” He yelled again, but I still didn’t stop.
My jogging turned into running.
“Y/n just stop for a minute, please.” Nick pleaded, but I was being torn apart. Why now? Why after all this time? Nick didn’t bother to write a single text explaining anything and here he was running after me. He hates running.
I turned my head back to look at Nick but tripped over the uneven sidewalk. I managed to catch myself, scraping both my palms on the wet sidewalk, but it let Nick catch up to me.
“Are you okay?” Nick asked, catching his breath and offering me a hand to help me up.
“I’m fine Nick.” I slapped his hand away and got back up, trying to leave once again, but he grabbed onto my wrist before I could. “Nick let me go.” I said, trying to escape his grasp. The tears were falling harder now.
“Y/n…”
“I said let me go Nick!” I yanked my hand away from him, turning around and continuing on my way.
“Just let me explai-”
“Explain what?” I hissed out, stopping for a moment before turning around and finally facing him. “Explain how you fucking abandoned me?” He took a step back. “Explain how you ghosted me for a whole month?” He opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out, so I kept on going. “Cause I want you to explain it Nick, I want you to fucking explain how you could throw me away like I was a piece of fucking trash.” My voice broke on the last few words, and I felt horrible yelling that at him, but part of me felt justified about it, which made me feel even worse.
“Y/n…” Nick started, struggling to find the right words. “What I did… it wasn’t okay. And I don’t know that you’ll ever forgive me.” He paused for a second to compose himself. I couldn’t tell if he was crying, or if it was the rain. “And it was selfish of me to do that. Selfish of me to just ignore you and not tell you why.”
“Then why didn’t you?” I yelled out, the frustration that I’ve been holding inside lashing out.
“Because I like you.” Nick said, which left me speechless. “I’ve liked you for so long and I know that you’ll never like me back that way, and it was so fucking hard watching you be so happy with other people romantically. It was so hard waiting for myself to fall out of love with you because of how much I care about our friendship… but I couldn’t take it anymore.”
“Nick… I…” I didn’t know what to say… didn’t know what to do.
“You don’t have to say anything Y/n, it’s fine.” Nick said, looking down at the ground. He looked as miserable as me.
“Nick…” I took a step forward and hugged him. “I don’t think I could ever like you that way, but you’ve been one of the most important things throughout my life.” I stopped for a second, pulling him out of the hug and looking him face to face. “And if this is what you need to be happy, then it’s okay. I understand.” I took a deep breath in. “But I want you to know this. You’ve been one of the best things in my life, and you always will be.” and with that, turned around and walked away.
It’s taken a lot of time to accept this change, and at first, I really didn’t want to. Sure it still kinda hurt to think about, but as I looked down at my scraped palms, I knew I could get past this too. I looked back at Nick one last time to see Matt and Chris finally reunite with him, and for the first time in a long time, I smiled.
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zombeebunnie · 2 days
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Trembling Essence [Extended Demo]:💙What happens now?💙
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Hello and welcome new followers!
Firstly, I just want to thank everyone that have been playing the updated [Extended Demo] with the Endings Gallery and Day 3 notifier! From this I was able to get a good amount of responses to help me with quality of life ideas going forward. :]
The game page has also been fixed to include the Windows and Mac logo downloads as I had no idea they weren't there until I was told. :,,]
Again, please let me know if you run into any bugs, glitches, misspellings, etc or if the Endings gallery doesn't show up for you correctly.
"So what happens now?"
As far as the [Extended Demo] goes, I do have plans on updating it with certain paths/routes HOWEVER, it will be some time before that happens. There's a lot of stuff that I need to rework and look over before I can add anything. Here's a peek from some of the old game development posts.
[Please remember that this is still a DEMO and anything is subject to change.]
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The sections missing from the [Extended Demo] were from routes/paths I wrote during the late spring-summer of 2023. In the fall my writing style developed significantly which lead me to discover multiple pacing issues in the story that went unnoticed. Out of everything I wrote, the two full routes you get while playing were the only sections that were good enough for me to polish up and didn't contain spoilers. As for when the new routes/paths will be added to the [Extended Demo], I don't have an answer for this.
Right now I've been giving myself a break and mainly focusing on brainstorming things out.
In other news, I'm still in the process of creating Noah's reference sheets! There will be a total of three(?) which will have specific details for each one! It's taking some time to create since I'm still learning how to do angled faces/poses, here's the w.i.p sketch version below:
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Q&A / Ask box is still open:
Thank you to those who have sent in asks! I'll try to get to them when I can. I just need time to answer since I like to respond with doodles/drawings as practice. :]
If you have any questions about Trembling Essence/Noah feel free to ask here please. This makes it easier for me to see and answer accordingly! I would really like to hear from you guys!
This is all I have to share so far, Thank you to everyone for the continued support and encouraging words while I continue working on the game, I really appreciate it. :,]
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You Missed My Heart: PART 1
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Description: Miguel had died months ago. At least, my universe’s Miguel had died. Maybe I should have noticed when I could feel him touching me in my dreams, but grief is a hell of a thing. That is, until I woke up in a house that looked just like mine, but somehow different. 
Miguel had taken me from my universe and put me in one where he could relive his past, whether I liked it or not. 
Word Count: 11,107  Author’s Note: I wrote this instead of doing my college work, but I also didn’t proofread. Hopefully there aren’t too many typos! I’ll probably add more chapters in the following days/weeks Content Warning: smut, mild breeding kink, reader is being held against their will, Miguel being manipulative and an ass, bit of angst (I mean his wife and child are dead so yeah)
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          Minors DNI! Story is below the cut
The dream was hazy. Miguel sighed as he began to inch toward the edge of the mattress, drifting out of the shared embrace that we had slept in. Arms and legs untangled from one another as he drifted away from me.
I reached my hand outward, catching onto his hand before he could slip away for good. “I need to go to work.” He whispered, his voice husky and warm from sleep. But, despite his protest, he lay back down beside me. “Don’t go.” I said. My hands worked their way through the darkness, moving to curl around his broad shoulders. I wanted to hold him. I wanted to feel his strong heartbeat against my chest and listen to him breathe one more time. It didn’t matter that this wasn’t real. I didn’t care that this was now a soft and distorted memory; this was all I had left of him. I had convinced myself weeks ago that if I dreamed of him enough, it would almost be like he wasn’t gone. “I have to. Alchemax is unveiling a new project today and I have to be there.” He leaned in, brushing the tip of his nose against mine. His breath was warm, working as a perfect antagonist for the frigid air of our bedroom. “Please Miguel.” I begged. He cut me off by pressing his lips against mine. The kiss was languid and wet. Our bodies were still naked from the previous night’s activities as he rolled on top of me. “Miguel…” I whispered. “Please don’t leave me.” “I’m not going anywhere.” He said. His lips slipped off of mine as he lowered his face, moving so that his mouth could graze the shell of my ear. There, he whispered the one thing I thought I would never hear again. “I love you…”
Something brushed the side of my face, pulling me from my dream. I jerked upward, searching for what had caused it. But I couldn’t see through the pitch black of the bedroom. In the darkness, I was so sure that I could smell him. He had been dead for months, but his scent still lingered in the walls and all of the soft places in the house. It was to the point that I was terrified of moving or washing anything; if I did, that last piece of him would vanish forever.
Hot tears slid down my face.
I had been crying again. But that had become such a common occurrence that I couldn’t even be surprised. Tears slid down my neck, soaking into the collar of Miguel’s Alchemax t-shirt that had been worn thin. Crying had become an every night thing since the funeral. Maybe if I could understand what the hell even happened to him, then I could be okay. But there had been no information about any of it. I had been told there was an accident at work and that there was nothing that could have been done to save him. But the term accident meant so many different things.
I lifted my hand to my cheek to wipe away the next batch of tears. But, as my fingers brushed my skin, I couldn’t help but notice the distinct warmth on that side of my face.
Had someone been here?
Had the gentle brush been entirely in my head?
I swallowed hard as my eyes searched the darkness. “Miguel?” I asked. But there was no answer. The delusional part of me wanted to hear him stir inside of the bathroom that attached to the bedroom. I slid my hand outward, searching through the sheets that would always remain cold.
The black out curtains that covered my window blocked out any light from the city. The only light in the room was from the small machine that Miguel had set up in the corner. I was never sure what exactly it did, but it always gave off a pale blue glow.
I glanced around the room, seeing that the pictures were all still lying face down on the dresser and bookshelves.
Nothing was different. He was still dead, and I was still alone.
I swallowed hard as I reached for the bottle of sleeping pills that sat on the bedside table. I had gotten them after stepping off one of the curbs in Nueva York without looking. But, before anything could happen, a man had grabbed me, jerking me out of the way seconds before my body had the chance to collide with the car that was racing down the street. Maybe if I hadn’t been so exhausted, then I would have thought before I walked.
The pills were my only chance at getting any rest these days. I unscrewed the top of the bottle, dropped one of the white pills into my hand, and then replaced the white plastic lid. I discarded the bottle onto the nightstand and then popped the pill in my mouth.
I just needed to go to sleep. If I could sleep, then I could see him again.
I leaned back against the sheets, watching the walls of the hallway through the open door of our bedroom. If I hadn’t known better, I could have sworn to God that I saw a faint orange and pink glow dance against the walls before being consumed by darkness.
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No dreams came. My vision was dark, trapping me in a dreamless darkness. The pills always made my body heavy with sleep; it was almost impossible to open my eyes when I was like this. I didn’t see him in my dreams, but I could hear him. His voice was faint, speaking in delicate murmurs.
Fingers brushed against the skin of my face as he pushed several of my curls behind my ears. It was something he had always done, especially when I was sitting on the couch beside him. I had always wondered if he did it so that he could see my face or if it was just his way of getting my attention. But I guess that didn’t matter now.
I flinched at the reminder.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you. I’m here.” Miguel whispered. He pressed a gentle kiss against my forehead. I felt the bed move under me, sinking on the edge as he sat down. “I’m gonna keep you safe.”
“You need to drop this.” A soft female voice said. Her voice was no more than a whisper.
“I can’t do that.” Miguel’s voice was firm; he had already made up his mind.
“Miguel, you’re torturing her. Just leave her alone.” The delicate voice pleaded. Behind my eyelids, I saw pink and honey color light flash. “Give her time. Let her mourn then let her move on. Maybe she could be happy. She could get married and have a good life.”
“Lyla, I’m not sure if you know this, but telling me that my wife is going to fuck someone else and that that’s why I should let her go has the exact opposite effect.”
“Let her be happy.” The girl pleaded.
“She should have died. I’m saving her.”
“Miguel, please let her go. Please, I really-” I heard him click something, making the second voice fall silent.
Warm arms slipped under my legs as I was overwhelmed by the smell of Miguel.
My Miguel.
He smelled faintly of cologne, sweat, and something else. He pulled me into his arms, laying my body against his strong chest. I felt him grab a heavy arm and place it on his shoulder. Beneath my fingers, I felt a weird material cover his skin.
What the hell?
I tried to open my eyes, but I couldn’t force myself out of the dream. The medication weighed me down, anchoring me into this strange haze.
Miguel bounced me in his arms a couple of times. I groaned, feeling him stand up. One of the blankets caught on my foot, tugging on my tired body. Miguel gently tossed the blanket onto the bed, offering a few more gentle bounces to my body as he started to walk.
“You’re going to be so happy.” He whispered. Miguel pressed a second kiss against my skin.
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Blinding light came streaming through the window. I winced, lifting my hand to shield my eyes. I lay there for a moment before a thought occurred to me.
When was the last time I had been awakened by sunlight?
Miguel had always worked such random hours that we had hung thick blackout curtains over the window so that we had a chance at getting some sleep.
“What?” I pushed myself up in the bed, feeling my t-shirt drop down to cover the soft skin of my stomach. But the left side was caught on something, keeping that side of my abdomen exposed. I glanced down to see a thick bracelet that had been attached to my wrist. I pulled the shirt off of the bracelet, allowing it to fall and give me some sense of modesty as I glared at the contraption.
What the hell was this thing?
I glanced around, searching for some idea as to what was going on.
The only clue was a bright orange post-it note that had been pressed onto the bedside table. It was sitting between a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin. Plucking the note off of the table, I quickly began to read it.
‘Please don’t be scared. I’ll be back soon. Take this for your head. It will take a bit to get used to all of this.’ It had been signed with a name that immediately made me shutter.
Miguel.
No. No. No.
Did I die?
Or did I finally go insane?
I pushed myself out of the bed, searching for some clue as to what the hell was going on. This was my bedroom. At least, it looked like it was. The closet was the same, the bookshelves were the same, even the weird off-blue shade that Miguel had picked for the walls was the exact same.
It was then that something caught my eye. All of the pictures were sitting upright. I could see our mutual smiles behind the glass. They were photos of us on dates, photos of us at the weird events that Alchemax held, and even some of the more intimate photos we had taken of us in bed with our bodies barely covered by the thin ocean of sheets.
I stepped forward, moving toward the closet. I jerked one of Miguel’s button-ups off of the hanger and inspected it. The spot where he had spilled wine on the cuff was missing. Instead, the material was bleach white.
This was wrong. This was all wrong.
Everything was familiar, but still foreign somehow. There were sheets that were the same color but didn’t have soft faded patches that had been acquired from stains during love making. There were clothes that I remembered wearing, but they didn’t have the small tears or stains in them. Everything was put together from memory, but it wasn’t my memory.
If I didn’t look too closely at it, it could almost be perfect.
Slowly, I stepped forward. As I moved toward the dresser, I stopped. In my home, my real home, there was a creak in the floorboard. Miguel had spent an entire weekend trying to fix it after we had moved in, but it was all in vain.
Maybe I was just paranoid. That was the only solution.
I leaned backward, then forward again in an attempt to get the floor to creak.
A deafening silence filled the room.
I reached down and pulled at the bracelet. It was heavy on my arm. I slipped my fingers under the band, attempting to pry it off of me. But it was no use. It had been secured at the base, making it impossible to remove.
Then, I did the only thing I could think of.
I ran.
I bolted from the bedroom, moving down the hallway. When I reached the stairs, I took them two by two. Frankly, I was amazed that I didn’t slip and break my neck. But fear is a hell of a motivator. I sprinted through the living room, searching for the front door of our house. I threw open the front door and rushed outside, ignoring the fact that I wore only a thin t-shirt and underwear.
I needed to get the hell out of there; I didn’t care about being modest at this point.
It was Nueva York; the buildings were the same, so was the noise. Sounds of construction, traffic, children playing, and music blasting filled the air. But, I couldn’t help but notice the main thing that was missing: no people or vehicles.
“Hello?” I called.
But I was all alone.
“Hello?” I screamed.
Something grabbed my hand, jerking me backwards. I stumbled but was caught before I could collide with the pavement. Strong arms curled around my waist and hauled me upward. I flailed my arms and kicked out my legs in an attempt to get free, but it was no use. The figure turned around and began to carry me back to the house as if I was nothing more than a doll. “You weren’t supposed to leave the house.”
I knew that voice. It was the one that haunted my dreams and filled my every ‘what-if.’
Miguel.
“What the fuck?” I screamed.
“Stop trying to fight me.” His voice was flat. I glanced behind me to look at him. He wasn’t my Miguel. His eyes flickered somewhere between chocolate brown and blood red. The muscles on his shoulders were more defined and the line between his eyebrows was deeper. But maybe that was because of the dark scowl that he wore as he carried me up the small steps of the brownstone.
When he stepped inside of the house, he threw me onto the hardwood floor. As my head hit the floor, he reached behind him and flipped the deadbolt.
That was to make sure that I didn’t try and escape again.
Miguel wasn’t dressed how I was used to. My Miguel always wore some kind of standard, normal clothes. Nicer clothes for work, soft pants, and sweatshirts at home. But this man, the imposter, wore a red and blue costume that stretched over his hard muscles and accentuated his domineering frame.
���You were supposed to wait. I said I would be back soon.”
“Who the hell are you?” I twisted my body so that I was sitting up on the hardwood floor. I pulled my legs close to my body, attempting to hide my thin underwear from him.
“You’re joking right?” He asked. He stood over me, inspecting me with a look of both confusion and disappointment.
“No, I’m not. And what the hell did you put on my arm?” I shook my wrist, trying to loosen the device.
“Stop trying to take it off. If you do, you’ll die. Unless that’s what you’re hoping for.” He said as he studied me. I froze.
“What?”
“It keeps you alive in this universe. You’re not from here; you don’t belong here, so if you take that off, you’ll glitch until you die.”
I glanced around the room, taking in all of the little imperfections. The room was wrong, reminding me that I was in some kind of strange prison.
“What is all of this?” I asked. Miguel stared at me at if the answer was so obvious.
“It’s our home.”
“No… no, it isn’t.” I said. “What did you do to me?” I pushed myself off of the floor. As I did, I pulled at the bottom of the t-shirt. The man stared at me, his eyes dancing between the terrified look on my face at the pale skin of my naked legs. As his eyes drank me in, I could see them turning to a deeper shade of red.
“Who are you?” I asked. He let out a dark chuckle. As he did, I couldn’t help but notice that sharp white fangs that protruded from his mouth.
“Sweetheart…”
“Don’t call me that.” I said. He rolled his eyes.
“Look, I’ve been very sweet to you. But now you’re starting to piss me off.” His voice was sharper this time. He moved toward me and I stepped back.
“Why do you look like him?” I asked. He knew exactly what I meant.
“Because I am him… in a way.”
“I don’t understand.” I said. He once again tried to fill the distance between the two of us. I stepped backward, feeling my back hit the side of the couch. “You died… he died.”
“In your universe, yes. Please call me Miguel. I know this may be new to you, but I am your husband, just a different version of him. I mean you no harm.” The dull ache from being thrown on the floor said differently. “I did all of this because I love you.”
“You don’t know me.” I said. I slid my hands against the side of the couch in an attempt to find something to cling to. He let out a dry laugh.
“That’s where you’re wrong. I know you in every single universe. I’ve known more versions of you than you can imagine. Versions where you live, versions where you die. So, in a way, I know you better than you even know yourself.”
“If you knew me so well, then you would know Miguel and I never married.”
“Purely semantics. Besides, that’s something that I fully intend on correcting.”
“You’re insane.” I said.
“Don’t fucking call me that. You have no idea how hard I worked to fix everything for you; how hard I worked to make sure that everything would be perfect.”
“Miguel, where the fuck am I?” I demanded. “And I don’t want you to keep saying I’m home. This isn’t my home. Where am I?”
“You could be a little bit more grateful. You should have died.” He said. “You weren’t supposed to be pulled out of the way of a car and you were.”
Anger flashed through me. Just looking at him filled me with a mixture of rage and sadness that mixed together in a sludge that did nothing but make me want scream at him. “I’m supposed to be dead? You’re dead! I went to your funeral! There’s a goddamn sign in the Alchemax lobby for you.” My throat burned and my eyes stung with tears. “Was that all some kind of sick lie?”
“No, your Miguel did die.” His voice was matter of fact- almost cold. It was as if he had said this all a million times before. Hell, for all I knew, he had. Maybe this was some kind of sick game he liked to play. “But, that’s no matter. I’m here now. I made a little pocket universe for you; where you can live and where you being here won’t affect anything. You can stay here with me, and things will be exactly as they should be.” I glanced at the locked door behind him. “You being here won’t affect any other universe and it keeps you out of your own, making sure that all of the canon events happen exactly as they should. The canon is safe and you get to live. Two birds, one stone.” He was so proud of himself.
“Do I have a choice in staying with you?”
His face twitched at my question. “I’ve watched you cry for him at night. I’ve heard you scream and beg for him to come back. You wear his clothes and listen to his music and talk to yourself like he’s still there. For God’s sake, I’ve watched you touch yourself to pictures of him. I just assumed you would have had a warmer reception to me.”
“You had no right to spy on me.” I winced, remembering the feeling of my face being touched in my sleep. He had been there, watching me as I mourned. Besides, there was something in the way he emphases a warmer reception. He was hoping I would immediately adore him and drag him into the bedroom to screw until I couldn’t walk straight. He wanted us to immediately slip into some weird little habit where I pretended to be his loving wife. He said I died in other universes. Was I his replacement, just as he hoped to be mine?
Miguel sucked on his teeth before he stepped forward.
Without thinking, I twisted my body around and bolted toward the kitchen. I had no idea where I was even going; I just wanted to be away from him.
I got about five steps away before he reached outward and grabbed me. This time, his hold was harder. His arms crushed themselves against my body as he lifted me upward and began to carry me toward the stairs. This time, he was holding me so tight that I was sure he was going to break my ribs.
“You’re hurting me.” I gasped.
“Then stop trying to leave me.” He said. “You’re not going to get far and you’re just going to end up hurting yourself.”
He carried me up the stairs, his eyes dark red in the dim light. He carried me to the bedroom at the end of the hall. When he reached the room, he looked down at me.
“Say you love me.” It was a second chance. I paused for a moment, trying to find a way to fake sincerity.
He wasn’t my Miguel. He wasn’t my angel who I curled up with on the couch or who insisted on making me listen to old music that nobody but him would ever like. This man didn’t have that gentleness about him; he wasn’t sweet or loving.
“I love you.” I tried. I knew I sounded like I was faking it.
“At least I know you’re a shitty actress.” He muttered. He dropped me on the floor of the bedroom and then stepped outside before I had a chance to make another getaway. He slammed the door shut.
“Miguel, please let me out.”
“Ah, now you want to be nice to me.” He mocked.
“You kidnapped me. I’m sorry if I’m not the person you were hoping for. If you want someone better, just get a different me from some other place. I’m sure the universe is just littered with them.”
“I saved you. Your universe would have collapsed if it weren’t for me. I offered you the chance to live in a different place, where none of that can ever hurt you and you hate me for it. You want to be pissed? Be my guest. But in time, you’ll love me. I know you will. You always do.”
“Yeah, Miguel, it doesn’t feel like you’re giving me a choice in the matter.” I said. “Why can’t you just find another girl? Anyone else?”
“It has to be you. Because it always is, no matter what. Every time, we end up together so I can’t just grab some random person. Besides, there aren’t too many of you who aren’t already with some version of me. Stealing wives from other versions of me just sounds wrong.”
Yeah, that would be the wrong part. Not the whole kidnapping thing. He keeps flipping between lunatic and romantic who is waxing poetic about our deep love. Maybe I would have been charmed if I had actually known this man. Plus, there was something weird about the way he said it. Had he considered it? How did he find widows versus wives?
“Miguel, sweetheart, how about you let me out of here and then we can find some kind of arrangement that we both like?”
He rolled his eyes as he locked the door from the outside. “When you decide to be the version of you that I know and love, then we can talk.”
Bastard.
I kicked the door, but I knew it was useless. He was already walking away from the door. In the distance, I heard his voice as he began to speak to someone else.
“Lyla, I’m a little busy right now.”
“It’s urgent.” She said.
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It was hours before he came back. I didn’t hear him when he was stepping toward the door. I only heard him when he unlocked the door and let out a low sigh.
“I brought you dinner. It’s in the kitchen. I expect you to eat dinner with me tonight.” He said.
“Thank you.” I squeaked out. I hadn’t eaten since the night before. I was starving. Besides, if this was his idea at a peace offering, who was I to reject. He obviously didn’t want to return me to my real home. Maybe I should just get used to this. “I’ll be down in a minute. I want to clean up a little bit.” I said.
“I’ll get everything ready.” He said. With that, I heard him step away from the door of the bedroom. At least he was receptive to me needing a moment, rather than dragging me downstairs to eat right now.
I sighed to myself as I pushed myself off of the bed. I couldn’t just wear a t-shirt and underwear. I already looked like an absolute mess. My face was swollen from crying and my curls had turned into a frizzy mess from being manhandled so many times in the last twenty-four hours.
My best bet was a shower to calm me down and hopefully take away some of the puffy redness around my eyes and nose. I didn’t want him to see that I had sobbed when I was alone; he may have carted me around in my underwear, but I still had my dignity.
There was a small bathroom attached to the room. It was one that I was familiar with. It was exactly like the one at my house; there weren’t any superficial tweaks that he had made. At least, none that I could see upon first inspection.
I quickly showered, scrubbing my body gently as I went. As I slid a loofah along the sides of my body, I winced. Dark bruises were starting to blossom across my ribs from where he had squeezed as he carried me.
Damn it, that hurt!
I winced as I washed my body, careful not to aggravate any new sore spots that I had gotten. I then washed my hair, making sure that it was nice and clean.
Stepping out of the tub, I realized that I hadn’t grabbed a towel. I was sure that he would put them where I always did. After all, that was really the only place for them in the bathroom. I quickly ducked down and pulled open the door to the bathroom cabinet. The towels had been stacked on one side, random trinkets and things he had brought for me rested on the other. I snatched a towel from the pile as I eyed the objects.
They were the usual fair, mixed in with a few oddballs. Tampons, deodorant, razors, women’s shaving cream, a perfume that I wore pretty often, a couple of bottles of hand and body lotion, a toothbrush, toothpaste, an eyelash curler, a new tube of mascara, hair gel, and a dozen or so other hair things. I sighed and quickly added several of the things to the counter. I needed to brush my teeth and do my hair. As I stacked those things on the counter, I couldn’t help but notice that there were more things resting against the very back of the shelf. Against the wall sat two small pink boxes that were still in their clear wrapping from the drugstore. I frowned as I pulled them forward, moving them closer so that I could see them. The first was a new box of pregnancy tests. I shook the box; sure enough, it actually contained what it said it did. Part of me expected the box to be a decoy and to either be empty or filled with something outwardly sinister, like a camera. Why did he buy me pregnancy tests? I flipped the second box over and was greeted by a bulk box of ovulation test strips, meant to check for when I was ovulating. I winced equally at both of the packages. I quickly shoved them back into the cabinet and closed the door.
Part of me wanted to know why those were what he chose to buy me; the other part was scared to know the answer.
I quickly stood up and began to dry off. It was a short time between when I finished showering and when I stepped out into the bedroom, my hair styled with my curls down, my teeth brushed, and my skin dried of any excess water.
Stepping to the closet, I noticed that all of the dresses in the closet were too formal. Most of the clothes that I typically wore were missing. No t-shirts, jeans, or even standard pajamas. Damn it, Miguel. I quickly walked over to the dresser and opened the bottom drawer.
Based on what was there, my best bet was the baby pink nightie that lay on the top of the pile of clothes. It was obviously new; a tag was still attached to the spaghetti strap and frankly, I had never seen it before, so I figured that it was something he had picked out himself.
I pulled the dress on, wincing when it stopped several inches above my knees. I pulled on a pair of underwear and then snagged a grey cardigan from the closet in an attempt to have a chance at being warm.
What I was wearing was closer to lingerie than actual clothing, but that didn’t seem to matter at this point. He had dragged me around twice in my underwear, on top of the fact that he said he had watched me touch myself to him. My face burned at that thought.
Besides, if he was right and we were always together, then none of this would be new to him. But maybe it would make him be nicer to me if he thought I was being nicer to him.
I stepped through the hallway, careful not to lose my footing in the dim light. As I went, I couldn’t help but notice one of the more glaring differences between my universe and this was. The door to the room that rested next to the bedroom wasn’t stained with its dark russet shade. He had painted this door yellow. That was clearly a recent change; the air still smelled heavily of paint. But why the hell had he painted it in the first place? Maybe he was used to it being a different color and was perfecting it to fit his little fantasy.
I made my way downstairs. He was sitting in the small breakfast nook that rested in the kitchen. He had set out the white plates and arranged the food so that I had easy access to everything. As I rounded the corner, he glanced upward. Something stirred in his dark eyes, but he didn’t say anything. Miguel was sitting at the table, pushing around an eggroll with a plastic fork. He had changed out of his standard red and blue spider suit into an old sweatshirt and flannel pajama pants.
Lucky bastard.
He looked tired. He had a dark stain of blood on his left cheek and I was sure that it wasn’t his. I didn’t want to think about whether or not the owner of that blood was still alive, because I knew there was a good chance they weren’t. I watched him for a moment before I stepped away from the table. He frowned, watching me closely. I was sure he was watching to verify that I didn’t make another run for it. I quickly pulled a washcloth out of one of the lower cabinets by the sink and then turned on the faucet. Once the water ran warm, I wet the rag, wrung it out so that it wasn’t dripping, and then I turned off the water.
I stepped back into the small dining area. “Miguel.” I said in an attempt to get his attention. His tired eyes drifted up to meet mine. The eyes that were once a burning red were now a warm brown. They were almost the shade of coffee. He watched me with such an intensity that it made my face turn a dark maroon. I was sure that he noticed, but he didn’t remark on it.
I leaned down slightly, moving so that my standing height could line up with his sitting size. God, he was so damn tall. “Miguel, here. You have blood on your face.” He reached up to take the cloth but was surprised when I gently pressed the warm material to his face. “Just hold still for a second.” I whispered. For a moment, I couldn’t help but wonder if he had changed out of his suit for comfort or if it was just as coated in blood as his face was. The idea made me shudder internally.
I gently wiped away the dried blood, folding the cloth as I went so that I didn’t rub old blood against his face. When I reached the hollow of his cheek, I slipped one hand under his strong jaw and had him tilt his face to the side in an attempt to give me a better angle. He closed his eyes, giving in to the gentle touch.
He was touch starved. I could tell by the way his breathing slowed and the hairs on his arm stood on end. He wasn’t used to being touched; not anymore. Not in any way that offered any kind of tenderness.
“There you go. All clean.” I said. He opened his eyes and he nodded. His eyes then dipped downward toward my dress.
“Nice outfit.”
“It would appear that most of my actual clothing is gone. So, I have plenty of clothing for the bustling city life outside and I have plenty of lingerie, but everything else is a bit sparse.”
A smile pulled at his lips with my comment. Then, he nodded. “I’ll bring you your clothes from your home universe.”
“Thank you.” I said. Miguel leaned forward and grabbed a container of orange chicken.
He had ordered us Chinese food. It was something that I couldn’t help but note was the same as we had had on our first date. I glanced at the label and confirmed that it was the same restaurant and everything. We had eaten there the night we had first met. We had dipped out of a party at Alchemax early. I hadn’t wanted to be there, but my father had worked there for so many years that it almost felt like an obligation. When I had turned to leave too fast, I knocked wine all over Miguel, but he hadn’t seemed to mind.
“Are you okay?” This Miguel asked. I quickly nodded as I was pulled from the distant memory.
“I am. Thank you for dinner.” I pushed a small amount of food onto my plate and then returned the container to the center of the table.
“You need to eat; really eat.” He said. His brown eyes danced over my face as he searched for something in my gaze. He was hoping to find some kind of love there; a familiarity or affection that I could offer him.
“I feel sick.”
“That’s just because you aren’t used to being in a different universe. Consider it like jet lag. You’ll get used to it in a few days.” He noticed when I didn’t move to eat. I stared into space, feeling my previous convictions about being sweet to him begin to slip away. “I could always make you eat.” He said.
“You wouldn’t do that.” I muttered. He let out a low sigh and then returned to his food. He wasn’t going to argue with me. Or maybe I was right; maybe there were some things he wouldn’t be willing to do to me. But he had walked in sporting horror-movie levels of blood on his skin. So, who knows?
“Is there anything that’s bothering you?” He asked. “You can always ask me.”
“Are you going to lock me up in my room again if you don’t like the question?” I asked. He didn’t respond.
Tread lightly, I guess.
“Why do you look different than my Miguel?”
“I’m Spiderman. Your Miguel wasn’t. He was close, but he didn’t quite get there before…” His voice faded off. He was trying to be sensitive to me, in his own fucked up way. Or maybe his own narcissism wouldn’t allow him to talk about his failures, even in a different universe.
“Do all Spidermen look like you?” I asked.
“Are they all so devastatingly handsome? Afraid not, sweetheart. They don’t usually look the same. Hell, they can look like anything. I found one that’s literally a cartoon pig. But appearances aside, they can mostly do the same things: climb walls, shoot webs, the whole lot.”
“Ah.” I said. “Do they all have the…” I tapped my finger to my teeth, motioning for the fangs that protruded anytime he spoke. He shrugged.
“That seems to be a thing entirely unique to me.”
Did I sense a bit of insecurity there?
He furrowed his brow as he turned his attention to the dinner plate. Damn it, now I felt bad.
Why the hell did I feel bad for hurting his feelings? He kidnapped me and had dragged me around like a rag doll. But I couldn’t ignore the guilt that started to brew inside of me.
I sighed as I moved closer to him. Even if he was my captor, I couldn’t help but see him as the man who I still loved. Even if that ended at the physical resemblance. I slid to the edge of my chair and reached my arm out for his face. My fingers slid against the rough stubble of his jaw, tracing the side of his face for a moment. He leaned his head to the side, moving into my touch.
“I’m sorry.” I whispered. He nodded, lifting a hand upward. He laid his fingers on top of mine, holding my hand there against his skin. God, he was burning up. Did he always feel like this? Maybe he was actually sick. My Miguel never ran this warm. Or maybe it was just a side-effect of the spider bite. I didn’t understand any of that well enough to question it and I sure as hell wasn’t going to ask about it.
Suddenly, something clattered to the ground in the kitchen, making me jump. I pulled my hand back from his face, feeling the reality of the situation settle in. I slid my hand back into my lap, watching as his eyes lingered on for entirely too long. His brown eyes swam with a deep want. He wanted me to keep touching him.
Maybe sleeping with him would knock him out of this lovesick spell. Or maybe it would only make it worse. He stared at me, moony eyed and desperate. He was Miguel, even if he wasn’t my version of him. Maybe he could genuinely love me, even if only in his own fucked up way.
“If you loved him so deeply, do you think you could ever love me the same way?” He asked.
“Miguel…” I said. His face twitched slightly. I couldn’t say no; maybe I could, eventually. Or maybe he would become crueler, and I would hate him every second of my life. I didn’t know what to tell him. He leaned back in his chair, his face twisting in an attempt to conceal a deep pain.
Change the conversation quick. Change it before the night could descend in chaos with either us screaming at one another or him locking me in the room again. Or maybe he would just send me back to my own universe to die. After all, if he couldn’t get what he wanted from me, then there was no use in keeping me here.
He made a low noise and then returned to eating, never saying anything about how I had dismissed him.
“Why did you paint the door in the hallway?” I asked. He paused, trying to think up an answer. Then, he swallowed his dinner and shook his head.
“Just decided that it looked better that way.”
“But why? What was wrong with the original color?”
“Does it really bother you that much that I changed one thing?” He asked. His voice had an edge to it now. I clearly was not supposed to ask about the door. But why? It was just a damn door.
“No, but it’s weird that that is the one thing you decided to change. I figured that there was probably a reason.” He rolled his eyes as he took another big bite of food.
“Can’t you just be happy? Most people would overjoyed if they had the opportunity that you do.”
“Yes, I’m quite sure that most people would just love to be stolen from their bed by their boyfriend’s psycho twin. Frankly, that’s every woman’s dream.” My voice was dripping with so much sarcasm that he rolled his eyes. “How long are you planning on keeping this up? This isn’t the Truman Show. You can’t just keep me locked up here for the rest of my life so that you can get your kicks spying on me. And I’m not going to act out some fifties sitcom for you.”
“You don’t have to. I just want you to be… you. Or, as close to it as possible.” He said. As close to me as possible… the words rattled around in my head for a moment.
“You want me to be her.” His face twitched. “I lost him and you lost someone who looks exactly like me.”
Dear God, that was exactly it. All of my suspicions were correct. I was supposed to play house with him, while pretending to be a very specific version of myself that he had once loved. I had to be the perfect version of his wife; the one who doted on and loved him, or else this was all for nothing.
“Have you ever read The Great Gatsby?” I asked. He stared at me, his gaze littered with something.
“Tread lightly, sweetheart.”
“The book is about a man who tries to relive his past. He is so sure that repeating everything and making little adjustments will fix his world.” I swallowed hard, trying to make sure he understood what I was saying. I wasn’t his toy; I wasn’t meant to be wound up to perform for him. “Miguel, you can’t fix things by redoing them. People die. You have to let them go. If your wife died, you need to let her go.”
“I don’t hear you saying that about him.” He sneered.
“That’s because I didn’t kidnap you. I was willing to let you… to let him go.” All of the terms were confusing. This man looked like my Miguel, but he wasn’t. He was a different version of him, which I guess could also make him him, just a different kind. God, I was confusing myself.
“That’s bullshit. I know you want him back. I can see it in your eyes. I can see it in the way you look at me.”
“I think what you’re seeing is a mixture of fear and your own reflection.”
“You love me.” He said.
“I don’t know you, Miguel. I don’t know who you are. I know who you look like, but that doesn’t really help your situation.” I paused for a long moment. “How did she die?” I asked. He shook his head.
“That’s none of your fucking business.” He snapped. I flinched at his words.
“I have the right to know how she died.”
“No, you don’t. You don’t even know how your own husband died and you think you have the right to pry into my life.” With that, he pushed himself up from the table.
He tossed the plate into the sink and it shattered against the metal of the basin. I heard him swear in Spanish under his breath. He was pissed but he hadn’t meant to do that. Maybe that was just an every day occurrence with spider strength.
He began to head to the archway that separated the kitchen from the rest of the house. As he stepped, I heard him swearing under his breath. I also heard my name several times.
“Miguel, where are you going?” I asked.
“You hate me so much, maybe it would be better if I wasn’t around.”
“Miguel, where are you going?” I repeated. He muttered more words under his breath. I watched as he pushed several buttons on the sides of his wrist device. He flipped a top piece on the metal bracelet.
“Lyla-“ he started.
“What are you doing?” I asked. I pushed myself up from the table, following him as he left the kitchen. He didn’t reply. I rounded the corner, following as he stepped into the living room. Upon entering, I was nearly blinded by a massive orange and pink hole that swirled and twisted in the center of the room. With every step he took, he drifted closer to it.
So, that was how he managed to leave and then come back. If what he wore on his wrist was capable of doing it, I wondered if mine was, too. No, surely not. The intent was to keep me here; giving me an opportunity to escape would defeat the entire purpose. He said that if I took it off, I would die. I had no choice but to believe him on that front.
“Miguel.” Still no answer. “Where are you going?” He stepped toward the portal without a sound.
“Miguel, where the hell are you going?” I repeated.
He rolled his eyes as he glanced down at the device on his wrist.
“If you leave, what the hell am I supposed to do? There aren’t any people outside. I’m going to have to guess that all of the buildings are empty. Are you coming back? Am I going to starve to death? What if I get hurt? What if I fall down the stairs and die? When the hell are you coming back? How am I supposed to contact you?” The words fell out of my mouth so fast that I didn’t have the chance to consider if these were stupid questions.
“That’s what you’re worried about?” He scoffed. But he didn’t offer me any kind of actual answer.  
“Miguel, you said you were my husband. You can’t just abandon me.” He flinched, but he still did not turn around. “Please…” I begged. If he left, I was stranded. At least with him here, I was guaranteed human contact and sustenance.
“Miguel, I need you.” I said. As the words left my mouth, I did the only thing I could think of to get his attention. I slid my hand up to the cardigan and quickly slipped it off of my shoulders. He didn’t seem to notice or care when it dropped to the ground below me. I then reached upward and grabbed onto the thin spaghetti straps of the pink nightgown. Without hesitation, I pulled them over either shoulder, allowing the gown to slide entirely off my body and pool onto the floor at my feet.
“Miguel.” I repeated. This time, my voice was no louder than a whisper. That was enough to get his attention. Or maybe he had heard the dress gather on the floor at my feet. I swallowed hard, feeling the cold bite at my bare skin. I was standing almost naked in the middle of the living room, wearing only a thin pair of underwear that offered very little coverage.
Miguel glanced backward. His eyes caught expanse of my bare skin and I swore I saw him smile.
“Don’t leave.” I said. I lifted my hands and crossed my arms. It was a force of habit. I felt so exposed like this. Though, I quickly lowered my hands, knowing that getting his attention was my best chance at him staying.
He turned around to face me. “Please say something, Miguel.” I whispered. The longer I went without a reaction, the more I started to feel like an idiot for this. Maybe I had just made myself look stupid in front of him. Or, better yet, maybe this was something his wife wouldn’t have done; maybe this would make him send me back home to die.
He slunk forward, a predator approaching prey. I saw the portal swirl into a smaller and smaller hole in the universe. Then, it closed, leaving us alone in the dim light of the living room.
Miguel moved so that he was only a few inches in front of me. The material of his shirt grazed my naked skin, making me wince. The shirt was too rough against my goosebump littered flesh. He stared down at me. As he did, his eyes turned from warm brown to a deep red again.
His palm drifted up to cup my cheek. His skin burned to the touch. I swallowed hard, feeling his fingers stroke the side of my face. It was almost as if he was petting me; like I was a toy for him to play with. He leaned down. His lips grazed the shell of my ear as he whispered, “Let me know if I hurt you.”
“Huh?” He pressed his mouth against mine, hard. His lips were warm as he began to work them, moving them so that they forced my mouth open. I moaned, overwhelmed by it all. As his lips slid against mine, I was sure that I would be bruised tomorrow.
A fang brushed my bottom lip, making me gasp. “Gentle, Miguel.” I whispered.
“Sorry.” His warm breath covered my face. He smelled intoxicating. He straightened his stance, moving away from me. When he pulled away, I let out an audible whimper.
God, please tell me I didn’t genuinely want him. I swallowed hard, feeling myself getting slick between my thighs. I was sure that if he looked, he would see a spot forming in my underwear.
I wanted to hold him. I tried to grab his shoulders, but our heights were too off. He was too tall for me to grab hold of. I pushed myself onto my tippy toes, but even that wasn’t enough. I was still too short for him. Miguel noticed this and leaned downward, allowing me to curl my arms around his strong shoulders.
“That’s my girl.” He slipped his hands down and curled his fingers around my bare thighs. He jerked my body upward. I curled my legs around his hips. He was already getting hard, causing his pajama bottoms to strain.
Miguel stepped forward, carrying me up the stairs. I knew where we were going: the bedroom. I pressed a gentle kiss against his cheek. Even in the dark, I could tell he smiled.
He was getting exactly what he had wanted. But I couldn’t bring myself to make it all stop. I wanted him. I had craved him for so long and here he was. He wasn’t my Miguel, but maybe he wouldn’t die. He was stronger than my Miguel. Maybe that would allow him to stick around.
He twisted the door handle, leaving deep dents in the shape of his fingers in the cold metal. He was trying his hardest to be gentle with me, but I knew it was a battle he would most likely lose.
He tossed me on the bed, throwing me just a tad too hard. I landed on the opposite side of the mattress, groaning as my head almost collided with the wooden headboard. “Miguel.”
“I know, I know.” He teased. He flipped his hand over, shooting a fine web that caught my ankle. “Come here, sweetheart.” He rolled the webbing around his fingers, pulling it tight. I gasped, feeling my body sliding across the sheets. He dragged me down to the edge of the bed.
“Miguel!” I squealed. He smirked as he pressed his knees into the bed, pulling me so that I was only a few inches away from him. He pulled the web off my skin, making sure that it didn’t hurt me.
“Do you do that a lot?” I asked.
“As often as you, sweetheart. Next time, I can web you to the headboard.” My face flashed bright red. He chuckled.
Miguel reached down and grabbed the bottom of his sweatshirt. He hauled it upward, pulling it over his head before discarding it on the floor. Taut muscles danced under his skin. Every inch of him was bound in hard muscle, covered in perfect skin.
He leaned forward and pressed a kiss against my knee. His fingers wandered up my thighs, feeling my bare skin. He pushed his other hand into the mattress.
“Miguel, please.”
“Please what?” He asked. I took his free hand in mine and guided it up to my chest. He moaned, offering a soft squeeze.
Miquel scrambled up to my chest. He caught my nipple in his mouth and moaned, licking the sensitive skin as he sucked. His fingers kneaded my other breast, stopping every once in a while to offer the hard peak a gentle pinch.
I brushed my fingers through his dark hair. He smiled against my skin, releasing my nipple from his mouth. “What?” I asked.
“Let me know if I’m too rough with you.” With that he slinked down to the warm skin of my thighs. He traced his lips across the bare skin. As he went, he opened his lips to gently suck and kiss the bare flesh. Every so often I would feel a burst of pain that lasted no longer than a second. He mumbled something against my skin. I pushed myself up onto my elbows, moving so that I could see what he was doing.
Another sharp pain shot through my left thigh as he buried his face in my skin. Miguel glanced upward, feeling my eyes on him. His fangs had nipped my bare skin, making me yelp. “I’ll be more gentle.” His voice was warm and weighted with lust.
He slipped upward and slid his fingers under the waist of my panties. He bit the material with his teeth. I heard him snip the material and rolled my eyes.
“You can’t do that to all of my clothes. I barely have any to begin with.”
“I’ll buy you whatever you want.” He pressed a warm kiss against my bare hip. Then, he moved to the other side. He repeated the same action, slicing through the material using his fangs. He placed a kiss on that side, as well.
“You’re such a showoff.”
“Am not.”
“You could have just pulled them off of me the normal way.” I fought back a laugh.
“I can bench press a city bus. I don’t need to showoff to you. Besides, learn to have some sense of romance.” He threw the remains of the panties onto the floor. He immediately pressed a soft kiss against the mound that had been covered by my underwear.  
He was extremely careful when he shifted downward. But the dull ache on the skin of my thighs where he had bit made me want to make my only request. “Hey, no teeth.”
“Funny, that’s what I always tell you.” He muttered. I rolled my eyes. “Lay back and hush up.”
“You’re so damn bossy.” I shifted on the mattress, spreading my legs wider for him. He placed his hand across my folds and gently spread them to expose my clit. He flicked his tongue across my clit. “Fuck, Miguel.” I lifted my hips off the bed, moving closer to his face.
He started to work, flicking his tongue over my clit as the index finger on his free hand traced my opened. He collected my wetness on his finger, sliding it around to make sure that I was good to go. Then, he slipped in his middle and index finger, sinking in until his knuckles touched my pussy.
I moaned, feeling his tongue work its magic.
Fuck, he was good at this.
He curled his fingers inside of me, brushing my sweet spot. I grabbed the back of his head, feeling his head bob under my palm as he licked.
Then, something occurred to me. He knew every inch of my body because he had fucked me thousands of times in the past. Even if it wasn’t me, it was a girl who was exactly like me. Maybe I was just that predicable. Or maybe he was just that good.
He picked up his speed, lapping between my folds as I curled my fingers in his hair. I was close and he could feel it. He could feel the twitches and miniatures spasms on his tongue as he worked. “Miguel, I’m close!” I whimpered.
He licked faster. Suddenly, pleasure shot through me, filling me with a white-hot heat. I moaned, spasming around his fingers as I came undone.
Miguel whispered something into my thigh as he pushed himself off the bed. Then, he pulled down his pajama bottoms, allowing for his cock to spring upward. It smacked against his lower stomach, heavy and decorated with a dark vein that ran along the underside. He kicked his pants off into the floor and then crawled on top of me.
He pressed a soft kiss on my lips. I could taste myself on his lips.
“This may hurt at first. I won’t move until you’re ready.” He said. He reached down between us. I watched as he grabbed his dick, stroked himself twice, and then lined himself up with my entrance. Without another word, he slid inside, making me gasp. I curled my legs around his hips, pulling him in deep as possible. “That’s my girl.”
I was overwhelmed with a stretching sensation. Arms rested on either side of my head as he stayed in place, waiting for me. After a moment, I leaned forward and kissed him, giving him the go ahead. One hand drifted up to my face. He caressed my cheek and his lips glided against mine.
He drew his hips back, sliding nearly all the way out. Then, thrusted upward, hitting deep inside of me. I gasped into his mouth. “I forgot how tight you are.” He murmured, his words slurring together.
My hands slid down his muscled back as he started to fuck himself into me. All the while, he kept his mouth on mine. I could feel his heart beating against my chest as he worked.
“Miguel…” I moaned, rocking my hips against him. I could feel my lower stomach tightening.
Suddenly, he whispered my name. It was so gentle that it was almost unsettling, considering the circumstances. I glanced up to meet his gaze. But as my eyes met his, he dipped downward. He buried his face in the curve of my neck so that I couldn’t see his eyes.
“Miguel, what’s wrong?”
He rutted his hips upward, burying himself as deep as possible. I gasped, digging my nails into his back. Despite how hard I had sunk them in, they didn’t break the skin. He was indestructible… at least, physically. I slid one hand across the skin of his back, moving to his dark hair. I could have sworn I heard him murmuring something into my neck. I could feel his lips moving against my skin, offering some kind of low prayer. But to who?
“Miguel…” He pulled his hips back again and then quickly slid inside of me again, grinding his hips against me to get a reaction. I gasped, tightening my hold on his hair.
“Say you love me.” His voice was dreamy, and his words slurred from pleasure.
“What?” I asked. It caught me off guard.
“Say it.”
“I love you.” I felt his hips still their movements. He was weighing the authenticity of my words. After a moment, he lifted his head from my neck.
“Say it again.” His eyes peered into mine. He was searching for something in my stare.
“I love you.”
“Good girl.” With that, he continued to beat into me, groaning when I would tense around him.
We were both close. I could tell by the chorus of whimpers and moans that were filling the room. That familiar tightening in my stomach was close to coming entirely undone.
He pivoted his hips, hitting the perfect spot inside of me. Miguel stared down at my features. He wanted something very specific from me before he finished. He ground his hips, making me gasp.
Fucking hell, Miguel.
With that, I felt myself come undone. Pleasure shot through me, making me clamp down on his dick. He grunted, never stopping his movements. “Miguel, I love you!” He groaned at my words. He kept hitting deep inside of me, making sure to grind himself against me every couple of thrusts.
His orgasm overtook him. He groaned my name as he gave one final thrust, hitting deep. I felt his body tense under my hands.
Slowly, we both came down from our highs. We were dragged back to the reality of the bedroom. The day had faded into night, leaving us in darkness.
He had finished inside of me. I could feel a deep warmth inside of my stomach. I also felt a distinct wetness that was hard to ignore. I sighed, relaxing into the mattress. I unhooked my legs, waiting for him to slide out of me. But, instead, he reached behind him and closed my legs again.
“No…” He murmured. Then, he leaned down and pressed a kiss against my lips. In this position, I could feel his heartbeat against my chest. It was so intimate; so loving. Maybe he really did see me as his wife. He pressed another gentle kiss against my mouth. I closed my eyes, giving into the softness of the moment.
“You have to do something for me.” He said. I opened my eyes to look at him.
“Okay.”
“I want you to love me like you loved him. I want you to look at me like I’m your hero and that I’m special.” He inhaled sharply before he reached forward to brush one of my curls off of my forehead. “I want you to care if I die.”
I nodded. What other option was there? I was trapped in his little universe; it’s not like I could ever leave or be with anyone else. Besides, we were still literally connected at the hip.
After what felt like an eternity, he slid out of me. He leaned back on the balls of his feet to inspect me. I immediately closed my legs, though that did little good. He reached forward and grabbed my knees, prying my thighs apart. Warm cum dribbled out of me, coating the naked skin of my upper thighs.
He smirked at his handy work before pushing himself off of the bed. He disappeared into the bathroom for a moment, turning on the faucet and grabbing a towel from the cabinet.
It was then that something occurred to me. “Miguel, I’m not on birth control.” I said. He nodded, acting as if I had just told him about the weather. He stepped out of the bathroom holding a damp washcloth. “Miguel.”
“What, sweetheart?” I stared at him, feeling my mind begin to race. He climbed onto the bed, moving to where I was laying. He sat down between my thighs and gently began to clean the remains of him off of my skin.
“You didn’t… you didn’t use a condom and I’m not on birth control.” I said. I could feel my heart beginning to race. Why wasn’t this bothering him in the same way?
“You’re my wife.” He said as he wiped my skin.
“Miguel.” I repeated. I wanted him to react.
“What are you wanting me to say?”
“Anything.” I said. I wanted some kind of actual reaction.
“Things are exactly as they need to be. Whatever happens, happens.”
“That’s not an answer.” I said.
“Maybe you need to learn to be happy with what you’re already working with.” He finished cleaning me up and then walked to the bathroom. He had made sure to only clean the skin outside of my body. He didn’t try to remove any of the fluid inside of me, despite how much there was.
He came back to the bed and quickly climbed in. “You should get some sleep.” He said. I stared at him, searching for some idea about what he was thinking. He offered a soft smile in return.
Was he fucking with me?
Did he really love me or was he just using me as a quick screw?
Did he actually want me to be his wife… or was this some fucked up mind game of his?
He leaned back against the pillows and then lifted his hand. He curled a finger toward him, motioning for me to come. “I’m not a dog.” I muttered.
“Then be a good girl and do as I ask.” He reached forward and gently grabbed my body. He slid me closer to him, moving me so that my head lay against his bare chest.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“Afraid so.” He said. He placed one hand on my shoulder and the other on my side. He slid his fingers up and down either side of my body, taking in every soft dip and curve. Every so often he would lean down and kiss the top of my head.
I couldn’t help but notice the way that his fingers traced over my lower stomach. He looked wistful as he traced the soft skin. I squirmed, feeling insecure.
“Stop wiggling and get some sleep.”
“Then stop feeling me up.”
“I’m not feeling you up. I’m trying to be nice to you.” He murmured against the top of my head. He pressed another kiss against my hair.
“You’re an ass.” I muttered. I rolled his eyes as he continued to pet my bare skin. His heartbeat played in my ear.
As I began to drift off to sleep, I felt him begin to play with my frizzed curls. He would coil a stand of hair around his finger and then let it go, satisfied with the soft curl that had formed.
It was something that my Miguel liked to do, as well.
Maybe they weren’t all that different.
I heard his strong heartbeat against my ear as I faded away from the room.
Before I fell asleep, Miguel pressed a gentle kiss against my forehead. “Please don’t leave me.” He whispered.
I love you...
3K notes · View notes
nickfowlerrr · 8 months
Text
i never thought you’d happen to me - 1
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part two / part three
pairing: bucky barnes x curvy!reader
warnings: 18+ only. smut (part two), fluff, bit of angst. time travel via magic. dad!bucky and mom!reader. steve x nat. some morally dubious homemade porn viewing 💀 (part two). if i’m missing anything that should be tagged, please lmk!
words: just a bit over 6k.
notes: this idea came from a prompt post i saw not too long ago and coincidentally fell into some bingo spots for my @the-slumberparty bingo card.
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fair warning: this is so completely self indulgent and a little trope overload lol but i had such a good time working on it and it was fun to write so who really cares 😌 thank you in advance for reading and reblogging! as always, comments and reblogs are more than welcome and so appreciated. please let me know what you think! 🥰
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It’s another late Friday night as you and the team lounge around the common room, nearly empty takeout containers scattered around the table, glasses and bottles of your drinks much the same. There’s a movie no one is watching playing on the large screen as the current conversation around you continues.
You’re not sure how telling a story from your last mission with Bucky has turned into this once again, but here you are. Another cute remark from Sam about his expectancy to be in the wedding party earns him another glare from you.
“Hey, you side-eye now but in ten years you’ll look back and realize how right we all were,” he says, elbowing Bucky slightly. “Tinman by your side,” he adds with a grin - clearly amused with himself.
“That is not my future,” you say with a humorless chortle.
“I can show you your future,” Wanda speaks from her spot on the couch, everyone turning their heads at once to look at her. She’s been unusually quiet the past few minutes - not engaging much in the conversation as she observed it instead. She takes another sip of her wine as she meets your gaze, foot swinging lazily as she keeps one leg crossed over the other.
She tilts her head at you while you eye her with a raised brow, a look of incredulity on your face.
“What?” she questions, confused at not only yours, but everyone’s, lack of response.
“Come on,” you laugh lightly, brushing her off.
“I’m serious.”
“Wanda, I don’t need to see what my future looks like to know that Bucky will be playing no part in it.”
A round of scoffs, snickers and a groan erupt from around the living room as you roll your eyes. You catch Bucky, seated across from you, doing the same as you turn your face.
“You’re all very funny, and I’m glad you’re amused with yourselves, but I can’t sit here and listen to the same inane conversation over again, soooo,” you pause for a breath, “I’m going to bed,” you clap as you stand from your spot on the couch.
“Look, I don’t speak for everyone, but I am not joking in the slightest,” Kate laughs as she leans back into her seat. Aiming finger guns at you and Bucky, “You guys,” she says, “are endgame.”
“And you, my friend, are drunk.”
Another round of laughs before the previous chatter resumes among the group, a story of misadventure now being told from Parker’s perspective, and you can hear Stark’s interjections already.
You grab your empty glass and head to the kitchen, Wanda following shortly after you.
“You’re stubborn,” she says with no preamble.
You turn with a quirked brow, “Am I?”
“Very. So much so, I think I may need your permission.”
“Sorry...uhm, for?” you ask, clearly confused.
“I think you should see it.” Your face falls slack at her words as you turn back to finish washing out your glass.
“Wanda, -” you go to laugh again.
“No, actually,” she stops you, correcting herself, “you need to see it. You’re stunting yourself. You’re constantly getting in your own way. I think it’d be good for you, to see what you can have if you finally allow it to come to you.”
You're quieted by her sincerity for a moment, half because you weren’t taking any of the previous conversation seriously, and half because you didn’t think it was something she was actually capable of doing. In fact, you still didn’t. But if she wanted to try, who were you to argue.
“Uhhh,” you begin, shaking your head lightly, “I mean, if you really want to, then, go for it, I guess. You have my permission.”
“Good,” she smiles, turning to walk back out to the other’s.
“Wow, wait,” you stop her, “like, what exactly are you gonna do?”
“Just a swap,” she says simply. “A day in the life of your future self. You don’t have to do anything, just go to sleep tonight and you’ll see.”
Your eyes narrow in thought, “...This isn’t dangerous, right?”
“No, not at all. You guys will be fine. 24 hours and you’ll wake up in your own beds, safe and sound. I promise.”
She smiles and flits away quickly. You shake your head at yourself again, still unsure what exactly you’ve agreed to. And it isn’t until you’re walking down the hallway back to your room that what she said actually catches up to you.
You guys will be fine?
You stop walking when you hear footsteps behind you, glancing back to find Bucky coming down the hall. You swallow hard and turn back around, not far from your door.
“Stalker much?” you say without facing him, earning a scoff in return.
He’s barely a step behind you now, though his sudden proximity is not all that surprising. You’ve grown used to his stealth.
“In your dreams.”
“More like waking nightmares. Every time I turn around it’s like you’re always just right there.”
“Maybe if you didn’t put yourself into jeopardy every five minutes I wouldn’t have to shadow you so often.”
You’re walking side by side and you get to your door as he speaks. You turn on him, instantly irritated.
“Are you being serious?” you level at him. He doesn’t respond. “How are you still hung up on Belarus? It was one mission. That was not on me, I didn’t fuck up. No one else saw them coming, either,”
“I did.”
“Well, sorry I’m not as infallible as the one and only Bucky Barnes,” you speak exaggeratedly, annoyance clear in your tone. “You still act like I’m some kind of liability. I’ve been careful. I’m riding a lengthy no injury streak and we’ve still yet to fail a single mission. After how many assignments we’ve been on together, you think you’d start taking me more seriously.”
“I never said I didn’t take you seriously. Just think sometimes you’re still a little too cocky for your own good.”
“For the thousandth time, I’m not clueless, Barnes. I don’t need you monitoring my every move. Not during training, not on missions, and definitely not walking down a hallway at night. I think I can handle getting to my room alone. Or is assuming that too cocky of me?” you ask with a tilt of your head, sarcasm dripping off your tongue.
You don’t wait for a response before you turn to your door and let yourself in, snapping it shut behind you.
You flick on the light and are quickly greeted by a room that is… definitely not yours. You pause for a second, taking in your surroundings before you deflate with a sigh, following it up with a deep breath. You turn the light back off and then turn back around to the door. You wait for a second longer with your hand on the handle before you force yourself to exit the room.
Just like you knew he would be, Bucky is still standing right where you left him; a stupid smirk on his stupidly handsome face.
“Wrong room,” he says.
“Fuck off,” you grumble as you walk a little further down the hall, to your actual door.
“Goodnight to you, too,” Bucky says as he continues to his own room, not far from you. You send him a glare and a “hmph” before shutting your door and getting ready for bed.
You’re not helpless. You’re not clueless. You’re damn good at what you do. But fuck if Bucky doesn’t have a knack for knocking you off kilter with a single look.
—-
It’s a soft shaking that wakes you from your peaceful sleep. You’re so comfortable, you don’t want to move - you don’t even want to blink open your eyes. But the shaking comes again. Your brows furrow as your arms tighten around your pillow and you cuddle further into it.
Only it’s not your pillow.
It takes a second for you to process that instead, it’s a warm body you’re pressing yourself against before your eyes snap open.
You look up and find a confused Bucky staring down at you.
When your eyes meet, though, there’s a bit of softness there. And as you take in his face, you relax a bit again. His presence beside you is at once comforting as it is confounding.
“What are you doing?” you both ask at the same time - only furthering your confusion.
You suddenly realize you’re still wrapped around him and quickly sit up and give him space.
“Why are you in my bed?” you ask as you rub your eyes with the palms of your hands.
“I was gonna ask you the same thing,” he says as he looks around, “but I don’t think we’re at the tower.”
You look up and blink away the fuzziness. Then it hits you.
“Oh shit,” you murmur.
“What? You know where we are?” he asks as he stands and starts looking around, inspecting the room. “Better yet, how the hell we got here?”
“Maybe…Would you believe me if I said we might possibly be in the future?”
Bucky turns and looks at you incredulously.
“Wanda,” you speak at the same time.
“For fuck’s sake,” he says as he runs a hand over his face.
“In my defense,” you begin, “when I agreed to this, I didn’t think she’d be able to do it. I also didn’t think it’d involve anyone else..”
“What do you mean you agreed to this? What is this?”
“She said I needed to see the future. It’d be good for me, or whatever, so I said okay. She said it was uh, a future swap? 24 hours. Day in the life and then I’d wake up back in my own bed the next day.”
“And you agreed to it?”
“Fuckin’, yeah, obviously,” you huff. “I didn’t think it’d be.. Real? I don’t know.”
“So, so what? We’re stuck in some unknown future for the next 24 hours?”
“What part of ‘I don’t know’ do you not understand?”
“Why would you agree to something like this without fully knowing what it is you’re agreeing to? This is exactly what I’m talking about when I say-”
“Spare me, Barnes. It’s Wanda, okay? We’re fine. It’s 24 hours, and I’m assuming that clock started when we fell asleep last night, so really it’s only…,” your voice dies down as you look to the clock on the bedside table. The time isn’t what catches your eye, though.
No.
It’s the framed photo behind it that derails your train of thought.
“No fucking way,” you breathe as you grab it in disbelief.
You stare at the photo of you and Bucky, a close up of you in a sweet embrace, adorning soft smiles as you share a chaste kiss, your left hand touching his cheek, and what you can only assume is a wedding ring sitting pretty on your finger.
This has to be some kind of dream. That’s it. You’re dreaming. Duh. Your hand moves before your mind does and you slap yourself in your face as hard as you can manage, sure it’ll wake you up and you’ll be back in the tower, in your own bed, alone.
“What the fuck?!” Bucky exclaims in surprise as you wince slightly and hold your cheek as it stings. He walks over to you, becoming more tentative as you look up at him.
“‘M not dreaming. Are you?”
“No, I’m wide awake, believe me,” he says as he gets closer. “Don’t slap me, either.”
You eye him harshly before handing him the frame.
“Well, it.. Explains why you’re here, at least,” you say, voice quieter than you intended as your thoughts were still reeling. “We’re not just in my future, we’re in-”
“Our future,” he finishes as he stares at the photo himself.
“Yeah.”
“So, our room…” he says more to himself than to you. He makes his way around the room, pulling open drawers and looking in the closet as you stand and head for the bathroom.
You meet yourself in the mirror, sure enough, you still look the same. You’re you.
Walking back out into the room, you head for the window, pulling back the curtain. As you peer out, you’re expecting to see a skyline, or city street, but instead you’re met with the view of an open yard.
You pull away from the window in surprise, “Are we in a house?”
You turn to Bucky, who turns to face you. You both head to the bedroom door, you following behind him as he takes the lead.
It’s a house. Definitely a house.
The bedroom door leads to a long hallway, three doors along the right back wall, another door at the far end opposite your own, and to the left of that, on the left wall, is another room.
In the middle of the hallway is an opening, and you and Bucky turn there without inspecting any of the other rooms.
You find yourselves in a living room, before walking into the kitchen.
“We should look around,” you say in a whisper - why, you aren’t sure.
“What exactly are you planning on finding?” he questions as you pull open a drawer, sifting around.
“I don’t know? More information. Like what we’re doing here. What we do. What year it is. Maybe we learn something and it’ll send us home sooner? I don’t know, just, something,” you answer, on edge already by being surrounded by the unknown and only growing more agitated at his every word.
“Why are you getting mad at me?”
“I’m not getting-,” you stop yourself, taking a breath, “sorry. Okay? I thought you were trying to be a dick,”
“Why do you assume I’m being a dick?” he asks, annoyed himself now.
"Because you always act like a fucking dick!", you nearly yell as you slam the kitchen drawer shut.
"Fucking dick!"
You both freeze at the high, sweet-sounding voice that comes from behind you. Your brows furrow as you glance at Bucky, his reaction to the mirthful echo much the same as yours, before you both slowly turn around.
The sight you're met with has you both frozen in shock.
A set of twin toddlers clad in matching pajamas, both of whom bear a striking resemblance to you and Bucky, are staring at you both.
You can't explain why, but your heart is gripped by the mere sight of them. It's something more than just their cuteness, it's something instinctual. How it's possible, you're not sure, but you know, somehow, that they're really yours. Future or not, those are absolutely your kids.
It seems with each passing moment, you and Bucky are left more and more stunned by how your future is turning out, but as you notice the little boy's eyes watering and the pout on his little lips as he looks right at you, you can't seem to care about anything else.
“Hey, buddy,” you squat down and hold your arms open for him, and he waddles to you right away as his eyes well more and more. He hugs you, still pouting as he cuddles into your chest and you hold him tightly as you stand, exchanging another glance with Bucky who looks nearly stupefied until the soft voice of the girl rings out once again.
Your eyes shoot to her as she twirls around clumsily, a chant of "fucking dick" leaving her lips over and over before she starts to tilt, seemingly having made herself dizzy. You're about to gasp, moving forward instinctually as you watch her wobble a bit more, but she's in Bucky's arms in an instant as he grabs her before she falls.
"Woah, there, sweetheart," he says with a small laugh as she dramatically goes limp in his arms. An exhausted breath leaves her little lungs as she breathes out the repetition one final time. She then lifts her tiny hand up to Bucky’s cheek, effectively slapping him as she plants it, blinking up at him. “What’s this?” she asks him curiously as she smooshes his face, feeling his stubble.
“Uhh…It’s hair. I haven’t shaved - Ow,” he exaggerates when she interrupts him and pats his cheek again, a bit harder this time, though you know it didn’t hurt him in the slightest. It makes the girl laugh, though.
“You should shave, Daddy,” she advises, pulling a face.
Her words pull a breathless laugh from him as he gazes down at the small girl, a lump forming in his throat as he takes everything in. He feels crazy, but he can see you in her, and he can see himself, too. Her and her brother, they both look like the perfect little combinations of the two of you. And they’re both so comfortable with you guys. So at ease and uninhibited, just like children should be..
It’s a stark contrast to how he grew up and he can’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment, of pride, knowing that he isn’t repeating the cycle he swore would die with him.
He’d stopped letting his mind wander to what if futures long ago, but when he did imagine what it’d be like to have a family of his own, this is the kind of peace he longed for. The happy, settled down future he was sure he’d never have.
And you.
Your hand has been mindlessly rubbing the boy's back in an effort to comfort him as he cuddles into you, that never faltering pout pulling every string your heart has as Bucky attends to the girl relaxing in his arms.
"Linc's sad, Mommy," the girl says, pointing at her brother. The title has you swallowing hard, your heart clenching at how sweetly she calls to you.
Linc?... Must've been Bucky, you think briefly before you gently pull him away from you slightly so you can see him better, his bleary blue eyes peering up at you.
"Why are you yelling at Daddy?" he pouts still. Your brows furrow and mouth parts on an inhale, as if you're going to answer him, but nothing comes out as you try and think of what you can say. His innocent question stumping you.
"It's alright, pal, we were just kiddin' around," Bucky offers as he gets closer to you both. You look at him, a bit guilty but thankful for the save.
"Can we have pancakes, Daddy?" the girl asks as she wriggles around like a worm in his hold.
"Pancakes! Please!" Linc smiles as he continues hanging onto you, seemingly happy with Bucky's defense of you - any qualms he had long forgotten as he’s now focused on the mention of pancakes for breakfast.
"Sure," you answer for him, acquiescing easily with a smile before looking to Bucky with wide eyes.
You’re not entirely sure how exactly this all happens, but somehow you end up married with two kids. As shocking as it is, and as confused as you are about how, a part of you is grateful - maybe even happy - that Bucky is here. He may be an ass a lot of the time, overbearing and micromanaging your every move, but you guys have been through hell and back together. Partners from the very start of your time as an Avenger. If you’re being honest, this future makes more sense than you previously wanted to admit.
In an attempt to not freak out the twins, you know you have to play the part. Act like nothing is out of the ordinary and that you are indeed their mom. You are, technically, but you don’t have any idea what the hell you’re doing or what’s wholly needed of you. You’ve nannyed before, though. You know the basics..
"Have we brushed our teeth yet?" you ask the twins, sure the answer is a "no". Your and Bucky's arguing clearly is what woke them up, the yelling must have led them out here from their room.. Rooms?
"Mhm," the girl hums, though just from looking at her, the lie is evident as she avoids looking directly at you.
"Don't lie, Ellie," her brother chastises.
Ellie.. That must've been me, you think with a twitch of a smile before you set Linc down.
"Alright, go with Buc- your dad, and I'll start on the pancakes," you instruct before the twins burst out in giggles. You frown, brows furrowing as you watch them, hoping they'll let you know what exactly is so funny.
"No, we want daddy's pancakes, Mommy!"
"With chocolate chips and syrup!"
"Yeah, they want Daddy's pancakes, Mommy," Bucky taunts with a smirk as you shoot him an annoyed look. He seems a lot more comfortable now than he was a few minutes ago, and you can’t help but notice how easily he seems to be taking this; easing into his role in this place and time. He’s good.
"What's wrong with my pancakes?" you press the toddlers.
"Daddy's are better, but it's okay, your grilled cheese is the best,"
"Yeah! Oh, can we have grilled cheese for lunch, Mommy? Please, please, pleeease," Ellie begs cutely, leaning to you while still in Bucky's hold.
You huff a laugh, agreeing as Bucky sets Ellie down to follow you.
"See if you can find anything," you tell him as you meet his eye before following after the tikes pulling on your hands.
"Don't forget the chocolate, Daddy!"
Bucky watches as you're led to the bathroom before he starts moving around the kitchen. He's about to start looking around for more information on when exactly you are, and the kind of life you’re living, but thinks better of it for now. He'd rather not have two toddlers throw a fit over unfinished pancakes on top of everything else he's trying to wrap his head around at the moment.
He finds the pantry and grabs all the ingredients he needs for his mom's pancake recipe - the one he knows by heart- and gets to work on the batter. The chatter from the kids and you in the bathroom floats into the kitchen and he can’t help but smile at the sound of your voice as you talk to them.
He soon loses himself in the simplicity of the task at hand, and how nice it is to be here like this. He's in pajamas on a Saturday morning, making breakfast for his family as they start their day..
Seems entirely unreal, but a dream nonetheless. And as if that wasn’t enough to have his thoughts in a flurry, he still can't shake the feeling of how nice it was waking up with your soft body pressed against his. Opening his eyes to discover the warmth beside him was you. He was confused at first, wondering when and how you’d gotten into his room, but more so concerned about the why. He watched you for a minute before he noticed the bedding draped over the both of you. It wasn’t his and when he looked around the room, he realized he had no idea where you guys were. You were wrapped around him as you laid together in the comfy king bed, and it took him a second to try to wake you up. He knew he had to, of course, but if he was honest, he didn’t want the feeling to end. Your hold on him was comforting and he was completely at ease in your embrace, circumstances be damned. It was a feeling he hadn't felt in ages.
Though, that wasn’t entirely true. He remembers the last time he felt that way, and of course it was with you. You were stuck in a shoddy motel off the highway during a storm, the crappy jeep you’d been traveling in finally gave out half way through your drive back to the compound and you guys had no choice but to crash for the night. Of course the motel only had one singular room available with one singular bed. After some back and forth, you both decided you’d just share. It was big enough for the two of you, with space in between. When Bucky woke up that next morning, though, he found himself holding you tightly from behind, your arms wrapped over his as you slept peacefully in his embrace. He remembers the heat that crept up his neck and the flurry in his stomach that he still refuses to acknowledge as butterflies. He quickly loosened his hold and slipped away from you before you could even bat an eye. You were still none the wiser. He thought about that morning a lot after it happened.
He wondered what would’ve happened if you had woken up, too. What you would’ve said, what he could’ve said to you if he’d finally gotten out of his own way..
He can’t dwell on it anymore, though. He hasn’t. He won’t.
Except maybe he does.
And seeing as this is your future together, he thinks maybe that’s not as hopelessly embarrassing as he’s made himself believe it is.
And god, the sight of those kids. The warmth that bloomed in his chest as he took in their faces, he honestly was worried he would start crying if he stared too long. He had long given up on the idea of starting a family, he didn't think this life would ever be in the cards for him, and especially not with you.
But as he stood pouring chocolate chip pancake batter into a sizzling pan, he was struck by how right it felt.
Obviously, it wasn't right, neither of you should be here right now, and it made him wonder where exactly the future you and him were.
As soon as the thought went through his head, a tablet he hadn’t taken notice of on the back counter dinged.
He flipped the pancakes before he went to get the pad, taking the tablet in his hands. His face unlocked the device easily and opened up to his email account.
He clicked on the new, unread message from.. you?
—-
Hey Bucky.
Wanda says this is unnecessary but if I know me, I’m still probably freaking out internally. So, just letting you know that everything's fine. Or so she says.
We're gonna be back to our respective places in time come tomorrow.
I know waking up in the future - especially our future - may be hard to wrap your heads around, but it’s a hell of a lot better than waking up alone to a preening Wanda staring at you, trust me.
And you guys aren’t as oblivious as you try to be. You know, deep down, exactly why you’re there. Together. - and why it isn’t all that crazy.
And this goes without saying, but obviously, take care of the kids. Eleanor and Lincoln. If you haven’t found them yet, they’ll find you, I’m sure.
Today at 2pm, you need to drop them off at 7314 Wisteria Drive. That's Steve and Nat's house - so don't make it weird. They're keeping the kids so we can celebrate our anniversary.
Funny how that lines up..
So, anyway, apparently all we need to do on both ends is enjoy the 24 hour downtime. We’ll be waking up in our own beds before we know it.
Okay.
Bye.
(I’d say I love you but I don’t wanna freak you out. x)
Bucky just stares down at the email blankly while his brain tries to catch up. He's gonna have to have you read it yourself. Before he can fixate on that last line in particular, he can smell the browning of the pancakes.
His attention quickly returns to the food as he starts to plate it, shutting off the burner. The kiddie plates he finds in a cabinet earn a half smile from him as he cuts up the pancakes for the kids and spots their booster seats, placing the plates before them.
He hears them before he sees them as they come down the hallway, all laughs.
You appear just after they do, a look on your face he can't turn away from. Your soft smile and the adoration swimming in your eyes as you watch your kids, both of them waiting to be lifted up to sit down, is.. beautiful.
He catches himself staring before he turns his focus back to the table, lifting Eleanor into her seat before lifting Lincoln in his, earning a "thank you, daddy," from each of them in return, a wave of astonishment and pride coming over him yet again. He’s not sure if he’ll ever get used to that.
You listen as they talk back and forth about their pancakes and their laughter when they start playing with one another as they eat their lightly syruped bites.
You stand by Bucky, absentmindedly grabbing a pancake and biting into it, stopping almost immediately as the fluffiness catches you off guard. God, they were so right. These are amazing.
"Good, right?" Bucky's voice pulls you back as you swallow your bite.
You lick your lip before looking over at him. "Did you find anything?"
He hands you the tablet and watches as you read the email.
You click your tongue, and then stay silent for a minute.
He almost can’t believe it when you do it, looking at you incredulously once again after you suddenly slap yourself in the face once more.
"What the fuck are you doing?" he bites quietly, moving to stand in front of you and blocking your view of the kids momentarily.
"Just had to make sure," you reply, again cringing at the stinging of your cheek. You eye him before making a move to slap him, too, but he grabs your hand before you can make contact. He looks at you like you're insane as you huff again. "So this is..."
"This is real," he finishes for you. "That hard to believe, huh?"
"That's an understatement. So, I’m not dreaming. But are you sure you’re not dreaming?"
“You think my dreams involve waking up in the future with no memory of what’s gone on between me going to sleep to waking up? That’s a literal nightmare for me. Plus, I learned a while ago how to differentiate between my dreams and reality. Trust me, we’re not dreaming.”
You swallow thickly, an apology on the tip of your tongue. You hadn’t considered that before. Before you can voice your thoughts, though, you're distracted by the interaction between the kids at the table.
"Linc, I'll give you a piece and then you give me one of your piece, okay?"
"You take this one," Linc says as he gives his sister a piece off of his plate and she gives him a piece off of her's.
You can't help but chuckle at the exchange.
"We make cute kids, though," Bucky says, almost under his breath. But you still hear him, and you respond before your brain catches your tongue.
"Yeah, we do."
You push off the counter as Bucky watches you, surprised that you heard him and even more so by your agreement, though it'd be impossible for anyone to argue that your kids aren’t, in fact, ridiculously adorable.
"Do you guys want -"
"Orange juice, please!" Ellie answers before you even finish asking.
"And water, please," Linc follows.
"OJ and water, you got it."
----
You and Bucky get the kids ready to go to Steve and Nat's with minimal arguing... until you had to pack their bags.
What they should or shouldn't take with them was a point of contention as you ridiculed each other's choices. After your bickering and some input from Ellie and Linc, you guys just hoped they had everything they needed. You'd unnecessarily packed them three outfits each just in case of spills or messes and their diaper bag was loaded full, too. Maybe too much for one day, but better safe than sorry, right?
After loading the twins in the car, Bucky followed the GPS to the address you'd left in the email.
When you guys pulled up to the house, you were greeted by Natasha who was unloading groceries from her car. The domestic scene warmed your heart. She deserved the simplicity, the normalcy, and you were happy to know that one day, she’d have it.
She lit up as she saw you guys approaching and came right over, going straight for the back door.
Linc and Ellie were all smiles and giggles as they tried fruitlessly to escape their car seats in favor of being in Nat's arms.
"Bugs!!" Nat greeted them with an enthusiastic smile as she started working on their belts. "I've missed you guys so much! How long has it been? Ten years?"
They laughed in unison at her before Ellie corrected her. "Yesterday, Aunt Nattie!"
"Yesterday?" she questioned in faux disbelief.
She wasn't able to keep up the play, though as the second they were out of their seats, they nearly tackled her.
You watched Steve come outside, coming up to the car with a grin, a girl no more than ten and another toddler, maybe a little older than the twins, in tow.
"Get them inside for me, honey," Nat said to the oldest one. She looked nothing like either of them, dark hair and dark eyes, but still it was clear she was their daughter. The younger one looked like Steve, though, and you wonder briefly if that was just by chance or if they’d had a surrogate. Natasha had talked about the possibility before, and of adopting, but starting a family wasn’t something any of you were actually considering at the time, settling down and having kids wasn't really your focus when you were all trying to make sure the world wouldn’t be ending tomorrow. "We'll be right in. And pick a movie for the sleepover before your Dad does," she pretended to whisper, earning a laugh from the girl as she corralled the kids up the porch.
Nat turned her gaze back on you and Bucky, her stare nothing less than scrutinizing.
"Are you guys in pajamas?" she asked with a raised brow.
"Mh, uh, yeah," you laughed a little breathlessly before looking back at the house, distracted. "They didn't even say bye," you said in your disappointment. You'd only just met the kids, but you felt so instantly connected to them.
"Don't worry about them, they're gonna have fun tonight. And so are you two," she says pointedly, if not a bit suggestively, pulling you from your thoughts. You feel the heat that creeps up your skin and refuse to look at Bucky.
"What are you guys doin' tonight, did you decide?" Steve asks.
"Staying in," Bucky blurts out as you blink and smile. But their faces at that, their smirks of acknowledgement make you grow hotter as you try to not let your embarrassment show.
"Mhm," you hum tight lipped.
It's quiet for a moment as you all watch one another before Steve breaks the silence.
"You guys are acting weird."
"Are we?" you question back too quickly.
"Yeah. You are," Nat says.
"Sugar," Bucky blurts out again. "They're loaded up on sugar. Sorry, they really wanted pancakes this morning. But uh, look, thanks for watching them. We should uh, get going, so.."
"Yeah, we should go," you agree. "What time do you want us to pick them up?"
"We're dropping them off tomorrow afternoon, right?" Steve questioned. "Or did you not want them to go with us?"
"No, oh, right. Duh! I just forgot - that's what we talked about. Because you're taking them to.." you trail off, prompting them.
"The gardens?" Nat finishes.
"Right, yes, the gardens. Which is great. And we appreciate it so much. And if you need anything or anything happens, ya know just call us," you continue on as Bucky starts to pull away. You fight the urge you have to glare at him until you finish your awkward goodbye and Steve and Nat watch you both drive off, clearly confused about the weird interaction.
"Did you miss the part of the email where it explicitly said: don't make it weird?" Bucky asks.
"Fuck off, you were no better," you scowl as you slump in the seat. "What now?"
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sumeruin · 2 months
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bad idea, right?
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♫♪: pairing: toxic ex! scara x afab! reader (modern but still in universe au)
♫♪: warnings: written by a minor, kind of dubcon but reader is very obviously into it, slapping, spitting, bondage, degradation, slight humiliation, toxic relationships, pet names, fingering, female anatomy but no pronouns or gendered terms used, i think that’s it but if i missed any please let me know!!
♫♪: a/n: originally meant to post this like. weeks ago lmao sorry <3
♫♪: minor writing smut, dni if uncomfortable!!
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fuck. you don’t know why you keep doing this, if you’re being completely honest. he’s bad for you. so, horribly, unbelievably bad for you. and yet, as he sits on your couch, leaning back and propping his feet up on your coffee table like he owns the place, you don’t want to kick him out. all you wanna do is slap that stupid smirk off his face and let him fuck every single thought out of your mind.
his voice breaks you from your thoughts. “are you planning on saying anything, or am i supposed to just stare at you?” his eyes linger on your waist, following the curves of your body and leaving you feeling much too exposed for your liking.
you cross your arms over your chest defenseivly, returning his smug stare with a glare of your own. “why are you here? i thought i made it clear last time that i never wanted to see your face again.” unless it’s in between my legs, your brain adds silently, and you desperately try to shoo those thoughts away. if you start thinking about how good he is in bed, you’ll never be able to make him leave.
he clearly notices your internal struggle, raising an eyebrow and letting out a laugh that’s only slightly mocking. his condescending gaze makes your cheeks heat up with embarrassment. how does he always manage to make you feel humiliated when he’s the one who keeps crawling back? “you did, but we both know that’s not true. i bet if i looked between your legs right now you’re wet just from looking at me. you always were into the weirdest things. you found another guy willing to slap you around yet?”
your face burns at the reminder of the things you’ve asked him to do, all of them depraved and perverted in nature. from the times you’ve begged him to spit on you, to the times you’ve placed his hand on your throat and silently urged him to apply pressure while he was fucking you. it’s clear he enjoys your humiliation, a fact that only makes you more humiliated and only sends yet another pang of heat in between your legs.
“th-that’s none of your business, *scaramouche*. just- what do you want?” he flinches ever so slightly at the venomous way you say his name, and that fact that you’re calling him that at all. you never call him that, it’s always “kuni” or “scara” or some random pet name. never “scaramouche”.
after a few painfully long moments of contemplative silence, he slowly stands up and walks towards you, and you can’t help the way you reflexively lean into his touch when he grabs your chin. he chooses not to answer your question, simply tilting your head to face his as he speaks, tapping your cheek with two of his fingers. “open.”
despite your best judgment, you obey, silently opening your mouth and gazing up at him in confusion.
he simply admires the sight for a moment, then, without any kind of warning, he spits directly into your open mouth. his grip tightens on your cheeks so you can’t close your lips, and he smirks to himself as you grimace at the feeling. “you done being a bitch yet? or am i going to have to fuck it out of you?”
you glare, though he only laughs in your face at your attempt at intimidation. “you look pathetic, trying to intimidate me while my spit is sitting on your tongue and your drooling all over me like a dog. is that what you are? my pathetic, stupid little mutt? maybe i should put a leash on you. then you wouldn’t think you could leave me.”
he lets go of your cheeks, though he gives you a threatening look that promises consequences if you try to do anything other than swallow. you do, sending him another barely threatening glare as your voice comes out. “fuck off. ‘m not yours anymore.”
scara only gives you a mocking smile at your words, gripping your wrist and dragging you over to the couch before practically throwing you on the cushions. you’re suddenly thankful for that throw pillow phase you went through a few years ago. maybe celestia did have a plan besides making you waste your money.
he hovers over you, his eyes furious and his mocking smile gone, seemingly having decided to drop the faux nice facade and embrace the dominance he holds over you. his hand curls around your neck, not tight enough to choke you yet, just enough to cut off a little bit of oxygen and fill your brain with that fuzzy, soft haze. “fine. you wanna be like that, huh? i can deal with a brat.”
he yanks your pajama shorts and underwear down your legs, carelessly tossing them to a random corner of the living room before working on your shirt. he doesn’t even bother trying to take that off the right way, he simply rips the fabric down the middle and exposes your perfect tits, which he then decides to start massaging with his left hand. with his right, he takes his belt off and restrains your hands behind your back. you can’t control the moan that falls from your lips as your back arches into his touch, and you’re only a little ashamed of how desperately needy your voice sounds. “fuck, scara-!”
he grins in response, his eyes trailing from your exposed cunt to your eyes as he responds, his free hand trailing down to rub little circles against your clit. “yeah? i’m right here, doll. not going anywhere.”
scara relishes the way you jolt under his touch, body shaking as whines and mewls fall from your lips. fuck, it’s been so long. you hadn’t realized how deprived you’d been until someone was finally playing with your pussy. no one’s ever as good as scara, not since you slept with him the first time. he knows very well how much he’s ruined any other guy for you, how he’s the only one who can make you cum this hard. and he loves it.
he deems you wet enough after a few more moments of him rubbing your clit, and then he slides two of his fingers in your twitching cunt, not even bothering to take off his rings beforehand. not that you’re complaining, you both know how much you love the feeling of the metal rubbing against your insides. he notices the way you start to drift away, and lands a heavy slap to your cheek, snapping you out of the pleasure induced trace he put you in with a predatory grin. “are you trying to hide from me? you should know better.”
you can only whine in response, trying to blabber out a coherent response while on the verge of cumming your brains out all over your ex boyfriend’s fingers is much harder than it looks. all you manage is another little mewl, gazing up at him with teary eyes as you whine out the words. “not- not tryin’ to hide, kuni… p-please, need more- need- need to cum, please let me cum!”
scara only gives you another grin, clearly pleased with your performance, and he slips another finger inside you, scissoring them and making you cry out as your back arches and your legs twitch from where they’re resting on either side of his body. your moans get less coherent, but he doesn’t seem to mind. he just pulls his fingers out of your pussy and holds eye contact while licking them clean, then pulls his pants down just far enough to take his cock out. he slaps it against your clit a few times, and pats your, quickly reddening, cheek condescendingly as he speaks. “i don’t think you’ve done anything to deserve getting fucked.”
his soft pats switch to a harsh grip on your chin abruptly, and he forces your face to make eye contact with him while he continues. “why don’t you convince me, hm? tell me how sorry you are for pretending you wanted to leave me, how much you missed me. then i’ll consider it.”
scara’s grin is wicked now, staring deeply into your fucked out eyes as your face scrunches up and you start to sniffle at his denials. he’s the one who started this, why is he making you seem like the desperate one? you wouldn’t be this desperate if he had just kept his stupid hands to himself. still, though, your cunt aches from the overwhelming emptiness, little drops of slick drooling out and making a mess of your favorite blanket.
so, you obey like always, the words flowing from your lips with an ease that makes it seem like something you’ve always known, a deep rooted fact that you can’t possibly deny as you stare up at him through thick lashes with glossy eyes. “p-please, kuni, need you so bad, it hurts! i- i was wrong, wasn’t- wasn’t thinking… missed you so much, please!”
scara smiles, baring his teeth in a way that you distantly know should terrify you, but as he thrusts deeply inside you, filling you up so well with one deep stroke, you can’t find it in yourself to care anymore.
you aren’t sure you ever did.
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florwal · 1 year
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PORTSIM SAVE FILE 1.0
portsim is a small city in the south. it was established as a town in 1752, and the current population is 97,915. it's full of history and has a lot of culture. with increasing poverty rates, gang violence, and a drug epidemic, crime is at an all time high. will the city’s new mayor be able to make portsim a safer place?
CONTENT WARNING: storylines involving drug use & violence
download + info under the cut
OUTDATED - download 1.1 here
watch my save file overview on youtube
4 months in the making and it’s finally here! huge thank you to everyone that’s been following me through the process. ♡ y’all are so kind and supportive and i really appreciate all the love. this was originally going to be a personal save, it’s inspired by my hometown (portsmouth, virginia) most builds are based off real places around me, and some households are based off my friends and family. this is very much still personal to me!
willow creek, newcrest, and magnolia promenade have been rebuilt, repopulated, and transformed into one large town
i own all packs and kits, if you don't you can still play this save but build and cas objects will be missing
check out the portsim townie index (wip) to read their bios and keep up with their stories. some already have posts but some are empty, i’ll be adding more as i play
21 residential lots / 19 community lots - please read community lot descriptions because most are multi functional! i also left some empty commercial spaces that are “for lease” so i can add things as new packs come out
added new holidays - i changed names to be more realistic and added a few (spring cleaning day, easter, independence day, halloween, christmas eve)
added 5 new clubs (city officials, a gang, a cult, a record label, painting classes by a townie)
notes:
view update log here
i’ve never made a save file before, and this is just the first version. please let me know if you run into any issues. i want to eventually add more households, and i also want to add + rebuild other worlds
i highly suggest turning the eco lifestyle ep’s eco foot print + npc voting off, unless you want the town to look apocalyptic and the trinity church community space to be set to the winter version during summer etc
i turned neighborhood stories off, but sims were still adopting babies and divorcing each other so i kept them all in the my households tab, you don’t have to keep them there!
shoutout to @cowplant-snacks and @nightlioness for letting me use some of their sims as background townies so there's not as many ugly npcs
next world that’s going to be added: oasis springs + del sol valley - idk which one will be out first! but they're coming soon ♡
DOWNLOAD on patreon (always free)
*required mods for the lit version*
please tag me in anything involving the save! id love to see how y’all play in it!
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starrypen · 4 months
Text
⋇⊶⊰ TWICE IS A DECISION ⊱⊷⋇
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pairing: dom!sunghoon x fem!reader
genre: smut
summary: sunghoon always knew you wanted him, even when he was dating your friend. following a night of fun, sunghoon tried to contact you again with only one goal in mind - keep you coming back for more.
warnings: unprotected sex, themes of cheating and jealousy, slapping, “good girl”, you almost get caught, 1.5k words
a/n: SELF INDULGENT. AGAIN. SORRY.
rolling your eyes at the boy in front of you, you cross your arms and sighed, “and jake agreed to this, did he?” you questioned.
“well, he said i could use his place for a bit,” sunghoon shrugged, “so yeah, i guess he did.”
you waited to see if he had anything more to add, but it seemed he was done talking, “so you forgot to mention the part where you were inviting me over from his phone, pretending to be him?”
“it’s not my fault he only ever uses his work phone these days,” you furrowed your brows, “and i remembered his password from high school.”
“that doesn’t give you the right to-”
“y/n, just hear me out,” sunghoon interrupted, “i miss you, your laugh, everything.” he stepped forward, reaching out for your hands but you stepped back and kept your arms crossed.
“no, you dated my friend,” you scoffed at his pathetic comments.
“you’re not even friends anymore,” he took another step towards you, “and i know you were jealous of her when we were together,” your eyes met, “that’s why you’re not friends anymore, isn’t it?”
you uncrossed your arms and let them drop to your sides as you rolled your eyes once again, “you always think it’s about you, don’t you? have you ever considered we might have just drifted apart?”
sunghoon brushed your face slightly as he grazed the back of his hand over your cheeks, “i know when you’re lying, y/n,” his other hand reached for yours by your side, “it was because of that night, wasn’t it?”
he was definitely referring to the night you were currently reliving in your head. the way his hands were all over you, the way he made you feel like the only girl in his universe, the way he laughed against your lips when he knew he’d been caught. the way he fucked you like you deserved.
you snatched your hand away, instead bringing it to your face to cool it down, “what night?”
“you know, here, jake’s 21st, you’d been flirting with me all night…” he probed, “how could i not give you want you wanted?”
“i’d had a lot to drink…” you tried to make up an excuse with an awkward scoff.
“you were on tap water the whole night, y/n, so was i,” he explained, “so was everyone else. no one brought any alcohol, remember?”
you cursed, “sunghoon, we shouldn’t have-”
“but we did,” he interrupted again, “and we both enjoyed it, didn’t we?” his hand reached for both of yours, you let him take a hold of them.
you nibbled at the inside of your cheek, your eyes drifting to his lips every now and then, just to check that they were still as kissable as they were that night. “do you miss my moans?”
“i knew if i tried to get in touch sooner you wouldn’t have given me the time of day,” he ignores your question, “please y/n, i really had to see you again.”
“shut up,” you spoke, getting to your tiptoes. you closed the gap between the two of you, your lips placing a hungry kiss on his, “please just-” his hands let go of yours in favour of pulling you closer at your lower back. “i missed too,” you whispered as he tilted his head and connected your lips once again, his tongue brushing against your teeth before you welcomed it into your mouth. your kiss led you to jake’s sofa, onto which you pushed the much taller man, separating the kiss rather forcefully. you stripped yourself of your coat and dropped it without care onto the ground.
“take off your pants,” you hurried him quietly. he did as you said as you took to your knees in front of him. “you were getting hard while we were arguing?” you asked with a laugh.
“you’re so hot when you’re mad,” he laughed too, bunching up your hair in his hand and pulling your head towards his dick.
the tip magnetised your lips before sunghoon bucked into your mouth. he allowed your mouth to work, taking as much as you could until he got bored of watching you struggle.
“babe,” he tugged at your hair, you stood up, “take those off and get here.” he patted the sofa next to him after motioning to your pants.
you sat beside him, his hand on your thigh, pulling it apart from the other. his hand crept closer to your pussy. your heartbeat was most certainly audible.
“sunghoon,” you moaned out as the boy’s fingers finally made contact with your sensitive clit. your hand wrapped around his wrist in apprehension.
“shh” he hushed you, his lips coming to yours once again. after, he lay back, behind you, on his side, and looped his arm through your leg pulling you into the same position. with your clothed back pressed to his chest, sunghoon teased your entrance with the tip of his dick. “do you want it, baby?” he asked, tapping it against your hole.
“fuck, sunghoon, please,” you moaned out.
you took your own leg from his grip, holding it up for him instead so he could use that hand to guide his dick into you. his other hand now snuck under your torso and was already massaging your clit. he pushed his dick inside you, one slow thrust filling you up, just as you remembered.
“fuck, y/n,” he groaned, “you feel,” he leaned over, with his hand now at your side, to kiss your cheek, “so fucking good,” kissing you once more while thrusting in and out of you. he kept his pace rather slow, just how you liked it. he knew you’d cum faster this way.
and that’s exactly what you did. “sunghoon,” you tensed, almost dropping your leg, which fell anyway as your orgasm took over, “i’m cumming!” your free hand once again grasped at his wrist.
“i know, baby,” he lifted your leg again so he could continue to fuck you.
a jingling of keys outside caused him to let it go immediately. you panicked, turning to the boy, who grabbed the blanket from the top of the sofa. he lay it flat over you just in the nick of time, covering your whole body, including your face.
“sorry i forgot my other… you wanted to come over just to watch the office?” jake’s eyes darted from the tv stand, on which his phone sat, to sunghoon on his sofa.
“yeah,” sunghoon laughed awkwardly, “forgot my netflix log in,” he lied. you felt sunghoon pump into you once more, probably to get more comfortable. you tried your hardest not to react, but you couldn’t help but wince.
“what was that?” jake grabbed his phone and headed back towards the door, not before giving sunghoon a concerned look.
“kelly,” he pointed to the tv screen, which was thankfully for him displaying a scene between kelly and ryan, “she’s so hot, insane body.”
normally, you’d be disgusted by the objectification, and if you weren’t extremely attracted to sunghoon, you’d feel the same right now. but all you could do in response was wiggle your ass against sunghoon, his dick still inside you.
“she’s cute, for sure, anyway, see you later, man,” jake responded, the door shutting soon after.
“shit, y/n,” sunghoon threw the blanket off of the pair of you, kissing and nibbling at your shoulder between words, “why do we always get caught when we fuck?”
you roll your hips against sunghoon’s fingers, rubbing your clit, “i don’t know,” you laugh.
you feel a change in sunghoon’s breathing as you respond, “get on your fucking knees again,” he snapped. oh the sunghoon you spent the night with was finally back.
“what? i didn’t even cum again?” you protested.
“i don’t care, get on your knees.” you took to your knees, this time he stood up, taking a fistful of your hair again. “good girls don’t almost make me cum when my friends are in the room,” he said, guiding your head towards his cock again. you opened your mouth, ready for the face fucking that you’d led sunghoon to believe was a punishment for you. his dick hit the back of your throat. you cried, you gagged, you spit up all over his dick. he pulled his dick out and leaned down. slapping your face with a swift motion, before cupping it and making you take his dick again, sunghoon groaned and moaned in pleasure. “how can you be so dirty, y/n, fuck.” his cock stayed motionless, apart from a few throbs, in your throat as cum flowed from it. you swallowed it all, but it wasn’t like you had a choice. “see, that’s how good girls should be. you’ll be back tomorrow, right?”
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wileys-russo · 5 months
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I just got done reading your fic ‘passenger princess’ and I would a another small fic of Y/n actually buying a car or she’s makes Alessia think bought one.
Instead she rented it out for the week and Alessia hates the fact that she doesn’t have her passenger princess. And instead she becomes one for the week and girl tease her about to.
(Please only write if you want!)
passenger princess ficlet II a.russo x reader
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little follow up ficlet to the original fic here passenger princess ficlet II a.russo x reader
"-and you think this is a good idea given the fact you two spent an entire day at one anothers throats already. about this exact argument which shouldn't have even been an argument in the first place?" leah sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as you nodded enthusastically.
"yes." you confirmed, the blonde sighing deeply. "i don't know how she puts up with you honestly, the poor girl deserves an award." your national captain shook her head, grabbing her empty lunch tray and standing as your jaw dropped. "leah!" you scoffed after her in offence, crossing your arms over your chest with a huff at her lack of support.
"you told her your plan?" lia chuckled, returning from the bathroom and watching the interaction as you nodded. "i thought she would be supportive but she basically told me i'm a terrible girlfriend and alessia deserves an award for putting up with me." you pouted at the older girl as you stood to join her.
"leah!" the swiss woman shoved the blonde who returned, swiftly glaring at the two of you. "what? she's a numpty and i personally am tired of having to pretend that she isn't an enormous pain in my side." leah shrugged as you again scoffed, launching at her and jumping on her back.
you clung on tightly as the three of you walked out of the lunch room and toward the gym for your final session of the day. "get off!" leah demanded trying to shake you but having no luck as you latched onto her.
"less help!" leah whined as your girlfriend entered the gym, laughing at something victoria said. "having to get someone else to fight your battles for you? some captain." you tutted, arm locked around leah's neck as the woman mumbled under her breath about how she wished she could drown you in the recovery pool.
"you either get off me right now or next camp i'll make you do hill sprints and burpees till you throw up." leah warned seriously as you rolled your eyes but dropped off her none the less, hurrying away toward your girlfriend before the older blonde could retaliate.
"partner up with me?" your girlfriend requested, pulling you into a warm hug as you nodded, flipping leah off over her shoulder as the blondes lips tugged into a smile and she turned away trying to hide it.
the older girl had been looking out for you for years and loved you like the younger sister she never had, so you knew she couldn't ever really stay mad at you.
"how was lunch?" you asked, laughing quietly feeling your girlfriend start to sway the two of you, refusing to let go of the tight hug you were sharing. "good, missed you though." she confessed, placing a discreet kiss to your neck and releasing you from her hold.
the two of you had made a pact to try and not spend every waking minute with one another at trainings, given the fact you lived together and were practically together almost every minute of each day you didn't want it to put any strain on anything now you were playing together as well.
"so i've been meaning to talk to you about something." you started, standing above the blonde spotting her as you all focused on upper body for the last twenty minutes of the session. "and now is a good time?" your girlfriend heaved as she racked the bar up and caught her breath for a moment, sweat beading at her forehead.
"it's nothing bad baby i promise." you chuckled as she reached back up for the bar again and nodded for you to add extra weight on. "are you sure?" you questioned, holding your hands up in a silent apology at the firm look she sent you, adding an extra 5kg onto each end at her request.
"go on then." alessia encouraged, reaching up for the bar as you helped her to lift it, watching carefully as she did her reps. "mm?" you hummed, distracted by the way her arms rippled and flexed as she pressed.
"what did you want to speak to me about love?" alessia smiled, knowing exactly what had you so distracted, the exact reason she'd added on weight being to impress you anyway, not that after years of dating she even had to try.
"i bought a car." you announced casually but suddenly, eyes widening as alessia's arms suddenly dropped, the bar landing on her neck with a loud thump as you hurried to help her lift it back up onto the rack.
"lessi are you alright?" you squatted down, hands on her leg and eyes shining with concern as the blonde struggled to catch her breath, waving away a few of the trainers who wandered closer to check on her.
"you did what?" alessia managed to spit out, eyes locked with yours as you bit your bottom lip. "i bought a car?" you smiled innocently, helping your girlfriend to her feet as the timers sounded for everyone to switch. "and exactly why have you gone and done that?" alessia demanded, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring down at you as you took a seat on the bench.
"because i can?" you shrugged, laying down and gesturing for her to remove some of the weight, everyone instructed to start light and add on with more reps completed. "you don't need a car though." alessia continued, doing as you'd asked as you lay down and waited.
"everyone with a license can find a need for a car less." you laughed, knowing you were already getting under her skin and you'd barely put your plan into action. "not girls who have girlfriends who drive them everywhere." alessia reminded as you grabbed onto the bar, lowering it and beginning your first set.
"i cannot believe you'd just go ahead and do this without running it past me." alessia shook her head, scowl set deep into her features. "what like you consulted me before dropping almost four grand on a bag?" you challenged, eyes flickering up toward her as you racked the bar again.
"okay firstly, that bag was for you. secondly thats different to buying a car! where did you get it? what did you get? when does it come?" the striker fired question after question at you, adding on more weight as you commenced your second set.
"i'm a financially independent woman alessia i can spend my money on whatever i want. and technically i told you last week i was going to buy a car!" you reminded with a smile, racking the bar and catching your breath for a moment, arms burning.
"i thought that was a joke! and i told you that you weren't allowed anyway." alessia huffed, bright blue eyes staring down at you filled with irratation as you simply smiled up at her.
"and when have i ever done what you've told me to?"
~
"you're seriously not going to tell me anything about it?" alessia scoffed, hands tightening their grip on the steering wheel of her own car as she drove the two of you home. "nope." you popped the p with a grin, changing songs.
"hey i liked that one!" alessia complained with a frown, you rolling your eyes and skipping back to it as she smiled. "soak it in though." you added on, tucking your knees up to your chest as the taller girl gave you a confused look.
"soon enough my love you'll be here and i'll be there." you teased, gesturing to her seat and yours causing the blonde to let out a loud sarcastic bark of laughter. "oh baby you must have gotten too much sun today, you're so cute." alessia pouted mockingly as she turned the corner into your street.
"am i?" you smirked as she pulled into your driveway, slamming on the brakes seeing an unfamiliar car already parked in it. "you bought that?" alessia spat out, edging forwards to pull in next to the unfamiliar vehicle as you hummed, unbuckling yourself.
"oh no no no no. no fucking way you're getting behind the wheel in that!" alessia scoffed as the two of you slid out of her car, the blonde popping her trunk and grabbing out your kit bags.
"i already have, had to test drive it first!" you winked, sauntering toward the front door as alessia hovered behind, eyes roaming the sleek black porsche panamera parked in the driveway.
"how did it even get here?" alessia questioned, following you inside and dropping your bags by the door as you sat down to take your trainers off. "well baby when a mummy car and a daddy car love each other very much they-" you started to explain, cut off as alessia threw her own shoe at your head.
"james picked it up for me and dropped it off while we were at training, he works at the dealership so they gave me a sizeable discount too." you grinned, standing and heading toward the kitchen to start dinner hearing alessia follow after you.
for the next half hour she fired question after question your way, and you'd done your research so you were able to answer everything without a moments hesitation, only angering the blonde further.
"i actually cannot believe you. i'm going for a shower!" alessia scoffed, pushing herself up and storming off toward your bedroom, the door slamming after her.
with an amused smile you grabbed your phone and clicked call, settling in in between your shoulder and your ear as you continued to prep dinner, your older brother eventually answering after a few rings.
"it's perfect." you grinned right away, hearing his chuckle on the other end of the line. "i know. but i was serious if there is even the essence of any sort of scratch or mark or dent on it i swear to god you're dead." he warned seriously as you rolled your eyes, moving to toss the peppers into a pan.
"yes i know james i will take extra good care of your baby, i promised didn't i? why does everyone think i'm such a bad driver? the only reason i don't drive is because less actually won't let me!" you huffed, glancing over your shoulder to confirm your bedroom door was still closed, shower running in distance.
"you're an evil evil little woman sometimes." your brother sighed though you could hear his smile through the phone, the two of you always being incredibly close despite your six year age gap.
"she needs to learn her lesson one way or another! she's lucky i didn't actually buy a car." you grinned, switching your phone to the other ear as you began to cook off the vegetables in front of you.
"remind me again why you didn't?" he sighed, having loaned you his car for the next two days after much much begging on your behalf. "i don't really need one. i quite like having her drive me round everywhere, not that i'd ever tell her that." you admitted with a shrug.
"then pray tell why all this drama and winding her up for?" "well because i'd still like to drive the mercedes every now and then, and she won't let me!" "and you think this will make her more inclined to let that happen?" "yes, yes i do." "i hope its nice in this land of grand delusion you live in, i'll come visit at christmas." "ha, ha, ha. hilarious!"
the two of you spent a little more time catching up, organizing that james would collect his car from you on sunday after the match, himself and his fiance coming to watch you play.
you glanced up as you heard the bedroom door open, bidding your brother a quick goodbye and another quiet assurance you would be careful before ending the call.
"dinner's nearly done baby." you called out, your girlfriend ignoring you as she retreated to the living room and you heard the tv click on, shaking your head at her immaturity as you left her be and finished up cooking.
"kiss for the chef?" you held out her plate a few minutes later, the blonde sending you a glare and taking her plate, settling it on her lap and tugging her hood over her head as you smiled and took a seat beside her, the two of you eating in silence bar the sound of the tv in front of you.
having washed everything up and showered yourself you decided you were done with receiving the silent treatment, standing right in front of your stubborn blonde lover with a smile. "move." alessia grumbled, kicking at you half heartedly as you blocked her view of the screen.
"you're not seriously going to be moody all night over this are you?" you laughed, raising an eyebrow as the blonde shuffled across, craning her head to watch the tv past you as you sighed. "get off." alessia ordered as you flopped on top of her, moving to straddle her lap, arms locked around her neck tugging her hood down as she tried to move you off of her.
"lessi baby come on, you're being immature." you warned, playing with the baby hairs on the back of her neck with a coy smile. you could tell she wanted to argue that but chose to remain silent, folding her arms over her chest and leaning back into the lounge trying to put some space in between you.
"you know you can't stay mad at me, you're not even really that mad." you whispered in her ear, knowing exactly how to get her attention back on you as you pressed your face into her neck, tugging on her earlobe teasingly with your teeth.
you heard a quiet huff and a mumble for you to stop but you shook your head, shifting on top of her and softly kissing her neck a few times. "come on baby, talk to me." you whispered, grabbing her hands and forcing them to uncross, settling them on your hips as you pressed your forehead to hers.
"i'm simply just too gorgeous to ignore." you grinned, watching as the striker bit down on her bottom lip, clearly trying to stifle her smile as she tried to remain stoney faced.
"you're really gonna let a pretty girl sit on your lap, kiss your neck and not even smile at her? that's just bad manners baby." you tutted with a smirk, hands grabbing her face and forcing her to look up at you.
"i'm not sorry i bought it but i'm sorry i didn't tell you." you spoke, pecking her lips repeatedly until eventually her hands squeezed your hips, pushing you away slightly. "come on, you know i'm gonna look good driving it." you grinned, wiggling your eyebrows as the blonde finally cracked.
"you are truly truly insufferable to be in love with sometimes you know that?" alessia sighed, her hands sliding up the inside of your top and pulling you in closer again as your head dipped and you latched your lips to the sweet spot of her neck just below her jaw.
the blondes breath hitched and her fingers dug in tighter to your hips as your teeth sank into the warm skin, tongue running over the fast forming hickey to soothe the sting as alessia's right hand flew to the back of your head, pressing your face into her neck with a quiet demand you keep going.
"maybe, but you're still in love with me anyway."
~
you glanced up from your phone hearing your girlfriend yell your name from the front door, hearing her footsteps thump toward you as you zipped up your kit bag. "where are my keys?" alessia demanded, bright blue eyes menacingly staring you down.
"your keys? baby would i know where your keys are?" you played dumb, knowing exactly where they were given you'd hidden them before going to bed last night.
"i am only going to warn you once. go and get them, and give them to me. now!" alessia warned, scarily calm. "my love i would but i don't know where they are. and if we don't leave now we're going to be late, and i don't really fancy running laps for that today, do you?" you smiled, stealing a kiss as she scoffed and you made a beeline for the door.
"and just exactly how are we getting to training then genius?" alessia questioned, grabbing her bag from the dining room table, sighing heavily as you turned to her, smug smile on your lips as you twirled your own keys around on your finger.
"i'm driving, passenger princess."
~
"i can't deal with this much longer. i'm driving home!" alessia growled as she flopped down in the chair beside you, ready for video debriefing for their upcoming match against Everton in a couple days time.
"no you are not. i'm not allowed to drive your mercedes? you're not allowed to drive my porsche." you smiled as she sent you daggers, wanting nothing more than to smack the smug look right off your face.
"hey russo do you need your missus to straighten your chair for ya too?" katie teased, harshly kicking the back of the girls chair causing it to swivel round as she settled in behind you both, alessia having been teased all day by your team mates about the fact she'd been demoted to passenger princess, most of them already keyed into our plan.
"fuck off macca." your girlfriend grumbled spinning around again as you sent katie a beaming grin, the irishwoman winking at you and ruffling alessia's hair, yanking her hand back as the girl lunged at her.
"so less, tell us a bit about your first experience being cuffed by your woman? how does it feel to lose your lady balls?" jen turned around from in front of you and asked holding out a fake micrphone in the blondes direction, and if looks could kill the scot would be ten feet under.
"alright alright lay off her would ya!" beth stuck up for her national team mate who sent her an appreciative smile.
"besides girls the world needs passenger princesses, there's no shame in switching sides." the older girl added on with a wicked grin as alessia groaned and buried her face in her hands, jonas and the training staff clapping for everyones attention.
the onslaught of teasing continued throughout the rest of the session, alessia resorting to throwing her headphones on over her ears as she stormed out of the change room.
"you need to put that poor girl out of her misery, this is enough!" lia warned, pinching your leg as you whined and leaned into leah on your other side who wrapped an arm round you.
"yeah you made your point mate, time to give her a break." the older blonde agreed with her work wife, kissing the side of your head affectionately before pushing you away and standing.
"give her a break? need i remind you its normally me being relentlessly teased by everyone? if its not for the passenger princess status its for something else she's dropped me in!" you huffed, tugging your spray jacket on.
"ah to be young and in love." leah sang out, patting your head and again telling you to come clean as lia agreed, causing you to sigh deeply as you followed them out of the change rooms and toward the parking lot.
hugging both older women goodbye you wandered to where your girlfriend stood beside your brothers car, sour look on her face and headphones slung around her neck as her eyes searched for you, finally spotting you walk toward her.
you didn't unlock it at first, making a point to gently nudge her out of the way, allowing you to open her door for her with a charming smile. "only the best passenger princess treatment for you baby." you gestured for her to get in as she sighed but remained silent as she slid into the car and you closed the door after her.
"oh god lessi please no!" you groaned as you pulled out of the lot, country music filling the car as alessia connected to the blue tooth. "passenger princess chooses the music baby girl." alessia smirked, making a point to turn it up louder and start singing along as you rolled your eyes.
after an insufferably western drive home you sighed in relief as you parked up in the driveway besides your girlfriends white merc, smacking her on the leg with a frown as she called out that she missed it today, blowing the car a kiss.
the moment both your feet crossed the thresh hold of your shared home, the door closed and you squealed as alessia roughly pushed you against it. "so where are my keys then?" the taller girl quirked an eyebrow, smile playing on her lips as her body trapped you against the door.
"what if i could tell you something even better than that?" you challenged, tilting your head to the side making her sigh lightly. "or, you just tell me where they are, now." your girlfriend requested again, hands slipping up your top, her palm pushing against your abs holding you even tighter against the wood behind you.
"okay. firstly, they're in the wardobe under the shoe rack." you started as alessia sighed, raising an eyebrow as you continued. "secondly; i didn't buy a car." you grinned, your girlfriend stepping away from you with a frown, following after you as you moved around her.
"what do you mean you didn't buy a car?" alessia questioned, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "i didn't buy a car." you shrugged and grabbed two protein smoothies out of the fridge, handing one to the blonde and pulling yourself up to sit on the counter.
"baby i'm going to need you to explain more than just those five words please." alessia sighed, moving to stand in between your legs. "that's not my car, it's james. he let me borrow it for a few days to teach you a lesson!" you smiled, taking a sip as alessia's jaw dropped.
"sorry, you what?"
"admit it, you didn't hate being a passenger princess and i look hot behind the wheel." you grinned, swinging your legs to and fro as your girlfriend looked on dumbfounded. "so let me check i'm following. that car, not yours?" alessia questioned as you hummed with a nod.
"alessia!" you laughed as she buried her face in your chest with a loud groan, the vibrating sensation somewhat ticklish. "thank god." the girl sighed, hugging you tightly as she remained bent over, her face pressed into your chest as you fondly carded your hands through her hair.
"you're not mad?" you smiled as she tilted her head up, chin resting on your sternum as she looked up at you. "oh i am furious, but also quite impressed? and a little bit dumbfounded that you managed that so easily." she sighed with a shake of her head, your hands still playing with her hair.
"never underestimate a woman scorned." you teased, your lips meeting hers in a tender kiss as alessia straightened up, arms wrapping around you, hands pressing into the small of your back and pulling your body as close into hers as she could get.
"but do you admit its not terrible to be a passenger princess sometimes?" you pulled away and raised an eyebrow questioningly. "its not terrible." alessia agreed as you grinned happily. "maybe i will give you some driving lessons in my mercedes, maybe." the taller girl agreed as your grin widenened.
"buzzin!" you mocked her thick accent causing her to pout. "i do not say that all the time!" she whined, head falling to your shoulder as your hand gently caressed the back of her neck.
"oh but my love, you really do." "if you only have the car till sunday i guess you can drive us to get breakfast tomorrow."
"buzzin!"
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When My Time Comes Around- post-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader
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Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist
Part Two | Part Three
Summary: After spending the last fifteen years isolated and alone, your solitude is disrupted when you find a man dying in the snow. You save his life and the ice surrounding your heart, and his, begins to thaw.
Word Count: 6.3k
Rating E FOR EXPLICIT MDNI 18+
Warnings: THERE WILL BE A HAPPY ENDING eventually, canon typical violence, detailed descriptions of injuries and wound care, blood, weapons like guns and knives, character death, suicidal ideation, child loss, grief, angst, age gap (joel is 57, reader is 35ish, but its only briefly mentioned once and is not part of the plot), implied sex, i think thats it but please let me know if I’ve missed anything and I will gladly add it
Immersability: reader can have/has had a child but it otherwise not described in any way
Author’s Notes: HUGE thank you to @wannab-urs for listening to me scream about this for several weeks and beta reading for me. This fic would not exist without the love of my life. I hope you all enjoy the sadness knowing that there is a happy ending coming!
Joel lays in the snow, drifting in and out of consciousness. The blood loss has his head spinning and his vision going black at the edges. The snow seeps everywhere. His pants, his boots. He thought he would feel cold, but strangely he’s burning up. He doesn’t have the strength to take his jacket off, though. Maybe a nap will help, he thinks. Just as his eyes shut, he hears her. “Joel, don’t go to sleep.” Ellie says, directly into his ear. He turns his head to look for her, but she isn’t there. “Don’t go to sleep.” He hears again. He can’t find her. Why is he always having to look for her? Why does he keep failing her? He hears her, one last time, as consciousness finally eludes him. “JOEL!” 
You’re driving down the road on the familiar journey back home from the hardware store when you see something laying in the snow on the side of the road. You slow the truck down just enough to see that it is a man, not an animal. He looks dead, or close to it. You decide to keep driving. It’s too dangerous. He could be infected, or even worse. It could be a trap. You know all too well that there are worse things out there than Cordyceps. If it is a trap, he’s already seen you, you think. Him or his friends could follow you. If he’s infected it’s probably safer to just put him down, versus letting him roam around spreading his disease to others. You stop the truck and throw it in reverse. You grab your shotgun from the passenger seat and slide out onto the snow covered road. You walk around the back of the truck to where the man lay. His skin has a sickly gray pallor but there is no indication that he’s infected. You step a little closer, at this range you’d be able to pull the trigger quickly if he’s trying to lure you into a trap. Unfortunately the noise might attract some infected, but you’d be able to get the truck out of here quickly enough. Just then, you notice that the snow beneath him is red. You step closer and see that there’s a pool of blood running down the slope of the ditch. Too much blood. You don’t see any way that he could have survived a wound like that. And you don’t want to get caught out in the open by whoever made it. You turn to get back in the truck and on the road when you hear something move. It comes from the direction of the man and you turn back. His boot twitches lightly, crunching the snow beneath it. “Shit.” He’s alive, somehow. You drop to your knees and set the shotgun down on the ground beside you. You take your leather glove off and push two fingers to his throat, under his sharp jaw, looking for a pulse. It’s faint, but it’s there. “Fuck. Now what?” You ask aloud, even though he’s unconscious. You can’t leave him here. What if whoever did this comes back? Could you live with yourself knowing you could have helped him, knowing that leaving him like this is sure death? 
Why didn’t you just keep driving? You ask yourself as you try to carry the man to the truck. It isn’t easy, he’s a big man. Heavy and broad, all you can do is slip your hands under his armpits and drag him, hoping you aren’t doing more damage than help. You wouldn’t normally stop, you still can’t figure out why you did. Something about this man just called to you. Pulled you towards him like a magnet. He’s laying on the seat, his feet at the passenger door. There’s nowhere else for his head to go but your lap. You press your hand to his face and neck, desperately trying to share your body heat with him. You’ll do your hardest to save him, but you fear it will be in vain. You don’t want to get your hopes up, you aren’t sure you can handle the disappointment. You aren’t sure you can bear to dig another grave. It takes another thirty minutes to reach your house. You turn at a barely perceptible break in the trees. The dirt path has a sharp left curve and then it deposits you onto a gravel driveway that takes you an additional mile into the forest. Your father didn’t want anyone to find this place unless he specifically showed them. You and your sister used to make fun of him for his paranoia, but when the word went to shit, you were both grateful for it. He’d built the house, the barn and workshop with his own two hands, twenty years before the apocalypse. He was convinced the government was going to turn on its citizens one day. So he built a place for him and his wife to raise their growing family. By the time you came around it was already a self-sustaining, solar powered homestead. You learned how to field dress a deer before you even finished learning how to read. Even though the homestead runs like a well-oiled machine, it’s been difficult to keep up with on your own. The last big storm damaged the roof, which you’ve yet to fix. Hence the little shopping trip that brought you here, dragging a grown man into your house, trying to make sure he doesn’t die on you. 
“I’m so sorry.” You say once you finally get him into the house and situated on the couch. He still hasn’t woken up, so he probably doesn’t hear your apology. He probably doesn’t feel your hand cup his still freezing cheek. He isn’t as cold as he was before, but his skin is still sickly pale. You run to the bathroom and pull out your med kit. The big one. You’ll have to pull out all the stops if he’s gonna make it. You pull his boots and socks off first. Wet feet are a death sentence. You pull the throw blanket, the one your mom made, off the back of the couch and bundle his lower half up in it. You take the scissors to his shirt, starting at the middle of the neckline, you cut all the way down to the hem. You peel it away from his torso and begin to assess his injuries. He has several stab wounds, pretty deep ones. One that looks dangerously close to his liver. If the organ was sliced, there isn’t anything you can do to help him. You go to the kitchen and wash your hands. You put some latex gloves on and grab the brown bottle of long-expired iodine. You set him up with an IV and a bag of saline. You draw up some pain medication and inject it into the second line. It drips into the small plastic chamber, and then the primary line. You want him to wake up, but not until you’ve finished. You’ve never been more thankful to have had a nurse for a mother. You don’t know his weight so you err on the side of caution and underdose him. If none of his vital organs are injured, an infection is the next biggest concern. You don’t know what made these wounds, how clean it was. An infection will kill him even more slowly, and painfully, than hypothermia or blood loss. You open a fresh pair of hemostatic forceps and a new package of thread. You set to work stitching his wounds, one by one, starting with the biggest ones. By the time you finish bandaging the last one, darkness has started to set in and he still hasn’t so much as twitched. You go to the master bedroom, your parents room, and rifle through the drawers of your father’s dresser. You return to the living room with the clothes stacked in your hands. You begin undressing the man with a detached sort of care. You don’t want to jostle him too much, but you don’t want to let your hands or eyes rest anywhere for too long. You replace each article of clothing as you remove the wet and soiled ones until the bloody rags are all piled at your feet. You grab a heavier blanket from the hall closet and wrap him up in that one as well. 
You start a fire in the fireplace and then walk down the hall to your bedroomm the one that used to be your sister’s. You gather everything you’ll need for the night and place it on your bed before taking the fastest shower you’ve ever taken. You don’t want to leave him alone too long if you can help it. You don’t want him to wake up in a strange place, in pain, with nobody to answer the questions he’s sure to have. You slip back into your room and grab your blanket and pillow and a book that you’ve read about a thousand times in the last twenty years. You set yourself up in the recliner after you move it as close to the couch as it’ll get. Huddled in your blanket, you try to read. Every few sentences you look over at him, looking to see his chest rise, listening for the sound of his breath. The dry clothes and the fire seem to have warmed him up. His skin has more of a golden brown color than it did before. His breathing has evened out, too. After the fifth or sixth time you peer over at him, you give up pretending and just look. His salt and pepper curls have air dried from the snow and are fluffy and messy, going in all directions. His nose is prominent, striking, really. His plush lips are topped with a mustache that’s almost fully gray. His jawline is sharp, and pebbled with a patchy beard to match the mustache. His neck sits atop shoulders that are broad. You couldn’t help but notice the taut muscles under his skin as you undressed and redressed him. He’s quite a bit older than you, probably closer to your father’s age than yours. Well, how old your father would be by now. You suddenly feel your cheeks get way too warm. You’ve been alone out here way too long. You let your eyes wander the length of his body one more time and return to your book. You read the same paragraph four times before you give up and toss the book to the floor. You recline the chair and close your eyes. The sounds of the fire crackling and the man’s breathing lull you to sleep. 
You wake early the next morning, before the sun has risen. You check the man’s pulse, steady but not quite as strong as you’d like it to be. His wounds have bled through the bandages, but not too badly. He seems to be on the mend. You breathe a sigh of relief and exchange his saline bag for a fresh one. You add a small amount of pain medication to this one as well. Some of those wounds were pretty deep, and when he wakes up, he’ll be in a significant amount of pain. If he wakes up, you remind yourself. Your mother taught you everything she knew, but you hadn’t had much practical use for the knowledge, being so isolated way out here in the Wyoming wilderness. The fact that he hasn’t already died assures you that you are doing something right. You pull the blanket up under his chin and go to the kitchen to begin making breakfast. Pork sausage and eggs, harvested from the animals right on the farm. You make some red salsa with tomatoes, peppers and onions from the garden that the kitchen window overlooks. The best part of breakfast, and the item you thank your crazy dad for hoarding the most, is coffee. The man couldn’t begin his day until he had two cups, a habit he passed on to you. He picked up a case of Folger’s every time he went into town before the world ended. Your mother had joked that the real apocalypse would start once he ran out. You make enough of everything in case the man wakes up. If he doesn’t you’ll have it for lunch. The roof repair will have to wait a few more days, until you feel comfortable leaving him alone. Until you’re sure that he won't die on you. 
He stirs on the couch, a few moans fall from his mouth. He kicks the blanket to the floor. He must be having a nightmare. His voice suddenly booms through the quiet house. “Ellie! Ellie, wake up!” He shouts. “No!” Then he stills and seems to fall back into the deep sleep he had been in before. You rush to his side and kneel on the floor beside him. The man doesn't stir when you shake his shoulders. His pulse is rapid and his chest rises and falls so quickly you think he might be hyperventilating.
You place both hands gently on his face and speak softly to him. “It’s okay. Everything is okay. You're safe here.” You try to assure him. You hope your words make it through the fog of pain and narcotics that is preventing him from waking, but not having nightmares. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you.” Anything else , you think. “You just rest. I’ll take care of you.” You promise him. Finally his breathing evens out once more and his pulse slows. You move your hands from his face and go to stand, but his right hand catches your wrist.
“Please don’t go, Ellie.” He quietly pleads. His eyes are still closed, still out of it you assume. You don’t know who Ellie is, but you don’t want him to feel like she’s leaving him. So you settle onto the floor, your back up against the couch, near his chest. You pick his arm up and drape it over your shoulder across your chest. He tightens it briefly before his muscles all finally relax. You curl your hand around the back of his large one and give it a small squeeze. You can’t remember the last time you touched another person this way. Not since the last member of your family died. The warmth from his body goes right through to your bones. His palm feels rough against your fingers, and you wonder how they might feel against your cheek, against your ribs, your hips. You quickly shake the thought from your head and remind yourself that he’s probably still gonna die. And even if he doesn’t, it sounds like he has someone he needs to look for. Ellie. Whoever she is, she’s probably waiting for him, looking for him. He isn’t yours to keep. You sleep there all night, with his arm wrapped around you, clutching his hand in yours. 
After five days, he finally wakes up. Darkness is about to fall. You are coming back in from the cellar, a crate stuffed full of supplies in your hands. You open the front door and almost drop the crate to the floor. The man is sitting up on the couch, the blankets have been tossed to the floor. “Oh! You’re awake.” You exclaim loudly, while trying to balance the heavy supplies in your arms. He whips his head around to face you and tries to stand. He grimaces in pain and grabs his abdomen. “Don’t do that!” You shout. "You'll rip your stitches!" You place the crate on the floor and quickly cross the room. You sit on the couch next to him and try to lift his shirt. He flinches away from your touch. You hold your hands up, hoping to convey you don’t mean him any harm. “I need to check your stitches.” You tell him, somehow sounding calm and measured when your heart is thudding in your chest. He gives you a slight nod and leans back into the couch. You lift the long sleeve shirt and assess the bandages he sports across his torso. One had bright red blood showing through. “Shit, you pulled some stitches. I need to fix this.” You tell him. He cocks his head and raises an eyebrow at you. He jaw tics but he doesn’t say anything when you get up and grab the medical bag from where you left it on the side of the couch. “You need to lay down.” You order. His eyes rake your body up and down before he pulls his shirt off and complies, wordlessly. You snap on a pair of fresh gloves before you remove the bandage. The stitches have come loose on the biggest wound, the one you are the most worried about. “Fuck.” You swear quietly, and you swear you can see the hint of a smirk appear on his lips.
“Where am I?” He asks when he finally speaks. You assume the willingness to talk is his way of distracting himself from the pain of you restitching his wound.
“Wyoming.” You reply.
“Where in Wyoming?” He winces when you pull the needle through his skin.
“Cody.” You say, trying to concentrate. “Well, just outside.” You tell him. 
He takes a deep breath and holds it as you finish tying off the last stitch. You apply some antibiotic ointment and a fresh bandage. You stand to get rid of the bloody bandages and he grabs your wrist, just like he did before. “How did I get here?” His eyelashes are so long they brush his cheeks when he blinks.
“I found you on the side of the road, almost dead. I put you into my truck and drove you here and practically dragged you inside. That was five days ago.” You tell him. He closes his eyes but doesn’t drop his grip on your wrist.
“Thank you.” He says.
You nod at him. “You’re welcome.” His hold on your wrists loosens and you walk into the kitchen, as quickly as you can do without being obvious. You need to get away from him right this second. Your skin is hot all over. You can feel the imprint of his fingers on the thin skin of your wrist. As if he reached inside you and curled them around your bones. It’s been fifteen years since you thought of a man this way. And he certainly isn’t the one you want to start with. You dispose of the soiled bandages and splash some water on your face. You pull a glass from the cabinet and turn on the tap to fill it with water. You hand it to him, along with some ibuprofen for the pain.
“Thanks.” He says as he gulps the pills and water down. He finishes it all in one go and sets the empty glass down on the side table. “My name is Joel.” He offers you his hand to shake. You accept it and tell him your name. 
“What is this place?"
You cock your head in confusion. “A house?” You respond. Has he never seen a house before? You think sarcastically.
He shakes his head. “How do you have electricity? Running water?”
You stifle a laugh. “My dad was kind of paranoid.” You explain. “This whole place is self-sufficient. Solar powered. We have a well.” He nods and takes a look around.
“Where’s your dad?” He asks.
“He died.” You say quietly. Your gaze shifts to the floor. You’ve never had anyone to talk about this stuff with. You don’t think you can, even after all these years. It still hurts too much. Every time you go to the field where they are all buried, you sit and weep at the graves of your loved ones for hours. You wonder what any of you could have done to deserve this.
“Is there…anyone else here?” He asks. You shake your head softly.
“Not anymore.” You say, even quieter than before. Joel reaches over and pats your shoulder awkwardly, obviously trying to comfort you. You can’t help but laugh. You look up at him with tears in your eyes and laugh. You haven’t laughed like this in years. His forehead wrinkles and he shakes his head but he begins to laugh too. And you recognize in him what you see in yourself, someone who hasn’t had much to laugh about in a long time. He laughs until he can’t anymore. He holds his hand to his stomach and winces in pain. You stop laughing and place your hand softly on his bicep. He doesn’t flinch away from you this time. Instead he wraps his other hand around yours. “Are you okay?” You ask.
He nods and squeezes your hand. “Yeah, darlin’. I’m just a little sore.”  The pet name sends a zap through your body, starting with where his fingers graze your palm, licking down your spine, and settling between your thighs. You pull back from him abruptly and stand from the couch.
“I’m sure you’re tired of sleeping on the couch.” You say and gesture for him to stand. “There’s plenty of bedrooms here.” You offer. Joel stands.
“You really don’t have to do that. I should be on my way, I suppose. I’ve taken up enough of your time, your supplies.” He says and begins to move towards the front door.
“No!” You shout, a little too loudly, a little too quickly. He raises his eyebrows. “I mean, you can’t travel in your condition. You need to rest, Joel. You need to heal. And as for my supplies, I’ve got enough to last me three lifetimes, so you don’t have to worry about that.” You tell him. “Please, Joel.” You plead, and attempt to make your eyes look as sad as possible. “If you go out there now, you’ll die.” Joel picks up his backpack and rifle from the floor next to the door. Tears prick the corners of your eyes.
“One of those rooms got a real bed?” He asks. You nod and blink away the tears before they could fully form. 
Joel isn’t sure why he agreed to stay. Maybe you’re right, his injuries are pretty severe. Maybe he just couldn’t stand to see the look on your face, the tears in your eyes. He allows you to lead him down the hallway to a bedroom. You open the door but don't step inside. There is a queen size bed, a dresser, and a baby’s crib. He looks from the crib to your face and immediately knows better than to ask. You’ll tell him when you’re ready, if you ever are. “There’s a bathroom down there if you want to shower. With hot water .” You emphasize. “Feel free to take anything from the dresser. The clothes in there should fit you.” Joel notices the sadness in your voice when you make the offer. He wonders who they belonged to. “I’m gonna go make dinner. You need to eat, regain your strength.” You say, somewhat awkwardly, unsure how to exist around another person anymore. “Help yourself to anything. Hope you like chicken.” You turn and head to the kitchen without giving him a chance to respond. While you chop vegetables for dinner, you hear the shower turn on and hear Joel moan audibly. The sound sends a shiver through your whole body. It's probably been a while since he’s had a hot shower. Probably even longer since he had a home cooked meal like this. When he joins you in the kitchen, he’s wearing one of Danny’s band t-shirts and a pair of gray sweatpants. His feet are covered with only socks. His curly brown hair is slicked back and still dripping onto his neck. The sweatpants seem like they may be just a size too small for him, and his biceps bulge the sleeves of the Green Day t-shirt. You are trying not to stare so you busy yourself bringing the plates of food to the table.
“Do you need any help?” He offers. You clear your throat and shake your head.
“Please, you’re my guest.” You say, gesturing with a plate for him to sit. He sits at the head of the table, where your father used to sit. You take the seat directly to his right, where you’ve always sat. Even during all the years since everyone has been gone, you keep to the same routine. It’s the only thing you know to do. Keep going. Trudging on.
“Wow. I haven’t seen food like this in years.” He smiles and digs in. He moans with the first bite. “Mmm. This is so goddamn good, darlin’.” He says and you offer him a tight smile in return. Your body is having the same reaction as it did to his moan in the shower.
At this point, you feel like you’re about to burn up from the inside. At the very least, there’s bound to be a damp spot on the chair when you stand. And then his knee brushes yours under the table. “Glad you like it, Joel.” 
The two of you make conversation while you eat. You talk about easy things, your ages, where you’re originally from, music and movies from before. You both stay clear of topics like your families and outbreak day. After dinner, Joel insists on helping you clean up. You refuse, wanting him to rest as much as you want to give yourself a little space from him. “My mama sure would be disappointed in me if I didn’t at least wash the dishes after someone cooked me a nice meal.” That southern drawl in his voice and the dimple on his cheek when he gives you a smile, has you agreeing against your better judgment. He washes dishes while you clean up the rest of the kitchen, placing the leftovers into the fridge and wiping the counters and stove. Once you’ve finished he walks down the hall with you. “Guess this is me.” He says, huffing out a chuckle, when you arrive at his door.
“Goodnight, Joel. I’ll see you in the morning.” You tell him. You turn to head to your bedroom but his warm palm on your shoulder stops you in your tracks. You turn back around to face him, but he doesn’t drop his hand, just places it gingerly on your opposite shoulder. He seems a little gun-shy, as are you.
“Thank you, for today. For everything, really. Thank you for saving my life. And for giving me the most normal and peaceful day that I’ve had in twenty years.” His eyes glimmer with unshed tears, similar to the ones you feel filling your eyes.
“You’re welcome, Joel. It was nice having some company.” He gives your shoulder a soft squeeze and you finally make your way to your own room. Emotional exhaustion takes over your body and you are asleep the second your head hits the pillow. For the first night in many years, you don’t have nightmares. 
For two weeks, Joel rests and recuperates. He does so by following you around as you do your chores, helping here and there with small stuff. You don’t allow him to do any bending or stretching. No lifting either. Basically, he holds doors open for you and keeps you company. After the first week he finally gets brave enough to ask what you meant before. What ‘not anymore’ means. You tell him the truth but spare him the details. Nobody really needs those anymore. We all have an ugly story with a sad ending to tell. Everyone has lost someone. None of it is pretty. You don’t ask him who he has lost. He’s asking because he wants to know you better, not because he wants to tell his own sad tale. You eat dinner alone in your room that night. When you take your still mostly full plate to the kitchen, you see that Joel has cleaned up and retired to his own room for the night. Your heart swells at his consideration, knowing when to leave well enough alone. After the second week, he works up the nerve to ask you about the crib.
“You don’t have to tell me.” He offered quietly. You knew that. Knew that he would leave it alone and never bring it up again if you didn’t want him to. That’s part of why you wanted to tell him. The other part is that same thing that made you stop for him to begin with. That pull. That force. So you tell him. All about your boyfriend whose parents died on outbreak day. How your parents invited him to live with your family. Y’all had plenty to share, after all. Especially with someone your parents considered family. They would never leave a sixteen year old boy to fend for himself in times such as these. Three years into the end of the world, you became pregnant. Your sister and Danny were thrilled. You and your parents were nervous. What kind of world was this to bring a child into? But your sister pointed out that your farm was as close to the “before” as anything was ever going to be again. You had to admit that she was right. 
After a while, you let the excitement of impending parenthood overshadow your concern. Ever thankful that your mother was a nurse, your labor and delivery went as smoothly as possible. Just a few months after your nineteenth birthday you gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. The six of you spent a year and half in the closest thing to blissful happiness anyone would ever feel again. One day, Danny had to make a run to the hardware store. He insisted on going alone because your dad wasn’t feeling well and neither was the baby. You took care of them while your mom and sister completed the daily chores. When he came home a few hours later he appeared disheveled, saying there were a few runners hanging out in the Home Depot parking lot when he came out. He took the first two down, but there was a third he hadn’t seen. He scuffled with it for a few minutes before he was able to lodge his shotgun under the chin and blow its head off. You began checking his body for bites. All you found was a small scratch on the inside of his wrist. He said it happened in the scuffle, must have caught some of the loose gravel in the parking lot. It didn’t look like a bite. How could you have known? How could either of you have known? The baby went down for a nap and you went to the barn to help your mother. Two of the mama goats were due any day now and she didn’t want them to be left alone. You relieved your sister of goat duty and she went in to get dinner started. After only an hour or two, you and your mother heard a scream from the house that turned your blood to ice water. When you ran inside, Danny was on the ground. He had a hole in his head from your sister’s shotgun, and wispy tendrils hung from his mouth.
“What happened?” You screamed at your sister. She was holding the baby and sobbing.
“I heard the baby crying so I came in to check on her.” She began, but the tears took over. You moved forward to grab your daughter from her arms.
“No!” She screamed. She held the baby tighter and stepped backwards.
“Give her to me!” You shouted. Your daughter’s cries bounced off the walls of the room. You wanted to comfort her. You held your arms out again, but your sister shook her head.
“Look.” She turned the baby in her arms. There it was. On the outside of her thigh. A bite mark. “Danny turned. I didn’t get here fast enough.” She cried.
“Put the baby in the crib.” Your mother instructed. She shook her head again and moved her hair from her neck. She had one too, on her collarbone. In one fell swoop, half of your family was dead. 
You and your mother dug graves in the wildflower field behind the barn. It was your sister’s favorite place. She spent hours laying there, among the flowers, reading and drawing and watching the clouds chase each other across the Wyoming sky. Your father never recovered from his illness. Some kind of respiratory infection that never cleared up. Pneumonia your mother guessed, but without any x-rays it was impossible to tell. His lungs filled up with fluid and he would have suffocated to death. He didn’t want that and neither did his wife of twenty five years. She gave him enough pain medication to knock out a horse and he went peacefully to sleep. A month after you buried your sister and boyfriend and baby, you and your mother had another grave to dig. After that, your mother gave up on life. The grief was too much. The pain was too deep. She stopped eating, stopped bathing. She was the only reason you kept going. Trying to keep her alive was keeping you alive. And then one night, she went to sleep and in the morning when you tried to wake her, she was already gone. She just withered away into nothing. She was so small that you carried her on your own to the wildflower field, not that you had any choice. You had five pretty great years together, all things considered. And within three months, it was all ripped from you. You had considered going out to the field where your family rested and putting an end to it. The only thing that stopped you were the animals. If you died, who would take care of them? It wouldn’t be right to leave them to starve to death, or worse, be eaten by infected. So you kept going. For fifteen years, you woke up and fed the animals and harvested the eggs and milked the goats. You learned to be on your own. 
Joel sits next to you on a bale of hay in the barn and his eyes shimmer with tears by the end of your story. He snakes his arm around your shoulders and draws you in close. “I’m so sorry. Sorry you had to go through all that. Even sorrier that you had to do it all alone darlin’.” You wipe your tears with the back of your hand and sniffle.
“Thank you, Joel. And thanks for being here.” That night after dinner, Joel plants a kiss on your forehead and shoos you out of the kitchen so he can clean up.
“You go take a shower and get some sleep.” He says. “You had a heavy day.” You take your time in the shower, letting the hot water wash some of the emotions of the day away. You are drying your hair with a towel when you hear Joel’s boots on the hardwood floors. What is he up to? You wonder. When you get to the end of the hallway you see him near the front door, his backpack is slung over one arm and his rifle the other. His hand is outstretched towards the doorknob when he hears your voice. He stops in his tracks and drops his hand but doesn't turn around.
“You’re leaving?” He drops his head to his chest and nods. “You weren’t even going to say goodbye?” You ask, not even bothering to try to hide your tears.
“It’s time for me to go.” He says, still looking at the floor. He’s healed enough now. He has to go find Ellie, you think. You steel yourself and clear your throat.
“Okay then. Goodbye, Joel.” You tell him. You’ve been alone for all this time and you’ve been fine. You will be fine again. He turns then to face you. You can see his own tears shining on his cheeks. “Are you sure you’re healed enough?” The waver in your voice betrays your false confidence.
“Ask me what you really wanna ask.” He rasps. He sounds as wrecked as you feel. “I need to hear you say it. I want to. I do, but I'm not a good man. I’ve done things you couldn’t even imagine, darlin’. I can’t be another thing that hurts you. I can’t be another disappointment for you. You need to tell me that this is what you want.”
Your heart jumps into your throat at his confession. “I can’t lose anyone else, Joel. I won’t make it. I won’t survive. Please , stay. Don’t leave me here all alone again.” You practically beg. You’d drop to your knees and kiss his boots if you thought it would help. He throws his belongings to the ground and closes the distance between you. He grabs your face with both of his hands and crashes his lips into yours. Your mouth opens in a gasp and he takes the opportunity to slide his tongue in, tangling it with yours.
Hours later, you lay naked in his arms. You trace lines into his chest with your fingers and his chin rests on top of your head. You look up at him and he smiles. It’s now or never, you think. “Who is Ellie?” You ask. “You call out for her in your sleep.” You tell him. He takes a deep breath and kisses the top of your head.
“My daughter.” He replies sadly.
“Where is she?” Joel tightens his arms around you.
“She died.” 
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indigosunsetao3 · 2 months
Text
You Have A Few Minutes Before You’re Missed
How do the COD men use that time?
Female reader perspective
NSFW - Minors DNI
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Idea came to me because I took a quick weekend trip and have only had a few minutes here and there to sneak away and write. Excuse typos/grammar, literally been writing this in ten minute spurts over a few days.
Alex
“They’ll never miss us.”
You grin as Alex leads the way down a deserted hallway, his hand tightly gripping yours. His body is tense with anticipation and need but he keeps the boyish grin on his face as he walks. His steps only pause to check a door, which is locked, before moving on.
“Alex, maybe we should…” you start as he halts at another door and tries the handle. Locked.
He curses under his breath, breaking the calm exterior look to show the desperation underneath. His eyes cut to you standing there, still holding his other hand and smiling so prettily.
“One more?” He asks, his voice a slight plea as he tugs you closer to him. “If it’s locked we’ll go back and I’ll just suffer,” he grins and gives you a chaste kiss because if he does anything more than that he’ll combust in the hallway.
You had been teasing him all night, knowing he had to keep it together. It was an award ceremony after all and that required decorum. But fuck, seeing him in his dress blues all cleaned up and decorated did something to you. So when he sat next to you at the table your hand wandered a little too high up his thigh. And as he leaned over to pour you more wine you had whispered how badly you wanted him to fuck you while wearing this specific outfit he almost spilled the red liquid all over the table.
“One more,” you agree with a laugh as Alex all but jogs to the last door, dragging you behind. Your heels click on the tile and despite playing coy you’re also hoping he finds an unlocked door. The way he’s desperate for you has only added fuel to your own fire.
Making a show of it Alex grabs the last door handle, pauses for dramatic effect, then twists. It’s unlocked. He doesn’t waste another second as he drags you into the long abandoned office and slams the door shut by pushing you up against it.
“What was that about me in my dress blues?” He asks as one hand grabs your thigh through the slit in your floor length dress and yanks your leg around his waist. He’s already hard and pressing into you, causing you to gasp at the friction as he rolls his hips. “Don’t get all shy on me now,” he chastises as you blush and whimper at his ministrations.
“I want you to fuck me while wearing them,” you gasp out, one hand sliding up his chest to gently tap one of his medals. “You look so fucking good in these,” your hand slides to play with one of the buttons.
“I’m always eager to please,” Alex answers as he gathers the rest of your dress and shoves it out of the way, allowing you to undo his pants for him. When he springs free your hands are instantly on him, pumping him quickly as he shudders and gasps against your lips. Alex is a vocal man in bed and you would do anything to keep him panting and groaning in your ear.
“I need you,” you demand after a few minutes of rushing him toward that edge. “Now,” you add sliding the head of his cock through your folds and laughing at the look of shock on his face that you weren’t wearing any underwear. “I didn’t want the lines,” you answer with a gasp as you line him up with your entrance and he pushes just the tip in.
“How do you want me?” Alex asked, ever the gentleman giving you what you needed first.
“Fuck me against the wall Alex. Hard and fast,” you demand, grabbing his hand that was braced in the wall and guiding it to your backside. He knows what you want and gently grabs you to lift you up so you can wrap your legs fully around him and lock your ankles.
Alex gives you one second to get ready, your hands braced on his shoulders, before he follows through with your command. He takes you hard against the wall, the filing cabinet a few feet away rattling with each thrust, the medals on his chest tinkling as they knocked into one another.
Your perfect soldier and fiancé always took care of you without hesitation. He was breathless and sweating as you hit your climax but he made sure to ride you through it before letting himself release into you. His hands grabbing hard at your ass to grind you down onto him and keep you filled up with him, not wanting to waste a drop.
“We’ll have to go back eventually,” you say as he rests his forehead against your shoulder, still fully inside you. He always liked to stay connected for a bit. Enjoyed feeling your flutter around him in the after shocks of your orgasm and to make sure he doesn’t drip down your leg too fast.
“Just another minute,” Alex answers as he twists his head to kiss at your neck.
Gaz
“This skirt is a goddamn tease. You wore it on purpose just for me, didn’t you?”
You had, in fact, worn it on purpose. It seemed decent enough when viewed in a proper manner that you were careful to display around the other men. But the moment you knew only Gaz was watching from the bar, the rest of the men busy with a game of pool, you bent over at the waist to grab a drink from one of the tables. Felt the slide of the pleated material up your legs to reveal the lacey tops of your thigh highs. If you bent and leaned much more he was going to get a pretty view of your matching lace panties.
He had seen through innocent look you gave him as you stood up and walked over. Gaz’s eyes seemed to be ablaze as he spun to face the way of the game you were pretending to watch as his hand slid up just under your skirt without missing a beat.
He was subtle and slow about his movements to give you the chance to bat him away but you didn’t. You’ve been pining for this for weeks and when you don’t push him away you feel his fingers slide under the lace tops and pluck one to snap the elastic against your skin. The movement elicited a small groan from you that had you sipping on the beer to cover it.
“You still haven’t answered my question,” Gaz stated as he let his fingers trail to your other leg, careful to not let on to anyone else what he was doing. If Gaz was anything, he was great at playing casual. “Did you wear this on purpose for me?” He pinched the back of your thigh at that and you nearly dribble your drink down your chin, causing him to laugh lightly.
“Maybe I did,” you answer sounding bolder than you felt. It was one thing to playfully flirt from a distance, playing the game you two did to rile one another but never quite getting to the next step. But when he was this close with his hands so dangerously far up your skirt in public where anyone could see if they looked hard enough it was different. You felt meek and maybe a bit self conscious despite being the one to start the whole thing.
“And why did you? There had to be a reason you thought of me when you put it on then gave me a little show. What is it that you want?” His voice is silky smooth as his hand slides up the curve of your ass to toy with the barely there lace. You haven’t dared to look at him, your eyes locked on the game of pool that Price is dominating without even trying. But you know he’s got a smirk on his face as he continues to run his hands over you.
“You,” you finally say with a smirk around the beer bottle. “I had to get your attention somehow.”
“You’ve always got my attention,” Gaz replies simply as he sets his drink down on an empty table next to him. “You should know that by now,” his fingers are dangerously close to sliding between your legs and you huff lightly. “Anytime you’re around I can’t take my eyes off you,” he pauses in his words pretending to be interested in the pool game as his fingers dip down and you instinctively shift to open your legs a bit more for him.
“Then what took you so long?” You ask a bit breathless as his fingers barely ghost over your center. This was dangerous. The bar hid your lower half from view of anyone unless they came around the back but it doesn’t hide your face and you have a terrible poker face. “I was a bit worried you weren’t interested,” you tack on, hand squeezing the glass bottle hard to keep from squirming.
“The best part is the anticipation,” Gaz answers, still sounding completely unbothered. “I never meant to seem disinterested, just wanted you to pant a bit,” he grins and dares to reach a hand out to turn your face to look at him. “And I think you’re finally there,” he smirks watching your face as his fingers slide up to gently rub circles over your apex through the panties.
Your lips part at that and he quirks an eyebrow as he slides under the lace. His neutral face slipping a bit as he feels the wetness on his fingers and he slides them back to your entrance to gather more.
“Fuck love, maybe I had you waiting a little too long,” he says as he continues to rub his fingers over you, watching you squirm. “The game is almost over,” he breathes out as he pushes just one knuckle into you, causing you to bite your lip and shut your eyes. “They’re going to come back over here and I’m going to have to take my hand away,” he slides his finger a little further in and you hear his appreciative groan as you shift your hips back toward his hand.
“Then buy us more time,” you answer not wanting him to stop as he pushes his finger fully in so his palm is resting on your skin. You whimper and bite your lip as Soap looks over, oblivious as to what is happening, to ask Gaz if he wanted to play next.
“I’ll catch the next game,” Gaz answers simply as he slides back out and runs his glistening finger back up to your clit to rub it gently. He knows you’re struggling to keep it together as he plays it cool with the guys. Soap nods and turns back to rack up the game again, Price heading to get another round of beers and Ghost picks out his cue to play.
“We’ve got about ten minutes before Ghost wipes the floor with him,” Gaz says as he shifts a bit in his chair. “I bet I can have you come all over my hands before it’s my turn to play.”
He’s not wrong.
Ghost
You’d been working a tail for three days now as a pair. Following them wherever they went and it seemed the guy really enjoyed hole in the wall dive bars and lounges. These three days with Simon had only amplified the desire between the two of you and you secretly thought Price assigned this task to you both to finally get you both to act on it.
The touches and banter had been casual and subtle at first. Ones you could pass off as just friendly interactions between colleagues. But the more and more alone time you spent together the more obvious it was that this wasn’t coworkers friendly. There was more. More in the way Ghost watched you work, more in how he always insisted on sitting next to you and how you always felt the need to touch him. Even if it was just a leg brush under the table or arms resting comfortably against one another on the couch.
It had come to a head this evening at the little jazz lounge. The dimly lit floor made it easier to touch and feel one another, using the excuse you were portraying a tourist couple on their honeymoon. Maybe you had been a little to handsy that evening, leaning on him in the velvet booth, draping your legs across his lap or whispering in his ear so your lips brushed the skin there. You needed to sell your cover though and Simon hasn’t pushed you away and even played into it as well. His hands running over your shins and chalves, up to the back of your knee, fingers playing over the nape of your neck as you talked.
When you insisted on another drink Simon followed you to the bar and stood behind you, his hand resting on your hip as he looked around the club. When more people walked up to the bar while you waited Simon gently moved you to lean back on him to make more room. His fingers holding your hips a bit tight so you could feel his length pressing into your backside as he held you close. You swallow as the bartender continues to work taking drink orders and they still hadn’t come over to you yet.
“Mark is on the move,” came a voice in your earpiece. They were meeting someone here and Gaz had infiltrated the club staff so he could monitor the exchange. Effectively giving you and Simon a little reprieve from babysitting duty. “I’m moving in,” Gaz answers a moment later,
Leaning your head back you look up at Ghost who is watching you with an intense look as if waiting for an answer to his silent questions. His fingers are flexing against your hip bone and when your gently roll your hips back into him he takes a sharp breath. He doesn’t wait after that. He all but drags you from the bar, knowing the rest of the team will be busy watching Gaz for a few minutes. Ripping his ear piece out to end the chatter he drags you toward the coat closet that the attendant had abandoned and pulls you inside.
It’s too dark to see anything but you don’t bother with the light switch as Ghost snatches you up and kisses you roughly in the dark. He isn’t slow about it as his hands find your backside and he lifts you up to wrap your legs around his waist. The air leaves your lungs in a rush as he pins you between him and the wall, his mouth never leaving yours as his hands slide down your sides to find the hem of your shirt.
“Fuck,” Simon breathes out as his hand finds the soft skin of your breast. He completely bypasses your shirt and bra and is incessantly kneeding the skin, hard enough you know it’s going to bruise but you groan in satisfaction, not pain. “I’ve wanted you like this for goddamn weeks,” he grounds out as his other hand grabs your waist to grind you down on him. The whimper you let out feeling him pressed against the thin fabric of your leggings is pathetic but it only seems to push him along.
“Then don’t wait any longer,” you breathe and Simon laughs a bit against your lips as he lowers your feet down to the ground. He doesn’t give you a chance to orient yourself before he flips you around so your stomach and chest is flat against the wall. You can hear the rustle of his pants and belt and your move to pull your own pants down, practically shaking with anticipation, before he pins you again.
You can feel his length prodding at you, demanding and a bit slick now that it was free of his clothes. Your mouth is dry as Simon kicks your legs open with precision, even in the pitch blackness of the closet, and his hands slide around your front.
When his fingers find your aching core you moan loudly, arching your back against him as he literally slips between your center. If you weren’t so fucking needy for him you’d be embarrassed by how wet he made you. You can feel the appreciative twitch of his cock against you as he starts working you up into a frenzy of little pants and moans. His fingers are quick to get you to that edge, right as you’re about to come he stops, pulling his hand away and grabbing your hips.
You whine as the loss of contact but it turns into a filthy groan as he notches himself at your entrance and slides into you without hesitation. You can hear his cocky chuckle at your reaction and how easy it was for him to seat himself fully in you without resistance. He rolls his hips once, twice, for you to get used to him before he starts fucking you at a brutal pace. His hands gripping hard to leave matching bruises on your hips.
Your hands are pushed against the wall as you arch to him, begging him to keep going while whining from the pleasure. At one point you hear someone outside the room and you quickly shift as if to pull away from Simon to get him to stop, hissing that someone is outside and what if they hear you? But he doesn’t take well to that. He shoves you harder against the wall so you have nowhere else to go and can’t get away as he rocks his hips into you.
“If you keep making those noises then, yes, they’ll hear you,” Simon answers as his fingers slowly, lazily, play with your clit. You shudder and push back into him to get him to move again. This was the second time he had pushed you toward that blissful edge then stopped. “Think you can keep quiet?” He asks as he leans down to kiss at your ear, “or are we going to have to wait to finish when I can get you alone?”
Fuck waiting, you’ve waited too long. Your hand scrambles to grab at his ass and pull to get him to move. He takes the hint and picks up his pace again, your hand moving to cover your own mouth to drown out the noise but his hand gets there first. His palm and fingers close tight around your lips as he bends your head back and continues to fuck you against the wall not caring about the obscene skin slapping sounds that fill the room.
There is movement and sound outside the room still but you don’t care. He’s got you right on that edge and a final, brutal, thrust combined with him biting down on your shoulder you fall apart. You come hard around him, your hands grabbing at the wall for purchase as you clamp down around him and all but scream into his hand. You can feel the telltale twitch of his cock in you as he finishes, his hips still working to ride out his high and fill you.
You stay locked together for a little bit, breathing and trying to stay standing as you come back down. Simon peppers your neck with kisses as he gently pulls out and right as you’re pulling your pants back up a voice comes in your earpiece.
“Where are you guys? Deals done and they’re leaving,” Gaz’s voice sounds a bit pressed.
“We’ll be there in a moment,” Simon answers as he grabs your hand and yanks open the coat closet door. “Got a little tied up with something,” he finishes looking back at you still red faced and sweaty.
Price
“What’s the use in being in charge if I can’t break the rules?”
You smirk as he slams the door shut to the blacked out SUV in the parking lot. It’s parked between a few other vehicles in a neat little row, inconspicuous and easy to look past.
“True,” you answer as he settles himself in the middle of the bench seat and motions you over. “But you’re a Captain, you’re supposed to be setting the example,” you continue as you shimmy your way over and throw a leg over either side of his lap. “And you’re supposed to be presenting your findings here soon,” you tack on glancing at his watch.
“If I’m supposed to be showing them how to behave, I’ve failed miserably from the start,” Price answers as his hands run up and down your side and legs. “I’ve got time before all that,” he mutters before sliding a hand up into your hair and pulling you down for a heated kiss.
You knew his resolve had snapped the moment you walked into the meeting and your hair was down by your shoulders. Price always loved running his fingers through it when he got you alone, and pulling on it hard as you sucked him off at his desk.
It had been a secret affair for months after you had met him when MI6 and the 141 had teamed up. He had taken a shine to the quiet analyst and while it wasn’t forbidden to have relations, it was frowned upon. So it was just easier to meet in private and steal moments away here and there.
Price had been away on a mission for over a month this time and the need was so strong you nearly threw caution to the wind when you saw him sitting there at the table. Watched him shift in his seat at the sight of you.
“Not too much time,” you counter as you roll your hips onto him making him groan. “Maybe fifteen minutes before everyone realizes the guest of honor has disappeared. That’s what you get for being so…” you don’t finish as Price captures your lips again and grabs hard at your ass.
“Stop analyzing everything,” he counters as he bucks up into you, “and do something else with that pretty little mouth.” He bites at your lip and pulls it gently between his teeth.
You know what he wants and you’re more than happy to oblige him. You’ve missed him. The feel and taste of him and of course the sounds you can elicit from him. He’s not shy with what he wants or how he wants it, and always shows his appreciation.
“Move over then,” you instruct as you slide off his lap and shift as he puts his back up against the door. Price is a big man so it takes some shuffling but you end up kneeling on the floor, thankful for the fact the rest of his team was also huge and required ample leg room.
He’d already helped you remove his pants and you nearly hum with excitement as you see how hard and fucking swollen he is for you. Without much warning you’re on him, you mouth already drooling in anticipation as you take him deep to the back of your throat. He huffs letting you set the pace before his hands brush away the hair from your face, gently pulling it into a ponytail wrapped up tight in his hand.
“Fuck you look so pretty,” Price compliments as your eyes flick up to his to watch his face. Your hands are like vices on his thighs that only tighten at his praise. “Even prettier than when you walked into that meeting room all done up. I like you on your knees for me, drooling and gagging,” he smirks as you whine, moving to slide your hand from his leg to give yourself some relief in the ache between your legs.
He stops you and grabs your wrist and you whimper as he pulls the hand back to rest on his thigh.
“Not yet,” Price admonishes, “that’s my job.” He smirks as he pushes you down on him until you sputter a bit for air and he releases bobbing your head on him at the pace he wants now. “These seats will be ruined by the time I’m done with you,” he smirks as you twist your legs a bit to rub your thighs together for something. Anything. He lets you get away with that because he knows it’ll just make it worse not better.
His moans and bucking tells you he’s close and you move faster, your hand moving to cup his balls and squeeze lightly. Just how you know he likes without him even having to say it. His restraint is gone as he grabs the back of your head with both hands and he spills into your mouth, straight down your throat. You swallow it without hesitation, satisfied with finally tasting him again.
“Fuck,” Price breathes as he watches you lick your lips and roll back on your heels. “You’re already wrecked and I haven’t even touched you,” he teases as his thumbs wipe away some remnants of himself from the corner of your mouth. “How much time do I have to get you out of those pants and screaming?”
Just as you’re about to answer your phone buzzes. It’s your boss and they need you urgently before the next meeting starts and your face falls. “Shit my boss,” you mutter quickly wiping at the makeup you know is running down your face, disappointment all over your expression. “I have to go,” you breathe as another message comes in from a different coworker asking where you disappeared to.
“Now who’s more important?” He asks before helping you clean up and smooth your hair. “Get through this meeting and I promise to make it up to you,” he prompts obviously feeling a bit guilty but still smug as hell that you got on your knees for him first. “I’m still going to get you to make a mess on this fucking bench. Even if my team has to walk home,” he promises as his hand roughly reaches down to rub the seam of your pants for a moment just to get you to whine pitifully before he’s helping you out the door and off to the next meeting.
Soap
“I can’t wait to get home, now shut the door.”
You laugh as you shut the door to the bedroom behind you, doing your best to ignore the fact it’s Price’s. He had invited everyone to his house for a bit of fun bonding and Soap wasn’t about to waste his quick leave with you to just sit with the boys all night. He had dragged you along and despite the fact the other men were keeping him engaged and you chatted along as well, his eyes were boring into you all evening.
“This is your Captain’s bedroom,” you hiss though it’s not a real fight as his lips find the soft skin above your pulse and his hands tug at the thin little straps on your sundress. “What if he walks in?” You ask as the cool air hits your breasts for a second before his calloused hands cover them.
“Then he’ll get a show,” Soap answers with a small chuckle as he nips at your shoulder. “I know you’ve been thinking it all evening. And it’ll be rude to leave before Price’s nightcap,” he explains before tugging harder at your dress to get it bunched around your hips. “And I’m tired of knowing what’s been under this dress and unable to touch it.”
“You barely let me out of bed this morning,” you answer, the ache still pleasantly sore even now as you had sat on the hard picnic chairs. “You’d think you’d have some more restraint,” you continue to tease as you help him out of his zipper hoodie and yank hard on his belt buckle. You currently had no restraint either as you stared blatantly at his chiseled chest and arms, unable to get enough of him even after all this time.
“I think you were the one that dragged me back before my shower,” he answers with a quirk of his brow as he grabs your hips and walks you backward until his knees hit the bed allowing him to sit and pull you to stand between his legs.
“That’s besides the point,” you answer before dropping your head back with a satisfied sigh as he sucks a nipple into his mouth and bites down just enough to send a shock of pain through you that you enjoy. “You had already pinned me down twice before that,” you manage before his knee pushes its way between your legs and he drags you down to sit hard on it. His jeans are rough against the sensitive spot behind your light cotton panties and you shudder as he pushes up and rubs.
“You weren’t complaining when you came all over my face,” he states, smirking as you roll your hips to get more from him. “And I don’t think you’re truly complaining now,” he adds as you continue to ride his thigh without his help, your hands gripping hard on his shoulders.
“You’re just a bad influence,” you answer a bit breathlessly as the bed creaks at your movements. You freeze for just a second realizing you are riding your boyfriend’s thigh on his bosses bed. There has to be some sort of explanation for how fucked up you were both being, especially since you weren’t stopping. “Johnny, maybe we should head back,” you groan out as his hand slides up behind your head to tug a bit at the hair there to pull your head back and making you arch on his leg to hit that sweet spot longer.
“Mmm no lass,” Soap answers as he watches you rock backward and forward chasing a release. “I think you need to ride me until you come and we’ll go from there,” he states though his tone is a command that you’ve grown to love and crave. “Don’t you dare stop,” he orders, eyes flicking to your breasts to watch them bounce with your movement, “until you soak my jeans.”
You whine, feet digging into the floor to give you better leverage as you move on him. He’s not helping you, just watching you use him to work for your own pleasure which makes you bite your lip. You loved when he watched you, how his eyes devoured you when he demanded you touch yourself while he stared from the bedroom door. Or how he requested videos of you for his long trips away, wanting to watch getting yourself off while moaning his name anytime he pleased.
“That’s it lass, I can tell you’re close. You get that cute little hitch in your breath as you’re about to come apart,” he states before gripping your chin gently tilt your head back to look at his face. Your mouth is slightly open as you pant, the release right there and when Soap gives you that crooked cocky grin you explode.
He helps you ride through it before lifting the edge of your skirt up to find a small wet patch. You flush crimson at the sight but Soap seems so proud of himself as he gently helps you off his leg.
“If you’re done, Price is waiting for us,”comes Gaz’s voice from the other side of the door causing you to jump. You can hear him laughing as he walks away back down the stairs and you are mortified right out of your climax high as you look back at Soap.
“It’s nothing he hasn’t heard before,” Soap explains as he gently pulls your dress back up and sets the straps correctly. “It’s not like the tents we stay in have walls, and you’re not exactly quiet on those videos,” he explains at your shocked face with a smirk, “I think they like hearing your little breathy voice as much as I do. Gets a little lonely out there just the few of us.”
“Have you…shown them?” You ask curiously though the excitement is evident in your voice. The thought almost thrills you a bit, that enjoyment of being watched seemingly not limited to just Soap.
“No,” Soap answers with a small tilt of his head. “Do you want me to show them?” You don’t answer feeling suddenly shy and he presses on, “because I will if that gets you excited. I don’t mind showing off what is mine. Making them wish you were theirs but knowing only I get it.”
“Show them one we make when we get home tonight,” you answer before you can back out with a small smirk, the thought already making you ache again.
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poisonous-honey · 2 months
Text
Soul Crushing Guilt
(This is a re-upload: Originally posted to UniverseUchu on December 2nd, 2022)
You've treated them all like toys. In your defence this was just another video game to you a couple of weeks ago, but they're actually real with thoughts and feelings of their own. You don't know how to feel.
Who’s Here! Venti
Contains: isekai reader, Self Aware Genshin (not the Cult SAGAU), Insecurities (reader), Hurt/Comfort I guess it’s called
Note: I will say this takes place in the middle of a story, but it works on its own and I really liked how this turned out. I do have more written, but it's incomprehensible (even after a whole year it's still incomprehensible lmao)
Sitting on the cliffside of Starsnatch is not where you intended to be at this time, but your soul crushing guilt and insecurities have led you here. You needed to be away from all the positivity from everyone in Mondstadt. Their kindness was only worsening your mood. Staring over the edge, lost deep inside your head, you almost miss the way the wind whirls around you before you hear the one person you wanted to avoid the most right now.
“There you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Why’d you leave without saying anything? Everyone back at Mond is worried, you know.”
You don’t say anything in response and let Venti walk up and sit next to you. You both stay silent and watch the waves crash onto the beach. Venti occasionally takes glances in your direction, but for the most part his eyes are on the scenery. After a few minutes, he tries asking you again.
“I know you told us that we aren’t overwhelming you, but please, if we actually are-”
“That’s not the reason I left Venti.”
“Then what is it?”
Silence is all that greets him. “Please, we just want you to be comfortable with us. We can’t help if we don’t know.”
Hearing him say that only makes you feel more guilty. They’re all so nice to you, and for what? The pressure and the guilt keeps building and building the more you stay here. Everyone’s been so understanding and kind, but all you’ve done before is use them any which way. You’ve judged them for superficial reasons and have even gotten them killed on numerous occasions. Venti showing up and putting the blame on himself and the others like they’re the reason you left just adds onto your shame as tears start to escape your eyes.
Upon seeing your eyes water, Venti slightly panics. “W-Wait, why are you crying!? I’m sorry for whatever-”
“Venti please stop.”
You turn to look Venti in the eyes, and see the panic and worry etched onto his face. It only makes you feel worse.
“Venti… Why are you here? Why do you keep following me?’ You look away from him, trying to keep from balling on the spot. ‘Why are you so nice to me?”
Hearing this, Venti’s face slowly scrunches in confusion. “What do you mean? Of course, I’m going to be nice to you. Where is this coming from?”
“You were conscious the entire time I was playing. I used you all like you were dolls for my amusement. After I got you, didn’t you feel like I was holding you captive or-or like some sort of toy forced to do my bidding? I don’t understand why no one hates me! I feel so guilty of everything I’ve said and done, but everyone’s apologizing to me like they’re in the wrong, and I don’t get it! Especially you! As the God of Freedom, don’t you hate me for taking away your own freedom from you? I just don’t understand… So why…” Unable to continue, you look away as you try to wipe your eyes and wait for Venti to finally tell you he hates you. That he’s going to stop pretending and get up and leave you alone. In your mind you know he would never, that's not who he is, but fear and anxiety is irrational.
Your breath hitches as you feel his hands land on your cheeks and turn your head to look at him. Instead of the disgust or apathy your heart was expecting, Venti’s face is filled with sorrow.
“I can’t believe you would think so low of me.’ He looks downwards and wipes away a few tears with his thumbs before looking back at you with nothing but care. ‘I guess from your point of view that’s a reasonable assumption to make, but you seem to be forgetting one key detail.”
You stare at him as he proceeds to give you the smuggest look you’ve ever seen on him. “I came home extremely early on my banner, didn’t I?”
What he’s saying doesn’t make any sense to you. He’s already treating you extremely differently than you anticipated, and now his question is putting your already malfunctioning brain into overdrive. What did his banner have to do with anything?
“What? Venti I-I don’t understand. What are you trying to…’ Finally, it all starts to click into place as your eyes widen, and his stupid grin gets larger. ‘You… Did you influence the banner wishes???”
Venti laughs joyously as he lets go of your face. His eyes sparkle like he’s recounting the best moment of his life.
“Why yes, I did! I actually got in a lot of trouble for that! It's part of the reason you lost the next 50/50, but I couldn’t miss the chance to join your team. I refused to wait another second.”
“But why? I still don’t under-”
“I have the freedom to make my own choices, do I not? I wanted to join your team, so I did.”
His expression changes from smug to such a soft look. You have a hard time believing it is being directed at you.
“Why, yes, I may be the God of Freedom, but I’m also simply one of the many characters this game has to offer. I’m one of your many characters in particular. And out of such a colourful cast of individuals, I was your favourite. To be the reason someone even downloaded our game in the first place sends me over the moon. For everyone else, you still give their lives a purpose and have earned everyone’s respect. Sure, you might be a bit crass, but even when you were rude or made a mistake, you still treated everyone with more care than necessary. I especially could feel and hear the level of adoration you had for me through the screen. To me, there’s nothing I want more than to travel by your side for as long as you’ll have me.”
Such a heartwarming and earnest speech from Venti has your eyes start to water again. Not all of your insecurities and guilt have been lifted, you don’t think that kind of guilt will be something you can get rid of, but with Venti here…
“You’re allowed to stay for as long as you want.”
He cups your cheeks again while looking straight into your eyes.
“Then till death do we part, my dear player.”
You break down and cry as Venti pulls you in for a hug. With Venti by your side, you know he’ll help you through your guilt with as much care and love as you’ve given him.
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unsolvedjarin · 6 months
Note
pleeeeeease something fluffy and domestic about jenson😩😩😩 there is not enough fics of him AND after those beautiful pics he posted i crave slmething tbh anything that has to do with him
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CORNY
pairing: (jenson button x driver! reader)
summary: you and jenson finally have a peaceful anniversary, but both of you have surprises for one another.
note: i love love LOOOOVE this idea so much. saying yes any day to domestic jenson. i had so much fun writing this, hope you have fun reading it too!
content warning: none, just a lot of domesticity and once again, say it with me, my verb tenses bouncing like frogs!
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“And you’re sure you can handle this?”
“She’s a three year old, what harm could she possibly do?” Fernando asks. You look at him with faux seriousness in your eyes, “A lot. You can’t even begin to imagine.”
Jenson chuckles at your antics, double checking if you had brought all the things your daughter needs for the weekend. It was you and Jenson’s anniversary, and Fernando had volunteered to take care of your daughter so you could both get away.
“You know, if you told me back in 2016 that I would be taking care of you two’s child, I would have never believed it,” Fernando remarks, looking at the three year old dead asleep in his living room.
“Why, ‘cause you can’t take care of children?” You joke. He shakes his head in response, “No, because I never thought Jenson would have the balls to make a move.”
The mentioned man looks up from what he was doing when he hears his name, not fully invested in the conversation. “Sorry?”
“I said I never thought you would have the balls to make a move on Y/N. You pine for four years and all of a sudden have a burst of confidence, I still don’t understand how you did it.”
“Well some things are better left a mystery, eh Nando?” Jenson teases, nudging him on the side. “Besides, you don’t need to know how, just that we’re here now and we’re happy.”
“Boo, corny.” You butt in, giving Jenson a playful thumbs down.
“Hey you’re supposed to be on my side, I’m defending our love out here!”
Fernando grins at your banter— it reminded him of the good old days. Back when Jenson was on the grid along with him in Mclaren, hearing his teammate constantly pine over their friend— you— who happened to be a driver as well.
Ever since he could remember, Jenson had been head over heels for you. Sure during your rookie year he had only seen you as a friend, but the years following that, there was no time Fernando can remember where Jenson wasn’t trying to grab your attention or trying to impress you one way or another.
It was astounding how you hadn’t caught a clue on just how much Jenson liked you during those days. He had even given up his so-called ‘playboy’ lifestyle back then just to impress you, but the only reaction he had ever gotten from you was “So no more free drinks for me from your hookups when we’re out? Shame.”
“Are you absolutely certain you can handle this, Nando?” You ask the Spaniard, causing him to snap back to reality.
“Please, I got this covered, trust me,” he boasts. If only he knew what chaos was in store for him this weekend.
You say your goodbyes to Fernando and give your child a kiss on the head, making sure she doesn’t wake up. Stepping out the front door, you see Jenson staring far into the distance while waiting for you.
“You alright Jense?” you ask him as you walk towards the car. He doesn’t say a word until you both get in the car and close the doors, letting out a deep sigh of relief.
“Alright? I’m fucking fantastic!” he exclaims. You grin at his sudden burst of energy, shaking your head. Speaking softer this time, he adds, “This is the first weekend I’ve had all year without our kid. And don’t get me wrong, I love her very much, but I missed spending time with you more.”
He gives you a chaste kiss, pulling away to look at you with so much love. God, he could never be sick of this sight. You give him a soft smile as he adjusts to pull the car away from Fernando’s home, headed back towards your own.
You didn’t say anything as he started driving, unsure how to breach the topic you wanted to talk to your husband about. You wanted this weekend to go smoothly, after all it was your anniversary, but also because it was the first actual one on one time you’ve had with each other in god knows how long. With you still racing and him with his job, you didn’t see each other enough as much as you would like to.
Of course you were always home whenever possible, doing your part in taking care of your kid, and they always tagged along to races when they could— but to you it still wasn’t enough. You felt like you were doing Jenson wrong with pursuing racing while he had to do most of the heavy lifting at home.
So you wanted to retire.
You thought it was reasonable, after all you had been racing since 2012 save for the year you stopped when you were pregnant. You were satisfied with your career and your two world championships. Sebastian Vettel had told you last year that when you know it’s time to retire you just know, and you think that time is now.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Jenson asked, pulling you out of your train of thought.
“Are my thoughts that cheap?”
“Okay, dollar for your thoughts then. Jesus, we really are in an economic crisis.”
“Corny,” you reply, slapping him on his shoulder with a grin.
“Ah, but you smiled.” Jenson teased. It made you roll your eyes at him fondly, “Eyes on the road you silly man.”
The rest of the trip home was spent in comfortable silence, Jenson putting his hand on your leg whenever you reached a stoplight. He claimed to have the whole weekend planned, and was seemingly very excited to show off whatever it was he had in store. You asked him a week ago if you could get a clue and the only response you ever got from him was a shrug and a simple “Well there’s no fun in that now, is there?”
Pulling up to your house, you contemplate when exactly is the right time to tell your husband you’re retiring. Not before his surprise, no definitely not, that would ruin it. But you weren’t so sure if after the surprise would be such a good idea too, especially if it would ruin the spirit of the weekend.
“Want something babe?” Jenson asks as he approaches the house bar. He had it made last year on his birthday, a gift for himself, he had said. Safe to say not a single speck of dust has been found on that countertop nor has it been left abandoned for a day since it’s been made. It was his favorite thing in the house, besides you, of course.
You shake your head to his question, instead opting to lay down on the couch with an oomph, turning on the television to see if anything good was on. “So what’s your big secret surprise plan? Can I know now?” you question Jenson, looking at him from your position.
He gives you a knowing grin in reply, moving towards you with his drink. He takes a sip of it before closing the TV so you would focus on him.
“Hey I was gonna watch!”
Ignoring your comment— because he knows you weren’t really going to— he bends down to kiss you on your forehead and mutters, “My plan, my darling,” he gives you another kiss, “Is to stay home all weekend.”
You give him a confused look.
Was that it? Was that the big thing he had planned? Not that you were complaining of course, any time spent with Jenson was good to you. But it puzzled you why he had kept it a ‘secret’.
“Confused?” he asks, giving you a knowing look as he picks his drink back up and takes another sip. “I would be if I were you.”
Now absolutely muddled, you get up from the sofa and follow him towards his beloved bar. Sitting on one of the stools, you’re unable to find the right questions and simply shoot him a look that said ‘what?’
Jenson grins, leaning on the counter so you were face to face with each other. “So, you’re probably kerfuzzled.”
You had used that term once when you accidentally forgot the word ‘confused’ and it had become an inside joke between the two of you.
“Yes, I’m kerfuzzled, Jenson. So you have nothing planned this weekend?”
“Well besides me cooking you the most delicious home cooked meals and treating you like the absolute goddess you are,” he says, inching closer towards your face. He gives you a light kiss before continuing normally, “Then no, I have nothing planned.”
“So all that buildup these past few weeks, nothing.”
“Absolutely nothing,” Jenson smirks.
“You seem oddly proud of yourself for that,” you tease. While you were confused with the whole situation, you had no problem with it. A weekend with Jenson alone was everything you could’ve ever asked for, especially after a stressful season.
“I am proud of myself. Wanna know why?”
“You’re asking an awful lot of rhetorical questions today. But sure, why are you so proud of yourself, sweetheart?”
“Because,” he beams, “I have noticed that throughout this entire year, we’ve spent only two full days together, just the two of us. One of those days we spent shopping for our son’s new bed, and another one of those days was spent doing our taxes. Do you see where I’m going with this?”
“We haven’t properly shagged this whole year?”
“Close, but we will circle back to that later tonight,” Jenson winks. “No, what I was trying to say is that we haven’t spent time with each other. At first I had planned a trip to Italy for this anniversary of ours, then I thought, well you’d already been there for the Monza Grand Prix. Plus, it felt like just another chore we would be doing. That’s when I had an epiphany.”
He pauses for a second, seemingly waiting for a reaction from you. Rolling your eyes, you question, “Fine, I’ll bite. What epiphany did you have o great philosopher?”
“Well I’m glad you asked. I realized that with such a travel packed schedule all year round, going on a vacation for our anniversary would be boring to you. Not only that but the travel itself would be tiring, and we would be focused on the itinerary more than our anniversary itself. Therefore, I have brilliantly concluded that the best thing I could set up this year was not only something we haven’t done in a while, but something relaxing while at the same time thoughtful. That’s why— drumroll please— my surprise is a weekend at home.”
Jenson takes a small bow after his whole speech, grinning at the way you slowly clapped for him with faux annoyance. You had to give it to him, he was spot on. You weren’t really up for any big trips on your week off, especially when that was practically what you’ve been doing the whole season.
“First of all Jense, I do actually love your plan, and I love you,” you say, giving into his antics. He smirks in reply, shrugging nonchalantly. “I’m just thoughtful like that.”
“Okay, don’t push it,” you retort, but with no malice. “But my question is, why did you keep it a secret? You know you could’ve told me if we were just staying home.”
“Yes, I could’ve told you, but because I didn’t tell you, you mentally prepared for more traveling, and now that I’ve told you that we’re staying home, it feels more refreshing, no?”
Damn him and his smart mind. You forget he was smarter than he usually lets on. The media had labeled him as a himbo of sorts back then, but they couldn’t have been more wrong. Well, except for that one time he nearly left the stove on before a race weekend. He still gets reminded of that everytime you leave the house.
“Wow, that’s actually impressive,” you concede, leaning back on your chair. Jenson pours you your favorite drink across the bar, despite you declining earlier. He knows that in the five minutes that have passed you’d now want a drink. He knew you too well. ��You really thought this through, huh?”
“Of course I have. I use ninety-nine percent of my brain power on you.”
“Can’t tell if that’s a compliment or a complaint.”
“Assuming that I use only ten percent on anything else, then it’s a compliment.”
You snicker at his joke, taking a sip of your drink. From your peripheral vision you can see Jenson watching you intently while leaning on the wall, as if it was the first time he had ever seen your face. Even as you put your glass down, his eyes still follow the lines of your lips and the curves of your cheeks, with a soft smile plastered on his own face. He seemed so…content.
“Stop looking at me like that,” you say while looking at anything but him, a light blush on your cheeks you try to hide to no avail. So many years together and yet he could still make you feel like a schoolgirl with a crush. It was so silly.
“Like what?” he asks, despite knowing what you meant. If only you knew that you made Jenson feel the same way he made you feel, if not even more.
“Like that.”
“I don’t know what you mean, I’m looking at you like I usually do.”
“Yeah, sure. If you usually looked at me with puppy eyes and like you’ve discovered the secret to life in my eyes,” you retort, playing with your drink, still refusing to look him in the eye. Jenson chuckles, before pushing himself off the wall and leaning on the bar, using two fingers to move your chin and face you towards him. Your faces were inches apart, his soft yet smug smile still evident as he looked at your slightly parted lips then at you. “Darling, you are the secret to life.”
Jenson’s words linger for a second, before you snigger and push him off of you. He laughs too, knowing how corny what he just said was. While you were touched with what he said, you just couldn’t help but laugh at the seriousness of it all. You were well past love declarations in your relationships. Now those declarations were in the smaller things, like how he texted you whenever he saw something that reminded him of you and how you buy him books from every country you visit– also the reason you had to expand your library recently.
“God you are– ha!– you are so corny. That was worse than some of your dad jokes,” you cringe.
“I thought you love my dad jokes!”
“I love them because of how corny they are. This…this took the cake though.”
“Jeez, can’t even profess my love for you anymore without being made fun of. What has the world come to,” Jenson says sarcastically.
It reminds you of when he first confessed to you back in 2016.
“I can’t— I just can’t carry on without you knowing. Y/N, I am so hopelessly in love with you. And I know this is so out of the blue but if I spend one more minute with this secret I might explode. So please— please, Give me a chance to prove myself to you.”
A moment of silence passed. The usually busy streets of Monaco felt quiet outside the bar that night. It was just the two of you.
This is a prank. This must be a prank. Snapping to your senses, you replied, “Very funny. Who put you up to this, was it Fernando? I’ll kill him. Or was it Seb? He’ll get it worse if it was him.”
Jenson rubbed his face before moving a step closer to you. “Don’t you get it? I’m in love with you. I have been, for so long. No one put me up to this but myself.”
“You’re drunk, that’s what you are. Let’s get back to the hotel,” you reasoned, to yourself more than to him. You tried to walk away but he didn’t let you, taking your hand and making you face him.
“Y/N please just listen to me I— I can’t breathe without you, I can’t sleep without you, I can’t live without you. It’s you, it always has been. I understand if you don’t like me back, in fact I’ll take it with pride but please— please don’t abandon me. Please don’t leave me with no answer.”
“Don’t do this,” you begged him. “Don’t lead me on.”
“I’m not leading you on, Y/N. I swear to you, I am not. This is real. Am I so bad?” he asked, practically near to tears. He had kept this secret for so long that spilling it all out felt so overwhelming.
“You’re not bad Jenson, god that’s not it,” you laughed ironically, as you felt your eyes water. “It’s because— oh fuck it. I love you too. I love you too, okay? I have since 2014. And I— I didn’t wanna answer you because if I wake up tomorrow and find out this was all because you’re drunk then I will be so heartbroken I don’t think I could live with it. And now that this is all out there I— I don’t know what to do.”
Your words hung there for a minute, both of you emotionally vulnerable in a random street in Monaco at three in the morning. Then, Jenson, with teary eyes, slowly smiled. “You mean that?”
“More than anything. So please, tell me you’re not just saying this all because you’re drunk.”
“No, no of course not,” Jenson quickly replied. He moved closer to you, wrapping his arms around you and for a second you thought he was going to kiss you, but thankfully even in his inebriated state he knew to take things slowly. Instead he hugged you tightly, holding you as if you would disappear. You hugged him back, resting your teary eyed face on the crook of his neck.
You both stood there in silence for a moment, not caring if anyone saw you, which was unlikely because of how empty the streets were. When Jenson pulled away you missed his touch, but he immediately held your hand and asked with a grin, “Well, now that that’s over with, we can go back to the hotel. Wanna take care of a drunk guy?”
You laughed, wiping away your tears. “Do I have a choice?”
“No, sorry. You’re contractually obligated to take care of me for the rest of the night and tomorrow.”
You both start walking to the hotel, the streets now seeming more lively than they were a second ago. It was almost as if the background noise had come back.
“Jense,” you started, leaning your head on his shoulder as you walked. Jenson practically melted on the spot at that. “Even if you regret your decision to tell me all of that today, please promise me you won’t break our friendship.”
Jenson turned his head to you at that. Couldn’t you see just how much love he held for you?
“Even if I regret my decision— which I won’t, by the way, because I’ve been dying to say this for four years— nothing will change between us. We’ll still be friends, trust me on that at least. I’ll always be here for you. Now c’mon, it’s starting to rain.”
He pulled you by the hand, both of you running to the hotel as the rain got louder. He slept in your room that night, you didn’t do anything, he just wanted your company. The next morning he regretted nothing.
“Penny— no, sorry— dollar for your thoughts?”
Jenson snaps you out of your trip down memory lane, taking you by the hand and standing you up from the bar stool. He wraps his arms around your waist and you sling your own around his neck, sighing contently.
If there was one thing you could never be sick of, it was the way Jenson looked at you. Always, without fail, when you catch him staring at you, there’s so much love and adoration in his eyes that you feel overwhelmed with a sense of lovesickness.
You never wanted this moment to end. You wanted more of these, more peaceful and loving moments with him and also your daughter. It makes you remember the piece of news you wanted to tell him earlier.
As you both stand there in the middle of your quiet house, just enjoying the company of each other, you lean your head on his shoulder. It was now or never.
“Jenson, I’m retiring.”
He pauses his soft swaying for a moment, and you pull away to look at his reaction. He looked shocked yet at the same time calm, as if he had been expecting you to say that.
“Is that what you really want? I mean, I’m not opposed to it, but baby you still have so much left in you for racing. Shit I mean, you could even win another world championship.”
“Sure I could. Let me just catch up on Max who has a 200 point difference with me, easy peasy,” you scoff with a grin, slapping him on his shoulder. “Yes, this is what I really want, Jense. I’ve thought about it a lot and I think it’s time. I’m satisfied with how my career has gone, and I think it’s time I pulled my weight around the house and our daughter.”
Jenson raises his eyebrow at you, “You do pull your weight. Do you think that you don’t?”
“Well I’m definitely doing less than you,” you sigh.
Jenson could tell the topic was upsetting you, and he reached for your hand to squeeze it. “Darling, you do enough around the house and for our kid. Sure, I’m with her more, but that’s just because I have a freer schedule. There’s no malice in you being away for work. Plus, you make insanely more money than me, which is also part of pulling your weight. If you’re thinking of retiring just because of this, then maybe you shouldn’t yet.”
You frown, feeling the sting of tears in your eyes. You wouldn’t cry, you promised yourself you wouldn’t. “It’s just— I feel like I’m missing out on my life, you know? On our life. I’ve been driving karts since I was four and now I’m fully grown and I’m still driving. But this— this is new. Our family. And I want to be here for it. For you.”
“Oh sweetheart,” Jenson mutters, before taking you for a hug. He holds you tightly, just like he did all those years ago, your head in the crook of his neck with tears pricking your eyes.
He holds you there for a moment, and you feel safe in his arms like you always do. Even when everything changes he’s there, and just like he promised many moons ago, he wasn’t going anywhere.
“Look who’s being corny now,” Jenson mumbles into your hair after a pause of silence. It makes you giggle, and you pull away from him.
“And look who ruined the moment,” you retort. You try to walk back to the bar and get your drink but Jenson keeps his grip on your waist, pulling you back towards him. You shoot him a look but he simply grins, pulling your waist even closer to him.
“I love you, just in case you ever forget. Happy Anniversary.” He mumbles, kissing you on your nose, making you scrunch your face. Jenson thinks it’s the cutest thing in the world.
Taking his face in your hand, you smile at him, looking satisfied. This was it. This was everything you ever wanted and everything you could ever want. “I love you too, my everything. Happy Anniversary.”
“God, corny,” Jenson mutters, before kissing you fervently and with all the love he could muster. You feel him smile into the kiss, and you do too.
Pulling away, you sigh with a smile, content. Jenson smirks at you before commenting, “You better save some of that for tonight, darling.”
You match him with a grin of your own, “Only if you can keep up.”
542 notes · View notes
incognit0slut · 7 months
Text
Right Kind of Wrong (12)
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She never thought she would be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.
Part Summary: Spencer gets closer to the truth while she feels suffocated by the situation. wc: 4.3k
Series Warnings: 18+ explicit content, graphic details of murders, mentions of suicide, mentions of SA
a/n: Let me give you a long part as a token of my apology for being a slow writer. I hope this was worth the wait
Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14
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"WE BELIEVE WE ARE DEALING WITH A MALE OFFENDER IN HIS LATE 20s TO EARLY 30s," Aaron Hotchner announced, his voice loud and jarring. "Based on the crime scenes, the Unsub doesn't have a lot of experience as they were most likely done in a moment of rage."
The team stood in front of the bullpen, facing a room full of officers and agents scattered along the space. Pens clicked and notepads rustled around them as everyone prepared to add insights to their unfolding narrative.
Rossi, who stood by the evidence board, skimmed his eyes across the room. "It suggests someone who is impulsive and might have difficulty controlling urges. This could also be a sign of an underlying mental illness."
"It's likely that there is some kind of history there, either of abuse or trauma in their childhood," JJ added. "It seems that the Unsub may have difficulty connecting with or relating to others and may be socially isolated as a result. He would mostly like to keep to himself."
Spencer took a step forward and carried on with their profile of the unidentified suspect. "The Unsub might also have grown up in a deeply religious environment. Their beliefs may have become twisted and distorted, leading them to believe that they possess a unique calling to carry out their crimes as a way of punishment."
"Based on the victims, the Unsub has targeted specific people whom they believe have harmed one of our witnesses," Morgan added, his voice seeming to turn deeper as he continued, "Y/n L/n."
A jolt of electricity surged through Spencer's consciousness. The human mind really was a powerful thing. Somehow the simple sound of her name projected the memories he had of her and suddenly he was seeing her face, her radiant smile, her beautiful eyes—he was seeing her so clearly as if she were standing right before him.
But then Emily moved past him, jolting him awake from his reverie as she bumped against his shoulder. "The Unsub has a sense of loyalty to her that they are acting out these crimes as a desire for retribution on her behalf. They might believe that they have a connection or some kind of relationship with Ms. L/n."
"We believe the Unsub might know her personally," Hotch addressed, his eyes, sharp and penetrating, scanning around him. "Go through places where the witness is most likely to go. This could be her neighborhood, workplace, daily commute, and so on."
The atmosphere seemed to shift as he finally dismissed the room. Everyone rose from their seats, each one heading to their respective posts and assignments. It didn't take long for the phones to ring in the background, followed by the constant shuffle of feet as the entire space started to come alive.
And as Spencer turned back to his desk, a familiar man pushing the glass doors of the office suddenly caught his attention. His steps faltered while the man looked around the room as recognition hit him. Spencer walked over, addressing him as one of the witnesses. "Mr. Adler?"
The other man blew out a sigh of relief. "Eric, please." He entered the office and gave Spencer a look. "The people downstairs told me I could find you here."
"You were looking for me?" He frowned. "Is there anything I can help you with?"
"I hope so," Eric replied. "Has there been any missing person report lately?"
The confusion on his face grew prominent at the question. "Not that I know of. Why? Is someone you know missing?"
"A coworker of mine hasn't shown up to work and I can't contact any of his family members," he explained. "I'm starting to get worried."
"What's his name?"
"Oliver Walsh."
Having an eidetic memory helped him recall the name easily. His mind went through all the information he gathered these past few days and remembered the exact name written on the list of employees. "When did you last see him?"
"Three—no, four days ago. He left work looking very troubled."
Spencer's brow was furrowed, his eyes fixed unwaveringly on Eric's. "Troubled?"
Eric nodded. "He seemed distracted."
"Do you have any idea why he acted the way he did?"
"No," he responded. And then it suddenly happened. His eyes, previously engaged in maintaining eye contact, drifted upward for a fleeting second. It was as though a switch had been flipped in his mind and the gears of his memory whirred to life. "Although he did seem to act different that day... especially towards Y/n."
His stomach churned. A subtle tremor coursed through his limbs, betraying the unease that was slowly but unmistakably creeping into his consciousness. "...Y/n?"
"You remember her, right? She was with me the night it happened."
Remember her? She was the only person he couldn't stop thinking about. Spencer cleared his throat and leaned forward. "I'm aware Ms. L/n was also a witness."
"Well, Oliver has been fixated on her for so long, everyone in the office knows this. Y/n mostly thinks of it as a joke but I don't think Oliver sees it the same way as she does."
"And something happened between them on the day you last saw him?"
"I'm not sure." Eric sighed. "I saw them talking after work hours, and by the looks of it, I think Y/n was pissed at him." He then crossed his arms, his brows in deep concentration as he seemed to be recalling that day. "She looked like she was under a lot of stress, actually."
"Did you hear what they were talking about?"
"No. But after that, Oliver didn't seem like himself anymore. Then he didn't come to work the next day..." Eric trailed off, his eyes casting down before he mumbled, "I still don't know where he is now."
Spencer's mind suddenly became a whirlwind of calculated chaos, connecting the dots with lightning precision. His heart raced in his chest, pounding out a rhythm of urgency that echoed in his ears. There was no room for hesitation, no luxury of second-guessing.
He needed to move fast.
"Emily!" He called out as he saw his friend walking past them, quickly stopping her pace at the mention of her name. "Can you help Mr. Adler file a missing person report?"
"Uh..." she looked between the two men, uncertainty written across her face. There were questions lingering at the tip of her tongue but she stopped herself when she saw the urgent look Spencer was throwing at her. "Of course," she decided to agree, her attention shifting to the other man. "Right this way."
With a swift, purposeful stride, Spencer left them behind, his footsteps echoing the urgency that had taken hold of him. His heart was still racing when he walked down the corridor, quickly making his way to the room down the hall.
The door swung open with a resolute push, and he entered the room, his senses on high alert. "Garcia."
"I wasn't doing anything!" The woman sitting before him shrieked, closing the window tabs on the screen in front of her. Usually, Spencer would tease her on how unprofessional it was to be doing something else that wasn't related to work, but he didn't have the time to engage in playful banter.
Spencer stepped behind her, placing a hand on the back of her chair. "Garcia, I need you to find Oliver Walsh for me."
She wasted no time. Her fingers danced across the keyboard with a rapid, almost feverish intensity. "Oliver... Walsh..." The soft clatter of keys echoed in the room as she navigated through files and databases. "There are too many Oliver Walsh in this country."
"He works at the same company as Y/n."
"Should've mentioned that sooner." Her eyes scanned lines of text, images, and documents in front of her. "Bingo. Oliver Conrad Walsh was born on 18th December 1991 as an only child—wait, look at this. His family was part of The Haven Hill... a sanctuary of unwavering faith and profound tranquility?"
"Is it some kind of a cult?"
"I don't think so." Her eyes landed on an old article buried within the archives and clicked on the link before a picture of a worn-out brochure greeted them. "Prospective members are welcomed into Haven Hill, a secluded and serene enclave where faith and tradition unite. It seems like a very tight-knit community with a very religious belief—oh!"
Her fingers moved as she navigated through digital records. "Reid..."
"What is it?"
The screen suddenly displayed a grim history of illicit activities and misdeeds, a virtual breadcrumb trail leading them closer to the truth.
"Oliver Walsh was far from being a saint albeit growing up in a religious environment. Along with his group of friends, he was constantly rebelling ever since a very young age. He had to do a lot of community service for it too; underage drinking, burglary, public disturbances—oh dear."
"Attempt sexual assault?" Spencer read out loud.
"...a group of underage boys was proved guilty of trying to violate a fourteen-year-old girl on school grounds—"
"Garcia," Spencer stopped her, not wanting to listen to the rest of the story. "Give me his current address."
"Already on it," she responded, her fingers hovering over the keyboard.
Spencer's heart pounded in his chest. He couldn't believe this, the suspect was no longer a shadowy figure; they were becoming real, tangible, and within his grasp. Then his eyes caught the shot of the man on the screen. A jolt of recognition surged through him as he scrutinized the suspect's image on the screen. The face staring back at him carried a haunting familiarity.
Memories raced through his mind like flickering images from the past. He remembered him, he always remembered people's faces, and that man right there was the same man he had seen in Y/n's house that afternoon. There was a huge chance this was all a coincidence.
But there was also a possibility of Oliver Walsh being the Unsub.
He didn't know which one was true, but what he did know was that he needed to find out the truth.
The sudden, shrill ring of his phone shattered the intensity of the moment. It was a jarring intrusion, snapping him back to the present. With a swift, almost automatic motion, Spencer reached for the device and answered the call without looking away from the screen. "Yes?"
"Agent Reid," the person on the other line greeted, their words rushed in a moment of panic. "I can't find her."
Spencer pulled his phone away from his face and glanced at the caller ID. Officer Anderson. A sense of relentless panic coursed through him as the realization hit like a lightning bolt. He felt a knot tighten in his stomach, a visceral reaction to the gravity of the call.
"What do you mean you can't find her?"
"I—" There was a sigh. "I-I was watching inside my car and I somehow ended up sleeping. She's nowhere inside the house now—"
"Did you call her?"
"She left her phone in the kitchen."
At that moment, he was acutely aware of every heartbeat, every pulse of blood coursing through his veins. Panic resounded through his thoughts, casting a dark shadow over him. It was a visceral, gut-wrenching sensation that threatened to paralyze him like the ground had suddenly shifted beneath his feet.
"I apologize, Agent Reid."
But then anger coursed through his body. He was suddenly angry—Angry at the situation, angry at the Unsub, angry at the officer who couldn't seem to do his one simple job. His jaw clenched, his knuckles turned white as he gripped the phone tighter, and his eyes flashed with fury.
"Being sorry isn't going to help you find her," he snapped. He then straightened himself. "I'll be there in ten."
"What happened?" Garcia whispered, noticing the sudden tension in his shoulder.
Spencer shoved back his phone and turned to her. "Garcia, I need you to inform the others, I have to go."
"What?!" She yelped, watching as he turned away from her. "Right now? Where are you going?"
But her question was left unanswered as he bolted out of the door.
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There was no other way to explain what being followed by a disguised officer felt like. It was suffocating. Even everything felt suffocating these days, and when she meant everything, Y/n really meant everything.
At first, the idea of protection had offered comfort, but now it was an oppressive weight that bore down on her shoulders. Everywhere she turned, a shadow loomed, an unwelcome reminder of the loss of her freedom. The suffocating sensation was inescapable, restricting her every movement.
The constant surveillance had pushed her to the brink of stress and manifested in the form of tension that coiled within her, ready to snap at the slightest provocation. Her patience wore thin and the weight of anxiety rested heavy on her chest. One moment she was on the verge of tears, the next, she was snapping with sharp words, irritable and sullen.
She really needed a break.
"You should go to the gym," Sandy had suggested the other day. "It might help relieve the stress."
After debating whether it was a good idea to visit the gym when she couldn't even remember the last time she stepped foot on a treadmill, she finally decided to slip out of the house. She walked over to the black car she already grew familiar with and stood by the window—only to find Officer Anderson fast asleep behind the wheels.
A pang of guilt tugged at her, but the allure of temporary freedom was too strong to resist. It was an unexpected opportunity, a rare moment of freedom dangling before her like a tempting prize. Was it wise to leave without informing him? Probably not. But she couldn't imagine herself working out—all awkward, tired, and sweaty—with Officer Anderson watching her from the corner.
So silently, she retraced her steps. Her pulse quickened with a mix of trepidation and exhilaration as she walked away. It would be fine, she had assured herself. She would be back before he realized she was even gone. And with that thought in mind, she quickly made her way to the closest gym around the corner.
The place felt both familiar and foreign as she navigated the equipment, but she finally found her place in an exercise routine. Her muscles protested the unaccustomed effort, but with each movement, she could feel the tension slowly dissipating. It wasn't until she could barely feel her limbs anymore that she stopped and left the place.
Even though her body was aching from pushing her body to its limit, she did feel slightly better. Her steps also did feel lighter when she walked back to her home, and her mind felt calmer, and less chaotic than it did when she left her house. But as she approached her street, a knot of unease tightened in her stomach.
The evening's fading light cast long, ominous shadows that seemed to reach out and embrace her front door, which stood ajar. It was an unexpected sight, one that sent a chill down her spine. Two things flashed into her mind at that very moment. One, she realized Officer Anderson was nowhere in sight. His usual parked car looked very much abandoned with no one inside the vehicle. Two, she could probably die if she entered her house alone in this state.
Maybe she should call the police. Maybe she should call Spencer... Yeah right, she didn't even have his number. Maybe she should just call Agent Jareau. Or Agent Prentiss. Yes, that would be a wiser option than to—shit. She clutched her empty pockets.
She didn't even bring her phone to begin with.
She cursed to herself. This was a bad, bad decision. She was probably going to regret this, but she couldn't just stand there and do nothing. So very cautiously, she approached her house, her senses on high alert.
As she pushed the door open wider, it revealed a slice of the dimly lit interior. She couldn't help but hold her breath as she stepped over the threshold, her footsteps hesitant, almost reverent, on the creaking floorboards.
She stepped deeper into her home and slowly entered the dimly lit kitchen. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw a figure standing shrouded in shadows, a silhouette in the gloom. A gasp of shock emitted through her lips, but as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, recognition washed over her like a tidal wave.
"Officer Anderson!" She yelled, placing a hand over her heart. "You scared me!"
"Ms. L/n," he breathed out, his expression softening when he saw her. "Where have you been?"
Guilt washed over her as she noticed the concern in his eyes but she quickly dismissed it, stepping further into the room, and grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. "I went to the gym."
"Why didn't you tell me? I'm supposed to accompany you—"
"You were asleep, I didn't want to wake you."
"You should've woken me up, Ms. L/n."
"You looked like you could use some sleep," she mentioned before glancing at the clock perched on the wall. "I was only gone for like an hour, it's not a big deal."
Officer Anderson looked like he wanted to argue with her, but stopped himself before letting out a sigh. "Can you please inform me whenever you step out of the house, even when I might be asleep?"
His concerned gaze met hers as he turned to her, a mixture of relief and worry in his eyes. Guilt twisted in her chest as she nodded. "Alright, I will."
"And please bring your phone with you at all times."
Her eyes snapped towards the device sitting on the counter. "I did forget to bring it with me, I'm sorry."
With a nod, the officer excused himself, giving her a moment of privacy to collect her thoughts. She watched him go, his retreating figure a testament to his dedication, despite the surprise of her brief absence.
Feeling overwhelmed by the mix of emotions—being scrutinized by an authority, being a potential target of a serial killer still on the loose—she retreated to her room, seeking solace in the familiar confines of her private space. She quickly peeled off her clothes which clung to her body from all the sweat and stepped into her bathroom.
The sound of running water filled the room as she turned on the shower, its warmth a soothing embrace. Steam enveloped her, and as the water cascaded over her body, the tension that had coiled within her began to unravel. Under the gentle caress of the water, she closed her eyes. Her shoulders trembled with the tension she had carried for so long, the weight of guilt, responsibility, and emotions too complex to unravel.
How had things turned the way it did? A few weeks ago her life seemed normal, yet now she was linked to a crime with her name at the center of it. This felt so unfair. Why her? Why now? Wh—
Bang!
She opened her eyes.
What was it now?
It sounded... it sounded like a thud coming from somewhere in her house.
The sudden interruption jolted her from the sanctuary of the shower. Her heart raced as she hastily wrapped a towel around herself and emerged from the bathroom, water droplets glistening on her skin. The door to her room suddenly wrenched open with force before a figure she last expected walked in.
"What the—Spencer!" She gasped, not believing who she was seeing. "What the hell?!"
His gaze met hers, and she saw something in his expression that sent a shiver down her spine. It was an anger she hadn't seen before, a storm brewing beneath the surface of his usual calm demeanor. His jaw was clenched, and his normally warm eyes were steely and cold.
"Are you crazy?" He suddenly snapped.
"Me?" She wailed, tightening the towel around her body. "Are you crazy? What are you even doing here?"
"What were you thinking going out without notice?" Spencer's tone was incredulous, his anger unabated. "Without informing Officer Anderson?"
So this was why he was here? To confront her reckless action perhaps?
She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "He looked like he needed the sleep after constantly watching me with little to no rest."
Spencer's frustration deepened, his brows furrowing. "He's assigned to you to keep you safe. You can't just disappear like that, it's irresponsible."
"Well excuse me for being considerate," she retorted.
"You were being reckless."
"No," she argued. "I was being thoughtful."
"Why are you not taking this seriously?" His voice grew sharper, a desperate attempt to make her understand as he stalked towards her. "Can't you understand you were putting yourself at risk?"
"I was only gone for an hour."
"Something could've happened!"
"But nothing did!"
She met his frustration with a defiant glare, holding her ground as he approached her, his tall, intimidating frame only stopping when he was directly in front of her. She saw his eyes drift down her body before pinning his gaze on her face again.
"Y/n, I need you to be safe."
"I am safe! I've been safe ever since you guys put someone to watch over me. I've been safe ever since the same person has been following me everywhere I go, which if you haven't caught on my sarcasm, has made me feel more like in prison than actually feeling protected." Her voice was tinged with frustration as she squared her shoulders, refusing to back down. "It's like I'm being controlled."
"It's not about controlling you, it's about ensuring that nothing bad happens to you."
"I was simply gone for an hour, Spencer," she reminded him again. "No need to go all dramatic over it."
Then in the blink of an eye, the heated tension that had filled the room seemed to snap, leaving them both breathless and disarmed. But instead of reacting with anger or shouting, Spencer's frustration found a different outlet.
"Why are you not fucking listening to me?"
And in a sudden and unexpected gesture, he cupped her face in his hands. Their eyes locked for a fleeting moment, filled with a mix of emotions too complex to name. And then, in a burst of raw and unspoken desire, he leaned in and crashed his lips on her.
She was too stunned to speak, too stunned to respond. There was nothing else she could do but to give in his advance, because dear god, it felt too good to have his mouth moving against hers again. Spencer had kissed her many times before, but not like this. Not this rough. She could even feel the frustration seeping from his body as his lips moved against hers with urgency.
He continued to kiss her, biting hard at her bottom lip, teeth gnashing against the soft flesh of it as a rumbling noise vibrated deep in his chest. Each time she gasped in response at his teeth, his tongue forced its way into her mouth and lapped so mercilessly that she was left desperate for air each time he returned to assaulting her with his teeth and lips.
"Is this what it would take for you to listen?" He growled against her mouth. "Is this what you want?"
Speechless, she responded to his ardor with a fervor of her own, her body leaning into his, fingers tracing the contours of his face. She continued to stare up at him, trying to quickly piece together what was going on, though she nevertheless found herself aroused. It was as if their desire, long suppressed by their arguments and differences, had suddenly ignited, leaving them both powerless to resist the pull of passion.
"Answer me," he barked out.
"Yes," she finally breathed out. "Yes."
Releasing her face, his hands rose in between them. Her eyes dropped down, watching as he gripped her towel with so much force before he ripped it off her body in one swift movement, throwing the material onto the floor.
His eyes roamed over her body, tracing every curve and contour with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. His hands traced over her sides before he gripped onto her hips, tugging her towards him desperately. "I won't be able to restrain myself."
She knew what he meant. She was acutely aware of the tension seeping from his body, all the anger, all the frustration. She understood how hard these past few days had been for him, she could even feel it from the taught in his muscles. He was tensed and from the way he was looking at her with hooded eyes, he needed a release.
And so did she.
The intensity of the moment had ignited a different kind of fire within her, and her previous anger and frustration began to fade away, which was why she found one of her hands caressing his cheek, pulling him closer as he leaned his forehead against hers. "Then don't," she whispered. "Use me."
His eyes snapped to her.
"You can use me, Spencer," she assured him. "Use me in any way you want."
There was a moment of silence as he contemplated her words. "Do you mean that?"
She nodded. She missed this—dear god, she missed him so much. She hadn't realized how much she missed being close to him until she was standing naked underneath his heated gaze.
She pressed her lips against his softly. "I'm all yours."
And then he deepened the kiss and she melted into him, her tongue dancing with his. He slowly loosened his grip on her hips and found its way onto her hand resting against his cheek. He pulled away from her, tugging her hand towards him, his mouth hovering above her wrist.
"In any way I want?" He asked, gently brushing his lips over her pulse.
"Any way you want."
He smiled at her then, the first smile she saw on him ever since he barged into her room unexpectedly. But there was something about his smile that sent her into a frenzy of nerves. It wasn't genuine, it wasn't gentle.
It wasn't until his other hand reached behind him that she finally understood what his smile meant. Because right at that moment, to her surprise, he retrieved a pair of handcuffs from his pocket, and with a soft click he carefully bounded one of her wrists, the steel bracelets feeling cool against her damp skin.
And then his smile morphed into a more dominant edge as he leaned closer, his eyes burning with need.
"Any way I want."
>> NEXT PART
a/n: Did you think I wasn't going to insert another smutty scene in between all the chaos? You thought wrong!
.
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561 notes · View notes
thelov3lybookworm · 7 months
Note
Can I request some/any type of angst with rhys x yn. 🥲
Remember me?
Summary: Under the Mountain, Y/n met the High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand. She was scared of him, but soon she found out that he wasn't who he pretended to be. Despite her efforts at not falling in love with him, she fails. It's not that bad as he loves her back.
But now he's gone, and she's left alone with nothing.
Except for a very adorable reminder of him.
•○●⛦●○•
Tw: secret pregnancy, none more that I can think of, so let me know if I need to add anything.
A/n: okay, so I know anon asked for angst, but I don't think there's much angst in this, but I'm planning on writing part two, and I'll try to make it more angsty, so bear with me please.
Edit: this series has turned into an Eris x reader fic, so know what you're going to be reading if you decide to continue on reading. If Eris is not someone you like, please dont read this fic
•○🌑○•
She ran, glancing behind her to see if the creepy male was still following her. He was, even though he was far behind.
This wasn't working. She had to find another way to get rid of him.
She had been sitting in a corner of the throne room, trying to not catch anyone attention when the male had shown up. He had started up a conversation, his hands slowly inching towards her rear. Even though she had told him she was uncomfortable and made it clear she did not want anything to do with him. He had gotten angry, as all makes did when denied something, especially something they felt entitled to. He'd tried to force her to a dark alcove nearby, but she had fled.
Now here she was.
She turned around the corner, glancing behind her again. And smacked straight into something hard.
As she reared back to look at what–who– it was, all the blood drained from her face.
The Queen's Whore.
Night Court's High Lord works too, she thought to herself.
He smirked at her, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
"Going somewhere? Maybe I could accompany you?" Y/n shook her head, petrified. She had seen what he could do, and she had no intention to get his attention on her. "What a shame, I would have loved to spend some time with such a beauty."
Despite being scared out of her wits, she blushed. But then she remembered why she was running in the first place. But it was too late now.
A hand clamped down on her wrist, so tight her hand started to go numb. She turned to the male, trying to tug her hand out of his hold to no avail. She stared at his hand helplessly, knowing nothing could save her now. Screaming would only incense him further, and the High Lord at her back was more likely to laugh at her than help her out.
"Do you know him darling?"
Her head whipped around to the High Lord, but before she could answer, the male still holding her hand wrapped an arm around her and stepped back. "We've been talking all night, my Lord. We know each other."
The High Lord raised a brow. "Did I ask you?" Then, turning to her, he asked. "Is he telling the truth?"
Y/n wanted to deny it, but he was speaking the truth. And she had seen the High Lord kill people for the smallest lies. Not wanting to offend him by lying, she nodded, her eyes pleading.
And she didn't know if he saw the pleading in her eyes, or he was just curious, but he asked, "Do you want to go with him?" She shook her head frantically, hope flaring in her chest.
But then the High Lord shrugged and turned away. She was so shocked that she didn't pay attention to the male who was still holding her as he started struggling against invisible forces, only looking at him when crumpled to the ground.
Stunned, she turned back towards the High Lord, who smirked at her.
"I don't think I caught your name. What was it again?"
"Y/n..."
"Y/n." He muttered, as if testing out the syllables of her name. He hummed. "I like it." He leaned against the nearest wall, as if getting comfortable. "So, miss Y/n, what do you do when you are not being chased around by males?"
"Nothing... my job is to sit and look pretty so my father can marry me off to the highest bidder when he deems fit." She slapped a hand over her mouth as soon as the words were out. She hadn't meant to say that. The High Lord wasn't to be trusted, especially because he could just run back to his mistress and blabber all about what he'd seen today.
A slow smile spread on his as he studied her. "I like you."
A few months later, he would be whispering I love you in her ear.
But that isn't the point here.
The point is that he would forget those words and the female he had said them to when a mortal would free them from their prison.
The point is that he would leave the female he had loved so fiercely.
The point is that he would leave her to fend for herself in a dangerous world.
The darn point here is that he would leave her with a life growing in her.
And he wouldn't know about it until it was too late.
•○🌑○•
She was dreaming. Again. Of him.
It wasn't a nightmare, but that would have been preferable to the happy dream that she was having, where he hadn't left her to her father's mercy. Where he was present in their life. Her and her son's. Their son's. But when she had dreams as these, she was filled with a sense of longing and sadness, hatred and fury.
But thank the cauldron, she was woken up. By a little body jumping around on the bed. She smiled sleepily, eyes still closed. She grasped around blindly in search of the little devil, who shrieked and evaded her. She pulled back her hands, lying still as her son came to plop down on her chest. She knew he was going to do that, but still she grunted when his weight settled over her.
"Mama! Wake up." He whined. Y/n opened her eyes to look into the beautiful violet orbs of Finnian. He grinned at her, sitting up. "Mama, you said we'll go to a drawing class."
"That I did, my little joy. But before that, would you help Mama with breakfast?"
He nodded enthusiastically, already jumping off the bed and running out the doors. Y/n yelled after him to be careful, getting up before stretching and making her way downstairs.
As she set about making some pancakes for the two of them, Fin blabbered about anything he could think of. As he started eating, Y/n's mind wandered to a few days ago, when she had arrived in this city. The City of Starlight, they called it. And she could see why.
She was originally from Dawn Court, but after they had been freed from Amarantha's reign, she had fled from her father's home, making a life for herself in Day Court. A few weeks ago, she had seen her father waking in one of the markets that she visited frequently, and she had never been more scared. For her life, sure, but more so for her sons life. If her father realised of Fin's existence, he wouldn't stop until he got rid of the little boy.
So Y/n had sought out a man who promised her that he could smuggle the two of them to a place that not many knew about. Frantic in her instincts to save her child, she didn't ask where this secret place was.
She didn't regret her decision, but now she was always on alert, always looking over her shoulder to see if her former lover was somehow following her. And then again, what were the odds of her crossing paths with him in such a big city?
Extremely high. A voice inside her screamed, but she ignored it.
After the breakfast, Fin again started talking about the painting classes that he was going to today. A neighbor had told Y/n about these classes and that her kids loved to go and that she should let Fin attend them too.
And since Fin had learned of it, that's all he had been talking about.
•○🌑○•
Fin ran through the large doors with Sam, his new friend who was the son of their neighbour, leaving Y/n yelling at them to slow down. Despite that, the two boys didn't listen and then Fin ran into a male who was standing inside the room where the classes were going to take place.
"Oh mother, are you okay?" Y/n rushed to help Fin stand back up, crouching in front of him and checking him for any injuries.
"I'm okay mama."
Y/n nodded, standing and turning to the male to apologise. As her eyes met ones identical to her son's, she froze. Those eyes she had loved, ones she adored always, were wide with shock and staring straight at her.
Neither of them said anything. It seemed like they didn't breathe as well.
The male she had spent years searching, the male she had waited everyday for, the male she had grown to resent day by day when he didn't show up, the one she had been trying her best to hide away from, was now standing in front of her, his lips parted and an anguished look in his eyes.
She was numb, her mind not working, but atleast she had the sense to push Fin behind her.
Which wasn't the best move, considering the High Lord's eyes went straight to the little boy peeking from behind Y/n's skirts.
A broken breath escaped him, his eyes starting to water as he looked back at Y/n.
She took a step back, turning away. Her eyes fell on another familiar face, whose eyes constantly jumped from Y/n to him.
Feyre.
Sam tugged on Feyre's hand, pulling her to stand right next to the High Lord. As she did, her scent reached Y/n. And it was mixed with his. And her heart broke once more.
The high lord had left her for Feyre?
"Auntie Y/n, this is our teacher."
The females offered each other tentative smiles. "I didn't realise our cursebreaker would be teaching kids to paint."
"But here we are." Feyre said, confusion still lacing her features. But then her eyes fell on the boy behind Y/n, her brows furrowing. Her features smoothed out with understanding as her eyes met Y/n's again. "I believe he is here to join us?"
"Yes. A neighbor told us about this. He's been impatient to finally to make friends. Isn't that right baby?"
"Yes mama!"
She smiled, despite her heart and mind screaming at her to take Fin away in case his father tried to take him away from her.
She told herself she wouldnt stop him from being here though, especially as she knew how excited her son had been for this. And she won't keep him away from making friends, as she had been when she was his age.
She would maybe start looking for somewhere else to settle. But for today, she would let him enjoy.
She crouched to his height, kissing his chubby cheeks and forehead, to which he giggled. "You remember what mama has told you about talking with strangers?"
"Yes. Okay bye mama. I wanna go with Sam."
"Bye darling." She whispered, knowing he couldn't have possibly heard it as he sprinted away. She stared after him for a moment, he motherly instincts telling her to go get her child. She stood, prepared to leave, but then turned to the High Lord who still stared at her helplessly.
"Stay away from him." A pause. "My lord."
"Y/n..." His voice broke. "Please."
"Please what?"
"Don't kick me out of his life. He deserves to have a father. He deserves to know–"
"He doesn't need a father. He's been well and happy without one. And even if he does need one, I'll get him one. But not one that would probably run away at the first chance."
Then she turned and left, hoping Rhysand wouldn't try to do something to her child.
•○🌑○•
Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess
Part 2
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yelenasdiary · 13 days
Text
Forbidden || Chapter I - Welcome To Blisswater
Pairing: Yelena Belova x Bishop! Reader.
Summary: Just outside of the small town of Blisswater, lives two young sisters, Kate & Y/n Bishop. It's hard not to know who the Bishops are, Kate is the eldest by a year. She is a beautiful young woman, smart, protective and is known to have a talent in using a bow. Y/n, she is shy but quiet as some would say but nevertheless, she holds her own talents and can often be seen tending to the animals of Bishop Ranch. One evening while Kate is out hunting to make some money, Y/n is surprised with an unwanted guest, Yelena Belova. A bounty Hunter from Drybellow who has taken shelter in the young Bishop's barn after being wounded from a gun fight.
Struggling to keep money following, Y/n has no choice but to take the bounty hunter's offer of $5 a day if she is able to help the woman recover. During Yelena's stay, the two grow closer, a little too close if the wrong pair of eyes were to see them.
| No Warnings, I don’t think? | 3.6K |
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"I'm leaving Lucky here with you" Kate, my older sister said as she entered the dining room, "I'll be gone for a least two days at the most. Will you be okay to handle things here?" she asked. A few, long months ago, our parents went on a business trip and are yet to return. Kate and I have been left to run the ranch and keep money flowing until they return, although we haven't heard from them, not even a single letter. My worries for them are endless. "Of course, I will be" I smiled before taking a mouthful of the porridge I made for us. 
"Do you need anything from town before I go?" she asked while putting her bowl in the sink for me to wash later, "no, I think we have everything we need. Just be safe, please" I looked to her. "Always, rabbit" she smiled. Kate has always called me rabbit, ever since we were younger. It comes from when my adult teeth were still coming through, they reminded her of a rabbit's front teeth when they would nibble on their food. "I'm just going to go get Arrow saddled up then I'll be on my way" she added before walking out the back door.
I'm used to Kate leaving for a day or two, she goes off hunting for us while I tend to the ranch. We have 3 cows, 5 pigs and 6 sheep! All of which have names of their own, of course. I've been saving some money to buy a couple of chickens so we can have our own fresh eggs. My father said we'd get some but that was before he and mother left on their trip. Today seems like it will be an easy day, feed the animals then off to the general store for my shift. 
"Alright, you know the rules" Kate spoke as she returned from saddling up Arrow, "father's rifle is in the case under your bed and please, don't let any of those wandering men stay too long! You can't trust everybody just because they say they've had a long day" she adds. "Yes, I know! You don't need to remind of that every single time, it was just once. Besides, Mr Lang has some very interesting stories to tell" I replied. I wish Mr Lang would return; his stories were almost unbelievable. 
"I guess I don't need to remind you to get some more coffee and canned peaches after your shift then?" Kate rolled her eyes at me as she tucked a few canned goods into her saddle bag. "You just did" I replied, sarcastically. "Let's go Lucky! We don't want to be late" I patted my right thigh after placing my used bowl in the sink for laters problem. "Hey!" Kate stopped me just as I was leaving the kitchen, "be safe, okay? If you need anything Mr Barnes is only a call away" she reminds me, again! 
We have a bell that Kate brought, it's rather large. I am to ring it if I'm in any trouble and Mr Barnes, the Salon owner, will come over and see what the matter is. Im not exactly sure how he's able to hear the ringing sound from so far away, we've done a couple of test runs and so far I haven't had the need to use it. 
"Yeah yeah, how about you be safe? I can't do everything around here if you go missing too!" I smiled softly at my older sister, she knows I'm joking. If anything were to happen to her, she knows I'd be okay…I guess. 
Lucky follows me around everywhere, especially when Kate goes off on her hunt. He'll come to the general store and wait outside by the door until I've finished my duties. Mr Wilson doesn't mind, he loves Lucky and even asked Aunt May to bake some of her famous cookies that everybody in town loves, she makes a little extra and dog friendly ones for Lucky. Everybody calls her Aunt May, not really sure why though, I think it's because she's such an aunt to everybody. Almost like a grandma that cooks everybody's favorite treats for the tea party.
The walk to town is always peaceful. In the warmer seasons, it can be rather hot but on days like today when the sun is just starting to peek over the mountains from afar, the wind isn't too cold and the birds sing their morning song, it's relaxing and maybe I tend to take smaller steps just to soak up the morning fresh air before I stay inside for most of it. 
"Good morning young Y/n!" A rather tall and very muscular man smiles to me, it's Thor. Nobody actually knows why his name is Thor, considering it's a very unusual name but he's very lovely. "Good morning, Thor! Keeping well I see" I replied with a friendly smile as Lucky and I slowly make our way past the Salon. "Oh, you know me! Can't resist the great liquor that is served here" the most likely drunken man chuckles. It's barely 7am and he is drinking. I guess that's a hobby for most people around here. 
Blisswater isn't a town for much entertainment, you have your basics. The Saloon ran and owned by Mr Barnes, the General store ran and owned by Mr Wilson, the doctors office with the only doctor within miles, Mr Banner. The gunsmith, Mr Barton owns and supplies Kate with discounts on arrows and sometimes ammunition for us. Mr Fury is the towns barber, my father wasn't a fan of him but when he was desperate for a cut, he had no choice but to see him. Then there's Sheriff Rogers, T'Challa the friendly banker, Peter the newspaper boy (by the way, he's love for me isn't exactly a secret!) and Mr Quill is the towns blacksmith. 
So that's all there really is to know about who lives in and around Blisswater, it's a small town. A town where everybody knows everybody, and word travels faster than you can blink! We all look out for each other here and most don't take kindly to newcomers. Sometimes we have outlaw gangs come passing through, they spend the night at the Saloon, get drunk and make a mess of themselves before pushing on by the afternoon. The walk-through town the following morning is usually a sight of Mr Barnes boarding up the windows of the Saloon from their drunken fights. 
The bell rings loudly as I open the door of the general store, and I'm greeted with Mr Wilson's warm and welcoming smile. "Good morning, Mr Wilson!" I smiled. 
"Please, Y/n, call me Sam! I've known you long enough" he chuckles before reaching down behind the counter for the plate of Aunt May's famous cookies. 
"I'm sorry, it's habit! I see Aunt May has come early this morning" I wandered up to the counter taking one delicious treat. "Lucky's biscuits are back here as well; did you bring him this morning?" Mr Wilson, I mean, Sam asked. "Of course! Kate is out today and left him all to me" I took a small bite out of the homemade goodness. "Parents off again?" he questioned, I nodded lightly. I miss them so much. 
"Well, I've got the perfect job to keep your mind distracted. How about you watch the store today?"  
"Alone? Me? Are you sure?" I asked with a mouth full of cookie. 
"Yeah, I have a couple of things that need my urge attention. I wasn't going to open today but I think you're ready for this. What do you say? You can even bring Lucky inside if you want" Sam smiled proudly. I thought about it for a moment while I finished my morning treat, it can't be that hard, right?
"Sure! I can hold the fort as they say" I replied with a smile, wiping the crumbs from my lips with the back of my hand. 
"I'll be back before closing, earlier I can. If you need anything, slip out the back door. I don't need to tell you this, I know" he chuckled, "Bucky will be around if you need anything" he assures me. I guess that's the handy thing about having your store next door to a saloon. "You're starting to sound like Kate!! I'll be fine, I have Lucky! What's the worst that could happen?" I raised a brow. 
"Right" my boss smirked, "well you already know where the stock deliveries are, and you know your main duties. Just don't leave the store unattended" he reminds me, I playfully rolled my eyes at him as he stepped away from the counter. "Stop stressing, Sam, the store will be fine. Go do what it is that you need to do" I hoped the door, patting my thigh for Lucky to enter.
Mr Wilson left as Lucky made himself welcome in the store, I closed the door and treated Lucky to his own biscuit before starting to restock the shelves. 
——
"Good afternoon, Y/n!" A familiar voice sings louder than the bell as the door fly’s open. "Peter! How are you?" I smiled softly as I was greeted with a smile of his own. "Oh you know how it is, busy busy!" He chuckles, "I ran into Mr Wilson earlier, he mentioned you were here alone today so I thought I'd come by and see if you, uh, needed anything" he adds. A hint of red fills his cheeks while his eyes struggle to stay connected to mine. 
It's no secret that young Peter Parker has a crush on me, the entire town knows it. Although he is a very sweet young gentleman, I guess I've just never found myself interested in him in a romantic manner. In fact, I've never really thought about anybody in a romantic manner now to think of it…
"You're very sweet, Peter. Thank you but things are pretty good. I've had no troubles today and please, thank your Aunt May for the cookies and Lucky's treats!"
"Oh, you're welcome! You know Aunt May, always baking" Peter chuckles once more. I could sense a hint of nerves in his voice and the redness in his cheeks grew deeper. "Peter, is everything okay? Do you need a drink? Some water?" I asked with a concerned frown. "No, no. I'm more than fine, thank you. It's just, it's getting a bit wild out there and I thought I'd walk you home later when you're finished here. Don't want you getting sick or anything" he gives me another soft smile. 
"It's meant to rain?" My frown only grew bigger as I looked out the window. Dark gray skys covered the town and beyond, distant flashes of lighting lit up the darkness for a moment. Wind blew the dry leafs onto the Main Street, horses stomped their hoofs with every crack of thunder that could be heard from the far, far distance. 
"Well shoot!" I sighed.
"Did Mr Wilson tell you when he'd be back?" Peter asked. 
"Sure hope it is soon, I have the animals I should move into the barn before the storm arrives" 
"It doesn't seem like it is far off. Maybe I could watch the store for you? I wouldn't mind at all" 
"You're very kind, Peter but I'm not sure if Mr Wilson would appreciate me leaving the store in somebody else's hands. I know you wouldn't ruin the place or steal from him but he is trusting me today and I don't want him to think otherwise" I explained as I watched the dark clouds darken, it'll be a big storm by the looks. 
"I'd be more than happy to make sure your stock is in the barn then" he offered, I turned to him and kindly shook my head. "I'm sure Mr Wilson will be back soon. Thank you again Peter, you're very kind. If you don't mind, there's a few things I should really get done before Mr Wilson returns" I smiled softly, hoping not to have hurt the boy's feelings.
"I plan on having supper at the Saloon, if you need me, I'll be there" Peter smiles before leaving the store. 
For the rest of the afternoon, I cleaned the store and did some stock take and made sure the store was exactly how Mr Wilson would like to have it when he returns and just my luck, he returns before the storm hammers down. 
"Y/n, thank you for all your help today!" He walks into the store, placing his hat on the  coat rack. He looked rather dirty; a nice bath would be in order for when he gets home if I didn't know better.
"You're welcome, Mr Wilson! I'm sorry to leave in a rush but I really need to be getting home before the rain starts" I grabbed my things, Lucky following closely behind me. 
"Of course, you best be safe now" 
I rushed out of the store, glad the rain hadn't started pouring down as yet but it was coming. You could smell it, the thunder got louder, the lighting got closer and the wind got stronger. The main street was quiet as people already began to make their way indoors until the storm pushed over. 
"Come on, Lucky! We haven't got much time!" I patted my thigh lightly before Lucky and I began to race home. 
——
The rain soaked the dry ground as expected and Lucky and I were able to get the animals into the barn before it came down heavy. I left a lantern in the barn just so I could keep an eye on it from the house, Kate hates when I do that, says it's a waste of resources but she'll thank me one day for it. 
"How long do you think she'll be this time Lucky?" I looked towards him as we both rested by the fire. He tilts his head at me as if he truly understands what I am saying. We listen to the rain dance on the roof and wind whistle outside while the fire cracks and keeps us warm. It's nights like this that I wish Kate wouldn't go off hunting, it's most lonely at night. But I know we need the money, just until mother and father come home.
"Come Lucky, let's check the barn" I stood up from my mothers rocking chair, and wandered over to the window. A frown creeps upon my brows when I notice the lantern, I left behind earlier in the night was gone. I rushed to my room and grabbed the rifle under my bed, grabbed my father's thick coat, a lantern and headed for the backdoor with Lucky right beside me. It was only a short walk from the house to the barn, but the rain was quick to soak me in its gift to the ranchers. Slowly, I pushed the large wooden door open, my rifle tightly in my grip. Lucky entered first, sniffing the ground for anything that didn't belong while I slowly followed behind him, one foot after another. 
Only a few steps in and I saw the lantern I had left behind, in the corner where Kate's horse would've been stabled. "Come out! I have a gun and I am not afraid to use it!" I called out, keeping my distance. Lucky walked quickly over to the empty stable slot, growling. "I said come out!" I repeated. 
"Don't shoot" a thick Russian accent came from the corner of the barn, "I won't hurt you, just call off the dog, please" the unknown voice added. 
"How can I trust you? You're a stranger in my barn! I have every right to shoot you" 
"Trust me, if I were here to harm you, you'd already be dead"
I took a few small steps closer to them, Lucky stood his ground and continued to growl. I wasn't going to tell him to back off just yet. "What are you doing here? Do you always just welcome yourself into other people's properties like this?" I asked. 
"You ask too many questions" the voice replied, "call the dog off, please" they asked once more. 
"Lucky, back!" I called once I laid my eyes on the intruder. A young woman, maybe no older than me. Blonde hair that was braided and she certainly didn't seem to dress how most women dress. Beside her was her gun belt and holster, her hat placed freely beside them. The woman was covered in blood, her right hand pressed tightly against her left shoulder. "You're hurt" you spoke softly while keeping my rifle pointed at her.
She chewed her bottom lip and nodded, "I'll be gone by morning, I just need a place to stay for the night"  
"How can I trust your word?" I asked. The woman smirked like I had just made a joke, an odd joke if my question was funny to her. 
"I know better than to kill a rich small-town girl" she replies causing me to frown at her words. 
"I am not rich girl. So, if you planned on robbing me later, you would find nothing, I can assure you of that" 
She chuckled, "well, maybe not rich but you are well off than others. Besides, I have no interest in robbing homesteads" 
"You know nothing about me" I snapped, pointing my rifle at her a little higher, aiming for her head. "Get off my property!" I demanded. Lucky growled once more, showing the unknown intruder his sharp canine teeth. 
"Maybe we could come to a deal. It seems money is a touchy subject to you, yes?" The blonde hissed in pain when she moved her right hand even the slightest inch. I didn't reply, my eyes were drawn to the amount of blood her hand was covered in. "I'll pay you" she spoke, gaining my attention once more, "$5 a day. If you help me. I'll give you the first three days right now if I could move my hand but as you can see, if I do that, I will bleed out" she offers. 
"Once I have recovered you will never see of me again, I give you my word" she adds. $5 a day would really help Kate and I and by the looks of her wound, she could be here for weeks. "I know you're thinking about it but I do not have time for you to think" her thick Russian accent brings me out of my thoughts, I nodded as I slowly lowered my rifle. 
"We best get you to the house then" 
----
"I'm sorry if that hurt" I spoke softly to the blonde as I bandaged her up, after pulling the bullet from her wound and cleaning the area with alcohol, she suggested cauterizing the wound with a lit candle. The smell of burning flesh is something I will never forget. "Don't stress, I've experienced worse" she looked to me with a soft smile. 
"How did this happen anyway?" I asked as I started to clean up the mess. I offered the woman my room until she was back on her feet, and I hoped Kate wouldn't have noticed when she came home. 
"Just a little miss understanding with an outlaw. I'm a bounty hunter" she informs me. 
"A bounty hunter? That's a little strange for a woman to be doing"
"Well, sometimes women just do a job better" 
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. It's not often I meet women who aren't following the rules of society" My eyes dropped, I knew my comment offended her. 
"You should travel more; you'd be surprised on what or whom you might come across. What's your name?" She pulled the covers up over her, making herself comfortable on my bed. 
"Tell me yours and I'll tell you mine" I looked to her once more. She chuckled, "I'm Yelena, Yelena Belova. Your turn" she replies. I walked towards the bedroom door, my hands full of rubbish from cleaning her wound, "I'm Y/n, Y/n Bishop. I'll get you some water" 
"Bishop" Yelena repeated, "your father is Derek Bishop?" she questioned. I nodded slowly, "you know him?" I asked. Yelena shook her head, "no, just heard of him in passing. Water would be great, thank you" she watched as I walked out of the room. Her tone made me question if she was telling the truth; did she know my father? Maybe she knew where my parents were?
Lucky followed me to the kitchen, I grabbed two cups of water and returned to my bedroom, placing one glass on the wooden beside table next to my lantern. "You should get some rest; I'll make breakfast in the morning" I looked to Yelena who reached for her coat that sat at the end of the bed. "As promised, the first three days" she says before handing me $15 dollars in 1 ten-dollar bill and a 5 dollar bill. 
"T-thank you" I smiled softly, "do you like coffee? I could make some in the morning" I asked. 
"Never start the day without one" she smiled, "goodnight, Y/n" she added. 
"Goodnight" I walked towards the door, "oh, I hope you don't mind" I turned to face the blonde stranger once more, "I'm going to lock the door, you know…for safety" I added nervously. 
"I thought you would. I understand, I need to gain your trust" she nodded slightly. 
"If you need anything, just call out. I won't be far" 
"Thank you, again" Yelena smiled once more before I closed the door, making sure it was locked before making my way to Kate's room.
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