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prythianpages · 3 months

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A Man After Midnight | Eris x Reader

summary: though engaged to Sawyer Vanserra, you feel utterly and completely alone with only the company of autumn winds, blowing outside your window. that is, until, Eris shows up. Your man after midnight.

warnings: mentions of assault (reader gets touched against her will but nothing explicit or anything that goes beyond that), blood, bruises/abuse/bullying; reader having a panic attack

a/n: This originally was going to head a different direction but I decided to make it like a part three to this instead. You can also read this as a stand alone one-shot. I love ABBA and I knew I had to use this song. One of my favs but you'll find that I say that a lot. You can find the masterlist to my ABBA x ACOTAR series here.

Your eyes light up as you spot Sawyer stepping out from the High Lord’s study. Overridden with excitement, you eagerly fall into step with him, the sheer brightness of your presence outshining the dimly lit surroundings. You pay no mind to the fact that his other brothers, Hunter and Oliver, are not too far behind.

“Good morning, Sawyer! Will you walk with me?” you beam up at him with a smile. It's the kind of sight that would make many fall to their feet–that even Oliver wants to bask in the glow of.

But Sawyer? He doesn’t even spare you a glance, his dark brown eyes fixed ahead as he replies, his tone detached. “I’m doing that right now.”

You can hear his brothers snicker behind you–too close for your liking that it has you quickening your steps. “But I was hoping you’d walk with me in the gardens? Or maybe we can have lunch together? We are to be marri–”

“Our marriage is nothing but a business deal arranged by our fathers.” He cuts you in sharply and you find your resolve faltering.

“Love may not come from our marriage but perhaps, we can be friends?” You offer, hating the desperation that seeps into your tone, as you trail behind Sawyer.

Sawyer stops abruptly, causing you to crash into his chest and stumble backwards. You catch yourself, a hand rubbing at your forehead where you’re sure an imprint of the necklace he wears marks your reddening skin. Your betrothed looks down at you in a way no one has ever before. Ever since your father left, it appeared that so did Sawyer’s patience. It’s as if the male you met when you first arrived was a facade. Pure disgust simmers in his heated gaze and his nose wrinkles as he lets out a scoff, causing you to shrink back.

“Friends? I don’t want to be friends with you. I don’t want to be anything with you. You’re the bane of my existence.”

Tears sting at the corners of your eyes, and instinctively, you take another step back, as though the physical distance could somehow lessen the impact of his words. It doesn’t. Your lip trembles as a frown threatens to overtake your features.

“How can you mean that when you barely know me?” you ask, your voice a mere whisper but you know by the way his steps stop, that he catches every word. So you decide to remind him and add: “I didn’t ask for this either.”

Sawyer doesn’t bother to turn around or answer you, simply choosing to keep walking away. Hunter pushes past you aggressively, turning to smirk at your distraught expression as he catches up with Sawyer. It is Oliver who stops you from colliding into the wall. He wraps an arm around your shoulder, steadying you and pulling you close to him.

“Oh, sweet girl, you’re too pretty to cry.”

Oliver’s free hand reaches up to grip your chin, forcing your gaze to him. His lips form a slight pout that contrasts the mischief twinkling in his amber eyes. He leans to lick the single tear trickling down your cheek and you wince. You want to run but his grip on you is strong.

He then directs your attention forward, where Hunter has Sawyer in a similar hold. “Tell her,” Hunter says, gaze darkening with a thirst to torment. He flashes his teeth as his smirk widens. This is all a fun game to him. “Tell her why you don’t like her.”

Sawyer looks like he would rather die than answer Hunter’s demand. He glares at you as he struggles to free himself from his brother’s grasps but Hunter is much stronger. He realizes that he won’t be free until he says something. Finally, between clenched teeth, Sawyer answers. “She’s not my type.”

Hunter throws his head back in laughter, the sound echoing through the room with a dark and menacing resonance.

“What a shame,” Oliver says, his breath tickling your ear as his hand roams down the length of your neck. You swear your heart misses a beat when his hand stops right over the swell of your chest. His nails dig into your chest at your struggle to free yourself. “She’s exactly my type.”

Your entire body tenses at the unwanted touch, eyes widening when you feel heat prick at your skin. The smell of burnt fabric reaches your nose and a chill permeates, displacing the warmth as Oliver lifts his flaming hand from you. You rush to cross your arms over your chest, desperate to cover your exposed skin from Hunter’s and Oliver’s hungry gazes.

“Just look at her,” Oliver continues, pushing you forward so harshly it sends you to your knees. His chuckle makes goosebumps rise on your skin. “So pretty, so docile.”

As you blink away tears of humiliation, your eyes remain fixed on Sawyer, pleading almost. He’s determined to look anywhere but you. You curl your arms tighter around yourself and lower your gaze. You don’t want to give the other Vanserras the satisfaction of seeing you cry. You suspect it will only prompt them to torment you further.

“Then have at her. I don’t care.”

Sawyer’s words reach you with a devastating force like the last blow. They pierce through the core of your naive heart and you can’t help the tears that escape and spill onto the floor. Hunter peels his gaze away from you to roll his eyes at his younger brother, releasing him with a rough shove.

“You’re no fun, Sawyer,” he says with a disappointed sigh, his expectation for a different response lingering unfulfilled. Hunter then looks back at you, you can feel his heated gaze, and you curl in further into yourself. “But it looks like you are.”

“What is the meaning of this??”

Beron’s cold eyes take in the sight before him, gaze sweeping over your slumped form on the floor. It’s Hunter who moves to speak but at the lift of Beron’s finger, his mouth closes shut. Beron comes to the conclusion that he doesn’t care as there’s other pressing matters to attend to. Such as dealing with your father and ensuring he keeps his end of the agreement. He turns to his oldest, who stands at his side with a perfectly donned mask.

“You deal with whatever this is.”

“Yes, father,” Eris replies with no hesitation and Beron pats him on the shoulder–the same shoulder he left a bruise on the other night.

Eris bites back a wince. He waits until his father is away from sight to take in the situation before him. The torches lining up the halls flare. With a simmering intensity that could rival a raging inferno, Eris turns his attention to the brother closest to him. The searing authority of his gaze has Oliver raising his hands in a gesture of surrender and stepping away from you.

“We were just having a little fun, brother.”

“Fun?”

Eris releases a disbelieving exhale as he grasps onto Oliver’s shirt. He wants to burn his hand through his brother’s skin until he’s screaming and crying, the same way Oliver had intended to do with you. Because how dare he touch you, hurt you. It’s as if Oliver can hear the crackling roar of the fire burning within his older brother and his eyes widen in fear.

Under the weight of Hunter’s hawk eyes, Eris grudgingly settles on shoving Oliver further away from him. And you.

“If you want to have fun, go to a fucking brothel. This is our home.”

Oliver releases a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He doesn’t waste another second, happy to leave the hall before his brother can take back his mercy.

"And you," Eris seethes, his voice a low, rumbling growl as he turns to face Hunter next. Eris effortlessly surpasses him in both stature and might, looming over him like a formidable mountain casting its shadow. “Shouldn’t you be making haste to quell the riots in town? Or should I add that to your growing list of incapabilities?”

Hunter's fists clench at his sides, the dance of flames flickering along his skin, but in the presence of Eris, his fire pales in comparison. The fire raging within Eris burns brighter, stronger. A force that demands respect and obedience. Much like their father’s. Without uttering another word, he turns on his heel and leaves.

Stepping forward, Eris finally allows his gaze to fall on you and he feels a violent tug in his chest that threatens to weaken him. The desire to sink to his knees beside you and envelop your trembling form in his arms is an overpowering one, coursing through him like a forbidden current. Yet, the harsh reality holds him back. It’s too dangerous. He cannot act upon the fervent emotions that entwine his heart and it pains him, seeking to destroy him almost.

But he can’t just leave you there. Helpless. On the floor. So he masks his emotions–something he is well accustomed to–and dons a facade of annoyance. With a deft, almost dismissive motion, Eris removes his tailcoat, flinging it carelessly in your direction. The seconds stretch into a languid dance as your eyes, wide with surprise, meet his. You gratefully slip his coat over your smaller form, clutching it tightly to your chest.

There’s a bittersweet ache that lingers within Eris at the unexpected intake of breath you give.

A fleeting flicker of sweet agony passes through his eyes. It vanishes almost as quickly as it appeared, leaving you to wonder if it was a mere figment of your imagination.

"And lastly," Eris starts with a deep sigh, the once-fiery intensity in his eyes dimming as he regards his last remaining brother. The only brother left that harbored some redeemable qualities but now, Eris questioned it.

"Is this any way to treat your fiancé?"

A ripple courses through Sawyer's jawline. “Why do you care?”

"I don't." Eris retorts with a glare. He's skilled at weaving falsehoods, and though this one is way far out from the truth, it slides effortlessly off his tongue like all the other ones. He immediately senses the weight of your gaze pressing into the expense of his back.

"But I do care about the consequences if she runs away. You should too."

Though it pains him, he doesn’t turn back around to you. He looks at Sawyer once more in warning. Then, he begins to walk away, every step pulling him further from the one he yearns to be with. Your gaze, burning into him like a relentless brand the entire time.

Weeks Later..

Autumn winds blow harshly outside the window as you look around your room. They mirror the melancholy that lingers in your heart. Your room is big and spacious, seems fit for a princess, adorned with sculpted art and paintings. In one corner stands a massive wardrobe crafted from the richness of dark cherry wood filled to the brim with a variety of dresses that would make any lady of your status swoon. Beside it, there’s a lovely vanity with golden carvings that hosts an array of makeup and beauty products. On the opposite side, is a desk that matches your wardrobe. It bears the weight of books, letters from your father, threads, unfinished embroideries and your untouched dinner.

At a glance, it appears you have everything.

Yet, as you sit on the bed, a pitiful truth echoes louder than the winds outside. Your gaze meets a reflection in the full-length mirror positioned next to the desk, capturing the solemn expression that dances across your features. Dark, sad eyes stare back at you and the weight of isolation is evident in the downturned corners of your mouth. You miss your home. Your friends, your horse, your father, and gods do you miss your mother.

Upon your arrival, eager anticipation filled your heart as you looked forward to getting acquainted with your future husband. You knew not to expect love to come from it as you were mere strangers but you had hoped for a friend. The promise of a lifelong companion, a partner to share laughter and weave a tapestry of memories together, stirred excitement and nerves within you. It’s what your father and mother had shared. Your foolish heart had eagerly counted down the days, each one a step closer to a shared future.

But now? As the appointed days draw near, the once-cherished anticipation morphs into a heavy sense of dread, casting a haunting shadow over you. Your husband to be looks at you as if you’re the scum on his boots.

The High Lord, your future father in law, is cruel and terrifying. You avoid him at all costs. Your future mother in law, Lady Autumn, is often busy and away. She helps you plan your dreadful wedding during the times she isn’t busy but you find that she is quiet and reserved. There’s a lingering sadness always present in her amber eyes that you assume comes from all the sorrow and grief she’s had to endure. You’ve met one of her sons–Lucien, you remember– during your travels with your father and you used to wonder why he no longer resided in Autumn but not anymore. You can only imagine the horrors he’s had to endure that made him leave.

Hunter enjoys berating you every chance he can. There’s a darkness that burns in him and you can’t help but think about what would become of you if Sawyer was interested in you. One day, while walking through the garden you overheard from some gossiping servants that Hunter was once married. His wife died shortly after the marriage and rumor has it that the frightening Vanserra had something to do with her sudden disappearance. They wondered if the same fate would befall upon you. A thought you didn’t want to linger on as it was absolutely terrifying.

Then, there’s Oliver. Though kinder, only in comparison to Hunter and maybe even Sawyer, he is not to be trusted. He undresses you with his eyes in every glance and vulgarly welcomes you to his bed. You do your best to stay away from him because as lonely as you are, you’re nowhere near desperate for his company, and fear the day he’ll grow wary of your constant rejection.

You find yourself, however, desperate for another’s. Eris.

You haven’t seen him since that day Sawyer broke your heart, since he let Oliver make a spectacle out of you. Eris had been the only one you’d look forward to seeing during dinner and his noted absence was the reason why you stopped joining the Vanserra dinners yourself.

Days, even weeks have passed, and he hasn’t fulfilled the promise of returning your book, its absence on your nightstand a constant reminder. He hasn’t even asked for his coat back. It remains draped over your desk chair. He’s a rare sight to see when walking amongst the grounds of the Forest house, prompting a question to rise. Is he purposely avoiding you? The mere thought stirs an unexpected pain within you.

There’s no one here for you.

A little over a month into your lifetime stay at the Forest house and you already feel so alone. So utterly and completely alone.

Suddenly feeling suffocated, you rise from your bed and head toward your favorite area of your room–the window seat. Kneeling on the soft cushion, your fingers reach to open the window, eyes fluttering shut in anticipation. The Autumn winds continue to howl through the darkness of the night but their chill does not reach you. Your eyes open and you raise your hand. A surge of electricity courses through you as your hand meets an unseen force. A magical barrier.

Turning your head toward the door, your gaze dips to the bottom where shadows dance. You can make out the planted boots of an Autumn guard and hope deflates. Nothing can come in. Nothing can go out. Not only are you alone but you’re trapped.

A taste of what’s to come, of what’s to be of the rest of your miserable life. Lonely. Trapped. Locked away into oblivion. No breath you take is enough as you’re suffocated by the storm of emotions flooding through you. This place is your hell. Impending doom. You’re going to die here. Alone. There’s not a soul out there…

Water. You should drink some water. Tremors take over your body as you make your way toward your nightstand. Water spills onto the floor as you pour yourself a glass. You bring the water to your lips but your throat feels like it’s closing up. You glance at the pocket watch on your nightstand and notice it’s half past twelve.

There’s not a soul out there…

You extend your hand towards the watch—a cherished heirloom passed down from your mother. The gentle, rhythmic ticking of it has long been a source of solace and comfort for you. But it’s too late.

The hand clutching onto your glass of water shatters against the dark wood of your nightstand as you clutch the watch to your racing heart. You can only pray to the Cauldron, the Mother, to anyone as the room spins around you. But there’s no one to hear your prayer…

There’s a deep agony in your chest that tightens with every passing second, an inescapable loop of gloom that envelops your every thought and emotion. There’s not a soul out there. You can’t breathe. No one to hear your prayer…

“y/n.”

You catch the faint murmur of your name being called, yet a lingering doubt creeps in. You must be going mad because there’s no one here for you. Not a soul—

“y/n.”

And there it is again. Your name is being called. Louder, firmer this time. It’s real. The cruel clutches of your sorrow that held you captive begin to shatter like your glass from earlier. The sound of your name acts as a lifeline, pulling you from the depths of despair you inadvertently locked yourself into.

“That’s it. Breathe with me, angel,” the soothing voice persists, a gentle anchor for your drifting thoughts. And you can finally hear it. Your beloved watch. Though it's fast, it becomes a comforting undercurrent, a familiar melody that helps steady your racing heartbeat.

You feel like you can finally breathe again. As you blink away the haze clouding your vision and come back down, you are met with a pair of familiar amber eyes. The warm hues flicker like flames as they fixate upon you. Intense but tender and full of concern.

“Eris.”

You breathe his name so heavenly, like an answered prayer as you take him in. His dark red hair is tousled as though he emerged hastily from a slumber. Adorned in a thin, un-tied linen shirt, the fine contours of his chest are revealed, and his pants, creased as if donned in urgency, complete the picture of a man who arrived in haste yet with purpose.

"You're here," you say, your tone teetering on the edge of question and you glance toward your door, confirming that the Autumn guard is still stationed there.

You called, he wants to reply but instead, settles on, “I’m here.”

“How?” You ask, aware of the wards in your room preventing winnowing. At first, you thought they were meant to protect you. Now, you’re aware they’re really meant to keep you from escaping.

The corners of his lips lift into a small smirk. “I have my ways. I know every secret tunnel, every little crevice of this estate.”

Your head turns, eyes scanning your room in search of said secret tunnel. Eris lightly grasps your chin, focusing your attention back to him to keep you from spotting the secret door hidden behind your full length mirror. He wipes at the lingering traces of tears on your face, watching as your eyes dip and fixate on the golden chain encircling his neck. A sigil of three hounds captures your attention—an emblem unfamiliar to your discerning gaze, sparking a curiosity that mingles with the relief flooding your senses.

He finds his own breathing to steady at your calming state but at the sight of blood trickling down your hand, a knot twists in his stomach. “You’re hurt.”

You pull your gaze from his necklace, eyebrows furrowing as you look up at him. “I thought you didn’t care,” you tell him, echoing his words from the last time you saw him.

Again, Eris does not answer you. His eyes scan your room for a moment before abandoning whatever he was searching for. In his haste to aid your bleeding hand, he’s slipping his shirt off without another thought.

“It’s fine,” you insist.

“No. It’s not.” He shakes his head at you as he guides you to the window nook. If only you knew the effect you had on him. The horror that crashed over him like a bucket of ice cold water, waking him so abruptly from his sleep. At your pain. Your agony. It nearly destroyed him the way it had been destroying you.

Eris pushes you gently to sit while he uses his shirt to wipe your blood off, frowning to himself when he can still hear the irregular beat of your heart. Too engrossed in cleaning your injury, he fails to catch on that the fluttering rhythm of your heart is now stirred by an entirely different source.

His expression transforms into one of genuine surprise as he encounters the gentle skin of your palm. Untouched, unmarked. His gaze flickers back to the shattered pieces of glass by the foot of your bed and then back to your hand. There’s no way. Not even with your healing abilities as a high fae. The amount of blood he had seen, the stinging he had felt through the bond–

“I told you it was fine.”

“But you’re not.” Eris counters and sucks in a sharp breath. “Angel–”

“Neither are you.” You point out, deftly redirecting the focus from yourself.

Your glistening eyes, pools of concern, flicker toward him. Toward his chest, where scars from injuries that had not healed properly and lingering bruises taint the muscles beneath, painting an alarming image.

Eris averts his gaze, withdrawing slightly, reluctant to confront the vulnerability of the moment. Though your touch is gentle, the softest caress, his entire body tenses at the unfamiliar sensation. Your palm presses against a nasty scar that runs down the length of his abdomen, making him shudder at the memory it came from.

You suspect the answer but you can’t stop yourself from asking anyway. A blend of hurt and anger seeps through your voice. “Who did this to you?”

Eris stands abruptly, caught in the tumult of conflicting desires–of longing to bask in the warmth of your touch and the simultaneous impulse to flee from it. “You should go to bed,” he says, voice strained. “Get some sleep.”

You stand up as well. “But I’m wide awake.”

“That’s not my problem.”

“Eris, please,” you nearly beg and he finds his feet rooted to the ground. He watches as you walk over to your chair, retrieving the coat he let you borrow. You extend it toward him–a silent promise you won’t push him further on his scars. “We can talk about other things.”

He feels his throat tighten at the urgency in your eyes. “Like what?”

"Like…" Your voice trails off, your attention turning to the scattered items on your desk. "Embroidery?" you suggest, showing him one of your unfinished projects. It’s an outline of a yellow flower he has seen before but cannot recognize at the moment.

"You want to talk about...embroidery?" His tone lightens, a subtle easing of tension as he slips into his coat and watches you raise another one. Unlike the first one you showed him, this one is finished and beautifully depicts a white horse with a brown mane and tail.

“This one is of my horse,” you share with pride, a subtle smile gracing your face. The warmth in your expression acts as an irresistible pull for Eris, compelling him to sit back down. "His name is Maximus.”

"I think I miss him the most," you add, the smile on your face faltering.

It prompts Eris to speak–to keep it from falling. “It’s beautiful.”

Your smile, like the sun breaking through clouds, brightens once more. You’re beautiful, he wants to add.

“Would you like me to teach you?”

Even though he knows he should leave, he finds himself nodding. Because the prospect of your smile faltering, of you returning to your state from earlier becomes an unbearable thought.

He secures a glamor in your room to keep the guard outside your door from hearing you. Having spent centuries studying the wards in every room, he’s learned how to unravel some pieces of them. Eris allows you to teach him the craft of embroidery. He tries to take in every instruction of yours and finds himself not lost in the craft but lost in the light in your eyes, the delightful curve of your smile as you speak.

As the daughter of a powerful and influential merchant, you’ve stayed in every court and have so many captivating stories to tell. You speak so highly of your father that he doesn’t have it in him to tell you about his dark truth–the real reason behind your arranged marriage. The delicate pricks of the thin needle against his fingers go unnoticed, drowned out by the melody of your laughter, which proves irresistibly contagious. The bond in his chest hums with a resonance that echoes through his being. He wonders, a smaller part of him fervently hoping, if you can feel it too.

Eris stays until your voice trails off–until the heaviness of your eyelids becomes an insurmountable burden, causing you to slump against the softness of the pillows. The temptation to tenderly brush your hair back from your face is strong, but he restrains the impulse.

“Eris?” Your voice, laced with the soft tendrils of sleep, reaches him.

“Yes?”

“Does this mean we’re friends now?”

The word—friends—sends a pang through him, but nevertheless, he manages a gentle "yes," reluctant to shatter the moment by uttering the truth that lies beneath the surface of his emotions. He doesn’t want to be your friend. He wants to be more than just your friend.

A soft content hum comes from you, the only response you can manage. Mindful not to disturb your peaceful slumber, he beckons one of the blankets from your bed with his magic before carefully draping it over your curled up form at the window nook. He quietly draws the curtains shut, shielding you from the intrusion of the rising sun. He positions the embroidery hoop, adorned with the laughable but endearing image of the heart he crafted, beside you. He turns to leave but sneaks one last glance at you. Only then does he allow himself to truly smile.

Eris does not return the following night, even though he desperately wants to. Caution dictates his actions, a week elapsing before a clandestine note passed in the hallway signals his quiet return to your room. It’s during this second visit that he inevitably gives away the hidden door in your room. They lead to the house’s secret tunnels, one only Eris knows well. He promises you to take you through them one day.

It’s half past twelve and as the autumn winds blow outside your window, you're not alone this time. Eris is there with you, weaving conversations that never seem to run dry. An unspoken agreement unfolds–to keep your growing friendship hidden and away from everyone. He continues to sneak into your room, always warning you beforehand as to not scare you. The sacrifice of sleep on these nights becomes inconsequential, for both you and him.

Eris helps you chase your shadows away, taking you through the darkness to the break of the day. Your man after midnight. The soul that heard your prayer.

A wrought-iron table, nestled under a cascading canopy of amber leaves, holds an exquisite spread of breakfast delicacies. The air is laced with the enticing aroma of freshly brewed tea, mingling with the sweet fragrance of the flowers that surround you. Lady Autumn, whose name you learned is Raelynn, sits across from you. Her eyes, as deep as the autumnal twilight, reflect warmth back at you–no traces of the lingering sadness you’ve witnessed before in this moment.

“My apologies, my dear, for not inviting you to breakfast sooner.” Even her voice is as warm as her gaze. “I know this court is not an easy one to adjust to.”

You find yourself smiling in reassurance back at her. Because you understand. If you were her, you’d also be wary of any newcomer.

“Eris tells me you enjoy embroidery?” Lady Raelynn says, a knowing smile playing on her lips as she brings her cup to her mouth. “Among other things.”

“I do,” you answer politely, gaze drifting to the perfectly tended lawn across from the patio you sit at. Targets for archery are neatly arranged. There’s an arrow embedded into the bull’s eyes of every one of them.

Lady Raelynn follows your gaze. “Are you interested in archery?”

Yes, you want to say and though you find comfort in Lady Autumn’s presence, you're wary of her reaction. What if she deems it unlady like? And decides to forgo any relationship you’ve desperately clung to the hope to?

“I don’t know much about it,” you reply, choosing a diplomatic response.

“I can teach you.” Lady Raelynn’s smile morphs into a grin. A gasp escapes you, and realization slowly etches itself into your features. “I think we’ll get along just fine,” she laughs, her words sparking hope within you.

“Good morning mother, I’ve come to–” Both of your heads turn to find Eris. He halts mid-sentence, his gaze locking with yours, a flicker of surprise and something deeper dancing in his eyes. It has you averting your gaze with a slight warmth tinting your cheeks. “I should leave.”

“No, stay,” Lady Raelynn insists with a graceful incline of her head. With a wave of her hand, a plate full of food materializes at the empty spot between you and her, a silent invitation for Eris to join.

Eris bows his head at his mother, acknowledging her command. He takes his place at the table, his movements a bit awkward at first. As he settles in, he can't help the warming relief that washes over him at the sight of both you and his mother taking his advice. He remains relatively quiet throughout breakfast, choosing to chime in only when necessary. He’s content to bask in the soothing cadence of your conversation with his mother, indulging in stolen glances at you that linger.

Something that does not go unnoticed by his keen mother nor the way his grip tightens around his fork at the mention of your upcoming wedding.

Lady Raelynn didn’t mean to spoil the mood but she had taken it upon herself to help you plan the ceremony and reception. Albeit, reluctantly at first. That all changed after getting to know you better. Although the marriage would not be to the man of your dreams, she was now determined in ensuring that the wedding would be. It was the least she could do for you, especially after learning about the mistreatment you had endured at the hands of her sons.

“I hope my son is treating you well?” Lady Raelynn asks you, carrying a note of concern. Her observant eyes catch the brief exchange between you and Eris, not missing the slightest tint that graces his cheeks. At least one of them is. She suppresses a smile as she awaits your answer.

“Sawyer is…” your voice trails off hesitant because he’s barely spoken to you since the incident. One of the rare occurrences being where he randomly met you in the library. He had reluctantly engaged in conversation with you, awkwardly asking what you missed the most from home. A spark of optimism brightens your tone because for once, you do have something good to say about him.

“He is actually arranging for my horse to come here! It’s silly but my horse was my biggest companion back home and I’ve been feeling a bit homesick recently.”

“It’s not silly at all, my dear. Once your horse is here, let's arrange for a morning ride. The Autumn grounds are the most peaceful in the early hours."

Your smile reflects the gratitude in your heart as you look at Lady Autumn. She, in turn, observes her son, who raises his tea to his lips, attempting to conceal the small smile playing on his face. It does nothing to mask the gleam in his eyes. Lady Raelynn is well aware that the sweet gesture is not Sawyer's doing. It's Eris's.

a/n: sooo I'm literally just going with vibes for this series (vibes to songs as that is what inspires most of these.) I wanted to write a slow burn but tbh, I think I'm too impatient for that 😂

When it comes to Sawyer, I do want to explore more of his character. I know that in canon, the Vanserras are menaces but I'd like to hope there's at least one more redeeming brother. I feel like him and reader can fall into a relationship similar to that of Rhaenyra and Laenor from House of Dragon. I also am still stuck between having the marriage actually go through or something drastic that happens that keeps it from happening. Either way, it will be angsty. I left some references in this from a movie that may prompt for more references from said movie. Any guesses? 👀

tagging: @fxckmiup

#eris x reader #eris x y/n #eris x you #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x you #acotar x reader #acotar imagine #eris imagine #eris one shot #acotar x y/n #acotar fanfiction #acotar one shot #acotar!abba #eris vandaddy #eris angel au

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joelsgreys · 1 year

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oneshots & drabbles

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jealous summary: You aren’t together, but Joel doesn't want to see you with anyone else.

stay summary: You’re in Jackson with Joel and Ellie after Salt Lake City and the loss of somebody you failed to protect haunts you and leaves you wondering if the wound will ever heal—and how you’ll ever go on if it never does.

what he didn’t do summary: You’re very recently divorced, but that doesn’t stop a certain brown-eyed neighbor from taking you out on a date.

strawberry 🔥 summary: You feel ashamed for using your safe word with Joel during a session—he assures you you’re his good girl no matter what. AU, NO OUTBREAK (TW) DDLG

punishment 🔥 summary: You drag your boyfriend to your best friend’s annual Halloween party and get brave after a couple of drinks—it’s not like Joel’s really going to punish you while all of your friends are under the same roof, right? AU, NO OUTBREAK (TW) DDLG. POSSIBLE DUBCON.

captive 🔥 summary: You find yourself missing your captor while he’s out on an early morning hunt with the rest of the group. TW DARK!JOE. DUBCON.

frosting 🔥 summary: Joel agrees to help you decorate Christmas cookies and things get a little messy. AU, NO OUTBREAK (TW) DDLG

someone to be thankful for 🔥 summary: It’s Thanksgiving—when dinner with your nightmare of a family goes south, you find comfort in the person you least expect it from: your father’s best friend, Joel Miller. AU, NO OUTBREAK, DBF! Joel Miller

series

a safe haven l ongoing l 🔥 summary: When Joel Miller and Ellie Williams return to Jackson, Wyoming to begin their new lives, the last thing Joel expects is to catch the eye of the thriving community’s equine veterinarian. Young, beautiful, and married, Joel knows that he should stay away from a woman like you, but he can’t help but to be drawn to you like a moth to a flame. As you start growing closer to both Joel and Ellie, you find out all about the secrets they both carry—and they find out you’ve been hiding a secret or two of your own.

fall into temptation l completed l 🔥 summary: Of all the women to catch Joel Miller’s attention—it just had to be one of the goddamn preacher’s daughters.

miscellaneous

snapshots l ongoing summary: Moments of Joel Miller’s life in Jackson, Wyoming with his girls.

#joel miller masterlist #joel miller x reader

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notjustjavierpena · 1 month

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I need more Inez and Reader interactions in my life. She’s so precious! Like a nightmare or bad day and she’s just clinging to reader for comfort all day. I feel like reader would be so empathetic to the kids emotions and wouldn’t ignore them feeling sad knowing that to them it’s a big deal.

Comfort (Drabble)

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost

A/N: Don’t mind me healing trauma for myself and others.

Summary: Inés has a nightmare and needs her Mamá.

Pairing: Javier Peña x reader (no y/n)

Tags: Domestic, hurt/comfort, Javier loves his girls, nightmares and talk about big feelings

Word count: 900

Comfort

At four in the morning, Javier has his arms around your waist as you sleep soundly. The moon is out, its shine coming through the thin curtains and illuminating the bedroom in a silvery light. You are far off into your dreams when the handle on your bedroom door starts to rattle slightly. It makes your eyes flutter open as your parental instincts are activated and Javier stirs beside you a moment later.

You reach for the lamp on the bedside table and switch it on with a click. Javier does the same and a soft yellow glow replaces the eerie moonlight. Next is the sound of your bedroom door opening and revealing Inés standing on her tippy toes to make herself tall enough to reach for the doorknob.

She whimpers as she spots you both already awake, padding clumsily and carefully across the floor to stand by your side of the bed. When she is close enough for the lamplight to reach her, you notice there are tears in her big brown eyes.

“Sweetie,” you coo, “What’s wrong?”

Javier shifts a little beside you at the sight of his crying child. He sits up and tries not to sound too tired, “¿Qué pasa (what’s wrong)? You’re crying, mi vida (my life).”

“Mommy, I had a bad dream,” she blubbers suddenly but her tone is filled with fear. She is already climbing into the bed, completely ignoring her father’s attempts to soothe her. He says nothing for a moment before lying down again, allowing you to handle the situation.

You untangle yourself from your husband to create space for Inés in your arms, guiding her to crawl over your body and lie down between you and her father. You turn your body to face her once more.

When she whimpers softly as you lay an arm over her to squeeze her close, you tut gently, “Oh baby. It’s over now. You’re okay.”

“It was really scary,” she tells you.

“I bet it was,” Javier replies, “You know how I sometimes get—“

“Daddy, I only want Mommy,” she interrupts him, looking briefly over her shoulder at her father and you hold back a snort when he shuts up with slight offense in his eyes.

“I guess I’ll just go back to sleep then,” he mutters with exasperation and you reach over to pat his arm with smug victory. He rolls his eyes, trying not to show his wounded ego, but when you turn back your attention to Inés, you don’t see the way the exasperation in his eyes turns into a soft gaze. He loves you like this; as the gentle mother to his children.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” You ask to gain her attention again, suppressing a yawn. Javier reaches to turn off the light again but you hold out a hand to stop him, mouthing a ‘leave it on’ to him.

Your husband can sense that you have things under control. He moves around for a few seconds before falling asleep once more, the tip of his nose pressing into Inés’ little bare shoulder as a way of letting her know that he is right there even if all she seems to need is you.

“You and Daddy forgot me,” she says with a quivering bottom lip and crawls further into your arms. Beside you, Javier feels his daughter move away and lays a gentle hand on her stomach. You brush a tuft of hair out of her face while she continues, “I was all alone. I didn’t like it.”

“Sometimes our mind knows what scares us the most and feels the need to remind us. You know how Papá sometimes gets scared at night like you just did,” you say whilst repeatedly running a hand over her forehead, “But Papá and I would never forget you, baby. You bring us so much happiness every day. We couldn’t go a day without you. Do you understand?”

Inés’ eyebrows are still furrowed but she nods. You rest your cheek against the top of her head, “I know it was really scary. I would be scared too.”

“I don’t want to sleep,” she cries quietly, “What if the bad dream comes back?”

“You have to try,” you brush a tear away, “But if you get scared again, I am right here. You can talk to me about anything.”

When you only receive a sad noise and an even more clingy child, you pull back slightly to let your arm lie above her. Your hand hovers above her forehead, “Do you want me to do the eyebrow thing? Make your eyes so heavy they can’t stay open, huh?”

“Yes, please,” she pouts.

You cradle her head in your hand and rub the spot between her eyebrows repeatedly. Up and down and up and down. Inés’ eyes shut in less than ten seconds but her breathing tells you that she is still awake.

“Here’s what I am thinking,” you say, “We stay home from preschool tomorrow, and then we have some fun time just us two. We can go get ice cream and maybe even—“

Inés’ brows relax and you stop talking. Her mouth goes slack as she falls back fully asleep. Javier snores softly in the dim light. Inés does too.

Oh, you think to yourself, what a privilege it is to be a mother. Tomorrow, you will do everything you just promised and more with your sleeping child.

FOLLOW @notjustjavierpena-fics AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS 💖❤️💖❤️

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sinsofbeauty · 7 months

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Red Stained Sunflower Pt.2

Fandom: The Texas Chainsaw Massacre Game

Pairing: Johnny Slaughter x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Use of Pet Names, Suggestive Nsfw content, Mentions of Kidnapping, Obsessive/Clingy Johnny, Jealous Johnny, Small mention of murder

Requested?: Yee

Overview: Looks like you bailed on the little invitation Johnny had asked of you. It wasn’t because you didn’t want to, you actually got quite intimidated. Though that doesn’t stop him from seeking you out and making his intentions clear

A/n: So many of you wanted this to be a series, so here it is!! This is part 2 of 3!

Please comment if you would like to be tagged for part three!!! Enjoy!

Minors DNI!!!!

Part 1 - Red Stained Sunflower

“Hey Daddy?” You asked your father with the turn of your head. “How long are we gonna be in town for?”

He took a quick glance over to you before shrugging, “Oh maybe an hour or two. Just meeting with some old friends.”

You nodded your head and moved to look out the window. “I was talking to Maria on the telephone, she wanted to see if I could stop by the roller rink.” You replied to his comment. “Hope you don’t mind if I take a little detour.”

You were supposed to accompany Johnny out to the fields last night, but you decided to remain home instead. Now you were making arrangements with friends as though you weren't worried about the entire situation. You felt terrible, but you also couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the circumstances. Yes, Johnny was appealing, and his words would make you want to explode. But LORD! Johnny Slaughter was intimidating.

Your only concern on the trip into town with your father was the fact that you had essentially abandoned one of the Slaughter Brothers. How were you going to justify your absence because you were anxious? Private moments with him... Ugh!! You weren't sure how you would be able to face him after abandoning him in that way. Like, seriously. How were you going to explain to a man like him that the reason you didn't appear was because you're a virgin…?

Your heart was racing when you arrived to the roller rink. Even though you were still troubled by thoughts of Johnny, seeing the group at the rink's entrance helped you feel less concerned. Even if you weren't close to them, you had Maria there to keep you company, so it was well worth it to slip away from your father and his group of friends to spend time with your own. You immediately identified their faces. Connie, Julie, and Ana were all grinning and laughing as Leland and Sonny stood to the side. When Maria's eyes finally found you after searching, they completely lit up.

“Hey! Y/n over here!!” Her delighted voice echoed from across the street.

As you approach everyone, you wave and smile. They all appeared to be happy to see you, which gave you a strange feeling. Can't hold yourself to blame, though; you haven't been able to leave the house much because you've been so cooped up inside helping your father with his work.

“Hey guys!” You say, greeting them happily.

“Y/n! I’m so glad you could make it!” Maria gave you a nice warm hug in return. “You remember Ana don’t you? We brought a couple friends along if you don’t mind!”

“Oh no of course not! It’ll be fun!” You shrug your shoulders, waving your arm to brush off any doubt about more people. “Let’s go inside, yeah?”

Some of the group had their own skates, while others had to rent them when they entered the rink. Since you didn’t own any skates, you obtained a pair that fit you and sat down. Though you found yourself stuck tying and untying your shoelaces. Simply said, they weren't secure enough, and you didn't intend to break an ankle today. Before you notice someone roll over, you sigh and wipe your sweaty palms on your jeans.

“Need some help?”

In his sky blue shirt and navy blue jeans, which were fastened by a brown belt, Leland stood in front of you. The skates he had rented took the place of his shoes, and he was able to move around in them with ease. He was on the wrestling team in high school, and you somewhat recognized him from there. He also hung around with this little group of people. He was really kind to say the least, tall, strong, and fairly attractive for a young man his age.

Your eyes look up at the man who you nodded at with a smile. “Please, I’m having trouble tying them tight enough.”

The Texan smirks and bends down, taking one of your feet and pulling at the strings. “Let me know if it’s too tight, okay?” You nodded once more at his voice as he started tying your skates. Before moving on to the next, he questioned as to whether or not they felt snug enough for you. You felt good about it, and he was very considerate in making the gesture. “Alright, how do they feel?” He asked standing up.

As you rise up, you circle your feet before nodding your head in appreciation. “Perfect. Better than I could ever do. Thank you, Leland.”

His eyes squint when he gives a genuine smile, a gesture to your thankful remark. “Anytime. Say, I don’t see ya’ around here often. Do ya’… know how to skate?”

Oh dear God, you can't recall the last time you entered that rink. You probably haven't done it in months, and you weren't doing it frequently to begin with. You chuckle nervously while rubbing your hands together behind your back. “Uh… kinda? It’s been a while.” You admit to him. “I’m not the best skater but it’ll come back! I just get nervous when other people go fast past me.”

Just standing there made your legs feel like jello. You tried to move closer to Leland but all you did was sway back and forth. He chuckled at this, the male moving forward to grab your shoulders and prevent you from toppling. “I can teach ya’, practice makes perfect.”

“Says the one who was in the wrestling team.” You roll your eyes at him, making the man laugh in response. “I’d be on the ground more times than you’d like.”

“Hey! I’m a good teacher! We can go nice and slow at first, and you’ll still have a great time… in the rink, I mean. That sounded so weird…”

You giggled at his words, making his cheeks dust a soft pink. He was such a dork… cute.

“Come on guys! We’ve been waiting!” Exclaims Julie from the rink, making you and Leland look over.

“We’re coming,” You said, shifting past Leland with your wobbly legs as you made your way over. “I’m trying not to die. You guys are much more experienced at this.”

You almost went over with just one foot on that surface, but once you were stable, everything was good. Leland swiftly followed after you as you joined the others with a sigh of relief. Getting acclimated to the people and the surroundings took some time. You were still unable to go as quickly as Julie or Maria, who frequently sped by you.

“I’m gonna go around a couple times. Think you can handle it on ya’ own?” Leland asks, that genuine smile making you give one in return.

“For now. Go ahead, I’ll catch up eventually.”

After hearing your response, he quickly speeds away while teasing Maria and Julie about catching up. You chuckle, enjoying how this afternoon will play out. It was lovely to see everyone enjoying themselves. Being outside of the house felt wonderful. The gang laughed and joked as they skated around the rink. Leland was always there to catch you even if you were a little awkward and nearly fell a few times. He gave you a comforting smile as you both laughed despite how embarrassing it was. The group stopped to acquire some food after some time spent skating. Even though your heart was still beating from all the excitement, you were happy that you and your friends were having such a good time.

After a few hours, everyone departed the rink exhausted but content. You said your goodbyes and thanked them for an amazing time. You were relieved that you had chosen to go out with them as opposed to staying home or being barraged by your father’s older friends who wanted to talk to you.

“Hey Y/n,” Leland had said, catching you before you left. “I was wondering, I usually come around here at this time of day. Did you… wanna skate with me next week?”

You thought about it, and it didn’t hurt to meet some new people around. Even though he was closer with Maria, maybe a new group of people would be nice to hang around with. “Sure. Are you busy next Friday?”

“Great! Uhm… No, that should be fine. I’ll see ya’ then?”

You nodded your head, grinning as you left, feeling satisfied with the events of the day as you made your way back to meet with your father.

——

After a long, productive day, you were just finishing your shower at home. You check that your hair isn't excessively dripping before stepping out of the restroom while you're wrapped in a towel. No one was awake to bother you this late in the evening since your father was asleep. Your room was upstairs, turning left down the hall and another left past the bathroom across from it. Your father was immediately up the stairs to the right of the hall in his own room.

You entered your room and turned to lock the door behind you before turning on the lights. Despite the events earlier, your mind still wandered to Johnny. Johnny, Johnny, Johnny. Once more, you were unable to remove him from your head. Another day without communication meant that you would have to make an effort to avoid having to give an explanation. You sigh and close your eyes before turning to head for your dresser. In spite of this, as soon as you open them, you jump and cover your mouth to stifle the surprised sound that escapes from you.

“Johnny!” Looking at the man who was idly sitting on your bed fiddling with his hair, you blurted out. Your heart was pounding furiously. What the hell was he doing here? How did he get in here? What is he doing here??? He just sat in the dark, waiting for you to come in like… like a weirdo!! “The fuck are you doing? Why are you in my room?!”

His clothing caught your attention because it was a little different from what he typically wore. He appeared to have just taken a shower because his hair was moist and combed back. His navy blue jeans were fastened to his hips by a brown belt, and his dark gray long sleeve shirt was rolled to the dips of his arms just above his elbows. He wore his worn-out boots, without gloves to protect his calloused hands, and grinned endlessly.

“Should really keep that back window locked. So much easier than havin’ ta’ lock pick my way in at night.” He spoke quietly, as if he knew your father was in the room next to him. Low, as if he knew what trouble sneaking in here could get him into. “Ya’ don’t look happy ta’ see me sweetpea. Did I do something~?”

“Well for one, you’re in my room… uninvited.” You drew closer to the man who was lounging on your bed, your brows furrowed at him, your nose flared. “And I’m in a towel…naked! What if I started changing because I didn’t know you were here??”

Your face instantly turned red as his smile grew larger. He wasn't even required to respond to the question. You snort before turning around and returning to your door to lock it. The worst-case scenario would be your father interrupting you two. Yes, you were a grown woman, but technically speaking, sneaking someone into the house would not look so inviting. Especially if it was the Slaughter boy.

“Jesus… just— why are you here?” You ask, turning back to the man who you didn’t realize stood in those moments you were turned around. He appeared... distracted. It seemed as though he was thinking about or bothered by something.

“Oh me? I jus’ wanted ta’ see ya’!” He said with the slight wave of his hands. “I wanted ta’ know whatchu were doin’, cause… obviously, it wasn’t me.”

“Yeah about that…” You trailed off, looking at the floor for a moment. It was… a nice floor. Maybe staring at it would help you think about how to tell him without feeling like a total idiot. “I just got… a little nervous.”

You looked up at the man as he surprised you with a chuckle. His facial expressions were unpredictable. He appears disturbed one second, then happy the next. Even just looking at him made you feel conflicted. Your hands were holding onto the towel that was about to fall down your body as he started to approach you. “Nervous hm? About what?”

You sighed as you cast a glimpse his way and fiddled with the towel covering your body. “I don’t know how to explain…”

“Come on now, ya’ don’t have ta’ be scared ‘round me,” Johnny gave reassurance while smiling oddly relaxed. Observing the shit-eating grin that emerged on his face, you gave him a little glare. “Okay maybe a lil’ bit~. But come on, it can’t be that bad!”

He makes you huff and shrug your shoulders in response. Why did talking about this seem so embarrassing? It was Johnny… In any case, he didn't have much to say about it. Right? You grumble, your mouth twitching slightly as your nose flares once more. “I didn’t come because… I was nervous about being a virgin.”

The last few words were mumbled, but it appears like Johnny heard them right away. At that instant, Johnny's lips curled into a wicked grin, which his hand moved to conceal right away. You shivered, a chill running up your spine at the laugh that burst forth from his throat seconds later. “That’s the reason? Cause, nobody’s taken yer lil’ cherry yet~?”

“It’s not funny!” You exclaim slapping his bicep, only to obtain another silly laugh from him. “It’s a sensitive thing! I have a right to be anxious about it!! Especially if… those intentions were indicated.”

“Oh honeybee, ya’ think I’d feel any different?” Johnny said with the shrug of his shoulders. “I mean— I’m a lil’ surprised! A pretty girl like you? I would’ve expected it to be long gone by now.”

“Well it’s not so you can stop teasing me about it,” You pout, crossing your arms with the shake of your head.

At that very time, Johnny was getting closer to you and dipping his head slightly. His eyebrows dropped, his gaze became unreadable, and his hands, which fiddled with his belt, twitched in anticipation as his voice abruptly shifted to a low tone. “How cute, and ta’ think, I’ll be the one takin’ it from ya’~.”

“Eh- You-…” You turned in defeat as the sentence that attempted to form failed miserably. You scowl and head to your dresser to look for something to wear. “God I hate you sometimes. I can just imagine how much it would hurt.”

Johnny smirked as he approached from behind you and gently grabbed your shoulders. “Oh I won’t hurtcha, much.” He replied. “I’ll go nice and slow for ya’ darlin’.”

“I doubt that,” Smiling, you respond before shutting the dresser door and turning to face Johnny. His eagerness was evident from the little shudder of his shoulders as his hands were now in his pockets. “You’re thinking about it too much.”

“Maybe I am~.” He says, slyly smiling while momentarily averting his gaze. “Ya’ know I can’t help myself doll. Even now, just lookin’ at ya’ makes me excited.”

You rolled your eyes after moving around him to your bed, placing your clothes on it with a soft pat. “I’m in a towel with nothing under it, of course you’re excited.” You say sarcastically.

“Well, ya’ did look good earlier today,” Johnny stated, making you freeze in place. He had a menacing smirk on his face when you turned to face him.

“You were in town today?”

“Jus’ happened ta’ be,” Responded Johnny with a shrug. “Saw ya’ walkin’ ta’ that lil’ roller rink on the side of town with ya’ lil’ friends.”

“Yeah, I had planned to go out with them that morning.” You spoke to him, fiddling with the towel.

Johnny moved a few steps closer to you while humming and tilting his head. “Oh I know! Ya’ looked like ya’ had fun, especially with pretty boy touchin’ up all on ya’.”

As much as how he seemed, his vocal tone also appeared to shift. He appeared agitated, as far as you could tell. You didn’t even have to mention Leland, he had been watching you that whole time. The encounters you had with the other young adult in question. He absolutely despised it. Just having the idea of how furious he would have been as Leland assisted you in any way he could. Was he… no, he couldn’t be.

“So, you’re telling me that you followed me and watched me with my friends today?”

The man's mouth twisted in annoyance as he let out a little giggle. “Curiosity got the best o’ me, I will admit.” Johnny said, his half lidded eyes looking away. He clenched his jaw and pursed his lips before turning to face you.

“Well, we’re just friends if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Sure– I mean, I have no problem with it! I mean if ‘e touches ya’ again,” Johnny lets out a laugh. “He never will, let’s jus’ leave it at that.”

“Oh? Is that so?” You ask with a smirk. “And to think, Johnny Slaughter is jealous of another man.”

“Jealous?! AHA– I’m not jealous!” He makes an effort to justify his obsessive tendencies, but it simply serves to highlight it. His eyes widen, “I jus’ didn’t like how ‘e was feelin’ up on ya’, how’s that bein’ jealous?!”

“You’re getting all defensive.”

“When??”

“Right now?”

“I’m jus’ sayin’ I’m not!”

You couldn't help laughing, which made the man snarl. It was cute how obvious he made it. Observing his vulnerable side manifest itself in this way due to someone else? Johnny's jealousy wasn't anything you anticipated. He was a man who frequently showed little regard for the actions or words of others. However, it was a different story when it came to you. He seems a little uneasy when his family would speak to you. The man appeared to be extremely possessive of anything he so claimed as his.

“Come on now, you don’t have to be scared around me,” You spoke.

Johnny's cheeks had turned a delicate shade of pink. He rolled his eyes at your remark and scoffed while shaking his head. “I ain’t scared sunshine,” He replied with his smile coming back. “If I was, I wouldn’t have snuck into ya’ house.” Your eyes widened in shock as the man grabbed your arm and drew you up against him. “I wouldn’t tell ya’ righ’ now, that yer my girl.”

“You don’t have me just yet.”

“Oh, I don’t?” Johnny lifts your chin and lowers his face to meet yours only a few inches away. “But ya’ want me, no? Jus’ lookin’ at those eyes ya’ want me.” Your eyelids flutter closed as he rubs his nose against yours. He was well aware of the fact that he had you. “I’ll treat ya’ like a princess darlin’, I’ll spoil ya’ so rotten that ya’ can’t get enough of me. Cause I want ya’, I need ya’.”

If this was a way for Johnny to swoon you over, he sure was doing it. However, you were curious to see how much further he would swing. He draws back his head and lets go of your chin as you open your eyes in order to tuck a hair behind your ear.

“You should tell me more.”

“Really?” Johnny says as his brows begin to converge. When he senses your seriousness, he smirks and lets out a tiny chuckle. “I’d kill for ya’, I’d die for ya’, I’m sooo head over heels.”

You smile, shaking your head. “You’re so funny.”

“Amused?” He hums, making you giggle in response. In return, pleased by the remark, Johnny snorts. “Needy lil’ thing aren’t cha’? Makin’ me all soft.”

“I thought you were excited.”

“Cheeky lil’ brat ya’ are darlin’,” Johnny scoffs. “If I wasn’t I wouldn’t be so damn close! Y’know– I wouldn’t be talkin’ fa’ someone who’s so red in the face.”

“You’re just as flustered as me,” You roll your eyes. “You should’ve seen your face when you got all jelly~.”

“Eh– I wasn’t–... sh-shut up.”

“Make me~.”

Johnny's eyes appeared to be playing cat and mouse with you. As if it wasn’t the third or fourth time he licked his lips this evening. His teeth were exposed in a ferocious smile, giving him an almost feral appearance. “Oh I could– but actually, it probably wouldn’t shut ya’ up sweetheart.” He takes your hips, making you softly gasp. “You’d be loud– no you’d be screamin’ honey. I’d make sure of that– oh I’d make sure, the only thing on your mind is me~.”

Johnny made a sound of interest as you placed your hands on his chest. The excitement he felt then was much greater. The way his hands drew you in his direction and the way they tightly grabbed your hips caught you off guard. Once more lowering his head, Johnny first brushes his cheek against yours before moving his lips toward your ear. His hands shifted, reaching your waist.

“Is that what ya’ wanted ta’ hear? How I’ll make sure those legs of ya’s are shakin’ when I fuck ya’ good? Hm? How I’ll make ya’ cum, over, and over on my cock? I can only imagine.” Your body tenses up in response to his comments, and he grins as a result. “Feelin’ ya’ squirm under me. That cute lil’ pussy clenchin’ so tight you’ll make my head spin. Ohhh darlin’, I wanna feel ya’ nails diggin’ in my back as I take ya’. Inch. By. Inch~.”

A subtle sound came from you. Considering that it was subconscious, you weren't sure if it was a whimper or a moan. Your thighs drove together as you made an effort to hide the sudden jolts that surged up through your abdomen. He... really did have a way with words.

“Awwwe~. Are ya’ gettin’ excited now?” Johnny had moved his head away from yours, taking one good look at your reddened face. His tongue ran over the top row of his teeth as he took one good look at your body. The rise and fall of your chest, your gaze struggling to meet his, and the mere sight of your thighs clamping together. Heh. How could he not notice? “It looks like ya’ are.”

You were startled, or perhaps more accurately, flustered. In that instant, Johnny made you feel just how you'd imagined when you'd read about getting hot and bothered in books. You were completely in shock as you stared at the man with your mouth open and nothing coming out of it. How could you respond to that? Could you… even respond? Observing his every move while remaining motionless, nothing came out of your lips, not a single word.

“Gotta question for ya’ doll,” He said, glancing at the wall for a moment. “Don’t have ta’ be shy now, I know what ya’ want. How about ya’ come down ta’ the fields like we planned, yeah?”

You swallowed thickly, seeing as he removed himself from you entirely. What a damn tease. “Tomorrow?”

“Preferably,” Responded Johnny. “Or ya’ plans with pretty boy can go bye bye next Friday, and ya’ can spend it with me instead.”

“You're still on that?” You say with a raised brow. “How do you even know we made plans?”

He growled and clicked the roof of his mouth with his tongue, his eyes moving away from you. “I heard ya’.”

“Heard me? Or you were eavesdropping?”

You and Johnny exchanged looks, and that glare gave you all you needed to know. Let’s be real, it’s a little odd knowing that he had been spying on you, but seeing him jealous was like seeing a spoiled little boy now getting what he wanted.

Johnny’s eyes fluttered closed with a sigh, crossing his arms in defeat. “Y’know— you… I— yer really gettin’ on my nerves!”

“Good,” You say with a small smile. “And I’ll think about coming tomorrow.”

“Oh there’s no thinkin’ honeybee,” Johnny said with a mischievous smile. “I’ll make sure yer there, I’ll steal ya’ if I need ta’— hell! If it means I need ta’ kidnap ya’.”

“You wouldn’t do that.”

“Maybe if ya’ wait long enough, you’ll find out~.”

Part 3 is up!! >>> RSSF PT.3

@optimsluv @chernayawidow @yixxes @marriedtoeddie

#johnny slaughter #johnny slaughter x reader #johnny sawyer #johnny sawyer x reader #johnny tcm #texas chainsaw massacre #tcm game #texas chainsaw game #x reader #eventual smut #suggestive content

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mermaidgirl30 · 14 days

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✨Can You Please Be Mine? Part 2: Slip Into Me✨

Series Masterlist

A/N: I’m so so excited to share this little piece I’ve been writing! I really love this story, the chemistry Joel and reader have, and how flirty and fun this chapter ended up being. I want to hear all your thoughts on this one 🥰 Reblogs and comments are always appreciated, I want to converse with you guys 🩷

Chapter Summary: Joel takes you on a date to the fair

Word Count: 11.2k (I had a lot to say! I couldn’t stop writing their cute little love story unfolding)

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only MDNI)

Pairing: Joel x fem! reader

Chapter Tags: So much flirting, teasing, Joel takes reader on a date to the fair, kissing, chemistry, more flirting, holding hands, heavy making out, grinding on Joel’s lap, switching POV, reader has hair and is tan, allusions to smut, cute nicknames

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Joel Miller is a complete mess the rest of the day at the fair. He can’t think straight, not with the way the folded piece of paper is scorching his fingertips that sit in the pit of his pocket, calling out to him like a damn temptress that purrs his name to slip the digits into his phone.

He bites the inside of his cheek, furrowing his eyebrows every single time he thinks of those fucking long, tan legs. Those gorgeous eyes that seem to burn holes in the back of his eyes, and those short denim shorts that he wants so badly to rip off your thick thighs that scream his name. He thinks you’d look so fucking perfect completely naked, splayed across the soft sheets of his bed. Long, tan legs, the perfect curves, probably glistening with sticky slick waiting for him to lick clean. Fuck.

He can’t help the way he scans his eyes over the thick crowd of people that floods the fair, hoping he’ll snag a peek of your sweet smile that he wants so badly to sink his lips against. He thinks you’d taste so good, maybe cherry flavored lip gloss, a soft tongue that he’ll let lap against his own, sucking him dry as you take the soul right out of him. He thinks he wants to take you on a date so he can see that pretty face, that soft, flirtatious enigma he wants to twist his mind around as he wraps you completely around his index finger. He has to have you, he just has to.

He should be enjoying the fair with his daughter, should be paying attention to her as she picks at the stack of French fries he just bought her as she rambles on about upcoming volleyball summer camp and her friend’s pool party, but he can’t. He just can’t. His mind is focused solely on you. The prettiest flower in the crowd he ever did see. And you’d be his. At least he hoped.

“Dad?”

The word comes out in a fog, he almost misses it as he mindlessly searches through the bustling crowd. He needs to see your face, that gorgeous, radiant, perfect…

“Dad, are you even listening to me?” Sarah asks as she chews on the end of a golden French fry and stares up at her distracted father.

“Hmm? Oh yeah, kid. I heard ya,” he murmurs as his brown eyes become focused on his daughter as her long curls blow gently through the hot Texas breeze.

“You just seem a little distracted is all,” she mumbles as she rolls her eyes and finishes off the French fry in her hand.

Joel rakes a hand through his dark scruff and sighs in frustration. “I’m fine, Sarah. Ain’t distracted ‘bout nothin’,” he huffs. But he knows it’s a lie, a damn good lie. Because he is distracted. Distracted by the beautiful girl with the vanilla ice cream cone that teased him till he about came completely undone in line. He was in for the ride of his life.

After he gets home that night, he stares hard at the creased piece of paper as he reads your name over and over and over again. He memorizes it, studies the jumble of numbers until he can repeat them with his eyes closed. He grips the paper so tight that he thinks he’ll tear it in half, his mind caving in just like that of a mad man who’s lovesick from a stupid crush.

He finally comes to his senses and pulls his phone out of his pocket as he types out your name and number into his contacts list. After pressing save, he stares at the screen, his eyes burning into your name as he hovers over the call button. His mind starts racing a million miles an hour as his eyes go cross eyed from looking so hard at your name on the screen.

What if you don’t answer? What if you’re not really interested? What if it was all a game as a way to tease him? Surely not. No. Not with the way you were looking at him, your eyes burning into his like sparkling fireworks as you smirked his way, lapping up ice cream as you teased your tongue around the cold edges as he nearly collapsed to the ground. You were a feisty little firecracker, and he knew it. He wanted to taste those sparks, see just how far he could push you.

Without waiting another minute, he presses the call button as sweat pools on his forehead, tousled curls sticking to his tanned skin as he paces mindlessly in his room just waiting for you to answer. He’s about to give up after five repeated rings until he hears you pick up the phone on the next ring.

“Hello?”

His eyes go wide as his pupils expand, fingers digging deep into the denim of his jean pockets as his throat runs dry. That voice. That melodious, sweet lilt of your voice. It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard in his entire life.

You hear some rustling on the end of the line and then finally a voice comes through the end of the speaker. “Ummm, hi.”

A deep, baritone voice seeps through the phone. Slow, a slurred Southern drawl, charming, and so sexy. It makes you gulp down nerves as slick automatically pools in your lace. It’s him. The man you couldn’t keep your eyes off at the fair. He called.

“Is this… ahh. You’re the one from the fair, aren’t you?” you ask smiling, a stupid grin spreading wide across your face as you bite your lower lip, your free hand gripping the pink sheets tightly as you grasp anything that’ll stop the excitement from taking you on a ride.

“Mhm. How’d you guess?” he asks as you hear a deep chuckle come alive on the other end of the phone.

God his laugh sounds like complete music to your ears. A bravado sound you could put on repeat like a favorite song you’d never get tired of. You already had it bad.

“Oh, I don’t know. A number I didn’t know and no text? Funny. Why didn’t you just text me? Most people just text nowadays,” you laugh as you tease him through the phone.

Another deep chuckle and his smooth voice is carrying through the line. “Guess I’m jus’ old fashioned, darlin’. Maybe I jus’ wanted to hear what you sounded like. Kinda like this better than a text.”

“Oh, I see,” you blush as you curl your fingers through the pink silk, feet pressing against one another as you repeat the word he just called you over the phone. Darlin’. You loved the sound of that.

“So, what’s your name, cowboy?” you giggle as you feel heat course through your chest.

“Cowboy, huh? That my new nickname or somethin’?” he asks with a laugh as you hear that sweet Southern drawl drag through the phone. Oh, this one already has you on a tight string, and you’re ready to never let go.

“Mmm, it fits you well, I think,” you giggle as you twirl a piece of hair around your finger nervously.

“Whatever you say, darlin’,” he laughs as you imagine him raking a hand through those gorgeous curls of his. Something you want to do. You bet it’s so soft, lush, velvet-like…

“Joel,” he says through the phone, bringing you out of your lovesick daydream of running your fingers through his soft hair.

“Hmm?” you ask confused, your mind focusing back on that deep baritone voice that you just can’t get enough of.

“The name’s Joel. Joel Miller.”

“Joel Miller…” you repeat, your smile widening on your face as you stare up at the ceiling filled with hanging fairy lights that make the room sparkle.

“That’s right, darlin’.”

“I like it,” you answer as you twist in the sheets, your soft skin rolling over silk as you see yourself through the long mirror that hangs on the wall. Your cheeks bright red, a Cheshire cat grin splayed wide on your face as you nearly pant out with glee. You look like a puppy. A stupid lovesick puppy.

“Glad ya do,” he chuckles as he takes a couple more seconds before he says anything else. “So, ummm. I was wonderin’ if maybe you’re not busy tomorrow night, would you maybe wanna go to the fair with me?”

Your jaw drops open, your mind dizzy with possibilities as you push yourself to the edge of the bed and clench your thighs together. “Like a date?” you ask wide-eyed, your heart pounding impossibly fast in your chest as you hope it is a date.

“Mhm. A date. If that’s what you want, that is.” His voice is low, fluctuating as you can picture his hand deep in his pocket, his fingers flexing with nerves as he waits for your answer. He has it as bad as you do, you think.

“A date…” you repeat steadily, your words lingering as you smile into the phone. “Okay, cowboy. It’s a date.”

“Alright,” he chuckles as his laugh echoes through the glowing room. “How does six o’clock sound? I could pick you up. Jus’ text me your address.”

“Six sounds perfect,” you purr, your eyes lighting up like a damn sparkler as you kick your legs in a frenzy underneath you.

“Six it is. Well, guess I’ll see you tomorrow, darlin’.” Darlin’. His words drip down you like sweet honey, a taste you want to devour down. You bet he tastes so sweet.

“Mkay. See ya tomorrow, Joel. Bye.”

“Bye, sweetheart.”

The call clicks to an end, the line going dead as you fall back into the silky sheets and scream into your hands. You’re going on a date tomorrow with the hottest Southern gentleman alive. You have to find something to wear!

You stand in the glow of the bathroom mirror and twirl around in your light green summer dress that grazes just a little above the middle of your thighs. The perfect length to tease Joel just a little and show off your tanned legs. You brush out your soft curls and dab some shiny lip gloss over your pink lips as you take one more good look at yourself. You’re more than ready. You spray a spritz of vanilla perfume on your neck and call it good as you sit the glass bottle back down on the edge of the sink.

When you turn around, you hear a couple of loud knocks echo across the hall from the front door. Joel. He’s here. You grab your light blue over the shoulder purse and wrap it around yourself as you pad toward the door in your white slip-on Vans. Your heart is galloping in your chest like a thousand race horses colliding their heavy hooves against a racetrack, your cheeks burning from nerves as you make your way to the front solid wooden door. Please like me, please like me, please like me.

When you twist the doorknob and open the door, your eyes go wide as you take in the sight that stands in front of you. Joel stands with his large arms crossed over his broad chest, his rolled up dark green flannel clinging to the thick muscles of his arms as he smirks flirtatiously down at you. His tousled curls are slicked back, and he smells like fresh cologne and mahogany. A kind of scent that could pull you in just by the way he smells. Intoxicating.

“Hi,” you say nervously as you shut the door closed behind you, your fingers behind your back digging into the soft material of your dress as you fight off nerves that pull at your insides.

“Hi,” he repeats softly as his eyes drag down your summer dress and your tanned legs slowly. He gulps as he looks back up into your eyes and smiles, making his eyes crinkle at the sides as your heart flutters in your chest.

He’s so handsome.

“My, don’t you look pretty,” he says with the warmth of his deep voice which seems to surround you, encase you in nothing but comfort. You could listen to him talk all day long if he sounded like that. Warm, deep baritone voice, slow, syrupy, exactly how you pictured it. Perfection.

You feel your cheeks burn bright red as you giggle like a little school girl and flutter your eyelashes up at him. “Thanks,” you say nervously.

“You ready to go?” he asks as he pushes off the brick wall.

“Mhm.”

“Well, c’mon then,” he laughs as he leads you to his red Chevy truck. He opens the passenger door for you and helps you up. His calloused hand seems to burn inside yours, a wildfire that simmers all the way down to your core the longer his fingers are on your skin. When he releases, he slams the door shut and makes his way over to the driver’s side.

When he hops in and starts the truck up, the engine rumbles to life exactly like your nerves do. You feel like a livewire that’s ready to explode. You’re in his truck, going on a date with him. You still can’t believe this is happening.

When the radio springs to life, you hear “Cherry Waves” by Deftones play softly against the hum of the speakers. Your eyes widen as a smile creeps up against your shiny lips. “Deftones, huh?”

Joel looks over at you as he furrows his eyebrows together. “You know Deftones?” he asks surprised, his grip on the leather steering wheel tightening as he takes you in.

“Yeah! Doesn’t everyone?” you laugh as you buckle your seatbelt and look back up at him. He’s still looking at you in awe as if he’s just now seeing you for the first time. The sight makes your stomach flip circles as he continues to look at you, the orbs of his honey eyes seeming to glow as you stare into those pits of pure warmth.

“Not exactly,” he chuckles as he pulls out of the quiet apartment complex and into the busy streets of Austin. “You like rock music?”

“What do you think?” you giggle as you turn the volume up one notch and lean your head back against the soft brown seat.

Joel turns his head toward you and cocks up a thick eyebrow as he smirks over at you. “Okay, smart alec. What’s your favorite song by them then?”

“Hmm, let me think,” you hum as you pick apart your brain, “probably Change.”

“Mmm. Guess you are a fan,” he smiles as he drives down the busy street full of speeding cars and hovering beam lights.

“And yours?” you ask with the hint of a smirk on your face.

“Rosemary.”

“Ahh. A classic. One of my favorites.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you hum as you look out the glass window. You can see his reflection vaguely as he looks wondrously at you, and it makes butterflies flit through your stomach.

After a minute of silence, with only the hum of the radio playing, Joel clears his throat as you turn back to him. “So, slippin’ me your number in line, huh? Ain’t you a bold girl.”

You raise your eyebrow at him and lean a little closer as you inhale his mahogany scent as it makes your head a little dizzy. “I mean, I was just trying to get your attention.”

He chuckles as he shakes his head. “Sweetheart, you had my attention the moment I saw you up on that carousel. You didn’t even have to try.”

You feel your cheeks flush pink as you twist your fingers in your lap, your skirt barely covering your thighs as you find Joel’s eyes flit down to them. You pull nervously at your cotton dress and look back up at him shyly. “Maybe I just wanted to see you again.”

“Well, darlin’, I’m glad you slipped me your number or I wouldn’t have got to take out the prettiest girl in Austin.”

You bite your lip and slide back into the seat, your nerves buzzing through your body as you try to relax and enjoy the ride. “Prettiest girl in Austin?”

“That’s right, darlin’. Prettiest girl.”

You turn your head to look at the sun slowly slipping under fluffy clouds as sunset draws close. You let the music flow through your eardrums as you bask in the large presence of the man that was made of dreams. Joel Miller.

In just a few short minutes, Joel’s parking the truck in the parking lot and walking you up to the shiny entry gates to the fair. He pulls his leather wallet out and purchases two tickets and then leads you through the metal gates. When you get inside, the glow of spinning rides and lit up food stands cover the entirety of the fair, the thick crowd sprawled every which way as you walk through the bustling crowd of people.

“You must like the fair,” you say as you pass a little girl with a clump of blue cotton candy in her hands.

“Why do you say that?” Joel asks as he walks side by side with you.

“Well, you were just here yesterday,” you laugh as you look up at him. He looks nervous as he rakes a hand through his salt-and-pepper scruff and nonchalantly shakes his slicked back curls. “So, why’d you come back?”

“Because,” he starts as he turns his body to you, “I wanted to take ya out. And I figured dinner would be nice and all, but thought maybe this would be more fun. A better way to get to know you. Maybe make you feel more comfortable,” he shrugs as he laughs nervously next to you.

“Oh.” He’s so… thoughtful. He really took the time to think that through to do what he thought would make you more comfortable. He was so… good.

“Hope that’s alright. You didn’t have to come back if you didn’t want to…”

“No.” You cut him off and put your hand around his wrist as you turn to stand in front of him. “I wanted to come with you. This is perfect.”

“You sure? You’re not just pullin’ my leg?” he asks with knit together eyebrows, his jaw tense as you see his eyes burn like fire into yours.

You step closer to him and nod your head up and down, flexing your fingers around his soft flannel shirt as you respond just loud enough for only him to hear over the buzz of the crowd. “Joel, I wouldn’t be here if I was just pulling your leg. Why’d you think I slipped you my number, hmm? I thought you were the hottest man I’ve ever seen in my life. Didn’t want to miss the opportunity to pass me by to not get a chance to make a move on you,” you gush as you watch him relax against your touch.

“Darlin’, I’m gonna have to ask you to stop sweet talkin’ me or you’re gonna have me turnin’ this whole damn fair red,” he chuckles low as he slips his fingers behind your back, just above your hip as you feel warm heat slide down your spine.

“You mean I can make a big, strong, handsome man blush?” you giggle as he shakes his head again.

“You’re a little firecracker, ain’t ya?”

“Guess so. Wanna see how many colors I can paint your face?” you laugh flirtatiously as he rolls his eyes.

“C’mon, trouble. Such a little flirt.” He smirks and pulls you along the row of lit up games and lets his hand linger over your dress as you feel the tinge of red fill your cheeks.

“So, umm. How old are ya, sweetheart?” he asks nervously as you walk past a group of teenagers gathering around a basketball game.

“Twenty-six,” you say cautiously as you look up under your long eyelashes, blinking away any doubts you have that he’ll think you’re too young.

“Twenty-six, yeah? Wow,” he laughs as he scratches the back of his head, making his bicep cling tight to the green flannel shirt, “I can remember when I was that young. Was a long time ago.”

You scrunch your nose up at him and look curiously at him. “You’re making yourself sound like you’re ancient or something,” you laugh as you pass a little boy playing a ring toss game.

“I am ancient,” he responds as he looks the other way, shying away from you.

You pull on his flannel until his face is turned back toward you, making sure his brown eyes snap back down to you. “How old are you?” you ask with a raised brow.

“Too old to be with a pretty young thing like you,” he scoffs as he tries to look away again.

You pull a little on the fabric of his collar until he has no choice but to look straight at you. “How old?” You don’t give him a chance to shy away again, he’s locked in, he has to answer you.

“Forty-seven,” he mumbles as you see a flash of panic through those big doe eyes of his. You smile up at him, and he just looks at you with his mouth parted open, like he can’t believe you’re smiling at him. “What? Why are you smilin’?”

“Because,” you laugh as you drop your hand from his soft collar, “you’re not old, Joel. You’re just right.”

His features soften up, and you swear you see him sigh as relief seems to wash over him. He thought he was too old for you? “Jus’ right, huh?” he smirks as the corners of his mouth tilt up to be the most gorgeous smile you’ve ever seen in your life. He’s so pretty. Especially in the colorful swirling lights of the fair.

“Just right,” you confirm as you walk by a booth of various shapes of balloons.

“Hey, mister! Why don’t you come play a round of darts and win your girl a prize?” The game worker shouts across the way as Joel turns his head and furrows his eyebrows as he looks back and forth between you and the game stand awkwardly.

When he takes another glance at you, he gives you a soft smile as the glow of his eyes turn lighter. “Wanna play a round?” he asks as he nods his head to the game stand.

You turn your head and take in the row of balloons that paint the wall purple, red, yellow, green, and pink. All shapes and sizes of stuffed animals sit against the back wall, and you smirk up his way. “Think you can take out more balloons than me?” you ask playfully as you flick your hair behind your shoulder.

“Only one way to find out, darlin’.” He narrows his eyes mischievously and grabs your wrist as he pulls you to the edge of the stand.

Joel hands five dollars to the worker, and he gives him ten black pointed darts. He hands you five of them and holds his arm toward the board filled with balloons. “Ladies first.”

You smile and walk up to the line of white tape and carefully assess your movements. You decide to go for the middle row first. That should be safest. You line up your first dart and shoot. The pointy end barely grazes the edge of a yellow balloon and falls with a bang to the ground.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath. You try again, but you miss again. Why can’t you just get one fucking balloon?

You huff out and purse your lips together as you feel your thighs rub together in the heat of the warm summer’s night. You see Joel out of the corner of your eye, maybe a hint of empathy on his face as he takes in your pouting lips. You feel the weight of his eyes on you, and you try your best not to look too upset as you twirl the smooth dart in your hand.

“Well, keep going!” The worker practically screams at you as you almost jump out of your skin. As you look down at the dart and weigh your options, something happens that you didn’t expect to. Joel slides up behind you and puts one hand on your waist as he angles you perpendicular to the board of balloons while his hand wraps around yours with the dart between your fingers.

You gasp as he guides your arm. “Let me help ya, sweetheart,” he smiles as his lips graze the shell of your ear, making a bead of sweat stick to the side of your forehead as nerves course through your veins.

“You wanna keep your eyes right on the center of the balloon. Imagine it has a big target in the middle that you want to reach. You wanna close one eye, aim right for the center, and throw hard.” The words whisk through you at an impossibly fast rate as his hot breath breathes down your neck. You think you might pass out at how hot your skin feels with him this close, with him touching you. It’s like he’s branding you as his own.

“Like this?” you whisper out hoarsely as you bring your arm up as his hand never leaves yours.

“Yeah, there ya go. Right for the middle of the yellow one. Go on now,” he encourages as he takes you through the motions, his gravelly voice breathing down the side of your neck as his broad body hovers over yours.

You hold your breath and throw the dart, keeping one eye closed as you focus solely on the blown up balloon and not on the gorgeous man that’s clinging to your skin. The dart soars through the air and lands right in the center of the yellow balloon as you hear a loud pop and see scattered shreds fall to the ground.

“Yes! I got it,” you say excitedly as Joel chuckles lightly and nods his head.

“Attagirl.”

The word makes you gulp as you feel your skin flush from the praise. He was basically calling you a good girl, and that was the hottest thing a man has ever said to you. Attagirl. Something so sexy about the way he said it to you in a deep, Southern drawl. Attagirl.

He steps back and lets you take your turn for your last two darts. You go over every step he told you to do and follow what he instructed you to do. You did exactly that and popped two more balloons as they fell broken to the floor.

“Nice shot,” he winks as he takes your place and steps up to the white line.

“Alright, cowboy. Let’s see what you got,” you say playfully as you see his lips curl up into a huge grin.

It’s almost too easy for him. He takes down two at a time with only one dart, his aim impeccable as he takes down balloon after balloon. When his five darts are gone, he dusts off his hands on his dark jeans and smiles your way. “So, how’d I do?”

“You’re too good, Joel. A master of balloons,” you tease as you playfully push at his solid chest.

“Master of balloons, not master of puppets?” he smirks as you roll your eyes at him.

“Metallica fan I see,” you say with a raised brow as you cross your arms over your chest.

“Good guess.”

Before you walk away, the game worker tells Joel he can pick out any stuffed animal he wants. Joel looks over at you with a wandering gaze as he reaches out his hand and pulls you over to the edge of the stand.

“What do ya want?” Joel asks as your eyes scan the wall. There’s a variety of stuffed animals. Monkeys, teddy bears, all the way to jellyfish. Your eyes wander the wall until they land on a light blue dolphin. That’s the one.

“That one.” You point to the dolphin, and the worker gets it down for you.

“Here you go,” the worker nods as you take the plush dolphin and smile down at it, “I’m sure your girl is happy now.”

Joel looks down at the stuffed dolphin in your hand and smiles as his warm brown eyes meet yours. “Yeah, think she is.” You blush and walk down the row of busy games as Joel walks next to you with his hand hovering over the small of your back.

“Thanks for that back there,” you murmur as you set your pace a little slower.

“For what?” he asks as his hand presses deeper into the fabric of your dress.

“For showing me how to throw the darts probably and winning me this dolphin,” you say as you hold the plushie stuffed animal up and poke him playfully in the bicep with it.

“Anytime, darlin’. Anytime,” he chuckles as he walks along the flurries of crowds.

You walk along the outside of the crowd as you pass an area full of a variety of food trucks. “So. Was that your daughter yesterday with you in line?”

“Oh, yeah. That was Sarah. My little girl. Well, not so little anymore. She’ll be eighteen next year, and she’s about to start her senior year of high school, but she’ll always be my little girl.”

You watch the gleam in his chocolate eyes as you take in his expression. A little sadness but also so very proud. He looks like he loves her a lot, and that makes your heart beat for him even more. “Is that your only one?”

“My only kid?” he asks as he turns his head toward you, “yeah, she’s my only one.”

You ask the next question carefully, walking on thin ice. You didn’t see a ring, so you assume he isn’t taken. “And there’s no Mrs. Miller in the picture?”

He scratches the bottom of his scruff as he stretches his neck, assessing the question before he answers. “No. It’s jus’ me, darlin’. No one else in the picture.”

Your eyebrows knit together as you turn to face him, your head cocking to the side as you look him up and down carefully. “You mean to tell me that a man like you is single?”

He just shrugs his shoulders and blatantly answers. “What’s so hard to understand ‘bout that?”

You put one hand on each hip and roll your eyes sarcastically. “I mean, hello? You’re ridiculously hot and nice and I don’t know, sweet?”

Joel chuckles and raises one eyebrow up. “Got me blushin’ again, darlin’,” he responds as he rakes a hand slowly down his jawline while his cheeks turn a deep red.

You laugh and admire how absolutely beautiful the man looks when he’s full of embarrassment. He’s so freaking cute that you could just squish him. Soft, the man is so soft. You might just fall head over heels for him.

“And that’s you, sweetheart. Sweet, flirty, adorable, absolutely drop dead gorgeous,” he gushes as he looks at you with glittering honey eyes. Now it’s you that’s the one blushing. “Can’t believe you’re at the fair with me. Of all the men you could be with, you went with me. What ever made you do that?” he asks unbelievably as he shakes his head.

“Because I saw more than a handsome face in that crowd when I saw you standing in line. I saw a man I wanted to get to know, wondered if you felt the same way. You looked like magic, and I wanted to taste it,” you smirk as his cheeks turn bright red again.

“Christ,” he chuckles as he grabs your arm and pulls you through the blinding crowd, “c’mon you sweet talker. Magic, huh? You’re the one that looks like magic.” You just giggle silently as you let him take you on the ride of your life.

The sun slowly dips beneath the clouds as the last clashes of mixed shades of purple and orange colors turn to darkness. The fair lights up every which way as glowing lights from the amusement rides and food trucks light the way on the warm pavement. You pass a stand with blowing bubbles and light up toys and look over to see Joel eyeing you, a curious glint in his chocolate eyes as he assesses you closely.

Before you wait to see what he’s about to ask you, you chime in first. “So, cowboy, what do you do for work?”

You hear him chuckle and mutter something about cowboy under his breath as he runs calloused fingers smoothly through his slicked back curls. “I’m a contractor. Me and my brother, Tommy, run a business together.”

You lift an eyebrow and smirk his way. “A contractor, huh?”

Joel just chuckles and nods his head. “S’right, sweetheart. We keep pretty busy, that’s for sure.”

You eye his green flannel, dark denim jeans, and leather boots and nod. Of course he was a contractor. He definitely looked the part. “So you’re strong and handsome? And you know how to build things? My, my, Mr. Miller. You’re quite the package, aren’t you?” You tease as you push him playfully in the arm and flash him a ridiculously huge grin that you can barely keep to yourself.

“A package, huh? Can’t say that anyone’s ever called me quite a package before,” he responds as his hand grazes yours carefully. You taste the flames as they lick against your skin, you want to dance in them as they burn you alive.

“Well, I called you one so there’s that if that means anything.” You shrug your shoulders absentmindedly and look back ahead as you hear Joel laugh under his breath.

“Mmm definitely means somethin’, darlin’.” You look back to see he’s giving you this crooked smile, and his chocolate eyes are scorching into yours as you see just how soft he is. He’s like a little puppy dog with those big eyes of his, and you just want to take him home and make him yours forever.

You almost reach out to lace your arm in his until he asks you a question. “What about you, sweetheart? What do you do?”

You smile warmly up at him and answer. “I’m actually studying to get my master’s in art at the University of Texas. And I work at this little art shop off Hollow’s Drive. It’s called Autumn’s Art Gallery.”

You watch the way he shifts his honey eyes over to you as he gives you a once over. “An artist, you say? Impressive. You draw or paint?”

“Both, actually. I find myself with a charcoal pencil in my hand more than a paint brush. But I love them both equally,” you shrug as your shoes scuff against the cement.

“You draw people?” he asks thoughtfully as you meet his simmering gaze.

“All the time. Why?”

He laughs as you see the crow’s feet pull at the corners of his eyes. “You gonna draw me like one of your French girls?”

“Joel Miller throwing Titanic quotes at me?” you laugh as you shake your head at him in disbelief.

“Couldn’t resist that joke, darlin’. Was the perfect opportunity,” he chuckles as you roll your eyes at him.

“Sure, just let me go conjure up a butterfly robe and an old parlor couch while I find you a red wig.”

You watch him crinkle his eyes up as he holds his stomach and chuckles loudly as he throws his head back. You join in on his laughter and almost burst into tears from how hard the two of you are laughing. When he finally catches a breath after a few moments, he wipes his eyes and places a firm hand on your shoulder. “Sweetheart, I can’t remember the last time I laughed that hard. You’ve got a gift,” he smiles as you see nothing but warm brown eyes swarm your vision.

“Glad I could make you laugh,” you giggle.

“So, art. What got ya interested in art?” he asks with a cocked up brow as he presses his palm into the middle of your shoulder blades. His hand burns like fire, but you love it.

“Well, I’ve always had a love for painting. I told my mom when I was in kindergarten that I was going to grow up to be an artist and look at me now! I made it,” you beam as the glow of the Ferris wheel lights your way forward.

“I’d love to see your work sometime,” Joel responds as his fingers slide down to right above your hips, right at that dangerous level of being too close but not close enough.

“Really?” you ask surprised as you see him nod his head.

“Really.”

You bite your lower lip and cross your arms as you turn to look at him, your eyes sliding along his beautiful face. “Would you… do you think you’d let me draw you sometime?” you ask shyly as you play with the skirt of your green dress, your cheeks flushing pink as you flutter your eyelashes at him.

He laughs out loud as his eyes widen. “Sweetheart, what would you wanna draw me for? Ain’t nothin’ worth drawin’,” he says amused as he adjusts the sleeve of his flannel shirt.

You shrug your shoulders and sway your hips as you respond. “I dunno. I think you’ve got such a handsome face. It’d be worth it to me.”

His lips part open as his eyes stare intimately down into yours as he takes in what you just told him. He looks conflicted, surprised even that you’d say that. But his eyes soften and a crooked smile splays across his mouth, and you think he’s the prettiest man you’ve ever seen in your entire life.

“Darlin’, if you’re gonna sweet talk me like that then ‘course you can draw me. Jus’ don’t let me look bad.”

“I could never make you look bad, Joel.” He smiles and cups his hand underneath your chin and grazes it affectionately before he takes your hand and pulls you along the street.

He slowly slips his hand into yours as he entwines his fingers around yours, the callouses grazing along your skin as you feel warmth cover your insides as he takes a hold of you. It feels so right, makes you a little dizzy if you’re being honest. How can you like a man so much that you only just met? You don’t know what it is, but he feels like complete magic. The perfect man that’ll indulge all your fantasies.

He pulls you along the busy crowd, hand in hand as he looks back every few seconds and flashes you with the most dreamy smile you’ve ever seen, ending with a flirty wink that almost makes you choke on your own saliva. He grasps your fingers tighter as he slides his calloused thumb gently over the top of your hand. Right before he passes the Ferris wheel that’s spinning slowly in the mix of all the different fair rides, Joel stops just a few feet from the entrance and looks back at you, one eyebrow cocking up as he takes in your curious expression.

“What?” you ask with a small laugh as you take in his coffee colored eyes that narrow just a tad, the look of a man with an agenda up his sleeve.

“Wanna go for a ride?” he asks as he nods his head toward the lit up Ferris wheel, his eyes never leaving yours.

You flick your eyes carefully over the spinning ride and then look back at him as you turn your hips closer to him. “A ride?” you ask flirtatiously as you smirk up at him, “Joel Miller wants to take me for a ride?”

His eyes slightly darken, his nail beds scratching along your skin as he leans in closer so you can hear that deep Southern drawl that clings to your insides. “Promise to take it slow,” he whispers menacingly. You gulp at his double meaning, his wicked smirk clawing at your insides as you feel the sweat bead down your skin.

Promise to take it slow. The words are harmless yet heated. He means the ride will be slow, but there’s also that other meaning. The one where it involves his lap, his cock, his slow motions as you gently slide up and down on his slick covered cock. That’s what those words really mean to you, and fuck do you want that. Badly.

“Okay,” you breathe out slowly as he smiles and leads you to the small ticket booth ahead. He pulls out his leather wallet and hands the attendant three dollars in exchange for two small pink tickets. Joel leads you to the front of the line and hands the tickets off as he lets you climb into one of the carts first. You sit down on the white plastic seat and get situated, fanning your green skirt across your thighs as Joel takes his place across from you.

After a few seconds, the ride starts up and you slowly ascend into the summer night’s air. The fair looks so different up in the sky, glowing lights encased in a blur as you see different shades of pinks, blues, reds, and yellows paint the fair. Soft bubbles float in the background, and bright stars twinkle in the night sky. It’s all so very whimsical.

“Wow. It’s really beautiful up here,” you say in awe as you take in all the colorful scenery of the fair.

“Yeah, it sure is,” Joel says quietly across from you. When you turn to look at him, he’s not looking at the loud crowds or the different colored bumper cars across the way. No. He’s looking at you.

Oh.

Your knees brush against his jeans, and his hand grazes gently against your inner thigh, his rough fingertips resting just behind your kneecap as his thumb brushes back and forth gently. Slow, meticulous, heated. His eyes bore into yours, chocolate irises that simmer warmly into yours. He just sits there staring, lips halfway parted as he’s mesmerized in place, his eyes only on you.

Another brush of his fingertips and suddenly the air is too hot, too much as you fight every bone in your body to jump right off your seat and straddle his lap. His lips look so inviting, plush, big. Lips that were made just for you to kiss. His eyes trail down to your lips, dark eyes smoldering as he gulps and takes another breath.

The tension is heavy, weighing down on your insides that scream for you to move. Kiss him, kiss him, kiss him. You bet he’s a great kisser, bet he has an experienced tongue, bet he can swallow you down and devour you whole when he licks into your mouth. Warm, inviting, blissful.

Suddenly your body is leaning forward, slowly reaching out as your right hand comes down on his denim clad knee. He does the same, cautiously bending forward, eyes locked with yours as he reaches, reaches, reaches until his calloused fingers are brushing against your jawline, eyes swallowing you whole as he leans forward more, almost to your lips, almost…

The Ferris wheel abruptly starts again and jolts both of you back in your seats, interrupting the almost kiss that could’ve happened. You internally grunt inside. Why the fuck did that have to happen? You just sigh as Joel reaches behind his head to scratch his neck, eyebrows furrowed as he blows out a breath and then looks back up at you with an amused expression on his face. Then the two of you burst out laughing, a harmonious melody that reaches through the dim night sky and catches on the bright lights of the fair. You keep laughing until both of you are gasping for breath, a silly moment that turned into a mutual joke.

“So much for a slow ride,” Joel chuckles as he runs a hand through his thick locks of curls, sighing again as you see the crow’s feet wrinkling at the edges of his golden eyes. And my oh my does he look pretty.

“So much for that,” you laugh and stare off into the blurring crowd on the ground.

After a couple more spins on the Ferris wheel, the ride comes to a halt at the bottom and Joel takes your hand and helps you out of the little cart. “You hungry?” he asks as he keeps your hand locked tightly in his.

“Mmm what’d you have in mind? Something sweet, maybe?” you smile with one eyebrow raised in question.

Joel shakes his head and laughs, warm and deep. “Figured you’d have a sweet tooth.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“‘Cause you’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen,” he smiles, eyes lit up like Christmas lights as you stare back at him in awe. He called you sweet. He thinks you’re sweet. You don’t say anything, you just smile and follow him down the row of lit up food trucks that are swarmed with lines. You think you’d follow him anywhere. As long as he’d keep you locked in his arms.

He pulls you into a short line of one of the funnel cake stands as you look at the decorative funnel cakes on display. That’s not all there is. There’s also blue and pink bags of cotton candy, Caramel apples, cinnamon rolls, and pink lemonade.

“You want a funnel cake?” Joel asks as your eyes scan the powdered sugar treats.

“Mhm,” you nod as his hand squeezes gently around yours.

“You want one of those fancy ones or just a plain one?”

“Just a plain one is good with me.”

“Anythin’ else?” he asks as he looks over his shoulder and down at you. Your eyes keep going back to the pink colored cotton candy, your mouth watering as you can almost taste the fluffy goodness melt in your mouth. He seems to notice as he speaks again. “I see you keep lookin’ at that cotton candy. Wanna get some?”

“Please,” you respond eagerly as you almost bounce at the mention of cotton candy. Joel chuckles to himself when he sees your eyes light up. He thinks you’re just the sweetest thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

When it’s your turn at the window, Joel orders the funnel cake and cotton candy and hands the worker some cash as she takes it from him. “Give us a few minutes with the funnel cake. We’ll have it out in about five minutes,” the worker says as she hands Joel a large bag of fluffy cotton candy.

“Here ya go, darlin’,” he drawls as he hands you the clear bag of cotton candy and grazes his fingers lightly over yours.

“Thanks, Joel.” You open the twisted bag carefully and tear off a piece of pink cotton candy with your thumb and index finger. When you pop a fluffy piece into your mouth, you swallow the cherry flavor and groan from the delicious cotton candy as you lick your glossy lips clean. “So good,” you sigh as you take another bite and lick your thumb clean of the sticky mess.

“Yeah? Let me have a bite then.” He reaches for the open bag of cotton candy, but you snatch it from him before he can grab a piece and hold it high in the air.

“Only if you can catch me,” you tease as you smirk over at him, snickering under your breath as his eyebrows knit together.

“Now, sweetheart. Jus’ what do ya think you’re doin’, hmm?” he asks as he extends his fingers and stares your way.

“Having some fun,” you giggle as he reaches once more for the bag, but you take another step back.

“You’re walking on mighty thin ice, darlin’,” he murmurs as his eyes darken slightly, almost like he wants to chase you.

“Oh yeah? What are you gonna do about it then? You gonna just stand there or are you gonna come get me?” you taunt as you rustle the bag and toss it back and forth in your hands.

“Oh, I’m gonna come get you, don’t you worry your pretty little head,” he smirks as he takes one step forward.

You lick your bottom lip and place one hand on your hip as you taunt him. “Come get me then, cowboy.”

He twitches his jaw and narrows his eyes playfully as a smug smirk covers his plush lips. Before you know it, he’s lunging at you as you squeak and try to run from him. You don’t make it far until you feel his thick arms wrap around your waist, and then he’s picking you up as you squeal while he spins you around.

“C’mere you little tease,” he chuckles as he places you back on the ground and leans forward, biting off a piece of cotton candy as almond eyes stare straight into yours. “Delicious,” he smiles as he grabs another handful and pops it into his mouth, smirking down at you as you stare wide-eyed at him.

“What am I gonna do with you?” he chuckles as he shakes his head slowly at you.

“I dunno,” you smile bashfully and sway your hips as your green summer dress blows in the gentle breeze of the night. “Guess you could keep me,” you say shyly, fluttering your eyelashes at him as you look carefully at his calm features.

“Keep you, huh?” he asks with a crooked smile splayed on his face.

“Mhm,” you hum shyly.

“Maybe I will, darlin’. Maybe I will.” He reaches out and cups your chin as he tilts it up so he can have a better look into your shimmering eyes. Just when you think he might kiss you, they call your order from the side window of the food truck. Joel grabs the paper plate of the powdered dessert and grabs up two forks and napkins as he leads you over to an empty picnic style table. You take a seat on the old, rickety seat, and Joel slides in next to you, the side of his thigh pressed firmly against your bare leg. And it burns, hot.

As the two of you pick at the savory funnel cake, you and Joel bond over interests and likes. You learn his favorite color is blue, the same as yours, he plays guitar, he likes fishing, camping, building and making things, but mostly he loves spending precious time with his daughter, Sarah. And you love that, love that he’s a good father. He’s not just a good father, he’s the perfect father. The way he talks about her is, well, wonderful. You could sit and listen to him talk all night long if you could. And you also wonder who the hell would be so stupid as to leave him? He’s literally perfect. Sweet, funny, handsome, a menace. But that just leaves more for you.

“How’s the funnel cake, darlin’? Sweet enough?” Joel laughs as he takes another bite out of the fried goodness.

“Definitely sweet enough, it’s just right.” You swallow another mouthful of powdered sugar and just when you’re about to reach for another forkful, Joel nods to the side of your face.

“You got a little somethin’ on your face, sweetheart.”

Grabbing up a clean napkin, you dab at your face embarrassed and find there’s nothing there. “Where? I don’t feel anything.”

“Oh, you missed. Right here.” He swipes his finger in a pile of powdered sugar and wipes it clear across the side of your face as you feel powdered sugar stick to your shiny skin.

Your eyes grow wide as you push him playfully against his strong chest. “Joel!”

He erupts into a fit of laughter as he throws back his head and holds a firm hand across his chest. “Sorry, darlin’. Couldn’t resist,” he chuckles as he plants his thick fingers against the denim of his broad thighs.

You lean forward, challenging him and smirk. “Okay then. If you think it’s so funny then why don’t you clean up the mess you made. Hmm?”

He eyes you carefully, his thick eyebrows knitting together as he studies you, flicking his eyes between your mouth and your playfully narrowed eyes. He runs a hand nervously down the side of his jaw, right through the greying scruff as he waits and waits and waits. Then he’s moving, leaning forward, brushing his calloused fingers against the edge of your thigh until his tongue is flat against the corner of your mouth.

His tongue is warm, long, wet as he laps up the powdered sugar. You feel a jolt of electricity shoot through you, a meer tinge of bravery slipping through your nerves. After he’s done lapping up the mess he made, just as he’s starting to pull back, you feel that spark of bravery shoot through you again at the speed of lightning, so you move, fast. Before he can turn his face away, you lean forward and plant your lips firmly over his, giving him a quick kiss on the lips as warmth runs like honey down your insides.

You break the kiss fast, your cheeks burning red as you feel sort of dizzy from the quick actions. Just when you almost apologize for diving in, Joel cups your chin and brings you back in. His lips are on you in a second. Hot, burning, electric, he seems to be everywhere. Crowding your space, slipping through your lips, burning you from the inside out. The kiss deepens as he cradles the side of your face, fingers brushing through thick locks of your wind blown hair. You seem to get lost in time as you wrap your hands around his neck and pull him closer to your body, until he’s flush against your chest.

You part your lips and allow his tongue to enter your vicinity, feeling it collide with your own as it dances around yours in a slow, steady rhythm. He tastes like powdered sugar, coffee, warm summer nights as his tongue glides against yours. It’s like all the busy movements and loud noises in the fair stop, it’s only you and Joel, just two people getting lost in a first kiss. It’s almost like you’re in a movie, camera slowly spinning around the two of you as you get tangled up together in a slow, romantic kiss. And it’s like fireworks go off in the sky, colorful swirls painting the way each time your lips move in sync. It’s unlike any other kiss you’ve ever had before. It’s slow, easy, just right, perfect. And you know then you’re a goner. You’ve fallen for the man with dreamy brown eyes and a Southern drawl you could hear for hours on end. You truly had it bad for the sweet cowboy that swept you off your feet.

After a couple of minutes go by, Joel pushes himself back, but keeps one hand lingering on your jaw, his thumb trailing gently against your flushed cheek. “I knew it,” he smiles, a warm, honey-like tone slipping off his tongue as he looks at you with warm, brown eyes.

“Knew what?” you whisper out, still catching your breath from that amazing first kiss.

“I knew you were sweeter than pie,” he smiles as you catch a gleam in those pretty honey colored eyes.

“Sweeter than pie?”

“Darlin’, you’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.”

Your lips part open, a stupid grin spreading across your glossy mouth as you stare incredulously at the sweetest man that took your breath away.

You spend the next couple hours locked hand in hand, exploring every square inch of the fair, sharing cherry lemonade with each other, bonding over movies and shared interests, just spending the night getting to know one another. It was the best date of your life, the best night. You never would have imagined it to be quite like this, but here you were, completely entranced with some handsome man you fell for on the carousel.

The drive back home is quiet as the breeze from the open window blows softly through your hair. You can feel Joel’s eyes on you, the way he keeps smiling and staring every few seconds just watching you enjoy the long summer’s night. The radio hums low in your ear, but all you can hear is your own breath, the shift of Joel in the driver’s seat, the soft tapping noise of his thumb on the leather steering wheel, and the low rumble of the truck’s engine. You love summer nights, love getting lost in the night, but most of all you love being in this truck, in this seat, next to Joel.

You feel Joel’s calloused fingers slowly graze against the outside of your thigh, so you shift in your seat and look over at him all dreamily, getting lost in those honey flecked eyes you find so mesmerizing. He’s got you twisted around the black military watch that sits clasped against his wrist, and there’s no way in hell he’s letting you go.

After a few more minutes of driving on the dark, dimly lit road back to your apartment, he’s pulling up to your front door. The one with overflowing white lilies in pots and the crystal wind chime you can’t seem to let go of. He puts the truck in park and looks over at you, an expression of gentleness as he relaxes his brows and pulls some out of place locks behind your ear.

“I had a great time with you tonight, darlin’.” You watch the crooked smile appear on the side of his mouth, his eyes seeming to twinkle like the bright stars in the night sky.

“I did, too, Joel. Thank you, for the perfect date.”

“Anytime, darlin’. Anytime.”

You sit there a moment, hovering in the silence as you chew on your bottom lip and taste the hint of cherry lip gloss. You twist your fingers in your lap, thighs pressing together as you look up at him through your long eyelashes. He’s just sitting there, his jaw clenched as he stares at you perplexed with the engine humming faintly in the background.

Just as you think of slowly making your way out the passenger door, Joel clears his throat and dwindles his hand on the steering wheel. “Would you… would you maybe wanna go on another date with me next Friday? Sarah’s gonna be outta town for volleyball camp, and I have the weekend free. Maybe you’d wanna come over for dinner or watch a movie or…”

You interrupt his offer as you quickly nod your head yes. “I’d really like that.”

“Is that a yes then?” he asks, brown eyes full of hope as he tightens his grip on the steering wheel, awaiting your final answer.

“That’s definitely a yes, cowboy,” you smile as he smirks back at you in response.

“Friday it is then,” he confirms as his eyes never wander from yours.

“Friday it is.” You let your hand meander on the side of the door handle and tug gently as you start to slide over in the seat. “Well, goodnight. Thank you again for the perfect evening.”

Just as you about make it out of the door, Joel shoots his hand out and grabs your wrist tightly, his voice straining with an ounce of restraint as he holds you there, locked in his embrace. “Wait.”

You slowly turn, eyes locking with his as they seem to widen, his plush lips parted open as he stares transfixed, his chest rising and falling in deep breaths as he tries to hold back. He really needs to, doesn’t need to rush anything, but any self restraint comes crashing down when your eyes trail down to his warm lips.

“C’mere.” A gasp falls out of your mouth as he pulls you into his lap, your thighs straddling his as he pulls you flush to his broad chest. “Wanna kiss you one more time, sweetheart.”

With no hesitation, he tugs your head down to his and crashes his lips against yours. The kiss is heated, desperate, burning as you melt your lips against his and get lost in the radiant glow of the moment. You part your lips, and he slots his tongue inside your mouth, desperately licking at the cotton candy flavor as he collides with your tongue. He twists around, pulling you closer to his body as you feel the hard erection that bulges at his zipper line.

You deepen the kiss, tasting the powdered sugar and cherry lemonade against your lips, letting your body grind down on him as you hear him moan through your glossy lips. You feel his hands slowly slide your dress up, feel his meaty palms dig into your thighs as you feel slick start to coat your lace.

You rake your fingers through his messy curls, start to grind against the thickness of his cock through his tight denim jeans as you picture how ruined he must be underneath that zipper. You moan into his mouth the second one of his hands slides up higher, teasing the inside of your thigh as you desperately want to ride him right here, right now. You want to taste him, want to feel him slide in and out of your dripping core, want him to make you come until you see nothing but him in your vision.

His swollen lips drop to the side of your neck, teeth grazing against your skin as he starts to suck slowly, finding just the right spot that makes you moan and pant against the shell of his ear as your face rubs against his coarse salt-and-pepper scruff. Your fingers cling to his dark green flannel, curling around the edges as you lick the side of his ear, just as he makes you moan again from his teasing tongue low on your collarbone.

Your other hand grips the back of his sweaty hair, holding on for dear life as you feel you can orgasm right here at any moment. He hasn’t even touched you where you need him most, and he already has you unraveling from the seams. Just when he’s about to slide his hand under your soaked panties, his phone rings loudly, blaring as you almost jump out from beneath your sticky skin.

You hear Joel swear under his breath as he digs his phone out from deep within the pocket of his jeans. When he retrieves it, he looks at the lit up screen and sighs. “It’s Sarah, I gotta answer this,” he murmurs as you sit still and let him take the call. “Hello?”

You watch him talk, eyes blown out as his breathing is still shallow, beads of sweat staining his forehead as his curls stick to the edges of his face. His eyes are on yours, unmoving, even when he’s talking to his daughter on the phone.

“You alright? You call Tommy first?” he asks as his free hand stills on your exposed thigh, his thumb gently circling your burning skin as his chocolate eyes stare back into yours, that same heated gaze locked on you. You hear a small voice on the end of the line, but it’s just quiet enough to where you can’t make out what she says.

“Ahh, shit. Alright, jus’ hang tight. I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes. Jus’ wait there with Ellie and tell her not to touch anything. See ya in a few.” He clicks end on the phone and shoves it back into his pocket, sighing as he pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes tight for just a few seconds.

“Everything okay?” you ask quietly, still out of breath from the heated kiss.

“Yeah, Sarah jus’ got a flat tire near the house. Tommy’s daughter, Ellie, is tryin’ to fix it, and I just know she’s gonna make a mess and hurt herself if I don’t get there quick. Damn kid likes to cause trouble,” he chuckles as he sighs again and pulls you close, resting his forehead on your own as he breathes out slowly.

He pushes some damp locks behind your ear, and you sit there glued to his flannel, your nose gently brushing against his. He shifts in his seat and sighs before he speaks. “Look, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to take it so far. If I didn’t get that call, I might’ve not been able to stop myself. You’re just so… so… beautiful and hard to resist and fuck. We don’t have to take it fast, we can go slow, as slow as you want, darlin’. I jus’ like you a lot and wanna keep you around and…”

You cut him off as you press your thumb against his bottom lip and gently hush him. “Joel, it’s okay,” you giggle out as you look straight into flecks of warm honey eyes. “What if I don’t want to take it slow?”

His eyes widen, a speck of sweat sliding down his forehead as he eyes you carefully, his heart hammering in his chest as he watches you closely. “Are you sure?”

You nod in response. “I’m sure, Joel. I want this, want you. I’m all in. I’m not going anywhere.”

A small smile creeps up against his lips, and then all you can see is warmth in his face, his cheeks tinged red as he blushes. “Alright, sweetheart. If that’s what you want. What do you say, Friday we pick this up where we left off?”

“Friday it is, cowboy.”

Another chuckle reverberates off his lips as he brings you down once more against him and crashes his lips into yours. This time it’s just one kiss, but it’s as heated and intense as the others, but there’s also something else in the kiss. Need, desire, want. He wants you, just as bad as you want him.

When he breaks the kiss, he helps you off his lap and ghosts his fingers over the back of your hand as you make your way out of the truck. “Goodnight, sweetheart. Sleep tight.”

Before you close the door, you smile warmly at him and wave flirtatiously. “Night, cowboy. You sure do know how to light a girl up inside.” Before he can say anything back as his cheeks burn bright crimson, you slam the door closed and saunter up to your small porch. You feel his eyes on you, watching until you make it in safely, then he’s driving off into the thick of the night.

When you close the door, you slide down the back of the wood and end up on the floor in a heap, giggling to yourself as you rest your head against the back of the door and hug the stuffed dolphin to your chest. You can’t stop kicking your feet, can’t stop the feeling of warmth and nerves pulling at your insides. You have it so bad for Joel Miller. You can’t wait to see him again. Your new favorite cowboy.

Tags: @laurrrra @sawymredfox @amyispxnk @princesatracionera @vivian-pascal

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@axshadows @joelmillerisapunk @pedroswife69

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel x female reader #joel the last of us #tlou fanfiction #joel miller pedro pascal #joel tlou #joel miller fluff #joel miller the last of us #no outbreak!joel miller #no outbreak au #can you please be mine

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writermai05 · 1 month

Text

Arsonist's Lullabye

Prologue: All you have is your fire

Summary: Zuko’s bad day gets a bit better after an encounter with an unfamiliar face.

Pairing: zuko x fem! reader (Live Action or Animated)

A/N: I am delusional, and when I had the idea for a zuko x reader modern AU where he works in Iroh’s boba tea shop, I had to follow through with said idea. Let’s see if this goes anywhere, and feel free to leave comments or suggestions on how the fic could play out maybe :)

Word Count: 773

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Avatar: The Last Airbender, I am merely a nerd who hyperfixates a lot. This is a modern AU that takes place in the avatar world. Bending still exists. Zuko and the gaang are in college in this series !!

TW!: Physical abuse, burns, Ozai in general, Zuko’s backstory is so sad.

Zuko knew it was going to be a long day as soon as he opened the shop at 12pm.

Within the first two hours, he had run out of tapioca pearls, dropped a container filled with matcha on the floor (which by the way, was a pain in the ass to clean up,) and slipped on the floors he had just mopped. Perhaps he was just born unlucky. Perhaps, most people in life didn’t have to struggle the way that he was, the way that he always had. It wasn’t all bad. He was lucky enough to be here, working in his uncle’s tea shop in the Earth Kingdom, rather than in his father’s company back in the Fire Nation.

The Jasmine Dragon was beloved by many. People from all over the city came to have some of the shops' amazing teas and pastries. It wasn’t too busy, having only three people come in today. perhaps because school at the University of Ba Sing Se hadn’t quite started up yet, outside of the students who had moved in early. The shop was particularly chilly today, but the atmosphere managed to maintain the same warm and cozy feeling, with the dim atmospheric lighting and the sage and emerald hued furniture. Zuko had a second to just relax in the stillness.

He appreciated these quiet moments the most. The moments where he could stop worrying about the shop, and overthinking the worst things he had ever done in his life. Such as when he lashed out at his uncle, multiple times, or about the people he had bullied in high school. He was almost able to forget it all. Forget the fact that his younger sister, Azula, was still stuck in a house with his abusive father, or even forget the feeling of his father’s hand, burning the flesh of his face, leaving a scar in its wake, as well as a near complete blindness in his left eye. His demons may be restless, but boy did Zuko keep them on a tight leash.

Zuko’s reverie was broken by the sound of the door’s bell chime. He immediately snapped out of his thoughts, waiting patiently for his assistance to be needed.

“Um, excuse me,”

A girl, who seemed to be around his age, was standing right in front of him. She wore a navy blue dress with a pale blue lining and detailing around the edges. A belt of the same color was around her waist, with a brown leather cord connecting a bag onto her hip. Her black jacket was cropped to about rib length, with brown leather cords fastening it closed, as well as matching black pants and brown boots.

“This is my first time here…Is there anything that you’d recommend?” She asked politely.

There was something about the way her kind eyes twinkled in the orange lighting that made Zuko fluster. He cleared his throat before opening his mouth to talk.

“Well, Lychee juice is a customer favorite. But personally, my Uncle Iroh’s jasmine green tea is the best in Ba Sing Se.”

“The best in Ba sing Se?” She raised her eyebrows inquisitively.

“The best.” he nodded.

“I’ll take it.” She said, reaching to the tote bag slung over her shoulder. Zuko interrupted her actions with the wave of his hand.

Zuko shook his head. “Don’t worry, It’s on me.” he said, as he began punching numbers, into the register.

“Oh no! I can’t let you do that-” She protested.

He shrugged, a blush beginning to warm his cheeks. “For a first time customer.”

“Thank you so much…” She trailed off, waiting for him to tell her his name.

“Zuko.”

“Zuko. I’ll be sure to come by again. And I fully intend on paying that time.” She said with a playful glare.

The boy smiled slightly.

“Your tea will be ready shortly.”

Zuko had Iroh bring the tea over to the girl. He wasn’t confident in his ability to steadily bring the tray of hot tea without causing more burns to cover his body. The older man made sure to give the girl a complimentary fruit tart to enjoy, but not before looking at his nephew with a teasing glint in his eyes. Zuko groaned.

“Not a word, uncle.” He said as he walked through the staff doors into the shops’ kitchen.

After about 20 minutes had passed, Iroh came into the kitchen, clutching what looked like a napkin and some paper Yuan bills.

“Zuko! The girl left this on her table after she left!”

Zuko carefully took the napkin from his uncle’s hand, reading the message.

“Thanks for the tea! - y/n.”

#arsonist's lullabye #atla #atla live action #atla netflix #avatar the last airbender #prince zuko #zuko x reader #prince zuko x reader #atla x reader #prince zuko imagine #modern au #college au #aang #katara #sokka #toph #zuko

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halfagone · 4 months

Text

Master List

Hyperlinks to Major Fics

lex luthor's ascent from supervillainy to fatherhood | lex luthor's guide series - Based on Father-Son Relationships between Lex Luthor and Danny Fenton.

Off With [the Demon's] Head - The hot mess that is the Al Ghul-Wayne family. Includes: Dad!Danny, Young!Ellie, my OG Danny and Ra's Paradox Fic.

what was lost, found again | lost and found series - Where Danny finds Jason digging his way out of his own grave and brings him home.

down the rabbit hole (goes the throne) - No One Knows AU, Major Canon Divergence. Amity Park has many secrets and Batman Inc. are left to discover them.

bloodlines | born from flesh and bone, clay and stardust series - Danny is the biological son of Diana (Wonder Woman) and Bruce Wayne. A prophecy is involved.

billy batson and the phantom - Adventures of Billy Batson and Danny Fenton. Oh, and Vlad is there too, I guess.

all I am to you is a tragedy, right? - In which a grieving Bruce Wayne brings a Danny Fenton from another universe back with him. This has consequences.

Insomniacs Anonymous - Three-way crossover between DC, Danny Phantom, and Miraculous Ladybug. Social media and chat fic. Now with plot!

pay your dues - An exploration of politics in the Infinite Realms, and the debts that must be paid in full.

weekend wonders - A character study into Stephanie Brown and her resolve as a hero, especially when a close friend comes into suspicion.

present, future, past - Time travel fic in which Bruce falls into the future where everything seems perfect, better than he could have hoped it would be. It doesn't last.

trust no one (trust me) - In a world where the GIW are more competent than in the show, Danny draws some unwanted attention. The people he leaves behind search for him.

bones and all - Inspired by horror films, video games, and fiction. A ghost story set in the DPxDC crossover.

Other Ongoing Series

Please note that some fics may overlap on more than one series.

Readable Arrangements - Short Works for DPxDC, mainly romance.

It's All About Presentation - A collection of gift fics.

Writing Problems? I Say Writing Solutions - A collections of works from "Who Wrote That?" games.

Martydom - Stories exploring heavy topics, such as gore, violence, etc. Must check tags for each work.

oh, the (in)humanity - Hazmat Suit AU. Now featuring multiple timelines.

Our Gentle Sin - Centered around a romance between a Danny from another universe, where the end of the world has come and gone, and Bruce Wayne who helps him relearn what it means to be human.

Blood is Thicker Than Water, But So Is Ectoplasm - In which Danny is a clone of Batman.

Co-Written Works

Born to Make History | written alongside NightShiftShenanigans (@nightshiftshenanigans) - Patrol Partner Event; No Capes AU, Ice Skating AU, featuring Enemies to Lovers Danny and Jason.

For more completed works and series, explore here:

#quick jump to tags #halfagone's masterlist #halfagone's fics #with yours truly :D #lex luthor's ascent from supervillainy to fatherhood #lex luthor's ascent from supervillainy to fatherhood fanart #lex luthor's guide memes #halfagone replies #halfagone rambles #halfagone's fics fanart

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dickensianenglishbulldog · 4 months

Text

Knees up Father Brown!

Into poverty areas you must go

Ee aye Ee aye Ee aye oh!

I won’t catch you bending

‘Cause your a paragon of priestly virtue!

Knees up, knees up

Don’t get the breeze up!

Knees up Father Brown!

#this is very bad #I’m sorry #what have i done #father brown #g. k. chesterton #gk chesterton #g k chesterton #the complete father brown series #cockney songs #knees up mother brown #literature #booklr #hilarious #books

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lilliankoo · 7 months

Text

wanna play you like a game. jeon jungkook. 02

series masterlist!

pairing: villian! antagonist! tribe leader jk x princess! y/n.

trope: "he's mean to everyone but worships the ground you walk on" will absolutely do anything for you, strangers to lovers.

word count: 3.3k

warnings: made up rituals; mentions of animal sacrifice, weapons, blood, jungkook sacrifices by offering his blood, mentions of a made up forest goddess, power dynamics, slight jealous jk, possessive jk, crying, manhandling, y/n using her authority 😍, addressing y/n as “mother” Alot of times, using husband/wife terms for each other, marriage ritual, kisses 😘, more kisses, bondage and I apologize if i missed something.

author's note: OMGG THE MASTERPOST GOT SOOO MUCH LOVE SO I HAD TO FINISH WRITING THIS ASAP.. not a professional writer + this is not proofread 😜 Pls ignore any mistakes & lets goooo.

you are confused and so are your parents; you can tell because of the way they both look at you and then jungkook. “ritual?” your father asks him. Jungkook slightly smiles and looks around. you cannot really pinpoint what’s going on in his head but you are sure whatever it is- it is not good. He sighs and takes a few steps back. “here in lav, we don’t believe in marriages, we perform a soul tying ritual”. His words are foreign to your ears, your brows naturally furrow in confusion and you are too scared to look at your parents right now. you look at him and the way he’s looking at you; too much adoration, compassion, care…love….you can tell your mother was right- he is indeed in love with you…well maybe not love but it is similar to that. you gulp and look at your father who is standing to your right. He looks at you and intertwines his hand with yours. and like always; you calm down- there is no denying in the fact that growing up you were more close to your father as compared to your mother. However, what you don’t notice is the clenched jaw of Jungkook and him looking at your father- he clearly doesn’t like this interaction.

Jungkook clears his throat and extends his hand in front of you. “Come” he murmurs.

not to ruin all of this, you take his hand and follow him up the stairs. He makes you stand in front of the centered chairs while your parents are standing by the stage. you look back at them when suddenly an old man approaches you with a big mantle made of fur and leather. He drapes it over your shoulders while praying in a language you don't understand. the mantle is the same as jungkook is wearing- you notice. And, on the stage, beside you and jungkook- stands the old man, two women and the guy who brought you here previously. one of the women- dressed in brown leathers- walks up to you and smiles. She says something to Jungkook and he nods. He motions you to sit and you comply. Due to your dresses and the mantle; you have a difficulty sitting, you try to fold the dress by your feet but the corset doesn't give you much space to bend. In an instant, Jungkook once again bends to his knees and starts fixing your dress. And oddly, this gesture causes a weird feeling in your core. While he is busy fixing your clothes, you look around and notice how everyone is shocked. The old man’s mouth is agape, the women are shocked, the crowd is murmuring and shuffling around to get a better look and your parents- your father’s mouth is agape too while your mother is smirking at you in a way that says, “I told you”. “Is it okay?” Jungkook's words pull you out of trance and you mindlessly nod. He smiles and stands up to sit back on his chair.

After some time and a few preparations, the “ritual” starts. Everything happening around you is completely foreign to you. A man is drumming in the corner, another is blowing into a shell-like tool and another man is making animal-like noises- all of this is too much for your ears. A particular shrill like noise catches your attention and that’s when you see a pair of two goats tied to a post in the corner. you are not sure what it is for however the possibility of them being here to be sacrificed sends a chill down your spine. you are observing your surroundings when a woman walks over to you with a bowl. Due to your sitting position, you really can’t see what’s in there. She swipes her two fingers in the bowl and whips them out. Her fingers are covered in mud like substance and when she reaches for your face- you lean back. The woman steps back and looks at jungkook. The woman talks to him in the language you can’t understand, he looks at the bowl and motions her to hand it to him. He sits back and turns fully towards you. “You don’t have to be scared, this is just fuller’s earth clay mixed with rose water and coconut oil, this is necessary and a vital part of the ritual,” Jungkook says in such a sweet tone that has you doubting his motives. “Here, look it is harmless' ' he says while saying something to the woman in front of you. The woman reaches for the clay from the bowl and applies it on Jungkook's throat, draws a half moon symbol on his forehead and two parallel lines on his jaw. When she finishes up, she reaches for your face and once again you lean back. you see, you want to test something; more like test jungkook- you don’t like how he has such hold and power on everyone, he disrespected your father and now you are going to do things to maybe disrupt this ritual a bit. “I want you to apply this on my face” you timidly say while looking at him. At your remark, his eyes go wide in surprise and the old man from before- who gave you the mantle- clears his throat and steps forward to probably interject. From your understanding, maybe Jungkook is not supposed to do this. The old man tries to say something but Jungkook raises his hand in his direction- without looking at him- to silence him. He smiles at you and nods. The gasps reach your ears from the crowd and people around you, when jungkook cradles your jaw in one hand and applies the clay on your face. He draws the lines and symbols similar to his. He moves your face side to side slowly to see his work and when he makes eye contact with you he smiles once again and murmurs “pretty”. This gesture has you fuming from the inside because this wasn’t something you wanted, this wasn't the way you wanted him to act. He lets go of your face, hands back the bowl to the woman and claps both of his hands once to signal something.

The ritual goes on for another ten minutes and you sit there quietly and participate in the “activities”. After the clay application, you were told to wear a crown like headband made out of peacock feathers, tied numbers of bracelets and bangles to your wrists and were told to recite several prayers. After all of this, the old man steps forward once again and nods lightly at Jungkook's way. He understands and looks your way. “The ritual is done however to seal this fully, one thing is still undone. Now it is time to do it” he tells you while intertwining his hands with yours and making you stand up. you both walk down the few steps of stairs in the direction of the post. before reaching there, jungkook makes you walk towards your parents, first. you look at your parents and for some reason they both look relieved. your father for the first time since morning, smiles at you. Just as you are about to hug him, Jungkook interjects and hugs your father. “Congratulations” Jungkook says and your mother quickly replies back the same. “We would love to have you both stay, however the next ritual is only for the people of lav” jungkook says while looking at your father. “The carriage is ready” he says while pointing at the carriage in the distance. Blood drains from your face when you realize; your parents are leaving and maybe you won’t ever see them ever again. At Jungkook's remarks, your father nods and asks Jungkook if they can talk to you in private. Jungkook denies and tells him to say whatever he wants to say right in front of him.

“Take care, may the god be with you” your father says while caressing your head.

“you will be fine here my baby, jungkook will keep you safe” your mother says while looking at jungkook. your emotions were already heightened and the thought of being alone here scares you. tears automatically leave your eyes and hug your parents.

“I want to go with you” you tell your father but before your father can reply, jungkook steps in front of you and says “you cannot”. rage consumes in a minute as you look at him; suddenly the mantle feels heavy on your shoulders, the feathered crown is mocking you, the bracelets on your wrist feel tighter than usual and that's why you try to untie them hysterically while your jaw is clenched and your eyes are continuously watering. Jungkook holds both of your arms to stop your little tantrum and makes you look at him. And for the first time since morning, you see the “real “ jungkook. His eyebrows are furrowed, his jaw clenched and his eyes are no longer looking at you with love and adoration. “You are my woman now, you are the mother of this forest and these people, if you leave everyone will die including the forest, the people and me” he says breathlessly. His remark leaves you silent. you stare at him and wait for him to explain, but he does not. He lets go of your arms and rubs them; which you think is his way of apologizing.

you watch as the carriage leaves. you are alone in this forest village and your parents are no longer with you. “Come on,” Jungkook says while taking your hand. you mindlessly follow jungkook for the next ritual; you no longer have the energy to argue.

“This is the last ritual after this we will be each other’s forever” jungkook says in your ear and you shiver. The thought of living here forever as his “wife” does not sit right with you. “what will happen?” you ask him. Jungkook does not reply well for a few minutes. He takes a deep breath and squeezes your hand. “We are going to give a gift our forest goddess, this day wouldn’t have been possible without her” he replies. you are about to ask him another question when a woman dressed in black steps in front of jungkook with a machete in her hand. your eyes go wide at the realization; they are going to sacrifice the goats to their “goddess”.

“Everyone, the goddess devti has blessed upon jeon’s once again and has given our leader jeon jungkook another gift, for years, this forest yearned for a mother and here she is” the woman’s voice booms as she addresses the crowd around you. “Today jeon jungkook and y/l y/n became one, today the lav and his people got their mother. may goddess devti keep blessing the lav like this and protect her people. may devti bless our leader jungkook and mother y/n with a prosperous future” she finishes and the crowd roars in response. “no man can defeat him for he is blessed by the devti” the woman and the entire crowd chant in union.

your ears are ringing by the time she finishes. Saying that you aren’t scared from all of this will be a lie. to make all of this worse, she bows her head and offers you the machete. Your hands shake as you hold the machete and look at it. The pair of goats squeal in horror as if they are aware of their destiny. You look at Jungkook and he just smiles. “Go on, give her blood” he says. You are shaking your head as you try to back from this scene. You hand the machete to Jungkook as you tell him how you cannot kill innocent animals. “y/n, my love this is not killing, you are simply going to offer goddess devti blood” he says while trying to calm you down. You're hyperventilating as tears stream down your face. Jungkook keeps murmuring sweet things in your ear to calm you down.

Something comes to your mind and you stop sniffing. Everyone around you looks at you in worry and confusion. “Jungkook.. your goddess needs blood right?” you ask him and he immediately nods. “Well, i do not want to kill the baby goats, i will be a mother too in the future, we will have children too, these baby goats should be with their mother right now” you say dramatically while wiping your tears. your words seem to have an effect on him as his eyes widen and he takes you in his arms. The thought of having children with you excites him and sends a blush to his face. “If she wants blood, give her yours” you say while placing your head on his chest. you lightly smirk because your plan is working. Your short moment is interrupted when one of the people from the crowd steps forward and states his objection. “That is against the ritual-” you don’t let him finish his sentence when you let go of jungkook’s embrace and stand in front of the man. “Do not interfere while i am having a conversation with my husband” you tell him and he instantly bows. you observe him for a minute and control yourself from bursting into a fit of laughter. You see, if you want to survive here you need to think and act in a way that is in accordance with jungkook. Like now, Just after your comment, Jungkook steps in between you and the man and pushes him back into the crowd. “only talk to my wife like that if you want to become one with the fire” he warns. you are taken aback by his response like you weren’t out here calling him your “husband” but the thing is, you are manipulating him by using sweet words while he is serious. You are pulled out of your thoughts when you see jungkook reaching for the machete. you are about to stop him as you think he is going to kill the goats however, jungkook surprises everyone when he slides the machete in the palm of his left hand. The people around you gasp and protest when suddenly jungkook wipes his bloody palm over the stone statue of the goddess devti. The atmosphere goes still, you no longer can hear people chattering, even the birds chirping go silent. You see as Jungkook breathes heavily, his long hair now in front of his eyes and no longer tied back. Everyone is too scared to move, and in that moment, you dont know where you get the courage from when you walk over to him, make him turn towards you and kiss him. Maybe it is the conclusion of your heightened emotions or the way Jungkook keeps doing whatever you are telling him to do. Jungkook quickly regains his consciousness and kisses you back. His blooded hand is on your jaw while the other is still holding the machete. He moans into the kiss and that’s when you realize where you are and you instantly break it. Jungkook tries chasing your lips but you just shake your head at him- and as always he understands. Your little moment with him is cut short, when the old man takes the machete from Jungkook and throws it away. He pats Jungkook on the back and starts speaking.

“May the goddess approve of this, may she blesses the mother as she blessed upon this village, from this day till the very end; mother y/n and jeon jungkook be together”

After the “ritual” you were quickly escorted to Jungkook's house, you were now sitting on his bed after showering and having dinner. It's been around two hours since all that, Jungkook bid farewell to you and told you how he will be back in a few hours; he probably went out to “celebrate” with his people. You are bored as you look around the room; the room is big and simple. Besides, the bed in the middle has two big windows draped with curtains, a chest in the corner and that's it- you definitely need to work on the interior here. Suddenly, you hear three knocks on the door and you stand up from the bed to open it. you open the door and there stands jungkook with flowers in his hands. He smiles at you and hands you the flowers after stepping in. Jungkook sits on the bed, looks at you and offers his hand. He makes you sit on his lap as he puts his head in the column of your neck. You both sit there quietly in each other’s presence before you turn to face him and ask him why everyone keeps calling you “mother”. Jungkook laughs a little before saying, “don’t worry about it right now, i will tell you when the right time comes” he finishes after tucking your hair behind your ear. There are so many questions you want to ask him but you decide you will ask him in the morning as you are too tired. You hum in response and trace his nose with your finger. Jungkook giggles and pecks your lips. you furrow your brows as you look at him- he is not evil like he is described as, your entire kingdom fears him yet the way he is acting towards you makes you doubt if the rumours you heard about him are true or just false rumours. you watch as he gulps while tracing your waist with his hands, he looks up at you as if he was asking permission and you smirk. you shift on his lap to properly straddle him and you lean back when he tries kissing you.

“We got married today but I didn't even receive any gift” you state. Jungkook looks at you with his big boba eyes and once again- gulps. “What do you want, my love?” “I want you to get me diamonds,” you reply. Jungkook coughs as he registers your words.

“we don’t mine diamonds here, that is hard to arrange” he replies while caressing your thigh.

“Well, Jungkook, I want diamonds and you are going to get them for me” you know you are being unreasonable but hey! You love testing him. You trail kisses from his eyes to his nose and finally his lips. you hum into the kiss while your hands are busy removing jungkook’s clothes. you bite his lower lip which makes him hiss a little and break the kiss. He just smirks and connects his lips with yours once again as his hands too reach behind your back to unlace your dress. Just as Jungkook is about to remove your dress, you break the kiss and push him back onto the bed. You wipe your lips as you look at him. His lips swallowed, hair disheveled and naked torso. you start unlacing the front of your corset, you remove the dress completely and stand by the bed in nothing but your chemise. you push jungkook back once again when you see him trying to touch you. you smirk as you untie the pink satin ribbon from your hair and make your way onto the bed. you straddle his waist and peck his lips.

“Hands above your head, baby” you order him and he complies.

You quickly tie his hands above his head with the ribbon and sit back.

“now, jungkook let’s see if you can handle a woman like me”

SMUT INCOMING WOOOP WOOOOOOP

Next: chapter 2

taglist: @taumathegoat @easy2004 @babyitscoldoutside @00frenchfries00 @bangtans-momma @petalsofink @xumyboo @cloudyko0kie @jjanjankook @looneybleus @sureconfused @hanversace @fxirytaetae @kimseokjinsmirror1233 @msjae

#jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook recs #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook #bts jungkook #jeon jungguk #jk fic #jungkook reader

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queenimmadolla · 2 years

Text

𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 ─ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝟖𝟗' (young parents!Eddie munson x fem!reader)

masterlist • sequel

author notes: i should be working on my series, but every time i think about it’s timeline, i end up wanting to post about that specific thing, so here’s a little bit of eddie munson x fem!reader as the young parents i constantly think of them as. it’s gotten worse with all those eddie look alikes with babies pics going around. oh, and reader and eddie eloped on graduation night like i know we ALL would have done. Technically part of the CYM verse but can be read out of it. Can't put a read more thing because Tumblr won't let me, sorry. reader is 22 and Eddie is 23. **not mature** 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

* . *• + . * . * . *• + . * . * . *• + . * . * . *• + . * .

You were on the edge of a nap, not quite out of it but not quite present. An American Tail was playing in the background, but the noise grew further and further away from your subconscious. Until you felt a sudden blunt, rough jab against your closed eye. That definitely brought you back.

You groaned, a hand reaching up to press and rub against your eye as you heard a quiet chuckle from the right of you. Once the pain had subsided, you tried your hardest to glare at your husband. It was more of a squint than anything. He didn’t even attempt to hide his smirk from his place, sat man-spread on the couch with his arms over the top cushions. “I thought about stopping her, but she looked too cute concentrating like that.”

Your gaze shifted towards the culprit, curled up nearly on top of your side. Your daughter grinned at you, displaying her tiny little teeth. Staring up at you with her father’s big brown, Bambi like eyes, and a wild head of curls that looked to be a mix of both of her parents’, it was obvious she was unapologetic and satisfied with herself for abruptly coaxing you from what was promising to be a nice nap. You had been spread out on the floor in front of the tv, playing with your daughter whenever she grew bored of the cartoon displayed before her. Eddie had been tuning his guitar before she’d woken up from her nap, and had switched to simply observing you two. Eventually, the movie had gained her attention, and you had decided it was your turn for a nap but apparently not. “Penny, ow.” You frowned at her gently. You weren’t big on punishing her because she was a pretty good kid, but she’d just entered the terrible two’s and you were hoping to put off the terrible for as long as you could by encouraging her to recognize good and bad.

“Mama ow?” She repeated, voice full of innocence and surprise, because obviously your baby hadn’t intentionally meant to hurt you. Once you nodded, still faking a frown, she made a face of her own—you loved how expressive she was, definitely something she got from Eddie—and moved further up your body until she was eye level with you.

You could immediately tell what her intentions were, so your eye shut to prepare for the kiss she pressed to it. “Mwah! No ow!”

“Thank you, Penny!” You cooed, pressing kisses into her round, chubby little face. “Awe, my girls! Love it when they kiss and makeup.” Came your husband’s responding coo. You blew him a kiss from your place on the carpet, fingers stroking over Penny’s curls. “Thanks for no help.”

“Hey—I warned you she’d have me wrapped around her drool covered fingers. Besides, I couldn’t have got to her in time.” He made no move to join you on the ground, too taken with watching you interact with the literal proof of your love for each other.

Almost two whole years later, and he was still often left stupefied as he watched you with her, completely in love with how she was a perfect mixture of you both, so much that it was difficult for most people to decide on who she looked like most. If people saw her with just Eddie, she looked like his little twin, albeit with a little more saturation and curls much more voluminous than his, and if they saw her with you, she looked like your Mini Me, with a lower saturation.

That’s how Eddie saw her. You’d argue that her facial expressions imitated his, but all he saw was the same cute little nose crinkle that had been his doom when he’d first met you, peering up at him.

Penny had his eyes, there was no denying that. Now that he was a victim to your daughter’s puppy dog stare, he often liked to wonder about how much you had allowed him to get away with because of his own. His kid was using his own tricks against him.

“She’s a girl on a mission,” You muse, your attention returning to the two year old in question, but it wasn’t your attention she had wanted in the first place this time.

Penny’s stare was focused on the area of your body she’d previously been resting against. And then like a snake, she struck. She dove for your covered boob, mouthing at it so aggressively you couldn’t do anything but burst out laughing. Eddie quickly joined you, hand forming a fist to press against his mouth as he shook with it. Penny had been clingier than ever since you had slowly, but surely, started to ween her off your breasts; however, what with being a baby and all, she still lacked the impulse control to keep her desperation at bay. “Oh, yeah.” Eddie’s chest puffed out once you’d both calmed down, and you had caved to your daughter’s demands, lifting your shirt over your boob so she could nurse. Penny seemed so pleased with herself for amusing her daddy because she also couldn’t stop bobbing around while she was attached to you. “That’s my baby girl.” You rolled your eyes affectionally, turning your head to stare at him while she played more with your nipple than nursed. You were hoping if you stayed relax, she somehow wouldn’t remember she had teeth. “You know, this is all your fault. You’re always going on and on about how you were the main ingredient for her recipe, but I’m the one she gnaws on. It’s not fair.”

“I agree,” he snorted. “It should be me gnawing on your tit.”

“Eddie!”

“What?” He laughed out, his pretty eyes getting all squinty as he stayed fixated on you with a look no short of adoration slapped on his face. “It’s true! I can barely get to second base ‘cause she always leaves your nipples sore. I love her so much, and I’ll let her twist my nipples off,” Penny had decided that was what they were best for once she realized she couldn’t get anything from them like she could yours after a few misguided attempts, “when we’re cuddling before bedtime, but she refuses to share you. And all I get to do is sit back and watch her have fun.”

That wasn’t entirely the truth, while the green eyed monster did flare its head for about .1% of the time he spent watching you take care of her and nurse her, the other 99.9% felt absolutely primal. It was crude, but the reality of it was Penny had originally been a creampie, just with a surprise in it. You’d both been stunned when you learned you were pregnant, though he had suspected it due to a few subtle changes in your behavior. It wasn’t something you really panicked over, it was just that something was. . .well, it just was.

It also helped that all he wanted out of life was to be happy with you and by the grace of some God, you shared that desire. So, Penny had come to fruition. And just like when he’d met you, Eddie found himself discovering another thing he wasn’t sure how he had lived so long without. Fatherhood.

No gig, no high, nothing would ever compare to that immense pride, that absolute satisfaction that coursed through him as he watched you hold her tiny little body against your bare chest in that hospital room for the first time before she’d been whisked away to the NICU.

“She has been clingy,” You agreed, eyes glazing over as you recall the last time you and Eddie were able to completely ravage each other and not just fuck whenever you could. It had been like four days ago, but that was still too long. “But.”

Eddie’s head tilted, his stare darkening as he waited patiently for you to continue.

“But, but, but. Since she hasn’t had as many opportunities, I’m not all that sore and tired anymore.”

Eddie sprang up from his place on the couch, plucking Penny right off your boob. It was obvious even to him that she was just playing with it at that point, and it was time he had his turn. “C’mon, little bitty pretty one, Uncle Dustin and Uncle Steve want to babysit you for an unforeseeable amount of time today.”

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honestsycrets · 9 months

Text

before anyone else II: the reverent | admiral!miguel o'hara x princess!reader

❛ pairing | admiral!miguel o'hara x princess!reader

❛ type | double-shot, explicit

❛ summary | politics and murder? easy. but if he thought he could stomach forcing the princess he loves into marriage... he was wrong. or reader forces admiral miguel o'hara into marriage.

❛ tags | forced marriage, royal!au, admiral!miguel, princess!reader, mention of murder, betrayal, treason, angst, f!reader, persuasion inspired, Spanish is not translated, female led breeding session, hand jobs, spicy bath time, ignoring miguel.

❛ sy's notes | the update no one asked for. the first chapter felt very incomplete without this one, so i just wanted to complete this series with a little bit of angst and smut.

“And what is that? Up there, Lyla.”

Lyla is closer to you than he remembers. In his make-believe voyage to Stone’s home, he would need a new ship. Today Lyla invited you to sail imperial seas, cutting through the waters with a new ship, the Reverent. He hadn’t shown you much of anything in his rush to leave the capital eight years ago. He makes that right with Gwen at your side, donned in the clothing of the guard. You opted for a soft blue gown, a navy blue rebozo thrown over your shoulders. The fat bow that drew in your stomach tumbled down against the dress’s long train.

“That’s the Crow’s Nest.”

His men and women were ogling. It wasn’t exactly normal to have a soft woman on board—much less their princess. You held the top of your hat, glancing up at the beam. Sun bounced in your eye, and you laughed delightfully, clapping your hands together. “A crow’s nest? Why do they call it such a thing?”

“The Vikings would release crows from the crow’s nest if they could not see,” Gwen answered, he did not know she cared so much about ships. You looked at her in delight as she explained. “Chart the path they took toward land.”

“¡Qué chévere! Lady Gwen, you are quite knowledgeable.”

“All sailor legend,” Miguel responded, the string of jealousy coursing through his bones, before he jerked his head toward those gathered along the main deck. He never did like crowds. “Back to shore! Off to your work, then!”

“Thank you for showing me proper sailing,” they dispersed to the sound of your many thanks, a slight bow in your waist. If it were your father, he would never do such a thing. Gwen stepped to the side, holding her hands behind her back. “You have a wonderful crew.”

"You heard the admiral, off you go!" Lyla rushed off to the stern to take the ship's wheel.

“And Lyla?” she stopped, turning her big brown eyes at him. She probably knew what was coming as you slipped by Miguel, sliding your hand around his inner elbow. “No rum.”

It was one time, she threw a curse.

“Have I missed something?” you asked, setting your head against his thin poet’s shirt. He smelled of the salty sea and the thin film of his own sweat. The warmth of the sun must have drained you already, donned in tumbling full-body fabrics.

“I’ve something for you.”

“Have you?” you asked, turning around to face him. Miguel reached around his neck, loosening the cord. His gift was not a necklace. If it were, he’d be far outmatched with jewels like sapphires, diamonds, and topaz nestled between your breasts. He pulled a ring from the cord, slipping onto his knees. You recognized the ring that he presented to you immediately. A modest ring of pearl set with tiny bits of a jewel that wasn’t quite diamond on either side.

“Oh, Miggy. You kept it?” you slipped your hand down to his waiting fingers. Miguel slid his ring onto your finger.

“It isn’t much. A guards pay, yes?” He began, realizing he was stumbling over his words. “But I… couldn’t help but think you would prefer it to something new.”

You pulled your hand free, kneeling to catch his lips in a small, patient kiss. He was grateful for anything he could get-- repressed as he was. Gwen bit back a smile, a soft murmur of princess, to urge you not to draw out such attention in front of a band of sea-numb sailors. You slid back onto two feet, your hands coming together one over the other.

“I love it. I always have, Miguel.”

“Yes, well--” he cleared his throat. He pushed past Gwen toward the steer of the boat, barking some orders in intelligible sailor slang. “I should check on Lyla. Lest she beaches us on some obvious outcropping.”

Gwen and you both knew it was to loosen himself of the embarrassment of a kiss well deserved. You glanced down at the engagement ring glittering on your finger, a smile working over your cheeks.

“Perhaps I should not have asked Lyla for her help,” you leaned over to whisper in Gwen’s ear. “My Miggy will never let her live it down.”

“Yes,” Gwen agreed. “Perhaps not.”

Hours ago, Miguel was on the salty sea. Tonight, Miguel held a bloody seax, wiping away kingly blood from its blade with a handkerchief that he’d promptly dispose of. For all his talk, the king took death well. Admirable, even! Barely a coward’s cry, a simple do it mijo, as Miguel drove his blade across his neck. Perhaps he expected his death, perhaps he missed his sons. Miguel couldn't help but think he knew what would happen by asking Miguel to deliver you to Stone like a hunk of precious cargo.

“I would say that went quite well. No fuss from the council members. No fuss from the king,” Lyla relaxed at the king’s desk, her breeches smattered in blood. Miguel lifted his eyebrows at her, a bit of sweat dripping down his neck. “How about your fiancé? Think she’ll make a fuss? You did slit--”

“¡Callate! Go with the men and take the body to the undertaker.”

“You’re no fun,” Lyla threw her boots off the desk, guards flanking her side, heading toward the king’s chambers. Miguel replaced his seax in the sheathe, cupping his face in one of his large hands. The door creaked wide open. Jess, whose frame was also streaked in blood, strode in. Miguel threw her a handkerchief.

“Council members are done and dusted.”

He mulled over what was undoubtedly coming: talk of the next steps. Miguel braced himself for her prodding.

“It has been a long time, years maybe since the people favored the king. I dare say not ever."

"What of the imperialists?"

"My guards are posted to suppress those still loyal to the king."

“I can't imagine they were happy under his rule.” Miguel moved toward the king’s rum cabinet, grabbing a bottle of glass. He sniffs the pretentious liquid, striding around the front and pouring Jess a cup first, then himself. “He did nothing for them but levy heavy taxes. She is the one who handled public relations. They’ll welcome a new king.”

“Well, it is better to have a warrior king over a puppet king. Even the corrupt will be happy not to fall to Stone.”

He hummed in agreement.

“About your rule."

Oh, here she goes.

"You’ll marry her before the end of the rose festival. It is the perfect time for romance.” Jess drank her rum, clinking their ringed fingers together in a toast. “Everyone knows of her standing engagement to Stone. We can frame the wedding as an act of love and her father as an obstacle to it. The women will love it.”

“If she’ll have me.”

“Miguel. We agreed. She has no choice.”

The sound of it grated something low in his belly. His fiancé with no choice but to marry the man who murdered her father. Murder was in no way his preferred choice... It was unavoidable. He had no other choice.

“I know.”

Miguel threw back the rum. He cast a glance to the window, the sun rising over the horizon. She watches him push off the side of the desk, his claws scratching lines of blood behind his neck. He spoke to himself as much as he spoke to Jess with his next words.

“My woman is gentle. I do not know how to tell her-- that I’ve waited a decade to marry her only to force her to."

Jess had no answers. The king is dead, sang some distant lament, a panic echoing through the halls. He wondered which you would agree to attend first: the funeral or the wedding.

Your mother was assassinated when you were just a girl. Your brothers met their deaths while at war with Stone. That was the nature of war and being a royal. For much of your life, you were accustomed to the pain of loss. Creating connections with your subjects was what you always aspired to develop. You could talk to people in the crown city you knew would be there year after year. Like the willowy brunet who sold you rose oil even after Miguel left. That was why the rose festival was so important to you.

It was tainted that early morning with the shrill scream of the king is dead-- bouncing off the halls, sending your heart strumming in your chest as you lurched up in your silky sheets, throwing your feet over the bed onto the cold marble floor.

“My father is dead?” you asked one of the two sentinel guards who stood wordless at your door. Gwen was parked in one of your great lounge chairs, rushing to stand upon the sound of your sleep-laden voice. You picked the bottom of your sleeping gown, rushing down from your place on the bed to the double doors. Gwen stopped you short of them.

“By order of the Chief of the Imperial Guard, I’m afraid you can’t go out, princess,” she spoke smoothly. She cleared her throat. “It is not safe.” “Safe?” you repeated. “The last man I could call family is dead and you long to speak to me about safety?”

She steeled her face. Guilt trickled in, inking in her stormy eyes. She strode in front of the double doors, her hand over the pommel of her sword. You couldn’t believe your luck-- not only to be alive, drawing breath, but to at the same time be sequestered in your quarters like a small bird in a gilded cage.

“Yes, princess. It is for your own good.”

The doors swung open. In place of your father, with his jovial hops, your fiancé. Miguel took measured steps, swinging the door shut behind him. The doors boomed as they came to a close. Like the other sentinel, Gwen took her place in protecting the only feasible exit. Your chambers were high in a tower, looking before the beautiful coast and its silvery waves. You often looked out the window and thought of him.

“I take it you have heard.”

Something in his countenance set off an air of distrust. His chin was level as if it was cut out of marble, and effortlessly the words spilled from his lips. There had never been a day in your life that you did not trust Miguel O’Hara. That though he was curt, sharp, and decisive, he always bore your best interest in mind. That was something you reconsidered now.

He stood almost too pieced together. Miguel stood in a clean militant uniform, the finest set of regimental you ever did see him in. Any other time you may have drooled over the sight. Over the way he combed his hair back, tickling his broad throat. Or how tightly the shirt fit when he moved forth, then swayed back on his heel. His thumb hooked on the clasp of an iron belt.

“What have I heard, Miguel?”

“Of the military coup.”

His words carried no recognizable trace of remorse. They only communicated the facts of your situation.

“You…” you faded off. It couldn’t have been. ”It was you?”

“I had no other choice.”

Though he said the words, he knew you would find them inadequate. Wholly untrue, even. Your mind buzzed in disbelief, pacing backward to your bed. You glanced at the clothes your maid set out for the day, settled over bundles of fluffy pillows. As the sun raised over the glittering ocean, one that you visited often in his memory, you felt stilted. “I asked you not to--”

“Talk ill of the dead, yes, I know. I will not.”

“You missed my point entirely. I asked that you would not blame them for the past. To not dwell on it. You've done just that!”

It was perhaps an impossible ask to ask a man like Miguel, cocky as he were, to bury the past when your father made such requests of him. You could handle your father’s death by any other means. By an assassination by Jess or the many others who sought his head. With your heart something akin to numb, you dropped onto your bed, scratching at the ribbons laced in your hair from the night before. You pulled them free. Miguel made his way close, bending onto one knee between your own, sliding his gloved hand up your exposed skin.

“Perdóname,” he spoke candidly. You gazed at him with watery, bright eyes. If anything on this earth could fill him with remorse, it would have been that. He pressed a kiss to your knee. “It had to be done.”

“You say that but I wonder if you truly understand what those words mean,” you bit out. He appeared contrite, lowering his head lower, if at all possible. “What would you have me do next, hm? I have no more brothers to rule the crown. I care nothing for politics, only the health of my society, and what of Stone? Do you not think he will feel disrespected?”

“I did it for you.” Miguel simpered.

“For me? None of this is for me,” you repeated after him, knocking his hands from your knee. You replaced the skirt over the spot he kissed, finding the feeling of his slightly chapped lips blooming blisters of hot anger through your body. “No, you did it for yourself, Miguel. You are so selfish. My father gave you an ounce of power and you repaid him by taking his life.”

“I am selfish? He gave me nothing but years of pain.” Miguel’s facade cracked, his face going insipid. “I took these positions to please him. For you.”

“And how is it that these choices are now my fault?” you interrupted Miguel, looking up at his hard features. “Now where do I figure into this-- bloodlust of yours? What do you want of me?”

“I want you to marry me. You will marry me. You have no other choice.”

You weren’t going to let him skate by this time. You wouldn’t allow him to be this wonderful, handsome, caring man you fell in love with at first sight as a girl. The certainty with which he said those words was enough. You pushed past him, Miguel snatching your slight wrist in his thick grasp, holding you there. He couldn’t let it be. Not so easily.

“Get out,” you whirled your wrist around in his grip to break it. He easily could have overcome you, the admiral that he was. You heard the rumors of his swashbuckling run-ins with pirates and saw him in action as a guard. You knew the depths of his strength. He let you slip away. “That is an order from your princess, Miguel. Perhaps you’ve forgotten, but it is the rose festival. I have duties to maintain peace that don’t require things such as murder and treason to the crown.”

He snapped his head down, inspecting something wildly interesting on the stony floor. His hands flexed and curled into tight fists, as though he could do or say anything more that would talk you from throwing you out of your quarters. His anger piqued before he absolved it of outward expression, instead speaking with a hard voice.

“We will speak of this again.”

“Out.”

He never wanted this. But it was necessary.

Miggy, Miggy, me duele.

The pain will pass, mi amor.

The only type of hurt Miguel wanted to give you preceded pleasure. One that could be fixed with patience and doting attention. That was what the rose festival provided nearly eight years ago. Today-- that reality couldn’t be any different from his reality.

Jess’s military presence was intense. Normally, you could cut bundles of bouncy rosy flowers and interact freely with others attending, creating rose products that could be bought, traded, or sold. Your chamber ladies held wicker baskets jam-packed with long flowers to be given to expecting or aged mothers, a small gift for their motherly worries. A parasol blocked the warm Mediterranean skin from your exposed skin.

“She looks beautiful today, eh?”

Lyla nudged him with a sticky creampuff between her fingers. Its rosy pink filling was smeared over her slight lip. Miguel’s arms turned one over the other, not a complaint on his lips. She was right as she usually was. You never wore red-- but the occasions that you did never failed to render him breathless. Unfortunately for him, the long dress hugged your curves beautifully, a fat bow behind your back, the diadem settled neatly along your head. You looked beautiful-- like that night, sliding into a hot bath of nothing but warm petals and rose oil purchased from some overly excited peasant. What he wouldn't give to hold your parasol, or the baskets, to simply be close.

“Suppose you didn’t think this bit through,” she leaned in, whispering words in his ear. “The whole let’s assassinate what’s left of her family.”

“Shut up,” Miguel pushed off the wall. “If you’re so knowledgeable, help me.”

“I could do that. Princess!” Lyla waved, rushing over. He followed her like a second shadow, nipping on her heels. Your gaze snapped to hers. A slightly forced smile worked at your lips as you brought your red-gloved fingers to the basket your chamber lady had. He tried to make eye contact-- but found you looked anywhere but his eyes, avoiding him in the cruelest way you could.

“Lady Lyla, I have something for you.”

“For me?” she laughed, a teasing thing. “I never receive gifts.”

“I give you casks of rum.” Miguel protested. You looked at Lyla for a moment, eyes flickering gently, before continuing your search.

How did you punish him? You look anywhere but at him. You ignore his existence. He longs.

“Yes,” you plucked out a ruby red crown of roses. “Well, girls, perhaps Lyla would like to feel like a woman for once. Trapped on the admiral’s battered and broken ship does not serve for much of a love life. Other than brief encounters at distant ports. Which I am sure you do not care much for.”

“Eh,” Lyla shrugged off the suggestion, slipping onto a knee so that you could set the crown of flowers on her head. She stands back up, nodding her head appreciatively. “I’ve had relations with some beautiful women.”

“Oh, please tell,” you took her thin arm and pulled her from his side, pinching your skirt between your fingers and walking on. As if he were fucking invincible-- “I am sure the admiral has taken on many lovers during the years. Have you?”

“He’s not even had one.” Lyla laughed, “Unless you count his hand.”

She thought she was so funny. Your chambermaids certainly thought she was, chittering in laughter among one another. He quickly understood that you not only did not want to speak to him but by peeling his-- begrudgingly said-- best friend away from him, you sought to make a point. To make him feel as lonely as your grief made you. In this busy, love-filled festival, he certainly felt it.

Miguel doesn’t buy things often. But there was something in the way the tiny stick of a man spoke. The glitter in his plain brown eyes invited Miguel to buy the stupid oil treatment that he spilled into his bath now. I think I remember you, you were the princess’s guard, the man said. You bought the princess this treatment years ago!

He couldn’t have remembered it. Miguel abandoned the towel by a gilded chair, sliding his sore muscles into the hot water. He shouldn’t have left to help his men at the docks. His muscles were tight with the tension of moving crates of products onto ships all afternoon and into the late hours of the night. The subsequent days of the rose festival proceeded much the same. It was nearly over. Jess would come soon to press him about his marriage. One that he was not certain would proceed-- not if things kept in this vein. Yet, he couldn't bear to walk to your chambers again, to force you into it.

“I’ve thought about it.”

Miguel would have jerked out of the bath if not for your hands sinking into the warm waters of the bath. Your gloves were thrown somewhere else, not here, dipping around his broad torso and below the waters. You wrenched your hand around his cock, gently pulling his dick to hardness underneath the waters. It did not take much-- it had been so long. He couldn’t quite process your words with the way you stroked him, milking him as if he were detached from his cock.

“Miggy."

"Yes...?" he didn't know what else to say.

"You murdered my father because you want to be king,” you said, the words held a vein of resentment. You enjoyed it, stroking the soft skin of his dick, tracing the veins that rushed to his head. You especially loved how he stiffened and grew in your silky hands. Miguel gripped the sides of the bath, his knuckles growing white as he held the rim.

“I don’t want to be king. I want you, I’d-- carajo-- murder him a hundred times over,” he supplied the truth, the words falling from his lips with great effort. Your other hand sunk lower, grasping his balls in your palm and melding them. You squeezed him in some mock punishment. But it wasn’t-- not nearly. It felt good. He cried out, a small pant of air filling the room.

“Hush, Miguel.”

“No-- te necesito. I need you, I’m so fucking-- I’m hard,” your languid circular strokes of his shaft were agonizing and caused him to ache. His nails dug into the side of the bath, mesmerized by how gently you treated him, settling a kiss at the side of his neck. Your pace quickened, jerking him more insistently. The many days at sea that he stroked himself just like this-- with the dream of your hands being the one to do it, to do just this, all culminated in Miguel’s harsh panting, trying to obey-- to be good for you, just as you had years ago.

“I know you do. You want me to marry you?” you murmured against his neck, tracing his pulse. He dropped his head back, closing his eyes, offering you only a small nod. Your hands drew back, leaving him bobbing in the water, so hard it hurt. So hard-- “Stop it.”

Miguel complied. You drew back your deep red cowl, drawing the strands loose as you moved in front of him. He bore at you in an incredible amount of awe, his hand pulling at his cock like it were second nature. He pounded into his own hand, so high on the lovely sight before him that it surged in his chest, the beautiful way your nails pulled at the frilled bottom of your nightgown, lifting and pulling it off your body. His mind was a haze, skin warm by the hot oil in the bath. What remained was a desire to be touched by you.

“¿Qué? I didn’t hear you,” your fingers teetered along your clit, stroking along your wet lips. Miguel soaked his own lips with the hunger that rose from the need to touch and be touched by you.

“Sí,” Miguel murmured, the words short and slight. You slipped into the water, gripping the rim of the bath and presented your ass to him. Miguel’s eyes caught your puffy lips, flecks of rose matted to your skin. He didn’t dare move-- lest you tell him to get out.

“Come mount me,” you urged, the words soft, gentle, inviting him to climb over your body. He didn’t know why-- but happiness bloomed in his chest, “Since you murdered what family I had left, you’ll give me more.”

“Give you… you want me to…” Miguel’s mind fizzled out, all cognizant thought of what you meant left field. In its place was the certainty of what you wanted. You wanted him-- his children. He clambered over you, nudging your lips with his cockhead.

“Sí, mi amor, I want you to impregnate me.” Your hand reached back, nails clawing into his muscular hip. Miguel flinched, the blunt head of his cock pressed against your entrance. Water sloshed over the rim of the bath onto marble floors. What you asked for was to be used, to be filled. He couldn't equate the depths of your need when just a few days ago you banished him from your chambers.

“Is that so? Then I won’t pull out.”

“I expect you not to,” you bit back.

“Fuck,” Miguel murmured, taking his time in sliding forward. He wanted to savor the feeling, the way his cock slid apart walls that hadn’t been used in years. Your body stretched to make room for him, the feeling of burning pleasure dancing down your spine. Miguel gasped, realizing he should have fingered you first-- because your body was tight, so warm and good, full of his cock deep in your belly. You moaned his name, sounding so beautiful in ways that Miguel had only dreamed of in the past few years.

He snapped his hips in forceful but short thrusts, his fingers gliding up your sides to your breasts, his thumb and index finger rolled and pinched your nipples. “Dios mío,” he found himself panting. “I’ve missed this.”

“So Lyla says,” you threw back. “Ah, there, faster--”

“As you wish.”

You were talking far too much for his liking. His hands snapped down to your core, fingers delving against the clitoral hood, that sweet little spot he knew would cause a weakness in this facade of yours. You gasped, lowering your head down over the rim of the bath, accepting his thrusts with helpless cries of his name, growing in their intelligibility, until felt it more than he heard it. Your pussy spasmed around him, milking him for his seed. Not yet, he wanted to remember the way you cried for him-- for his children. He snapped his hips hard, short thrusts snatching any relief of orgasm far away.

“Por fa Miggy,” you whispered, something soft and hot. His eyes went wide, failing to focus on anything but your voice. “Don’t be a tease. Give me your seed.”

He responded with nothing short of a sharp growl, turning his hands onto your hips. He threw his hips forward in a harsh, punishing pace, as if he were taking out every second you punished him out on you now. Water soaked the floor, replaced with the ringing slap of his hips thrown against yours, his heavy balls full of cum that-- seconds later, he released. Miguel choked loud grunts, scratching at your back for relief. You felt his warm seed fill your walls, his chest bowing over yours as he spurt his cum seated against your cervix. His claws drew lines of blood free of your unmarred hips, marks of his claim.

“Stay-- stay there,” Miguel murmured against your back, pressing small kisses along your back to your shoulder. “If you want a baby, my seed needs to take.”

Soon enough, Miguel grew soft and fell free from your body, globs of his cum spilling down your thighs. He stepped out of the bath, drying himself off and throwing the towel on the slippery floor. He extended his hand out for you to take. You did, sliding over the crumpled clothes Miguel threw on the floor so that you would not slip.

“You marry me tomorrow,” you supplied. Miguel’s bushy eyebrows pushed up, suddenly realizing why Jess had not yet come to bother him about his failure to secure a fitting date for marriage. You must have arranged it.

“What do you mean tomorrow?”

“Then our honeymoon. I want to have a child in my arms before the year is up, Miggy. You can handle politics, war, Stone. I care not for any of it.” You settled your hand on Miguel’s chest, drawing it down over his firm pecs to the muscles of his stomach. He glanced toward your core, cum soaking your walls. “You have no choice.”

“You mean to say you are forcing me into marriage?” Miguel bit out, a heavy breath slipping out of his lips when you grabbed him again. Already? You walked him back out of the bathroom and into his bedroom, pushing him onto the silken sheets. He fell with a grunt, catching your body and dragging you on top. Cum from your leaking cunt soaked his thigh. You brought your thumb to his lips, quirking it against one of his fangs. Miguel turned his face to the side, glaring into the dark night.

“As if it were so hard. Now, the correct response is yes, my princess.”

He chuckled, small and pleased.

“Yes, my queen.”

Queen did sound so good when it came from his lips.

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myladysapphire · 1 year

Text

My Lady Strong (II)

Aemond had always been protective of his neice, obssessed even, insiting on keeping her sheltered, and purley his, he never let her stray far and following the incident at Driftmark, Aemma was rarley without Aemond as her shadow. How will the kind, sheltered girl fair in the dance of dragons?

word count: 1,911

CW: violence

Fem!oc x Aemond Targeryen ( can be read as x reader)

Masterlist | series masterlist | previous part | next part

disclamer: i do not own any of claim any of the A song of ice and fire characters, all rights belong to GRR MARTIN, all characters are his except for my OC

A/N thank you soo much for all the likes on the last post, I hope you all enjoy this one!

laughter filled the Godswood as Aemond chased after Aemma, circling the weirwood tree.

Their friendship was admired around the keep, the girl adored by all. Somehow keeping her sweet nature following her brother’s ‘prank’, though she had become timid, often hiding behind Aemond, and never letting go of his hand.

Aemond adored this, he wanted her to be utterly dependent on him, and she was. She listened to what Aemond said, often refused to do something if Aemond did want her to or was unable to come.

It was why her mother considered a match between them following the birth of her newest brother, Joffrey. Aemond had already demanded he one day become her sworn sword once he had completed his training, and she doubted he would accept Aemma’s marriage to anyone but himself.

“Aemma!” he ran up to her, picking her up and spinning around before they fell to the ground in a fit of giggles.

He sighed, turning to his side “My father wishes for me to start attending dragon lessons”.

“Then I shall come also” Aemma declared, grabbing his hand, “then once we have learned we shall claim a dragon together!”

“But Aegon and your brothers will be there” Aemond spoke, trying to deter her.

“so, you don’t want me to come?” she pouted

“of course, but… they’ll be there… and they are nothing but cruel” he insisted “ I do not want them to torment both you and me over having no dragon”.

“But we are Targaryens, so what if we do not have a dragon… we are dragons!” she laughed, “please Aemond, I could not bear to part from you”.

“It will only be for a few hours”

“And what am I to do?” she got up “Wait and sew? No, I shall come!” she demanded

All Aemond could do is sigh in defeat. Though he really he wasn’t sad about it, it was not like he wanted to part from her either.

Her brothers hadn’t expected her to show up. Much to their disappointment, she had kept her distance from her brothers and Aegon for the past year. Truth be told they did not expect the prank to become what it was, to make Aemma cling to Aemond more and more.

At dinners, she sat between their mother and father, eating as fast as possible, and on the odd occasion their grandsire called for a family dinner she would place herself between Aemond and Helaena. not uttering a word to her brothers or Aegon, running away when they were near.

And yet today she showed up, hand in hand with Aemond.

When they had heard Aemond was to start attending lessons in the dragon pit, Aegon had come up with the idea, the prank. And Jace and Luke being the jealous brothers they were more than happy to pull it.

All three of the boys regretted their prank on her and had made efforts to reconcile, all failing, miserably. And this prank would become not just a prank on Aemond, but a prank on her also seeing as her Aemond were an extension of one another, much like a dragon and its rider. what one felt, the other did too. They could almost read each other’s minds, always knowing what the other was thinking or saying.

“Aemond, we have a surprise for you.” Aegon announced, as Jace finished with Vermax.

“Do you have one for me too?” she asked, shyly.

Aegon’s eyes softened, it was the first time she had spoken to him in gods know how long and though he would not and admit it , Aegon had grown a soft spot for the brown-haired girl. “No Aemma, but I’m sure you and Aemond could share” the last part caused Luke to giggle before running of to fetch whatever the surprise was.

“What is it?” Aemond asked, grabbing Aemma’s hand tighter and pulling her into him as Aegon wrapped his arms around his shoulders.

“Something very special” he winked.

“you two are the only ones without a dragon”.

“indeed” Aemond nodded.

“And we felt bad about it, so… we found you one, Aemond” Aegon announced.

“Found one? Where?” Aemma asked, excited for Aemond, they had always agreed to share a dragon, should one manage to claim one.

“The gods provided” Aegon stated simply, before Jace and Luke came running forward, a rope in hand…. and a pig attached to it.

“Behold…the pink dread!” they announced, as Aemond and Aemma’s face fell.

"Be sure to mount her carefully, the first flights are always rough" they laughed.

Aemond ran off, Aemma was quick to follow.

“The prince Aemond and princess Aemma” a kings guard announced dragging them into queen Alicent chambers.

“Aemond, Aemma?” the queen questioned. “What did you do?”

“they did it again” Helena spoke.

“After how many times you've been warned, must I have you two confined to your chambers?

“They made me do it” Aemond insisted

“as if you needed the encouragement” Alicent shakes her head “Your obsession with those beasts goes beyond understanding.”

“they gave him a pig” Aemma shouted, seeing Aemonds frustration

“A what?”

“They said they found a dragon for me… But it was a pig.” he looked down “they said we could share it”.

“You will have a dragon one day., both off you” Alicent reassured.

“He'll have to close an eye.” Helaena whispered lowly.

“I know it”.

“They all laughed… they even made a tail and wings for it!”

Only Aegon received punishment from the prank, her brothers were let off her mother and grandsire deeming it childish fun and teasing, much to Aemma’s disappointment .

She returned to the cold shoulder, refusing to even acknowledge their presence, not that she did that much before.

The rift between the two families grew even further, rivalry between the mothers spreading towards the children. This time not for the throne, but for Aemma.

Aemond was always with her, the only time they did have with Aemond alone, was their swordsman lessons. Lessons which Aemond had begun to take his lessons with Ser Cole seriously, taking on the role of being Aemma’s defender and protector.

“Keep your feet light and your hands heavy.” Criston ordered.

Aemma stood above the training yard, watching beside her grandsire and the hand.

“This is the stuff, Lyonel…. Lads that learn together, train together... knock each other down, pick each other up. They will certainly form a lifelong bond, wouldn't you agree?” her grandsire spoke, a proud gleam in his voice.

“That is the hope, Your Grace.” Lynol strong agreed, “should the princess be witnessing this, your grace?” he questioned, looking towards her. She had brought a book to read Viserys, though she doubted she could sway his attention away from his sons and grandsons.

“I wish to watch Aemond, lord strong, he had wished to show me his progress” she announced, looking down proudly at Aemond as he swung his sword at the strawman.

“Ahh, let her stay, it is rare I get to see her without her shadow as is” Viserys laughed.

“of course, your grace”

“I've won my first bout, Ser Criston.” She heard Aegon gloat. “My opponent sues for mercy.”

“You'll have a new opponent then, my Lord of the Straw.” Cole spoke “Let's see if you can touch me… You and your brother” he nodded to Aemond.

“Weapons up, boys… Give your enemies no quarter” he spoke, focusing all his attentions on her uncles, as her brothers stood to the side, before greeting Ser Harwin.

“It seems the younger boys could do better with a bit of your attention, Ser Criston” Harwin spoke.

“You question my method of instruction, ser?”

“Oh, I merely suggest that method be applied to all your pupils.”

“Very well.” Ser Criston sneered “Jacaerys, come here…You spar with Aegon…Eldest son against eldest son”

Harwin scoffed “It's hardly a fair match.”

“I know you've never seen true battle, ser, but when steel is drawn, a fair match isn't something anyone should expect.” Cole snarked “Blades up… Engage.”

“grandsire” Aemma mumbled “it’s hardly fair”.

“oh, its just boys being boys Aemma” he dismissed, focusing on the yard once more.

She averted her eyes, focusing back on her book. Lynol strong too focused on her, his eyes watching her, assessing her. His gaze was soft, but he looked at he as if he knew something she didn’t.

“Lord Strong?” she spoke “would you like to read with me?” she asked, flinching at the sound of metal clashing.

“of course, princess” he nodded, a small smile on his lips.

“You dare put hands on me?” she hears Aegon scream, capturing her and Lynol attention.

“You forget yourself, Strong.” She hears Cole spit out “That is the Prince.

“This is what you teach, Cole? Cruelty... to the weaker opponent?” Harwin scoffed

“Your interest in the princeling's training is quite unusual, Commander” he snarked back, moving in closer saying something she could not hear. Though it must not of been pleasant judging by the punch Harwin landed on her face.

“Stop!” she screamed, flinching away and burying her face in her hands.

“Stop this!” her grandsire repeated, as guards dragged Harwin away from Coles laughing bloody face.

After that everything changed.

Her mother grew desperate, having ser Harwin sent to Harrenhal. He was close to their family and his departure seemed to deeply upset her mother and Jace. she was not too bothered, her mother’s attention now lied in the new babe, Joffrey, and council meetings. She was looking for more and more support, Harwin outburst, and marriage offers seemed to be the best way to secure them.

“I wish to speak. Be seated.” Her mother spoke up, as the small council meeting was pulled to a close “I have felt the... strife... between our families of late, my queen.” She spoke to Alicent “And for any offense given by mine, I apologize. But we are one house. And long before that, we were friends.” Alicent nodded. “My daughter Aemma will inherit Dragonstone after me, I propose a marriage between Aemma and your son, Aemond, the pair are already attached at the hip, let them be the glue that once binds our two families. Ally ourselves... once and for all, let them rule Dragonstone together”

“A most judicious proposition.” Viserys agreed, smiling.

“Additionally, if Syrax brings forth another clutch of eggs, both Aemond and Aemma will have their choice of them, uh... a symbol of our goodwill.”

Alicent nodded, considering. “Rhaenyra” she sighed, looking down. She wanted time to think.

“Oh, Seven Hells. Um...”

“My dear... a dragon's egg is a handsome gift.” Viserys spoke to Alicent.

“The King and I thank you for your offer and we will consider it duly.” She nodded, dismissingly “You must rest now, husband.”

“Yes.”

“The proposal is a good one, my queen. We're a family. Let us put aside these childish quarrels. Join hands and be stronger for it.” Viserys spoke, as they made the way to his chambers.

“yes, Aemond and Aemma shall be pleased” she nodded, “but she is desperate” she sneered “She feels the earth washing away beneath her feet and now she expects us to ignore her transgressions and for me to marry my son to her...” she hesitated, “only daughter”

“Alicent” he sighed, “we agree, on the betrothal?”

“yes” she sighed, keep her beloved daughter in her grasps and she shall have Rhaenyra eating out the palm of her hand.

next part

Taglist (bold wouldn't let me tag)

my lady strong: @aemondssuit @idonotknowenglish @sydneyyyy18 @wondergal2001 @whitejuliana1204 @meowtastick @bellaisasleep @tinykryptonitewerewolf @sarahkimtae @winchesterfamiliebusiness @iiamthehybrid @zzz000eee @spookydaddy01 @melllinaa @ateliefloresdaprimavera @dreamingofyourmoons @aleemendoza2425-blog

HOTD: @targaryenmoony

Aemond: @blossomedflowerofluv @violet-potter

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dramioneasks · 4 months

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Top 10 Most Favourited (Completed) Fics on FFNET of 2023:

Wilted Rose and Muddy Blood: A Dramione Fic by Raptor.Elephant - M, 25 chapters, Words: 34,001 - Lavender Brown makes a bet with Hermione that she can't win over the Slytherin Prince in a month. Hermione wonders why she agreed... she could never stand a chance of winning, right? Rated for minor adult themes and language. R&R. COMPLETE... FINALLY!

The Education of a Lady by thewanderers'wanderingdaughter - M, 34 chapters, Words: 365,605 - COMPLETE. Fourth and final (for real this time) part in the His Little Bird series. The story of survival, betrayal, and tragedy. A monster took everything from her. Now she's expected to be a willing participant in the world he's built for them. They want her to become one of them. She only wants vengeance, and now that she has her power back, she can make that a reality.

If Only by SarahFraser - M, 25 chapters, Words: 99,891 - Fourteen years after Draco and Hermione break up, Draco accompanies his son, Scorpius, to Kings Cross for his first year at Hogwarts. Thirteen-year-old twins, Mila and Milo, get their first in person glimpse of the father that abandoned them before birth. After Mila confronts her father for abandoning them, Draco seeks Hermione out on the platform to find out what the hell is going

I'm a What? He's My What? Well Hell! by clumsydolphin - T, 18 chapters, Words: 34,168 - This is a very unusual Veela tale! I promise if ya peek inside it's a surprise! Now complete!

Blackmailed by Mistress Lynn - M, 14 chapters, Words: 49.867 - Draco finds out something pertaining to the war that Hermione would do anything to prevent from getting out. How far is she willing to go to protect her secret? DM/HG, Draco M./Hermione G. 7th Year Hogwarts, war AU, Dramione, lots of banter! COMPLETE! WINNER: 2022 Top Dramione Fics on Reddit, 2nd Place Dom!Draco (but he's totally a switch here)

Mother: Unknown by HufflepuffMommy - M, 42 chapters, Words: 108,211 - After the battle, Draco Malfoy was given something he never thought he wanted—a daughter. The only problem? He didn't know who the mother of his child was. Six years after the war, Hermione Granger moves to the states, to a small coastal town in Maine. There, she runs into a familiar wizard—along with his outgoing, precious daughter. NOW COMPLETE!

Fireworks by cleotheo - T, 10 chapters, Words: 25,510 - A party at the end of seventh year results in major life changes for Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, including the loss of their best friend, Ron Weasley. Can a reunion several years later fix the rift, or are some things too broken to ever be fixed? Reunion style story.

Old Friends by cleotheo - T, 10 chapters, Words: 25,453 - When Ron Weasley returns to Wizarding Britain after five years away he is dismayed to find his place in life seems to have been usurped by a certain former Slytherin. But how far will Ron go to get back the life, and the witch, he believes should be his?

Teach Me How to Forget by scullymurphy - M, 20 chapters, Words: 110,321 - Hermione Granger is 27 years old when her life falls apart. Cheated-on, flatless, in a dead end job, she decides to change one thing she can-take a class and try for some career advancement. But change is never easy, especially when an old enemy is the catalyst-and the class instructor.

Designations by sbz0702 - M, 35 chapters, Words: 85,293 - In the aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts and the end of the Wizarding War, all Seventh- and Eighth-Year students are required to return to Hogwarts to complete their magical educations. When they arrive, they discover that the Ministry has been tampering with nature and biology...and they've all been affected... EWE, non-Canon compliant

#dramione #year wrap up #favourite fics #2023 #ffnet

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sailor-aviator · 3 months

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Fool's Fare: Chapter Five

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Captain Jake "Hangman" Seresin had come close to swinging from the gallows more times than he would care to admit. He's stolen, cheated, even killed. The worst thing he's ever done? Broken the heart of a woman. Having broken the heart of the woman whom Davy Jones himself had fallen for six years ago, Jake is now cursed to live as something not dead, but not alive. He's doomed to live a half-life for the rest of his existence unless he manages to obtain the treasure Davy Jones deems most valuable. The problem? He has no idea what it is, and he only had seven years to obtain it.

Trigger Warning: Language, Big brother Bradley, Secrets, Feelings of betrayal, Abandonment issues from the reader, Reader says something she'll regret later, Allusions to prostitution and violent men, Magic, Curses, Supernatural is real, Reader cries, Feelings of helplessness, Pirate!Jake. I think that's it, but let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 4k

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

“What do you mean you still haven’t eaten?”

Bradley winced at your tone, running a hand through his brown locks as he eyed you wearily. You had meant to drag him to the physician at the last port you had docked at, but the excitement from the day prior had wiped the issue completely from your brain. Who knew falling overboard could do that to a person?

Now here you were a week later, and it had finally dawned on you that you hadn’t seen your brother eat much more than an apple here and there. You had kept quiet the past two days, silently observing him, and here you sat in the galley, Bradley to your right with Mickey and Nat sat across from you. The rest of the crew milled about, and it wouldn’t be long before Bob and Reuben joined your little group for breakfast.

“It’s not that serious, Guppy,” he murmured, casting a weary look at the two sitting across from you. “I feel fine.”

“Bradley, you aren’t eating,” you scowled, turning your own gaze to your new friends. “Tell him he needs to go see a physician.”

The two shared a look before Mickey shook his head, putting his hands up in surrender while Nat sighed.

“Yeah, I’m definitely not getting in the middle of a sibling squabble,” she drawled, taking a bite of her apple. You rolled your eyes, turning back to look at the brunette beside you.

“As soon as we dock, I’m going to go find a physician,” you told him, pressing your lips into a firm line as you stared him down. Your father had always said that you get your temper and attitude from your mother.

“It’s like a miniature you running around everywhere, Pen!” He’d laugh, throwing his head back as you gave him the best scowl your six year old self could come up with. Your mother would roll her eyes, biting back a smile as she watched you glare at the older man.

“She’s going to strike fear into the heart of everyone who crosses her, mark my words!” He grinned, reaching out to gather you in his arms.

“Don’t give me that look,” you scowled as Bradley gave you a dubious look. “I mean it! We’re finding a physician the next time we dock.”

“Alright, fine,” he grumbled, moving to stand, holding up his hand when you made to say something else. “By all means, go find a physician, Guppy. In the meantime, I’m going to go get some work done on deck before we dock.”

“Javy said we should make landfall within the hour,” Nat provided, watching as the brunette rounded the table towards the stairs. You watched after him, chewing on your bottom lip in worry. Were you really in the wrong for worrying after him so? Surely not. Bradley had always been stubborn, ever since the two of you were children. If anything, he wasn’t worrying nearly enough about his current condition.

“He’s going to be okay, you know,” Nat said, reaching out to hold your hand in hers. She offered you a gentle smile as she squeezed it lightly. “Maybe you should give him some time?”

“I’ve given him plenty of time,” you mumbled, glaring half-heartedly at the stairs where Bradley had just disappeared. “He needs to see a physician if he’s not eating. It could be illness.”

“He seems fine to me,” Mickey offered with a shrug. “A physician would be a waste of time, anyway.”

“Why’s that?” You asked, brow furrowing at his words. Nat shot him a pointed look, and Mickey straightened up as if just realizing what it was that he said.

“Oh, I just mean,” he trailed off, looking at Nat for help. All she offered was an unimpressed glare as he fumbled for how to continue.

“I just mean,” he stammered, “that physicians never really know what they’re doing, right? I mean, they’ll prescribe plants and leeches and-”

“Mickey?” Nat interrupted, raising an eyebrow and resting her chin on her fist.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

“Oh thank God,” Mickey mumbled, looking away and catching sight of Bob and Reuben making their way towards your table. Bob sat down next to you, bumping your shoulder with his in greeting as Mickey and Nat made room for Reuben on the other side.

“What are we talking about?” Bob asked, taking a bite of his oats.

“I’m going to go and find a physician for Bradley once we dock,” you told him. He paused, stiffening next to you for a moment before continuing with his food.

“What?” You asked, a tinge of annoyance evident in your town. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just chewing before swallowing.

“Is a physician really what he needs?” He asked carefully, glancing up at your friends on the other side of the table. You rolled your eyes fixing the bespectacled man with an annoyed look.

“Is there some sailor superstition about physicians being bad luck that I don’t know about?” You questioned, glancing around the table. Everyone refused to meet your eyes, and you felt another twinge of aggravation in your chest.

“No,” Bob replied, shaking his head, spoon clacking against the side of his bowl as he moved the oats around. “It’s just that they’re costly, you know? I’d hate for you to waste all that money only for there to be nothing wrong with him.”

“He’s not eating,” you replied dryly. “I think that’s plenty of cause to go and see a physician. I’ll deal with the cost when we get there.”

Shouting could be heard from on deck, and all of you glanced up at the sudden outcry.

“Sounds like we’ve reached land,” Reuben commented, focusing back on his plate.

“Perfect timing,” you chirped, already moving to stand. You cast a final smile to your friends, giving a small wave as you made your way towards the stairs. “I’ll see you all up there!”

It was still a few hours before anyone was allowed to leave the ship, Jake and Javy making sure that everyone had been inspected for signs of illness per the harbormaster’s orders. You kept silent about Bradley’s lack of appetite, certain that if it were contagious, then the others would be showing signs as well. Once the ship had been cleared and deemed healthy, you all set about preparing the ship to settle.

It was the late afternoon by the time you finished your tasks, and you set about trying to pin down Bradley.

“Have you seen him?” You asked Nat as you hung in the doorway to your shared cabin, having ran from the galley to the private quarters. She glanced up at you in the mirror, a quizzical look on her face as you fought to catch your breath.

“Who?”

“Bradley, of course,” you chuckled, straightening up and stepping further into the room. “Who else would I be talking about?”

She hummed noncommittally, turning her focus back towards her bun.

“I haven’t seen him,” she responded finally. “But I haven’t seen the others either. Perhaps they’ve already gone ahead and gone out?”

Your lips pulled into a frown as you realized that, save for Bob just moments before, you hadn’t seen Mickey or Reuben either.

“He wouldn’t,” you growled, earning another look from the woman in front of you. Your jaw dropped in indignation. “That rat!”

“He’s your brother,” she shrugged, once again turning back to the mirror. You let out another growl, turning to stomp your way back onto the deck. The oaf you called a brother would have to come back to the ship at some point, and it was then that you would corner him.

Meanwhile, your boots stomped across the deck and towards the gangway, mind bound and determined to find a physician at this small port. The docks were already crowded in the late afternoon, and you found yourself having to push through throngs of people just to get into the streets themselves. You weren’t sure where you should be looking, but you were sure that a port town of this size had to have some kind of physician. All around you, merchants of all kind hollered to the passing travelers, some selling food, others selling trinkets.

“Fine wares for your misses, sir!”

“Fish for sale!”

“How’s about a shilling for an hour of your pleasure, mister?”

You shied away from the last one, not wishing to be caught up in that business. People did what they needed to survive, but you were weary of the men who tended to hang around those parts.

“Interested in apples, miss?”

You turned to find an older woman staring directly at you, knobbed fingers outstretched to offer you a bright, red apple. She was missing a few teeth, that you could see as she smiled up at you, her silver hair falling out of her bun in wisps.

“They’re just a three for a shilling,” she continued, waving it up at you. “Tha’s quite the bargain.”

“No,” you shook your head. “No, thank you. Would you happen to know where I can find a physician?”

“A physician?” She parroted, her arm dropping back to her side as she studied you. “Doesn’t look like anythin’s wrong with you.”

“It’s not for me,” you corrected her. “It’s for my brother. I think he might be sick since he hasn’t been eating.”

“Not eatin’, you say?” She hummed thoughtfully. “Was a boy back when I was a girl meself who stopped eatin’ one day, there was. Was fit as a fiddle and then just dropped dead one day, the poor lad.”

“Yes, well,” you swallowed thickly, feeling ice run up your spine at her words, “I’d like to keep that from happening to my brother, if you don’t mind. So, do you know of any physicians here in town?”

“Oh, aye, aye,” she nodded, her wayward strands of hair flying all over the place. “Physician’s just a few streets over, love. A fine man he is, too. Helped me sister when she was puking buckets a few years back. Set her right as rain he did.”

“You said he’s a few streets down?” You prodded.

“Aye, just three streets down and to the right from here. There’s a big ole sign out front, you can’t miss it,” she said, waving in the general direction of where you needed to head. You followed the gesture, looking back and nodding.

“Thank you,” you smiled, turning and making your way through the crowd once more. It took you all of fifteen minutes to find the building the old woman was talking about, a bright blue sign with the word “physician” painted in white letters hanging above the streets as you approached. Worming your way through, you finally managed to trudge your way through the door, slamming it closed behind you with a wince at the loud sound in the unusually quiet room.

It was your standard physician’s office, the wood floors creaking as you wandered further into the dimly lit room. The walls behind the counter were filled to the brim with different herbs and potions meant for treating different ailments. It wasn’t long before an older man walked out from the backroom, peering at you curiously from over the rim of his glasses.

“Might I help you with something, young lady?” he inquired, rubbing his hands clean with a cloth towel.

“Yes, actually,” you smiled, crossing the rest of the distance to stand just in front of him, only the counter separating the two of you. “I came because of my brother. He hasn’t been eating the last few weeks, and it has me worried.”

“Hasn’t been eating, hm?” He hummed, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. “Does he have any other symptoms?”

“Now that you mention it, no,” you frowned, suddenly finding it odd that the only thing physically wrong with Bradley was his apparent lack of an appetite. “He sleeps just fine, and he looks healthy as he usually does.”

“No fever?” He continued.

“No, nothing like that,” you assured him.

“Vomiting?”

You shook your head, earning another hum from the older man.

“And, uh,” he smiled, a gesture you were sure was meant to be comforting, “what is it your brother does for a living?”

“He’s a sailor.”

“A sailor,” he nodded, cocking his head to the side. “And why isn’t he here with you now?”

“He thinks he doesn’t need a physician,” you scowled, crossing your arms. “He was supposed to come with me, but snuck off before I could grab him.”

The physician chuckled at that, tossing the cloth onto the counter as he leaned against it.

“Well, unfortunately, there’s not much I can do about his situation without seeing him in person, miss. How long is he in town for?”

“We’re here for at least another day,” you told him, earning another nod.

“Bring him by tomorrow,” he instructed. “I’ll take a look at him before you two leave town.”

“Thank you,” you sighed, relief washing over you in waves. “I really appreciate this, you have no idea.”

“I’ll keep the shop open until sundown. After that, I make no promises.”

“We’ll be here!” You assured him, turning to leave, weary of the setting sun shining through the window. You waved at him from over your shoulder, offering one last smile as you exited the shop.

“Bradley,” you huffed, arms crossed and eyes narrowed at the taller brunette. The two of you were currently in another argument about going to the physician, your window before the shop closed rapidly waning as the sun sank lower and lower towards the horizon. You had tried to stay awake the night before, waiting for Bradley on deck before falling asleep on one of the dozen barrels scattered about. You had inexplicably woken up in your bed that morning, still dressed in the clothes from the day before. When you had entered the galley, he was still absent, the rest of your little friend group remaining tight lipped about where he might be. The rest of your day was spent meal prepping and taking inventory with Bob until finally, the man had run out of chores for you two to do. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was keeping you busy on purpose.

You had sat perched in the same spot as the night before, eyes trained on the gangway until a familiar head of brown hair peeked over the deck. He spotted you right away, freezing in his tracks before making a beeline for the stairs leading below deck. You were hot on his heels, your temper surfacing as you finally cornered him.

“Guppy,” he replied cooly, refusing to meet your eye as he scanned the galley for help.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” you accused him, earning a scoff.

“Have not.”

“Have to.”

“Have not.”

“You have to, and don’t even try to deny it again,” you snapped, poking him in the chest. “We have precious little time to get to the physician before he closes up shop for the day. He was kind enough to keep it open as long as he is, now let’s go.”

“I’m not going,” he muttered. You froze, balking at his tone.

“What?”

“I’m not going, Guppy,” he repeated, still not meeting your gaze, golden eyes locked on something just past your shoulder. You let out a humorless chuckle, shaking your head in exasperation.

“Bradley-”

“I’m not going, and that’s final,” he growled. “Drop it.”

You stared at him for a long moment, your anger and sadness welling up all at once inside of you.

“You really want to leave me alone, don’t you?” You whispered. Bradley’s eyes snapped to you, still firm, but now with an edge of uncertainty to them. “First it was Papa, then Mama. I only had you, and now you’re determined to leave me too. You’d rather see me alone than go see the stupid physician, is that it?”

His face dropped into a look of horror, regret swirling in his eyes as he reached for you. “Guppy-”

You took a step back, feeling the hot, angry tears sting at your eyes. You fixed him with your meanest glare, cursing yourself when you felt your bottom lip begin to tremble.

“If you want to die so bad,” you sniffled, “then by all means, go ahead. Just leave me out of it.”

And with that, you turned on your heals and practically sprinted towards the stairs, the eyes of the rest of the crew fixed on you the entire way. You were vaguely aware of Bob’s concerned face peering at you from the kitchen, Mickey and Reuben seated not too far away. You passed Nat, ignoring her outstretched hands as you thundered past her and Javy up the stairs. The wind sent a chill down your heated face, only made worse when the tears finally began to fall. The sun was just above the horizon now, the sky painted in an array of pinks and oranges as it beckoned the night.

“Rough time?”

You jumped, spinning around to find Jake leaning against the railing on the far side of the ship. His golden blonde hair shimmered in the evening light. The sun kissed the horizon just passed his shoulder, creating a halo that glowed around him. If you didn’t already know him, you’d think he was an angel. He stares at you as if he could see into the very depths of your soul, his olive green eyes never wavering.

“What do you care?” You snapped, furiously rubbing at your eyes to rid them of any tears. Jake watched you intently, as if knowing that you would continue. “Bradley’s not eating.”

“Of course he’s not,” Jake replied, no hint of malice or sarcasm in his voice. Just a simple statement, but it made you tense up nonetheless.

“He hasn’t eaten in weeks,” you clarified, unsure if maybe he misunderstood you. He nodded, face unchanging.

“I know.”

“You know?” You asked incredulously. “You know, and you’ve done nothing about it?”

“There’s nothing to be done about it,” he shrugged, and you felt your whole body stiffen in anger.

“He needs a physician,” you snapped, fists clenched so hard at your sides, you thought you might draw blood with how your nails dug into your palms.

“A physician can’t cure what’s wrong with him, darlin’,” he drawled, as if explaining something so obvious. Your jaw ticked in annoyance.

“And what, pray tell, is wrong with my brother, captain?” You spat, the title earning a twitch from the blond’s lips.

“Do you believe in Davy Jones, Guppy?” he asked. That was unexpected. The change in conversation had your head jerking back, confusion stifling the anger momentarily.

“I believe he’s a scary story that parents tell their children to scare them into being good,” you responded, thinking back to the stories your own father would tell you. “He’s not real.”

Jake gave a humorless chuckle, closing his eyes and letting out a deep sigh. He ran a hand through his golden locks, looking out over the side of the ship and to the sea. The sound of the gulls and the creak of the ship as it rocked in the waves were the only things to be heard before he spoke. “I can assure you, he’s real.”

“Stop teasing,” you snapped, crossing your arms and fixing him with a glare. He gave you a wry smile, a look of sadness barely discernable in his eyes as they swept over you.

“If only it were that,” he started. “I didn’t believe in curses until six years ago, if you can believe that.”

“And what happened six years ago to make you a believer?” you asked, rolling your eyes. You were in no mood to be mocked or played with, and this man was wasting your time with his nonsense. You glanced over his shoulder. If you could wrap this conversation up, perhaps you could somehow convince Bradley to go with you to get the care he needed.

Jake paused. “Six years ago, I met a woman. She was beautiful, sweet, caring. The kinds of things most men want in a woman.”

“And you don’t?” you questioned.

“Those are nice things to have,” he hummed thoughtfully, then he gave you a small smirk. “But I’ve always wanted a little more.”

You ignored the shiver that smirk sent through you. “So, I’m guessing you took this woman to bed?”

“I did,” Jake admitted, pursing his lips. “And then I left her. Only, I didn’t know that there was another man in love with her at the time.”

“And he beat you senseless?” You guessed, letting out a snort of derision.

“Haven’t you been paying attention, darlin’?” He chuckled. “That man was none other than Davy Jones himself. Risen from the deep to exact vengeance on little, old me.”

“Right,” you scoffed. Surely he couldn’t be expecting you to believe him? He was speaking of fairytales. “And what, pray tell, does this curse involve exactly?”

“I, and everyone in my crew, are destined to exist on this earth in limbo. Not alive, but not dead either. A half-life. We eat, but we are never full. Our food tasting like ash.” He stood up, walking slowly towards you as he continued talking. “We drink, but our thirst is never quenched. The finest wines leave our throat dry like the desert.”

He cupped your cheek, stroking it before resting his thumb on your bottom lip, and you willed yourself to stay focused on the conversation at hand, despite the warmth the seemingly innocent action sparked in you. “We can feel, but no touch leaves us satisfied. I and every other member of this crew have taken many women to bed, only to crave more and more as this insatiable need for contact drives us mad. I’ve not known relief from another person’s touch in over six years.”

“Must be lonely,” you said softly. A look of unadulterated despair ran across Jake’s face, and it was then that you knew in your heart that he was telling the truth. It was the look of a man with ghosts that followed him, taunting him into submission, and you sucked in a harsh breath as he stared at you. His eyes shone with unshed tears, his breaths coming in ragged for a moment before he was able to compose himself.

“It’s agony,” he admitted quietly, dropping his hand back to his side, almost reluctantly.

“Did Davy Jones give you a way to lift the curse?” you asked, a sense of urgency in your tone. If there was a way you could help Bradley and your new friends, you had to try.

Jake didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he sighed, “I have to find what he considers to be the greatest treasure of all.”

“And what is that?”

“He didn’t say,” Jake muttered, head hanging low.

Your brow furrowed. “But, how are you supposed to find it if you don’t even know what it is you’re looking for?”

“Isn’t that the point?” he snorted, a humorless smile etched onto his face as he looked back at you. A sense of dread filled you, and you did your best to push it to the side. Giving up was not an option, it never had been for you.

“Well, you have all the time in the world to find what it is you’re looking for,” you offered, giving him a soft smile. He shook his head, the wry smile finding a home on his face once more.

“Old Jonesy only gave me seven years to find it before the curse becomes permanent.”

“Seven years?” you exclaimed, ice drenching your bones. “But you said this happened six years ago!”

“I did,” he said softly, watching you put the pieces together.

“But, that means…” you trailed off, horror overtaking your senses. Jake nodded.

“I have less than one year left to find the treasure.”

A/N: This one goes out to all my Fool's Fare girlies who have been waiting patiently for two months now for an update and haven't complained once! Y'all are the real MVPs. If you haven't heard, I'm redoing my tag lists, so please be sure to sign up for this new one! As always, reblogs and comments are appreciated and encouraged! And don't ever hesitate to pop into my inbox to talk about my fics or anything else! You can also find my works on AO3 under the username sailor_aviator!

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