#“EVEN WHEN WE HAVE HURT ANOTHER WITH OUR BLOWS THERE IS ALWAYS LOVE FOR YOU STILL”

[apyrrambles]

everytime I think about Judas and Al i take +10 psychic damage

[jarofstyles]

Leather & Lace

Hello my angels and welcome to Leather and Lace!!! We’ve got a very cute 3 parter (I’ve finished writing it) coming in for you guys. We love a good grumpy x sunshine and couldn’t help ourselves writing another one. Please leave us feedback! We love to hear from you

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Wc- 8.2k

Warnings- oral sex, praise kink, soft Dom h, opposites attract, cum play/swapping

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“How can you be this happy in the morning?” Harry grunted, hoodie pulled over his head as he sat down next to a bubbly Y/N. Her couch was comfortable but it didn’t make up for the fact that he was at her flat at 8 in the morning. 

“It’s not that early, lazy bones.” She hummed, tucking her legs under her as she sat down on the other side. “Thank you for coming to help today, by the way. I know you don’t like getting up early.”

He really didn’t, was the thing. He hated it. Harry only had so many days off and after working a long shift bartending last night, the very last thing he wanted to do was help someone unpack in their new flat. He’d rather claw at concrete than be awake right now, rather eat a raw egg, rather go through tattoo removal. If it was anyone but Y/N he would have laughed in their face at the mere ask. 

But it was her. It was twinkly eyed, pouty lipped, warm hearted Y/N who had asked him a week in advance and promised him a bagel with cream cheese and an iced coffee for brekkie, whatever he wanted for lunch, and ‘whatever he wanted in general!’. Little did she know he was going to say yes anyway, considering he knew he couldn’t say no to her sweet little ask with her smaller hand on his tattooed arm and wide eyes peering up at him. He wasn’t someone who liked to do things for many people without there being some sort of monetary gain, but this was different. 

Y/N had somehow latched herself onto one of the grumpiest bastards in the area while she herself was one of the sweetest girls he’d ever seen. Rarely spoke a mean word of anyone (except when they hurt someone close to her), went out of her way to help anyone who needed it and always wanted to be a shoulder to cry on. He’d seen her take money from her own wallet to cover someone’s bill when they were short, even seen her rush to help an elderly man across the street. It got her into trouble sometimes which was why he was glad that he’d been the hip she’d chosen to attach to. 

Their first interaction had been him sitting in the courtyard of their uni, listening to music under the tree. He’d had his sketchbook in hand, doodling in between classes when he looked up to see a girl with a pretty yellow bow in her hair offering him a cupcake because he looked ‘sad.’. He had been sad, actually, but that was pretty much his normal resting face. He’d tried to blow her off but she’d taken a seat next to him, introducing herself and telling him about her own day to ‘distract him’. He hated to admit that it worked. 

From then on, she popped up everywhere. At first he’d been a bit worried that she was following him but it truly was a coincidence. Y/N had found her way under his skin, wriggled her way into that cold heart of his and made it warm up just a little each time she came around. At some point she’d become a daily fixture in his life, her texts lighting up his phone with emojis and telling him to meet her at the cafe or the library- and for some reason, he followed.

“Mmm. Know y’wanted me here to see me get all sweaty. If y’wanted to see my tats and muscles so badly, you coulda just said so, Sweets.” He smirked, watching her eyes widen. So easy to fluster. 

“No! Stop teasing me, s’not nice.” She grumbled, poking his knee with her socked foot. She’d chosen lavender striped ones today. “I don’t have a lot of strong friends, you know that. Niall’s comin’ by after work to help you put the bedframe together and move the books from the car. Besides, I’ll let you sleepover and everything after we’re all done. I know you loveeeee my bed.”

He did. But more than anything he liked laying in said bed with her. Harry had a hard time admitting he had begun to gain feelings for the girl but deep down he knew he did. He liked that she insisted on cuddles, curling her leg around his and nuzzling her face into his chest, or even better yet the crook of his neck. Loved when she’d sleepily ask him questions about his life and tell him facts about her own. She resembled a tiny kitten while sleepy, insistent on getting all of the pets and attention. 

Harry had decided he wasn’t the relationship type after his last girlfriend had cheated on him with his old best mate- but meeting Y/N had reminded him of the die hard romantic that laid underneath the surface. All the hard work he’d had piling up bricks on top of his red, bleeding heart had seemed to be consistently excavated by the pastel wearing girl who still enjoyed the fairy lights he used to see online in those aesthetic bedroom photos. It scared him a bit at first. Even now, he was nervous about the idea of getting closer to her than they were now because her heart was a tender and precious thing and he didn’t necessarily trust himself not to hurt her- but then again, he knew he’d do miles better than anyone else could. He’d spent the time learning about her as the months went by, listening to her drawl on about the pinterest boards she made, her dream finds she always looked for at the thrift stores, her least favorite reality TV contestants, which pastries she found to be too dry at the cafe and which had the best level of moisture, what blankets she liked, every little tidbit he had stored away in his brain to use at a later date. 

No one would be as protective of her as he would be, which was why lately he’d been entertaining the thought of perhaps moving past the point of no return and trying to see if maybe, possibly, perhaps.. They could be more. 

It had come with a lot of deliberating but he’d come to understand that if he failed, Y/N wouldn’t caste him to the side. She’d never in a million years abandon him like he feared, which only gave him more motivation to go for it though… He was still biding his time. He had to let her get settled here before he shook up her life a bit more. 

They were opposites, the sweet girl and him. Harry was quite literally the bad boy cliche of everyone’s after school special’s dreams. His hair was long and curled, brushing his jaw. He went for darker clothing, usually his ripped black skinny jeans and a band tee but sometimes more eccentric with some silk and leaving his tits out when they went on a night out. His nose had a simple black hoop, his nails painted and chipped though this week they were a bubblegum pink, a la Y/N’s expertise. His body was hard from the gym he liked to frequent and inked, only getting more every month. He wore the occasional eyeliner when he felt spicy. That was only the physical things. 

Sometimes he wondered why she felt drawn to him, as she said. He was dark and moody with a darker sense of humor. Somewhat of a pessimist, he expected the worst from people and tended to stay away from them the best he could. The opposite of a social butterfly, he only usually went out in the past for a drink or to get his cock wet, never for the pleasure of interacting with people. Even then it was rare considering he did quite well in the hookup area being a bartender himself. 

Harry often wondered how and why she felt the pull to be around him and why she felt so at ease in his presence but he figured it had to be that he’d knocked the lights out of a bloke in her philosophy class who’d been riding her ass. He’d made the wrong decision of cornering Y/N at a party Harry had been dragged to, touching her a bit too much and not listening when her smile became thin and she backed away from him after giving a rejection much too polite than the man deserved. There had been no hesitation in laying him out, tugging Y/N into his side and demanding she stay with him for the rest of the party after she insisted she didn’t need to go home. 

Funnily enough she’d been a hit with his own small group of friends, everyone also feeling the same sort of kindred protection over her. Not many people were genuinely warm and fuzzy in the way she was. 

Y/N was… She was the sun, she was a cinnamon roll fresh baked on a sunday morning, she was a kitten sprawled in a sunbeam. All the good things, he could find a way to relate them to her. That probably should have been the indicator he had feelings for her far sooner than he’d ever let himself admit, but she had taken the time to crack him open. 

It was hard to stop thinking about what made her both his opposite and so special. Harry dwelled on how soft her clothing always was, both in color and texture. She liked those pastel colors and fuzzy cardigans, hair bows and those signature mary janes with the tiny heels. Lip oil as opposed to lip gloss because it was ‘too sticky’ but still dragged all his attention to her lips and made him wonder if it really tasted like tangerine like it smelled. 

Her touch was gentle and tender, cautious at first but as soon as she got the go ahead, she showered you in attention. At least, she did to him. Brushing stray hairs out of faces and wiping crumbs off cheeks, she had little sense of personal space once granted permission. She’d been mindful of his distaste for touch at the beginning but once he’d leaned into it, the girl had no qualms about straightening his shirt or leaning into his form, hell- there had been a few times she’d helped herself to his lap when there was no other seating option. Usually that was when she was tipsy considering she would most likely be a little shy sober, but that was something he enjoyed. 

The light to his dark, he doubted anyone else could make him feel the way she could. Hence why he was up after only getting 4 hours of sleep, sipping the coffee she’d gotten him. There was little he wouldn’t do for a hint of her smile. 

—--

“Babe, you’ve got t’make a decision.” Harry said gently, placing the large mirror down and leaning it against the wall. 

“I know, I know but… It’s bad luck to have your mirror facing your bed.” She wrung her fingers together. “I’m sorry, H. I know I’ve been a bit of a pain in the rear today. I promise m’not trying to, but It’s my first place and I just want it to be perfect.” Her head looked down, making his heart squeeze. 

God damn it. Leave it to her to make him feel like he’d kicked a puppy. Sighing, he tugged the bandana on his head back into place and approached her, placing his hand on her shoulder. “M’not upset with you. Promise. I just think you’re overthinking it a bit.” Her superstitions did tend to make her feel a little squirrely sometimes and he knew it.  “We’re gonna make it look perfect. Incredible, even. Reckon the magazines will be calling you up to feature you, but we can’t just have a freestanding mirror slab.” He’d picked it up for her off of craigslist just a bit ago. Even if it wasn’t a dodgy listing, he wouldn’t let her go on her own. That’s how people got kidnapped. 

“Ugh, I know.” She groaned, flopping into his chest. Never mind it being sweaty, she rubbed her nose between his tits and let out a tired groan, her hair smacking his chin. It’d been tossed up in a very messy bun that was a bit lopsided but made her look doubly as cute, though he didn’t tell her that. “Why don’t we mount it to the back of your door then? Not facing your bed, or another mirror.” 

He could almost hear her brain going as she mulled it over before he felt the nod against his chest. “That will be good, I think. I love that idea.” Y/N had been going back and forth over design choices with him all day as if he had a clue about interior decor, but he had appreciated her caring about his opinion nonetheless. “That can be the last thing we do. Niall’s fucked off somewhere futzing with the books so we can eat after that’s done.” 

The thud of his heart against her ear was steady as he gently ran a hand over her shoulderblade. “What’s on the menu?” 

“Think we’re ordering pizza because I know m’too tired to cook which means you lot have to be too.” She chuckled, finally prying herself out of his chest and blinking up at him.”Then we can go to bed.”  He was thankful her ear was away from his heart so she couldn’t hear the way it stuttered. You’d think after sleeping in her bed a multitude of times that he’d get used to the sound of that sentence but it still did him in every time. 

“Okay. I can run and pick it up after I mount this to the door if you call it in.” He knew she wouldn’t want to go. It was visible on her face how tired she was and it melted him internally. He knew that she’d be a little snuggly menace tonight and fuck if he wasn’t looking forward to it. “Gonna run into the pharmacy t’grab some body wash for here, if thats okay?”

“Course it is.” She beamed at the suggestion, making him happy that he’d even brought it up. Y/N used to suggest he sleep heer a lot before and he’d refuse, thinking she was just trying to be polite- but she really did enjoy him staying with her. “I liked the pomegranate one you used last time, just sayin’.” Patting his chest she moved from his grip, heading to grab her phone. “Normal for you?”

“Yeah, love. Same as usual.” He rubbed over the achy spot in his chest that she’d left by pulling away, looking forward to sleeping tonight so he could feel it fill back up.

—-----------

Harry had grabbed the pomegranate bath stuff. He’d grabbed the whole line, actually, the shampoo, conditioner, body wash and some sort of ‘skin buff.’ Whatever that was. 

Y/N had squeaked as he showed her, along with a pack of the makeup wipes she usually used and he’d steal. He’d figured it was about time to be the one to buy the replacements. “Ah! And you got the face mask I like.” Her eyes were wide and bright as she bounced on her toes, smacking a kiss to his stubbly cheek before looking back down at the holographic packaging. He’d hoped he had gotten the right one when he’d seen a sale on them when on his way to the check out counter. It was worth the little bit of money to feel her lips for a moment. “Thank you, H. You’re the best, as usual.” 

“The hell am I?” Niall scoffed, wiping his hands dry after washing them. 

“You’re great too, but he got me the face masks I like and they usually sell out. So he’s a bit higher up in points today.” She placated him, brushing past him to put them in the bathroom. “Harry, plate up the pizza, pretty please!”

As soon as she had disappeared, Niall shot him a look. “When are you two gonna make it official?” He whispered. “The heat eyes bouncin’ off the both of you is sickening at this point. She’s turned you soft.” 

Harry settled with a glare, placing two slices on the paper plate and sliding it over to him. “Eventually. Her whole life is shifting. Can’t do shit right now without rattling her.” It was the first time he admitted or even hinted at having feelings for her besides point blank telling anyone who came around that she wasn’t available. Y/N didn’t know he did that though. 

“Thank fuck you don’t still have your head up your arse. I was worried you’d never admit you’re gone for her.” He faked wiping sweat off his head making the other man roll his eyes. “She’ll be happy, H. You don’t have to worry about her rejecting you. Just go on and do it. She talks about you like you hang the moon every night at this point even when you aren’t around.” 

A weakness he’d spotted, Harry stood a bit straighter before leaning in. “She does? What does she say?” Oh, he hated how desperate he sounded to hear the answer but the fluttering in his stomach made him insisting on finding out. 

“Oh, how thoughtful and kind and generous you are and how you’re the best person she knows, all of that. She stares at her phone and waits for texts from you when she comes out and you’re working, gets these huge smiles or giggles when you do. or tries to get everyone to move the party to your bar.” 

That last part, he’d hoped for. He liked the idea of her wanting to be physically close to him and suggesting everyone come and see him, but knowing she did the same thing he did when waiting for messages from him soothed a piece of him. He wasn’t alone in it. It was hard sometimes for him to decipher her behavior considering she was genuinely so friendly with everyone and he didn’t want to flatter himself and think it he was special… but apparently he was. 

He didn’t have a chance to answer when Y/N glided from the bathroom, finding her spot on the kitchen barstools. “What did I miss?” 

“Nothin’, Babe. Just chatting shit.” He murmured, sliding her a plate with her pizza of choice on it. “Figured we’d go to the grocery tomorrow, yeah? It’s a bit sparse in here with the food.” He had the next day off and intended on spending it with her. They’d made lots of progress today and had 80% of the place unpacked, but he knew she liked those restocking videos online. “Think they’ve got those organizers back in stock.” 

“Oh!” She gasped.”Yes, you genius. I’ll need your help though, strong man. I like the one trip wonder.” It was a tease considering she knew Harry hated making multiple trips up with bags. 

“Lucky for you, you’ve got a lift now and I’ve got that collapsible wagon.” Reaching out he gently flicked her nose for being a brat. “So we won’t have t’worry about that.” 

—-----

Y/N was either very oblivious or a tease. Harry could never fully figure out which one. 

He sat on her bed, messing with her telly when she emerged from the shower in her little cotton shorts and one of his shirts. It was one he’d just been looking for last week, actually, an old Iron Maiden one with a few holes in the collar area. Unmistakably his. The faded gray complimented her skin, looking extra cozy on her as her powder blue plush bunny slippers flopped against the ground and she made her way to her skincare desk. 

“You little thief.” He grumbled from the bed, leaning against her headboard. “I was searching everywhere for that last week.” Though he had narrowed eyes she would know he was only teasing. 

“You left it with me, remember? I ended up packing it so I wouldn’t forget it but… It’s super comfy.” She smiled guiltily at him, spinning in her chair. “Is it okay if I wear it? It still smells like your cologne and it helps me sleep sometimes…”

Ah, a shot to the heart. 

Y/N didn’t know what it did to him to know he was an aid in good sleep. That it both made his heart stutter and his cock throb at the sight of her wrapped up in his clothing like she had all the rights to it. Like he was her boyfriend and she liked to wear it to remember him. Her scent had a similar effect on him, leaving it in his sheets when she stayed over,  “Totally okay, lovely.” He smiled gently. “M’just teasing you. Though it does wonders for my ego to know you like my cologne that much.” 

He knew he was making her a little flustered considering she didn’t look right at him, but he thrived off of that. Knowing he made an impact on her like that made him feel just a bit more confident that she felt similarly to him. There was no answer from her, but he wasn’t done with her quite yet. Standing up with a groan, he made his way over to her little makeup and skincare set up, placing his hands on the back of her chair. “What are you putting on your face?” He asked curiously, looking over her head to the products she had neatly organized.

“Well, first I wipe with one of these toning pads.” She opened the little tub, using a tiny pair of clear tongs to grab one. “You don’t want to be sticking your fingers in there and potentially making them all dirty so it came with this little thing. You give it a few passes over your t zone.” She showed him as she did it, Harry watching diligently in the mirror. 

“Mmm. Then what? You’re always doin’ all of this fancy stuff to your face. Figure that's why your skin is so pretty.” He let his fingers fiddle with a few strands of hair. 

“Thank you.” She said sheepishly, picking up a smaller tube. “Um, I use this undereye cream to help with puffiness and brightening. Its soothing. I apply it with the smallest finger though, because while I’m not afraid of wrinkles it’s the weakest fingers and the skin under your eyes is more delicate.” 

Huh. “Didn’t know what.” He was actually learning something from this. 

“Mhm. Why do you think I tell you to go gentle when you use the makeup remover?” A smile tilted up one side of her lips a bit further, eyes focused on the mirror in front of her. She pretended not to notice the slight shiver he gave her when he leaned down, letting his face get more level with hers- but he did. He noticed anything he could. “A-And then I use some vitamin C stuff for brightening, a serum and a cream. I use the little fan to make it dry faster so it isn’t sticky.” She pointed to the mini pink fan he’d always noticed. He’d just assumed it was for when she got hot. “Do you… Would you like me to use some of it on you when I’m done?” 

She sounded hesitant to ask which he understood. Not a lot of the guys in their friend circle would want that, but he wasn’t that insecure about himself that he’d say no to someone pampering him. Especially not when it meant Y/N getting close to him. “Sure, sweets. I’d love that. Reckon my skin needs it.” 

“What do you usually do with it?” She asked curiously, meeting his eye in the mirror. 

“Makeup remover, wash my face, that cream you left at my place if I remember.” 

“It’s not fair you have the skin you do.” She huffed, shaking her head. “Cruel, actually.” It kind of was. He got long lashes too, which she always complained about. “Go and wash your face first, heathen.”

Harry let out a small laugh before going off to do that. Returning with a fresh face, he stood in his prior position, watching her finish up the routine before holding the fan closer to her face to finish it off. It was an interesting process he hadn’t paid much mind to before, but then again, she didn’t bring every single thing to his place either. 

After putting her hair up in a claw clip, she stood up from the plushy chair and motioned for him to sit down. He did as asked, feeling her residual warmth as she lined up the products for them. “Okay, so we start with the toner pad.” She gently pushed him to lean back in the chair, her face coming closer to his as she delicately swiped it over his cheeks and nose. He was getting an up close look at her, noticing the scar near her eyebrow and a few spots on her face. It made him warm up a bit, being able to see her so close when she was awake. Usually this level of observation was reserved for when she was asleep. “Oi, keep your head up.” 

“Sorry.” He laughed, avoiding the impulse to move the chair back and forth. He liked to swing on it at times. 

“Wait- how about this.” Without giving it much thought, she gripped the chair and swung it over to turn his body to the side, helping herself to straddle his lap. “This seems a little easier, no?” Fingers gently tipped his chin up, eyes focused on her motions. 

Harry’s breath had disappeared. No longer available, he felt her sitting on top of his thighs, innocent as ever as she went through the motions. Tender with her movements and pressure, she was treating him like porcelain while giving him a little makeover. He should be focused on how nice the products felt on his skin, but his mind was elsewhere. 

She smelled amazing, as usual, but having it this close up was a little hard for him. Yes, she sat on his lap before- but not in his shirt, with her thighs on display and tiny little shorts. She didn’t straddle him before either, didn’t let his mind wander to places it shouldn’t. All his energy was focused on trying to ensure she didn’t feel the stiffy that was quickly growing in his pants. 

“I can’t believe how good you’re being for me, H.” She whispered. “No whining or anything.” Her smile was soft as she wiped the serum over his face. “You’re so pretty.”

Fuck. He swallowed thickly, trying desperately to not let his cock construe those words into the filthy praise kink he had, but it appeared to be a bit too late for that. She had no idea what she was doing to him and he didn’t want to be a perv, but god damn. If the girl continued, there would be no denying that he’d cream his damn pants. Being pet on, feeling her brush his hair off his forehead while she stroked his face and adjusted his position to where she wanted… He was only so strong. “Thanks.” He murmured, trying to keep his composure. 

“Of course.” She beamed, seeming pleased. “I’m surprised you’re letting me do this, but you’re full of surprises.” It seemed like she didn’t know the battle he was facing internally, which was his goal, but that was soon to be ruined. “Hold on a second.” Shifting slightly on his lap, she stood up momentarily before sliding further up. “Sorry, I was falling down a bit-” 

Harry hadn’t meant to, he really fucking didn’t. But she sat right on top of him, squirming a bit. Giving his dick a bit of friction, making his hands grip her hips and sit her down hard to stop the movement. He couldn’t open his eyes, couldn’t face her as he heard the hitch in her breath. “Fuck, I’m sorry. Sorry, I didn’t- I promise m’not being a creep or anything.” He winced. “Just been a while and uh-” 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Her voice rang out, fingers brushing through his hair. “H, look at me. I’m not mad.” Of course, her words were sweet and syrupy, going right to his dick yet again. Y/N had no fucking idea how much she effected him, how many times he’d thought about her in this positon and how guilty he felt that he’d turned a sweet moment into something like this. “C’mon. You don’t need to be embarrassed.” 

He took a moment before opening his eyes, looking at her face. Studying it, making sure she wasn’t uncomfortable. Her hand cupped the side of his face, a slight pout on her pretty lips. Y/N didn’t seem upset about it, seeing as she sat still and could most definitely feel his cock under her. He could feel her cunt over him, hot through the fabric and he was doing everything in his power to be fucking normal. 

“There you are.” The tables had finally turned. Harry was the shy one in this moment and Y/N was the one seemingly not freaked out. “It’s a natural body function, H. I know you’re not some kind of perv. I sat on your lap, remember?” She soothed his nerves. “Besides, I’m flattered. Was beginning to think you thought I was some kind of troll or something.” The smile kicked up on her face, but his frown deepened.

“The fuck? Why would you think that?” Brows furrowed, he didn’t like that she thought he didn’t find her attractive. He called her pretty quite a bit. 

“Well, I’m not your type. You go for all those tattooed girls with the bad ass attitudes, which is cool cause I think they’re hot too but… I’m all soft and squishy, y’know? I like the soft things, kinda the opposite of you so I just thought I wasn’t someone you’d be attracted to. M’nothing like what you go for.” She didn’t seem offended by this, rather stating it matter of fact- but Harry couldn’t believe how wrong she was. He had to wonder how long she thought this. 

While he was secretly pining after her, she was thinking he was going off to get blowies by the girls that flirted with him which, sometimes he did. At the beginning of their friendship, he tried to stave off those feelings for her by getting someone else underneath him, fucking away the frustration but he learned fairly quickly that none of it did much when his mind was on someone else. It’d been months at this point. Sure, he liked a bit of flirting to boost his ego, but that was only when Y/N was preoccupied. 

“Well, you’re wrong.” He said sternly. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Dunno where the troll idea came in when m’always staring at you.” He scoffed. “No more of that bullshit. Wouldn’t be hard if I didn’t think you were stunning. Trust me.” In fact, she was the only thing that got him hard these days. Thinking of her mouth, her thighs, her tits, her ass, anything. Even her hands, for fucks sake. “Don’t ever doubt how beautiful you are t’me. Pisses me off.”

“Sorry.” She bleated, pouting back at him. “I didn’t mean to. It’s just.. You call me pretty but I never would have thought you meant it like that. I like that you let me cuddle you and stuff so obviously I know you aren’t repulsed by me but, I dunno.” She swallowed, looking down at his bare chest. “I’m sorry for getting you… if you’re uncomfortable.” 

God, he was mucking this up wasn’t he? He shook his head, letting his thumbs rub over her hips as he softened his face. “No, sweets. Don’t apologize. S’not a big deal, I’m not mad at you. Just don’t like the idea of you thinking poorly of yourself. You’re fucking stunning.” So stunning that his cock was still hard under her. “I’ll go take care of it when we’re done, but no more squirming. Okay?” Squeezing her, he tried to rectify the situation. “No more fussing.” 

“But…” Y/N’s lips twisted slightly, sliding her hands down to his shoulders. “That’s not fair.” 

Harry blinked a few times, looking her over hesitantly. “What d’you mean? I’m okay, pet.” 

“Well, It’s my fault that you’re like this.” She protested. “I can fix it, if you want. Haven’t given too many blowies before, but I can take instruction pretty well.”

Harry truly thought he was dreaming for a moment, his face hot as she gave him an innocent look. Like she meant it, though it slightly embarrassed her for not having a lot of experience. But feeling her shift on him clued him back into reality. This was real. “You- You don’t have to do anything for me, Y/N.” He was holding on by a string. “You didn’t mean to do it. It’s not your responsibility to get me off just because my cock’s got a mind of his own.”

Y/N huffed again, shaking her head. “I want to. Can I?” Her face shifted slightly. “You’re not making me do anything. It would make me feel better If i could take care of you.” Her eyes met his. “I mean it. Promise.” 

And god, if Harry was a stronger man he’d lift her off his lap and insist on taking care of it himself. He’d explain that it could make lines blurry and he liked her a bit more than a friend and they’d have that talk. But he wasn’t a stronger man, and she rolled her hips on him again with a hum, making his head fall back when she repeated the action. “Fuck.” He whispered under his breath. “As long as.. As long you’re sure. I don’t want you to regret it or anything.” 

“I won’t.” She peeped. “I like making you feel good, Harry.” Her face seemed brighter as she watched him nod.

“Go on then, sweetheart.” He sighed. “I’ll show you what I like.” 

Never in a million years had he expected her to be visibly excited, slipping off his lap and on to her knees in front of him. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Eyes looked up at him with curiosity, hands running over his thighs as she waited for direction. He’d dreamt of this so many times, stroked off in the bathroom to this very mental image to get his load out quicker. His cock pulsed inside his sweats. This was really happening. “M’not wearing briefs under these.” He warned, pushing the waistband down as he slowly tugged himself out of the pants. His hand was slightly shaky ass he gave himself a squeeze at the base, a soft hiss leaving his teeth when her hand covered his own. 

“I’ve only done it a few times but…” Her eyes widened. “Yours is the prettiest I’ve seen.”

And fuck if that didn’t get him going. Harry took pride in his dick, as a lot of men did, but to get that compliment was better than anything else. His hair was normally trimmed shorter, but it had been a while. It was groomed a bit at the base, his happy trail leading up his stomach. “Thank you.” He mumbled, removing his hand and letting hers take over. Y/N was eager and that much was obvious, feeling her give him a few strokes as she shuffled closer in between his spread thighs. “I- I probably won’t last long. I wasn’t lying, it’s been a while.” And he’d imagined her in this position so many times that he was programmed to get off to it quickly. 

“That’s okay. You’re quite big so it’ll be better for my jaw.” She giggled. Fucking giggled while her thumb rubbed over the slit, making him shudder. He’d always imagined she’d be much more shy in this situation, but again he was proven wrong. “What do you like?” 

Honestly? He could cum just like this. Her stroking him slow, looking up at him with that pretty little face. Splatter her pretty face with pearly strings leaking from the slit of his cock, let it drip down her cheeks and chin. But she wouldn’t like that answer. “I’m okay with anything you give me, but I… I like to hear you.” He swallowed, a shaky exhale leaving his nose. “And uh, a bit wet. If that’s something you’d like.” 

Y/N looked like she was taking note, nodding at his words. “I want to know what you like, m’okay with anything.” She smiled. “I knew you had to be big cause.. Y’know you’ve got the energy. And I’ve felt it a few times when we cuddle, before you wake up. It’s just different to see it.” Y/N leaned her head on his thigh, continuing to jerk him off. “I’ll probably choke a little bit, cause you’re the biggest I’ve taken. It’s okay though, I’ll be fine. I’ll pinch your tummy or somthin’ if I need a second to breathe.” 

Who the fuck was she? Y/N had never, ever shown or hinted at being filthy in her life, but here she was. Talking about choking on his cock. He throbbed in her hand, making her eyebrows raise. “You liked that. Noted.” Leaning forward, she kept eye contact with him as she dragged her pink tongue from the base up to the tip, letting it sit there for a moment before she pulled away, giving him a few more strokes. “You can show me what you like too. Don’t be shy about it, H. I want you to feel good.” 

Harry nearly lost it as he watched those gorgeous lips purse, spitting right over the tip. It slipped down his length before her hand caught it, stroking and spreading it over his cock. Filthy, filthy things filled his tongue immediately, but he tried to pace himself. “Fuck me…” He whispered, gently gathering her hair in his hand. “I didn’t know you had this in you, gorgeous.” It nearly bowled him over. “Can you.. Take it in your mouth. Suck the tip for me. I want to see that.” 

Normally, he had no problem being a cocky, arrogant man. He was dominant most of the time with his hook ups- but Y/N wasn’t just a hook up to him. She was special. He didn’t want to do a single thing to potentially fuck this up. He wanted her to like this, to see how much he liked it too. She had no problems following instructions, the man watching as her lips stretched around the tip and dipped down a bit as she suckled on it. A soft hum left her mouth and vibrated over him as he curled the hair around his fist, making him groan. “Yeah, jus’ like that, angel. Fuck.” He kept his eyes on her as she bobbed shallowly, taking moments to rub her tongue over his leaking slit. “You’re so good, so sweet t’me. Can’t believe you’re doin’ this.” 

Y/N pulled off the tip, lips wet as she peered up at him. “I’ve thought about it before.” She whispered, lapping over the side of his length. “Wanted to see your cock. I knew it’d be pretty.” 

What the fuck? Harry’s brian felt fried, completely caught off guard by this information. Sure, he had thought maybe once or twice she was teasing him but it wasn’t often. Y/N was just so sugary sweet and kind, a slight air of innocence, and… Now she was telling him she’d thought about sucking him off before. “You have?” 

“Mhm.” She stroked him a bit firmer, the slick sound of her hand around his wet cock getting louder. “I heard.. Heard rumors and felt left out. You like me the best but you never asked me to do anything.” Rubbing the tip over her pouted lips, Harry was shocked yet again. 

“Cause y’mean more to me than any of the other people.” He swallowed. “Too fuckin’ sweet. I like you the best, you’re right but.. You’re my sweet girl. Didn’t want t’use you for anything like that. Would break my heart if I hurt you and you’d not want to see me again.” 

“What if I wanted you to use me?” She asked, peering up at him with those eyes. They drove him absolutely mad. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me unless I asked, H. You’re so good to me… I just want to be good for you too.” Taking the tip back into her mouth, she pushed herself down further and he felt his stomach clench. It took him off guard, feeling the hot mouth take him down and bob herself against him, a soft hum vibrating over him. 

“Oh- Fuck.” He let out a broken groan, leaning further back into the chair. “You are, baby, you fucking are. Hot little mouth… shit.” She whimpered around his cock at his words, sucking a little harder as her hand stroked the rest of him. She liked that. “What is it, hm? Like when I call you baby? When I tell you how perfect you are?” His words got a bit darker. He was slipping into another headspace and Y/N seemed to be coaxing it on. 

She did a half ass nod, not pulling off his length as she continued. Harry wouldn’t have guessed in a million years that she’d be a greedy girl like this, but he was incredibly thankful that she was. “You are. Such a good girl, so gorgeous with your mouth stretched around my cock. Didn’t know you were gagging for it, baby. Should’ve told me.” He chuckled darkly. “Wouldn’t have wasted my loads in the shower before comin’ t’bed with you. Could’ve pushed into your needy mouth and let you swallow it down.” 

Y/N moaned around his prick, eyes watering slightly as she looked at him. He’d never seen a better sight. “You’re so beautiful, angel. So pretty. Didn’t know such a filthy thing could have you lookin’ even more beautiful.” His throat felt thick as his cock throbbed in her mouth. “Fuck, you don’t even know how many times I’ve thought about it.”

Y/N pulled off, panting slightly as webs of saliva connected her mouth to his cock. “How much?” Her voice was a little hoarse, but he could hear that she was desperate to know. “You- You could have. I don’t want you to waste it anymore.” There was the tiny bit of shyness coming back in. “If umm, if you think  I’m good enough at this. I’ll do it.” 

“Fuck me, baby.” His thumb wiped over her spit soaked lips, breaking the threads of spit as he caressed her cheek. “All the fucking time. S’the only thing that gets me off.” Confessions he hadn’t thought he’d be saying so soon, let alone before he’d ever kissed her, spilled from him. “You’re doing amazing. More than good enough, too fucking good for me.” He couldn’t believe she was offering. “You sure you want t’be the one to take care of it?”

“Yes, I want it. I don’t want anyone else to do it.” She pleaded. “I’ll be the best for you. Just- you can tell me and I’ll suck you or, or anything you want.” Harry tested it, gently pushing her head back towards his prick- which she immediately took back in her mouth. The perfect, wet heat bringing him back to that filthy place in his head. 

How could she think he could ever say no? She’d been his weakness since she brought him over that damn cupcake. 

“Oh, sweet girl. Anything?” He cooed. “Dangerous thing to promise me. Don’t want anyone else to do it either.” His breathing was getting harder, trying not to thrust his hips up into her mouth and make her take it all. Sure, she’d probably do it, but he still felt the need to be delicate with her. “Take a little more for me, baby. Just like- there, there you go.” He praised, mouth falling open as she did exactly what he wanted. “Gonna make me cum.” 

This felt a million times better than rubbing one out in her bathroom. His legs were near vibrating, the wet sound of her mouth taking him down and the clicks of her hand stroking his spit soaked cock filling her bedroom. This was the last thing he’d expected was her on her knees for him tonight and part of him wasn’t convinced it wasn’t a wet dream, but he was thanking whatever higher power that was up there that his sweet girl had a dirty side to her. One he wanted to be the only one privileged enough to see. 

“In my mouth.” She gasped, pulling up for a moment. “Want to taste you. Please?” 

How could he ever tell her no? 

Pushing her back down on his cock, he let his hips rise up and shallowly thrust into her mouth as she moaned around him, drooling down her chin and letting him use her the way he needed to get off. The best part was knowing she was enjoying it so much. It was a miracle he’d lasted this long already, but he attributed that to shock. She was dirty, his sweet girl, choking slightly on his cock as the tip hit her throat, but she made no move to want to stop. 

His last straw, though, was feeling her hand over his balls, whining around him as he let out his deepest groan yet. It was sloppy and messy and so fucking good that he felt lightheaded, tummy hot and legs weak as he felt himself approach his end. “Fuck, jus’ like that, your fucking mouth is perfect… fuck, fuck, fuck, baby- M’gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna-” His voice failed as his head fell back, lifting his hips as his cum began to pour into her mouth. Ribbon after ribbon coating her throat, pulling back a bit to get it on her tongue while she worked him through it. 

He didn’t realize he had so much in him, but perhaps it was just Y/N that made him cum this much. This hard. His ears rung a bit, curses leaving his mouth as he watched her mouth open and hand stroke him to see the pearly mess on her tongue. At the last little bit,he used his grip on her hair to tug her up to his face. 

“C’mere, sweet girl. Share with me, don’t be greedy.” holding her face while the other had her hair, he pulled back into his lap and her mouth to his and groaned as she licked over his tongue, sharing the remnants of his load with him. It was something a bit nasty and deprived, he knew, but Y/N merely moaned back, her clean hand curling around the back of his neck. 

The kisses slowed from frantic and hot, to softer, slow and sweet. Pecking her lips over and over again, her whimpers melted into giggled as he untangled from her hair, sliding his hand under the shirt she had on to get some bare skin on his fingertips. “Sweetest thing, most beautiful girl.” He murmured between kisses. “Thank you. Best I’ve ever had.” 

“You’re jus’ saying that.” She whispered, though the smile was difficult to wipe off her face. Obviously she liked praise just as much as him. 

“Nope. Mean every word.” He confirmed, rubbing his nose over her cheek. “Thank you, baby. Felt so damn good, can’t feel my legs now.” Harry’d never felt like this after a blowie, both in his legs and the fondness he felt for the girl. If there had been any doubts about his feelings for her whatsoever, they were shattered. He was so far gone for her, it was pathetic. 

“Good.” She smiled, feeling the kiss to his cheek. “I need to finish your skincare, though. So tuck yourself back in, cause m’gonna do that and then brush my teeth again. Though.. I can tell you’ve got a good diet. Tasted nice.” 

Though Harry knew cum never really tasted good, he was chuffed that she hadn’t minded. Even more, that she hadn’t minded indulging in sharing with him. “M’not selfish, I need to help you too.” He reminded, though she merely shook her head. 

“I’ll take a raincheck. M’so tired now, and I want to enjoy it fully.” Pecking his cheek in return, she picked up the moisturizer. “Think you need a lip mask too. Thankfully, you’re in the right hands.” 

Harry was sometimes a selfish lover with hookups and he could admit that, but with Y/N he never wanted to be that way. He wanted to make her feel good, but he could wait. It only made him anticipate it more- there would be a next time. 

“Okay, sweets.” He chuckled. “Do whatever you’d like.”

[wttcsms]

you wouldn't be the first renegade to need somebody, atsumu miya

pairing atsumu miya x reader word count 1.4k synopsis love for you is holding him; love for him is allowing himself to be held. content contains hurt/comfort, intimacy, atsumu-centric, insecurities, unconditional love, showering together but make it sfw

The stinging spray of scalding hot water from the showerhead should be enough to get him to leave, but he barely registers the pain, can’t seem to bring himself to feel the heat, can’t seem to bring himself to feel anything.

No — that’s not entirely true. He feels one thing.

Devastated. 

Everyone knows Atsumu Miya likes to talk shit on and off the court. It’s his thing, his trademark, his brand. Lots of athletes like to talk big about how they’re going to win; who the hell is going to support a guy who walks onto the court with a well, it’ll be alright if I lose. 

He’s staring down at the tiles of the shower, can somewhat register the persistent barrage of water spraying onto his back as he has one hand splayed on the wall, shoulders slumped, water dripping from his hair and running into his vision, making everything blurry. 

Don’t blink, he tries to demand of himself, but the issue is, we can’t always control our bodies. He has to shut his eyes, just for a brief second, and in that second, it all comes back to him.

The opposing team at set point. His team depending on him to serve. One point left. Only one chance. He can feel the stadium’s crowd holding their breath, can feel the lack of air in the atmosphere, can hear how loudly the blood is rushing to his head. Dizzy. Dazed. He doesn’t give into pressure, not anymore, not ever. Doesn’t feel performance anxiety, knows better than to try to attempt something flashy just for the glory of a good story to tell. 

Give ‘em a serve they don’t have a chance of receiving, he demands of himself. 

The final seconds of the match all come to him like stills from a movie, each frame another devastating blow to his ego, his self-worth, his very being. The ball is in the air, he’s bending his knees to prepare for the jump, his hand making contact with the ball. Something’s off, he can feel it upon first contact, but it’s too late to save, too late for him to change anything.

The ball lands.

On his side of the net.

He’s frozen in place as he stares ahead. He can tell the other team is cheering, slapping each other on their backs, and he can hear the blow of a whistle, the celebration from the crowd. But all he sees is the ball. All he sees is his failure.

Atsumu has spent a good portion of his volleyball career knowing that he plays the game better than most. It’s why he feels so comfortable talking about the lack of skills other players display. It’s why he always has something to say at practice, on the court, during a post-game interview. 

And he knows he makes mistakes. He knows that he’s only human. But a bad serve in the middle of a game isn’t as crushing as knowing that he is the sole reason as to why the Black Jackals’ season is going to be ending early. 

Where did he go wrong? He did everything perfectly, did everything the way he usually does. Why couldn’t he perform? Why did he let his team down? Why—

“Atsumu?” 

He doesn’t look up, and all you can see is the sad shape of his outline from the foggy glass door of the shower. You know that Atsumu probably wants nothing more than to be alone right now, but you can’t help but worry when fifteen minutes have gone by, and you could still hear the shower running. That’s your first sign that something is wrong.

Atsumu is a notoriously quick showerer, to an almost concerning degree. When you first started living together, you debated planning elaborate tricks to see whether or not he was even using soap. (Which, in hindsight, was just flatout silly; he walks out the shower smelling overwhelming of his Axe Men’s 3-in-1 and Old Spice deodorant.) 

No — the first sign that something is wrong would be his uncharacteristic silence on the trip back home. He hadn’t responded to your it’s okay, baby, you’ll get ‘em next season. Instead, he just looked out the window, the devastated expression on his face silencing you as well. Even when he lost to Kageyama, he had been disappointed, upset, but still talking big about how he was going to crush the Adlers next time around. He had then made a comment about Tobio’s stupid haircut, and that’s when you told him if he doesn’t have anything nice to say, he shouldn’t say anything at all.

Now, you’d give anything to have him say something. Something for you to work with.  

“Atsumu?” You call out for him again, worried when you don’t see his figure moving. 

Pathetic. Atsumu thinks that’s what he is. A loser, a fucking scrub, a failure. Even if his teammates won’t admit it, the media will. And what then? Will you think that about him too? It’d be the truth, wouldn’t it? Isn’t that why you’re in the bathroom now? To pity him? 

He’s too busy tearing himself down to react to the distinct sound of you sliding back the glass door of the shower so you can enter it. There’s a brief burst of the cool air of the bathroom hitting his exposed body, but it evaporates the moment you shut the door. 

“Oh, ‘Tsumu.” You whisper it, and he wants to tell you that he’s not fucking fragile. That he’s not going to shatter into a million pieces if you just raise your voice, if you tell him how you really feel about him. He doesn’t move, doesn’t turn around to face you. He doesn’t want to. He can’t.

His skin is red from the heat of the water, his back staring at you angrily, hurt. The skin’s going to need some time to heal, and you turn the faucet, lowering the temperature of the water. 

“Turn around, honey. Please?” You’ve never seen Atsumu so upset before, so quiet. You wait several minutes for him to actually do as you request, and you think it’s only because he wants a way to get rid of you sooner. 

You don’t say anything to him as you reach for his shampoo, letting it lather in your hands before you give him a pleading look, one that has him leaning down so you can reach his hair. It feels nice, he thinks, the way you’re shampooing his hair. You’re gentle with your movements, and it almost relaxes him. 

You use your body wash on him. Massage the suds into his skin, but you’re mindful of the amount of pressure you apply. You know which areas of his skin is more sensitive from its exposure to the hot water, and you are careful with the spots of his body that he had chosen to be negligent with. 

“Am I so fuckin’ worthless that you have to do somethin’ as simple as bathing me?” He’s not angry at you. He might spit out the words — words that come out sounding all raw and scratchy, like they had to personally claw themselves from his throat — but the anger is not directed at you. It’s at himself. 

“Look at me.” 

His eyes are glossy, wet, shiny, and you know it’s not because of the shower. You’ve never seen Atsumu cry before, and you’re not sure what you’re supposed to do. So, you do what feels right. You whisper his name softly, tenderly, and it’s this tenderness, your unwavering softness, your unconditional love, that breaks him. That makes him feel safe enough to break. That makes him think of the possibility that you’ll take these jagged pieces of him and piece them back together for him, with him. 

He’s so much bigger than you. You tell him all the time that he’s larger than life, and he thinks about that comment as he lets himself sink into your open arms, as he lets himself be held. He has never felt smaller in his life, and in your embrace, he buries his face into your shoulder, letting his warm tears mix in with the water already on your body.

“I don’t know how you can still look at me.” He mutters, and every word is spoken onto your skin, tiny blades striking you. 

Atsumu isn’t sure what he wants to hear, isn’t even certain that there’s anything that could be said to ease his devastation, but melts into you even more so when you tell him,

“Atsumu, I thought you already knew that nothing can change the way I look at you.”

[cdragons]

I'm Yours, But You Can't Be Mine | Dark!Robb Stark x fem Knight!Reader

Summary: The Freys and the Boltons were so close in their attempt to assassinate Robb Stark and switch the tides in favor of the Lannisters. But a knight's devotion to her king should never be tested. Her loyalty always remains true, even if she breaks the heart of the man she loves in order to protect him.

Trigger Warning(s): MDNI 18+, blood, gore, graphic violence, forced abortion, violence against women, canon character deaths (not Robb or Starks), graphic smut, more hurt than comfort, Talisa is a spy (and a ho), Reader has post-murder clarity and guilt

A/N: A couple of days ago, I woke up and chose violence (emotionally and "literature"-ally) ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ. Also, Theon Greyjoy never betrayed Robb in this fic bc I said so - HOORAY! Also, if anyone can tell me how I can use different fonts in my posts, that would be great.

Walking out from the tent where the emergency council meeting was held, you steeled yourself for the information you would have to discuss with your king. With each step falling to the ground, bringing you closer to his tent, the boulder in your stomach grew more and more heavy.

“This is a bad idea,” you thought to yourself. “This is a bad idea and a mistake; he will never forgive you if you go through this.”

But you made a promise – and as Ned Stark taught you, you would keep it because it was right and honorable. Because when choosing between what is right and what is easy…you must always choose what is right.

You stopped before the two Northmen who stood outside your king’s tent as guardsmen. Their postures straightened and appeared as imposing as possible when facing you.

“Turn back, Ser (Y/N),” one guard said. “No matter how familiar with King Robb, we are on strict orders from Lady Catelyn that no one but her and Princess Arya are permitted to enter His Grace’s tent.”

“I need to speak with the King,” you spoke in your best militant and authoritative tone. “His lords and I just held an emergency council meeting to discuss House Frey’s betrayal. I need to ensure that no information is held from him.”

“Perhaps it be best you let His Grace rest,” the other guard spat out. “He had just lost his queen and future heir at the hands of Walder Frey – even if his wife was a spying, traitorous cunt sent by Tywin Lannister. We could all use some time to mourn.”

You snarled and grabbed your dagger when you saw the sigil sewn on her sheath. He belonged to House Blackwood. Your eyes softened as you recognized him as Bywin Blackwood, cousin to Lucas Blackwood, one of the four hundred casualties slain by Hosteen Frey. Taking a deep breath, you tried to appeal to their sympathetic natures.

“I concur, Ser Bywin,” you said. “But you cannot deny that time is of the essence. Three days have passed since the failed Red Wedding, and word has surely reached Tywin Lannister and the rest of the Red Keep of their failure. I fear for Princess Sansa’s life if we do not take action soon. Her well-being is entirely dependent on King Joffery and his bitch mother’s whims and wishes. The faster I can bring our king up to speed, the faster we can retaliate and bring our former liege lord’s daughter back.”

You watched them glance at one another before delivering the final blow. “And then we can all go home so that we may finally properly mourn and honor the lives lost in this war.”

They let you through, and you entered your king’s tent. Seeing your friend lying so still on his cot broke your heart. His chest was wrapped entirely in gauze and bandages, and the memory of seeing the arrows puncture his body swept chills down your back. Grey Wind sat beside him as dutifully as ever and did not even turn his head to look at you when you entered. Like his master, Grey Wind was a beast of discipline and strength. He and Robb shared the same qualities of holding the stoic appearance of a leader – even when the world around them came crumbling down. But here, at this moment, Grey Wind was neither a beast nor a leader. At this moment, he was simply the pet whose mind was running rampant with worry from fear of his dearest friend never waking up.

You held out your hand and called out his name. “Grey Wind.”

His head finally turned to face you. You often wondered if he was more man than beast, sometimes based on how soulful his eyes looked alone. You crouched on the ground and beckoned him to you.

“Come here, boy. Are you thirsty? I brought you water.”

He immediately trotted to you and showed his joy in seeing you were alive by licking your face and nudging you with his wet nose. You softly laughed at his eagerness to shower you in love while also inspecting your body to see if you were injured or carrying weapons. His body stilled, and his fur stood as he stopped to sniff the sword resting on your hip. He took a sniff and bared his teeth to let out a low growl when he recognized the scent of Talisa’s blood soaking the metal of your blade underneath the leather sheath.

You petted him and spoke in low whispers to calm him down. “It’s alright, boy. She met her end – you and I both ensured that.”

A pained voice rasped out. “I don’t suppose you got any information out of it?”

Your eyes widened at the only other voice in the room, and Grey Wind immediately returned to Robb’s side.

Tears filled your eyes as relief flooded your body. “Robb,” you sobbed out.

Before you could stop yourself, you flung yourself to hug him. “You’re alive! Oh gods – you’re alive!”

Returning your embrace, Robb held you close. “I am, and so are my mother and most of our men—all thanks to you.”

But the happy atmosphere became sour and somber when he looked down at your sword. The memory of your hands covered in his wife’s blood as you stormed into Frey’s Great Hall with the rest of his men was fresh in his mind. Fury swirled and thundered inside him as he learned he had been played as a fool by Tywin Lannister. Using one of his vassal house’s daughters as a spy while disguised as a healer so that she could seduce him was a low he never thought those fucking lions would stoop down to, but they had, and he will have their heads on spikes.

His grip on your arms grew harder. “Did she suffer?” he asked.

You looked him straight in the eyes. “Every second until she had her last breath.”

“Good,” was his only response.

“Robb,” you started. What you were about to tell him was cruel, but he needed to know. “I tore her child out from her womb…it had blonde hair.”

Robb let out a bitter laugh and clenched his fists. “So not only was she a spy, but she was also a whore.” He shook his head. “I was a fool.”

You took his hand in yours. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. She had us all fooled.”

Robb shook his head. “Not you. She never fooled you. You hated her the minute you saw her, and you were right, too.”

You never once hid your distrust and dislike for her from the moment she and Robb locked eyes, a distrust that only grew more intense when Robb decided to marry her, thus breaking the vow he made with Walder Frey. But despite your skepticism of Talisa Maegyr, you never suspected she was a spy under Tywin Lannister. Eventually, though, you began to trust her after observing her for countless hours.

She wasn’t a Frey girl, but she might be good to Robb. Maybe she would make him happy.

Robb tucked in a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Who would’ve thought that your natural hatred and distrust for anything pretty would come in so handy?”

“I do not hate all things ‘pretty,’” you scoffed. “I just have a natural distrust for things that seem too good to be true that happen to be pretty. Why do you think I ran away from you for so long?”

Robb smirked. “But you always trusted my father?” he chuckled.

"Ned Stark was someone who was born into privilege and knew it," you shrugged. “Besides, he was old and fat when he found me. And I didn’t think it would be useful until now.”

You thought it strange to see her leave the feast so early, claiming that she felt ill, and one of Bolton’s soldiers escorted her to her chambers. You whispered to Theon that you needed some air before quietly following them. You found them discussing how everything was set and how House Stark would fall that night. Talisa’s true name was Joy Marband, one of House Lannister’s vassal houses in the Westerlands. Tal- Joy ensured Lord Bolton that House Lannister would reward him for his loyalty to the crown. Horrified by this revelation, you rushed to where Grey Wind was locked up and freed him after slaying the guards that stood in front of his kennel.

“Grey Wind, gather the men,” you ordered. “Gather as many as possible and lead them to the Great Hall! We don’t have much time!” Grey Wind howled before doing exactly as you ordered. When he parted, you set off to find the spying whore. On your way to find her, you slew every son, guard, knight, squire, and steward that came across you.

You found her all right – found her in her chambers getting fucked from behind by one of Lord Frey’s many bastard sons. You took out your dagger and gutted him from balls to the chest before cutting off his pathetic cock. It gave you a sick amount of pleasure to see how his blood sprayed across the room – from the walls to the bed, on the traitorous cunt’s back he was fucking to on your clothes. His body went limp as a massive puddle of blood surrounded him. After watching him die, you turned your attention to her.

“Please,” she cried while clutching a blood-splattered sheet close to her chest. “Please, I am with child – Robb’s child!”

You reached out, and your hand squeezed around her throat as she tried to claw her way out of your grasp. Anger being your drive, you slammed her head against the headboard of the bed and watched as her lips turned blue from lack of air.

“Don’t you say his name,” you growled. “Don’t you EVER say his name!”

You flung her like she was a simple ragdoll as her body slammed against the stone wall adjacent to the bed. She coughed and gasped for air while rubbing her throat – the bruises were already forming. You stalked towards her before she could crawl away.

“Robb trusted you!” you thundered. “Lady Stark trusted you! The North trusted you – I TRUSTED YOU!”

You towered over her, grabbed a fistful of her umber-shaded locks, and forcefully yanked it until her face was only inches from yours. “AND WHAT DID YOU DO? YOU TOOK THAT TRUST AND REPAID IT WITH BETRAYAL!”

She tried to crawl away before you stomped on her hand and felt it being crushed underneath the sole of your boot. Your former queen wailed in agony from the pain that almost hid the sound of her bones cracking. The dagger you used to fill the bleeding corpse was still in your other hand, and you knelt to trace Lady Marband’s pretty face with its tip.

“W-w-what are you going to do to me?” she pathetically sniffled.

“I have – STOP CRYING! I have only one question for you,” you harshly whispered. “Did my king truly sire the child in your womb?”

“YES!” she cried out quickly…too quickly. Your jaw clenched so hard you thought your teeth would break from all the pressure.

“…Liar,” you hissed.

With nothing left to stop you, you took your dagger and stabbed it into her body. Dragging the blade until her insides were spilling out into your hands, you dug your find to find the child. Her screams howled louder than any beast at night, and you were almost worried that her wails would give away your position. But all those worries went away when you tore the fetus from her womb. Pouring water on it, you found tiny wisps of hair…straight, blond wisps of hair that more resembled the color of golden wheat than Robb’s dark, russet curls.

Hearing Grey Wind’s howl outside the window, you knew it was time. Still holding the whore’s limb and bloodied bastard in your hand, you raced to find Grey Wind. If your suspicions were true, most of the archers for House Frey were already inside the Great Hall while the feast was happening. If you didn’t hurry, you and the men Grey Wind gathered would be too late. You managed to locate him quickly and were relieved to find thousands of men behind him as he immediately trotted to your side.

“Queen Talisa Maegyr is a traitor working for the Lannisters!” you loudly roared. “She belongs to House Marband—one of their vassal houses! Tywin Lannister had sent her to spy on and seduce your king!”

You raised the dead babe high above your head for all the men to see. “The babe in her stomach is not even Robb’s! If you wish for proof, see for yourself!”

You flung its body to the nearest man. He picked it up, and you can see his eyes widen and fill with rage before confirming your words as truth.

“BLONDE!” he bellowed for all his comrades to hear. “BLONDE LIKE JOFFERY AND HIS WHORE MOTHER, HIDING IN THEIR RED SHIT-STAINED CASTLE!”

Cries and shouts of outrage and anger amongst the men. You watched with bated breath as the surge of revenge and the need for bloodshed filled their hearts. You then revealed that Walder Frey and Roose Bolton were also in a secret allegiance with House Lannister and watched as enraged spirits filled the men with enough fury to take down an army of ten thousand. The North needed something to boost morale, and here it was. You looked down at Grey Wind. He stared back into your eyes with the same loyalty he gives Robb, and you know what you must do.

With one swipe, you unsheathe your blade, ‘Purge,’ and raise it above your head as the men go silent.

You shouted before leading the charge into the keep. “COME WITH ME AND LET’S TAKE THESE FUCKING FREYS TO THEIR GRAVES!”

Grey Wind howled to the sky, and the men raised their weapons to let out their battle cries as they followed you, storming into the keep. You shouted orders for the Riverland archers to run to the upper levels to take down the Freys perched there. Your king’s direwolf raced ahead and took down any soldier that tried to cross him. By the time you and the men reached the doors leading to the Great Hall, all of Grey Wind’s face was soaked with spilled red liquid life save for his golden eyes.  

You pushed the door open just in time to see Robb stagger back from the arrows piercing his chest. Just when Roose Bolton tried to deliver the final blow, Grey Wind let out a booming bark before dashing to Lord Bolton and clamping his teeth into his neck. Meanwhile, you went to where Theon was held and removed the heads of the men who were pinning him down with a single swing. You grabbed him by his doublet’s collar, yanked him to his feet, and shoved a spare sword in his hand.

“Grab Robb and his mother, and get out of here!” you ordered.

He shook his head. “I’m not leaving you–”

“Dammit Theon! Don’t argue with me!” you shouted. “Just get Robb and Lady Catelyn somewhere safe!”

Theon looked at the chaos unfolding around him. “What about Queen Talisa?”

“She’s dead! I killed her!” you answered.

 “WHAT?!” Theon’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his head.

You rolled your eyes. “Tywin Lannister sent her to spy and fuck Robb – NOW, GO!”

Once you saw Theon take Lady Stark and they dragged Robb’s bleeding body to safety, you could finally focus on the fight. You focused your sights on every man who wore a Frey or Bolton sigil and didn’t stop until each one was lying at your feet. The blood spilled from each slash, stab, and chop from Purge soaked your clothes and caked your face. But it was as if a dark ritual had taken place, as their blood only seemed to empower each and every one of your attacks. Before long, it was too late for House Frey and House Bolton. Walder Frey and Roose Bolton were bleeding at the Northmen’s feet, and any reinforcements called were immediately subdued and taken into custody.

As far as you were concerned, the only Frey left in the hall was Roslin—but whether she and the rest of her sisters would keep their heads after their surviving brothers would soon lose theirs didn’t really matter to you.

“I’m alive,” Robb began while cupping your cheek, “because of you. The North survived because of you. How can I ever repay you?”

You held his hand. “I didn’t save you for your gratitude, Robb. I didn’t save you so that you could repay me with titles, money, or lands. I saved you because it was my duty. I saved you because I swore to that night Joffery called for your father’s head, and we named you ‘King of the North.’ I saved you because I…”

Robb titled his head. “Because you what?”

“Don’t make me say it,” you whispered.

“Because you love me?” he softly asked. Pressing his forehead to yours, he continued. “Because I do…you know I do.”

You shook your head. “No, Robb – please. Please don’t do this to me. Don’t say things you don’t mean to make me look less foolish.”

You tried to move back and away from the man you’ve longed after for as long as you could remember. But Robb took your hands and pressed them close to his chest as he implored you to remain by his side.

“That night, after they named me ‘King of the North.’ Do you remember? We were in my tent. I told you I wanted to be alone, but you refused to leave me. I cried and lashed like a screaming child, but you never left.”

This was getting too far. This wasn’t why you came here. “Robb, you need to listen to me–”

But Robb didn’t stop talking. “You just stood there – taking it until you finally took me in your arms and held me. You didn’t say a word; you just let me cry out my pain. Like that time when we captured the Kingslayer, you held my hand when I kneeled in front of the Whispering Wood to mourn the men I lost. You didn’t speak of how brilliant I was or how the lives lost were for a good cause; you let me be me and mourn.”

“Robb–”

“That’s when I knew I loved you – that I’ve always loved you. And then, when we kissed–”

“I’m leaving,” you blurted out, “to Maidenpool tomorrow morning.”

The silence between you two seemed to echo louder than any wind that howled during the fiercest storms. Shock was the first thing on Robb’s face before complete and utter horror took over.

You may have spoken too quickly. “Well, no…technically, I and…a few other riders will be headed to Maidenpool tomorrow morning. We need to prepare a ship for your voyage to Dragonstone.”

“…What?” His voice sounded so broken that you wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

You combed your fingers through the stray hairs in front of your face. Then, you took a deep breath to prepare for the little speech you had prepared for this moment. This was the plan you and all lords agreed on. It was a good plan, and it was going to work. That’s all you needed to believe to convince Robb.

“Stannis is the realm’s best chance for peace. Perhaps he’s too stubborn but needs more people on his council. Your lords and I decided it was best if you traveled to Dragonstone to try and convince him to become allies with us. But you still need a few more days to recover. So, by the time you arrive at the docks, the ship will be ready. That’s why I – we’re traveling to Maidenpool… to travel to Dragonstone.”

“And after?” Robb breathily asked. His grip on you tightened in desperate hopes of keeping you close. “After we speak with Stannis, we’ll come back? You and me—we’re coming back together?”

You looked away. “You’ll be coming back…along with everyone else. But I…I won’t be coming with you.”

“But I…I won’t be coming with you.”

Robb dropped his hands as if you burned him. You were lying. You had to be – you weren’t genuinely thinking about…about leaving him.

“No,” he panted with terrified eyes. “No, no, no, please.”

You cupped his face. “Robb, please understand–”

“What’s there to understand?!” he cried out. “I love you! And you love me – and yet you’re leaving me! Why?”

“You don’t love me,” you countered. “You’re only saying you love me because you’re angry and hurt by Talisa–”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about that whore,” he spat out.

You rolled your eyes. “Robb, please. You married her. You took her as your wife and nearly ruined the North because of that choice. Of course, you loved her. And, understandably, you’re lashing out because she betrayed you. But don’t lie to me and say you didn’t love her.”

“(Y/N), love,” he beseechingly thought, “you have no idea how wrong you are.”

Robb snarled like the wolf he was at your words. “I married her because I thought she was carrying my child, and I didn’t want my future heir to be a bastard.”

“Even so, that doesn’t explain why–”

You were going to hate him for what he was about to say. “Because you refused me.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his shameful reveal. Robb never felt more rueful and penitent of his naivety than now. The last thing he wanted was your disgust and hatred, but he needed you to understand how long he’s loved you. He needed you to realize that you were always the one who held his heart and sanity – without you, he was nothing, as was proven by the Freys and Boltons’ betrayal.

“Robb, I…I don’t – I don’t understand,” you stammered. Your eyes showed that your mind was running amok with questions and a desperate need for clarification. “Wha-…what are you talking about?”

Robb took a deep breath and tried to swallow the lump lodged in his throat.

“That night when my bannermen named me ‘King,’ you followed me to my tent. I kept lashing at you like an angry child, but you never left my side. And then…we kissed, and it led to more. The following day, I wanted to find you – to declare my love for you fully. But every time I got near you…you turned away like I was poison. That’s why I turned to Talisa…to try to forget about you.”

Your eyes widened in horror as your chest moved up and down with shaky breaths. “You broke your vows with Walder Frey…was because of me? You bedded and married Talisa because of me? …I hurt you… a-a-and–” You let out a trembling sob. “–Oh gods, this is all my fault! I-i-if I hadn’t confused you that night–”

Robb could feel you slipping away and continued to try to tether you to him.

“No, my love,” he cooed. “You never confused me. You’re not listening to me. I’ve always loved you, even before that night.”

Robb tried to hold you close, but you harshly shoved him back and stood. He watched as tears continued to fill your eyes, and your face carried an expression that could only be described as overwhelming guilt. Robb flung the covers off him and tried to walk towards you, but each step he took closer to you made you step further back.

You stared at him with a shameful expression. “Robb, I…I was wrong to let things escalate between us. You had just been declared king and were grieving for your father, and I took advantage of your grief and vulnerability–”

Robb tenderly held your face. “No, no, no—you didn’t, though. (Y/N) That night…you gave me your love. You didn’t say it, but you gave me your love, and I gave you mine. I never regretted that night or laying with you. How you spurned my attempts to connect with you afterward—that was what hurt me the most.”

“Robb…” you sobbed his name as tears strolled down your cheeks. “I never wanted to hurt you. I just wanted…I thought if I weren’t beside you…I’d also be protecting you from distractions from the war and your duty to the Freys – oh gods, I’m so sorry.”

You put your hand over your face. “Robb, if that night never happened…if I never followed you to your tent then…then, we wouldn’t be in this mess! All of this is my fault! Talisa, the Lannisters, the broken vow with Walder Frey – the North is more vulnerable than ever, and it’s because of me! …I mutilated a pregnant woman and murdered her unborn child.”

Robb helplessly watched as you continued to blame yourself for his foolishness. Knowing you would want your privacy, he sent Grey Wind away to guard his tent. Gods, his father would be so ashamed of him if he saw him now. He watched as you fell to the ground and began to weep out apologies to every soldier who was murdered by the Boltons and Freys at the Red Wedding.

…Lucas Blackwood…Dacey Mormont…Patrek Mallister…Robin Flint…Ser Wendel Manderly…Owen Norrey…And over three hundred other men and soldiers whose blood were spilled that night.

You even begged for forgiveness from the old gods and new ones, for the blood that belonged to Joy Marband that will forever remain on your hands, along with the stolen breaths of her unborn son.

But then the tears stopped…and an eerie calm cloaked the tent. Your eyes were red and swollen, but a spark of mad clarity was dancing in them. Very slowly, you stood with your head still bowed.

“I have to leave,” you whispered. “I have to leave and never come back. If I stay, I’ll only continue to ruin you and our cause more than I already have.”

You turned away to leave, but Robb reached out to stop you before you could take another step. He begged you to look at him, pleading for you to listen to reason before making any rash decisions. When you stubbornly refused, he grabbed your jaw and forcefully turned your head to face him. His crystal-blue eyes were wide with fear and misty from anguish. He had to make you understand that your leaving was not an option.

“(Y/N), look at me—please, love,” Robb implored. " If you leave me, I will never recover. If you dare leave my side, I will tear all of Westeros apart—leaving no stone unturned, no cave unsearched, no village left unplundered. We belong together. You and me – ruling the North, side-by-side in Winterfell. Us, together, spending every night in each other’s arms, with each morning beginning by being greeted by our children.”

He pulled your face closer until your lips were only a few inches away, and your individual breaths intermingled to become one. You want that life with him—just as he wants that life with you. So why can’t you embrace it and share it with him?

You shut your gaze from him and tried to choke down the pain. “It doesn’t matter what either of us wants. All that matters right now is what we need. What matters is how we can gather ourselves from these losses and try to form allies. And if me being here distracts you from that, then…then I need to leave.”

Robb determinedly shakes his head. “No, no – I don’t accept that.”

“Robb–” you tried to reason, but all of your pleas were cut off when he pressed his lips against yours.

And just like that – all words floated away like debris falling into a steady river.

A warm and tingling sensation ran down (Y/N)’s body as their lips met, and she closed her eyes to fully succumb to the sensation. She knew that she should have pushed him away immediately. But as Robb continued to hold her face gently to deepen the kiss, all sense of reason fled from (Y/N)’s mind when his lips moved against hers with gentle and firm urgency. In that moment, nothing mattered – not the messy past, the unstable present, or the uncertain future. At that moment, (Y/N) felt completely free of all worries and fears as Robb’s hands began to trail down to wrap his arms around her waist to hold her closer while (Y/N) wrapped her arms over his neck.

Despite the constriction of their lungs, neither wanted to part. If they could die in this embrace, then so be it. (Y/N) felt every hard, warm muscle of Robb’s body pressed against hers as they began to walk back until the back of his knees hit his cot’s edge. They tumbled onto the cot, and the fall caused Robb to fall on his back with (Y/N)’s soft and supple frame to press further against him. He slightly winced in pain, which caused the two lovers to finally part. As (Y/N) stared down at her king with a concerned expression, Robb thought an angel was with him.

He stared at her flushed cheeks and lust-glazed eyes with naked longing. Her (h/c) strands tumbled to form a curtain hiding their faces. Staring at the mythic beauty over him, Robb knew he wanted this with (Y/N) forever. Meanwhile, (Y/N) gently swept his curls from his face before trailing her hands down his bandaged chest to search if any wounds had been opened.

“Do you need me to stop?” she asked, her heart beating a hundred miles a minute. “You’re still healing, it might be best if we–”

“If you even think of finishing that sentence with ‘stop,’” Robb interjected. “I’ll bind your hands and take you from behind over and over until the only word you can say is my name – just to show you and everyone else that I could be dying from a cut-off leg if it means I can have you.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and giggled. “You’re so dramatic sometimes. I just don’t want you bleeding out and dying before I finish.”

Robb sat up, wrapped his arms around her, and forced her to straddle him. The sudden realization that Robb had been naked this entire time had somehow escaped (Y/N)’s attention as she felt the evidence of his heavily growing arousal against her body. His lips hovered as his warm breath hit her skin, and his low-timber voice whispered into her ear.

“At least you know where this night will take us,” he huskily growled. “Because I don’t plan on stopping until your womb is so full of my seed – it leaks from your cunt.”

He lowered his hands to grasp her hips before trailing them down to sink his hands over her ass. Showing his canines with a lecherous grin, Robb teasingly ground his hips against hers. He rubbed his hardening manhood against her warm core and reveled in the gasps and whimpers escaping her plumped lips. (Y/N) threw her head back as she could no longer hold back her cries of ecstasy. Taking full advantage of her exposed neck, Robb latched his lips just under her and traced the column of her neck with his soft, hot lips.  The feeling of his lips combined with the scruff of his beard against her skin was nothing less than euphoric.

“Oh, Robb,” she breathily panted as their bodies rocked together in sync. “Gods, don’t stop!”

Her hands roamed until her fingers fisted around his dark copper curls. (Y/N) felt her lower body clench when he bit on a pulse point before giving languid strokes of his tongue on it. The contrast between his hot, wet tongue and the chill of his breath when he blew on it gave her goosebumps. (Y/N) softly pushed him back as she longingly gazed into his sapphire-ice pools with her (e/c) eyes and twirled one of his russet curls with her finger. Robb leaned forward and pressed a small peck on her lips as an overwhelming feeling of love encompassed him at her smile.

“I love you,” he sighed out, “do you know that? I love you, (Y/N). I love you so much.”

(Y/N) wanted so desperately to say it back, but the words failed. Seeing how much his love struggled, Robb cupped her cheek and reveled in her warmth as she nuzzled into his palm.

“You don’t have to say now,” he reassured her. “I just—I just want you to know that. Promise me no matter what, you know that.”

(Y/N) nodded. “I promise,” she said with a trembling voice. “I…I want it to say back. But I just…with everything that’s happened—I can’t help but feel like…if Red Wedding wasn’t going to be the thing that causes us to lose this war, I’m so scared of what will.”

Robb pressed a soft kiss to (Y/N)’s temple. “Don’t be scared. I know we’ll make it. We will win this war and take King’s Landing from the Lannisters. And when we do, Sansa will finally be free, and we can all return home.”

“To where you’ll rule the North as King in Winterfell,” (Y/N) mused in a wistful tone. “It feels like a sin to even dream of it now.”

Robb stroked his thumb over her cheek. “It’ll be your home, too.”

(Y/N) gave her beautiful king a genuine but sad smile. “I don’t want to talk about the future right now.”

Robb’s brow furrowed at her foreboding words. “What do you want to talk about?”

When (Y/N) pulled away and stepped off his lap, Robb was prepared to chase her through the camp naked if she dared run away while he was in this state. But she just stepped to the center of the space before removing her boots, followed by her stripping the dark leather breeches slowly down until the bare skin of her legs was revealed. She then lifted her tunic over her head along with her chest binder.

Robb was so painfully hard just from looking at her. He cursed himself for thinking he could ever be happy with Talisa, knowing that perfection was standing before him in his tent. His eyes drank in the sight of (Y/N)’s naked body as if looking away would kill him. He took it all in, from every scar that faded to a pale sliver to every beauty mark unique to her. He wondered if she truly knew how beautiful she was…if she understood how much she had completely and utterly bewitched his soul just with her presence. He wondered if she knew how much he wanted to kneel at her feet so that he could beg for her permission to let him worship her for the rest of his life.

(Y/N) began to walk toward him, and it felt as if the world around them was fading into incoherence, and only the two of them were left. When she finally reached him, she took his hand and placed it over her heart. She wanted him to feel it racing from his touch, from his gaze. Then, she lowered herself until her eyes leveled with his as she sat on the cot’s blankets. With her hands, she cupped his face and poured all her love for her king from her eyes.

“I’m tired,” she sighed. “I’m tired of pretending I don’t want this…of pretending I don’t want you. But most of all…I’m so tired of pretending that I…that I don’t love you.”

It felt like an enormous weight had been lifted off her shoulders as (Y/N) finally confessed her love for her king, Robb Stark. The man she marched with from Winterfell when Joffery first imprisoned his father. The man whom she fought beside and watched mourn for every good man who fell fighting for him. The man she’s loved since before she knew what love meant.

(Y/N) let out a heavy sob. “Because I do, Robb. I do love you. Gods, I love you so much – not just as a soldier loves their king, but as a woman who loves a man.”

Robb hadn’t realized he was crying until (Y/N) wiped a tear with her thumb. He took his hand from her chest and pulled her face towards him until their lips met again. Wet laughter mixed with tears and kisses made for a strange sight for an outsider, but it was a moment filled with more love and happiness than these two dared to hope. The way their bodies moved and swayed before (Y/N) fell on her back underneath Robb Stark as he hovered above her looked more akin to an awkward entanglement of limbs than an impassioned embrace. But for the two lovers, kissing each other seemed as easy as breathing and soothing like a gently falling summer snow. (Y/N) marveled at how easy it was to kiss Robb. It almost felt organic, with how naturally drunk they became by the taste of the other.

Soon, the kiss became more heated as (Y/N) and Robb grew more hungry to explore more of each other’s bodies. The more heated Robb kissed her, the more eager (Y/N)’s hands grew to explore his strong, muscular body. Her hands caressed his warm skin, and her fingers softly traced the scars that made him all the more desirable. His lips trailed to her chin and traveled down her neck until he had just reached the tops of her breasts. Grinning at how hard she was breathing, he took one breast in his hand and twisted her nipple. A needy cry left her lips at his harsh tugging before turning into a high-pitched whine when he bit the other.

Pleasure coursed through (Y/N)’s body like blue-hot lightning as her back arched into his body, and her entire frame felt paralyzed from it. She felt her core leaking from arousal as Robb’s hard, throbbing member was pressed against her stomach. Deciding that if he waited any longer, then he would likely burst, Robb used one hand to roam down (Y/N)’s body until he settled in the special place between her legs. He then took the other breast and tugged its nipple between his teeth before using his other hand to tug and twist the one previously in his mouth. Meanwhile, (Y/N)’s mind was so clouded in lust that she could not feel Robb stroking her clit with one finger before sinking two fingers inside her walls.

“Fuck…your walls are so tight on my fingers,” he huskily groaned as (Y/N) wept in ecstasy. “Such a wicked girl…avoiding your king and keeping this sweet cunt away from me. Every time I laid with that whore, I had to fight the urge to call out your name when I spilled into her. But you won’t do that anymore, will you? You know better to run now, right?”

“I-I-I won’t run! I’m yours, Robb! I only belong to you!” She stammered as Robb began to rub tight circles with his now-soaked fingers on her clit. She thrashed against the covers, fisting the furs on his bed to somehow anchor her. Her core tightened, and no matter how much she wanted to close her legs, his hips prevented her from doing so. As a result, (Y/N) had to take it and continue drowning in the pleasure that was Robb Stark’s love.

“Good girl,” Robb darkly chuckled as he straightened his back and placed his hands on the back of her thighs to spread them wide. He took his cock in his hand and rubbed its leaking tip against her folds. “Are you ready for me to take you? Are you ready to know how a wolf breeds his mate?”

(Y/N) quickly nodded. She couldn’t take the waiting any longer. “Please, Robb,” she begged. “Please take me—make me yours!”

With a single thrust, Robb plunged his entire length inside until he bottomed out, and the tip of his manhood kissed the entrance of her womb. The stretch of his thick, hard member against her walls gave the most delicious burn that made (Y/N) peak from the feeling of how deep he was inside her.  Meanwhile, Robb’s face snarled at how warm and tight (Y/N)’s cunt felt around him. As her walls tightly clamped down on his length, he bit inside his cheek so hard that the coppery taste of blood coated his tongue to prevent him from erupting right then and there. His hand traveled to her hair and sharply tugged it back so that he could roughly kiss her. His blood only further aroused (Y/N)’s lust for the man inside her as she considered it another sign that she had tasted more of her king and another piece was inside her. Emboldened by this action, she wrapped her tights around his hips to further mold their bodies as one.

The way (Y/N)’s body was pressed against his inflamed Robb’s ardor as he pulled out until only the tip was still inside before roughly thrusting himself in fully. Each time he pulled out and pushed back in, she gave him a symphony of cries and begging that could be heard throughout the camp. The slapping of their skin from each thrust inside of (Y/N) made him grip her hips so tightly that she could already feel the bruises forming on her skin as a steady pace had been reached.

Sweat built on both the lovers’ bodies as (Y/N) began to dig her nails into Robb’s skin and claw long scratches down his back. The twinge of pain only made the young king want to sink deeper and deeper into her until they became one inseparable being. Robb tried to remind himself to go slower to avoid harm (Y/N), but one look in her eyes told him there was no need to hold back.

“Take me,” her eyes begged. “Make me completely yours from this day until my last days.”

Upon her request, it felt as if a dormant beast had taken over Robb, as all he could think about was how much he wanted to take her faster, harder, and rougher – until the only word she could say was his name. As he set off at a new pace, (Y/N)’s eyes rolled back as she began to babble out incoherent cries and moans. It felt like there was no part of her mind, body, and soul that wasn’t wholly drowning from waves of pleasure crashing into her.

She was sure the following day, she would do everything in her power to avoid everyone’s eyes, as they all likely heard her moaning for their king like a common whore. But for now, at this moment, she wanted to only exist for Robb and continue drowning in his love.

Soon, it wasn’t long before the familiar feeling of a knot tightening inside her began to coil more tautly as Robb continued to lavish her in his adoration. (Y/N) could feel her pleasure climbing higher and higher until the knot grew so tight that it snapped. It felt as if a dam had burst, and a heavy flood of pleasure crashed into every muscle of her body. The release had made her feel as if her body had reached new heights of pleasure so immense that it became almost painful as tears started to roll down her cheeks. (Y/N)’s eyes shot wide, and she opened her mouth as her back arched into him, but no sound was made. There was nothing that could adequately convey the

Feeling (Y/N) release on his cock, Robb growled as he felt the last vestiges of his sanity snap and lost all composure. He began to increase his pace until his thrusts became rough and frantic to chase his end. He pushed her thighs until they were pressed against her chest before wildly thrusting deeper inside her walls to feel more of her heat. He was able to fuck into her once, thrice, ten more times before his body went taut, and he spilled his seed into (Y/N)’s womb. Her soaked, vice walls gripped around him and tried to milk all of him in desperate want to carry his child.

As Robb felt the last of his cum leave him, a wave of exhaustion crashed into him, and his arms were no longer able to prevent his body from falling atop (Y/N). Panting for air and resting his head in the crook of her neck, Robb turned to rest on his side while making sure her body was still connected to his. His touch became soothing and gentle as he whispered his dreams and hopes for a child with her hair and his eyes to be borne from this night. She tiredly giggles as he delicately kisses her cheeks, nose, temple, and brow while he talks.

He wanted to weep tears of joy. He felt almost…blessed. After aimlessly wandering in a barren wasteland with no clear end, Robb felt as close to peace as the first time he shared a bed with (Y/N). Robb wraps his arms around her frame and brings furs to cover them as a chilling breeze enters the tent, and (Y/N) shivers from the chill. He tightens his embrace as sleep takes over him.

He whispers in her ear, “I love you, (Y/N). We will be so happy together. I know we will.”

She slightly hesitates before replying. “I am yours, Robb. I swear this to you.”

Her king was so lost in his bliss that he didn’t notice the sadness in her eyes and the tremble in her voice.

A gentle stream of light stirred Robb awake. He stretched his arms and blearily rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Based on how loud it was outside his tent, it was late in the day. He reached out to hold you once more…when he felt your side of his bed feel cold. Immediately alarmed, Robb shot up and looked around his surroundings.

There was no sign of you anywhere.

Your clothes…your bag…your sword…even your bloody scent was gone!

Robb shot out of bed and hastily dressed himself in only his breeches and doublet to begin searching for you. But just as he was about to leave after putting on his boots, a small scroll had been placed in the middle of his desk. He dashed over and quickly opened it. The instant relief from recognizing your handwriting cruelly died as he read over your words, and he could feel his heart breaking.

Every word I said last night holds true – from this day to my last day. I am yours, Robb Stark. But you cannot be mine.

Also, I plan to make this a...3 part series? Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Please comment your thoughts and reblog if you think more people would like to read this!

Tagging: @valeskafics, @asa-do-your-thing, @aphroditesmoon, @llonelygoddess, @arcielee, @countrymusiclover, @yns-world, @axelsagewrites, @bre99, @katzoinks, @asongofrhaenyra, @rise-my-angel, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @anewpersonthatexists, @bogbutteronmycroissant, @sylasthegrim, @writingsofwesteros, @julessworldd , @dipperscavern

[a-lexia11]

Out of love

Leah Williamson x reader

Warning:angst,break up, no happy ending

Word count: Around 3k

Summary: Leah has been acting distant lately, and you decide to confront her to understand why she's behaving that way.

I always believed that love was a fortress, something strong and invincible, capable of withstanding any storm.

And for the past five years, Leah and I were proof of that—at least, I thought we were. We’d built a life together, shared dreams, challenges, and victories on and off the pitch.

Arsenal was more than just our club; it was our home. Football brought us together, and love kept us close—or so I thought.

The first signs that something was wrong were so subtle I almost missed them. Leah began coming home later and later, her explanations brief and detached.

At first, I brushed it off, telling myself she was just tired or stressed. Our schedules were demanding, and we both had a lot on our plates.

But as days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, her late nights became the norm, and her excuses became more half-hearted. When I asked if everything was okay, she’d nod or shrug, barely making eye contact.

The first time she slept on the couch instead of beside me, it caught me off guard. I lay in bed for hours, staring at the ceiling, wondering what I had done wrong.

She’d mumbled something about needing space, but it felt like more than that. The bed felt too big, too cold without her.

Every night that followed, she found new reasons not to be by my side. The distance between us, both physical and emotional, grew wider with each passing day.

The idea of Leah cheating crossed my mind, but it felt almost inconceivable. It’s Leah we’re talking about—someone I’ve always seen as honest and dependable. I found it hard to believe she could be unfaithful.

Why would she betray me in that way? The thought seemed so out of character, yet the signs of her growing distance and emotional withdrawal made me question everything.

I missed her laugh, the way she used to tease me about my messy hair or how I couldn’t cook to save my life.

I missed our quiet moments together, when we’d sit on the couch, legs tangled, talking about everything and nothing.

Now, those moments were replaced by silence—heavy, suffocating silence. It was like living with a ghost of the person she used to be.

I tried to be patient, thinking maybe she just needed time, but every day felt like another piece of her slipping away. Our date nights, once a cherished routine, disappeared entirely.

She was always too busy, too tired, too something. And when she did have time, it wasn’t for me.

The loneliness became unbearable. I cried every night, silently, not wanting to wake her—or maybe hoping she would wake up and comfort me like she used to.

But she never did. It was as if she couldn’t hear me anymore, couldn’t see how much I was hurting.

Training and matches became my only escape, but even that was tainted by her absence.

Leah was always there, physically, but it felt like she was a million miles away. I watched her on the field, admired her skill, her focus, but when the game ended, she was gone again, lost in her own world.

Then came the team nights, gatherings that used to be filled with laughter and camaraderie.

Now, they were a painful reminder of how far apart we had drifted. Leah would sit across the room, chatting and laughing with our teammates, completely ignoring me. It wasn’t just that she didn’t talk to me—she didn’t even look at me.

Our friends and teammates noticed the tension, the awkwardness that hung in the air, but no one said anything. Maybe they were waiting for us to work it out, just like I was. But deep down, I knew something was broken, and I didn’t know how to fix it.

The final blow came on a night that should have been a celebration. We had won a tough match, and the team had gathered at a local pub to unwind.

I leaned against the bar, absentmindedly swirling my drink as my gaze lingered on Leah from across the room. She was with another woman, someone she had just met at the pub.

The two of them were deep in conversation, their heads close together, her eyes sparkling with laughter. I watched as Leah's hand brushed against the woman’s arm, a playful touch, the kind of casual intimacy that used to be reserved for me.

My chest tightened at the sight—the way she leaned in, hanging on every word, her smile wide and genuine. It was everything I hadn't seen from her in months, and it felt like a knife twisting in my gut.

This sight twisted something inside me, a painful reminder that whatever was wrong, it wasn’t going away on its own.

I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t keep pretending that everything was okay when it was so far from it. The pain, the confusion, the constant ache in my chest—it was all too much. I needed answers.

I needed to know why Leah was pushing me away, why she was treating me like a stranger.

That night, when we got home, I knew I had to confront her. I couldn’t keep living in this limbo, waiting for her to come back to me when she clearly wasn’t going to.

As we entered our flat, Leah headed straight for the couch, grabbing her phone and settling in as if nothing was wrong. But everything was wrong, and I couldn’t keep pretending it wasn’t.

“Leah,” I said quietly, standing in the middle of the living room, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to stay calm. “We need to talk.”

She didn’t look up from her phone, just muttered, “Can it wait? I’m really tired.”

“No, it can’t wait,” I insisted, my voice firmer this time. “I can’t do this anymore.”

She finally looked up, her expression annoyed. “Do what?”

“This.” I gestured between us, feeling the tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. “Us. You’re distant, Leah. You don’t talk to me anymore, you don’t even look at me. You ignore me like I’m not here, and it hurts. It hurts so much. I need to know why. I need to know what I did wrong.”

For a long moment, Leah just stared at me, her face a mask of indifference. I could see something flickering behind her eyes—guilt, maybe? Regret? But she quickly looked away, sighing heavily as if this conversation was just another burden she didn’t want to carry.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Y/N,” she finally said, her voice flat.

“Then why?” My voice broke, and I hated how small I sounded, how desperate. “Why are you doing this? Why are you pushing me away?”

Leah stayed silent.

“Are you cheating on me?” I finally asked, my voice trembling as I locked eyes with her. Leah’s reaction was immediate and stark—her eyes widened in shock, as though I had just posed the most ridiculous question imaginable.

She looked at me with a mixture of disbelief and hurt, as if the very notion was absurd. “Of course not,” she said firmly, her gaze steady and earnest as she tried to reassure me.

“I would never cheat on you.” Her voice was calm, but the intensity in her eyes seemed to plead with me to believe her, to trust that she was speaking the truth.

“Well, back at the pub, it seemed like you had no problem flirting with that woman,” I said, my tone accusing and hurt.

Leah’s eyes widened with surprise, and she quickly defended herself. “I wasn’t flirting with her; I was just being friendly,” she insisted, her voice steady but with a hint of frustration.

“Friendly?” I shot back, my voice rising in disbelief. “It looked like you were just seconds away from making out with her. How can you expect me to believe you weren’t flirting?” I continued, unable to hide the pain and anger in my voice.

Leah’s face hardened as she met my gaze, her expression resolute. “Y/N, I told you before—I would never cheat on you. I may have my faults, but infidelity is not one of them.” Her voice was firm and unwavering, but the tension in the air was thick with unresolved emotion.

"Then why? If not cheating? Why are you doing this to me?" I asked, my voice quivering with a mix of confusion and hurt. "I don’t understand why you’re treating me like this. I’ve tried so hard to be patient and understanding. I don’t deserve to be treated this way." My words faltered as the pain in my chest tightened, the betrayal cutting deep.

Leah rubbed her temples, avoiding my gaze. “I don’t know how to say this.”

“Just say it,” I whispered, my heart pounding in my chest. “Please.”

She hesitated, her jaw tightening as if she was bracing herself for something painful.

When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper, but the words cut through me like a knife.

“I fell out of love with you, Y/N.”

It took a moment for the words to sink in. When they did, it felt like the ground had been ripped out from under me.

My breath caught in my throat, and I stumbled back, clutching the edge of the couch to steady myself. “What?”

“I didn’t want to admit it,” she continued, her eyes still fixed on the floor. “Not to myself, not to you. But it’s the truth. I don’t feel the same way anymore. I’ve been trying to avoid this, trying to make you break up with me so I wouldn’t have to say it. But I can’t keep lying to you. I can’t keep pretending.”

I stared at her, disbelief and hurt battling for dominance. “So, all of this? The ignoring me, the coldness, the distance… It was because you wanted me to end it?”

She nodded, tears welling up in her eyes for the first time. “I was a coward, Y/N. I didn’t want to be the one to break your heart, so I thought… I thought if I made things bad enough, you’d leave. But you didn’t, and I just kept making it worse. I’m so sorry.”

Her apology hung in the air between us, but it didn’t make the pain any less. If anything, it made it worse.

All this time, I had been blaming myself, wondering what I had done wrong, when the truth was that Leah had already given up on us. She had already stopped loving me.

I couldn’t stop the sob that escaped me. “How could you do this to me, Leah? How could you just… stop loving me?”

“I don’t know,” she cried, her own tears spilling over now. “I wish I had an answer. I wish I could change it, but I can’t. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I never wanted to hurt you like this. I never wanted it to end this way.”

“But it’s ending, isn’t it?” I whispered, my voice trembling with the weight of the truth. “This is the end.”

She didn’t say anything, just nodded, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

The sight of her crying, the woman I had loved for so long, the woman who had been my everything—it broke something inside of me.

I wanted to reach out, to hold her, to tell her that we could fix this, but I knew it was too late. There was nothing left to fix. The love we once had was gone, and there was no bringing it back.

I stood there for a moment, numb, before turning on my heel and heading to our bedroom—no, not our bedroom anymore. Just a room.

A room full of memories that I couldn’t bear to face right now. I grabbed a suitcase from the closet and began packing my things, my hands trembling as I folded clothes and placed them inside.

Each item I packed felt like another piece of my heart being ripped away, but I forced myself to keep going.

Leah stood in the doorway, watching me, tears streaming down her face. She didn’t try to stop me, didn’t say a word. Maybe she knew, just as I did, that there was nothing left to say.

When I finished packing, I zipped up the suitcase and took a deep breath, trying to steady myself.

My eyes burned with unshed tears, but I refused to let them fall. Not yet. I couldn’t break down. Not here. Not in front of her.

She doesn’t deserve to witness my tears or my vulnerability. She’s the one who inflicted this pain on me, who chose to string me along and hurt me for months on end.

She ignored me, distanced herself, and let me suffer because she was too selfish and cowardly to have the decency to break up with me outright. I refuse to let her see me fall apart in front of her.

I grabbed the handle of my suitcase and walked away toward the front door. Leah stood aside, not saying a word, just watching me with those tear-filled eyes that once held so much love.

Now, they were filled with something else—regret, guilt, maybe even relief. I didn’t know, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

As I reached the door, I paused, my hand hovering over the doorknob. There was so much I wanted to say—questions I wanted to ask, more accusations I wanted to throw at her—but I couldn’t find the words.

What good would it do, anyway? It wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t bring back the Leah I used to know, the Leah who loved me.

Instead, I just stood there, trying to summon the strength to leave. My heart was screaming at me to turn around, to fight for her, to fight for us. But my mind knew better. There was no fight left. The battle had been lost long before this moment.

Finally, Leah broke the silence. Her voice was soft, barely more than a whisper. “Y/N… I’m sorry. For everything. I never wanted it to end like this.”

I swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in my throat. “Then why did you let it? Why didn’t you just talk to me, Leah? Why did you let us fall apart?”

She wiped at her tears, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “Because I was scared. Scared of losing you, scared of hurting you… and scared of facing the truth. I thought if I ignored it, if I pushed you away, maybe it would be easier. But it wasn’t. It was just… cowardice. And now I’ve hurt you even more.”

I shook my head, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “Yeah, well… mission accomplished, we’re over”

I saw her flinch at my words, and for a moment, I felt a pang of guilt. But the hurt in my chest was too overwhelming to care. I had given her everything—my love, my trust, my heart—and she had thrown it all away.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for, Leah,” I said, my voice strained. “I really do”

Her tears fell harder now, and she wrapped her arms around herself as if trying to hold herself together. “I…I’m so sorry”

I nodded, though it felt meaningless. Her apologies couldn’t fix what was broken. They couldn’t take away the pain that was tearing me apart.

Without another word, I turned the doorknob and stepped outside. The cool night air hit me, chilling me to the bone. I didn’t look back as I pulled the door shut behind me. I couldn’t. If I did, I knew I’d fall apart.

As I walked down the street, suitcase dragging behind me, the weight of everything that had just happened crashed down on me.

The tears I had been holding back finally broke free, and I stumbled to a stop, my chest heaving with sobs.

I pressed a hand to my mouth, trying to stifle the sounds, but it was no use. The pain was too much, too raw.

How did we end up here? How did five years of love, of shared dreams and laughter, dissolve into this? I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I didn’t know how to move forward, how to pick up the pieces of my shattered heart.

For what felt like hours, I stood there on the empty street, crying until there were no tears left. The world felt silent and cold, a reflection of the emptiness inside me.

The person I had loved more than anything in the world had just let me walk away, and I had no idea how to process that.

Eventually, I managed to compose myself enough to keep walking. I didn’t know where I was going—maybe to a hotel, maybe to a friend’s place. Anywhere but here. Anywhere that wasn’t filled with memories of Leah.

As I walked, my mind kept replaying the past few months, trying to find the moment where everything went wrong.

But there was no single moment. It was a slow, painful unraveling, one that I had tried so hard to ignore, to fix, but had failed.

I reached a park, deserted at this late hour, and collapsed onto a bench. My suitcase sat beside me, a stark reminder that I no longer had a home to go back to. Not really.

The night was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. I tilted my head back, staring up at the sky. The stars were out, bright and clear, indifferent to the heartbreak unfolding beneath them. I wondered if Leah was crying, too, or if she had finally found the peace she had been searching for.

The thought stung—both the idea of her hurting and the possibility that she might feel relieved.

I reached into my pocket, pulled out my phone and I found myself opening the photo gallery, scrolling through the images of Leah and me. There we were, smiling and happy—on vacations, after matches, during quiet moments at home.

Each photo felt like a cruel reminder of what I had lost. How could everything that felt so real, so solid, just fade away like this?

I lingered on one photo in particular—a candid shot that my sister had taken of us at a team party last year.

We were both laughing, our arms wrapped around each other, eyes bright with happiness. I could almost hear her laugh, feel her warmth beside me.

It felt like a lifetime ago.

I stared at the photo until my vision blurred with tears again. I knew I needed to delete it, to delete all of them, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

The sound of footsteps on the path made me look up. It was an older couple, walking hand in hand, their heads bent close together as they whispered to each other.

I watched them pass by, a pang of longing twisting in my chest. Would I ever have that again? Would I ever find someone who loved me the way Leah once did?

For a moment, I considered going back. Maybe we could talk, really talk this time. Maybe there was a way to fix things, to rebuild what had been broken. But deep down, I knew it was hopeless. Leah had made her choice. She had let me go long before tonight.

I sat there in the park for a long time, lost in my thoughts, until the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon.

The realization hit me then—this was the first day of my life without Leah in it. The first day of starting over.

It felt impossible, like a weight too heavy to bear. But I knew I had to. I had to find a way to move forward, even if I didn’t know how.

With a deep breath, I stood up, grabbing my suitcase and heading down the path. One step at a time, I told myself. One step at a time.

And maybe, just maybe, one day the pain would fade. One day, I would be able to look back at what we had and remember it fondly, without the ache in my chest.

But for now, all I could do was keep walking, keep moving, and hope that the road ahead would lead me to a place where I could heal.

Because even though Leah had fallen out of love with me, I had to find a way to love myself enough to move on.

FIN

[honeymaze]

nothing but the two of us

bad days are a constant to him, but your presence is, thankfully, a constant as well.

❤️‍🔥 homelander x supe!fem!reader | established relationship, graphic mentions of dark content (violence, death, reader isn’t the best person out there either), hurt/comfort, reader’s powers aren’t specified (nor does she “work” as a supe), no plot/slice of life

note: hey! just an angsty drabble to open this new blog. hope you guys like it!

-

There is a thick mist glazing over the city as he arrives at his place, just a little before the setting sun takes shelter behind the skyline. Homelander is beyond exhausted, as he usually is, and he feels like the weight on his shoulders might be a little too heavy for him to handle. There aren’t powers in the world that can soften the blow of being paraded around like a caged animal for an entire day — photographed, talked to relentlessly, groped — and there’s nothing he can’t do but endure it.

It’s a divine joke, really. That he is much stronger than everyone else, and yet he has to settle for this game of pretend. They take everything from him, and he scrapes for all the compliments and looks of awe that he can get. But even that is starting to get old.

“Let me guess, bad day?” Your voice breaks his thoughts. He finds you instantly, wearing only an oversized shirt and taking a sip from your coffee. “You look like you’re about to lazer through me.”

He clicks his tongue. “Doesn’t work, remember?” Homelander tries to play it off. You don’t buy it. He sighs and crosses his arms. “Bad day, horrible. Ashley should be grateful that she isn’t in a coffin right now, I’ve already — I’ve already told her how much I hate these stupid interviews.”

You smile, putting your cup down. The act alone makes something stir up inside him. “Vought magazine, right?”

He rolls his eyes. “They couldn’t come up with an original name and they want me to pretend like I care.”

“I don’t know how you manage,” your sarcasm is lost on him, for he only sighs and nods vigorously. “But come on. You’re with me now, magazine be damned. We should enjoy our night.”

“Stupid fucking animals — primates, all of them,” Homelander continues to complain, turning his back to you. He places his hands on his hips and looks over the city that expands just beyond his window. “I could kill all of them with one blow.”

You come behind him, giggling at his hissy fit. John is such a manchild, you can’t take these comments seriously (even if you’ve seen enough proof that they’re not only vacant threats).

“Baby, I know that. They know that. That’s why they love and respect you so much,” you reason. Your arms wrap around his waist and Homelander tenses — then relaxes, melting into your touch. You rest your cheek against his broad back, the vague scent of ashes and blood dancing in your nose. Even if he cleans it, you can still catch it: magazine interviews weren’t everything he did today. But you won’t pry, you don’t really care that much. “If Ashley pushes you through another interview, she’ll have to answer to me. And I’m much meaner and harder to please.”

That manages to tear a laugh from him. “Glad you know that.” He turns around and runs one hand through your hair. His blue eyes went from a dark storm to a calm sea, always a good sign that you’re managing to get to his rational (softer) side. “Thank you.”

You smile and kiss him briefly. In your mind, there’s a clear distinction between Homelander and John, and when you manage to make him click out of his “super-better-than-you” mindset, you’ve won.

The next hour passes by in a routine that you’ve grown used to — a warm shower, the brief cleaning of fast-healing wounds, a passing comment about the sprinkles of blood in his blonde hair. There’s an unspoken knowledge between the two of you about the true nature of the man standing before you and, just as clearly, the notion that you don’t mind it. Maybe that’s why Homelander enjoys your company so much: you don’t judge, you don’t care. He doesn’t know if you look down on non-supes as much as he does, but the bottom line is that you don’t care enough about a few casualties that manage to brighten his day. And that’s enough for him.

“And they were able to cover up that alley situation, right?” You ask randomly as he turns off the shower. John scoffs. “I mean, yeah, I know they always do, but usually things don’t go that south. Starlight looked like she was in shock when I saw her enter the building.”

“It wasn’t that bad.”

But it was. The alley situation in question was a mission that the seven were assigned to last week — something about bombs and gun traffic at the dark corners of the city. It was supposed to be a clean-cut mission: get in, neutralize the threat, look for victims, get out. There was one aggravating factor, however: Homelander was having the worst day in weeks, and you were out of town. One thing led to another and at some point the mission turned from “stopping the evil men” to “controlling the unhinged Homelander before he blew up an entire neighborhood”. The destruction was so massive that it was easy to pass it off as a massive bomb activation, but a few surrounding cameras told a different story. The devil works hard but Vought works harder — though, it’s hard to stop a video from spreading after it’s uploaded somewhere.

“Just wanna know if they asked you about it during the interview, that’s all,” you say, reaching for the towels. You could say that you’ve seen it stir up quite the frenzy online, but you knew better than that. As much as you were able to calm down John from a few hissy fits, you knew that the public hatred was stronger than a few soothing words from your end. “I know you always answer the right things and I—“

“So there’s nothing to worry about,” he interrupts. “I don’t know how you can just walk around and live like one of these… worms. Makes me think that you like them more than your own kind.”

In the end, it always comes down to this little mind game: us or them. Homelander or the rest of the world.

“Well, first of all, I don’t think I have what it takes to be in the spotlight, I’m not as good as you,” you start off strong, with a caress to his ego. His blue eyes are frozen in place, staring deep inside your soul for any sign of lies. As much as he can’t lazer through your head, he could break your neck if he tried. And, once again, there’s a thin line between love and hate when it comes to him. “Second… I know my worth regardless of what I choose to do. It’s not because I work amongst non-supes that I see myself as one of them. I like what I do.” Your hand reaches out for his cheek, and he rests his head on your hand. “Besides, I already have everything I want right here. No supe or non-supe world could ever compete, so why even bother?”

Homelander’s eyes stay locked in for another second, not one line of expression on his face. He sighs and relaxes his shoulders, finally adverting his gaze. “I like having you home when I arrive,” is all he answers — in his words: I like you’re not out there when I need you.

“And I’ll always be home for you,” you say, smile growing on the corners of your lips.

He nods. For now, that’s enough.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 6 - I've Been Searching for a Fortified Defense

Series Masterlist

Author's Note: As we begin our first 5-digit word count chapter (I can’t be stopped, someone take away my keyboard) and I find a stride of about two chapters per week, I want to say that: A) I fully intend on finishing this story. I plotted out the whole thing before I started, have made a few adjustments given the pacing I’ve done so far, and with how it’s broken down right now we’ll reach the end in 2-3 months. B) Thank y’all from the bottom of my heart for reading! If you have theories or thoughts or feedback please don’t hesitate to share them! I love hearing what you think of the plot and the characters, and every interaction means the world to me. Whether you’re only reading or leaving comments as well, thank you so damn much. I’ll see you next chapter (it’s gonna be a doozy) <3

Chapter Title from Bells in Santa Fe by Halsey.

Word Count: 11.2k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: You throw a punch, and Phase One: Operation Quick and Bald goes. Not well, but it goes. Contains usual tags.

Read on A03!

Chapter 5 - Chapter 7

Taglist: @lordofthunderthr @kritara

Want to be tagged? Just ask!

Ben dodged the third punch in a row, grinning widely right up until the fourth one landed on his face.

“Ha!” She yelled, drawing back to shake her first out. “Take that, you weirdly fast man.”

Ben rolled his eyes, rubbing his face lightly. It hadn’t hurt—he’d barely even felt it—but She was being real fucking smug for someone who’d only just landed a hit after a damn week of attempting to do so.

“Yeah, sure, Sunshine. Keep it the fuck up, and at this rate it’ll only take you another couple thousand years to surpass Muhammad Ali.”

She raised her brows at Ben, pausing with a tilt of her head. “You were a fan of Muhammad Ali?”

He nodded, giving her a scrunched look of annoyance. “I’m a fucking American, and there ain’t nothing more red-blooded American than punching commies like that son of a bitch did.”

“What?”

“When he fought the Russian, and won. That’s fucking American.”

“Ben, you’re thinking of the plot of Rocky IV.”

“No, Muhammad Ali fought that Russian pussy and kicked his fucking ass.”

“No, Sylvester Stallone fought the Russian pussy and kicked his fucking ass. In a movie.” She laughed to herself. “I’m shocked you even saw Rocky IV, let alone were so impacted by it to let the plot override your knowledge of a real life person.”

“Shut up,” Ben grunted, moving his hands back to a defensive stance. She fucking always won these stupid arguments, and Ben couldn’t actually prove it, but he knew She was changing the fucking internet she loved so damn much to match her claims. “Go again.”

“Someone missed nap time.” She muttered under her breath, even though she knew Ben could fucking hear her, but put her fists up anyways. “Can this be the last one? I’m hungry.”

Instead of answering, Ben just launched himself at her, and She jumped to the side with a yelp.

“What the fuck, Ben!”

He turned and threw another punch, feeling pleased at the smooth way she ducked away and met it with a punch of her own. Her face had lost the pissy shock, laser-sharp concentration replacing it. Her eyes were narrowed, darting across Ben as he moved, her bobbing and weaving wasn’t entirely shit, and her heart was controlled with her breathing. She landed her second punch, this one on his shoulder, and Ben laughed, delivering one of his own.

“Christ, Sunshine, you’re fucking weak.” He laughed, examining Her carefully for any loss of control.

“I’ll kill you with my bare hands, Bitch.” She growled, lunging forward and grunting in frustration as Ben dodged with ease.

“That’s my line.” He taunted. “And you couldn’t even kill a man with an assault rifle if he was a fucking foot away from you.”

“Blow me.”

“I’ve been fucking trying- Fuck!” She landed her third punch, and it burned. Ben reached to touch where she’d hit and felt the skin mending across his jaw.

She was grinning in a wide, toothy, satisfied way. “Suck on that, cunt.”

“Bitch,” he muttered, looking down at his hand to see it raw and red from the contact with his face, with some of his fucking hair stuck to it.

“Did you burn off my fucking beard!” His head shot up to see a half-sheepish, half-amused look on her face, lips curled and eyes wide.

“Oops.”

He yelled her name, and she had the fucking nerve to giggle. “We said no fucking powers!”

“I forgot.” She said lamely, her face less and less apologetic by the second, giggling again as she offered some of the most insincere comfort Ben had ever heard. “It’s not even that noticeable! You look just as good as before!”

His anger faded, and he gave Her a cocky smirk, raising his brows. “You think I look good, Sunshine?”

“I’m being nice. Don’t ruin it.” She muttered, her face adorably flushed, and Ben didn’t miss the skip of her heart.

“Whatever keeps you up at night.”

“That’s not the phrase.”

He winked. “I know.”

She scoffed and turned away, but not before Ben could see the slight smile on her lips. “I’m going to shower, I’ll meet you in the living room in fifteen. If you’re not there, with food, I’m eating the TV.”

Ben frowned, calling after Her figure moving down the hall. “Has the TV been edible this whole fucking time and you didn’t fucking tell me?!”

Her laughter echoed back down the hall. "You're real fucking gullible, grampa!"

“You know I can’t fucking tell when you’re joking about that shit, you bitch!”

“Fourteen minutes, cunt!”

“How the fuck am I supposed to make food in fourteen minutes?!”

“You’re a big boy, you’ll figure it out!”

Grumbling a string of cusses Ben hoped She could fucking feel, Ben grabbed a cup of instant noodles and threw them in the microwave, wondering if She would notice if he spit in hers. After pulling them out, grabbing two spoons from the counter that he almost immediately bent, spilling one of the cups as he noticed the damaged utensils, spilling the other when he noticed the first spill, and having to start the whole damned fucking thing over, Ben made his way to drop on the couch next to where She sat, wet hair clinging to her pretty face.

“Heard a lot of swearing, Pretty Boy, everything ok?”

He grunted, shoving Her noodles against her chest and letting go, not giving a fuck if she had a grip on them. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Just asking a question,” he could hear her shit-eating grin. “Thought it was a free country. Thought a patriot like you would appreciate me exercising my first amendment right.”

“That protects you from the government, not me.” Ben parroted back the words She had yelled at him after he’d made the apparently fucking fatal mistake of saying “first amendment right” in her presence.

She chuckled, her voice teasing. “Didn’t know you were capable of retaining information about something other than yourself.”

“Well, your tits were looking great while you were bitching. It helped.” He grabbed the remote, raising it to the TV. “I made food. I’m picking what we watch.”

“If you pick Game of Thrones so you can watch the sex scenes again, I’m figuring out a way to kill myself and doing it on your bed.”

“Whatever gets you in my bed, Sunshine.” He winked. “And I’m invested in the fucking plot, it’s not just the sex scenes.”

“It’s mostly the sex scenes.” She said, not even flinching at his flirtation. “Just go watch porn. See how fast you can break the fleshlights. If you do all three in ten minutes, Butcher owes me twenty dollars.”

Ben scowled, not enjoying that She’d apparently been making fucking bets with Butcher about his masturbation. “I can last longer than ten fucking minutes, I’m not a fucking pussy.”

“Prove it.”

He grinned widely at Her as her face flushed adorably, her own phrasing catching up with her head. “I’d be honored, Sunshine.”

“You’re like a fucking rabbit in heat.” She muttered. “And if you do last longer than ten, Hughie gets the money, so keep that in mind when you’re jerking it to dragon boobs after I go to bed.”

“The dragons don’t have any fucking boobs, dumbass, the fucking hot lady queens do.” Ben said smugly, ignoring her eye roll. “And I would ‘jerk it’ in the privacy of my room, but someone won’t give me a fucking phone.”

“Yeah, the CIA. I’d actually back you up with Mallory, Pretty Boy. I think giving you a phone would be really entertaining.”

“I don’t need your fucking help.” He snapped, and she laughed.

“Can’t rely on just a handsome face to convince her that you somehow deserve the internet.”

“Handsome face?” He grinned at her, and only the slight stutter of her heart told Ben she heard him.

She made a mock face of thought. “Maybe if we suggested parental controls…”

“I’ll kill you, bitch.”

“I’ll make you the most useless and sad eunuch to ever grace this sorry planet, cunt.”

Ben glared at Her, and she reached over his arm to press play on the remote.

Most of the days since the failed Sister Sage mission had been like this. She and Ben got up, trained, ate, trained more, and then watched TV with dinner until She retreated to her room and Ben fought sleep for the rest of the night, alone. Neither of them mentioned how he’d saved her, or how She had started a habit of slapping Ben awake—he was pretty fucking certain that at this point she had figured out another way to break through the nightmares but was purposely choosing to fucking hit him instead—before she’d sit next to him for an hour or two after. Ben liked this unspoken arrangement, and liked even more how She had silently agreed to it. Just because he didn’t actively hate Her right now didn’t mean he was about become a sniveling pussy mess about feelings. Even if the lack of active hatred had morphed into something pulsing in his chest that he didn’t understand, and didn't fucking want to. Making Her instant noodles and not killing her when she lied to him for fun or called him “Pretty Boy” was as far as Ben would bend.

It had been mostly radio silence from the Boys, though Butcher and Cocksucker had visited two days after they’d dropped Her and Ben back at the safe house, as Cocksucker had managed to break his arm. There had been a long, incredibly boring and poorly told story as to how the injury had occurred, involving a supe, Nikola Tesla and something called a Cybertruck, but Ben had pretty much tuned out the entire fucking conversation once he realized they weren’t here for him at all. The only thing that had kept him from retreating to his room for the duration of the visit was the small falter in Her heart when she touched Cocksucker, her jaw clenched as Ben and Butcher watched Cocksucker’s arm heal into place in a fucking disgusting manner.

When She’d let go, she’d given Ben a weird fucking look with tight lips and sad eyes that he'd only seen before on Cocksucker. It had passed quickly, her face returning to apathetic and bored, her eyes regaining the sharp amusement they usually held, but fuck it had confused him. She and Butcher had started talking about missions and planning and other mind-numbing shit, Cocksucker shaking out his arm as if he didn’t trust that it was healed, and Ben had needed to piss and gone to do just that. Before he’d left, he’d caught Her a look of where the hell are you’d going, he’d grinned back with a wink of why, you want to join me?, and she’d rolled her eyes and returned her attention to Butcher. When he’d returned, Butcher and Cocksucker had left and She was glaring at him, arms across her chest.

“Are you an idiot, or just a dick?” She’d snapped.

He’d frowned at Her, trying to figure out what had made her all fucking bitchy. As far as Ben was concerned, he’d been fucking amazing, only calling Butcher a pussy twice and managing to refrain from talking to Cocksucker at all. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Butcher told me we’re moving on operation Quick and Bald soon. He told me you knew. Why didn’t you fucking tell me?!”

“Oh,” Ben had rolled his eyes. “I forgot.”

“You forgot?”

He’d shrugged. “Well, you fucking know now, so get over it. And what kind of fucking shit codename is Quick and Bald?”

“Fuck you, it’s an accurate and descriptive name.”

“How the fuck could that be ‘accurate and descriptive’?”

“Because two key factors of this phase of my plan are the quick and the bald.”

“Your plan?”

“Yeah, my fucking plan. That I fucking deserved to know the status of.” She’d scowled. “Butcher says it’s almost ready. He’ll get us in two days once it’s in place.”

That had been five days ago. Starlight and Cocksucker had dropped in after two days, full of apologies and updates that Ben didn’t give a fuck about, and when he’d asked Her for more information about the plan, she’d told him to “suck her dick and shove his questions up his ass until they reached his brain.”

So Ben still had no fucking clue what Quick and Bald was about.

Aside from Her lingering anger at him for apparently having the fucking nerve to ask questions about the jobs he had to do—an opinion he had made the mistake of voicing, leading the unwelcome lesson on the first amendment—She was being impossibly easy to talk to, and Ben was getting dangerously close to not only enjoying her company, but finding her comfortable. Part of him was hoping she’d say something very, very soon that would allow him to grip onto hatred, or at least indifference, for the rest of his time in this stupid fucking situation.

Instead, in a way that made Ben think God himself was out to fucking get him, he’d started to tell her things. Fucking voluntarily.

One of those nights where sleep had gripped his head and pulled him under, struggling and roaring, he’d woken up once more from only the force and sting of her hand across his face. She’d sat next to him again, and he’d asked her more questions about before, all of which she’d answered with a faraway, insufferably sad look in her eyes.

“How many siblings did you fucking have again?” He’d pressed once.

“Four,” She’d responded, a wistful smile on her face. “Two brothers, two sisters. All younger.”

“Your parents had four more kids after you? What, were you that fucking annoying they needed to try again four fucking times?”

“No, I was just so adorable they needed to try and recreate my perfection. Once they realized that was impossible, they gave up.” She’d smirked, and Ben hated that somehow he didn’t doubt her words. “Well,” she’d mused to herself. “That and they fell violently out of love with each other.”

“Violently?” He’d made a face, and she’d nodded solemnly.

“I shielded my siblings from a lot of flying plates.”

Ben found another thing to hate. Her parents, and how fucking sad she looked. “You miss them?”

“My parents?” She’d snorted. “I miss my dad. I hope my mom gets her head popped.”

He’d coughed to cover a laugh. “No, you fucking smartass. Your siblings.”

Her answer was quick and soft. “Every fucking day.”

Ben had grunted, watching the distance return to her face, and before he could stop himself, he was talking. “I didn’t have any siblings.”

Before he could curse himself out and try to distract Her with something else, she had been looking back at him with wide, focused eyes. “Do you wish you did?”

“I never thought about it,” he’d muttered. “My father was such a fucking dick I’m surprised he even got my mother to marry him, let alone fucking have one kid. I think he hated me enough to never fucking risk it again.”

“Risk it?” She’d kept her voice impossibly gentle as she’d asked, and it made his skin crawl all weird.

“I was the biggest fucking regret of his life. If he could go back and stop me from happening in the first place, make my mother flush me out, he wouldn’t have fucking hesitated.”

She’d paused, and a very fucking stupid part of Ben had thought she was going to let the conversation go. Of course, he should’ve fucking known by now that She damn well wouldn’t.

“What was your mom like?”

He hadn’t fucking expected that, and it had shocked him enough to answer. “Kind. Too kind for my father, he saw it as fucking weakness and told her all the fucking time. But she was so fucking kind.” He took a heavy breath. “She was full of love, and I have no fucking clue how. It was fucking stupid, all her love, even for my piece of shit father. He’d yell at her and threaten her and mock her, but she still fucking loved him. She fucking loved everything.”

Her voice was still gentle from beside him. “Like what?”

“Animals. Cats specifically. My father had all these fucking hunting dogs he loved more than anything, certainly more than me, and the only good thing he ever fucking did was trade one to get her a cat. It was massive, fluffy and gray, and it was a fucking asshole to everyone but her. It ate like a fucking elephant, shed like a whore in summer, but she loved it so fucking much.” At this point Ben had really wished he would shut the fuck up, but he couldn’t, and he was going to have to figure out a way to blame Her for that later. “She loved art. Painting. She tried to get me to love it too, even though I could barely draw a fucking worm. But I’d try, and she’d frame all my stupid, shitty drawings and hang them around the house until my father saw them and threw them in the trash. She loved music but couldn’t carry a tune if her life fucking depended on it. They’d go to the opera because my father would donate a ton for the publicity, and she’d come back all damn giddy. I’d wait up, just because she was fucking contagious when she was that happy. Even my father felt it, enough to just go straight to bed and not kick my ass for still being awake. She was fucking smart, too. Real fucking smart. My father would joke he wished she was a man, because then her brain would be useful. She would’ve fucking jumped for joy if she saw the world now. Met a fucking woman doctor.” He paused, looking back down at Her beside him. She hadn’t looked away from him, and there was none of the pity he’d expected to see on her face. It was just open, listening intently to his words with no malice or trickery behind her eyes.

“She sounds amazing.” She’d said softly, a small smile he didn’t understand on her face. “And your dad sounds like a fucking cunt.”

Ben had chuckled in surprise. “Fucking understatement of the damn year, Sunshine. That pussy would’ve tried to pry your degree from your fucking hands.”

“Let him try, I’d burn his fucking face off and laugh while I did it.”

“What were you even going to fucking do with a PhD in archeology?" He’d asked, and she’d huffed a small laugh.

“Anthropology, Pretty Boy. But nice guess.” She corrected. “And I’m honestly not sure. I’d quite literarily only just actually received the degree before everything… changed.” She’d sighed. “I had a few job offers, but mostly in academia and business. What I wanted was to work with nonprofits to help people.”

“Help people?” He’d given her a disbelieving stare. “With a prissy fucking degree?”

“Yeah, dickwad. Help people. I was a cultural anthropologist. I specialized in the evolution of cultures and ways to combat systemic cultural oppression.”

He’d stared at Her blankly. “You’re going to have to take down the fucking fancy talk by seven, Sunshine.”

“I studied how the government and culture is mean to people on purpose, and how to make them stop being mean.” She’d said flatly.

“Oh.” He’d rolled his eyes at the dirty look she was giving him. “Oh, fuck off. It wasn’t that painful to say.”

“Yes, it was.” She’d mumbled, narrowing her eyes at him. “You’re not going to argue with me?”

“What’s there to fucking argue about?”

“I just called your beloved country an ‘oppressive system’.” She’d watched him wearily, but her heart remained steady. “Doesn’t it mar your refined American nationalism?”

“Do you fucking want me to be mad?” Ben had asked, raising his brows at her. “I can definitely find it in me, that’s not a fucking issue. But usually when we fight about this shit, you get all bitchy and don’t talk to me for way too fucking long.”

“I mean, no, I don’t want you to get mad…” She’d frowned, examining him with yet another fucking confusing look. “Does it really bother you when I ignore you?”

“No.” He’d snapped quickly. “It’s just annoying, and I don’t like having to fucking deal with it.”

She’d hummed with an amused smile on her face, and the conversation had moved on to something else. Ben had shoved down the way it had been so easy to talk about his mother with her, until it was somewhere in his gut and he didn’t have to think about the way the feeling rolled around inside him.

And he refused to even acknowledge how when She would smile now, he’d have to fight himself to not do the same.

———-

It had been a week since the Sage incident, a week since Ben had saved your life—you'd locked everything about that particular action from what you thought of it to how it made you feel somewhere deep in your chest—and you were starting to lose your mind a little bit. When Annie and Hughie had stopped by with nervous words about delays in your meticulously prepared and incredibly well-detailed plan, you’d been willing to wait another day, maybe two, before executing operation Quick and Bald. Now it had been three days, burgeoning on four, and you were worryingly close to leaving the safe house just to yell at Butcher. Ben could stay here, or follow you and help you beat Butcher up for all you cared. Which was, admittedly, worrying within itself. Especially because the whole point of operation Quick and Bald was to take preventative measures against Ben’s needless brutality.

Over a month ago, right after you’d moved into the safe house and when you had been ready to throttle Ben’s neck every waking moment—an urge that hadn’t entirely waned, but was now undercut with a weirder, stronger urge to be near him without any murderous intent—you’d spent the hours quarantined in your room perfecting your plan to get Ryan Butcher the fuck out of dodge. When they’d come to pick you and Ben up for the whole Neuman test, you’d left it in the van for Butcher to find, and had been waiting since for him to set up the dominoes so you could knock them over.

At this point, you’d be happy with not even “dominos to knock over” and just “one singular domino to throw at someone." You had begun to develop a habit of staring down the hall from the living room, trying to will someone to appear with at least a fucking update. So far this strategy was not working, and had apparently started to garner attention.

Sitting on the couch, the TV white noise in the background and noodles in your hand cold and forgotten, you felt a foreign rush of oddly tight concern run through your body. You frowned, heard your name from next to you, and turned to find that Ben had been poking your arm.

“Are you fucking alive?” He grunted, watching you with a frown.

“Literally? Yes.” You answered with a tight smile. “You have noodles on your face.”

He reached up to feel for them, not looking away from you. “What the fuck do you mean literally? How can you be fucking metaphorically alive?”

“Mind-body problem, Pretty Boy. And it’s not metaphorically, it’s philosophically.” You lean back, grinning.

“You’re a real fucking pretentious bitch sometimes.” He grumbled, still trying to find the food stuck to his beard.

“If you made me a shirt that said that, I’d wear it.”

“I’m not going to fucking make you a shirt, Sunshine. You couldn’t make me learn to fucking sow with a gun to my head.”

“Because the gun wouldn’t affect you at all?” You pointed to your own chin, mirroring where the noodle was caught.

He sneered. “Because I’m not a pussy.” His hand found the stray piece of his dinner, and he pulled it from his jaw.

“Big words from the man who took two tries to make me instant ramen- hey!” A wet noodle hits you in the face.

“Ramen your ungrateful ass didn’t even fucking eat.” Ben gave a pointed look at the abandoned cup in your hands, the food inside having long lost any heat. “Don’t fucking test me, or I’ll actually spit in your food next time.”

“Drama queen,” you muttered, peeking back at the door. “Like you don’t already do that.”

“I fight the urge to be a fucking bitch, unlike certain women.”

You nod absentmindedly. “Butcher.”

Ben snorted behind you, and a smile you hoped he didn’t see crept onto your face.

“Yeah, sure Sunshine.” His attention returned to the TV, and you did your best to not stare down the hall, trying to ignore the hope that the door now shrouded in darkness would open.

A successful effort that made you jump out of your seat when it did just that with an aggressive bang.

Ben was faster than you, practically launching himself over the sofa and bolting down the hall, a dangerous look of alarm the last thing you saw on his face before he was gone from the room.

“Shit, no! It’s me!” You heard a high-pitched shout from the shadows of the entrance. “It’s Hughie!”

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” You heard Ben’s growl of a response.

Butcher’s voice drawled from the shadows. “Oi, take a deep fucking breath and put the bloody kid down.” 

“Someone fucking answer me first.”

“Put him down, Soldier Boy, before we knock your ancient ass the fuck out.” The impatient, clipped words of MM responded, almost drowned out by Frenchie's shout.

“Can someone turn on the fucking lights? It is as dark as Monsieur Butcher’s heart and asshole!” 

“I- I don’t feel good.” Hughie’s voice stuttered.

“Ben!” You flicked on the hallway sconces, illuminating a scene of Ben’s full body weight pressing Hughie to the wall, Butcher and MM trying with practically negative success to pry him off, and Kimiko gripping one of Frenchie’s arms as his other groped around for direction. You let out a very long, very loud sigh. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“It’s fucking late,” he snapped, not letting Hughie go. “They shouldn’t be here so fucking late.”

“This ain’t your real house, Mate.” Butcher grunted, still trying to move Ben. “We can be here whenever we bloody well please.”

Hughie wheezed out your name in a pleading tone. “Your plan is ready. We’re here to- fuck- we’re here to get you.”

That got you moving, crossing to the end of the hall in quick, frantic steps. “It’s ready? Are you sure?” Hughie gave a weak nod, and you rolled your eyes, shoving Ben shoulder. “Put him down, dumbass. He’s not a threat, and honestly, probably the worst one to have gone after. Just, like, strategically.”

Ben glared at you, but let go. He glanced at where MM and Butcher were still grabbing him, and gave them a venomous look that got them both to let go and take hasty steps back. He shot a glowering look of they could’ve fucking waited until the morning in your direction.

You wrinkled your nose at him. No. Shut the fuck up. You turned to Hughie, not even bothering to hide the desperation you felt in your imploring stare. “It’s all ready? All of it? A-Train agreed to help? We’re sure Ashley has the information? We’re sure neither one is going to tell Homelander, and we’re not about to walk into a fucking trap?”

“Yes, yes, yes, kind of, and yes.” Butcher counted off on his fingers as he answered. “But we’ve got to go right fucking now.”

“Kind of?” Anxious energy rushed through you—that still-strange feeling lighting under your skin—and you ignored the weird look Ben shot you as it did. “What do you mean, kind of? If you fucked this up, Butcher, I swear to God-"

“Calm the fuck down, Love.” Butcher snapped. “It’s going to be fine, we’ll explain on the way. But we need to go fucking now if you want this to work.”

You gave a sharp nod, starting to pull on your boot, glancing up with a pause when you heard Hughie say your name behind you.

“Do you, uh, do you want to get dressed first?” His voice was still slightly weak as he recovered from Ben’s force.

You glanced down at your body, and decided that the oversized shirt and cloth shorts would be fine. They were from the CIA spring fire-proof collection, and that was more than enough. “Nope. Let’s fucking move.”

You were halfway to the door when a crash sounded behind you, and you whirled around to see MM firmly blocking Ben’s path, the crash seeming to have been Hughie stumbling into the wall in an attempt to get away from the standoff.

“You’re not coming, Soldier Boy. This is a goddamn delicate operation, and you’re the fucking reason we have to do it in the first place. We can’t afford you throwing a tantrum and screwing us.”

“I’m fucking coming, and it’s not up for fucking debate.”

Off to the side, Frenchie snickered as Kimiko signed how many times do you think he’s said that before?

Ben shot them an annoyed look, his fists clenching. “What’s so fucking funny?”

“Nothing,” Frenchie snickered, and his tone was so remarkably unconvincing that even if you hadn’t understood Kimiko, you wouldn’t have believed him.

Ben grunted and tried to move past MM, again to no avail.

He glared down at the firmly planted man, a familiar violent glint in his eyes. “You better fucking move now, before I make you.”

“Do your fucking worst, we’ll put you right back in the box. You’re not coming with us.”

“MM,” you said firmly, watching Ben's fists clench as the dangerous glint returns to his eyes. “We need to go.”

MM looks back at you, but remains in his place. “Are you fucking serious? You’re siding with him?”

“I’m not siding with him.” You keep your voice level, ignoring Ben’s smug face and grin. “We can’t leave him. The I go where he goes thing unfortunately goes both ways.”

“The safe house will hold him for five hours.” MM pushed, and before you could even shake your head, Ben cut in.=

"No, it won’t.”

You shoot him a look that says you’re being unhelpful, and he just returns it with his own of fuck off, you know you fucking want me there.

“Please, MM. He’ll stay quiet in the background, or I’ll burn his dick off. Right?” You direct your last words at Ben, giving him a pointed agree with me or I’m knocking you out and leaving you here look.

“Yeah, whatever. But I’m not staying in the fucking van like a pussy. And you’d better explain what the fuck is happening on the way, Sunshine.”

“Deal. But first they,” You narrowed your eyes at Butcher. “Have some explaining of their own to do.”

“Don’t lose your bloody mind, Love, it’s all in order.” Butcher said breezily, shoving past you to open the door. He gave a dramatic wave of his arm for you to exit, and with a look of doubt, you did.

The car ride was already poised to be uncomfortable. Butcher’s car was not equipped for seven people, let alone seven people where three were very large men, three were supes, and nobody wanted to have physical contact with two. As such, Butcher drove, MM sat in the front, you found yourself squished against one window with Ben between you and a remarkably uncomfortable Hughie, as Kimiko sat, slightly elevated onto their laps, between Frenchie at the other window, and Hughie. It was overall an unideal situation, made worse as your own frustration was amplified by Ben’s, and by Hughie revealing that it was, in fact, not all in order.

Your phase one, the original operation Quick and Bald had called for Ashley Barrett’s complete cooperation. You’d even painstakingly outlined all the potential ways to flip her—most involving something along the lines of hey, wouldn’t a job that didn’t make you so stressed you rip out all your hair and have to buy a bunch of wigs be nice?—and different ways to keep Homelander from finding out about her betrayal—Spain was lovely this time of year, and had a thriving BDSM community Ashley would love. While MM had managed to take care of your instructions for A-Train, the half of the plan you’d incorrectly anticipated to be more difficult, the Ashley situation was, in Butcher’s words, very fucking delicate, but we’ve adapted and everything will be bloody fine, so trust me and don’t be a fucking cunt about it.

You did not trust him. I didn’t help that you’d asked for any other possible details, and he’d pretended he couldn’t hear you. This suspicion was confirmed when, despite your incredible clarity that you would never step foot there again, Butcher seemed to be driving right to Vought Tower.

Your eyes had been steadily widening, panic starting to run through you the closer and closer you got, and you flinched when you felt Ben’s roughly shoulder nudge your own.

“What’s fucking wrong with you?” He’d asked in a low voice, barely audible over Hughie’s rambling explanation.

“You should listen,” you mutter back, trying to shut out the confusing concern he always seemed to feel at you, how it felt remarkably genuine, but was laced with anger that felt like it was trying to push out of your body. “Hughie’s explaining the plan.”

“Yeah, but all I have to fucking do is stay quiet, and I get to keep my dick. You’re being fucking twitchy and silent, and your heart is beating faster than it has all damn day, so don’t even try to fucking lie and tell me it’s fine.”

“It is fine, I’m fine-“ You paused as his words sank in. “Wait, what do you mean my heart-“

“Alright, here we go.” Butcher cut off both you and Hughie with a clap of his hands. “Everyone bloody out, let’s get this shitshow on the road.”

“Butcher,” you said, looking around to see you’d parked directly across from the tower entrance. “What the fuck are we doing here?”

“We’re meeting them right there.” MM answered for Butcher, pointing out of his window to something you couldn’t see. “It’s almost midnight, and Annie’s been making sure nobody gets inside but us.”

“But why?” You protest, even as MM leaves the car. “This,” you give a wide, general wave that hits Ben in the nose. “Cannot be the only option.”

“Both of them still have their trackers,” Hughie leans forward with an apologetic look as Frenchie and Kimiko exit the car. “This will look like they’re just getting a midnight snack, and hopefully Homelander won’t get suspicious.”

“Hopefully?!” You feel a rush of anger—not yours—and a twist of fear deep within your gut—absolutely yours. “Hopefully fucking Homelander won’t get suspicious?!”

Hughie gave an uncertain nod before very quickly scrambling to get out of the car. You take a long, deep breath, trying to steel yourself. A rush of what was becoming a familiar fuming and brittle concern ran through you. You look at Ben, to find his eyes locked firmly onto yours.

“Sorry about hitting-“

“I know how to hot-wire a car.”

You blink at him, taken aback by the firmness of his voice. “What?”

His hand moved to grip your thigh, his gaze not wavering. “I know how to hot-wire a car.”

You give him a flat look. “Yeah, I heard you the first time. Why are you telling me that?”

His frustration leaked into you. “Because say the word, I’ll steal Butcher’s car, and we’ll fucking leave.”

“What? Are you insane?”

“You look like you’re either going to start fucking crying or burst into flames, and this is a stupid fucking idea.”

“This was my plan.” You snap. “And I’m not stealing Butcher’s car. Why do you even know how to hot-wire a car anyway?”

Ben’s grip tightened. “No, your plan was stupidly well fucking thought out.”

“That’s an oxymoron.” You mutter, and he ignores you.

“And even if they haven’t completely fucking blown the execution, they completely squashed any chance of safety.”

“It’ll be fine,” you say, the words sounding fake even as you say them. “It’s late. He’s probably asleep.”

“What if he’s not?” His concern was starting to move to your throat, and there was something else, something sitting far deeper in your chest, beating and beating against you. Against you.

“Ben.” You place your hand over his. “I’ve worked too hard on this. This is the only way, and it will be fine.” You say the last words firmly and clearly, trying to make them sink into you. “Now take your fucking hand off of me, and get out of the damn car.”

He pulls himself from you, and even as his touch leaves, the concern and beat linger until he’s gone from the car. You drag yourself across the seats and ignore Hughie’s offer of a hand as you duck out of the car and onto the curb. You notice the 24 hour diner MM must have been pointing out almost immediately, half because—aside from an incredibly sketchy looking deli a few doors down—it’s the only building with its lights still on, and half because two very flustered teenagers are sulking away from the entrance, where Annie stands with her arms crossed. She’s already spotted your group, and has angeled her head in a signal to join her.

“You’re late.” She chides as you approach.

“Well, Starlight, I’d apologize, but it was those two fuckheads,” Ben and MM both receive a jabbed thumb over Butcher’s shoulder. “Who decided to draw out the bloody carpool process.”

“I told you not to call me Starlight anymore, Butcher.” Annie snaps, not giving him a chance to respond before she turns to you. “A-Train is, somehow, running behind as well. Hopefully Ashley’s just being resistant to getting food with him, but they’ll be here.”

“Isn’t running that pussy’s whole fucking thing?” Ben muttered, quiet enough for only you to hear. You step as hard as you can on his foot.

“Shut it, Pretty Boy.” You whisper over his grunt of what probably is more emotional pain than physical.

“Bitch.” He hisses back.

“Cunt.” You raise your voice so the others can hear you. “We should go inside, it’s risky to just… stand here.”

With nervous looks around and stuttered agreements, you all make your way into the diner. The lights are flickering, and it’s eerily empty with only a very nervous-looking blonde waitress at the counter. She makes a very big show of asking how many are in your party, leading you to a large, round table, and laying out the menus with shaky hands. Kimiko, Hughie, Annie, and MM try and offer her comforting smiles, though MM’s is strained as he keeps a vigilant glare on Ben. The waitress is staring at Ben herself, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, glacing back as she leaves to get your and Butcher’s coffee, Annie and MM’s tea, Kimiko and Hughie’s milkshakes, and Ben and Frenchie’s orders of “the strongest alcohol you’ve fucking got.” Your personal bet was it was going to just be very old beer.

“Why is she fucking staring at me?” Ben muttered to you, watching the waitress as she walked away. “Did you fuck up my beard that bad?”

“Your beard looks literally the same.” You dismiss. “And it’s because, as far as the public knows, Maeve killed you in a heroic act of self-sacrifice to stop your evil, anti-American attacks. That, or she wants to fuck you.”

“Hm,” he looks back at you, settling down into his seat. “Am I allowed to bring guests into the safe house?”

“No.” You say, a little more curtly than you intended. Seeing his wide, cocky grin, you clairfy. “It’s a breach of security. She would need to pass a CIA vetting and be approved by, like, twenty people. I don’t think she’d do that just to fuck you.”

Ben shrugs, his smirk only growing. “You did.”

“I’m going to cut off your balls and feed them to you-“

“Hey,” MM cuts you off, saying your name in a brisk, hard tone from across the table. “They’re here.”

You snap your head to the door, where A-Train is practically pushing Ashley into the diner.

You hear her voice clearly over the recession pop humming from the speakers. “Why can’t we just go to the fucking deli? They make these amazing meatball subs and supes eat free, so you could order for both of us- oh fuck no.”

“Oh, shit.” MM mutters, jumping to his feet with Butcher and Annie as Ashley notices them, and promptly tries to dash for the exit.

You don’t entirely blame her. You’d probably do the same. You had done the same, an unhelpful voice reminds you.

“I- Am- Not-“ Ashley is trying to get past A-Train, who hasn’t given up trying to herd her further into the diner. “Fuck- this-“

“Ashley, just listen to them, I fucking swear-“

“Why should I trust you?!” Ashley doubles over, out of breath. “You fucking tricked me! Midnight snack my fucking ass- Fuck no!” She raises a crooked finger at Annie, who has stopped in front of her. “Get the fuck away from me, you bitch.”

“Ashley, please listen to A-Train-“

“No! Just leave me the fuck alone! I don’t want to be a part of your weird fucking eye for an eye justice shit-“

“You kind of already are.” MM says as he locks the door behind her. “You work for Vought, your it’s motherfucking CEO. That makes you a part of this, like it or not.”

“Not!” Ashley shouts. “I don’t care what you have to say! Homelander’s going to fucking kill me, oh my god.” She starts to hyperventilate. “If he finds out I was here, he’ll kill you-“ She points a shaky finger at A-Train. “And then make me go on fucking TV to explain why you’re missing, and then fucking kill me-“

Butcher scoffs. “Bloody hell, lady. Calm the fuck down, Homelander ain’t gonna find out.”

“You don’t know that!” She shrieked. “He knows fucking everything! Especially since fucking Sage joined!” She spins around frantically, and her wild eyes lock onto yours. “He knows about them!” A shaking finger jumps between you and Ben. “Fuck! He’s supposed to be fucking asleep and now he’s fucking not! And he was so fucking angry about her, I’ve never seen him so fucking angry-“

Whatever else Ashley stutters about Homelander’s anger is lost to you as the world freezes. The feeling isn’t just under your skin, it’s up your spine, in your blood, circling around your brain. It’s fucking everywhere and you can’t fucking breathe, her words looping around you.

He knows. He’s angry. He fucking knows. He’s fucking angry. He fucking knows and he’s fucking angry and he fucking knows and he’s fucking angry and-

A white hot, impossibly calm feeling crashes over you. It’s angry, hungry and angry, but it’s grounding, sharpening everything around you. Suddenly the world is back in complete focus, Ashley’s shrill rambling scraping at your ears, and in the distance that weird fucking rhythm is sounding. As the feeling in your body returns fully, you realize Ben’s hand is back on your thigh. You bounce it, looking up to give him a glare, and find he’s not even looking at you. Instead, his eyes are trained on Ashley, narrowed and cold. You give a small cough, and when he glances down at you, the feeling of anger stutters with something lighter, though only for a second.

You give another bounce of your leg, a look of move your damn hand or lose it taking over your face.

No, not until you calm the fuck down his scowl responds.

You huff, standing abruptly, and his hand falls off at the force of your movement. Suddenly you feel a lot less solid, but reason that your legs are shaky from the Homelander of it all, and if any situation calls for fractured nerves, it’s this one.

“Ashley.” You call across the diner, trying not to stutter or chew off your lip as her protests falters and attention turns to you. “If you know who I am, you know I wouldn’t be anywhere near here if we weren’t certain it was safe. Just have some food with us, listen, and then you can go.”

Ashley gives you a scowl that might surpass Ben’s but nods tightly, yanking her arm from where A-Train had been trying to hold her in place. You sit back down as the group at the door returns to their seats, the poor waitress pressing herself against the bar as they pass. Letting out a shaky, unsteady breath, you try and still yourself as you look out the diner window. City lights. Music.

City lights.

Music.

It was safe. He knows and he’s angry but was safe and there were city lights and music.

Your breathing was no longer coming in short, distressed bursts, but getting air in and out of yourself still felt like an act of labor, and you needed to get it the fuck together before Ashley sat down.

City lights. Music.

You can’t hear the song the diner is playing, instead letting your whole mind turn inward, allowing the ghost of music you can no longer sing to wash over you.

Ashley sits across from you right when you regain control, and from the corner of your eye, you see Ben pulling his hand from where it had been inching towards yours.

Her eyes flit, nerves poorly hidden, from you to Ben to Butcher to Annie and back to you, and her voice is high and shaky when she speaks. “Well?”

“Ashley, we need your help.” Annie leans forward, palms flat on the table.

“Well, then we’re done. I can’t help you. They don’t tell me anything, not really.” Ashley tries to stand, but her arm is caught by A-Train. “Really?” A-Train hisses as he pulls her back into her seat beside him. “They don’t tell you anything my ass, we sit in on all the same meetings. And I pulled these files-“ He pulls out a thumb drive from absolutely nowhere and drops it on the table. “Using your name, so you clearly have access to them.”

“What?!” Ashley looks at the thumb drive like it’s going to either explode or start jizzing on her blouse. “Why would you fucking do that?”

“Insurance.” A-Train answers smugly, the thumbdrive clearly having his intended. “I can’t open it, so you’re going to tell them how, and then I’ll erase the records of you taking the files from the system.”

Ashley looks around at your group, shaking her head. “No.”

“Sorry, Mate. We ain’t really asking.” Butcher leans across A-Train, shoving the thumb drive closer to Ashley. “Do us this solid, and A-Train won’t go right up to Homelander and tell him about how he saw you also cuddly and tight with me, Soldier Boy, and his favorite missing person.”

Your heart jumps right into your throat. City lights. Music.

Suddenly, Ben’s elbow is planted against yours, and you’re pulled back down to earth just in time to hear Ashley yell, “This is fucking blackmail! I’ll fucking sue!”

“You cannot sue government officials, madame.” Frenchie says smugly, and Hughie shakes his head.

“That’s- Frenchie, that’s not even kind of true.”

“You’re also not a government official.” Annie adds.

Frenchie looks genuinely perplexed at this and gives Kimiko a confused frown, receiving a shrug in return.

“But,” you pipe up, your voice somehow bored and casual. “I’m legally dead. He’s-“ You jab Ben in the chest, and Ashley’s eyes widen. “Legally dead and an enemy of the state. You can’t sue either of us, not without admitting some Vought secrets that will be very bad PR.” You give her a twisted smile, leering across the table. “Help us, or, even if Homelander believes you, which we both know he won’t, you’ll get fired. And I’m sure they’ll be very understanding and normal about how they do it.”

You feel a flash of weird pride and realize you can see Ben fighting a smile in your periphery.

Ashley has a fearful expression, looking at where your elbow is still connected with Ben’s. “What- what's even on it?”

“Becca Butcher files.” You say, not taking your gaze from her, but you didn’t need to look around to see the sudden, rigidness with which everyone sat. You even felt Ben’s own shock run through you.

You’d be lying if you said hiding the exact contents of the file hadn’t been a very purposeful choice that you and Butcher had made. He’d cornered you, demanding to know what you planned on doing should Soldier Boy go after Ryan, and you’d told him that it wouldn’t be an issue. Ryan looked up to Homelander, that was why he stayed. He’d lost his mother, he didn’t trust Butcher, all the poor kid had was his insane, sociopathic father. Some part of you—small and sad and tired, still sitting on a staircase in Boston—understood that. But with Becca gone, gone forever, Ryan didn’t have a place to run like you’d had. Homelander was the default, and just kind enough to his son that Ryan could force himself to forgive Homelander again and again. Homelander was safe for Ryan.

You were going to make sure Ryan never saw Homelander as safe again. And that started with Becca Butcher and would end with you. So you and Butcher had agreed with a tight handshaked that he'd ripped his hand from right after, everyone was only going to know what they needed to. That was the only way it would work.

“Becca Butcher files?” MM repeats in a slow, incredulous tone. “You,” he turns with a look of shock to Butcher. “You knew about this? You’re fuckin okay with this?”

“I’m doing what has to be done, Mate.” Butcher answers flatly, then says your name. “Tell ‘em the plan, Love.”

“We need to get Ryan away from Homelander. Ryan needs to know about his mother.”

“No,” Ashley was emerging from the shock to try and stand from the table, but A-Train’s arm shot out, pulling her back down once more. “No,” she says again, looking around desperately. “Ryan, Ryan is all he has. All he cares about. You take Ryan he’ll lose his mind-“

“He’s already lost his mind.” Something snaps in your chest—a cruel feeling waking up as you watch Ashley fret about Homelander. “And I couldn’t give less fucks about what he cares about.” The feeling is crawling across your skin. “If this hurts him, good. It could never hurt him enough to make it right.” You hear drums and still can’t place where they’re coming from. “Now listen to the last fucking strand of your morality on your scalp and fucking help us.”

Ashley shakes her head again, this time with less certainty. “It’s- no- He-“ she pulls in a deep, unsteady breath. “He won’t stop until he gets Ryan back. He already is going insane about you and him and how he needs to get you back safe and put him back down, and if Ryan goes to then nothing will stop him-“

The drums are loud now, and something that’s usually there on Ben’s face is missing. Your own body doesn’t feel entirely normal anymore, but it’s not paralyzed or running. You can feel something in Ben caving, falling inward in a growing rhythm, moving in time as something in you grows. It's not in you now, it’s across you, coating your skin and singing with glee.

“Ashley,” the sound of your voice is a little far away, but you can hear it echo through you. It’s wired, hot, a warning.

“I- I can’t.”

“Yes, you fucking can.” You sneer. “You’re just too much of a pussy to do it.” Ben coughs in the way that you know means he wants to laugh, just as the drums stutter and move farther away.

“Please, I don’t-“

“Do not make me stab you.”

Ashley falters, looking you up and down. “You won’t.”

“Trust me, she will.” Ben smirks, giving you a nudge. “She’s surprisingly violent.”

“I, I won’t. I can’t. He’ll kill me-“

“You think we won’t?” Ben growls, any amusement in him gone as you feel something unbreakable and resolved through your body.

Ashley tries to run again, this time actually managing to get up from the table, but is knocked flat on her ass by A-Train before she can take two steps. You stand and give the itch, now under your tongue and your nails, a small scratch.

“Oh, fuck no.” You hear scrambling as you walk around the table and stop, staring down at Ashley.

She’s crawling back from you, back from the fire curling from your whole body, and disgust curls in your gut. For the first time you feel anger—insatiable and gory anger—all of your own. No city lights flash around you, no hollow music dances around your head. You don’t fear Ashley. She’s weak and spineless. She’s willing to cover her hands in Ryan’s blood, in your blood, to keep herself safe from Homelander. She’s staring at you, terrified, and you don’t need to touch her to know it isn’t even a fraction of all the fear you felt in that white room. That white room she knows about, may have seen, and is still trying to keep Homelander happy.

You bend down, letting all your hatred for Vought, for her, cover your features. When you speak, your words are clear and low.

“You are going to tell Butcher how to access the thumbdrive. A-Train and you are going to take some food with you, and walk back to the tower. You aren’t going to tell Homelander about this, and if he asks, offer him some leftovers. A-Train will erase your activity from the files, and you’re going to pretend the whole night never happened. If you tell Homelander about either me or Be-“ You correct yourself smoothly. “Soldier Boy, the last thing I will do before he locks me away again is kill you. Do I make myself clear?”

Ashley nods frantically, flinching when you raise your hand.

“Say it. Say that I made myself clear.”

“You-“ Ashley stutters, hiccuping. “You made yourself clear.”

You draw yourself back up. “Good. Butcher, I’m leaving. You can drive me and come back, or Ben can steal your car, but I’m leaving.”

When you turn, when you see the looks on your team’s face, all the anger is gone, and suddenly there is a crushing, painful weight of shame on your chest. They’re looking at you like Ashley had been, like you’re no better than Homelander. Like maybe you should go back in the room, it would be safer for them, it would be safer for everyone if you were far, far away-

“You heard the lady.” Ben is standing, walking around to your side. “It’s late. We’re leaving. Sunshine?” He offers you his arm, and you stare between it and your own, still covered in flame. Looking up, his face looks bored, as if this is just another Tuesday, and he offers his arm to women who are actively ablaze on a regular basis.

Your face feels slack, and all you can manage is to blink at him. I’ll burn you, Pretty Boy. It’ll hurt.

His brows subtly knit, and he doesn’t move. I’ll live, Sunshine. Don’t let them see you break. We’re going home.

You look back at your team, a wide circle of berth having formed around you and Ben. Butcher is looking between the two of you, and you recognize that glint in his eyes. You’d seen it before, but it’s only been really, truly directed at you once. In a graveyard in Boston, gravestones and bushes around you burning in the dead of winter, holding a bucket of ice that steamed off your skin. Under it, fear begins to creep back into you, exhaustion pushing it forward. Butcher reaches behind him, and your knees feel weak.

But you don’t fall. Zealous anger, strong and raw, spreads through you and Butcher’s movements still. You look down and find Ben’s arm unflinchingly looped through yours, his body at its full height as his eyes rake coldly over Butcher.

The silence hangs in the air, cut through only by Ashley’s quick, sobbed breaths. For a second you think the smoke seeping from you will overtake the room before anyone moves, but Butcher slowly reaches into his pockets, eyes not leaving Ben’s, and throws the keys at Hughie.

“Drop them off, Mate, then come right back. No bloody detours.”

Hughie stares at the keys, looking like he’s going to protest, but Kimiko grabs them before he can.

She turns to you, completely composed, no fear wavering as she locks your eyes with hers. I’ll take you.

Before you can thank her, Frenchie steps forward, signing as he speaks. “Mon Coeur, you cannot drive.”

She frowns. Yes I can.

“No, Mon Coeur, not legally.” Frenchie says, exasperated, and you have a feeling this is not first time they've had this debate.

Kimiko rolls her eyes at you. Fine. She signs back at Frenchie, throwing the keys at him. You’ll do it.

Frenchie stumbles as he catches them, giving Kimiko a shocked look, which she pretends not to see as she walks to the door, signing at you as she passes.

Let’s go before Butcher’s brain starts working.

A small smile threatens your face, and you move, tugging Ben’s arm only once before he falls into pace with you, Frenchie scrambling behind you both.

The car ride back feels longer. The moment you’d stepped out of the diner, your body had extinguished, and you had a worrying sense that the only thing keeping you from collapsing on the sidewalk was Ben’s arm firm through yours. No words were said for the entirety of the drive, you and Ben in the backseat as Frenchie drove and Kimiko lounged in shotgun, and your brain raced. Ben hadn’t let go, and the drums were fading in and out of your chest as he stared ahead into the night.

You arrived at the safe house, only a street lamp casting a dull glow across the street. The chill of the wind cutting against you as Kimiko walked you to the door, Frenchie mumbling something about keeping the car safe from Hooligans. Ben made to step inside, but halted, still not releasing your arm, as you stayed at the doorstep.

At his questioning glare, you tried to wiggle his arm from yours. “Go inside, Ben. I’ll be right there.”

He looked down at where he was still connected with you, and you felt reluctance in time with the drums, but he let go with a scowl. “Be fast,” he grunted, and stomped into the house.

You watched until he’d disappeared fully down the hall, turning to Kimiko only once his back was shrouded in the darkness of the house.

“Thank you,” you give her a soft smile, signing as you speak. “I- I don’t know what happened, I just-“

She shakes her head, and you trail off. I understand. I get angry too. She pauses, hands hovering for only a second. We are not like them. She points down the street, in the direction of the tower, and then past you, into the house. We get to be angry.

“I don’t want to be angry.” You say softly. “He wins when I get angry.”

Kimiko gives you a sad look, placing a hand on your arm. Her own frustration, her fear of Homelander, all the anger at the world, sinks into you. She holds your gaze for a second before drawing back to sign once more. He doesn’t win when you’re angry. He wins when you’re scared. You’re not Soldier Boy. Your anger is good.

You glance back into the house. “I think he- Ben- Soldier Boy- is scared. Or something. His emotions are really fucking confusing.”

You let him touch you. She signs. Does he know?

“He said he didn’t care, because he’s, and I quote, ‘not a pussy with something to hide’.”

But he’s scared? She gives you a questioning frown. Do you think it’s because of Russia? Could you fix it, like you offered for me?

“I’m not sure, but-“ you’re cut off as Frenchie honks the horn, leaning out the window.

“Mon Coeur!” His odd position makes his signing almost unintelligible, which he seems to realize, and raises his voice. “Monsieur Butcher says to get back ‘like a hare with a bomb up it’s arse'.”

Kimiko rolls her eyes at you, but signs a goodbye, giving your hand a small squeeze before returning to the car. As the engine rumbles, Frenchie pulling out the driveway, Kimiko’s calm faith lingers in you, and you walk back into the house, shutting the door behind you.

Almost all the lamps and ceiling lights of the house are off, the TV glowing from where you had abandoned it several hours ago. From the bottom of the stairs, you can see the upstairs hall is washed in a soft yellow, and when you reach the top Ben’s door is open, the light from within filling the hall. You stop at the entrance to his room, his back to you as he pulls a cotton shirt over his head.

You let out a small cough in a weak attempt to alert him to your presence.

“You’re allowed to just come in, Sunshine.” He grunts, still facing away. “I’m not a shy little virgin you need to pussyfoot around.”

You let out a small hum, walking over the threshold and stopping a few feet behind him. “Thank you.” You say softly, and he turns around to look at you.

His eyes are tired. Pained. Something looks like it’s pulling at him and it scares you. You’ve seen that expression before, when you’d woken him up that first day, at the Neuman mission, when you pulled him from nightmares with sharp hits, but never just there. It was always with something. This was like an island, just him and you, nothing pulling it out of him.

“Don’t thank me.” He says gruffly. Even his voice is drained. “You mostly held your own.”

“But-“

“And stop feeling bad about that Ashley bitch. She fucking deserved it.”

You stare at him. “You really believe that?”

He lets out a hollow laugh. “She was fucking pathetic. A fucking pussy. Fucking eating out Homelander’s fucking hand, brown-nosing him until he fucking cums and pays her, letting him take you-“ His jaw clenches. “I fucking meant it when I said we’re not going back Sunshine. I’m not a goddamn pussy liar.”

“I didn’t think you were. But, you…” Your voice fades as you try to find the words. “I could feel you. At the diner.”

“I fucking know, that was the goddamn point. I wasn’t going to let you start crying in front of those self-righteous pussies.”

“No, Ben.” You shake your head. “I could feel you. I could feel it.” You place a hand over your chest. “It was building. There was something beating against you, inside you. And you looked…” You watch him carefully. “Scared.”

“Fucking watch it.” He growls. “I don’t get fucking scared. I’m not-“

“A fucking pussy. I know.” You sigh. “I don’t want to, I can’t, fight right now. I’m so fucking tired. You can scream at me in the morning, but not right now, please.”

He stares at you, and just when you think he’s going to start yelling, he nods. “You’re…” He sounds strange. “You’re ok.”

Just like the last time he said it, the words aren’t phrased like a question. They don’t feel like a question. It feels like he’s just telling you again. But there’s something under it this time, something that makes his words almost unsure. Something that makes up your mind faster than you thought you would.

“Are you?” You ask quietly.

“Of course I fucking am.”

“Ben.” You tilt your head at him. “I’m going to tell you something, and I don’t want you to respond now.”

“You’re being fucking weird, Sunshine.”

“Please.”

He relents with a grunt. “Fucking fine. What.”

“I can fix it.” It’s so hard to keep his gaze as you speak. “It will take time, but I can fix it.”

“Fix what.” He scowls. “There’s nothing to fucking fix.”

“Your PTSD.”

“I don’t fucking have-“

“Ben, I could feel it. It’s dangerous. I could fix it.” You take a deep breath. “I can fix internal injuries as well. I offered to fix Kimiko’s muteness, but she didn’t want me to do it.”

“Then what fucking makes you think-“

“Muteness isn’t dangerous. And it would’ve been harder for me, I might have ended up mute myself. You’re dangerous like this. You can’t fucking control it, and don’t try and lie and say it’s under control. Ashley mentioned putting you back under, and you looked like someone was drowning you.”

“Shut the fuck up, Sunshine.” He leers at you. “You don’t fucking know me, know what it was like-“

“I do. You know I do.” You whisper, and the anger on his face breaks. “More than anyone else, I know. I can fix it, but you’ll have to let me. Just-“ You search his eyes, not sure what you’re looking for. “Just think about it. I won’t mention it again, I won’t even touch you, but my offer will stay on the table. Please, just think about it.”

Before you can leave, he grabs your hand. A rush of painful exhaustion runs through you, and there’s anger, but it’s not full of the fervor you’ve come to expect from him. It’s not even at you. It’s wide and almost consuming, leaving room for only a small kernel of something fragile and warm.

“I don’t care if you keep touching me, Sunshine. I've go nothing to hide from you, and that’s not going to change. But there’s nothing in me you need to fucking fix, so don’t fucking bother.”

“I’m not trying to fix you, Ben,” You murmur. "But remember, you burn, I burn. Please don't burn." Your last words are soft, and the kernel pulses.

“Good,” he grunts, releasing your arm. A small smirk crawls onto his face. “Now I don’t care if it’s here or in your room, Sunshine, but you need to go the fuck to bed. You look like shit.”

Just as he says it, the full weight of your fatigue hits you. You give a mumbled acknowledgement of his words, and try to leave the room, but all the adrenaline is gone from your system and nothing is left to stop the failure of your legs or droop of your eyes. The last thing you feel is something pulling you up before your knees hit the carpet, the last thing you see is green eyes on your own, and you hear an amused snort from above you.

“Goodnight, Sunshine. Try not to dream about me.”

You try to object, but sleep pulls you under before you can even remember why you need to.

[dontsh0vethesun]

Can we get some more jealous Wednesday from you your writing is just so great! Maybe an angsty thing where Wednesday has a friends with benefits situation with reader and they get into an argument about it and reader avoids her for the next few days hanging out with another person and Wednesday watches this all go down and as days go by getting more jealous how touchy this person has been and she drags reader away up to her room and could you give it either a fluffy or smutty ending please? 👀

casual love

masterlist word count: 2332

any ‘wednesday’ fic i do will be set at ‘nevermore university’ so the minimum age of any character will be 18

wednesday addams x fem!reader

18+ : angst with a happy ending, smut; fingering, brief choking, heated kissing, jealousy, implied dom/sub, pretty soft smut tho

A secret, that’s what you were. Just a way to pass time in the privacy of her dark room, it didn’t mean anything to her and it didn’t to you to begin with. A casual relationship is what you both had agreed upon, no strings, no feelings, just a tryst. A way for you to blow off steam.

And it was great, it really was. Until you let your heart control you - but it happened all at once. You didn’t notice until it was too late, the way she kissed you felt different and any compliment she gave in passing made you bashful. What once was meaningless sex suddenly meant something to you; you had fallen for the painfully unattainable Wednesday Addams and she was none the wiser.

It was bittersweet. You’d often imagined your first love, how you’d get butterflies around them and their kiss would feel like fireworks, how their lips would taste oh so sweet and when you’d hug you’d never want to let go. But expectations only hurt you in the end.

The worst part of it all is that you were right, you had fallen down the rabbit hole of romantic cliches with flushing cheeks and an eager excitement at the knowledge of her company. You’d fix your appearance any time she’d knock on your dorm’s door and greet her with a smile, a swirling in your belly when she’d give you a smile in return. 

It was all you’d imagined but it wasn’t real. Feeling this way was forbidden, as stated in the agreement the pair of you had made. So now each sweet kiss comes with a sour aftertaste and the sex leaves you feeling empty, clinging onto something you can never truly have. You think it’s better to have her like this than not at all, but how long can it last?

So you’re holding on to a hope that you know will crush you, the idea that she could feel the same. Lying beside her half naked in your bed after an evening of lust all you can do to stop the nauseating sadness is stare up at your ceiling. The way her arm brushes against yours gives you goosebumps and it’s enough to make you cry. 

“Wednesday, I’m not sure I can do this anymore.” The words came out before you had a chance to think them through. You couldn’t look at her, focusing instead on the lightbulbs dimly lit filament with your nails picking at a loose thread in the material of your t-shirt. 

“Why not?”

You coughed to clear your throat, sadness beginning its change into anger at the way she seemed so unbothered. Any chance of quelling the simmering feelings was that hope you clung onto but you’d be a fool to entertain the idea of her loving you back. 

“Because I broke our number one rule.” You sighed, wiping the tear that fell from the corner of your eye before it reached the pillow. You thought you heard her breath hitch and that glint of possibility flickered for a moment until all she said was ‘oh’. You kept quiet, you both did, with Wednesday leaning against the headboard and you feeling hot with embarrassment. With sadness. And anger.

“I suppose we should stop this, then.” She spoke, classically indifferent just as always. You’d usually find it endearing but right now all it does is heighten that bubbling fury. “I thought we’d agreed to keep feelings out of this-��

“Get out, Wednesday.” You interrupted through clenched teeth but she just looked at you, lips parting for just a second as though she was about to speak and when she didn’t words rose from your throat like acid. “I said. Get. Out.” You sat up to look at her, gesturing towards the door, watching as she noticed the pure anger over your face and the glazed over eyes, whites turning pink with held back tears. 

You didn’t watch her as she left, fixing your gaze on your hands in your lap with the tears spilling now, causing you to gasp out a sob with the aching in your chest. 

–

Wednesday didn’t truly understand what she was feeling, feeling much at all was rather new to her so this strange hollow sensation doesn’t make sense. She wandered the hallways back to her own dorm with her eyes cast down, wondering why you had to spoil it.

She thought it had been going well, she wasn’t like her parents with how obsessed with all things romance they are, she didn’t need love. What she needed was something to pass the time, to satisfy the urges that she finds herself having. She would never fall in love. 

Wednesday didn’t care, not at all, she didn’t return your feelings so what issue is it if you try to move on with somebody else? She doesn’t care when, the next day, you quite obviously avoid even glancing in her direction. Keeping your eyes so far away it was as though she was an eclipse.

It definitely didn’t bother her to see you spending more and more time with Bianca over the following few days, laughing in her company and allowing her hand to linger on your arm. Anyone would imagine themselves crushing the offending hand with a hammer and some brute force - it didn’t mean anything. 

“Wednesday, go and talk to her.” Enid spoke with a nudge to her best friend’s arm. You were lingering in the hallway with Bianca and Yoko and Wednesday had barely taken her eyes off you. Enid saw the way she looked at you, longingly and in adoration, if only her best friend wasn’t so oblivious.

“Why would I do that?” She muttered in response, dragging her eyes away from where you laughed, leaning into Bianca’s side in a much too close fashion for Wednesday’s liking.

“Because you obviously care about her.”

“You’re delusional Enid, I think those nail polish fumes are getting to your brain.” 

“And you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous, I just don’t see how she could’ve moved on so quickly.”

“I thought you weren’t an official thing?” Enid answered with a teasing smile, catching Wednesday in a little bit of her own logic. 

“We weren’t. I’m not like my parents, Enid. I don’t fall in love, I don’t get butterflies in my stomach or whatever other nauseating concepts you all like to babble about. It wasn’t anything, it was just casual.”

“People who don’t have feelings for somebody usually don’t stare down anybody who so much as puts an arm around them. Whether you like it or not, Wednesday Addams, you have been bitten by the love bug.” She grinned, a perfect contrast to the scowl on Wednesday’s face.

“I can assure you no insect has bitten me, I’d rather enjoy such a thing.” She muttered, crossing her arms in front of her chest in annoyance, a burning anger bubbling inside of her at the sight of your head leaning against Bianca’s arm as the three of you chatted.

“You laugh at the things she says-”

“I find her amusing.”

“You invited her to our dorm to watch movies.”

“We have the same taste.” 

“You let her read your manuscripts.”

“She’s one of the only intelligent people around here.” Wednesday shrugged.

“You know her coffee order, you bought her her favourite book, you let her meet your parents, you-”

“Enid. You may be my best friend but I am not immune to the annoyance of your incessant rambling.” She interrupted her with a raise of her hand.

“My point is, you have feelings for her. And they’re definitely not negative ones.” Enid returned with a smirk. “And you’re definitely jealous.” She added in a whisper. She expected an arguing retaliation, a comment on her being stupid or ‘too wrapped up in trying to witness a real life rom com’ as Wednesday had once labelled it. But instead she was met with quiet, seeing Wednesday intently looking behind her with her jaw clenched dangerously tightly and her hands balled into fists. 

She glanced over her shoulder to find you being pulled into a hug and turned back to the empty place that once held the body of her best friend. 

Thick soled black shoes clicked against the wooden hallway floor as Wednesday walked past her, nearing where you stood, oblivious to her approaching form. You weren’t aware of her presence until she grabbed your arm, yanking you away from the group as they just watched in a stunned silence as she dragged you away without a single word.

“Wednesday, what the fuck are you doing?” You asked her as the way her fingers grasped at your upper arm were bound to leave a mark behind, and you knew how much she enjoyed that. 

“I am sick of watching her put her hands all over you.” She hissed, dragging you through her door before slamming your back into it firmly with her hands on your waist. 

“You lost any right to give a shit the moment you walked away.” You returned in an equally angered tone, trying to fight against her strong hold of you. A hand made its way around your throat at your attempt to move.

“You’re mine. Nobody else is allowed to touch you. Only me.”

“And why the hell should I do as you say?”

“Because I broke the rule too.” She rushed out, hovering her lips over yours. “It has been brought to my knowledge that I’m actually in love with you.” Her breath was warm against you and you closed the space between you with a push of your lips against hers, reunited with more passion than before. 

It was an easy rhythm to fall back into after a few days apart, with her hands pushing beneath your shirt to feel your skin beneath her palms and yours pushing the jacket past her shoulders. 

She stepped backwards with her hold still on your waist, locking eyes with you with a small smile tugging at her lips which you returned until you reached her bed. She guided you onto your back, climbing on top of you to straddle your waist as she pulled her shirt over her head, ridding you of yours shortly after. 

Her lips kissed along your collarbone softer than they had before, teeth grazing your skin, licking tentatively across your neck with a bite and a suck to leave a mark behind. It was more tender than before but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to show who you belonged to,to let everyone see.

She reunited your lips once more, pushing her tongue past your lips along with slow and heated kisses. Your tongue flicked against hers only to be pushed with dominance whilst she smirked against you at the small whimper you let out. Everything about the kiss was intense, messy and palpable with little thought and precision, just two bodies moulded together in lust. 

Her hips pushed into yours, mindless grinding against one another with desperate attempts to relieve the aching feeling between your thighs. The way she pulled at the button of your jeans just showed how truly hungry she was for you, slipping her hand past the waistband of your underwear with a teasing fingertip sliding through your folds,

“God, Wednesday, touch me. Please, I need you.” You murmured into her mouth, it was as though she was addicted to the feeling of your lips moving with hers the way she wouldn’t pull away. It was different than before, less transactional, not something for a quick relief but something neither of you wanted to end.

She groaned into your mouth at how you felt around her fingers when she pushed them into your pussy, revelling in the warmth she’d missed as she began a steady pace, curling them into you perfectly whilst her kisses never wavered. 

It felt so good to be kissing you, letting herself feel everything she’d been trying to ignore. How she loves the flavour of your lip balm and how you play with the hairs at the nape of her neck when you hold her close. She let herself enjoy the way your teeth gently tug at her bottom lip and how you sound when you whimper into her mouth when her thumb rubs over your clit and how excited she gets when your hips buck in an attempt to chase your release because it lets her know just how good she makes you feel. 

She let herself feel, finally letting herself experience what is an act of love between two people and no longer just a casual fling - a quick fuck with a focus on pleasure before parting ways. 

Wednesday could feel you getting close, soaking her fingers while your hips matched the rhythm of her pushes into you and your nails dug into the skin of her back leaving crescent shapes behind. 

“I want to see you fall apart for me.” She spoke through her heavy breaths, breaking away from the kiss to look down at you and your parted swollen lips. Her cheeks were tinted pink and her eyes were even darker than their regular shade. Her hair was slightly ruffled from your hand and she looked at you with pure lust. The sight along with the fingers fucking into you was enough to bring you over the edge, clenching around her digits with a moan of pleasure and an arching of your back off of the bed. 

She watched you intently as you came down from your orgasm whilst she pushed her fingers past her lips, sucking your juices from her skin appreciatively until they were licked clean.

“Fuck, I love you, Wednesday Addams.” You breathed.

She greeted you with a rare large smile, immediately grabbing your face between her hands and smiling into the kiss she pressed to your lips. She loved you too and she’d spend the rest of the day showing you just how much. 

[semisgroupie]

ALWAYS YOURS, ALWAYS MINE

toxic ex!semi eita x fem. reader

wc: 4.7 (I don’t know what got into me)

warnings: yandere, stalking, VERY toxic behavior, unprotected sex, creampie, dubcon, manipulation, biting, noncon recording, noncon filming, possessiveness, multiple orgasms (f!receiving), drugging, aphrodisiac use, fingering (f!receiving), semi is very delusional (but so hot), snowballing, cum eating

synopsis: you just need to get it through your head, you’ll never get rid of him

Dating Semi might have been the biggest mistake of your life. You can only say that now because when you first got together, everything seemed perfect.

It really was the perfect relationship by your definition. He paid attention to every single thing you liked, remembered important dates that you told him, showered you with more than enough love and affection. Maybe all of that was what made you blind to what his true nature was. Maybe you were mystified by the idea of dating a famous rock star. He took you to his private studio sessions and let you in on the secret process of making his music. Even dedicated and wrote a few lines in a song that were for you. That was what really reeled you in.

But like a fish caught on a hook, you were roughly yanked to the surface. Forced to face the reality of the situation you were in.

After six months of dating it was like a flip was switched. The sweet and kind man you knew was no longer there. Everything felt cold whenever he was around, like he was a walking snowstorm blowing in your direction. Whenever you planned out dates with him, he somehow always ‘forgot’ or something always came up last minute that pulled him away. His kisses weren’t a frequent occurrence and the pet names he gave you were never used. Whenever you spoke about your day or just wanted to make small conversation, he just brushed it off and seemed completely uninterested in whatever you wanted to talk about. It hurt you but somehow you found the strength to continue to push through it.

You finally reached your last straw on your one year anniversary. You had called the restaurant two months in advance to make a reservation and Semi was aware of your plan. He even gave you the name of the restaurant and was even in the same room as you when you made the call. When the night finally came, you waited in the restaurant alone for an hour and a half. Every call you made to him went straight to voicemail, every text was left unread and you were frustrated and completely embarrassed. After a few more minutes passed, you went back to the apartment you shared with him, then about thirty minutes later, he came home and reeked of alcohol. Seeing him in that state made you extremely furious.

“Baby,” he slurred as he wobbled towards you, “what’s the matter? Why do you look so upset?” He opened his arms to pull you in and you pushed him away, the anger and frustration from everything that has happened in the last few months boiled to the surface. “What do you think? I bet you don’t even know what day it is.” You were met with a confused look on his face. “It’s our fucking anniversary. I was at the restaurant alone for almost two hours, do you know how humiliating that was? And now you’re here, completely drunk. I’m done, I’m done with this, I’m done with the coldness from you, if I’m going to be alone in this relationship then I might as well be single. It’s over.”

Your words quickly sobered him up and as you moved away from him he reached over to grab your wrist. “You can’t leave, I love you, we love each other. Just give me another chance and I’ll make it up to you.” You pulled your hand from his grip and shook your head, “I gave you chance after chance and all you did was fuck up again and again. I can’t keep doing this. I’m going to pack a bag and then later on in the week I’ll pick up the rest of my things. Maybe you can be useful for once and move whatever I leave behind in some bags or boxes.”

He followed you to your shared bedroom and watched you pack your things in shock. He definitely wouldn’t win the award for boyfriend of the year but he didn’t treat you that badly, or so he thought. He tried to convince you to not leave, making more empty promises to try to make you stay but you didn’t bother to listen to any of it. As you shoved whatever else could fit in the duffel bag, he made his way over to you and placed his hand over one of yours. “You’ll change your mind about this. You’ll realize that no one could treat you and love you the way I do. You’ll see it for yourself soon enough.” You looked into his eyes as he spoke and you saw something dark swirling in them. You pulled your hand away from him and adjusted the bag over your shoulder. “Have a good life, Eita.”

It had been three months since you ended things with Semi. The first month was difficult to get through but after a lot of tears and snacks, you were able to push through everything. You blocked his number and blocked him on all social media you had him on and he became a thought of the past. There were still moments where you thought about him and the good moments but you didn’t dwell on those thoughts for too long. It would just sink you back into the abyss you worked so hard to climb out of.

Other things in your life got better. You got a promotion and a raise at work, it gave you more responsibilities but you were thankful that it was able to keep your mind busy. You were able to go out and have some more girls nights with your friends. But most importantly, you started to gain more confidence in yourself and after a lot of convincing from your closest friend, you started to put yourself out there. You recently made a dating profile and spent the first night scrolling through and swiping through the profiles.

You got a lot of creeps and weirdos but then you met someone interesting. After a few days of talking to him, you decided to set up a date for some drinks and dinner. You were looking forward to it but you were also extremely nervous. It was the first date you’ve been on since ending things with Semi.

Only if you knew that he’d make a surprise appearance.

You planned to meet at a local restaurant and you slipped on a dress that hugged your curves and put on some heels. You walked through the front door and made your way over to the hostess. “Hello, I have a reservation for two under the name ‘Tobio Kageyama’.” She looked through the names and nodded, “I’ll lead you to your table now, I have to say, he is very handsome.” You smoothed out your dress and followed behind her, looking around as your heels clicked and clacked along the floor. Your nerves started shooting through the roof as you got closer to the table and saw a mess of ashy blonde hair.

From all the pictures you saw, Tobio had jet black hair. But as you got closer you recognized who it was. You approached the table and the mystery man stood, “you look absolutely beautiful, come sit.” You were in complete shock to see Semi there in Tobio’s place. How the hell could he have known that you were going to be here with another man? He placed a gentle hand on your wrist and helped move you along to the empty seat and helped you sit down. Your mind was racing as he sat back down and the hostess left. “I already ordered some drinks, I got your favorite.”

You grabbed the glass of water that was already placed there and downed its contents. You couldn’t believe he was here. You didn’t even tell any of your friends about this date, it was just between you and Tobio. “You look nervous, my love. What’s wrong? Aren’t you surprised to see me? I would’ve expected at least a smile or something different than just a look of fear.” You shook your head and set the glass down, “how did you find out about my date tonight, Eita? What happened to Tobio?”

Your questions just received laughter in response. You started to grow more irritated by the second. “Eita. Answer my questions.” He combed his fingers through his hair and leaned back against his chair. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you since you walked out on me, my love. I just had to take some extra measures to make sure you’d be safe and I mean come on, who else would do something like this for you? Do you know how much money I had to pay someone to give me access to your phone and all your social media profiles? And do you know how nervous I was when I saw you made a dating profile? You can’t just go out and meet strangers you’ve spoken to online, what if you met some creep?”

You were taken aback by his words and scoffed, “the only creep I’ve seen lately is you. I didn’t walk out on you, I broke up with you. You’re insane.” You put your hands on the table to stand and he quickly moved one hand over the table to grip one of your wrists, you looked at him and saw the darkness swirling in his eyes. “What you’re going to do is sit back down and listen to what I have to say. We don’t want to make a scene in this quiet little restaurant now, right?” You chewed on your bottom lip and sat back down, pulling your wrist from his grip once you were seated. “Then speak.”

He chuckled at your harsh tone and looked over as the waiter brought over your drinks then waved them off. “What’s with the harsh tone? I would understand if I cheated on you, all I did was miss one little anniversary dinner and you want to throw everything away.” He spoke so lightly as if you were the one that was overreacting. You took a sip of your drink and narrowed your eyes at him. “It was more than just the anniversary. We didn’t go on any dates anymore, we didn’t spend time with each other, I couldn’t even talk to you about my day.” He sighed and shook his head, “enough of living in the past. Those were all mistakes I made, what do you want? Want me to get on my knees and beg for forgiveness? I can do that if you’d like.”

You scoffed and shook your head, you couldn’t believe him. How could he become so inconsiderate of your feelings? You stood up again and moved your hand away when he tried to reach for it, “I’m going to the restroom, maybe that’ll give you some time to become less of an ass.” He leaned back against his seat and watched as you turned the corner to where the restrooms were located. He didn’t expect you to be like that, he genuinely thought you would be happy or at least show a different emotion on your face. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a little baggy, inside were two small pills and he reached in to take one of them out. “I hate that I have to do this to you but at desperate times.” He mumbled to himself and dropped the pill in your drink, he watched it fizz for a few seconds before it settled. Thankfully for him, it settled just in time because you were walking back.

Once you sat down he combed his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry, we got off on the wrong foot,” your expression told him all he needed to know and he continued, “I’m really sorry for how I treated you when we were together. You were the best thing that I had and I fucked it up. I tried to reach out to you for a second chance but you blocked me and that messed with my head. I just want to take this time to try to repair things, what do you say?” He looked into your eyes as you grabbed your drink and brought it to your lips to take a few sips. You set the glass down and shrugged, “fine. I don’t even know why I’m agreeing to this but I’ll give you this one chance. But get this through your head now, this isn’t a date and this doesn’t make me forget about what you put me through. Got it?” He smiled and took a sip of his drink, “yes ma’am.”

Everything was going according to his plan.

As time passed you continued to sip at your drink but the more alcohol that filled your system, the weirder you felt. You couldn’t put your finger on it but it felt like you were put in a heater. But you continued to try to push past it, trying to ignore it as you and Semi spoke. As time passed, the feeling in your body continued to intensify, it came to the point that you could no longer ignore it. To add onto the burning there was also an ache between your thighs that was screaming to be relieved. You shifted in your seat uncomfortably and Semi raised an eyebrow, “is everything okay? You don’t look so well.”

You shook your head and took a big gulp of your water in hopes it’ll cool you off but it didn’t help. He got up and pressed his hand against your shoulder, leaning in by your ear. “Are you okay? I think we should leave.” His breath by your ear made you feel even hotter and you nodded. “Let’s go.” He helped you up and held you close to him as he laid some cash on the table then started to lead you out. “You’re in no shape to drive, I’ll drive you back.” You just nodded along as he walked, your mind could only focus on one thing and that was how good his body felt against yours.

He led you to his car and helped you into the passenger's seat and then got in the driver's seat before he started the car and started driving. You rested against the seat and couldn’t help but start to press your thighs together to try to relieve the ache that was building by the second. You were more focused on the pain that was starting to develop and you didn’t realize that he was watching you. Watching how you writhed and whimpered as you pathetically tried to relieve yourself. At the red light he turned his full attention to you and placed a hand on your knee. “You know, I can help you if you’d like. You look like you’re in so much pain, I just want to help.”

Every nerve in your body tried to scream at you, tried to get you to realize that he was the one to put you in your current predicament but lust clouded everything. You spread your legs and looked at him with such a pitiful look, “please Eita. It hurts so much.” He moved his hand up your thigh and pressed two fingers against your panty-clad pussy. You arched your back and started to grind against his fingers, it felt good but it wasn’t enough, you needed more. “Needy girl, let me move your panties to the side at least.” He laughed and hooked a finger under the soaked fabric before moving it to the side. You whined as the cold air hit your wet folds and you opened your mouth to complain about his slow movements but the complaints died in your throat as he pushed two slender fingers inside of you. The pads of his fingers were slightly calloused from his years of playing the guitar but they felt perfect against your sensitive bits. He pumped them with ease and the slick sounds of your pussy filled the car, your chest rose and fell with each heavy breath and a light sheen of sweat coated your forehead. He scissored his fingers and curled them up slightly to press against your g spot, the motion alone made your toes curl in your shoes and a sultry moan of his name left your lips. You felt wrapped in the warm embrace of bliss and you were completely caught up in it, you didn’t even realize the car had stopped until he pulled his fingers out of you.

“W-Why did you stop?” A pout was on your face and it looked like you were on the verge of tears as you turned to face him. You watched as he brought his fingers to his mouth to clean them off, watching how he moved his tongue along his slick digits before wrapping his lips around them. Watching how he groaned as your juices fell along his taste buds like the sweetest ambrosia before he pulled his fingers out of his mouth. “We’re here. You don’t expect me to fuck you in the car right? Your a classy woman and classy women don’t get fucked in the backseat like cheap whores. Now, let's go.” His tone was light but his words hit like daggers into your stomach, at this point you would’ve let him fuck you right on the filthy sidewalk if he wanted to. He got out of the car and you fixed yourself as best as you could before he opened the door and helped you out. Your legs trembled slightly as you walked through the lobby of your building to the elevator. You were practically shaking with need and he didn’t even mention a word to you. He pulled you into the elevator once the doors opened and pinned you against the wall before pressing the button to your floor.

Your mind was so clouded with lust, you didn’t even pay mind to how he knew what floor you lived on.

As the doors shut he leaned in close and kissed you roughly, his teeth and tongue mangled and fought with yours and his hands groped your body bruisingly. You moaned wantonly against his lips and moved your hands up to lightly tug on his hair. You wanted more, you needed more from him. But the elevator doors opened. He pulled away from you with an agitated huff and gripped your hand to pull you along with him. The throbbing between your legs was unbearable at this point. You felt your juices run down your thighs and you tried your best not to whine or whimper as he led you to your door. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the key and quickly unlocked the door.

If you were in the right state of mind then you would’ve asked how he got a spare key to your apartment. Then he would’ve had to come up with a lie and try not to tell you that he had been keeping an eye on you since the breakup and was able to bribe your landlord into giving him an extra set of keys to your apartment. And he would have to conceal the details of the amount of times he entered your apartment while you were asleep or while you were at work. He would also have to hide the lie of how he was able to sneak in some cameras into places you never checked and how he watched you while you thought you were alone. Oftentimes with his hand wrapped around his cock and a pair of your panties pressed to his nose. But the aphrodisiac was working perfectly, if he had known it was that strong then he would’ve only slipped half into your drink (at least that would be the lie he’d tell himself to make himself feel better).

He pulled you inside with him and kicked the door shut before pinning you against it to go back to ravaging you. He bit and sucked along your lips and then moved down to your jaw and neck, nipping and sucking at the skin while you moaned and whined. His hands moved along your body, gripping whatever he could latch onto before he pulled away. “Fuck, look at you. Did you plan on doing this with Tobio? Hm? Is that why you wore such a slutty dress? Look at those fucking nipples, you didn’t even wear a bra and those soaked panties are so skimpy. I bet you wanted to get fucked by him tonight, but that’s too fucking bad, there’s only one person that gets to fuck you and that person, is me. No one gets to see you, let alone touch you like this, got it? You’re mine and mine alone. I’ll fucking kill anyone that tries to get in our way.” He spoke purely out of possessiveness and jealousy, to think that you got all dressed up for a man that wasn’t him made his blood boil. How dare you think that you could go out and date another man?

He bent down slightly and hooked his hands behind your knees before lifting you up, his cock was throbbing in his pants and he could feel the heat from your pussy pressed up against him. He walked to your bedroom in quick strides and dropped you onto your bed. He spread your legs and ripped your panties off of you and practically ripped your dress off in a hurried rush. He quickly shed his clothes and pressed his cock against your soaked pussy. “I should just deny you the pleasure from my cock. Since you think you could get fucked as good by anyone else, you don’t deserve it. But since I can see where you were so misguided, I’ll give it to you. Maybe once and for all, I’ll put it in your head that no one could make you feel like I do, no one could fuck you like I can, and most importantly, no one could love you like I do.”

He placed his hands on your inner thighs to keep your legs spread and shoved his cock into you in one fluid motion. A loud cry of his name left your lips as you trembled underneath him, your first orgasm ripping through your body as he started thrusting. But not even an orgasm could lessen the effects of the aphrodisiac, it just intensified every feeling. Your back arched off the bed as he jackhammered into you, his heavy balls slapped against the curve of your ass and the tip of his cock hit your g spot perfectly each time he bottomed out. Strands of ash blonde hair stuck to his sweaty forehead and he took his kiss swollen bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes moved along your body, capturing how your tits bounced with each movement and how your eyes grew emptier by the second. And wait, was that drool spilling from the corner of your mouth? Fuck, you were really fucked out for him.

Then the next idea struck him.

He looked over and grabbed your phone that fell on the bed with one hand and opened the camera. He pressed the record button for the video and brought the phone close to your face. “Okay my love, why don’t you do something for me? Go on and say, ‘hi Tobio’ for me.” You blinked dumbly at his command but followed, “hi Tobio.” Your words were slurred as you spoke and your empty eyes met Semi’s for the next command. “Now go on and tell Tobio what’s happening to you.” He moved the camera even closer to your face as you started to speak, “‘m getting fucked and it feels so good. Never felt this good before, I don’t want it to stop.” Your words almost made Semi cum right then and there, you sounded so sweet and so fucked out. He couldn’t wait to send the video to that idiot. “Good girl, such a good girl for me. Now, one more thing, tell him who’s fucking you this good and tell him who’s gonna fill this needy little cunt.”

His thrusts picked up in pace and you were on the verge of a second orgasm. “Eita! Eita is fucking me this good! A-and Eita is going to fill my pussy with hot, sticky cum over and over again! Only Eita!” Your words blinded him and he slammed his hips into yours as he reached his orgasm, as the thick white ropes started to fill you, your second orgasm was triggered. This time it was more intense, tears spilled from the corner of your eyes and your juices gushed out of you, coating Semi’s abs in your essence. He groaned as he continued to fill you then started to move the camera down your sweat covered body until he reached your pussy. He used his other hand to spread your pussy as he pulled out then moved the camera closer to your leaking hole, getting the perfect money shot of his cum leaking out of your spent hole. “And that is something you’ll never get to experience for yourself, consider yourself lucky and if you ever contact my girl again, I’ll rip your eyes out of your fucking skull. Now say bye bye to Tobio, my love.” He brought the camera back up to your face and you brought a hand up to wave, “bye bye Tobio.” Your voice was weak as was the rest of your body and Semi stopped the video, then unlocked your phone and sent it to the man you were supposed to be with tonight. Once it went through he deleted all the messages, blocked the contact and deleted the video. It's not like he needed to send it to himself, the camera that was on your nightstand had caught everything and it would be saved into a private folder on his laptop. Plus you really needed to change the passcode to your phone, if it had gotten into the wrong hands then they would have access to all your personal details.

He set your phone down and leaned down to kiss down your body, kissing in between your breasts and continued to move south until he was at your pussy. “Oh poor baby, this little pussy is swollen, was I too rough? Want me to kiss it better?” He cooed at you and you just nodded along, letting out a meek “mhm” before he pressed open mouth kisses to your cunt. “I’m so sorry, I won’t be so rough on her ever again, I promise.” He continued to kiss along your cunt before he stuck his tongue out and started to lick at your entrance, collecting his cum that had been leaking out. He licked and sucked for a few moments before moving back up your body. He gripped your face and pressed his thumb and fingers against your cheeks to open your mouth then he spit his cum inside. “Swallow for me, since you can’t keep it inside your pussy, I might as well give you some to eat.” You swallowed then opened your mouth for him to show that you had swallowed it, he smiled and kissed you, softer this time than before then laid down beside you.

“My sweet girl. I love you so much, you could never understand.” He pulled you close and you rested your head on his chest, the exhaustion of everything finally wearing on your body. Your eyes were heavy and half lidded. You just wanted to sleep. “You love me too, right? Say it, I want you to say that you love me.” At this point, you were so tired, you could agree to anything. “I love you Eita. I love you.” You mumbled your words before you closed your eyes completely but that was enough to fuel his delusions further. “I know you do, you were just misguided. But don’t worry, I won’t let you slip from my fingers ever again. And if you manage to do so, I’ll just reappear from the shadows, maybe I’ll slip a second aphrodisiac into your drink. That would be fun.”

You would have to face the consequences of your decisions in the morning but maybe Semi was right, maybe it was true. Maybe no one could love you as much as he did. Or maybe there was someone out there that could, you wouldn’t get to experience it. He had an invisible chain tethered to your ankle and you were stuck with him for the rest of your life.

taglist: @punkgibsons @suyacho @tojjist @hitobaby @satmitsuplanet @litepowee @enchantedforest-network

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

Ectoberhaunt 2023. Day 17. Blood and Flesh.

CW: TW! Recurrent pregnancy loss. TW!Abortion. TW!Bleeding

Maddie: Jack, we need to talk. I know this is gonna sound crazy but I think Phantom, the ghost boy, is actually our son. And I’m sure Danny and Jazz know about it too.

What if we bring down on the Fentons the knowledge that they have ghost children without revealing Phantom’s identity?

Text+Chat+Memes=Prompt:

Of course Maddie wanted to have children. But…Not in college. She felt it was too soon. The lack of stable earnings and time were not conditions for growing a new person. She had nothing to give this potential child. Maddie did not hesitate long before deciding to have an abortion.

And for years, neither Jack nor Maddie have thought about this unplanned pregnancy.

Ectoplasm is toxic, obviously. But since ectology was only recently recognized by the scientific community, no one has ever fully analysed the effects of ectoplasm on the body.

When Maddie and Jack had the misfortune to become one of those couples experiencing recurrent pregnancy loss, they immediately suspected that the ectoplasm in their lab contributed to their reproductive difficulty. Put simply, death didn’t go with life.

They may not always have followed the lab’s safety rules perfectly, but is that why one of their first works will be exposing a teratogenic effect of ectoplasm? What if they’ve lost their only chance to be biological parents?

What a cruel price to pay for the work of life. Jack and Maddie so dreamed of their little happiness. Do they have to forget about it?

No, the Fentons don’t give up that easily!

They may have to spend a few years doing only theoretical work, but they’ll try again.

~~~~~

Ectoplasm is toxic. Tests, hopes…and a few miscarriages too.

Jazz was a miracle. Fenton family literally didn’t get out of hospitals to look after her health.

Danny was an even bigger miracle, because they didn’t have any hope of having a second child. Maddie and Jack didn’t even plan this pregnancy. Danny was born premature, with signs of hypoxia... but alive. His potential twin was not so lucky. Single intrauterine fetal death (sIUFD).

Right. Death still followed them. Of course, parents didn’t tell Jazz and Danny that they might have had another brother. It was their grief. Children had no reason to know about it.

~~~~~

"You filthy ghost!" Maddie stopped to rest after a chase for elder Phantom.

"Exhausted?" Dan was flying at a safe distance from her. "Maybe it’s time to retire, Maddie? A little exercise never stopped you before." The ghost was clearly making fun of her.

"Not going to happen, I’ll do it until I die if Amity Park need it. And my son will be here to stop you instead of me after me or Jack."

The smile on Ghost’s face faded immediately. "I hope he die first." The ghost whispered in a hoarse voice."It's best for everyone."

"What did you say?" Maddie rose up in anger, pointing her weapon at it.

"Has any thought crossed your mind about what happens to your children if anything happens to you? Go out every day and yell like idiots, attracting all the ghosts around." An ectoblast is blowing right up against her temple and crashing into the wall. The ghost frowned and turned away. "Did you ever think that Danny wouldn’t want to live without you? Did you think that he would be hurt if he had to lose you? No! Is it always about your stupid desires and ambitions, Mom."

For a moment Maddie thought he it was looking at her like it had seen a ghost, which was obviously just ridiculous. Maddie wanted to laugh about it, but somehow she couldn’t. Why would the ghost trying to fake human emotion care to hide the tears that gather in the corners of its eyes?

Maddie tried to get it out of her head. Anyway, it’s not that important. Phantoms have always been atypical. She’ll come home, take a warm shower, and tell Danny how much she loves him.

~~~~~

Maddie: My son is a strong boy and Dan: He’s weak! He’s a freak! He can’t handle it, Mom!

Maddie had long pondered this theory since the day Jack admitted that Phantom had misspoke during the fight and called him his father but she had never experienced it before. Or maybe she wasn’t paying attention.

Maddie: Hey, Phantom, just a question, how old are you? Dan: Why are you changing the subject? Twenty-four, twenty-five… Hell, I don’t remember. Stopped counting after 17, nobody cares anyway. And her first months dating Jack were 24 years ago. Right. The eyebrows, the shape of eyes and the height is all from Jack. The waist and the side eye from her. Theoretically. Still need more proof.

~~~~~~

Dan: Is this all your frail human form can do?

Maddie walked past the Casper High playground when she saw a ghost flying around. It was one of the new ones. The Phantom’s full-grown specimen. More dangerous. And totally unpredictable. Maddie squeezed the gun harder. Her theories are just theories and she can’t have such a dangerous spirit near the school, near her children.

Danny: Shut up and give me my bottle of water, asshole.

This voice. Maddie stopped in shock. What’s her boy doing so close to a ghost? He’s always so terrified of them.

Dan: No pull-ups, no water. You need muscles. Without them you’re gonna look like a worm if you’re gonna grow up to be taller than Jack as I am.

Danny: Just so you know, you’re a terrible big brother and I hate you.

Dan: Well, that just means I’m doing a good job.

Danny: When Mom asks who destroyed the furniture in Vlad’s house I’m pointing at you. A little run around town will be good for you. And as they say, Older siblings are like your parents' personal science fair. They're a bunch of experiments.

Dan: ...Just so you know, it sounded completely insane. Terrible. Good job, but don’t go near Dani with those jokes. Jazz will kill us both for setting a bad example. Danny: Bad example? Since when has a good sense of humor become a bad example? Dan: Shut up. Drink water and go to the shower. Jazz is gonna kick my ass if you die of overheating.

Danny: Huh, afraid of one know-it-all? When dad chased you with a bazooka, you didn’t seem scared.

Dan: Сome on, dad has a lot of strengths, yeah, but the ability to aim isn't one of them. And not

Dani: driving a car?

Danny: Right. Wait, how long have you been eavesdropping? Dani: Long enough to blackmail you both. Сomputer’s mine for the rest of the week. Dan and Danny: Shit.

~~~~~

The Invisobill. or Phantom. Ha. Danny Fenton…Danny Phantom. Weston boy said crazy things. Yeah. But what if he was only partially wrong? Everything except the color of its eyes and hair is so much like Danny's. If this were typical manipulation from a ghost hoping to shake the desire of ghost hunters to chase a creature similar to their child, he would have had to give it up months ago. But phantom did not change his disguise. This is his true form. What about ghost girl and older ghost? They are also so young.

Maddie could not sleep. In her head struggled scientist and woman weighed down by feelings of guilt and shame. She was tormented by philosophical problems and religious issues. No, Maddie, not even a neural tube is formed at that time. It was just a collection of cells. It’s not a person. It doesn’t feel pain. And ghosts do not too. Right? Is it even acceptable to compare such things? Is it possible that a ghost is not the remnant of negative human emotions and memories? What is responsible for its formation then? What is the purpose of such a ghost? And more importantly, how long have these ghosts been near and they did not notice? Has the portal become a source of energy necessary for their existence in the physical plane? Or is it only they who have not seen them?

So painful. It’s so unpleasant to think about what monsters they look like to their dear Danny and Jazz. Ghosts or not, she threatened creatures who might have been part of their family in front of her babies. God, naive teens must think that three Phantoms are their siblings or something. Of course! That explains the disappearance of fenton thermos and the way the Phantoms sneak into the portal and Danny’s always somewhere in trouble and…Oh my God, they could be in so much danger! How long has this been going on? No, the real question is..Hm, if this is going on for so long, why haven’t the ghosts done anything…evil? If their nature is in the destruction then why didn’t anything happen? Jack and she would never have missed something that would hurt their children.

~~~~~~

The fight between the Skulker and Invisobill was particularly fierce this time. Maddie was unlucky to be in one of the damaged buildings. But who is she if not a scientist? She will find a way to benefit in such a situation.

Unnecessary risk, completely unprofessional. But… The debris of the wall does not lie on her very tightly and the weapon still with Maddie. Yeah. She has to test her theory. She has to. She can get up and leave if she needs to. Right? A little dizziness never killed anyone. She just feels cold and sounds are strange. Maddie: Help. Help! Someone! M-Maddie? An insecure voice with an echo sounds. Yes, it's near. Maddie: Help! I can’t.. I can’t get up. T-Hard to breathe. Danny: Mum! Mama, hold on, I’m coming.

Phantom checks her pupillary reflex. Who taught him that? Jazz? The touch of his hand, so cold and shaky. Now Maddie really doesn't feel so good. It’s good that the ghost is her boy. She doesn’t have to worry about anything happening to people around. Neither he nor Danny know how to lie. She can breathe. Just cover her eyes for a moment and… Just a few seconds. Phantom:Jazz, Jazz! Call an ambulance. I don’t know what to do. I..I can’t just make mum intangible. What if she has a crush syndrome and I make it worse or… Her boy. Why is Danny so scared? Danny: Tucker, she is bleeding and she’s not responding to me and… Sshh, my little star, is all right. Mom just needs to lie down and rest a little.

~~~~~~

Maddie could not believe that she had actually passed out. But the time spent in the hospital gave her enough time to think about everything.

Maddie: Jack, we need to talk. I know this is gonna sound crazy but I think Phantom, the ghost boy, is actually our son. And I’m sure Danny and Jazz know about it too.

Jack: Honey, are you sure we don’t need to double-check if you have a concussion?

~~~~~~

Maddie and Jack decide to watch surveillance videos for the first time. After all, it concerns the safety of their children, they have the right to know what happens in the house in their absence. Especially when the ghosts are nearby. Children *live in their own sitcom*:

They have seen enough. Maddie decides to check chats on Jazz’s phone. It’s for their safety, only. She’s a good mother but what if the ghosts are up to something?

The chat was so..Teenage? And Chaotic. Normal? No, definitely not. How many times have they punished Danny unfairly? Did Jazz learn to lie and they didn’t even notice? And what the hell, why were they joking about dissection. It’s just awful. They need to talk immediately. No, it will look suspicious. They need to try to make contact with ghosts. And then they’ll all be grounded. All five.

Oh, and she thought two kids were a lot of work. How are they gonna handle three more with the bizarre biology ectology? Do they have hobbies, interests? They are definitely more complicated than theblob-ghosts. Was she wrong? Do they have emotions, a need for socialization? Can she trust her emotions in this matter?

~~~~Bonus~~~~

"What the hell happened to freak’s neck?!"

Danny: Um, excuse me, ma'am, he’s been doing Hatha yoga in India for years. Practice opens up amazing flexibility in the joints! Right, brother?

Dan: Fuck off.

Ma'am: Don’t take me for an idiot! What about his skin color then? Jack: You have something against my son’s tan? Dan: I told you going shopping with me was a bad idea. Dani: If you didn’t scare everyone around, it wouldn’t be so bad.

Dan:...I didn’t even try to do it this time. Why is she meddling?!

~~~Bonus~~~~

Dan: Why am I only third? Dani: Because I have successfully stabbed Danny in the back when he did not expect it. With you he is always waiting for a trick. This makes me much more successful than you :)

[cdyssey]

It's that tiny, baby goat named Bruce being brown and furry, like the pelt Shauna Shipman wrapped her dead baby in.

It's the fact that it's a boy goat too.

It's her immediate and irrational fear—upon even hearing the word sacrifice—that she's going to have to kill the kid. The goat. The baby. This precious, innocent life in her care. Because everything she loves gets taken away from her, doesn't it?

All her fault.

Every last bit of it.

She can't have anything that she doesn't eventually hurt.

(And yes, it's about Jackie. It's always about Jackie, even when she swears that it's not. Jackie, her first victim. Jackie, her first love.)

(She's wearing her shirt in this episode. She's wearing her life in this whole damn series.)

It's her sitting alone in the woods, disassociating, triggered by a goddamn goat, and it's her utter panic when she realizes that he's missing.

It's Misty telling her, “Well, you’re not that innocent either.”

And it's her so bitterly replying, “Do you think I don’t know that?” as she frantically searches for Bruce, yet another living creature that she thinks she’s failed.

It's the tenderness with which she holds him when she finds him again, mothering him so gently. She tells him—this goat—that he's delusional and dumb if he thinks she's gonna hold him all day, but then she fucking does it! She holds him! She cradles him to her chest like a baby, and it's so lovely.

But it's so, so sad too.

Because it's her pleading with the barn worker to make sure that the goat is okay; she doesn't trust her ability to take care of him; she'll fucking lose it if he gets hurt in her care.

And it's this guy robotically replying, "The kid’s care is entwined with your own." And it’s the way that Shauna's pupils immediately blow, and we intimately understand—well before she tells Lottie—that she's thinking about that baby in the woods.

And she's thinking about Callie.

And she's thinking that if this much is true—if her ability to care for herself is the metric by which she can care for a kid—then, of course, her children are so totally fucked.

With her as a mother, they were doomed from the very start.

(Relatedly, it’s Melanie Lynskey saying in an interview: “I don’t think Shauna’s really disappointed in people. I think she’s disappointed in herself. She takes things out on herself, and she just feels kind of fundamentally unlovable.”)

It’s her confrontation with Lottie, which is charged with their fraught and bloody past, by Lottie's obsession with the wilderness baby, by the dream where the baby is cannibalized, by Lottie's willingness to become both Shauna's punching bag and martyr.

It's the tears that run down her face as she says, as she confesses:

"I’m not crying about the goat. I don’t really know, um, what’s happening right now. Um, I think it’s just that I’ve always kept my daughter, you know, Callie, like, at arm’s length. I think just out of fear that she would… die, I guess. Or maybe that she was never even real to begin with. I don’t know. I try to tell myself it’s okay. That I’m safe to… to think of her as-as mine, you know, and to just be her mom. But I think something is broken, Lottie. I just can’t do it.

God, it’s how every line of this monologue is so fucking broken and raw. She told that bastard cop that she's just not very good at loving her daughter, and here is both the reason why and the brutal extent. In the woods, her baby died, but for just a brief moment, in the tantalizing spaces of that dream turned hellish nightmare, he lived. But then he died again; he was consumed; or was he?

No.

Abso-fucking-lutely-yes, but not in the way that Shauna could have ever conceived.

Because this is the idea that she can't think of Callie as her own when that first baby was never hers either.

Not really.

Our baby, Lottie had called him. He was their communal savior, their shining hope, their personal Jesus who didn’t live.

And Shauna's singular moment alone with him had been a cruel fantasy too.

It's her murderous rage at his death, the violence that such grief engenders in her, which in and of itself is an echo of Misty's Steel Magnolias monologue—the way she wants to hit someone until they feel as bad as they do.

It’s how she can't allow herself to love Callie completely because of her fundamental incapacity to discern reality from the nightmare. In the cabin, she accuses them all of killing her baby. Every goddamn day she fears that her daughter will die, if she even exists at all.

It's the panic in her eyes when she clutches the phone and asks Jeff if Callie is okay all the same.

Because that's her first instinct, her immediate assumption.

That something with her daughter is horribly wrong.

And that's the crux in the end, the horrible conclusion to all these frayed and tangled threads.

Something going wrong is the only reality that Shauna Shipman can ever reliably count upon. The entirety of her life is an open, gushing wound.

[sibylsleaves]

Ok since you talked about conflict: what do you think their arguments will look like!!! (The first one and then perhaps the ones after)

oh i do believe their first fight is messy af!!! Because I think the only time we really have seen conflict between them has been during the Lawsuit era, which was so long ago and relatively early in their relationship, and then like little hints of it in s5 (in 5x01 with the panic attack stuff, and kind of in 5x10 with Eddie basically shutting Buck down about coming back to the 118).

And I think fundamentally they would HATE arguing. Like they are ALWAYS on the same team and I think it would be excruciating for both of them to be at odds with one another, so I think even a relatively small disagreement about something could easily blow up into something way bigger because one, or most likely BOTH, of them try to bury it and ignore it and pretend everything's fine because how can they not be on the same side about something??? and then when they refuse to address it it just gets bigger and bigger and their first fight is like...this kind of catastrophic explosion.

(omg sorry putting the rest under a readmore because this got so long...)

Like not screaming at each other or anything like that, but like their argument gets out of hand and one or both of them have to remove themselves from the situation and a little part of them is like is this it? is this where it ends? what if we really weren't ever meant to get together what if we really were better as friends? We NEVER fought when we were just best friends maybe this is too much for us...and then they get some Wise Perspective from someone or they have a classic Call That Mirrors Our Current Conflict moment and they're like wait. we're being stupid. yeah maybe we're fighting right now but we also both want to fight FOR each other and FOR this relationship.

I do think one of their early if not their earliest fights might be something about Eddie keeping something from Buck--not something nefarious at all, but something where it's Eddie basically processing or refusing to process something and not letting Buck in on the processing/lack thereof and Buck finds out and gets upset because when Eddie keeps things from him BAD THINGS HAPPEN. And Buck LOVES to fix things and Eddie loves that he wants to (comes in handy when you've got a bunch of holes in your walls...) but also he doesn't want to admit that there's anything TO fix and also, maybe this isn't something that can just be FIXED.

Just spitballing but maybe it's that Eddie is avoiding telling his parents about Buck and it's not that Buck needs him to do that but that Eddie is HIDING the fact that he hasn't told his parents FROM Buck because he doesn't want to admit how scary it is to come out to them and also to possibly open up this relationship (that he feels SO sure of and SO happy in) to the judgement of his parents who, for all the progress they've made HAVE proven themselves to be judgmental in the past. And Eddie thinks Buck is going to be hurt and disappointed that he hasn't told his parents but Buck is just hurt and sad that Eddie hasn't shared his feelings about the situation with Buck. (This also fits into my desire to see the friction of like, here's something i would've shared with you without question before we got together but now we ARE together and you are the SUBJECT of the thing I would previously have been sharing with you as like a friend/third party to the situation). Cue the Diaz parents showing up unexpectedly for a surprise visit and it all goes to hell. and i for sure think their future arguments get messy not just for them but also for the entire firehouse. because you know who loves oversharing about their relationship problems at work??? BUCK. and you know who hates talking about his problems and wants to pretend they don't exit? EDDIE "I don't panic" DIAZ. So I do think their little tiffs tend to bleed out and affect everyone on the team (but important to note I don't think they let it affect them on calls, it's more just a general disruption of the Team Vibe like in the truck/at the station because they can't stop sniping at each other). Like I think we'd see something very similar to how pissy Buck was with Eddie in 5x01 and Eddie being like BUCK FOR GODS SAKE and Hen and Chim are like 🍿🍿🍿 and Ravi is like. traumatized because everytime Buck is upset with Eddie somehow HE gets punished for it. and maybe even Chim and Maddie end up in their own argument because they disagree about who is in the wrong in the Eddie/Buck conflict (who is siding with whom...now that's the real question...but for the record in my head Chim is on Buck's side and he is FLABBERGHASTED that Maddie wouldn't take her own brother's side!!! But Maddie and Eddie are so similar so she REALLY empathizes with him in this situation and also she's ALWAYS primed and ready to call Buck out for being a dumbass.) I could see this being played for laughs and/or also as part of a larger conflict about Buck and Eddie being allowed to work together on the same shift. Like maybe it's kind of played somewhat comedically at first and then they like, resolve their fight in some cute way but Bobby still sits them down and is like you have GOT to figure out how to fight as a couple without dragging us all into it. Or you can't work together anymore. I'm so serious.

And Buck and Eddie are like what are you talking about we're all good now!! we love each other everything's great! And Bobby is like *stares directly at the camera* oh so you're never going to have another conflict again for the rest of your lives?

And then Buck starts thinking about how HES GONNA SPEND THE REST OF HIS LIFE WITH EDDIE AND HOW AMAZING IS THAT--sorry I'm getting distracted.

But anyway. Yeah. I think it's a process and they have to actually sit down together and figure out how they're going to handle conflict going forward because as much as they love each other and as much as it KILLS THEM to fight, no relationship is perfect at all times, even theirs.

[sunrise-imagines]

I know this is a sad one, but could you write about the reader and Finn in their twenties, and they've been in a relationship for a long time. And as Jake is getting older, He knows that he's not gonna be there for finn. jake also knows that his death would be pretty hard on finn, so he pulls the reader aside on one of their adventures and asked her to always watch over fin when he is gone.

Asyrshhfv this is so sad but I love it! I’m trying to get out of my comfort zone with formatting so this will be written like a more traditional imagine instead of my usual bulleted style. Hope you like it!

TW: Mention of death, angst and comfort

Finn Mertens x Reader Jake’s Request

The three of you were walking through a dense forest. Princess Bubblegum had tasked you with hunting down a large beast that had been terrorizing villages around the area, and with Jake sense of smell you were able to follow it’s path through the woods.

Though in the past Jake would become big and simply carry you guys above the brush, using his powers started to take more of a toll on his body as he got older, so now he started limiting large amounts of stretching to combat only.

Finn sighs, “We’ve been walking for a while now. I think we should set up camp for the night and rest up.”

Jake tries to protest, “Nah man I’m good! We gotta follow the trail while it’s still ho-“ He’s cut off by a fit of coughs, concerning you and Finn, who goes over to put a hand on his brother’s back.

Once the coughing subsides, Jakes sighs and admits, “Yeah, you’re right. I could use a break.” He smiles at Finn, trying to reassure him, although Finn is clearly still worried.

You and Finn set up a campfire and a couple logs to sit on while Jake takes a minute to breathe.

“Hey Finn, why don’t you go get some more fire wood while Y/N and I start on dinner?” Jake suggests out of the blue. Finn gives him another worried look, about to protest, but Jake motions for him to go and he relents, leaving the two of you alone by the fire.

Rummaging through Finn’s pack, he hands you a small knife and some veggies in a bag, “Cut these up for me, will ya?” You nod and get to work, sitting in silence for a few minutes.

Jake awkwardly clears his throat, trying to lighten the mood a little, “So uh, how’s living together been for ya?” He asks while he pours some canned soup into the pot.

You look up from your task of peeling potatoes, “O-Oh, it’s been good! To be honest I was a little nervous at first, but now that we’ve decorated and stuff the house really feels like our own, you know?”

Jake laughs, “Yeah I get it. I felt the same way movin’ in with Lady. I really missed the treehouse for a while but after that it was like I couldn’t imagine livin’ anywhere else.” He reaches into Finn’s bag and adds some spices he brought to the mix, stirring it around with a wooden spoon.

“I’m also glad I don’t have to hear you guys gettin’ it on anymore.” You feel the wind get knocked out of you at his words, gasping for air as Jake laughs at your expense. Warmth spreads across your cheeks as you avoid his gaze.

“You’re really good for him, you know? Like, I’ve seen him date tons of different people, but you’re the only one that he’s ever been like, REALLY happy with. Usually Finn keeps a little distance from people, even from me sometimes, but it seems like he trusts you.” Jakes muses as he brings out a few bowls, pouring some soup in before handing one to you. You thank him and blow on the hot liquid, bringing a spoonful to your lips and savoring the hearty flavor.

As you look up you notice the solemn expression on Jake’s face, stirring his bowl of soup absentmindedly. “What’s wrong?” You ask.

He sighs before he starts to explain, “So…remember when I went to see Doctor Princess a few weeks ago? And I said I was just going cause my stomach hurt?”

You nod, putting down your bowl to listen more intently.

Jake scratches the back of his head as he continues, “Well, it turns out it was a little more serious than that. Like a lot more serious than that. I’m still doing okay for now, but from what she told me, I don’t think I’m gonna get better this time.”

Your eyes widen as you take in what Jake just said to you. Since you were a kid, he had always been a constant in your life, looking out for you and Finn no matter what. You couldn’t imagine life without him, but now you were faced with the very real situation that he wouldn’t be around anymore. “Jake, I…oh my Glob.” You struggle for words as you try to rationalize your scrambled thoughts.

Jake stretches his hand and puts it on your shoulder, “Listen, I know it’s a lot, and I don’t mean to make you sad, but…I wanted to ask you a favor.”

You nod and take his paw, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, “Anything.”

Jake continues, “When I’m gone…promise to look after Finn for me, okay? I love him, but…he can be real stubborn n’ stupid. Whatever happens, make sure he doesn’t end up beating himself up.” His voice wavers a bit towards the end, and it’s clear just how much he cares for his brother.

You smile at him sadly, simply replying with, “Of course.”

Jake smiles back, “Thanks kiddo. There isn’t anyone I’d rather ask.” He balls up his fist, and you bump it with your own. In a sudden motion, you jump up from your seat, running over and hugging him tightly.

Jake flinches in surprise, but after a second closes his eyes and hugs you back. In this moment, he feels peace in knowing that you and Finn have each other, and that even when he’s gone, you both will be okay.

-

AN: WE’RE SO BACK Y’ALL. I started this fic a while ago and finally got the inspiration to finish it. I hope you enjoy!

[corruptedcaps]

The Plan

Ok, so let's go over the plan. We will use this machine that you made to steal one of Britney's attributes, something like her manicured nails. This will hopefully make her less mean. I mean, have you seen how she acts? It's like she's always looking down on everyone. And her nails are always so perfect, like she thinks she's better than everyone else. Well, not anymore! Once we take away her manicured nails, maybe she'll realize that she's not so special after all. Plus, it'll be a little payback for all the times she's made fun of us. Just imagine her reaction when she sees her nails disappear! It's going to be priceless.

Oh my gosh, can you believe it? Britney is still just as mean! She went back to the nail salon and got her nails done again. Ugh! It's like she never learned her lesson. But hey, on the bright side, I received her stolen nails, and I must say, I love how they look on me. They make me feel powerful, like I have a piece of her confidence. Anyway, we can't stop here. We need to take something more permanent from her. How about her 20/20 vision? Imagine how lost she'll be without it. Let's make her see the world in a whole new way, or rather, a blurry way. It's time for revenge!

Oh, come on! This is ridiculous! Now Britney has become even more stylish because she has to wear glasses. And what's worse is that everyone wants to wear glasses just to mimic her! It's like she can turn anything into a fashion statement. But hey, ironically, I don't have to wear glasses because I received Britney's good eyesight. Talk about a twist of fate. Well, enough is enough. It's time to hit her where it hurts the most—her beauty. Let's start by taking away her precious tan. Without her golden glow, she won't be able to rely on her looks anymore. Revenge is sweeter than a suntan!

Finally, we're starting to see some results. Britney seems to be less confident and less mean. It's like a small crack in her queen bee facade, but hey, it's a start. Maybe taking away her attributes is actually working. As for me, I can't help but admire my new tan, courtesy of Britney. It's absolutely flawless! I mean, look at how radiant and sun-kissed my skin is. I almost feel bad for taking pleasure in it, but hey, she had it coming. Now let's keep going. We need to strip her of more of her beauty and watch her crumble. Revenge never felt so satisfying.

Hey, quick question. How does my new blonde hair look? Wait, don't even answer. I already know it looks absolutely gorgeous! I can't help but feel amazing with this luscious, golden mane. And guess what? Britney now has dull brown hair as a result. Talk about a style downgrade for her. It's just another blow to her once-perfect image. I can't wait to see the look on her face when she realizes what she's lost. But hey, enough about her. Let's keep going. We have more of her beauty to take away, and I'm loving every minute of it.

I have to say, I absolutely love my new boobs. Thanks, Britney! They make me feel so sexy and superior. But you know what's interesting? Despite all the physical downgrades we've inflicted upon her, Britney is still mean and cruel. It's like her personality is untouched by our efforts. Maybe we've been focusing on the wrong things. Perhaps it's time to go straight to the source and take away her mean, haughty attitude. That's what we should have done from the start. Let's strip her of that toxic demeanor and finally bring her down a peg or two.

You know what? I've had a revelation. I've absorbed Britney's delicious toxic personality, and guess what? I've become the new queen bee. And let me tell you, it feels incredible. I revel in the power, the control, the superiority. Change back? Why would I ever want to change back? You, my oldest and ugliest friend, suggesting such a thing, clearly are jealous. You want all this for yourself. Well too bad because I’ve destroyed the machine because I'm here to stay. You can either bow down or step aside, because I'm the new alpha now. Now I’m off to steal something the machine never could, Britney’s boyfriend. It’s good being the queen.

[webslingingslasher]

your angst satisfies the part of me that loves to hurt my own feelings :,) i was wondering if you could write another argument fic? maybe including florence pugh’s “stop it you’re being mean” line from little women?

i feel like she's lacking.... but i dont know where.

“If we’re really being honest here, honey, I don’t think that’s what it’s about, at all.”

Peter could be real condescending at times. 

“Oh, please let me know what I’m thinking, you love to project it!” 

“You do this all the time! You always start something when it’s really about another, but you’re too chicken shit to say it!” 

“Look out! Here comes the fucking hero, don’t worry it’s his kink to fix everything so you’re endowed to him forever!” 

That just cut deep for him, it’s one to call him out, it’s another to attack his character. 

“That’s a low blow, even for you. It’s not my fault you can’t say sorry, you know you were wrong.” Peter pointed at you with each statement. 

He was right, it was a low blow. But he’s not making this easier, you know you’re wrong but if you admit defeat he will get to wear this prideful smirk that would make you rather suffer through the fight. 

“Maybe I could admit when I’m wrong if you didn’t get so amused by it.” You cross your arms and blink toughly, Peter frowns a little. 

“I don’t do that,” his tone is taken aback, and maybe if you weren’t so self involved at the moment you could see Peter was done fighting, it had moved off topic and now you were just pummeling him. 

“Oh yes you do! You love when I say I’m wrong cause then you get to wave your arrogant little face around!” Why are you doing this? It’s making it worse, why are you treating him this way? You’re only hurting him further. 

“You’re getting off topic, we’re not talking about me right now.” He’s trying to fix your derailment, also save himself from more beratement. 

“Maybe we should, cause now that we’re talking I have some things to say.” This was coming from nowhere, why were you so upset? It was a fight over nothing, even Peter called it, it wasn’t about that at all. 

“Do we have to do it now? When you’re all riled up from me being upset with you, and you know you’re going to say things you’ll apologize for later?” Peter does have reasoning, and he is right, but why does he always think he’s right. 

“Yeah! Because, because, you’re entitled.” You point at him like a child. 

“How am I entitled?” 

“You think you’re always right! I can never disagree or hold my own opinion, you just command and expect me to do. And you’re always making those judgy eyes at me, like right now! You think I’m wrong right now.” 

Peter sighs, “yeah, I do. We should take a breather, maybe take some space.” 

You scoff, “yup, typical Peter. Let's just run from our problems like you always fucking do, because our problems are not our problems, you make them my problem.” 

Peter just can’t help but blink at you, he’s about to walk out. He doesn’t know if that's treacherous territory yet. 

“Y/N, you really need to cool it.” 

Somehow his calmness makes it worse, he’s playing chill because he knows he’s right. Maybe that’s what it is. 

“Mr. Know it all is here! He knows what’s best for our relationship at all times, he better keep me in line! If he doesn’t all these other guys can take me from a puss-” 

His voice is loud and sharp, the extremely rare tone he takes up with you. 

“Stop it, you’re being mean.” 

And somehow that works, you weren’t being angry, you weren’t defending your space, you weren’t protecting your own back, he wasn’t spitting fury back, you were just being plain ol’ mean. And for what? 

Your tone is taken aback, you nearly stutter. 

“Am I?” 

Gruff tone, still upset. “Very.” 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why.” 

“No, I think you do.” 

“I was wrong, and I knew it. And so did you, and I didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of being right. You always win the fights, I never do.” 

Peter’s shoulders slump, “you don’t win fights by hurting and belittling your partner.” 

You blink at tears, you just berated him and you feel bad? Get it together. 

“I didn’t mean it! I promise, I was just making shit up.” 

He leaned up against a wall, “I gotta be honest, baby, that doesn’t make me feel better. You didn’t even believe what you were saying, you just wanted to hurt me.” 

Peter backed you into a corner, he was right.

You shake your head back and forth, “I know. That’s really, really shitty on my end. I wasn’t thinking right, I don’t want to be mean towards you, ever.” 

He looks you up and down, you do look downright apologetic, you look like you feel terrible. 

“Good, do it again and I’ll cry. Now come give me a hug, meanie.  

[plussizefantasia]

The Surprise

Flufftober Day 20: Hiking

Thorin Oakenshield x reader

Word Count: 2.1k

AN: Day 20! Wow, if I'm totally honest I didn't think that I'd make it this far. Feedback and Reblogs mean a lot. I'll see y'all tomorrow.

divider credit: @royallaesthetics

“You’ve not been yourself for quite a while my love. Tell me what troubles you.” Thorin had been more irritable than normal lately. He had taken to sparring more than normal and had been extremely short with some of the more resistant members of his council.

“It is nothing Ghivashel, do not worry your precious head about me.”

“I’ll always worry about you Thorin, that is what being your wife means.” You pulled him into your arms and looked into his eyes. “You are my heart, and when you hurt, I hurt. So let me lift your burdens.”

“Do you miss it?” Was his questioning response. 

“Miss what, Thorin?”

“Being free. The adventures that we had before we reclaimed the mountain. Slaying beasts and journeying with our closest friends.” He was wistful when he spoke of these things. His voice was soft and his eyes were glazed over. 

“Of course I miss it my love, but who is to say that it has to be over?”

His eyes met yours. “I have far too much to do. I cannot just leave the mountain to go on an adventure, not while things are still so fragile.”

“Well, yes. You cannot go on another year-long journey to reclaim our homeland. But you can take the weekend. The council is at an impasse as it is and Bard and Thranduil are not due to return for negotiations for another month.” You kissed his head. “Thorin you have done enough that I know the mountain will not fall apart if you were to leave for a short while.”

“But what kind of King would I be if I abandoned my people?”

“My love, you are not abandoning them, you are taking care of yourself. You are letting yourself blow off some steam so that when you come back you will be an even better King than you are now.”

“It is just not possible Ghivasel. I must put these thoughts far from my mind.”

“If that is what you think is best.” You sighed. Your husband was not one to be easily swayed, even by you. 

Your thoughts began to race though, thinking of all the ways that you could improve your lover’s mood and what would need to be taken care of before that could happen.

The next few days passed similarly to the ones before your conversation with Thorin. He was up before you were and returned to your shared chambers after you had already gotten ready for sleep. His mood only got worse and you decided that something needed to give. Which is why the next morning after you had awoken, once again to your husband’s side of the bed already cold, you had sought out Balin for a discussion during breakfast.

You had found him in the royal library, where he usually resided in the early morning. Nursing a cup of tea and flipping through pages of an old tome. 

“Balin, I need to discuss something with you old friend.”

“Anything, for my Queen.”

“I was your friend long before I was your Queen” You pointed out.

“Perhaps but, I knew you’d be Queen before even Thorin did.”

“That is precisely who I’m here to speak to you about.” Balin put his book down on the table next to him, turning his aging body towards yours fully, and gestured for you to take a seat. “Thorin is troubled. He misses the journey and the freedom that came with it. I do not doubt that he loves being King, but he needs to be just Thorin sometimes too.”

“I have noticed that Thorin has been more easily angered as of late. What do you have in mind?” 

“I’m so glad you asked.” You detailed your plan to Balin and bounced ideas of the old dwarf until the sun had reached its peak in the sky. Both of you had accidentally neglected your duties of the morning and spent the rest of the day playing catch-up. Any dwarf that saw the two of you in passing though, could only describe the two of you as possibly giddy.

Two weeks passed before the plan could finally be put into motion. Two weeks of sneaking around behind Thorin’s back, wrapping up loose ends, and ensuring that the mountain would in fact, not implode during your weekend away. It was hard work, and by the end of it, you were very much aware of why Thorin had been so tense lately. It just made you want to surprise him with your gift even more.

The morning of the surprise you intentionally woke up extremely early. Early enough that you were up and ready before Throin was. You pulled together your outfit and his and ensured that both of your packs were properly stocked.

When he finally woke, the confusion on his face quickly morphed into alertness and concern. He practically launched himself out of the bed before his eyes landed on your body and he instantly relaxed.

“What in Mahal’s name are you doing up?” His morning voice was rough and insanely attractive, you had to remind yourself that you were on a schedule before you acted upon the thoughts that came rushing to you at his words.

“I have a surprise for you, and I needed to be awake before you to stop you from leaving before it was ready.”

“Ghivashel,” his tone was apologetic, “today is much too busy for any kind of surprise.”

“Except, my love, it is not. I have already taken care of your duties for the day, and have canceled the meeting you had with the miners guild this weekend in favor of a crafter’s summit later this month where all of the workers in the mountain will be able to discuss their dilemmas together.” 

“You, what?” He was baffled, truly baffled. How had you possibly done all this without him noticing?”

“The summit was Balin’s idea, he insisted that it would work and I hope he was right. Nevertheless, your schedule and mine are clear for the next three days and I have planned a surprise for you. Your clothes are laid out for you and I have already packed for the both of us. Breakfast is in the kitchen, meet me in the stables when you are ready. I still have a few things to prepare before it is time.” You instructed him. 

“Time for what?” He grabbed your wrist as you began to walk out past the wooden doors of your chamber. 

“Time for your surprise, my darling.” You kissed him soundly and continued your exit. Leaving a confused but hesitantly excited Thorin behind. 

While Thorin was getting ready, you headed to the kitchen yourself. To grab the basket full of the feast you had called upon the kitchen to prepare. A long with some dried bread and cheese to put in your sack. Then you made your way to the other hall of royal chambers to ensure that the princes were awake and getting ready. Those two could sleep through an orc attack if they were given the chance, and today you would not be giving them the chance. 

“If you mess this up. I will shave your mustache in your sleep Fili I mean it.” You had threatened the eldest. You found that it only ever took a threat to the eldest to make sure that the youngest also followed through. Kili was sure that whatever was done to Fili would be done to him twofold. And he wasn’t really wrong.

Once you had made sure that you had everything you would need you made your way to the stables. Hoping that you’d beat Thorin there, or that he actually would show up and not just insist that he needs to work anyway.

You didn’t see him when you arrived but it was still early so you didn’t feel the need to send out a search party. It was only a few moments later when you heard him turning the corner. In the time you had been there alone, you had managed to set up both your horse and Thorin’s. Packs laid across their back and saddled properly placed and laced up. 

“Ghivashel, what is this surprise you’ve planned for me? And why did we need to meet here to start.”

“I think I can tell you now, as long as you promise to not leave when you find out.”

“I promise my love, just tell me I beg you.”

“Remember my love, how a few weeks ago you had confided in me that you missed the journey. That you missed being free. Well, I spoke to Balin and we put together a plan that would let you be free, if only for a little while. We are going on a mini journey.”

“Love, This is… Thank you.” You’d never really seen Thorin be speechless before, he had always been a man of few words, but you don’t think you’ve ever seen him without any.

“I just want you to be happy, Thorin. You’ve been so stressed lately that I wanted to help you feel better.”

He pulled you into his arms and fiercely placed his lips upon yours. You melted into his kiss. His lips moved on yours in a passion, relaying all the thoughts that seemed to be trapped inside of his mind. He kissed you like he would never be able to kiss you again. When you finally broke apart you took a big breath and tried to control the dopey smile that was threatening to cross your face. 

“We have to get going. I have a plan and if you keep kissing me like that I’ll never be able to follow through.” You pulled away from him reluctantly and made your way towards your horse.

“After you.” 

The two of you rode for about an hour before the riding trail cleared and the pathway became too treacherous for the horses. 

“This is where we leave them. The rest of the way is one foot.”

Thorin and you dismounted and you let the horses off lead so that they could make their way back to the mountain without you. The two of you continued on foot with Thorin occasionally leading you through some rough terrain. You spent the entire day together, looking at wildlife and speaking about things that had nothing to do with the mountain or kingly duties.

You reminisced about the first journey, about Bofur’s ability to make a joke out of everything. Of Bilbo’s incessant fretting and how amusing it was to watch. You swapped stories and recounted battles the whole way. Only when you recognized where you were and that the final part of the surprise was almost there did you grab Thorin’s arm and stop him from going any further.

“Okay, we’re almost there. But I need to put this on you before we go any further. You pulled a long thin strip of black cloth from your pack.

“A blindfold? Ghivashel…”

“I know, I know but it won’t be long I promise.”

He sighed deeply and heavily but acquiesced. You tied the blindfold around his eyes and grabbed his hand. Leading him through the last of the few hurdles until you made it to the clearing where the last bit of the plan was waiting. 

“Surprise!” A yell called out around you and Thorin reached up to pull his blindfold off. The sight that awaited him was the entire rest of the company. All spread out across the clearing. Bombur was stirring a pot that was piked above the fire. Fili held Kili in a headlock and Kili struggled to escape. Dori, Nori, and Ori were all sat around some logs and were smiling at him.

Thorin turned to you and in his eyes, you could read adoration and thankfulness. He briefly left a kiss on your cheek before he let a smile cover the entirety of his face and started towards his friends. 

You stood behind watching your husband be the happiest he’s been in a very long time. His eyes were light and his shoulders were straight. For a few short moments, he was allowed to be Thorin Oakensheild, not King under the mountain. 

“This was a fine idea, My Queen.” You looked down to the left of you. Balin stood similarly to you, arms behind his back with a gentle smile across his face. 

“It was a great plan, Balin. I thank you for your help.”

“Anything for you, and for Thorin. He’s lucky to have you.”

“I’m lucky to have him.”