#Henry Cavill/OFC

[viking-raider]

Love At First Sight > Part One

Summary-> Henry finds himself standing at the altar for the celebrity version of Love at First Sight, where he marries Alexa. Once married, nearly every moment of their new life will be documented for a year.

But the real question is, will they be married at the end of that year?

Pairing-> Henry Cavill/OFC (Alexa)

Word Count-> 9.6k

Warnings-> PG: Arranged Marriage, Language, Banter, Alcohol

Inspiration-> Nick and Vanessa Lachey's Love is Blind on Netflix.

Author’s Note-> The correct post! Hopefully the next parts won't so long. Not doing a lo of warning. But there's not many to do. I hope you enjoy! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

-> If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST as well as my @VIKING-RAIDER-LIBRARY and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!’

–The Wedding–

Henry was terrified as he paced his dressing room, his shaking hands fiddling with the buttons of his suit jacket. He was dressed to the nines, in a dark blue, three-piece suit with a charcoal, button down dress shirt and black tie, sporting thin gold stripes. He glanced at himself in the mirror for the millionth time, seeing his neatly brushed curls that he'd cut the afternoon before in preparation for the event, and the smoothness of his cheeks, lightly adorned with his sandalwood aftershave.

“God, what have I gotten myself into?” He fretted, biting his bottom lip as he turned on the heels of his shining, black dress shoes, to pace the length of the room again. “Marrying someone, I don't know, with the world watching, then having our every moment followed afterward for the next year.” He felt his heart thunder harder.

Henry's agent had come to him, saying that a casting agent for a show about celebrities who marry each other, at first sight, on the altar, after the show's team of matchmakers, therapists, relationship experts and host of other people match them with each other. Once married, a small film crew would follow them around for a year, to see if they would stay married or divorce. At first, Henry declined the offer, four or five times. But, when his agent came back to him with the show's last offer, a week before his thirty-eighth birthday, Henry had been in a mood, feeling his 'clock' ticking on finding a wife on his own, after so many failed relationships, and starting a family.

So, he had impulsively said yes.

Now, eight months later, Henry was dressed in his wedding suit, waiting to be taken out to the altar so he could meet his future wife. Only knowing her first name, Alexa. He had tried to think of all the famous 'Alexa's' he knew, that had the potential to be paired with him, based on the criteria they'd given him. Such as not marrying him to a woman more than ten years his junior, but there were very few and he wasn't allowed to contact them to ask.

There was a soft knock on his door and Henry paused, turning as it opened and the crew member taking care of him popped their head in.

“We're ready for you, Mr. Cavill.” He smiled at Henry, giving him a warm and encouraging smile.

“Right.” Henry smiled back, trying to exude a calmness, following him out.

The crew member directed Henry to the stage, where they had set up the gorgeous altar, motioning to Henry's mark by the Humanist Chaplain, Preston Larson, who also offered a smile and slight nod.

“How are you?” He asked, in a low voice.

“Nervous.” Henry chuckled, smirking at him.

“I would be shocked, if you weren't!” Preston laughed back, reaching out to rest his hand on Henry's shoulder. “But it'll be great.” He told him, hoping to instill some confidence in him.

“I hope so.” Henry mumbled, taking a deep breath, his eyes moving towards the French doors he'd come through, watching the crew close them, signaling that things were starting to really progress and the moment of no return had come.

The assistant director behind the camera signaled and the wedding music started, sending Henry's heart into his throat. Everything he had been worrying over and thinking about for the last eight months rushed him. Who is she? What did she do for a living and how would it interact with his career as an actor? What did she look like? Would they get along and like each other? Or would they end up hating each other? They both had already signed a contract that stated they couldn't divorce or separate, until the one year mark, for the benefit of the show's content, and obviously the ratings. They could live apart, but that was about it. They would still be obligated to see each other for filming, however.

It would be a draw to see them struggle and argue, or just be cold and ignore one another.

The double doors opened and Henry felt his back straighten, his cerulean eyes widening a fraction as his soon-to-be wife appeared around the corner to stand in the doorway. He felt his thundering heart skip a beat and pause. He vaguely recognized her as one of the many 'Alexa's' he had looked up. She was Alexa Forsberg, a thirty year old musician from Norway. Alexa and her band were quite accomplished, having numerous albums and singles out, topping charts and going platinum. Henry was sure he even had a few of their songs on his Spotify playlist.

He thought she looked utterly gorgeous in her dress, as well. She was wearing an elegant lace, fit and flare, applique on tulle dress, that had a beaded and sheer illusion adorned with thin beaded spaghetti straps and a sweetheart neckline. Its finishes were a lace up back closure, matching lace embellished hem and a chapel length train. Her snow-white hair flowed down her back, but was adorned with beautiful braids. He also noticed her left arm, from the top of her shoulder to the crease of her elbow, was tattooed.

Alexa's nervous expression turned to one of surprise, seeing Henry standing at the altar, awaiting her. Of all the people she considered meeting at the altar, the amazing and handsome Henry Cavill was not on Alexa's list. Long or short. She figured he would have women climbing all over him, that he'd have someone in his life.

Seems not. She thought, slowly making her way towards the Brit, manic butterflies swarming her stomach.

Henry instinctively reached a hand out to her, as she reached him, momentarily forgetting the rolling cameras and the promotion photographers that were on them. Alexa smiled and took Henry's hand, feeling the gentle, but strong grasp he had on hers, the signet ring on his pinky cooling her heated skin. He smiled down at her, his blue orbs glittering in the lights, Alexa's knees formed into jelly as she stared up at him, feeling all of his attention on her, and only on her.

“Hi.” Henry greeted her quietly, feeling a jitter of another kind.

“Hi.” Alexa replied, grinning and shyly biting her bottom lip. “It's nice to meet you.” She giggled softly, blushing.

He laughed, his head bowing forward slightly. “It's great to meet you too.”

“Shall we?” Preston gently interrupted, smiling between the two of them.

Clearing his throat, Henry helped guide Alexa up onto the raised altar, before joining her. “I'm ready, if she is.”

Alexa took a deep breath and nodded. “I'm ready.” She said, smiling over at Henry.

Reaching over again, Henry took her hand and gave it a squeeze, knowing that they both were in this weird and strange situation together, wanting her to know he was there, even though they just met. Preston looked between them, sensing a bond forming between them, a rare occurrence on the already four complete seasons of the show. He had a small suspicion that Alexa and Henry could be one of the few successes.

“Today, Henry and Alexa, before I marry you today, it is my duty, before God, to remind you of the solemn and binding character of the vows you are about to take.” Preston declared, reciting from the small black book in his hands, before casting his kind, hazel eyes to Henry. “Henry Cavill, do you take Alexa Forsberg, to be your wife and do you promise to stay true to her, as long as both of you shall live?”

A small lump began to form in Henry's throat, before he felt the light pressure of Alexa's hand, it filled him with the courage and calm he needed, on the outside. “I do.” He nodded, glancing down at her, the smile on his lips widening, upon seeing hers.

Preston smiled at them both. “And Alexa, do you take Henry, to be your husband, will you honor and cherish him, as long as you both shall live?” He asked her, seeing a shy and nervous sparkle in her icy-blue eyes as she nodded.

“I do.” She answered, sounding positive.

“Do either of you have anything to say?” Preston asked, glancing between them.

“I know this is unconventional and we only just met,” Henry spoke up, biting his lip and glancing down at their joined hands. “But I promise to do right by you.” He swore, glancing back into her eyes.

Alexa melted, feeling the weight of his words. “I have all faith in you.” She replied, squeezing his hand. “And in us.”

Preston closed his book, hugging it to his chest as he regarded them. “Henry and Alexa, it gives me great pleasure to declare that you are legally husband and wife.” He announced, clapping.

It was a mindless impulse that caused Henry to carefully cup one side of Alexa's face in his large palm and lean in to kiss her. Not catching himself, until he felt his lips on hers and her momentary hesitation, before returning it. Pulling away, Henry took her hand again and they walked down the aisle, back towards the French doors and backstage, where they would get a little alone together, before doing interviews. After that, they'd be able to change out of their wedding outfits, so they could leave and head towards the airport, where they would fly to their destination honeymoon.

Which, at the moment, neither of them

They made it into the dressing room that connected theirs, with Henry's on the left and Alexa's on the right. It was decorated with roses and rose petals, a bottle of champagne on ice with two champagne glasses, their silver stems curved, so they formed a heart when side by side. Mr. Henry Cavill, Groom, engraved on one and Mrs. Alexa Cavill, Bride, engraved on the other.

Seeing the glasses solidified the situation even more to them.

“I'm sorry about kissing you.” Henry blurted out, carding a hand through his hair.

Alexa giggled, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink, her lips still tingled from the contact. “It's more than all right, Henry.” She assured him, moving over to take a seat and slip off the cut-out heels she was wearing. “I'm sure it's something we'll be doing more of.” She commented, looking up at him.

“True.” He nodded, moving towards the bubbly. “Are you thirsty?” He asked, motioning to it.

“I am.”

Peeling the gold foil off, Henry carefully popped the cork and poured her a half-glass, handing it over, before pouring himself one. “Can I ask, why did you decide to do this?” He inquired, taking a sip and moving to sit across from her.

Alexa blushed again and looked at her engraved name, considering his question for a moment. “I don't know.” She finally answered, her brow creasing as she searched for a better explanation. “Almost all of my brothers are married.” She said, finally taking a drink of champagne, enjoying the dry crispness. “The ones that aren't are either engaged or have kids. Then again,-” She laughed, shaking her head. “I say, almost, like two of them are old enough.”

“Wait.” Henry shook his head, confused. “How many siblings do you have?”

“Oh!” She smirked over at him, leaning back in her chair. “You have quite the gauntlet ahead of you. My parents had eight kids. Seven of which are all boys. Minus myself, obviously. I'm dead center, at number six, with my twin brother, Jakob.”

“Christ alive!” Henry gasped, eyes wide. “And I thought I had a lot of brothers, at four. Who's the oldest and youngest?”

“My brother, Erik, is the oldest. He's forty-four, and the youngest is Einar, who just turned eight.” She informed him, a fond smile on her face. “I can recite everyone else's names for you later.” She giggled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“You'll probably have to tell me a couple times, till I meet them.” Henry laughed back.

“True.” She nodded, amused. “But, I figured I should probably get into a relationship, before Einar beats me to it, and this came up. So, I thought, what's the worst that could happen? A divorce lawyer?” She quipped, but saw a glimpse of light in Henry's eye, telling her he didn't find it quite as funny. “Well, it can't go any worse than my previous relationship. How about you?”

Henry pressed his lips together and stared into his champagne, his shoulders stiff for a moment. “I was engaged once before, when I was in my late twenties, but it didn't work out.” He explained quietly, a sore strain in his voice. “I figured I would be married and have, at least, one kid by now. Yet,-” He heaved a heavy sigh, biting his lip. “Well, I don't. I originally turned the show down a couple times. But, as the thought of hitting forty soon, and not having either of those things, or one of them, hit me. I figured this was, sort of, my last chance at getting that dream, of having what my brothers have.”

He looked over at her, his brow creased and his eyes troubled and slightly glassy. “Do you want kids?” He asked, a worried bubble in his stomach, realizing Alexa could possibly not want to have children.

“I do.” She nodded, honestly, feeling the urge to get up and soothe him. “I'd like, at least, two.” She told him something never talked to anyone about her dream of children before. “Having an only child, being from a large family, is just an odd feeling and it doesn't seem right, knowing the bond siblings give each other.”

Henry felt a tightness that had wrapped around his chest, like a rubber band, snap with relief. “I feel the same way.” He smiled, licking his lips.

“So, where do you think they're sending us on our honeymoon?” Alexa asked, cocking a brow at the black gift box, wrapped in a deep-red satin ribbon-bow.

“Hopefully somewhere warm.” Henry laughed, remembering the pouring rain as he hurried out of the car to get into the building several hours before. Setting his glass aside and picking the box up, he balanced it in his palm, before carefully tugging the bow free and opening the lid.

Setting the lid on the table beside his champagne, Henry reached inside the box and pulled out a card with two plane tickets. “Looks like we'll be spending our two week long honeymoon at a sweet, little villa, in Tamarindo, Costa Rica.”

“Ooo.” Alexa cooed, finishing off her drink. “I haven't been to Costa Rica in a long time.”

“I've never been to Costa Rica.” Henry commented, setting the tickets aside.

“It's beautiful.” She smiled, fondly. “I'm sure you'll love it.”

“I'm sure I will.” He replied, smiling back at her, holding her eyes and felt a bubble and spark in the pit of his stomach, before shifting his gaze to her tattooed arm. He'd never dated a woman so heavily tattooed before, he did have a few exes with one or two in discreet places, but nothing like Alexa's half sleeve.

“Does my sleeve bother you?” Alexa asked, following his eyes.

Henry started, blinking rapidly to try and clear any expression that came across as disapproval or as if it would prevent him from being attracted to her. Which he was. “No!” He blurted out, quickly. “God, no.” He said, in a more natural tone. “It's just I've never been with a woman with such an intricate tattoo before. Two girlfriends I've dated that had tattoos, had them on their ankles. A butterfly and a little, blue heart.”

“This isn't my only tattoo.” Alexa chuckled at him, an amused and playful light in her blue eyes, holding her arms out to him, showing him the tattoos there.

Tattooed on the inside of her left wrist was a heart and pentagram combination, forming a Heartagram, the logo of the Finnish band, HIM. While on right arm, just below her elbow, on the inside, was an infinity symbol with a semicolon interrupting one side of the loop.

“I have a few other tattoos, one is on my back. It's Family, written in Ogham, or Middle Irish, surrounded by my family's zodiac constellations.” She explained to him, unconsciously reaching back to touch the general area where it was. “And what is actually my biggest, and arguably my most important, tattoo is actually on my side.” Alexa touched her left side, biting her lip and hoping she wasn't putting Henry off. “But it sort of branches out to my back and stomach.”

“What's that one?” Henry asked, curious.

“It's the tree of life, Yggdrasil.” She told him, with a sort of pride. “But it's also sort of combined with a Cherry Blossom tree. I love Cherry Blossom trees.” She confessed to him, beaming. “I suffer, I'll tell you this now, from chronic depression, and have since I was a kid. Winter, while has been, ironically, my favorite season, doesn't do wonders for my depression, with the dark and gloominess. But, there's always been this cool sweet spot to it, for me, because outside my flat, there are three Cherry Blossom trees. They're early blooming trees. They're sorta known for being the first sign of Spring being heralded in, and Winter ending.”

“Seeing those teeny, delicate flowers blooming, while everything is still rainy or snowy and dark, right outside my window, is such a breath of fresh air. Like, they're helping me out of my own winter.”

Henry softly nodded, his expression understanding and empathetic. “I can relate to that.”

“Yeah.” She mumbled, looking into her empty glass. “Anyway, I digress! My tattoo is Yggdrasil, but I have Cherry blossom flowers on the branches, with the leaves. The leaves and blossoms mean something, themselves. I add a leave for a person I've lost in my life, with their initials inside of it. While, with the cherry blossoms, I add a blossom for someone that's made an impact on my life. I don't have one for all of my family, I think that would clutter the entire tree.” She giggled, twisting the end of one of her braids. “But, I do have leaves and blossoms for my parents, siblings and grandparents. As well as, one of my uncles.”

“That's very deep.” Henry observed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, wondering if one day he'd have the honor to be one of the Cherry Blossoms.

“Have you ever considered getting a tattoo?” Alexa asked, cocking her head at him. “I know as an actor, it can be a pain for a wardrobe to cover up, if need be.”

“Yeah, they can be quite cross about things like that.” He laughed, nodding his head. “But, yeah, I have actually considered it. Especially, there's a company that can make tattoo ink from cremated ashes.” He explained to her, chewing on the inside of his lip. “I've thought about, when the time comes, to turn some of Kal's ashes into ink and get some sort of tattoo to honor him.”

“That would be so super sweet.” She smiled, warmed that Henry was so devoted to his dog.

“So, what did your parents think about you coming on this show, to marry some random celebrity?” Henry asked, smirking at her.

Alexa laughed, shaking her head with amusement, recalling her family's reaction to her telling them she would be doing the show. “They weren't thrilled. My brothers think I'm crazy and my parents think I should be finding a guy the traditional way. How about yours?”

“They were surprised, but they're supporting me.” He replied, looking down between his feet. “Especially if I end up happy.”

“Well,” Alexa lifted her glass to him. “Here's to us, hopefully, ending up happy together.” She smiled, holding his eye with an expression that told Henry she was being genuine.

“To us being happy together.” He echoed, raising his glass, gently touching their rims together.

There was a knock on the door and a crew member popped into the room, looking between Alexa and Henry, as if expecting to find them either sucking face, being cold and awkward with each other or arguing. But his face changed to one of pleasant surprise, finding them sitting easily with each other, enjoying the bubbly.

“We're ready to start the interviews.” He informed them. “Who wants to go first?”

“Why don't you go first?” Henry suggested, looking at Alexa. “That way, you have more time to keep your heels off.” He said, looking down at her feet, seeing the rosy marks from the heels straps pressing into her feet and the slight swelling, puffiness.

“Thanks.” She smiled at him, grateful for the gesture, since her feet were starting to kill her, standing and following the crew member out of the room and down the hall, where they had a little room set up for the interviews.

Henry got up and poured himself a fresh glass of champagne, before crossing over to his dressing room, while he waited for his wife to return.

– Alexa’s Interview –

Alexa got comfortable on the seat in front of the black and red, damask backdrop they were using to narrow the room and keep the focus on her, with no distractions in the background. She looked towards the camera, watching the crew fuss around behind it and smiled at the assistant director, Riah, who sat perched on a stool, a thick binder in her lap with Alexa and Henry's names on the front.

“How are you feeling?” Riah asked, off camera.

“I feel really good.” Alexa smiled, despite feeling the glass of champagne she had with Henry.

“I'm glad.” Riah smiled, nodding her head, before looking over her shoulder. “Are we ready?” She asked the cameraman, who mumbled something to her. “Great, here we go!”

The light on the camera popped on, signaling it was rolling and Alexa took a deep breath, readying herself for the questions Riah was about to fire at her.

“So, Alexa, you just got married, at first sight, to Man of Steel and The Witcher himself, Henry Cavill!” Riah grinned, nodding her head, like she was trying to instill a bubbly and happy energy into Alexa. “How does it feel?”

“It feels great and surreal!” Alexa answered, blushing softly and giggling. “Of all the people I thought I'd see at the altar, Superman wasn't it. But I'm excited to get to know him, as my husband.”

“Are there any reservations about getting married to a stranger?”

Alexa's brow creased for a moment. “I think to have some concerns would only be natural, in a situation like this. Henry and I have never crossed paths in life before, so we don't know anything about each other. We're bound to find something about the other that creates a conflict or a stress on the marriage. I just really hope, whatever it is, we can work through that.”

Riah grinned at Alexa, giving her a devilish look. “Are there any feelings of attraction going on with you? Do you feel yourself already falling for him?”

“I think you'd be crazy, not to be attracted to him!” Alexa chuckled, smiling. “He's incredibly handsome and--” She paused, licking and biting her lip for a moment. “Yeah, I am feeling a stir of something for Henry. Whether or not, it'll develop into a full blown attraction and love, I think is, maybe, a little too early to say.”

“The two of you just got to spend a little private time together, what was it like?”

“It was very pleasant. He's such an easy person to be around. I feel that I could be myself around him and that I'll be able to trust him. Henry is a real gentleman and I think he'll make a great husband.”

“Do you think you'll be sharing a bed with him, when you arrive on your honeymoon in a couple hours?”

Alexa was caught off guard with her question, not having thought that far into the future yet. “I don't know.” She squeaked, throat tight. “Maybe. We'll have to see when we get to our destination and what the mood is like.”

“What Henry is feeling on the subject.”

– Henry’s Interview –

The wood of the chair was still warm under Henry, from Alexa sitting on it not moments before. He felt oddly at ease in front of the camera, supposing it was because he spent so much time before one for his job. But he felt the gentle simmer of nerves beneath his calm, knowing he and Alexa would be leaving the venue soon for the airport, so they could start their honeymoon. He kept thinking about what it would be like to live with her and if they would manage it.

“Henry, how does it feel to be a married man?” Riah asked, beaming at him as the camera started to roll. “I know you mentioned in several previous interviews, it was a dream for you.”

A startled expression came over Henry's face, not expecting her to bring it up. “It's-uh, it's going great so far! Alexa is very kind and beautiful. I look forward to spending more time with her and learning more about her, to develop our marriage.”

“Have you talked about a living situation yet?”

“Um, no. We haven't spoken about that, quite yet. We just talked about general things. How our families felt about us doing the show and kids.” He replied, shifting in his seat.

Riah's brows went up. “You haven't discussed how you're going to live together, but you've talked about having kids?”

“Yeah.” Henry nodded slowly, realizing his mistake. “It came up, when we were talking about our siblings.” He said, trying to recover.

“Do the two of you want kids?” Riah asked, narrowing her eyes at him. “Should the two of you make it through?” She added an edge in her voice.

Henry didn't answer for a second, wishing he could back track. “We both do, yeah. We'll see through.” He said, carding a hand through his hair, awkwardly. “When we do get through our first year together.”

“Are you attracted to her?” Riah inquired, sensing a bit of tension in Henry’s voice.

“There’s something there.” Henry replied, biting the inside of his cheek. “She’s amazingly beautiful and intelligent. We, I think, have started to connect. So, yeah. I think there’s an attraction starting to form with her.”

“You think the two of you will share a bed?”

“At some point, yes.” He nodded, smirking at her, his smooth cheeks warming up. “Whenever Alexa becomes comfortable with it.”

Getting back to his dressing room, Henry let out a hard breath and loosened his tie, relieved that everything was finished. Now, all he had to do was get out of his suit and gather his things, so he could head to the airport for their flight to Costa Rica.

“With my new wife.” He thought aloud, taking a seat on the couch to unlace his shoe and slipped them off, flexing his toes as he set them aside.

He looked up at the door that led to the adjoining room, then across to Alexa’s, where she was no doubt doing the same thing he was. He wondered if they would be going to the airport together or separately. He hoped they’d be going in the same car, it would give them more time together, on top of the time on the plane to their honeymoon spot.

Sighing, he stood up, unbuttoning his jacket and waistcoat, carefully laying them out on the arm of the couch, then took his pants off. He grabbed the duffel bag he’d come with and grabbed his casual clothes, a tan colored pull over with four buttons on the right shoulder and a pair of dark wash, blue jeans, with his favorite pair of worn, brown boots.

Dressed, he neatly put his suit away in its garment bag and tucked his shoes into his bag, Henry slung the duffel bag across his body and crossed the adjoining room. He paused a moment, considering another glass of champagne, but noticed that the two glasses had vanished.

“Alexa?” He called, lightly knocking on her door.

The door opened and Alexa stood before him, she had gotten out of her dress while Henry was in the middle of his interview with Riah. Exchanging it for a pair of black joggers, one leg pushed up to her knee, a blue and yellow, gunge crosshairs symbol on the thigh, with a Stranger Things Hellfire Club raglan t-shirt. Feet bare other than her multi-colored, flowery and retro-striped Bombas socks. Her hair was braided shill, she had uncoiled several and pulled her hair up into a bun, away from her face and off her slender neck, but one of the thin braids hung down and rested against her chest.

“Hey,” She smiled up at him. “I'm almost ready.”

“That's fine.” He assured her, licking his lips and biting the inside of his cheek, even out of her dress, he found her beautiful. “I was just wondering, if you had grabbed our champagne glasses?” He asked, twisting his upper body towards the table.

“Oh!” She squeaked, blushing with guilt. “I did. I'm sorry.” She nodded, looking down at her feet.

Henry grinned down at her, touched and amused. “It's all right.” He reassured her, gently. “I was just wondering where they went, that's all.”

Alexa looked up at him, biting the corner of her lip. “Do you want yours?” She asked, quietly.

“I'm positive, it's in good keeping with you, Alexa.” He told her sweetly, daring to reach out and tuck her free braid behind her ear. “I'm ready, when you are. No rush, love.” He added, moving away to lounge in the shared room, pulling his phone out, to open the Cavill family WhatsApp group chat.

Henry: I'm officially a married man!

Charlie: Congratulations! Wish we could have been there.

Piers: Cheers, little brother! Can't wait to meet her. What's her name?

Mum: Congratulations, Henry. Your father and I are happy for you.

Henry: Thanks all. It means a lot to me. Her name is Alexa, and I can't wait to introduce her to you all. We're headed off to Costa Rica on our honeymoon, for two weeks. After that, we should be off to meeting family and friends.

Simon: Can you take pictures and share them?

Henry: We can take photos, but there's no sharing any. They want us to get through the honeymoon first. That way, if there's any trouble between us, there's no raging media posting or anything. It also keeps production under wraps a little bit longer. The production for the show will be announcing the show and who's on it after our honeymoon. Since we're celebrities, it's hard to keep something like this secret for long.

Charlie: That makes logical sense.

Henry: Yeah. Once that NDA clears, I'll send you guys photos of her. She's really beautiful.

“I'm ready to go, Henry.” Alexa said, coming into the room, her backpack over one shoulder and dress draped over her arm.

“Great.” He smiled, standing up and pocketing his phone. “Let's hit it.” He said, heading for the door going out into the hallway, but paused. “They might be waiting for us out there.” He told her, not wanting her to feel ambushed.

“True.” She nodded, taking a deep breath, readying herself.

Nodding back at her, Henry opened the door and stepped into the hall, sure enough, down the hall a short way was the cameraman, his camera resting on his shoulder and pointing up their direction. He hit record as soon as he saw Henry appear, followed by Alexa. The exit was exactly behind the cameraman, forcing them to walk in front of him, while he strode backwards. Henry reached behind him and felt Alexa grab his hand, squeezing it hard as she pressed closer to his back.

“Are you excited to relax in Costa Rica?” She asked, looking up at the back of his head.

“I am.” He smiled at her over his shoulder. “It's been a little while since I've had a vacation from work.” He admitted, remembering the last break from work he had, back in 2018, when he took his brothers and sisters-in-law to Fiji. “I look forward to relaxing there with you as well.” He added an impish twinkle in his blue eyes.

Alexa giggled. “You're going to be a handful.”

“To say the least.” He chuckled back, pausing to shove the exit door open and allow her to go ahead of him, then followed her to the awaiting car the show had to take them to the airport.

The cameraman filmed them putting their things into the car's trunk, then got into the back and drove away.

“How long will it take us to get there from here?” Alexa asked, resting back in her seat. “Do you know?”

“Almost nine hours.” Henry answered, pulling the tickets out of his jacket pocket. “But it looks to be a private jet. So we should be nice and comfortable.”

“Mmm, that's nice of them.” She commented, having expected first class on a flight.

“It is.” He agreed, tucking the tickets back into his pocket, chewing on his bottom lip as he thought about getting on the plane, his leg bouncing anxiously.

The ride was quiet, but it wasn't an awkward silence, the two of them watching the rain patter against the dark tinted windows. Their shoulders gently rested together, in an unconscious reminder that the other was there. As the airport came into view, Alexa leaned forward and unzipped a compartment of her backpack, pulling out a black beanie and secured her bag closed again. Henry watched her pull the cute, almost oversized, beanie over her head, a pair of black horns sticking up at the top.

“What?” She frowned over at him, the beanie pulled lower on her forehead.

Henry grinned even more. “You looked adorable with that beanie on.” He told her, lightly flicking one of the horns.

“Oh.” She blushed, biting her lip and scrunching her shoulders. “It's one of my favorite beanies.” She admitted to him. “One of my brothers got it for me, for my birthday a couple years ago..”

“I like it.” Henry said, fussing with his green, Royal Marines Commando hoodie for a moment, as the car pulled up to the doors of the airport, before he got out and moved around the car, opening her door for her.

“Thank you.” Alexa grinned, slipping out into the light rain, securing her bag over her shoulders, before following Henry to the back to grab her dress from the boot.

She watched him pause to pull a worn and faded brown Kansas City Chiefs hat out and secure it on his head, tugging it low over his blue eyes. Alexa understood what he was doing. As much as Henry was using the hat to shield himself from the rain, momentarily, he was using it to hide his face and hopefully keep any potential fans and paparazzi from spotting him. Drawing attention to him and Alexa being together, spreading word through social media that something was up.

“Thank you.” Henry said to their chauffeur, extending his hand to the man, who shook it with an appreciative nod.

Alexa had a gentle smile on her face at the gesture, seeing how kind and much of a gentleman her new husband was. Turning his attention back to Alexa, he extended his hand to her, which she took, with no hesitation, despite all others she felt inside of her. She allowed Henry to guide her through the double-automatic doors and into the hustle and bustle of Heathrow Airport. Biting her lip, she moved a little closer to Henry, who easily weaved a path through the throng of people coming from or going to their boarding gate, carrying or wheeling their luggage.

“You seem to know where you're going.” She pointed out to Henry.

“I've flown out of this airport a few times by private jet.” Henry replied, heading almost straight for security, that would get them through to the VIP area and their terminal.

When they got through security, their jet's crew hadn't arrived yet, so they slipped into the VIP bar across from it to wait. Henry ordered a whiskey on the rocks and Alexa asked for a Dr. Pepper. It was as she sipped at it, that she noticed Henry only grasped the glass in his hand, thumbing the rim and shaking his leg, while his vivid cerulean eyes were distant and cloudy.

“Henry.” She said softly, cocking her head at him, slightly.

“Hm?” He hummed back, only turning his head a fraction in her direction, his eyes never focusing.

“You're not--” Alexa laid her hand on his wrist. “You don't have flight anxiety, do you?” She questioned, concerned by the sudden realization.

Henry cleared his throat hard, finally picking his drink up and taking a deep gulp of the sharp, honey-amber liquid. “I do.” He admitted, with a straight tone. “It's usually not so bad, because I have my dog, Kal.”

Licking her lips, Alexa shifted beside him, her alarm in her eyes, concerned for Henry. “What can I do to help?” She asked, closing her hand around his wrist, trying to be reassuring.

“I don't know.” He answered, finishing his whiskey off.

“What does Kal do for you?” She inquired, rubbing the inside of his arm.

Henry floundered at her question.

Kal was Henry's best friend. He had the American Akita, since he was just a little pup, before his ears could stand up on their own. What very few knew about Kal, was he was a registered Emotional Support animal. For Henry's anxiety, not just on planes. But he helped best, when Henry had to fly. He had wished to bring Kal with him, but had been asked not to, by the production of the show, so he wasn't a distraction on his and Alexa's big day, then their honeymoon. Once that was over, he was more than welcome to be around them.

But he couldn't put to words how Kal actually helped him get through his anxiety from take-off to landing. Just having the Bear close to him, put Henry at ease, like a warm security blanket out of the dryer. So, to that point, he wasn't sure how Alexa could help him keep it under control, during the nearly nine hours they'd be on the jet.

“Have you ever tried surfing before?” Alexa asked, leaning against him.

Henry blinked, confused by the sudden change in conversation. “No, I haven't.” He answered, looking over at her.

“Mm.” She smiled up at him. “When we get to Costa Rica, I want to teach you how to surf.” She said, resting her chin on the top of his shoulder. “So, I hope you have a good sense of balance.”

“Is that so?” He answered, starting to smile uneasily at her. “I think I have pretty good balance. I look forward to seeing you try. Have you ever been scuba-diving?” He asked, feeling the hot knot in his stomach start to relax.

“I've done it once or twice.” She nodded, wrapping her arms around his thick one.

“We'll have to do it while we're there.” He told her, reaching up to brush his fingertips across her cheek.

“I'd really like that.” Alexa beamed, tilting her head lightly into his touch. “I looked up some things to do in Costa Rica, while you were doing your interview.”

“Did you?” Henry cooed, his anxiety down to a manageable level. “Like what?”

“There's some great nature walks, with amazing waterfalls and hot springs, or you can go whale watching, zip-lining and see the island's wildlife. Obviously, there's stuffing your face with the local food.” She rattled off the things she remembered from the website she'd checked, while waiting for Henry to come back from his one-on-one interview.

“The hot springs sound nice.” He commented, cocking an interested brow. “These old, sore muscles could use a nice spa day.”

Alexa giggled at him, shaking her head. “You're not old, Cavill.”

“I'm not young either, Cavill.” He teased back, looking into her eyes.

“Oh,” She sighed, biting the inside of her bottom lip and blinking slowly. “I highly doubt it slows you down any.”

Henry's throat bobbed and a silent shiver ran down his back, realizing she was flirting with him. Seeing the way her eyes darkened and pupils dilated, caused the forming flame in the pit of his stomach to grow in warmth.

“Mr. and Mrs. Cavill, your flight crew are aboard the jet and ready for you.” An attendant announced, as she came up to their table.

“Great, thank you.” Alexa smiled up at her, feeling the muscles of Henry's arm tense up again. “We'll be right there.” She nodded, hoping the attendant would return to station, so she could focus on getting Henry to relax again.

Smiling at the two of you, she turned and exited the VIP bar, Alexa looked to Henry, resting her hand on his board back and scooting closer to him.

“Breathe.” She whispered softly.

“I'm all right.” Henry muttered back, but still took a slow, deep breath. “I'll be all right.” He repeated, nodding his head and sliding out of their booth.

Alexa gave him a gentle look as they made their way to their gate, handing over their tickets and finally boarding the exceptional jet. Henry dropped his bag by one of the seats and turned towards the bathroom, halfway towards the back of the plane. She wished she could do more, as she set her bag down and slid into her seat. Drumming her fingers against the table in front of her, Alexa tried thinking of something she could do that would distract Henry.

Even for a little while.

An idea hit her and she leaned sideways for her bag, digging through it to pull out her Switch and the portable tablet monitor she had for it. Alexa had finished setting it up just as Henry came back from the bathroom and sat down across from her.

“I challenge you.” She said, sliding the blue controller across the table to him.

“To what?” He replied, catching it before it slid off the edge.

“Mario Kart Deluxe 8.” Alexa grinned, turning the game on. “Best winner, five out of ten, decides what we're eating for dinner.”

Henry stared at her for a long moment, he knew what she was trying to do and appreciated it. He felt the bubble of his competitiveness form in his stomach, pulling a smile across his face as he clutched the controller in both hands and rested back in his seat.

“You're on.” He cooed, confidently. “I hope you like curry.” He teased, picking his driver.

“Bowser.” Alexa giggled, nodding her head. “An interesting pick.”

“Who are you going to pick? Princess Peach or Daisy?” Henry teased back, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

“Ha!” Alexa laughed, scornfully, before picking Shy Guy. “Shy Guy all the way, baby!”

“You're going to get your butt kicked, love.” Henry tisked, watching her pick a track and readied himself, watching the countdown from the monitor Alexa had positioned between them. “Do you play any other games?” He asked, just as the counter finished and their drivers shot across the starting line.

“I have a load of other games on Switch.” Alexa answered, eyes laser focused on the screen, determined not to let Henry distract her.

“Anything good?”

“Define good?” She asked, cocking an eye at her driver.

Henry chuckled, smirking. “What do you have?”

“You're trying to distract me, Henry.” She commented, shaking her head. “It's not going to work.”

“I assure you, my intentions are pure.” He smirked, tensing for a moment as the track parted and Bowser jumped the gap, colliding with a clear spinning, but iridescent, box with a question mark on it. “Ooo, I got a banana peel. You best watch out!” He warned her, bouncing his brows at her.

“Oh, just a peel? I picked up a shell a lap back.” Alexa replied coolly, but her eyes were mischievous. “I have Zelda, Animal Crossing, a couple Mario Karts, Crash Bandicoot, Spyro, which is one of my favorites. I used to play the original Spyros on the first PlayStation.”

“Showing your age.” Henry teased, playfully.

“I know, right!” She giggled, not offended. “Anyway, I also have Hollow Knight. Oh, and a game called Spiritfarer! Ugh, that game is amazing, but it is an emotional trauma!”

“How is it 'emotional trauma'?” He huffed, frowning over at her for a second.

“The game starts with you playing Stella, who takes over the job of Spiritfarer from Charon.” She began to explain, but paused, seeing Henry's Bowser up ahead of her Shy Guy and focused to catch up to him, the hint of a smile making the corner of mouth twitch, as she primed the turtle shell she'd been hoarding.

“Don't you dare!” Henry warned her, straightening up in his seat, eyeing the glowing blue, speed-boost stripe up ahead of them, then glanced at the banana peel he was sitting on. He didn't want to use it. He was hoping to use it as a last-ditch effort, if need be, to toss out at the finish line, in an attempt to stop her from winning.

“Or what?” She huffed, amused. “Are you going to toss your peel at me?” She taunted him, sending out her shell.

“Shit!” He barked under his breath, swerving in an attempt to avoid it.

“Use those reflexes, Superman!” Alexa laughed, smirking at Henry's maneuvers.

“What about yours!” Henry asked back, tossing out the peel.

Alexa gasped, knowing it was too late. “A cruel fate!” She sighed, watching Shy Guy spin out into the barriers.

Alexa yawned as she exited the jet with Henry, it was almost one in the morning. He looked back over his shoulder at her and smirked, shouldering both their bags.

“I told you, you should have taken a nap.” He cooed, having dozed for a few hours, after they played a couple games together on her Switch.

“Mmm.” Alexa hummed back at him, she had continued to play on her Switch, too worried about Henry's anxiety coming back to fall asleep. “I'm starving though. What are we eating, oh Master of the Mario Kart?”

Henry let out a barking laugh, his wide shoulders shaking with its mirth. He had won seven of their ten games, declaring himself Master of Mario Kart. “I have no idea what they have open at one am, but the Villa will probably have something.”

“Odin, I hope.” She sighed, stifling another yawn.

They got out of the airport and found a car waiting for them.

“Welcome to Tamarindo, Costa Rica, Mr. and Mrs. Cavill.” The driver greeted them, opening the back door.

“Thank you.” Henry nodded, motioning for Alexa to slide in first. “Do you know anything about our Villa?”

“I do, Mr. Cavill.” The driver replied, nodding back.

“Is there any room service or way to get food, this late?” Henry inquired, glancing into the car, licking his lips. “My wife,” A small lump formed around the word, it felt so strange for him to say. “Is quite famished.”

“The Villa does room service, with a twenty-four hour kitchen; should anything strike your fancy in the middle of the night.” The driver assured him, with a soft smile.

“Excellent, thank you so much.” Henry smiled, relieved, before getting in beside Alexa. “We're in luck. The Villa has all day room service, so we can order something to eat, when we arrive.”

“Thank Odin.” Alexa hummed, sighing softly, her blue eyes heavily half-lidded.

Henry smirked at her, gently wrapping a thick arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side, coaxing her head against his shoulder. Alexa didn't protest, nuzzling and curling up against the warmth of Henry's body with a soft moan, losing the battle with her eyes. He gulped, feeling her body grow heavy, knowing she would likely fall asleep long before they reached their destination, forty minutes away.

“We've arrived at the La Villa de Playa, Mr. Cavill.” The Driver whispered, looking through the rear-view mirror and into the back seat, seeing that Alexa was out cold.

Henry looked out into the darkness on the other side of his window, to a sweet, little one-story, white stucco building. It was brightly lit and nestled in the palms, as well as mango, lemon and coconut trees. A short walk to a beautiful, private, white sand beach, to which Henry could hear the crashing waves, even from inside the car. He couldn't wait to explore the property and island with Alexa.

“Thanks for getting us here.” He said, before the driver stepped out to open the door for him, offering to take their bags, so Henry could carefully maneuver Alexa out of the car, hoisting her up into his arms, bridal-style, and turning toward the front door.

“Allow me.” The chauffeur offered, pulling the envelope taped to the door down and opening it, ignoring the little card inside for the key and slotting it into the lock, opening it for Henry and setting their things just inside the door. “Have a good evening and congratulations.”

“Thank you.” Henry mouthed, nodding.

Smiling softly, the chauffeur returned to his car and left Alexa and Henry to themselves.

Looking at his slumbering wife, Henry smiled gently at her. “Welcome to our villa, my love.” He whispered to her, kissing her forehead, before stepping over the threshold with her and pushing the door closed with his foot.

Henry managed to find the master suite and laid Alexa down on the king sized bed, gingerly pulling off her black, slip-on converse and her beanie, before pulling the folded down blankets over her. Groaning, Henry tugged his hoodie over his head and tossed it in a chair across and sat down on the bench at the foot of the bed, removed his boots, flexing his toes and glanced to the crescent wall of sliding glass windows that went out to a private veranda, a large hanging chair at one side and a glass-bead fire pit on the other.

The loud grumble of his stomach pulled Henry from his thoughts and he stood, padding into the bathroom for a moment. Closing the door to relieve himself, he noticed that the black two-person, whirlpool tub was outside. It was positioned in the center of a little enclosed courtyard, shaded by a wooden pagoda, with a bubbling pond and river rock waterfall behind it.

“I wonder if she likes baths.” He hummed to himself, moving over to wash his hands, then tiptoed out of the master and into the kitchen to see if there was anything in the refrigerator to eat. “I need to get some of my supplements over here.” He commented, jerking open the door, finding a reasonably stocked fridge, but nothing that really peaked his growling stomach's interest.

Snagging a cold bottle of water, Henry found the telephone that allowed him to call for room service and a booklet, neatly organized for breakfast, lunch and dinner, along with some desert items, the chef's favorite and the option to customize.

“Kitchen of La Villa de Playa, how may I help you?”

“Yes, this is the Cavill Villa.” Henry answered, frowning down at the menu, balanced on his knee. “I would like three of your chicken Empanadas with some rice and beans.” He ordered, before biting his lip and thinking of Alexa, worried she would wake up hungry. “As well as one of your beef tamales.”

“Of course, Mr. Cavill. We'll have your food done presently.”

“Thank you.” He replied, before putting the phone back on its cradle and carding a hand through his hair, feeling the cool metal of his signet ring.

He looked down at his left hand, his ring finger bare, as was Alexa's. It was to be part of filming, the two of them going out to look for their wedding rings together. His heart skipped and his stomach clenched at the idea of looking at rings. What kind of ring would Alexa want? He remembered the engagement ring he'd proposed to his ex with. It was a simple little thing. He wasn't making the money back then, that he was now. It was white gold, half-carat, cushion shaped diamond, that had cost him just over two grand. She didn't have the best reaction towards it, but at the time she'd said yes to him asking to marry her.

However, they broke up a couple months later.

Sighing, Henry shook the thought from his mind, reminding himself that Alexa wasn't his ex and this relationship wouldn't be the same. He'd do better. He'd be a good husband and prove his worth to Alexa.

Alexa stirred, moaning softly as she woke up, finding herself alone in bed and sat up, frowning into the darkness of the bedroom. “Henry?” She called out, tossing the blankets back and got out of bed in search of her husband. “Hen?” She called again, opening the half closed bedroom door and made her way into the living area, finding Henry sprawled out on the couch with a pillow and blanket.

A smile pulled across her face, seeing his long body stretched out on the short couch, bare feet hanging off the edge, uncovered. She shook her head and detoured into the kitchen, discovering a note from Henry on the island.

I wasn't sure if you'd wake up hungry or not, but I ordered you something to eat. It's in the fridge. -Hen.

“He's so attentive.” Alexa muttered, turning to the fridge and opening it, finding the wrapped plate with her tamale on it.

She found the silverware and perched herself on a stool at the island, digging into her food, moaning at how delicious it was, especially stone cold. Once she was finished eating, she went back into the living room and leaned over Henry, resting her hand on his chiseled chest.

“Henry.” She cooed, looking into his relaxed face, her heart fluttering at how handsome and boyish he looked as he slept, one thick arm flung up over his head. “Henry.” She hummed again, running her hand over his torso, rousing him.

His sleepy blue eyes fluttered open, taking a moment to focus on her. “Are you all right?” He asked, becoming alert.

“I'm fine.” She grinned at him, sweetly. “But why are you out here on the couch?”

“Oh,” He rumbled, licking his lips, brows creasing. “I wasn't sure if you'd want to sleep together and wasn't about to just climb into bed with you, asleep, before we had a discussion about it.” He confessed to her, gulping thickly. “So, I just took the safer option of sleeping on the couch.”

Alexa bit the inside of her lip, touched at his gesture. “I don't mind, if we share a bed together, as long as you don't?” She assured him. “Besides,” She looked him over. “You're not going to be feeling very tip-top, if you sleep on the couch.” She pointed out, smirking.

“No.” Henry sighed, smirking back at her, sitting up with his pillow and blanket.

“Thanks for the food, as well.” Alexa said, as they headed back towards the master.

“Oh, you're welcome.” He answered, perking up a little bit, hearing she'd eaten. “I hope what I got you, was all right?”

“It was great!” She giggled, pulling down the bed's blankets. “I actually love tamales.” She confessed, smiling at him.

“Nailed it, then.” Henry smiled back, moving around the bed.

“Are our bags in here?” Alexa asked, glancing around.

“Uh, yeah.” He nodded, sitting down on the mattress. “I put them in the closet.”

“Cool, I'll be right back.” She said, heading into the walk-in closet.

Henry nodded, then got the bed ready to sleep, looking up as Alexa came back out, in a tank top and a pair of black, Jack Skellington short-shorts. He bit his lip, looking her over, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat.

“Did you make a pillow wall?” Alexa giggled, sitting on the bed with him, seeing the line of pillows in the middle of the bed, between her and Henry's sides.

“I did.” He nodded, laying down and pulling the blankets over himself.

Alexa laid down with him and grabbed one of the pillows, smacking him in the chest with it. “Are you afraid of your wife's cooties, Henry Cavill?” She teased him, giggling harder at the offended expression he gave her.

“Not married for twenty-four hours and spousal abuse already.” He huffed, grabbing one of the other pillows and whopped her back with it. “And no, I am not afraid of whatever cooties my wife may or may not have.”

“Well then!” Alexa huffed, grabbing the last pillow and tossed it in his face, before moving into the space the pillows had been, their legs touching. “Have my cooties!” She said, burrowing under the blankets.

Henry looked at her, almost hidden in the blankets and smiled. “All right then.” He whispered, turning onto his side to lay facing her. “You can have my cooties too.” He mumbled, draping his arm over her waist and resting his chin on top of her head.

[littlefreya]

Pictures of You

Summary: While Sy is deployed, his new girlfriend sends him nudes, and now he must take care of 'business' himself while fantasizing about the things he would do to her.

Pairing: Captain Syverson x himself x OFC

Word count: 1,200

Warnings: 18+ (Minors DNI), pure smut, graphic depiction of sex (male x female), male masturbation, bodily fluids, accidental creampie, dirty language, punishment, Freya using "peach". Being caught in the act. A bit of fluff. Not beta'd.

*No permission is given for reposting my work, translating, copying it, or parts of it and claiming it as your own*

A/N: It's been a while since I posted. I am working on a series (plural), but I got inspired by a lovely anon today. I'm not sure if I'm tagging anyone since my tag list is probably outdated and I'm not sure who still wants on. So, if you enjoyed, reblog, or comment, let me know. I'd appreciate it. 🖤

Pictures of You

At last, night unfurled, and the camp became quiet. 

The glorified Captain retired to his quarters, exhausted from a day of training recruits and tedious paperwork. This deployment would be long, and though he loved being The Captain - Logan Syverson was beginning to miss home.

It was all because of her. Sy shouldn't have caught feelings, long-distance relationships were never his thing, but damn, she was something else; a woman way above his league, pretty, hot as hell and way too smart to be with a military grunt like him.

Needless to say, fucking her made him feel like a god. 

Stripping down to his boxer, Sy slumped into his bed with a huff and reached for the private cell phone stuffed in his drawer. 

Twenty unanswered messages appeared on the screen—three of them from her.

Joy painted his face at the sight of her name. Ignoring everything else, he went directly to read her messages.

“Missing my big Sy”, the first message read. 

The other - “something to make you think of me.”  

The last message was simply an attachment. Curious, Sy tapped it open.

‘Fucking hell.’

The unmistakable pang of desire instantly surged through his groin. 

There she was, his sweet woman, naked and spread open like a present unwrapped, especially for him. She was sitting on her bed, one breast gripped by her palm with her nipple peeking through dark-painted nails while her other hand toyed with the sweet peach between her thighs. 

“Fuck,” Sy muttered. Already rock-hard. Absentmindedly, his hand massaged the hefty bulge through the fabric of his boxers, eliciting a deep groan from under his breath. 

‘What are you doing to me, babygirl?” 

It wasn’t just her naked body and the way her finger teased her own slit, but the look she gave him, the familiar neediness in her gaze, the way she bit her lip. 

Damn, if she was here right now… He’d fucking punish her for teasing him so bad! He’d pin her to the wall with his hand around her throat and show her what happens to naughty girls who like playing such wicked games. 

Now he had three fucking months to go, and all he could think of was how bad he wanted to be inside her tight little cunt.

‘Well, guess I’ll have to take care of this myself…’

Springing his cock free from his boxers, he ran his rough fingers up and down the length of his imposing shaft - slow at first, as Sy enjoyed taking his time, just as he would with her. His thumb rolled across the crown of his cock, gently grazing the tip while he imagined flipping her against the pitted wall in this room. Make her take it from behind so he could look at that perfect rounded ass of hers and watch his cock slipping in and out of her body. 

Still holding the photo open, he focused on her succulent cunt before spitting onto his open palm and griping himself once again. Tighter this time, he squeezed onto his girth and began to fuck his own hand. 

Pants and groans sputtered from his mouth, his chest heaving as he gradually picked up the pace. In his fantasy, he parted her ass cheeks and teased her dripping little hole until she begged him to fuck him. Then he forced himself all the way in, making her cry out. 

The sounds of her moans echoed in his memory, so helpless and desperate at the same time - he was nearly too much for her; that narrow cavern of hers could barely take his leviathan cock, but still, she took every pounding, becoming wetter around his shaft as her body not only yielded to accommodate him but lured him deeper inside. 

“I want inside you, babygirl…” Sy mumbled out loud, his hand now moving in ecstatic fervour. Sweat dripped down the contracting muscles of his abs. Soon, he felt himself swell even larger, and his sack strained with the desperate need for release. 

He tightened his grip, now choking his shaft and thinking of how it felt when she came around him. How she contracted all around his cock and shattered like glass smashing on the floor.

“Don’t come inside….” She’d warned him. She wasn’t on the pill. But this time, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from filling her full of his cum, and maybe… he wouldn’t want to… 

It was his fantasy, after all. 

“FUCK!!!” 

With the image spilling inside her, he allowed himself to be swept by the fierce waves of pleasure, his entire body buzzing with bliss as hot, thick ribbons of ecstasy spilt over his fingers. He might have shouted too loudly, but it’s not like he ever gave a fuck. 

It took Sy a few good minutes to climb down to earth, and then he chuckled hoarsely as he noticed the mess he had left on his hand. Shaking his head, he reached for a towel and wiped himself clean before returning to gaze at her photo. 

“What am I gonna do with you, doll?”

Well, there was an idea. He could repay the favour by sending her a photo of himself. Usually, he was against this type of stuff, but what she did was particularly risky for a woman, and if she was bold enough to treat him, he could do the same. Besides, they had three months until they could meet again. He better make sure she remembered who she belonged to.  

He stroked himself lightly. Still semi-hard, he wondered whether he could work himself to another erection this soon when a knock sounded at the door.

“Mother of f…. One moment !!!” 

Sy yelled. Irritated, he briefly tucked his shaft back in his boxers and jumped out of bed. The room smelled rancid, but Sy couldn’t bring himself to care. He couldn’t even bring himself to put on a shirt as he rushed to the door.

“What?” He grunted before getting to see who was on the other side.

‘Well, fuck me sideways.’

It was a woman because why the hell not? Private Hicks, to be precise. The young thing’s eyes flared with surprise and then snapped to the floor to avoid staring at her sweaty, half-naked superior, but not before catching a glance of his hairy, tattooed chest and the semi-erected bulge in his groin.

The strong scent of sweat and sex hit her nostrils like a smack in the face. It took everything not to curl her face. There was no need to put two and two together to realise what she had just intruded. 

“Sir.” Hicks saluted in badly hidden embarrassment. 

Sy let out a deep sigh. Clearly, she knew what he was doing before she arrived. She probably heard him come all over himself right before knocking. Frankly, he wasn’t ashamed. 

“Get on with it, Private.”

“Sir,” she repeated, her voice a slight tremble. “ I’m sorry to bother you… but the Major asked me to get you.” 

Sy scratched the back of his head and groaned deeply. “Tell him I’ll be there in 10.” 

Without any other comment, he shut the door, leaving Hicks to wander back to the Major’s office, all shaken and quaking. 

As she walked away, she couldn’t help but bite her lips. All across her body, she felt those little electric streams of excitement, and her breath suddenly became shallow. She shouldn’t have thought of her superior like this, on what he did behind that closed door just a moment before she arrived, but Captain Syverson was too hot to handle and, needless to say, too loud. 

Well, she’d have to take care of herself later…

[milknhonies]

Daddy's Final Deal

Oneshot Summary: Your possessive Step-Father Bruce Wayne decides he cannot bare you leaving for college...so he leans on a friend who shares the same obsession for you. He offers him a deal.

Oneshot Warning: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Non-Con, CNC, Grooming (all characters are of legal age.) Bondage, P in V, Oral Sex, Threesome, Exhibition, Vouyerism, pseudo-incest between step-father & step daughter, pimping if you squint, breeding kink if you squint. No condoms/unsafe sex.

Word Count: 10.2k

Author Notes: This is a gift for @cardierreh15 after a playful dare. I hope you enjoy this babe 🥺✨

Gently laid on soft satin bed sheets, your thoughts were consumed with the evening discussion that you had during supper with your step-father Bruce and his best friend Clark, followed by the unexpected marriage proposal Clark had made. You were surprised Clark had wanted your hand for any other purpose than for your step-father’s wealth– you would have never guessed his feelings for your because he was usually so calm and friendly with everyone. Yet he had asked you softly if you would consider being his wife with a warm smile, and you knew he was serious from the glint in his eyes. It was like your lungs were drowning with how difficult it was to breathe.

For the first time, your heart stirred, void of fear and worry.

You didn’t outright decline his offer, but a decision of this magnitude deserved more than a hasty reply. You had to think this through being that you were so caught if guard in the first place, so you demurred by saying you needed time to think about your official answer. After all, you were just a month away from starting college. You wanted to be a journalist like Clark despite Bruce’s protests and alternative encouragement for you to remain home and attend charity balls with him. Besides, Clark was a bit too old…a little younger than Bruce but both men still had twenty years on you.

If age wasn’t the defining taboo, you had noted Clark was a gentleman who had the ability to make you laugh. If anything was to happen to Bruce or Alfred, you felt Clark would be the most reliable shoulder to lean against.

You rolled over and sighed, you held your blanket up to your chin and continued to ponder.

Clark Kent...he would be a decent husband, but did you have feelings for him? He was rather charming and undeniably handsome. It was something that you would probably lose sleep over in the future.

Clark had approached the topic very calmly, almost shyly, and Bruce had seemed to be expecting this. That made it obvious to your that Clark had asked your step-father first, and Bruce would not have let his best friend ask you if he did not approve first...Bruce in fact was smiling at dinner and that smile fell when you have your polite neutral response.

Suddenly the wine he had let your drink felt a little sickly in your belly. You excuses yourself as soon as you could to your bedroom.

You rolled over in your sheets and sighed softly, snuggling up under the thick duvet and nuzzling the thousand-dollar pillows. It confused you, but the more you thought about it, the less absurd it became. You giggled. Clark would make a very good husband, and you would be lucky to have someone such as him, of such a good but firm character, always with an easy smile or an encouraging word for you. And he had always been a good friend to you, respecting your interests in writing, sometimes babying you, which girls your age might find annoying but you didn’t mind.

The boys your age were so horny and stupid...immature. it was impossible to see them as providers for the families that they claimed to want for themselves.

So saying “yes” to Clark would feel a little weird to you, but what real reason was there to say no? Did you have someone else? You might’ve shared kisses along your teens in highschool, yet none of them swept you off your feet enough to like them.

You were just glad that Clark had agreed to let your think about it. His smile had been relaxed, and he showed no anger or resentment. His eyes did appear tighter, other than that it even seemed as if he had expected your hesitation and was willing to wait. Clark was always so understanding, why wouldn’t he be about such an important question like this?

You shut your eyes with a smile.

★★★

Meanwhile, the men remained downstairs in the library, in front of the fireplace, and Clark looked across the flames at his best friend.

“Are you sure you still want to go through with this Bruce?” he asked.

The men had known each other for years and had grown a close bond in friendship and other activities. And if course it was bound to slip from one man’s lips to the other about their depraved thoughts, desires and fantasies....it turns out they shared a common denominator... You.

Over a month ago they were sitting in the same place discussing the same issue about to occur...losing you.

They knew if you left for college, you’d meet some cocky asshole studying to be a lawyer or doctor, get pregnant, get married quickly only to suffer a uncommitted marriage and end in a heart breaking divorce.

What type of men would they be if they watched their favourite girl fall to such demise as that!?

Bruce had married your mother when you were fourteen and he was the best dad you could ever ask for. He helped with your homework and taught you to swim while he paid for your mother’s chemo therapy.

When she died three years ago, you’d just finished highschool. You were totally shattered and put off summer break and college until you knew you were prepared. But now Clark had dumped the marriage proposal.

Clark sighed. His best friend's idea wasn’t totally a surprise to him. Bruce had planned this.

Clark recalled how Bruce was constantly looking out for you; his protectiveness as a stepfather, while perhaps misguided, was undeniably apparent. It was clear that he cared about you deeply and had shown no interest in any other woman since the passing of his wife—your mother. Clark often caught Bruce gazing at you with a loving and compassionate gaze, as if he were contemplating the best way to look after you.

During those days Clark was scared to share his own perverse thoughts...oh how the man wanted to look after you. You always were so lovely around him, so eager to gain his attention and praise, perhaps as another fatherly figure she could cling to...It wasn’t hard for Bruce to see that Clark loved you dearly and was clearly proud of your accomplishments. Clark was proud like a second father.... Except he wanted to do things no father should ever do to their little girls. He almost lost it one day when he walked in on you, on your hands and knees scrubbing the carpet before Alfred could find the stains you’d made when stealing some red whine from Bruce’s cellar. Your skirt was a tad too short, the hem pulled up over your ass cheeks and crotch. Clark held back from ripping those white nylon leggings with those cute pink panties and shoving his cock deep in your tight cunt.

He wondered if Bruce ever found out about the stain...he touched himself imagining Mister Wayne spanking his wayward little minx of a daughter over his knees.

Clark wanted you. Bruce wanted you and the moment they both figured it out, neither of them could judge each other for their thoughts....

They decided Clark would ask for your hand and the billionaire of Gotham would give his best friend his blessing – on one condition.

The idea was foul and taboo, and Clark was not sure whether he should deny to it or not. But this was his best friend, the loving step-father who cared about the young woman Clark wanted to marry as much as he did if not more. You had shared things in the past, and whenever you had debated or ‘fought’ over things, it was always light hearted, and never bitter.

“Of course I do, if not now then not ever Clark....” Bruce replied with a brief nod, “Tonight might be the only chance we get.”

Clark nodded slowly for a moment. Yes, he cared for you and had done so for a long time. He was happy that when he asked, you had not acted with shock or revulsion. But you had seemed surprised and hesitant, and he could not blame your for being shy and uncertain.

“What if she says no?” he asked.

Bruce’s eyes darkened, “She will...at first. Are you capable of pushing through that Kent?”

The super man smirked sickly. Of course he could. Clark nodded.

“She is going to be scared,” Bruce replied with certainty as he slowly turned his head towards the stairway out in the hall that led to your wing of the mansion, “I have been expecting this since her mother died, I doubt she remembers that night…”

Clark sighed, “I recall you letting her drink. She was a giggling and crying mess when I carried her to her room to have a nap.”

Bruce curled his lips inward, and he nodded. The silence grew strained.

Clark’s eyes furrowed in curiosity, “Bruce…are you hiding something from me?”

“She…” his friend paused, his grey eyes grew hazed as he looked into the flames, “When you left, I went to check up on her,” he thrummed his fingers on his chin, “She was touching herself Clark... and I caught her and…well…she…” his eyes met the other man again.

Clark sat back in his leather seat, his throat bobbed, “You watched until the end?” the was no judgement merely a question to acknowledge what had happened.

The other man nodded again and continued, “I came in after she finished, she was half out of it. So when I tucked her in, she kissed me…fully…and…god Clark…she- she’s so beautiful, I can’t watch her go off to college.…”

The journalist exhaled and clenched his jaw.

And Bruce sighed, “That’s why my little girl is going to be pregnant tonight.”

Clarks eyes widened, his lips parted hesitantly. That was not in the original plan...He paused and struggled to find the right words. Bruce had given Clark the greatest opportunity and the wrong word would revoke all that granted privilege.

“We both care about you,” the billionaire sucked his teeth, “Forget what the tabloids will say. They are hypocrites with absolutely no moral sense. Afterall mr superman, aren’t you rubbing shoulders at the daily planet, surely you can take care of the backlash? We aren’t blood related and c’mon we have a right to her better than anyone on this cold spinning rock. With my wealth and your muscles, who else would take better care of her? No one else!” Bruce said fiercely, although his voice was a whisper, his eyes narrowed slightly.

Clark found himself frozen in place, his eyes locked on his friend’s face. It took him a moment to process all the emotions and thoughts that surged around inside him. Finally, he managed to nod his head slowly, as he tried to take in the unexpected turn of events.

“Okay Wayne,” his lips broke into a dark chuckle, “Lets go put a baby in our little girl.”

The wooden door your bedroom creaked open slowly. A bit of light from the hallway made its way past Bruce’s bulk form, illuminating his step-daughter’s face. When he whispered your name, you did not stir, and he smiled to himself. He turned around to Clark and nodded. The two of them moved forward stealthily. Bruce carefully slid his arms under the blanket, finding your form before scooping it up. You stirred but did not wake. Bruce carefully carried you to his master bedroom, a place he scarcely let you enter for the obvious reason of what he kept secret in his drawers. Clark shut the doors and locked them, heaven forbid Alfred managed to walk into this event.

It would be more comfortable here for the three of you, and warmer with how Bruce kept an electric fireplace and big flat screen tv on the wall. The flames continued dancing cheerily as Bruce gently laid his step-daughter down, looking at you with a small smile.

Several moments passed before Bruce lowered his hand, gently moving his hand under your nightie chemise, his hot palm over your stomach. The mattress dipped on both sides keeping you balanced. Another set of fingers creeped up your thighs. Since the touches were so gentle, you did not stir so easily. Clark watched silently, his heart pounding as Bruce slowly lifted your hem up showing off a set of fresh underwear he allowed you to buy with the allowance credit card.

A cute pair of cotton white panties with a soft yellow duck print on top of the crotch. Clark swallowed hard. His thumb scarcely brushed over your damp apex. A small wet spot was beginning to spread. You softly cooed, still not awake…surely dreaming of something naughty by what Clark could smell.

Bruce glanced at Clark before looking back at you, and carefully untied the small strings that held the top bust of your nightie closed. His hands were steady as he parted the folds.

And there they laid their eyes on your breasts, Clark had to hold back a loud sharp intake of breath. Your nipples were perfect, and he found himself craving to suckle them. Your nipples hardened slightly as the slight coolness of the air tickled them.

You groaned softly, your eyelids fluttering open. You shifted and rolled over onto your side, looking around in confusion.

‘Where am I? Where’s my cuddle pillow?’

You rubbed your eyes and registered that you were with your step-father and Clark…on Bruce’s bed…. Both men were staring down at you silently, and you gasped when you realised your nightie was open. You held back a shriek and quickly whipped it closed before shoving the hem of your nightie down past your knees.

‘What am I doing out of my bed and with my chest exposed? Why we my nightie up so high? Did they see my underwear?’

Bruce's faint smile and Clark's gentle expression might have brought you ease, but the situation was too strange.

‘Why was my nightie been untied and opened? Why was it so far up my legs? Did one of them do it?’

The idea was...absurd. But what else would have happened? You were not in the habit of sleepwalking. You tied your nightie closed and quickly sat up, looking at the two men.

“I um…Is...something wrong, Dad?” you asked oh so innocent and naively as you sat up, feeling Bruce’s thick blue cotton blankets under your body. Bruce’s large and callused hand gently grasped your upper arm, softly stroking it as if to comfort you. His kind smile stayed on his face, unmoving even as he shook his head. His quiet demeanour continued to soothe you with each moment, despite the overwhelming emotions swirling through your mind.

“Nothing is wrong sweetheart, you-…” he breathed, his other hand caressing your cheek. Your step-father was an affectionate man, giving your mother and you hugs often whenever you wanted them, but in all these years...he had never caressed your cheek like this. His thumb ran softly over your lips intimately.

Briefly turning your head to inspect Clark, you found there was nothing about his body language denoting immediate danger. He even leaned in slightly and rested a hand on your knee, shifting even closer toward you.

You sighed softly in comfort...until he said, “You...Don’t need to be afraid....”

Your eyes widened, “Be afraid of what?” you asked. Like some strange horror, the dotes were slowly connecting. The air around you felt taut. You were confused and even Clark could hear how your heart was beating faster, anxiously. Your lips parted slightly, but what could you say, surely they weren’t going to…were they? Why were they looking at you in that way? Why did they look so...hungry?

Bruce smiled and leaned in, placing a kiss on your forehead directing your attention back to him. Without answering your question, he tilted your chin up and sealed his lips over yours in a gentle kiss, his lips pressing against you in a firm manner.

Your eyes popped wider as you suddenly pulled away from the kiss. While other boys had given you tender kisses before in your youth, none had done it quite as passionately as Bruce, your own step-father. His kiss was gentle yet deep, unlike anything you had experienced before. The sensation of his tongue inside your mouth and the minty flavour of his breath filled your senses, making you feel both awkward and ashamedly excited.

Having predicted the situation, Clark quickly got behind you. You felt his thick toned arms snaked around you in a caging hug, holding you firmly in place. Bruce smiled and put his hands on your hips, leaning in and quickly resuming the contact of your lips. You couldn’t lift your arms to shove him away. Your head was pressed against Clark’s chest, unable to break free although you wiggled about furiously, trying to move to the side.

Clark's arms held you in place firmly, pinning your own arms. His hands were spread across your chest and stomach, while his mouth pressed against the shell of your ear.

“Good girl,” he praised, “Stay nice and still for Daddy and me hm?”

He ducked his nose a deeper and traced his lips along your soft skin, kissing along the shape of it as Bruce deepened his seductive French kissing for a moment before breaking it. You had been unable to break it since his hands cupped your face. A soft whimper escaped your lips as Clark started licking along your earlobe, and you gasped softly when he suddenly blew on the wet trail he had just left.

“Easy baby, you need to calm down… Please,” Clark whispered softly, kissing your neck and ear as Bruce placed light kisses along your cheek.

Your step-father smiled and pinched the front of your nightie down and open just a bit to expose your shoulders and collar bone, which he lavished in more wet kisses.

The attention being given to you by both men were gentle, but the whole situation was frightening to you. You knew you should’ve tried to bite their ears, but how could you harm them? The two men you cared about? The man stroking you was your step-father, how could he want to do this? And more importantly, how could Clark just let it happen?

“Please,” you jerked your head back, fruitless from breaking away from their searing kisses, “Let me go...I need to sleep...” you whimpered softly.

“Sh- shh-hh...” Bruce shushed hotly, suckling gently upon the part where your neck met your shoulder. The skin there was sensitive, and you gave a soft cry when you felt him nip gently.

“... D-dad, Clark I-, please...don’t” you whimpered. You turned your head to look up at Clark, looking for an answer. Clark merely gave you that warm, wide smile and captured your lips, closing his eyes as he kissed you with a gentle passion.

Your lashes fluttered, his lips were soft and he was not nearly as forceful as Bruce. He coaxed you to comply. The tiniest of moans left your mouth and filled his.

You shifted again as your step-father worked at your nightie, tugging it open some more. You gave out a weak mewl when Clark broke the kiss. You trembled under Bruce’s dancing fingers.

“Did- did I do something wrong? Why are you doing this to me?” you asked, the corners of your eyes watered. Had your step-father been expecting you to say ‘yes’ to Clark? Was he mad at you? Why was he also here kissing you like this?

This was your own step-father, the man who had raised you since you were fourteen. The man that had married and fucked your own mother. The betrayal felt like a deep and sharp cut. Is this how he saw you? Just some girl he could manipulate when she was of consenting age? You felt sick...and angry. It was practically incest, it was an abomination!

You could barely contain the whimpers and spurting tears rising.

Your question was ignored as the two men made short work of your entire dress, two pairs of hands removing it while keeping your restrained. You could barely contain your squeals when the fabric ripped. Bruce grunted as he tore through and tugged the damn thing from your goosebump skin.

Clark's hands caressed your belly while Bruce's moved to cup your breasts.

Bruce gave a shuddering breath and weighed them in his hands. They were so soft and succulent. He had dreamed of doing this to you many times, for so long during your sweet innocent hugs he’d sneakily brush his fingers against your chest whenever he could to steal and imagine how great your tits would one-day feel in his hands.

All of his expectations were met, and exceeded. And there was still more to see, to explore.

“Please, tell me! Why!?” you demanded. Clark's grip on your arms were gentle but very firm, and you could not scratch either of them. Bruce smiled at you fondly. He cupped your cheeks again and cooed.

“You have done absolutely nothing wrong babygirl. This isn't a punishment. See... We both want you to know how much we love you,” his face leant for and licked at your salty cheek.

“And it’s not like you have a good reason to say no to Daddy and I.” Clark whispered while Bruce fondled your breasts, pinching the hard nipples between his fingertips in a careful way. Clark peered down at what his friend was doing and observed your soft breasts. He was eager for his own turn to feel them, but he was not going to rush his friend. They had agreed to share and be fair about it, and he knew Bruce was a man of his word.

“… No good reason to say no?” you asked, your heart pounding, although your question was barely more than a whisper. They both nodded. Clark smiled and kissed your cheek before touching his nose against it in a loving nuzzle.

He cupped and massaged one breast, giving a brief nod to his friend before shifting his eyes towards your other breast.

Clark moved one hand and took your right breast, which Bruce had offered, and began to fondle it while Bruce played with your left one. Bruce was firmer in his kneading, and Clark was gentle as his fingers skimmed along the underside of the mound, as if he was afraid of hurting you. Both hands felt so good on you, and you squirmed around, afraid to submit to any pleasure from this shocking situation.

“Please... please, let me go. I promise I won’t tell anyone about this, not even Alfred, please let me go now. Let me go. Leave me alone! I'm your step-daughter! Bruce! Y-you’re meant to be my Dad!” you pleaded, trying to get through to your step-father as he gave your breast a very firm, although not painful squeeze.

Bruce chewed his bottom lip and moved away. He got off the bed and watched his best friend touch you. He tugged at his tie and unbuttoned his blouse. His chest was covered in dark and silvery hairs. He fiddled with his belt buckle. His trousers fell to his ankles. His hand dove into his briefs.

Your eyes flooded with more tears. You were staring at Bruce’s erection.

“Come on princess...You know we won’t hurt you. Ever... Don’t be scared, relax, enjoy and be a good little girl…” Bruce said softly, climbing back on the bed he reached out and started caressing your arms.

You couldn’t help it, you screamed and tried to kick your step-father away with your legs as hard as you could. You hated that you had to hurt him like this. Clarks heavy hand clamped down on your squealing mouth

Bruce shook his head, slapping your kicking heels away. His lips curled into a mean sneer as he leant forward and tweaked your nipples, sending a jolt of pain through your chest.

You yelled out behind Clarks hand, trying to bite down on his palm. He didn’t flinch once. His nose flared, he was a little irritated with your teeth sinking into his skin.

“Better stop screaming sweetheart or Daddy’s going to have to put a gag in that little mouth of yours,” Bruce ground between his gritted teeth.

Your pleas were not doing the trick, and your desperate kicks weren’t either. They both played with your breasts and Bruce chuckled, drawing your nipple into his mouth and sucking firmly on the hard nub.

Clark bodily drifted his hand down between your legs, touching your duckling and creeping down further to your damp crotch. His fingers strong and hard, lazily rubbed in circles. Both of them seemed acutely aware of the pleasure that you were feeling at their attention even as you pleaded with them and tried to deny it. It only spurred them on and made them want your more.

“Daddy, stop it!” you wailed, “This is wrong and you know it too Clark!” you flung yourself backwards and tried to push the other male off you.

The man let your nipple free and looked into you's eyes. It had been so long since you had called him 'Daddy', having abandoned it for 'Dad' or just 'Bruce' in later years.

“Pumpkin…” he said, grabbing your wrists, giving Clark enough time to move away. Bruce pushed you back hard onto the mattress and sat on your ankles, holding your wrists down as he clouded you in his body. He hovered above you. You trembled violently, weeping hard.

“This is going to happen, and there’s nothing you can do or say to stop it,” his head lifted, “You finished stripping Clark?” he asked.

Your eyes flashed up. Your point of you made the world appear upside down. Clark sat his glasses on the bed side table...it was the last thing he wore.

“Bottom drawer, there’s a roll of duct tape.”

Clark nodded and pulled it out. The colour surprised him ...it was pink. Clark planned to use it on you one way or another, no matter what

Bruce trailed his nose across your face and pressed his lips to your forehead, “Trust your Daddy. Have I ever done anything to you that proved harmful?” Bruce asked softly, his blue eyes filled with a pleading for your understanding. You fell silent as you slowly shook your head whimpering and breaking down at the tearing sound of the pink duct tape. Bruce pushed your wrists together. The sticky sensation bound around your wrists tightly. He had always been such a loving step-father. But this went past the bounds of a step-father.

“No... b-bu-tt this-s... we're n-not...d-daddy, y-youre meant to be m-m-my dad-daddy...” Your voice was breaking, a soft pathetic whine as you pleaded, “Clar-k h-elp me.”

Bruce’s eyes glanced up at Clark. A tiny nod. Another rip and the tape was pushed flat against your sobbing mouth.

Clark rejoined you both on the bed and held your hands down for Bruce as the man bent down taking your nipple into his mouth again, his tongue rubbing it firmly as he suckled. A chest rattling gasp was muffled behind the tape.

Clark held you, massaging your other breast. You started to feel the fiery tingle between your legs. You were a virgin, but you were not stupid, and had touched that special place before...shame filled your mind because truly how much of a monster were you for being aroused by... your own step-father?

Despite the pleasure, you were afraid. You wiggled against Clark, twisting your arms and whining softly.

Clark's hands were gentle yet firm, and he held you in place even as you twisted. He moaned softly against your neck, and you felt the underside of his arousal along side Bruce’s, both touching the outsides of your thighs.

"Bruce...I need her,” he whispered, “Let me fuck your precious princess?”

The older man corrected softly humming, “Our precious princess.”

The two strong men lifted you up slightly from your laying down. You tried weakly kicked at them again before feeling Bruce slap the inside of your thigh and point a stern finger at your face.

“Enough. Don’t make me throw you over my knee babygirl.”

You sniffled and started to hiccup behind the tape gag. The tiny jerks from your body every time you hiccupped made the men’s faces soften.

You were forced to sit up on your knees and lay forward against Bruce’s chest. When Clark tugged your hips backwards, your bum was angled to the sky while your stomach laid in Bruce’s lap, your legs at either side of his torso. This caused your chest to be nestled into Bruce's lap, your breasts pressed against the hard hot flesh of his cock. You were effectively sandwiched between them, and wiggled around, trying to not think about your step father’s cock touching your nipple and switching against your skin.

His large hands touched your shoulders and laid it on your head, patting your hair softly. Clark's hands were at your rear, rubbing and kneading the cheeks and parting them slightly as he felt the pert rump. A soft playful spank made you jump and whine. You started sobbing again, wiggling against the firm grip of your step-father as he tried to soothe you. One of Bruce's hands cupped his cock and rubbed his precum into your swollen nipples.

You tried to kick at Clark as you felt his hands on the waistband of your panties, and you turned your face away from your step-father's throbbing erection that Bruce was raising to rub along your wet salty cheek. You tried to use your hands as leverage.

How was you supposed to get out of this situation? It was clear what they wanted to do and also clear that they would not be deterred. The combined forces of two fully-grown men, strong super humans at that, against that of a young woman, was quite overwhelming. They were not letting your go, and that was that. Bruce chuckled as Clark slid his step-daughter's panties down, exposing your pert ass. Clarks mouth looked dry...his tongue flicked out.

It was rather a lovely sight for Clark, and he sighed contentedly as he reached down to stroke your lower lips. You moaned softly, you used your knees to get away and to launch yourself up Bruce’s body. You managed to bury your face against your step-father's chest and the crease of his armour as you felt Clarks hot breath along your little glistening slit.

Soon Clark's fingers rose up to pet your wet pussy. He caressed the throbbing mound gently, fingers slowly pulling apart your slick nether lips. With one arm, he hooked it under your stomach and lifted your hips, forcing you back up higher on your knees. This allowed him to see your womanhood more clearly.

“How's it look?” Bruce asked calmly, stroking your hair and back in an attempt to soothe you, forgetting his own throbbing arousal for the moment as he tried to quieten your sobs.

“Ohh, Bruce, our little girl is so perfect,” he moaned, grinning as he gently felt your inner flesh with a finger. Your inner flesh peeked out shyly from your outer lips, like the petals of a flower. Bruce could not help but chuckle at Clark’s response as he ran his fingers along your spine, feeling your twitch and hearing a soft shudder come from the tape gag. He pressed his lips to your brow and hummed.

“Yea darlin’,” he broke into his relaxed southern drawl, “You goin’ tell daddy about how you probably used his credit card to wax this pretty pussy?”

Bruce’s eyes widened. His jaw dropped as he looked down at your eyes, pleading up at him wetly.

“It’s a real sculpted love heart...now who on earth is this for huh? Only little sluts get groomed like this,” Clark sat up and leant of you and Bruce. His lips pressed to the corner of your tapped lips, “Are you a little slut baby girl.”

Muffled sobs emanated from the girl as you pressed your face against your step-father’s chest and Clark paused. The men exchanged smirks.

“Have you let some boy fuck this cute hole Baby girl?” Clark breathed, softly, a mocking tone to his voice. He touched your side with his free hand, the other remaining at your mound but being idle, the finger now pulled out. Bruce looked down and gently tilted his step-daughter's chin up to look into your eyes. You looked very lovely with tear-stained cheeks, you had never looked more beautiful his eyes. His hand slowly ran along your cheeks, wiping your tears as he looked down at your tenderly.

“Sweetheart...My lovely little girl. You’re not in trouble, tell us the truth...” he said, softly, caressing your face. Clark bit his lip gently and resumed stroking your rear and your thighs, soon going back to rubbing your hot folds. There was no denying the pleasure, and he felt wetness.

You whimpered softly as you shook your head no while you succumbed under the gentle assault of four hands, all caressing and touching you in the most intimate and gentle of ways.

It was strange, they were not supposed to be doing this and you had been trying to fight them off. And despite all the fear, despite all the rough man handling, despite their mean mockery and degrading humiliation...your groin felt alive....You felt good,

You glanced back over your shoulder at Clark. He met your eyes and smiled. He pressed his lips to your forehead while his fingers were stroking and rubbing your intimate areas in a way that caused your to become wetter.

You hadn’t noticed how your crying was being replaced by snotty sniffling, and mewling moans.

Bruce smiled down at you when you turned your head back to him.

You felt his hand cup your bicep, pulling your bound hands up. You stretched your fingers. He held up his erection and pointed it to your palms

“Touch me baby,” he encouraged softly, “I trust you.”

You whimpered softly and shook your head, giving a sudden gasp with wide eyes as one of Clark’s fingers wiggled into you.

“Please...?” he purred lowly, smiling as Clark pressed second one inside and slowly scissor your insides. You let out a low shuddering moan as your step-father gently grasped your wrist, leading your hand to the swollen cock. Clark continued sliding his fingers in and out of you, before adding a third. Your walls clamped and tightened. You let out a soft hiss and were unable to stop yourself from pushing against Clark’s hand. The man then angled his fingers as he thrust them in slowly, causing them to press against a spongy place on your inner wall that sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

Bruce smiled, his hand cupping over your bound hands so you were forced to grasp the base of his erection. You tried to remove your hand – but of course, to no avail. His thick rod was very warm and solid, you made a small noise as you felt it throb under your hand. You squirmed slightly under Clark’s attention, finding it difficult to breathe as a wave of pleasure washed over you.

Clark peppered a flood of gentle kisses along your soft cheeks as he thrust his fingers into you. Your step-father released a soft moan.

Your hand tightened and rubbed your step-fathers shaft weakily. Your shuddering breaths and fluttering eyes told Bruce everything he need to know about how well Clark was treating their special girl.

Your fingers slowly slid up and down the shaft several times, before you wrapped your fingers around it more firmly and did just as he guided, pumping it slowly and seeing the head seep with a bit more precum. His head tilted back a bit and he gave a low groan of pleasure. You looked up at him and saw how much he liked it, then whimpered, it was so strange how you could have the power all of a sudden. Curiosity, getting the best of you as you looked down at it. It was impressive-looking, and you were becoming slowly bemused to think that he wanted to put this in you.

You pumped more firmly, looking up at your step-father's face intently. He was no longer holding your down, so you pulled herself up just a bit, Clarks fingers followed you as you weakly tried balancing up and off Bruce’s chest. You continued your firm pumping of your step-father's engorged member. Now the taboo excitement of watching him moan and dig his nails into the bed sheets made you conclude that you were getting a thrill out of all this. It made you wonder if there was something wrong with you just as much as there was something wrong with him.

At fourteen, who could deny that little sweet highschooler you had a big crush on your step dad before it developed into crushing on his journalist friend Clark Kent, the very man with three digits up your sweet silky hole.

It was time. You could definitely not ignore the pleasure you felt from Clark, who was working slowly and tenderly at your throbbing sex.

You whined, arching your hips, your toes curling and flexing, something Clark found cute. He chuckled to himself, trailing his free hand along the back of one of your thighs.

Bruce’s hand rose up and grabbed your wrists, he pulled them away to gently stop you. He knew he wanted to cum inside of you.

You looked up at him in surprise and your eyebrows furrowed in curiosity, seeing him smiling kindly at you. Bruce pressed his lips against your forehead and chuckled.

“Are you trying to be a good girl now?” he asked touching the corner of the tape on your mouth.

You sniffled and nodded, moaning when Clark pulled his fingers out to trail down and rub into your pearlling clit.

He smiled, “Alright,” he whispered, “This is going to hurt-“ he said ripping off the tape before he finished his own sentence.

You yelped and hissed.

“Sorry baby girl,” he apologised.

Bruce then leant back against the pillows and watched you succumb to pleasure from Clarks speedy fingers. Your bound hands laid flat on Bruce’s chest, steading you from falling. Your fingers brushed and rubbed along his hairy chest.

Bruce cupped your waist and held you firm as he gazed at you showing your curious exploration. It was then he realised, you were touching some of his scars, covered by hair. Your eyes were growing softer...glassy...he couldn’t believe his luck...you looked the same as you did when you kissed him after your mothers death. If only he knew this was some sort of trance, a head space you were in all those years ago, he would’ve fucked you then.

Clark slid his fingers out of your and licked them clean. The pair, rolled you over onto your back.

You calmly glanced back at your step-father for a moment before returning your attention to the taller man, who was in a similar state of arousal as your step-father.

“My sweet little girl...” Bruce purred before kissing you deeply, his lips locking around yours passionately. Finally you found yourself leaning closer and meeting his same force. The wet sounds of your mouth and moans clouded any remaining sanity left in your mind. Your bound arms found their way around his neck, and he continued kissing you.

Clark waited patiently, knowing that he would have the soon enough, and watched as his friend lovingly cradled his step-daughter, continuing the hungry attentions. You were unable to resist kissing him back just as fiercely.

Soon your tongues came into the dance, with Bruce quickly gaining dominance, a sweet whine escaping you.

Clark smiled, and began to rub his shaft slightly. Bruce pulled away and pushed your bound hands off his neck. He shuffled your face to the side, pushing you to Clarks arms.

With bold confidence, you pushed up onto your knees and laid your loud hands behind his neck, pressing your lips to his. He playfully growled as your tongues fought, you lost and he hummed happily, eagerly exploring your sweet little mouth, his arms tightening around your body.

After a few more long moments of the passionate kiss, he broke it before licking up the strand of saliva that bridged your panting tongues. He grinned at you. You smiled and stared at him for a moment before looking down shyly. He saw this demure action and smirked.

“What’s wrong princess, still scared?” he asked softly, nuzzling your cheek. You continued looking down shyly. You had thought of asking Bruce who was watching you both, what your mother would have thought of what he was doing to his step-daughter, but you had no doubt that he had already thought of that.

Bruce cupped your waist and lowered his lips to your shoulders. His erection pushed against the swell of your ass.

Carefully you were pushed back onto the mattress. Bruce came up to put your head in his lap, languidly stroking your hair and cheeks as Clark rubbed your thighs. The man you had admired for so long spread them, eyeing your shuddering sex hungrily. Your body froze up, stiffening as it sunk in what was truly coming you squirmed around, pressing your knees together. You looked up at Clark pleadingly.

He sighed, disappointed. He leant behind him, reaching for the duct tape....was he going to duct tape your legs spread wide.

You panicked, “Are you doing this because I did not accept your marriage offer?”

“No.” he paused and didn’t grab the tape at all. He leant down and softly, kissed your lips chastely. Bruce leant down sand cupped the back of your knees, pulling them up and spreading them wide.

You shivered.

Clark touched your cunt gently and spread you open again. His face pushed forward, leaning in and licked from the bottom to the top of your slit. You had a sharp gasping intake as you felt the gentle licking there and you pushed his head away gently. Clark leaned back in and continued to lick you, lapping at the sweet wet with his thick tongue, resisting as you pushed at his head – although your pushes were fairly weak.

“You’re not being punished,” Bruce repeatedly assured you as if he read your mind, stroking your cheeks. Clark continued to lap at you.

“We just both think this would be a bit of....encouragement for you to stay baby,” Bruce purred, tweaking one of your nipples playfully.

You grizzled, “To st-stay?” your hips jerked a little as Clark sucked harder on your clit, your legs still held wide open by Bruce’s strong hands.

“Honey,” Clark murmured into your cunt, staring up at you with eyes that were mixed with lust, adoration and worship, “You don’t need to go to college when you have me and your daddy to heel you happy.”

Your voice caught in your throat, you couldn’t believe it...this was why? To keep you away from going to school? You bit your bottom lip. You would’ve been devastatingly hurt but with his tongue slipping inside and licking deep into your whole, you tossed your head backwards onto Bruce’s shoulder, crying out as a orgasm waved through your body.

“Clark, you can take her first,” Bruce softly granted.

“We can look at that sweet asshole another day and then,” your step father licked the shell of your ears whispering, “You’ll be allowed to fuck two big cocks at once down there.”

Clark got on his knees between your legs and Bruce steadied you, taking your hands into his own and squeezing them reassuringly before he let go. His large hands massaged your breasts, and reached down to rub your clit slowky as you felt Clark position himself, gently rubbing your slit with his tip. It had opened up to him through all of the loving attention, and was glistening with wetness.

Your eyes widened.

“Don’t… we shouldn’t…” you whispered, “Y-youre not wearing a condom.”

Bruce’s hands tightened around your wrists and lifted them pulling them backward to hook on his own neck. Your chest was so pushed up.

“It’s okay baby, we don’t need a condom,” Clark moaned, caressing your cheeks before his hands travelled down to your sides. He smiled kindly at you, and you found herself smiling back faintly, looking into his ice-blue eyes. You shivered as he slowly lowered himself, and the head of his cock gently nudged at your slit. You tensed a little, but felt your step-father massage your clit.

You gasped and arched a little when Clark penetrated you, and your step-father continued stroking you in a languid yet firm manner, his touches did much to soothe the passage and help you relax. You looked up at your Bruce for a moment, then back at Clark. Bruce tenderly caressed your cheeks and arms, while Clark's hands stroked along your sides. He was moving slowly, letting your get used to his girth, for he was almost as thick as his best friend. The wetness made it possible for him to move quite smoothly within you, and it was also so inviting.

It was tight and yes it was uncomfortable but with the support of Bruce’s hand, in no time, he was sheathed fully, and you stared up at him quietly feeling his balls pressed into your soft ass. He was heavy inside you, an unexpected pressure. The tip poked the sponge of your womb.

There was a few frightful seconds where all of you were silent save for your soft breathing. Bruce glanced at the tape, prepared to hear your screaming again...but it didnt come. And then Clark smiled lovingly down at you, comforting you at that moment, before leaning in and kissing your cheek.

“How do you feel?” he asked. You shyly huffed even more, but kept your eyes on him. You couldn’t decide whether to smile or grimace.

“I don't know. I... feel very full...” you replied softly, feeling Bruce’s fingers brush along your forehead.

Clark lifted your ankles up onto his shoulders and took a deep breath.

“The best part is yet to come, my sweet angel,” Bruce promised. Clark smiled, and began to gyrate his hips, sliding his shaft in and out of your tight cunt in a languid manner. The reaction was immediate. His cock dragged along your sensitive walls, and Bruce smiled as he watched his sweet little step-daughter squirm around in pleasure. Soon enough, he himself would be doing that to you.

Clark released a deep groan, clearly in bliss as he thrust into you. His speed was tempered and gentle, languorous, making sure that the length of his dick dragged along your gspot with each thrust to create that glorious friction. He wanted your first time to be something deep and tender. And it was working. You hissed and flexed your back into Bruce feeling Clarks entire cock within you as you clenched hard. It had hurt a little at first, but there was no denying the pleasure to be had, and the gentle caresses were doing much to heighten your experience.

“Sh-shit shit shit, oh my god, Clark! Clark I’m-”

Clarks gentle lovemaking pushed you towards your glorious shouting orgasm, and you cried out when you hit it, arching up against him, clenching around him almost painfully. You had ever felt anything so wonderful in your whole life! Bruce smiled as he saw this, and leaned down to place kisses along his mewling step-daughter’s face, massaging your breasts as he did so.

“Isn’t it wonderful, babygirl? Doesn’t it feel so good?” Bruce asked warmly. All you could do was nod. Clark shot you a charming smile, thrusting more firmly now, and he whispered your name when he finally came. Your clenching drew it out, and multiple shots of his seed squirted deep inside of you, filling your up.

Clark placed firm kisses along your face, remaining within your hot pussy for a few more moments. You turned your face towards him, nuzzling him back, as your lips peppered his cheeks, Clark started grinning happily. A few moments passed, some tender caresses, before Bruce chuckled and shifted. Clark looked up at him and smiled, sliding out of you a little too quickly. You whimpered pitifully at the stinging sensation of being emptied.

Clark laid beside you on his side as Bruce moved down the bed to inspect the mess his friend had created. Clark kept his eyes on you, he shot you another reassuring smile before propping your head up with his arm. He laid there relaxed and enjoying the waving endorphins made from his orgasm, still reeling from the pleasure that your sweet noises and tight pussy had given him.

Bruce gently rolled you onto your belly. Your cheek still pressed into the pillow made of Clarks bicep.

“On your knees, baby, stick that ass up for Daddy…” Bruce whispered. You huffed and wiggled your hips up, propping you up on your knees. It was a lovely sight, and he rubbed your behind, kneading the cheeks lovingly as he glanced at your swollen and glistening sex.

“Good girl,” he rumbled, patting your back softly.

You moaned softly, knowing what your step-father was about to do. At this point, you had given up on fighting off the two men, especially because it felt so good. You rested your head against Clark and sighed, staring at his eyes that gazed you lovingly. With is other hand, Clark stroked your face and hair softly as you awaited for your step-father to take you, your heart thundered with anticipation.

Bruce took a moment to admire the glorious vision before him. Your sweet pussy glistened, dripping and dribbling out the creamy white Clark had squirted deep inside. Your outer lips were swollen from the recent coupling you had. Your rear end glowed under the light of the bedroom lamp, looking so plump and inviting.

“You’re so gorgeous, princess. How Clark and I resisted you for this long, god only knows,” Bruce chuckled and rubbed your bum.

You gave out a soft but contented sigh before he was pressing the head of his needy pole against his your slit, rubbing it up and down the opening a few times. You moaned softly and squirmed a little, but made no real attempt to flee.

Bruce grabbed your hips and gave a strong thrust, his cock sliding inside of you to the base with little effort despite your tightness. You whimpered out softly, in slight pain but more in surprise, and looked over your shoulder at your Step-father again.

Clark wolfishly grinned at you, as Bruce’s hips immediately thrusting back and forth. He pounded into you, hard and fast, your body quivering under him.

Clark’s lovemaking had been languorous and gentle, more than suitable for your first time. But Bruce’s way of taking you was savage and primal. Despite it...you found yourself enjoying this as well. It was rough and deeply bruising. You would be able to feel it tomorrow.

Bruce was not hurting you, it was not unbearable agony as he slammed his hips fiercely. Clark watched with half-lidded eyes, listening to your whines and touching your face every now and then as if to reassure you.

Bruce punched his cock into you with the ferocity of an animal in heat. You were so wonderfully tight and hot that it was impossible to just hold back.

“F-Fuck, Daddy!!!”

The way you responded to him, arching towards him and making small sounds of pleasure and mewls of pain only spurred him on even more. His heavy balls slapped against the back of your thighs, and you strangled around him with your walls. He gave out a low growl as he cummed, creaming deep inside.

You whimpered out another heightened, ‘Daddy!’ as your body quivered, your teeth chattering just slightly.

You bit your lip almost hard enough to cause it to bleed as you hit another orgasm, your eyes rolled back and clenching around him hard, trapping his cock inside with your tightness.

You looked at your step-father over your shoulder as he continued thrusting in you, his cock remained erect for a few moments before slowly becoming flaccid. You looked over at Clark then back at Bruce, whimpering out 'Daddy' again as you felt cum dribble down your opening. He stayed within your cunt for a while, panting as he relaxed his muscles. Smirking, he pulled out of your tightness and stroked your rump.

“Good girl baby...”

You remained on your knees for several more moments, cum still dribbling out a little as he traced his fingers along the firm curve of your rear end. What you had been through was unbelievable. You had just been dominated and fucked by the two men you cared most about in the world...one of them was your step-father. It seemed almost too impossible to believe, like it all had to been some sick dream- any moment you would wake up to find yourself alone, dressed, inside your own bed....But did you want this to be a dream?

The more you thought, the less sick it seemed to be...morally it was wrong...but at the end of the day, you weren’t related and Bruce was sure to take care of you just like he always had along with your own mother. Your mother might not have approved if she was alive...but...there was nothing she could do now.

And Clark was just as caring and understanding of your passions....So both clearly loved you, very much....

You felt Clark caress your cheek once more, and you looked to him as your hips fell down limp. He offered you a smile before leaning over to press his lips to your forehead.

“You did so well darlin’.”

You shyly smiled, feeling Bruce lay down behind you.

You felt Bruce slide something cold between your wrists and slice through the pink tape.

Your eyes fluttered. You could hear Bruce put that sharp object most likely a knife in his bed side drawer.

He cupped your wrists and gently massaged them, kissing the raw area. He then scooped you up into his arms, holding you close, as if he wanted to rock you to sleep. You rolled onto your back and looked between them. They were two content lions gazing down at the sweet kitten in their bed. Both of them held pleased but loving expressions on their faces, and you smiled shyly a little and buried your nose in into the blue sweat soaked sheets. Under the gentle embrace and caresses, you closed your eyes.

You felt one of them, you didn’t know or care who, pull up a duvet, covering your quivering body. The men sighed happily at one another as you snuggled sweetly between them.

It was a fact to acknowledge with their cum growing dry on your thighs how they now would never let you go. They would take you in the morning, and whenever either of them pleased from then on. You were there’s...you belonged to them, and they would always do everything to prove their desire for you. You fell asleep in their embrace, you pressed your face into Clarks chest, while you pressed your backside into Bruce’s hips. snuggled up to both of them, while their affectionate caresses and whispers lulled you to sleep.

★★★

When morning arrived it was still pitch black thanks to the roll down tinted glass windows.

Bruce’s grey his eyes cracked awake slowly, to the sounds of your soft snoring. Your soft cheek was pressed against his chest after the night of shuffling you must’ve done in your sleep. ���What a wonderfully sweet thing to wake up to,’ he thought, smiling as he traced his fingertips gently along your other cheek. He looked to his left at the big bulk of a man under the covers.

Clark was still sleeping, his arm was covering your hip. Your plump rear end was against his stomach, and Bruce smiled at you both.

Your sweet drooling face stirred slightly as your cheek was caressed, but you remained asleep. Being cushioned and cradled in the warmth of two big men had surprisingly helped you to sleep well, as you had been so comforted by the obvious affection they had shown you. If they didn’t care about you, they would have simply raped you bloody and never paid mind to your pleasure they never would’ve focused on your feelings and overall care.

Clark loved you and wanted to be your husband, he had been serious when he asked for your hand in marriage. It was in the plan but Bruce knew Clark wanted to ask ages ago...

And Bruce loved you too, he wanted your utmost happiness but he desired your overall safety and company. If you left for college he wouldn’t know when he’d see you again...if ever...considering you held no real “blood” obligation to him.

Clark and he were good friends, and sharing you had been a odd thought at first, but last night proved that it would work out well between the three of you. And it was very comfortable, and would continue to be comfortable – after all, both of them wanted your happiness, love and companionship.

Bruce pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Wake up, baby girl, it’s daddy...” he whispered into your ear, gently nibbling along your earlobe. Your eyelids fluttered open and you whimpered softly, a bit disoriented at first as was common on waking up in a place so different to your bedroom but the disorientation faded as you rubbed your eyes and turned your head upwards a bit to look up at the eyes of your doting step-father smiling softly down at you.

“Good morning, Daddy...” you said softly, wiping the sleep away from your eyes and blinking a few times as you felt a hand caress along your hip, you didn’t know who it belonged to, but did that even matter?

“Good morning, sweet angel... Did you sleep alright?” he asked, caressing your hair. Clark stirred but did not wake. You shyly nodded. Last night was beyond taboo and though you were not entirely angry or disgusted, it would take a bit getting used to.

“I am glad...” Bruce replied before he chuckled softly and fondled your side. He looked over at Clark and smiled.

“...Will you marry him?” he whispered, kissing your cheek. You stared at him for a few moments before nodding slowly. You did not see why not – Clark was a good man and you had no interest in anyone else.

Bruce nodded, smiling happily. He was ecstatic that you had accepted Clark’s hand, and now you would be truly a family inside Wayne’s manor.

“What about you, Daddy?” you asked softly as your step-father’s hand gently caressed your side, “....Don’t you want me anymore,” your eyes glanced away in embarrassment considering how pathetic you sounded asking....

“Mmm,” he pecked the tip of your nose, “Clark and I already discussed this...I would like to keep our closeness when you are wed... Clark and I have shared many passions in the past...towards each other and it does not bother him.”

Your eyes started to widen. You didn’t know your step-dad was just as sexually active with men.

“He really agrees to this? You two... have no problem with... sharing?” you whispered as you rolled over onto your back to gain a more accurate gaze upon Bruce.

“Not at all...” he chuckled, “We are too good a pair of friends to fight over something wonderful like this as spectacular as you.” He stated.

You smiled and looked down shyly. He looked over at Clark once more and smirked almost deviously.

He reached out and playfully thumbed your nipples.

“Baby girl, it looks like Clark is a heavy sleeper...how about you go and wake him up for me?” His tone was seductive, and low. You could see from the corner of your eyes the two hardening peaks growing out of the bed sheets.

Bruce pushed his side down and cupped himself, using his enclosed first like a sight hole.

“C’mon baby, go wake up your other daddy,” he groaned.

You gasped and flushed even more as you stated at your step-father for several moments before carefully crawling over to Clark again.

You placed a gentle kisses along his face, saving his lips for last. Your hand caressed along his smooth chest, slowly making its way down to his morning organ. His nipples were given attention, your fingers teasing over the pink nubs and making them taut. Your palm felt along the toned muscles of his abdomen, and stroked the coarse dark hair above his cock, teasing your fingers along the treasure trail. The thin hairs had started as a thin, tapering line several inches below his navel, and spread out gradually to the thatch over his cock.

Bruce watched calmly, not at all bothered by his friend’s nakedness. He did not stare at Clark either, he just watched with interest at what you, his step-daughter was doing. You had such a lovely soft hand. You slowly patted the neither hairs as you started sucking on Clark’s angry red tip.

You flattened your tongue and looked over, making full eye contact with Bruce While he jerked off languishingly. He smirked and winked at you.

“Suck his cock babygirl, suck Papa’s cock.”

Papa...Daddy...oh god...what were you getting yourself into.

You leant your face down, filling your cheeks with the tip of his pink cock tip. Your tongue raised around the skin and flicked under the folds. You tried not to think about the smell but the taste alone. It was bitter, salty and a little tangy.

“M-mmh...” Clark let out a soft noise of pleasure, face blissfully slack. His manhood stirred and began to rise a bit, the touches arousing him even when he slept.

“Clarkkkkk...” Bruce cooed in a soft purr, gently touching his shoulder while you lapped at his foreskin, and Bruce started growing aroused, wanting to stick himself inside of you as he had a grand view of your little cunt, dried with flakes of white on your skin.

At the mention of his name, the man stirred and opened his eyes, smiling a bit, raising a hand to lazily wipe the sleep from his eyes.

“A-ah...Good morning...” he said, blurrily looking down at what you were doing. You smiled sweetly and placed a gentle kiss on his tip as you brought him to full attention.

“Clark?” you asked softly.

“Yes sweetheart?...hngh...” he shuddered, shifting a bit, his cock rising further. Bruce shivered, running his fingertips along your rear.

“I will be your wife,” You whispered softly. He tilted his head, and a wide grin came to his face. Hooking one arm around your arm he tugged you up to him to abandon you morning blowjob. He sealed his lips over yours in a gentle kiss. When you parted, he purred.

“Thank you sweet girl, I vow to always cherish you like last night and every encounter we’ve met.” His words made you giggle happily, as you had no real doubt of his respect for you.

He heard the fwapping sound of Bruce masturbating, watching you.

“Have you talked Bruce?” he added.

Your lashes fluttered.

“I accept him as well. I...I will stay home. College can wait or I can try online courses...You can both have me,” You whispered. Bruce ran a fingertip along your slit. You shivered and moaned, wiggling your rear end at Bruce as you kissed Clark again, your hand returned to slowly pumping his engorged organ.

Bruce smiled, he rubbed your slit gently and lazily, feeling the flesh quiver a bit and begin to slicken up. Clark moaned softly into your lips and his hand moved down, cupping one of your breasts and carefully kneading it, plucking at your nipples. You gave out a soft whine of pleasure and looked at Clark for a moment before looking back at Bruce.

“Daddy...” You pouted, “...stop teasing me.” You reached out to his cock with your other hand. In each palm you held two thick cocks at the same time and went about squeezing and licking them like a game....unwittingly teasing them both to release. The men both gradually sat up on their elbows. Before either of them could cum however, you let their cocks go and sat back, facing them with a childish smirk, biting your lip.

If they wanted to be depraved, you could be too...you wondered if they’d tie and gag you again. Would they pushed you around manhandle and humiliate you again?...a real sensational thrill soaked your bones at the thought. What a fantastic opportunity to test that theory...

You didn’t leave that room for probably three whole days except to use the master bathroom...

Alfred decided not to intervene.. after all it was Master Wayne he was paid by, not you.

[drewharrisonwriter]

Donor

Part 1 | Part 1.5 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Pairings: Bestie Henry Cavill x OFC A/N, Warnings: 18+, Talk of artificial insemination, peeing in a cup, sperm, and more. LOL I wrote this in an hour, IDK where I pulled this from. Not beta-ed. Also, I'm pretty sure this doesn't make so much sense in terms of plot, and being realistic. But come on, let this delulu queen live her life. You're welcome to join. Summary: You ask (beg) your best friend, Henry to donate--sperm.

I’m AO3, too as MoonDjarin ^_^

“Hank, pleaaaase…” You pleaded, dragging the last word. Henry laughed at your frustration but still could not wrap his head around what you’re asking of him.

“You’re going insane.” He jokes, causing you to drop your back on the carpet with a soft thud, covering your face with your palms as you landed.

“It’s just like peeing in a cup.” Your reply came out muffled. Henry just snorted and tried his best to stifle a laugh.

Nearly 18 years of friendship and here you are, seemingly at the end of your rope, asking your best friend to father the child you so ache for and he laughs at your ridiculous solution, telling you he’s not going to be responsible for a “turkey baster baby”.

“I don’t like peeing in a cup. Besides, why go the turkey baster way when you can go… au naturelle?”

“You know exactly why…” You said, sitting up, and gathering the profiles of sperm donors from the (sperm) bank. You and Henry had been going through each profile over the past few hours, laughing and making faces at the notes.

“And I thought Tinder was bad.” He commented earlier.

Henry got up and took the bottles of beer on the coffee table and walked back to the kitchen to open new ones.

“Tell me why won’t you do it?” You asked him, eyes round and glazed with tears that are threatening to fall any second.

He hates seeing you like this.

He sighed and admitted, “If I were to have any children of my own, I’d rather have them borne out of love and not out of… desperation after a really bad break up.”

“But I’m not asking you to be… a father. Just a donor.” You countered.

"Darling, please. Reaaally think about what you're asking of me."

"I have! I wouldn't be asking you if I haven't. Come on, Hank..."

"Right, not more than an hour after dropping sperm bank Tinder and you've thought this through." He said sarcastically and you pouted.

"Well, think about it, too!" You asked of him. "It's the ideal situation."

"How? Tell me exactly why it's so ideal." He said, running a hand through his face and resting his chin on his palm as he waited for your brilliant idea.

"Well, first of all, we love each other. So the child won't be borne not out of love." You began, mocking his accent and his statement from earlier. He snickered and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Jesus," He muttered.

"Plus, I won't ask you for anything, Hank. No child support, no emotional support. You don't have to see them. You're not even going to be on the birth certificate."

Henry winced at each of your points. "Darling, you know so well that I'm always your emotional support. And d'you really think I can go around just being Uncle Hank?” He replied with an eye roll as he took a sip of his beer.

"Yeah, how hard could that be?" You exclaimed.

"Very." He said sternly, looking you straight in the eye.

"Y/N." He began. "You know so well I won't be able to sit here with you holding a child knowing it's mine and not be involved in all ways."

“God, you’re too emotional.” You rolled your eyes at his response as you drank from your beer bottle.

“I am! And I’m sorry, darling. I can’t just give away my children. They’re not the meals you make for me every week.”

You laughed at that. "So you admit it, you don't like the meals I prep for you?"

"That's beside the point."

You'll get back to that later. You sighed out loud as you both drank.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Why do you desperately want this?”

That ought to get you thinking hard.

You sighed and asked yourself the same thing, reflecting on what started this vision of yourself with a child, and what turned it to longing and aching, then desperation.

Growing up without present parents, you basically become an extended Cavill sibling. The sister they never had, or as the youngest Cavill, Charlie, would like to joke, the no-choice sister. That family took you in like their own kin, having you over for dinner almost every evening, and spending weekends and vacations with them.

It's not that you're not well off, financially. Your parents were just really successful actors who don't pay you much any attention but showers you with plenty of lavish gifts and an American Express Black card. Which, Henry's mother found really heartbreaking and his father pitied you on.

You were 15 when you met Henry. He was already a budding actor with a couple of productions and a movie or two in his portfolio. You were a bright and young singer-songwriter from Italy, about to break it into the English-language audience with a catchy single that Henry happened to star in the music video of.

It was easy falling into a friendship with Henry. He was kind, funny, a little nerdy, but he's also such a gentleman, and treats you and talks to you like an equal despite the five-year age gap.

It didn't take long before you met his family when he invited to his birthday party. You didn't know exactly how the events played out that day, but somehow, at the end of it all, you walked out of their home being a part of it.

You got along so well with his brothers, you and his mother already sharing secrets. You figured she was excited to have a girl in the house as none of her children would bring their girlfriends for them to meet. His father was so easy to please, a couple of jokes here and a few football arguments there, and you won his heart. Not like you were even trying, but you were glad that you got along with all of them.

Henry drove you home that night and when he parked in your empty driveway, he jumped out to open the door for you. You cried in the passenger seat with the door open and he stood there, leaning on the doorframe as you confessed to him your jealousy and longing for that kind of family.

He pulled you in and wrapped you in a tight hug beneath the street lamp.

"Hank, you know so well there is nothing I want more in life at this moment than to have a family."

"I don't get it, Y/N." He said quietly, "You're definitely the smartest person I know. You're a literal genius..." He thought of your first few conversations on the set of your first English-language music video, and learning that not only you spoke several languages fluently, but you are also about to start university at such an early age. It impressed him so much.

"You've accomplished so much in your career, you're still young, there are so many things you can do with your life, why do you go back to this?" He asked and you just shrugged.

"I feel incomplete. What can I say? A dream is a dream."

"Gerry was a dream, too." He said and you looked at him surprised at bringing up your ex fiancé.

He was indeed a dream. You met Gerry at an evening talk show as a fellow guest. He didn't hide the fact that he was so enamored by you and that he's such a big fan of your music. You, being a fan of him, too, was just so happy to hear him say all that in person.

It was an instant connection, and it didn't take long for you and Gerry to start a long, and at the time, seemingly, lasting and perfect relationship.

"Sorry." He muttered. "But it makes me wonder, you never talked about it, just casually said that things didn't work out. Knowing you, things don't just not work out like that."

And he's right, you know he's right.

Gerry loves you a lot. You love him, too. But for all the years you've been together with the high-profile action star, the talk of kids almost never came up, at least the serious talk about kids. Until you brought it up soon after he proposed, and he confessed that he had a vasectomy shortly before you met.

You were not mad. You understood, vasectomies are reversible. But Gerry didn't want to have it reversed, ever. He admitted that the reason he got it in the first place was to not accidentally have kids as he fully intended to be childless.

You understood that, too. But it broke your heart.

Regardless, you had a clean break up, but never felt the need to tell people, even your friends or family as to why. Just that things didn't work out.

"Gerry didn't want to start a family." You told Henry.

"What?" He asked, surprised. His brows furrowed and his mouth hung slightly open at your revelation. You just nodded.

"I don't understand, you were to be married." You just nodded again, and took a sip of your beer. You told him the truth about Gerry, and Henry felt his heart breaking for you.

Henry reached for your hand from across the coffee table, enveloping your tiny hands in his big ones.

"And that's a deal breaker for you." He said softly, coming to the realization.

"Yeah." You replied. "So... there you go."

"But you know what comes after the last one, right?"

"What?"

"The next one." He joked, trying to make the air in the room lighter. He smiled at his success when you snickered.

"I'm tired, Hank. Tired of getting to know new people. I've been with Gerry for four years, and before that... well you know." It was Henry's turn to snicker.

He knows so well. All the heartbreaks, disappointments, even the rebounds, met most of them. He was always there at your highest of highs, and always down with you when things didn't work out.

"I get that." He finally answered, thinking about his own strings of ex girlfriends, and an ex-fiancé. At one point, you both feel very proud of the situation you found yourselves in, both engaged to beautiful people at the same time.

You even toasted to it last New Year's eve, not knowing that both promises of a lifetime of love would fall apart in a matter of months. He, too, wanted what you wanted. A family of his own, being the only one amongst his brothers to be single and childless.

He thought he might have had that with his ex fiance. Telling him she was pregnant when she caught a whiff of him about to break things off. He was caught off guard when she told him and he didn't even waste a moment to put a ring on her finger, falling for her lies.

Maybe it was not so bad, making your dream come true. You can always discuss co-parenting, he thought and he's sure you'd allow it.

He pondered on it some more.

Henry rested his head on the cool glass top of the coffee table, his hand never left yours. He let out a breath, fogging the glass beneath him as he gently squeezed your hand.

He shut his eyes tight, and muttered to himself, "Please don't make me regret this."

"What?" You asked, not quite hearing what he said.

"Okay."

"Okay, what?"

"Okay, I'll do it. I'll--be your turkey baster baby's donor."

With that you burst out crying and he stood up, took your hand and guided you to his arms. He wrapped you up in that big, warm hug, that you always find comfort in.

"Set an appointment in the morning, darling." He whispered and you cried some more and muttered a yes, thank you.

18 years of friendship with Henry Cavill, and this is where you find yourself: at a crossroads that neither of you could have predicted.

The weight of his decision settled between you like a tangible presence, and as you hugged each other tightly, you knew that this was a turning point in your relationship, an uncharted territory.

Read next part: Part 1.5 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

[itstheimpossibledream]

Finished

Pairing: Henry Cavill x you

Prompt:Henry & y/n invited to his moms for thanksgiving. Mom also invites his ex.His mom is super strict so everyone is supposed to have separate rooms, mostly for his ex to slip into his room but she opens the door to find you sitting on his face.

This one was kind of tough but, ended up being a super fun story to write!Hope you guys enjoy it !Thanks for your ask, hope this lives up to the expectation.

“Are we going?” you ask quietly.

“Do you want to go?”  he says, cocking an eyebrow in your direction.

“I mean….. It’s your mother. We kinda have to.” he pulls you in closer letting out a low hmmm. 

“Yes. but, I don’t visit her often for a reason.” he says quietly. The heft of his arm and the sheets around you calling you to relaxation. 

“And what’s that reas-”

“She’s crazy.” he says bluntly. You laugh,immediately knowing he’s joking . It was very out of character for him to call anyone out of their name. Much less his own mother. You look up at him to notice he isn’t laughing, not even smiling.

“O Henry, come on! She is not crazy, I’m sure she just misses you. That’s why she calls so often.”

He caresses your face “My mother is a tiny, blonde psychopath. I love her with all my heart but, everytime I bring a woman home she gets so attached I- it’s hard to explain.” he trails off.

“Guess I’ll just have to meet her then!” you squeal sleepily into his chest before drifting away in an ocean of plans.

You packed, you brushed your teeth, and were ready early in time for the flight. Henry slept most of the way but, you were too filled with questions of if she would like you, and what he of all people meant by calling his mother an attached psychopath. The hours ticked away and you looked worriedly from the clock on your phone to Henry.

“Maybe she just forgot we were coming today?Should we call?” you ask

“Nooooo. No. She has forgotten nothing. This is what she does. Constantly trying to keep me on my toes, I guarantee you she’s up to something.”

You snort through your nose “Henry I guarantee your mother is not that malicious.”

“Have you met her yet?” he jokes flatly. Just then the car pulls up a decently clean but embarrassingly tiny red kia soul, flying like a bat out of hell. 

You exhale, taking a step off of the curb and waiting for your moment of truth.

She jumps out of the car and runs to her son, jumping into his arms. He smiles for a minute holding her and you see the light of a little boy flicker in him for a moment. He pulls back at the sound of the trunk popping open and begins to load the bags into the back for the weekend. 

“Mrs. Marianne I am just so excited to finally get to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you and I’m really excited to-” She cuts you off turning back to her son.

“And Hen you remember Ellen.”

That’s when you see her, a leggy blonde with a perfect smile stepping out of the car that just makes your heart drop. Ellen fucking Whitaker. Ofcourse, champion show jumping horse rider from a family of professional horse trainers and not to mention gorgeous but, most importantly Henry’s ex- fiance. 

“Cool, cool ,cool ,cool” you can hear yourself muttering under your breath trying not to explode.

“Mum this is y/n! She was very excited to be invited.” he confirms, giving you some comfort that he’s on your side. 

“Mmm. Well that’s darling.” she spins on her heels heading back towards the driver’s side of the car.

You follow Henry as you both hug Ellen and exchange your greetings. She seems to think his mother bringing her here is just as ridiculous as you do and while you still despise her presence that knowledge makes it vaguely reassuring that she hasn’t come to fight for his love. 

“Henry, dear sit up here with me I want to hear all about LA.” he rolls his eyes, making his way to the passenger side while you and Ellen assemble yourselves in the back of the tiny car with the luggage. You flip your phone over in your lap and notice a text from Henry. “I love you.Don’t stress out. She’s just like this.” you text him back a heart emoji but, it’d be a lie to pretend your heart wasn’t still caught in your throat. Not only did his mother refuse to acknowledge you. But, she brought some random ass woman that she obviously plans for Henry to be with instead. Actually , no.Not random, which is even worse! Am I spirialing ? I feel like I’m spiraling. You had completely zoned out of the sweet family reunion happening infront of you an attempted to string some words together in your head that would help you explain how you feel to him when you finally got alone time. You entered the driveway of the estate and his mother handed the keys to the valet , excusing herself and calling Ellen to follow her inside. Being excluded from the girl’s powwow didn’t bother you as much since if gave you a chance to speak to Henry. The Butler offered to help but, he insisted on doing it himself, calling him by name. And you were momentarily reminded of the things you did love about Henry. You followed behind him as he carried things to the room. You tried to make small talk with him as you unzipped your suitcase and began pulling out your necessities for your facewash routine. “O ummmm-” Henry looked at you as if trying to hide back from saying something. More bad information you were sure. 

“You actually have the room down the hall.”he says sheepishly.

“What do you mean?” your eyes widen despite your attempts to quell your emotion. He has to be crazy. There’s no other way to explain.

“My mom doesn’t want me to share a bed in her home unless its with the woman I’ve marrried.” he says , hands up in a defensive position. 

You exhale slowly repacking your things. “Sure. Ofcourse. What wouldn’t she want that.”

You knew it sounded bitter but, you couldn’t help it. 

“Hey -” he grabs your arm as you head towards the door, pulling you in and kissing you .His hand coming to your cheek, fingers resting on the back of your head, giving you the comfort he couldn’t offer with words. 

“Plus” he whispers into your lips “It will be fun to sneak around like kids for a few days.”You roll your eyes at him as his hands make their way to your ass. He gropes you for a bit before you escape his grasp headed to your room or Marianne created dungeon. Actually the room was quite nice. The flowers on the wall paper felt like a bit much but, the room got great sun and wasn’t to far from the bathroom . You liked that the estate had an old-timey feel of walking down the hall to use the toilet. Plus, it allowed you more excuses to be where Henry is. You unpacked your room and then sat on the bed next to your empty suitcase before exhaling,and finding the strength to get dressed for dinner. 

You stepped gently down the stairs ,trying to avoid the steps that creak when your hear the door close behind you. Looking up over the landing you see Henry at the top of the stairs.

“What are you doing?”he asks flatly.

You become aware of your hunched back and your body language from testing the step with your toe.

“I- I just don’t want to go.” you confessed.

He rushes in your direction, “Sweetheart you don’t have to.”

“No I mean I want to I just ….I was so excited to meet your mother and she just-”

“Listen” he leans against the wall scratching the side of his face. “I was trying to protect you. I should have tried to explain her more but it’s- she’s just so embarrassing. If you want, we can cut it short and go home tomorrow.” he seems genuinely saddened that his mom had been so rude. You hadn’t even had the chance to tackle Ellen’s presence before you hear a fumbling downstairs and his mother calling for him. He looks at you silently giving you time to decide. 

“I still want to try and win her over.” you whisper back to him. He laughs a little at your  determination and offers you his arm. You walk to dinner together and his presence gives you comfort.  

At dinner your seats are assigned. Shockingly your seat is not next to Henry’s but one of their family friend’s who was also visiting. You thought it a smart call on Marriane’s part. Had it just been the four of you for dinner the meal was sure to mostly be had in silence. You sat across from Henry and although he and Ellen had a few hushed moments this test actually caused you to feel more confident in your relationship. His mom was being a bitch but, when she did he’d nudge your foot under the table. This nudge eventually turned into a quiet game of footsies but, as adults your were grateful for the reminder that no matter how it seemed he was always prioritizing you. By the time dessert came you decided you wanted to try pushing the boundaries. His mother hadn’t said anything rude to you, she simply had not spoken to you at all. And if she had already decided she hated you  then there wasn’t much left for you to do but, enjoy the sculpture of a man that she had created. You slipped your foot from your shoe and let your footsies progress to you rubbing him through his pants with your foot. His eyes shoot to you across the table,but he doesn’t give you away. You can feel him growing harder under your toes as he melts into his chair. His face looks so small and innocent, looking at you, trying so hard to be in control, to be good. His mother hurls a few rude words but, you are to turned on by the view across from you to care. Once dismissed from the table, the tempered dash to the bedroom is quick. His hand presses into your back as he practically pushes you up the stairs. His room was the closest to the stairs , as you walked past he grabs your arm , pulling you in. 

“Heeeeey hey hey.” you whisper to him as he slips his hand up your dress. “I think your mother will notice if I’m not in my room.” he groans into you. “Shhhh. I’ll come back later” you pull back winking at him. He slowly removes his hand and you turn, switching out of the room. 

You promptly switch into your best lingerie and robe while counting the minutes, listening as the sounds of the house grow softer and softer. When the coast seems clear, you softly make your way to Henry’s room. You push the door open slowly trying to mitigate the creak as much as possible.You can see his figure sitting up in the dark. You drop your robe to the ground as he closes his book. “ I thought you’d never come!” he exhales. He places his book on the nightstand and you jump into bed, straddling him. His hands reach around to cup your ass and your grab him by the wrists. 

“Don’t touch.” you warn. He cocks his head to the side as if to question the change from your usual power exchange. 

“Only with your tongue.” you smile, leaning in to kiss him. He smiles coyly and you move yourself up the headboard of the bed. You grab onto it as he pulls your panties to the side. He hums into you and you are doing your best to keep quiet as you grip down onto the headboard beneath. You reach your other hand down cradling the back of his head while his tongue explores further into you. Biting your bottom lip in an attempt to keep from crying out ,you pull his hair and his hand smack your ass in response.

“Fuck” you exhale into the darkness and just then you hear the door creak open. 

“Oh no!” you turn around to see Ellen, and no sooner than you lock eyes, you grab the duvet pulling it over both of your bodies.Henry is confused and ends up being mostly exposed during the shuffle.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Ummm your mom told me to- I’m sorry I-” She turned , rushing out of the room; a flurry of nerves and embarrassment. The door slammed behind her and you both looked at eachother, momentarily embarrassed too. But, then you both broke into laugher. This entire trip had been absurd, this is almost just on brand. You lift your leg in an attempt to end your straddling of him , when he stops you with a hand to your lower back. Smiling while looking up at you he says 

“I wasn’t finished yet.” and you melt back into him. 

[lainiespicewrites]

Coach Syverson

Okay, Y'all I'm trying something new and posting one of my Henry Cavill Character fics. I haven't posted a fanfic in so long it's gonna be a short story probably only a two-parter maybe 3. Let me know what you think! I loved writing this. I think it's so cute!!!!

Warnings: None for Part 1 :) Definitely will be smut in part 2!

High school football coach Sy and school guidance counselor OFC

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

I was locked in a trance,  typing in progress notes from an early morning meeting I’d just finished with a student.  The sounds of the office, which was just coming to life outside my door, fuelled me. I almost never came in this early. But, one of my seniors was having a crisis and this was the only time we could work into her busy schedule. It’s gonna break my heart when that girl graduates this year. I get so attached to the students. I can’t help working as a school counselor. It's hard not to.  

“You’re in early,” The voice coming from the doorway made me jump. He chuckled softly.  “Didn’t mean to scare ya.”  After a brief heart attack, I finally looked up. I smiled when my eyes met his. 

“No, it’s okay, I just didn’t see you! Good morning Coach, What can I do for you?” His soft blue eyes held my gaze, before shooting me a gentle smile. Coach Syverson and I had become good friends since he started working at the school a little over a year ago. Like many good high school football coaches, they made a history teaching spot for him. Unlike others, he’s actually a great teacher! 

I met Logan Syverson for the first time in a staff meeting. Our principal introduced him at the beginning of the meeting going on and on about all the improvements he would bring to our team and our community. He certainly looked like a football player. The guy was huge! Tall, large muscles, and a full beard. His eyes were a deep blue. He had a winning smile and a southern accent. The English department was drooling. I hated him immediately. 

I figured he was just going to be a self absorbed prick like the last coach. who only cared about the popular students, peaked in high school, and got fired because he got a little too close to one of the cheerleaders. We were not at all sorry to see him go. Well, those of us with half a brain weren’t anyway. Some of the community and staff were more worried about the football program. But I digress. 

I was even more annoyed with him when I caught him falling asleep during the same meeting 30 minutes later when we were discussing the budget for new textbooks. I’m not exactly sure what came over me but I kicked him under the table. He was immediately alert. I expected him to glare at me. Or maybe even smirk. But the look on his face could only be described as apologetic. He quickly caught up to me when we were leaving the meeting. “Some first impression I made, huh?” When I didn’t immediately respond he added. “I swear I’m not some asshole that doesn’t care about education, that’s not like me, just didn’t sleep much last night. I had to take my dog to the emergency vet, she broke her leg in the woods late in the evening and didn’t get back until late and…”

“Is she okay?” I asked quickly. He looked completely dumbfounded.

“Uhm what?” He asked, clearly confused. I smiled sympathetically. I did exactly what I told my students not to do and judged him too quickly and I felt like an ass about it. 

“You’re dog, is she okay?” He smiled softly and nodded. 

“Yeah, Yeah she is. They got her all wrapped up and in a cast, poor pup, but she’ll be alright.” There was a brief pause and then. “I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

“The students know me as Miss Plummer, but it’s Alayna. And um.. Sorry I kicked you. I don’t  know why I did that.” I smiled sheepishly. 

“Alayna,” He repeated. And then chuckled and squeezed my shoulder “No need to apologize, I’m glad you did. That would’ve been embarrassing. Falling asleep in my first staff meeting doesn’t really look good. Thanks for saving my ass back there!”

 We were fast friends from that point on!

Sy pushed off the door frame he’d been leaning against and walked into my office. “Brought ya coffee, I was gonna sneak in and leave it on your desk but I guess it’s you surprising me this morning,” He said, setting the cup from our local coffee shop down on my desk. 

“That’s sweet of you!” I took a sip and almost choked. I expected just plain black coffee. He wasn’t the kind of guy to order fancy coffee. But this was actually my coffee order. “How did you know my coffee order?” He had a big grin on his face now. 

“I remembered it from that morning when we ran into each other in line a few weeks ago. Thought I’d be nice and bring my work wife some coffee since I was there.” He shrugged. He really was such a sweetheart. He looked tough and scary. I know he did. When he and a few of the other teachers in the history hall gathered between classes they looked intimidating. At least from a student's perspective.I knew them all well though. I’ve talked with students failing his class because they wouldn’t ask questions. When I asked why, they said they were nervous. But he was certainly no one to be afraid of. Yes, he could yell, but he saved that for the football field. The man was a damn teddy bear. 

“Thank you!” I smiled. I quickly looked out into the guidance office to make sure there were no students around. “But I know you didn’t walk all the way down here just to bring me coffee for the hell of it. You’re buttering me up for something. What do you need, Logan?” He laughed and shook his head plopping down on the edge of my desk.

“You know me too well, sugar. Two things!” He said. I rolled my eyes. “Hey now young lady, don’t get an attitude with me I’m not asking you to give up a kidney!” I hid my smirk behind a sip of coffee and nodded at him to continue.  “First, Can you look up Ty’s grades for me just at some point by the end of the day. He came into my office this morning and was all nervous about his algebra grade, swearing up and down it’s because he failed one quiz. But, I’m pretty sure,” I cut him off. 

“He’s not turning in his homework because he just started dating Caitlyn and they’ve been staying up texting all night.” He raised an eyebrow. 

“Uh, Yeah, How’d you know?”

“Caitlyn stopped in to see me this morning and we had a chat about it, amongst other things. I’ll double check but I’m sure you’re right. I’ll email it to you so you can have a chat with him. I was going to call him in  today but he listens better to you. When you talked about being a veteran and your time in Iraq at the Labor Day assembly, I think that really struck something with him. He looks up to you.” his eyes locked with mine and he smiled softly placing his hand over mine on the desk just for a second. 

“Thank you for saying that,” He said before moving his hand and leaning on the desk again. I just smiled. 

“What’s the other thing?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “Because you could’ve just sent me that in an email.” He smirked. And his nose crinkled a little. Oh no. 

“So our first away game is tomorrow night,”

“I know,” 

“And you’re a big football fan, and you love those boys don’t you?” He was deflecting

“What do you want, Sy?” I asked again. He let out a long breath. 

“Carol was supposed to be a student chaperone for the student fans buuuttt well, you heard her kid is really sick? I need you to come chaperone. Actually. I kinda already said you would.” He quickly stood up from my desk and backed up to the other side, like he was afraid I’d hit him. 

I just leaned back in my chair and groaned, 

“ugh Sy! What if I had plans?” I cocked an eyebrow at him. He chuckled 

“You don’t!” I scoffed 

“You don’t know that?” I retorted. He smirked 

“Yeah, what big plans do you have for Friday night?” He crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. I sighed. 

“Okay I don’t! But I could’ve!” I argued. “Why, didn’t you ask one of the other guys? Like Nick or I don’t know Mike?” I asked. 

“Nick’s an assistant coach, he’ll already be there. And we both know as much as Mike loves teaching…he does not want to spend his Friday night with the kids and at a football game making sure there’s no funny business. And you love the kids.” He was pleading now. Practically giving me puppy dog eyes. “And…Maybe I want you there,” He winked playfully. I looked down and jiggled the mouse on my computer to hide my blush. 

Jessica, who works the front desk of the guidance office swears he flirts with me. But I know he’s not. We’re friends. Good friends. We tease each other to make work a little more fun at best. But that's all it is. A man like Logan Syverson would never look twice at a girl like me. He’s fit and strong and tall and handsome. I’m pretty but I’m short and round and a little too quirky for my own good. Girls like me only get men like him in the movies. And I’m not stupid enough to believe otherwise.  Moment’s like these though. I do wonder a little. But I don’t let my thoughts wander too far. 

“Oh yeah?” I joke, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I mean maybe you’re our good luck charm. You’ve been at all our home games this year and we haven’t lost a game.” He said with a cheeky smile. 

“We’ve only had two Sy.” I say matter of fact. He just shakes his head. 

“That doesn’t mean you’re not good luck, but okay,” He held his hands up in defeat. “If you don’t want to do it I’ll figure something out. I messed up and didn’t ask you first. I’ll tell the boys their favorite guidance counselor doesn’t want to come support them. It’ll break their little hearts sugar but I’m sure they’ll find,” He pauses and lets out an exaggerated sigh “Some way to pull through and play a good game of football.” He frowned, shaking his head. I crossed my arms and raised my eyebrows looking straight at him. 

“Are you done?” I deadpanned. He snickered softly and nodded. “Fine, I’ll go,” He smiled and walked over squeezing my shoulder. 

“You’re the best! It’s supposed to be chilly! Wear a sweater! And Free coffee,on me all night! I promise,” I rolled my eyes. 

“Yeah, yeah okay,” I chuckled.

“Seriously, I owe you sugar! I’m happy you’ll be there, I better get goin, class starts soon and I probably shouldn’t be late being that I’m the teacher,” He chuckled. 

“Get out of my office Logan!” I laughed. He smiled. 

“You’re the best!” He said one more time before finally walking out of my office. I shook my head and tapped at the keys on my keyboard to wake up my computer. I felt eyes on me and looked up to find Jessica standing in my doorway. 

“Don’t start!” I warned her. 

“Please, sugar. I really want you there!” she mocked. “He knows your coffee order, Alayna. How long are you going to ignore what’s right in front of you?” she asked exasperated. 

“It’s not like that Jess, He was just being sweet because he needed the help.” I said.

“Like you wouldn’t have done it anyway. You were trying to play coy but we both know you would have done it anyway.” She laughed. I blushed. And threw an eraser at her. 

“Get back to work!” She laughed. 

“Whatever you say… Sugar!” I snorted and we both chuckled for a minute. “I mean it Alayna, He’ll be kinda busy during the game and yes you’ll be keeping an eye on the students but take the opportunity to flirt back, he likes you, I’m not wrong!” She turned and walked back to her desk before I had a chance to say anything. And before I could spend any more time thinking about it my email notifications went off pulling me back into my work. 

The rest of my work day went by in a blur. I had meeting after meeting with students. My seniors were in panic mode, my juniors have early onset senioritis, and the freshman and sophomores came into vent about the daily woes of high school drama. Oh to be 16 again. 

With a full schedule of meetings I barely had time to eat lunch even in my office. When my phone lit up with a group text from two of my girlfriends asking about our weekly Thursday night dinner. I was quick to respond. 

(I’ll be there!) I sent the text, before packing up my desk for the evening. It had been a late night for me so it was just past 5. I didn’t bother going home first to change into something more casual. They were used to the office style by now. I felt my shoulders relax a little as I slipped into the booth next to skyler.

“Hey!” she said cheerfully, slowly pushing the glass of white wine they’d ordered for me closer. 

“You know me so well!” I smiled at her. 

“Long day?” Hayley asked from across the table, she picked up a tortilla chip and filled it with queso. I shrugged. 

“Not long in the sense that it was rough, just busy,” Skyler nodded and took a sip for her wine glass. 

“I feel that. I tried to get some school work done while the kids were down for a nap.” She runs an in-home daycare. She adores kids. But she’s also going back to school for a degree, Pediatric nursing. She’s a saint. I don’t know how she does it. 

“I commend you babe. The school is asking me to take classes, they want someone to take on the position as school psychologist. They’ve been trying to nudge me toward it the past couple of weeks. It’d be a raise but, that on top of the current workload? I don’t wanna drown myself ya know?”

“I totally get it, it’s not easy! But you should think about it. You’ve talked about it before! At least consider it.” Skyler said. 

“She’s got a point dude,” Hayley added. “Look at you guys moving up in the world while I’m stuck with an art block. If I can’t think of anything, my online shop isn’t gonna take off and I’ll be stuck at the factory forever!” She groaned and downed a quarter of her strawberry lemonade that was no doubt spiked. I looked sideways, meeting Skyler's eye. She was giving me the same look. 

“You’re just getting started Hayley.” Skyler said. 

“I know but if..”

“Ah, no buts!” I cut her off “We have to allow ourselves room for mistakes and error when we’re trying something new. You will get there. Give yourself the love you give your art! I don’t wanna hear anymore of that self deprecating bullshit from you! The people love their ghost fish!” I demanded, trying to hide a chuckle. She could be so stubborn! She was starting an online etsy shop for commissions and spreading the word through social media. She had all these fun ideas. She was a great artist. But of course it’s not an easy way to make money. And right now, things were slow. She would get there though! I know she would!

“Have I ever told you how annoying it is when you use your psychoanalysis shit on us?” she deadpanned. 

“Everyday but I still do it anyway, and that’s why you love me!”  She just laughed.

“Yeah okay buddy. Enough work talk, I lifted a bunch of heavy shit all day and I don’t wanna think about it. I just wanna eat my chips and queso and get drunk with my friends!” She said and scooped another chip through the queso. I laughed and held up my glass

“Cheers to that! Although we all know damn well it’s a Thursday night and we all have to get up early and we drove separately so drunk is relative but yes!” Skyler laughed and clinked her glass with mine. 

“Let her have her moment. Cheers to drunk Thursday dinner!” she said. 

“Fuck yeah!” Hayley added and added her glass in with ours. We all took a drink and it was quiet for only a second. 

“So,” Skyler spoke immediately. “It’s been a week, what's new?”

“Nothing for me, just still considering the offer to go back to school. My job would pay for it. Love life is still dry and I’ve bought like 3 new spicy romance books on my kindle this week!” I said laughing. 

“Fun!” Skyler smiled. “Hayley?” She asked and directed her attention across the table. 

“I went to Target and spent an obscene amount of money on fall stuff. We have a fall party coming up at work that I volunteered to do face painting for, but that should be fun! Oh there’s this new movie that came out I want you guys to come see with me I was hoping maybe tomorrow night?” she said. I started to agree. But then remembered my conversation with Sy earlier. 

“Oh tomorrow night? I can’t. I’m actually busy!” They both looked at me with raised eyebrows. 

“Since when are you busy on a friday night?” Hayley asked. Here we go. This is gonna open a whole can of worms. If Jess was good at getting my hopes up about Sy, these two were going to have me down right delusional. 

“There’s a football game. I like to support the team.” I said. Skyler snickered and a smirk spread across Hayley’s face. 

“You like to support the coach you mean?” Skyler asked. 

“That’s not true! I’ve always been a football fan!” I defended myself. Hayley chuckled

“Sure but since when do you go to away games? Isn’t it like 2 hours away?” She raised an eyebrow. I sighed. 

“Coach stopped by the office this morning, one of the other teachers that was supposed to chaperone the roadies tomorrow canceled and since he and I are friends he volunteered me to do it. He buttered me up with free coffee this morning and practically begged me to go tomorrow and… I just can’t say no to him. Plus he said he really wants me to be there.”  I swirled my wine glass and stared down at it. I knew the looks they were giving me.  I heard skyler squeal.

“Shut up! He asked you to come because he wants to spend time with you! Watch, I bet next week he’ll ask you out!”  She bounced in her seat. 

“He does not! He’s going to be busy with the team! He’s not going to have time to talk to me or anything.” I said taking a big gulp of wine. 

“Why else would he say he wants you there though. And clearly you want him to hang out with you. Or you want to hang out with him. Or you wouldn’t have given up your precious Friday night in!” Hayley smirked. 

“Okay, so what if I do. He’s not into me like that. He’s just friendly. He’s southern, it's just how he is!” I said, trying to hold onto whatever sanity I had left. 

“Really?” Skyler said. “Does he bring anyone else coffee? Ask if he can eat lunch in anyone else’s office?” Hayley but it

“Didn’t he get you a christmas gift last year?” she asked. 

“He was my secret santa!” I stated. They both sighed. 

“ I don’t know why you can’t see it but he likes you!” Skyler said. I started to  object but Hayley cut me off. 

“You don’t have to believe us. Just pay attention to how he acts around you tomorrow and the next couple of days. He's trying to make a move. And I know you have your little no coworkers rule,”

“Because if…”

“Ah, I don’t wanna hear it! He’s clearly trying to get your attention. And you work in a public high school it's not like everyone else isn’t hooking up.” She stated. 

“She’s got a point, remember all the teachers when we were in school? And he’s not just trying to hook up. He’s playing the long game,” Skyler said. “All we’re saying is IF we’re right,”

“And we are,” Hayley added. Skyler gave her side eye but laughed. 

“If he asks you out you should give him a chance. We’ve never met him but it’s clear he’s so into you. And he seems like a great guy. Don’t push him away because something COULD go wrong.” she said. At that point the waiter came up and we placed our order. I also ordered another glass of wine. But a wine buzz wasn’t enough to convince me they were right. Sy couldn’t like me. I wasn’t his type. But it didn’t matter. I will go tomorrow and have a good time watching the game and cheering on the boys and watching Sy in his element. And when it’s all said and done I’ll ride home with the student section and maybe catch the chance to say goodbye to my friend before we leave. And on Monday everything will be as it always has been. Sy and I are friends. 

I repeat that to myself as I walk the hall toward the gym after school on Friday. I turned down the hall toward the locker rooms and found his office door open. Sy was leaning back in his desk chair watching the tape from a few weeks ago. He noticed me before I spoke. He paused the video and smiled. 

“Hey you! To what do I owe the honor? You never venture down this way?”

“Just coming to double check the plan for tonight! We’re meeting back here at 5:15 and the bus leaves at 5:45?” I asked him. He nodded, running a hand over his beard. 

“Yeah, but I was thinking, you got plans for dinner?” He asked and raised an eyebrow. 

“Uh I was just gonna run home for dinner, why do you ask?” I leaned against the doorway and crossed my arms over my chest. I watched curiously as he chewed at his bottom lip for a moment. 

“I was gonna grab a bite to eat in town before the game. I won’t have time to go all the way home. Do you wanna come with me?” He finally made eye contact with me again and gave me a soft smile. 

“Oh um,” I hesitated for a second. 

“I’ll buy,” He smirked. I rolled my eyes. 

“You don’t have to do that, Sy,” I said softly. He stood up grabbing his keys off the desk. 

“I know, I want to.” He smiled and brushed his shoulder against mine as he walked out the door. “Come on, I’ll drive.” I raised an eyebrow 

“Driving me to dinner and you’re paying? Sy if I didn’t know any better I’d say you were flirting with me.” the corner of his mouth turned up into a smirk and he stopped walking. He turned toward me and bit his lip trying to hold back a grin. 

“Alayna,” He chuckled nervously, “I find it hard to believe after all this time…” He was cut off by a loud whistle down the hallway. 

“Well ain’t that a cute couple!” a voice said in a horrible mock southern accent “Get it coach!” One of Sy’s boys called from just outside the weight room. Another one of the football players popped his head out the door to see what was going on and started making kissy sounds with his lips. Sy dropped his chin to his chest and shook his head but his shoulders shook when he chuckled, giving him away. He loved those boys he couldn’t be mad if he wanted to be. 

“Tyler you’re already on thin ice don’t make me bench you tonight! You too Matt. Don’t think I forgot about the little stunt you pulled in the parking lot last week!” He gave them a stern look

“Sorry coach!” they said in unison 

“It was funny though,” Matt mumbled. Sy shook his head

“Sure, You boys get out of here and get something to eat, I don’t need you passing out on me on the field tonight.” He held Matt’s gaze. 

“It was one time!” He stressed. 

“And it’s only gonna be one if I can help it. Go eat!” He barked. The boys immediately straightened up and nodded. 

“Yes coach!” Logan just chuckled and we kept walking. 

“They adore you,” I said. He smiled 

“Nah, they just know I’m not kidding’” I laughed. 

“Oh come on Sy, you aren’t that mean, or you wouldn’t care so much,” We walked out the back door to the teacher parking lot and headed to his truck. “Hey… what were you saying earlier,” He raised an eyebrow. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about sugar,” He smirked. 

“Sure you don’t cowboy,” I rolled my eyes and hopped up into the truck after he unlocked it.  He slid in next to me and started the engine. 

“Where do you wanna eat?” He looked over at me and raised an eyebrow. I shrugged. 

“Doesn’t matter to me, you’re buying,” I said flatly. 

“Sugar,” He threw his arm over the back of the seat, his fingertips brushing my shoulder, as he backed out of the parking spot. He left it there as he pulled out on the road. “Don’t be shy with me, I know you love food darlin.  I’ll drive all around town and we’ll starve until you tell me what you want.” I looked over at him just in time to make eye contact before his eyes shifted back toward the road. He shook his head and tried to hide his smirk. 

“You are so dramatic,” I teased, trying to play it cool but I could feel a blush creeping up my cheeks. 

“Oh, I’m dramatic? Weren’t you the one tearing up in her office because of a book you were readin?” He snickered. I reached over and playfully smacked him in the chest. 

“Shut up!” I laughed. He held his hand to his chest feigning hurt. 

“Ow!” He pouted. 

“That did not hurt! I barely hit you!” he side eyed me still pouting but the corners of his mouth started to break into a smile

“Over here committing spousal abuse.” He shook his head. I laughed so hard I snorted. 

“We’re not married Sy!” 

“You’re my work wife, it's the same damn thing” He chuckled. “Seriously, where do you wanna eat, I’m starving.” 

“My god Logan,” I laughed. “Um fine, I haven’t tried that new sushi and ramen place yet!” I said. He almost slammed on the break. 

“You haven’t?! That place is right up your alley, all trendy and shit. It’s real good too!” 

“You think I’m trendy?” I raised an eyebrow. He looked over for a moment and caught my eye giving me a gentle smile. 

“I think you deserve to be taken out to nice places.” And here I was blushing again. 

“Sy,” I started but my phone buzzed in my lap distracting me, I wasn’t really sure what to say anyway. It was a group chat with the girls asking me what time we leave tonight. They were going to have a field day with this. And instead of just replying I decided to start a fire. I tapped my screen to open my camera and held it up to take a selfie “Smile, cowboy.” He chuckled. 

“What are you doin over there, sugar?” He smirked but glanced over at the camera quickly so I could snap a quick photo. 

“Lighting a match.” I smirked. He bit his lip and chuckled softly. 

“You’re something else,” He spoke as we pulled into the restaurant. I quickly sent the picture to the group chat and slid my phone into my purse.

Sy was right. This place was incredible. And very trendy. 

“God I can’t get over how good this place is!” I said for like the 4th time. Logan smiled. 

“I told ya, Darlin,” The waitress came and brought out our bill and I reached for my purse. “Hey, No, I told you, I’m paying.” He said pulling out his wallet and handing his card to the waitress. 

“Thank you Sy, I appreciate it,” He grinned.

“Anytime, you deserve it,” I blushed, “ you’re really saving my ass tonight.” I forced a smile, so that’s what this is about. I told the girls this was all just because he needed something. 

“It’s no big deal Logan.” I said. I pulled my phone out and checked my messages. There were like 10 from the group chat now. 

“OMG YOU'RE WITH HIM?!”

“You didn’t tell us you were getting dinner with him.”

“UNLESS THEIR NOT GETTING DINNER ;)”

“What else would they be….oh”

“Alayna you better not be fucking the football coach right now.”

“Leave her alone Hayley she can fuck him if she wants to BUT IF YOU DO I WANT DETAILS”

“ALAYNAAAAA”

“GIRLLLL ANSWER USSSSS”

“Seriously dude you can’t just send us a picture of you with your hunky football coach man crush and just disappear.”

“OMG THEY’RE TOTALLY FUCKING”

I held back a smile and shook my head. 

“It is a big deal,” He said and grabbed my hand across the table. “I’m glad you’re gonna be there tonight.” I smiled but pulled my hand back. 

“Sure, because you needed another chaperone.” I joked. His eyebrows furrowed and he tilted his head catching my eye. 

“Yeah, but I wanted it to be you, I like hangin out with you. And you’re really fun to watch in the stands. I didn’t know you could be so…aggressive.” He smirked. 

“I’m just really passionate about football!” I argued. “And how do you know you like hanging out with me? We've barely seen each other outside of work.” I questioned. 

“Well we should change that,” he said.

“Won’t your girlfriend get jealous?” I asked. I knew a lot about him but he never mentioned any relationship. I’d be stupid to think he wasn’t seeing someone. He laughed. God I loved that sound. 

“Don’t have one sugar,” He said with a mischievous grin on his face. 

“How?” It was my turn to be confused. 

“Why don’t you have a boyfriend?” He retorted quickly. 

“I … because…” I stuttered, unable to come up with an answer.

“Haven’t found the right guy yet huh?” He pauses, “guess that’s where I’m at, she just ain’t found me yet.” He smiled. Right then the waitress came back with his card. “Thanks honey,” He said, giving her his signature smile. He signed the receipt and stood from the table. “We oughta get going. Don’t wanna be late for the game!” 

Sy drove us back to the school and parked his truck next to my car. “Oh no!” I sighed. 

“What's wrong?” He asked. 

“I was going to grab a sweatshirt when I went home and,” I opened my car, turning on the light to look in  the back seat. “I don’t have an extra in my car.” I pouted. 

“Is that all?” He chuckled. He reached into the back seat of his truck and pulled out a black hoodie. “Here. I always have an extra in the truck you can wear mine. Don’t want you to catch a cold.” I took it from him tentatively. 

“Sy, this is your coach sweatshirt.” I said. 

“One of ‘em yeah.” He smiled. 

“I…okay,” I just shook my head and pulled the hoodie on. He bit his lip. 

“Looks good on ya,” He smirked. 

“Shut up,” I rolled my eyes. Before we could continue to tease each other the buses pulled up. And I could see some of the students' cars pulling into the student lot “We’d better head over there!” I said quickly. Logan nodded. 

“Yeah, we better get going.”

[dungeonpuppykai]

|| Triumph Of The Beast ||

Description: Captain Syverson learnt that the only way to have her was to ask her hand in marriage. So he did just that. And she was all his now, both to hold and to possess.

Pairing: Soft-Dark!Captain Syverson | Sheikha!Reader.

Disclaimer: I (sadly) do not own Captain Syverson. This is a mature story with dark undertones so kindly browse at your own discretion. Please note that this piece is only a work of fiction that in no way aims to reinforce or propose any stereotypes to any ethnicity or race. Minors do not interact. 

Warning(s): Soft-Dark!Syverson, he is lowkey messed up, smut with plot (I am sorry), possessive behavior, his obsession with her chastity, naive!reader, size kink, biting (it's Henry and his canines ffs), boob play, manhandling, power imbalance, arranged marriage, fingering, handjob, dirty talk, m!dom, f!sub, he's a man, misogyny, age gap (reader is 20's, Sy is early 40's fight me), he's lowkey intimidating, slight spanking, allusion to bondage, manipulation, slow burn-ish, maybe more dialogue than necessary, p-in-v penetration, corruption kink, no use of 'Y/n'. 

Note: Her father is not the mean Sheikh from the movie lmfao. Reader doesn't even have to be Iraqi, just Eastern that you can TOTALLY imagine yourself as because it's a frickin' story for God's sake! Ps, This blocked me so hard mid-write I nearly abandoned it lmfao, I need a break! 

.

Captain Syverson had always thought the notion of the first touch buzz to be foolish. To quote him in his own words, the electric touch that people claimed their beloved aroused within them was nothing more than a steaming pile of horseshit. 

Until now. 

As his thick and coarse battle hardened hands cupped the side of the tender face of his dear wife, the Captain's thumb darted out to quickly glide across the perfect arch of her cheekbone before it moved down to the bow of her lips, his body combusting into a thousand flames of raw desire. 

Her skin was so tender he feared it may come off if he pressed on it too hard. The structure of her body that adorned her traditional wedding attire seemed so fragile in this moment next to him and in his big old bed that the thought of ever manhandling a thing as delicate as her terrified him. The contrast of her usually confident and intelligent countenance was striking in quality to the humility with which she now offered her submission to him. 

His suspicions against his body and strength increased by the passing minute; he felt petrified to even breathe too easily near her. The fear that it may damage her in some way haunted him and filled his lungs with dread. It was not that she was the most petite thing that he had ever seen or she held resemblance to an adolescent in terms of size or any of that weird shit, no. 

It was instead the way in which her head bowed in just the perfect way so it indicated respect and submission; not so high that it would seem that she was trying to deny him his station but not so low that it became off-putting. It was an acknowledgement to his power in their dynamic; an agreement of a lifetime. 

The man could swear he was going crazy. 

There was simply no way he was going to make it through the night with his sanity intact. 

It was just the effect she had on him. 

If there was anyone to blame it was her. 

Because even though he wanted to hide this girl so safely in his arms for the rest of his days that not even a harsh breeze would be allowed to touch her, the erratic way in which his boiling blood sizzled its way through his veins, The Captain wanted nothing more than to just turn her around, press her breathtaking face into the mattress and take her over and over until she was swell with his litter. 

Or press his bigger body against hers and take her deep and raw until her mind gave up on consciousness  

Perhaps place her between his own legs and feel her mouth around him until his seed spilled from her nose. 

Maybe make her mount him and slap her ass that he just knew would be perfect over and over to keep her going even when she didn't want to. 

The possibilities were endless from where Syverson was standing. 

And he was determined to try his hand at all of them, and more. 

His eyebrows furrowed just a little when she awkwardly pecked his lips for the fifth time in a straight row and refused to give him more, cringing away when he attempted to deepen the kiss. The girl that giggled and covered her mouth on which her red lipstick had already smudged was a dead leaf echo of the confident and liberal sheikha -prized daughter of the sheikh supreme- that critically watched the foreign Captain everytime he was around with her bright and vigilant brown eyes so full of scrutiny that it made him, a grown man, blush. It wasn't his fault, really. Her eyes had the most attractive gleam of intelligence to them and the black khol that lined them only accentuated their beauty more. 

She had always been so elegant Syverson knew he was a goner the first time his eyes had been granted the pleasure of looking at her. Sat aside her father basking in her confidence, silk scarf draped around her head and body in the most perfect way, a form he could only describe as agreeable always clad in decent clothes, fingers adorning rings with colorful stones and modesty dripping off of every single mannerism of hers. 

How could a man not look twice?

And then not consider looking away utterly blasphemous on account of being unappreciative of such godly beauty?

"I- I do not know how to…" Her accent turned his gears just right. "K- Kiss, Captain" oh. 

Of course. 

Blood rushed to his cock that hadn't throbbed like this in a long time. That was, if it ever had. 

And then his sweet, chaste wife just had to call him Captain.

Fuck. 

He was going to tear her apart. 

And she had no idea.

The obedient daughter, who was never afraid to voice her thoughts and outsmart every man who dared stand against her with inadequate knowledge of the debate at hand, had happily bowed down to her father's wish that she marry the charming and noble Captain -to them a warrior who was not afraid to fight for his country; a man truly admirable- after said Captain had asked for her hand in marriage when he had realized that that was the only way to have her. 

Mind, body, soul… heart. 

Sure, it had taken Syverson and his rather daft attempts at impressing her some quick-witted answers and astute responses by a rather critical her to realize it.

But she was his bride now.

And that was all that mattered. 

"Well, ain't that just dandy?" Syverson realizes just how heavy his breathing really is when his words come out gravelly and almost forced. She is unable to hold his eyes for very long so she stares at his chest instead, a most remarkable coy smile across her lips. The fact that she looks every other man with a taught unaffected sternness but has blushed everytime their eyes have met after the wedding just drives him all the more insane. 

Her dark eyebrows furrow as she lightly tilts her head to the side. He has noticed that she has some trouble understanding his dialect. So he caresses her cheek again, this time in a reassuring manner;

"I know you'll figure it out soon. You're a clever lil' thing, ain'tcha?" She looks up just long enough to nod with a meeting of their eyes. 

"Yes, Captain" god, even her way of speaking has softened.

The knowledge that he was the only man in this whole wide world whom she treated like this made him want to worship her with his love and devotion in every way possible. 

Because The Captain was naturally a very possessive man who did not appreciate ran through goods.  

"Alright now, just trust your husband and sit back like a good lil' bride, alright?" It was taking him all of his focus to not just push her back and have his depraved ways with her all night long.

"Y- Yes, Captain." 

"Atta girl," before he leaned back in and brushed his lips against hers just long enough to whisper, "now hush and don'tcha try to keep them pretty lips shut on me" he felt her going breathless against him when his mouth fit against the slot of her parted one perfectly; as though it had been created just for him. 

She did her best to keep up with as much obedience as her modesty would allow her to muster but the sensation of his mouth against hers, the scratch of his coarse beard across her delicate skin, the wetness of his tongue that took its time swiping against her bottom lip and the way that he didn't have to break the kiss to know that she had extended her had in his direction to take a hold of him to deal with the intensity of it all, the sheer desperation with which he reached out his fingers and clutched hers in an affectionate way that also had a territorial tinge to it was all too much for her to handle.

An unfamiliar thrill that she had been a stranger to until this moment began to patter through her bloodstream. Her heart pounded, her sweat glands soaked, her face burnt and her stomach fluttered. 

"Captain" was all she was allowed to whisper in the two second interval the man allowed them to recover their breathing. 

"Well, I'll be damned, darlin'" Syverson husked through rushed kisses as he hurriedly helped her lay down with her attire still intact, both too desperate to strip her and wanting to take her as she was, for tonight she looked the most stunning he had ever seen her. "You're so dang pretty I can't even fathom stayin' off ya now that you're mine" a hush of cold breath rushed past her flush lips as her thick eyebrows drooped upwards in reaction to him dipping his face in the curve of her neck.

"I am all yours to do with whatever you please, my C- Captain" her soft hands flew to grab at his shirt as the foreign sensation of a man's body against her skin sent an electric bolt down her spine. 

His body was heavy above hers as he groaned at her response and grinded his bulge against her covered sex, peppering kisses all over her skin. "God damn, baby. Your mama sure raised you up right, didn't she?" A loud squeak resonated in the air when the new husband simply could not hold back his passion anymore and bit down on the inviting flesh of her shoulder, letting out a stomach churning moan at her taste and squeezing her sides as the smell of her fragrance oils hit his nose. 

"Fuck, baby" it took him all of his willpower and the promise that he could go back for more only easier to part from her. "I can't–" sitting up to kneel over her, Syverson pulled his shirt over his head before tossing it somewhere in the room. "I can't hold back no more" as he leaned back down and placed one hand beside her head to keep himself from suffocating her, the way she looked up at him with wonder, timidity, need, sent a pang of pain to his cock. "Talk to me, darlin'" he gathered her wrists in one hand before placing them above her head, now reaching for the clothed bump on her chest. "You feelin' anything?" A soundless breath left her and she shuddered in such a way that her boobs trembled feverishly. 

"S- Strange… a- and… oh my God!" She had to shut her eyes and turn her head to the side when he suddenly manhandled one of her breasts out of the deep neckline of her wedding night dress. Her hands rushed to cover her chest by instinct but her husband's authoritative swat was much quicker and stronger. 

Syverson chuckled at the defensive gasp she let out, a crazed darkness floating in his eyes as he pinnned her feverish hands out of his way, coarse palm now feeling up her other breast that was freed as he spoke. "Ain't no God 'round these parts tonight, baby. Just me…" His lips enveloped hers in a right and hungry kiss. "'N you" the way she nervously gulped when he pulled back to stare into her eyes only added to the fire in his body. "Say, baby" he trailed gentle kisses down her chin, along her throat and then down to the fluffy cushions of soft flesh dotted with flush, erect nipples in the middle. A surprised cry jutted out of her mouth and her fingernails tried to claw at his hand that confined them above her when he pressed one wet kiss on each nub. "Ain't this just somethin' else?" 

The girl had no idea what possessed her to say what she did, but her hips moved faster than her brain could catch on and her lips worked before reticence could hinder her communication. "I- It is, Captain. T- Thank you" of course she had felt arousal before. Of course she had been wet before. Some of those times she had a certain handsome American Captain to thank for, not that she would ever willingly admit it. But she had never known how to relieve herself of it other than a cold shower. 

Her mother had warned her that not every feeling that transpires in one in times of idleness should be chased and she had listened.

But this was not solitary boredom, this was not a devilish lure, her mother wasn't here and it was her wedding night with a man she was slowly becoming sure she would be able to call her dear husband one day. 

If her husband was kind enough to be considerate about what made her feel what she could only identify as exciting, she deemed it a stupidity to refuse the treatment. 

"Aw, baby" Syverson's hands only part from her breasts so his mouth can greedily latch onto them, his bearded lips pressing all over them before his hand nearly snatches her skirts out of his way since the layers seem to be never ending. "To think that I ain't even begun with ya and you're already thankin' me like a sweet little lady" now his mouth traveled to her stomach and the only word he had for its appearance was perfect. A shudder set in her shoulders when his beard scratched her navel before his teeth softly nibbled away on her skin. 

"W- Would you like me to get up and t- take my clothes off, dear?" God damn.

He really had hit the fucking jackpot. 

"Hold on now, darlin'" he husked as his fingers caressed her nubs, his hot mouth littering its kisses over her skin further down south. "I wanna take you like this first" the readied rise in the middle of her shoulder blades smoothed out and she settled back into the mattress again wordlessly. "Well now, are you gonna be good and keep them arms up high like a good lil' thing or am I gonna have to tie 'em up?" A drawn out moan sounded from deep within her throat when his chin deliberately brushed against her clothed sex, coarse fingers twirling her nipple between them.

Syverson felt an unconscious clench in the muscles of her thighs upon his words finally registering in her clouded mind. "N- No, I- I'll be good, husband. I promise." 

"Atta girl" he praised in a satisfied tone before letting go of her wrists. 

It was after that that his hands roamed free and wild all over her form. The Captain kissed, sucked, nibbled, pinched, groped, licked and bit all to his desire, the growing moans of his bride only encouraging him further. 

"God damn, if these ain't the sweetest damn legs I've ever seen" Syverson licked away the thread of spit that previously connected his mouth to her now bruised hiphone that he had successfully marked as his territory. The fact that no man had ever seen them and the plan that he made to never let anyone do so either was making his ears hot. His sides were becoming sore with need like he was the virgin. 

"And this– fuck, c'mere" he couldn't hold it back anymore. The Captain had always been an ass man and the fact that he was yet to see his wife's backside was making him mad now. Her yelp morphed into a confused giggle when he bundled her ankles in one of his rough hands, having already rid her of her panties, and easily raised both her legs up until her lower half dangling by his hold on her. "Hmmm, I just knew you had a perfect lil' rump stashed in there" his free hand felt her soft cheeks up before he traced his index finger down her crack, cursing at the way they clenched in defense. Then his depravity got the best of him and he wound his hand back and gave a handful of strong blows to her poor behind that started blushing in an instant. 

"Oh– ouch!" Her next nervous giggle made him raise an eyebrow as he divided an ankle between each hand and parted her legs to look down at her. 

"Think this is funny, do you?" The girl quickly stopped herself nervously. "You know who that's for?" He didn't even mind the giggles, if anything they were rather endearing to him. But the timidity in her eyes was way too sweet for him to pass up. She shook her head no. "Bad little girls who make fun of their fellas, that's who." It was the cock hardening way in which her bottom lip wobbled sensitively that dried his throat. 

A young woman once so strong, all commanding and authorative now exposed in such a submissive manner and completely at his mercy. 

"S- Sorry, dear" he hummed, reaching for the mound between her legs to roughly feel her pussy up in blunt gropes. 

"You can consider those as payback for all them times you thought you could get slick with me in front of my boys just 'cause you were the Sheikh's daughter" her eyes widened and she blushed harder than before. 

"I- I–"

"Yes, you" though Syverson's words were crisp, his kiss on her nether lips was tender and perhaps that was the sole reason why she didn't tear up from being reprimanded when she was so vulnerable and hypersensitive like this. "Thought I'd just forget all that brattin' of yours?" 

She had to hurriedly sit up for that one and reach for his hands affectionately. "Oh, no" the pure care in her eyes made his melting heart feel as though it had risen into the sky. "It was only that you were not my husband back then, dear," she tried to make him understand, aware that there were cultural differences that needed overcoming, "mother said good girls owe it to their husbands to treat every other man with a serious attitude and indifference!" 

She was breaking his fucking heart. 

It was officially official. 

Abel Ford Syverson was in love. 

Soul crushing, earth shattering, sky tearing love. 

With a woman who was not only intelligent and gorgeous way past his league but one that respected herself with an unwavering devotion towards her spouse. 

"Well, I'll be damned!" He exclaimed with faux surprise that she did not catch up on, much to his expectation. "So that's what it was all about?" Of course he knew. 

He just liked her to say it.

It boosted his depraved ego just right. 

She apologetically nodded with sincerity. "I swear, my heart." The translation of the endearment caused for his blood to pump through his ears only harder. 

Syverson gave her a small smile before sighing a little. "Well, you see, darlin', it did still hurt my feelings a tad" her eyebrows furrowed in regret so he added just to rub it in that much more; "got me a bit of pride to keep up, y'know?" 

Now she pouted. "I am sorry, love…" Before a bulb went off in her head and she jumped a little to express her excitement, the action causing her naked boobs to jiggle. "Is there a way I can make it up to you?" There. 

"Why, of course!" Fuck, he sounded more eager than a middle schooler. "You gonna have to show that you can make a good little wife" her cheeks flushed as she bit her bottom lip in embarrassment. He continued, aware she was as clueless as a virgin.

Because she was one. 

Syverson loved the thought.

He wished there was a way to preserve it -her- all as it was.  

"Anything you want, my dear" she replied sincerely as she earnestly pressed his hand that she held to her chest. 

The man swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat as his eyes flickered down to where their fingers were intertwined; the valley of her perfect breasts. 

"Good girl" his voice came out much deeper than usual. "Go on 'n' take it out, then" the bride's eyebrows raised to express her confusion as she tilted her head to the side. 

His dick whimpered and spilled a thick drop.

"U- Um…"

Syverson was getting impatient. "That means my pants, darlin'." He chuckled to lighten the effect of the edge that his tone had held. "I mean, can't exactly make love to ya with 'em on, now can I?" Something pulled taught in her chest and she went to avoid his eyes out of embarrassment. 

"Oh… yes" she was breathless as she reached for his fly, face angled downwards. 

"Yeah…?" He drew it out on purpose teasingly, dipping his own head earthwards to try and meet her gaze cockily. "Yeah, yeah?" The man kept going unrelentlessly until she had no choice but to respond. 

"Y- Yes…" Her nervous fingers slipped over the button of his pants many times but she managed to free him at last. 

"Go on ahead now, sugar" he coaxed sweetly, tone in stark contrast to his intentions. "Take it out and let them pretty lil' hands get a feel" her legs instinctively tried to close due to the shame she felt but her husband's huge body hindered her attempt to somehow cover herself. "Well?"

Her eyes darted up to him from where her fingers gingerly rested against the waistband of his boxers and Syverson suspected that she was about to decline because of the way her mouth moved to let out some phantom words. But when he raised a questioning eyebrow in response, she seemed as though it had reminded her of her place against him and she quickly dipped her digits inside the undergarment to reach for his thumping cock. 

The first feel of her fingertips connecting with his hard skin was… indescribable. It was as though time ceased, stilling everything else with it and he was enveloped into a cocoon of pure sensation. She was everywhere and inside. Her heat filled him to the brim. Each brush of her delicate skin against his rougher one felt like the stroke of the flesh of an outworldly nymph. Shivers of ecstacy cascaded down his lower back and he was floating already. 

The girl nearly jumped out of her skin at the unfamiliar feeling, the moan that he let out along a whispered praise pulling her back in the moment and away from her recoil. The bride's mind reminded her of her duty to her husband and she used her other hand to hold his clothes away so she could uncover his impaler. 

"Just like that, darlin'. Just like that" one of his hands went to tangle in her hair. "Go on and rub it for me, baby. You're doin' real good" his free hand reached for her own sex that had secreted its natural moisture in reaction to the sensations she was being subjected to. He groaned at the feeling of her warm pussy and squished his finger through her plump nether lips. "Tell me what you see" her own body was getting feverish by the second, hips and cunt trying to shrink in on themselves due to how violating his sense tingling touch was.

"I- It's…" She raked her mind for an appropriate answer. But it was all too much for her to handle; the pressure to impress her new husband, touching him the way he wanted properly, obeying him, submitting to his handling and then dealing with his intense gaze. "V- Very pretty, husband. Thank you" so she played it the safest she knew. 

And the girl could swear she felt him twitch in her palm at that, a pang of pain rising in her wrist as she awkwardly pumped him in a vertical manner. 

"Pretty, huh?" A cunning grin spread across his handsome features as he slipped one finger deep within her folds and being the retired playboy that he was, the Captain easily found her pure entrance. "'N' what about the size?" He could not help but moan at the feeling of her balmy walls clinging to his finger. "Ever seen anythin' like it?" Her thighs quivered as his thumb glided over her folds. 

"N- No, husband" she answered timidly, afraid to bruise his pride with an inappropriate or unsatisfactory answer that may pose a threat to her chasteness.

"That's right" now he began to speed up his intrusion of her insides. "'Cause you're all mine, ain'tcha?"  She quickly nodded, letting out a whine as her eyebrows furrowed at the ache his twisting of one of her nipples caused. "Now tell me," he leaned forward to reach for one of her nubs with his teeth, "did ya ever think you'd land yourself a fella with a cock this big?" He spoke through a mouthful before sinking down on her tender boobs, the tips of his sharp canines digging into the soft cushions of her flesh. 

"N- No…" The girl was gasping as she struggled to keep up with his leaking and twitching cock. "T- Thank you, dear!" She added for good measure despite how overwhelmed she was becoming. 

"Tell me, baby" the man loved how his naive wife's features scrunched in discomfort but she still sped up her fist that was wrapped around his cock because he prompted her to, hoisting himself further up next to capture her lips against his. "Do you think yourself lucky that you get to have this here cock all to yourself for the rest of your days?" He could not help but fuck into her hand at the sight of the spit string dangling by a corner of her bottom lip as it connected to the wad of spit that she had just released on his cock after being ordered to do so. He felt her cringe at the feeling of her fingers touching her own saliva as she spread it over his cock. But her resolve to obey him did not falter even once regardless of how shy or uneasy she felt.

And that was how Syverson knew he had found himself his perfect little homemaker.

"I- I do, husband" her voice nearly broke. "Thank you so much" the fact that all of this was visibly strange and even uncomfortable to her because she was not familiar with any of this… 

The Captain could swear that alone was enough to finish him off.

She was his sacred lamb; a temple undefiled. 

Nobody's leftovers; whole in every sense for the beast to take. 

What could he say? Colonel Syverson's prized son always won, no matter what. 

There was a brighter way of looking at his promiscuous dating history that was in stark contrast to his wife's nonexistent one; it could easily be considered as his physical sacrifice in order to realize and reach his full potential as a man for his future lady's well being as well as pleasure. 

A lady that he had found at last. 

"Say it" his command was heavy and the rough skin of his finger was like gravel against the buttery tissue of her slick walls. "Say that you're the luckiest lil' bride for landin' yourself the best damn dick you could have ever hoped for" she began to subconsciously move her thumb out of sync with the rest of her digits to swipe it over his tip each time her hand rose to his apex and he couldn't believe just how close he was already. 

The Captain was usually a man of stamina and endurance.

But then again it was impossible for the beast to resist his tempting lamb for very long, wasn't it?

"I- I am the luckiest…" She licked her parched lips needily. "L- Little bride for l- landing myself the best d- dick…" Embarrassment burnt her cheeks but pleasing him was more important a priority to her. "T- That I could've ever hoped for…"

He deeply moaned in satisfaction. "My good girl" a quick peck was given to the tip of her nose. "Now tell me, baby. How ya feelin'?" As if on cue, she clenched around his finger with a moan.  

Fuck, Syverson had never really preferred a clueless woman until now.

He could literally demand whatever he wanted from her and she would believe him out of her naivety. 

His perfect pretzel Princess that he could twist into whatever shape that he pleased. 

Or make her do as he desired, for that matter. 

With no one, not even his wife herself, to question him or his ways.

He loved the thought. 

"... S- Strange… P- Pain… but– hnnn!" Her back arched as she suddenly writhed, nearly going white at the feeling of getting her special spot getting tickled for the first time. It was an ability her husband took a lot of pride in; the  renown that he had held in college for being able to find gspots with his fingers alone. 

"Feels real good too, don't it?" The Captain snickered heavily as he began to rock his hips into her hand, feeling himself nearing the brink. 

"Mmh!" She did her best to respond despite the sensory overload, groaning softly when he forces her band of muscles to expand further by adding another finger to her pussy and repeatedly jabbing her sensitive nerves with their blunt tips, the sound of his skin fucking in and out of her liquids getting louder by the minute. "W- Weird… but…" A drop of sweat trickled down the side of her face as she gasped, eyes widening when her spine jolted at a particular wave of pleasure. "M- More, please." 

In the blink of an eye, Syverson had pushed her on her back before crawling up her body like a predator. Before her body could process his fingers leaving her into an orgasm denial, his eager cock was pushing into her. The pained moan that escaped her as her body twisted under his was muffled by his mouth clamping over hers. The Captain grunted as his cock struggled to push its way inside her virgin entrance despite the preparation that he had done. The girl's bottom lip pulled away from the rest of her mouth due to the way he bit down on it to withstand the overwhelming pleasure that sparked everywhere within him.  

"Your wish is my command, my darlin' sheikha." 

Syverson found himself praying for the first time to any god, deity or entity that may be listening; to freeze time right here in this very moment and never set it free again.

For he could stay like this for eternities and beyond; buried inside his dear wife and protectively enveloped in her loving arms that had never held another like she did him and never would whilst she moaned below him in a pained ecstasy, clenching and nearly knocking out as she experienced her first ever orgasm.

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Reblogs and feedback are much appreciated <3

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: Tonality [3]

Pairing: Prince!Geralt x Princess!Reader

previous chapter

Summary: “The white wolf wants you. He’ll have no other.” As you grieve the loss of your father, your mother marries the king. Whilst you struggle to acclimate to your new life, you begin to suspect the interest your new brother has in you is less than familial.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Dark Fantasy, Darkfic, Step-cest, Medieval/GoT inspired AU, (Future)Smut, Dubcon/Noncon, Manipulation, Gaslighting, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, MINORS DNI!!

A/N: more creepy dream fuel, Geralt being slimy and having ulterior motives, and a little more tension with reader and her mother. all in all, i think you guys will enjoy this latest addition. as always, please mind the warnings, and enjoy!😊🥰 divider by @firefly-graphics​

The doe’s coat is as yellow as spun gold, and she blinks at you nervously as you approach. You cannot hide your childish squeal of delight, though it vexes her further. She nickers, shifting from hoof to hoof as she blinks at you with wide eyes. 

 “Papa, is she really mine?” You ask, your quiet voice heavy with awe. “She’s beautiful.” You hold out a hand, and her nostrils flare at your scent. Her long ears flick back, laying flat against her head behind her horns. They’re small—she’s young, barely a year old, perhaps less—and still covered with soft, velvety baby fur that you know will shed as she ages. 

 “Careful,” your father’s voice is ripe with caution. “She is new. Young, still, and a bit unwieldy.” You cluck your tongue at her, producing the sugar cubes you’d stolen from your mother’s tea tray from the sleeves of your dress. “I said careful—!” The doe leans forward, pressing her muzzle into your outstretched hand. You raise an eyebrow at your father, who shakes his head, a disbelieving laugh puffing out from between his lips. You stroke her head, running your fingers gently between her antlers and softly flicking ears. 

 “She about took Gaspard’s hand off this morning, she was so wild,” he says, shaking his head. “And yet she eats from your own as if you had weaned her yourself.” 

 “Did Gaspard try sugar?” You ask, giggling as her lips tickle your palm. “Perhaps she mightn’t have tried to amputate his fingers had he kept some of his salt to himself.” The wind shifts, and beneath the doe’s thick animal scent, there is something else.

 Something like sulphur and rotting meat.

 Your hand passes down the doe’s head, and her skin sloughs off beneath your fingers, leaving shiny, white bone behind. You gag, clapping a bloody hand over your mouth as fat flies buzz lazily out of her empty eye sockets. Wrong. This is wrong, it doesn’t happen like this—

 How does it go, again?

 Your father gifts you the doe, the golden doe, you are eighteen, you are a woman now, you will ride with him on the hunt, you will—

 “Su—gar swe—et,” Your father’s voice is the buzzing of a thousand glistening black flies, his tongue is made from them, wriggling in his wide open mouth. His eyes are children’s scribbles, black and writhing, and tears like ink drip from their corners. “It tasted like sugar—”

 It is then that you remember your father is dead.

 He is dead. He is dead here, because he is dead everywhere, dead and rotting and gone but not gone and you mustn’t listen, you mustn’t—

 You wake with a sharp gasp. 

 “—Princess?” The words dissolve into a static, meaningless drone as you are thrust suddenly back into consciousness. For a moment, the dream is still overlaid over the waking world like runny watercolor as you blink groggily in the dark. Beneath your trembling fingers, you can still feel the doe’s soft, golden coat—and the sharp, polished bone of her skull. With a sweaty palm against the wall, you retch, doubling over as you heave. 

 Nothing comes up. 

 The air around you is stale, stagnant, and the taste of dust and decay blankets your tongue as you swallow down lungful after panicked lungful. One thing is abysmally clear to you as you dizzily rest a hand on the cold stone to keep yourself upright—

 You are not in your rooms. 

 Where am I?

 “Princess.” The voice sounds again, and your head snaps about wildly, your eyes wide as you stare into the dark. The dream is still there, sticking the fringes of your waking thoughts like tar, and for a moment there are two voices, one made of dark black honey, sickly sweet, and the other the insectile buzz of a thousand glassy wings all beating in unison—

 “Wh-who goes there?” You ask, dragging the back of your hand across your quivering mouth. There is a sound like the sharp rushing of air, and all at once the room is lit with warm yellow light. You suppress a scream as your father’s withered, sunken face appears before you, his eyes like children’s scribble—you shut your eyes, closing them tightly as you whimper. 

 “A dream, this is a dream, a dream—” A cool, bare hand wraps about your wrist and you scream, pulling and fighting as fiercely as you can manage. “No! No! You’re dead—!” You cry, hysterical tears creeping out of the corners of your closed eyes. 

 “I regret to inform you, little sister, that I am very much alive.” It is not your father’s voice—not the dead—but your step-brother’s. “Despite your best attempts to dispatch me.” Slowly, you open your eyes, sniffling as you meet his gaze. He nods up at your balled fists, still trembling in his grip. You can feel the heat of him through his own loose night-shirt and your thin cotton shift, and your skin prickles as he licks his lips. 

 “Release me.” You say it with more confidence than you feel. For a moment, you feel your step-brother drag his thumb across your pulse point and cock his head, as though he is considering it. 

 “Will you strike me again, little princess?” He asks, a mocking smile curling at the corners of his mouth. You scowl. “I did not plan for a midnight brawl.” You shake your head, your cheeks flaming. Geralt stares at you for a moment, like his golden eyes see something yours do not. As you prepare to make the demand again, he frees your wrists. You clutch your hands to your chest, eyeing him warily. The torch he has lit casts the long room in dim orange light, the flames dancing in his irises, turning them molten. It is the firelight, you think, that makes him look so menacing, so…

 Hungry. 

 You shiver, turning your gaze instead to your surroundings, squinting at the long stone hall in the flickering light. The cool, stagnant air is disturbed only by the sound of your quiet breath, which catches in your throat as your eyes widen.

 “Where…are we?” You ask, though you fear you know the answer already. 

 The walls are lines with alcoves bearing countless candles, stuck into the melted pools of wax left by their predecessors rather than into proper candelabras. And in neat rows in front of them… 

 Graves. Made of the same gray stone as the castle. Highly polished and clean, they are each adorned with ornate carvings of their occupants. You stare grimly at the rows and rows of polished stone, and wonder at how you might have possibly found your way here through the dark labyrinth of the castle. You think again of the dream, and gooseflesh rises again on your skin. 

 ”Did you bring me here?” You round on the prince, your brow furrowed. He chuckles in response, and the sound of it grates against you. 

 “Me? I merely followed you. In truth I had wondered why you would visit the catacombs at this hour. I thought perhaps,” his eyes narrow as a crude grin plays at the corners of his mouth. “A secret paramour, or—”

 “Do not confuse me with yourself!” You snap, wrapping your arms around your body as you shiver. The prince clucks his tongue at your ire.

 “Come now, don’t be cross, little sister,” Geralt purrs. “It wouldn’t have been proper to leave you wandering the hallways in your state of undress, muttering to yourself like a madwoman.” Your cheeks warm at his crude words, and you feel angry, embarrassed tears flush hotly into the space behind your eyes. You blink them back. 

 “I… have not walked in my sleep since I was a child,” you admit, looking down at the space between your bare feet. Geralt hums in response. Old Madge, in her half-blind wisdom had always muttered fearfully to your father about your nightly escapades. 

 A soul shouldn’t walk about at night, she would say, her thin, knobby fingers twisting strands of honeysuckle and dried lavender together into a long chain, one she would wind around your bed’s posts every night for a year until finally you stayed in it. A soul shouldn’t walk about at night. What’s it lookin’ for?

 “I fear I…” You shake your head, swallowing your concerns—they are not for him to hear.  “No matter.” For an instant, a look of disappointment crosses his face before it is gone again, leaving you to wonder if you had even seen it at all. “Thank you.” Your reluctance is palpable. “For waking me.” 

 “You’ve no need to thank me. Not yet.” His eyes glitter darkly. You swallow thickly, and they follow the movement, sweeping almost lazily down the line of your throat. “Let us go.” They flick back up to yours. “Unless you wish to spend the night here?” He gestures behind you, and you shiver again, shaking your head quickly. 

 “Please.” 

 You are grateful to leave the eerie silence of the royal catacombs behind you, following as closely as you dare behind the prince. His torch throws up strange shapes on the walls of the narrow, spiraling stairwell. You can feel the dream sitting at the edges of your thoughts, waiting eagerly to settle back over you like fog. You were not predisposed to bad dreams, and yet they seemed to be the only ones you have had since you arrived. You have been beset with dark thoughts, nipping at your heels like hungry dogs, no—

 Wolves. 

 The two of you emerge from the narrow stairwell into the empty chapel, and the vast hall echoes with your entry. The sconces are dark, and the robed, painted priests nowhere to be seen. The chapel is far less intimidating at night, the sharp features of the northern gods softened by shadow. Cold moonlight filters down softly through the domed ceiling, the colors pale and muted. For a moment, the perfectly round moon is framed perfectly by the pane of red glass containing Father Wolf, shining bright crimson above his head as you pass beneath it. 

 The choking scent of the incense is gone now, and only a trace of it remains in the still air. It is overpowered by a thick, musky animal scent that reminds you of wet fur. As the two of you cross the center of the room, Geralt hooks left, towards the wide, dark archway on the other side of the room. It gapes open like a toothless mouth, the stone floor sloping downward steeply into the dark. 

 You stop at the top of it, the warm air stirring the loose hair about your shoulders. Geralt turns to look back at you, raising a brow and cocking his head p as he lifts  the torch higher. There is a question in the tilt of his head, unspoken on the curve of his lips.

 Are you afraid?

 You are. The dank, pungent animal scent washes over you again, and you shudder. It reminds you of your father’s hunting dogs.

 “Come, little Doe.” His voice feels like cold fingers drawn across the back of your neck. “You need not fear the kennels this night.” 

 “I am not afraid.” You jut your chin out stubbornly, even as gooseflesh erupts along your arms. 

 “Good,” he purrs, licking his lips. “They can smell it.” Geralt descends down into the dark maw, and you reluctantly follow. Like most, you are no stranger to the rumors that leak steadily from King Vesemir’s halls; fantastical tales of furred beasts whose jaws were wide enough to swallow a horse whole. You clutch yourself, inching closer to the prince as the sloped path straightens out, opening into a massive cavern. 

 Geralt’s torch is little more than a pinprick of light in in the vast, unyielding dark. The warm glow only manages to dimly outline the shapes of natural stone pillars, throwing up misshapen shadows. There are still more passageways, little more than tunnels, littering the walls like pockmarks. For a moment, the light of Geralt’s torch throws a long arm across the chamber. 

 Reflected in it’s light are two, glowing orbs. Eyes, the size of dinner plates, their color impossible to describe. It was as if the eyes themselves were ablaze, glowing brightly, breaking the darkness. Over the rush of your own labored breath, you can make out the quiet scratch of claws on stone. It’s coming closer. The thought tightens your throat.

 You are powerless, paralyzed before it like prey. Are you prey? You suppress a whimper. There is warmth at your back, and you realize belatedly that it is  Geralt, so close his breath brushes the back of your neck. 

 “No fear, little princess. No fear.” 

 In less than an instant, the creature stands just beyond the ring of light cast by the prince’s torch. Faintly, you can make out the hulking shape of it; larger by far than any horse. Shaggy white fur, stained a rusty red around its muzzle, it’s ears pricked up and forward as it listens to the sound of your breath.

 “Hold out your hand.” You do, lifting a trembling palm in front of you as if to stop the wolf from coming any closer. The wolf’s lip curls, exposing the wickedly sharp tip of a fang. It sniffs at your hand, and for a moment, you fear you will draw back nothing but a bloody stump. Your shock is palpable when it presses the tip of its snout against your hand, whiskers tickling your palm. 

 “Incredible.” The word escapes with the release of your held breath. You stroke the warm, bristly hair on its muzzle slowly, your eyes still wide with disbelief. The dire-wolf snorts, claws tapping against the stone as it turns from you. As quickly as the wolf appeared, it is gone again, disappearing back into the dark. You remain as you were for a moment more, your arm still outstretched as you watch its retreating back with terrified wonder. 

 “Yrsil.” Geralt’s voice drags you back to the present, and suddenly you are aware of how close he is to you, the way his warm breath ghosts against the shell of your ear.  “The she-wolf. Her name is Yrsil.” You jump away from him, smoothing your hands down your shift as you eye him warily. 

 “Why did you bring me here?” The accusatory note in your voice appears to amuse him, further stoking your ire. “To frighten me?” 

 “If I wanted you fearful, I would not have needed the kennels to do it.” You clench your fists, glaring hatefully at him as he resumes his casual pace across the cavern floor. “Come, now. This is the quickest way back to the eastern wing of the castle. I would not lie to you.” You glare at him, your eyes narrowed.

 “Would you not?” You reply dryly. 

 “I am many things, Princess.” Geralt’s voice drips into your ears like snake oil. “But liar is not one I am eager to add to the list.” 

 True to his word, the two of you emerge from the kennel entrance in the throne room, the hot musk of below sticking uncomfortably to your skin and hair. You half expect the prince to take his leave, now that you are back in familiar territory, but he doesn’t. He keeps pace with you all the way back to your chambers. The heavy door is still slightly ajar, no doubt from your midnight venture. The prince places the lit torch in one of the empty wall sconces before leaning expectantly against the wall, his body partially blocking the doorway. 

 “Excuse me.” 

 He slowly tilts his head, fixing you with a questioning look. “I do believe there is something you are forgetting, my Lady.” He parrots Kassandra’s tone with irritating accuracy. “I know Redania keeps to the old customs as well as they can, however here in Rivia we do require a certain level of decorum.”

 You clench your fists in your nightgown. “What do you want, Geralt?” You ask, exasperated.

 “A kiss should suffice, little Doe.” He purrs. His golden eyes burn the same way they did in the gardens the night of your mother’s coronation. You shake your head in disbelief as you stare at him, your lips parted. 

 “Y-you cannot ask this of me!” Your repudiation is a shrill squeak. “T-tis  indecent, w-we cannot—!” You shake your head again. “The king will not allow—”

 “I think you will find, little sister,” he reaches forward to trace the pad of his forefinger along your jaw-line, “that it matters not what the king will allow if he is not present. Do you see him?”He pushes your head to the side, forcing you to look down the hallway. “I don’t.” This is the closest Geralt has ever been to you, practically pressing you against the wall, caging you in with his massive arms. You understand now, the message relayed beneath his words—you are in no position to negotiate. 

 “You are my brother!” You plead, but he is unmoved. 

 “In name only.” He leans down, twining a lock of hair between his fingers, tugging it gently. “My father’s sham of a marriage has remarkably little to do with me.” You press yourself against the stone as he leans closer. “Come now, little Doe. Let us speak truth.” He tugs gently at the satin ribbon at the neck of your shift and it falls open. 

 “What you saw in the gardens intrigued you,” Geralt traces a path from your chin to your collarbone, his fingers feather-light, “did it not?”

 “No!” His open amusement at your conviction is like cold water down your back. 

 “I saw, Sweetling,” he says lowly. “The look on your face—”

 “Fine!” You shrill, tearing yourself away from him. It is not true, it cannot be—and yet, your blood rushes through your veins, a thin tendril of that same shameful longing uncurling in your belly. The dark curiosity that had driven you to peer around the hedge all those nights ago surges with sinful familiarity, even as you try to stamp it out.

 You lean forward with a grimace, rolling onto the tips of your toes. The prince cups your chin, smoothing a finger along your lower lip. He is unprepared for you to turn your head sharply, your lips brushing against his stubbled cheek. It is only the quickness of your movement and Prince Geralt’s own surprise that allows your malicious compliance, and you dart away, ducking under his arm and through the slim gap in the door. 

 He snarls, reaching for you, but you slam the it shut, sliding the bolt into place with speed that surprises you. Your heart hammers against your chest as for a brief moment, there is silence on the other side of the door. 

 “Aren’t you clever,” he sneers, his voice muffled through the wood.  He tries the handle before letting out a muted curse. “Open the door.” Your silence earns you a dark growl. “Open it!”

  You jump back from the door, muffling the sound of your scream with the palms of your hands as Geralt throws himself against it. It shudders in its frame, and for a terrifying moment you fear it will burst open, revealing the enraged prince on the other side—but it does not.

 “Open it!” You shrink against the wall as he seethes, his threats echoing in your ears. The sturdy wood holds against his assault, and when he finally stops, you can hear the sound of his labored breathing on the other side. That too, gradually fades into silence, and cautiously, you approach the door. Somehow, though you cannot see him, you know he remains there, waiting. 

 “You will regret this night.” There is grim promise in his words. “Little sister.” The sound of Geralt’s retreating footsteps makes your shoulders sag with relief, and you collapse against the wall, your breath labored. Though you doubt he is still there, waiting to ambush you in the hall, you do not dare open the door again until morning—

 Just in case. 

 —

 “It is a beautiful day, is it not?” Your mother flutters her fan daintily as she basks in the warm end-of-summer sun. To her right, Lady Amelia, red-faced and sweating beneath her pale face paint, forces a smile through her obvious discomfort.

 “Oh yes, Highness.” She blinks as a cloudy bead of sweat slides down into her eye. “Lovely.”

 You know the noblewomen fawning over your mother would much rather be inside, sheltered from the hot sun by the cold stone of the castle. It was where you would have been, if not for the summons from your mother. You had spent the majority of the past week or so in your chambers, reluctantly leaving them only when strictly necessary in your attempts to avoid the prince.

 The Prince.

 At the thought of him, you cast a wary glance at your surroundings, looking for the telltale gleam of his golden eyes, or the shock of his snow white hair. Thankfully, you find neither. Crossing the patch of soft, green grass toward your mother, you perch impatiently on the end of the carved stone bench as you wait for her to notice you. You make idle conversation with her ladies as you wait, twisting your fingers nervously in the fabric of your skirts while you try to parse out your request.

 I want to go home. 

 “Ah, daughter,” she greets you, and you drop your head respectfully as she addresses you. “Come to enjoy the weather?” She gestures around her at the blooming garden. “I daresay we shall miss it soon enough.”  She stretches, the jewels adorning her fingers and throat shining brilliantly in the sun.

 “It is lovely,” you say, nodding agreeably. “It does remind me of home.” You curse yourself as the word slips from your lips. Instantly, your eyes fly to your mother’s face, watching for the displeasure you know you will see written in the stiffness of her smile or the narrowed slant of her eyes. 

 “Of Redania, you mean.” The soft curve of her lips belie the dagger sharp edges of her words. The smile you force in return is weak, trembling at the edges of your mouth. 

 “Y-yes. That is… what I meant to say.” You do not miss the way her ladies lean in amongst themselves, whispering. “D-did you wish to speak with me?” Though the day is unseasonably warm, and you yourself are surrounded by people, you feel small and cold and alone. Adrift. 

 “Must a mother need a reason to see her child?” She asks, rising gracefully from her seat. One of the servants rushes over with a parasol, but she waves him away, shaking her head. “If a reason must be given, I suppose mine might be that I have missed you.”  She loops her arm through one of yours securely, steering you off the patch of cool grass and back onto the garden path proper.  The whispers of her ladies follow behind you, biting at your heels they fade. 

 “I am your mother, and yet I cannot recall when last we broke bread together.” 

 “I have found myself quite exhausted, of late,” You mumble the half truth. “I fear the journey weighs heavily upon me still.” You suppress a shudder as you remember the dream, your father’s rotting face bloated with fat maggots—“I have not slept well.” 

 “Late night escapades do tend to be quite exhausting.” Her lips curve into a cold, knowing smile, and your belly fills with hot lead. Shame turns the blood in your veins to ice as your mother inspects her sleeve. A terrible fury rages beneath the placid surface of her pleasantries, and you cower in the face of it. 

 “M-mother, I—” The words will not come, leaving you floundering as your mouth opens and closes in silence. “H-he—”

 “Did you think I would not see it?” She spits. Disgust drips from the words.    “Would not notice his...” She pauses, her eyes narrowing as her mouth twists with displeasure. “Interest.” You swallow against the lump in your throat, knowing it matters not but still wondering who might have seen, who might have witnessed Prince Geralt raging at your door. 

 “Mother, I-I swear to you, I have done nothing—! H-he, I—I walked in my sleep, a-and he found me, I—nothing happened!” You hate the look on her face, like your pleas of innocence have only confirmed your guilt. “Nothing—”

 “Nothing?” Her lip curls. “You must know these games you play, all they have done is pique his interest.” She speaks as though somehow, you should have known better. “Men are stupid, willful creatures, desirous of what they cannot have.” She clucks her tongue at you. “Your father coddled you far too long—you are a woman grown! It is long past time you act like it!” 

 “Father would believe me!” You sob. Hot, angry tears spill down your cheeks.   “I am innocent!” Your mother stares at you coldly, before reaching forward to cup your chin. 

 “It is not your innocence I question.” Your mother’s voice is deceptively soft.   “It is your sense.” You blink at her through your tears, trembling. “My sweet, naive girl.” She wipes roughly at your tears with the pad of her thumb. The cold distance in her eyes splits you cleanly down the middle like a sharp blade. There is part of you that wants to fawn, to deliver honeyed words on a platter until her love shines down on you again like the sun—

 And part that wants nothing more than to flee. You want to ask—no, beg—for her to send you home, to return you to the walls you knew better than the lines on your own palms. Your mother embraces you, her lips brushing your cheek even as your own work silently. The words won’t come, like they are stuck in your throat. 

 “There should be only honesty between us.” Your mother says. “Understand?”

 I want to go home.

 Send me home.

 Please.

 “Yes.” You hang your head in defeat, the words retreating from your tongue.  

 “Good.” She chirps as she leans away. She is herself again, smiling affectionately as she brushes imaginary dirt from your dress, tucking loose strands of hair back into your fraying braid. “And you’ll tidy up for supper, won’t you? We have missed you at the table these past nights.” You clasp your hands together so tightly that your palms sting as you force a smile.

 “Of course.” 

 For a moment, just a moment, the warm breeze carries with it the smell of rot and earth, and you remember the doe, your father’s gift dead and bloated in the patch of hexweed in the woods. 

 It smells like sugarcane, but it isn’t, your father had taught you young. It smells sweet, but it’s not, understand? 

 Perhaps, you think, as you reluctantly follow your mother’s retreating back, people can be hexweed too.

to be continued…

next

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[viking-raider]

LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT > PART THREE

Summary-> Alexa and Henry leave their villa to explore the beauty of Costa Rica, with an unblinking eye trailing behind them.

Pairing-> Henry Cavill/OFC (Alexa)

Word Count-> 5.7k

Parts-> I II

Warnings-> PG: Arranged Marriage, Language, Banter, Anxiety

Inspiration-> Nick and Vanessa Lachey’s Love is Blind on Netflix.

Author’s Note-> I hope you enjoy! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

-> If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST as well as my @VIKING-RAIDER-LIBRARY and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!’ Ao3-> Dragon_Dweller

– The Hike –

Alexa pulled her loose cotton, deep arm-hole tank top over her bikini, while Henry packed a day bag for them to take on their hike.

“Right, we're all packed.” He smiled, coming to stand in the bathroom doorway. “Figured we could stop in town for some lunch items, and if we need anything else before we head to the start of the trail.” He informed her, watching her tug on a pair of short, board shorts with a print pattern on each hip, over her bikini bottoms.

“I love the sound of that. We can also browse the local life.” Alexa smiled, a tingle in her stomach knowing Henry was distracted by seeing so much of her body.

“That sounds like a great idea.”

“Great.” She nodded, patting him on the chest as she breezed by him, into the bedroom; mentally reminding herself not to look at the camera that was there filming the whole thing.

With their little hiking bag packed and a rental car for them waiting in the drive, Henry and Alexa loaded up. Jesse followed them from a car in the back, having mounted a couple cameras in ideal places on the rental car to film them.

“Wow, this place is so gorgeous.” Henry commented, looking out the window as he drove them into town.

“Just wait until we hit the trails.” Alexa smiled, lounging back in the passenger seat. “It's a whole other world. It feels like you've been lost in some 18th Century adventure book; deep in the forest as you look for the coveted and cured gold of an ancient God, that the natives warn you not to go near.”

Henry looked over at her, smirking. “Bookworm?” He chuckled, teasingly.

“The word is, Bibliophile.” She corrected him, with feigned offense. “Thank you very much.”

“Oh, my apologies, Bibliophile.” He laughed, amused. “But, I can see it, this place does give you an enchanted feeling.” He sighed, as the town of Tamarindo came into view.

Tamarindo bustled with life, an assortment of shops, brightly colored and close together, showed their wares in windows, balconies and sidewalks. Signs announcing what each shop and pop-up cart was selling to whomever stopped by to look, from fellow tourists to locals.

Henry found a place to park and got out with Alexa, the both of them casting their eyes around, taking everything in and trying to pinpoint the place, or places, that would help them achieve their goal for a picnic on their hike.

“Something smells amazing.” Alexa commented, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes.

“Could be anything.” Henry chuckled, noting the several street vendors and restaurants.

“I need it.” Alexa said softly, her blue eyes slightly out of focus.

Henry looked down at her, cocking a brow at the almost manic look she had on her face. “Do you?” He asked, a soft smirk tugging up one corner of his lip.

“Yes.” She nodded, looking up at him with an eye twitch.

“You little gremlin.” Henry laughed, his whole body vibrating with its mirth.

“You best get used to it, Bowser.” She giggled back, before skipping forward in search of what she smelled.

Henry watched her skip off, his head cocked to the side as she paused at a stall with trinkets displayed on it, giving the woman running it a sweet smile as she did. He felt the embers of passion for her heat up even more, forming a teeny flame that Henry couldn't deny was the start of him really falling for her. Recalling himself, as Alexa looked back to see where he was, Henry moved to join her, nodding to the vendor.

“Hola, cómo estás?” She greeted him with a sweet smile.

“Hola, estoy bien.” Henry echoed with the limited amount of the language he knew, making her chuckle at his accented Spanish.

“These are so beautiful.” Alexa cooed, examining a black skirt with bright and colorful, intricate patterns along the bottom hem and inside. She looked up at the woman, holding up the hem for her to see. “You?” She asked, hoping the other woman understood what she was implying with her minimal knowledge of Spanish.

The woman smiled wide, understanding, and nodded with clear pride. “Sí.”

“How much?” She asked, brows raised.

“Treinta colón.” She answered, signing three and zero with her fingers in emphasis.

Nodding, Alexa dug into the little bag she had resting on her hip, retrieving the colónes that Riah had supplied her and Henry before leaving the house, supplying the woman the right amount of money for the skirt she had handmade herself. Taking the curled notes from Alexa's hand, she stashed them away in a locked box somewhere behind her stall, before motioning to Alexa to pick one of the skirts. Alexa peeked through them, admiring her craft and amazing needlework with the fabric. None of it lacked color and all of the patterns were unique in their own right, fascinating and awing her.

“What do you think?” Alexa asked, looking up at Henry for his opinion between the two skirts she was conflicted on.

“Hm.” He hummed, looking between them with a cocked brow. “They're both very beautiful.” He commented, reaching out to touch the cotton fabric. “Personally,” He said, finally. “I like this one. It's super colorful and seems like it would be...light and free. It makes me think of you.”

Alexa blushed, biting the inside of her lip at his comment, as she looked up at him, before looking down at the skirt he was referencing. It was red with a kaleidoscope of circular patterns, and blue top and bottom hems. Smiling, she picked that one out of the bunch, motioning to the woman that she had made her choice, and she nodded her understanding. Alexa and Henry moved on, observing the other stalls that lined the street and peeked in the windows of the shops, before they finally found the local grocery store and popped inside.

Grabbing one of little metal baskets, Henry and Alexa browsed the modest aisles, plucking up a couple things that caught their eye for their picnic. Something else grabbed Henry's attention as they reached the back of the store.

“Hey, I'll just be one second.” He said, resting his hand on the small of her back. “I'll meet you at the register.”

“Okay.” Alexa nodded, holding his gaze for a moment, before continuing on, grabbing a couple more things off the shelf, before she headed to pay for everything, tossing a glance over her shoulder to look for Henry, but only found Jesse following her instead.

But Henry appeared as she bagged their items, offering her an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I just wanted to check something out.” He told her, grabbing a few items and helping her put them in the plastic bag. “I'm looking forward to this hike with you.” He admitted, taking the bag and heading out with her. “Part of me wishes this was happening around the time the Durrell Challenge occurs.”

“When does that happen?” Alexa asked, curiously.

“It happened in May.” He told her, holding an arm out to stop her from crossing, as a car appeared up the street. “So, we missed it.”

“There's always next time.” She replied, watching the car go by. “Not like we won't be together.”

Henry looked down at her, struck. “That's more than true.” He answered softly, crossing and following her along the street, observing the shops as they made their way back to their vehicle. “So, wife, where is our trail?” He asked, reaching into the back, for the pack he had their stuff in and tucked their lunch inside.

“Right here.” Alexa answered, leaning over the center console to show Henry the map of the trail head. “It's part of the Rincon de la Vieja Volcano National Park.”

“Looks beautiful.” He commented, getting the address for the trail head and situating his phone on the dash mount. “So, our first day as husband and wife!” He grinned, navigating the road that ran parallel to the coast on one side.

“Yeah.” Alexa giggled, taking a photo of the gorgeous white sand and glittering, azure water. “How's it feeling?” She asked, shifting her camera's view to snap a shot of Henry, catching him off guard.

“It feels good.” Henry replied, giving her a shy and boy-ish expression. “It was a bit strange waking up to another person, and not either alone or to Kal snoring in my face.”

A laugh bubbled out of Alexa, her body scrunching up. “No, you just had me snoring in your face this morning.”

“Well worth the morning breath!” Henry chuckled back, teasing, watching the coast fall away the more inland they got.

“I don't have morning breath!” Alexa gasped, shoving him in the shoulder.

“Are you sure about that?” He smirked impishly, cocking a side brow over at her.

Alexa gasped again in outrage, mouth ajar. “Uh! How dare you accuse me of such things! I'll glue the toilet lid down from now on!”

“That's fine.” Henry replied, his smirking shifting into something even more devilish. “I have great aim.”

Alexa's cheeks colored, understanding his suggestion. “Naughty!” She cooed, batting her eyes at him, before glancing quickly over at the recording camera on the dash.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot!” Alexa nodded, twisting sideways to look at him.

“Do you have any nicknames you do or don't like going by?” Henry inquired, rubbing his palms over the steering wheel. “I don't mind being called Hen, Henners or Hank, but I loathe being called Harry.”

“Who calls you that!” She asked, outraged at the notion of someone calling him by that name, eyes twitching.

“I had a teacher at boarding school that did and sometimes, one of my uncles would.” He explained, shaking his head. “No matter how many times I told them I hated it and asked them not to.”

“I don't blame you! You don't have a Harry aura about you. Hen, yes. Hank yeah. But-” She took a deep breath and let it out in a huff. “Good grief. As for me, most of the people in my social circle call me, Alex or Lexi, which I'm totally cool with. There are people that call me, Lex, which I'm not really here nor there about. However, I don't like being called, Allie, it makes me think of alleyways, or one of my roadies desperately tried to make a thing of calling me, Lexus.”

She met Henry's eye. “I'm not a car.”

Henry snorted, laughing softly. “A car, you are not.” He agreed, smiling. “So, Alex, Lex or Lexi are cool to call you.”

“Yep.” Alexa nodded, liking the sound of her name rolling off his tongue, as she noticed the sign announcing the turn off for the National park just around the bend. “Almost there!” She declared, rather excited to go exploring and hiking on the trails with Henry. “This place is so beautiful.” She commented, as they got out of the car, the warmth of the beach was replaced by the cool, but humid, air of the forest around them.

“Yeah, it is.” Henry agreed, clipping their bag secure across his chest.

But not as beautiful as you. He thought, fleetingly.

“Are you going to be able to hike this, carrying that camera?” Henry asked Jesse, who was getting his own gear set up. “According to that park sign, the trail is seven kilometers in length. One way.” He informed the cameraman, concerned for his well-being as much as he was Alexa and his own.

“I'll be fine, bud.” Jesse replied, shouldering a bag that rattled with various filming equipment and a couple of things he brought for the hike, water bottle, food, bug spray and so on. “I've done wildlife documentaries in Antarctica. I'm sure a four mile hike around the volcano will be cake.”

“Making sure.” Henry said, before turning to Alexa, who was patiently waiting at the trailhead. “You ready, short-stuff?” He asked with a smile.

Alexa snorted and rolled her eyes. “More ready than you are, Bones.” She answered, then held up a trail guide pamphlet. “I scanned the QR code they have on the back, but just in case our mobile service goes nutty, I thought we'd bring the booklet with us too.”

“Sound idea, love.” He nodded, gave the trail ahead a look over.

She leaned in close to Henry, before whispering loudly. “If there's any spiders, I'm leaving Jesse to get eaten first.”

“I heard that!” Jesse barked behind them.

Alexa flashed him a sweet smile, then took the first step onto the trail. One small step on our hike, one giant step into the rest of our life. She thought, continuing with the assurance that Henry was right behind her.

“A bridge!” Henry announced as he rounded a bend in the trail, coming upon a rope bridge, just wide enough for one person to cross at a time, single file. “You think it's sturdy?”

“It looks like it.” Alexa answered, looking around Henry's arm. “I'm sure they wouldn't have it accessible if it was dangerous. Unless they have a thing for making their visitors feel like they're having an Indiana Jones experience.” She commented, half-jokingly.

“Fair enough, you go ahead first.” He said, stepping sideways on the trail.

“Oh, how gentlemanly of you, to let me plummet to the river below first.” Alexa quipped, moving by him, only to have Henry catch her wrist, his expression stony.

“Don't say that.” He snapped, his eyes glassy with horror.

Alexa's stomach churned at his expression, leaving her speechless for a moment, before she caught Jesse moving closer to them out of the corner of her eye and she scrambled to pull herself together again. “I was just kidding, Henry. I'm sorry.” She squeaked, gulping thickly as she pried his fingers from around her wrist and stepped onto the bridge.

That was so stupid! Why did I say that to him! She berated herself. Riah's going to juice her panties when she finds out. With how good it'll look, when the show airs. Stupid me creating an angst-y fuss, like some teenage drama.

The bridge wobbled a little bit as the three of them moved across the weathered slates at a steady pace, Alexa gripping the rope sides and daring to take a glance over the side, before quietly squeaking at the steep distance to the valley bottom and shooting her eyes forward, not looking down again. Henry's own eyes were on the back of Alexa's head, the whole time they crossed, taking slow, deep breaths and pretending the bridge wasn't as high off the ground as it actually was. In an attempt to control his fear of heights.

“Right, so!” Alexa sighed, after their feet touched solid ground again. “According to the app, the hot spring is this way and it's just before the waterfall.” She said, tracing the red line on the screen of her phone with her fingertip. “Do you want to see the waterfall first or do you want to hit the spring?” She asked, looking up at Henry, who craned his head over her shoulder to see the map, his hand gently resting on her side.

“Hm.” He hummed, eyeing the outlined trail, before looking up ahead of them. “Why don't we hit the waterfall first and have lunch there, so we can have a nice dip in the spring before we leave?” He suggested, looking back to Alexa. “That way we can have a nice rest period.”

“Sounds like a good plan.” Alexa nodded, pocketing the device and hooking her arm with his. “It's so gorgeous here.” She said, looking at the tall canopies above their heads, her ears picking up the sounds of the forest surrounding them. The call of birds, frogs croaking deep in their throats and insects buzzing in the humid air, with the occasional howl of a monkey deep and far off the beaten trail.

“It really is.” Henry agreed, drawing in a deep breath of the fresh, fragrant and cool air.

They pointed out sights to each other, plants and animals. Alexa became excited at one point, thinking she saw a little squirrel monkey, before it vanished in the trees. They snapped a couple of photos over the hour and a half it took them to go from the head of the trail to the rushing waterfall at the end.

“Oh my—Odin.” Alexa gasped softly, standing on a large, flat river rock as she gazed up at the fifty foot waterfall, the spraying mist at the top glittering in the sunlight, casting a rainbow-like halo at its drop off point. “I've never seen anything quite so magical.” She mumbled to herself, following the water into a basin of crystal clear water, surrounded by rough cliff walls covered in creeping vines and moss, slick algae and small trees that somehow managed to take root and grow out of cracks.

There were a couple of people around the edge of the pool, resting on rocks or clear, flat spots of the ground, with several others swimming in the water itself. Both Alexa and Henry looked at each other, then tossed at glance at Jesse, who hadn't stopped filming once, knowing they would attract attention the moment they got close. So, they moved around to the far side of the waterfall, where there were no people and found a decent spot to sit down and relax.

Henry set his pack down in front of him, unhooking his water bottle from the loop on the strap, while Alexa sipped at her own water, staring out over the pool with a whimsical and thoughtful expression.

“What are you thinking about?” He asked, before taking a big gulp of his icy water.

“Hm?” Alexa hummed back, blinking and turning her attention to him.

Henry chuckled at her. “What are you thinking about?” He repeated himself, unzipping the main compartment of the bag.

“I'm wondering how cool that water must be.” She confessed, her face giving away her interest in going for a dip.

“Hmm.” He purred back, narrowing his eyes at the water and considering the sweat running down his back, causing his tank top to stick to his skin as well as his curls to his forehead. “That's a good question.” He replied, closing the backpack and reaching for the back of his tank, pulling it off over his head and dropping it on the bag, before standing.

“Let's go find out.”

Alexa grinned, taking off her top and stood to wiggle out of her shorts, kicking them over to their bag as Henry's arm hooked around her waist. “Henry!” She cried out with laughter, breaking out into a massive grin as he carried her over to the water.

“You can go in with your insulin stuff, right?” He asked, as the water reached his calves.

“Yeah.” She assured him, squirming and wrapping her arms around his neck. “All water-proof.”

“Perfect.” Henry smirked devilishly, shifting his hands to Alexa's hips, hoisted her up and launched her into the deep end of the water.

Alexa gasped as she splashed into the water, disappearing under for a moment, before she pushed off the bottom and broke the surface again. “That's unfair!” She huffed, splashing Henry in the face as he moved towards her.

“Absolutely.” He nodded, carding his fingers through his dripping hair, pushing his curls off his forehead.

The two of them looked up at a cry that echoed down to them, finding a group of guys that had climbed to the top of the cliff by the waterfall, screaming their heads off and throwing their arms up, showing off to their group that had stayed down below, and who were returning their rowdiness. Alexa chuckled and looked at Henry, hooking an arm around his neck to support herself in the water and be close to him.

“Those guys are wild.” Henry commented, watching one of them take a running jump off the edge, feeling his stomach lurch as the guy plummeted and splashed into the water, heart clenching for a moment, waiting for him to resurface safely.

“And probably drunk.” Alexa giggled, gently pressing her lips to Henry's collarbone, as she held herself against his chiseled torso, feeling his palms squeeze and massage her hips. “If you try tossing me again, I will bite you.” She whispered against his skin.

Henry glanced down at her, cocking a brow with interest. “Is that a promise or a threat?” He asked, his own lips brushing the top of her head. “Cause, I'll gladly find out.” He said, a chuckle rumbling deep in his chest.

Fuck, I hope I'm not being too forward with her.

“Oh, you like that kind of thing?” Alexa teased him, smirking. “Superman likes getting nibbled on?”

His body reacted to her flirting, his throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly, and his blue eyes laser focused on her face. “I just might.” He purred, voice deepening as he leaned his head in close.

“Mmm.” Alexa hummed back at him, a sparkle in her eye while meeting him, feeling her heart skip a beat, knowing he was going to kiss her again. But she caught sight of Jesse wading into the shallows of the pool, camera poised on his shoulder and a soft smirk on his face, clearly understanding the moment. “You know what?” Alexa gasped, pulling away from Henry and treading in the water to keep herself up.

“I want to jump off too.” She told him, an impish smirk crossing her lips.

“Oh?” Henry frowned, confused by the mood change and sudden disconnect from her. “Is that safe?”

Alexa chuckled, splashing him. “They did it!” She called over her shoulder, swimming away to get out of the water and head up the small trail that led up to the top of the cliff.

She's crazy. Henry thought, debating if he should follow her up, to make sure she didn't get hurt on the way to the top and perhaps try and stop her or to just watch her jump from his spot in the water. She'll be fine. He tried to reassure himself, keeping his eyes fixed on the spot the group of men had been, when they jumped.

His heart calmed down slightly, seeing her pale head pop up among the lush greenery at the top of the waterfall, gazing down into the water below and waving at him with a huge smile. Henry smiled and waved back, hoping he didn't look too horrified for her well-being. Alexa surveyed the landscape from her vantage point and wished she had brought her phone up to snap a couple of photos, before jumping.

Taking a deep breath and taking a couple steps back, before taking a running leap off the edge, plummeting feet first into the water. Henry swam over, meeting her halfway back to where they had been.

“That was wild!” She giggled at him. “You should try it.”

“I don't know.” Henry chuckled, looking up at the spot. “It's pretty high.”

“I'll go with you!” Alexa said, trying to embolden him. “We could jump together!”

Henry bit his lip, then shook his head, flicking droplets of water from the ends of his curls. “Nope.” He declined, pressing his lips together. “No can do, darling.”

“Aww.” She cooed, before clicking her tongue at him. “All right. Fair enough, Sötnos.” She smiled, her eyes gentle and understanding.

“Sötnos?” Henry echoed, causing Alexa to giggle at his pronunciation of the word.

“Swat-noss.” She pronounced the word for him, slowly. “Sötnos.”

“What does it mean?” He asked, shaking his head as he tried to wrap his mind around it.

Alexa giggled, resting her hands on his shoulders. “It means a couple things.” She smirked, amused at the pet name, as she pressed herself against him, making him feel their size difference as they floated in the water. “Sweetheart. Sweet cheeks.” She explained to him, chuckling. “But the direct translation is, sweet nose.”

“You think I got a sweet nose?” Henry teased, leaning in to rub noses with her, making Alexa giggle even more. “I like it.” He told her, pulling back to look her in the eyes. “Would you teach me more?”

“Ja, of course.” She nodded, touched and excited that he wanted to learn more of her language and background. “You're going to need it, min mannen.”

“Great.” He smiled, before noticing the slight shake in her hands. “Are you all right?” He asked, taking one of them in his, pressing it between his palm and chest to seep some warmth into it. “Are you cold?” He inquired, the water was cool, but not chilly.

“No.” Alexa replied, shaking her head. “I'm just getting the shakes from my sugar starting to dip a little bit. I need to get out and eat.” She explained to him, her brow pinching as it hit her all at once.

“Let's go then.” Henry urged, wrapping an arm around her waist and guided them out of the water, back to where their pack and clothing was. “Here's water, I'll get our lunch out.” He said, opening her water bottle for her, before opening their backpack and started pulling out all the food.

Sipping her water, Alexa caught sight of something, as it fell out of the pack in Henry's rush to get their lunch ready, and reached for it. Picking up a short, plastic wrapped tube, the words printed on it were all in Spanish, but she had seen this type of container enough times in her life to know what it was.

“Did you buy glucose tablets?” She asked, looking up at Henry with a crease between her brows, holding them up for him to see.

Henry paused and looked at the tablets, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Ye-ah.” He answered, slowly gulping. “I-” He floundered to vocalize why his brain had told him it was a good idea to head towards the chemist aisle he'd seen at the store in town, to buy the capsule of ten, Raspberry flavored, glucose tablets.

What if you needed them, while we're on our hike or on the drive back to our Villa? He thought, still struggling to voice his fear that her blood sugar would drop to an unsafe level. What if they were the only thing that kept you from-- Henry forcefully shook the last thought out of his head, refusing to manifest it.

“I just—I just thought-” He took a deep, hard breath and looked back down at his task. “I don't know what I thought.” He mumbled under his breath. “It was stupid.”

Alexa's face fell at his words, closing her fist around the tablets, wanting to say something to him about how thoughtful it really was, but couldn't find the words. “What do we have for lunch!” She said instead, changing the subject for both of them.

Henry set out their wrapped sandwiches, along with the little containers of fresh fruit, slices of mango, watermelon and oranges, as well as a small cluster of grapes. They sipped their water and nibbled on their food, Alexa gazing around the forest that surrounded them, fascinated by the towering and knotted trees among the lush green plants, the sound of the waterfall behind them was so soothing and peaceful. She sighed softly, reaching out for another piece of fruit, her hand coming into contact with Henry's, as he did the same.

Their eyes met and Alexa felt Henry's fingers caress and trace her hand, like the touch from a ghost. It made her skin tingle and the breath in her throat caught. She didn't understand. They'd known each other for less than forty-eight hours and when Henry touched her, it was like nothing she'd felt before. Not with the boyfriend she'd been with for five years or a couple of attempted dates she'd been on since breaking up with said ex-boyfriend.

What is it about him? She thought, turning her palm up to his touch, her shoulders shuddering faintly as he stroked his fingertips over the heel of her palm to her fingertips. Why does his touch light my nerve-endings on fire and send sparks into my mind? What magic is he casting over me? Alexa reflected, swimming in the azure ocean of his eyes and trying to reach the tawny island at the top.

Henry in-turn was lost in her gaze, a gentle smile twitching and curling up one corner of his lip as he drove ever deeper into the arctic landscape he found there, mapping out the small flakes of minty-green that was close to her pupils. He was besotted with her, and it only dragged him down deeper as the seconds ticked past them. Henry had no answer to it either. Though, he was sometimes prone to falling in love quickly, and that sudden realization stabbed him in the stomach, like a red-hot knife.

Am I falling too quickly? Is this just a sudden flame, that'll burn out in a week or by the time our honeymoon is over?

His fingers faltered against her skin and Alexa noticed, a wrinkle forming between her brows as she watched the bright light in Henry's eyes fade and his expression panic, pulling his hand away from her.

“I'm sorry.” He whispered, waving to the food they'd intersected at. “Go ahead.” He said, patiently waiting for her to take what she was reaching for, before grabbing his.

“Henry--” Alexa started, wanting to know if she'd done something wrong.

“Do you still want to go to the hot spring?” He asked over her, clearing his throat, knowing how rude of him it was, but couldn't bear her asking him what she intended to. “I know we went swimming here.” He said, waving to the waterfall behind them.

Alexa licked her lips and glanced at the rushing water for a second. “I would still at least like to see it.” She replied, biting her lip. “If that's all right with you?” She added, looking at him with a conflicted expression.

“That's more than all right.” He answered, popping a grape into his mouth. “I'd like to see it as well.” He confessed, offering her a half-hearted smile, hoping to bring some peace back into their outing.

“Cool.” She rasped, picking up her shorts and stood up, pulling them over her damp bikini bottoms, not bothering with her tank top, and instead stuffed it into their bag. “I'm ready, when you are.” She told him, looking at her Dexcom app, making sure her levels were in an appropriate range.

“I'm ready.” Henry replied, packing what was left of their food away and stood with her, shouldering the bag and glancing at her phone. “Is that a good level?” He asked, looking at her.

“It's a hundred and fifty, now that I've eaten.” Alexa explained, turning the screen towards him. “So, that's a pretty decent range. Especially for me.” She said, before pointing to a number beside it. “It was a hundred and ten, before I ate, which is middle to low-ish side, before a meal. But, I'm perfectly fine now. So we can head to the hot spring and likely make it back to the Villa, before I need to eat again.” She told him, closing the app and pulling up the map to the hot spring from where they were.

“So, we need to get back on the trail we arrived here on, for a short while, until we reach that fork and turn left.” She showed him their route and Henry nodded, motioning for her to lead the way.

Alexa glanced behind her to Jesse, who frowned at her, clearly annoyed she kept staring into the camera lens, before moving forward. Henry took a deep breath, glancing above them as he reached out to hook his arm around Alexa's shoulders, pulling her a little into his side as they retraced their steps over the trail.

They reached the turn, branching out in the three different directions and headed towards the hot spring, and the closer they came to it, the more they could hear the rush of the thermal waters.

Coming through a thicket of trees and brush into the clearing, they discovered the steaming, volcanic-formed pool. Not quite so populated as the pool at the foot of the waterfall, but was still dotted with people. Some stood waist deep in the warm waters, while others sat on the rocks that surrounded it, their feet dipped in, admiring the multiple, little volcanic rock waterfalls that supplied the water for the spring.

“This place is so gorgeous.” Alexa commented, as she and Henry found a spot to sit and slip their feet into the heavenly warm water, with a soft moan.

“It truly is.” Henry agreed, slowly gliding his feet through the water and watching it gurgle down one of the falls.

Alexa gasped suddenly, grasping Henry by the arm and grew animated. “Henry!” She insisted, blue eyes round with wonder and surprise as she pointed into the tree tops across the spring, just as a sound filled the steamy air, like a high-pitched, song-bird-like call. “It's a Toucan.” She grinned at him, giddy for spotting the yellow-throated toucan.

“Oh wow, it is!” Henry nodded, narrowing his eyes at the small, long billed bird of paradise.

“When I was little, I wanted one as a pet, after seeing George of the Jungle with Brendan Fraser, cause Tookie-Tookie was my favorite.” She confessed, taking her phone out to snap a photo of it. “Other than Shep the elephant.”

Henry smirked at her, touched that she shared that teeny bit of information and memory with him, and was amused by it. “Is that so?” He asked, his eyes going back to the little black and yellow bird as it took flight off its branch.

“Yeah, I love animals.” Alexa nodded, a little deflated that the toucan flew off, before looking at the photos she'd taken of it. “I had considered becoming a Zoologist before becoming a musician.” She confessed, pressing her shoulder against his and lifting her phone again, its front camera open and showing her and Henry. “We haven't taken a single photo together.” She answered the startled and confused expression she saw on Henry's face through her phone.

“I'd like at least one photo with my husband, during our honeymoon.” She smirked at him. “If he'd indulge me?”

“Why would I not?” He cooed, his expression softening and posed with her to take the photo.

[littlefreya]

Summary: Revenge is a dish best-served cold

Pairing: AU! Pirate August Walker x OFC (no mentions of body type or ethnicity)

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: 18+. No smut, but sexual themes are mentioned, as well as dark themes - he is a pirate. Possible historical inaccuracy. This is not the real Blackbeard. Mentions of kidnapping.

A/N: Not beta’d. Many thanks to @agniavateira @luna-aestas and @wolvesandhoundshowltogether for the support, and thanks to @geralts-yenn because this story started as a 15-minute challenge, and I ended up writing a whole shot. There might be a part 2, and this might turn into a series. We will see after my anxiety runs its course :D

Thanks for reading, and please reblog and comment if you enjoyed :)

Neptune's Snare

The soggy wooden platform creaked beneath her feet as she climbed onto the main deck. Each step eliciting s husky wail - a sorrowful hymn to the lost maidens of the sea - those who would never return, those devoured by the sinful desires of monstrous captain August ‘Blackbeard’ Walker. 

Whatever madness drove women to go there willingly was beyond comprehension. No more than a tomb, the ship alone looked like a carnivorous maw; black iron spikes stood firmly at the bow, and the sheer size of it was enough to strike fear at the heart of even the bravest sailor.

Yet, there she was, draped in a black velvet cloak and an ivory corset dress, willingly marching toward grave danger. 

Dozens of ragged men welcomed her onboard, filthy scoundrels, all drenched in an exotic mixture of sweat and alcohol. Hungry, their eyes gnawed at her tender flesh, but none would dare touch her. If August’s crew knew one thing, it’s that some fates are much, much more worse than death. 

It didn’t stop them from taunting. Suckling their lips, they followed the girl on her march toward the captain’s cabin. Cheer and chortle in their voice as they imagined the obscenities their captain was about to perform on this naive girl. 

“Pity, he never let us look…” whined one of the pirates while the other bood.

“Aye, you mad to come ‘er tonight. The cap’n hasn’t had his fill in weeks, lass. He would sure pillage each of you’ holes tonight.”

“He gonna paint her full of his sea foam!”

The entire ship roared with their laughter. The girl, however, kept a blank face and, without spending any minute longer, opened the door to the captain's cabin.                                                                                                                                                

Bright, golden luminance blinded Lizette’s sight as she entered the cabin. The walls were plated by ornaments made of gold, reflecting the sparkle of the hundred candles that burnt at the decorated candelabras and crystal chandelier. Fine works of art hung from each wall, and on a vast lacquered table stood a plethora of delicacies that made Lizette’s belly gurgle. 

She stared at the table momentarily, almost fooled by the obvious seduction. In complete opposite to the murky exterior of the ship, the captain’s chamber was a room fit for kings, sputtering style, elegance and riches. Perhaps this was how he lured them. The poor naive girls truly believed he would give them a better life. But Blackbeard was no king, nor was he a gentleman. He was the deadliest man the world has ever known - a serpent, nightshade - all he could give a woman was death. 

“Take off your cowl.”  

A deep voice called from behind, dark and mysterious as the ocean. It struck like an icy shard through her spine, making her shoulders jerk and stiffen. It was odd to know someone by hundred of myths and stories spun around them and have men mimic their voice in an attempt to portray them but never know what they truly sounded like. 

As it turned out, August sounds like a man one doesn’t refuse. 

Obedient, Lizette pulled the cowl from her head - slow as she would unwrap a much-anticipated present. Her gaze kept to the floor still, continuing to play the coy virgin the Captain wanted her to be, though if she had to be honest - she was terrified of whatever hideous monster she would soon have to face. 

There must have been a reason why the women who came here never left. Lizette was willing to bet every dime in her pocket that August was the most gruesome, repulsive creature, and the only way for him to keep people from knowing was by murdering each woman he bedded!    

“Shy, aren’t we?” Blackbeard murmured with a dry chuckle and began to circle her, observing his bounty from side to side.

“I quite enjoy shy,” he chuckled once more, his voice almost a groan. 

She forced herself not to flinch too much. She could sense his glare upon her, stripping her garment by garment, weighing what he earned tonight and considering all the ways in which he would pillage her body. It made her feel like she was one of the delicacies that rested on his table rather than a person. 

After gyrating around her and inspecting each crease of her body, August finally returned to his starting spot behind her and, in a low, delighted groan, demanded, “Turn around.” 

Doing as he commanded, she turned to him, still keeping her glance plastered to the floor, her breathing now shallow as the air in the room grew magically stuffy. She could spot his blurry silhouette from the corner of her eye; a tall and fit man, rather broad. It seemed that he was doing a loose white cotton shirt and dark trousers, and from his waistband - a gleam of silver winked back. 

“Are you a mute?” 

Another chill shot through her as he spoke. Absentminded, she swallowed. “No…”  embarrassingly, her voice cracked; she took a deep breath and reprimanded, “No, sir. Just nervous.”

“Captain,” he corrected. 

Lizette nodded but did not repeat him. She couldn’t. Words died on her tongue as the Captain made a bold step toward her, drawing dangerously near. He paused for a shy second, fingers laced together, contemplating, before he reached a fist beneath her chin and, in a ceremonious tenderness, lifted her chin.  

The air drained from her completely. Her lips parted in a mixture of fear and astonishment. 

It couldn’t be.

Perhaps she had the wrong man?

Grey, ocean-eyes peered at her through a face that women and men would damn themselves for. No! Even angels would. His jaw was sharp and profound, statuesque like cut marble - dashed with dark stubble and a thick raven-black moustache. His lips, though chafed from the salty sea breeze, were plumped and shaped to be kissed, and while some of his curls were streaked with silver, he still had a healthy mane of hair on his head. 

‘He could have been a decent man,’ she thought, ‘and yet he chose this?!’

There was an obscure attractive melancholy to his looks - almost tragic. 

August took another moment to study her face, a frown slowly forming on his ridged brow. “You look familiar…”

“I work the docks,” she answered almost immediately.

His stare deepened, eyes dropping to her cleavage momentarily before returning to pierce back into the back of her skull, “Skin too soft. Too shy to be a prostitute.” 

His fingers wrapped around her chin, caging it between his thumb and his index in a tight grip, making it hurt. He tilted his head, daring her to come up with another lie.  

“The tavern,” Lizette answered, firm and steadfast. She did not flinch from his touch, even though every instinct begged her to.

“And you came to me. Why?”

“What girl wouldn’t give everything for a night with the notorious Captain Blackbeard? The living legend… the king of pirates.” She softened her eyes as much as possible and offered a shy pout to reconcile him. 

August chewed on the inside of his cheek; storm clouds gathered on his pale eyes as he contemplated. They both knew she was flattering him to gain his trust and save her pretty little neck. It wasn’t a situation he hadn’t encountered in the past. They both also knew that he was stronger, bigger and armed and could snap said pretty little neck in less than a split second. 

“Are you a virgin?” He proceeded. 

She nodded, her throat clenching. 

August lingered on her response and, after what felt like an eternity, offered a small grin and pinched her chin sweetly as if to praise her before moving a step closer. Lizette smiled back nervously. She could sense his rum-drenched breath on her face. The scent was so pungent it made her moan invulnerably. 

Or perhaps it was the anxiety that was eating into her heart. 

“Ever sucked a cock, pet?” 

His question was answered by a small click that echoed through the quarter and the press of hard, cold metal against the bare parts of his chest. 

Not stepping back, he slowly, almost theatrically, spread his arms into a gesture of defeat while peering at the girl. No rage nor fear painted his face, and as he spoke, there was neither surprise in his voice. 

“Heh. So you ARE a whore.”

Lizette held the pistol determined, not saying a word.

“What is it that I do, pet?” 

Offering a sly grin, the pirate pressed against the barrel; the oceans in his glare darkened. As Lizette stared back, she could have sworn the many shades of blue in his sights shifted and swayed like angry waves. Quickly brushing the thought away, she cocked the gun in a warning, her little thumb grazing the trigger.

But to August, it was clear that the girl had never killed anyone before, and the longer she stalled, the more shaky her hand became. Taunting, he moved further into the barrel, which forced her to take a step back. 

“Do not move closer!” She finally spoke. 

August brushed her warning away, moving forward instead. He had been so nimble in his movement, fluid, like a sea creature himself. Only now she realised that his hands were no longer in the air. 

“Was it your dear mother?” He suggested. “Father? Sister?” He paused and offered a vicious smirk, “Ah… I see, A lover. Well, to that, I surely deserve to die. Go ahead, pet, pull the trigger.” 

His slender, heavily ringed fingers reached to envelop the barrel, holding the pistol steady for the girl. Every breath he took pressed the metal harder against his sternum. Lizette could sense his heartbeat pulsating through the barrel, the thrum of his blood nearly mingling with her own. No longer steady, her digit quivered around the trigger and in her throat, she felt the strenuous hold of anger, guilt and hatred. 

“You have taken everything from me!” She simply answered. 

Soon her sight became blurry, and wetness gathered beneath her eyes.  

‘Do it, do it now.’ 

Another click sounded in the room. Louder than the cocking of a gun. 

Lizette’s eyes flared in shock, and before she could pull the trigger, August had carefully veered the gun from his chest and, in a tenderness that was accustomed to lovers, snatched it from her hand. His other hand laid still on her neck, fastening the iron collar he granted her.

“Good girl,” he teased and then leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the forehead of the girl who was too struck by her own misfortune and stupidity to react. 

With the pistol safely placed in his waistband, the pirate stepped back, face alighted, eyes sparkling with starlight cascade, like a child who had just earned a new toy.  He clasped his hands together, ecstatic; thick silver rings chiming as they collided.

 “I haven’t taken everything from you, pet. but I am going to…”

With one last slanted grin, the pirate turned on his heels and marched toward the door, not bothering to bid farewell as he left and locked the door behind him.

Panicked, Lizette reached her hands to the iron collar, desperately trying to pry it off her neck despite knowing there was no logic in pulling at the heavy metal. 

“Please!” Tears trickled down her cheeks and chin, “no! No! No! Please!”

Through the open window, she could hear the captain's voice barking orders, commanding his men to lift anchor and set sail. 

[milknhonies]

Wails of Wedded Bliss

Chapter 6 || Masterlist || Chapter 8

Chapter Summary: Upon meeting the Baroness you are enamoured by her devotion.

Pairing: Sherlock Homes x wife!reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, (No Smut), typical historical misogyny and sexism, mentions and discussion on miscarriages. Implied domestic abuse and infidelity.

Word Count: 9k

Author Notes: This is an important but rather sad chapter. I beseech you all to read the warnings. The details of this chapter are important to the plot of the missing Baron Thaddeus Pennicott.

Inspiring Song: "Flightless Bird American Mouth" by Vitamin String Quartet

8:30am Wednesday 7th May 1890, Grovelands House, The Bourne, London, England. 

Sherlock tucked your arm into his side as you three entered the Groveland house foyer. The floor was made of fine marble tile and with ever step a light echo raced down the halls.

The inspector called upon a nearby dusting maid to fetch the head of the house. Who returned was a thin and tall man in a butler’s uniform with a sliver pocket watch hanging from his chest. His hair was the colour of autumn leaves and his face littered in freckles.

He bowed, “I am mister Edward Redmayne, head butler of the Groveland estate, how may I assist you?”

The inspector shook his hand and stated quickly, “We spoke on the telephone yesterday? A telegraph was sent.”

The butler smiled with a relieving gasp, “Detective Holmes?”

Lestrade sheepishly looked over his shoulder to you and your husband. He nodded. His expression wore a emotion of embarrassment mixed with annoyance. Perhaps he was jealous of your husband’s successful published case stories. You wished you could have told the constable not to fret as Sherlock was nothing short of a arrogant mule...yet again- the mark on his face...he probably already knew that.

8:42am Wednesday 7th May 1890, Grovelands House, The Bourne, London, England. 

Upon meeting the lady of the house, you stood frigid by your husband. You felt somewhat self conscious by her grey eyes that lingered over your dress. Perhaps you should’ve worn your Sunday best before meeting a woman of such a high status.

The baroness was unmistakably pregnant. Her belly was bold and rounded beneath her maternity gown. She had been sitting calmly on a resting chaise, knitting a small bonnet for her future child. Her hands were covered in fine burgundy velvet gloves to match her modest dress.

Her face was framed by a light brown curls, that appeared almost white in some places, twisted into a bum at the base of her neck. Her pale face was blotchy with pink flecks and slight acne.

“Lady Pennicott, I am Inspector Braydon Lestrade of Scotland Yard,” the British officer proclaimed as he bowed dramatically forward. You withheld a girlish giggle by how low the man had bent his head and presented himself foolishly, and from the corner of your eye you manage to catch the whisp of Sherlock’s smirk.

The inspector waved his arm behind him and moved aside, “-and with me is Detective Sherlock Holmes and his wife, Mrs Holmes.”

You produced the baroness a respectable curtsy, your eyes glued down to the beautifully patterned carpet. You wondered how the servants could keep it so clean and freshly unstained by dirty guests. It must have been new.

The baroness shuffled her knitting needles and ball of woollen yarn into a Whicker basket and disposed of it beside her.

A slow stretching smile graced her thin lips as she spoke to you, “Oh, are you the little dear who solved that factory match girl incident?”

You weren’t sure how to answer her question. You weren’t entirely sure what the baroness was referencing until Sherlock stepped closer with your arm still cradled in his.

“No dear Baroness,” Sherlock pat your hand gently, “That would have been my sister Enola Holmes, she has her own detective office at present moment. My wife is here on my invitation. I wished to gift her a sight of the grand park and estate while I was here upon duty.”

The Baroness cocked her head, from her ears hung pearls that swung and hung like rain drops.

“Come forth dear,” she lifted her hand and beckoned you, “I would like to have better view of you.”

You wondered if she could smell the sweat beginning to drop down the back of your neck. You bit your tongue and tried to refrain from trembling. You were nervous. Her eyes were cold but her smile warm, two conflating details that you couldn’t understand. The last thing you needed now on top of a terrible start to your marriage was to be scrutinized by a haughty pregnant baroness.

She flickered your fingers for you to bend down to her. As you leant down, you swore you could smell copper, a metalic scent. A vein on your scalp pulsed. She scanned your face of its details. You dared to wonder what she was searching for. And then it clicked...the smell...

‘Dear god, you prayed, please don’t let her smell my blood, please let this not be my blood...’

You should have sprits on some perfume before leaving baker street.

She glanced behind you and questioned angelically, “How does it feel having such a clever husband?”

Your lips opened and closed. You resembled a fish. You were stumped to answer quickly.

‘Miserable, infuriating, torturous, pleasurable mixed with a cup of agony...’

She lifted her brows until you hurriedly blurted, “He is...formidable and righteous...” you stood up tall and took a step back, adding with a monetarism of truth, “I am very lucky to have become his bride.”

‘Lucky, while incredibly resentful.’

You reached back, Sherlock adopted your arm back into his hold once more.

Lady Pennicott rubbed her belly, her eyes started to twinkle, “And soon you will have a plethora of children that will look like him I gather.”

Your eyes fluttered. Sherlock’s hand tightened around your glove and his throat bobbed. You felt hot in the face.

Yes that’s right, that’s what normal husband and wife did isn’t it? They have children. That was your role, to be the mother of Sherlock’s offspring...

You couldn’t answer.

And there. That dear girl is when you questioned for the first time. ‘Is this what I want?’ and ‘Do I want Sherlock’s children.’ Because having a knowing of his barbarism conflated a fear in your belly...would Sherlock hurt his own children if he could easily hurt you, his wife?

When you hesitated for too long to answer her again, Sherlock said with a strained tone that was masked in a hopeful joy, “One may only hope, Baroness.”

“Lady Pennicott,” Graydon interrupted, “We have come to ask you on the whereabouts of Lord Pennicott and the evening he was last sighted.”

Her eyes narrowed at the inspector and with an annoyed twinge she muttered and wiped her hands on a nearby blanket, “I already informed the police of what I was informed of by our butler Edward.”

She glanced up next her right. Mister Redmayne observed her, looking down. The pair smiled to each other. She reached out to him. She grabbed his hand and they squeezed.

The inspector laughed nervously, “Indeed but Detective Sherlock Holmes was not presently involved in the case until yesterday.”

Her eyes flickered quickly to your husband and her face flared with confusion quickly to be matched with a impressed smile, “Of course, please sit all of you as I am near a indisposition with my child,” she gestured to the mirroring chaise and a chair beside the fireplace, “Edward, please tell Martha to bring tea and biscuits for our kind service men and Mrs Holmes.”

The butler bowed to you all and left the sitting room.

Lestrade took his place on the lone chair while Sherlock sat you beside him on the chaise. You took your time to lower yourself. Sitting on your bruises was uncomfortable while another cramp hit you. Your fingers dug into his palm.

From Lestrades breast pocket he pulled out a notebook and small pencil.

“Lady Pennicott,” Sherlock softly hummed, “Please, could you tell me what your husband is like as a person?”

The woman who you believed was in her late thirties smiled and stated softly, “My Thaddeus is a noble man, good taste in wine and very devoted to his work. He likes to go hunting and we share a passion for gardening,” she glanced up at the ceiling and paused, “He prefers to plant vegetables to donate to the church and orphans, whereas I have always loved to grow my flowers.”

The way she described him, her devotion was deep and honourable. She touched her round belly.

Sherlock looked over to the fire place behind the baroness. On the mantle was a magnificent portrait twice your height, painted on the canvas was who you recognised as Lord and Lady Pennicott. He was sitting up straight on a fine red cushioned chair with his dirty blonde hair and softened mutton chops while she stood at his right and her ringed hand on his shoulder. The similarities were there but Lady Pennicotts hair had lightened in reality perhaps from all the years that separated her likeness and her reality.

“I was informed Lord Pennicott is a father of five?” Sherlock asked.

The Baroness smiled proudly and pat her tummy softly, “Six soon.”

You couldn’t help notice something was missing from the painting, Sherlock also had a similar thought.

Where were the children in the portrait? Where was a family portrait in the house?

“Forgive me,” a breath of air escaped from him, “are the children away at school?”

“Oh,” her uncanny smile remained while her brows angled down, her throat tightened as she spoke, “I fear they are in the loving embrace of angels now. All of them were taken from us by God,” her eyes glanced to you, “They came out sleeping.”

Your heart sunk to the pit of your belly with sorrow and pity.

Five babies lost, five babies gone…five pregnancies… four and a half years of pregnancy and for what? Five angels.

A woman had one holy role in life, to bare her husband children, and when a woman was defective or produced a sickly child, it was a symbol of failure in society. But you never saw it that way...you imagined it must’ve been agony to lose so many babies. One or two was a common occurrence but five? Five was a curse to experience and relive over and over.

“Well,” you interrupted Sherlock rudely, cutting him off from his next abrasive question by squeezing his hand a little too hard.

You could see the mourning in the baroness’ face. You saw the classic look of all women made uncomfortable by something a man has said. What the hell would the detective know about a woman’s emotions after how coldly he has treated all women and yourself.

You shuffled on the opposite chaise and smile softly, “I will pray this one will come swiftly and feel the warmth of their mother.”

The baroness’ face lifted and warmed. She smiled happily and nodded, “Thankyou, oh I’m just so excited! This one really is a big one, I can feel it. I hope it’s a boy.”

Sherlock was staring at you intensely as the maid Martha finally delivered a pot of tea and poured the steaming liquid. His brows were knitted and his eyes held suspicion as he kept you in his sight. You politely nodded your head once at him before reaching for a hot cup and lifting it to your lips.

Sherlock sighed and turned back to his questioning, “You would say you liked your marriage?”

The baroness appeared offended by your husband as her face wrinkled and a sneer spread her thin lips, “Of course, any woman who doesn’t like her marriage should not be married in the first place. She is a burden to her husband if she cannot perform her duties as a wife.”

Lady Pennicott leant forward and collected her own cup of tea, she delicately pinched a biscuit and dunked it into the contents.

…you felt Sherlock drag his thumb across your fingers. You felt chilly, could he read your thoughts? Did he know truly how much you already hated him and his ideas of intimacy in your marriage? He clear his throat when both your glancing eyes caught each other.

“Can you tell me what happened,” Sherlock pressed, “The night of your husbands disappearance?”

“Well...after dinner,” the baroness sighed in thought and nibbled on her moist biscuit, “Thaddeus wanted to speak with me in his office about a spending I had made a week ago. You see, I had bought a cradle for the nursery. The one we had originally was broken and beyond repair, we disposed of it a month prior. Thaddeus was not pleased with the price and claimed it was an unnecessary purchase,” she paused and set her cup aside before she touched her belly again; rubbing in soft slow circles, she began to blushed, “He was sorely hurt by my choice. He then became very cross with me and left his office in a huff.”

She looked to the yarn, to the tea pot and then finally to the painting on the mantle, “I deemed that he would find forgiveness in his heart by the morning and brush it off. I returned back to the nursery to tidy up before I went to my rooms and went to bed to sleep in my quarters of the east wing. Thaddeus keeps himself to the west wing most nights.”

The detective nodded, “What time do you believe it was when you went to your bed, Baroness?”

She hummed softly while pursuing her lips, “A quarter to nine in the evening.”

“And how did you realise your husband was missing?” Sherlock stole a scone off the tea tray and lifted it to his lips. He paused amidst chewing it slowly.

The noble woman sighed and recollected, pragmatically, “In the morning Mr Redmayne informed me on how Thaddeus took off into the night astride Arion, our prize stallion Clydesdale. Thaddeus had not returned by the next morning and that is when concern drew near. I sent members of my staff to the factories to investigate his whereabouts and none had come upon him. I knew something had to be wrong so I alerted the authorities by the second morning.”

Your husband took a deep breath and discarded the half bitten scone, he wiped his hand unceremoniously on his jacket and throatily asked, “Do you recall if Lord Pennicott has any potential persons he might be deemed as an enemy towards?”

“Only his company competitors, Detective,” She said saccharinely with her smile, “He was a very loveable man.”

“Do you have a list of the names of staff who were working that evening here in Groveland House?”

The butler stepped forward and cleared his throat, “That would be in Lord Pennicotts office,” he pulled out a pair of keys, “I can you show you gentlemen in and where he keeps his accounts and other paraphernalia to his business if you’d like?”

Both Sherlock and Lestrade smiled and stood up.

“Baroness,” Sherlock gently requested, “Would it be overly bothersome if my beloved wife remained and kept you company while the inspector and I look in your husband’s office.”

Your heart jumped to your throat. What was Sherlock doing leaving you behind with the Baroness by yourself!?....what if you spoke out of turn or said something too presumptuous for your status!?...

“Most certainly not,” she beamed “I will gladly accept such delightful company,” She held out a hand, palm down to her right. The butler speedily stepped to her side and leant her his hand. She winced as she scooted forward on the cushioned lounge before struggling to rise to her feet.

Sherlock leant down and kissed the back of your wrist again, so scantily in front of the baroness. You tried tor refrain from loudly gasped and bringing anymore dangerous attention to yourself. Your husband left your side and followed the butler with Lestrade out of the sitting room.

So the party turned to two married women. The baroness was pleased.

She stepped closer to you and reached for your arm. You were surprised by her familiarity but you would not deny the assistance of a woman so desperately swollen and ready to birth any day.

“My dear, would you care to have a stroll with me in my garden?” She smirked and jerked her chin, “Knowing how dear Thaddie kept his space organised I suspect the gentlemen might be a while.”

You nodded and quickly made the warning assurance, “Are you in a condition to move great feets Lady Pennicott?”

“Fret not,” She giggled girlishly and waved her hand casually, “The physician told me fresh air is delightful for the health of the babe,” she tapped the top of her belly, “I have a month or so before they come.”

Your eyes widened, she looked huge enough to give birth now, surely she wasn’t a month away!! Maybe she was going to be blessed with a pair of twins. You had such a limited knowledge of pregnancy in women. Your grandmother hadn’t given birthed a child in the last forty years before your birth!!!

She pointed the way out of the main mansion to enter the garden paths. The sun was perfect today amongst the clouds. It was neither cold nor hot nor humid and dank...it was pleasant and you could smell the fresh nature of bushels and flowers.

“How long have you been known as, The Mrs Holmes?” She inquired cheerfully with her shining silver eyes.

“...Not very long,” you replied warmly before risking a white lie, “We recently finished our honeymoon.”

She grinned and waddled passed a wooden bench, she took a quick stop to rest and pat the seat for you to join her instead of standing dumbly.

“Shall I share some words of advise?,” She hummed, “From a woman that has been married for twelve years?”

“I would be ever so grateful,” you said rushed and desperate. You wouldve listened to anything she had to say. A woman of her standing must’ve held adequate wisdom.

She warmly cupped both your hands and squeezed them. And yet there was an ice creepy into her gaze. She appeared to dissociate, her voice losing its youthful lilt. Her lip wobbled slightly.

“Men are visual creatures. While you are so young and beautiful, you must become pregnant as soon as possible,” Lady Pennicott ran her palm across your waist, her eyes like razors cut across the yard to a bush of red rose buds, “It is inevitable that our husbands will stray their gazes to other women, it is in their nature,” those grey stones in her face rolled back and weighed you down, “as I said- visual creatures. The sooner you make a babe, the easier his devotion comes,” A joyous grin returned to her thin lips, she playfully tapped the tip of your nose and stated, “Trust me upon this.”

You clenched your hand behind you and strained a smile, “I thankyou for such wise words Baroness. I will endeavour to do what I must to conceive.”

At this moment in time Sherlock had proved himself a monstrous villain. Would it be possible for you to fall pregnant?

You looked out at the divine lush greenery and exhaled softly.

“Do you garden Mrs Holmes?” the baroness queried.

You chuckled softly and removed your gloves, you flashed her a sight of your palm, “I am afraid my hands have never been introduced. My grandmother preferred I focus on mastering piano and embroidery.”

The grey orbs fluttered back at you with a surprised him, “Embroidery is a lovely skill,” she pat your hand and pointed across the field, “Please help me up Mrs Holmes, let us take a look at my lilacs.”

You stood straight up and leant out your arm, she was surprisingly light for a woman her size. She leant against you and took small timid steps to her flower patches.

She stood and admired the flower patches, pointing to different types and explaining the breeds of flowers she hoped to grow in the future.

You finally bent over enough and cupped the petals of purple to hold up to your nose and took in a wiff “They smell lovely,” from the corner of your eye was a line of crimson, “I see your roses will soon be in bloom.”

She pinched a bud that was peaking to bloom soon.

“Oh yes, the soil is rich and healthy,” she giggled, “I can’t wait for Thaddeus to return, he liked the roses. He would stand here for a while and think. I know he will love the red colour. It is his favourite shade you see...” She sighed dreamily with her eyes scanning the bushes of scarlet rose buds, “I miss him terribly. I hope he’s alright. I want him to come home soon before the baby arrives.”

A fly smacked into your eye and you sputtered, battering it away. When you gracelessly composed yourself, you stood back up to your feet beside the Lady of Groveland.

You could see how her eyes puddles with droplets of mournful tears. You felt bad for any woman that did not know where her husband was. Especially if there was a rumour about him fleeing the marriage and abandoning her in her serious pregnant condition.

Taking the chance, you boldly took both your hands into yours and now squeezed them. Another buzzing from a fly sat on your shoulder.

The day was growing warmer and a bead of sweat rolled down your neck. The fly tickled your neck and suckled along your salted skin.

You tried your best to ignore the annoying creature.

“I am sure he will Lady Pennicott,” you soothed with a soft welcoming grin, “And he will be most happy when he returns.”

She sighed solemnly and glanced back at the rose bushes. You felt obligated for her happiness in that moment. Glancing back to the house you felt a opportunity come to you.

“May I visit your nursery Lady Pennicott, so I may have references for my own in the future?”

Her eyes flickered up, her face shine bright and her hand tightened over your wrists excitedly as though she was still as youthful as a school girl.

“Why of course Mrs Holmes,” she spun on her heel and wobbled a slight, she lifted her hand and called to the maid Martha still packing the china set inside, “Please inform the detective that I am taking his wife up to the nursery.”

“Yes Baroness,” she said with a humble curtsey and scurried off while Lady Pennicott took you totally inside the house and up a grand stair case from the foyer.

9:03am Wednesday 7th May 1890, Grovelands House, The Bourne, London, England. 

Up, up, up you both climbed the stairs. You noticed how the stairs didn’t bother her ladyship once, she was fit and stridden widely whereas you were breathing a little hard by the top step.

She pulled you down a hallway to a white painted door.

She excitedly opened the door wide and practically skipped inside to show you around her future child’s room.

The walls were covered in light blue and yellow paint. There were small peonies covering the trim of the room. There was no carpet but who needed one when you had a newborn.

“Welcome to the resting nest of my baby,” Lady Pennicott proudly exclaimed, spreading her arms out at the room around you.

There was a tall shelf filled with stuffed animals and teddy bears. There was a rocking horse, a doll house, spinning tops, tin cars and rubber balls all waiting, collecting dust, awaiting the arrival of a playmate. There was a permabulator by the window sill. There was a rocking chair in one corner and against the wall closest to the door- you smiled and swaggered over curiously, “Is this the cradle you bought?”

It was made of fine cream painted wood. You chewed your bottom lip in the thought. It was a lovely crib, why was Lord Pennicott so upset by such a delightful purchase? He didn’t have money issues. You put it down as that you didn’t understand the way men thought and men will never know what women think.

“Yes,” Lady Pennicott chirped, “it is from William Whitely department store in Baywater next to the Howard & Co dress department.”

The Baroness sat down into her rocking chair and slowly moved it back and forth, watching you admire the nursery she spent hours and years consistently curating.

You clenched the edge and looked over the railing down at the empty bedding. There was a teddy lamb in the corner, you pinched it’s fluffy white tail and sighed. For a brief moment you let your eyes close and your imagination wander far.

One day you’d have this...with Sherlock. An empty cradle to be filled. You caught the vision of a tiny hand squeeze around your finger and the sound of soft gurgles with the warm pressure of a hand on your waist...was that Sherlock’s hand? Was that your child?

One day you’d have a baby to care for, to provide these things that meant love...yet, was any child of Sherlock’s capable of love? He certainly wasn’t as far as you were concerned.

You bit down a shudder and opened your eyes, feeling hot tears glide down a cheek. You pushed back and sighed, “I am most confident on one thing Lady Pennicott.”

“And what is that Mrs Holmes?” she said softly, she could see the unspoken pain in your face. You swallowed hard and your face fell into a smile, you flashed her a wink.

You laughed softly, “Your child will be spoilt rotten by the love you give.”

She chuckled with you and nodded.

“Have you thought of a name?” you inquired, waltzing over to the chested drawers of baby knick knacks on display.

“Thaddeus Colin if it’s a boy,” she hummed, “or Theresa Grace if it is a girl.”

“Theresa?”

She giggled gently, “That is my name dear.”

Mrs Theresa Pennicott. It suited her. Her old soul eyes reflected her devout name.

A shine of glass pierced a ray of sun into your eyes, you pinched the glass object carefully. You touched a long black tube pulling out of it. You couldnt understand it’s purpose, your eyes narrowed at the rubber end that was shaped like a thumb or a cows udder. There was a second tube attached to the first with a rubber squeeze ball at the end.

“What is this?” you humoured.

“Oh that? It’s a fantastic invention,” The baroness said, “It’s a pump for breast milk with a tube that syphons the milk into this baby feeding bottle. When babies start to teeth they can scar your breasts. This is an effective and modern method I look forward to trying.”

Your eyes widened, scarring!? Babies teeth could scar a breast!?

You placed the bottle bump back and helped Lady Pennicott when she beckoned to stand back up from the rocking chair.

“Have you ever felt the sensations?” She suddenly, “In which they kick within?”

Your face must’ve looked idiotic as you asked plainly, “Kick?”

She giggled and nodded, “Give me your hand, perhaps you may feel them moving.”

She plucked your palm and pulled your glove off your fingers. She pressed your entire hand intimately to her belly. You felt a sense of taboo shame, she was making you touch such a beloved spot.

“Do you feel it?” she then asked.

Felt what? Confusion flooded your mind. Your hand moved around her belly slowly.

“I am afraid I don’t know what I’m meant to be feeling?”

She moved your hand and again you felt absolutely nothing.

“They are very brutal on my body,” Lady Pennicott sarcastically assured, “trust me there is a kick.”

She made a point to push your hand harder, but all you felt was the hard material of her corsetry beneath her main dressing materials.

“Baby’s kick you inside?” you marvelled with stunned horror. This was the first time you’d ever heard of such a notion of a baby beating it’s mother inside.

“Not out of malicious intent Mrs Holmes,” she reassured, “mostly it is the baby using its limbs to move their cramped bodies inside or excitement at the sound of voices, I truly believe they can hear us while still inside. Fear not, to you it will feel like a faint touch like this-”

Lady Pennicott softly tapped your wrist, “Like that.”

And there again was new knowledge you heard from a woman on matters of pregnancy. You moved your fingers around, seeking the supposed feeling of a kick...

Still nothing. You frowned, was there something wrong with you that the baby was choosing not to reveal itself.

“How interesting...”

A soft knock on wood alerted you both to glance at the door.

“Mrs Holmes,” the butler from earlier politely spoke, “the detective is requesting your return, I believe he intends to depart.”

Your face fell. You couldn’t believe it but you’d found this experience immensely enjoyable. You had surprisingly made a friend of the Baroness.

The fair lady hugged your side and sweetly exhaled, “Then I shall escort you back to your husband, Eddie fetch me my cheque book.”

He nodded and walked ahead of you both. You solemnly shut the nursery door, trying to remember every precious detail as possible. It was a innocent place to escape from the crude world.

You returned to the bottom of the foyer and smiled at your husband that stood by Lestrade at the front doors.

By the bottom step you faced the noble woman and curtsied.

“Thankyou Lady Pennicott for your kind hospitality and agreeable cooperation to the case,” you heard Sherlock’s voice float over your shoulder.

“Of course detective, please,” the Butler returned with her cheque book, “find my beloved Thaddeus.”

She scribbled speedily with a modernised ink pen, a sharp tear of paper flashed to his direction, “Here. Thirty pounds. I am sure you are busy with other clients considering your reputation, but I beseech you to seek out my husband quickly.”

Sherlock bowed his head as he deposited the cheque into his pocket, “We shall try our hardest. Good afternoon Lady Pennicott.”

Your mouth might’ve collected flies. Thirty pounds. THIRTY pounds. That was a hefty wage for a year to many men.

Sherlock was granted his coat and walking cane along with Lestrade.

He opened the front door and left slowly, glancing over your shoulder back at the heavily pregnant Baroness.

9:21am Wednesday 7th May 1890, Grovelands House, The Bourne, London, England. 

Sherlock and you walked up the gravel path in silence for sometime. You weren’t in much of a mood to speak to him despite well knowing conversation would need to spark eventually.

The three of you slowed down beside the inspectors horse cart.

Thankfully it was Sherlock who destroyed the silence with a stretched sigh. Lestrade grimly smiled at that sigh and rocked on his heels.

“Lestrade, show a useful skill,” Sherlock slapped a coin purse into his chest, “Find my wife and I a decent ride homeward. You still need to return back to the office and finish writing those reports on the Spring heeled Jack sightings....” he snickered.

The mutton chop male grumbled and left you pair alone to walk down the path into the main parklands to hail a cabriolet or another hackney carriage.

Sherlock pulled out his pipe and lit it quickly, he inhaled fast and asked curiously, “Did you learn anything else from our suspect?”

You squinted and felt a gasp pop from your lips, your hand snapped out and dug your nails into his arm with a scolding hiss, “Suspect? Look at the state she is in Sherlock. She clearly loves her husband. How could such a indisposed woman do anything to her husband?”

He smirked, “Perhaps a jealous one?”

Your brows pulled together. Jealousy wasn’t something you would’ve describe Lady Pennicott as especially with such a privileged life. Such an emotion wouldve been beneath her...but.. ‘It is inevitable that our husbands will stray their gazes to other women, it is in their nature.’

Sherlock pinched out a piece of card from his pocket, a business calling card, he flashed it through his fingers and let you carefully pluck it from his hand.

“it is no wonder Thaddeus Pennicotts name was so familiar,” Sherlocks huffed a puff of air, “He visits a like minded establishment.”

On the front of the card was a single image, a dove holding a olive leaf, and when you turned the card around there was a woman modelled in immodest clothing with text and an address in perfect hand writing.

“The Mayfair Row Dove club.”

You almost dropped the card in the mud at your feet.

He tucked the card back into his breast pocket and hooked his arm around yours, walking you closer to Lestrade waving his hands back at you both.

“I’m curious who his go to bird is there,” He chuckled.

You shook your head and scoffed in disbelief, “but she’s pregnant.”

“Men have needs,” Sherlock sighed, “I thought you’d have learnt that from last evening?”

Your nails dug harder into his arm and grit your teeth. Not everyone was as depraved as Sherlock, surely not. You couldn’t imagine Mycroft or your grandfather practicing such atrocities on women, especially women that weren’t their wives.

You noted snootily, “She said her husband liked to stand out by the roses to think. Perhaps he regretted his choice.”

Sherlock laughed cruelly and hard enough to almost drop his pipe from his lips. He plucked it out of his mouth and kissed you hard and squarely in front of Lestrade and any passing people that shook their heads in disgust at such public affection.

The taste of his tobacco filled your cheeks and floated down your throat into your chest. You could feel how his breath became your breath. Your head grew dizzy from it. His release left you trembling and collapsing against him briefly. His arm grabbed around your waist and held you totally against his chest.

“You see too much good in the worst people,” he whispered wetly into your ear.

“Not true,” you panted, you blinked your eyes hard and tried speaking again. You weakly pushed away from him back onto your own two feet. From the corner of your eyes you could see the inspector standing beside another hackney carriage.

“Not true,” you repeated and swallowed hard, “...I don’t see any good in you Sherlock.”

He grinned devilishly and walked you both to the carriage, He ignored Lestrade entirely except for retrieving his own purse.

“None at all?” Sherlock asked as he helped you step up inside of the carriage. It jostled as he plotted himself next to you instead of opposite.

You thought hard on his question for a time. You shouldn’t have ever been as petty as him. So you kept your silence before you could decide on a eloquent response. You did try to find the good in him. The trouble was you barely knew Sherlock and the side that you’d encounter was nothing short of a blagged, insufferable man that happened to be very experienced in the arts of the bedroom. So you tried to think about qualities you hadn’t seen in him but had at least heard of him.

“You help solve cases and even sometimes restitution, these deeds could be counted as decent and beneficial...perhaps good...”

He smirked until you finished hastily, “However your mistreatment and lustful addiction is nothing short of that than a person that suffers in his sin.”

A long annoyed sigh drew from his lips, however the corners jerked up.

He tug out his pipe and tapped it’s contents out the moving window, “Might I ask Mrs Holmes...” he inquired as he tucked in his pipe, and wiped his lips thoughtfully, “Do you think yourself better than me?”

The silence shared between the horses trotting along the cobblestones allowed you a chance to glare long and hard at Sherlock.

It was a jab, a jibe, a joke, a trick, a trap...

He wanted you to say yes... You could see it in his eyes the way they flicked to your lips and almost drooled with anticipation. He wanted to start a fight.

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking at you, you turned your head away and scoffed, “You may have quick wit and a expansive knowledge Sherlock, but I at least carry myself with the fairest morals.”

And that? The reply was granted a omen of Sherlock’s sickly chuckles and his heavy warm hand to sit over your thigh, running his them over the fabric of your skirts.

“We will see how fair a baker street whore morals really are when we arrive home then shall we?”

You leant against the wall of the carriage and chose to ignore him. You closed your eyes and held Sherlock’s hand to prevent it wandering anywhere else. His thumb rubbed along the back of your gloves hands.

You couldn’t understand Sherlock. And feared you never would.

HELPLINES:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers.

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

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[xdirtyxlittlexgirl]

Hurting & Healing

Pairing: Henry Cavill X Reader

Summary: You get into a terrible accident while Henry's away on shoot

Warning: Super angsty, fluff, mentions of death

Henry finally got a five minute break from his shoot and decided to finally give you a call. He had missed you terribly for the past two months as he was away shooting, and you both got very little time together between shoots. He had requested the director to take some time off so he can finally be with you again and his wish was granted, and he was excited yet relieved to know that he will be seeing you again in a few days. He sat in his chair, sipping his coffee trying to call you but your phone went to voicemail. This was unusual. You had a habit of always picking up his calls in a few seconds. Henry's heart was racing as he tried calling you again and again, but your phone was repeatedly going straight to the voicemail. He couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that was now gnawing on him.

He was about to call you once more when the director called him back to resume the shoot. Reluctantly, he made his way back, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of you. Safe to say he was worried at this point. He decided to ask his managers to try and connect with you while he was working. "Please just keep trying. My mind is thinking things, and I am not feeling good about this. I need to speak with her as soon as possible. You get it? Please." He said sternly to one of his managers, finally making his way back to the set.

But as the shoot went on, his anxiety grew by every ticking second, and he couldn't focus on anything except you. He was on edge and snapping at everyone around him in frustration. He had a temper problem, and it aggravated when he was worried and helpless. He was in the middle of the scene which he was already finding very hard to focus on, when he heard the director say cut. His managers interrupted the shoot and asked him to come to the vanity van. Henry could sense their unease, and his temper flared further. "What's going on? Why the hell are you guys not telling me?" he snapped.

Finally, one of his managers sighed and reluctantly handed him the phone, making him almost snatch it out of the others hand, which displayed a picture of you, bruised and battered laying in a hospital bed. Henry's heart sank. "She got in an accident this morning, and is now being treated in the City hospital. We have called and requested to have the best team of doctors work on her case..." His mind went blank as he kept staring at the pictures and his manager's voice faded in the background replacing it with pure silence.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he struggled to process what he was seeing. After a few good minutes he was pulled from his thoughts as he looked red eyed at his managers. "What the hell happened? Why didn't anyone tell me this before? Fuck!" he yelled punching the wall next to him in pure frustration as he bruised his hands. His managers were shaken and scared seeing him like this. One of them calmly explained that the hospital staff tried to reach them, but didn't have any relevant contacts. It wasn't until one of the nurses recognised her and contacted them. They explained that they had arranged for a charter flight to take him to her immediately.

Henry couldn't believe what was happening. He had never felt this helpless in his life. You were his world, and seeing you like this tore him apart. He felt like he had failed you. He wanted to be around you. He knew how much you were missing him. He was now blaming himself for your situation. "Fuck! I wish I was there with her sooner! I wish I was there with her to protect her. It was my fucking job. It is all my fucking fault. Fuck!" He said through gritted teeth as he again punched his hand this time in the car door creating an evident dent. His managers were doing everything to calm him down, but it was all in vain.

Trembling with fear and anguish, Henry packed his bags and rushed to the airport. The flight felt like an eternity, and his mind was consumed with thoughts of you. He couldn't bear the thought of losing you, and he couldn't help but think the worst, which pained him even more. He sat in the plane, his mind in a haze. The world around him seemed distorted, like a funhouse mirror that distorted and twisted everything into a grotesque caricature. He couldn't believe that you were just fine last night, all smiling and beautiful, and now you laid in a hospital bed, bruised and broken, while he had been away. You meant everything to him, and the thought of losing you was making him lose his sanity. He didn't know he loved you this much, that every second felt like eternity knowing he could lose you.

He closed his eyes and tried to take deep breaths, but his chest felt tight, and the air seemed to escape him. He could feel his temper rising, his frustration mounting with every passing moment. He pounded his fists on the armrest, feeling a surge of anger that he couldn't control. "Why did this have to happen?" he muttered to himself. "Why her? Why now?" The plane hit turbulence, and Henry jolted in his seat, the sudden movement breaking through his thoughts. He looked around, his eyes falling on the bottle and glass that lay on the table in front of him. Without thinking, he reached out and knocked them off the table, the sound of shattering glass filling the cabin. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm down, but it was no use. The anger was still there, simmering just below the surface, threatening to boil over at any moment.

The flight attendant approached him, concerned etched on her face. "Sir, is everything okay?" she asked softly. He shook his head, unable to speak, and the flight attendant nodded sympathetically before walking away. He was afraid. Terribly scared to lose you. The words by his managers from before, finally echoed in his head. They mentioned you were in a critical condition, although they followed it up with a lot of hope, he couldn't shake away the sight of you, which made his fear grow stronger.

"God, please let her be okay," he whispered, tears streaming down his face. "I can't bear to see her like this." Finally his anger started to leave his body, replacing it with intense pain, guilt, fear, and hurt. He was alone with his thoughts, trapped in a prison of his own making. He couldn't escape the pain, no matter how hard he tried. He felt like he was drowning, suffocating under the weight of his own emotions, and the only way out of it, was to finally see you.

"I love you, princess" he whispered, the words barely audible over the roar of the plane's engines. "Please be okay." He said looking at the wallpaper of the two of you on his mobile, his throat tightening and choking with pain.

As the plane landed, Henry's heart was beating out of his chest. He could feel his anxiety and stress levels skyrocketing. His managers were already arranging for a safe passage through the airport, but as they stepped outside, a mob of fans surrounded him, all clamoring for his attention.

"Mr. Cavill, can we have a picture with you?"

"Please sign me an autograph, Henry!"

Henry tried to sign a few of them off politely, begging them to let him leave, but as he pushed through the crowd, he heard a fan talking about you. "I'm not (y/n), but I deserve some attention too!" His frustration boiled over, and he turned around, scolding her almost tearing up talking about you. "She's in the hospital fighting for her life, and all you care about is a damn autograph? Get some perspective woman!" Finally, he broke free from the crowd and drove towards the hospital. His heart sank as he saw the sign "Intensive Care Unit" in bold letters. He asked the receptionist for your whereabouts, and the receptionist recognized him immediately.

"Oh my god, you're Henry Cavill! I'm sorry, I didn't recognize you at first. Follow me, Mr Cavill, I'll take you to her doctor." As they entered the doctor's cabin, Henry could feel his frustration, pain, and rage building up inside of him. The doctor gave him a somber look and spoke in a serious tone. "Mr. Cavill, I'm sorry to say that (y/n) has suffered severe head trauma, and the chances of her recovery are low. She is at a high risk of amnesia or worse, of slipping into coma. We are doing everything we can to keep her stable, but we need to prepare you for the worst." Henry felt like his world was crumbling around him. The doctor's words were like a punch in the gut, and he felt his eyes welling up with tears. He couldn't bear the thought of losing you, losing the whole of his heart.

"Please, doctor, do everything in your power to save her. I can't lose her. I just can't." He spoke between tears trying to get the words out of his throat, although they came barely over a whisper. The doctor gave him a sympathetic look, knowing that there was only so much they could do. He was shattered into a million pieces, and he felt like he was drowning in his own pain and despair. All he could do was hold onto hope and pray for a miracle.

He sat in the waiting area, his eyes glued to the door of the ICU room. His mind is racing, and he can feel his heart pounding in his chest. He has been waiting there for hours, hoping and praying that the doctors will give him some good news. Finally, the door opens, and the doctor steps out. Henry stands up, his fear plastered on his face as he approaches the doctor. "How is she?" he asks, his voice trembling with emotion.

The doctor takes a deep breath and looks Henry in the eye. "She's stable," he says. "But she still hasn't regained consciousness. We're doing everything we can, but the next few hours are critical." He nods, he felt his heart sinking. He felt like he's been hit by a truck. He can't believe that this was happening. He's never felt so powerless in his life. All he can do is sit and wait and hope. He was finally here, but he still couldn't do anything to fix you, to save you, to protect you...

He had begged the doctor to let him see her but he refused. The doctor explained how they're still treating your wounds and he will be able to see you later today. He nodded and patiently, yet impatiently waited outside the ICU. Hours pass, and finally, the doctor comes back to him. "Although she's still unconscious, we have shifted her to a room, and you can go see her now." he says. His heart leaps into his throat as he follows the doctor into the room. He sees you lying there, pale and still, hooked up to all sorts of machines. His heart breaks at the sight.

He takes her hand in his, feeling the coldness of your skin. Tears well up in his eyes once again, as he leans down to whisper in your ear. "Baby girl, I'm here," he says, his voice cracking. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there. Please, come back to me. I need you." He said, finally breaking into a sob that he had been holding for hours.

He sits by your side, holding your hand and talking to you, telling you all the things he's been holding back for so long. He tells you how much he loves you, how he can't imagine his life without you, how he'll do anything to make you better. He tells you all the things he's sorry for, all the things he wishes he could have done differently. His trying his best to make you feel his presence and bring you to life again. He needed you to speak back to him. As he talks, tears roll down his cheeks, and he can feel the pain and sorrow inside him grow. He's never felt so vulnerable in his life, and he knows that if you won't make it, he'll never be the same again. He tries to shake these negative thoughts and for now, all he can do is hope and pray and be by your side, holding your hand.

Hours passed as he didn't realise and fell asleep, curled up in a chair beside your bed, holding your hand tightly. He was exhausted, emotionally drained, and his body ached from sitting in the same position for so long, but he didn't care. All he wanted was to be there for you, to be the first thing you see when you wake up. As the night passed, he was into a deep slumber, but he was quickly awoken by a faint voice calling his name. He jerked upright, his heart pounding in his chest, as looked at you in shock. Yoy were awake.

"Baby?" he said, his voice choked with emotion. "Oh my God, you're awake. Are you okay? How do you feel?" He asked everything without a breath. He then immediately rang the bell to call the nurses and the doctor. "How is she now?" He asked impatiently to the doctor. "She's surprisingly much better Mr Cavill, looks like you were what she needed to heal." The doctor said finally leaving the two of you alone.

"How are you feeling princess? You scared me so much. I'm so glad you're okay. Fuck." He said with tears running down his face as he held her hand right continuously kissing your hand. You smiled weakly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I feel...okay. A little sore. But I'm glad to see you. I thought I'd never see you again" His eyes filled with tears as he leaned in and lifted you gently into his arms, holding you close to him. "Oh, baby don't say that. I would never let anything happen to you." he said, his voice cracking. "I'm so sorry. I should have been here. I should have been there to protect you. I can't believe this happened." You stroked his cheek and smiled reassuringly. "It's not your fault, Henry. It was an accident. I'm just glad you're here now." He just held you like his life depended on it. You could feel how scared he was and how he was holding onto you like a little baby. You ran your hand gently through his hair and you can already feel yourself healing. He was your medicine. He was your relief. You couldn't imagine you were holding him after almost two months and now you didn't want to let go.

Henry took a deep breath and kissed your lips, feeling overwhelmed with relief and love. "I was so scared," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't know what to do. I thought I was going to lose you." Your eyes filled with tears as you looked up at him. "You're not going to lose me," she said, your voice soft but firm. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. I love you, Henry and you're stuck with me." You said giggling a little through your tears. His heart swelled with love and emotion as he looked down at you. "I love you so much more my princess. God I love you so much more..." he said, his voice thick with emotion. For a few moments, you just held each other, lost in your love and relief. You can feel how his heart has now picked a softer pace. He needed you as much as you needed him.

Later, he pulled back a little, looking at you with concern. "What happened?" he asked. "How did this happen?" You knew you were gonna get in trouble if you answered this. You just smiled weakly but he asked again as you sighed. "I remember losing control of the car...and then hitting the tree. After that, everything is a blur. But I'm okay now and so much better with you here." You said trying to glaze everything with hope and happiness, in hopes that he won't get mad at you. He hated your age old secondhand car and had strictly asked you to take the new ones he has parked up for you. He even offered to drive his Aston Martin around. But you loved this car, it was the first thing you bought with your own money. Although he was right, this car had served you enough, and now just something you should be keeping for sentimental value.

He looked at you with narrowed eyes. "How many times have I asked you to stay away from this junk? What if I had lost you today? Hun?" He snapped. He was now angry but you expected this. He was worried for you and he was right, this car almost took your life today. "I'm sorry Henry. I won't do it again" You say politely pulling him in a hug as he immediately melts down and nuzzles his head in your hair. "I know baby, I'm sorry to get mad at you, but I almost thought I lost you today. I was so scared, and I have told you so many times to dump that car. I just.. I wanted to save your from exactly this." He said softly now gently rubbing your back and kissing your head and shoulders. "I'm so sorry baby, I promise I won't do it again. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. I love you." You say stroking his cheek and leaning in to kiss him.

You were kissing him after two months and it felt like tasting heaven. He was your medicine. His words, his touch, his kisses, everything healed you. He healed you and you wanted nothing more. Henry smiled through the kiss and hugged you tightly, feeling like the luckiest man in the world. "I love you too, my princess," he said. "I love you more than anything. And I'm never going to let anything happen to you again."

____

A/N: Please send in your fic requests! Asks Open!

[drewharrisonwriter]

Donor (Series Masterlist)

Status: Complete!

Pairings: Bestie Henry Cavill x OFC

Summary: You ask (beg) your best friend, Henry to donate--sperm.

A/N: Individual warnings will be written for each chapter.

Read this on AO3 | Check out my Masterlist

Part 1 Part 1.5: Not Dad Enough

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Drabbles:

They finally tell Hank's family

Feather Toy Fights - A glimpse of how Kal and the cats getting along

IG Official - You and Hank make your relationship IG official

Dirty Dancing - You found Hank's dancer doppleganger

Superman - Your kids find out that their father played Superman.

[lainiespicewrites]

Coach Sy Ch 6

ITS HERE! This took forever because life is crazy rn! But I LOVE this story and I have so many plans for it! This is NOT the end by far! Here's more of our lovable Coach!! (also this story just hit 100 pages on google docs!)

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, cursing, sex p in v, oral, unprotected sex

summary: After the weekend together Alayna decides its time for Logan to meet her friends!

Let me know what you think!!!!

7k (I'm so sorry I couldn't stop!)

Here’s part 5 cause it’s been a while!

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

The rest of our weekend was too fast. I was already loving the feeling of waking up next to this man. Sunday morning we went out for breakfast. A local diner in town. It was his idea. I told him we could just cook at home again. He was showing off. At this rate everyone would know before we got back to school tomorrow. 

He had his arm around my waist when we walked in and pulled me closer while we waited to be seated. He sat next to me instead of across from me in the booth. His arm around my shoulder while we looked at the menu. I giggled to myself.

“What is it darlin?” He raised an eyebrow looking at me curiously. I shook my head. 

“You’re something else,” I chuckled. He only looked more confused. “Parading me around like you won first prize, I didn’t realize you were so into PDA,” I smirked. His smile mimicked mine as he kissed my head softly. 

“You ain’t seen nothing yet, honey.” He chuckled. “Just wanna make sure everyone knows you’re off the market.” He spoke proudly. 

“Yeah because there were so many others you had to worry about.” I rolled my eyes. Sy grabbed my chin making me look at him. His deep blue eyes stared into mine intently. 

“Just because you don’t see ‘em staring doesn’t mean they ain’t looking Darlin’. If I hadn’t put myself in your path you’d never have noticed, baby. Trust me they’re lookin’, and I don’t share,” He let out a soft growl in my ear and I felt my cheeks flush as a rush of heat flooded my body. 

“Sy,” I said softly. He moved his hand so he was cupping cheek, his thumb softly caressing my jaw. I tilted up to kiss him softly but before our lips met the waitress softly cleared her throat approaching our table. 

“You two ready to order?” she asked sweetly, mainly to Logan keeping her eyes on him the whole time. 

He slowly tore his eyes from mine and turned to her, giving her a kind smile.

“I think we are!” He spoke enthusiastically like we weren’t one breath away from defiling this booth. Like he didn’t have me right where he wanted me hanging on every word he said. Like I wasn’t about to let him do whatever filthy thoughts were working the gears in his head, right here where we could get caught. But you could never tell. Not with Sy. He was a deviant disguised as a perfect gentleman.

“And what can I get for you handsome?” she smiled back. I froze, feeling my blood boil. I know she did not. I looked up from the menu trying to convey a cold look in my eyes, glaring at her as she kept hers on my man. Her eyes lit up while he rattled off his order. She was lucky there was a brick wall of a man between us. I slid closer to Sy tucking myself under his arm and resting my hand on his chest. He raised an eyebrow as I scanned the menu still in his hand to give the waitress my order. She seemed slightly more annoyed now but still smiled when she repeated everything back to us. “Is that all for you?” she asked us, again looking at Sy, 

“Yeah, that’s it,” I answered, sending her another look before turning back to Sy and trailing my hand from his chest to the back of his neck pulling him in for a kiss. I heard her huff when she walked away and I smirked to myself as I slowly pulled back, Sy’s lip chasing mine in a chaste little kiss. 

“The hell was that?” He raised an eyebrow smirking as he looked me over. 

“What?” I asked, kissing his cheek softly and turning to scroll through some of the messages I’d missed on my phone. 

“You were jealous,” He chuckled softly. I blushed, turning away from him a bit. 

“What, I can’t kiss my boyfriend without having an ulterior motive?” I pouted. His hands were around my middle as he pulled me close. 

“You’re boyfriend huh?” I could feel his smile against my neck. 

“Mhmm, that’s what I said. Mine,” I grumbled. He chuckled softly, brushing my hair back out of my face and leaning back in the booth so I could rest against him.  We sat quietly through breakfast. Talking about the week, He asked if I would ride with the team to the game on friday. They had another away game this week. Of course I agreed. He and the team were about to break a record for the school's undefeated season. I wouldn’t miss it. Sy was trying not to get his hopes up but I just knew they were gonna make it to state this year. I’ve never seen the boys play like they have this season. After breakfast. I decided I should probably go home. We had work in the morning and as fun as it was staying the weekend with him I did have my own things to keep up with. 

Sy was quiet on the drive home. But at one point about halfway through the drive he looked over and smiled. He grabbed my hand from my lap and intertwined our fingers. 

“You’re so cute,” I giggled softly. 

“I hate letting you go,” Logan sighed. Kissing the back of my hand. 

“You’ll see me tomorrow, Baby,” I chuckled. He pulled into my driveway and put the truck in park. 

“I know, I’m just really enjoying waking up with you in my bed.”

“I like that too,” I smiled, kissing his cheek. “I just think I need to slow down. I’m getting ahead of myself. I’d love to be with you everyday. But we need to let this develop a little,” I spoke nervously, biting my lip. He squeezed my hand trying to ease my mind. 

“I get it darlin’ You don’t wanna jump in head first and crash. I won’t let you fall. But hell, we both need our own space too.” he said. I nodded. And let him kiss me softly one last time before I finally got out of the truck. 

“Thank you for this weekend.” I said leaning against the door and the open window of the truck, “I’ve had more fun with you than I’ve had in a long time.” I admitted shyly

“So did I, I’ll call you this week when I have our next date planned out,” He winked. 

“You don’t have to do that Logan,” I argued. 

“Like hell I don’t. Just cause I got you doesn’t mean I can start slackin, you deserve the best pretty girl and I’m gonna give it to ya” I blushed. 

“Damnit Sy, if you keep saying things like that I’m gonna get right back into this truck and go home with you.” I pouted. He chuckled and I finally backed away from the truck and let out a deep sigh. “I really do need to go,” I said. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” I asked turning and walking up to unlock my front door. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow baby” He called from the truck. I turned and waved, blowing him a kiss and then went inside. 

I didn’t get nearly as good of sleep Sunday night as I had the nights I spent with Sy. But I didn’t let myself dwell on that. I enjoyed his company so much and he’s such a giving and caring and intense man. I want to be with him. It just feels so overwhelming. I don’t want Logan to feel like I’m pushing him away. But this is all so new to me. No one’s ever wanted to commit to me the way he has. It scares me. 

I was exhausted walking into the guidance office Monday morning. I tossed and turned all night and woke up late. It’s crazy how in a matter of a few weeks he’s made my bed less comfortable just because I’m not next to him. I shake the thought from my mind and give Jess a tired smile.

“Good Morning!” She said with as much cheer as she could muster up on a Monday morning. 

“Morning,” I replied weakly. 

“Busy weekend?” She asked with a knowing smirk. 

“The best weekend,” I said, entering my office and setting my bag down. She watched me for a moment and raised an eyebrow. 

“Are you gonna give me the details or are you going to make me pry?” she chuckled. I smiled softly. 

“The date was so fun!” I said “let me finish my coffee and wake up first and I’ll tell you how it all went!”  She just smiled and we both started our work day.

 About an hour later after I’d caught up from emails from the weekend and the office was slow I filled Jess in about my weekend with Sy. 

“So you two are a couple? Oh I’m so happy for you! I told you!” She said. I nodded quickly. “Why does it seem like you aren’t nearly as excited as I am?” She raised an eyebrow. 

“I am!” I defended quickly, wringing my wrist’s awkwardly. 

“But…” she added for me and paused.

“It’s all happening so fast, what if…”

“Hold on,” she cut me off. I shut my mouth quickly and leaned against the desk letting her speak, “He hasn’t proposed has he?” She asked. I shook my head. “He hasn’t asked you to move in or talked about babies? Maybe ask you to donate one of your kidneys?’ I laughed out loud and shook my head. 

“No he hasn't," I added. 

“Then stop searching for a problem! Stop trying to find a reason to be disappointed,  Alayna. It’s okay to just be with someone.” She argued.  I nodded. 

Mike came into the office then greeted us both before I could answer her. He was a teacher. His class was in the same hallway as Logan's. They chatted between class periods. Mike played football in college and currently coaches our cross country team. They got along well!. Mike was much more soft spoken than Sy. But Sy appreciated that about him. Mike taught Psychology as well as World History. The two of them often had some fun conversations over lunch. At least from what Sy has told me. They’re good friends!

It would also seem that he and Jess have caught themselves in the same situation as Logan and I . Except Mike hasn’t made a move despite the amount of times Logan has encouraged him to do so. And sweet precious Jessica refuses to believe he’s into her no matter how many signs I point out. 

“Morning Mike!” I smiled, “I better get to work, I have a meeting with a student soon!” I paused as I turned to walk into my office. “Jess, you might benefit from taking your own advice sometime.” I smiled. Her eyes went wide before she shot me a quick glare. I just shrugged and turned back to my office. 

I settled at my desk and pulled up my appointment schedule for the day. We didn’t have a student working with us in the office this morning like we normally did, so I wouldn’t have someone to write my hall passes for my students. Instead I’d have to call the teachers for whatever class they’re in and have them excused to my office. 

My first Student was a sophomore, Elsie. I quickly checked her class schedule and smiled to myself. She was in Logan’s first period class. He’d come to me last year because he was concerned about her. Since then she and I have been meeting regularly almost every week. I picked up my office phone and dialed the number for Sy’s classroom. I hate to admit I had it memorized. 

“Coaches class!” one of his students answered. Likely one of the boys on his team. 

“Uh Huh and is Mr. Syverson available?” I asked, holding back a chuckle. 

“Is this Ms. P? Coach is actually busy teaching us about dead people, he doesn’t have time for personal calls. But, I can take a message!” I heard giggles in the background and then a gruff voice. 

“Matt get back in your seat before I send you to the office, you know nobody sits at my desk! ” There was a collective oooohhh in the background.

“Sorry coach, your girlfriend called, figured you wouldn’t wanna miss it!” Matt chuckled. Sy’s voice however was considerably less lighthearted.  

“Donovan you got 5 seconds to hand me the phone and get back to your seat. Or you’ll be visiting the dean… and running the laps you already owe me.” He barked. 

“Sorry sir,” He mumbled. And I heard movement on the other end of the receiver. 

“Syverson,” he answered plainly 

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sound so mundane,” I giggled. 

“What can I do for you Ms. Plummer?” He asked, ignoring my statement clearly trying to remain professional and get a hold on his classroom that was clearly trying to listen in on the conversation. 

“You didn’t have to be so hard on him you know,” I said, I knew he couldn’t respond to that, not with the kids paying attention. Wow maybe they really did know we had a thing between the two of us. “Anyway, have you done your roll call already?” I asked. 

“I have…” He trailed off with a question in his tone. 

“Great! I have a meeting with Ms. Elsie this morning. Is she with you?” I asked. I knew the answer but I was drawing this out just to hear his voice a little longer. I hate to admit I missed him already. 

“Yes, Ma’am she is,” he answered. 

“Can you send her my way?” I smiled. 

“I can do that, “ He said, his voice a bit softer now. A little more at ease. I had one more thing I needed to ask him though. 

“One more question, are you free Thursday evening?” I asked quickly. He paused his breath, sounding steady over the receiver. 

“I might be,” He said skeptically. 

“Well, If you find that you are, Two of my friends and I  meet for dinner on Thursday nights. I thought if you weren’t busy you could join us and meet them?”  he let out a breath and I could almost hear his smile. 

“I can do that too!” he said with a soft chuckle. 

“Alright well, as much as I hate to hang up I suppose we both have jobs to do. I’ll talk to you later, Have a good day… Mr. Syverson.” I teased. 

“Have a good day Ms. Plummer,” He spoke softly before we hung up. 

I looked up from my desk and Jess was still talking to Mike. I smiled to myself. Gosh these two

About 5 minutes later I looked up when I heard Elsie’s voice. She stopped to check in with Jess. She sounded timid. That made sense. Mike was still in the office “Making copies” and standing at the desk. Although he was an extremely gentle and kind person, I’ve noticed the students seem a little intimidated by him as well, I think it’s his height. The man is easily 6’2 at least.  

Regardless, he gives her a warm smile when she approaches the desk. 

“Good Morning Elsie.” He greets her. I watch from my office. She smiles shyly and mumbles back a quiet 

“Hi Mr Gilbert,” She looks at Jess and before she can speak Jess smiles. 

“I’ve got you checked in Hon! Happy to see you this Morning Elsie.”  she adds. Before Jess can tell her to take a seat I stand and call her into my office. 

“Hey girl!” I greet her, “go ahead and take a seat, how was your weekend?” I asked. She sat on the edge of the chair on the other side of my desk. Okay, anxious this morning. 

“It was okay,” she answered. I nod sitting back in my chair. I keep my face soft. 

“Just okay? Is there anything significant that stands out you wanna talk about?” she shakes her head slouching in the seat a bit. I didn’t want to push her. But she’d been doing so well. Lately though, our last few appointments she was closing off to me again. I nodded

“Okay, well last time you told me you’d started keeping a journal, have you kept up with that?” I asked. 

“Yeah, I actually really like it. It…uh…  helps me organize what I'm feeling.” she responds. 

“Good I always liked to journal too. It always helped when I felt like I could tell someone, at least I could write it out. But Elsie, if there is something going on, that’s what I’m here for okay?” she nodded. 

“Ms Plummer, when you were in high school did you ever feel like… your friends just didn’t actually like you?” She asked me. I wasn’t expecting  the question. I thought to myself for a moment. I knew the answer but I wanted to be careful how I responded. 

“I did, I had some friends that I felt really didn’t care. I was the punchline of all of their jokes. There’s this video from when I was in school.  One of my friends had peaches at lunch and she thought it would be funny to throw one at my face.She kept asking if she could do it. I finally just told her she could so she’d stop. And then two of my other friends took videos of it. It ended up online and of course I just laughed it off. But when she actually threw it my crush was walking by. I don’t know if he saw it, I was too embarrassed to look. I never told them how it made me feel, I felt like they should’ve just known not to do that,” I explained. “But on the other hand I had friends that really cared for me. I found out I had anxiety and depression when I was in high school. I may not have if I didn’t have a friend who constantly encouraged me to see our counselor because he was worried about me.” She nodded

“I think I understand what you’re saying. It really  sucks that your friends couldn’t see they were hurting you.” she sighs. “But how do you know if someone actually cares? There’s so many fake people and I feel like I can’t trust anyone.” There it is. 

“Why is that?” I asked her. 

“I just don’t feel like anyone really means it, I don’t know like… my brain keeps telling me they’re just there because they have to be or something,” she sighs, looking down at her hands in her lap. 

“I understand, I’ve felt that way too. I still do sometimes. Anxiety is funny like that.” I explained. 

“Is that what you think is wrong with me? Anxiety?” she asked. The look on her face broke my heart. She worried her lip between her teeth for a moment. Her wide eyes scared, like I thought she was broken. 

“Elsie, I don’t think anything is wrong with you.” I told her, “Everyone has some anxiety. Actors, musicians, athletes, politicians, everyone. Even people in the military, like Mr Syverson. Some have worse anxiety than others but it doesn’t mean anything is wrong with you. You just have to learn how to … cope with it.” she nods, taking in all the information I’d just given her. I still don’t think she’s convinced. Unfortunately I think it’s something she’ll have to experience herself. This was one of those moments I wish I had gone further in school. That I was more than just a guidance counselor and I could do more than just empathize with her. But I wasn’t licensed for therapy. This… was the best I could do of her. 

“Like a release? Some way of shutting your brain off?” she asked 

“Sort of, the writing is a good start, a release of that emotion, to help you understand it better, does that make sense?” she nodded again. “Good, well try to keep up with that. You’ve been doing really well. Thank you for coming to meet with me again and if you need anything,” I stressed,  “Before you see me again don’t hesitate to stop in okay?” I said. Again she nods. 

“Thank you Ms. Plummer.” she said and stood to leave. She pauses in the doorway. “Do you… want me to tell Mr. Syverson, you say hello?” She blushed. “Everyone’s talking about it.” she blushed. 

“If you’re comfortable with that, sure” I smiled. 

“Are you two.. really together? Is it okay if I ask?” I nodded 

“I don’t mind you asking hun, Mr. Syverson and I… are… dating. It's new but yes.” I told her, blushing a bit myself. She smiled now. 

“I think you two make a great couple, he really cares about us too. At first I was afraid he was just gonna care about the jocks, like some of the other teachers. But he checks on me sometimes, like he knows I don’t like to be called on in class but he makes a point to tell me to have a good day if I’m one of the last one’s in the room. It’s really nice. I don’t know that I can ever find someone who cares like he does. But I’m glad you did. You deserve it Ms. Plummer.” I felt my eyes start to well up with tears and I had to wipe them away quickly. 

“You deserve that too Elsie, Please don’t forget that.” She nodded and shrugged her shoulders. 

“I’ll… see you next week.” she says before leaving my office. The day went on, whoever’s idea it was to have a department meeting on a Monday afternoon is on my shit list. But I made it through the day, still extremely exhausted but I survived nonetheless. 

I felt a presence while I was packing up at the end of the day. I looked up to see Logan leaning against the doorframe watching me with a grin. 

“What time do I need to pick you up Thursday night?” He asked, walking in and grabbing my bag for me. 

“I can get that, Logan,” I smiled. 

“That’s not what I asked,” He smirked. 

“We usually do dinner around 6 so maybe 5:30? I take it that means you're coming?” I asked anxiously. 

“I’ve always got time for you, sugar,” He said, following me out as I locked up my office for the night. 

“Would you stop making me wanna kiss you in inappropriate settings!” I groaned. He chuckled. And pulled me close by my waist as we walked out of the guidance office. Logan leaned in kissing my cheek and let his lips linger against my ear. 

“Nope, I like doing inappropriate things with you. Maybe I’ll take you in my office. Bend you over my desk.  Or maybe lay you down on your desk after school gets out. Since you love to tease me so much.” He smirked against my skin. He quickly kissed the side of my head and stood up straight as if he hadn’t just whispered the most filthy things in my ear. 

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stuttered. We walked out the back toward the faculty parking lot and he chuckled. 

“That phone call this morning was real cute, Darlin. Putting me on the spot in front of the kids like that.” He said. 

“You mean asking you to come to dinner with my friends?” I laughed. 

“Listen to you, sounding all innocent, like you didn’t ask me on a date in the middle of class. You had me flustered all morning.” He pouted. When we reached my car he set my bag down and backed me up against it. It reminded me of the night we first kissed in this parking lot. I smiled softly and grabbed his face in my hands. 

“I’m sorry Sy, I didn’t think it would throw you off. It was just on my mind.” I softly scratched the hair at the back of his neck and watched his eyes almost roll back. 

“Mmm,” He hummed. “I shoulda came down there and reminded you what happens to bratty little girls.” He teased . My thighs clenched at his words. God he could be so filthy. I couldn’t believe he was talking like that out here. But we were alone. And he did say I drove him crazy. I guess he meant it. 

I dragged my hand down from his neck to his chest looking up at him innocently. I couldn’t help myself. 

“Why don’t you  come over tonight and help me remember?” I bit my lip. I wasn’t feeling as bold as I thought. Logan let out a hard chuckle and shook his head. He cupped my cheek and kissed me softly. I chased his lips as he pulled away but he stopped me. 

“Easy baby, I’d love to, but we both agreed it’d be smart to slow this down. You just left my place yesterday.” He laughed again. I sighed and pouted. 

“I know,” I said. “ I just like being close to you, and today was hard.” He gave me a gentle smile and leaned in kissing my forehead. 

“You wanna talk about it?” He asked. I shook my head. 

“No, just worried about one of our students, it's … I’ll be okay.. I should let you get ready for practice.” I said. 

“Okay baby, well how about I come stay with you after dinner Thursday night?” He asked, still holding my waist, not quite ready to let go. 

“I’d love that! You could bring Aika! My backyard is fenced in!” I said excitedly. He smiled

“Alright it’s settled then. I’ll call you when I get out of practice, baby, and I’ll see you at 5:30 on Thursday.” He said. And kissed me passionately one more time. I bit my lip and nodded. He picked up my bag and put it in the car for me. 

“I’ll see you then,” I said before he stepped back and let me go to get in the car. 

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

It was 5:20 Thursday evening. I was so nervous. Not about seeing Sy. But about him actually meeting my friends. I know he’s a great guy! And they know he’s been good to me but I have this knot of fear in my stomach so twisted, worried this won’t go well. I’d put my hair up and taken it back down for the 3rd time and was finally putting on my shoes. There's a knock on my door.  

I ran over and opened it, Logan was standing there with flowers in one hand and Aika on her lead in the other. 

“Hey you!” I smiled and leaned in to kiss him quickly. “Those for me?” I nodded to the flowers and he grinned handing them over. 

“Of course they are. Couldn’t show up empty handed.” He said as I moved to the side to let him and the dog in. 

“Sometimes I swear you’re like…. Written by a romance author or something. They don’t make ‘em like you anymore.” He laughs out loud and pulls me in again, kissing me more passionately this time while we let Aika roam around the house. 

“Written just for you baby,” He teased. I blushed and turned to pet Aika. 

“You’re sure she’ll be okay while we’re gone?” I asked. He nodded.

“She’s a good dog. She’s used to traveling with me. She’ll be alright,” He said. I nodded but pouted a little. 

“I still feel bad leaving her.” I sigh.

“We’ll only be gone a little over an hour baby, she’ll probably just watch out the window for a while and sleep.” he chuckled. 

“Okay,” I conceded. He raised an eyebrow. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, his eyes were soft as they scanned mine. His head tilted to the side like a confused puppy. 

“Its noth..” I started, but the look on his face called bullshit before I could finish the sentence. It was incredible to me how his eyes could go from soft, to stern in a matter of a second. He was good at that. 

“Now, don’t lie to me darlin’. That ain’t gonna fix anything.” He said. I let out another breath. 

“I’m just anxious, about tonight, nervous. I don’t have any reason to be. I guess, my anxiety is sneaking up on me again. We should just go. It’ll be fine.” I explained. I pulled the curtains open so Aika could look out the window. I avoided Logan’s eyes as I went to grab my purse. 

“Baby, slow down.” he stopped me. We walked outside and stood on my porch for a moment. “Talk to me. What’s going through that pretty little head of yours?” He asked. I sat down on the step suddenly feeling exhausted. 

“This week has been rough, I was so excited on Monday when I invited you out. But as it got closer I just kept feeling more anxious about it. Not that I think they won’t like you, or you won’t like them. I don’t know. I just keep picturing all the ways this could go wrong. It’s just dinner. That’s so stupid!” I groaned, arguing with myself. Logan stepped off the porch crouching in front of me.

“Alright, I’m gonna put a stop to this right now. It’s not stupid, or dumb, or inconvenient that you’re feeling a little nervous. You know that. It’s what you tell the kids all day. If you need someone to remind you of that too, that’s what I’m here for.” He said lifting my chin to meet his gaze Shit I’m a little nervous about tonight too. I told ya I was a little hellion, I wasn’t the kinda guy girls wanted their friends to meet. I’m proud to be someone you wanna show off. But it makes me nervous.” He admitted. I grabbed his face and kissed him again. 

“Thank you Logan, for always… understanding.” He smiled and stood up holding out his hand for me to take. He led me to the truck and opened my door. 

“Come on, we’ll do this together,” he said.

At the restaurant the girls had just gotten a table when we walked in. I think Logan was just trying to show off but he pulled out my chair for me when we sat down. I didn’t miss the look Skyler gave me from across the table when we were all seated. She was impressed. I introduced everyone and we ordered drinks. The girls and I all got a glass of wine and Sy got a beer on tap. This place was honestly a little fancier than our normal Thursday night spot. I think that added to my nerves. But once the conversation started flowing I realized it really was all in my head. 

“So you teach as well as coaching?” Skyler asked. “Do you like teaching?’ I knew this was important to her. She loved kids. Well the little ones anyway. Still this was her way of judging his character. Did he care about all of his students or just his athletes? Of course I knew the answer but I let him take this one

“I love it. I thought coaching was going to be my big passion after the military but I really enjoy working in the schools. And I like teaching history. Especially getting the chance to teach about what I did in the military. I guess that’s a plus.” He smiled and took a long sip of his beer.  

“That’s great, I know for Alayna it’s always been about the students. But I’m glad you both have that in common.” She responded. I nodded. 

“I told you he’s great!” I smiled. Hayley scoffed playfully. 

“He hasn’t proved himself yet buddy,” she laughed. “But he gets bonus points for having a dog.” We all laughed. 

“Do you always have to be so cynical?” I asked her

“It’s only because they love you darlin’” He chuckled. 

“See he gets it!” Hayley added. Skyler nodded. 

“You know it’s out of love, I mean we’ve been rooting for you for so long and you finally found a good man who’s like your first REAL boyfriend you know and we’re happy for you!” She explained. I felt my palms get sweaty. I hadn’t had the chance to explain all of that to Logan yet. I had been avoiding it honestly.

“You deserve the best dude we just wanna make sure you actually used good judgement for once,” Hayley added. She was right, but ow! Maybe I was bad at picking them in the past. I was hoping to hide my baggage long enough that it would just disappear. But apparently my friends were going to make sure that was not the case. We were going to have to have the exes conversation… or rather the lack there of conversation. 

“You’re right!” I laughed it off, Logan smiled pulling me closer to his side. 

“Hell we all make mistakes right? I’m just glad she gave me a chance.” He kissed my cheek. 

The rest of the evening was great. We chatted the girls got to know Sy. They really liked him. And he got a long well with them too. Before we left Logan caught our waitress and told her to put it all on one check, surprising all of us by paying for the bill. The girls thanked him again, and we talked about plans for next week before we officially parted ways. Sy and I got back in his truck and were quiet for a minute before he broke the silence. 

“You feeling better now, honey?” He asked resting his hand on my thigh. I looked over at him and smiled. 

“I am, I feel really good about tonight.” I said. Logan squeezed my thigh softly and took his eyes off the road just a second to smile at me. 

“I’m glad,” He said. Another beat of silence. And then, “So, before me, you never?....” He trailed off. Fuck. Fine I guess we’ll do this now. Sometimes being in a healthy relationship is a real pain in the ass. 

“I mean, I wasn’t… a virgin neccessarily. I honestly wish I had been. None of the boys I did anything with gave two shits about me. But to answer your question… No, before you, I’ve never been with anyone… long term. I wanted to be. But it just never happened.” I explained almost rambling. “What about…you?” I asked hesitantly. He puffed out a long breath 

“Uh, I… hate this…we don’t have to talk about this darlin,” he groaned. 

“You can tell me if it’s a lot, I know I’m kinda lame but surely you got around,”  I bit my lip awkardly.

“It… it’s more than I’d like to admit, then I  had a couple girlfriends in high school. But really nothing serious after I retired from the military. I’ve been ready to finally settle down. Get my head screwed on straight. I don’t think your lame baby, I kinda feel like an ass right now.” He sighed. I put my hand over his squeezing softly. 

“You’re not an ass Logan. I guess we probably should’ve had this conversation already, I always thought it was something wrong with me. Maybe it was my body, I was good enough to have sex with but they didn’t want to be seen with me.  They always just wanted to fuck and leave. No one ever wanted anything serious. Some had tricked me into believing otherwise so I’d give them what they wanted but… yeah… so I just never dated anyone before you.” I looked over and saw Logan’s jaw clenched 

“There ain’t nothing wrong with you baby. You understand me?” He said through gruffly “You didn’t deserve to be treated like that.”  I watched him for a moment as he puffed his chest and let out and irritated sigh. I slipped my hand under his tangling our fingers together. 

“I know,” I said softly, “you know why? You’ve shown me how a man should treat a lady. For a long time I was really jaded by the way I was treated in the past. I let it close me off. I didn’t believe anyone could ….actually care about me. But you have. You’ve shown me more real affection in a few weeks than anyone ever has.”  I blushed. We were home then. He parked the truck and tore my seatbelt off pulling me into him. He crashed his lips to mine sucking all the air out of my lungs. His fingers tangled in my hair holding me to him. I whimpered as he sucked my bottom lip into his mouth. He let out a feral groan at the taste of me on his tongue. 

I was breathless when he pulled away. Both of us gasping for air. 

“Look at me,” his voice was low and demanding. He never had to demand my attention. He always had it. Still something shook in me at the sound of his voice and my eyes were glue to his. “If I could go back, keep you from the hurt those little boys caused you, I’d do anything. I can’t fix the past, but I can promise you won’t go another day wondering your worth baby, not with me. There’s not an ounce of you I’d want to change darlin.”  I felt like I could melt under his intense gaze. Where the hell did this man come from and how did I end up with him. I bit my lip pondering what to say. But all I wanted was to feel his touch again. And it was getting way too hot in this truck. 

“Show me,” I said finally. He smiled and turned to get out of the truck. I jumped out and hurried to the door I could feel the heat of his body behind me as I unlocked the door. We walked in and Sy shut the door behind us. I had expected the dog to greet us but she’d put herself to bed in her kennel peacefully taking a nap. I threw my purse down on the counter and before I could think to turn around Logan’s hands were on me. He spun me to face him. Our lips met again instantly. I whined against his lips so needy to feel his skin. I pulled at his shirt and he chuckled pulling away to throw it on the ground I pulled off my sweater following suit. He pulled me back in kissing me roughly and pulling away to nip at my neck. I moaned softly gripping his shoulders as he lifted me up onto the counter. He slotted himself between my legs and ground his hard cock against me, letting out a low growl in my ear. 

“You want me to show you how bad I need you baby, you feel what you do to me?” he groaned. 

“Sy please,” I begged. I couldn’t take his teasing. I just needed to be close to him. To feel him inside me. I felt his hands slide down to the waist of my leggings and I lifted my hips so he could pull them off with my panties. He pulled me to the edge of the counter kissing my my chest and down my stomach. I whimpered softly, 

“Just gotta taste you, baby,” He moaned. Then he dipped his head between my thighs licking up my slit and sucking my clit into his mouth. I let out a loud moan arching my back and trying to get closer. He was relentless. Like a man starved licking my pussy and pushing his tongue inside me. Too quickly the pleasure started to build. And when he brushed his thumb over my clit in little circles I tumbled over the edge. 

“Fuck you always taste so good,” He groaned standing back up and shedding his jeans and boxers. He grabbed my hip and pushed into me slowly. My eyes met his again, as he watched my face. I couldn’t contain my moans when he was fully sheathed inside me. My head fell back my teeth sinking into my bottom lip trying to gain some semblance of control. “So pretty when I fuck you.” He moaned as I started to thrust. He attached his lips back to my neck and bit down on my shoulder.

“Fuck yes,” I moaned meeting his thrusts as he sped up. 

“I want this, I want you, all of you baby,” He growled in my ear. “So fucking perfect, I love the way you take me.” he encouraged bringing his thumb back to my clit. I gripped his shoulders feeling the pressure build again. 

“Logan,” I breathed.

“That’s it, I love it when cum for me baby, let me feel it.” he moaned. That’s all it took for me to cum again. His name on my lips like a prayer. Logan followed right behind me thrusting hard one last time and emptying himself inside me. 

We stayed there connected for a moment. Breathing heavy, holding each other. 

When Logan pulled away he helped me off the counter, he cupped my face kissing me softly. 

We got cleaned up, showering together before settling down for the night. I was in his T-shirt, head laying on his chest finally cozy in bed.

“Sy,” I said softly. 

“Hmmm,” He hummed, he was slowly brushing his fingers up and down my back. I raised my head to look at him. 

“I…I think I…” I paused trying to form the words. 

“I know,” he said. “I think I do too.” I smiled laying my head back down I laid awake for a while until I noticed soft snores coming from him. I giggled to myself, and closed my eyes. Yeah, I thought… I really think I do. 

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

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Thanksgiving

August Walker x Reader 

Summary: August has you over for thanksgiving.

Warnings: 18+ Only, NSFW, unprotected sex (p in v), oral (f receiving), pet names, some food play, fluff, age gap, vulgar language

Wordcount: 930

A/N: Had this in mind for weeks but things got a bit chaotic in my personal life so it is a bit rushed. So sorry. 😣

A spread of Thanksgiving delicacies and candlelight covered August's dining table as you were squirming in your seat across from him. Although you had been alone with him before, this was the first time he had asked you to his place with such boldness.

“Which one do you prefer?” He pointed at the turkey and ham. “Oh, um, the turkey,” you awkwardly replied. Internally, you were scolding yourself.

August took your plate and placed a turkey slice on it. When your plate was placed in front of you again, part of the food was on the edges since you didn't want to be impolite and refuse any of the food he had prepared. “It looks delicious, August."

As you began eating your food, halfway, you noticed August hadn’t touched his. “Why aren’t you eating?"

August took notice of your nervous mannerisms since the beginning of the night. “Why are you fidgeting?” You looked away from his eyes and dropped your utensil. He leaned across the table and raised your face so you would look at him. “Tell me.” His light-hearted question has now turned into a demand.

“Well, we’ve never done this.” His eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. “What do you mean?"

“This is intimate. Well, we have been intimate before, but this is a different type of intimacy. It’s romantic. This is different for us.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. August sat back in his chair and chuckled.

“It’s not funny!” You huffed and crossed your arms.

“Oh, I don't think it's humorous, baby. I simply don't understand why you withheld your concerns from me. I am aware that this is unusual for us because we haven't been able to go on the kind of date that I had hoped for. However, the fact that it will be our first Thanksgiving spent together makes it more special.”

Suddenly, all the nerves you held floated away.

August took a few steps around the table before bringing out the chair beside you. He kissed your hand after grasping it.

"This is really special, and I'm glad it's with you. Thank you for doing all of this." You said before giving him a kiss that started out as affectionate but quickly turned hungry. "Suddenly, none of this food appeals to me."

“But you made all of it. It shouldn’t go to waste.” He nodded his head, and you could tell he had an idea. “It won’t go to waste, princess.”

You watched as he brought the bowl filled with mashed potatoes closer. It suddenly became clear to you what he was intending to do. “You’re going to eat the food off of me?"

August started to take your dress off your body, and you allowed him to. "Indeed, I am. After all, it's Thanksgiving. We must be grateful and eat until we put on ten pounds." He paused to give you a kiss on the inside of your thigh. "This is what I'm thankful for—this wonderful food. And above all, you."

As you bit your lip, you saw him apply mashed potatoes to both sides of your inner thighs before starting to eat them off of you. When you felt him sucking and twirling his tongue around, pleasure took over you.

Moans effortlessly left you as you grasped your breasts and pinched your nipples. He applied another sheer coat of mashed potatoes to your cunt, and you soon felt the feel of his tongue pressing against your clit. 

His formerly brilliant blue eyes were bursting with desire as you gazed down at him. His tongue lapsed and sucked until you were a wailing mess that was coming apart. “God, August.” 

He kissed his way up to your mouth. “Get undressed now,” you demanded of him. He tore his clothes off in a rush. And, thoughtlessly lifted you and placed you down on the table. August lifted the cranberry sauce and poured it over your breasts. When he began to suck and twirl his tongue over your nipples, groans fell from his lips.

“August, I need you inside me.”

His face held a wicked smile. “You want me inside of you, princess? Want to feel all of me?"

“Yes, please.” 

With rapidity, he lunged inside you, and your legs encircled his waist. His sac struck your ass with each push. As you bent in to give him a kiss, you noticed how his muscles strained with every thrust.

You encircled his neck firmly with your arms, and he enveloped his powerful arms beneath your thighs. When he pressed you against the wall and invaded you, you were able to feel him more deeply. With every push, his cock grazed your g-spot.

Your come covered his cock. “My good girl, covering me with her come.”

With your mouth hanging open and your eyes shut, you became mute as the pounding intensified. He gripped your face tightly. "Look at me; I must see that stunning face of yours as I come into you."

His body began to jerk as his seed filled you.

August's head rested on the bend of your neck while you both tried to breathe again. Once he was breathing normally again, he took a look at you and let out a little laugh. “What is it?” you questioned him.

"There's food in your hair," he said, moving your hair away from your face.

You chuckled hysterically and touched his face before speaking. "Happy Thanksgiving, baby."

"Honey, happy Thanksgiving." He kissed you several times over your face after giving you a quick peck on the lips.

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