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callsigns-haze · 3 days

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His Shadow: Chp 5

masterlist part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

Azriel, secretly juggling his responsibilities and personal life, maintains a hidden relationship with YN, who works at a pleasure house in the Hewn City. She was his light, his love, his passion. Yet being his darkest secret is a hard role because life in the Hewn as a young female isn't the easiest as the two of you hold an even dark secret yet to be told...

Pairing: Azriel x reader

This series contains mature themes: Explicit depictions of violence, including physical and emotional. Themes of secrecy. Descriptions of difficult relationships, including strained familial and romantic dynamics. Mature sexual content. Themes of power, control, and manipulation within complex interpersonal relationships. Discussions of parenthood and the challenges associated with it, including postpartum experiences.

In the cozy, firelit warmth of the sitting room at the River House, Rhysand, Cassian, Feyre, Nesta, and Mor gathered, their conversation initially light, but soon shifting to more serious matters. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the faces of those present. Feyre sat comfortably beside Rhys, her hand resting on his, while Nesta lounged with a cup of tea, and Mor leaned back in her chair, a curious smile playing on her lips as she sensed the shift in the conversation.

Cassian, his usual easy-going demeanour tempered by a hint of concern, spoke first. “There’s something we wanted to discuss with you, ladies. Rhys and I... well, we’ve been noticing something off with Azriel lately.”

Feyre’s brow furrowed as she looked between her mate and Cassian. “What do you mean? Is he alright?”

Rhysand leaned forward, his violet eyes serious. “It’s hard to say. He’s been more withdrawn than usual, and we think we might know why. Yesterday, when Cassian and I were out... well, let’s just say we ended up at a certain pleasure house in the Hewn City.”

Mor raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, while Nesta sipped her tea, her expression unreadable but her eyes sharp with interest.

“While we were there,” Cassian continued, “we met a woman—YN. She works there, and... well, there’s something about her. Something that seems connected to Azriel’s recent behaviour.”

Feyre frowned, her thoughts racing. “Connected how?”

Rhys exchanged a glance with Cassian before answering. “She mentioned she has a baby, and a boyfriend. But there was something off about the way she spoke, as if she was hiding something. And today, we overheard her talking with one of the other employees. She mentioned she’s going shopping tomorrow. It got us thinking.”

Nesta’s gaze sharpened. “You think she’s involved in whatever’s been bothering Azriel?”

“We’re not sure,” Cassian admitted, running a hand through his hair. “But something about it all doesn’t sit right. Azriel has been acting strange, and we know he’s been keeping secrets. YN might be part of that.”

Feyre’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she considered this. “You’re suggesting we keep an eye on her? Maybe follow her while she’s shopping?”

Rhys nodded. “Exactly. If we can figure out what’s going on, we might be able to help Azriel. He’s been carrying something heavy, and we need to know if she’s involved.”

Mor’s smile faded into a more serious expression. “Do you really think this woman could be a threat?”

“Not necessarily a threat,” Rhys said carefully. “But she might be the key to understanding why Azriel has been so distant. If she’s somehow involved in whatever he’s going through, it’s worth looking into.”

Nesta leaned forward, setting her teacup down with a decisive clink. “So, you want us to go to the Hewn City, shop around, and see what we can find out?”

Rhys nodded. “Exactly. It’s a perfect cover—just a day out shopping. No one would suspect anything. But keep your eyes and ears open.”

Feyre, ever protective of her family, glanced at her sister and Mor before nodding. “We can do that. We’ll go tomorrow and see what we can learn.”

Cassian grinned, his usual mischief returning. “Just try not to get into too much trouble.”

Nesta shot him a dry look. “Speak for yourself, Cassian.”

The room fell into a comfortable silence as the women considered the plan, the gravity of the situation weighing on them. But before they could delve deeper into the details, the sound of approaching footsteps made them all fall silent. The atmosphere shifted as Azriel walked into the room, his presence immediately felt by everyone.

“Evening,” Azriel greeted, his voice as calm and measured as ever, though his sharp gaze seemed to linger on Rhysand and Cassian, as if he sensed the undercurrent of tension.

“Azriel,” Rhysand greeted smoothly, masking any trace of the conversation that had just taken place. “We were just catching up. How was your day?”

Azriel studied them for a moment, his expression unreadable as always, before nodding slightly. “Productive. Any new developments?”

“Nothing worth noting,” Cassian said casually, though there was an almost imperceptible tension in his posture. “Just the usual.”

Azriel didn’t seem entirely convinced, but he let it slide, moving to stand by the window, his gaze distant as he looked out at the night sky. The others exchanged a brief glance, silently agreeing to keep their suspicions to themselves for now. There would be time to investigate tomorrow, and until then, they would carry on as if nothing had changed.

But as the conversation shifted to more mundane topics, each of them knew that something had shifted. Secrets were being kept—by all of them—and the truth was only growing more complicated with each passing day.

---

The next day, Feyre, Nesta, and Mor found themselves in the bustling streets of the Hewn City. Despite its dark reputation, the city was alive with activity, the market streets crowded with merchants hawking their wares, and shoppers moving between the various stalls and shops. Feyre kept her hood up, blending into the shadows cast by the tall buildings, though she still felt the weight of curious glances as they walked. She had been to the Hewn City before, but never for something as delicate as this.

As they approached the heart of the market district, Feyre felt Rhysand’s presence brush against her mind, his voice a soft whisper in her thoughts. She’s just ahead, looking at some baby clothes. You’ll recognize her by the dark hair and the buggy. Along with his words came a series of images—snapshots of YN that Rhys had seen when he and Cassian visited the pleasure house with Azriel. A woman with soft, dark hair, delicate features, and an air of quiet strength, even in the depths of the Hewn City.

“Got it,” Feyre whispered back, nodding slightly as she looked to Nesta and Mor, who were both scanning the crowd. “She’s just ahead. Let’s keep our distance.”

The three women wove their way through the crowd, carefully avoiding drawing any attention. The further they walked, the darker the shops became—both in ambiance and in merchandise. The shift was subtle, the luxury of the Hewn City marred by the unmistakable undertone of cruelty and excess. Feyre’s gaze flicked from shadowed alleyways to the opulent yet ominous storefronts, the contrast of the city always unsettling her.

Finally, they spotted YN. She was pushing a simple buggy, dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a cozy sweater, her hair pulled back in a loose bun. The baby in the buggy was small, barely a few weeks old, wrapped snugly in a soft blanket. YN’s movements were slow, deliberate, as she browsed through a rack of tiny clothes, her eyes scanning the options with the intent focus of a mother lost in her thoughts.

“There she is,” Mor murmured, nodding subtly towards YN. Feyre and Nesta followed her gaze, taking in the sight of the woman who had unknowingly become a focal point of their investigation.

Feyre watched as YN reached out to touch a soft onesie, a faint smile tugging at her lips as she ran her fingers over the fabric. Her expression, though serene, carried a weight of exhaustion—something Feyre recognized all too well from her own early days with Nyx.

As YN continued to shop, the baby in the buggy began to fuss, tiny whimpers breaking the quiet air around them. YN immediately turned her attention to her child, her smile softening as she bent down to pick up the baby, cradling him against her chest. She rocked gently, her lips moving in what Feyre could only assume were soothing words.

“Is that...?” Nesta started, her voice low as she observed the interaction.

“I think so,” Feyre replied, keeping her voice just as quiet. “The baby must be hers. The one she mentioned to Cassian and Rhys.”

Mor narrowed her eyes slightly as she watched YN. “She doesn’t seem like a threat. But still... there’s something more going on here.”

Feyre nodded in agreement. YN’s demeanour, her clothing, the way she cradled her baby—none of it aligned with the typical image of someone who might be a danger or have any influence over Azriel. She seemed more like a woman trying to balance the weight of motherhood with whatever burdens life had thrown her way.

They kept their distance as YN continued to shop, picking out a few more baby items and placing them in the buggy’s basket. Her movements were unhurried, as if she had all the time in the world, though the lines of tension in her posture suggested otherwise. Feyre noted how YN would glance around occasionally, her gaze lingering on the shadows, as if expecting someone or something to emerge from them.

As they trailed behind, YN paused in front of a shop that displayed more elaborate and ornate baby clothes, clearly beyond the simple, practical items she had been selecting. The baby fussed again, a soft cry escaping his tiny lips, and YN immediately lifted him out of the buggy, holding him close as she bounced him gently in her arms.

The women watched as YN whispered to her son, the love and care evident in every movement, every soft murmur. Feyre felt a pang of empathy for the young mother—she knew all too well the fears and challenges that came with raising a child, especially in a world as dangerous as theirs. But beneath that empathy was also a growing curiosity. What was YN’s connection to Azriel? And why was she so deeply enmeshed in his recent troubles?

As YN continued her slow stroll through the market, the shadows of the Hewn City seemed to close in around her, a stark contrast to the warmth she tried to create for herself and her newborn son. She adjusted the blanket around Knox, who had finally settled against her chest, his tiny breaths warm and steady against her skin. The cool air brushed against her cheeks as she looked around, scanning the shops with a mixture of exhaustion and resignation.

She pushed the buggy with one hand while holding Knox in the other, her movements careful and deliberate. The market was as lively as ever, with vendors calling out their wares and patrons haggling for better prices. The sounds echoed through the narrow streets, but YN seemed isolated in her own world, focused entirely on her son and the tasks she had to complete.

Feyre, Nesta, and Mor remained several paces behind, moving with practiced ease through the crowds, keeping YN within their line of sight. They observed her every movement—the way she delicately placed each item in the buggy’s basket, how she lingered over certain displays, and the protective way she held her son close to her heart. There was something undeniably tender about the way she interacted with Knox, a deep bond that resonated even from a distance.

“She seems so... normal,” Mor whispered, her voice barely audible above the hum of the market. “Not at all what I expected.”

“Maybe that’s why she’s so dangerous,” Nesta murmured, her eyes sharp as she watched YN pick up a small, hand-knit sweater. “If she’s involved with Azriel, she’s hiding it well.”

Feyre frowned slightly, torn between her suspicions and the simple reality of what she was witnessing—a mother, caring for her child, doing what she needed to do to survive in a place as unforgiving as the Hewn City. She couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt for spying on YN, but she reminded herself of the stakes. Azriel was one of their own, and they needed to understand what was happening to help him.

YN moved to another stall, her gaze flicking over a selection of baby blankets. She reached out to touch the fabric, her fingers lingering on a soft, blue woolen blanket that was far more luxurious than anything she had chosen so far. She held it up, considering it for a long moment before shaking her head and placing it back on the pile. It was clear that practicality outweighed indulgence in her world.

Knox stirred slightly in her arms, his tiny fist clenching around the edge of her sweater as he fussed again. YN immediately shifted him, her voice low and soothing as she murmured to him. She kissed his forehead, her expression softening as he settled back into a peaceful sleep. She glanced around the market, her gaze momentarily distant, as if lost in thought. For a moment, she seemed entirely alone, despite the crowd bustling around her.

Mor tilted her head slightly, observing the way YN seemed to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders. “Whatever she’s involved in, it’s taking its toll.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Feyre said softly, though she couldn’t ignore the sense of unease settling in her chest. “She might not be a threat.”

Nesta’s expression remained hard, but there was a flicker of something softer in her eyes as she watched YN finally select a plain white onesie, placing it gently in the buggy. “We’ll find out soon enough.”

YN finished her shopping, her steps slow and measured as she made her way toward the edge of the market, the buggy rolling smoothly along the cobblestone streets. Knox was still cradled in her arms, his small face tucked against her shoulder. She seemed tired—more than just physically—but she moved with the determination of someone who had long grown accustomed to the weight of her burdens.

“Let’s give her space,” Feyre whispered, signaling to Nesta and Mor to hang back as they reached the outskirts of the market. “We’ll follow up with Rhys and Cassian later.”

They slowed their pace, letting YN disappear into the shadows of the narrow street ahead. As she faded from view, Feyre couldn’t shake the feeling that they were missing something crucial. There was more to YN than they had seen today, more than a young mother simply trying to care for her child in a difficult world.

YN stood at the base of the narrow, winding steps that led up to the small apartment she shared with Azriel, cradling Knox in her arms. The cool air of the Hewn City brushed against her skin, making her shiver slightly. The streets around her were quiet, the bustle of the market now a distant memory as she and her son returned home from their shopping trip.

Knox had fallen asleep during the short walk back, his tiny body relaxed and warm against her chest. She adjusted the blanket around him, pressing a soft kiss to his downy hair. His small, steady breaths were the only sound she focused on as she stood there, momentarily lost in her thoughts.

But the unease she’d felt earlier at the market lingered, a nagging sense of being watched that she couldn’t quite shake. She had caught glimpses of figures moving just at the edge of her vision, people who seemed to linger too long as she shopped, their attention on her more than the goods on display. YN had kept her composure, acting as though she hadn’t noticed, but her instincts told her something wasn’t right.

She took a deep breath, pushing the unsettling thoughts aside as she gazed up the stairs, preparing to climb them with Knox in her arms. Just as she was about to take her first step, the flutter of wings caught her attention, and she looked up to see Azriel descending from the sky, his shadows swirling around him as he landed silently in front of her.

His eyes, usually so composed and unreadable, softened when they met hers, and she felt a wave of relief wash over her at the sight of him. Despite everything, despite the secrecy and the hidden life they shared, Azriel was her anchor.

"Azriel," she breathed, her voice a mixture of surprise and relief. She had been expecting him to be gone for longer, given the tension of the last few days.

“YN,” he greeted, his voice low and warm, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he took in the sight of his son nestled against her. But as he stepped closer, he immediately noticed the tension in her posture, the way her eyes darted around the street as if she was still on edge. “What’s wrong?”

She hesitated for a moment, glancing around again, as if expecting someone to emerge from the shadows. Finally, she met his gaze, her voice quiet but laced with concern. “I think I was being watched today. At the market. I... I could feel eyes on me, and not just in passing. It was deliberate, like someone was studying me.”

Azriel’s expression darkened instantly, the softness in his eyes replaced by a steely resolve. His shadows seemed to react to his mood, swirling more tightly around him as if preparing for a threat. “Did you see who it was?”

YN shook her head, frustration evident in the tight lines around her mouth. “No. I tried to be discreet, but whoever it was, they were good at staying out of sight. I didn’t want to draw attention by looking too hard.”

Azriel’s jaw clenched as he processed her words, his mind already racing through the possibilities. The Hewn City was full of people who could have an interest in YN, and not all of them would be friendly. The fact that someone had been watching her—someone skilled enough to remain undetected—was deeply troubling.

He stepped closer to her, reaching out to gently brush his fingers against her arm in a comforting gesture, though he kept his touch light, aware of the public space they were in. “We’ll figure out who it was. I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

YN nodded, though her worry didn’t fully dissipate. She had known the risks of being with Azriel, but it didn’t make the reality of them any easier to face. She glanced down at Knox, who remained blissfully unaware in her arms, and her resolve hardened. She would do whatever it took to protect their son.

Azriel leaned in closer, his head dipping toward hers as if to whisper something, but she knew the movement was as much about shielding their interaction from any prying eyes as it was about speaking. His proximity was both a comfort and a reminder of the secrecy they were forced to maintain.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “For everything. For not being able to protect you both the way I should.”

YN looked up at him, her expression softening as she reached up to touch his face, her thumb brushing against his cheek. “Don’t apologize. We knew what this would be when we chose it. We’ll figure it out together, like we always do.”

He nodded, though the tension didn’t fully leave his features. He lowered his gaze to Knox, his expression softening as he reached out to gently touch his son’s tiny hand. The baby stirred slightly but didn’t wake, his small fingers curling around Azriel’s.

“I’ll be home tonight,” he said softly, his eyes lifting to meet hers again. “We’ll talk more then.”

YN nodded, understanding the unspoken promise in his words. “I’ll be waiting.”

Azriel lingered for a moment longer, his eyes searching hers as if to reassure himself that she was truly okay. Then, with one last glance around the deserted street, he stepped back, his wings flaring slightly as he prepared to take off again. YN watched him go, her heart heavy with the weight of everything unsaid, of the life they were forced to hide in the shadows.

---

Azriel sat at his desk in the dim light of his office, his fingers steepled beneath his chin as he stared at the maps and reports scattered across the surface. The room was eerily quiet, save for the faint rustling of the papers as his shadows drifted over them, their movements restless and agitated. He couldn’t shake the nagging sense of unease that had settled deep in his chest since YN had told him about being watched in the market.

His thoughts were a tangle of possibilities, each more troubling than the last. The Hewn City was a treacherous place, filled with spies and informants loyal to whoever paid the highest price. If someone had been watching YN, it could mean any number of things—a rival, an enemy, or even someone trying to get to him through her. The thought sent a cold shiver down his spine, a rare surge of fear that he quickly buried beneath layers of calculated resolve.

But as he sat there, letting the silence settle around him, something didn’t quite add up. Whoever had been watching YN was skilled, yes, but the timing, the precision—it felt too familiar. His instincts, honed over centuries of espionage, were telling him that this wasn’t just a random occurrence. There was something more deliberate behind it, something closer to home.

It was then that the faint sound of voices reached his ears, muffled by the thick walls of his office but distinct enough for him to catch fragments of conversation. Azriel’s shadows swirled more tightly around him as he focused on the voices outside in the hallway, recognizing the low, familiar tones of Cassian and Mor.

“…I just wanted to be sure she wasn’t a threat,” Cassian was saying, his voice carrying a hint of defensiveness. “It’s not like we could just ask him outright.”

Mors voice responded, tinged with a mix of concern and frustration. “I get it, but what if he finds out? You know how protective he is—especially after everything that’s happened.”

“Rhys told us to keep an eye on her,” Mor continued. “We weren’t going to hurt her, just… observe. Make sure she wasn’t involved in anything that could put him or the rest of us in danger.”

Azriel’s breath caught, realization dawning like a slow, creeping shadow.

The inner circle.

It was the inner circle who had been watching YN, trailing her through the market, spying on her every move. His fists clenched beneath the desk, a mix of anger and betrayal swirling in his chest. They had been so close to finding out—so close to uncovering the one secret he had kept from them, the one part of his life he hadn’t allowed them to touch.

He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to remain calm, to not let his emotions betray him. There was no point in confronting them—not yet, at least. If they suspected YN of being a threat, it was only because they were trying to protect him, in their own misguided way. But the thought of them tailing her, of making her feel unsafe in the one place where she should feel protected… it made his blood boil.

Azriel pushed back from the desk, rising to his feet with a quiet, controlled movement. He had to get out of here before the anger bubbling beneath his calm exterior spilled over. He needed to be with YN, to ensure her safety and shield her from any further interference. He would deal with the inner circle later.

As he stepped out of his office, the voices in the hallway fell silent. Cassian and Mor looked up as he passed by, their expressions carefully neutral, though Cassian’s brow furrowed slightly as if he could sense something was off. Azriel didn’t acknowledge them, his face an unreadable mask as he walked past, but he could feel their eyes on him, could sense the questions lingering on their tongues.

Just as he reached the main hall, he was tackled by a blur of movement, the sudden impact almost knocking him off balance. He looked down to see Nyx, Rhys’s son, grinning up at him, his small arms wrapped tightly around Azriel’s leg. A second later, Agnar, Cassian’s son, joined in, his laughter ringing through the air as he attempted to climb up Azriel’s other leg.

“Uncle Azriel!” Nyx shouted, his bright blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “We got you!”

Azriel couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of his lips as he ruffled Nyx’s dark hair. “It seems you did,” he replied, his voice softer than it had been all day. Despite the turmoil in his mind, he could never resist the infectious energy of his nephews.

He lifted Agnar into his arms, the boy’s wings fluttering excitedly as he settled against Azriel’s shoulder. Nyx clung to his other side, laughing as Azriel hoisted him up as well, balancing both boys with ease.

As he carried them down the hallway, he passed Rhys, who was leaning casually against the doorway of his office, arms crossed over his chest. Rhys raised an eyebrow, clearly picking up on Azriel’s unusual demeanor.

“Azriel,” Rhys called out, his tone light but laced with curiosity. “Heading somewhere?”

Azriel met his gaze, his expression carefully guarded. “I’m taking a week off,” he said simply, his voice brokering no argument.

Rhys blinked, clearly taken aback. “A week off? Are you—”

“Don’t worry,” Azriel cut him off, shifting Nyx and Agnar slightly in his arms. “Everything will be handled.” He didn’t wait for Rhys to respond before he turned and continued down the hall, his steps purposeful as he made his way out of the house.

Once outside, Azriel set the boys down, giving each of them a quick hug before sending them back to the house. He watched them run off, their laughter echoing in the air, before he spread his wings and took off into the sky.

The wind whipped through his hair as he soared above Velaris, his mind already focused on the apartment where YN and Knox were waiting. Whatever plans the inner circle had, whatever suspicions they harbored, he would not allow them to come between him and his family.

Azriel landed silently on the balcony of their apartment, the cool night air whispering through his wings as he folded them behind him. The familiar creak of the floorboards under his boots as he stepped inside was a comforting sound, grounding him in the reality he had chosen—a reality where YN and Knox were his world, even if it had to remain hidden from everyone else.

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thecameronchronicles · 19 hours

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Once A Year In Nassau

TW: Public sex. Hair pulling. Dirty talk. Raw sex.

SUMMARY: Tradition sparks a new need between you and Rafe. Something more permanent than your current arrangement.

Once A Year in Nassau

He pouts into his hand, thinking about everything else he could be doing right now other than sitting across from his father and Rose at yet another silent dinner where he is ignored. Sarah doesn't have to put up with it and Wheezie is at camp somewhere back home.

"Cameron!" A raspy introduction projects his eyes upwards as the first flicker of hope for excitement is reinstated through his veins. But it isn't for the man shaking hands with his father as they discuss the time apart. It is for the girl following him.

You.

You're appearance has changed; your hair a bit lighter and cut an inch or two shorter from last time, your skin still needing to be the same tan it was when you said your goodbyes last summer, but your smile to him was blinding and unwaivering.

"And look at Y/N, even more of a stunner every time I see you." Ward offers as Rose kisses your cheeks but your eyes stay on Rafe. It's long enough to see the anger behind his clenched jaw before you offer an awkward nod to appear unaffected. In truth, you are both bubbling inside for a moment alone and as you are invited to join their dinner, it seems it might never happen.

"Excuse me." You manage between your father and Ward's conversation, your eyes flicking up to Rafe as if to hint some silent invitation but you see him glaring at his drink. You sigh, knowing exactly the reason for the scowl but disappear for a reprieve anyhow.

The layout of the resort is luxurious with an open concept to all but that of the bathrooms. It is the only place where one could mutter and not be heard and it's what leads you there. You slip away behind the door and cool your heated skin at the thoughts of last summer.

On the beach, in Rafe's arms, as he playfully throws you into the water before diving behind you. Later beneath the stars as he makes you call to God as you grip the seamless sand beneath as it forfeits support between your fingers.

The summer before that in the supply closet on the second floor as he came off of an argument from his father.

Since the first kiss that initial summer, it had become a tradition of sorts to be lost in each other. Each goodbye more painful, each morning after feeling impossible to breathe. Now finding him still affected by the weight of the Cameron name, all you wished for was to have a summer you didn't have to make it only a memory with him.

"You're back." His voice forces your eyes to him within the hallway as you can't help but pull your neck to ache at just how he towers over you. Summer and time is always kind to him, only now the beautiful sadness behind his eyes has amplified to a permanent existence that pulls at your heart.

"You're so-" Sad? Handsome? Unforgettable? The adjective is lost on your tongue as he takes you against him. Stronger than last time, he pushes you against the wall between the assigned restrooms until you can feel how rigid he's become for you.

"You're the only thing that makes me feel right, Y/N." He pleads between kisses, the taste of his vices on the tip of his tongue lost to the heat of the same muscle wrapped around your own.

"Then let me..." You pull him into the bathroom and lock the door. Decorated in affluence, a couch conveniently lay in wait. You set him in the center and pull the skirt of your dress up high enough to get onto your knees.

"Oh fuck..." He groans as he watches you descend onto your knees for him. You finger his buckle until his button can be freed, releasing him to you as he flexes his hips so you can pull him out. The sight of him, already shiny with precum makes your mouth water.

"Yes..." He moans as you tease him. Long licks up his shaft before finally claiming him to the resistance of your throat. Breathing deeply, you commit him deeper until he's gripping the couch.

"Oh baby...just like that. You know just how to suck me, don't you?" You nod, your new manicure threatening ruination by how you are gripping his thigh.

"Anyone else get to know how this feels? It's a long time to go without, ya know..." His eyes are hard while his jaw is slack as your tempo only increases as if your enthusiasm proves your conviction to him.

"Only you." You moan before he wraps your hair in his fist.

"I don't like when you change things. I like remembering it like last time. Don't do it again." He pumps himself into your throat as you take him in stride. Hollowed cheeks, you bask in the understanding of being used for his pleasure. Knowing exactly what it is he needs, you moan around him and feel him buck with abandon.

"Such a good little mouth for me, aren't you?" You nod, looking up through faulty mascara you know he loves to see run and the tearful eyes as the reason.

"Get the fuck on me." He tears you up by your hair until you're on his lap.

"Nobody else?" He rubs your exposed ass made available by the cut of your panties.

"You sure about that?" He rips it without much effort to the limited fabric there.

"You didn't let anyone else touch you? Hmm?"

"Nobody. I swear, Rafe. Nobody else has touched me or kissed me since our first summer-" He interrupts you with a kiss as his fingers draw figure eights throughout your folds until you're mindless.

"Show me you're mine. Ride my hand until you drip down my rings." You feel the cold metal he references against your thigh before the length of his sturdy fingers enter.

"Oh-" He uses his second hand over your mouth.

"Nobody else gets to hear you either. Got it?" He leaves a new rule every interaction and this is no exception.

"Yes-"

"Good. Now show me before I take what I want and or leave you unsatisfied for another year." You grip the couch at his back and use his hand, two dedicated fingers curved at your g-spot, as you moan.

"That's my girl-" He huffs in a guttural groan, his head against your chest as he breathes in the scent identifiable to only you. His words are interrupted by the force of your lips demanding his attention. As you kiss, your tongues intertwine for taste and need, until you end up biting and sucking on it.

"I need you on my cock. Right fucking now." Whatever separates you is pulled away before he hoists you up and levels himself inside of you. You've felt him in enough familiarity to know it will stretch you, a feeling he echoes as he groans to the intimacy of it.

"I need this." He grips your ass before bouncing you onto him.

"And these-" he uses his other hand to expose your breasts, naked sans a bra. His name is your only breath as he takes his time nibbling and sucking, his hands otherwise devoted to your curves and ass.

"Deeper." He orders as you turn for him, surprising him as he watches you take him reverse cowgirl. Only this is still not enough. You bend forward, hands on the small carpet before you, as you curve for him.

"Jesus Christ, Y/N-"

"Hold my hair-" You gasp at the grip he makes.

"On my God, Y/N. Your ass," he squeezes it before swatting it hard enough to leave a red mark behind. "Your-fuck! I need this..." One hand on your hair, the other draws a line of his trimmed nails down your spine until he has you in a grip.

"You want it like this? You want me to fill you up while you're bent over giving me this..." He stalls, searching for the right words. "this view?"

"Please Rafe. I've thought about how it will be all year." He pulls you up by your hair until your back rests against his chest. His fingers play with your clit as he moans against you.

"That's it. Oh fuck. Oh yeah baby...ohhh-" The door tries behind you as your thighs sore from the rise and fall of your muscles called into motion.

"Do. Not. Stop." He breathes with each thrust until you are unable to speak and high off of his need for you. He holds a hand around the sides of your throat, ensuring you can breathe while also holding you in place as the other palms your breasts.

"Open the door-" A woman's voice calls as Rafe pounds up into you, deeper than he's ever been.

"Make us come, baby. I'm not stopping until you're filled and shaking but I also don't want anyone else seeing you like this. So come-baby,"

"Open the-" The voice tries again.

"FUCK OFF!" Rafe calls out, dainty feet rushing away as he doubles his efforts, inspiring you to do the same. Wherever he has you pinned so you cannot move, you use small ministration to affect him. Clenching your inner walls until he can feel the flutter, he arches back in awe.

"Baby! That's good-Goddamn!" He groans into your neck as you shake uncontrollably. His fingers a rush against your clit unwind and prepare your orgasm as you feel it surge without warning.

"That's it, fucking come for me baby. You're gonna make me come-" He chokes out, his own pleasure coursing through him as he spills inside of you.

"Rafe..." You breathe as his hand remains on your throat as if he cannot begin to fathom the idea to release you. It takes you tapping his hand for his head to rise from your shoulder as his lips trace the skin there.

This is the part you loathe. The part that has gotten more difficult over the former exchanges.

"I-"

"Stay, Y/N."

"Rafe, I-"

"Please." His summons resonates into the marrow of your bones.

"I don't think-"

"Marry me." His words make you turn to face him and you see how there is no humor on his expression. Not the hauntingly soft yet intimidating eyes or the full lips spread in contentment.

"Marry me, Y/N."

MASTERLIST

A/N: I was thinking of possibly making this into a series. Any thoughts?

#rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafecameron #rafe cameron #rafe cameron outer banks #outerbanks #obx #outer banks #outer banks smut #obxsmut #obx fanfiction #drew starkey

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spencerxalvez · 2 days

Text

spencer reid x fem!reader microfic; 600 words; fluff, athletic reader, slice of life

His chest heaves; every breath tears from his lungs in soft, desperate pants for air. There’s a thin sheen of warm sweat that’s forming over his body: at his hairline, catching in his curls; in the crevices of soft skin at his knees and elbows; along the dip at the center of his back, dripping over his spine. The muscles in his legs tremble delicately, quivering with exertion and threatening to give out.

But there’s her.

He closes his eyes briefly and the image of her remains— all unexpected strength in lithe muscles; soft skin; breath that comes easy and a voice that drifts like summer.

“Need to—” he gasps.

He can tell she’s watching him as he stops moving and the world tilts around him.

“What do you need, Spence?” she asks.

He puts his hands on his knees and looks up into the sunlight, squinting at her. The world rights itself; she’s standing at the center of the path, her hands on her hips and her ponytail caught in the breeze that chills the sweat on his back and makes him shiver unpleasantly. She’s dressed in a matching athletic set and her favorite worn-in running shoes, the hem of the top in line with her just-visible abdominal muscles.

She’s smiling at him, barely out of breath at all.

“Water?” she asks, too sweetly. Spencer swallows hard and shakes his head; he sort of thinks if he tries to drink right now, he might throw up. Instead, he moves toward the grass and tumbles onto it. He hates sitting on the ground, but at the moment anything is preferable to being on his legs. She laughs as he collapses to the earth, and gamely takes a seat next to him.

“How do you do this every day?” he groans eventually.

“I don’t run every day,” she answers reasonably. “Sometimes I take barre.”

Spencer does his best to glare at her. It’s hard, when she’s smiling like that.

“I might be dying,” Spencer croaks, flopping down onto his back and flinging his arm over his eyes.

“You know,” she says thoughtfully, “when I asked you to go running with me, I thought you’d be a little more in shape.”

Spencer peers out at her from beneath his arm, incredulous.

“What ever gave you that impression?” he asks.

She shrugs. “You’re an FBI agent,” she says. “Don’t you have like, physical mandates and stuff?”

Spencer covers his eyes again. “I’ve been avoiding them every year since the one time that Morgan tried to help Garcia and I train,” he says.

“Spencer Reid,” she gasps. “Are you admitting to being a cheater? Deceiving the Federal Bureau of Investigation? In broad daylight?”

“Stop,” Spencer groans, half-laughing. “Actually, there’s only a twelve-point minimum score required to pass the FBI’s physical fitness test. Mathematically, I can afford to score only—”

She has been running for a mile. Miraculously, when she kisses him, she still tastes like the strawberry jam she ate in her kitchen this morning.

When she pulls away, she’s smiling.

“We should do this more often,” she says. “So that maybe you can actually pass it next time. Oh, and you should definitely try something like—”

This time, it’s his kiss that cuts her off. She smiles into it like she’d wanted him to do it all along, and when they pull apart she’s still beaming.

“Race you,” she says.

And then she’s gone. And Spencer— well, like always, Spencer follows.

#criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid reader insert #spencer x reader #spencer reid fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds reader insert #microfic

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grandline-fics · 11 hours

Note

Hi Kerrie, thank you for your wonderful writings! I was wondering if we could we see the ‘waking up the morning after’ prompt with Shanks and/or zoro and sabo (if you enjoy writing for these characters). Thanks, I hope you’re having a great day! ✨

DESCRIPTION: Prompt: Waking up the morning after

WARNINGS: a little suggestive but nothing explicit? mostly fluff

CHARACTERS: Shanks, Zoro

WORDS: 1,889

A/N: Thank you for requesting this! I kept everything more on the fluffy and sweet side and only managed to think of something for Shanks and Zoro. I might do something with this for Sabo separately if I think of a scenario for him. Hope you like what I managed to come up for this one.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

———————

SHANKS

You’d always known what you were getting yourself in for when you joined the Red Hair Pirates. You knew the type of man Shanks was, his presence alone commanded everyone’s attention and that was before he’d even opened his mouth to begin the effortless charm that flowed from him. He was as charming as he was powerful and unapologetically flirty with everyone he came across. Even before he’d offered you a place on his crew your first interaction with him head been a flirtatious one. It had been so natural and easy, you’d never had an interaction like it. If it hadn’t been interrupted by the group of bandits attacking in the middle of your conversation you’d been sure that you would have gladly followed Shanks to where his bed had been for the night and never seen him again when you woke. However it was thanks to the bandits that Shanks had gotten to see just how formidable a fighter you were and insisted you be a part of his crew.

Naturally you couldn’t say no to him with an offer like that but now that he was your Captain you’d made it a firm rule that nothing would happen physically between you both. It would just become messy if it was only a one time thing. It would muddy the waters between seeing him as a lover without lessening his authority as your leader. While you knew deep down that Shanks would never kick you off the crew you didn’t want to risk it. You’d kept firm in your dedication to just being his subordinate and resisted his charms when the crew partied. Yes you indulged in the playful banter but that’s as far as you allowed it to go. You just always felt so comfortable with him that the second his lips met yours the evening before during one of your late night talks that all sense went out the window and you gave in to temptation so easily.

That’s why you refused to open your eyes, because if you did that meant facing the fact you’d royally fucked up. Still denial was the more appealing option because the warmth of Shanks’ sleeping body against yours was just as enticing as he was when he was awake. No, you had to be strong. With a deep breath you forced your hand to rub your eyes and slowly opened them, internally cursing when you saw the sight of Shanks sleeping all too peacefully beside you. It really wasn’t fair how good he looked but you couldn’t get distracted. You needed to talk about what happened. Glancing down you looked at his arm across your body, fingers lightly curled against your hip. As if sensing what you were awake, Shanks’ peaceful expression shifted to one of groggy stirring. His fingers secured themselves against your side before his arm pulled you sharply to hold you by his chest. Your breath lodged in your chest when he let out a content sigh, nuzzling his face against your neck. “Mornin’ gorgeous…” Heavy with sleep, his voice was even deeper than normal. When you didn’t immediately answer, Shanks’ eyes finally opened, regarding you carefully. “What’s up?”

“You really have to ask?” You asked softly with a small laugh, turning you head to look at him. You never had an issue being open and honest with Shanks. Even now as you both lay naked and about to talk about what happened between you both you felt no hesitation or need to hold back. “Last night shouldn’t have happened, should it?”

“You asking me or telling me?” Shanks asked softly, fingers lightly moving to play with yours. “I don’t regret it.”

“This isn’t about regrets Shanks.” You sighed, settling your free hand over his to still the gentle but distracting motions. “This is about what happens next. This is about balance. What are the crew going to think?”

“I think the words ‘fucking finally’ and ‘Cap’n you lucky bastard’ will be the general consensus.” Shanks grinned at you, relieved to see you fight a smile and playfully roll your eyes at him. “I’m serious though. The only one overthinking this is you. The crew have been waiting on this for so long so nothing’s going to change with them. The only question is, did you want this to have been a one-time thing?”

“Shanks you don’t do relationships. Not in the time I’ve been on the crew.”

“Yeah because I only wanted to do a relationship with you.” Shanks explained, lacing his fingers between yours to lead your hand up to his lips and press the softest kiss against your knuckles. “So what do you think?”

“I think you’re a very dangerous man Red Hair…” you sighed, stunned at his confession but not rejecting it. His effortless charm and commanding warmth was dangerous. Even more so was how safe and happy he made you but you had no fears about this.

“You’re one to talk.” Shanks chuckled, lowering his hand to pull you closer. “You’ve had me under your spell since the first day we met and I’ll be damned if I let you go now.”

ZORO

You and Zoro always had a strange sort of tension underlying in your friendship. On the surface you both were warm and comfortable in each other’s presences. Perfectly balancing the other and both having a strong understanding of the other without needing to communicate beyond brief words and the slightest shifts in stance. On the ship you two were considered the closest of friends. Underneath it all? You both held heavy attraction and intense want for each other but at the same time the restraint you both had to never step over that line and delve deeper into what you both desired was stronger. For now you were both set on getting stronger and enjoying your adventures together with the rest of the Strawhats. Deep down you both knew that the other wouldn’t reject any advances if they were made but still you both held back, believing there would be plenty of time for that. That you’d both know when the time was right.

Then Sabaody turned the tide for you all. Under the assault of the Marines you were all defeat so easily and with terror in your eyes you realised you were all outmatched. Out of instinct you looked to Zoro and you could only watch helplessly and washed in cold dread as the swordsman disappeared in the blink of an eye. Then one by one the rest of you were dispatched by Kuma, struck out of sight and before you knew it you were on a completely different island. Alone and scared for the first time in a long while, missing and fearing for your crew. Just when you thought things couldn’t get worse you were faced with the news that your Captain had lost his brother. Thankfully you deciphered his coded message and resolved yourself to spend that time getting stronger.

Through the two years away from your friends you always thought of them, hoping they were safe and training too although Zoro crept into your mind most of all. On your worst days, the image of him training on Sunny’s deck like he used to helped motivate you to push through your mental blocks and keep going. Finally the day came when you stepped foot on Sabaody again and a shudder ran through you at the memory of what had happened the last time came to your mind. You had faith in your crew that you’d all improved and it would never happen again but it was hard not to remember the fear of that day as if it was happening all over again. Setting off you made your way to the grove for the long awaited reunion.

Night had begun to fall when you spotted the familiar sight of Sunny’s head and your steps quickened from your relaxed pace into a full run. Just as you climbed onto the deck you felt a presence rush towards you. Sharply you turned and lifted your weapon in time to block the blade being swung at you. Your eyes lit at the sight of Zoro, the relief that flooded you quickly gave way into all those old feelings hurtling back and your smile grew to see the recognition appear in Zoro’s expression. Then your smile fell slightly to see one of his eyes was scarred and shut. Without thinking you reached out and settled your hand on his cheek, your thumb gently touching his scar. The small action was all it took to bring those old feelings that had always danced dangerously close to the surface reappear stronger than even given the two years of separation. “Who else has arrived?”

“No one. It’s just us.” Zoro answered while capturing your hand that was still against his cheek. Without needing to say anymore you both closed the distance remaining between you both and your free hand fisted in the collar of his clothing and yanked him forward while his grabbed your waist. Neither of your wasted anymore time in finally coming together and kissing intensely, something both of you had spend the two years apart regretting hadn’t happened until now. Even then it wasn’t enough, you were both so desperate for each other, to make up for lost and wasted time holding back that you both fell headlong into your desires now; acting in perfect synchronisation and the almost wordless communication that was unique to the two of you.

Finally when morning came you woke feeling calmer and more at peace than you ever had before. Even with the weight of Zoro’s arms holding you tight and secured against his body you felt light and happy. More importantly you didn’t feel scared about the next part of your adventures with the crew. Your eyes opened to see Zoro was already awake and watching you carefully, seeming to be just as relaxed as you were. “Hope you’re not planning to greet everyone back like this.”

“As if.” Zoro rolled his good eye but the slow grin began to appear on his face as he took in your face in the morning light. The two years had changed you both, but not in the ways it mattered. You were still you and apart from his loyalty to Luffy, you were the only other person he worked hard to get stronger for and return to. At his response you grinned brightly and Zoro let his knuckles lightly stroke your face, he’d missed your smile. He’d missed you. Zoro leaned forward with the intention of pulling you into another kiss only to stop when a familiarly ‘super’ cheer broke through the calm morning air.

“Looks like we won’t have the ship to ourselves anymore.” You grinned, leaning in to press a quick kiss against his lips as you prepared yourself to get up and change to greet Franky. It wouldn’t be long now before you were all finally reunited. You were stopped when Zoro sat up with you and pulled you back to hug you tight, his silent way of telling you he wasn’t going anywhere ever again, not without you. With a warm smile you squeezed his arm in a reassurance that you felt the same way.

——————————————-

TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04 , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa

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lulunothulu · 17 hours

Note

Loovveee your writing. 😍 Would you be able to write where reader and Tyler are married and he’s out running errands when he gets notified from her Apple Watch that she’s taken a hard fall because she was thrown from a horse and 911 was called so he drives as quick as he can home to her driving through their gate trying to get to her faster and she’s unconscious and bleeding from a cut on her head and just worried husband vibes until she wakes up and is fine 💙

Oooo I love this. I gotchu boo 🤠 and thank youuuu I’m so sorry this is late 💗

“Don’t worry”

Tyler Owens x Reader

“Let me check the list because if I miss something, my wife is gonna have a fit.” Tyler laughs, pulling the grocery list out of his pocket.

He’d been tasked by you with getting groceries and knew you were particular about what kind of apples you liked.

When he finally pulls the list out, he hands it to the worker before him who smiles and points him to the section where the honey crisp apples are.

“Thank you!” He calls out, steering the buggy toward the section and grabbing a plastic bag to collect the four apples you wanted.

He’s about to put the last apple in the bag when he gets a notification from your AppleWatch.

‘My Wife 💗’ has fallen and their breathing has slowed down significantly. 9-1-1 has been called and they are 10 minutes out.

Tyler’s heart stops.

Within seconds, his legs are moving, sprinting out of the store the buggy full of groceries left behind.

He’ll come back another time. Right now, he had to get to his wife. He had to get to you.

He knew he was only five minutes away, but he let his foot hit the accelerator. Anything to get to you quicker.

When he finally—painstakingly—arrives at y’all’s house, your horse, Sugar, is galloping around the front yard, neighing happily to herself. He reaches for her, gently pulling her close.

“Where is she?” He asks her. He doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he jogs to the training ring to the right of the house where he finds your lifeless body.

He sprints at the sight of you, fear taking over all of his thoughts and he brushes the random strands of hair covering your face.

“Oh my god,” he whispers. “Oh my god. Baby? Can you hear me?”

He checks your pulse.

Good, steady but kind of weak.

Your breathing is slow, almost too slow for his taste. Your face is relaxed in unconsciousness and there’s a pretty bad gash on your forehead and the back of your head.

Tyler knows not to move you so he holds your hand, waiting and praying that the ambulance hurries.

The next five minutes feel like hours but the paramedics finally arrive.

“I think she fell and hit her head on the ground or a rock,” Tyler tells them.

He watches from the side as they take your vitals and get you ready to transfer to the ER.

“Do you want to ride with her?” One of the paramedics asks.

“No, I’ll follow behind in my truck,” he tells them.

———

At the hospital, Tyler looks down at you from his standing position next to your bed.

How could this have happened? When is she gonna wake up?

He rubs his eyes, checking his watch again to see that it’s almost 10 PM. he’s been here for the past few hours, waiting for you to wake up.

Unfortunately, for him, the doctor said that it might take a bit for you to wake up, especially because of the fall you took.

“She’ll wake up when she’s ready,” they said.

“When?” He’d asked.

“Within a few hours. She has a concussion so she needs to rest as much as she can.”

The waiting was the hardest part for him. He hated just standing around. He needed to do something, anything to make sure you were okay, to help you wake up. Worry begins to eat at him the longer he stays in the hospital room with you so Tyler decided it would be best to go to the cafeteria.

Only when he’s about to walk out the door, he hears you groan.

“Tyler?”

“Baby,” he cries, running back to your side. He takes your hand in his, kissing each knuckles before smiling down at you with happy tears stuck in his eyes. “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” you tell him. “Am I in the hospital?”

“Yeah,” he tells you, wiping his eyes. “What happened?”

“I was trying to give Sugar a little test run before the next race and she got spooked by a garden snake,” you recount. “I must’ve hit my head on a rock or something.”

“You did,” he tells you, voice quiet. “You scared the hell out of me.”

You look up into his green eyes and smile softly. Placing your hand on his cheek, you pull him down to kiss you.

The kiss is sweet and tender, something Tyler didn’t know he knew he needed until then.

“I love you, Ty,” you tell him.

“I love you too, Baby,” he hiccups, tears freely falling now. “You really did scare me. I didn’t know if you would be okay. If you’d d—”

He couldn’t bring himself to finish his sentence. Instead, he smiles down at you and kisses you again.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he says instead.

“I am too,” you tell him. Then, smirking a bit, you add, “I would be pretty pissed if I died from falling off a horse.”

Tyler laughs at that. “I would be too.”

“When can I eat? And when can I leave?” You ask. “But most importantly, when can I eat?”

“Doctors said he wanted to keep you overnight,” he tells you. “I can get you something to eat if you want.”

“Okay, as long as it’s something filling. I have t eaten since… what time is it?”

“10:30 PM,” he tells you.

“Jesus Christ, since 8 AM this morning,” you marvel.

Tyler laughs, pecking your lips before standing. “I’ll get you a nice fat sandwich.”

“Sounds perfect.”

You watch as he walks away before saying, “And Tyler?”

He turns around. “Yes baby?”

“Walk slower, your ass looks really nice in those jeans.”

Tyler only laughs and obeys as he walks out the door.

#glen powell #fanfic #tyler owens #tyler owens headcanon #tyler owens x y/n #tyler owens oneshot #tyler owens x reader #twisters 2024 #twisters #lulu's requests mail

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citrustan · 17 hours

Text

dating girl (jjk)

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: you try to convince yourself that you're really okay with 'casually dating' your crush.

genre: college au, fwb kinda thing but more than friends ygm? angst!

"Are they allowed to cancel an entire day at college? That can't be good for anyone..." Your mother ponders out loud as you walk around the city hand-in-hand.

"There's not much you can do if someone decides to paint over every projector lens on campus." You nod.

"Lucky for me, I get to spend time with my little baby," she nuzzles her nose into your hair, squeezing you in a side-hug, "Still can't believe we have to schedule our hangouts now."

"Yeah, there's that..." You smile half-heartedly.

You stop near a flower stall, taking in the hustle and bustle of the city. It's especially crowded because of your university abruptly cancelling a bunch of classes.

After your day had freed up unexpectedly, you had invited your sorta but not really boyfriend, Jungkook, to go cafe hopping to find where all the good teas are because you knew he'd bee available. But he never responded.

So your mood has been a bit damp all day.

You had just stepped out of this store that sold handmade sweaters and yarn balls. Not even a good shopping spree could lift your spirits.

What definately doesn't help is randomly seeing said sorta but not really boyfriend who didn't respond to your texts out and about with some leggy blonde girl.

You've never seen her around.

Not that you know every single person on campus, but if they've crossed Jungkook's path, you know them.

They're dining together al fresco, at one of the cafes you had literally listed in your text to Jungkook.

Talk about a slap in your face.

For a second, you think she might just be his sister or something.

That thought bubble is quickly shot at with a razor sharp arrow when you see him kiss her knuckles.

Your eyes involuntary darken, and your mouth forms a pout. The kind one has when they're trying to hold back a cry or a sob.

All the while, your mother had talked about your grandparents' separation, the local diner having caught fire, and matching mother and daughter shoes she had bought for your birthday.

You were listening passively so you didn't quite catch everything.

"You're still seeing him, aren't you?" She tilted her head in confusion.

When your mother notices the look on your face, she frowns, following the line of your vision.

At spotting Jungkook and mystery girl, she gasps angrily, "Oh, no, he sucks." She turns back to you, "Honey, I'm so sorry."

"No, mom, this is normal," you smile weakly, "And it's okay."

"Yes." You nod, "I am."

"But then he's there," she points at the pair with her chin, "seeing her. How's that okay?"

"It just is, mom! Really," you attempt to convince your mother (and yourself) that you were 100% fine with witnessing Jungkook out with other women. "We're keeping things casual. Very... casual."

"And that's a mutual decision?" She confirms.

"We both agreed." You concur.

Your mother's still unsure about your choices. "Well. Okay then."

You glance at Jungkook and mystery girl one last time.

The picture isn't pretty. He's leaning into her ear and has his large hand placed over her bare thigh as she caressed his arm with her much smaller hand, thoroughly enjoying his attention.

Your mother watches your expression go stiff, "So, how does this work?"

Snapping you out of your daze, she pushes a few strands of hair away from your eyes.

When you frown at her she sighs, "Sorry..."

"Oh. Um..." You exhale, "Well, we see each other and we see other people, and that's that. We're cas-" - "Yeah, casual, I heard." Your mother interrupts your blabber.

"It's ok." You look down at your feet, kicking a few stray pebbles out of the way.

"I just--- I thought you guys were sleeping together." She blurts.

"Mom!" You exclaim, looking around to see if anyone had heard her, "It's not that big of a deal. I want this too. And I need to learn to date too."

Again, you try to ease your mind about your decision.

You lightly cringe and look around, "Uh... Nobody yet. But this guy from one of my extras--- his name's Hoseok but we call him Hobi, or Hoba, depending on how close you are to him--- anyway, he asked me out to a halloween theme party next week."

"So who else are you dating?" She asks pointedly.

This is suddenly getting very exhausting.

Your mother gives you a knowing look, deciding to play along anyway, "Oh! You've never mentioned him before."

"Mhm. Because it's new." You hunch your shoulders nervously.

The party was hosted by the student body to raise funds for, you don't know, collegiate stuff.

You had imagined going with Jungkook, with matching Dentist and Tooth Fairy couple costumes. But he hadn't asked you yet and you definitely weren't going to bring it up first.

Maybe you can do the look with Hoseok instead.

It's less than a week away, so you're not expecting anything from him either. He probably already has another date lined up.

You wonder if it's the blonde he's with now.

"So, are you gonna do it?"

"Do what?" Was she in your head?

"Go with Hobi or Hoba." She makes air quotations for 'Hobi or Hoba.'

"Oh, yeah. Yep. Definitely." Suddenly remembering, you add, "Oh and can you make me my costume? I want to be the Tooth Fairy?" You softly ask her, knowing it's a little last minute, but also knowing she wouldn't deny you.

"Why of course! Does... Hobi need a costume too?" She asks carefully.

"Oh, no. Probably not." Well, you don't know. You don't know if his offer even stands now and you might end up not going at all.

Your mother rubs your shoulder, "Ask him and let me know, 'kay?"

You force out an uncomfortable smile and nod, "Thanks."

Although your mother's not convinced, she decides to drop the topic all together.

"Well, that's good," she smiles down at you warmly, "Do you want to get that sweater exchanged?"

It was vague, but you appreciated her attempt either way.

"Mhm. Back to the store we go." You narrate with an airy laugh.

Your mother was in the lead, already making her way to the store you had just walked out of.

Once again, your gaze falls on Jungkook and his date, and to your surprise he was staring right back at you.

You want to give him a little smile. To show him you're unbothered. But you couldn't seem to force one out this time.

So you settle with giving him a small wave, which he returns, mirroring your expression.

His date follows his line of sight and spots you too, giving you a tight smile. It's not passive aggressive, just... decent. Not polite either. But why should she be?

Jungkook blinks at you as you hurriedly leave trying to keep up with your mother.

Maybe you should focus on Hoseok for now.

note: nobody asked for this but i was feeling a little silly :p needed some angsty ouchie with the possibility of a favourable conclusion so i indulged!

hey bonus points if you can tell what inspired this! and if you read all this lmk what you think regardless :D

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hotshotsxyz · 2 days

Text

wide awake from the breeze

(buddie) (2.2k) i swore i was going to write something for @summerofbuddie so here i am with something on the last possible day lol. very in character of me. title from blue sky & the painter which i will continue to push as The eddie diaz song for season 8

The air is crisp and cold, and finally, finally, Eddie can breathe.

The San Gabriels are beautiful this time of year, but it’s hard to appreciate the changing leaves when he’s watching Buck. Their color could never compete with his light.

Buck’s fingers tap against the steering wheel as he hums along to a song Eddie’s certain has repeated at least three times in the past two hours. He’s beautiful like this. He’s always beautiful, actually, but Eddie thinks this might be his favorite version of Buck. Happiness suits him.

They’ve been tumbling towards something since Buck broke up with Tommy, since Eddie finally let loose the words that have been stuck in his throat for years. For once in his life, Eddie isn’t overly worried about time. For once in his life, he’s got plenty of it.

They reach a scenic overlook, and Buck pulls over. He takes his sunglasses off and drops them on the dashboard, then looks over at Eddie and grins.

“See,” Buck says brightly, “I told you it’d be worth the drive.”

Eddie twists in his seat so he can face Buck a little more directly. His curls are wild from the wind, and his eyes glow in the late afternoon sun. “I didn’t doubt you for a second,” Eddie murmurs.

Buck’s smile grows impossibly wider. The foliage doesn’t stand a chance. “You want to get out for a little? Stretch our legs?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees easily.

There’s a trailhead just a few hundred feet away, and Buck bounds toward it eagerly.

“Half a mile out and back?” he calls over his shoulder after studying the map for a second, as if there’s anywhere Eddie wouldn’t follow him.

“Let’s do it,” Eddie replies as he sidles up next to Buck.

Buck smiles at him again, and it’s a little like watching the first light of dawn stretch across the horizon.

They mostly walk in silence, but every few minutes Buck pauses to point out a particular tree or bird. It’s kind of incredible, the way he latches onto information and then gifts it to Eddie in a single excited breath. Eddie’s got his own personal guidebook to the world, and he makes everything feel new and special.

The trail ends at the bank of a small, placid lake surrounded by rocky outcroppings. Buck sits on one and pulls Eddie down next to him.

The sky above them is cloudless and clear, a brilliant blue that’s reflected in the water. A few leaves drift slowly across the surface, leaving behind tiny wake trails. It’s peaceful in a way Eddie’s rarely gotten to experience in his life. He isn’t sure he’d even be capable of appreciating that if it weren’t for Buck.

“I think I want to do this forever,” Eddie says as they stare out across the lake.

Buck knocks his knee against Eddie’s. “What?” he asks, “Watch the leaves turn?”

Eddie looks at him and finds a soft smile that tells him Buck knows exactly what he means. “Yeah,” he says, knocking his knee back, “something like that.”

For a long moment, Buck holds his gaze. “Yeah,” he says finally, “me too.”

Eddie leans to the side, allowing his weight to settle against Buck’s shoulder. He tries not to worry anymore about whether or not he deserves to have someone like Buck in his life. He has him. Buck picks him, over and over again, and even though Eddie’s not sure he’ll ever quite manage to wrap his head around it, he’s long since decided the only way he needs to feel about that is grateful. And god is he grateful.

Buck closes his eyes and tips his face toward the sun. His cheeks are tinged with pink, and it’s hard to tell if it’s the cold, the beginnings of a sunburn, or something else entirely that’s caused it. Eddie finds that he wants to know, wants to press his fingers to Buck’s skin and see if the redness fades or grows.

It’s an impulse he could give in to; Buck would let him. There’s something about this moment he wants to freeze though, and if he moves it’ll change. Instead, he watches. He commits every detail to memory. When he’s old and gray and everything else is fading, this will be what he remembers.

A gust of wind blows down through the valley, and Buck shivers with it, nose scrunching. He opens his eyes and looks at Eddie. “I’m cold,” he admits with a sheepish smile.

“You’re always cold,” Eddie says, voice dripping with fondness.

Buck tilts his head in acknowledgement. He flexes his fingers a few times, probably stiff in the autumn air.

“C’mere,” Eddie says a little nonsensically. Buck will understand.

Buck holds his hands out and Eddie takes them. He vigorously rubs at them until they’re satisfyingly friction warm. He keeps them when he’s done, holding them together between his palms to protect them from the wind. Buck ducks his head and grins.

“You’re like a space heater,” he says, shuffling impossibly closer.

“And you’re like an icepack,” Eddie replies.

Buck blows out a soft, amused breath. “Makes me handy to keep around in the summer,” he quips.

“I always want you around.”

Another version of Eddie might’ve hesitated, might’ve buried that instinctive reply as far down as possible, shoved it next to all the things he refused to examine. Too bad for that Eddie; he wouldn’t get to see the pink on Buck’s cheeks darken and spread.

“I always want you around, too,” Buck says, quiet, like he might scare away the moment if he speaks too loudly.

Eddie’s been waiting. For what, he’s not entirely sure. For him and Buck to be alone, though that’s hardly a rare occurrence. For all the doubtful voices in his head to go silent, but Buck’s been quieting those for years. For him to feel settled in his skin. For the world to stop turning around them long enough to do it right. All at once, Eddie feels like there’s nothing else to wait for.

“I love you,” he says, and the words taste good. They’re the icy fresh snow melt that streams down mountains in the spring, the bright tang of citrus in the summer, the spicy warmth of mulled cider in the winter, and soon, he thinks, he’ll know for certain that they taste like Buck in the fall.

A small noise spills from Buck’s mouth and he sways forward, less like he’s leaning in and more like he can’t help but be caught in Eddie’s gravity.

“Eddie,” he whispers. His eyes shine.

“Buck,” he replies.

For most of Eddie’s life, he’s been afraid. He’s pushed past it, locked it down, pretended that the twist of anxiety in his gut was never more than passing butterflies. Here, though, now, he doesn’t even feel brave. He’s too sure, Buck makes him feel too safe; there’s no fear for him to fight against.

Buck blinks a few times and swallows visibly. Eddie rubs his thumbs in soothing circles against Buck’s wrists.

“You…” Buck starts, rough and awed.

“Take your time,” Eddie says, unable to hide his amusement.

Buck huffs and kicks at Eddie’s ankle. “Forgive me for taking a second to process literally the best thing I’ve ever heard,” he retorts without any bite.

“Oh no, I mean it,” Eddie says with a wide grin. “I’ll sit here all day. I’m not cold.”

A startled laugh jumps from Buck’s throat. “Be quiet, let me finish processing,” he says.

“Process away,” Eddie murmurs.

A few seconds pass and he watches the gears turn in Buck’s mind. Eddie knows the way they like to twist and catch, but he’s not worried. They’ll have a lifetime to discard all the worst-case scenarios.

“Okay,” Buck says finally. “I’ve processed.” He pulls his hands from Eddie’s grip and raises them to his jaw. He leans in and Eddie meets him halfway.

Eddie was right, but also wrong. Buck tastes like love, yes, but he also tastes like home and joy and warmth and a little like the muscadines they’d stopped to buy from a roadside stand earlier in the day. Buck smiles against his lips and it feels like the rest of his life.

“For the record,” Buck says, pulling back just far enough to look Eddie in the eye, “I love you too.”

Eddie can’t help the bright peal of laughter that bursts from his chest. He feels free and alive and happy and everything else he was once afraid he’d never be able to. Buck skims a thumb along his cheek bone and grins.

“If you’re done, I really want to kiss you again,” Buck says once Eddie’s laughter has faded to a soft chuckle.

Eddie grips Buck’s waist and hums. “I don’t know, I think I need to process,” he teases.

“Oh, that’s fine, I’ll just sit here and freeze while you—” Buck makes a surprised noise as Eddie surges forward and cuts him off with his lips.

They break apart a second time and Eddie rests his forehead against Buck’s. “I’ve processed,” he says, quiet and smiling.

“Yeah?” Buck asks, a little breathless.

Eddie hums an affirmative. “Best thing I’ve ever heard, had to let it sink in.”

Buck presses a soft, chaste kiss to the corner of Eddie’s mouth. “It takes a second,” he agrees.

Another gust of wind blows past them. A few leaves begin their gentle descent to the ground and Buck shivers.

“Come on,” Eddie says, laughing lightly as he pulls back and stands. He holds his hands out and Buck takes them. “You’ve got a hoodie in the Jeep.”

Buck’s head tilts adorably. “I didn’t…” he says, trailing off as the confusion in his expression makes way for that quiet, disbelieving smile that seems to be reserved exclusively for Eddie.

“You’re always cold,” Eddie says with a fond eyeroll. He tugs at Buck until he stands.

“Not always,” Buck says, suddenly inches from Eddie.

Eddie swallows as a shudder of anticipation travels down his spine. “No?” he asks faintly.

Buck fixes him with a look Eddie’s seen before, though never directed at him. “Nope,” he says, eyes dark and lips curling.

The effect is lessened slightly as the breeze kicks up again and Buck cringes away from it. The tip of his nose is bright pink. Eddie wants to kiss it, so he does.

He laughs again and drops one of Buck’s hands. “Let’s go, cowboy, you can seduce me in the Jeep.”

Buck’s mouth opens and closes. “Uh, that’s—yeah, let’s do that,” he says in a rush.

They quickly make their way back up to the trailhead. Eddie can’t remember ever smiling this much, but even when his cheeks start to hurt it’s impossible to stop. He’s happy, happy in a way he didn’t even know was possible until very recently.

When they reach the overlook, Eddie pauses just long enough to lift their joined hands and press a kiss to the back of Buck’s.

Buck’s eyes widen. “When did you get so…” He gestures vaguely.

Eddie snorts. “I have game,” he says.

“No,” Buck says incredulously, “you don’t. Or—or didn’t.”

“It sounds like you think I have game,” Eddie teases.

“I think you should get in the Jeep so we can go home and test the theory,” Buck replies.

“Gonna have to let me go first,” Eddie says, nodding toward their intertwined fingers.

Buck blushes but makes no move to extricate himself from Eddie’s grip.

“Or not,” Eddie says softly.

“I just…” Buck trails off.

Eddie squeezes his hand.

“I want to remember this,” Buck says, ducking his head. “How everything feels right now.”

“Even the cold?” Eddie asks.

Buck squeezes his hand. “M’not cold,” he says.

The wind blows, and Buck crowds in closer to Eddie, trying to hide from it.

“I think you might be a little cold,” Eddie murmurs.

“Maybe I just wanted to kiss you again,” Buck replies.

Eddie grins. “Don’t let me stop you,” he says.

Buck presses a feather-light kiss to his cheek, then his nose, then the corner of his mouth. Eddie feels his cheeks heat beneath his touch.

“Okay,” he says softly. He steps back and lets go of Eddie’s hand. He fishes his keys out of his pocket and unlocks the Jeep.

Eddie climbs into the passenger seat as Buck settles in front of the wheel, just like they’ve done a thousand times before. He reaches into the back and grabs Buck’s hoodie, the slightly oversized one that he loves to wrap himself in on days just like this one. He hands it to Buck. As he watches Buck wriggle into it, he’s hit with a wave of joy all over again.

“I love you,” he says when Buck’s head pops out from the hood, just because he can.

“You’re such a sap,” Buck says, but it sounds a whole lot like I love you too.

Buck turns the key in the ignition, and the stereo comes to life playing the same song as before.

Is that a blue sky? The singer asks.

“It’s about damn time,” Eddie can’t help but sing along.

Buck grins at him and grabs his hand.

It’s about damn time.

#buddie #buddie fic #911 #911fic #summerofbuddie #abbie writes #abbie continues to push her blue sky & the painter agenda #fic

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laurfilijames · 3 days

Text

Breathe

Part 10

Pairing: Will 'Ironhead' Miller x female reader

Words: 6.5k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Swearing. Alcohol consumption. Fingering. Squirting. Oral sex (F receiving). Masturbation (M). Description of a heart attack and administration of CPR.

Summary: Comfortable domestication sets into your routines after Will officially moves in with you, and a quick stop at the grocery store on the way home from the gym earns Will another reputation at Publix.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who continues to follow this story and pour on so much love and excitement for it! With the events in this chapter, I'll urge anyone who has never learned or is set to renew to please get certified in CPR as you never know if and when you may need it! (In case anyone is wondering I've been watching far too much Bondi Rescue, already have a kink for first responders, and work in healthcare so this is the result 🤣)

Series Masterlist

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Will pulled another one of his t-shirts out of the box he was unpacking and shook it loose from its current fold, refolding it and then tucking it neatly in the drawer that had been designated for him in your dresser.

All of his things were moved into the house thanks to the help of the guys, and after a couple of sleepless nights due to his insomnia put to good use, almost everything he owned had found a new place intermixed with yours, leaving him with only a few more boxes to sort through.

The usual anxiety he got from disorganization was calmed by a sense of peace he hadn’t experienced in as long as he could remember, the normal stresses of moving his belongings yet again whisked away by the comforts of your house already feeling like home to him, the disarray of clothes and personal possessions that made him tick seeming small compared to the joy that was so immense in his heart.

“Hey,” your soft voice sang as you entered the room, walking up behind him where you carded your hands up his back and pressed a kiss on his shoulder.

Will smiled and covered your hand with his after you had wrapped it around to his front, glancing over his shoulder at you to see your face as much as he could.

“I was thinking you might want something to eat. Are you hungry?”

“Hmm, yeah,” Will confirmed, the grumble in his stomach unnoticed until now with how focused he was on putting things away.

“Okay, I’ll go whip us something up,” you offered, puckering your lips against his back one more time before peeling yourself off of him.

“I’ll do it,” he countered, taking an empty box and stacking it in another one on the floor. “You don’t have to do everything.”

He looked at you with a mix of appreciation and guilt, and you instantly knew a lot of your time living together would be spent with him trying to repay everything you did, never wanting you to lift a finger more than you should have to.

“How about we cook together then.”

Will’s smile was crooked on his gorgeous face, the grin bringing out the lines around his eyes that you loved so much, and he followed behind as you turned and walked out of your room, feeling his arms wrap around you to make you wobble with each step.

You laughed and held onto his forearms, squirming slightly as he rubbed his face back and forth on the side of your neck, a low growl reverberating through him.

He eventually released you, stalking you from a step back whenever you looked over your shoulder at him, pulling your lip in your teeth in seeing the ravenous glint in his eyes.

You decided to lean into this mood he was in, the confidence you felt from the way he kept staring at you making you work to tease him in subtle ways; casually touching your neck and chest with a light trace of your fingers, or slipping past him closer than was necessary to grab cutlery out of the drawer, your breasts brushing his arm as you did.

Looking over your shoulder to see if your flirting ways were getting a rise out of him, you giggled when you saw him shake his head ever so slightly, a quiet warning that only encouraged you more.

You had no reason to bend over to open one of the lower cabinets, but did so anyway, sticking your bum out purposefully in hopes he would take the bait.

Straightening yourself, you continued to face away from him, taking a pot and setting it in the sink where you flicked on the tap to fill it, accepting that you should try to make a valiant attempt at actually making dinner rather than only teasing him.

You grinned when you heard him approach, excitement bubbling in you as you anticipated his retaliation.

His large hand landed on your ass with a smack, playfully but with enough force to make every part of you ache, his tone full of wanting as he leaned over you from behind and spoke in your ear.

“Keep acting like that and we’ll be skipping dinner altogether.”

“Is that a promise or a threat?” you quipped, turning your body to better admire the way his t-shirt clung to his form as he retreated from you and reached up to open a cupboard, peering out at you behind the door with his eyebrows raised.

“Both. But maybe if you’re a good girl you’ll be made into dessert.”

Heat rushed through your body, your heart thrumming wildly in your chest as he shut the door with some force and closed the distance between you, his dominant stature looming over you and making you feel defenseless in the best way possible.

You closed your eyes, tilting your chin slightly to invite him to do whatever he wanted with you, reminding yourself to breathe as you stood waiting, your body completely still while arousal and lust ran frantically inside you.

You could feel him lean in close to you, the warmth of his body occupying your space, knowing his mouth was so close to yours and that his piercing blue eyes were watching you react.

Remembering once again to breathe, you forced yourself to release the air held in your lungs, your impatience growing as you continued to wait for Will to touch you in some way.

A quiet moan passed your lips with the breath you let out when he caught your chin with his hand, a firm hold on it with his thumb and index finger tucked underneath, angling your head back slightly more.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, the sound of awe in his voice making you smile, your chest swelling from his praise.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he added, his thumb moving to pull down your bottom lip before finally closing what little gap remained between you to kiss you. It was soft and sweet and full of a gentleness that was the opposite of what you were expecting, his hand letting go of your chin to land on your hips with the other one, squeezing your flesh before slipping them up and around your back.

You felt him exhale into you, his body relaxing and melting into yours, and after another minute of slowly tangling his tongue with yours he broke the seal of your lips.

His eyes were heavy when they flickered from your lips that were plump and moist from his and up the rest of your face until he met your gaze, his words coming out quietly but with a conviction you couldn’t deny.

“Let’s go to bed, dinner can wait.”

The house was full of laughter, bringing the biggest smile to your face as you cleaned up a bit in the kitchen, hearing Benny telling a funny story and all the other guys erupt loudly, the happiness you felt in hearing the sound of Will’s true laugh comparable to nothing else.

A full week had passed since he officially moved in with you, and tonight the guys were over for dinner to thank them for their help with moving all of his stuff over to your house; the pizzas almost all devoured and the empty beer bottles accumulating quickly.

Benny strutted into the kitchen as he called out a jab at Frankie over his shoulder, his broad smile greeting you and making yours stretch wider.

“Just remember,” he started, grabbing a couple of beers out of the fridge. “No take-backsies. I know more than anyone what a pain in the ass that one can be to live with but he’s all yours now.” His words came out serious but you knew Benny well enough to know he was joking, the look on his face giving away all the fallacy in his statement.

You laughed and shook your head. “Don’t worry, I’m not letting him go.”

“That’s what I like to hear!” he shouted, exiting the kitchen.

It had been another hour and Frankie, Santiago and Benny were all making their way out the door, Frankie supporting Tom as best he could as more than a few too many beers started to really show their effect on him.

“You sure you got him?” You heard Will ask Frankie as you rounded the corner from your bedroom.

“I’m fine!” Tom slurred, laughing as he tried to shake Frankie’s hold on him, only to stumble out the door and into Benny.

“Yeah, I’ll get him home,” Frankie assured Will, his tone sober and slightly annoyed, this not the first time any of them had had to wrestle his keys from him and drive him home.

“Thanks, man,” Will nodded, closing the door behind them once they all managed to find their way out.

He locked the door and turned around, puffing out his cheeks in a sigh as he raised his eyebrows at you with a knowing glance, then made his way over to the couch.

Will flopped down on it, resting his head back against it, his arms stretched out over the back while his legs splayed out wide.

You looked him up and down, never able to get over how long his legs were in his jeans that fit him so well and how you always found yourself desperate to straddle him whenever he sat like that.

Like he could read your thoughts, he beckoned you over with the tilt of his head, his smile crooked on his lips.

“Come here, sweetheart,” he purred.

You smiled as you slowly made your way over, watching him watch you with satisfaction and a slight deviousness on his face.

You went to grab onto his shoulders and straddle him, only to be stopped when he shook his head and spoke with a quiet demand.

“Not yet.”

You raised your brow and tilted your head, putting your hands up in the air to exaggerate not being able to touch him, a light chuckle sounding off his gorgeous lips.

“Get undressed,” he ordered, the hunger in his eyes making heat burst through your entire body, the need to get your clothes off even more pressing.

There was no time to waste with him sitting there looking like that, so amused and aroused, his confidence radiating through the room between you and into you as you began slipping out of your shirt and then pants, but slowed down when you got to your lacy set of underwear.

Nothing on Will moved other than his chest rising and falling with controlled breaths, his stoicism exciting you even more, his patience something to be admired.

You teasingly pulled the straps of your bra off your shoulders in turn, maintaining eye contact with him when you reached behind your back and popped the clasp open, squirming on the spot when it fell to the ground and exposed your chest.

Will tipped his chin up slightly, a subtle sign of his appeasement, his eyes seeming to glow as they floated over your breasts and then down your stomach to where your thong still covered you.

Hooking your thumbs in the waist of it, you slowly shimmied the tiny garment down your hips, only to stop and put it back in place, smiling when Will tilted his head in a somewhat cautionary way, making you abide and pull the underwear all the way down your legs as you bit your lip.

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice low and rough.

“Can I come touch you now?” you asked, hoping his answer would be the one you wanted.

He nodded, his smirk ever-present on his perfect face, and you made your way over to him with as much composure as you could muster, really just wanting to leap into his lap and attach yourself to him.

It wasn’t as easy to get your way as you had thought; Will spinning you to face away from him once you were standing between his legs, a small huff of disappointment blowing out of your lungs as you were made to face the rest of the living room.

“Don’t pout,” he chided, his fingers tracing up the side of your thighs and across your hips, then over the curve of your bum, the sensation divine and ticklish all at once.

You felt his face brush against your skin, his beard both soft and rough, and you hummed as you relaxed to his touch, every caress familiar yet just as exciting as the first one.

His hand slid between your legs, his long fingers running through your folds while his other hand gripped your cheek and pulled it apart, a needy whine sounding out of you involuntarily.

You heard him groan as he continued to explore you, feeling your wet coating his fingers, his nose grazing against your skin as he brought his face nearer to your ass, smelling your arousal and inhaling all of you.

The sound of his heavy breathing and feeling it blow out on your naked flesh made you smile, knowing how crazy he was driven just from you standing there ready for him, your curiosity as to what he would do with you next spiking as much as your desire.

With his patience fully spent, Will forcefully pulled you down onto his lap, his hands pressing firmly on your stomach and chest to angle you back against his front.

You could feel the heat pouring off of him through his shirt and jeans, the denim rough on your bare skin as you shifted slightly and wiggled your bum against the hard bulge you were sitting on.

“Fuck,” he growled, his mouth beside your ear, pressing a kiss to your neck as he grabbed one of your legs at a time and threw them over his vast thighs, spreading his legs further apart so yours automatically did too.

You were now completely stretched wide, your cunt exposed to the rest of the room in front of you, Will’s right hand carding down your stomach that moved with your laboured breaths until he reached your splayed folds and inserted two of his fingers.

Your hips immediately began to move the moment he started pumping his fingers in and out of you, riding his hand that expertly massaged you, your soft cries of pleasure breaking through the quiet air already.

“That feels good, doesn’t it?” he asked in your ear, his mouth reattaching to the side of your neck.

You nodded, only to have the option of moving your head stop when his hand that wasn’t between your legs came up and wrapped around your throat, applying the most gentle pressure that had you aching and even wishing he would hold it tighter.

“Will,” you breathed, begging for more, the tempo at which you rocked against his hand increasing, his fingers that were hot and slick from your body moving to toy with your clit.

“You look so beautiful like this, sweetheart,” he growled, his tone not matching the sweetness of his words but all of it making you climb to your high even more.

He inserted his fingers back inside your hole, the heel of his hand hitting your clit and providing a firm base for you to grind against, and he released his other hand from around your neck and let it land on your tits, tugging at your nipples to make you cry out even more.

He kept you firmly against him, your skin rubbing on the material of his clothes with such contrast, your nudity feeling dirty and sinful and adding to everything you were feeling.

“That’s it, baby,” he encouraged, his voice strained as you ground on his throbbing cock through his jeans. “You’re gonna squirt all over me, yeah?”

His question rang out through the blood that rushed in your ears, your orgasm imminent and coming on fast, and knowing you were going to make a mess on him brought you to the edge, heat and pressure coiling at the base of your spine as he continued to roughly fuck you with his fingers.

You attempted to close your legs as your climax ripped through you, only to have Will keep them locked apart how they were by pressing his own further out, forcing you to feel every single part of your high as thoroughly as you could, the pace he kept with his hand not faltering.

You screamed and gripped his forearm hard, knowing you were leaving claw marks in his skin, your entire body spasming as you succumbed to everything he was giving you.

There was no rest when you were done, his fingers still working you relentlessly, determined to pick you apart as much as he could.

“Good girl, you're not done yet,” he hissed, keeping the same harsh rhythm that made you break in the first place.

You jolted against him, wailing and pleading, your body calming just enough to start the build on your second orgasm.

“Fuck! Will!”

“Come on, sweetheart,” he encouraged, his breath hot on your damp skin.

His large form supported you as you arched back into him, pressing hard against his front where he felt so solid compared to how boneless you felt from the intense pleasure he was providing you, and with even more persistence, Will’s fingers made you fall apart again.

The orgasm was even more profound than the first, and just as he had predicted he would make happen, you squirted all over his lap.

“Fuck, that’s it, keep going,” he praised, not letting up as he made sure to draw out every second of euphoria, the mess you were making not his concern right now.

You glanced down at his arm that was still working between your legs, noticing his tattoo glistening with your wet, the movement of his fingers on you finally slowing.

About to make a request to return the favour by offering yourself for him to use in which ever way he wanted, you were robbed of the chance, Will efficiently placing you off his lap and onto the leather cushion that was now slippery and getting on his knees in front of yours that he was forcing apart with his hands.

He looked at you hungrily, ready to devour you, his glance almost a warning that made your breath halt in your lungs as you waited for him to pounce, his fingertips gripping at the softness of your thighs.

“I need to taste this,” he huffed out, his chest moving exaggeratedly with heaving breaths.

Will dove his face between your legs, licking a broad stripe up your inner thigh until he reached your soppy cunt, your body shuddering in reaction to more stimulation on your oversensitive sex.

“Fuuuuuck!” The word was drawn out, your head falling back against the couch as you arched into his face, his hands pulling you closer to him as he dragged you to the edge by gripping under your ass.

He ate everything he had coaxed out of you, his groans of appreciation rumbling through you, and you opened your eyes when you felt him remove his hands from your body, watching him unbuckle his belt and then open the button of his jeans, the sound of his zipper pulling down making an excited noise blow passed your lips.

He continued to lick and suck at your clit, swiping through your folds and then swirling his tongue around your swollen bud, giving it a pull with his lips as he peeled his boxers down enough to release his throbbing cock and take hold of it, his breathing and intensity of his movements on you increasing after just a couple of strokes on himself.

Knowing he was transferring your juices from his hand onto his cock to lubricate his actions turned you even more feral, his muffled groans driving you even more crazy with lust.

“God, Will!” you cried, reaching behind you to grip the back of the couch with your hand, riding his face that he kept pressed firmly on your center, your eyes closing again despite being so desperate to see him jerk his long cock in his hand.

He was focused on his task, destined to make you shatter for a third time only now on his tongue, your pleasure adding to his own.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come again!” you wailed, and Will stayed exactly how he was, maintaining the same pace and pressure on your aching cunt as you crumbled, the only change being on his cock that he pumped furiously.

You exploded on his mouth, your cry sharp as your body convulsed, hardly noticing that Will had left your body and stood before you in your weak, fucked-out state as soon as you had finished.

Your tired eyes opened slowly when you felt his fingers under your chin, holding your face up, his thumb swiping on your lower lip where he gently forced your mouth open.

You looked up at him with love and obedience, letting your jaw hang for him, watching his gorgeous face contort with pleasure as he continued to work himself.

The muscles of his stomach and legs flexed wildly as he started to release, his moans growing louder as his load shot out onto your lips and tongue that you stuck out to catch a taste, not shying away from being covered in his cum, angling your torso forward to get yourself directly in the path of it.

It felt wonderfully warm on your skin, landing on your chest that had now cooled slightly from your sweat, your nipples hardening as it dripped down the curve of your breasts and tickled your sensitive skin.

Your smile was almost deranged as you looked up at him, the man who you loved and would do absolutely anything for, never feeling more powerful and sexy than you were now as you sat in your own mess while covered in his, the smell of your love heavy in the air.

He knew it too, his own crooked, sated grin tugging up the one side of his lips as he caught his breath, his hand returning to hold your face as he looked down at you with pride.

“You look gorgeous, sweetheart,” he spoke lazily, his orgasm taking away any tension in his body.

Your grin stretched out even more, the most satisfied, warm feeling running through your veins, your eyes closing as you bit your lip and caught another taste of him and relished in the way he loved and praised you.

“You don’t mind if I just run in quickly?” you asked, watching Will nod his head again in confirmation as he turned left at the stoplight.

“Yes! It’s fine,” he chuckled, amused that you had now checked with him twice that he didn’t care if you stopped in at the grocery store quickly on your way home from the gym. “I can get some stuff to barbecue for dinner tonight.”

“Yeah? Okay,” you agreed lightly, happy he was choosing to come in with you and didn't seem too bothered by it.

Will pulled into the Publix parking lot and found a spot near the back that was away from all the other cars and big enough for his truck, raising his eyebrows at you as he turned the key in the ignition and unfastened his seatbelt.

“Let’s go,” he chimed, opening his door with a somewhat forced smile, and you sensed a bit of hesitation growing in him as the amount of occupied parking spaces indicated the number of people inside.

You met him on the other side of the truck after getting out where he stood waiting for you, taking your hand in his before walking through the lot together.

“Thanks for coming with me,” you said softly to him, turning your head and pressing a kiss to his shoulder as you walked.

He gave your hand a squeeze and smiled at you, his sigh audible as you stepped in through the automatic doors.

“Why don’t you go grab what you need and I’ll meet you at the checkout?” he suggested, his eyes surveying the store rather than looking at you.

It was busy, families and couples and even more people on their own weaving in and out of the produce stands with their carts, and you knew Will already wanted out of there as quickly as possible.

“Okay, I’ll be quick,” you promised, already stepping away from him to get a move on despite not wanting to let go of his clammy hand.

Will cursed under his breath as he made his way through the produce section, regretting his decision of coming in as he felt a slight sense of panic start to creep up his spine, and he began counting his breaths to himself as he grabbed some peppers and zucchinis and then moved to where the fresh meat was displayed.

He picked out a pack of chicken thighs and felt some relief that he had efficiently got everything he needed for dinner, only to remember the bottle of olive oil at home was almost empty and he would have to go through more of the store to get to the aisle where it was stocked.

He breathed out a sigh of relief when he turned down the aisle and it was empty aside from a gentleman facing one of the shelves who he assumed was in his sixties, passing by him quietly to stop in front of the bottles of various types of cooking oils, glancing at the prices and regions they were from.

Will reached out for a bottle, stopping when he felt a heavy hand land on his arm, making him shuffle it against the other ones on the shelf and almost fall off.

“What the f–” he started, his hand raising quickly in an instinct to protect himself while his anger did the same in his alarm, the groceries he was holding falling to the ground. When he saw it was the man he had passed dropping to the floor beside him in a heap, he immediately changed his tune, his confusion and defensiveness switching to act on the first aid training he’d practiced his whole career.

“Hey, hey,” he called, doing his best to guide the man carefully to the floor so he didn’t hit his head, a look of pure terror in his eyes as he stared at Will desperately. “It’s okay, buddy.”

“Fuck!” Will cursed, whipping his head around to look for help as the man immediately went unconscious.

Will’s index and middle fingers landed on his neck to check for a pulse, carefully waiting for a couple of seconds only to feel nothing beating against them.

He quickly positioned himself at the man’s side and placed his hands one on top of the other in the center of his sternum, beginning compressions and counting each one in his head.

One, two, three, four, five…

Each second felt like an eternity as Will waited for someone to pass by the aisle, unable to believe with how busy the store was that there was somehow no one around.

…eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen…

Finally someone walked by.

“Hey! HEY!” Will shouted, his voice a boom amongst the normal sounds of chatter and generic music playing overhead, the beep of the cash register scanning food carrying on as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

The other man Will had yelled at stood frozen behind his cart, only nodding his head as Will instructed him what to do.

“Call 911 and ask an employee for a defibrillator. Now.”

The guy fumbled for his phone in his pocket but to Will’s relief was on the line with the 911 operator right away, and thankfully someone else noticed what was happening and came over to Will.

“What can I do?” they asked, kneeling beside the unresponsive man.

“Tip his chin up and back to try to open his airway,” Will explained, still compressing on his chest.

About a minute later and already into his second round of chest compressions, an employee skirted around the corner with the defib in hand, moving quickly to open it.

“There should be scissors in there,” he explained, still counting in his head. “Cut his shirt off.”

They did as they were told, quickly exposing the man’s chest as Will continued to press on it where his unbeating heart lay beneath, trying to get it pumping again.

“Put one pad here…good, and the other there,” he nodded, indicating the spots where they needed to go with his head as he continued what he was doing.

Will stopped doing CPR once the automated voice instructed him to stop touching the patient, waiting for the defibrillator to assess and confirm if a shock was needed, wiping the sweat dripping from his face with his hand.

When you heard an employee who was stocking a shelf say to another as you walked by that there was an emergency happening a few aisles over, your heart immediately jumped into your throat.

Automatically, you started hurrying through the store, glancing down each section you passed in search of Will, trying to calm yourself and reassure your racing mind that it was unlikely it had anything to do with him, knowing nothing like what happened to him before in this store was likely to happen again.

You slid between a group of people crowding around the end of the condiments section, standing by and watching the scene before them that you eventually were able to see for yourself.

Will’s wearied, blue eyes instantly met with yours as you locked in on him kneeling beside an older man who paramedics were now attending to, the apparent excitement starting to settle as the man who, from what others were whispering beside you, was ‘dead’ only a minute ago.

Will gave you a nod that told you he was fine as he continued telling the paramedics what had happened and how many rounds of compressions he had performed, and that after two sets of CPR, the man’s pulse returned after having been unresponsive for exactly four minutes and fifty-three seconds.

Knowing there was nothing more he could do now that the paramedics were treating him and he had regained consciousness, Will stood and stepped over to you, placing his arm around you so his hand landed on the small of your back.

You felt it shake against you slightly, but he nodded again to confirm he was okay when you asked, his deep breath blowing out as he pressed a kiss onto your forehead.

A woman beside him clapped her hand on his arm appreciatively, congratulating him on his efforts. “You’re a hero!”

A few other people standing close agreed with her claim, and Will shook his head and glanced over at you, his voice quiet when he spoke.

“Can we get outta here?”

“Yeah, of course,” you agreed, not taking your eyes off of him as you slipped through the crowd and made your way out of the store.

It was silent after his door slammed shut, and you watched as Will stared out the windshield for a minute before sighing out slowly and then looked down at his lap.

You didn’t say anything, simply reached over and placed your hand over his, smoothing your thumb on the back of his hand until you saw the tension he held in his body visibly relax, his shoulders dropping and the flex in his cheek releasing.

His next sigh mixed with a bit of a laugh, shaking his head as he finally spoke.

“Maybe I'll have a better reputation at Publix now.”

You squeezed his hand, watching him continue to look almost defeated even though what he had just done was truly amazing, knowing how much guilt burdened him from the first incident he’d had at the store.

“You’re a good man, Will,” you proclaimed, feeling it to be the most true thing that’s ever come out of your mouth other than your love for him, your heart aching for him that he would never believe it no matter how many lives he saved or good things he did to make up for the ones he’d taken and choices he’d made.

When he remained quiet, knowing his mind was going a mile a minute and beginning to torture him with things he could no longer control, you leaned over the console and reached for his face, landing your palm on his cheek to get him to look at you.

“Hey,” you called, softly, and he smiled weakly as he turned his head and glanced over. “Do you want me to drive?”

He shook his head again, leaning slightly into your palm for a second as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“No, it’s okay. Driving will give me something to focus on. Thank you though,” he said, genuinely, his hand covering yours that still remained on his cheek, kissing your palm before peeling it off of him so he could press a kiss on your knuckles.

“Let’s go home,” he added, adjusting his body against his seat to shift his tired muscles before putting on his seatbelt and turning the key to start up the engine with a low roar.

“I’m gonna have a shower,” Will announced when you got in the door, still needing one after the gym and even more so now after the stress of the emergency at the store.

“Yeah, okay, enjoy,” you said, giving him a quick peck on his lips.

Your eyes lingered on him for a moment, and he looked at you honestly, his tone true when he spoke.

“I’m okay, sweetheart, I promise.”

You smiled. “I know you are, Will. How about I sort us out some dinner? You must be hungry after all that.”

He held his stomach and sighed with a grin, “I’m starving!”

You giggled and nodded, stepping toward him again to wrap your hands around his middle to hug him, angling your face up at his. “Okay, go get clean and then I’ll get you fed.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, kissing you slowly. “I’ll never deserve you, baby.”

His hands stroked your hair as his eyes swept over your features like he would never fully grasp that you were his to love and vice versa.

“But you do,” you corrected, a smile dressing your lips when a smirk formed on his.

Will finally broke your embrace and disappeared to the bathroom, leaving you to go to the kitchen where you pondered what to put together for a meal while standing in front of an open cupboard.

You had really needed to grab a few things at the store, the pantry looking sparse and the fridge brighter than normal with all the empty spaces in it, and closing the door, you decided it was worth spending a couple extra bucks to order in some comfort food after a trying day.

Even though it wasn’t remotely cool outside, you decided some hot, spicy Pho would be the perfect choice, quickly ordering it on a delivery app and smiling when it was confirmed to arrive in less than twenty minutes.

You went into the living room and closed the curtains, grabbing two blankets from where they were neatly folded on the ottoman along with some pillows and placed them on the floor between the couch and coffee table.

A few candles were now lit and brought a warmth to the room that you loved so much, and you turned on the tv, selecting Seinfeld, knowing Will would appreciate having a familiar favourite on that would be easy to watch and take his mind off the excitement of what happened.

The sound of the shower was still going, and while waiting for the food to arrive, you ran down into the basement quickly to stick a clean towel in the dryer for a couple of minutes, hoping you would make it back up the stairs before Will was finished.

You slipped in the bathroom door that was left ajar, placing the hot towel on the vanity for him to use when he stepped out, taking a moment to admire his naked form standing beneath the stream of water, looking statuesque and godly.

Forcing yourself back out of the bathroom and not into the shower with him, you answered the door after hearing a knock, bringing the bag of food over to your cozy set-up.

You had just finished setting it all out when you heard Will walk in, and looked up to see him smiling brightly, his hair wet and sticking up a bit, his grey track pants low on his hips that made his bare upper body appear even longer.

“The warm towel was a nice touch,” he smirked, striding over where he wrapped his hands around you and pulled you into him, kissing you fiercely.

You giggled against his lips, your hands spreading out over his warm skin that was still tacky from his shower.

“Good.”

“What’s all this?” he asked, nodding behind you to the two giant bowls of soup.

You shrugged, “I thought it would be nice after everything that happened. Plus our options here were something between cereal and a can of tuna.”

Will’s eyebrows rose on his forehead in agreement, and he nodded as he looked at you with warmth and love in his blue eyes.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

With full bellies, you moved onto the couch, snuggling up to Will’s side with his arm draped comfortably over you to keep you close to him, his occasional laugh moving your head along with that of his chest as you rested against it.

“I’m glad you were there with me today,” he said quietly, his fingers lacing with yours as he did.

“I was the one who dragged you there in the first place.”

He huffed a small laugh, his eyes crinkling at the sides as he looked down at your entwined hands.

“Maybe we were meant to be there,” he admitted, his voice quiet almost as if he was thinking out loud.

You nodded in agreement. “I think so.”

“I hope he’s doing okay,” he added, giving your hand a squeeze as he thought about the man’s family, hoping he was lucky enough to have someone to love and fuss over him through his recovery, realizing more than ever what it meant to have someone to love you with their whole heart but knowing that if there was such a thing as luck in this world, he had taken it all.

Will tilted his head to see your face better, staring at you for a minute before speaking with quiet conviction.

“I love you so much.”

You reached up and rubbed his cheek, his beard soft on your skin. “I love you too, Will.”

“I feel like I can’t tell you enough.”

Your smile faded out as you took in the perfection of him, the warmth in his eyes and the fullness of his lips, your eyes trailing down to his chest where his clean, porcelain skin harboured his heart that held more love in it than anyone you had ever met before.

“Then tell me again,” you whispered.

He leaned closer to you, his lips temptingly close to yours while maintaining eye contact that made your breath stop.

“I love you.”

---

Taglist:

@sotwk @dailydragon08 @sunnys-day @thedreadandthefugitivemind @glassgulls

@littlenosoul @glitterypirateduck @momia2910 @maggotzombie @rmwarn90

@paintlavillered @casa-boiardi @stealfromthedevil @kmc1989 @justreblogginfics

@spaghettificationandpretzels @whatever-lmaoo @steviebbboi @charethcutestory02

@daryldixonpls @christinhunnam @hp-hogwartsexpress

#will miller #triple frontier #will miller x female reader #charlie hunnam #will miller x reader #will 'ironhead' miller #will miller smut #william miller #william 'ironhead' miller

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dalekofchaos · 2 days

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There was never a rat in the Van Der Linde Gang

I'm gonna be honest. Micah is a conniving snake. But there was never a rat.

Why did Blackwater fail? Dutch killed a mother in cold blood and then a massacre happened. The money was a set up and Dutch took the bait. Pinkertons swarmed the area and even Landon Rickets was there.

How did they find them at Horseshoe? By chance the Pinkertons found Arthur and Jack fishing, but was it really by chance? What happens in chapter 2?

A bar fight where fucking everyone in town is there, which afterwords Dutch is there

You sprang Sean free and there are bounty hunters who flee, you seriously don't think they talked??

Oh yeah, ARTHUR AND MICAH SHOOT UP A FUCKING TOWN

John killing Micah led to Ross and Fordham finding him. Any of the missions I mentioned practically led Milton and Ross to finding Arthur near Horseshoe.

How did the Gray/Braithewaite scheme fail?

The Grays knew what they were doing and so did the Braithewaites. They played both families instead of just one and instead of LYING LOW. Dutch's vanity, ego and sense of wanting petty revenge against Confederate white trash caused Sean to be killed and Jack to be abducted.

How did Saint Denis fail?

Dutch played Bronte in his own city, refused a favor(you do NOT refuse the Mob asking a favor) which caused the set up, then Bronte's murder and finally the Bank Robbery which they knew they were there.

The common theory is someone from the gang snitched and talked to the Pinkertons. Who exactly ? Micah ? Well, Agent Milton said they picked up Micah AFTER they came back from Guarma, so it could not have been him. Molly ? Again, Milton said they did pick her up (not mentioned when), but she did not say anything. I have also read theories that it might have been Agibail who snitched to which my response is - pure BS.

The truth is, nobody snitched, nobody talked. Yes. Yet the reaction of the Pinkertons was insanely fast, as if they knew the robbery was going to go down. How you wonder ? Well, it's simple. It's a long one, but have a read.

From the very beginning of the game, Dutch has been claiming that they are a few steps ahead of everyone else, but his arrogance proved to be the downfall. You see, the Pinkertons are not as dull and foolish as Dutch claim them to be, they are extremely efficient as a detective agency proven by the fact that they tracked down Arthur in Valentine. Now, when the gang moved to Clemens Point near Rhodes, the Pinkertons lost their trail for a while. However the gang contradicted their own plan of staying low by creating a huge chaos in Rhodes after killing both the Gray's and the Braithwaite's (best mission in the game btw). As soon as the word spread of the massacre of both the families in Rhodes all over the place, the Pinkertons connected the dots and knew that it could be the Van Der Lind gang who created the fuss and if so, they must be camping somewhere near Rhodes. Nonetheless, they found the gang hideout after sniffing around, a day or two after the Braithwaite massacre. At this point Agent Milton knew these bunch of people would not be too hard to find as all you need to do is to sniff around an area where there has been murder and madness.

Now to Saint Denis, Dutch dismissed Hosea's idea and went after Angelo Bronte just after the failed trolley station robbery. If he listened to Hosea, hit the bank at once, then vanished, the Pinkertons would have never caught on and they would be harvesting mango's in Tahiti. But a failed trolley station robbery followed by a huge shootout in the city killing dozens of cops then followed by a kidnapping and murder of the most powerful man in the city was enough chaos for the Pinkertons to realize it's the Van Der Lind gang. So they knew the gang is around this city and increased security in Saint Denis hoping that the next time they attempt a robbery, it would be the endgame. That is why as soon as the bank robbery started, the Pinkertons were all over the place.

It is also easy to explain why Hosea was captured and Abigail escaped. While causing the distraction, both of them did not realise how fast the response is going to be. The Pinkertons caught Hosea as his face along with other male members of the gang was known to them, specially Hosea, Dutch and Arthur as they have been the oldest members of the gang. But Abigail at this point was unknown to them so it was easy for her to walk right past them without them realizing.

Why did the gang fell?

Micah got into Dutch's ear, Hosea died and Arthur got sick.

Micah promised him riches and the glorious scores that appealed to Dutch's ego and vanity. But he wasn't the rat.

If he did rat, he was playing Dutch and the Pinkertons to get the Blackwater money and the money for turning in Dutch.

However.

It was all Dutch.

Dutch. killed Cornwall in broad fucking daylight. Arthur sprung John out of prison, they blew up a fucking bridge, Dutch led the Natives to their doom, Colm's execution turned into a bloodbath, an attack on the Oil Refinery which led to the deaths of Colonel Favors and Eagle Flies and to top it all with robbing the military. It's no fucking wonder the Pinkertons found them.

There was no rat. The Pinkerton’s were actually just good at their jobs. Micah being a rat makes no sense if you actually think about it. There’s NO WAY the pinkertons would have been ok with the death of Leviticus Cornwall as he was paying their wages. Micah and Dutch planned to kill him together. There’s also the fact that Micah straight up killed Pinkertons in the firefight that ensued cornwall’s death. Micah was an asshole but not a rat. Watch that scene with Milton and Arthur again…Milton would have most likely let Arthur go with that false information but Arthur decided to attack him. There was never a rat, they got played.

It's a combination of things on why they all failed.

Reason 1. Dutch's vanity and ego. Dutch desperately needed to be seen as this great American hero. He cares more of the thrill of “one last score” it’s all about his ego and how he has to be seen as this Evelyn Millerian figure. This great American Literature hero when he’s really as bad as the greed that he says poisons America. He never cared about the people in the gang. It was the prestige of the name "The VAN DER LINDE Gang" HIM. He wanted to be seen as this infamous outlaw and righteous leader. He didn't care about the people in the gang. Arthur? He was dying and he didn't care. John? He wanted him to hang. Abigail? He left her behind the first chance he got. Micah killed Susan RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM and Dutch didn't care. He considerd Mary-Beth, Pearson and Uncle leaving as a betrayal. Dutch never cared for the people within the VDL Gang. He cared what they could do for him and the glory they could bring him. It was never of settling down to become farmers, it was always about the thrill of being an outlaw the that great big score.

There are a lot of people who think if Hosea never died, then Dutch never would've lost it. He was always bad. He just had good ways of masking it. Hosea failed at every venture to talk out of getting Dutch to see sense and avoid bloodshed. If Hosea lived, there is a very good chance that Dutch would've lost it and had Hosea killed. Either it would've been an accidental death like he tried by leaving Arthur behind, he would've went into full paranoid mode "You're trying to undermine me and take the group from me" and order Hosea to draw his gun and then shoot him. Like Hosea said "You'll damn us all" and he did.

Reason 2. Loyalty to a fault.

Loyalty held the gang together. Loyalty was what Dutch valued - blind, obedient loyalty. “He had a plan,” after all.

Doubt broke the gang apart. Dutch became suspicious, uncertain of the faith of even his most dedicated friends. This undermined the entire operation and caused its eventual downfall.

“You’ll betray me, Arthur,” Dutch says, “You’re the type.” Dutch couldn’t be more wrong on that account.

Micah is named by the Pinkertons as a rat, but according to them, he wasn’t approached until after they’d returned from Guarma. So, by that timeline, the Pinkerton’s hadn’t needed a rat to foil their plans in Blackwater, or to find Arthur fishing by the side of a stream, or for the bank robbery in Saint Denis.

The Pinkertons always knew where Dutch was and what he was up to. They didn’t need a rat, especially not after their return from Guarma. So, why drop Micah’s name?

Well, the Pinkertons knew the gang was scrambling, that they were on the run, and that it was damn near impossible to arrest one of them at a time without a successful rescue of said gang member, ie Micah, John, Abigail and Sean. They are not the local sheriff’s office, after all. They are the federals and they want Dutch Vander Linde done in for good.

Staring down the barrel of a gun, why would a Pinkerton agent spill their collateral to the enemy? Arthur wasn’t even asking for any information at the time. Why would this agent, in his dying moments, tell Arthur that Micah was the rat?

Unless the agent knew the gang was on thin ice, and that loyalty was all that was keeping it together. He introduced what he hoped would be a final blow to the gang, accomplishing post-huminously what had been his career goal in life.

Also, why would Micah become an informant after Guarma? What were the promising him? After all, he stuck with Dutch and formed a new gang after Arthur died. He never took a big cut from the government and ran. He was a brown-noser and an asshole, but stood nothing to gain from becoming a rat.

Arthur hated Micah, so he took the bait. He wanted a reason to hate him, to have him kicked out of the gang. Micah was pragmatic and greedy and he hardened Dutch’s humanitarian side - the side that Arthur valued. But, Micah being a rat wasn’t the truth.

After all, we know who became a rat - John Marston.

Arthur’s readiness to believe a Pinkerton’s dying words proved the point of the narrative - the gang fell apart because they lost faith in Dutch, and because Dutch grew jealous and fearful as their doubts became apparent.

Loyalty kept the gang together, and its absence tore the gang apart.

Reason 3. "We didn't need a rat. We got sloppier than the town drunk."

The gang was careless. It got sloppy and their overconfidence and ego was their downfall.

Micah wasn’t the cause of their downfall he simply hastened it. The game tells you from the opening titles how it’s going to end and why. It mentions that the remaining gangs are being hunted down and destroyed with the word underlined for emphasis. It was always going to end in their demise, it just happened quicker than it would have because they got sloppy, careless, conceited, and arrogant.

#Red Dead Redemption #Red Dead Redemption 2 #The Van Der Linde Gang #Van Der Linde Gang #Arthur Morgan #Dutch Van Der Linde #Micah Bell #Hosea Matthews #John Marston #Abigail Marston #Edgar Ross #Andrew Milton #Sean McGuire #Sadie Adler

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 11 hours

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To clarify,I don't believe in porn makes you evil and I don't believe in like fantasies are evil. I'm pulling this quote off Scarleteen "“If we aren’t both careful and creative we can get stuck in fantasies that don’t mature and politicize with us."" I'm also new to being about to vote, so I'm trying to be careful about what I consume and what stereotypes media perpetuate. Like I'm not moralizing about kink or anything, and my ask was how can I get aroused with media wo my kinks or wo media

hi anon, welcome back! I'm genuinely very glad to hear some follow up.

for anybody who doesn't stay vigorously up to date with all of my anons, this ask is a continuation of this one.

so I went and checked out the Scarleteen articles you mentioned in your first message, or at least I tried to. How to Approach Sexual Fantasies and Desire on Your Own Terms is here, and while I couldn't find anything with the exact title 50 Shades of Abuse, we do have 50 Shades of BS - How to Tell the Difference Between Kink and Abuse as well as 50 Shades Crappier: On Selling Abuse for Valentine's Day, both of which cover how the 50 Shades series isn't a great model of real, responsibly-practiced BDSM.

now, here's what I didn't see in any of these articles: an assertion that anybody needs to, as you've decided to do, avoid any work that depicts anything less than perfectly healthy sexual practices.

the closest we get to that is the quote by adrienne maree brown from How to Approach Sexual Fantasies, which you mention above. now, here's the thing: first of all, I actually disagree pretty substantially with brown's assertions that one's sexual fantasies need to "politicize." I know what my politics are; the fiction that I enjoy can't change that, because I don't have the moral backbone of a chocolate eclair. I actually just talked about that earlier today in another ask.

(also, and this may be an unpopular opinion, but adrienne maree brown is kind of a dork who doesn't really say much of anything in Pleasure Activism that Audre Lorde didn't already say better and more succinctly, and I personally lost interest in Pleasure Activism pretty much the moment she casually dropped that she practices reiki healing because that's a pseudoscientific alternative medicine that doesn't do shit or fuck. but I digress.)

listen, I'm not trying to peer pressure or bully you into watching anything you don't want to watch. your porn consumption is up to you. but what you're doing here is absolutely moralizing, I think maybe because of an underlying assumption that media that involves sex is just, like, innately different than any other type of media, which is in itself an idea that stems from sex negativity!

I don't know, let's just try to play out a little thought exercise here. like, would you consider it reasonable if somebody told you that they've decided not to read or watch anything that depicts problematic behavior because they don't want to normalize it. like, first of all, they're never watching anything but Bluey again. except actually not even Bluey because I just remembered about Bluey in the genocide, which actually makes for a great illustration of how nonsensical and impossible it is to try to only engage with media that is 100% ideologically pure.

and again: that's fine! that's literally fine! it is 100% okay to watch or read or play things with morals that don't totally 100% align with yours. it's okay to enjoy them, even. it's a lot healthier than trying to avoid upsetting or incongruous things entirely, because that gives you the chance to actually think about it rather than trying to shut it out entirely! that article actually provides an entire list of questions you can run through with yourself to critically analyze the things you watch if you feel so inclined! that's a much better skill to practice than avoidance!

I get that when you're new to sex, as you said in the previous ask, this might seem daunting, but your brain isn't just a sponge that will uncritically soak up and adopt anything you expose it to. you very clearly have the ability to research, differentiate between fiction and real life, and form your own opinions! and it is absolutely fine if you want to just watch porn with your kinks!

like, listen, I see what the question is, and the easiest answer is just. do whatever gets you off.

#sex edventures 2024

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buckgasms · 2 days

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Bucky flirting with some girl while bunny is talking with natasha about something and suddenly she gets the brilliant idea to copy what bucky does! Kidnap the bitch and make sure she knows not to touch what dosent belong to her! Bucky can't be mad because he set the example for you to follow :)

Ooh nonnie you are devious 😈 I love it!

But you see my thought is this. I don't think bunny would punish the other woman because you gotta be a girl's girl in a man's world right?

BUT

There's no issue with telling Bucky you did it anyway. Just to fuck with his head...

I mean you are pissed with her, even when she tells you that Bucky wasn't flirting with her, they were just talking about some customer who did a stupid thing and they were laughing about it.

You didn't believe that, but you were being generous, she had the sense to look apologetic and scared. And when you suggested she take the next few days off, she took the wad of cash you stole from Bucky with a smile and left the club for a week or so.

You were now perched on Bucky's desk while he paced around the room, in a state of absolute panic and rage because you wouldn't tell him what you'd done to her.

"Well..." You mumbled slowly, "all I can really remember is you smiling at her and making her laugh...."

He growls in frustration and grimaces at you.

"Oh! I might have pushed her off a bridge....Yeah that's right, I took her for a cute little walk and pushed her into the river..."

But then you tut and shake your head, letting out a giggle as he kicks a bin in frustration.

"Or maybe I dragged her by those cheap extensions all the way down to the little red room and did the things you do to all those nasty men you deal with?"

You casually pull a long blonde extension out of your pocket and twirl it around.

He stalks over and grips your shoulders, squeezing you tight, his face dead serious.

"Bunny, for the last fucking time. What did you do with her? I need to know..."

You look at him quizzically, hands gliding up his expensive shirt to massage his chest, heaving under his anger.

"Why? Do you miss her? Do you want her back to take care of you? You want her to be your little bunny?"

He squeezes his eyes shut and you think maybe his head might explode. Which would be a great shame. Finally he opens them, and his hands come to cup your cheeks.

"Bunny, you know I love you. Crazy about you in fact. You are actually the first girl I haven't... I don't want anyone else, I honestly couldn't handle anyone else. You are the biggest handful I've ever had to deal with..."

You giggle and grab his crotch in one hand whilst pulling him to kiss you.

"Same actually..."

He chuckles and leans his forehead on yours, sighing in defeat as you press more kisses to his cheeks and lips.

"Show it to me Bucky. Show me your big cock and maybe I'll tell you then?"

He backs away slowly and unbuckles his belt. You swing your legs in excitement as his zipper is dragged down.

"You're crazy, you know that Bun Bun?" He approaches slowly, his big hands stroking at his heavy cock. "This good enough bunny?"

He chuckles as you shake your head because he knows that would never be enough for his crazy bunny. He presses a kiss to your forehead before nudging you to lay back over his desk.

You sigh with satisfaction as you feel him pull your underwear down, leaving you bare and exposed to him. You tilt your head and watch him, moving your legs to sit comfortably on his shoulders. He presses a kiss to one of your ankles before sliding in, just a little.

"Bucky, if you don't fuck me I'll never tell you where she is... Don't play with me."

He rolls his eyes before thrusting in fully, groaning at how tight and wet you are. His face is a picture of rage and pure pleasure as he ruts into your soft heat.

"Fuck sake Bunny, never a dull moment huh?"

Your giggle mixes with a groan and you grab his hands, pulling him towards you to share a perfect kiss. His lips chase yours, teeth nipping as his hips roll faster.

"You really love me?" You whisper between kisses, wrapping your arms around his neck, gripping his back as you feel his muscles strain and tighten as he moves.

"I adore you Bunny, you're my everything. Even if you drive me crazy..."

You both giggle as he drives harder, kissing and biting at you as you chase him.

"Hmm Bucky, I'm gonna.. gonna come..." You whine as be growls in your ear.

"Come on Bunny, be my good girl..."

It doesn't take long before he drags you over the edge, a long moan falling from your lips as he growls in your ear from his own pleasure.

He gives you both a moment before pulling back slightly and more serious look on his face.

"So you gonna tell me now?"

You giggle and grab your phone, swiping this way and that before you let you an even harder laugh out as you show him the screen.

"I sent her on vacation, she's in Florida...and you paid for it..."

His scowl is back and your giggles become almost impossible to control, as he pulls back and buttons himself up.

"Bunny I swear to god...."

You sit up and grab his shirt, pulling him back to you.

"But if you flirt with anyone again," your face becomes as serious as his, "then I won't be so sensible next time."

#darling nonnie #bunny!reader #bunny and clyde #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky imagine #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 1 day

Text

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 26: I Hate You, I Love You

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV, Soldier Boy POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter twenty-six of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 8.3K

Warnings: I'm gonna label this one 18+ because it's Soldier Boy. , Angst, Cursing, Sexual References, Family Problems- A LOT of family problems, Past Trauma, Death Mentioned, Self Deprecating Thoughts, Blood mentioned. Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, completely a little OOC. Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/n: I know that this isn't the final battle, but I wrote most of the battle and the chapter was so long (it was over 13K and I wasn't close to ready) that I needed to break it up. So now this is just a wonderful helping of angst in which the reader and Ben do the thing that they do best… fight with each other and then make up.

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READER POV

The silence that follows Homelander's disappearance with Lou and Rosemary's pursuit after him is deafening. It feels like hours have passed, but it's only been seconds. You feel cold and hot, nothing and everything. Fear, anger, anxiety, and terror all congeal into an ice cold ball in the pit of your stomach. Rubble is covering the thick shag carpet on the bedroom floor, the air filled with flecks of dust and drywall from Homelander's departure. You weren't thinking about how Legend would react though, couldn't think of anything else except the fearful look on Lou's face when Homelander grabbed her and refused to release her.

The thought that Lou was trapped with someone like him broke you. The fear that came with the thought was almost mind-numbing, because Homelander was dangerous and now that Ben and you had told him that you didn't want anything to do with him, there were no other bargaining chips. Homelander couldn't be placated because you had crushed the glimmer of hope in his eyes by telling him that he wasn't your son and that he was monster. You knew that Homelander was smart enough that he wouldn't believe you now if you promised him family, not when he had Lou and probably had Rosemary.

Rosemary had minimal training when it came to fighting, yes you'd made sure that she knew the basics of self-defense, but she'd never fought another supe before. She was never interested in that sort of thing. And it wasn't always about using your powers when it came to fighting another supe, it was about tactics and knowing the weaknesses of your opponent. In a fight with someone like Homelander, you couldn't just rely on your abilities, you had to understand what you were up against and see the little ticks that he tried to hide. You'd watched stronger supes fall because they relied too heavily on their abilities, and you worried that Rosemary would be the same way. That she would be filled with a blind rage because Homelander had Lou and that he would use her anger and frustration to his advantage.

Tears were streaming down your face and you were still struggling in Ben's grip, where his arms were wrapped around you, holding you back from chasing after them. And the longer he holds you, as more seconds tick by, everything else goes and you're left with something else.

To say that you were angry was an understatement, you were livid. You hated that Ben had done this to you again. That once again Ben was acting like you weren't a supe, like you weren't powerful, and like you needed to be locked away from the world in a glass cabinet. You were sick of it.

Because you understood that Ben loved you, that he wished to protect you and that he feared losing you, but you refused to allow him to walk on eggshells around you and put you in a glass bubble because of his insecurities.

Yes Ben had told you that he saw your strength in the past, that he saw how powerful you were, and only wished for you to need him, but you were done with this. He didn't have any right to do it. And yes, he was the man you loved, but he was not your master. Perhaps that's what made all this worse for you, that Ben said how much he loved you and that he saw your power, but every time things went South he did shit like this.

"Ben, let me go." You growl, turning your head to look over your shoulder.

"No. Not until you promise not to go after them." Ben's eyes are narrowed. He knew that if you promised him, you wouldn't do it, that you cared too much about what a promise represented to break one.

It was true, which was why you weren't going to promise him shit.

"I won't promise that."

"Then I guess I'm not letting you go." He says it casually, but the look in his eyes is meant to convey that he is just as upset with this turn of events as you are.

"Oh I think you fucking will." Your teeth clench together and as you say it, you turn your palms face down in front of you and break his hold. Having Homelander's strength made it easier to face Ben. In the past the two of you had sparred together in training. Back then you didn't think too much about it, but now you understood that he did it to make sure you knew how to protect yourself when he wasn't there, that he worried about you more than he wanted to say and that was the only way he could prepare you without telling you how much you meant to him.

Ben stumbles back a step, his eyes flashing with anger and you’re sure that he can see the same emotions written on your face.

“What the fuck is your problem?” You snarl at him.

“My problem?” Ben sputters.

“Yes!”

“What the fuck are you talking about? If anything it’s you that’s having a problem-“

“Oh I’m sorry Benjamin. Am I being difficult?" You press a hand to your chest feigning remorse. "Forgive me for having a fucking problem when our granddaughter has just been KIDNAPPED by a psychopath. And our daughter is going to face him alone!"

"She's not alone-"

"Wrong. She is alone, because you wouldn't let me help her."

"I told you that I didn't want you to fight him alone. I told you that we would do this together-"

"I wouldn't have been alone if you'd stop being so damn overprotective!" You snap, stomping over to the chest of drawers, searching through them angrily for something to wear. It was difficult not to rip the handle off the front in your anger. You were still wearing your sweatpants and an oversized paint splattered t-shirt, and the last thing you wanted was to face Homelander looking like that.

Why can't he just understand that I am powerful too? Why can’t he let me go for once? Why does he keep doing this?

You hated that he was acting like you couldn't handle yourself, especially after he had seen you destroy Legend's backyard single handedly the other day with your mind. You were so sick of being underestimated. First Vought, then Stan, and now Ben, and you didn't want to be seen that way anymore. You were powerful and damnit you weren't going to "sit" and "stay" because some man ordered you to.

"I am not being overprotective!" Ben's voice is a low growl. "The other day I told you that I didn't want you to do this by yourself, that I didn't want you to do any of this alone. That I'm here-"

"Well congratulations Ben! Our daughter is doing exactly that right now, facing fucking Homelander alone, because you couldn't just let me go." You grab the end of your shirt and take it off, shucking it to the floor before you begin to put on the tight long sleeved black t-shirt. "You always do this."

"Do what?"

"Underestimate me!" You take off the sweatpants and quickly step into the dark jeans. By now your eyes were flashing bright purple and you could feel the thrum of your abilities under your skin, begging to be released. The energy was growing with each passing second, the lights in the room flickered and you could feel an unnatural breeze rustling the curtains that were hanging from the windows, coming from you.

"I do not fucking underestimate you. I know how powerful you are-"

"Well you have a funny way of showing it." You spit turning around to face him again.

Ben is also getting dressed. His sweatpants have been replaced with the bottom portion of his supe suit, his knife, pistol, and top half of his suit is laying on the unmade bed. "We have already talked about why I have a problem with you doing shit like that alone." His words are almost a growl, but you can hear an emotion on the edge of them that isn't anger. It was worry.

You knew what he was referring to, when he told you that he hated watching you die because it made him feel like he'd failed to protect you, that every time you were hurt, Ben struggled with that.

You knew how he felt.

The other day at Herogasm when Homelander had him by the throat all you saw was red. You didn't want to witness Ben's last moments just as he had witnessed yours multiple times. But it didn’t mean that you held Ben back from doing what he needed to do. You saw his strength and supported him. All you wanted was for him to support you.

A part of you deep down registered that he acted like this to protect you, that he didn't want to lose you as much as you didn't want to lose him. And as happy as you were that Ben was finally getting comfortable showing and talking about his emotions in front of you, you still wished that he would let you be strong for yourself. You had to be strong without him for forty years, protecting Rosemary and Lou.

Does he really think that Stan and Countess are the only people who I've killed in the past forty years? That there haven't been other people and supes that figured it out? Did Homelander really think that Stormfront's death was a suicide?

"You let me face the twins!" You shout.

"Those incestuous fucks couldn't handle you when they were full powered, let alone when they were dried out." Ben states pulling his shirt over his head.

"I don't understand why Homelander is any different." You cross the room to grab the long dark green leaver overcoat, the same one that Ben had scraped the blood and bits of flesh off when you returned to Legend's after you killed Stan. "You saw me handle him the other day-"

"Because he is different!" Ben practically stabs his knife down into it's holster on his belt.

"Oh really?" You tap your lip as if deep in thought. "Huh. Because I remember you calling him a pussy when you were thinking about killing him. When you told me that Butcher asked you to."

"He is." Ben's eyes are blazing now.

Your sarcasm always did that to him, and it did tend to rear it's ugly head in the most inopportune moments. In all the years you'd known him, Ben never really did like it when you got like that.

The room was quickly heating with the force of Ben’s anger, a slight glow radiating out from his chest, but Ben was keeping it under control. At least for now.

"Oh, so he is a pussy, but not when I have to fight him?"

"Yes." He seethes through clenched teeth.

"I hate to break this to you Benjamin, but of the two of us, I'm the one who has fought him and kicked his fucking ass." You spit back at him, sick of his attitude.

Ben crosses the room in two heavy strides so that he's standing over you, his hands on his hips. "The only reason why you fucking fought him, was because you felt the need to step in when I had him handled."

"Did you have him handled? Could have fooled me. When someone has you by the throat I find it hard to say that you have a handle on the situation!" You mirror his stance, refusing to back down.

"Don't fucking do that."

"Do what?"

"Be sarcastic! You know that I hate it."

"That's just too damn bad!" You snap. "I'm not your dog Benjamin you cannot tell me what to do."

"I do not treat you like a damn dog. I will say that you're being bitchy." His teeth are grinding together, so hard that you can audibly hear it.

"Well excuse the fuck out of me! I think I'm allowed to be bitchy," You seethe the word. "Because you're acting like a sexist dick!"

"I am not-"

"Yes you are." You poke your finger into his chest. "And I don’t want you to come with me."

"Like fucking hell I'm going to sit here and wait around for you to come back."

"I don't want you to come with me because I don't want to spend the whole fucking time worried that you're going to get in my fucking way and prevent me from doing what I have to do."

"I do not get in your way." Ben roars.

"Yes you do." Your eyes narrow. "And I don't need some "big strong man" to do things for me!" You make air quotes around 'big strong man' to emphasize the point, but Ben was not getting it.

This was one of the worst fights you'd ever had with him, you knew that. The two of you had many over the years, Legend was not lying when he told Butcher that, but this one was quickly nearing the same magnitude as the fight the two of you had the night of the premiere. This was more than just the two of you going through the motions of being frustrated with one another and more than the two of you shouting over a little problem, this was about Ben's continuous need to hold you back and keep you out of harms way like you weren't a supe and perfectly capable of doing thing by yourself.

"All I do is try to protect you." His eyes are dark now, not a trace of green in them, looking more like darkened pits. When Ben was really angry you'd seen them go that dark before, only the night of the premiere had you seen them like that when he looked at you, all the other times you'd seen that look when he felt the need to put someone in their place, to beat them into submission.

"I don't need you to protect me!" It comes out in one breath, uttered in an exasperated tone, because again Ben just didn't understand.

Ben stops. "You don't need me?" The words aren't in the same harsh tone that he used before, it's softer, and the anger in his eyes shifts to something else for just a moment.

You could feel regret swirling in your chest, because you did need Ben. You needed him more than life itself, didn't want to spend a moment away from him. You hadn't meant to say it like that. And you know that it was something Ben struggled with, the idea that you didn't need him anymore or never did need him.

"No. Ben, I do fucking need you, but I don't need you to protect me all the time." You emphasize with a sigh. "I've changed. I'm not the same person I was in Philadelphia. I'm not the same little girl. I've been taking care of myself and Rosemary and Lou for years. I needed to change and so I did."

Ben still looks like he can't fully understand what you're trying to say.

"Ben do you really think that Stan is the only person that I've killed in the past forty years?"

Ben blinks surprised.

"There have been others. People who asked too many questions. Supes that just didn't believe the lie that Stan and I made up." You sigh. You weren't ashamed of that, weren't ashamed of the things you had to do to keep your daughter and your granddaughter safe. "You think that every death leaves a scar, but not always." You murmur remembering the fight with Stormfront, the one you never talked about. When she showed up on your doorstep and threatened you and Rosemary. And the others who threatened you, tried to blackmail you because they didn't fear you the way they should have. Stormfront had expected the same woman she knew from the past, but you weren't her anymore.

"What do you mean there have been others?" Ben's expression hardens, malice swimming in his eyes when he realizes that other people have hurt you.

Flashes of the past come creeping up, years you spent with Ben and the cold ones that you'd spent without him stumbling around like someone trying to find light when they were buried underground. And you did love him, but you hated that he did this, because every time he did it made you feel small, it made you feel again like he didn't see you or comprehend who you were.

"They don't matter now." You sigh. "But I am not something to be possessed. I am not someone who’s going to hang on your arm make you look good and laugh at all your jokes. I am not something to be controlled or shielded from the world. If I wanted to just be a trophy or a doll for someone to use any way they wished I would have stayed and married Howard. But I didn’t. I came with you, but I never imagined that you would treat me that way. I never imagined that you would treat me like he did.”

Ben looks stunned. He should. In all the years you’d known him you’d never compared him to Howard like that. It was a low blow and you knew it, but you were pissed. It hurt you to say the words, hurt you to open up that wound all over again, but it was the truth. You didn't lie to Ben and you weren't going to start now.

The words ring through the air between the two of you, the space between your bodies suddenly miles apart even though you were standing in the same room. It was the first time you'd ever felt that distance with him, not since the night he came to your apartment the night that he almost killed Noir and after the two of you talked you cried in the shower frustrated and angry with yourself because you couldn't tell him how you felt and upset that he didn't love you the way you loved him. And now you were just as frustrated and angry with him.

Ben opens his mouth to answer you, the look in his eyes heartbreaking.

"What the fuck happened in here?" Butcher shouts stumbling down the stairs and into the room. He looks disheveled, like he just rolled out of bed.

"Homelander." Your gaze leaves Ben. "He took Lou, Rosemary went after him."

"He took Lou?" Hughie sputters from behind Butcher, fear flitting through his eyes.

It was the same fear that had begun to trickle back in after the fight you just had, but the things that Ben and you had yelled at one another were still there, soaking through the air like a foul odor and seeping in to your heart. You weren't sure if it meant that you could come back from it or not.

"Yeah." Ben grunts.

"Then lets go get her." Butcher says. "Come on." He gestures with his hand and begins to trek up the stairs with Hughie in tow, leaving Ben and you in the bedroom alone once more.

But this time you can't say anything, can't bring yourself to apologize because you're still so damn mad, and so instead you follow after Butcher, without giving Ben a backwards glance.

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SOLDIER BOY POV

The car smoothly followed the long stretch of highway under Butcher’s hand, the trees along the road flashing by in a green blur, but it still didn’t seem like it was going fast enough.

It had taken Butcher and Hughie ten minutes to get ready after they stumbled downstairs to where Ben and you were and now the four of you were on the road and driving to New York. Hughie and Butcher were in the front seat while Ben and you sat in the back, but unlike the other day when you drove to Herogasm together, you were sitting on the other side of the car, arms crossed over your chest staring out the window, and not touching him at all.

Ben's jaw clenched when he remembered the day you drove together to Herogasm, when he held your hand and you leaned into his shoulder, reveling in the fact that you wanted him there with you.

And he wasn't sure that you still did. As much as he hated to admit it, that scared him. He didn't know where he should be if he wasn't with you. Everything else felt wrong. To be without you was like being without the sun, living in the deepest darkest cave and refusing to see the light.

That being said, Ben knew you were pissed, he was too.

Watching Homelander take Lou all but ripped him in half. He hated that the pussy had used a fucking child as a shield and hated that he had gotten away with it. Ben felt his body tense when he remembered the fear in Lou's eyes and a jolt of white hot rage burns through him at the thought that Homelander was hurting her.

Ben cared about Lou as much as he cared about you. She loved him and always made him feel welcome, and even though Rosemary never did, he was worried about her too. Maybe it was because he saw how much it hurt you for them to go, for Homelander to take Lou and for Rosemary to race after him. He knew that was your worst fear, but that didn't stop Ben from holding you back, for refusing to let you go alone to a place that Ben couldn't follow.

He'd never resented his abilities before, but he suddenly wished that he could fly. He would have soared after Homelander, after Rosemary, and after you if you had followed behind them. That was why he had held you back though, because he couldn’t and he was scared.

The word felt like a curse to think, but it was true. Ben knew that it was fear coursing through his veins in those few moments when he realized that you were going to go after Homelander and he wouldn't be able to follow. He didn’t want you to face him alone, didn’t want to watch you die again. After all these years, each time you died he feared that it would be the last, he feared that it would be the time it stuck and that he would be left all alone. He didn't want to live in a world without you, he'd done that for forty years and he was done with that.

Ben believed that it was his job to be there for you and after forty years of him being away, he wanted to be there to help you and take care of you. He was ready to make up for the lost time and he had told you how he felt the other day when you destroyed Legend's backyard, that he wanted the two of you to do this together.

That was before today.

Ben's hands are curled into fists on his lap as he forces himself to look out his own side of the car, refusing to look at you. If you could do the silent treatment he could too. Of all the fights the two of you had in the past, Ben knew this one was worse or at least it was as bad as when he fucked up, fucked Countess and then pushed you away when all he wanted was to bring you closer.

Honestly, you'd never compared him to Howard before. Ben could still remember the words you uttered to him the night of your birthday before you allowed him to take you to bed:

"Don't be jealous of Howard. He meant nothing to me. No one means as much to me as you do Ben."

Ben remembered the way you'd smiled up at him when you said it cheeks slightly flushed, lips red from when he kissed you. He remembered the way he felt like he'd swallowed pure sunshine, because that was what you always did to him. You always made him feel like he was the only person in the world that was allowed to see the real you. He knew that you loved him, knew that he loved you more than life itself, but what you'd yelled him before Butcher came downstairs made him feel like taking a two by four to the chest. It hurt him.

He hated what you said to him, that you compared him to that asshole from back home. Ben wished for nothing more than to wipe the memories of that man from your mind. When you were younger sometimes Ben would see Howard and you sitting in the park or getting lunch. He remembered the way that you never seemed to smile as wide, how small you looked, how Howard liked you better in the gowns that your mother chose for you, how Howard liked you silent, and how Howard preferred your body covered in heavy coats even though it was the middle of summer.

That particular thing always pissed Ben off, because he knew how you struggled with that, struggled with the way you looked and Ben hated that someone else who stated they loved you made you feel small and ugly, when you were the most beautiful woman that Ben had ever seen in his life.

Ben hated Howard with a passion for that exact reason, because Howard did try to control you. He chose what you wore, complained about what you ate, discouraged your art, and did other unspeakable things that you had told Ben over the years. Things that made Ben want to go back to Philadelphia and end Howard’s bloodline.

But sometimes on the nights when Ben was away at boarding school and he couldn't sleep he would think of Howard and you. Ben would never admit this to anyone, but he would compare himself to Howard, try to find the little differences that Ben thought made you like Howard, the differences that Ben thought about doing himself to make you love him the way he loved you. It always made him feel like a fucking pussy though. His father probably would have beat him within an inch of his life if his father knew that Ben was comparing himself to another man. It was something that Ben's father ingrained in him, that Ben's was from a strong, proud, family that never did that. And that a real man knew that he was better than everyone else, and if anyone tried to challenge that then it was best settled in the ring.

Ben sighed. He was trying hard to weed out the toxic things his father told him. You helped immensely with that, by letting Ben know that he didn’t have to be strong all the time and didn’t need to keep everything inside, that he didn't have to hide what he was feeling from you.

He loved that about you, that he felt like he never had to hide who he really was, that you saw all the parts of him he locked away for so long from everyone else and didn't care. And in exchange he got to see all the wonderful things about you and he didn't want to trade that for the world.

Even though he was angry with everything the two of you shouted, he still loved you.

You were just so damn stubborn all the time and never wanted to see things the way I do and-

Ben gritted his teeth together as another wave of annoyance came over him. He really did hate how stubborn you were. Probably because you were just as stubborn as he was and that meant the two of you were often at a stalemate.

Ben glanced over to where you were looking out the window. You were frowning, arms crossed tightly over your chest, leaning back against the cloth seats.

The awkward silence in the car was palpable and Ben knew that Hughie and Butcher were also trying not to notice the tension in the backseat. There was a song playing on the radio that Ben didn't recognize, but Hughie kept bobbing his head along to the music while Butcher's hands tighten on the wheel.

Ben's eyes flick back to where you are staring out the window. He wanted desperately to know what you were thinking. Honestly he'd rather the two of you be yelling at one another than you give him the silent treatment. At least then he had some semblance of what was going on in your head. Ben knew you better than anyone, which meant that he was usually good at reading you, but not now.

Even Ben could admit to himself that you'd changed some, you were a little harder than you had been when he knew you, but it didn't make him love you any less. He had been shocked at your revelation that you'd killed other people. Ben was trying to ignore what you'd said about not all deaths leaving scars.

He'd been present for most of the ones that had happened in the past, but he wondered how many others there had been, and what other powers you had maybe acquired. That was the thing about you, you weren't one to brag, never seemed to need to use as many powers to take someone down.

Your arms tighten around your body and Ben watches a single tear roll down your cheek.

Fuck. He thinks to himself. He really didn't want to be the reason why you're crying. He had been the main reason for so long and he hated that, he hated making you cry and hated when you cried in general. If you weren't so mad at him he would have unbuckled your seat belt and pulled you over onto his lap so he could hold you close and make you feel better, but he wasn't sure you wanted that, still wanted him.

The thought that you didn't made him feel like he was sinking into the sea, that the sun was slowly being sucked away while he's dragged under into the depths. Ben didn't know who he was without you, didn't know where he would go, and certainly didn't know what his purpose was if he wasn't in your life.

Before he can stop himself he reaches out to touch your arm, but you flinch away from him, still looking out the window and not turning to him.

Ben fights the urge to make you talk to him, and drops his hand back down to his thigh, curling it into a fist again. Ben felt something in his chest that was unfamiliar when you didn't let him touch you. He wasn't sure if it was fear or anger or frustration but it was there, simmering underneath the skin.

It reminded him too much of when he came back you didn't let him touch you, didn't want him anywhere near you. He didn't want to admit how much he relied on that, you touching him, not just sexually. The little touches you gave him on the back of his hand to comfort him when you knew he was anxious, or the brace of your hand against his shoulder or back when he was sitting down to reassure him that you were with him and that you weren't going anywhere or the moments you adjusted his collar when it was facing the wrong way, or smoothed a wrinkle at the front of his shirt or even just running your fingers through his hair the way you knew he liked, Ben lived for them, for all those little moments.

No one else had ever tried to touch him that way before, with comfort and love.

Even when you were children, the hugs you gave him when you saw him made everything else seem colorless in comparison. When he came back to you and you refused to let him touch you he was afraid you never would again and when you began to touch him again he felt like he’d ascended to another plane, but now your refusal for him to touch your elbow or even take your hand worried him.

He did not believe that he could survive without something as simple as that.

But all of that just solidified the one thing that Ben knew deep down, had known since the moment he realized how much you meant to him, that you were his one weakness, his fatal flaw, the one thing in his life that he couldn’t live without. He didn’t want to imagine that world existed because he couldn't survive without you.

That was why he didn't want you to fight Homelander alone. It wasn't because he didn't see how strong you were, it was that he was so afraid that he was going to lose you that he couldn't control himself.

He hated admitting that even to you, but now he knew he had to, because he knew his pride wasn't worth losing you.

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READER POV

After the most awkward car ride in history, you were ready to get out and kick some ass. Despite Butcher's accelerated driving it had taken five hours to get back to the city from Legend's due to traffic and the whole time you were especially aware of Ben's presence. His brooding was practically audible from the other side of the car where he sulked and refused to look at you. You figured that just as he did the silent treatment you could too, but it didn't make it any easier.

Frankly nothing made any of this easy.

You were frustrated by this turn of events, that Homelander had done the one thing that you feared more than anything else in the world, the one thing that you had tried to prevent from happening your entire life, but he had.

But as upset as you were and worried about Lou and Rosemary, you were upset with yourself over what you had said to Ben. You hadn't meant to mention Howard, it was a low blow and you knew how much he hated the time you spent with Howard. You knew that Ben struggled with the thought that you possibly loved Howard more than you loved him and the possibility that you regretted spending your life with Ben rather than him. And you knew that it hurt him as much as the moments you watched him with other women over the years.

You didn't want Howard, never wanted Howard, never felt anything for him, and for Ben you felt everything. Sometimes you were afraid to show Ben just how much you felt for him, feared that it would make him push you away when he realized just how much you needed him. In the forty years you spent away from him you tried to convince yourself that you didn't, but having him back was like everything coming back in color from black and white. But at the same time you were still a little angry, angry with him for holding you back when you knew you could have taken Homelander down yourself.

Because in your heart you knew that was what Howard did to you. Not that he held you back from fighting a psychopathic supe, but that Howard never saw you more as a possession, a jewel in a crown adorned on his lofty head, nothing more than something to parade around Philadelphia. That's why it was so different for you when you were with Ben, because Ben saw you, he never covered you up with heavy cloaks, he never discouraged your love of art, he never bored you or made you feel like your opinion wasn't important. Ben made you feel alive, and Howard? Howard made you feel like the empty husk of what you used to be.

You press your lips together in a tight line as Butcher pulls up the seat so you can get out of the backseat and set foot on solid ground. Hughie had been left behind at a gas station, and yes you hated that Butcher had done that, but at the same time you were relieved. You didn't want him to get hurt. You still believed that Hughie was different than you, not that he was innocent, but he wasn't jaded or hardened the way you had to be to survive.

Your gaze lifts to look up at the towering skyscraper that rises from the earth like a proud oak tree on a hill. Vought tower looks the same way it always has, bold and haughty like the men who founded the company all those years ago. The setting sun glints off the glass windows like the last glimmer of summer, something to be grasped before the cold of winter comes to take it all away.

You'd stood here looking up at the building before, watched the lights turn off and on, watched the people go in and out of the building, and had crossed the threshold a handful of times. The final time was to deliver last rights to your good friend Liberty.

She, like a few others, hadn't believed your story and had shown up to speak with you. But unlike the others, her methods of finding out if you were still you was to try to kill you. She had succeeded and then left stating that she would "be back to catch up." When you'd gone to Vought to find her, you hadn't been expecting her to look the way she did, half burned and laying in a hospital bed. You didn't know why she looked that way. It had been odd to stand there over her, odd to remember the person she used to be, proud and powerful and then look at the broken body that laid there. Her death had been a necessary evil, the only time you ever stepped foot in Vought Tower in the last forty years, but if it was to protect your family it was worth it to you.

Your frown grows the longer you stand there underneath the ominous glow that emanates from inside, anxiety prickling along your skin like the spines of a cactus. You couldn't remember the last time you felt this way, just that you didn't want to feel this way ever again. The building was a symbol of everything you hated, and you vowed deep down to destroy Vought and send it to hell where it belonged and make those who were responsible for Vought's success pay.

You think about the other day in Legend's backyard, when Ben pulled you back from the darkened pit and back into the light, when Ben told you that he didn't want you to do it alone, that he wanted to be there for you, and when he promised you again that he wasn't leaving and that he wanted you to give him all your burdens.

Yes he wants to be there for me, I get it, I GET IT. You sigh in frustration. I understand that he loves me and that he wants to protect me, but I wish he would just-

"Y/n?" Ben says from behind you. His voice is quiet, reserved, but you know that he's probably just as upset as you are.

You turn and glance up at him. Ben hadn't tried to touch you since you shifted away from him in the car. It hurt you to do that to him, to pull away from his touch when all you wanted was for him to comfort you. The night he came back to you, you hadn't lied when you said that he might have been the one who hurt you, but he was the only person you wanted to comfort you. That was the hard thing about loving him and him being your best friend. It was difficult to draw the line in the sand, to separate the two.

The feeling was normal. It was the same one you had when he broke your heart. You had hated him then too, but he was still the only person you had and the longer you stayed in bed running over the years you spent with him, the more you wished that he was with you. The only person that you wanted to comfort you and care for you even after everything that he had done and yelled at you at the premiere, was Ben.

Sometimes it scared you how much you relied on his touch, how much you needed just a comforting hand on your arm, or for him to tuck your hair behind your ear or for him to kiss you or for him to hold you while you slept. You didn't realize how much you needed it, how much you craved it until he came back and you allowed him to touch you again.

In the car you had been trying not to cry, but everything was building, your frustration with Ben over the conversation the two of you had, fear over what would happen to Lou and Rosemary, and red hot anger directed at Homelander. A single tear had slipped and when Ben had tried to comfort you, you pulled away from him.

Fuck.

You hadn't wanted to. You'd wanted to curl up against him and let him make you feel better, but you were still angry with him for holding you back.

The words you yelled at him momentarily ring in your ears. It wasn't just that you compared him to Howard, it was you told him you didn't need him to protect you. But you knew Ben better than anyone and you knew that he was probably circling the drain and thinking that you basically told him that you "didn't need him" when you did.

"Yeah?" You clear your throat. It was difficult to look at him, not when you were so close to just breaking down and telling him that you were sorry. You knew that you needed to be focused on what was about to happen, but you couldn't, not when things were like this between the two of you. You hated fighting with him.

Ben's gaze drifts to where Butcher is staring expectantly at you.

"Give us a minute." Ben says to him.

"Why?"

"Just give us a fucking minute." Ben snaps, obviously annoyed, but you knew that he was probably upset about the fight the two of you had and he was projecting that anger onto Butcher.

"Fine. I’ll clear the lobby. Don’t take too long." Butcher frowns, but turns and stalks up the front steps of the building.

You turn back to look at him, unable to stop the sarcastic comment from building. Because yes, you wanted to forgive him, but at the same time you were still frustrated with him. "What? Are you gonna lock me in the car? Or are you going to tell me again how you don’t want me to fight him?"

"No." Ben growls.

"Then why-"

"Because I don’t want it to be like this." Anger lurks on the edge of his words, but at the same time you can hear something else in his voice, something that sounds a little broken. And it makes your heart clench in you chest.

"You don’t want what to be like this?" You ask confused.

"I don’t want us to go in there angry at each other." He continues.

"Why not?"

"Because I-" Ben stops, his jaw tightening for a moment, before he sighs. "I hate it when you’re mad at me. When you don't let me-" He swallows and you watch his eyes drop to your hand for a moment and you understand what he's saying.

That he hates it when you don't let him touch you. You hated it too.

"You think I like being mad at you?" You whisper, fingers itching to touch his cheek, to push back the dark hair that has fallen forward into his eyes.

"No." He breathes.

You stand there for a moment, letting the silence fill the space between you. The sounds of the city rising around you, the sound of traffic, vendors downtown, and the smell of the pretzel stand around the corner are everywhere. There aren't as many people on the streets now, but you know that it's only a matter of time before someone recognizes Ben in his uniform.

You sigh as you look up at him. Despite the uniform there's a vulnerability in his eyes that you can't shake and you understand how much it must have hurt him too.

“I don’t like it when you’re mad at me either.” You reply.

"I don’t like being mad at you." Ben exhales heavily. "And I don't want it to be like this before we go in. If something happens I-" He stops talking. "I don't want our last conversation to be like that."

"What do you mean you don't want our last conversation to be like that?" This time you can't help, but take his hand and Ben physically relaxes as you do, squeezing your hand back just as tightly.

"If this doesn't work out, if-" His jaw locks and he drops his eyes from yours. "I can't lose you."

"Ben." You whisper and this time you can't help but hug him, pull him close to comfort him. Your arms go up around the back of his neck, burying your face into the hollow of his throat. "You're not going to lose me. Everything is going to be fine." Ben's body immediately curves around you, arms holding you against him so tight it's almost painful, like he thinks you'll never allow him to do this ever again.

"I'm not strong enough for that y/n-" He whispers it so low that you're not sure he meant for you to hear it. "I can't-"

"Shh." You breathe, moving your hands into his hair, smoothing down the unruly strands at the back of his head. "I promise you're not going to lose me." You pull back to look him in the eye. "But I want you to treat me like an equal, like you see my power-“

“I do.”

“No you don’t, because if you did you wouldn’t hold me back all the time.”

“I’m trying not to, but-“ Ben sighs leaning forward into you. “You said it’s your job to take care of me, well it’s my job to protect you.” His expression hardens. “And I failed before.”

“What happened to me was not your fault.”

“I should have been there. I shouldn't have left you for a second-"

“Just like I should have been there in Nicaragua." You whisper back, with a sorrowful sigh. "Just like I should have asked more questions, should have made sure that you were really gone. Then you wouldn’t have had to be in that lab, you wouldn't have been alone-"

“That’s not your fault.” Ben's forehead is against yours now. "Please don't feel bad about that."

“It doesn’t matter if it was my fault or not. I should have been there for you. I will forever feel guilty that I didn’t come for you sooner and that you had to endure that for forty years.” You drop your eyes to his chest.

“Then I’ll forever feel guilty for the way I treated you.” Ben replies.

"I don't want you to." Your gaze rises to his once more, locking with his deep green eyes.

It was true. You could still remember what he said to you, remember what he did, but he was here now and he was doing everything right to make you forget. He was being so different and working so hard to make up for the past that you didn't feel the prick of pain with the memories that you used to.

"And I don't want you to feel guilty about what happened to me." Ben murmurs, raising his hand to cup your cheek. "Those years don't matter to me. The only thing that matters to me is being here with you. And I don't want to miss another second because I did something stupid again."

"And I don't want you to feel guilty about what you did to me anymore. Because you're making me forget, you're doing everything you can to be different, and you're making me fall in love with you all over again." You whisper, leaning in to his hand where his thumb traces gently over your cheekbone. "And I don't care what the past held as long as I have a future with you, as long as you're here with me I don't care about anything else."

Ben smiles when he kisses you, the shape of his lips imprinting against yours, and making you lose yourself in loving him the same way that you had all those years ago. "I love you sweetheart."

"I love you too." You smile just as wide, fingers tangling in his dark hair. "And I'm sorry. I shouldn't have compared you to Howard. You're not like him Ben. You are my everything and Howard was nothing."

He nods. "I'm sorry too. I didn't mean to hold you back I just wanted to make sure you were safe."

"I know. I want to keep you safe too." You nudge your nose against his, breathing in the same air for a few moments.

He is still smiling softly. "Why are we like this?"

"Like what?"

"We always find something to fight about and I-"

“I kinda like it.” You shrug.

“What?”

“Not that I like that you’re mad at me or being mad at you, I just think that we like to keep it interesting." You snort. "I think that if we didn't have a healthy amount of fighting we would just be so boring and-"

Ben kisses you again to shut you up, but it doesn't work.

"Plus, I like to think that the make-up is worth it after." You whisper against his lips with a smirk.

You watch Ben's eyes darken, with your comment. "Well, sweetheart, I'd say that we've got about forty years to make-up for." His hand on your waist tightens, moving his lips to your ear. "And I look forward to every single second." Ben's voice is rough and he bites your earlobe, sending a shiver down your spine that for a moment clears your worry about Homelander.

"I love you." You smile, kissing him like it's the last thing you'll ever do, like it's the greatest good you'll ever amount to.

"I love you too." Ben replies kissing you like it's the last time he'll be able to and trying not to think that it could be.

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A/N: A lot of delicious angst before the final fight! I have written most of the fight already, but I am hoping to finish out the next chapter by the end of the week... if the writer's block isn't blocking. 😂😭 I hope y'all liked this one. I see only maybe 2 chapters left officially in the series, but we will see how everything wraps up.

As always thank you so much for reading! I am so happy that so many people love this fic as much as I do. Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist! :)

Taglist:

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#soldier boy x you #soldier boy x reader #jensen ackles #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy/ben #the boys amazon #the boys fanfic #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy fic #soldier boy fanfiction

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vrystalius · 2 days

Note

HELLOOO! Can you write a kokoshibo x reader were the reader kissed him out of no where and then it gets kinda heated (THEY START MAKING OUT)! No smut! Just suggestive 🙏 TY IF YOU DO MY REQUEST

Surprise kiss

You just wanted to tease your husband a little during his meditation by kissing his nose.

Pairing: Kokushibo x gn!reader

He has been mediating all day and night now. What is he even thinking about? Is Kokushibo thinking about anything at all? Or is he brooding about something? You never knew the difference, his face always remains the same. What does he look like when he’s happy, sad or angry? Well, you’ve seen him get angry before, or at least mildly infuriated at Douma’s antics. But today, you decided to find out what his face looks liar when he gets surprised by your sweet, sweet affections!

You slowly crouched towards the kneeling form of , trying to catch any movement in his expression. You’re really praying that Kokushibo is not sensing your presence or else you might be met with his judgmental stare. You know that one very well. Finally, you lunged at him and peppered his face in light kisses, giggling a little. He let out a small confused grunt, instinctively wrapping his hands around your waist.

“What is the meaning of this?”

His voice was a little deeper than usual and Kokushibo had his lower and upper eyes still closed. His expression was unsurprisingly, again, unmoving and unimpressed. Although you swore you saw a flicker of amusement in his eyes, but he did not seem flustered or even surprised at all… So much for wanting to see a different expression on his face. Your smile started to drop and you pouted at him.

“I just wanted to surprise you.”

He nodded and continued to look unimpressed. His arms were still steadily wrapped around your waist, his grip started to get a little tighter, pulling you a little closer onto his lap.

“You managed to achieve that.”

Kokushibo’s voice dropped by an octave, his lips hovering right over yours. He firmly grabbed your chin and angled your face for him. Your breath hitched for a moment when you felt his cold lips on yours. His hand moved downwards to your neck, his fingers grazing against the delicate nape of your skin, silently asking for permission for something. He slowly pulled away from your lips with his eyes half hooded. A small smirk spread on his lips.

“May I?…”

Your small nod told him everything he needed to know. Kokushibo slowly leaned in, his teeth grazing the fragile skin on his neck. He placed a couple light kisses before finally gently biting down. Pain washed over you but was quickly followed by a wave of excitement and something similar to pleasure. The demon hummed loudly at the taste of your sweet blood on his lips, his hands slowly rubbing up and down your sides. You felt your husband shudder a little in your arms before pulling away. Your blood was slowly dripping down his chin. He wiped it off with his sleeve.

“Divine. You are truly divine.”

Finally, you noticed how dazed his expression looked. All six of his eyes are closed and his lips curved into a small, almost unnoticeable smirk. Kokushibo’s expression looked satisfied, seemingly content with the taste of your blood on his tongue. You’re actually quite familiar with that expression, you’ve seen it a couple times during certain activities.

“It’s hard to resist and bite you again. You are testing my self-control. Again.”

💠

Thank you for requesting and so sorry it took so long! By the way, I’ll be going on a three day class-trip tomorrow and I’m not sure if I’ll find the energy or time to write anything, but I’ll try to write something in advance and just edit and post it every day! Hope you understand and enjoy them! And thank you for your continued support, we’re almost at 400 followers and I only started posting/writing a month ago. I’m surprised how well my things are being perceived and I’m forever grateful for all of you! <3

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

And really, really take care of yourselves. Remember that you are important!

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syndrossi · 2 days

Text

And now for a continuation of what I'm calling the Rescue AU aka "what if Ser Thoren successfully extracted the boys from the Gates of the Moon?" Part 1 and premise can be found here. It ended pretty abruptly, and so we pick up pretty abruptly! This one has a more proper "end" to it, though it's not finished.

x~x~x

“May we go to the market on River Row?” Rhaegar asked. He seemed to pick up on Daemon’s surprise at the request, adding, “Laenor mentioned it before. He said they have all manner of wares from within the realm, and even from across the Narrow Sea.”

“We may,” Daemon said, warmed by the pleased smile he received in response. “Do you seek anything in particular?”

He had presented them with gifts for three of their name days thus far, but that still left five. And some of his other planned gifts would not be ready for months. Any insight into what his children enjoyed was sorely welcome. They spent so little time at play, too serious about their studies.

“Princess Rhaenyra said that your name day is in less than three moons,” Rhaegar said, smile turning stern. “So you must not look if we choose something for you.”

Daemon had not celebrated his name day in nearly a decade, other than alone with Caraxes and one of the few barrels of good wine that made it on occasion to the Stepstones by way of Driftmark. His last true celebration had been a pleasant supper with Viserys, Aemma, and Rhaenyra, followed by a drunken night of debauchery in Flea Bottom that had earned his brother’s disapproval in the morning upon hearing of it.

It had been only two moons after Viserys had quietly taken him aside and “suggested” that he take Lord Beesbury as an advisor in his yet-new position of master of coin. Daemon had known the true source of the suggestion: Otto Hightower. Daemon had been only three moons in the office and still learning its scope; bringing in the former master of coin to all but do his job for him had been clearly intended to undermine him by implying he could not manage on his own.

That was the one office Daemon had resigned from before his brother could directly dismiss him, as he made a habit of. That had been before he’d realized just how short his leash would be for any office while Otto Hightower whispered in his ear simultaneously of Daemon’s immaturity and ambition.

A hand squeezed his, jolting him from his thoughts. “Father?” It was Rhaegar’s voice, gentle with concern, rather than stilted as it could sometimes be when addressing him.

Daemon smoothed wisps of light hair from his son’s forehead, then rested his hands on either cheek, heart a jumbled mess between the sentiment and the barest trace of wariness that lurked in his eyes whenever Daemon behaved in a way he did not expect. He kissed his brow, vowing that one day Rhaegar would come to expect only love at the hands of family, rather than the cold indifference—or worse—he had suffered under the Royce household.

“You can give me no greater gift than your company that day,” he said, transferring a hand to Jon’s cheek as well.

Jon gave a solemn nod. “But if I wrap Rhaegar to leave outside your door, who will wrap me?”

Daemon nearly choked on his laugh, the humor entirely unexpected. His eldest was quite sneaky in that regard, though both had a similarly clever wit. He feared for whoever might earn their wrath once they reached adolescence.

“Would you like a small purse apiece for the market, then?” he asked. “So that you are spared solving such a riddle?”

“There is no need,” Rhaegar said, revealing a bulging purse beneath his jacket. “Uncle Viserys gave us an allowance for it.”

“That was very generous of him,” Daemon said, smiling to mask a sudden flood of resentment at the reminder that nothing that he had to offer them was his own. It was all through Viserys and the royal treasury. He had no holding of his own to build an income, nor would he.

Curious stares followed them through the streets, news of the strange circumstances of his sons’ birth having traveled beyond the court. Laenor had informed him with great enthusiasm that a troupe of mummers were at work on a new play with a working title of “The Hidden Princes and the Witch of Runestone.”

If his sons were uneasy with the attention, they did not show it, more fascinated by the sights and sounds of the city. I should have taken them out sooner, Daemon thought fondly. There was a minstrel at one corner, playing the lute outside of a tavern to lure travelers in, and Rhaegar’s head tilted a moment, listening, before his eyes brightened. He hurried over, Daemon and Jon a few steps behind, and joined the minstrel in his song, his higher pitch shifting into an effortless harmony.

The minstrel looked startled by the sudden accompaniment, and even perhaps dismayed to find himself outperformed by a small child, but his eyes took in Daemon as he approached, and the princely attire his sons were wearing—as well as the growing crowd, drawn by the unusual spectacle as well as the sweetness of the song—and the man seemed to then accept the situation as one of good fortune.

Daemon smiled as he watched Rhaegar, enjoying his son’s obvious joy at an excuse to sing. The song was familiar to him, one of a wandering hedge knight in search of a maiden he had spied bathing in the moonlight and fallen in love with, but rendered nearly haunting with the addition of Rhaegar’s voice, which made it into a duet of man and maiden.

At the final verse, the minstrel made as though to bow, only for Rhaegar to continue on alone for another four, and the tale went from one of happy reunion to bittersweet loss as the maiden revealed the true reason she had evaded the hedge knight’s pursuit: the waters had told her that when she found love at last, they would have but a year before death claimed them.

There were very few dry eyes in the crowd at the song’s conclusion, and there was a light ache in his own throat, but the ending seemed to upset Jon in particular, so Daemon wrapped him up in his arms. “It is only a song.”

“If he had not gone after her, they both would have lived,” Jon said into his abdomen.

“Perhaps so,” Daemon murmured, stroking fingers through his hair as he pondered why the song had touched him so. Elys and Corwyn had died two years after the twins’ birth, and his sons had thought them their parents most of their lives. Rhea’s death was still fresh for them as well, he supposed. “But the life of a hedge knight is not without peril. Perhaps he would have found death another way.”

Jon frowned, not liking that response, and Daemon sighed, releasing him. “Come, let us collect your brother from his admirers.”

The minstrel was splitting his attention between collecting the shower of coin that had fallen at the song’s conclusion and interrogating his son on where he had heard the additional verses.

“From a harpist who wandered through the Gates of the Moon,” Rhaegar said, beginning to look uncomfortable.

Daemon quickly moved into the man’s view, fixing him with a look that halted further questioning.

“My prince,” the minstrel said, bowing with a flourish. “What an honor to have the privilege of sharing a song with your son.”

“Indeed,” Daemon said, beckoning Rhaegar back to his side. “I suggest you content yourself with your good fortune.”

“I am sorry,” Rhaegar said once they were away from the gathered crowd, flicking anxious glances in Daemon’s direction. “I did not mean to—”

“Nonsense,” Daemon said firmly. “You may sing whenever you like. You upstaged that minstrel and he knew it.”

Rhaegar moved to walk at Jon’s side, whispering something quiet to him—another apology, perhaps? Jon shrugged, the motion stiff, but he summoned a small smile in response. Fortunately, the distraction of River Row seemed to take their minds off the matter. The street stank of fish, and was awash in colorful stalls loudly peddling their goods.

They were not even at the market square yet, and he had to corral them back within reach several times with stern warnings of pickpockets and unsavory characters who grew in number as Aegon’s Hill grew more distant.

The chaos was nigh unmanageable by the time they reached the market. They still drew glances, Daemon’s hair and attire—and Dark Sister at his side—making his identity plain. But the people in the market were here for one of two purposes: to sell or be sold to. They kept their gawking to sideways glances for the most part, aside from one very bold hand that curiously reached for his hair before being swatted aside.

The strong scent of cooked meat and vegetables from the side of the market that served tempting dishes that could be held in one’s hand to eat while walking covered up the worst of the encroaching smell of raw fish and nearby sewage. There were sweeter fares as well, including a stall that spun sugar into elaborate shapes to cool and be sold.

The peddlers’ calls grew particularly loud whenever they were noticed, to the point where Jon was beginning to look overwhelmed. Daemon was not without his own tension. Every voice that carried an accent from the Free Cities, and especially the occasional spoken Valyrian, transported him back to the crush and throng of the Stepstones.

They eventually reached a portion of the market that was less frantic, where he was no longer touching four different bodies at once, and Daemon slowly relaxed. The boys went from stall to stall with Daemon looking on a few steps back, moving with them. Occasionally they would lean in for hushed discussion, dark hair against light, then turn to him in unison with appraising eyes before resuming their conversation.

Daemon had no idea what they would decide upon for gifts, but he was greatly looking forward to finding out what they had deemed worthy. They had found something at the present stall, which seemed to be an assortment of leather goods ranging from cow’s hide to more exotic sources.

Jon looked back toward him. “Turn around,” he ordered. “She has to finish making it and then wrapping it.”

Daemon gamely turned away. “Tell me when it is safe to look.”

He contented himself with scanning the rest of the current extension of the market, occasionally meeting the quickly averted gaze of an onlooker startled to be caught. That was nothing he wasn’t accustomed to when walking about openly, though years ago in Flea Bottom, the denizens had come to view his frequent presence among them as something to be expected. When he truly wished to walk about without fuss, he went cloaked and hooded.

A startled cry rang out back toward the portion of the market they had just left, and Daemon glanced that way to see that one of the food stalls had caught flame. He could make out the shouts for water, and a few nearby peddlers flapped with cloth at the fire, seeking to smother it. It seemed to only inflame it somehow, the fire almost dancing from one stall to another, which then caught.

Daemon recognized in the louder murmurs of the crowd the sound of unease yielding to panic, his own alarm growing with it. Panic was unpredictable, and the crowd would seek whatever outlet they thought offered safety, willing to trample whoever got in their way.

He turned back to the stall, ready to sweep his children up and leave before the chaos reached them, only to find the stall empty and his sons nowhere in view. His mind blanked with incomprehension for a moment, breath catching in his throat, and he closed the distance to the stall in an instant, looking around wildly. His sons were nowhere to be seen, but there was a woman’s body in rapidly pooling blood slumped at the other side of the stall.

No. Daemon’s hand closed around Dark Sister’s hilt, an icy fear flooding his veins. He took a deep breath to call for them, only to freeze at the sudden prick of something sharp and metal against his back.

“Quiet,” a voice said behind him, soft and unaccented. “Do you wish to see your sons?”

“Where are they?” Daemon asked, holding perfectly still. He might be quick enough to move before the man behind him sunk his blade in, but he did not know if there were more. There must be, to have taken his sons away. “What do you want?”

“If you do as I say, I shall take you to them. Fight, and you will never see them again.” The man waited, as though to see if he intended to put up a struggle. “Remove your hand from your blade.”

Daemon stared forward, paralyzed by indecision. He could mean to kill me anyway. This may be intended to buy time so that they may take the boys further out of reach.

But what could he—or they—even want? If it was ransom they sought, then the more captives, the better. If it was revenge, they would have killed his sons, and Daemon after.

“That dragon blood of yours is worth a great deal,” the voice said with a hint of impatience. “But only balanced against the trouble you might cause. Remove your hand.”

Ransom, then. Daemon clutched that hope to his chest and released his grip on Dark Sister. His hand was grabbed and twisted behind his back, firmly but not painfully so, and he was guided between stalls, out of view. Then, something smooth and rounded was pressed into his hand.

“Drink this.”

The shouts in the market square had grown louder, and the wind was beginning to blow smoke in their direction. Daemon had spotted the occasional gold cloak earlier, but there were none to be seen now, the men likely moving to seek control of the fire or the crowd. There were far more pressing things for the people milling about the market to pay attention to than a prince tucked just out of view, a blade to his back.

“What is it?” Daemon asked, though he could guess. If it was not poison, then it was something intended to dull the senses and render him easy to move without struggle.

“Drink,” the man repeated. “Or I spill that royal blood onto the cobblestone, which would be a shameful waste.”

Daemon brought the bottle into view, its milky glass obscuring its contents save for a faintly darker line where the liquid within sloshed. A tiny cork served as a stopper.

I cannot see them again if I am sliced open in River Row.

Ransom could be paid. Daemon knew that Viserys would not hesitate on his behalf or his sons’, whatever objections Otto might raise.

He brought the cork to his teeth, and pulled it loose, then tipped the liquid back. He held it in his mouth for a few seconds, debating whether he could feign swallowing, but a hand closed over his lips and pinched his nostrils shut until he swallowed, at which point it moved to grip his right arm again. The man made no move to lead him anywhere, seeming content to wait for the potion to take its effect.

“You have not hurt them?” Daemon asked, unable to keep the desperation from his voice.

“They are not harmed,” the man said with a hint of amusement. “Though I cannot say the same for some of the others. I did warn them about Jon.”

A dizziness rolled over Daemon, followed by a heaviness that came in waves that settled deeper each time. At last he was prodded forward, and it took all his concentration to put one foot ahead of the other. Then another. Then—

#resonant 'verse rescue au #resonant concept writing #aka writing 2.5K of concept stuff instead of resonant like i should be

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